Aliens and attempts to relax

I haven’t been feeling much like a stellar shining star lately, and my writing output has been very minimal. A huge part is a confidence problem and when I mentioned it to some friends, a few suggested I try to relax and just find enjoyment in things again, and then come back when my attitude is more balanced and less negative.

So I have been trying. I really thought, once I stepped away from demanding I finish some project or another in some timeframe or another, that I would once again have a million little short story or other ideas pop up. I know little world glimpses have come and gone.

But the only world that seems to be in my head is the Red Box’s world.

My brain likes to undermine me. I can tell already.


I haven’t been TRULY afraid, like, crossing-over-into-real-world-fear, of the aliens from Alien(s) in a long time. But the other night I had a dream–well, really more of a nightmare–about them and it was scary. I woke up (I think… or maybe I dreamed that I woke up) really afraid that the Aliens were waiting for me should I get up out of bed. In one part, there was a weird Alien-hybrid creature; well, more like, as if a fully grown Alien had exploded a human being and was still covered in the fatty glops and skin and fragments of the person. I suppose I’ve probably been playing too much Dead Space.

Any way it did give me this craving to write a story that paid homage to, well, Terminator and Alien, to that heroine that doesn’t seem to exist much any more, not exactly–both Ripley and Sarah Connor started out pretty ordinary, and then were forced by crisis to show the real toughness underneath. In Sarah Connor’s case, she even seemed fragile at first. And in both cases, there was no heavy obsession (I felt, anyway) with the sexiness or prettiness of the heroines. Ripley I especially love because she didn’t need excuses for why she fought so hard. She wasn’t in love or (in the first movie) protecting a child. She was surviving and she was awesome.

I think that is awesome. I kind of miss it.

But the story I want to write has no plot right now, just a vague desire to bring back a Ripley-style heroine, or maybe a pair of heroines.

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  1. “Ripley I especially love because she didn’t need excuses for why she fought so hard. She wasn’t in love or (in the first movie) protecting a child.”
    That is so true. I hadn’t consciously thought about that before. You’re right, it’s brilliant.


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