Love them or 'Leap' them, the Leapers in my story are here to stay, and this is a bit more about them prompted by some good questions!
Tag: Fiction
Tool or Tools Of The Trade?
Today I bought a new friend. A friend who hopefully will inspire me to write and enable me to accomplish more.
It’s beyond hopeful, but hey, that’s what I do.
My new friend is in the thirteen inch variety, weighs very little and has Scrivener installed on it. Some might say I’m impulsive. Some might say I’m a moron. That’s why we listen to the voices in our heads (and not the ones that tell us to burn things). After demoing Scrivener and their incredibly generous twenty one days, which I never ran out of, I decided to take the plunge. Upon discovering it was half off in the App Store, I rejoiced and committed my novel to a life in Scrivener. To the people who made that program, I swear when I get published, I will mention you in a separate dedications page!
And now… Apple should thank those same people who created Scrivener for making me run out and buy a portable sexy beast with lit up keys for all those late night writings (like this one) and portability. Now I’m unsure if this is my newest tool of the trade, or if I am the tool of the trade! I mean really, am I fooling myself into believing that a thousand dollar machine will be the thing that gets me published? Will this new machine begin to gather dust after the wonder of looking down upon the keyboard like watching city streets from a plane wears off?
I must admit, the keyboard is a dream to type on and is relatively silent. My poor exhausted girlfriend sleeps right beside me while I write this very post. She’s got extremely long work days for the next week, and with the puppies out with her parents, that gives me all the time to spend with this magical beast. Lucky for me, I also have the next two days off, although at the cost of running into a nine day stretch of work. Tradeoffs.
Although for those of you who’ve read through here before, you may know that I work retail. I sincerely enjoy my job and the challenges it comes with. As a part of a management team, I manage to liken it to trying to assemble the Avengers/Justice League and trying to get all these awesome folk and misfits to work together and accomplish the task at hand. Some days are easier than others, others are like running with your pants down. But sometimes it is the challenge from the other side of the business that throws me for a loop.
I like to think I am a nice, helpful guy. Many people thank me, wave or shake my hand, smile and are generally positive on their way out. But I must say the one thing that shocks me about retail is the lack of customer compliments these days. I’m someone who would love to get promoted and I bend over backwards in my efforts to try and help the customer out while ensuring the business isn’t run into the ground. I have helped with minor issues (This was the wrong color) to the major issues (This five thousand dollar TV was busted when I went to set it up) and just about everything in between, and from my experience I could effortlessly get a million complaints a week. A million. Exaggerated? Maybe. But only on the number of people through our doors each week.
What am I getting at? I’m getting at the fact that somedays (myself included) when the world is going awesomely and everything is perfect, we forget to take the time to give out some good feedback to those who helped make it a great day. Today I helped a customer with their computer who had called the manufacturer and was told to bring it in. Somehow they had set up a password for the BIOS (that load up screen before any operating system starts) and had created a password for the computer and forgotten it. It took some time out of my day (around thirty minutes with a restore), but I managed to get rid of both passwords and set the computer up so everything ran smoothly. I decided as I had spent my time, I would politely ask the customer to take time out of their day to try and get me promoted.
This was where things got interesting.
When I placed them in front of a computer and set them up with the website, all I wanted was an honest opinion on how I had done today. What I got was, “I’m terrible at these things. Can you write it for me?” From a customer service point of view, I was actually a bit crushed. I pressed on and actually had to almost repeat the sales process by asking a ton of questions about how I had helped. In short, the customer was happy to put their name to whatever I wrote. I suppose at least that meant they trusted me fully by then, but still, I now know that it’s extremely hard to get a compliment. Lesson learned.
So for those of you out there who have complimented someone lately, thank you. On behalf of whoever that was, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. It’s so easy to get out there and vent your anger or frustration, but I’d say it takes a bigger person to go out of their way to thank someone for exceptional service and the such. Have you ladies and gents beyond the screen given any compliments lately? Let me know, and try and keep it positive in the comments! Good luck!
Antagony
After a decade of haunting dreams a man returns to avenge his tortured past self in the hope of finding some inner peace.
The Journey – Shattered Memories
Just tuning in? Great! You’re not too far behind in one of my latest short story attempts. Here is my sacrifice to the WordPress Gods that this post doesn’t up and disintegrate like my last one! Some changes have been made from the original writing that no one ever got to see, but each was for the better. The last piece of this story (Renamed The Journey – Broken Dreams) is located -> Here! <- Enjoy!
***
“Wake up.”
“Huh?” I asked, my voice weak and from the depths of slumber.
Once again the voice penetrated my comfort, harsh and stern, it was at least familiar. “We don’t have all day.”
I opened my eyes wide and the stark white room sent my head spinning. I sat up abruptly and closed my eyes in defence, my hands rubbing half of my face each. “More questions?”
“Of course. Perhaps you’d enjoy some breakfast?” The voice asked again. I immediately made the connection between the voice and Doctor Harris. My stomach grumbled for me and I slowly opened my eyes. Through the narrow slits, I swallowed my morning breath and blinked at him. “That’d be good.”
He motioned toward the table and I adjusted my hospital gown, to at least appear somewhat decent. Of course, at the look of the incredible looking sandwich on the table, all of that went out the window. “Oh my god…” I said between mouthfuls, it was uncontrollable, as though I were watching myself with utter embarrassment. “Ham, cheese… this is so good!” If it had been poisoned, I wouldn’t have even noticed. It was gone before I considered examining it.
“Ahem…” Doctor Harris cleared his throat at my incredible display of gluttony and smiled politely. “Where were we yesterday?”
I felt the air evacuate my lungs and my heart skip a beat as the images from the crash came flooding back. Couldn’t I have a moment just to forget? I stared at him, my heart as cold as his icy blue eyes. “I don’t quite remember… something about where we are?”
“Yes, good. Your short term memory doesn’t seem to be affected.” He glanced up at me from his notebook, and I detected a hint of sarcasm. He took a sip from a glass of water before him and leaned back in his chair. “Well, I suppose I’ll ask again. Do you know where you are?”
“I’m in Morning Sun, Iowa…” I could tell even I was unsure of my answer, my tone completely giving me up to the Doctor. “At least, I was… No idea where I am now.”
“I told you. You’re in a hospital. Not in Morning Sun, but in Mount Pleasant.” Doctor Harris stated. He didn’t realise it, but he hadn’t actually told me all of that. But new information, was good information.
“Why am I still here?” I could feel my panic begin to choke me. “Where is my father?” I stood and leaned across the table, hands firmly on its top, waiting for his answer.
The doctor stared at me for a moment and his eyes squinted for a second. “Tell me about your father.”
“No, not until you tell me if you found him or not!” I yelled, and could feel my pulse pumping through the veins in my neck and hands.
The doctor calmly motioned for me to sit down as he fumbled around with some papers until he found a plain white envelope. I sat, breathing heavily and stared at the parcel as he passed it to me. “Here,” He said in the most emotionless voice I’d ever heard. “Are these your parents?”
“Parents?” I asked, dumping the photos clumsily onto the table. I stared at the two images before me, a young couple most likely not even thirty in age. “No, I’m almost as old as these two… they’re not my parents at all!”
Again the Doctor calmly motioned, but this time it was for me to be quiet. As his hand hovered in the air, I stared at him. With the adrenaline in my veins, I considered ripping that arm off and beating him to death with it, but alas, I needed answers. “If those aren’t your parents…” He said, his hand lowering to retrieve the folder. “Then I’m afraid your father wasn’t involved in the accident.”
“That’s stupid! I was there, I was in the accident!” I yelled with no concern for volume, my head shaking in disbelief. “Look, we were driving a van and we got hit from the driver’s side… the vehicle divided in two and I was separated from him!”
“I’m sorry, we only found you and those two at the scene.” Doctor Harris said softly. “There was no van, and certainly no other victims. You were lucky that a man came bumbling by and spotted you in the snow.”
Was this another dream? They always felt so real. Maybe dear old Dad had put me in a mental institution, guess I pushed him too far. The words crept from my mouth amid my confusion. “But I-”
“But nothing. It’s time for more of my questions.” The Doctor sternly interrupted. Shocked at his sudden bravado, I felt as though a mute button had been pushed and my words were gone. “Okay…” He said with a sigh. “Next, do you know what day it is?”
“Thursday, twenty third of October.” I shrugged as I spoke, in all honesty I assumed the accident was two days ago. Maybe it had been only one.
“Good.” Doctor Harris said with a reassuring smile. “And what year is it?”
“Twenty twelve.” I said confidently.
The Doctor suddenly stopped writing in his notepad and glanced up again. “Sorry, could you repeat that, a bit louder please?”
“Twenty twelve…” I said confidently. “Two thousand, and twelve.”
The Doctor leaned back in his seat and raised his eyebrows as he stared at his small notepad. The year was written on the page and underlined three times. “Is everything okay Doc?” I asked uncomfortably.
“Oh yes. Everything’s fine.” He quickly replied as he glanced to me and back to the pad of paper.
Suddenly, a voice crackled over a speaker in the corner. “Harris, that’s enough for the moment. Can I see you in the office?”
Doctor Harris hurriedly hopped up and gathered his belongings. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”
“Who was that?” I asked, the whole situation suddenly made me feel extremely uneasy.
“That’s my boss.” He said quickly as he made his way to the door. “Feel free to have a rest, you need all the energy you can get to recover.”
“Thanks…” I said as the door slammed shut behind him. “…for nothing.” At least he hadn’t found my Dad’s body. Perhaps he was still alive and wandered off.
***
“What is it Val?” Doctor Harris asked. “I’m on the verge of-”
“I know.” Val said, his tone sharp. “Listen, this girl just confirmed she came from the twenty first century. Before you go back in there, you need to do your research.”
“Of course, how silly of me.” Doctor Harris smiled nervously. “I’m just so excited. If she can naturally travel through time, imagine what this could mean for us!”
“Yes. But it’s only a matter of time before the others catch wind of this.” Val stated, his tone grim.
“We already know.”
As Val and Doctor Harris turned to the clean cut man standing behind them, he smiled politely. “James Hargrove. Nice to meet you gentlemen.”
“Who are you?” Val asked, annoyance in his voice. “And how did you get in here?”
“The same way you two travel through time. The only difference is, I’m a few tiers higher than you.” Hargrove said as he leaned and stared into Tamara’s room. “Do we know what we’re dealing with here?”
“A natural traveler!” Doctor Harris proclaimed. “She somehow can see the fourth dimension.”
“That’s preposterous.” Hargrove said calmly. “The human brain cannot handle such a thing. To see every point in time at a location in the universe is simply too overwhelming for the mind to comprehend.”
Val suddenly pushed his way between the kind doctor and Hargrove. “Well why don’t you tell us how she travelled back from twenty twelve to nineteen thirty four with nothing but some cuts, scrapes and head trauma!”
“I’m not sure.” Hargrove said. “But she’s my prisoner now. You know the laws against unauthorised time travel. She’s killed eight people just by appearing and causing the car accident in your time.”
Doctor Harris cut in. “Yes but-”
“No excuses, you have a code to uphold!” Hargrove yelled as he turned to face the doctor. “You two have both made some terrible mistakes. I’m sorry.” As Val and the Doctor were about to protest, they disappeared into dust and Hargrove stood between the piles as they settled to the floor. “All unauthorised travellers are to be handed over immediately to our group.” With a shake of his head he turned to the nearby door. “Come in and clean this up. The girl is coming with me.”
The door opened and Val and Doctor Harris entered the room. They looked to Hargrove who stood amid the settling dust and gave a quick smile. “Now remember, you’ve been brought here for a purpose. Once the girl and I leave, things are to continue as though we were never here.”
Val and Doctor Harris nodded as they cleaned up the piles of dust, unbeknownst to them, that they were cleaning up their own remains.
***
I’d love any and all feedback on this piece of writing, or any piece of writing I’ve posted! Hell, even just an email to say Hi is fantastic by me! I seriously try really hard to get back to everyone who takes the time to leave a comment or email! Thanks and I’ll most likely post again later, hope this was worth the Digital Devils and the wait!
The Quick Post & Poem
So today work reached a new high in disrupting my writing. Get up early I say. Write before work I say. Today had me falling out of bed after six or so hours of sleep and landing into pants. As I wrestled with the little energy I had, I mentally prepared for the three hour drive ahead of me.
Today was a training day three hours away and then three hours back. We left at six in the morning and arrived at our destination shortly after nine. The day was full of useful information and I learned a ton. Then we drove three hours back home, dodging kangaroos, and finally after arriving home I barely had enough energy to reply to emails and comments.
This being said I do have the next two days off, so I’m going to try and smash out some editing and a few posts for the old blog here! Also I am going to try and silk cover a book I have here and see if I can custom make my own cover. I’ve been considering that if I do get my novel published I am going to hand make around ten copies with hand made silk covers as presents for my loved ones! I’ve got some ideas on how I can achieve what I want and the only thing I may have trouble with is somehow cutting an oval cleanly out of silk.
Other things I’m working on my days off: Editing Jefferson & The Magician’s Curse, Rewrite of The Journey Part Two, Pick Up New Zelda 3DS Console with Game, Look into getting automatic garage door opener, weed front and back garden, laundry, clean the house, and catch up on sleep.
Also, I promised you a poem so here you go ladies and gents.
The Fallout
A lake, seemingly frozen in time,
Serene the scene, with calm, cool glaze,
Not so much as a ripple, simply sublime,
Invoking emotions, in mystic haze.
Extinction for those, who ruled the world last,
Beauty unbound, at the end of days,
With no memory, of times that passed,
A sunrise, sets, against nature’s ways.
Sadly tonight I am fighting to stay awake so I think that is all my poor brain can muster. I promise, I’ll get back to some more meaningful posts very shortly but for now, this will have to tide you over! Also if you haven’t read Circle of Vengeance, I would love any and all feedback whether or not you think I’d like it or not. I want to get published so I’ll take the harsh critics and the kind ones. Either way, I think I just typed “snrahdl;s” for one of the above words so I’m off to bed! The Journey Part Two, live tomorrow!
Also, a number of the people I’ve been hassling or supporting have made it just above the forty thousand mark for NaNoWriMo and I can’t explain how proud I am that they’re still plugging along! I’m the kind of guy who always strives for more and challenges myself! Anyway, until tomorrow!
The Journey – Broken Dreams
“Do you remember how you got here?”
The man’s voice echoed in the tiny room as I glanced up from my dazed state. Reality hit me pretty hard as my eyes readjusted to the stark white room with no windows. “No.” I replied quietly. My eyes finally focused back in and I glanced to the man asking the questions. His suit was a charcoal grey and the white shirt beneath it seemed brand new. His tie perfectly matched the colour and fabric of his blazer and he hummed through a three day old growth of a beard that still seemed masterfully groomed. He glanced up from the pad of paper in front of him and tapped his pen as he hummed. With a sigh, he stared into my eyes, long and hard. The icy blue pierced into my very soul, and I felt a quick shiver fall over me. His voice stopped me from staring too long.
“Do you know, or understand where you are?”
As he asked the question, I considered my answer. In reality, no. I had no idea. He leaned in with an examining gaze and wrote tiny words onto his notepad.
“When can I leave?” I asked impatiently.
“You’ve been in an accident. I’m the doctor examining you psychologically. My name is Doctor Harris.”
With his words my mind flashed back to what felt like mere moments before I ended up in this room.
***
“Tamara, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My father said gruffly. “It was just a nightmare, nothing more.”
My father had always been a stubborn man, his unmarked trucker’s cap barely hiding the salt and pepper mane beneath. He spoke of a dream, a dream I had that felt so vivid I was sure I’d lived it. “Dad, I’m telling you. We were on this very road, it began to rain, something hit us and you didn’t make it.” I could feel the tears welling up inside again as it brought me back to that moment.
My father shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tugged at his seatbelt. I could tell he felt uneasy, but he wanted to be strong for my sake. “I won’t have this discussion again. You’ve said this every time we take this road. We haven’t died yet, have we?”
I crossed my arms in a huff. Of course he was right, or we wouldn’t be having the conversation. “But tonight is different.” I protested.
“You said that the other night.” My father grumbled as he fixed his hat. “Still alive though, right?”
“Yes, but tonight we were forced to take this road! It was a tad convenient that the other road is flooded out!” I could feel my pulse racing. I glanced out the window and looked for the rain.
“It’s just some dam overflowing, it happens Tamara.” He said, his patience growing thin. “Turn on the radio, I’d rather not talk about dying while I’m trying to drive. Don’t need a self fulfilling prophesy.”
I reached for the radio dial and a small tinny thud echoed from the roof of the van. I paused a moment to look at my father and then the heavens began to pour. My heart was trying desperately to escape my chest, beating against my breast bone like a hammer.
My father swallowed hard as he squinted through the rain. “Coincidence.” He muttered while flicking the wipers on. As they whirred back and forth, clearing litres of water away from the windshield, I watched my father turn on his high beams. I’d never seen him use them; his night vision was impeccable. “It’s just a precaution, Tamara.” He said softly.
We drove another ten minutes before we came to an intersection. The four way stop seemed useless as there were no cars in any direction for miles. We sat a moment until my father turned to me. “Do you want to go back? I don’t want you to feel ill like last time.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, dear god, yes.” My eyes darted from windshield to side window and back to my father. “This feels too familiar. In fact, it feels nearly the same.”
“What’s different?” My father asked finally, his curiosity had been piqued.
“Not sure, but I-” My breath abandoned me while I watched the car crumple like paper around the man who had raised me. I tried to scream, but the words came out in a ringing sound much to my dismay. Slowly, the car lifted from the road and began to separate nearly perfectly in two. My father’s side of the car lifted up and out of reach, his hand extending to me for aid. Strangely everything moved in slow motion, my hands couldn’t leave my body and I watched as the other half of the car, and my father, disappeared into the rainy night sky. My half of the car hadn’t completed its journey as the forces of gravity and momentum tugged at me from every which angle. My blond hair whipped me in the face, as fragments of glass showered me like the rain. The world spun a few more times, until finally coming to a rest with the open side of the car facing the sky.
I stared straight into the rain, unblinking as the water washed away the shock amid the tears. It was just as I’d dreamed it. Every detail.
My head pounded, I tried to move and found that I was most likely bleeding internally. Breathing became a labour and staying awake suddenly became a chore. With the click of the seatbelt, my weakened body collapsed to the door frame atop many small square shards of glass. Safety glass my ass, corners are still sharp when you’re lying on hundreds of them. It took the entirety of my strength to pull myself to my feet, and after a moment, I pushed myself over the jagged shards of metal jutting out from the car’s torn midsection. A few cuts, nothing really to worry about.
“Da-ad…” My lungs gasped for air halfway through a one syllable word, probably not the best of things. A deep inhale did nothing to quell the fire in my chest as I coughed into the night. “Dad!” I screamed between coughs, I knew in my heart I didn’t want to see him. But I also knew I had to. “Dad!”
My eyes settled on a hunk of metal wrapped neatly around the trunk of a tree. I’d never made it to this part in my nightmares. With no concept of what to expect or what to do, I tried to rush to the wreck. Despite the entirety of my focus being on the mass of metal, my peripherals weren’t seeing any other vehicles. “What the heck hit us…” I whispered to myself as I wandered up and onto the road. Down the lane I watched as car lights flickered in and out of the fog.
“Hey…” I called as I began waving my arms. “Hey! Help!” My lungs hated that sentence as I coughed up some blood. Definitely not good. As the car approached, I noticed it was a classic car. Not modern in the slightest, but decades older. I stood directly in front of it as I waved my right arm wildly, my left arm felt a bit numb, but I only needed one to attract attention.
The car careened past me and vanished quickly into the fog across the road. More lights suddenly caught my attention and I tried desperately to fall out of the way. As I landed, my body lay in the cold snow, much to my shock.
With an ear shattering crash, the next vintage car crashed into the thick field of trees off the side of the road. My eyes stared at it, as both passengers lay dead in the snow beyond the tree. My mind grew fuzzy and I turned back to where my father’s wreck was. “Dad?” I called out, but to nothing. Unblinking, I stared at the four way intersection or where it used to be. A single straight road travelled for miles in either direction. Panic set in, my heart raced, my lungs heaved for air. “Dad…” The words whispered out and were lost in the breeze.
***
“Miss, are you listening to what I’m asking?”
I glanced back to my interrogator from my memories and clenched my jaw. “Not really.”
“Maybe you just need some rest.” His voice was firm and in an instant two men wheeled in a cot and set it up in the corner of the room.
“Maybe.” I said. “Am I in some kind of trouble?”
The man stared long and hard at me for a moment. “No, not yet.” He cleared his throat and collected up his notepad and pen. “But that will depend on your cooperation.”
As the trio of men left me alone, I could feel exhaustion hitting me like a boxer punching a speed bag. Cot, table, floor; wouldn’t matter, sleep would be incredible.
***
“Do you think she knows?” A voice whispered from the darkness.
Doctor Harris entered the dark room with a clear wall looking in on his patient. He shook his head in response. “No, I don’t believe she does.”
“What if she finds out?” The voice asked urgently.
With a shrug, Doctor Harris turned to the man asking the questions. “She cannot control it, nor can she leave that room.” He stated. “It’s travel proof and we have nothing to worry about Sir.”
The short bald man beside him leaned forward into the dim lighting from Tamara’s room, his dull complexion even duller in the unflattering light. “We may have to extinguish her.”
Doctor Harris gasped. “Wait Val, no! We need to understand how she can do this with just her mind!”
“It’s too dangerous.” Val’s resolve was final. “In the blink of an eye she travelled back seven decades and killed a blood line by getting in the way of a family car. The President for twenty ten? No longer exists.”
***
To Be Continued – Possibly… Thanks for swinging by, this is a growing concept and this is sort of how I imagine the start of that story. The whole concept would be that Tamara could go back in time and try and save her father but in the process destroy her existing self all the while trying to stay one step ahead of the Tempus, a secret order bound to control time travel and police the preservation of the existing time line.
Anyway! This has been an enjoyably creative evening and I look forward to posting again tomorrow. I’d love to know what you think of this piece of writing (Unedited, so I apologise for any mistakes I may not have picked up) and the over all style. Things I personally don’t think I did well? Capture her emotion at all, I tried to go with dazed and confused but it almost sounds to me cold and not that emotional at all. Let me know if you agree!
A few quick call outs as some people thanked me for naming them as they got a few follows and likes. The support is helping, so please reach out and touch another writer so they can feel the same way you felt getting a new like or follow! It may be that one thing that makes them post more to their blog or get back on the ole’ NaNoWriMo horse… Every little bit counts!
Sharing Is Caring
Well, I’ve got a much more interesting following than I did a mere week ago. Now what to do with you… hmm?
Perhaps I could stalk all of your NaNoWriMo posts and post your word counts… MWA HA HA, no no… too evil!
Or you could volunteer your information, and I could dedicate a post to you fine ladies and gents beyond the typing glass! That’s entirely up to you, let me know if you’d be okay with that and I may have a weekly monday post that tosses out the previous week’s wins! This would also allow you guys to see who else is following along here as well as how they’re doing so you can offer them support just as I have you! That’s my hope, anyone seen that movie called… umm, what was it? Pay It Forward! That’s it! Well if you liked how you felt when some random guy swung by and tossed you a follow, or a like, or even a fabled comment; I ask of you to pay it forward and offer one of the struggling NaNoWriMo Writers your support so they can know, we’ve got their back too! If you guys would like me to post the title of your story or even a link to your NaNoWriMo page, let me know! I’m willing to go all out!
So I will be the first one to share my story with you… I always struggle to tell people what my story is about because it has been inspired by a number of things. Currently I am up to the eighty five thousand mark of the first edit for my novel, Jefferson And The Magician’s Curse. The lovely cover at the top right was made for me by a young lady who was offering free covers last year by the name of Fena Lee. She did a fantastic job and is actually part of the reason I pushed on. You see, she listened and made me the exact image that I had in mind for my cover and in taking that time she inspired me to be sure I finished the story. I told her that I would use her cover and I think even if I am heading out to get published, I may see if I can use that design as it is important to me.
Would you like to hear some details of the story? You would? I was hoping you’d say that! *Wink*Wink*
***
Magicians and circuses, orphanages and escapes; these are the obsessions of one young boy. As Jefferson the orphan escapes to the circus, he finds his obsession with illusions runs deeper than he ever imagined. Leaving the abusive carers he’d been entrusted to, he embarks on a journey of self discovery and lessons under Gabriel The Great. As they travel, Jefferson learns that most illusionists are part of a secret society of good magicians who protect the world from the forbidden arts.
The forbidden arts are guided carefully in the world by warlocks, evil magicians hell bent on destruction and power. The forbidden arts come with a price. Casting magic normally draws upon the caster’s own energy and spirit, thus limiting the type and strength of the spell cast. Yet the warlocks have the ability to channel the energy of others, through themselves, for greater spell power and destruction. Casting these spells links the caster mentally and spiritually with their victim for eternity, causing most warlocks to hear many voices and leading them into the depths of insanity. Their heart taints black with the Magician’s Curse, the veins blackening outward from over use of the forbidden magic.
Luckily for Jefferson, these magics are nearly forgotten… Unlucky for him, shadows move in the darkness and the forbidden arts begin to rise up, threatening the weakened societies of magicians and the world itself. Will Jefferson fall to the allure of power from the forbidden arts, or will his master’s teachings be enough to guide him through these dark times and into times of peace? As his destiny balances on the edge of a knife, two secret societies and the world await to see who will be victorious… and who will perish.
***
Okay, hopefully that sounds good. It does to me, but I am virtually sleep deprived and worked through… so it could be the equivalent of the song “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” and I might not even notice. Strangely enough though, I spelled that right on the first try. Good to know where my brain’s priorities are! I should be able to edit the final fifteen thousand words in the next week or so, but I also have to puppy proof my house. We get our pups (A Dachshund and a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel) around the seventh of December if all goes well, and here’s to hoping it does! But before that I need to completely destroy and rebuild the back garden and go all “Better Homes and Gardens” on its sorry excuse for a planter and install a raised veggie patch complete with a tiny peeing area for new pups. Should be fun! By the way, I’m a nerd and not handy in the slightest… so, does anyone know if IKEA sells raised planters? That’d make life easy!
In closing, if you do want to be mentioned in tomorrow’s post, please let me know! I’m hoping that everyone will be up for participating, I think it’ll make this particular group closer than others and it gives you that sense of, “I have to write so everyone can see my progress!” Remember, try my five tips from the last post if you’re struggling and I guarantee you’ll start to see results! Either way do what is best for you and good luck with your writing ladies and gents! Thanks for stopping by again!
To Blog, Or Not To Blog… Perhaps That Is The Question.
Today’s mission for my blog is not to write something profound, something incredible. No, today it is something different.
Today I start seeking out other struggling writers. I seek them out because there are creatives out there working nine to five jobs who dream of success and want to get better. I seek them out because as I write the posts for this blog I feel as though my words fall on deaf ears. It sure is fun to get a few views. But wouldn’t it better if I got more? Of course!
Today I start to form my own circle of writers who want to be heard and want to read other people’s work. After all, some of us have to work at writing to be good, and only through reading and writing can we indeed get better!
Why am I doing this? Well if you read over my past posts, you’ll notice that I started writing with another person and that has proven quite fun and rewarding. The act of us bouncing a story back and forth has been interesting as we misinterpret each other’s ideas quite frequently; so where one leads the story, the other most certainly does not follow. The simple act of passing it back and forth has ignited some insane creativity flare which has me wanting more. It’s like a “Choose Your Own Adventure” novel where your choice is limited to a thousand words… and then your characters are left to someone else’s devices.
If you’re reading this, I hope you’ll comment. I hope maybe you’ll shoot me an email. I hope that maybe after the hours and hours searching hundreds of blogs I may stumble across a few people who are like minded or at the very least excited about the creative process. I’ve reached out to you, read at least one post and now you may be returning the favour. If so, I whole heartedly thank you.
I decided this year I wouldn’t NaNoWriMo… the reason being not only had I written a one hundred thousand word novel, but it taught me a thing or two about writing. I learned that if you just get out of your own way and write… it’s extremely easy. Is there such a thing as writer’s block? Perhaps. But sometimes smashing words into a keyboard mercilessly will prove worth the effort!
After reading this post over, I have decided to leave this as my fragmented thoughts for the day. I’ve been growing so frustrated with writing for no audience that after deciding to reach out I have followed many, many… sooo many blogs today searching for writing and NaNoWriMo tags in hopes to find and connect with those kindred spirits out there!
Also, as a final note… to any of you who may come through here while I sleep or have come through here while I have been on a whirlwind reading and post writing storm- Thank you. No really, just you ladies and gents stopping by is support, something to get me back into the habit of writing. Not only that, but it has been super hard in Australia to find people who share my passion for writing. Well, it has been easier now that I’ve switched stores to one closer to a University! But I do hope you all find something you enjoy on here or at the very least check back every once in awhile to see how insane I’ve gone!
Until the next post!
Rantings and Ravings of a Sleep Deprived Retail Worker
The time? Eleven PM. The grumbling? I am still awake.
So this is my sporadic update, to which I will rant and rave like a man wearing a billboard that reads, “THA END IS NAER!”
I have been writing pretty consistently since my last post and am now sitting at the forty percent mark of my lofty one hundred thousand word goal. My writing has improved significantly and I am actually also working on putting together a few short stories to slap together and put out there for free in eBook form. It’s been awhile in the making, but I had set a target of twenty reviews on my Circle of Vengeance short story before I bothered to even look into it. Well, as fate would have it… whoever has been assigned my final review may have passed on, or has abandoned the website altogether.
That doesn’t bother me, I’ll just do more reviews and force some other poor S.O.B. to read my twenty five full page story. Life is great when you don’t have to care who you inconvenience on the internet!
With stocktake on the horizon for my kingdom of employment, that can only mean one thing… interruptions. I will do my best to maintain my current rate of writing, my minimum to hit my August target is six hundred and fifteen words a day. That is easy for the most part, with the occasional day where I force four hundred words, only to completely rewrite them the next day with my goal and a few hundred extra.
Getting up at five in the morning was the best decision I ever made for my productivity. It is a nice quiet time, uninterruptible by most anything.
I will be editing my short stories over my two days off this week in final preparations for eBook publishing with a teaser for Jefferson and the Magician’s Curse. Hopefully all goes well, ideally I’ll get filthy rich off this and then I can drop down to part time at work and focus solely on my writing. Oh the wonderful, wonderful dreams one may have. Anyway, if you are looking for something to do in the meantime, feel free to read my stories at the side titled: The Runner and Circle of Vengeance. Those two stories will be the ones I attempt to publish and I would love to hear any feedback! Anyway for now, it is off to bed as I have to get my taxes done tomorrow before I do anything else!
Keep your fingers crossed for me, and I’ll finish the book for you!
Suggestions For Writing Fiction
I have spent many days reading and writing to arrive at this point in my life. Sadly, this point is that grey area where I am simply a writing enthusiast. By a profession standpoint I am not a professional writer, nor do I make myself out to be. I’m neither published or widely popular. But I have done lots of research into the craft of writing and how to be a better one in all aspects from the writing itself to the mentality itself. Since so many people really love top ten lists, I figured, why not give it a shot? But this list is a summary of all of the many tips and hints I have seen along with what has helped inspire me. Some published authors say if you believe your work is fantastic, then it most assuredly is not. I disagree to an extent. Confidence is key in any job, and if you want writing to be your profession, then it is indeed a job. In no particular order, here is my top ten list.
1) Read often, write more.
This should be your main practice. Do I necessarily mean read fiction? No. Expand past what you want to write. Read reviews, poems, essays and even newspaper articles for not only ideas but flow and rhythm. I have found that reading from authors who have as much passion as I do for writing has helped. Ray Bradbury has done wonders for me and I cannot stress reading his Zen in the Art of Writing enough.
2) Be confident and humble.
Be proud of the work you do, it is the love child of your labours and your creativity and you have every right to be. Now that you’ve inflated your ego, take criticisms well. It will sting at first but if you consider every criticism even with a grain of salt then you may find a new spark of creativity for your story. After all, while we write our sub conscious fills in gaps for us. We secretly know the information sometimes even before we know that we do. These assumptions are not evident to the reader and despite your implying of events, they may miss critical information that throws the story for them.
3) Write, Hack, Slash, Re-Write.
You’ve just written a twenty page short story? That’s fantastic. Now go through and cut any word that does not need to be there. You may think we want high word counts to create big books, but if two thousand words in a ten thousand word story were unnecessary, it would fall flat. Cut scenes that don’t move the story, change descriptions to actions or experiences and move words around to create smaller concise sentences.
4) Find a writing group.
This is important. I have only placed one short story up for critique on a web based writing group and while much of the feedback has been positive and cheerful, the ones that have been overly critical have actually stuck out in my mind. Just as my first ten out of ten rating made my heart skip a beat, the first three out of ten made my blood boil. I went straight in and changed many of the things they disagreed with and some of them I passed over as they were meaningless. The whole experience however has been extremely positive, getting feedback on what people not only dislike but enjoy about your writing is unparalleled. Also, make sure you have no friends there. The reason I say that is because as much as we believe our friends aren’t biased, they are. They see our passion for our story and they want to let us down easy. These people critiquing your story should have no ties to you so you can be assured of their honesty.
5) Write everyday.
Pick a number. Ten? Two Hundred and five? One thousand? Pick a goal and stick to it. It must be attainable and you must do it every single day. Don’t have much time? Pick a small number and ensure you make time (You can type two hundred words with one hand on your cell phone over the course of your meals and washroom breaks for the day), write anywhere and everywhere that you can. When you can’t write, think about it. Think about what you are going to write as soon as you get home or near something to write on. Also, if your muse is working overtime, let them. You may have to give them time off in lieu but if you go from writing a hundred words to two thousand for one day, just go for it.
6) Reread your writing aloud.
This can be both fun and annoying. Pick a method for how you will read certain punctuation and stick with it. I prefer to give finality to my voice as I approach a period. Pause at every comma. With an exclamation mark, consider yelling it with excitement. This will help keep your characters from sounding excited all the time, even if they are reminiscing about an awesome summer they had. This also helps with tone, flow and can also spark your creativity amid conversations between characters.
7) Do not do research unless the story is hinging on it.
Research is a fantastic tool. It can provide depth to stories and allow your world to fit into ours. Think of how the Matrix changed the way we considered the world? That being said, Wikipedia is the devil. It is a tool designed as a map leading you away from productivity and into knowledge. Every article has dozens of links which contain more information and better sources. Click on these at your own risk. Every time you research you begin distracting yourself from the main idea of your story and you run the risk of coming up with a newer shinier idea which will leave the other to collect dust. Unless it is absolutely necessary perhaps leave the research for the first edit. This way you may focus on the creative portion of your writing and at least make it through the first leg of the race.
8) Write down
- every
idea.
When I say every, I mean every. What was that? A piece of music just inspired you to see a beautiful garden? Write that down and the song it came in on. In all honesty, keep what is called a creativity or inspiration journal. My method is between a four by three inch notepad and post it notes. I convert them to digital notes on my desktop and then I can see them all the time. Having so many ideas around is also fantastic for your own creativity because perhaps the story you are writing gets caught up and you cannot get past that point for the life of you. Jump into another story idea and perhaps there you will find the solution for your issue.
9) Never limit yourself to one piece of writing at a time.
I cannot stress this enough. It feels great to finish one story, but to make progress on many is rewarding both creatively and mentally. Sometimes we writers are hit with a block that completely destroys our ability to continue. This can most times be avoided by a shift into a different gear or world. If you are constantly working a novel, then by all means set your word goal accordingly. But never forget about the other ideas in your head or other writing that you may feel compelled to write.
10) Follow your heart.
Many of the now considered greatest writers were at one point shunned by publishers and critics alike. If you enjoy a certain simile or metaphor, keep it. This is your writing. Every time we write something whether it be a short story, poem or essay; we pour our blood, sweat and tears into it. Our goosebumps are in these stories. That tingling sensation when something goes according to plan, we put that in there too. Your writing is your writing. As long as you follow the rules of language, then anything is possible.
That about rounds up my own personal top ten list for writing’s helpful hints. As I said in the beginning I have yet to be published aside from a poem, but this is a single stepping stone in my path to becoming a professional writer. I leave you with my poem that was published, its single inspiration was a small photo handed to me in year twelve english with the challenge to write exactly what I felt. I loved the challenge and wrote this in less than a minute to full marks. Sometimes I miss how easy high school was.
- Not Quite Nostalgic
A sea of hope, a beach of sand.
Some have never seen nor heard,
The whispering winds across the land.
Though I have seen many a time,
The lapping waves, in rhythmic beauty,
Rising and falling, almost in rhyme.
The tide across the sandy beach,
No worries or cares, just silent sounds.
No lesson to learn, nor to teach,
Not quite nostalgic, yet my heart still pounds.