Thursday, July 31, 2008

OH YEAH...THIS IS GOING TO BE FUN!

Status: In the middle of a housing crisis and not able to write on anything.

Doing: Taking a break from all this running around.

Watching: The $155 HD TV that I just bought in January (and died in April) is going to the trash heap. So don't bother even asking. I'm still pissed off about that! :0(

Listening to: Taped music.

Reading: Kushiel's Scion. Page 504.

TOPIC: PACKING'S A PAIN IN THE BUTT

Nevermind the fact that I wish I was a hamster, or some other avian-born creature right now.

But I feel like an overburdened mule with so much crap to pack up and move.

Tomorrow, we have to go back to Lynnwood and turn in our applications along with the first $70 of our credit check fees and then wait to see what happens afterwards.

Then we have to go back to housing and give them the notice that our management conveniently neglected to give to Section 8 on Monday.

My question is: Do I hold onto the $87 needed for the other 4 credit checks (these are for low-income housing--but still expensive nonetheless), or I do I just go about my normal business and pay my bills and my next editing fee installment?

Well...I have to pay Linda more for The Starchild. Even if I don't get it published, I'm still going to get it edited and ready for the time when I can get it ready.

Of course, I'll be like 46-years-old when this book comes out.

If I sound cynical--it's because this is just what happens when the rug gets pulled out from underneath me unexpectedly.

It turns out that the management did not want to negotiate for a lower rent price by a measley $20. They were asking for $970 and the housing people wanted $950. But like I said before? This place isn't worth even half that amount. I'd say...roughly...$600 minimum for this 2-bedroom unit.

I've seen better units and believe me...they are worth the $900. But they also have other amenities and other stuff.

This complex doesn't even have a pool. Not even a weight-room.

So how can they justify such a dramatic rent increase in the past several years?

Simple:

They simply chalk it up to market prices and set things accordingly.

But this complex isn't worth that much money. They tried selling this enterprise for $7.2 million a few years ago. Some poor schmuck must've bought it--because we have new management; for the umpteenth time in the past 8 years.

But instead of improving the surrounding areas and giving each unit a major face lift (instead of a simple paint over and some cheap-looking countertops to cover up the neglect that this place had to endure for years on end...?) and some real-time amenities, they just continued the same lack of good maintenance and low-bidding to the cheapest contractor or other business outlets which my wife and I have seen come and go since 2000. (How do you explain the reason behind us waiting 3 years for new window screens?)

If I had the fucking money and I could do whatever the fuck I wanted...?

I WOULD'VE RAZED THIS PLACE TO THE GROUND--BULLDOZED EVERYTHING--AND STARTED THE HELL OVER!!!

If I'm going to be charging people $900+ a month, I'm going to give them their money's worth and then some!

This cheap-assed crap of an apartment complex is only supposed to be a Wal-Mart speciality! What the hell are they doing competing with a corporation that likes to pay their workers substandard wages and secretly employs illegal immigrants from Mexico?

THAT'S PLAGIARISM! LOL

Sky


Wednesday, July 30, 2008

POOPED BEYOND BELIEF

Status: In the middle of a housing crisis and not able to write on anything.

Doing: Taking a break from all this running around.

Watching: The $155 HD TV that I just bought is going to the trash heap. So don't bother even asking. I'm still pissed off about that! :0(

Listening to: Taped music.

Reading: Kushiel's Scion. Page 504.

TOPIC: ROB A BANK OR PULL $20s FROM MY ASS--WHICH IS MORE REALISTIC FOR YOU?

The past couple of days have been hell. Pardon my lack of courtesies or manners here for the last week--but this may be the last bunch of entries anyone here will probably read from me for a good long while.

I don't wish to brood over my own fate or that of my wife's, our beloved pets, our lifetime worth of pack-ratted shit or anything like that--but it's something I've always done since I can remember.

My life isn't grand or glorious. I don't have a nest egg to speak of, hell...I don't even have any savings worth bragging about.

Everything I have given to me or received has been spent on either survival or some immediate emergency that needed to be taken care of.

But I'm finding that despite everything I've tried to do, I am simply outclassed by a lack of serious money.

I don't have near enough to start over in case things go sour--like they have just recently.

In order for me to get back into a new apartment--these days--I would need anywhere between $4000 and $6000. (First/last month's rent, security deposit, pet deposits, credit check, and holding money for the apartment itself.)

And this isn't something I just made up to scare people. Or impress you.

The facts are: Apartments aren't getting any cheaper. Any pets you have with you will cost you twice as much in deposits down the line--and dumping them out on the streets--just because life inconveniences you--isn't the answer either.

I don't care what people say about animals. Dogs and cats are people too!

Do we do the same with our kids when life throws us a bitter lemon?

I found out today that in order for me to seriously put in some applications, I would have spend more than $200 in credit checks; more than I actually have on hand.

Yes, you may find this to be bitching, but what am I supposed to do? I only have $311 in pocket after I pay out for my portion of the rent.

And I can only do this once per month. Which doesn't give me a whole hell of a lot of time to go fucking around for the next 8 weeks and pretend that everything will be okay.

I don't live in La La Land like President Bush and John McCain do; with their wild assertions that drilling for that meager 3% will automatically wean us off our addiction to foreign oil. (Because it won't.)

MY REALITY will always be based in one intractable facet of life: POVERTY.

I won't know the lap of luxury. I won't see my bank account explode into the realm of avarice. I'm not even sure how well my books will do--if I can get out of this indelible mouse trap which life has put me in.

All I'm asking for is 4 years of good luck, no interruptions, no surprises, and nothing else.

But I've also got the security deposit to worry about. And that's going to wrack me up $600, and the regular one is $300+. The $3000 pet deposit is going to kill me either way. Even if I was allowed to make payments, I'm not sure how they would break it down. I only have so much to play with.

And I still need to pay my editing fees--which is a necessity--not a choice. Because unlike some plebe writers whom want to have their work done for free, I know that the majority editors whom work for a living would strongly disagree with that premise.

They need money in order to survive. I need their services in order to sell a pretty awesome novel.

But I'm pretty pooped and exhausted today. Walking around did me in, but also this worry and anxiety did as well.

I wish I could say that there was some way I could solve this problem easily, but the fact is, there is no way that I can think of.

Sky

Monday, July 28, 2008

THE CLOCK IS NOW TICKING...

Status: On page 1,700 of The Price of Freedom.

Doing: Writing on this blog; answering e-mails; working out, and well...you know the rest! :0)

Watching: Nothing at the moment.

Listening to: Taped music.

Reading: Kushiel's Scion. Page 464. (Sorry! I read more than I first thought! lol)

TOPIC: NO BREAKS FOR THIS STRUGGLING WRITER--BUT SHOULD I BE ALL THAT SURPRISED?

I hate this! But what else can I do?

The city of Everett has it out for the poor and the disabled.

Namely me.

In 2 months--by October 1st--both my wife and I will be out of a house and home.

We knew this was coming 2 years in advance and still we couldn't do anything. When you live on such severely limited income as I do--you can't plan ahead, nor can you save any sufficient funds for that "rainy day".

All you can do is live in fear each and every day and wonder if you'll have a roof over your head the next.

This morning, we got a notice from the management that housing has denied us our next year's voucher based on the fact that it couldn't accept another rent increase--and so we have 2 months to find other suitable housing.

The only problem is is that the asking prices for most rents start at $800 for one-bedrooms and almost $1000 now for 2-bedroom apartments. (They wanted $962 for the coming lease year (2009), while last year we were paying an increased $862 a month in rent. Which would've sucked out another $140 on top of the $226 I already owe for my portion of the rent. (I found out from my wife what they were really wanting. Our housing coordinator must've gotten the earlier number wrong by mistake.))

I only have $537. And even if either me or April were working, we still wouldn't have enough to make basic ends meet. 95% of our last paychecks went to rent alone the last time we worked in 2000 and 2001.

And rent back then was much cheaper than it is now.

If we cannot secure a place by October 1st of this year, it's going to mean abrupt end to my publishing ambitions and everything else that I've labored hard over for the last decade.

I can't tell you when I will be able to resume my writing, but it's safe to say that The Starchild won't be published at all until at least 2020 or later--instead of 2011 or 2012. (As I had hoped.)

For this, I'm sorry. But life hasn't been easy for me and I've had to swallow my share of setbacks more than once.

This one's just another bitter pill that I have to take--because there is no avoiding what will happen to both my wife and I over the next several years at most.

I'm not angry--though I should be. I should be pissed and spewing hot lava from my guts. But I'm just oddly depressed at having to lose everything all at once and not being able to do anything about it.

Maybe I'm just finally glad it's over and I can move onto whatever else is going to be presented to us--minus what few creature comforts that we have to ourselves.

Our stuff is going into storage, but the fate of our animals is uncertain. Due to the fact that so many people have abandoned their pets after losing their homes to foreclosures--with animal and kill shelters are underfunded and overmaxed...?

There's really nothing we can do.

If there is a slim chance that we can squeak our way out of this mess, it's this: There's a small possibility that we can "port" our voucher from one housing agency to the next--and allow us to live in a much smaller one-bedroom.

If for one more year.

The only trouble is, I don't have the $325 needed for the transfer fee. Now...there is another possibility that the management will be gracious enough to let us make monthly payments while we live there, but we're not betting the farm on that happening.

If this doesn't work, and we aren't successful in finding a place in 8 weeks, I just want everyone to know that I didn't go down without a fight.

I've done everything humanly possible and nothing worked.

As for my writing--it's a moot point. I'm going to try and finish Starchild Duel and at least one chapter of Stories of the Dead Earth--to leave off where I need to go to next whenever (and if) I resume writing.

This could be many years down the road--so I just want you all to know this.

But I won't have any definite idea on when I'll be back to write and share more on my cool writing and other book projects.

Sky

Friday, July 25, 2008

RECONSTRUCTION BLUES

Status: Rewriting the last six chapters to Starchild Duel. (Some kinks)

Doing: Writing on this blog; answering e-mails; working out, and well...you know the rest! :0)

Watching: Nothing at the moment.

Listening to: Taped music.

Reading: Kushiel's Scion. Page 424.

TOPIC: THE TRADITION CONTINUES. :0)

I'm in the middle of reconstructing a part of my Starchild Duel novel (taking a minor break from A Girl Named Mystery) and fighting with a medical supply store over my prescription for compression stockings.

On the book front, it seems as though I might've goobered just a bit on a couple of the story elements and made total hash browns of the continuity of the storyline up to this point--but like I've indicated in the past--? The same thing happened with The Starchild--where I had to go and rip out 200 pages and start over from scratch.

I did some rewriting and rewiring of a few chapters; glued some things together and rearranging other aspects of the last 30 pages today.

Everything reads the way it should--from my perspective--but I had the order all wrong it turns out.

So instead of some major writing today and yesterday, I spent the last couple of days reworking everything around.

I still have some things to iron out and I redid the title from "Dark Despair" to "Catch the Flag". (Anyone who is familiar with this term will know what I mean when they read this section of the book. What it boils down is that the Praetorial Guard is on full alert after the near-destruction of Shark's Bay; and everyone involved: Talia and Isis McGowan, Bayen--plus Nemesis--are on everyone's shit list for certain.

The last 5 years has given the PG some impressive countermeasures to deal with both the Starchild and Nemesis--hence the section title.)

However, this looks like it will be something of a tradition with each book following the last. lol

But this "glitch" happened around 272,000 words--and so I also deep-sixed the last 30,000 as well. I was hovering around 300,000 words, but the last 30K involving the final battle will have to be reworked again.

All because of the new introduction of Talia McGowan. Her enhanced presence threw the third draft book into a whole new arena--so I've been spending the last 3 years or so working on the improved upgrades to the book.

But regardless of what people say about not writing sequels, this one's definitely going to just as good--if not better than the first.

Not because I'm trying to outdo The Starchild, but because this one was pre-planned six to eight years ago to be a royal cat fight that would make people like Danica Patrick jealous. :0P

My compression stockings issue cemented around my medical insurance. Apparently, having a monthly COUPON doesn't work with this one medical store and they expected me to have a card instead.

As I told the medical receptionist: "When they were talking about issuing everyone a card, they didn't issue me mine--three years ago. The way it went was, 'wait a couple more weeks' and see if you get yours. Well, it didn't turn out that way. 2 weeks became 2 more weeks, and then a month, then 2 months, and finally, the response I got was: 'Just keep using your coupon for the time being.' "

She then said: "Well, we can't use it because it'll just be a denial of service. We have to have a card to know who to bill."

I'm standing there thinking, "Didn't she just hear a WORD of what I just told her?"

When I tried to explain it to her again, she gave me the same line and added, "Until you find yours or get one--we can't help you."

Oooh yes...I just wanted to wring this woman's neck for being completely TONE-DEAF to what I was saying! lmao

Fortunately, my wife found me a black pair of stockings that was given to us 2 years ago.

These things are really tight--but an extra pair never hurts. :0)

I got a call yesterday--while I was out; that the problem was fixed and I could go back and get my stockings.

But I'm probably going to wait till Monday, because I have so much to do today. April's still nagging me about getting my glasses.

Sky


Sunday, July 20, 2008

IRRITATING TO SAY THE LEAST

Status: Writing on A Girl Named Mystery. (2nd draft--2008 version.) Chapter 3.

Doing: Writing on this blog; answering e-mails; working out, and well...you know the rest! :0)

Watching: Nothing at the moment.

Listening to: Taped music.

Reading: Kushiel's Scion. Page 414.

STAR TREK-BEST DESTINY.

TOPIC: FRIDAY'S FOLLOW UP MUSE

I couldn't post this yesterday because of my unscheduled trip to the ER for edema problems; as usual.

***

I often wonder just how insensitive some people are--when it comes to personal bragging rights.

This week?

I think I got part of my answer answered for me.

I frequent Yahoo! Answers quite a bit--cause I like to irritate and annoy the politcal fruitbats that always seem to show up on the weekends.

Plus, they have a section on Authors and Books that have become a personal favorite of mine--though I am not a Top Contributor by any means.

Anyway, I was trying to gauge people's thoughts and reactions when I told them how close I was to breaking the 300,000 word count barrier for my novel, Starchild Duel.

I gave them some philosophy behind the feat--trying to see how CHALLENGED these posters can be.

Well, I rarely have bruised egos over such things these days (because of my thick skin), but some of their responses hit closer to home than I thought.

It made me realize that the world just isn't ready to embrace such radical changes in writing.

At least not the scale I'm presently at.

Most of the responded answers centered on me not being able to tell a story at all--if it took 1200 pages (but the book still isn't done)...another responded by saying that I could easily tell the story in less than 600 pages.

Some suggested that I should break the book up (like I haven't already considered that), another poster said that in order for me to become published, I have to keep my word counts under 70,000 words--and I should use the latest writer's guide as proof of that.
(I never got around to telling her that I passed the 70K mark years ago--and haven't bought a new writer's guide since 2001-2002; since dropping out of the mainstream hunt in 2006.)

One poster suggested that I immediately trim it down to a much lower word count; a couple suggested that I limit my use of words in the novel--so that it doesn't sound too wordy, and a third said that unless I was Stephen King, I wouldn't have a chance in hell of getting published that way.

But what shocked me was that there wasn't a SINGLE source of praise for even trying such a feat, no one that responded seemed all that inspired, and most were more focused on my chances of getting in on the graces of the big guns--rather than just being amazed by one writer's personal accomplishment.

Why this happened, I have no idea.

Not one responder had even asked me how I do it--because the few people I've conversed with over the years seemed less interested in how I did it and more obsessed with how I'm going to get a book of that magnitude PUBLISHED.

Which made me think that nobody--outside of a few--really are all that concerned with personal achievements, but are more focused on the monetary and material wealth they could acquire through traditional publishing.

A sad mental state of events--if you ask me.

The other thing is that's been bugging me?

I really WISH people would stop trying to lump me in the same bracket as Stephen King--by using him as a weapon against me!

I don't really care much for him, and he's not what I would call all that "inspirational" for me either. He's a horror author, not a sci-fi buff.

I did not grow up reading any of his books. I still haven't--even though I have a few of his tomes in my collection collecting dust. (Along with everything else of mine.)

It would be like asking a plumber for wedding advice when you should instead go to a certified wedding planner and see what they can do about that jacuzzi.

Y'know?


The only thing that King and I have in common is our coke-bottle glasses and our really bad hair cuts.

From my standpoint, it just doesn't seem accurate enough for me. King's ancient now. Out of date. He had his time in the limelight.

Having someone say: "Well, you're not King--so you're not going to get published"--just makes me think I'm either too inexperienced to be a successful writer, or that I am too old to even make such an attempt in the first place.

But like I went off in my blog on Friday: "I'm not them and they aren't me."

I don't judge my literary feats and accomplishments against someone whose standard isn't even remotely compatible with mine--let alone based solely on monetary gain and...um...what's the word I'm looking for here...?

SOCIAL STATUS.

Secondly? I'm not a robot! I'm not pre-programmed to do *anything* I don't want to do!

Writing for me is a PLEASURE. It's a cross that I alone have to bear. But it's a burden that I carry proudly within me because it makes me who I am--not who I should be in the eyes of society.

Why should I burn more bridges trying to live up to an impossible standard here?

We all write according to our natural gifts--not by someone else's.

I've done all I can with my books. I've tried to be as objective as I can--to take things out, to trim down a few unnecessary spots, but reality-check time?

The way I've written my books is a lot like a construction contractor mapping out the blueprints for the John F. Kennedy Space Center--for the first time.

You just can't use the same formula that was used in building...let's say...the Empire State Building back in 1934.

You have to do it differently than what was put into play decades earlier--based on an entirely different set of engineering principles. The Empire State Building is a natural lightning rod--designed to attract the strikes away from all the lower-end structures.

The Space Center is designed to withstand Category 3 hurricanes.

But you can't expect a writer of my caliber to simply go an adopt someone else's writing style and format because he or she is already published.

You have to look at what they are in before you can start to build a picture of what you want to do as a writer.

Me, I didn't have that blueprint. I didn't even have the tools I needed to become a writer.

Everything I learned came from READING. And that's all there ever was for me. I never once broached a famous author's style or writing format when I started out at the age of 14.

Again, I had no guide, no blueprint, NOTHING that could prepare me for what lay ahead.

The only thing I did have was my command of reading, writing, and a little bit of grammar, along with my English studies.

But I also had science, biology, math, geology, physics, basic engineering, world history, horticulture, social sciences, and a few other areas of expertise--including art and computer science.

This is what I drew up for my writing adventures. I was also heavily into current events, astronomy, meteorology, astrophysics, nature, politics, and some other areas of interest.

These many things is what formed the BACKBONE of my writing career. It wasn't proper writing, adjectives, nouns, pronouns, etc, etc, etc..and proper English writing and communication skills, expert character development--which started me.

I had none of those things growing up. Not one class. Not one lecture. Not one visit by a famous author or a convention.

My situation was so unique growing up, I can honestly say I actually did lead an isolated life. And that life has stayed with me this entire time.

The only things that kept me connected to the outside world was the TV and the library. But I never got into writing all that much. I was too busy being a kid--than wanting to be a famous poet like Robert Frost (I lived in Vermont for 14 years growing up) or anyone else whom was a well-known writer and author.

My mother said that I was her little scientist when I was a boy. It was a phrase that stuck with me. Because I was a man of science--of everything around me.

What I couldn't learn in a classroom--I could find out in the real world. Y'know?

So, when I began to become a writer, all I had was what I had learned thus far in school, but the basic mechanics of writing ITSELF was not even available to me for the entire time I was in the public school system.

Even private school lacked the resources. We had no classes, nothing that could prepare me for what lay ahead. So I literally had to learn everything on my own, through the use of books and my love of the things I most enjoyed.

THEY were my teachers. Not anyone else. Not even Stephen King himself. I didn't hear about him until the early-90s--when his books started to get popular with the masses.

But even then, I never paid that much attention to what he was doing--other than the fact that he was published. Things like this...just never entered my mind. I was so fixated on my own problems and other issues; to really worry about what my own path as a writer was doing to me, or where it was going to lead me.

So, I had no experience, no classes, no nothing. Just books and some of my favorite novels that I liked to read--which got me started on some fan-fiction of my own.

But barriers for me were painful to break--even overcome. I didn't get started in my writing career--seriously--until my mid-20s.

Even then--it was hard enough to just overcome the problems of wanting to become a respectable writer; let alone get published.

Where I was at that time, I still didn't have access to classes, courses, conventions--even as my brothers filled me in on going to a STAR TREK convention in 1994 and meeting Mark Lenard (Sarek).

But writing was something I still had to do on my own. It took me 5 years afterwards to break 100,000 words. I hit the 200,000 barrier in 2001-02.

The 300,000 word count barrier was broken only 4 years ago. And what I've written didn't seem all that wordy or long to me at all. Just layers upon layers of carefully constructed story plot elements, subplots, and one large storyline from start to finish.

And despite my best efforts to protect what I've gone and created, I still have people trying to rip it asunder by telling me that it'll never fly, it'll never sell, and I won't get published because I'm not somebody famous.

All they want to do is destroy something that they can't understand.

Why do we base such importance on these little things? Nobody I know writes 300,000 word books. Not even 200,000.

The most I've heard people tell me these days is between 100K and120K. And that's maximum for them.

Mmph.

Honestly, I feel like such a fish out of water--when measured up against my fellow writers--not PEOPLE whom have been published before, but just persons whom are like me.

Still, I often wonder if I'm the only one whom is chasing this impossible dream of mine.

Not getting published, but writing that Great American Novel that will one day stand for something special.

I've tried to do things that would set me apart from everyone else. But overall, it's always been something that came natural: Being different. Acting different. Doing things differently.

And like all things 25 years ago--I still find that people today still harbor the same unintended malice towards those whom don't fit into today's everchanging social network.

Maybe it isn't me, maybe it's them--I don't really know.

But everytime I look out into the world, I see things so differently than others. Everything just reads along a different evolutionary path of reason and possibility--than what we normally come to understand it as.

I wonder if that has something to do with how my brain rewired itself--shortly after I was born with cerebral palsy. Everything had to be saved differently in order to function to some varying degree.

As such, I haven't been able to see things like other people do. No matter how hard I try, I'm always looking for that one unexplainable glitch, that unexplained variable no one else can see but me.

And the way I write is based on the same principle. I don't operate under the same rules and guidelines as others do. It's not resistance to a set idea or standards, but just something that says: "Nothing's on upstairs."

Or: "Nobody's home; can I take a message?"

There's a quiet lack of comprehension going on. I just can't grasp at times the enormity or the complexity of some things, so I just try to make it as simple for myself as I possibly can--and work my way through as I go.

No matter what I do though, I just can't convince the world that I have something worth contributing to the larger whole.

But it never stops me from trying nonetheless.

Sky

Friday, July 18, 2008

ONCE MORE FOR THE HEARING IMPAIRED...

Status: Writing on A Girl Named Mystery. (2nd draft--2008 version.) Chapter 3.

Doing: Writing on this blog; answering e-mails; working out, and well...you know the rest! :0)

Watching: Nothing at the moment.

Listening to: Disturb's "10,000 Fists"-CD

Reading: Kushiel's Scion. Page 414.

STAR TREK-THE NEXT GENERATION: WAR DRUMS. Page 78.

STAR TREK-NEW EARTH: BOOK 5 OF 6-THIN AIR. Page 45.

TOPIC: READ MY LIPS: I...AM...NOT...LIM~IT~ING MYSELF!

Some of you on Yahoo! Answers think that I should limit myself in my writing because I'm not published.

Some of you think that I should try to tell a story in about 200 pages or less.

Some of you think that I should cap my word count usage between 70,000 and 80,000 words.

Some of you think that just because I'm not Stephen King, then I'm not good enough for the likes of you.

Well, I have some breaking news that just came in over the wires a short while ago:

I AM NOT A ROBOT!!!

YOU PEOPLE WANT TO DO THESE BOOKS YOUR WAY--?

THEN YOU COME OVER TO MY PLACE ON 112TH STREET IN EVERETT, WASHINGTON--AND I WILL GLADLY TURN OVER MY REBUILT PC; AND LET YOU UNQUALIFIED TURKEYS TAKE A SPIN AT WHAT YOU WOULD CONSIDER "GOOD WRITING"!

GO AHEAD!

TRY TO TACKLE MY MULTIPLE SUBPLOTS AND STORYLINES AND SEE IF YOU CAN SQUEEZE SOMETHING THE SIZE OF THE FUCKING TITANIC INTO THE DIMENSIONAL SPACE OF A COUNTERTOP BREAD BOX EVERY DAY!

I DARE YOU!


IF YOU CAN'T, THEN STOP TRYING TO LIMIT ME!

THESE ARE MY BOOKS AND I WILL WRITE THEM HOWEVER I SEE FIT!

STOP TRYING TO GET ME TO FOLLOW THE CROWD AND ALLOW ME THE LUXURY OF CHARTING MY OWN COURSE IN LIFE WITH MY WRITING!

I PEN LARGE BOOKS ESPECIALLY BECAUSE I LIKE THE CHALLENGE--NOT SO I CAN LIMIT MYSELF.

IF COMPARING ME TO OTHER AUTHORS IN THE PAST IS THE BEST YOU PEOPLE CAN COME UP--THEN I HAVE A NEWS FLASH:

THEY AREN'T ME. I AM NOT THEM! I DID NOT GROW UP IDOLIZING ANYBODY!

I GREW UP ON MY OWN, I WROTE ON MY OWN, AND I AM DAMNED PROUD OF MY OWN ACCOMPLISHMENTS!

AND I DID IT ALL WITHOUT HAVING SOMEONE LOOKING OVER MY SHOULDER, HOLDING MY HAND, MEETING ME HALF-WAY, OR DOING ALL THE WORK THEMSELVES.

THAT IS THE SIGN OF A TRUE AND TRIED WRITER WHO DOESN'T WRITE FOR MONEY, DOESN'T WRITE FOR THE FAME, COULD CARE LESS ABOUT FORTUNE, NAME RECOGNITION, AND ALL THE HOLLYWOOD GLITZ AND GLAMOUR THAT MOST WRITERS THESE DAYS OBSESS THEMSELVES OVER CONSTANTLY ON A DAILY BASIS.

IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE MY BLISTERING WORDS, THEN YOU'RE DEFINITELY IN THE WRONG BUSINESS!

THIS MESSAGE IS JUST A REMINDER THAT WHEN PEOPLE START PUSHING ME AROUND, I PUSH BACK TWICE AS HARD.

I AM NOT AFRAID. I WILL FIGHT FOR WHAT I BELIEVE IN TO MY LAST BREATH IF NEED BE.

THAT IS HOW DEDICATED AND PASSIONATE I AM ABOUT WHAT I DO AS A MUSE AND SCRIBE.

BECAUSE I AM NOT LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. AND I PLAN TO KEEP IT THAT WAY.

IF YOU STILL HAVE ANY FUTURE PROBLEMS WITH ME OR MY BIG BOOKS, PLEASE DROP A NOTE OFF INTO THE SUGGESTIONS BOX AND ME OR MY MANAGEMENT STAFF WILL GET BACK TO YOU AT OUR CONVENIENCE.

THANK YOU AND HAVE A GREAT NIGHT!

Schuyler Rahwn Thorpe

Thursday, July 17, 2008

MORE OF THE SAME TODAY

Status: Writing on A Girl Named Mystery. (2nd draft--2008 version.) Chapter 2.

Doing: Writing on this blog; answering e-mails; working out, and well...you know the rest! :0)

Watching: Nothing at the moment.

Listening to: Taped music: "Beloved"--By VNV Nation; "Consumer" and "Shelter"--By Icon of Coil

Reading: Kushiel's Scion. Page 414.

STAR TREK-THE NEXT GENERATION: WAR DRUMS. Page 78.

STAR TREK-NEW EARTH: BOOK 5 OF 6-THIN AIR. Page 45.

TOPIC: AND THE BEAT GOES ON...

I feel like this right now. After spending last night with my legs elevated from edema and water retention--today, I feel like I want to do something, but I'm not sure if it's writing-related.

To be sure, I want to write, but where am I going to find the energy? Everything just feels so apathetic and dead to me right now.

So I'm just going to take it easy and see what comes next.

(And no: It does not mean that I've lost either my touch or my edge. I just have some days where I'm not feeling like Mighty Mouse anymore--and need to recharge my batteries again.)

Sky

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

HOW I FEEL AT THE MOMENT. :0)

Status: Writing on A Girl Named Mystery. (2nd draft--2008 version.)

Doing: Writing on this blog; answering e-mails; working out, and well...you know the rest! :0)

Watching: Nothing at the moment.

Listening to: Taped music.

Reading: Kushiel's Scion. Page 414.

STAR TREK-THE NEXT GENERATION: WAR DRUMS. Page 78.

STAR TREK-NEW EARTH: BOOK 5 OF 6-THIN AIR. Page 45.

TOPIC: GARFIELD SUMS UP HOW I FEEL...AGAIN. :0)

This week has been nuts again. I'm going to jump off the main writing track for a bit and focus on some of my smaller novel projects--and give my larger tomes a breather.

But lately, I've been feeling pretty lethargic on a lot of things--much like Garfield is in this comic strip.

I dunno. It could be the heat, the hot weather, my latest gardening attempts going bust again. (The pots were nothing but MUD! So I had to repot my backup seeds into egg-flats. I'll have to get some large tomato seeds next month and a few other fruits and veggies.)

But I'm going to be meandering for awhile.

Sky

Friday, July 4, 2008

STARCHILD DUEL UPDATE

Status: Doing some writing on Starchild Duel. Chapter 147.

Doing: Writing on this blog; answering e-mails; working out, and well...you know the rest! :0)

Watching: Nothing at the moment.

Listening to: "I Walk The Line"--By Alien Sex Fiend; "Database"--by PTI; "Recoil"--by Fleshfield

Reading: Kushiel's Scion. Page 404.

STAR TREK-THE NEXT GENERATION: WAR DRUMS. Page 78.

STAR TREK-NEW EARTH: BOOK 5 OF 6-THIN AIR. Page 45.

TOPIC: BOOK UPDATE!

I just want to let everyone know that I've begun writing in earnest once more on Starchild Duel. I think I'm a little bit more emotionally stable to continue writing--until I get word on the outcome of my hearing.

Don't blame me. This is how I've always been.

I've spent last night working on Chapter 147 of the book and then revising it until about 2:45 in the morning.

The title for this section of the book (on page 1,304) is called "Dark Despair"; drawing on the theme of failure and hopelessness wrought forth by the latest battle between Talia and Isis McGowan, and Cara Hastings (under the thrall of Nemesis).

None of the involved parties were able to claim a solid victory over the other (as Isis and Talia have teamed up against Cara to stop her destructive rampage)--and a good portion of Shark's Bay has been left in ruins as a result of the battle. (Isis's Viper X-1 auto-frame is now a memory.)

The race track where the Desert Storm was supposed to have played out was completely destroyed in the fight--and a lot of people and auto-frame pilots were killed in the process.

The primary players have retreated for the moment; each licking their respective wounds from the ongoing conflict.

Talia has finally relented to go back to Jonas's underground auto-frame hanger to find Jonas himself--at the request of his current girlfriend, Sara Braihteen. (Jonas likely filed for divorce against his estranged wife--Rayna Hastings--5 years previous. But there is nothing on what happened between the events surrounding The Starchild and Starchild Duel.)

But the 16-year-old stranded super heroine from the alternate universe is none too happy about doing this.

However, she has no other choice in the matter. With her sister (the other Isis McGowan) dead from wounds suffered at the hands of Nemesis on her world, the girl is literally on her own, and is still struggling to adapt and change to the universe she now lives in.

Isis McGowan is still out cold from being subjected to absolute zero temperatures elicited on top of a 5-mile free fall (after being cocooned in a block of ice) expose--and it doesn't like she's going to be much help to anyone presently, until she has time to recover from a combination of steep exhaustion and her sustained injuries in her fight against Nemesis.

Pulver has taken Bayen prisoner where he's going to be tortured and interrogated by the Praetorial Guard--while the rest of the rescued party returns to Fran's workshop to plan for his release--and any ideas on how to confront and contain Nemesis's destructive onslaught against the surface dwellers residing on the desert Earth.

Or the population of sky dancers living on the orbiting space complex of Stratos City itself.

But--as before--none of the ideas look doable or even the least bit attractive.

So...no immediate resolution to the problems at hand. (But you don't think that I don't have my own bag of tricks up my sleeve--now do you? lol

Trust me: I've been in tighter spots than this--with my writing. It's all a part of the job-description.)