Anne B. Walsh - Do you believe in magic?
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In the temple
Are you sure?
I'm baaack!
Ashes, ashes
What it should be like

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Anne's Randomness

In the temple

Sometimes, as a writer, you come up with really great, wonderful, fun ideas that both you and your audience love. Sometimes you come up with ideas that you really love, but your audience isn't quite so crazy about. And sometimes you come up with ideas, worlds, characters, that annoy you... and that your audience just completely adores.

I can't really say I've come up with anything that people adore, but if there's one world that refuses to "lie down and die" for me, it's my stories of Trycanta.

Are you sure?

Once upon a time, or so I've been told, if you wanted to work in an office, it was actually a requirement that you had to be able to read. Not only that, but you were required to comprehend what you read, draw conclusions from it, make decisions based on those conclusions, and communicate those decisions to your coworkers.

Judging by my experiences, both today and over the past few years of working here at Glass Bathroom Bank, these requirements no longer exist. Which is a pity. My job would be so much easier if they did.

I'm baaack!

So I wanted to write a blog post on the occasion of my returning to work after my glorious and much needed ten days of vacation. Usually I am able to write and put up said posts at work, but apparently while I was out of the office my employer figured out I was doing so, and my blog site has now been blocked from my work computer.

I can’t blame them. I am, after all, here to work. It’s just that my work is episodic, with short periods of high activity and then breaks. Lots of breaks. And one can only organize one’s desk so often before one’s brain starts to implode.

Ashes, ashes

We all fall down... or at least I'd like to, after such a busy day as this has been! Happy Fiction Friday, a bit belatedly, O readers! Every so often I have a day so very busy that I don't have so much as a moment to concentrate on storytelling, and today, when I'm getting ready for a whole ten days of vacation, happened to be one of them.
 
Still, you get your usual Fiction Friday fare right now, and I'm thinking this one might well get expanded. The characters are already settling into my head.

What it should be like

"Is the workplace not supposed to be insane?" I asked my coworker a few minutes ago, while we were discussing the fact that a full half of my floor's conference rooms are now being used as semi-permanent seating areas for outside consultants. "I've never worked anywhere else, so I really wouldn't know how to deal with sanity..."
 
But then again, maybe I would. Certainly I could deal with it quite nicely if a rash of adulthood and politeness suddenly broke out among my many managers!

Dear graduates

So this past Saturday, the ninth of May, I got to see my younger brother graduate from college. He didn't know until he went to pick up his cap and gown that his final semester's grades had bumped him up from cum laude to magna cum laude, so my mother cried happy tears when that announcement was made along with his name.
 
Today's blog post is what I'd like to tell him, and everyone else who's graduating or starting something big in their lives, in the form of an open letter.

Mirror, mirror

Fair warning, O readers: today's Fiction Friday post is creepy. Very creepy. With this warning, I disclaim all responsibility for nightmares, scary images, or other lasting effects it may have. Or rather, I cackle gleefully at the thought that my evilness has invaded your mind, and run away to continue plotting more evil story twists of evil.
 
Those of you who read my fan fiction have probably noticed a distinct downturn in my production lately. This was not intentional, but may have been inevitable.

Space wars: no new hope

Maybe a couple days behind time for that title (vos vobiscum, everybody), but it's still valid. Greetings, O readers, and welcome once more to Why Do I Work Here Wednesday. Today's topic, as the title might indicate, is space, or rather lack of space, on the floor of the Glass Bathroom Bank office tower which is my domain.
 
We have over 100 people sitting on my floor already, and you might think that this would be enough for any reasonable person. You would, sadly, be wrong.

The most incredible thing, part 8

And what a fun little journey it's been! Greetings, O readers, and welcome once more to Fiction Friday! I'm your host, Anne B. Walsh, and today I am apparently somewhat loopy. Which is nothing new, for anyone who knows me, but its cause is a bit mysterious. Perhaps I'm just relieved at making it through the first third of the year?
 
Whatever the reason, my heart or my shoes, I stand here on May Day... except I'm sitting down. And I don't hate anyone. And my dogs aren't named Max.

Who you gonna call?

It's not just for Ghostbusters anymore. Greetings, O readers, from a decidedly exhausted author. Several coworkers so far today have greeted me with such charming statements as "You look awful" and "Should I call somebody?" But unlike the singer of the iconic movie theme song, I don't have anybody I can call for this.
 
You see, as I have mentioned on previous Why Do I Work Here Wednesdays, I have no backup. No one is available to take over my work if I'm not here.
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