Anything set by firelight is amazingly atavistic. We are the descendants of all those that stayed close to their family and the fire to listen to wondrous stories. Think of it as evolution in action.
Tag: war
Ooo! Plot!
Not much… but in the captain’s comment in the end: a glimmering of plot.
Hey, it’s American adoption of the DoI Day… I need to add some kind of military engagement!
F&A Cover
Formerly an exclusive on Gab.ai, where you can speak freely, below the fold is the cover of the my next novel. Monica is wrapping up her copyediting, so I hope to have a proof copy in my hands in no more than a week. A week beyond that should see it released to the wild. So honestly, call it two to three.
I really need to get back to writing Part Two!
Empire’s Agent, pt.10
You know what I’ve watched? I’ve watched the conversation between Arpad and the old guy that just came into the bar (whom you’ll meet shortly, a tertiary character from my novels). Where everything below the fold came from? No clue; I just write.
MachCiv Dreams – Death Ship (end)
And now, having been given a glimpse of the beginning of ‘Crosses & Doublecrosses,’ and now the end of it, you might understand why I really never wanted to write the 60k words in between. Awful people.
Easter Egg in the Open: give me five LIKES and I’ll post the coda.
One week of Lent left! What to write about now?
Tears, sweat, blood
To cite Arkada of Glass Reflections: ladies, gentlemen, and others, I present to you the final installment of Act 2.5 of “Defiant.” Yes, you read that right: the writing component is complete. Editing and ret-conning the four parts of this 18-month, 85.5k writing exercise into a proper novel will begin.
And therein lies your chance, you followers of this blog and those that have wandered in via my sole social media presence on Gab.ai: if you so desire, you can d/l and read the entire story between now and Saturday, for free. It’s very, very rough, but you’ll get what you pay for. Come Saturday, whenever I wake up, I’ll be pulling the entire ‘free webnovel’ down as I begin to turn it into a commercial novel. As always, I’ll do the first-pass editing myself. Second and copyediting – and a cover – are as yet an unknown; after the layabout wife and the Dog With the Golden Nose, it’s all ramen and Taco Bell salsa packets here. My sole, possible, hard-deadline, is January 26th, when I might have another Creative Writing panel at Ohayocon. If I do, I’d like to say, “since my last panel, I’ve published two books… what did you do?” Keeps the snarkers from snarking.
Anyway, there’s just over thirty five hundred fricking words below the fold! Open a bottle of wine or make a pot of coffee, the one right next to that bottle of bourbon, sit back, and, please, see what I’ve seen… and have fun!
AM or PM?
“Meet me at eight!”
Who hasn’t been there at some moment of their life? In this case, Nichole and Joe go back to Portland, a diversion to Zom’s, some other characters show up… for dinner…
Oh my God, they leave the battlezone at dawn! That has them back into the City around 0800! What the hell am I supposed to do for the next nine to ten hours?!
“You Are In My Vision”
Eleven days straight at Day Job. At least I was able to think a great deal about what the hell might or might not be going on. True to my style, I went for the minimalist approach. So, we get a little overlap of the last scene from Joe’s perspective, followed by Nichole doing gallant machine things and Joe doing gallant human things.
I am genuinely happy when machines and humans compliment one another as men and women do.
Last Sunday, our parish priest – in anticipation of Thanksgiving – asked us to consider what we’re thankful for. Besides the trite answers (“my family!”), what I really thought was that God let me see, and write, stories like this. I don’t deserve it.
“Barring RealLife…”
The next morning, my boss asked if I could come in for half days over the weekend, as well as cover some over Thanksgiving. Given the Dog with the Golden Nose and my lay-about wife, I’ll take what money I can. But, that means I’ll be working two weeks straight. While I’ve the spirit to come home and write, my flesh is rather tired, dragging myself through the door at 1745 in the dark and cold.
But I’ll keep trying. Here’s some more of Nichole. I need to write the last two segments from Joe’s POV, so I can weave them together in the editing phase.
“You’re a movie”
“Hey. Aren’t you supposed to be writing?” My wife asked, per our agreement. I’d spent a few minutes looking at ‘ground view’ on Bing Maps of the north side of the Lewis and Clark Bridge, followed by a few minutes of resting my chin in my hand.
“Yeah. But I can only write what they show me.”
She nodded at that and returned to her studies. She learned years ago that I watch a scene unfold in my mind as if I’m sitting in a theater. When the reel stops, I just write down what I saw. I’m more a reporter than a writer.
machciv 