Descending Thoughts

Dinner is Coming

2012-01-19T10:13:00.001-05:00

I'm not the type to make New Years Resolutions. And this year was no different than the rest. I have set January 1st as a good calendar date to try start diets... Bit this isn't really a New Years Resolution thing. It's because my birthday is 12/31... So it's usually one of those, "After my birthday and the beer-drinking, food-stuffing gluttony-fest that will occur on that day, I will start cutting back."

This year I started cutting back before Christmas had even approached. I've lost 15 pounds since I began cutting, which considering Christmas and birthday... kinda cool. But one of the things I started doing after the New Year was changing my whole families' eating habits.

See, we had been living off of bagged food. You know, bagged food...those pre-cooked meals that take no more than 20 minutes to heat up in either the microwave, poured into a skillet, or popped in the oven. And after 3 or 4 years of this, that kind of eating had grown really tiresome.

So I broke out the old family cookbooks and started planning meals for the week. I began cooking some old tried and true recipes but also some new stuff. That picture was a pizza baked spaghetti I made, and it was a hit.

I get complaints from the 6 year old, but she complains even with normal food so I ignore her. My 14 year old loves it, plus I make enough that he doesn't eat everything and leave us with nothing but scraps (that boy can eat!). So it's all good.

This post may not seem like much. Some of you may think, "Okay, he's doing what I've been doing for ages, and I felt no need to tell the world about it." But it's a change in my life, and a yummy step in the right direction.

So to me, blog worthy.

I could have just kept eating crappy food in bags, after all.

2011 - The year eye wrote more better.

2011-12-22T15:26:00.001-05:00

As a writer, 2011 has been quite an eventful year.

I started with the completion of my second revision on a novel.
I wrote not one but two short stories, one urban fantasy, one steampunk. The first one is decent. The second one is gooood, oh so good. That second story is butter, and I plan on shopping it around for publication.
I finished sharing my first novel with my writing group.
And of course, I can't forget my novel writings this year. My epic spanning steampunk got some attention toward the beginning of the year, but then that attention petered off as I worried about that whole story line and whether I should continue on it or rework it.
The second book I wrote on was the NaNoWriMo novel that I proudly display this graphic for:

Yup. I'm a winner. What do I win? Nothing but the satisfaction of putting over 50,000 words into a brand new novel. And you know what. I'm totally cool with that.

So 2011... not half bad a year. Yeah, I know the blog kinda fell to the wayside, but I didn't completely abandon it. I have plans to update it at least once a month with some words of wisdom or--even better--words of stupidity.

What does 2012 hold? I've got plans and strategies already sorted out that will hopefully make 2011 jealous. Now I only need to follow through with my evil designs.

Happy New Year to the 3 or 4 people that actually read this far. Here's a picture of my cat in a shoebox as thanks.

How Wolves Kill Bunnies

2011-11-11T10:37:00.001-05:00

Hello blogger nation. It's been a while since my last post. You may ask what happened. Well, that's what this post is about.

Short-short version: Several years back, I got a book idea. And over the course of time, this idea blossomed to a solid piece I wrote. Let's call it a tale of wolves. I realized I wrote too much for one book, so I chopped my wolf in half. I concentrated on that first half, scrubbing and shampooing the fur. But no matter how much I cleaned it, a broken wolf is just a wolf with shiny fur and entrails sticking out of it. Eww, right?

In the meantime, I had a plot bunny form in my mind. It wanted to breed, but I said, "Sorry, Mr. Bunny. I have a broken wolf to animate." I locked the bunny in a cage and yelled at him to shut up about wanting to get written. And so I stared at my broken, disemboweled wolf and I couldn't figure out how to animate it back to life. It caused me to shut down; I wanted no other form of creativity to leak out of my head.

I obsessed like Dr. Frankenstein standing over the lifeless corpse of his half-formed monster's body.

November approached, and with it came NaNoWriMO(National Novel Writing Month). I had heard about it previous years, but hid behind my half-wolf corpse and waved it away. This year, on November 2nd, that little bunny whispered, "Hey Jay, it's not like you're writing on anything else. Why not get your butt back in front of your keyboard and start typing something new?"

And that's exactly what I did. My NaNo is going great and almost half-way complete as of this post. It has nothing to do with my sprawling epic. This is a story based on the same main character from my short story I shared on my blog, Three Dead, One to Go. It is a story that happens afterwards, so if you read that and remember the ending, you'll know I hopefully have an interesting explanation as to why there is continuation to that character's story. Trust me, there is.

Fixing the Past

2011-08-01T09:58:00.001-04:00

I ran across this app the other day. It's got a flux capacitor on one screen and then the DeLorean time circuits on another screen. I was heavily tempted to drop a $1 for it. I really was. But more importantly, it got me thinking about time travel and what I'd do if I had my own DeLorean and enough plutonium to power up the 1.21 Gigawatts to travel back in time.

So here it is, my first blog in ages. And it's going to be about time travel. The serious bits on life.

So when would I go if I could travel back in time?

First trip, set my time circuits for June 8th, 1984. I need to find out who that girl was that lived next to my mamaw that summer; the one with the younger brother that I hung out with. You know, the girl who watched a lot of MTV, talked about tanning at the Etown public pool, and had the sexiest wet hair after taking a shower... She was my first boyhood crush. I need to find out her name so I can Facebook stalk her back in the future--er, present. (And before you go thinking, wow that's REALLY creepy that he remembers that date... I only know it because the Ghostbusters' theme song was very popular that year. I always equivocate the Ghostbusters' theme with that first crush. So, yes, it's creepy, but not THAT creepy.) Side trip: See Ghostbusters in the Etown Cinema.

Trip two, set my time circuits for 10pm May 18th, 1999. I need to warn everyone standing outside the Lexington Green movie theater that Star Wars Episode I is a horrible piece of crap, warn them that Jar Jar Binks and the little kid that plays Ani will ruin the movie. Also, tell them The Force is a virus in your blood stream. WTF, George Lucus...

Trip three, set my time circuits to August 15th, 1994. I have to put on a hockey mask, mug my younger self, steal my credit cards, and put a note in my pocket that running up thousands in debt when you have a $6/hour part-time job is a stupid, stupid idea.

Trip four, set my time circuits to September 26th, 1994. Hockey mask again, break into the Woodland house I'm living in, put a note on my forehead that says:

"Wake up and go to class. You're paying for college and not attending it, dummy.
PS Do your dishes, you lazy ass.
PPS I can't remember the date... but one of your fiends has or will fondle some other girl in your bed with you sleeping right next to them--that's the most action your bed will see in this house.
PPPS girls you meet over the internet may not be--never mind you'll just have to learn this one on your own."

Trip five, time circuits to 8am, March 17th, 1999. Hockey mask. Give myself a high-five, say "Happy St. Patty's Day," and wink.

The Future is now...and it's pretty awesome.

2011-06-10T13:21:00.001-04:00

I was slow to the adoption of a smart phone, for someone in my field of employment. I mean, I'm a tech guy. I should have had one years ago when they were $500. But instead I have one now that they are...$500. Hmm, I failed to wait long enough for them to become cheaper, I guess. But I've still been behind in the times.

Last month I traded out my dumb, texting phone for a iPhone 4. And sure, it was impressive. It checks mail, it browses the web, it plays video games. It does some handy stuff I've been doing all in my head, like tracking my daily caloric intake. It helps me determine how healthy I'm being on my evening walks by laying out my path and calculating how fast I'm walking. It even works part time as a flashlight on those dark nights where I'm walking into my house. It's cool. You get that from this paragraph.

Well, it's also a phone. And no one tells you how amazing it is as a phone. No one, when I was looking into these things, told me how wickedly awesome they function as phones.

How much can you improve a phone? Well, last night, I got a whim in me to purchase a video game that is a bit older and harder to find. So I checked it out on my phone's web browser, looking up both Best Buy's website and Gamestop's site. I checked their stocks to see if they had this game. They did. But I don't really trust their corporate websites to tell me the truth that an item is actually at the store.

Luckily, the store's phone number is listed right below the in-stock status. I click that number, and my phone jumps from browser to making the phone call for me. Do you know how incredibly convenient this is? I mean, who needs 411, who needs to dial an operator anymore? Who needs to even open a yellow pages book and search? The only way it could be more convenient is if I could talk into the phone and tell it to call Best Buy. Oh wait, it has that option too...only the software for voice recognition is just as flaky as it was 10 years ago. So when I say, "Call Papa Johns," the phone dials my brother-in-law every time for some reason.

Every time. So the future, where things are cool and easy to do, it's here. It's still calling my brother-in-law, but it's here.

The Game of Thrones: Episode--PUPPIES!!!

2011-04-18T09:04:00.001-04:00

No, this isn't a review of the first episode of The Game of Thrones...which I happened to think they did a great job on the show, btw. I think they did spanking good work with the casting. But this post is about the "dire wolves," aka the cute puppies!!!

Every time one of them was frolicking on screen, my wife and I cooed because they are so cute and adorable. They seriously need to up the timeline on these dogs and make them older so that I stop saying, "Oh, look at the cute PUPPY!" when really awful things are happening all around the cute pups.

How bad is it? Well, no spoiler here, but people who read the book will understand this moment. When a certain character has something horrible, huge, and life-changing in the beginning of the book happen...I knew this event was going to happen any moment on screen. But they showed this character's puppy nearby and I say, "Awww, he looks so CUTE!" Then the horrible thing happened. It was too vast a range of emotions.

BTW, that picture above is what the "dire wolf" looks like as a weeks old puppy. Here is a picture of that particular breed of dog standing on two legs.

I kinda want one. So I can mount it and ride it around the neighborhood.

On Fanfic

2011-03-31T09:36:00.001-04:00

The subject of fanfic has come up for two nights in a row, guaranteeing* that I blog about it. If you don't know the softer side of the internet, fanfics are stories that people write set in an already established mythos.

For example, Star Trek. If you were to write a story about Captain Kirk landing on a planet full of space flotsam and jetsam and fighting creatures which eat humans and etc, etc... That's fanfic. If you were to write a story about Captain Kirk finding a planet full of flotsam and jetsam and then a beautiful woman (or Spock) which he makes furious, transporter love with... That's erotic fanfic.

So, now that we are on the same page. The subject of fanfic has come up a couple of times for me in the past 48 hours. First was at writing group. One person, a sci-fi writer, was expressing discomfort with creating her own world and technologies. And she happened to mention that she feels far more comfortable writing fanfic set in the Star Wars universe.

I thought about this later. I actually have it completely opposite. I have zero issue at all creating my own worlds, mythos, languages, terminology, politics. But if someone put a gun against my temple and made me write fanfic, I couldn't do it. It's not because I have standards. LOL, no... I would feel too constricted by the rules of that other world.

I couldn't have Han and Luke make out and Chewie walk in on them and join them, not because I can't write that scene, but because I don't know Wookie anatomy--I don't know where Chewbacca's junk is on his body. He's a hairy dude. That penis could be anywhere.

All kidding aside, I couldn't write fanfic because I don't ever feel like I could be true to the characters. I've watched 7 seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer--probably 3 times now. I've read every bit of season 8 in comic. I still feel like if I wrote Xander's character down that I wouldn't do him justice. Not because I can't write a Xander character, because he's not my character.

As for that second run in with fanfic in the past 48 hours. Well, that's a longer story, really. One I won't go into at the moment. Maybe I'll save that for another post someday...

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.20
Edited 2.2.20
Wrote Project Sydney

*I can't spell "guarantee" without a spell checker. I just fail every time I try to type it.

Paxatony Phil is a lying rat.

2011-03-30T09:23:00.000-04:00

Seasons come and go--or sometimes seasons act like they are coming, but retreat and return to the bitter cold crappiness and our electric bills go right back up with no end in sight...

I really got nothing more to add to this rant. Tired of wearing my winter coat.

Activity since last post:
Wrote and Edited Project Manchester
Wrote Project Sydney
Read Project Manchester like 10 times, cooed softly into my pillow at night.

Setec Astronomy, Growing Up, and Status

2011-03-24T09:28:00.000-04:00

I have several secrets going on in my life. One of them I can share. One of them I won't. And one of them has to remain a secret at the moment, because...well...I may scrap the project altogether and I don't really want people asking, "So how'd such-and-such go?" when I gave up on such-and-such because it sucked-and-sucked. It could suck, really. I'm not the best short story writer--oh God, look what you made me do!!!

Dammit...

Okay, the one secret I can share deals with my daughter. We're keeping tight lips at home about next weekend. She doesn't yet know it, but the whole fam is going to Great Wolf Lodge for my daughter and my nephew's birthday.

Dinner this week has been fun as I casually drop hints that we are going to a surprise place for her birthday and she racks her brain over it. Last night's funniest guess was White Castle, which I tapped my chin thoughfully and said, "That sounds like a good place to go for your birthday. What do you think?" And she scrunched her face up and shouted, "No! They don't have a playset."

She's growing up fast. So fast that the other night, she carried a plastic toy container out of her room and asked me if I wanted it. When I told her no, she said, "Well, I don't want them." I asked why, she replied, "Dad, I'm growing up. I don't need these toys anymore."

That melted my heart.

And one last item on the docket: book 3 status. Work on it is going slowly, I'm only writing on it about once a week at the moment. Too many distractions. It's not a block of any kind or lack of direction. I got plenty to write about, just keep thinking of 20 other things to do.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.20
Edited 2.2.20
Wrote 4.0.9, 4.0.10
Wrote Project Manchester

The Wise Man's Fear - A Review

2011-03-10T10:55:00.000-05:00

This is a non-spoiler review.

I loved The Name of the Wind. So reading this had been the highlight of my year so far. At first, I thought maybe I just hyped it up to much in my mind. But upon further reflection with my wife that also finished reading it, I feel more confident to say "No, it wasn't hype."

I also worried as I read it and the frown increased on my face, that I was overly critical these days. While it's true that I don't read the same as I used to, I am broken in some regard since I became a writer. But this isn't the problem with WMF. I've fallen for several books in the past year. For example, that sleeping part of my mind that tracks criticisms while reading was quiet for The Hunger Games and The Way of Kings. But with this book, my critical tracker beacon was going off in a dozen different sections.

This novel has a pacing problems. I don't necessarily place all the blame of this on Patrick Rothfuss's shoulders. It needed an editor who could say, "This part needs to be trimmed," and "You need a character that grows somewhere in these 900 pages." It's something I've seen over the years in several authors that bring in big numbers in the publishing industry. This has to be the first time I've witnessed it in a sophomore novel. Typically it isn't until the 4th or 6th book that I've seen this degree of lack of motion in a book series.

All that said, the book is still beautifully written. There are segments of it that still curled my toes and made me breath a sigh of wondrous content. And scenes that made me laugh out loud, even one that made me laugh to tears. And there were clever things said that made me envious of Rothfuss's writing.

I still look forward to reading book 3, but I'll read it with far less enthusiasm than this one.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.18, 2.2.19
Edited a bunch of 2.2
Wrote 4.0.9

The Story Missed in The Social Network

2011-02-10T11:46:00.000-05:00

I caught The Social Network last night. I liked it. It entertained, though I seriously doubt that Zuckerberg's life had much to do with partying and chicks as the movie displayed. But who wants to watch a bunch of brilliant programmers eat Doritos, suck down mochas, and code for 2 hours. That bit of sexifying programming is definitely Hollywood's touch. If making websites and programming got the ladies the way this movie portrays, I would have studied harder in school.

What really bugged me was the legal story skimmed and framed in this movie, but then completely failing to point out how effing horrible our legal system is.

If you don't know the story of Zuckerberg and one of this trivial lawsuits, let me summarize using a metaphor we can all understand. Pretend for a moment there are no lay-z-boy reclining chairs in the world(and there are other reclining chairs in the world, just not lay-z-boys). And pretend that Zuckerberg is a carpenter-engineer genius. Essentially, a few guys approach him and say they have an idea for building a high backed, upper-class, throne chair that has an ottoman built into it. Zuckerberg agrees he'll help build one for them. But instead, comes up on his own with a better idea for the recliner chair: big cushions, heavy comfort even before the ottoman pops out. So he goes and makes the lay-z-boy, and people love it. Well the guys who had the idea for the throne chair/recliner sue him for breach of contract...which he did, because Zuckerberg didn't create the throne like he said he would. Okay, damages were due...but not $65 million worth.

To me, that's the real tragedy of his story. How he was exploited because our legal system is crap. He didn't steal anyone's idea for a social network. He took an already existing product (myspace/friendster) and made it better. Social networks were around before a bunch of Harvard guys mentioned it to him. He just went and built one way bigger than these folks dreamed of, and because they brought it up once, they get $65 million.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.19
Edited 2.2.19, 2.2.20
Large and small edits throughout 2.2
Wrote 4.0.6, 4.0.7, 4.0.8, 4.0.9

MATT DAMON and The Green Zone

2011-01-31T11:00:00.014-05:00

Let's get this one out of the way... MATT DAMON!!!

Have to do it. You can thank Team America for spoiling this actor's name for me. I just can't think about him, see him, or watch a movie with him in it without thinking MATT DAMON.

So I caught The Green Zone last night on HBO. If you don't know what it is, it's a thriller/action movie that is set around the issue of WMDs(or lack there of) in Iraq back in 2003. If someone said, "Hey you! You have to watch a film about the Iraq War." Then I would whip this one out long before even looking at The Hurt Locker. Why? Well, this movie addresses the better question about Iraq, IMO. What happened to all those WMDs we were supposed to find? Why didn't we find them?

Sure, it's a piece of fiction, and the biggest fiction part being that it lays all the blame on the shoulders of one or two people(as opposed to the dozens of non-fact-checking reporters and decade of poor intelligence gathering under several presidential administrations). But in the end, it portrays a piece of that war honestly(the failure to find WMDs, and the CIAs hesitation with disbanding the Baathist army). It asks questions, answers some and leaves others for the viewer to think about. And that's what a good war movie should do.

MATT DAAAAMON

Activity since last post:
Moved 3.1.23 to 4.0.4
Edited 4.0.4
Wrote 4.0.3, 4.0.5, 4.0.6

One Promise Already Broken

2011-01-27T11:15:00.004-05:00

I said at the beginning of the month that I was done with the Revision 2 and would shelve it. Yeah, that didn't happen. But not because I'm addicted to editing now.

Logan, a fellow blogger and creator of the site, Rememorandom, mentioned a writing contest to me. To which I read the details of it and giggled like a small child in joy. This particular contest is toward a manuscript sized novel, 70,000 to 140,000 in length, and I know just the novel that was sitting around and waiting.

Only there was one little problem, I left something undone on Revision 2. It's minor really, and I started to write all about it, but then realized this was boring information that no one would care about but me.

Let me use a metaphor instead. Picture two tennis shoes--never mind the kitten, that was just a cute picture... Both shoes are laced up on this child's foot, but the left shoe has the strings tightly laced and the right shoe has stings that are loose and a little frayed at the ends.

Now, some people would look at the shoes and wave their hand dismissively at it. But this is your child, and if those strings on the right shoe come undone, then your child could trip and fall and scrape a knee, and you just don't want that to happen. So you bend down, lace the right shoe up tighter, maybe you even slap a piece of scotch tape over one of the frayed ends, just to make it easier to lace up in the future.

Make sense? It's much better than the boring play-by-play of POV characters and tension and chapter placement. Trust me.

So that's why I broke my promise. It's all fixed up now. And I'll end up a quick read through the book this weekend and fix lingering grammatical errors I can actually catch before I submit to the writing contest.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.16
Edited 2.2.16
Cut 2.2.17 in half making it 2.2.17 and 2.2.18; upped all successive chapter numbers by one.
Moved 2.2.20 to 2.2.22
Heavily Edited 2.2.19, 2.2.21, 2.2.22
Wrote 4.0.1, 4.0.2, 4.0.3

17 Months

2011-01-14T11:00:00.004-05:00

This week has been full of structuring details into place before I begin writing new and fresh plot material--something that hasn't been done for over 17 months. Oh sure, I've written new material, I've written new dialogue, but not plots. I was filling gaps in the masonry, but now I get to build another house.

I sat down and read through book 2 so I could get back in my character's heads from all the things that happen in that novel. At first, I was reading on my computer, in Word, but I kept trying to correct things. That would have delayed me another month or two. So I adjusted my strategy, set my document up to be read on my Kindle, then finished the read-through on that format.

Then I went and rewrote the ending to book 2, because I didn't like the situation I put one of my POV characters in. And that catapults me into readjusting my outline for book 3.

First of all, I put too constrictive of an outline on the book to begin with. When I wrote 1 & 2, I had basic ideas of scenes I wanted to get too, and wrote my characters toward them. But occasionally they wrote themselves into better sections than I had originally planned for those folks. One of my favorite scenes from book 1 and my hands-down favorite scene of book 2 were completely off-the-cuff. I'm talking about material I never would have thought of outlining. Why ruin that magic? So I'm now swapping book 3s outline to a loose format, with plenty of room for my characters to wiggle as they descend into the dark days ahead of them.

Activity since last post:
Read 3.1
Heavily Edited 3.1.23
Edited 4.0.1
Redesigned 4.0's Outline

Media Bits and Recommendations

2011-01-11T11:00:00.001-05:00

You know I filter through a lot of crap out there, media wise. I don't share 90% of it with others because 40% is crap only I'll like and the other 50% is just crap. But I'm always on the lookout for amusing or good stuff to share with others. Today, I have one of those posts where I actually can recommend something.

Skins

This import is from the land of the Brits. And it's like Dawson's Creek on crack. Actually that metaphor is very fitting, if everyone on Dawson's Creek was poor and baked out of their minds for 100% of that show. It's The Inbetweeners with 90% of the comedy removed and replaced with drama, sex, and drugs, and sex, and more drugs.

I would never want a teenager to watch this show, out of fear of how many pills they would down and how much weed they would smoke. But would I recommend adults watch it? If you can handle language, nudity, sex, drugs, and well-written characters in your cup of teen drama... Yeah. Hell yeah...

I'll admit, at first what had me watching this show was the T&A that was dispersed in the first couple episodes, because to be honest, it started out a little cliche. But then...oh stars...then the characters catapulted me into watching like a freak, and I became obsessed and hooked, and I couldn't get up from hitting next, watching the following episode... This was how my New Years Day was spent: 14 hours* in front of the telly, watching a season and a half of this show, until finally I passed out and woke the next morning only to hit play as soon as I could.

The seasons are only about 9 episodes long, 45 mins per episode. I was chatting with The Locke a while back about how maybe the Brits got it right by having these shorter seasons. After watching this show, I gotta admit that The Locke is onto something. More than 9 episodes would have felt tiresome for this show. But instead, we get teen, sex-crazed, drug-induced drama at is perfection.

For Season 3, they changed the cast to an entirely new cast(after all, the show is about the college years for brits, 16-18, what is our Junior and Senior year here in the States). I thought I would hate rebooting and following a new cast. But to be quite honest, I like the second generation Skins cast more than the first after watching the whole season.

* Warning: If you sit down and watch 14 hours of British television, you are likely to walk around chatting with a British accent and tossing a lot of colloquialisms and slang.

Tron: Legacy: the Soundtrack
While it's true that I didn't care much for Tron: Legacy, I do fancy the soundtrack.

It's got a nice feel for leaving it on the background while I write. No lyrics, just high-paced rumbling and kick-ass music. I can't begin to understand why these Daft Punk chaps wear the helmets. But, hey, I like their music, none the less.

2nd Revision Draft Complete

2011-01-07T12:27:00.000-05:00

This journey began last May. I'm glad I blog these things, because I look back at what I said 8 months ago, and I get a laugh. Oh that guy, to see through his eyes. He thought this revision wouldn't take so long. That's so cute. Even more amusing... In that post, I was talking about the whole 240k word novel, not even the 120k version I work with today. So cute.

Just for Revision 2, the major focus was to fix the magic system. That got completed. And I was going to introduce my villains earlier, that happened as well. But I grew up a little, killed a darling or two that needed removing. And then there was the whole split-the-book-in-half thing; that certainly put a load of work on me to complete.

Where do I go from here?

I'm shelving the novel for several months(after making a few copies for some interested parties.) After a number of months(I'm hoping at least 6), I'll sit down with a hard copy and a couple of highlighters and mark the sections I enjoy reading with one color and sections that bore me with another. And if there's really anything significant to change, I'll be headed to revision 3. If I'm satisfied, then it's time to shop around.

In the meantime, I'm going to be writing fresh material on this series. You can't imagine how happy this makes me feel. It's been over a year since I sat down and actually wrote fresh plots and character developments. After over 16 months in revision, I'm giddy for the switch.

Looking from the rough draft's perspective, I've come a long way. I think 30% of my improvement has been just my own practice, 50% has been from writing group or other folks that have read and critiqued, and 20% from research I've done on both grammar and fiction writing style.

And for that 50%: Cat, of course, but also Julie, David, Carrie, Dean, Erin, Casey, John, Kieth, and a multitude of other folks that stopped by from week to week every Tuesday. I'm eternally grateful for each of them. Because of them, I am light years ahead of where I was when I started this crazy hobby of mine. So if any of the above-mentioned folks ever lurk around here and read this: Thank you.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.15
Edited 2.2.15, 2.2.16, 2.2.17, 2.2.20, 2.2.21, 2.2.22, 2.2.23, 2.2.25, 2.2.26, 2.2.28
Heavily edited 2.2.24, 2.2.27, 2.2.29
Completed 2.2 Revision

Flash Fiction #5: The Line

2010-12-30T14:06:00.000-05:00

The Line
by Jay Belt

Bailey's tear-filled eyes focused on a point beyond the black, empty line at the bottom of the medical information form. Since the meteor, no one was left she could consider for an emergency contact. She wondered what the other survivors wrote in that space.

Tron 2: Evil Albinos Attack

2010-12-23T08:00:00.006-05:00

Say what you want about Tron: Legacy. I say it's an okay flick--worth a rental, at least. It delivers more Tron world. If that's what you want, you'll get paid in full. Light cycles, check. Disc fights, check. Tank chase, che--er , no, that's missing. People in tights, check.

I could easily pick at it though. Not about the lack of intriguing plot. I mean, Tron 1 lacked just as much in the writing department as Tron 2. I'm not gonna pick at the music, which was good, albeit loud as hell and I often felt like I was drowning in it. Seriously, someone turn it down a little!

Maybe they pumped the music up to full volume to make up for the poorly choreographed action sequences. Can we pull the camera back once or twice for a shot so I can tell what the hell is going on? COME ON, PEOPLE! I'm having "Christopher Nolan Batman fight scene nausea" just thinking about Tron 2's action scenes.

No. No, I'm not gonna bitch about that. Don't get me started.

What I'm gonna complain about is albino bad guys... Really?!? Has this cliche not been ridden on enough? Is there a screenwriter out there somewhere who can write in an interesting albino side-character that isn't going to turn out evil? No? Not possible? Honestly?

Well, at least we've never seen evil albinos in Cyberpunk movies. Oh... oh wait...

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.14
Edited 2.2.13, 2.2.14, 2.2.15, 2.2.16, 2.2.17, 2.2.18, 2.2.19, 2.2.20

A Tale of Two Games

2010-12-10T10:00:00.055-05:00

Here are two of the video games I'm currently playing from time to time.

Minecraft

There's something horribly addictive about this game. You build things using ugly square blocks. And yet, all those squares start looking pretty at a distance. But this game touches on that creative center, like SimCity or LEGOs.

Not the LEGO video games...no, I mean like being handed a giant box of LEGOs. Only at night, scary monsters come out of unlit places and try to kill you (they don't want your LEGOs, they just want blood). And if they do, you drop all your LEGOs on the ground and have to somehow recover your pieces with bloody awful spiders jumping 30 yards, skeleton archers, or god forbid the thing that kill you be a creeper. Then all your LEGOs are lying in a crater.

That screenshot I have above is a small castle I made. I say small in the manner of some other creations I've made. That particular castle has about 4 levels to it and a mine below it. I carved it out of the side of a mountain. My other projects have been epic in scale compared to that puny, insignificant, 4-story castle. Things like the Great Pyramids of Egypt in scale.

World of Boredcraft - Catatonic

Yes, it's the final expansion for me. I feel it. It's been a good run--it has. I've had my moments of crazy addiction. I've had my moments of sickness. But the love/hate affair for this game is gone. It's pretty bad when on the second night of being able to "level up the main," I log off and go watch some old episodes of a TV show I've already watched. Flying over Stormwind at an extreme height was pretty. The rest of the game has been blah. Kill X monsters, loot X chests of iron ingots, click on the X devices. We've been here before. We've been here for 80 levels, the next 5 seem more of a pain than the 80 before them.

I haven't even stepped in a dungeon yet. I was doing that on night one for the past two expansions.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.14
Edited 2.2.8, 2.2.9, 2.2.14, 2.2.15, 2.2.16, 2.2.18, 2.2.23

Revision 2 Status

2010-12-02T10:40:00.001-05:00

Since May, I've been slowly working on my second round of revision. I built a roadmap and plotted out 7 big things that needed work on. 6 of those original 7 have been completed. But 1 old item still remains, and 2 new big and troublesome items have appeared which has lengthened the revision out.

One of the bigger things was added when I split the book in half. I now have to interweve the new ending of the novel throughout the book. The other big list item is pacing, I'm trying to keep a consistent pace in the book.

There are a few chapters in the middle with pacing issues and one at the end. I fixed one of the worst recently--fixed it real good. And now, I feel great about that chapter.

All-in-all, I still see another couple of months ahead of me in the round of revision, unless something changes with my home life and I get more free time on my hands...

So that's where I'm at, if anyone was actually curious. After this round of revision is done, I'm going to hand over a couple of copies to folks who have expressed interest in reading it(not agents, but beta readers). And while they read on it, I'm going to FINALLY start writing a new novel--maybe even shop for agents...maybe.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.13, 2.2.14
Edited 2.2.13, 2.2.14, 2.2.15, 2.2.24

Keep on Rocking, Harmonix

2010-11-19T09:17:00.000-05:00

Last week, Rock Band 3 finally made it's way into my XBox. One week later, I have a new keyboard and a new respect for Harmonix.

First, let's set the record straight. I loved Rock Band. I loved Rock Band 2. I was completely happy with how the games were setup: building a band, touring, unlocking music... I thought it was a great setup.

I was wrong.

Rock Band 3's progression is perfection(at least until Harmonix shows me they can up the ante in RB4...). Now, instead of starting in a small town and touring, building up to get a van, to get a bus, to get a plane you--well, you do the same thing, but in a drastically different way.

It's nothing at all like the last game. Now, you setup your character and your band. Or if you are me, you setup four characters, because even besides the main person I play, I like to see four regular band members that I created on stage. And you rejoice with the clothing selection because it's not just 4 shirts and pants. You start with a decently large selection. Because outfitting your peeps is important--if your me.

After you setup your band name, you start wherever you feel like it. You can start working on personal goals, or you can start touring, or you can just play a song or setlist of songs. It doesn't matter because you still gain points toward your band! Genius!!!

There's so much freedom, and you could completely play through the game without even touching any of the new music, but why would you? I mean Bohemian Rhapsody? Hello! Werewolves of London anyone? Aooooooo. Werewolves of London.

So yeah. Fun times. I blew out my voice last weekend singing so much. I may have sung Lady Gaga a time or six. Hey, it's not all me. My daughter loves that song and bangs the hell out of the drums while I wail "Bad Romance" at the top of my lungs. It's my daughter's fault--not mine...

And last night I was beating it to Poker Face while shaking my rear and entertaining my wife. So yeah, I may have a Lady Gaga problem.

Beating the drums. Get your mind out of the gutter, people.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.13
Edited 2.2.13, 2.2.14, 2.2.7, 2.2.8

Busy as one of these guys...

2010-11-05T10:00:00.010-04:00

I gotta admit, I was a little worried as I typed up "beaver" as a GIS search with my kids in the same room. Luckily only a picture of thick, furry friends displayed on my screen...

Oh wait. That really didn't provide the imagery I wanted.

So I'm a bit busy lately. I've been running consistency checks on the novel, which requires that I complete a lot of reading. Since Revision 2's main cutting and creating had been finished, I'd yet to do a consistency check to make sure that the bits I had changed and rewritten matched what was already in place. For example, if I adjusted someone's hair from red to blond, I needed to make sure I never described them or their hair color as red or fiery or sexy hot red-headed mama. And then I have to also make sure that I deflate 90% of their sexuality, just like Laura Prepon.

Do you doubt me? Check it out. You turn this:

into this:

See what I mean? What was my post about? I forget. Save the redheads people. Save them. I'll be in my bunk.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.12
Edited all over 2.2.
Heavy editing in 2.2.1, 2.2.2, 2.2.3, 2.2.4, 2.2.12, 2.2.23

Three Dead, One to Go: Part 5 of 5

2010-10-29T08:00:00.003-04:00

In case you're catching up, here's Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4. Now for the conclusion of Three Dead, One to Go. Enjoy.

---------

The necromancer clicks his tongue. “Dawnie, you remember Seville? That pogothian dem. Ya gotta admit that was a helluva show.”

“Shannon, don’t be an arse. Drop my husband, slink back into the shadow world, and you get to live another day. Deal?”

He’s not going to let go of me. Gornath demons take forty-six years to summon. No reasonable necro is going to walk away from something that took that long to set in motion, let alone Shannon, who’s nowhere near the same area code as rational. If only I could talk, if only I wasn’t still frozen. I’d warn my wife that she needs to shut up and kill him. She’s worried he’ll use me as a shield if she attacks, or kill me and use my planar shift into the spirit realm to power him up.

That’s the problem with working with your spouse in this kind of business. Lightbringers shouldn’t let emotions get in the way of duty. They ought to show up and slay their intended target.

I have a good feeling about our predicament. This situation, after all, has left me alive for a few seconds longer. Shannon hasn’t attacked my wife yet, and has yet to kill me. But he’s still got his cold digits wrapped around my throat and I still can’t move any muscle. The pain in my chest and the spots appearing on my vision remind me that neither my heart nor my lungs are currently functioning. So my good feeling--kinda fading fast.

I hear a clink of a cat bell a split second before the shaft of wood cracks against my skull. The world does this wild spinning thing for a few minutes. If this was a cartoon, I would be seeing stars or maybe little yellow birds floating around me.

I take a deep breath, a thankful inhale of moldy and dusty air. I hear the blood pounding in my ears even though my chest still burns. The icy fingers are gone from my throat. I’m lying on the cold cement. My vision clears, focuses. In the air, golden tendrils of light dance waltzes around charcoal black inky strands. Shannon and Dawn are fighting.

I struggled to rise, my arms quivering like there’s no bone left in them. I cough up blood and spit it on the floor. A line of dribble clings to my lip, connecting a thin crimson strand from my face to the concrete. Another sharp squeeze of pain hits my chest. My face feels numb.

None of this is good news. I’ve got to help Dawn and ensure she makes it out of here alive. I picture my kids’ faces, sad and alone, lost to the system of orphanages and foster homes. No. That can’t happen.

I know the score. It’s tied at this point--anyone’s game. But he’s a necromancer. If I die, if I cross planes, Shannon wins this fight.

I get to my knees and raise my head just in time to see a flash of yellow light. Dawn slashes the bastard sword down on Shannon’s left arm. A sharp clanging of steel echoes in the cannery as the blade bounces off his black coat. Tiny sparks jump from the jacket to the floor. The air is thick with the stench of burnt sugar.

Tulsa is lying next to me. The ebony skin on his hand glistens with blood. His ash-coated staff rests on the ground at his feet, split in twain at the base. I feel his neck for a pulse as I grimace against another squeeze of pain on my heart.

Another racking cough. More blood spittle. A bit spatters on Tulsa’s cheek.

My partner’s eyes snap open. “C’mon Harvey, this is a poor time to die.”

“My. Heart,” I say though ragged gasps of breath. “He. Stopped...” The world spins again, darkens. I’m dead now, for sure. And as I pass into the spirit plane, everyone alive in the room will feel the power of a necro. Fear of my death feeds him; my transcendence across dimensions powers him.

In the black abyss, a white tunnel bursts into view. Wispy arms reach for me, pull me, and voices call with a soothing song. It sounds like Ariel when she gives her voice up to Ursula the Sea Witch. Ahhh-ahhh.

Ahhh-ah-ahhh.

I feel at home, at peace with--

The white tunnel collapses. The cannery returns, gold embers dance in the air. Tulsa stands over me with a white hot metal rod. “You little shit,” I say to him, smiling. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

I hear a scream, something awful like a dying cat. I roll my dizzy head over to take a peek. Shannon’s standing a couple yards away, Dawn’s sword sticking in his torso, hilt in the front, glowing tip coming out his back. Shafts of blinding light pour out of the mortal wound, and inky mist cascades away from Shannon’s feet, seeping into the cracks in the concrete.

Tulsa smiles. “She’s a keeper, that one is.” He holds out his bloodied hand.

I clasp it and stand. My muscles twitch with the strength of the Fogal Rod he’s holding. “Why’d you think I married her? A Lightbringer for a wife is a handy thing to have. I wouldn’t even trade it for that Fogal. Speaking of which, how long have you been holding onto that little artifact?”

“Since Brussels.”

“The succubus?”

His wide pearly teeth show in a large grin. “She had it in her lair.”

“You have been holding out on me. Resurrection rods are contraband, dude. Does The Council know you have it?”

He shakes his head. “And I’d appreciate it if you kept it on the down-low, mate.”

“Tulsa, you saved my life. The low is very much on the down.”

The Fogal winks out to a red marbled color. My partner slips the device into his jacket, looking a little sheepish as he tucks it away. The room is brighter now, as natural sunlight filters back in through the windows. The last of Shannon--now only vapors swirling around Dawn--retreats into the shadows of the factory.

I glance around. An Asian man is curled in the corner, his eyes closed as if sleeping. “Is that our fourth victim?”

Tulsa nods. “Don’t know why Shannon didn’t execute him when he first arrived.”

“Probably thought he’d easily overwhelm us. Not like it’s hard, just has to touch our flesh.” I feel the flakey chapped skin at my neck. Next to me, Tulsa rubs his injured hand.

Dawn holds her blade up to the sky, then releases it and the bastard sword rises up, soaring toward the broken skylight she descended from. With a bright flash, the weapon disappears. She looks over at Tulsa and me, her green eyes taking in our condition. “You chaps look spent.”

I glance down at my blood splattered white fleece. “You know, we’re down south in the States. After we clean up, we could hit up a Waffle House. Tulsa, I’ll pay on account of you saving my life and all.”

Tulsa’s eyes light up. “America’s finest eatery!”

Dawn shakes her head, one of her lovely blond tresses falls across her pale face. “I have to get back to the kids. Simon’s got a cold and my sister’s watching them at the moment.” She glances around the factory. “You two okay with filling out the paperwork on this one?”

“I kind of have no idea what happened.” I say, my face flushing with embarrassment. “I had a heart attack and died.”

She shrugs. “You chaps’ve seen me fight before. Just make up something. But make sure you mention that Shannon is back in the shadow world, and he’ll be stuck there for about five months. Leave the part out about the dying and the Fogal Rod though.” She winks at me, gives Tulsa a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Tulsa. You boys stay safe--for a few more assignments, at least.”

“I have a flight to Manchester tomorrow, dear. Give my love to Simon and Alice.”

She smiles, blows a kiss at me as she begins ascending into the air. “Miss you, love. Bring some souvenirs from--where the heck are we?”

“Columbus, Georgia.”

She frowns. “Oh, never mind, don’t bother.” With a flash of light, she’s gone.

Tulsa has a mischievous look in his eyes as he looks over at me. “She’s got a nice tush.”

I nod. “I never get to see it much these days though, except when she rescues us. You know how it is, married with kids.”

Tulsa nods with a distant look in his eyes. “Sweat pants.”

“Five pairs of them.” I sigh. “Hey, where’d our spirit friends go?”

My partner bends down, picks up his ash-coated staff, and points at the broken end. “They left when this happened. How does your head feel?”

“Well I’ve been resurrected. How do you think it feels?”

“Too right. We still got to cleanse this place, mate. I got a spare staff in the rental car. Be right back.”

Tulsa shuffles off across the factory floor, leaving me alone with the Asian guy and nothing to do but stare at the floor, where my blood of my first life still glistens on the cement. I feel the weight of the job on my newly healed shoulders, the mountain of paperwork I’ll have to file on my laptop. Three dead, one to go. But we saved him--er Dawn saved him, saved all of us really.

I stare at the man slumped over in the corner, he’s got on a pair of denim jeans and some kind of Asian lettering on his t-shirt, Korean maybe. He looks peaceful, content. Lucky him. He doesn’t have to worry about demons and devils and trans-dimensional storms. He doesn’t have to witness terrible--

Is he breathing?

I stare at his chest. I don’t see it rising or falling.

Oh stars.

I run forward. I have to feel his pulse and make sure. My foot catches on something. The shot rings out, roars off the walls. The guy’s head bursts open, splattering red and pink and white out of his skull. The man’s eyes barely flutter open. He was breathing and alive, but not anymore.

I look down at my foot, spot the tripwire, and follow its thin line to the gun hidden behind the dead Asian guy.

“Shannon, you bastard.” He set this up, set it all up. Gornath demons attack everything, even their summoners. What’s the best way to raise a Gornath and live? Make sure you’re not even in this world when it arrives. And we were the dupes who sent Shannon away. We played right into his hands.

The ground shakes beneath my feet. Sulfur fills the air, burning my nose, making my eyes water. Fire jets out of a crack in the earth. The heat of it burns the air around me.

“Love ya, Dawn,” I whisper to the scorching wind. “Love ya, kids.” The next thing I know, all is black.

And in the deep embrace of death, a silvery-white tunnel explodes into view.

---------

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.12
Edited 2.2.12, 2.2.13, various minor edits on 2.2
Edited Project Tulsa

A Working Day

2010-10-26T11:00:00.001-04:00

When it comes to writing, there are days where I soar like a commuter jet. There are days (and I've mentioned this before) where I wade through caramel thick layers of doubt. Like anything else in life, you have your good days, you have your bad.

I've heard other authors talk about that one harsh comment or review that will send them spiraling into skepticism of their own ability and actions. I know I'm not alone in that matter. And so it is, that the worlds aligned themselves recently when I purchased the new Ben Folds album: Lonely Avenue.

LA is a collaboration between Ben Folds and Nick Hornby, the latter wrote the lyrics and the former put them to music. Nick Hornby, in case you didn't know, is an author of such works as High Fidelity, About a Boy, and Fever Pitch(to name a few of his books that made it into film). Really, I purchased this album the day I heard about it because it's Ben Folds, but anyone that knows me is not shocked by this news.

What I didn't expect, is a song to hit me hard against the face and left me reeling. This particular song, "A Working Day," resonates deep in my soul. I've included the lyrics below the You Tube vid. It showcases the fragility of the creator's ego. And I read in my little booklet that came with the CD that Nick got the inspiration for the song after talking to another artist friend. He asked his friend how he was doing. To which the artist friend replied, "Well you know how it is, either you're a genius or a wanker."

A Working Day, lyrics by Nick Hornby, performed by Ben Folds

I can do this, really, I'm good enough
I'm as good as them, but don't take it from me
Ask my friends, ask my sister
They all think my stuff is great
Up there with any of them
I just need a break

I'm a genius, really, I'm excellent
Better than them, I kick their asses
All of them, even that guy
Who thinks he's fuckin' cool
Gets all of the attention
He doesn't sell shit does he

Some guy on the net thinks I suck and he should know
He's got his own blog

I'm a loser
I'm a poser
Yeah really
It's over
I mean it and I quit
Everything I write is shit

Hey, hey
It's a working day
Hey, hey
It's a working day

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.2.12, 2.2.13

Three Dead, One to Go: Part 4 of 5

2010-10-22T09:00:00.002-04:00

In case you might have fallen behind, here are links to: Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

---------

Shannon Reilly. The last necromancer I would have considered to be behind this, simply because of his age. But I should have realized it. Even at thirteen, Shannon had been making waves in the underground. His journey to Ovetian Dimension is legendary within my little circle of friends and colleagues. But the guy is bad news. Well any necro is bad news, but Shannon more specifically is listed on The Golden Council Most Wanted list.

The key to surviving a necro is squashing your fear and finding happiness. Necros feed on fear like a newborn babe clutches its mother’s breast. It gives them power, strength, and allows them to do terrible things like blacken out the sun for a short radius, as Shannon has already done here in this abandoned peach cannery.

Darkness itself provides more fear. For example, I have no idea where Shannon is, and that causes a fluttering of fear inside me, providing him with more power. I also have no idea where Tulsa is, even though he was standing mere feet from me moments ago. I can no longer assume Tulsa’s there. He may be dead now. I may be dead now. There’s really no telling until I get some light up in this place.

In the presence of a necro, the only way to get illumination is to strengthen yourself with happiness, joy, or hope--whatever you want to call it. There’s a happy place I have to find. Much like Dorothy clicking her heals in Oz, I have to seek it out and realize there’s no place like home. Without the ruby slippers, of course. I got something better than sparkly shoes.

My hand fumbles in my left coat pocket, feeling the plastic, making sure I’m not grabbing my cell phone. That would just be frighteningly embarrassing. And cause me to die, if I’m not already in that state.

I hear shuffling in the dark, a jingling of a bell. Tulsa’s on the move. Can’t worry about him now though, he’s got his own trials to face. We each do.

My fingers grip the long, thin device in my pocket, cross the contours of buttons. It’s not my phone. Good. I pull the personal recorder out. Which button was play? Dammit.

There’s more shuffling, multiple feet, not just Tulsa. I swallow my dread. Hold my breath. Ignoring everything around me, the tips of my digits seek the embossed triangle. A glimmer of hope hits me as I feel it. I press play.

Laughter. The sweet natural gaiety of my son’s giggle fills my ears. The digital voice recorder in my hand burst into a golden light, washing a circle around me brighter than a Broadway spotlight. My heart warms at hearing my child’s mirth, the greatest joy in all my life.

The spirits are still next to me, sitting helpless with eyes as wide as half-dollar coins. Their fear, luckily, will not be feeding Shannon’s power. I notice they aren’t moving their mouths or heads. Lying on the floor is Tulsa’s staff with no sign of my ebony partner. But the light from my recorder doesn’t extend far, and worse, I know there are only a few more seconds of laughter left in the playback.

I reach back in my pocket, produce my cell phone, flip it open, and type “t down. necro. send light 2 me asap.” I hit send to the only entry in my address book. The mobile chirps its sent text sound. In my other hand, my son’s laughter ends, casting me in darkness once more.

Five heartbeats thump loud against my ears before I feel cold fingers gripping my throat. I’m frozen, can’t move, muscles ache all over my body. I can’t breathe, not because he’s squeezing my throat, but because my lungs won’t move. I feel the strength of any hope being sapped from me. “Been ages comin’, boyo” Shannon murmurs in my ear. His breath is frosty on my skin. A sharp pain presses into my skull, worse than any migraine I’ve ever felt. “Say hello to Jaysus for meh--if he exists.”

Whispering dialogue to me right before I die? What an asshole. This is my forth encounter with Shannon. The first time, I’d been just a month in The Golden Council and spirit hunting with my mentor. That fight had quickly ended with Shannon slinking off into the shadow world. The second was nothing, a passing on the street, and the rules of our organization prevent public displays of our powers. Shannon follows the same rules, regardless of how evil he is. After all, he wants to remain dominant. If everyone knew about necromancers, there’d be more competition for the dark magicks and there’s only so much power to be shared. My third encounter with Shannon had almost ended both of our lives. I won’t go into it, but it was like a Mexican standoff, sans guns and Mexicans.

My nose starts dribbling blood. I can’t see it. But I can picture the crimson drops pattering on my cheap, cream-colored fleece jacket--don’t ask me why I have to wear fleece in the middle of summer; it’s one of those annoying uniform details of the job. Business men wear suits, burger-flippers don polyester, and Golden Council members sweat in thick, hot-ass coats.

But that’s a tangent for some other moment, you know, where I’m not dying. If only I could have lasted a few heartbeats longer. I could have helped--

There’s a crash of glass. Shannon’s icy fingers loosen on my neck. The pain in my head subsides, but my nose is still leaking.

Looks like I’m in luck.

The darkness flees as a blinding white radiance descends from the broken skylight of the factory ceiling. The bleached lance of light crashes into the dirty concrete floor, washing goodness and happiness into the ruined abandonment of industry. From it, the beautiful shapely figure of a woman solidifies and takes form, long golden hair tied in a pony tail, half-zipped cream fleece jacket with a golden suns embroidered on the shoulders, thigh-tight white jeans hug a delicious looking rump, and in her hands, a enormous glowing bastard sword shines like a lighthouse on a foggy night.

Shannon’s eyes narrow. “Dawnie.”

Dawn swings the sword into a ready attack position. “Shannon Reilly,” her voice sings in a soprano diva tone. “Get your ruddy necro hand off my husband.”

---------

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.12
Edited 2.2.12
Wrote on 4.0.2
Edited Project Tulsa
Conceptualized and outlined Project Medusa

Three Dead, One to Go: Part 3 of 5

2010-10-15T09:00:00.026-04:00

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here.

---------

Finally, Tulsa is done moving and shaking. “Just three dead by gunshot, Harvey.”

I look up my partner. “I can get up now, right?”

Tulsa nods.

Rising, I sit crossed-legged like Matt the acquisitions lawyer. “So we’re here to determine who killed you. Because he’s going to do it again, right here in this very spot, and when he does, it’s going to raise a gornath demon. Tulsa and I would like to avoid tha--yes, Barbie.”

The hooker is working her mouth in an O shape, like a silent chimp waiting for a banana. “You are like Buffy the Vampire Slayer! She kills demons and--” Her mouth continues through the motions. She is speaking but muted like a television.

Tulsa shrugs as I glance up at him. “Sorry, Harvey. I can’t take much more of her.”

“I understand. Keep her muted for now, but don’t send her back yet. Where was I?”

“Gornath demon,” Matt the lawyer says.

I snap my fingers. “Thanks. You all were killed in a summoning sacrifice, spread slowly over the course of four decades, four different people, and we expect that fourth to be any day now.”

Matt frowns. “So why not just stake out the place and wait for the killer to show?”

“It’s not that simple, mate.”

“Tulsa’s right. Not that simple. See, the person we’re hunting is a necromancer.”

They all stare at me like I’m batty. Even Barbie stops trying to talk incessantly. “You mean he had sex with our corpses?” Christine asks. Her eyes are wider than when she looked at the holes in the other two spirits’ heads.

“No, that’s necrophilia. A necromancer is someone who uses magic based on the energies of the departed. Oh stop staring at me like that! You’re all dead. Tulsa brought you here to talk to me. You could, for just a moment, bend your little minds around the concept that there is magic in the world.”

Christine stares up at Tulsa again, regaining the “he’s going to rape me” look on her face. “Are you a necromancer?”

Tulsa shakes his head. The cat bell on his staff jingles as his shifts his feet. “I’m a shaman. Our transcendence in the spirit world crosses the Jin Fu Mar--”

“Tulsa, dude.” I shake my head at him. “We don’t have time for lessons. Look folks. He’s a shaman, I’m a Golden Council member, and you three are dead and haven’t the slightest clue about our world. Let’s pair it down to simple layman speak. Magic real. Bad guy know magic. Bad guy going to sacrifice one more like you. You three saw bad guy. Describe him.”

“Or her. It could be a bad girl. That was rather sexist of you, Harvey.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right, Tulsa. It could be a woman. She or he would have met with each of you once before killing you, the day before you were murdered. And he or she would have asked you to tell them the time.”

“The time?” Christine asks. Her face twists in a thoughtful look. “Asked the time...”

Barbie starts talking again; she still hasn’t realized she is muted. Matthew closes his eyes, lips twisting in a frown. I’m not sure if he’s thinking about his killer or just bored with us. At least Christine looks like she is pondering the issue.

“Did any of you remember seeing this person or this abandoned factory before you departed this world?”

Christine shakes her head. “Last thing I remember was walking out of church. I was just walking down sixth street, toward my car. I don’t remember anything after that. Not this place, not--” her eyes flicker up to the holes in the other’s heads “--not anything after church.”

“How about the day before--or even earlier that day. Did someone ask you if you knew what time it was?”

She frowns, looking down at her unmoving hands. “Um, there was a boy...the day before. I was at Churchill Downs. He was brushing a horse. I only remember because of his striking accent.”

“Boy?” Tulsa says, frowning, shaking his head.

“An accent?” Matt the lawyer says. His eyes pop open and face pales. “I don’t suppose he was Irish, was he?”

Christine’s jaw hangs. Barbie starts silently jabbering away.

I look at Tulsa. “Shannon?”

“It can’t be, mate. He’s too young. Shannon would have only been--”

“A cub?” a voice calls from the dark shadows of the factory, thick with an Irish baroque. “I was only thirteen when I sacked the scanger. I was shittin’ bricks. But you gotta start early if you wanna see a gornath dem.”

I can’t seem to take my eyes off Tulsa’s face, too scared to search the shadows for Shannon. My ebony friend swallows deep, nervous fingers twitch on his staff, giving the slightest clink of bell. We look at each other, frozen. We weren’t prepared to face a necro tonight. Well, who is fully prepared to face a necromancer on his own turf?

“Harvey and Tulsa...howareya?”

The light peaking through the windows and through the holes in the metal sheet roof extinguishes, as if the midday sun outside has met its end. I can’t see a damn thing, not even Tulsa’s pearly white teeth.

Not that he would be smiling.

There’s definitely nothing to beam about now.

---------

Activity since last post:
Edited various bits of 3.1
Edited Project Tulsa
Wrote on 4.0.2

The Long Sigh of Relief

2010-10-13T09:56:00.000-04:00

Two weeks ago, I blogged about Daisy and his tirade against my writing. He hasn't been back since. This week in writer's group, I closed that particular chapter out(that's literally, by the way, I finished reading a chapter) in one gruesomely violent scene, probably the most disturbing stuff I've ever written, but it does setup how one character changes forever, so sometimes you have to burn Rome to build it better.

But still, you burn Rome, you come out looking like an a-hole for all of history, so that might be a poor analogy--or maybe it's spot on.

Chapter 10 has been mentioned before on my blog. I also stick to my guns that I should probably have my head examined after writing it. Since the first draft, it has been scaled down, trimming the violent act from a hard R to a standard R, if this was a movie. Yet while I trimmed on the violence scale, I ramped it up on the descriptiveness to the point that someone wrote a small comment on one of my copies last night, "You don't pull any punches do you?"

No, I don't. I like the grit. I like it a lot.

But at the end of the night, a relieved sigh escaped my lips, my shoulders slackened, knowing that finally, I was past exposing the most controversial section of my material. Now with that giant monkey gone, I only have one worrisome question left for the group, one that will only get answered with time.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.11
Edited 2.2.11, 2.2.12
Edited various sections of 3.1
Wrote on 4.0.2, 4.0.4

Three Dead, One to Go: Part 2 of 5

2010-10-08T09:00:00.002-04:00

Part 1 is here.

---------

“What’s your name, sweetie?” I ask the prostitute.

“Magenta.”

“Your real name?”

She flushes, which is impressive to see though the pound of blush caked on her face. “Barbie.”

“Really?” Matthew asks. “You’re a prostitute, your name is Barbie, and you changed it???”

I tisk. “Hey, Matt, let’s be respectful of your fellow dead, okay? Barbie, what day is it? Please include the year with your answer.”

“July 11th, 1998. What’s going on here? And how come I can’t move my legs?”

“Well, you’re dead. Really you can’t move any part of your body other than your head. Go ahead, try to fix your shirt so your nip isn’t slipped.”

She looks down and grimaces. She strains her face, as if that is going to move her body. “Oh, what the--you little perv! Let me fix that. You ain’t paying to get a peek of this for eternity.”

“It’s not the only thing I’m stuck getting a peek at,” I say, my eyes flickering to the bush betweenst her legs. “But there’s nothing you or I can do about it. This is how you died and--” Another woman materializes next to Barbie, she’s kneeling like Barbie is. She’s a young blonde, in her early twenties, dressed in an olive green turtle neck and blue-jeans, with hallow eyes and a giant honker of a nose on her face.

“Who are you?” Her eyes grow wide as she notices at the prostitute and the lawyer. Her green eyes flicker up to the holes in their heads, and she screams. She doesn’t realize she has a matching gunshot wound to the cranium, coating her blond hair with a strawberry coloring.

“You got one too,” Barbie says.

“I can’t move!” the woman yelps.

“Calm down,” I say as the woman continues shrieking, straining her face. “Don’t bother trying to budge, you’re dead. The only thing you can move is your head. And please, shut up, lady. I can’t slap you or stop you, but my friend Tulsa tires quickly of the dead acting up.”

“That I do,” Tulsa says, shaking his stick. “And I can shut you spirits up the hard way.” He flashes his pearly smile.

The woman with the big nose looks up at Tulsa staring at him as if he’s going to rob or rape her corporeal body. “Let me guess the year, 1964?”

“Of course it is,” she says.

“And your name is Chris?”

“Christine.”

“Close enough. Tulsa, this is the first victim, are you done?”

He taps the staff on the ground seven times, mumbling incoherent words. He looks at me and shrugs. “I’m just checking for any spirits we missed.”

“Okay dead folks,” I say, “let’s play a game--”

“I’m dead?!” Christine says. “I can’t be dead. Is this Hell?”

“Some people think it is,” I say. “But no, this is Earth. Welcome space traveler.” Tulsa chuckles but all three of the dead folks look at me like I’m insane. It’s a bad joke, a pun dealing with the dimensional planes of the departed and space and time. No one dead ever gets it--well, unless they are in my profession. If I ever get killed and brought back for questions, I’ll get the joke. I’ll laugh at it. “Okay, game time. Where are we? Name the city and state.”

All three talk at once.

“New York City,” Matt the lawyer says.

“Duluth, Minnesota,” Barbie says. I never would have guessed that with her accent.

“Louisville, Kentucky,” Chris says.

I make a buzzer noise. “Wrong answer. You were all brought to this place, can you guess what town?”

All three look at their surroundings, the broken skylights, the shattered windows, the moldy walls. It’s easy to tell it’s an abandoned factory, but where.

“Jersey,” Matthew says.

“It smells like Jersey,” Tulsa says, “but no.” Tulsa goes for the easy joke every time. I’m reminded of that one group of dead we pulled in Trenton and all of them were convinced it was Hell. They didn’t believe me that we were on Earth. Seven people screaming, “Oh my God, I’m in Hell!!!” for ten minutes before Tulsa finally got mad and shut them up. What a nightmare that was.

“Hershey, Ohio,” Barbie says.

Hershey??? “I think you mean Pennsylvania, and no. But you’re getting warmer.” Tulsa and I exchange a long look, with him mouthing, “Hershey,” and shaking his head. I look expectantly at Christine.

“Mexico?” she says.

I shake my head.

“Indianapolis, Illinois!” Barbie says with an excited look on her painted face.

“Okay, you guys are just taking wild stabs at this now. Let me give you a hint. He discovered the new world and this is the peach state.”

“Jamestown, Ohio!” Barbie shouts out.

“Barbie, you’re out of guesses. Matthew?”

He just gives me an exhausted look. “You know I charge by the hour, right?”

“Christine?” I ask her, but she breaks down in tears. So much for this game. “The correct answer is Columbus, Georgia.” I want to add, “Show of hands. How many of you would have guessed that?” But that’s just mean to do to the immovable dead.

---------

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.11
Edited 2.2.11, 2.2.12, 2.2.13

Three Dead, One to Go: Part 1 of 5

2010-10-01T14:15:00.002-04:00

I decided that for October flavoring, I'd share a creepy little tale I have, in the past, referred to as Project Tulsa. I'm going to split it into 5 parts, all with the tag of Project Tulsa. Each Friday this month, I'll share one part. Enjoy and feel free to comment.

Three Dead, One to Go
By Jay Belt

With a gun pressed against my temple I think, What would Tyler Durden do? That opening to Fight Club was awesome. The camera starts out at the microbial level, it flows through electrical brain, cells, skin, zooming out further and further, then you see the gun, the mouth the pistol is in, the face of the person. And one of the first lines of the movie starts out with the narrator saying with a gun in your mouth, you only talk in vowels.

With a Glock pressed against my head, I realize I can speak in both consonants and vowels. I look up at the black man standing over me, his finger twitching at the trigger. “This is a bad idea,” I say to him. “I’m not ready to die.”

He smiles at me, wide and flashing a row of bright whites that have seen a good deal of dental whitening. “Who is?” He has to have had them cleaned. No one’s teeth are that naturally pristine. “But death is a part of life.”

“That’s deep, Tulsa. But really, can we just not do this whole shoot me in the head thing?” I wonder who he uses for dental insurance. It costs me a hundred and fifty to get mine cleaned.

We are in an abandoned factory, a peach canning factory if I remember my local history correctly. This place doesn’t smell like peaches. Death. This place reeks of old, bitter, vengeful death.

I’m knelt on the ground, Tulsa’s standing over me. He’s wearing his brown suede jacket, the one with the Indian beads embroidering the sleeves. Tulsa’s a shaman, not the video game type, with the totems. Though I’ve seen Tulsa dance around a totem after smoking too much reefer. And I know he plays a shaman in World of Warcraft because when he gets drunk he doesn’t shut up about how unrealistic the video game is.

Tulsa shakes his head. “Sorry, Harvey. You gotta die the way the rest of them did. One bullet to the brain pan, coming up.” He pulls the trigger, the gun clicks.

Even though I know it is empty, there’s still a chill that plays across my back. Having a real pistol fired against your head, loaded or unloaded, is an unsettling feeling. Though, in all honesty, I guess it would be more unsettling if it was loaded.

Tulsa leans forward and pushes my head with his free hand. I fall to the ground and lie still, looking up at him expectantly out of the corner of my eye. The tall, ebony man holsters his gun in one of the pockets of his jacket and picks up the large staff on the ground. It’s ash-coated, engraved oak with a lacquer giving a shine to the extra large stick. A tiny cat bell sits on the top of the staff, tingling and jingling as Tulsa shakes it in the air above his head, whispering mumbo-jumbo shaman crap.

“Who are you?” a man says, sitting next to me, staring at me. He’s sitting Indian style, sitting in a decked-out, tailored business suit. Good Lord, what did that suit cost him? It’s torn at the collar. It has blood soaked in the right shoulder. A shame really, to ruin a masterful suit like that. I bet it costs more than my car’s current Blue Book value.

“Harvey,” I reply. “Harvey the Vampire Hunter. Nice to meet you.” I extend my hand in greeting, and Tulsa smacks it with his staff.

“Stop that,” the shaman says. “Stop moving, you’re going to disrupt the spirit world.”

I retracted my arm. “Sorry.” I look at our dead businessman, the bruising on his left temple, the bloody, gore-infested right hole above his ear. “You a lawyer? You got a name?”

“Matthew,” the dead man says. “I’m an acquisitions attorney at GTS International.”

“Were.”

“What?” Matthew asks with a frown.

“Were an acquisitions attorney. You’re dead.”

“Oh,” he says nodding. “How long ago did I die?”

“Well,” I say, sucking at my teeth, “your body was found by the police three months ago. You died on March 15th.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles. “What a crazy coincidence.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s the Ides of March,” he says with finality, as if I’m supposed to get the significance of whatever concurrence he’s speaking of.

“You think it’s happenstance that you died on the same day as an emperor that’s been dead for two millennia?”

“No, I had a Caesar salad for lunch today--er, the day I died at least.”

“Oh well, yeah. That is a crazy coincidence, I’ll give ya that.”

“It was the special,” he explains, “Ides of March special. They even had fresh anchovies on it.”

Already, I’m bored to death with this guy--pun intended. I have nothing in common with him. He’s a high-powered attorney, super rich, eats salad for lunch, probably expensed the meal to his company. And he’s dead. I mean, I don’t even exist on the same level as this guy. I glance up at Tulsa, dancing about, shaking his stick. I begin to wonder how long this will take when a woman materializes next to Matthew, she’s kneeling on the ground but I can see up her skirt. No panties.

“Who are you?” the woman says. She’s dressed in a purple halter top, black short skirt, red high heels and wearing enough make-up to hide her meth-scarred face. Pretty blue eyes, though there is blood caked above her left brow, and the gore hanging out of her red-dyed hair really kills any fluttering of sexuality this prostitute had a chance of exuding.

“Hello, I’m Harvey the Vampire Hunter,” I say with a little wave, trying not to move my hand much for fear that Tulsa will smack it as he dances around us.

“Is that like Buffy the Vampire Slayer?” she asks. Not the first time I’ve heard this question. It reminds me that I hate my title. Matt the acquisitions lawyer looks at her with an inquisitive look, either he’s considering paying her or he’s just staring at the hint of tanned nipple peaking from the halter top.

“Not really,” I explain. “I’ve not really met a vampire, though I do hear there is a clan of them in the Mexican Rockies. It is more of a title given too my rank in The Golden Council.”

Now both of them are staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. And they’re the ones with the holes in their head. It’s bad enough when the living give me that look.

“Tulsa, how much longer do I need to sit here?”

Tulsa pauses in his dance, jingling the cat bell above my head. “Just a few more minutes, mate.” His lips part in a smile and he continues to twirl and shake the stick.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.11
Edited 2.2.11, 2.2.12, Project Tulsa

I'm a Creep. I'm a Weirdo.

2010-09-29T13:47:00.001-04:00

Stand aside, Radiohead. Apparently, I have the power to creep people out who cause most normal people to feel uncomfortable.

I call that an achievement unlocked. 25G - Creep out the creeps.

We'll call him Daisy for the sake of anonymity. There are other things about him, I'll not go into them all as I could make a whole blog entry counting the ways he's creepy. Daisy disturbs people at my writing group, providing nothing but an uncomfortable feeling at the nape, where your hairs stand on end when he cracks a "joke or pun" that he feels the need to do every time he opens his mouth.

Every time, that is, until last night. After I read a particular disturbing section of my book, Daisy opened his mouth. I braced for the bad joke impact, and instead, I received a warning from him that he didn't want to sit through any future readings of my novel.

At first, I was trying to shuffle through the words spilling from his lips, searching for the joke in it. But eventually, as he continued his diatribe on how I needed to provide a violent content warning label on my book, I realized it wasn't a joke, I honestly disturbed the creepy-guy. And from there, I sat, stunned, unable to fire back any response. I out-crept the creep. That's all I could think about.

Activity since last post:
Heavily edited 2.2.11
So many more small edits, I've lost count.

A lot of Co-op Gaming to do This Week

2010-09-13T10:32:00.001-04:00

This weekend started out with a game of Crackdown with my son. But due to game bugs and frustration, we just stopped playing it Friday night and Saturday morning I went out to Best Buy and picked up Gears of War 2, which is running at $30 these days for the Game of the Year version(which has all the map packs). I had a couple of Reward Zone coupons, and ended up picking it up for $15.

Now myself, I've already played through most of Gears 2. I picked it up right before WoW: Lich King came out. But I have to admit, I haven't actually finished it. When Wrath of the Lich King came out in the middle of my gaming co-op session, me and co-op partner felt the call of WoW and both stumbled into the dark, icky cesspool of WoW once more.

A year ago, my son and I beat Gears 1. But it cost just too much money to purchase two copies of Gears 2 when it was still $50, and we both would rather play with a full screen on our separate XBoxes than split the screen. I know... we're spoiled.

So Saturday and Sunday, we spent a part of our day playing Gears 2. Which I gotta say, I love the fact that they allow two people to play on different difficulty settings in one game. I chose hardcore, and my son chose normal.

Hopefully, we can finish it tonight. Tomorrow, Halo: Reach will be out, and that'll consume the rest of my week.

Activity since last post:
Edited bits of 3.1.
Prepared 3.1 for manuscript format.
Cleaned up Outline for 4.0
Edited 4.0.1, 4.0.2
Added to 4.0.2

Still Cleaning, Waiting to Reach

2010-09-08T11:53:00.003-04:00

The second revision is still underway. I have completed all the major and minor plot changes. Now, I have to read aloud and line edit the remaining work. I'm also not exactly positive I'm happy with where the book stands at this point. I divided it in half, but is this half gonna stand on its own? That's something I'm still stewing over, and I really need to check with a couple of folks who may or may not have read my alpha copies I sent them.

I've got a couple of distractions on the horizon. Halo: Reach, being one of them. Since Halo 3, I have played each of these games in Co-op with 3 other people. Reach will be no different. I'm excited to get back in a 4 player co-op game with friends.

I'm also excited to hear about the changes to Firefight. And one thing I hope they definitely include is matchmaking with firefight. That was so needed in ODST. I'm crossing my fingers that the article that said it was included really is for realsies. I loved ODST's Firefight, but trying to find 3 other friends willing to play it as often as I wanted to play it was impossible. In less than 6 days, I'll find out.

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.2.1, 2.2.10, 2.2.11, 2.2.12, 2.2.13, 2.2.14, 2.2.16, 2.2.19, 2.2.21, 2.2.23, 2.2.25, 2.2.27
Wrote 2.2.28
Started 4.0.3

Achievements for Life

2010-08-31T10:34:00.000-04:00

I know this isn't new news. Anyone who has seen me play other games knows I can waste my time on playing something just for an achievement. First it was the XBox, then WoW, now Starcraft 2.

I mean, I'm not crazy, crazy about it. I don't try to max every game I play. But I certainly will spend, say, thirty minutes reloading something over and over to get that one achievement done. Why? I don't know really. There's something about the challenge of it.

Starcraft 2 is no different from the other achievement systems. Pop up on your screen, special sound of "yay me!" I ended up playing every single mission in Starcraft 2 because of the system. Missions I never would have gone back and played without it implemented. Sure it's a meaningless number to 99.9999% of the world. But for me...I get a kick out of doing something in the game I otherwise wouldn't have normally completed.

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.2.10

What is it About Season 3?

2010-08-30T09:38:00.000-04:00

See this guy right here? Picture him good, because this is Eric Northman, a viking vampire from 1000 years ago and the only thing that I watch True Blood for anymore. So if he's gone, I have no reason to watch this show any longer.

Season 3 of True Blood has been a nightmare. Not the good kind of nightmare(you know scary), it's been a mushy prodfest of mixed up and jumbled up plots and character arcs that don't make any sense.

Take for instance, Sam Merlot and his stupid rage-fest arc that has nothing to do with anything and came out of nowhere. Sam was always kind of a depressed individual, but this season, for no apparent reason, he suddenly has flashbacks of some chick that back-stabbed him on a heist he was on and--WHAT?!?!? Anyway, this causes him to get his drink on and make a mess of his life. This would all make perfect sense if some dame dissed on him and ruined his life this season. But it has nothing to do with the story arc of his biological parents and random werecreatures showing up at his bar. I repeat. IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE REST OF HIS ARC.

And don't get me started on Jason's plotlines, they hark of some ADHD child writing them out because there is absolutely no focus at all with any of the 3 stories revolving around him. It's a mess.

Then there's Bill and Sookie. I just could care less about them anymore. Sookie's a fairy, Sookie's has feelings for Eric, Sookie doesn't trust Bill, Sookie...Zzzzzzz... I just don't care!!! I liked Bill when he wasn't such a pussy. I liked Bill when there was still a question to his motives. Now it's all, "I love you Sookie," and I don't give a rats booty about his p-whipped self. This lost puppy-dog Bill Compton seriously needs to be staked in the heart.

Speaking of Season 3, what's up with this non-existent "who done it" story arc. Season 1 had one. Season 2 had a terrible arc, but it was still there. This season? I guess the crazy King of Miss vamp is supposed to be the main arc, but now he's lacking all the fun he started with. Vampire army? Missing. Werewolf army? Missing. Now he just lugs around a glass urn and cries a lot.

Is it really so hard to take something that worked for season 1(was existent but bad in season 2) and chuck it completely out the window?

What is it about season 3 anyway? Let's tick off a couple of my favorites and their failed season 3s. Veronica Mars, Deadwood, Lost(Season 3 is where I drew the last patience straw for Lost), Heroes(technically bad season 2, but season 3, like Lost, was the final nail in the coffin), Dexter(never finished season 3, couldn't get into season 4), and Arrested Development --Oh wait, AD had a perfect season 3, but they canceled it anyway. :'(

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.9
Edited 2.2.9, 2.2.13

Called Shot: The Face Slap

2010-08-12T15:50:00.000-04:00

Joshua Bilmes(agent for some pretty big named authors) has an interesting blog article today: The Fantasy Marketplace. I say interesting in the way that a kick to the balls is interesting.

Basically he's pointing out how a new author would fare in today's Fantasy market versus ten years ago. Back in 2000, publishers were scrambling to find "the next big author" for fantasy. So if you had a so-so story, you could afford a larger word count and you could look to it getting interest.

But ten years later, the shelves of the Fantasy section have seen several wonderful authors. Brandon Sanderson, Brent Weeks, Peter V Brett, Jim Butcher and Pat Rothfuss have all risen within that time.

Which is a topic that got raised between me and a few friends a couple weeks back over thai noodles. There is a lot of good, talented Fantasy out there right now. For some reason I thought this would be a good thing, and a good time to enter into the market. It is, after all, a selling market.

Here's the problem. All of those authors are good--really good, really talented. That actually hurts my chances more than helps. I have to shine more. I can't just dish out decent material and hope that it gets published.

That's actually kind of a slap to the face. Not so much a insulting hit as much as it is a wake-up smack. Why? Because it brings to light a little problem I have with my novel, one of my darlings is a no-no.

Before, I'd always thought about this darling and said, "Well if an editor or agent wants to change that (and they probably would) then I'll easily let go of that part." It's the kind of thing a freshman author typically shouldn't do. I've been warned before. I've struggled to keep this in my story despite the warnings. I want to show realism, but sometimes realism isn't what people want to read.

And here's the sad news. It means another revision--or at least half a revision as it only effects 1 PoV for 2/3s of the book.

And, well... this was one of my darlings. Sometimes, as an author, you have to know when to kill your darlings for the sake of the story. This is one darling I've looked at for a real long time and chewed many, many fingernails thinking about whether to keep it or drop it. After all that toil, after the advice at Gen Con, after reading this article today...it would be a poor choice to continue ignoring it.

GenCon 2010

2010-08-11T11:27:00.000-04:00

Link to the full album is here. Now let's cover GenCon 2010. And if we can do it, do it with pictures. The Writer's Symposium was wonderful, it went off without a hitch. I got to read. I got critiqued, however I don't know how much it helped me to get critiqued. One author said I didn't have enough description, one said I had too much, one said it was very descriptive but slow pacing, one said it was wonderful. Um, okay. I guess I just take the mean value out of that.

I really didn't get to see much of the Con until Saturday, that's when my family and friends showed up and we delved into the heart of the exhibit hall. This year I felt the hall was missing a few things. I donno if it's just an economic downtrend or what the deal is. For example, the Wizards of the Coast display was tiny. I remember a couple years ago them having a whole corner of the hall to themselves. This year it was barely bigger than other booths. There also didn't seem to be much of a video game presence as there has in previous years.

But there were still no lack of booths there, especially board games, card games, role playing games... Plenty of those, including the Days of Wonder booth pictured above with a giant Ticket to Ride table!

By far the coolest booth was the Vampire the Masquerade booth, which featured a vampire night club with both creepy and hot vamps lurking in and around it.

Saturday was also the day for the Celebrities to show up. This year it was part of the cast of The Guild. Which if you haven't heard of them, check them out. You're missing out on geek culture.

And if it wasn't enough that The Guild was there singing autographs, you have a few folks dressed up with them to because Saturday is also Costume DAY!!! Woooot! Below is someone dressed as Felicia Day's Guild Priest, I found this girl standing mere feet from the signing.

I took a ton of pictures of costumes, and if you follow that link at the beginning of the post, you can see those. But I've included a couple here for narrative. Costume Day provides lots of things for the boys to look at...

...and girls to look at too...

...it unites people...

...and divides them.

Two last pictures. The dude was impressive. I don't just mean because he is a giant size and he carried around his giant hammer. That was impressive enough. But I ran across him several times and every time he had this serious, "I'm going to kill everyone around me" look to his face. Maybe he was having a bad day, or maybe he was playing the part all day long. Either way, it was intimidating. My brother-in-law (pictured at his side for scale) had several chances to reach up and tap the dude on the shoulder to get this picture. My brother-in-law backed off the first time, almost as if he were scared to approach the looming barbarian. I can't say I blame him.

Last is a tale of just how much the con has changed over the years. Back in '93 this woman would have been gaped at by everyone around, because...well...women were just a rare site at GenCon back then.

Friday night I played DnD at a table. Sitting next to me was a woman playing an Avenger. She wasn't there at the table because her boyfriend/husband was. She wasn't even at the Con with her boyfriend/husband. She was actually at the table, wanting to play some DnD.

Our DM was also a female. I'll give that a moment for that to sink in. For the old school nerds like me, this was kinda a shock. Not only do I have 1 female at my table, I have 2, and one of them is the DM!!! Things have changed.

And why did I tell this story here? Because that picture of the girl in the scale mail bikini top and bottom...that was my DM.

Catchup

2010-08-10T13:21:00.000-04:00

It's been a week since I've blogged. I had planned on blogging Gen Con while at Gen Con. This didn't happen for two main reasons. 1) I forgot to bring my adapter for my camera to download to my laptop. 2) I was exhausted most nights by the time I made it back to my hotel room, the internet was super, super slow.

I will post a Gen Con 2010 retrospective. But this isn't that post. The pictures are all on my computer and ready to go, but the post itself needs work.

To play catchup, I've had a few things occur in the past week that I want to drop a line about.

The first is Inception. I finally caught this movie because I was tired of dodging it from the lips of everyone and saying, "I haven't seen it. Don't talk about it, please!" I couldn't even get a cup of coffee without someone wanting to chat about this movie. I'm not going to spoil it here, but by the shear number of people talking about it, I knew there was going to be a "gotcha moment," and I knew when in the time-line of this film this gotcha moment was going to happen.

So thanks to everyone's big fat mouth(again, not anyone I know personally, this was spoiled by every damn person on earth talking about this movie), I sat through the movie waiting for the gotcha. And when it delivered, well, it fell dull and numbly on me because I had already guessed what that moment was going to be within the first 10 minutes of the film. In fact, I was expecting this, and I was really hoping to be surprised. When it played out on screen, I sank back in my chair and slapped my forehead.

To give an example of a movie I think has expired the spoiler date: it would be like watching The Sixth Sense and everyone and their mum was talking about how something big happens in the end--something you won't expect. So you spend your time watching The Sixth Sense trying to figure out what the big ending is. If you guess it, then you feel cheated.

So did I "OMG Love" the movie? No. But I think it was my expectation level. Was it good? Yes. Was it better than 90% of big Hollywood? Yes. I just wished people didn't treat this movie like it was the 2nd coming of Christ. It wasn't that.

The second thing is Starcraft 2. Remember that post where I said I wouldn't be getting the game. Yeah, well... That actually happened. I didn't get the game. I canceled my pre-order. I even read all the hype and still continued my stance.

I lasted until my brother-in-law mentioned how the game was still awesome, despite it's single perspective story. He pointed out to me that it still has 35+ missions, and it has cut scenes between each mission. He said it was worth it.

And that's all it took. After GenCon, I had some leftover money budgeted that I didn't end up using. And that got spent Sunday night on purchasing Starcraft 2. I've put several hours in it now and I can say one thing for certain. I was wrong.

My god, not only is the story intriguing, the missions do something no one else ever manages to do in an RTS(including Blizzard up to this point). Avoid repetitiveness. Every RTS single player feels like, mission 1 is like mission 2 except now you have a new unit. Starcraft 2 breaks this mold. Sure you still get a new unit per mission, but this is an excort mission, or a defend mission, or a train robbery mission.

I mean, how much can you do with a game where you build units and kill things? Starcraft 2 proves you can do a lot. A LOT. I'm about 15 missions in, and not a single one of them has been repetitive. Even the "these are your units, you gotta survive the map" missions are heavily varied.

My hat's off Blizzard, you did it again, you beautiful bastards.

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.2.9

Vacation Countdown in 1...

2010-08-04T09:54:00.002-04:00

While technically, my vacation from work started today and traveling today, I still have one more day before Gen Con.

I will most definitely be taking my camera, because one can never have enough Slave Leias in the world.

While dropping off my kid's car seat at my brother-in-law's house last night, we got to talking about our lovely memories of GenCon pasts. These were the days where the con wasn't a mere 3 hours away, but a lovely 12 hour drive past Chicago to Milwaukee, WI. Oh the memories.

Just the trip up could be an exciting story.

For example, the first year I went, we had 4 fat guys and 1 skinny dude packed into a Toyota Tercel for the 12 hour trip. As if the weight of our combined fat asses wasn't enough for that poor little car, we had our luggage and our books. When I say books, I'm not talking about 1 or 2 books, we're talking about 50lbs packs stuffed with 15 rule books.

Sometime around 1am, we were traveling through downtown Milwaukee, heading to our hotel out in Waukesha which was still another 15 miles away. This car was traveling beside us...not the best looking car financially speaking (and this is coming from a high school student memory at the time, we all drove shitty cars, but this car trumped all my friend's hoopty cars). Anyway, at 1 am, downtown, this car was traveling next to us, and a seedy, white, inner-city youth was yelling out his window at us.

I was scared for my life. My friend, TheLocke, rolled his window down, regardless of the protesting not to do so by Doug in the least, probably me too... Sticking his own head out the window, TheLocke proceeded to ask what the frightening inner city youth is yelling.

"Your tires are smoking!"

Locke leaned out the window further, looks back at our tires. Sure enough, they're smoking(which we later found out was due to the weight of four fatties in a tiny Tercel and the wheel rubbing on the well). His brother, who's driving, happened to hit a pot hole at this moment the size of a kiddie pool. Locke's head smashed into the top of the window and he was reeling in pain.

At 1 am, after 12 hours of being trapped in a clown car with five sweaty dudes and with 50 lbs of DnD books sitting in my lap, this was the pinnacle of a day spent traveling and even funnier than the Dennis Leary CD we had listened to that day.

One wish I have, one request, is that one day our collective wives will all be cool enough to let the boys return one more time to GenCon. Sure now we can afford separate rooms, and I'm totally cool with that, but I dream of the day we can one day climb into one vehicle together and spend 4 days gaming, bullshitting, and laughing once again.

Maybe next year...

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.9
Edited 2.2.9

Vacation Countdown in 2...

2010-08-03T11:47:00.001-04:00

One of the things I'll be doing at the con is reading some of my prose...5 minutes worth. Then a panel of published authors will be critiquing me. This, out of everything, has me a little anxious for some reason. I mean, I've been reading in front of strangers for a while now, some of them published authors. I don't know why this reading has given me stomach flutters.

I had a time trying to determine what it is I'm going to read. My flash fiction pieces are all 3 minutes or less. Any other work I've written is longer...even when I break them down in chapters. Even when I break the chapters in to sections. At my reading pace, 5 minutes of reading is about 820 words. And while I'm sure I can find some section of my big work that is around 820 words, it's not going to make much sense to pick a small section of text in the middle of chapter 14.

At first, I had decided to just read from the newly written prologue of my book. I think it's one of my strongest one off pieces, even stronger than The Ticket Out, and I consider that my tightest written flash fiction. But the prologue clocks in 1911 words--takes twice as long as my allotted time. I have a couple of side projects, Project Bethany and Project Tulsa. While Bethany has been edited and scrutinized, Tulsa hasn't. That tosses Tulsa out as an option. Bethany doesn't have a single section in it around 820 words. The closest clocks in at 1100 words.

So close! So now what?

I donno. I'm frustrated by this hanging over me. I've had 3 months to think about it, and the best thing I come up with is reading my prologue and until my time is up.

Vacation Countdown in 3...

2010-08-02T11:45:00.000-04:00

It's the Final Countdown!!! Yes, your welcome. I know that song is now embedded in your head.

So I haven't gotten to vacation much in over a year. Having half your income missing for SIX MONTHS tends to do that to people. Last year, with no prospect of jobs in my wife's life, I couldn't do what I am doing this year. What's that? Going to Gen Con to participate in their Writer's Symposium. But I already talked about it.

Still, I'm excited to go. As of right now, I plan on taking my camera, clicking photos of hot girls dressed in nerdy outfits, and posting them on this blog. I guess I'll take pictures of other stuff too...maybe. I also have finished all the arrangements for my child, my car, my hotel, my tickets... Only things left are burning some CDs to listen to music on the way up and back, and then to pack all my nerdy shirts so I can look clever and cool among geeks.

This week, I plan on blogging each day, even if it's late a night and I'm tired. I want to share the moments before and the moments there. Because, by God, this is my first vacation--in like forever.

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.2.24, 2.2.25, 2.2.26

The First Kiss

2010-07-30T10:12:00.000-04:00

10 years ago(from yesterday's date of the 29th) I was booty grinding with a girl at Have a Nice Day Cafe in Louisville, KY. The song was Bloodhound Gang's Bad Touch. The girl was wearing pig-tails, which I remember being mega-hot. And after we danced, she went into the restroom. I stood on standby waiting for her to return, hoping for more booty dancin'.

Then she exited the bathroom--she had removed her pig-tails for some reason. As she stepped closer, I nodded in recognition and...she walked right past me. She stopped on the stairs and started talking to another guy, let's call him Freaky German Asshole for the sake of internet anonymity. FGA happened to be from my hometown of Elizabethtown. Coincidentally, FGA is the same dude who my ex-fiance had cheated on me once and was about to again before we ended our relationship. I told my ex to go have fun with FGA and I would be waiting for her to return(which I didn't wait, I moved on...but you say dumb things when you think you're in love).

Anyway, so needless to say, there had been a little bit of bad history with FGA, even though 2 years had passed by now and I was way over my ex. To say I was bitter at the slimy bastard, that's just a freaking understatement. I don't know why I was angry with him... Now that I think back about it, I should give the guy a gold metal or hosted a parade in his honor. He saved me from getting married to a woman I would have eventually divorced because there was a lot of bad mojo in that relationship.

But seeing him there once more, chatting it up with a new girl I'm interested in--stealing the girl from me once again... Well I just tumbled into oblivion.

I walked back upstairs, to my friends, head down like Charlie Brown. I couldn't figure out what I'd done wrong. Was booty grinding bad? Did I go too far? Why'd she change her hair? Was she trying to hide from me? Why'd she pass me by and go talk to FGA? I hate that guy... Was I really misreading all those vibes? Was she not into me???

And as I stewed, as the questions tumbled in my mind, I didn't even notice her return. The girl was by my side again, wondering what my dark mood was all about. The questions tumbled out of me, and before I knew what was happening, she kissed me, telling me the answers between kisses.

Her head was hot, that's why she loosened it. She didn't see me standing downstairs. FGA had a class with her at the local community college. Yes, she was interested in me(though the kissing kind of already pointed that out to me).

And that is the story of the first kiss shared with my wife.

Making Magic

2010-07-22T09:54:00.000-04:00

I had mentioned a while back that I was adjusting my magic system. Through the revision process, this hasn't been very prominent until later in the book, where magic is being cast left and right by one of my protagonists. Last night, while trudging through the work, I had to cross-reference previous chapters to make sure I was keeping my new system consistent. That eventually led me to adding a new workbook on my Backstory Info Spreadsheet. And once I did that, I knew I had a blog entry.

I've never really mentioned my Backstory Info Spreadsheet™. It's how I keep track of character details, places, objects, historical references, and now...magic! But enough on that.

Updating this magic system has been fun, I feel like a mad scientist in some ways, working formulas on the proper amount of elements used. And I do sit at my desk and hold my hands out just like the characters, using the spell positions they use to fire off spells and making "pew pew" noises. However, I cautiously avoid the phrase, "I block your spell!"

The first wave of the revision is almost complete. The roadmap I created is almost completely checked off and I'm 4 chapters from being done with this wave. After that, I'll be reading aloud the revised work, and further editing for tone, dialogue, and structure. I've completed 9 chapters of the reading/editing so far and some of those older, weaker chapters are getting serious slicing and dicing.

And after that... I plan on beginning the submitting/querying process. And while I wait for responses/rejections, I plan on working on 4.0 (the third in the series) or Project Bethany/Project Tulsa... all depends on the creative mood. But I am excited to start writing fresh content soon.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.9
Edited 2.2.9. 2.2.19, 2.2.20, 2.2.21, 2.2.22, 2.2.23, 2.2.24

A Vacation for the Mind

2010-07-14T09:43:00.000-04:00

You may have noticed my lack of posts. I've been on vacation from thinking much over the past couple of weeks. Last night, after a good writing group experience, I'm back and I'm ready to kick ass. I'm fired up, mentally recharged, and ready to burn the world with words.

Speaking on the subject of vacation...

Gen Con (Indianapolis's super large Gaming Convention) is 3 weeks away and I'm pumped. Am I dressing like an ewok? No. Am I gaming? No. Am I going to stare at the girls in skimpy chainmail brassieres? N--well, I won't say I won't look if one passes me by... But it's not what I'm headed up there for. I'm going to spend three days attending the Writer's Symposium.

They offer a lot of good Seminars and Workshops, one example:

The Ins & Outs of the Publishing Industry
Your panelists have dealt with big publishers, small press publishers, packagers, editors, and agents. They have wisdom to impart on deadlines, galleys, self-publishing, and more. They understand how advances, royalties, and reserves for returns work. They've written query letters, attended pitch sessions, schmoozed at con parties, and written work-for-hire. They've authored, edited, and critiqued. Best yet, they're willing to dish about it.

So there ya go. One more step in the right direction.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.1
Edited 2.2.1, 2.2.9, 2.2.19

I got less Style

2010-06-25T08:00:00.050-04:00

I have embarked on a quest over the past couple of days. One to get my main document pared down to a manuscript level. It turns out this was a major pain in the butt, taking about 5 hours of side-by-side monitor usage to get fixed.

When I first started writing the novel, I just picked what I thought was a cool font and headers for my chapters. Wrote the whole rough draft that way. Eras Medium ITC font. I liked it because the capitol W looked like two crossed Vs. I swear, that's why I picked it...

But then I decided one day I needed to play like I was professional. I read that Courier New 12pt double space was the choice manuscript font. So I changed all my text to Courier New. Which turned it into 1000 pages or something. Then I finished the first draft. Friends wanted copies. I wasn't printing 1000 pages of paper. I moved it to Times New Roman 12pt 1.5 spaced. Back down to 600+ pages.

And then there was rewritten material and chapters that I would write in other documents before merging them... All-in-all there were 48 styles and formats listed in my main document. Wednesday I created one document of the novel where I boosted all the italicized text to 36 pitch and underlined. Then I started working on the manuscript, clearing all the formats out.

After 5 hours or more of work, I rebuilt the document back. Only 10 formats are used. So I went from 48 to 10. Now if I need to adjust anything on a wide scale(font size, underlined text, titles), I can just easily change one of the 10 formats. Which is something apparently I need to keep fluid, as some agents request Times and some Courier.

So here's a helpful tip for those aspiring writers out there working on a document. Pay attention to your formats and style section of Word. It can really bite you in the buttocks if you don't.

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.2.10, 2.2.11, and a smattering of other places

2 Views

2010-06-23T19:05:00.000-04:00

I'm incredibly busy at the moment, but I thought I would share a view of my world at my second job of writing. I do occasionally have need for both monitors kicking, and tonight's word reformat event is one of those instances.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.9
Edited 2.2.9, 2.2.19
Converting 2.2 to manuscript format

Panhandlers... or Why I Hate My Daughter's Daycare

2010-06-22T09:18:00.001-04:00

You see that picture? That's a picture of one of my daughter's daycare teacher when I walk in the door. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little. But for the past two weeks, whenever I walk in the door, my daughter's teacher asks me for $1.

Last week, I had to give $1 so I could get a "Father's Day Present." Which I didn't get until I picked up my daughter yesterday(the monday AFTER Father's Day). And I wish to all that's mighty in the world that I had taken a picture of that card. It was red construction paper, folded in half, and had someone writing "Happy Father's Day" on the outside and "I love you because you're sweet and read to me" on the inside with my daughter coloring on it.

I mean, I hugged my daughter for it, but I looked at the piece of construction paper and said, "WTF! This costs a dollar?" to myself. Is construction paper not in their budget? Or was I paying for the asset depreciation value of their black marker and crayons used to create the card?

So this morning, when I drop my sweetie off, the teacher dangles a plastic sandwich bag with money in my face. "The kids are going to have ice cream today. If you can, spare a dollar please?"

"I don't have any cash on me," I say. Which was the truth. Still several questions bubbled to my mind and I almost said, "You can use that dollar I gave you last Friday for my Father's Day Construction Paper." It was on the tip of my tongue.

But among the questions that surfaced to my mind... Don't they budget snack time ice cream? Is this woman collecting the money for herself instead? Will my daughter be forced to stare at all the other children laughing and eating ice cream while she gets none because her daddy doesn't carry cash on him? Can they just auction off all the toys and clothing they've "lost" over the 5 years of my daughter's stay and make their ice cream and construction paper quota from that money?

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.2.9, 2.2.17, 2.2.18, 2.2.19

Writer's Blog IX

2010-06-17T11:48:00.000-04:00

There are times where it seems I'm over my head, drowning in something deeper than the Mariana Trench, thicker than maple syrup, and darker than the oil in the BP spill. When you're choking in such a bind, who's going to save you? What do you grab a hold of to stay afloat?

This book series idea I've had is grandiose. The passion I have to write burns hotter than the fires of Mount Doom. But spending so many hours working on something that may or may not get accepted--may get nothing but rejection letter after rejection letter... It almost seems crazy!

I have no idea how well it is accepted. I have a writing group I get feedback from. I have friends I've given copies of the novel too. Yet I worry that anyone who has to look me in the eye is not being honest enough. It's like a friend with a body odor problem. You just don't say, "Dude, you stink." But everyone around him knows--everyone smells it. What person, who respects you in any manner, is going to look you in the eye and say, "I know you spent years of your life on this, but it stinks."

And so it is. Drowning, cold, and lonely. That's what it feels like, an unpublished writer creating something in spare time. I swim those waters because I love it, but it scares the living hell out of me when I look at the color, viscosity, and depth of the liquid I'm in.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.9
Edited 2.2.9, 2.2.15, 2.2.16, 2.2.17
Wrote on 4.0.2

Flash Fiction #4: Repair Man

2010-06-11T13:20:00.002-04:00

This kind of story is what pours out of me after I type "trans-dimensional" in the comment of a blog today. Written today, proofread today...I'm sorry if it's rough.

Repair Man
by Jay Belt

“So you are?” The giant ball of slime says.

“Charlie Otter, trans-dimensional ATM repair technician, at your service.” I extend my hand in greeting, then recoil it, remembering rumples believe that physical contact with outer rim-dimensional species is below them.

“And you are here to...”

“Fix the ectoslime-mold detector. Last night at,” I look down at my paperwork, “Forty-seven Gar-gargle...opto...nero...lumpo...” I sigh. Rumples make every word so incredibly long and hard to pronounce. As if speaking it wasn’t bad enough, I have to lug around a Rumplelumplegumbletargohalastaffollus to English dictionary that is thicker than any metropolitan yellow page phone book. If only they would convert it to pfd so I could download it on my Kindle. “...it got clogged last night.”

The rumple starts cursing, which takes a while. Finally it gets to the point. “How long is the ATM going to be down?”

“About an hour,” I say, painting my customer service half-smile, half-frown which screams of, “Sorry to inconvenience you, sir and/or madam. I hope the rest of your daggleboggleloptomissboolaboola goes well for you.”

The rumple bubbles with anger. The smell is unpleasant, like burnt sugar. “Do you realize how much of a nuisance this is to me?” The rumple turns and slithers down the sidewalk, bubbling and spewing noxious gasses.

I consider yelling out the coordinates for the nearest working ATM, but it I can’t remember the rumple word for “north.” As it slides away, the rumple has a crease running down the middle of his spherical body that kind of resembles a pair of buttocks.

I chuckle and smile.

No matter where you are in the multi-verse, those who complain about things they have no control over always look like an ass.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.10, 2.2.11
Edited 2.2.10, 2.2.11, 2.2.14, 2.2.15

A Canceled Pre-Order

2010-06-10T09:59:00.000-04:00

I've been a Blizzard fanboy in the past. Let's run the gambit, Warcraft 2 +1 expansion, Starcraft +1 expansion, Diablo, Diablo 2 +1 expansion, Warcraft 3 +1 expansion, World of Warcraft +2 expansions... All excellent games and expansions.

Of all of them, I think Warcraft 3 is still my fav. Diablo 2 came close, but something about the length of it's campaign doesn't make me want to replay it much. WoW of course holds the contender for most hours spent of all those games listed.

So when Starcraft 2 was announced, I was sold instantly. How--honestly how could Blizzard go wrong?

I pre-ordered it recently. Played the beta. Enjoyed it for a while. But I started getting this sneaky suspicion... I've been here before. 11 or 12 years ago, I was playing this same game, albeit with lesser graphics. Starcraft was RTS Rock-Paper-Scissors. A perfect balance, where you have 3 choices of how your Rocks, Papers, or Scissors look like, but it's still a game where you pick Rocks to smash the other guy's Scissors and hope he doesn't pick Rock or Paper. See if you both have Rock, well it's just a matter of who builds more rocks faster.

Anyway, I digress. My point of the post. I was playing, enjoying for a while, but it's the same game as it was over a decade ago. New units, same Rock-Paper-Scissors. No new innovations. NONE. And it shirks a lot of the great leaps the RTS field has made the past ten years, like veteran units, cover, and battlefield environment usage.

At the end of the day, when I looked at the hefty $60 price tag, I canceled my pre-order. A graphic upgrade to a game I played a decade ago isn't worth $60.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.8, 2.2.10
Edited 2.2.8, 2.2.9, 2.2.10, 2.2.13, 2.2.14

Torchlight

2010-06-08T09:58:00.001-04:00

Because I'm just not busy enough(that's sarcasm), I downloaded Torchlight this weekend and played it. I have gaming needs, I have my FPS, RPG, RTS, and Turn-Based Strategy needs. And then I have my Diablo needs. Torchlight was an attempt to fill that Diablo void while I wait for Blizzard and the year 2049 when Diablo 3 will be released.

And Torchlight works, partially... I click my little fingers off, I level up, I kill things, I get skills. It's definitely more exciting than Titan Quest was. Why? New innovations help. I love the little pet that sells my goodies back in town. The art works too. Diablo has that Gothic, bitter, gritty realism look to it, and Titan Quest tried to just copy-paste that art. Torchlight has a cartoony look, but that's not a insulting remark, it works.

What doesn't work is the dungeon scaling to your level. The main quest dungeon has linear leveling to each level. So level 10 is always going to have level 10 monsters... Thing is, there are many side quest dungeons, and these side quest areas level up with you(if your level 15, so are the monsters). But not the main quest. If your level 15, on the 10th floor, your fighting level 10 stuff and fighting a snoozefest.

And the last thing you want to do in a game where all you do is click on monsters and kill them is make it boring to kill them. I'm so fatigued with it, I'm finding it hard to want to finish the game. I'd rather do the side dungeons.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.9
Edited 2.2.8, 2.2.9, 2.2.10, 2.2.11, 2.2.12, 2.2.13
Worked on 2.2's query letter and synopsis

Chapter 7

2010-06-02T10:29:00.000-04:00

This post isn't about bankruptcy. It's about revision. Specifically, what a pain chapter 7 has been to revise. Somehow it's made it past 2 passes on the first revision and remained wordy. Albeit, it is cleaner than the rough draft(way cleaner) but still a lot rougher than I would have expected. I've spent the better part of the past week polishing this chapter alone.

Funny enough, I still didn't catch how bad this chapter was until I read it aloud to my writing group. I actually felt embarrassed as I read the first section. One of the first things I said after my reading was, "Well, I can see that the first section is getting a rewrite."

I didn't end up rewriting it, but I gutted out so much and put in new bits that it might as well be a rewrite.

The biggest problem with Ch7 leads to my greatest flaw of my 1st revision: dialogue. With the first round, I lacked revision work on my dialogue as if it was perfect the first time I wrote it... HA! Chapter 7 has a metric ton of dialogue in it, and as I read it aloud, I realized some of the lines need fixing. People don't talk like this.

The good news: after spending a week working on 7, I finally reached a copy I like. Hopefully Ch 8 is smoother...we'll see. Included on the good news front, I have found a title I'm comfortable with and I've written the new prologue. I also wrote the new synopsis and the first draft of a query letter(tho I'm not fully satisfied by it, so they'll be other drafts).

Activity since last post:
Wrote and finished 2.2.1
Read 2.2.8
Edited 2.2.8
Worked on 2.2's revision roadmap, cutting out (now 3.1's) material
Worked on 2.2's query letter and synopsis

Untitled

2010-05-27T11:16:00.000-04:00

Book title. A year ago, this was resolved. Now, it's a problem. The title refers more to the second half--what is now book 2 of the series(3.1 of my numbering system). I've spent two days trying to think of a title. See I had a whole, "The [blank] of [blank]" theme going. It worked. I liked the first title. I loved the second. I wanted to hump the third. Now? I could still title every other novel in the series with "The [blank] of [blank]."

But I hate, hate, hate the only good title I could come up with. Actually I came up with another that I did like, but there's already a book with that title...grrrrr.

So I did come up with another title. One that doesn't follow the above mentioned theme. If I end up with that, I'm going to have to play with the others. Probably I'm going to hold on to two of them, they are super-sweet names. But I'm pretty sure I'm going to drop the old title that would fit 3.1.

Activity since last post:
Moved 3.0.1, 3.0.2 to 4.0.1, 4.0.2
Cut 2.2.1, moved it to 3.1.1
Cut 2.1.28 through 2.1.49, moved to 3.1
Read 2.2.3, 2.2.4, 2.2.5, 2.2.6, 2.2.7
Edited 2.2.3, 2.2.4, 2.2.5, 2.2.6, 2.2.7

Want to Hear Something Crazy?!?

2010-05-26T08:00:00.002-04:00

Remember that book I finished? I've mentioned it once or twice on this blog. Remember how I said it was 241k in word length? Turns out that's a little long. Like twice as long as the average fantasy manuscript size.

Oh sure, George R R Martin, Neil Gaiman, Robert Jordan, Tad Williams they've written bigger. But a lot of those guys published smaller books first... And yeah, sometimes a Patrick Rothfuss comes along and pulls it off. But c'mon, I'm not writing Patrick Rothfuss prose.

And I'm cool with that. I like my prose where it's at right now. I like the grit. I like mixing sweet, beautiful lines with gross, disturbing lines.

More importantly, I need an agent. Someone who's going to try and sell my book... And 98% of the agents will look at my 241k number on my query letter and just laugh, chucking the rest of the submission aside. They won't even read what I wrote because publishers don't want to risk 700 page novels on freshman authors, and the sellers don't want 700 page novels sitting on their shelves taking up room. So I would narrow my possible readers down to 2% and then I have to hope those 2% like my book and think they can risk it.

So what now? Well, I'm splitting the book in half. It actually works out that I can manipulate it like that. I guess I'm kinda lucky that I wrote a decent stopping point in the middle.

And don't even ask me what I'm going to do with the overarching trilogy. At this point, trilogy just became sixogy? sexology? sextet? I think that last one is right. I might as well go for eight to match the theme... Oh god, I can't imagine that. Bloody hell. Maybe five...it doesn't match any theme, but the overarching story could be written in 5 120k books. Maybe...That's a whole other ball of yarn to figure out. I'll worry about book 1 for now.

But hey, bright side. I've written 2 publishable books now!

Shit, I'm going to have to come up with a new number system for my blog...

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.2.8
Read 2.2.8

Blu-ray Sucks: Part 2

2010-05-25T09:54:00.001-04:00

Part one can be found here. I was considering titling this post "LG Sucks," but there's two problems with that. LG makes a lot of other products besides Blu-ray and I don't know if those are as broken as their BD Players are. The other problem is, Blu-ray still sucks. Sorta.

Last week, I finally gave up on my LG Blu-ray player. I was doing something simple, watching a standard DVD on the player, and it started skipping chapters. Then, we hit a spot on the DVD that it just wouldn't play. Have you ever had a disc that was scratched and your DVD player stutters and halts trying to play a scene? Yeah, it was like that, only the DVD was in pristine condition. Not a scratch or even a fingerprint on the disc.

I ended up putting the disc in my backup Xbox 360 and what do you know, it played it beautifully, so it wasn't the disc, it was the player. After doing some research, I find that the LG player has this problem, mostly with Blu-ray discs but apparently with DVD as well. As I'm doing research, I find that LG isn't the only player with problems, Panasonic also has tons of problems. Everyone on the avforum boards recommends changing out to two players, one which is the Sony BDP-S570.

So I returned the LG and switched to the Sony model. Once again, it plays Netflix and Pandora just fine. It plays DVDs just fine. Put a Blu-ray in... it works! Yes there's still a loading screen, but its so short(10 seconds) that I'm not bothered by it at all. It also didn't lock up on the loading screen like the LG did.

So as of my complaints last post, you can mark the loading screen off as a complaint. Turns out that's just a problem for poorly manufactured BD players. Sony's works fine. But don't hit stop, because that's still an issue with Blu-ray java discs.

So now that it's just down to a Stop/Start situation, would I recommend it? I'm iffy still about recommending one. I still have a few technical problems. There is some sound issues I have, but nothing a $300 new receiver that supports HDMI won't fix. I've needed a new receiver anyway, mine has lost the ability to display on its LED screen and I just have to make random guesses as to what source I'm on and its volume.

But I know stuff about Audio/Video Home Theaters. I know how to navigate the setup menus. And I still had to configure the thing to get the full effect of HD video and sound. If you're an average Joe watching TV on a 46" TV sitting 8+ feet away, I just don't think the price is worth all the headache.

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.2.8
Worked on Query Letter and Synopsis

I Need to Write...

2010-05-20T11:53:00.001-04:00

Three things have been getting in the way of my revision.

One is the television. I've cleared past that Buffy watching session finally, yay. But now my wife is obsessed with watching Supernatural. It's alright. I get the X-Files vibe while watching them. I think I'm going to take a pass on watching them with her, I'm falling asleep on half the episodes.

Second on the list, books, but that's becoming increasingly hard to read as I'm getting a buildup of idea poop and it's really distracting to try and read while ideas are trickling out of my head.

Third distraction, Starcraft 2. I've been playing the beta of that, which is fun to an extent, even though I kinda suck at it a tad. But the beta is ending soon, so that's one less issue.

I have been working a little on the book. I tightened up the query letter to a point where I think it works. Also I've been working on the synopsis. Good lord that one is a pain, I thought the query letter was bad. Lastly, I've been amassing a list of potential agents I want to submit query letters too. Now if only I could polish off my 2.2 revision... And if three friends of mine would read my book, that'd be nice too.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.7
Edited 2.2.7
Wrote on Project Tulsa
Working on the synopsis for 2.2

Flash Fiction #3: The Ticket Out

2010-05-18T08:00:00.003-04:00

The Ticket Out
by Jay Belt

Before the car slammed into the shagbark hickory, she wondered if daddy had hit the same type of tree when he died. In the movies, cars blew up when they fell down cliffs. Hers had bounced forty yards down a ridge like a runaway shopping cart. It smashed into a tree, then all was quiet.

Less than two minutes before she rolled the vehicle down the ravine, she had leaned against the back bumper, wiping her cheeks dry with her sleeves. She turned to face the hatchback, pressing her hands against the rear windshield. Looking inside brought more tears. She stared at the cardboard box, inside it a bag of ashes and his vodka bottles. She planted her feet, pushed against the glass, strained and grunted. At first, nothing happened. Then the wheels started rolling forward. As the car reached the cliff, it flew from her hands.

Thirty minutes ago, she’d turned the key to the ignition. There was no forethought to the direction she traveled. She ended up on winding, country back-roads, speeding down narrow lanes. The squeal of her tires as she rounded corners provided a harmony against the melody of her wailing cry.

One hour ago, she had answered her cell phone. Joyce was angry with her for taking the ashes. A fight commenced. She traded blows with her step-mother, each slinging “you statements” at the other until hanging up in breathless, teary exhaustion. A clash with Joyce felt like yelling at a distorted mirror.

Two hours earlier, her brother had handed her a cardboard box. She wished the pleasant look on his face was sincere. In actuality, he was flashing his teeth while his brown eyes were a photo of the real pain underneath. And because he was a man who buttoned his emotions under a thick flannel shirt, she was the one shedding tears for both of them.

Seven Augusts earlier, her daddy had patted her shoulder, and she had flinched. “You can open your eyes now,” he said. Sitting in the drive was a used silver hatchback with the dealer’s sticker still in the window. “We just wanted to give you something before you disappeared off to college.” She remembered the gut reaction to that comment. She had wanted to tell him she’d be back, she’d visit. But why lie? They both had reasons never to see the other alive.

Now, she looked down at the remains of her father and the only thing he’d given her. There’s a trick to the eyes when someone stares at one point for too long. The world around that object fades, becomes obscured, and loses focus. That’s how it’d been with her family. That’s why she’d never returned until he died. It was a little late, but she stood on the ridge and thanked him for giving her a ride out of town.

Blu-ray Sucks

2010-05-17T10:30:00.000-04:00

If you're thinking about getting a Blu-ray player. Do yourself a favor and don't.

First, some background. I was an early 1st generation adopter to DVD. I saw, even back then when my player cost $500, that it was awesome-sauce technology compared to VHS tapes. My 1st gen player had a glitch. Nothing huge, it just paused for several seconds when it changed layers, and there were menu interaction difficulties. I still recommended DVD to everyone I met back then, even when they scratched their heads thinking it was just another costly fad like Laser Disc.

Now I have a 1080p HDTV. Nothing is really pushing the 1080p of that thing. My XBox360 can output to it, that's it. From what I understand the games don't technically run at 1080p.

So when HD-DVD and Blu-ray came out, I looked at the two and said, I'm not gonna spend $700 on a first generation player that A) they're still fighting about and B) will have one or two glitches.

I waited. The war ended. Blu-ray won. The prices still stayed in the $700 range and $30-$40 movies. No thanks. I sit at over 8 feet from my 56" TV, I'm honestly not noticing the graininess of a DVD upscaled. At least, not enough to spend $700 and $40 a movie.

But time passed. The generations of Blu-ray passed. The prices dropped. And the electronic gods cursed me. First, they stole my DVD player remote. It's gone. I have no idea where it went. But we used my 360 to watch movies. Well, that wasn't good enough, because the gods of technology blew out my video card on my 360. No Red Ring, no codes, just bam, you can't connect any video to this appliance.

So I broke down, went out, purchased the Blu-ray. I think this is gen 3 or something for BD tech. They've had 2 generations to work out the bugs.

Got the player plugged in at home, works beautify across my wireless network. Netflix on it. Nice. Pandora! Yeah! DVD looks good. Pop in a Blu-ray.......
......
......
......Loading.....................

What. The. F%$&. A loading screen? No no. Let me rewind a little. Let me explain to you how frustratingly annoying this is.

My wife, my son, and I sit down to watch Sherlock Holmes. We got the popcorn popped, we got the sodas. Everyone is in their seat and ready to watch. Start the disc. FBI warning. Copy this disk and we'll take your first born warning. Previews. Skip past one preview. Menu button won't work. That's been on DVDs for years though. Annoying. Something I could rant on another day, but it's deal-able, just hit skip to next chapter to get to the next preview which you skip again...

So after three or four previews, we get a loading screen. A little disk in the middle, turning and turning....and turning and turning and turning. All three of us stare at an icon. waiting, the sound of popcorn crunching is the only noise in the room. Wife looks at me, frustrated and annoyed. Still waiting, it's been two minutes now of staring at this stupid icon.

Then it goes away.

Black screen...............My son jumps up out of his chair, "Want me to see if it's got dust or scratches on it?"

"It's brand new, it shouldn't have either." We take the disc out, clean as a OCD's counter-top. Pop the disc back in. FBI warning, take children warning, preview, preview, preview, preview, loading............

DVD MENU! Holy shit, after only a half a bag of popcorn, we have the menu of the movie to watch. Start watching the movie. Looks good, sounds good. But so did DVDs really...

Our 5 year-old comes in at some point in the movie to ask for a drink or snack or candy or something which 5 year-olds always ask for. Well, instead of hitting pause. I hit stop. I haven't gotten used to where the buttons are on the remote and I hit the wrong one.

Hitting stop takes the player back to the menu or the Blu-ray player... strange, but whatever. We take care of our daughter and send her back on her way.

Hit Play. FBI Warning. The disc is restarting. WHAT THE @#$%!!!! The disc can't start out where it left off?!?!? EVERY DVD player I've ever owned from the 1st generation could do this much at least. In fact, a regular DVD in this same Blu-ray player works like that. You stop, you hit play, it picks up where it left off. But not with Blu-ray Discs...

So we skip all the previews, wait for the loading screen, jump the chapter we want. Finish the movie. What an awful experience. And I'll point out. I payed $30 for this disc. I could have payed $12, gotten the DVD, had little noticeable difference on my size TV. And I have a 56" 1080p HDTV...

This technology is not worth the headache. It's not worth the price. It's not a step forward. At least with VHS technology if you hit stop you can pick it up where it left off. How they've managed to sell this as "the next generation of movie watching" is beyond me.

DVDs were a next gen step from VHS. Just like the Compact Disc was a step from the cassette tape. Just like the MP3 player was a step up from Compact Disc.

Blu-ray? It's a side-step. A costly and not worth your time and effort side-step. Sure it's crisper than DVD, but it took back steps. No stop-play? Really? Who honestly thought that was an idea consumers would adopt? Loading screens??? REALLY? I didn't even mention how clunky the pop-up menu was, but this rant has gone on long enough.

A Video I've Watched 5 Times Now

2010-05-14T09:31:00.004-04:00

I'm completely fascinated by this video. I don't know why. I have some sort of love/hate relationship with Lady Gaga and it shames me to my core. But this kid just knocks it out of the ball park. I kinda feel bad for him, because he's only got a year left on that voice before it drops.

The Blade Itself

2010-05-12T10:05:00.005-04:00

Damn you, Joe Abercrombie! I'm supposed to be revising my book, instead I'm reading yours. The Blade Itself has sat in my current reading list for about 3 months now. And the whole 6 weeks off I spent away from my book, I barely dented it. Then I hit about halfway into the book last week and it finally hooked me enough that I had trouble putting it down.

I was planning on reading another book from other author before moving onto his book 2. That is, until I hit the end of The Blade Itself. HOLY CRAP! I'm not going to spoil it. Let's just say it gave me a woody.

Did you ever read R. A. Salvatore and like his fight scenes? You know, the ones with Drittz fighting in flat cave floors... Anyway, he had some good fight scenes. But R.A. can't hold a candle to Joe. And holy snikies, the barbarian in The First Law Trilogy... he makes Wulfgar and Conan look like whiny, little girl-men. I was sporting wood as I read that ending. Best-- No, I won't spoil it.

I'll just say this... If you like George R. R. Martin's grit. If you like books full of bastard characters. If you like fight scenes. The Blade Itself is worth the read. But if your one of my beta readers with a copy of my novel, you have to read my book first, dammit! *smiley winky face*

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.7
Edited 2.2.7

Season Six was Dark

2010-05-07T09:47:00.003-04:00

First off, lemme warn you if you've never seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer and plan on it. This post is spoilerific of season six of that show.

My Wife got me the Ultimate Buffy Collector's Edition for Christmas and since then, I've been going through the seven seasons. I'm at the tail end of season six right now. I gotta tell you, I forgot it was so freaking dark in season six. I just remember the funny Trio and then Willow freaking out because Tara got killed. Which, by the way, this is the moment I first loved to hate Joss Whedon. It unfortunately wasn't the last time he killed a character I loved.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I loved Joss before then, loved the writing on Buffy and Angel. But I didn't hate him until Tara died. Then he killed two other people who where on Angel and Firefly... Joss, you glorious bastard, I hate you so.

So anyway, I've been watching season six. It's so dark. Let's tick all the dark moments:

Buffy is ripped from heaven
Buffy is poor
Buffy is screwing an evil guy and using him for sex
Buffy is working a dead-end job
Buffy is almost raped
Zander is going to marry Anya, but starts to see her flaws
Zander leaves Anya at the altar
Zander sees Anya screwing Spike, finds out Buffy was screwing Spike
Willow is abusing and addicted to "magic"
Willow gets dumped by Tara
Willow gets involved in a "magic" dealer and gets abusive with the "magic"
Willow goes into detoxing for "magic"
Willow turns vengeful and kills someone
Willow tries to end the world
Giles leaves
Tara dies
Anya goes bad, becoming a vengeance demon again
Anya screws Spike
Dawn is a little clepto
Dawn is forgotten by everyone who's too busy detoxing, screwing Spike, working...pretty much everything I listed above.

Totally forgot how dark that season was.

Activity since last post:
Read Aloud 2.2.1, 2.2.2
Edited 2.2.1, 2.2.2

Wysen: The Tale of the Name

2010-05-06T11:00:00.002-04:00

This past weekend, one of my friends said something to me that has been causing me to itch all week. Not like a chicken pox itch, more like a just stepped in fresh cut grass while barefoot itch.

He said to me, "Is the name Wysen going to be in your book, because if it is, he better be described like you."

And I said, "Oh dear."

Well I didn't say that out loud. My inner voice said that. One of my main characters is named Wysen, and they are gonna think when they read this that I Mary Sued myself into the story using that name.

But it's so not true.

You see, I stole his name back in 1993, because it was original and I didn't need to put a string of numbers on the tail end of the name when I setup computer accounts like XBox Live. I don't have to be Gandalf69, I can be Wysen. Notice the lack of numbers after my tag!?

The name first came to me back in '93 when I wrote a short story for English about a werewolf named Wysen. I remember starting the name with a W for wolf and ending it with N for the last letter in man or human. I don't know about the 'yse' part. I think that was just me trying to bridge the two letters. But this is the origin for Wysen in my mind.

Fast forward to 1995 or so. I was writing a DnD campaign. One of the guys is playing a noble hero who sings songs and aspires to become a legend himself. I attach onto his character sheet that he has a grandfather that saved the land and he's always aspiring to be like his grandfather. That name is Wysen. So this is where, among my friends, they first hear the name Wysen.

Then, about 1998 or so, a buddy of mine wrote a DnD campaign. I wanted to play a tree-hugging hippy druid, one that worships wolves(and enslaves them to hear the guys talk about him). I couldn't name him Wysen, because the Wysen in my head wasn't this guy. It just doesn't do the real character Wysen justice in my mind. But I did want to keep the W-N name concept. I gave him the name Waylinn(which is buried in my novel) and for short, I called him Wyn... though now that I think about it, why didn't I spell it Wynne? Anyway, I just added this in for further perspective that, in my sick and twisted head, Wysen is a person with a certain personality.

Since then, I've used the name for various purposes. I think I may have named an Everquest druid Wysen. I did name my WoW beta druid Wysen, but I never used his name for the retail WoW, although I've since created a druid and used another character's name from my novel. And there are some other video games where I've used it. Wysen Sheppard for instance in Mass Effect. I did Wysen in Dragon Age too. I tried to play him like Wysen at first, but the story of the Dalish Origin was so lame that I gave up quickly.

So how did he end up in my novel? Am I just so uncreative that I have to recycle a name? No. Here's what happened back in 2003 or whenever the novel idea first settled in my head. I had the following conversation with myself...

"Hey, Jay. Remember that short story you wrote in high school?"

"The dragon ring story?" I asked myself.

"No, not the one that kinda sucked."

"Hey! I like that one... it was amusing."

"Yeah, and you remember it not getting in your high school lit magazine because it sucked?"

"Yeah," I pouted to myself. "But the piece that did get in the magazine was a druggy sci-fi rant that made no sense. And you know for a fact that the guy that wrote that was stoned out of his mind. So that teacher who picked those stories had no taste."

"God, that pissed us off--"

"Still pisses us off."

"True... Anyway, you remember the short story that didn't suck? Remember the real Wysen? You need to tell his whole story."

"Self, that's an awesome idea! Let's do that."

So that's why Wysen appears in my novel. This is the man himself, the one I stole the name from when I created him back in '93.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.7
Edited 2.2.7, 2.2.8
Worked on the revision 2 road map

Tomorrow, tomorrow...

2010-05-04T08:00:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow is the day I start back on book 2, making the edits for revision 2. My wife finished reading the second revision so I've had a chance to pick her brain on the new stuff. She had only one complaint, and that was a style/grammar issue that'll get cleaned up.

I'm very excited to get this round completed, and I definitely don't foresee it lasting 9 months like the last did. Cleanup at this point is just further grammar fixes, polish that is no where near as heavy as round 1. And outside of that, I'm going to sprinkle in characters earlier in the book that need an introduction in a better place.

The biggest thing of all will be fixing the magic system of my world. I've never been satisfied with the semantics of how the human magic system worked. I'll be putting in a more solid rule-set for my magic. Nothing plot adjusting, like the last round became.

Wish me luck.

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.2.7, various 5.0.x edits
Worked on Outline for 5.0
Worked on Roadmap of Revision 2

Prepping for Round 2

2010-04-28T16:00:00.001-04:00

I'm only one week away from my six week deadline, where I'll once more pick through my manuscript and start work on Revision 2. While I've enjoyed the time off, I am also excited to get back to work, finish out the last bit, and start prepping it for submitting.

My wife has been reading through the revision 1 draft and marking things as she goes. So it'll be nice to have that additional proofing as I go into round 2. I also gave several copies to friends, but haven't heard anything back and I'm wondering if they've even started. *cough* *cough*

I know my writing group has been an amazing resource for helping hone my skill at story telling, but there are complications that arise with a writing group proofing a story. First off, they only read/critique about 2000 words a week. I'll remind you that this thing is 241,000 words. It would take approximately 2 1/3 years to go though my book from cover to cover with that group. The second problem is that the novel is epic in nature. Some of the information is better grasped in chunks larger than 2000 words per week. Some foreshadowing doesn't get grasped at that pace.

For example, I read a piece last night that was a info dump of biblical plague proportions. This section of was almost 2000 words in an of itself. Before and after this section, I have parenthesized it with explaining the current day explanation of what happened.

When you just absorb the plague itself without any explanation, it'll come off as a "Why did this happen?" moment. But the plague is mentioned before and it's reiterated after the story. The problem is they saw what happened and not the why.

Imagine you've never heard of an atom bomb. It's like showing a picture of an atom bomb from a distance. Its just special effects at that point. Mushroom cloud. Pretty. Then you take the picture away. A week later, you explain the bomb going off, killing thousands, really pointing out how horrifically powerful a bomb like this is. Then you wait another week, and show the picture of the atom bomb again. This time, the observer will pay more attention to the land around and beneath the mushroom cloud.

That make sense? I hope so. Because dealing with the writing group is like that sometimes. They want to know more. I can't always give more in 2000 words. Often I've mentioned it previously, but no one paid much attention to it a week or two ago. I promise, it'll get mentioned again.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.6
Edited 2.2.6, 2.2.7

Flash Fiction #2: Gutter Talk

2010-04-23T11:00:00.001-04:00

Trying to break the seal of an over the counter bottle the other day gave me the muse for today's flash fiction piece. As for the character in it, lately I've been leaning in the direction of writing little pieces from the perspective of people who are touched in the head in some manner.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.6
Edited 2.2.6, 2.2.7
Edited a flash fiction piece

Gutter Talk
by Jay Belt

Zero down, six hundred and twenty-three to go before sunset.

The red box bought from a corner pharmacy listed a label: Drug Facts, Active Ingredients, Uses, Warnings, Directions, Other Information, Inactive Ingredients, Questions and Comments. One query entered Mike’s mind. Can he get some samples? Pleasure and pain were sold separately.

Mike tore into the small, red package. Like a raccoon breaking into a trashcan, the discarded the scraps of cardboard rest on the ground, ignored by him. A woman dressed in furs sniffed as she walked by. “Mind your own business,” he hissed to the woman, not even bothering to look up. Inside the carton, a cylinder of plastic was its contents. He tugged the cap off; a solid wall of silver assurance graced the opening.

He pressed a finger against the tamper-guarantee barrier, the blockade bent under the pressure of his index. If he had a fingernail to speak of, he would have penetrated by now, but his nails had worn away, broken from other safety seals or chewed to the quick while he was between bottles. He pierced the plastic-foil, pealed it away.

A cotton ball rested beneath. It tickled his skin as he pulled it out. Below was the product, his addiction, forty-eight oval spheres.

He turned the bottle over, watched as four dozen pills tumbled through the air, spilling into the storm drain he stood over. Forty fell through the holes in the grate. Seven bounced on metal bars before toppling in the black abyss. One rested on the edge, taunting him in its defiance.

Mike nudged the medication with his foot, sending it into the sewer. He smiled, tossed the plastic aside, and stared at the bottle as it rolled across the ground. His brow twitched. His hands fidgeted with each other playfully. Looking up, his eyes searched for another grocer, gas station, or pharmacy.

Forty-eight down, five hundred and seventy-five to go before sunset.

A to the N to the Xiety

2010-04-20T09:33:00.004-04:00

Wacky anxiety dreams. They suck. Last night, I dreamt I was returning from a wedding from far away. I'm carpooled with someone, I can't remember who other than it was an older woman, it doesn't really matter who, it wasn't an actor, that I remember. I just remember it was a lush ride.

It started as a Benz, but we pulled into a Mazda dealership. I don't know why it changed. The creepy part is I clearly saw a Mercedes Benz logo and it morphed into a Mazda logo... which if you look at them from a distance, through squinted eyes, they can be sorta similar.

At the dealership, the person I'm with gets out of the car. I follow. She steps up to a counter, hands keys to the person behind the counter, and the clerk starts giving her figures of the rental cost. Well, in my dream, I'm shocked at this point, I didn't know the person I was carpooling with had paid for a rental. I thought this was her car. Not only that, but the rental cost is over $600.

And suddenly I'm filled with anxiety. Does this person expect me to share the cost of this rental? I didn't ask her to rent it. I didn't beg for the plush ride. I certainly can't afford to split a $600+ rental bill. How badly screwed did this person get on a rental purchase, btw? What did she rent it for a month? We went to some one's wedding a day away.

So I get this uncomfortable moment going where my mind is reeling with what I should be nice and offer, but what my wallet can't afford... I end up just looking down at my shoes and scuffling them. She pays the full $600 and asks how I'm going to get home from here. "My car is parked at the Holiday Inn parking lot right over there," I say, then proceed to walk over to it.

It's a dream, roll with it.

I get to my car and the trunk is open. Everything is gone from the trunk (which for some reason I keep referring to as a boot). "OMG, someone broke into my boot!" What am I, British now? What's that all about?

I look inside my car and everything is gone. Someone cleaned me out, and by clean, I mean, they even took the old McDonald's bags that were in the back seat. So my floors are just as pristine as my dashboard with missing items. They even took my floor-mats, those bastards.

And all I can think is, "Well, this is what you get for parking in a high-traffic area like the Holiday Inn parking lot for a week."

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.2.6
Worked on outline for 3.0

The Good, The Glad and The Awesome

2010-04-19T10:15:00.001-04:00

The Good - Treme (pronounced Treh-MAY)

Since The Pacific has been a bit of a letdown, I'm glad I do have something to look forward to on Sunday nights on HBO once more. Treme is created by the same folks who did The Wire, a show I've never seen but I've heard nothing but good about. A lot of good about The Wire... I really should rent it or something...

Anyway, Treme is about the section of New Orleans by the same name. And it takes place 3 months after a certain hurricane tore that city apart. I was a bit worried that this show would come off heavy handed with "George Bush doesn't care about black people" theme. It doesn't, in fact, it ignores these issues by delivering a story about people instead. A cultured story of a unique city returning from the depths of hell.

The question arises when I watch this show. "How many times are you going to see something like this in your life...how often does an entire city come to the brink of losing it's identity?" In New Orleans, everything is either Pre-K or Post-K, they could build a calendar on it. Events like that strike a resonance with me. And Treme was what I've been hoping to find on the television for several years, the story of the good and bad points of humanity.

The Glad - My Nephew

My nephew went into the hospital at the tail end of last week. He had a seizure on the playground at the daycare my daughter also attends. He was taken to the emergency room, kept overnight for observation, and finally they figured out on the second day what it was. Strep throat. Yeah. Strep. I mean, thank the maker that it was just strep, but holy crap. That must have been a mean case of strep! Thankfully he's out of the hospital and on antibiotics.

Everyone says he's back to his old self and acting normal, but I haven't heard him call me a fatty yet, so I don't know about him being "back to normal." Until I hear him say, "Uncle Jay, you're fat," I'm just going to have to take his parent's word that he's acting normal.

The Awesome - My Boy, the Geek in Training

So this weekend, my son asked to watch Cowboy Bebop from beginning to end. He didn't make it all the way, but he did make it to the last disc. His interest in Cowboy Bebop tickles the inner geek. I can mark that on his checkbox of "Are you a geek?" checklist. And he's already been watching Buffy when I do. Next up, wait for him to ask to watch Angel and Firefly.

See ya later, Space Cowboy.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.6
Edited 2.2.6, 2.2.7

Okay, Paint Me Impressed

2010-04-13T15:08:00.004-04:00

I stopped by the WoW Armory a few moments ago. A little treat was in store for me since I hadn't been on that site in a while. I saw the new profile view which lets you see what your character looks like in the game, armor, weapons and all. It's pretty awesome, you can turn them, put them in poses. So here's a view of my two girls:

The Warrior I raided with(I love that sword skin).

The Druid I pwnd newbs with.

Really if you want to see what I looked like when my druid PVPed it would be in kitty form... stealthed behind your back. Meow.

My Obsession, Let Me Show You

2010-04-13T09:45:00.002-04:00

I realize it's been a while since I chatted about anything but writing, or my breaking from writing, or my writing on writing, or... okay I guess you all get the point. I have gone out of my way to catalog the process from the ground up, but I can see where that kind of post is...boring...or tiresome?

I'm often amazed by the number of people that say they read my posts. Because, like, only 2 or 3 people ever comment on them on here, and yet I'm often approached with, "I read on your blog..." But then I realize when people say this, I probably go on and on about writing too much. And what the heck is anyone going to comment about unless you're a writer? Oh God, look! I've taken two paragraphs and written about writing again. Let's take a step back from the keyboard.

Breathe.

Okay, let's talk about something else.

How about video games? Who who has two thumbs and likes video games? This guy.

This past weekend, once I got the drinking, betting on ponies, and mowing the lawn out of the way, I spent the rest of the beautiful weekend indoors playing video games.

That's right, nothing says gamer like pasty white skin.

Battlefield Bad Company 2 was the biggest obsession that I dealt with. I'm not a big FPS(first person shooter) type guy. You'll never see me at a midnight release party of Modern Warfare X or anything, but Battlefield folks have always managed to capture my heart. I think it's the variety of things to do: fly, drive tanks, be a sniper, be a medic, be a tank killer. It's rock paper scissors on the next level.

And then there's World of Warcraft... That game is a drug. Blizzard sent me an e-mail this weekend giving me a 7 day free sample of their drug. Mother puss bucket! So I cashed in my 7 day ticket and patched up my WoW client. I looked at some of the new features. The new quest helping thing is nice, but still not as nice as Questhelper.

What did impress me was the dungeon group finder. Holy paladins that is a great feature! That should have been in the game long, long, long ago. I won't go into it, because my post is already too long, but it's nice. And if it had been in the game a year or two ago then I would likely still be playing and not writing.

Luckily it wasn't. And now... well not even 7 free days and new features is going to draw me back in. I have too much work to do on my plate.

Activity since last post:
Worked on 3.0 outline
Worked on 2.2 road map
Edited a flash fiction piece

Best Complement Ever

2010-04-08T09:59:00.003-04:00

The other night, at my writing group, someone said something to me that almost made me wet my pants with awesomeness. I'm serious. When this was said, my soul danced with glee.

We had gotten on the subject of Half Price Books and someone in the group mentioned they returned a huge collection of their DVDs, some which were still in wrapping. It was stuff they loved, but just never bothered to watch again. And they mentioned that Firefly was one of those DVDs that got returned, and then this person turned to me and said, "Have you ever seen that show?"

"Oh yeah," I said, "great show."

"It's too bad it didn't run longer."

I nodded. "Yes, Firefly is one show that really should have had more than 12 episodes."

"I wondered if you'd seen it. Your writing always reminds me of that show."

This is the point where I was floored--stunned--knocked on my ass. You see, my novel isn't a space western. So it isn't the setting. I'm not using names, plots, or characters from Firefly. If my writing is reminding someone of a Joss Whedon show, it's because of the tone of my prose.

Which, to this geek, is a damn-fine compliment.

Activity since last post:
Edited more of a flash fiction piece

On Query Letters and Revision Two

2010-04-05T11:00:00.000-04:00

May 5th may be the end of my "6 Weeks off from revision work" but I've haven't stopped thinking or working on my novel. I've just avoided looking at the words inside its cover. For the past two weeks, I've been working on is the business side of it.

I have to work on my bio, query letter, and get a summary of the novel written. Of those three, the query is the most difficult and painful thing I've been working on.

Have you ever worked hard on creating a resume that tries to sell you in one page? Well a query letter is as stressful a document to create. I have to summarize a 240k word novel in 300-ish words. You have to capture the eyes of the agent or publisher with those simple paragraphs so that they'll spend their precious time looking at your book. It doesn't matter how good or bad my book is at this point, it matters how good my query letter is.

The other thing I've worked on is solidifying a road-map for revision two. With revision one, a huge amount of grammar was corrected and a few plot-issues were smoothed over. Revision two will further polish the grammar, but other than that, I have some logistics to clean up and foreshadowing to seed. Unlike Rev1 this is nothing major. Nothing that is going to mess with the plot and it would almost seem invisible. But it's polish that I want done before I submit it to agents and publishers.

Activity since last post:
Worked on Query letter
Mapped out Revision 2

Non-Linear Tales

2010-03-31T10:28:00.006-04:00

I don't know what it is with me lately, but I keep trying to experiment with non-linear stories. That is, stories that aren't told in chronological order. Something happens, then you flash back to something else happening before.

I did this six months back and it was a flop. I didn't really figure it out that it was a flop until about 10 chapters into book 3.0. But it was a lesson learned.

I shared a flash fiction piece with my writing group last night that I'm going to try and submit to another NPR contest. This would be the third round I've attempted. I shared my first round piece the other day. I doubt I'll share the second round here... not without heavy editing. We'll see.

After I read it, I heard very good things, then I heard concerns. I am once again trying for a non-linear approach. This time, I pulled it off better but still ended up confusing too many people. Three comments really warmed me, but one was an eerie echo of what my wife said about my second piece. "It's really good, but it needs to be read two times to fully love it." This comment is great, if I wasn't writing something to be read on the radio...

Funny enough, one of the first suggestions I got was to restructure it to move backwards in time. At first, I didn't agree with that suggestion because it would have messed with my framing. But after trying to think of a way to squash out the confusion, I'm more and more convinced that this is the way to go.

Activity since last post:
Edited a flash fiction piece
Read a flash fiction piece

At Your Leisure

2010-03-30T10:35:00.006-04:00

Now that I have some leisure time, I've been playing video games guilt free for a week now. Collective sigh on this one. It feels good to do what I want without the guilt of the 240k word gorilla on my back. (Yes, I realize I'm mixing metaphors.) But it still lurks on the edge of my mind, let me give two examples...

First, I'm sitting at my favorite lunchtime reading spot, enjoying a plate of General Tso's and reading The Blade Itself. Suddenly, my eyes cross one word, and my mind fires off. BAM! I remember that I needed to do a find/replace in my novel. I couldn't read anymore beyond that point. I actually had to close the book. I was obsessing over what I was going to change the name of this organization to.

Second, I'm watching Season 4 of Buffy the other night, trying to make my way through all 7 seasons in chronological order. The laptop somehow jumped into my lap and I was looking up agent websites and info on query letters. Damned if I didn't hit a point where I was too distracted by what I was reading to pay any attention to the TV, and I rewound a particular scene 10 times before I finally hit pause.

So my vacation isn't as carefree as I'd hoped.

I am planning on reading while on my break, since I have a problem with that while writing. I'm running into the same hitch I ran across the first time I tried to read The Blade Itself, the syntax is distracting. I like the story, I like the characters, but his grammar derails me from enjoying it fully. Prose, is supposed, to be, transparent, for a reason.

I also have the plan of reading The Warded Man by Peter V. Brett. I keep hearing wonderful things about his book.

Activity since last post:
Ran a word find/replace on 2.1
Wrote 3 flash fiction pieces(finished 1 of 3)

Flash Fiction #1: Clouds

2010-03-25T10:53:00.006-04:00

I wrote this piece for a writing contest on NPR called three-minute fiction back in August. I've edited this story since submitting it to that contest.

Clouds
by Jay Belt

From the bed, my wife mutters. Her face is puffed, her left eye blackened and shut, her hair... How can my eyes look at her beautiful long, dark hair and avoid seeing the bald, white stripe? The doctors scalped her, cracked her head open, picked at her brain for twelve exhausting hours, and sowed her up.

“Clouds,” she mumbles. Her one good eye lazily flutters open, looking at me. “Clouds.”

Instinctively, I look at the lone window in the room. It's night and the shades are drawn. Even with the window open, the view from the hospital room is brick and windows of a newer building. There are no clouds to see, but I know she doesn’t mean to say clouds. She is trying to say something else.

Clouds… They bring rain. Rain is water. I grab the cup. “You want water?” My eyes stare at her dry, cracked lips.

She nods. “Clouds.”

I smile, as I tip the cup to her lips.

The brain doc says, ‘In three months she should be speaking normal.’ While I’m appreciative of his honesty, I currently detest the words: should, hope, and usually. Those three words wickedly danced in the vernacular of her neurosurgeon for the four weeks leading up to the brain surgery.

While my wife’s language degenerated to a string of words that made little sense, to friends and family that call, my own tongue utters a repetitive, ‘She’s doing as well as expected.’ I hide the fear from my voice. I smile reassuringly to her and family.

Alone, on the car ride home to see our kids, I cry.

The cup of water empties. She struggles to speak, “Home north. Home north.” Her breath smells rotten. The same woman who keeps three cans of mints in her purse. I wonder what her word for Altoid would be.

I avoid frustration as I attempt to translate her. As I refill the Styrofoam cup, I try to keep my hand from shaking. I dangle the cup in front of me with a questioning look. “More water?”

She shakes her head, scowls at the movement. “Find clouds...” Her good eye closes. She seeks out the words. “Home north, Michael,” she says, then drifts off to sleep.

Michael again. She named me that last time she woke. Michael is her ex-husband’s name--my name, for now. Of all the words she misuses, I want my name corrected first. The selfishness of that notion shames me, yet I long for her chapped lips to articulate my name before water.

1st Revision Draft Complete

2010-03-24T20:01:00.005-04:00

It's been an interestingly longer road than I expected. One which I now look and see took over 8 months! Great Scott! Though, I had given up somewhere along the way and picked it back up after flipping through it one night and feeling the, "this could be a great...why the hell did I abandon you!?!" vibe. That is a type of vibe, BTW.

I realize with this post that it's somewhat a less sexy announcement than "I Wrote a Book!" But good gravy the process is almost as painful as the creation was. You take every single line, every paragraph, every page, every word and you stare at it trying to clean it, polish it, etc. It's insanity. I don't know how some of the greats manage to spit books out at the pace they do. In-SANITY!

But round one is done. I'm almost positive I'm going to try to swing this draft by some agents. I'm not ashamed of parts of it like I was with the rough draft original. I know for a fact that I'm going to set the book aside for at least six weeks before I look at it again. I'm not sick of it, I'm sick of its monkey sitting on my shoulder.

I need a vacation from my second job.

So what's the difference in the original and this 1st revision? Well let me tell you:

Tighter, polished writing.
More better gramar;
Improved beginning and ending, with useless bits cut in the middle. (Note: the plot hasn't changed, I just improved upon it's opening and closing)
40% less info dumping!
90% less adverbs!!!
90% less said bookisms!!!
30% less f-bombs. :-(
21,000 less words! (original copy has around 262k and the 1st revision has 241k)
Sex scenes that no longer sound like an instruction manual for plugging in a car stereo!!!

That's what! (Since Grammar Nazis tend to float around on the Internet, point two is purposeful in its intent. See tongue-and-cheek for reference, you Nazis of the Internet.)

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.5
Edited 2.3.47, 2.1.48, 2.2.5, 2.2.6
Finished 2.1 in revision

Forty Seven, Johnny

2010-03-23T10:56:00.006-04:00

Eleven or Twelve years ago. A certain friend of mine had a drunken tirade of the number 47. Every since that night, I have been cautious of the number 47. Hey! I'm not crazy. When you have a grown man grab you by the collar and stare at you in the eyes saying, "47, Johnny... 47," for three hours solid, you'd be in my condition too.

I'm scarred by that night. And there was no man-raping involved. No smoking of the herb. Just one man's drunken rambling of the number 47.

47... What do we really know about it? Well thanks to Wikipedia I know more about it than I ever wanted. It's a prime number. It's a non-palindromic number(a term I just learned about 3 minutes ago but I'm now completely fascinated by).

It's also now the number of chapters in my story minus the Epilogue and Prologue. This was a recent change, due to the need to slice in my female protagonists new ending.

So did my friend's drunken rant of 11 years ago prognosticate the exact number of chapter titles I'd have in my first real attempt at a novel? Perhaps I should send this story to those Time-Life people who made the UFO books... Or call Chris Carter. I think we can spin this into another awful X-files movie.

Activity since last post:
Added more to 2.0.44
Edited 2.3.47, 2.2.5, 2.2.6
Edited an old poem

Fanboy Crush - Part 2

2010-03-18T09:19:00.007-04:00

I was hoping to get a picture of me standing next to THE MAN, Patrick Rothfuss. No such luck. Joseph-Beth denied any pictures with the author. :( But I still got to sign another book with him. That is something, at least.

First of all, he spoke for about an hour doing Q&A. Which was cool because the man is funny. Not every question was about his book, which I thought was also cool. Someone commented about his tongue and cheek rivalry with author Jim Butcher. Apparently Jim was in Lexington a while back and even wrote "Pat Rothfuss sucks" on the inside cover of one of Pat's books. But on the other hand, Jim recommended Pat's Name of the Wind.

The signing line took a long time. I don't think he's ever been to an event quite as large as the one we shower authors with in Lexington. I think this because he said, "Wow, I've never been to one this big." Actually, this isn't the first time I've heard this out of author's mouths. Brandon Sanderson said this in the middle of his six week book tour for the Jordan/Sanderson book 12 of WoT. (Good book btw. I highly recommend it even if you gave up on the series, the Jordan/Sanderson novel will remind you what was to love of the Wheel of Time.)

I digress. Slow moving line. I had the H ticket for the Brandon Sanderson signing, and it took about the same amount of time as my D ticket did last night. Pat likes to talk to his fans. And that's cool, until you have 225 people waiting.

When it came to my turn to sign, I choked. I had planned on saying something to him about how he helped inspire me to write. I had zero issue telling Brandon Sanderson that I appreciated him, Howard, and Dan for doing Writing Excuses. When I talked to Brandon, I didn't fumble my words, or stumble and blush like a little girl. Sanderson asked if I was a writer, and I started to shake my head before he said, "Are you doing it? Are you writing? Then your a writer."

But with Pat, the fanboy jitters got in the way last night. I stood silently as he signed my book, trying to summon the words.

Finally, I did manage to open my mouth. Just as he looked up and said, "Hey! We bearded men have to stick together," or something like that. I was too flustered with finally summoning the courage to speak. I smiled and nodded my head, preparing to run at full speed away, blushing. But then he said, "What were you going to say?"

I managed to stutter out a, "I-I, uh, I just--you wrote on your blog one time about how you helped move baby ducks across the street. I just wanted to thank you and tell you that you helped move this baby duck--you helped inspire me to start writing again."

"Oh well, thank you," he said. "Do you really like writing?"

"Oh yeah! Love it, I just finished my first revision." (OK so I lied a little, I'm ten pages from this being a true statement, but there's no way I could stutter out this explanation.)

"Well, good luck!"

Yeah, luck is what its going to take. He gave an interesting figure last night during the Q&A.

Out of 250 people who say they'll write a book, 1 person finishes. Out of 250 people who try to publish their finished book, 1 person gets published. Out of 250 people who publish their book, 1 person can make a living of it.

So far I've made it past the first round of 250 people.

And that was the easy round.

Activity since last post:
Cut 2.1.43 into two chapters
Finished part of 2.3.45 spliced it to make 2.0.44
Retitled 3 chapters 45 though 47 (2.3.45 became 2.3.47)

Fanboy Crush - Part 1

2010-03-17T12:30:00.004-04:00

I have a fanboy crush. Oh yes. I have several crush-able likes, actually, but if I had to number them on a list, Patrick Rothfuss would list as numero uno.

My exposure to Pat Rothfuss started harmlessly enough. I read his book, The Name of the Wind. Well, read is a poor choice of word. I devoured his book is a better description. I sat down with this novel and the world passed me by as my eyes gobbled up every page. He made me want to have sex with a lute. He just described it so damn sexy.

But I wasn't a fanboy at that point. I just thought it was a damn-fine, page-burning book. I've read those before... But it was fine enough that I decided to send the guy an e-mail telling him I loved his book. Note: I've never done this before, but I knew the guy was a freshman author and hitting a ball out of the park on your first swing is a righteously awesome thing.

He did respond back, about a month later, apologizing for the delayed response. Honestly, I expected nothing. I got a response, not a manufactured "thanks" either... he actually responded to my letter. That was touching. But that wasn't what caused me to be a fanboy.

In order to write him, I had to find his website and look up the contact form to send him an e-mail. I really expected to hear nothing back. And while I was there I stopped by his blog.

Then I fell in love.

Er, crush, yeah a crush. After I read his blog, I became a fanboy.

His blog is hilarious. Not only that, I find out he likes: Buffy, Angel, Firefly, Penny-Arcade, Role-playing games, and COWBOY BEBOP. I mean, whoa, whoa, whoa. This is just too much coolness in my book. I was overloaded by coolness. I had a inspirational meltdown.

It was at that point that my head clicked. If this guy can be a regular geeky dude and an author, well, damn, what's holding me back? I wrote my summary within days. While I didn't start writing for another year, this idea that you don't have to be a stuffy individual to be an author settled firmly in my mind because of Pat's blog.

I'm going to see him tonight at Joseph-Beth. Not the first time I've seen him, but I plan on part 2 to cover how tonight goes and maybe touch up on my previous Rothfuss experiences.

Activity since last post:
Started 2.3.45
Edited 2.1.46, 2.1.47, 2.2.5

Polishing the... Drafts

2010-03-10T07:00:00.002-05:00

I know I posted one of these recently. But that was just original/rewrite/1st draft revision comparison. Today, I'll share an example of going from unpolished original to the polished 2nd draft with bonus post-writing group sample.

I'm not going to say every author goes through this drastic of revisions. In fact, I bet their first drafts look much better than mine does below. Hell, nowadays my first drafts look way better. Regardless, nothing is written perfect on the first draft. A lot of authors still put this much effort polishing each revision.

So next time you say, "Such and such needs to hurry up and publish his next book," think of the following work and this is only two paragraphs(that turn to 4). I'll mark all the changes in red so you don't have to read... just skim and notice the amount of changed material from draft to draft. (names changed per usual)

original rough draft(2.0.5)

Spike walked up to the still body of Tara and turned her over on her back. He unbuckled her belt and gently removed the gunbelt from her waist. He was careful not to touch any of the wood of the flintlocks as he could feel their wood stocks trembling in their holsters being so close to his ungloved hands. He tossed the belt off into the tall, dew covered grass and looked around once more for any sign of the bear. For their size, bears could still be quite silent and he did not want the angry grizzly returning while he tried to rouse Tara.

Having no desire to be stabbed by his own knife from the panicked woman, he pulled his knife out and flicked it off in the same direction as the guns. Leaning over her, he gave her a light tapping on the cheek. When she did not rouse, he slapped her. Tara’s lavender eyes snapped open, her body tensed up and she let out of scream. Spike slapped her again. “Tara! Calm yourself pup. Don’t you think I would have killed you already if that was my wish? Cut out your heart and eaten it, or whatever other crazy and scary thing you’ve heard about my people.”

1st draft revision(2.1.5)

Spike scanned the edge of the meadow for signs of the bear. A hungry enough grizzly may return. Spike doubted a single wolf would be enough to dissuade the bear if he was hungry enough.

He sighed as he finally looked at Tara, lying on the ground faced down. Flipping her body, he removed her gun belt and tossed the belt in the tall, dew covered grass.

After one more glance around the meadow, he pulled his knife out and flicked it off in the same direction as the guns. Spike bent over and tapped her cheek. When she failed to respond, he slapped her.

Tara’s lavender eyes snapped open. Her body tensed up as she screamed.

Spike slapped her again. “Tara! Calm yourself, pup. If killing you was my wish, don’t you think I would have already done so? Perhaps you think I’ll cut out your heart and eat it, suck on the blood of your body like a mosquito, or whatever other crazy myths you’ve heard about my people.”

2nd draft revision(2.2.5)

The edge of the meadow was quiet. No sign of movement. If the bear was hungry enough, Spike doubted a single wolf would dissuade it for long.

He sighed as he looked at Tara, lying on the ground, face down. Flipping her body, he removed her gun belt and tossed it in the dew covered grass. He pulled her knife out, removed his own, and flicked both of their knives in the same direction as the guns. After one more glance around the meadow, Spike bent over and tapped her cheek. When she failed to respond, he slapped her.

Tara’s lavender eyes snapped open. Her body tensed. She screamed.

Spike slapped her again. “Hey, hey, hey! Calm yourself, Pup. Remember the bear? Let’s not scream and refresh his curiosity, okay?” He sighed, glancing up at the edge of the meadow.

post writing group revision(2.2.5).

The edge of the meadow was quiet. No sign of movement. If the bear was hungry enough, Spike doubted a single wolf would dissuade it for long.

He sighed as he looked at Tara, lying on the ground, face down. Flipping her over, he removed her gun belt and tossed it in the dew-covered grass. He pulled her knife out, removed his own, and flicked both of their knives in the same direction, out of her reach. After one more glance around the field, Spike bent over and tapped her cheek. When she failed to respond, he slapped her.

Tara’s lavender eyes snapped open. Her body tensed. She screamed.

Spike covered her mouth. “Calm yourself, Pup,” he whispered. “Remember the bear? Let’s not scream and refresh his curiosity, okay?” He glanced at the edge of the meadow, looking for movement.

I wanted to show just how much shining there is to be done. And keep in mind. This is an example of 2 paragraphs out of 5,780 paragraphs...

So for future reference. If anyone says, "I was thinking about writing a book. It can't be hard." Make sure you slap that person. Slap them hard.

Activity since last post:
Finished 2.3.42
Read 2.2.5
Edited 2.2.5, 2.1.43, 2.1.44

Four Lttr Word

2010-03-05T11:07:00.001-05:00

I have a propensity for obscenity. It certainly wasn't upbringing. My parents were cautious in their use of language around me. For me, dropping F-bombs was something learned on the playground at recess. At first use, the four letter word was spoken as a hidden treasure, later it had become ingrained into my vocabulary.

When I wrote my first draft, these words found themselves in the dialogue naturally by my ear. In fact, the only two curses I was sensitive to while writing was the use of Hell and the Lord's name in vain, because those two pieces of language did not exist in my world. I had to invent new cursing in those cases.

As I have gone back across this revision, I find fewer and fewer need for vulgarity. It was my infrequent but well placed C-bombs that re-enlightened me to how I could wield these words as weapons. When it hits your eyes, it feels like a slap across the face. This made me rethink the F-bomb.

In the first draft, several characters used it with ease. That was too much, I see it now. As I polish down the draft, I now only have one or two characters that overuse it. They weave it into their language, not much unlike myself. For them, it's not a vulgar word, it's an adjective, noun, verb, exclamation...

But when a character who doesn't use them says it, I want the feeling to be coarse. That part is a work in progress. Something I'm just now more sensitive to because...well... up until now I hadn't really considered it vulgar.

Activity since last post:
Continued 2.3.42

Hitting the Wall

2010-03-03T10:21:00.006-05:00

It's been almost a week since I've written a single word down. I spent the majority of one day staring at a paragraph on paper, and at that point I stood and walked away, not even looking back the rest of the week. I knew two things.

I'm spent. I think I've mentioned this before. For me, the creative process works in waves. Sometimes the wave is powerful and splashing across the screen. Sometimes the tide is pulling back into sea. I was in that later stage. Tide was receding and I just couldn't force the ideas out.

I needed to a plan of attack before moving on. Think of my writing process as knowing A and E. I know how I'm going to open a chapter. I know how I'm going to close it. 90% of the time, I have zero issue writing in B, C, and D of the chapter. Most of the time it comes to me as I'm writing A down. B just magically appears laid out, then C, then D, and finally E was already prepped. But there's that 10% of the time where I hit a wall. This particular time, I wrote down A, and B was easy, flew right through it. But I hit the wall at 90mph when it came to C. And because I was spent(#1) when I hit that wall, I couldn't think my way out of it...No amount of staring fixed it.

I even wrote some other stuff, trying to break that traditional writer's block. But finally I just walked away and said, "Time for a break, eventually the idea will come."

And it did. I haven't written to it yet, because I got the plague(aka strep). But the idea finally arrived.

Activity since last post:
Nada

Welcome To My Life

2010-02-26T10:23:00.005-05:00

Yesterday, I walked in the door to find my wife bent over the keyboard, frustration painting her face. As I placed my keys, wallet, and other pocket goods into my precious bowl, I asked her how her day went. She looked up at me with a bestial snarl. "I'm going to kill the children."

You see, both our kids were home yesterday. Our twelve year old had no school because of snow. Our almost five year old was running a fever yesterday morning, so no daycare for her. My wife is trying to work on finding a job. Which means a lot of time in front of the computer all day. So I knew exactly what that look was on my wife's face when I walked in the door. "Having trouble working at the computer with the kids home all day, huh?"

"Oh my God, it's like..."

"Every 5 minutes one of them needs something? Our daughter wants a hug or a drink or a snack or a pencil or a movie and she just won't leave you alone, right? And then when she does finally occupy herself our son comes into the room with something he wants, to go to a friends house or invite someone over or something. Or they're both fighting with each other, right?"

She nodded.

"Yeah. Welcome to my life the past two years whenever I try to sit down and write at night or on the weekends."

Activity since last post:
Continued 2.3.42

I Have a Fan... Sort Of... Not Really... Maybe

2010-02-24T11:00:00.005-05:00

I was asked a question last night after writing group. It was a question that warmed my heart. "What ever happened with the one piece you brought in that was really funny? The one you said you were writing for fun?"

"Oh, my Bill and Earl story... It's still floating around up in my head. I just haven't had time for it since I've been revising this other piece I've brought in the past couple months. Once I finish this round of revision I plan on returning to write on it. It's funny you mention it. I happened to be thinking of a real funny scene for it the other day."

What warmed the cockles of my heart because of who said it. There's this guy in group that writes hilarious stories. Some of his pieces feel like they should be on a radio show, like Garrison Keillor(only funnier because you don't have to be over 60 to laugh... okay that was mean, I've laughed at some of Prairie Home Companion, but don't tell anyone). Back on subject, the fact that this humorous writer thinks my material is funny (and would love to read more of it) was a wonderful compliment.

So if any of you were wondering. Yes, I plan on writing more to the my redneck suburban fantasy story. I have only 6 chapters left to revise on book 2. But I am in the middle of chapter rewrites right now, so it'll be another week or two.

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.1.36, 2.1.37, 2.2.38, 2.1.39, 2.1.40, 2.1.41
Started 2.3.42
Outlined 3.0

Epiphany

2010-02-18T09:30:00.002-05:00

Last night, around midnight, I lay in bed doing my nightly routine of winding down. Tossing and turning. And then... Epiphany struck me and I was wide awake.

As you can see from the bottom of this post, I've been rather active with working on my revision work. Part of the long list there deals with the fact that I'm closing in on the end of the book, where my grammar requires less correction. I had been wordy, but at this point I'm better converted. I had written a lot in passive, but by this point in the book I self-edited on the fly.

Not that the last 200 pages is puppies and kittens, but compared to the first 200 pages... it sure feels like it. There's only been one thing haunting me as I approach the end.

The End.

Or I should be more precise. My female protagonists ending. You see, my male protagonists ending has a long curving rise of action. The tension ratchets up nicely with him from about 200 pages out until the ending of the book. My female protagonist? Not so much. I felt a fluttering of my spidey-sense whenever I think about it.

There were things I wrote about her that I enjoyed, no doubt. But they didn't belong. Not inside the zone of rising action. And as I've approached that zone in the revision, my worried spidey-sense has been pestering me. Here's my chance to fix it, but how...

Then, last night, tossing and turning in bed, it arrived! Out of nowhere a star fell from the heavens and implanted itself in my head. Not only did I have my answer, I had a really freaking awesome answer to my ending. I stayed up until about 2am solidifying the idea into my head.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.1.4
Edited 2.2.3, 2.1.4, 2.1.5, 2.1.6, 2.1.32, 2.1.33, 2.1.34, 2.2.35, 2.1.36

I'm Cereal Guys...

2010-02-15T23:18:00.003-05:00

I'm in serious need of removing myself from the internet. Some nights I get so distracted by it. I should be editing/revising right now. Instead, I type this rant.

Facebook and Twitter are the main culprits here. YouTube occasionally. Mostly Twitter though. I just can't help but click on the Twitter tab when I see a number in parenthesis.

I need to find some "IF ... THEN ..." of computer applications. If Word then Block IE and Firefox.

But then how would I do my legit research for things like decomposing flesh. One second, Twitter update... Ah, Neil Gaiman. He loves to spam his tweets. Oh wait he linked an article about him and Kevin Smith... brb.........

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.2.4, 2.2.28, 2.1.29, 2.1.30, 2.1.31, 2.1.32

Roll Those Eyes

2010-02-12T11:33:00.005-05:00

Some random nuggets to share today.

I tease my kids from time to time. The other morning my daughter was wrapped in a blanket, eating a granola bar for breakfast. She had the blanket wrapped around her so tight it looked like she was in a cocoon. I then proceeded to tease her that she was a little caterpillar and soon she'd become a butterfly.

Later, I'm getting ready to head out the door. I lean down to kiss her and say, "Goodbye my pretty, little butterfly."

Her response was to give me a huge eye roll. HUGE! I was stunned. I didn't realize I was already lame in her eyes. She's four, I should have at least had six more years before I reached lame parent status in her eyes.

I watched Extract last night. Mike Judge had made me love a movie... Office Space. Considering how much I loved Office Space, Extract was a disappointment. I wondered why this movie seemed to fall off the radar once it came out in the theaters. I no longer wonder. It had funny moments, but not enough to recommend to anyone it was worth watching.

Plus I think Jason Bateman's character felt too much like Ron Livingston's character in Office Space. The whole wanting to give up on you job thing was done well in Office Space, not convincing at all in Extract.

Like Idiocracy, this movie pushed too hard on some unfunny content, and pulled the punches where it could have been funnier. I've worked in a factory. This movie missed some great opportunities for blue collar humor.

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.2.27, 2.2.28

Follow Up

2010-02-11T17:00:00.001-05:00

A year ago, I posted some samples of a rewrite of a random paragraph. As I've gone through my revision, this paragraph took another hit as I passed across its chapter. I figured just for the sake of showing how much one paragraph changes every revision, I'd share it again and it's update.

Also, before getting the meat. I thought I'd share. I'm halfway through with this pass of revision work.

The original paragraph:

“I’m not crazy Giles,” Anya said with a strained voice. “It’s not like I can magic up the mine to explode Giles. It takes this much ordinance to do this and I’m not going to take lip from you about using too much, do we understand each other?”

The rewrite:

Spike stared up at the cloudy gray sky as the first drops of rain fell and spattered on his hat. Rain again and more thunderstorms, no doubt. We are going to have to travel in this muck all day. I’m either crazy or desperate to be pushing our group out to travel into the muddy wilds.

“I’m not crazy,” Anya growled at Giles. She stood less than a foot away from the older man's wrinkled face, an outstretched pointing finger poking his chest. “It’s not like I can magic up the mine to explode, Giles. It takes this much ordinance to blow this sucker and I’m not going to take lip from you about using too much. Do we understand each other?” Her other hand rest casually on the grip of her pistol as Anya peered angrily at Giles, waiting for a response.

Post-revision pass #1:

Spike stared at the cloudy gray sky as the first drops fell and spattered on his hat. More rain and thunderstorms. He sighed. A sneer flickered on his lips.

“I’m not crazy,” Anya growled at Giles, poking her finger into his chest. She stood less than a foot from his scarred face. “It’s not like I can magic up the mine to explode. It takes this much ordinance to blow this sucker. I want to hear no more complaint from you. Do we understand each other?” Her other hand tensed on Irony’s grip.

And there you go. A look into my insanity. (Names changed, of course...)

Activity since last post:
Revised/rewrote 2.1.27 enough to 2.2.27
Edited 2.2.27, 2.2.28

Oh Snap!

2010-02-10T10:17:00.005-05:00

I have been known to laugh at inappropriate times in the past. It's my sick mind. It finds humor in things others cringe at.

Last night, in writing group, one of the gentlemen brought an edited version of the piece he read a week ago. Apparently he read this piece to another writing group in town. When our group leader asked how his experience was with the other writing group, he said without pause, "Well, they were a lot nicer, but I don't feel like they helped as much."

This summoned a gale of laughter from my lips. Such a backhanded compliment. I don't think the guy meant it to be so backhanded. But that made it all the more humorous to me. The unintended backhand is funny to my twisted mind.

I wasn't the only one laughing. It's a running gag that the group can be a bit harsh at times. I've been torn apart in that arena before. It's not a place to go if your too sensitive to criticism.

You know what? When I rewrote Chapter 1 it was 100% better than the original. It also caused me to look more careful at chapter 2 and rewrite it under a different point of view for a better effect...affect--no the first one.

And the nights where you walk away with barely any criticism. That's when you know you have something good. That's one thing I love about my writing group. No one pulls punches. It makes you a better fighter in the end.

A foot note to this story: We tore apart just about everything the other writing group suggested.

Activity since last post:
Read 2.2.3
Edited 2.2.3, 2.1.4, 2.1.5, 2.1.27

A Sniper's Perspective: ME1 vs ME2

2010-02-08T11:45:00.002-05:00

I'm not going to discuss plot of Mass Effect 2. This is all game play. So LoveAndBeer, you're safe from spoilers here.

I played Mass Effect only once. I remember trying to play it a second time and getting annoyed with other weapons. With Mass Effect 1 I played with two weapons. Sniper rifle and pistol. With Mass Effect 2 I played with 4 weapons, sniper rifle, pistol, submachine gun, and various heavy weapons.

The sniper rifle was a wonderful one shot heavy action gun in both games. Granted not everything goes down with one shot, but most did. I can't remember if the first game had so much emphasis on head shots. The second game definitely does and it's nice. The nicest change in the sniper from the first and second game is no shaky rifle. The first game impeded you by making the sniper move on you for random reasons until you put lots of points into the sniper ability. The second game just completely remove this annoying feature altogether.

But sometimes things run at you in too great a number (I'm looking at you husks) and you need a faster firing weapon. The pistol came in handy in the first game, the submachine gun for the second.

There were issues with playing a sniper in the ME1. The first being. Your squad, unless you assigned them to do something, would just hang out over your shoulder. I can't explain how annoying this was, because the other people had lesser guns, and 80% of the time, they'd end up standing behind you and getting killed while you pegged people from a distance.

Thank god this was fixed in the second game. My squad members would run all over the place while I hung back and took people out with the rifle. Sure, sometimes they'd get a little too far ahead and get killed, but it was far better than standing behind me like a bunch of useless lugs.

I was a little worried about the ammo thing. And there were some fights at the beginning that were a little hairy with running out of sniper ammo(you only got 10 shots on the first gun). But as the game progressed the ammo to kickass ratio was invisible.

Last but not least. The abilities. Oh god the abilities were so much better in the second game. They give you some ammo abilites... Whatever. They did remove Overload, but I just ran with Miranda all the time to fix that. What they give you is incenerate which is amazingly nice to tearing apart armor or just burning. And AI hacking!!! OMG turn those mechs/geth against each other.

Toward the end of the game, I just surrounded myself in two biotic characters, and I waded through large groups in seconds... Throw, Dominate, AI Hacking, Warp, Overload, 2 Slams, Incinerate. Anyone left got a bullet to the head. It was ridiculously easy. My cooldown was up before the effect I just cast. To quote my son who watched part of the endgame, "Holy crap, dad! You're really good." Fights were over in seconds of seeing red dots on the map.

All-in-all. A huge step forward in making the Infiltrator feel like the title suggests. ME1 started with the Infiltrator having to shoot a pistol and better ability to hack money/inventory. ME2 starts the Infiltrator with sniping and cloaking for sniper action. IMO a much better start.

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.1.26, 2.1.27

Two Post Friday: Post 2 The Cute Funny One

2010-02-05T10:00:00.001-05:00

We got mail the other day. Okay, we get mail all the time, but this one made us all cringe. It was from the school system. They want to register my daughter for Kindergarten next year.

Ladies and Gentlemen. Fasten your seat belts. My daughter is about to enter the social machine.

This is the first step toward her diabolical dream of being a cheerleader with a baby. Soon she'll be cliquish, in her own social circle. And next thing I know, she's going to be crying to us because her clothes aren't fashionable. I'll have to take out a loan so she can shop at whatever is cool by the time she's reached that age. Is Gap still cool? American Eagle? I have no idea. I didn't even know when I was that age.

But I have little doubt that my fashion conscious prodigy of almost 5 will know. She told me the other day that my red fleece didn't match the blue shirt I wore under it. I feel shamed by her expertise.

Last night she spilled her drink on her outfit and immediately ran into her room and changed out of her clothes. She got undressed and yelled at us to start a bath for her so she could get pretty again.

I'm so scared. I don't know what to do. Help me!

Two Post Friday: Post 1 The Dull Writing Post

2010-02-05T09:30:00.000-05:00

I'm not catholic. But this weekend I need to borrow one of yous guy's saints. (I don't know why I just typed that dialect) St. Francis de Sales is the patron saint of writers and journalist.

Why do I need religion this weekend? Well my family is going away for the weekend and leaving me at home. Typically this gift I'm given is taken full advantage of by me sitting in front of my computer typing and reveling in the lack of interruption from my children asking me for a drink, hug, candy, tattling, dispute resolution with sibling, an opposing decision to the other parent, or a myriad of other things.

So I get a break, one where I should take full advantage of writing. Only there's a problem. One which I believe will need divine intervention... (Or posting on my blog to make me feel guilty. That's sneaky of me to do to myself.)

You see, there's this game. Mass Effect 2. It's kinda awesome. I'm kinda having a lot of fun playing it. I ended Mass Effect 1 as the biggest A-hole in the galaxy and seriously enjoying keeping this story going now that I'm essentially a mercenary. Sheppard keeps talking about saving humanity and all that crap. Whatever! I just like being the captain of a ship and seeing how many eggs I can break in the 'verse. I'm jaded-Mal at this point. There's only one person I'm nice to in this whole game, pictured above for um... personal reasons... (she's hot, has an Aussie accent, and wears skin tight clothes)

OMG. I'm seriously going to have trouble not playing this game this weekend. Give me strength St. de Sales. Speaking of sales, I need to check out the vendor on Iridan 4. He had a cool sniper rifle upgrade for me...

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.1.23, 2.1.24, 2.1.25, 2.1.26

Effect Is Affecting My Blood Pressure

2010-02-03T10:00:00.004-05:00

There are days where I hate the English language. I want to take an axe (or ax) and smash it in its face. I want to cut the text with a sword and watch it bleed gray (or grey). I want to witness the effect of its bleeding on paper.

Effect/Affect I hate you! I wish the person who decided we would have two different spellings for almost the same word would come back to life so I could wish death upon him or her. The difference is the noun/verb form. The noun is effect. The verb is affect.

Who decided these rules??!?!?! I hate you English! I HATE YOU!!!!! Lots of other words share the same spelling for noun and verb form. Why is this one special?!?!

My latest slip of the "ffect" word dealt with the sentence, "I'm quite aware of my eyes affects on people." I stared at this sentence the other day, making sure that I got my "ffect" right. I thought I did, smiled and moved on. Later, it was pointed out that "eyes" should be possessive "eye's"which swaps the A to an E and causes me to scream in anger and shake my head in shame. I should have caught the possessive form, but I was so concentrated on the right "ffect" that my brain completely bypassed the rest of that sentence.

I hate you English... mumbled, grumble, piss and moan...

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.2.3. 2.1.23

Project January

2010-02-02T10:26:00.007-05:00

Well, I watched 31 mostly bad Science Fiction and Fantasy movies. I came out unscathed. Actually, there may be permanent damage. Only time will tell.

Did I learn anything from this? A bit, actually. Most of it involves transition and story structure. Previous to this experiment, I had heard quite a few people say, "Start your story out in media res or by telling the tale without a single lick of back story."

This month of movies really sunk that idea deep in my head. I know we all grew up with Star Wars and the wall of text before the movie, but there's something to be said about reading or watching a tale where you aren't bombarded with info before seeing the first bit of action. And there's something repulsive about spending 7 paragraphs before the first scene in a movie explaining the background.

So of all the movies I watched, which would be the one I would actually share with friends. The one that would be the most fun to watch with friends??? There's only one choice here. One movie sticks out above and beyond the rest.

Time Barbarians.

This movie proved itself the best mix of unintentional camp, action, and crazy wtf moments held together by a cement of nudity which would be the best movie to sit around with friends and laugh at how bad it is. Bad in a good laughable way. I'm serious. This movie, hands down, wears the crown for campy movie watching fun. It's a gem.

Activity since last post:
Edited 2.1.23