Creative pursuits in all the wrong venues

I'm blocked. Not in the frustration sense, but rather a semi-coma that has infected almost all my muses. The only ones hanging around are a human variant of Vlad Draculea and a Takarazuka Death from Elisabeth. Nothing interesting.

On the other hand, when fyrie was here, she brought a set of pastels and drew portraits while I watched. It didn't look that difficult, so I acquired a set for myself. It's a bit time-consuming, but seeing as I hadn't drawn anything for close to five years and was never good at it - my sense of proportions is all wrong - I think my second attempt at a portrait didn't come out too badly.

( Look! I drew a bishie! )

So, yeah. Possibly leaving tomorrow, but I have all my requests lined up and will write them there. I'll also try to get to a net cafe more often. It's much colder now, so the trek should be easier :)

On creativity and referentialism

Still no writing done. And I switched to colour pencils, which have the advantage of not leaving my thighs covered with abstract artwork. I know I should go wash my hands each time I run out of smudging fingers when I work with pastels, but wiping them on my skin is quicker. (And no, I have no ambitions to create Art with my doodling; I just want to be able to produce workmanlike drawings that resemble the subject, because sometimes something just begs for illustration.)

I have, though, been reading the writeup of the Cassandra Claire Plagiarism Debacle. I have to say the writing's better - or maybe the subject less convoluted - than the msscribe saga. I must say that back-when I had the same problems while reading the Draco trilogy, and finally I gave up mid-Dormiens.

It's also made me somewhat paranoid about my own pretentious postmodern parlour tricks: how far can I go with referencing others? The sky over the bay was the color of a television tuned into a dead channel. Verbatim, unreferenced because I assume those who know, do, and those who don't, won't care, is this homage or plagiarism?

(And it doesn't help that I have a digital memory for quotes. There is a man, playing a violin, and the strings are the nerves in his own arm. If I love, I quote, verbatim and at length.)