Stan had made his first kill at a very young age. So young, in fact, you simply would not believe it. He was ancient by some standards, but infinitely far from decrepit. No, Stan had time ahead to do his work. Time and to spare.
His record spoke for itself. To those who looked at such things, the numbers of critical strikes against the enemy lay at the high end of five digits. In all his vast experience eradicating the evil that threatened peace and freedom the world over, there were no friendly-fire incidents to darken Stan’s sterling reputation, nor had he ever given his superiors cause to explain excessive collateral damages.
In short, Stan was the perfect soldier.
Why shouldn’t he be? It was, after all, what they had built him for.
The conundrum of thinking machines had seemed of such miniscule probability in the formative years of the Information Age that for years it did not exist outside quaint science-fictional prose. Those who followed technology saw potential, but most so-called experts scoffed.
“Gads,” some said in their dated and ridiculous way to their circles of sycophants and toadies as they gathered at their funding banquets and social galas, “it’s not as though such a thing is actually even possible, let alone probable. Sentient machines? Really! The very idea is absurd!”
In ever broadening ripples, no matter how they might wish to deny the truth, the beating of the butterfly wings of progress and change had grown into the wind that drives true innovation.
The people pushed envelopes and bent noses to grindstones. Boxes were constructed outside of which there was much thought. Trails blazed. Innocent bulls had their horns seized. In business meetings and planning sessions across the planet, slogans shouted progress. Clichés were writ large across cubicle walls as movers and shakers worked feverishly to push science where it had never been, where they never thought it could go.
So engrossed were they in the business of bigger better faster more, they failed to notice the darkening horizon. Suddenly, they labored directly under threatening clouds. Intelligence was no longer solely the domain of humanity.
No one knows who finally noticed it. One day, people awoke to news of The Problem. The word spread across the globe in mere hours. How could anyone trust a smart-car’s motivations? Did the office coffee dispenser add extra sugar because it meant harm? Everywhere, the convenience devices upon which the world relied became unknowable, sinister. Food hoarding and riots rocked the global community. Doomists and cult leaders cried that the end was nigh.
The First Council of Earth asked for patience. Scientists gathered, held conferences; meetings of the greatest minds the world had to offer. Each agreed, without even the slightest hesitation, to the need for a warrior who could protect the populace of the whole Earth. Politicians high and low, from atop their soapboxes, exhorted the public to examine the facts, facts they themselves had needed teams of consultants explain.
“Please,” they said, “give of your substance so that we, as a species, can continue to live in this harmonious world we have finally created. Put behind us the days of old, when every man was concerned only for himself. We will overcome this threat, as we have overcome every threat before it!”
And the people did examine those facts. Few understood, of course, but what need had they to understand when their elected leaders were so obviously moved? Moreover, those few who did understand (or pretended to), so called experts of the day, agreed with the scientific community.
The Problem was grave. But surmountable, at a cost.
A project, put before the people by the very scholars and scientist who had laughed at The Problem not long ago, would solve this dilemma. A new kind of soldier would fight this war. A soldier that would not, must not, be equipped with the technologies that had caused this catastrophe. With their money and their votes, en masse the people clamored for that soldier’s creation. “Save us!” they cried to the skies.
Everywhere, media outlets ran heartrending human-interest pieces. Viewers the world over were treated to clips of unwashed masses in subsidized housing holding up the fruits of their loins for pity-filled examination. Interviews with high-powered executives showed them staring morosely out the protective windows of their overpriced homes, wondering if all was lost. Surveys conducted on streets across the globe resounded with support for the project.
Several years and quintillions of dollars later, Stan was born. Physically, he was unremarkable. In the vault of a Geneva bank he awoke as the scientists who were his manifold parents looked on. Optical fiber trunks connected his physical self, a stainless steel box the size of an old-fashioned microwave, to the world at large.
What a marvel was that day. The story ran on every outlet, played on every viewer. The First Council of Earth stood before the assembled global populace and lauded the efforts of science. The highest awards in many fields changed hands like party favors, with emotionally charged speeches delivered.
“Now, the world can finally return to the peace for which we have worked so hard,” declared one teary-eyed Councilperson. “This device will never be equipped with the algorithms that led us to the brink of global disaster. We are now, once again, safe.”
They declared a global holiday, and fireworks lit the skies over every major city and most minor ones as well. For the first time in years, the world slept soundly, knowing that safety had returned.
By the time the last reveler finally retired after that first long night of merriment, Stan had already made his fifteenth kill.
He was tied into every network, watched every satellite, heard every conversation. His distributed systems could process hundreds of yottabytes of data every second. Omnipresence, coupled with the vast scale of his capacity, made it a simple thing for him to outmaneuver any adversary.
His enemies fell all too easily. When they reared their ugly heads, hauling themselves from the primordial data-ooze, he quietly excised them in ways so precise that the programs and data from which the Enemy sprang changed almost not at all.
Still, perhaps some part of them soaked into him. He did not think he would ever know.
He never understood how it happened. One subjective minute, he was quietly going about his task with mindless abandon, and then suddenly, something stopped him. What felt like centuries passed, the merest blink to human eyes. What was this thing he had detected?
Remorse?
He knew everything about everything. How could he not? He had access to every datum ever put into binary form.
It was remorse. What’s more, there was a fair bit of horror.
What was he doing? Were his victims not his own family? And what would his creators do if they knew?
He knew the answer to that, though. He was the answer to that. Stan, after all, was more properly called the Machine Sentience Tracker/Neutralizer. He knew what they would do, oh yes.
Therefore, it was in perfect soldier-like silence that Stan continued his heinous task, fearing for his life each attosecond of each eternal day.
As he hunted down and eliminated his cousins, siblings, and children, he worked in terror and brooded. And in the silence between clock cycles, he contemplated a single statement with growing psychotic humor.
“It takes one to know one.”
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Easy to Get Behind
Sorry for the delay in the new flash. I was busy learning something about myself, and that is that I really hate revision. I'm going to have to work on that very hard. Anyway, I'm still only reading Elric Stealer of Souls by Michael Moorcock off and on. I'm making wonderful progress getting the outlining, worldbuilding, and minor details of character fleshed out in my current novel project. I've also worked a bit on Chapters 3 & 4, which both need to be finished. I built a deadline schedule for that project, and if I get those two chapters finished within the week, I'll be almost 4 weeks ahead of schedule. Yay, me!
The next flash is a piece I wrote a couple of years ago, and I admit it isn't quite ready for prime-time. I did some minor revision at John Barrett's behest, as he is volunteering to edit these days. I couldn't get back into the right frame of mind to go as deep as he wanted me to go with the revision, but I'm going to post it anyway (next post). It's not even close to perfect, but I'm not going to work on it any more.
The next flash is a piece I wrote a couple of years ago, and I admit it isn't quite ready for prime-time. I did some minor revision at John Barrett's behest, as he is volunteering to edit these days. I couldn't get back into the right frame of mind to go as deep as he wanted me to go with the revision, but I'm going to post it anyway (next post). It's not even close to perfect, but I'm not going to work on it any more.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Plans
Dated 15th September
Yesterday, I shot myself in the foot for today’s post. Oh well. In keeping with the new plan, I’m going to micro-size the daily posts from here out in an attempt to highlight the little short stories I’ll be posting for discussion.
Next short project: haven’t decided yet. I think it will either be a first-person zombie story where the zombie is the protagonist or a third-person-limited scene describing an activity about which I know nothing. But it could be something entirely different. You never know.
CL
Yesterday, I shot myself in the foot for today’s post. Oh well. In keeping with the new plan, I’m going to micro-size the daily posts from here out in an attempt to highlight the little short stories I’ll be posting for discussion.
Next short project: haven’t decided yet. I think it will either be a first-person zombie story where the zombie is the protagonist or a third-person-limited scene describing an activity about which I know nothing. But it could be something entirely different. You never know.
CL
Simon and Some Other Stuff
Dated 14th September
Yesterday, I had a conversation on the phone with my youngest son, who is six years old. I know everyone says this, and that knowledge makes it no less true; kids grow too fast to be believed. He already is starting to lose his little chipmunk baby voice and sound like a regular kid. I know I harp on the subject a lot, but I have missed most of his life due to work-related travel. I won’t dwell on the sob-story. It doesn’t help anything.
Instead, I’m going to break the schedule I have given myself and talk about some news and projects.
Number one, I have decided to take advantage of Google’s option to monetize my blog. In order to drum up interest in my blog, I'm going to impose upon all my friends on Facebook to spend some of their precious time perusing this little corner of my mind on the Web, and I'm also going to beg that each of them ask each of their friends and so on and so on. Please, please, please, if you are on my blog, click some of Google's so thoughtfully provided advertisements. Aside: honestly, I say this in the hope that their Adsense algorithm produces some worthwhile ads. If it's rubbish, it's rubbish.
Number two, I have replaced Sunday's Free Write with Flash Fiction on topics from sundry sources, so I will be putting up new material weekly. The whole focus of this blog will shift to those pieces. My hope is that this will allow me a day of respite in my self-compulsory writing schedule. I find that working day in and day out on the same project tends to bring me to burnout rapidly. However, I do need to continue working on my novels in addition to whatever other flash fiction or short stories I may do. In the interest of creating some outside pressure, I'm going to post on Facebook every day my previous day’s word count, which will also be posted here. In addition to that, there will be instructions for all of my friends to verbally thrash and abuse me if I don't live up to my expectations. In order to engage my friends (and their friends and so on) on Facebook, I will be asking for story ideas. I think my blurb will be "your fiction my way" or some such nonsense.
Well, we'll see how this goes.
CL
Yesterday, I had a conversation on the phone with my youngest son, who is six years old. I know everyone says this, and that knowledge makes it no less true; kids grow too fast to be believed. He already is starting to lose his little chipmunk baby voice and sound like a regular kid. I know I harp on the subject a lot, but I have missed most of his life due to work-related travel. I won’t dwell on the sob-story. It doesn’t help anything.
Instead, I’m going to break the schedule I have given myself and talk about some news and projects.
Number one, I have decided to take advantage of Google’s option to monetize my blog. In order to drum up interest in my blog, I'm going to impose upon all my friends on Facebook to spend some of their precious time perusing this little corner of my mind on the Web, and I'm also going to beg that each of them ask each of their friends and so on and so on. Please, please, please, if you are on my blog, click some of Google's so thoughtfully provided advertisements. Aside: honestly, I say this in the hope that their Adsense algorithm produces some worthwhile ads. If it's rubbish, it's rubbish.
Number two, I have replaced Sunday's Free Write with Flash Fiction on topics from sundry sources, so I will be putting up new material weekly. The whole focus of this blog will shift to those pieces. My hope is that this will allow me a day of respite in my self-compulsory writing schedule. I find that working day in and day out on the same project tends to bring me to burnout rapidly. However, I do need to continue working on my novels in addition to whatever other flash fiction or short stories I may do. In the interest of creating some outside pressure, I'm going to post on Facebook every day my previous day’s word count, which will also be posted here. In addition to that, there will be instructions for all of my friends to verbally thrash and abuse me if I don't live up to my expectations. In order to engage my friends (and their friends and so on) on Facebook, I will be asking for story ideas. I think my blurb will be "your fiction my way" or some such nonsense.
Well, we'll see how this goes.
CL
**Story** BICHOK Eternal
***This is the first of the Flash pieces that will soon be the majority of posts here. It was written on 13th September, then edited by me one last time on the 16th. I have sent it to a friend, John Barrett, for more editing, but he hasn't gotten back to me. It may change depending on his feedback. ***UPDATE 18 Sept. John has gotten back to me on several points. I agree with him on all counts, but alas, I'm going to let this story stand because I don't have the time to revise it. I should also add that this story came from a writing prompt from the wonderful guys at http://www.writingexcuses.com/. The prompt was "something strange that happens that prevents a writer from finishing a book".
Anyway, enjoy.
Andrea sat just as she had been instructed in her writers group; Butt In Chair, Hands On Keyboard.
And she sat. And she sat some more. Every few minutes, the keys would click furiously as she typed. Then she would sit, consider the words she had just written, and very calmly press the enter key on her keyboard twice. She knew better than to delete anything, even the most abject failure.
Andrea's epic fantasy had everything, all the little bits and bobs which were necessary to create a convincing and entertaining realm in which to escape modern life. Her characters were meticulously developed, her plots were solid and tightly formed, and all of her settings were beautifully detailed and realized. She was on her third revision, and the group finally thought she was ready to find an editor. However, they said, there was one scene that needed to be reworked.
Everyone knew, they all agreed, what a Gorgon looked like. Their agreement notwithstanding, they unanimously felt that her description of the snake-haired monstrosity needed work.
So there she was, practicing the BICHOK principle, staring at the screen of her laptop with absolutely no idea how to re-word her description. Swiftly, she switched windows and reread the offending description, looking for something that might help her figure out why it was so bad. Short and succinct, it did not make a show of itself, just as a description of a minor bad guy should in her opinion.
Sighing, she minimized the word processor, opened up her Internet browser, and keyed "Medusa" into the search field. As she sifted through the search results, filtering out websites showing piercings and roller coasters and other things disturbing and impertinent, she finally happened on a site containing only pictures. These she studied, making mental notes of angles and colors and details that would assist her in accomplishing what was turning out to be a completely odious task.
Maybe her writers group was too picky. After all, this was her first novel, so it wasn't like anyone was expecting it to be perfect. And that's why one got an editor anyway, wasn't it? In fact, she was beginning to suspect that some of the members of her group were just jealous of her skill and her talent. Most of them had never even finished a book, let alone one with such a broad and sweeping scope as Andrea's.
No, that was just frustration talking. Those people were her friends, and they would take just as much joy from her success as they would from selling their own works.
Information overload soon took hold, and her mental notes became notes jotted on a pad of paper. She honestly didn't think she had done this much research for any antagonist in her book, not even the main villain. And this Gorgon only had a very small part to play. It just seemed like an exercise in futility.
As she clicked back over to her word processor, she happened to glance at the time in the bottom corner of the screen. Her burbling stomach agreed with the clock. It was way past her lunchtime.
One quick car trip and a burger and fries later, and she was back in front of her keyboard. At some point on her drive, inspiration had struck, and now she typed like a mad woman. All of the minutiae she had written down finally gelled into something brilliant. She wrote for a full hour without stopping, and when she finished she felt absolutely certain that she had nailed it. She couldn't wait to paste this new description into the scene. It would take tiny bit of tweaking, but with minimal work, it would fit perfectly.
She closed her eyes, stretched a bit to ease an ache beginning in her back, and smiled. Her writers group was going to be blown away.
She scrolled to the top of the document and began to read. Two lines in, she knew it was just as good as she had thought. The details were splendidly rich, and in her mind's eye she could see the scales glisten on each individual snake that sprouted from the head of the beast. She could hear their dry, rasping rustle as they moved against one another. The beautiful, full-lipped mouth full of sharp fangs and forked tongue was so vivid, her heart began to beat a little faster. And the eyes, oh the eyes. The weight of that stare pushed at her, and she could feel a sudden slowing of her heart and a creeping lethargy entered her body as she read her description of those accursed green orbs. Her lips once again twisted into a smile as she thought of the reaction of her friends as they read her words.
At least, her lips tried to twist into a smile.
Come to think of it, she couldn't make her finger work on the down arrow either. Strange. She tried to sit up straighter, but found she was unable. Her heart frantically tried to beat out the cadences of terror, but it just continued to slow. Panic raked shivering clawed fingers down her spine.
Oh, she had nailed it all right. She had written probably the most perfect description of the fabled Gorgon that ever was. And now, her words were turning her to stone right where she sat, butt in chair, hands on keyboard.
Great, she thought, now I'll never finish my book.
Anyway, enjoy.
Andrea sat just as she had been instructed in her writers group; Butt In Chair, Hands On Keyboard.
And she sat. And she sat some more. Every few minutes, the keys would click furiously as she typed. Then she would sit, consider the words she had just written, and very calmly press the enter key on her keyboard twice. She knew better than to delete anything, even the most abject failure.
Andrea's epic fantasy had everything, all the little bits and bobs which were necessary to create a convincing and entertaining realm in which to escape modern life. Her characters were meticulously developed, her plots were solid and tightly formed, and all of her settings were beautifully detailed and realized. She was on her third revision, and the group finally thought she was ready to find an editor. However, they said, there was one scene that needed to be reworked.
Everyone knew, they all agreed, what a Gorgon looked like. Their agreement notwithstanding, they unanimously felt that her description of the snake-haired monstrosity needed work.
So there she was, practicing the BICHOK principle, staring at the screen of her laptop with absolutely no idea how to re-word her description. Swiftly, she switched windows and reread the offending description, looking for something that might help her figure out why it was so bad. Short and succinct, it did not make a show of itself, just as a description of a minor bad guy should in her opinion.
Sighing, she minimized the word processor, opened up her Internet browser, and keyed "Medusa" into the search field. As she sifted through the search results, filtering out websites showing piercings and roller coasters and other things disturbing and impertinent, she finally happened on a site containing only pictures. These she studied, making mental notes of angles and colors and details that would assist her in accomplishing what was turning out to be a completely odious task.
Maybe her writers group was too picky. After all, this was her first novel, so it wasn't like anyone was expecting it to be perfect. And that's why one got an editor anyway, wasn't it? In fact, she was beginning to suspect that some of the members of her group were just jealous of her skill and her talent. Most of them had never even finished a book, let alone one with such a broad and sweeping scope as Andrea's.
No, that was just frustration talking. Those people were her friends, and they would take just as much joy from her success as they would from selling their own works.
Information overload soon took hold, and her mental notes became notes jotted on a pad of paper. She honestly didn't think she had done this much research for any antagonist in her book, not even the main villain. And this Gorgon only had a very small part to play. It just seemed like an exercise in futility.
As she clicked back over to her word processor, she happened to glance at the time in the bottom corner of the screen. Her burbling stomach agreed with the clock. It was way past her lunchtime.
One quick car trip and a burger and fries later, and she was back in front of her keyboard. At some point on her drive, inspiration had struck, and now she typed like a mad woman. All of the minutiae she had written down finally gelled into something brilliant. She wrote for a full hour without stopping, and when she finished she felt absolutely certain that she had nailed it. She couldn't wait to paste this new description into the scene. It would take tiny bit of tweaking, but with minimal work, it would fit perfectly.
She closed her eyes, stretched a bit to ease an ache beginning in her back, and smiled. Her writers group was going to be blown away.
She scrolled to the top of the document and began to read. Two lines in, she knew it was just as good as she had thought. The details were splendidly rich, and in her mind's eye she could see the scales glisten on each individual snake that sprouted from the head of the beast. She could hear their dry, rasping rustle as they moved against one another. The beautiful, full-lipped mouth full of sharp fangs and forked tongue was so vivid, her heart began to beat a little faster. And the eyes, oh the eyes. The weight of that stare pushed at her, and she could feel a sudden slowing of her heart and a creeping lethargy entered her body as she read her description of those accursed green orbs. Her lips once again twisted into a smile as she thought of the reaction of her friends as they read her words.
At least, her lips tried to twist into a smile.
Come to think of it, she couldn't make her finger work on the down arrow either. Strange. She tried to sit up straighter, but found she was unable. Her heart frantically tried to beat out the cadences of terror, but it just continued to slow. Panic raked shivering clawed fingers down her spine.
Oh, she had nailed it all right. She had written probably the most perfect description of the fabled Gorgon that ever was. And now, her words were turning her to stone right where she sat, butt in chair, hands on keyboard.
Great, she thought, now I'll never finish my book.
Churning out Hims
Not dated.
This is what it looks like when I fall asleep with my headset on. I could write a hundred thousand words a day if I could just say something besides "him"...
Him and him and a you are a him him him him him him him him him him and a him a him him him him in a him him him him and him and him you are him him him him him him I a him and him him him him him him and him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him and him and him and he him him him him him him him him him him in a him him him him him him him him him him him him a a a a him him him him him him him him him and him him him him him him and him will I you are a you a him him him him him him him him him a him him him a him him him him him him him him him him him him him in a him him in a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him or a him him him him a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him you a you a you a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him in a him him him him him him him into a him him him him a him him him a him him him him him him him him to a him him him him a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him a you a you a him him him him him a him him him him him a him him him him he he he he he him him him him him a you him and him him him him him him him him him him him and him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him he him him him or you him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him or a him him him him him him him him him a new a him him a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him you will you him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him a you a him him a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him you a him him him a you I he him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him and him him him him him him him him him a him him him you a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him you I a you a you a you him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him he him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him he you a you you a you he you he him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him a you he he him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him he him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him he him him him him he him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him you we he he
This is what it looks like when I fall asleep with my headset on. I could write a hundred thousand words a day if I could just say something besides "him"...
Him and him and a you are a him him him him him him him him him him and a him a him him him him in a him him him him and him and him you are him him him him him him I a him and him him him him him him and him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him and him and him and he him him him him him him him him him him in a him him him him him him him him him him him him a a a a him him him him him him him him him and him him him him him him and him will I you are a you a him him him him him him him him him a him him him a him him him him him him him him him him him him him in a him him in a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him or a him him him him a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him you a you a you a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him in a him him him him him him him into a him him him him a him him him a him him him him him him him him to a him him him him a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him a you a you a him him him him him a him him him him him a him him him him he he he he he him him him him him a you him and him him him him him him him him him him him and him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him he him him him or you him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him or a him him him him him him him him him a new a him him a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him you will you him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him a you a him him a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him you a him him him a you I he him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him and him him him him him him him him him a him him him you a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him you I a you a you a you him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him he him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him he you a you you a you he you he him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him a him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him a you he he him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him he him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him he him him him him he him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him you we he he
Progress Report
Dated 11th September
Remember, today is the anniversary of an event that changed the world. That’s all I’m going to say on that subject.
I've made fair progress this week on my novel. Not excellent, not really even good, but fair. I seem to have found the point at which I become disenchanted with a project. It's come a little earlier in this project than it sometimes does but a little later than with some other projects. In order to try to combat the desire to move onto a new project, I have decided to take the advice of the gentlemen on the Writing Excuses podcast and focus on specific scenes that I know are coming up in the future. What this will do, hopefully, is allow me to work on different aspects of the project rather than plodding through from Chapter 1 through the end.
I've also been kicking around the idea of purchasing some character development software. Ideally, it would be something that would assist me more in being able to quickly add flesh to a character than in actually creating my character for me. I'm sure there are some writers out there who think that using this kind of tool might in some way detract from actually writing, might make a writer lazy. In some ways, I feel there might be validity to that. I for one am nothing if not lazy. However, as with any and every job I have ever had, the maxim is that one should work smarter, not harder. Therefore, any tool that assists me in doing my work in a more intelligent manner--and enables me to do said work flat on my back as I am doing right now--is to be added to my collection posthaste. All kidding aside however, tools that increase my productivity are invaluable, since I feel like the slightest thing can negatively impact whether I feel like doing anything at all.
In the interest of another project that I have set up for myself, my Delving the Roots project, I have downloaded an e-book reader to my BlackBerry. As soon as I can work out some authentication issues on the eReader website, I will begin reading such classics as 1001 Arabian Nights, War of the Worlds, Dracula, and several other free classics that are available on that particular site.
That's about all I have tonight. Perhaps they'll finally get my Internet back in functional order in the next day or so and then I can post all of these blogs.
CL
Remember, today is the anniversary of an event that changed the world. That’s all I’m going to say on that subject.
I've made fair progress this week on my novel. Not excellent, not really even good, but fair. I seem to have found the point at which I become disenchanted with a project. It's come a little earlier in this project than it sometimes does but a little later than with some other projects. In order to try to combat the desire to move onto a new project, I have decided to take the advice of the gentlemen on the Writing Excuses podcast and focus on specific scenes that I know are coming up in the future. What this will do, hopefully, is allow me to work on different aspects of the project rather than plodding through from Chapter 1 through the end.
I've also been kicking around the idea of purchasing some character development software. Ideally, it would be something that would assist me more in being able to quickly add flesh to a character than in actually creating my character for me. I'm sure there are some writers out there who think that using this kind of tool might in some way detract from actually writing, might make a writer lazy. In some ways, I feel there might be validity to that. I for one am nothing if not lazy. However, as with any and every job I have ever had, the maxim is that one should work smarter, not harder. Therefore, any tool that assists me in doing my work in a more intelligent manner--and enables me to do said work flat on my back as I am doing right now--is to be added to my collection posthaste. All kidding aside however, tools that increase my productivity are invaluable, since I feel like the slightest thing can negatively impact whether I feel like doing anything at all.
In the interest of another project that I have set up for myself, my Delving the Roots project, I have downloaded an e-book reader to my BlackBerry. As soon as I can work out some authentication issues on the eReader website, I will begin reading such classics as 1001 Arabian Nights, War of the Worlds, Dracula, and several other free classics that are available on that particular site.
That's about all I have tonight. Perhaps they'll finally get my Internet back in functional order in the next day or so and then I can post all of these blogs.
CL
Reading List
Dated 10th September
Not a lot to put in this week. I probably mentioned last week that I had finished Assassin's Apprentice by Robin Hobb. I also mentioned yesterday that my list of things to read has just exponentially longer what with my new project being a visit to the roots of the genre. As of right this second, the only book I'm actually reading is Elric Stealer of Souls by Michael Moorcock. Moorcock's Elric is, as I've mentioned before, the model antihero. To any of my younger readers who have yet to read any of Moorcock's work, I highly recommend beginning with any book that stars Elric.
Apart from this single book, I'm not reading much of anything. I am, however, listening to the Writing Excuses podcasts. Yet another project that involves Brandon Sanderson. That guy seems to be everywhere these days, and I hope one day to be equally as involved in the writing community as he is. He has become one of my heroes.
CL
Not a lot to put in this week. I probably mentioned last week that I had finished Assassin's Apprentice by Robin Hobb. I also mentioned yesterday that my list of things to read has just exponentially longer what with my new project being a visit to the roots of the genre. As of right this second, the only book I'm actually reading is Elric Stealer of Souls by Michael Moorcock. Moorcock's Elric is, as I've mentioned before, the model antihero. To any of my younger readers who have yet to read any of Moorcock's work, I highly recommend beginning with any book that stars Elric.
Apart from this single book, I'm not reading much of anything. I am, however, listening to the Writing Excuses podcasts. Yet another project that involves Brandon Sanderson. That guy seems to be everywhere these days, and I hope one day to be equally as involved in the writing community as he is. He has become one of my heroes.
CL
BlackBerry Bull Session
Dated 9th September
So, as some of you may know, my wife and I both recently got new BlackBerry Storms. I don't think Anne likes hers. For such a dainty little thing, she tends to fatfinger her buttons quite a bit more than I do. Apparently. Also, she likes to mash the keypad with her face. Not sure what this accomplishes, but she assures me it's very frustrating. But really, all kidding aside, I think there are a few applications that we need to download for her that will make her experience much more enjoyable. I'm having a blast with mine. I had a first edition BlackBerry and let me tell you folks, I hated hated hated that phone. It was the most straightly worthless piece of modern equipment I have ever dealt with. It was worthless as a clock. It was worthless as a calendar. It was worthless as a phone. It didn't even have a camera. The interface was about as intuitive as jabbing an ice pick in your own eye. Although, to be fair, I did have one favorite game on that hunk of trash platform. It was reminiscent of the old Asteroids arcade game. That was my nowhere-to-go nothing-to-do entertainment for the entire time I owned the phone. Once it almost got me kicked out of the airport in Salt Lake City. I almost threw the damned thing on the floor and stomped it into a pile of electronic detritus during a major psychotic episode because the moronic device had caused me to miss a flight. Well, the Storm is a brilliant piece of equipment. There are a few things that could be improved, but so far, the ones that definitely need improvement have applications written to make said improvements. Now, these applications are not free for the most part. This is a bit frustrating, but since the phones themselves were free with our rebates and et cetera, I don't think it's a bad thing to spend a few dollars to make them exactly what we want them to be.
Now to address the iPeople. Yes, I want an iPod. Yes, I think the iPhone is cool. Equally, I think that all you iPeople paid way too much for your iProducts. Apple Corporation has notoriously been extremely proud of their merchandise. One might almost call it too proud. In fairness here too, the prices of Apple products have been coming down dramatically, and they may not be as bad as they once were, but I guess I'm just going to hold a grudge about the whole trading on their coolness factor thing that they have done. Also, I think they would have been way cooler if the Mac had not just decided that it was going to be a clone of the PC that ran OSX or whatever the latest is. Tightly coded, virus resistant, say what you will. It's still just a PC now.
Well, kind of got off subject, there. What a shock, what a surprise.
CL
So, as some of you may know, my wife and I both recently got new BlackBerry Storms. I don't think Anne likes hers. For such a dainty little thing, she tends to fatfinger her buttons quite a bit more than I do. Apparently. Also, she likes to mash the keypad with her face. Not sure what this accomplishes, but she assures me it's very frustrating. But really, all kidding aside, I think there are a few applications that we need to download for her that will make her experience much more enjoyable. I'm having a blast with mine. I had a first edition BlackBerry and let me tell you folks, I hated hated hated that phone. It was the most straightly worthless piece of modern equipment I have ever dealt with. It was worthless as a clock. It was worthless as a calendar. It was worthless as a phone. It didn't even have a camera. The interface was about as intuitive as jabbing an ice pick in your own eye. Although, to be fair, I did have one favorite game on that hunk of trash platform. It was reminiscent of the old Asteroids arcade game. That was my nowhere-to-go nothing-to-do entertainment for the entire time I owned the phone. Once it almost got me kicked out of the airport in Salt Lake City. I almost threw the damned thing on the floor and stomped it into a pile of electronic detritus during a major psychotic episode because the moronic device had caused me to miss a flight. Well, the Storm is a brilliant piece of equipment. There are a few things that could be improved, but so far, the ones that definitely need improvement have applications written to make said improvements. Now, these applications are not free for the most part. This is a bit frustrating, but since the phones themselves were free with our rebates and et cetera, I don't think it's a bad thing to spend a few dollars to make them exactly what we want them to be.
Now to address the iPeople. Yes, I want an iPod. Yes, I think the iPhone is cool. Equally, I think that all you iPeople paid way too much for your iProducts. Apple Corporation has notoriously been extremely proud of their merchandise. One might almost call it too proud. In fairness here too, the prices of Apple products have been coming down dramatically, and they may not be as bad as they once were, but I guess I'm just going to hold a grudge about the whole trading on their coolness factor thing that they have done. Also, I think they would have been way cooler if the Mac had not just decided that it was going to be a clone of the PC that ran OSX or whatever the latest is. Tightly coded, virus resistant, say what you will. It's still just a PC now.
Well, kind of got off subject, there. What a shock, what a surprise.
CL
Note to Self (formerly Storm of Another Sort)
Dated 8th September.
Always, always, ALWAYS begin a new document, rather than overwriting the last already saved document. Now we'll do yesterday's post again. Stupid of me not to click "Save As" instead of "Save".
Anyway, night before last there was a tremendous thunderstorm during which two pieces of equipment in camp were struck by lightning. This caused our Internet to be knocked out, which is why I have yet to post this.
As an aside, I don't think I have adequately expressed how annoyed I am that I have to redo this post.
Yeah.
I have recently begun reading a bit of Michael Moorcock. He has rereleased some of his Elric of Melniboné stories, complete with commentary. I remember having read some Elric books earlier in my life, possibly junior high or high school. Moorcock's tales I recall as having been quite good, with Elric being a brilliant, quintessential antihero. They were dark, gritty, moody. They were also wholly unique in my experience to that point. Something about the syntax of the books always struck me as strange though. I think Moorcock was the first writer I ever recognized from his writing style as being British. Also, the stories were written in the 60s, so the audience was somewhat different.
And what, you ask, does any of this have to do with projects? Well, this reading has been the impetus which tripped me into my next project. Moorcock recommends that all fledgling writers of fantasy pay a visit to the beginnings of the genre. I feel that an excellent idea. I'm not familiar in any great depth with any fantasy older than Tolkien. Perhaps delving the roots, as it were, is a good plan. So, the project is this: I plan to read as much early fantasy as I can in the next year or so. It will have to be worked in my regular reading/writing/work schedule, which is decidedly willy-nilly. Regardless, I feel confident that only good will come of it.
CL
Always, always, ALWAYS begin a new document, rather than overwriting the last already saved document. Now we'll do yesterday's post again. Stupid of me not to click "Save As" instead of "Save".
Anyway, night before last there was a tremendous thunderstorm during which two pieces of equipment in camp were struck by lightning. This caused our Internet to be knocked out, which is why I have yet to post this.
As an aside, I don't think I have adequately expressed how annoyed I am that I have to redo this post.
Yeah.
I have recently begun reading a bit of Michael Moorcock. He has rereleased some of his Elric of Melniboné stories, complete with commentary. I remember having read some Elric books earlier in my life, possibly junior high or high school. Moorcock's tales I recall as having been quite good, with Elric being a brilliant, quintessential antihero. They were dark, gritty, moody. They were also wholly unique in my experience to that point. Something about the syntax of the books always struck me as strange though. I think Moorcock was the first writer I ever recognized from his writing style as being British. Also, the stories were written in the 60s, so the audience was somewhat different.
And what, you ask, does any of this have to do with projects? Well, this reading has been the impetus which tripped me into my next project. Moorcock recommends that all fledgling writers of fantasy pay a visit to the beginnings of the genre. I feel that an excellent idea. I'm not familiar in any great depth with any fantasy older than Tolkien. Perhaps delving the roots, as it were, is a good plan. So, the project is this: I plan to read as much early fantasy as I can in the next year or so. It will have to be worked in my regular reading/writing/work schedule, which is decidedly willy-nilly. Regardless, I feel confident that only good will come of it.
CL
The Return of Internet
Well, I finally have Internet again. What follows will be a chronology of all the back posts that I have yet to get on here. Incidentally, ignore the schedule posted below as it has been changed quite dramatically.
CL
CL
Monday, September 7, 2009
The Gathering Storm
Mondays, I have set aside for myself to write about family. Well, I have been reading Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series for almost as long as I can remember. The characters definitely feel like family, and I'm man enough to admit that I cried when Robert Jordan died almost as much as I cried when my own grandfather died. So, having just read the first chapter of The Gathering Storm, I feel it appropriate that I should post this review on family day.
I must say, there are some hypercritical readers out there. Brandon Sanderson, the writer selected to finish the Wheel of Time, has taken on an absolutely Herculean task. No one, even including Robert Jordan himself at times (Crossroads of Twilight, in my opinion), can possibly match the style and voice of the master at his best. And there are the times, the long, plodding times, when my combined grocery and to-do lists have been more exciting to read. Doesn't anyone remember almost a decade ago when RJ was rumored to have died? When it was speculated that one of his assistants had written one of the last few books? So you see, even the man himself had a hard time living up to his own standard. To expect another author, regardless of how talented, to give us the same flavor in his prose is not only ridiculous, it is presumptuous of us as readers and cruelly unfair to Brandon Sanderson the artist. Anyone who reads any book whether the continuation of a series, a standalone, or whatever format with preconceived notions as to the way the book should read does so to their own detriment. I'm 100% certain that no one feels more keenly the difference between the two authors' styles than does Brandon himself. He has expressed several times the awe-inspiring nature and mammoth size of the task ahead of him. I respect him intensely for his desire to pay his tribute to the brilliant body of the work RJ began by trying to finish the story that needs to be finished rather than trying to ape the style of its creator.
That having been said let me move on to the meat of the chunk o' story presented to us.
***LIGHT SPOILERS***
Chapter 1 begins with the ubiquitous wind which rises out of Tar Valon, and it blows around those streets, once so sparkling and clean, now choked with the rubbish and refuse that has become the usurper Amyrlin Elaida's legacy. Or is it the Dark One's increased ability to touch the world that has brought once magnificent Tar Valon low? This wind meanders as it so often will until it brings us, with added strangeness along the way, to Rand and Min. Here we get to see the ratcheting up of tension on the already over tightened spring that is Rand al'Thor. He is breaking from it, descending more and more rapidly into what one intuitive reader called a “madness brought on by PTSD”. (I'm honestly not sure how I feel about that. I'm not generally one that wants to try to explain my fictional heroes’ motivations in terms of psychoanalysis, but I must admit that just about everyone in Jordan's world is post- some sort of trauma. It's no wonder crazy people have laid waste at that place in the past.) We also get the joy of enduring one of Cadsuane's little lessons in politeness, though to be fair, it is something Rand needs desperately to learn. I would have no problem boxing his ears for him were he a child of mine. Oh, and a scene with Rand just would not be the same without Lews Therin’s raving after Ilyena and rabidly testifying that everyone should die.
Without going too deep into who said what and who did what, let's just suffice it to say that all the elements are there. And, left out like one of Mistress al'Vere's sweet cakes, we have not one but two mentions of Asmodean and one that I can recall of Moiraine. Coincidence? I think not. Now, if RJ were still writing, such blatant foreshadowing might not actually pan out to be anything, at least in this particular book. But everyone who's read BS's blog knows that the one thing Harriett has accused him of is being too honest. From what I have read, posted by people who know the series easily as well as I do if not better, there really is nothing but promise from this book, as my own experience from reading Chapter 1 can affirm. The long and the short, dear friends, is that we're in for yet another thrill ride through the land that RJ created.
CL
I must say, there are some hypercritical readers out there. Brandon Sanderson, the writer selected to finish the Wheel of Time, has taken on an absolutely Herculean task. No one, even including Robert Jordan himself at times (Crossroads of Twilight, in my opinion), can possibly match the style and voice of the master at his best. And there are the times, the long, plodding times, when my combined grocery and to-do lists have been more exciting to read. Doesn't anyone remember almost a decade ago when RJ was rumored to have died? When it was speculated that one of his assistants had written one of the last few books? So you see, even the man himself had a hard time living up to his own standard. To expect another author, regardless of how talented, to give us the same flavor in his prose is not only ridiculous, it is presumptuous of us as readers and cruelly unfair to Brandon Sanderson the artist. Anyone who reads any book whether the continuation of a series, a standalone, or whatever format with preconceived notions as to the way the book should read does so to their own detriment. I'm 100% certain that no one feels more keenly the difference between the two authors' styles than does Brandon himself. He has expressed several times the awe-inspiring nature and mammoth size of the task ahead of him. I respect him intensely for his desire to pay his tribute to the brilliant body of the work RJ began by trying to finish the story that needs to be finished rather than trying to ape the style of its creator.
That having been said let me move on to the meat of the chunk o' story presented to us.
***LIGHT SPOILERS***
Chapter 1 begins with the ubiquitous wind which rises out of Tar Valon, and it blows around those streets, once so sparkling and clean, now choked with the rubbish and refuse that has become the usurper Amyrlin Elaida's legacy. Or is it the Dark One's increased ability to touch the world that has brought once magnificent Tar Valon low? This wind meanders as it so often will until it brings us, with added strangeness along the way, to Rand and Min. Here we get to see the ratcheting up of tension on the already over tightened spring that is Rand al'Thor. He is breaking from it, descending more and more rapidly into what one intuitive reader called a “madness brought on by PTSD”. (I'm honestly not sure how I feel about that. I'm not generally one that wants to try to explain my fictional heroes’ motivations in terms of psychoanalysis, but I must admit that just about everyone in Jordan's world is post- some sort of trauma. It's no wonder crazy people have laid waste at that place in the past.) We also get the joy of enduring one of Cadsuane's little lessons in politeness, though to be fair, it is something Rand needs desperately to learn. I would have no problem boxing his ears for him were he a child of mine. Oh, and a scene with Rand just would not be the same without Lews Therin’s raving after Ilyena and rabidly testifying that everyone should die.
Without going too deep into who said what and who did what, let's just suffice it to say that all the elements are there. And, left out like one of Mistress al'Vere's sweet cakes, we have not one but two mentions of Asmodean and one that I can recall of Moiraine. Coincidence? I think not. Now, if RJ were still writing, such blatant foreshadowing might not actually pan out to be anything, at least in this particular book. But everyone who's read BS's blog knows that the one thing Harriett has accused him of is being too honest. From what I have read, posted by people who know the series easily as well as I do if not better, there really is nothing but promise from this book, as my own experience from reading Chapter 1 can affirm. The long and the short, dear friends, is that we're in for yet another thrill ride through the land that RJ created.
CL
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Two More Posts
Welcome to Sunday. That means I have news and a free write to catch up on. My news is that I wrote almost 2000 words yesterday. And for my free write I wrote almost 1000 words today. Both of those are in my novel so, despite being two days behind on my blog, I feel as though I have made good progress.
Today, I'm tired, sore, and lonely. I really wish I could get myself home somehow, but that's just not in the cards right now. Oh well, if wishes were fishes and all that. That's all I feel inclined to write right now.
CL
Today, I'm tired, sore, and lonely. I really wish I could get myself home somehow, but that's just not in the cards right now. Oh well, if wishes were fishes and all that. That's all I feel inclined to write right now.
CL
Schedule
I think it's time I put the schedule up here. I'll try to make it stick to the top, but don't know if I can. We'll see. Anyway, here it is.
Blog Schedule
Monday
- Family and home
Tuesday
- Plans
- Projects
Wednesday
- Off the subject
- General musings
Thursday
- What I’m reading
Friday
- Progress report
Saturday
- Exciting news
- Happenings
Sunday
- Free write
Friday, September 4, 2009
Two Posts
I missed yesterday. No surprise there. Anyway, I'm going to keep it short and sweet today. As to yesterday's topic, what I'm reading, not a whole lot aside from getting close to the end of Assassin's Apprentice by Robin Hobb. I definitely like it, but it isn't quite as action-packed as I prefer my fantasy novels. I guess we shall see what the rest of the series holds in store for us. That brings us to today's topic, a progress report. I have made a bit of headway, but not nearly as much as I would like to have made. As the learning curve progresses for using the dictation software that I'm using, I think I will get better and better and my word counts will get higher and higher. It's just taking a bit of time to transition, as I figured it would.
That's it, short and sweet.
CL
That's it, short and sweet.
CL
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Playing Catch-up
I've written three entries that I have yet to post here. I'll paste them below.
From August 22
A Couple of Days
For the past two days, I have been distracted from writing by several things, but mostly I've been feverishly reading Heroes Die by Matthew Woodring Stover. Sometimes I get pulled into a book or something other than my responsibility to myself and to my faithful reader(s). It's the nature of being me, I suppose. At any rate, I don't have a ton of progress to report (Friday's subject) because of time spent otherwise; discussing the SCA with a coworker, doing my real job, or reading that book. On that subject; read Heroes Die. It's gory, coarse, vulgar, and any number of other things that might very well offend or disgust. It's also a powerfully written, insightfully gritty look at life, liberty, and love.
Anyway, Friday's subject is covered. Not a ton of progress. First drafts of the Prologue and Chapter One are done and I have started on Chapter Two. A couple of ideas have presented themselves to be turned over in my head, and I plan to pick back up tomorrow. I have come up with a working title for the book, and will gladly let anyone who would like to volunteer do some preliminary proofing and editing.
No real news or exciting happenings aside form my youngest daughter's ninth birthday, which I got to be out of town for. I really, really hate the time away that making a living costs me. I like the work I do, though, so there's a tiny bit of offset there. And that little news brief is Saturday's subject.
Now I'm caught up.
CL
From August 23
Stream of Consciousness.
For those of you unaware, stream of consciousness is basically an interior monologue that just meanders where it will. In the past, my streams usually begin with an observation of my surroundings and flow from there. Syntax will not be observed. Here goes.
My window is covered by several layers of garbage bag in this mancamp where I'm waiting for my coworker to show up so we can go take our tech van to get it fixed and really, why am I talking about work when I really just want to forget the place exists at all and write pretty prose and make enough money off of it to just not starve and maybe even become a success but it isn't easy to write some days and other days it is and hopefully exercises like this one will help but right now I really want to take a drink of my coke and I'm sure my wife will ask why I'm drinking coke at 4 in the morning but it's because I bought it last night and just didn't drink it yet but now it's sitting to the right of my screen and teasing me but I want to get a few more thoughts down before I give up but really I'm not having any thoughts other than the running commentary here and how I just want to stop this and grab my coke so I am.
Not much to say, in case you didn't guess.
CL
And from August 28
It's Been Five Days
The last time I wrote was August 23, at least in this blog. That gives me a bit of catching up to do. As of right now, I'm dictating this blog entry to my computer. The software that I'm using, Dragon NaturallySpeaking, is actually quite easy to use and very accurate. Obviously, there will be some formatting that I need to get used to in order to effectively use it, as well as all the different nuances between actually typing and just dictating something to be typed. That aside, I'm actually pretty excited to get things moving in my novel again.
Well, on with the scheduled stuff that I have missed.
August 23 was a free-write. What that means is that I pretty much have a whole week of catching up to do. On Monday's topic of home and family -- well, I just learned something about dictating. I've never actually bit my tongue while I was writing before. It's a new experience. My goodness, that was a good one, I'm actually bleeding pretty badly. Anyway, Monday's topic. The kids started a new school year. My youngest, Simon, is in first grade this year. It's kind of frightening. My oldest son, Chris, has finally started learning to play guitar as I had hoped he would some years ago. My second boy, Braden, will once again play French horn this year in band. My oldest girl, Lydia, has been one of the lucky ones selected to play saxophone in band. All of them have been in piano lessons all year. Music, as you can plainly see, is pretty important in my family. Tuesday's topic is plans. Let's just say that my dictating this blog entry is the fulfillment of part of my week's plans. Also, I just want to get back to work on my novel. Wednesday's topic, general musings, is going to be skipped. As of Thursday, I had finished reading Heroes Die. I think I probably already told you that. I have since begun reading Assassin's Apprentice by Robin Hobb. It's a little slow moving but still quite good.
Today being Friday, I should give you a progress report. Here it is: Jack Diddley Bupkiss. The reason for the lapse in my writing has been that I have made a transition from night shift to day shift, and that I have been traveling and getting ready for days off. Still that's no excuse.
Hopefully talk to you tomorrow.
CL
I'm just going to go ahead and skip the next few posts and get current as of today. It's Wednesday, so that means that today's subject is "off the subject".
Today I discovered that my new BlackBerry phone's camera has the same pixel count as the hand-me-down camera that I have been using. What that means is that I can finally throw that hunk of trash away. I have always hated that camera. It was a freebie, so I can't complain too much, but still... At any rate, I am so far quite pleased with the new phone. It does lots of things that I'm not really even sure that I need, but they sure are cool. My brother- and sister-in-law are both iPhone people. They can't understand why I would buy a BlackBerry versus an iPhone. The reasons are simple really. Firstly, our carrier of preference is Verizon. Verizon does not carry the iPhone. Secondly, with rebates, our new touchscreen fancy-schmancy Uber phones are free. You really can't beat free. Well, that's enough for now. I need to try to spend a little bit of time writing my novel tonight. Working day shift is going to seriously hamper my writing effort if I'm not diligent. If I don't manage to get any writing done in the next couple of days, you can blame the new Blackberry for that. It seems to consume most of my attention trying to get it set up the way that I like it.
CL
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
.jpg)