Friday, April 19, 2013

Back to the Story Thread

Ok. I left y'all hanging on the door knock. Apologies. Been a busy couple of weeks, as mentioned. I got some time today to go back over the beginning of the first fight scene. Yes, I like writing fight scenes. This is sort of setting the stage for (hopefully) next week. And yes, that is a Lord of the Rings reference. I'm also particularly proud of the Van de Graaf reference.

If you're chuckling and saying "nerd" under your breath right now... yep, nailed it. :-)
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Room Service

Damian crept over on wary feet. He froze when the knock sounded again, and then closed the last few steps to peer through the peep hole.

Two suited strangers stood on the other side, looking very much like generic government agents, Righty and Lefty. Righty leaned back, bulky arm settling at his side. Lefty rocked back and forth on his feet.

“Who's there?” Damian called out.

“Room service,” Lefty growled.

Righty chuckled.

They do not appear to be employees of the inn, Inigo observed.

No shit, Sherlock, Damian replied.

“I'm sorry, I believe you have the wrong room,” Damian answered.

Righty leaned in toward the door and smiled. His teeth were stained yellow and cracked, gums dark around the edges. Damian involuntarily took a step back. Was that sulfur he smelled?

“Damian Gardner,” Righty said. “No, I believe we have it right. Open the door.”

Though there was a door between them, Damian suddenly felt naked. Wood, metal, or whatever the barrier was made of did not seem to stop the stares. The big men somehow sensed Damian.

Damian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could feel them out there. Waiting. Watching.

“G-go away,” Damian stammered. “Whatever you're here for, I don't want any part of it.”

“Well that's just too damn bad.”

The door exploded inwards, splinters of the jamb spinning through the air. Damian stumbled back until his knee slammed against something painful, and flipped onto the bed. Had they used a gun? Damian couldn’t recall hearing a blast.

The men strode into the room, eyes burning. Literally. Damian gawked. The irises were orange flames licking against a black background. There was nothing human about them. Panic shot through Damian like electricity arching off a Van de Graaff generator.

He fought with the comforter on the bed, wiggling like a fish in a net. He thrashed about, managing somehow to chuck the two pillows at his pursuers. Lefty swatted one away casually, while Righty slashed the other aside with a knife. A shower of white fluff spurted from the wounded sleeping implement.

A knife! A knife!

There seemed an echo in his brain. No time to worry about that now. We need a weapon. Damian flipped heels over head, rolling across the bed and landing on the other side. His hand darted out and grabbed the first thing it could find. The lamp. He pulled it off the nightstand and held it, burning before him as it if were a wizard's staff, though it was hardly large enough.

The men paused on the far side of the bed, pinning him with those awful eyes. They spread ever-so-slightly in the cramped room – Righty to the right, Lefty to the left – blocking both an escape around the foot of the bed and back across its disheveled surface. A crazed psychosis overcame Damian just then, and he embraced it, saying the first thing that came to his mind.

“You shall not pass!” he bellowed.

Lefty cocked his head and took a step forward. Righty just laughed.
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Thursday, April 11, 2013

Content Sponge Mode

If you've been paying attention, it is probably obvious that I'm struggling to write. This isn't to say I'm not writing, just not really coherent and planned writing. It tends to be more spur of the moment. I won't lie, I feel somewhat guilty about this. On the other hand, I'm sort of experiencing life upheaval, so it's not all that surprising. Most of my energy is diverted to "holding it together." Sort of like shifting around the deflector shields on the Millennium Falcon. I thought you fixed the hyperdrive!

Apart from that, extra energy is being spent on going out and living a bit. We all go through different seasons of life. My previous had been one of, well, hermitage. There was so much going on at home that I never really got out. It was really conducive to writing, as one might imagine.

I've transitioned back (or forward, depending on how you look at it) to a season where I need to be out making new friends and connections. It's not a bad season, and I've been having a lot of fun. It is absolutely not conducive to writing.

I was driving and thinking (I do a lot of that these days), man these last few weeks would make a good story. One of the hallmarks of many of the writers I've studied over the years is their ability to find the story in anything. I recognized right away that I was doing the same thing. Curiously, it made me feel less guilty. I decided that while I was more productive word-wise in Hermitage Mode, there's something to be gained by getting out and living life every now and then. I think I want to call it Content Sponge Mode. Sure it's fun, but it is also giving me a whole bunch of experiences to draw from when crafting my next work. And that's not a bad thing.

So, for now, I'm going to embrace Content Sponge Mode. I'll write as I get a chance, but I probably won't get a book out this year. I'm sure I'm missing the proverbial boat as e-books continue to take off, but I was never doing this as a get rich scheme anyway. Just wanted to tell stories.

I'm going to still try to keep Damian's story going, but it may be hard some weeks. Just wanted to let y'all know and appreciate those that are sticking around here even in the face of the really sporadic content. I'll never give up on writing, but you may have to weather me being a bit of a flake this year. Artistic license... am I right?
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