Empire’s Agent, pt.(7)

Back on track.  I re-re-read what I’d re-read yesterday.  I’m just a middle-aged hack, but FFS, that was awful!  Was I really drunk enough to write that?

I didn’t even bother editing it:  deleted.  Let’s try again.  Sure:  dashing Arpad is something of a player; nothing at all wrong with that.  Has he a history?  Well, lookie here…!

[Personal aside:  thought about this all morning.  Left phone upstairs in pharmacy while I went to eat lunch in ground floor cafeteria.  Rather than troll news sites, I spent the next forty-ish minutes thinking about this story.  Bits.  Pieces.  Glimpses.  Pic…

What?  Oh:  “picnic.”  My imagination opened like a carpet.  Arpad owes Lily a lunch at her hospital, but after that… they’re going to go on a little date… how, why, where… don’t bother me:  I’m writing!]

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Casting Call

Not writing anything on Sunday freaked me out so I thought about things Monday – so much my brain shorted out and I had to leave DayJob at 1500 – and came home to write a little.  I’d thought I’d try following on Empire’s Agent, about Arpad and Lily.  I dropped about 400 words and went to bed.  Going back to look at them, just now, I must have been worse off than I thought:  just awful!

The problem, of course, is me.  After starring in my first two novels, Lily Barrett is something of an iconic figure of my future history.  One doesn’t just randomly use icons in short story writing exercises.  I’m going to spend the rest of this evening thinking and making a few notes.  I am really interested where this might lead but I don’t want to bugger it up.

Content tomorrow.  Something.  Promise.

Apocryphal Henge

When she was young, she never smiled like this. Now that she’s older and has changed states, I wanted to pass this along.  Made by Tracy Michallow of StarArtWorks.  She and her husband are quite talented; please give them a visit!

I’ve paddled about my future history and have so far not come up with where I’m going next.  I have to have an answer tomorrow, or I’ll die.  And, what the hell am I supposed to rename “Defiant”?!

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The Second Bridge, pt.11

Wow.  All this in five hours.  Sorry, folks, I’m taking tomorrow off or else I’m dead.

I’m hoping to see something that takes me off in a new direxion tomorrow.  11k words here is, I think, enough.  I am SO HAPPY things ended up where they are.  Sure:  I can go full Will Deonne and have Henge’s nanomaterials disassociate her into a drift of sand on the floor, but I don’t think I will.

Sweet Jesus:  what will their children be like?!

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The Second Bridge, pt.10

Funny that I’ve yet to reach the plot point that made me laugh out loud while driving to work yesterday.  Perhaps tomorrow.  Whether 500 or 5000 words, I need to create a permanent or temporary close to this story:  the professional edit and new cover for my first novel “The Fourth Law” are complete and I need those uploaded to Createspace.  The cover is the easy part.  The text body has to go from Word to pdf, wherein I edit and move, then request a physical proof for review.  I’ve done this three times already, but at about once every nine months I drink too much to recall the details.

Below the fold, I’d had some conversations recently with some in the medical field about challenges that might be faced by new-made humans.

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The Second Bridge, pt.8

Much better now.  My wife made the astute observation:  “this is going to kill you.”

Of course it will!  But I rather die in a weltering of my stories than a drugged plant in front of the teevee, shoveling cheesy-puffs into my mouth.

Below, originally from my second novel, Echoes of Family Lost, are two now very old friends talking shop.

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