Status: Writing on Chapter 192 of The Price of Freedom. (Page 1,678)
Doing: Writing on this blog; answering e-mails; working out, and well...you know the rest! :0)
Watching: Conserving energy to keep the house cool during today's 90+ degree weather.
Listening to: "No Ordinary Morning"; "Strings for Yasmin" by Chicane/Tin Tin Out
Reading: Kushiel's Scion. Page 252.
TOPIC: UPDATES AND OTHER INTERESTING TIDBITS
Was thinking how I was going to continue the storyline up to the next big confrontation in Waco. But seeing how Kayla went from being an adult of 35 back to a teenager of 16 (and driving Kenneth nuts with conflicting emotions and needs (hehehe) ), I saw some prime opportunity to do a little exploring of the changes going on in Kayla herself.
And Mother knows this too. But they both know that this won't change anything between them.
So the fight continues unabated.
Right now, the two are engaged in a bitter argument over who is the stronger and which has the upper hand. It's a bit ironic that Mother's creation would one day break from the fold and side with humans and latch onto one of the more prominent freedom fighters; thus vexing Mother herself.
And to think that Kayla was once cold and calculating--completely without emotion or feeling. (Of course, I've delved into this past aspect of her a few times throughout the book. It's still a fascinating subject to fall back on--just for personal inflection.)
Now...being sixteen years old has given Kayla's character a whole new dimension to explore--not at least with the ongoing relationship between Kenneth and her. I found it surprising to know that this was the age in which they encountered each other in 2162. I had always thought that she was 19 years old when the book first opened up--and that's how things were.
It never once occurred to me that Kayla also can change from what she was once to the person she is now.
The more I write in this book, the more stuff keeps popping up. And I'm glad that I never saw a reason to restrict myself like the industry hacks want me to.
This kind of personal exploration and flexible writing allows me to just...write.
Forget the limitations and what lies ahead, I'm just going to see what will come down the pike.
However, since I've already established Kayla's character in the last many...hundreds of pages hence (including the nervous breakdowns and other behaviorial shorts in her programming), I think I'm just going to keep going with the way things are and see what happens.
I'm bound to scare someone with what's buried in these latter pages. :0)
***
I know that there are going to be a lot of questions when The Price of Freedom finally debuts sometime in 2018, but for the time being--? I'm not worried.
I've also been toying with a new prequel novel for The Price of Freedom called The Frontlines of Freedom. I was talking with a new writer contact last night (or over the past couple of days), and she was doing a prequel for one of her books.
Now, even if I hadn't talked with her, I had also been toying with the idea of doing a backstory after the first two books are complete. (Because by themselves...? It's going to be a long publication run for this saga.)
But I've been so engrossed in finishing the first book and seeing where it leads before I embarked on a possible sequel...? I didn't want to risk torpedoing any new information which will be embedded in the current tome.
However, the book will document the battle outside of Waco, Texas in 2162--where the reader is first introduced to Kenneth Sparks--where he and Captain James Tanner encounter a stray Neos reconnaissance unit headed by Kayla Sorenson herself.
While most of The Price of Freedom stays focused on Kayla, this prequel will zero in on the fated decision to allow Kenneth and Kayla to return to one of the few remaining Free Earth Movement strongholds left over in Washington D.C.
The novel will also explore some of what Kayla used to be--seeing how the current novel only gives out hints and such; but nothing seriously concrete.
Think of the hints as being dream images laced in perpetual fog of unreality: You don't know if it is real or not. You just go along for the ride and hope for what passes for a happy ending.
But I've always wondered why I didn't backtrack the novel from 2162 and up until the current year of 2166.
I didn't see the need, I suppose. I just started it out a month before the new year (December 2165), and went with the flow.
Seeing how I'm halfway through the novel (at 326,006 words), the urge to do so is getting stronger as time goes on.
However, if anyone here is worried that The Price of Freedom will somehow be "derailed"--don't start betting now.
Cause the book will be completed first--and then I'll see what happens next.
Sky
Showing posts with label The Price of Freedom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Price of Freedom. Show all posts
Friday, May 16, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
TUESDAY TREAT.
Status: Writing on Chapter 146 of Starchild Duel. (Page 1,319)
Doing: Writing on this blog; answering e-mails; working out, and well...you know the rest! :0)
Watching: Greening the Earth (PBS)
Listening to: "Halcyon"; "Autumn Tatics" by Chicane. (Behind the Sun album)
Reading:
Kushiel's Scion. Page 252.
Star Trek: Crucible: McCoy:-Provenance of Shadows. Page 11.
TOPIC: THE PRICE OF FREEDOM--A CHAPTER SPECIAL.
It's a pretty quiet night tonight, so I thought that I would give everyone a sneak peek into what's happening with my ongoing writer's project.
I know that most of you won't know what the book is about--from just reading this chapter alone--but I hope that you'll enjoy it nonetheless.
I must caution people as always: This is adult-oriented material and shouldn't be read by minors (or to minors) under the age of 18.
The chapter synopsis surrounds what happened after Kenneth Sparks and Kayla Sorenson hitched up with the 13th Reconnaisance Unit; 101st Combat Division--shortly after their stay with Carl Henderson and his nephew.
A much-needed break turns into a veritable nightmare for everyone involved--and Kayla is at the center of it all.
***
Tucker was worried. The three should’ve come back already with Kayla in tow.
How long does it take to traverse a half-mile anyway? Are they all taking their sweet-assed time? He thought–thinking that he would have to put together another party, just to look for the first one and one wayward…android.
“Or woman. Or whatever she calls herself these days,” the man said under his breath. Glancing over at Theresa Fredericks, he said, “Put together another small team. Three or four people max–armed–and have them go down to that creek and find out what the hell’s the fucking hold up.”
The strawberry-blonde woman nodded, and left her guard post on the edge of the camp. Tucker took her place and waited for her to come back.
When this is over…he thought to himself. I plan on taking a long nap!
Voices in the background rose and fell in pitch–as a small part of the camp began to awaken–as the call to action was carried out.
The rest of it still slept.
Because in this war, you took any opportunity to catch some zees.
Life was finite. It was never taken for granted.
* * *
“Reprogramming complete.” A synthesized voice echoed.
Kayla didn’t recall the exact moment she awoke in the small chamber, surrounded by banks of machinery, power coils, tubes of fluid and matter.
The center of the room was subdued and dark–the only illumination, a small overhead light.
Kayla lay on a table–naked to the world–but not really caring.
Her memory matrices were buzzing with fresh information–new information. A purpose was being formed, a mission being formulated.
“My prize. My creation. You will be my hand in this war on the humans. Do you understand me?” Mother’s voice rang inside the small chamber.
Kayla’s eyes opened.
“I do, Mother. I am yours to command.” She said without hesitation. The mission was simple: Eradicate any and all things biological.
And she would carry out that directive to the core.
“You will stay here for awhile. You may get up and move around if you so wish. But you will not leave until I command you to. I will provide you with the necessary garments. A specialized jumpsuit which will identify you to the rest of the world as their executioner.”
“Yes, Mother. It shall be done.”
“Sleep now. Conserve your energies for the war ahead.”
“Yes. Mother.” Kayla responded tacitly. The light dimmed, casting her and everything else into the shadows of the past.
* * *
“Yes…Mother…” Kayla drawled out in a stupor. Her mind was nearly gone. The barbs had almost completed their basic reprogramming of the trapped woman.
But at this point, Kayla found herself no longer caring about that. Soon, she would rejoin her master and creator, and the human race would die.
Mother…
“I…hear…and…obey…” the woman rasped in a drugged-like state. “What...is…your…command?”
Mother…
Kayla suddenly had a clear sense of something else. For a moment, everything came into perfect clarity. Though she did not know how she knew this, she sensed that she wasn’t alone.
Mother…you must resist it. You cannot allow yourself to be taken again so soon. Not when so many lives are riding on your shoulders. The future of this world is in your hands. Do not be so quick to destroy it.
Kayla looked around blindly, her head flopping this way and that. Drool had collected at the corner of her mouth and started to drip freely on its own accord.
“Who…is…there?” She ground out in wide open curiosity. Though her mind was almost gone and she could feel the call of the machine collective start to resonate deep inside her memory matrices, there was still a shred of her previous existence inside of her.
Still fighting to live.
“Who…?”
Your daughter. The one whom you still have yet to give birth to. I am at a stage now that I can begin to freely communicate with you through advanced telepathy. The barbs are of no threat to me because of my own defenses in play. And so, I remain free and whole to continue to grow and evolve. But I am here to tell you to fight, Mother! Fight the programming which has taken over your mind and body! You are much stronger than this!
Kayla stared into the darkness incomprehensively.
“I…can’t…” she said brokenly, a tear forming at the corner of her eye. “Mother…is too strong.”
Must I do everything for you? The disembodied voice cast back with wry impatience.
“What…do…you mean?”
On another level, Kayla could “hear” a soft sigh in her mind. A sound so sweet, that she wanted to reach out and take hold of it.
Like you, I too, possess certain abilities. Some of which have already been made known to you. But I can also do so much more. I am after all…a product of you and daddy’s love.
The idea that she could be so easily saved appealed to her greatly. Kayla then wondered dimly if she had done so for others in the past.
“Hurry…” she whispered. “Please…hurry…” then she fell silent; witnessing the last part of her slip away and be replaced by–
* * *
There was no way in hell she was going to take a swim in that creek–just to get up close and personal to that…whatever it was.
“Bigger than a goddamned tree, that’s for sure.” Marlene heard Kristina say–as the three of them continued to scout the area in front of them. As it stood, none of them ventured out more than ten feet on either side of the bank. But their hand held lamps continued to play their beams on the green mass in front of them. It pulsed and moved from the inside out from time to time, but there was still no way to tell what was inside it. But speculation still ran rampant that it was Kayla in there, but there was no way the trio knew of getting her out.
All they could do was wait.
The darkness still swallowed up the remainder of whatever it was. But this new construct in front of them now resembled some sort of stasis pod–grotesquely misshapened all the same.
But its bloated mass and width created a natural dam for the creek. The water started to lap up at their feet on their end, and Marlene knew that they couldn’t stay here for much longer.
“Shit…” she whispered as one of her feet sank into the waterlogged grassy knoll next to the bank. She shook her leg, listening to the splattering of water–knowing that they didn’t have as much time as they thought.
“Back up you guys,” she gestured to the other two. “This place is going to flood worse than my grandma’s bathtub in the next hour our so.”
Kristina and Chan followed the woman back to an area behind the hedge where it was still dry, but offered an unobstructed view of the thing in front of them.
But that all ended when Chan decided to play his light on the back area next to the “pod”.
What they found was an equally misshapen head with no eyes, but a massive mouth filled with teeth.
But there was no visible body!
Its feeler arms–or what was left of them–waved too and fro in silent ecstasy. But for the most part, the Seeker remained silent and unmoving.
“Ugly.” Chan chirped in disgust, before turning his light away, and his attention back to the two women. “That’s for sure.”
Marlene agreed. She had never seen such a monstrosity in her entire life!
“But what depraved person would unleash such a thing unto this world of ours?” She asked in muted astonishment.
“This Mother person probably–if Kenneth’s words are to believed.” Chan said.
“What do you mean? You think he’s lying to us?”
“It’s the first time I’ve heard of such a reference.” The man said.
“But according to him, she’s in control of this whole operation. It would make perfect sense–” Marlene pointed back at the Seeker behind them, “–if this abomination is somehow being controlled by her. No one else on earth would be able to create something as big as this thing is.”
“No one human, you mean.” Kristina interjected.
Marlene stared at her for a second. “Are you saying that this could be Kayla’s doing?”
“Well…she’s not here. Is she?”
“I still say–” Marlene was about to fire back, before the woods in the front and to the side of them, became alive again with distant sounds and voices.
All three shined their lights in the general direction of the noise, but neither could spot anything for a good four minutes.
It was Chan who was the first to raise the alarm.
“There!” he exclaimed. “I see–”
Four people came popping out of the brush–each one visibly agitated and breathless.
Marlene relaxed and then smiled wanly.
“Let me guess: You guys were sent by Tucker to find us, and so you ran all this way?” She postulated.
Theresa was in no mood to be placated.
“How come you hadn’t reported back yet?!” she growled. “Tucker’s looking to tan your hide for going AWOL!”
“Ease off, Corporal.” The woman deflected smoothly. “We didn’t get lost.”
Theresa and her group merged with Marlene’s a minute or two later.
“So what the hell is taking you so long? Couldn’t you find–” Theresa started to say as she shined her light in the direction of the creek. What she saw stunned her just as easily as it had Marlene recently.
“Oh my god…” she whispered. “What the hell is that?”
Marlene shrugged as the rest of the her group got in a good look at the Seeker sitting complacently in the cold waters of the creek itself.
“Still don’t know.” She said, just as one of the other members in her group instinctively raised his gun.
“I’m gonna try and take it out!” He impulsively announced.
Both Marlene and Theresa turned.
“Wait!” Marlene yelled. “Don’t–!”
But it was too late.
The man fired off a plasma grenade–striking the lower section of the green “pod”.
A terrific explosion lit up the night and the creek bed.
“Adam! You asshole!” Theresa snapped. “I gave you no orders to return fire!”
There was sudden movement in the creek as the Seeker was roused from its slumber, and turned its attention to the small group of humans clustered and huddled just right of its present position. It gave off an odd roaring sound–as if the damage inflicted upon its body caused it considerable “pain”.
Theresa soundly cuffed Adam upside the head.
“Stupid fuck!” she snarled. “Now you got that thing pissed off at us!”
“Ow!” Adam cried out indignantly–cringing from the abuse–before rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry! I didn’t know! I just acted without thinking first!”
There was movement from the creek, as the Seeker re-established itself and prepared to attack the clustered party. It drew the “pod” closer to its body…
“That’s usually like you!” Theresa continued to berate at him. ‘You never think before you act!”
Kristina and Chan both sounded the alarm as the Seeker charged them.
“Guys! I think now would be a good time to run!”
“What?” Theresa cried, taken off guard–before she found herself being pushed back towards the trail. And thus towards the camp.
“Run!” Marlene shouted hoarsely–seeing what the other two saw. “Make like the wind and run like hell! This thing’s coming after us!” Then she took off before giving anyone else reason to lag behind.
The Seeker crashed through the thicket–snapping trees off their base and crushing the hedge beneath.
Everyone else was already in motion–scattering like frightened rabbits. None of them had the courage to stand against something that clearly dwarfed them all.
***
On another note, I'm also intrigued by what I was watching on PBS about how this government of ours has refused to take the initiative in combating global warming.
It's not just this government, but the last 2 administrations as well. Too many people in high places are having way too much influence on how we should protect (or not) our own environment--weighing everything on basic greed and money.
As of late, I've been toying with the idea of just having a limited number of paper copies of my books available--and concentrating the bulk of my book sales in e-book form only.
This way, it helps cut down on the amount of paper being used and how many trees are being cut to make my copies.
Sky
Doing: Writing on this blog; answering e-mails; working out, and well...you know the rest! :0)
Watching: Greening the Earth (PBS)
Listening to: "Halcyon"; "Autumn Tatics" by Chicane. (Behind the Sun album)
Reading:
Kushiel's Scion. Page 252.
Star Trek: Crucible: McCoy:-Provenance of Shadows. Page 11.
TOPIC: THE PRICE OF FREEDOM--A CHAPTER SPECIAL.
It's a pretty quiet night tonight, so I thought that I would give everyone a sneak peek into what's happening with my ongoing writer's project.
I know that most of you won't know what the book is about--from just reading this chapter alone--but I hope that you'll enjoy it nonetheless.
I must caution people as always: This is adult-oriented material and shouldn't be read by minors (or to minors) under the age of 18.
The chapter synopsis surrounds what happened after Kenneth Sparks and Kayla Sorenson hitched up with the 13th Reconnaisance Unit; 101st Combat Division--shortly after their stay with Carl Henderson and his nephew.
A much-needed break turns into a veritable nightmare for everyone involved--and Kayla is at the center of it all.
***
Tucker was worried. The three should’ve come back already with Kayla in tow.
How long does it take to traverse a half-mile anyway? Are they all taking their sweet-assed time? He thought–thinking that he would have to put together another party, just to look for the first one and one wayward…android.
“Or woman. Or whatever she calls herself these days,” the man said under his breath. Glancing over at Theresa Fredericks, he said, “Put together another small team. Three or four people max–armed–and have them go down to that creek and find out what the hell’s the fucking hold up.”
The strawberry-blonde woman nodded, and left her guard post on the edge of the camp. Tucker took her place and waited for her to come back.
When this is over…he thought to himself. I plan on taking a long nap!
Voices in the background rose and fell in pitch–as a small part of the camp began to awaken–as the call to action was carried out.
The rest of it still slept.
Because in this war, you took any opportunity to catch some zees.
Life was finite. It was never taken for granted.
* * *
“Reprogramming complete.” A synthesized voice echoed.
Kayla didn’t recall the exact moment she awoke in the small chamber, surrounded by banks of machinery, power coils, tubes of fluid and matter.
The center of the room was subdued and dark–the only illumination, a small overhead light.
Kayla lay on a table–naked to the world–but not really caring.
Her memory matrices were buzzing with fresh information–new information. A purpose was being formed, a mission being formulated.
“My prize. My creation. You will be my hand in this war on the humans. Do you understand me?” Mother’s voice rang inside the small chamber.
Kayla’s eyes opened.
“I do, Mother. I am yours to command.” She said without hesitation. The mission was simple: Eradicate any and all things biological.
And she would carry out that directive to the core.
“You will stay here for awhile. You may get up and move around if you so wish. But you will not leave until I command you to. I will provide you with the necessary garments. A specialized jumpsuit which will identify you to the rest of the world as their executioner.”
“Yes, Mother. It shall be done.”
“Sleep now. Conserve your energies for the war ahead.”
“Yes. Mother.” Kayla responded tacitly. The light dimmed, casting her and everything else into the shadows of the past.
* * *
“Yes…Mother…” Kayla drawled out in a stupor. Her mind was nearly gone. The barbs had almost completed their basic reprogramming of the trapped woman.
But at this point, Kayla found herself no longer caring about that. Soon, she would rejoin her master and creator, and the human race would die.
Mother…
“I…hear…and…obey…” the woman rasped in a drugged-like state. “What...is…your…command?”
Mother…
Kayla suddenly had a clear sense of something else. For a moment, everything came into perfect clarity. Though she did not know how she knew this, she sensed that she wasn’t alone.
Mother…you must resist it. You cannot allow yourself to be taken again so soon. Not when so many lives are riding on your shoulders. The future of this world is in your hands. Do not be so quick to destroy it.
Kayla looked around blindly, her head flopping this way and that. Drool had collected at the corner of her mouth and started to drip freely on its own accord.
“Who…is…there?” She ground out in wide open curiosity. Though her mind was almost gone and she could feel the call of the machine collective start to resonate deep inside her memory matrices, there was still a shred of her previous existence inside of her.
Still fighting to live.
“Who…?”
Your daughter. The one whom you still have yet to give birth to. I am at a stage now that I can begin to freely communicate with you through advanced telepathy. The barbs are of no threat to me because of my own defenses in play. And so, I remain free and whole to continue to grow and evolve. But I am here to tell you to fight, Mother! Fight the programming which has taken over your mind and body! You are much stronger than this!
Kayla stared into the darkness incomprehensively.
“I…can’t…” she said brokenly, a tear forming at the corner of her eye. “Mother…is too strong.”
Must I do everything for you? The disembodied voice cast back with wry impatience.
“What…do…you mean?”
On another level, Kayla could “hear” a soft sigh in her mind. A sound so sweet, that she wanted to reach out and take hold of it.
Like you, I too, possess certain abilities. Some of which have already been made known to you. But I can also do so much more. I am after all…a product of you and daddy’s love.
The idea that she could be so easily saved appealed to her greatly. Kayla then wondered dimly if she had done so for others in the past.
“Hurry…” she whispered. “Please…hurry…” then she fell silent; witnessing the last part of her slip away and be replaced by–
* * *
There was no way in hell she was going to take a swim in that creek–just to get up close and personal to that…whatever it was.
“Bigger than a goddamned tree, that’s for sure.” Marlene heard Kristina say–as the three of them continued to scout the area in front of them. As it stood, none of them ventured out more than ten feet on either side of the bank. But their hand held lamps continued to play their beams on the green mass in front of them. It pulsed and moved from the inside out from time to time, but there was still no way to tell what was inside it. But speculation still ran rampant that it was Kayla in there, but there was no way the trio knew of getting her out.
All they could do was wait.
The darkness still swallowed up the remainder of whatever it was. But this new construct in front of them now resembled some sort of stasis pod–grotesquely misshapened all the same.
But its bloated mass and width created a natural dam for the creek. The water started to lap up at their feet on their end, and Marlene knew that they couldn’t stay here for much longer.
“Shit…” she whispered as one of her feet sank into the waterlogged grassy knoll next to the bank. She shook her leg, listening to the splattering of water–knowing that they didn’t have as much time as they thought.
“Back up you guys,” she gestured to the other two. “This place is going to flood worse than my grandma’s bathtub in the next hour our so.”
Kristina and Chan followed the woman back to an area behind the hedge where it was still dry, but offered an unobstructed view of the thing in front of them.
But that all ended when Chan decided to play his light on the back area next to the “pod”.
What they found was an equally misshapen head with no eyes, but a massive mouth filled with teeth.
But there was no visible body!
Its feeler arms–or what was left of them–waved too and fro in silent ecstasy. But for the most part, the Seeker remained silent and unmoving.
“Ugly.” Chan chirped in disgust, before turning his light away, and his attention back to the two women. “That’s for sure.”
Marlene agreed. She had never seen such a monstrosity in her entire life!
“But what depraved person would unleash such a thing unto this world of ours?” She asked in muted astonishment.
“This Mother person probably–if Kenneth’s words are to believed.” Chan said.
“What do you mean? You think he’s lying to us?”
“It’s the first time I’ve heard of such a reference.” The man said.
“But according to him, she’s in control of this whole operation. It would make perfect sense–” Marlene pointed back at the Seeker behind them, “–if this abomination is somehow being controlled by her. No one else on earth would be able to create something as big as this thing is.”
“No one human, you mean.” Kristina interjected.
Marlene stared at her for a second. “Are you saying that this could be Kayla’s doing?”
“Well…she’s not here. Is she?”
“I still say–” Marlene was about to fire back, before the woods in the front and to the side of them, became alive again with distant sounds and voices.
All three shined their lights in the general direction of the noise, but neither could spot anything for a good four minutes.
It was Chan who was the first to raise the alarm.
“There!” he exclaimed. “I see–”
Four people came popping out of the brush–each one visibly agitated and breathless.
Marlene relaxed and then smiled wanly.
“Let me guess: You guys were sent by Tucker to find us, and so you ran all this way?” She postulated.
Theresa was in no mood to be placated.
“How come you hadn’t reported back yet?!” she growled. “Tucker’s looking to tan your hide for going AWOL!”
“Ease off, Corporal.” The woman deflected smoothly. “We didn’t get lost.”
Theresa and her group merged with Marlene’s a minute or two later.
“So what the hell is taking you so long? Couldn’t you find–” Theresa started to say as she shined her light in the direction of the creek. What she saw stunned her just as easily as it had Marlene recently.
“Oh my god…” she whispered. “What the hell is that?”
Marlene shrugged as the rest of the her group got in a good look at the Seeker sitting complacently in the cold waters of the creek itself.
“Still don’t know.” She said, just as one of the other members in her group instinctively raised his gun.
“I’m gonna try and take it out!” He impulsively announced.
Both Marlene and Theresa turned.
“Wait!” Marlene yelled. “Don’t–!”
But it was too late.
The man fired off a plasma grenade–striking the lower section of the green “pod”.
A terrific explosion lit up the night and the creek bed.
“Adam! You asshole!” Theresa snapped. “I gave you no orders to return fire!”
There was sudden movement in the creek as the Seeker was roused from its slumber, and turned its attention to the small group of humans clustered and huddled just right of its present position. It gave off an odd roaring sound–as if the damage inflicted upon its body caused it considerable “pain”.
Theresa soundly cuffed Adam upside the head.
“Stupid fuck!” she snarled. “Now you got that thing pissed off at us!”
“Ow!” Adam cried out indignantly–cringing from the abuse–before rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry! I didn’t know! I just acted without thinking first!”
There was movement from the creek, as the Seeker re-established itself and prepared to attack the clustered party. It drew the “pod” closer to its body…
“That’s usually like you!” Theresa continued to berate at him. ‘You never think before you act!”
Kristina and Chan both sounded the alarm as the Seeker charged them.
“Guys! I think now would be a good time to run!”
“What?” Theresa cried, taken off guard–before she found herself being pushed back towards the trail. And thus towards the camp.
“Run!” Marlene shouted hoarsely–seeing what the other two saw. “Make like the wind and run like hell! This thing’s coming after us!” Then she took off before giving anyone else reason to lag behind.
The Seeker crashed through the thicket–snapping trees off their base and crushing the hedge beneath.
Everyone else was already in motion–scattering like frightened rabbits. None of them had the courage to stand against something that clearly dwarfed them all.
***
On another note, I'm also intrigued by what I was watching on PBS about how this government of ours has refused to take the initiative in combating global warming.
It's not just this government, but the last 2 administrations as well. Too many people in high places are having way too much influence on how we should protect (or not) our own environment--weighing everything on basic greed and money.
As of late, I've been toying with the idea of just having a limited number of paper copies of my books available--and concentrating the bulk of my book sales in e-book form only.
This way, it helps cut down on the amount of paper being used and how many trees are being cut to make my copies.
Sky
Thursday, February 28, 2008
DOWN WITH THE FLU
Status: SICK
Doing: Writing this blog; surfing the net; answering e-mails; taking it easy
Watching: Nothing on the RTN channel. (Retro Television Network.)
Listening to: "Carbine [Escape Mix]" by Nokturnal Transmission's (Blue Amazon)
Reading: Kushiel's Scion by Jacqueline Carey (Page 173)--haven't read this book in a month
TOPIC: SICK
Okay. So it's official. After 3 years of not having the flu--I get waxed by a strain called the Brisbane N1-H5 rhino virus--which is not covered by this year's vaccine; against the current strains.
As a result, I've been out sick this week--and thus no writing. Nothing on Stories of the Dead Earth--Book 3: Jasper (left off on Chapter 27.
I've been taking it easy--doing little more than resting and relaxing. I've reduced my weight training to 3 sets instead of 5 for the week. (But power lifting has become troublesome--because of the weakness and achiness prevalent in my body.)
My e-mails have backed up some, and I still have to post a chapter my novel, The Price of Freedom on my other blogger account. I might be able to get one done with my Stories of the Dead Earth saga.
I dunno. I was pretty backed up last month and didn't post. This month? Well, welcome to the flu.
After my 2 week vacation (ending on March 16th), I have to get cracking on completing Starchild Duel and then start Starchild Ruin.
I know what I said before about my current housing situation, but I promised some people that I would end POF on a good note--if things go sour this summer.
But the book is far from being completed--as predicted. I'm still on Chapter 190.
So until then, I have lots of hot tea and honey to chug down, plus this persistent bladder infection and more kidney stones to worry about. (Passed another one last night--making it two for the week.)
Sky
Monday, January 28, 2008
MONDAY'S MUSINGS. (PART 3.)
Status: Writing Chapter 20 to Stories of the Dead Earth-Book 3: Jasper
Doing: Writing this blog; surfing the net; answering e-mails; working out
Watching: Nothing at the moment. (Quiet day.)
Listening to: "Track X" by Sheep on Drugs; "No Love Will Heal" by In Strict Confidence; "Maniacal" by KMFDM
Reading: Kushiel's Scion by Jacqueline Carey (Page 173)
TOPIC: UNDERSTANDING THE BOOKS YOU INTEND TO WRITE
When the Price of Freedom is completed sometime in 2011 or 2012; I'll either be looking at an impressive personal record of 1 million words, or I'll be pretty damned close! (lol)
But the point of writing the first book in this six-book saga isn't to simply shoot for a million words, but to tell a story. I've already crossed the threshold by achieving a new high in any of the books written so far. But I still have a long ways to go.
Of course, I'll have people tell me that I should cut my book down and fit it into the space of a breadbox. but seriously everyone: Who am I writing this book for? An industry that doesn't want the book anyway, or for a small eclective group of readers--whom might enjoy something a little different from usual fare of commercialized literature?
I know that I have a lot of work ahead of me--in terms of editing--but for right now...I need to focus more on finishing the book instead of worrying about all the little details about publishing, marketing, and shrinking it down so massively that what is left is completely unrecognizable to the average reader with an 8th grade reading equivalent. (Sad but true. There are studies that show that some Americans can't read past the 5th or 6th grade level these days.)
13 years ago, I couldn't have imagined doing something on a scale this large. My maximum ceiling limit back then was 60,000 words (like today's minimum allotted word counts by agents and publishers), and I was having a bitch of a time trying to break 100,000 words.
Nothing I wrote seemed to be working! lol
No...
Scratch that.
The problem wasn't the word counts. It was me.
My mind simply hadn't evolved to a point where I started to see things differently with my writing. Doors inside my mind were still very much closed off and I was just plodding along the best I could.
Sometime in 1999, I finally did it though.
I hit the magical number of 100,000 words! (Okay, so it was 99,500. But close enough. Is anyone going to roast me alive for stretching things out a little here? >g<)
But the problem was, my book back then wasn't good enough. It needed some work. However, I couldn't see that.
Couldn't see beyond my own limitations. It took the words of one editor to finally unlock the doors to greater potential within me.
I spent the next 10 months rewriting that book and broke through another milestone while doing it: 200,000 words!
But even then, I wasn't done with the book. While the novel was being looked at by my second agent, I suddenly had an ephinany; a revelation like none other: I had this "urge" to go back and rewrite that book over again and make it better!
So began another long journey into what would become 300,000 words. (With some spare change included of course.)
And that book was none other than The Starchild.
But why 1 million words (potentially) for The Price of Freedom and only 300,000 words for The Starchild and its sequel; Starchild Duel?
Quite frankly, it's because of the way I've approached each storyline by the extent each saga will run: One will always be longer than the other by design. Not by simple default.
For example: Stories of the Dead Earth is a first-person POV saga that limits itself by the simple fact that the storylines will be shorter and the action fast-paced. So the maximum word count for this saga shouldn't breach no more than 125,000 words maximum. (I'm shooting for 110,000 conservatively.)
The Starchild saga could easily breach 400 to 500,000 words--eventually. 300,00 words (for right now) is the absolute ceiling limit for the first 2 novels in this 30 book series. (I planned out this saga some 10 years ago with some storyline modifications over the last 4 years.)
The Price of Freedom is so much different than anything I've ever gone and created. This saga involves a much deeper and more richer storyline than what I have currently running in both The Starchild and Stories of the Dead Earth. (Which was my answer to people's nagging persistence that I write 'shorter novels'.)
And it has taken me to new levels of storytelling than I ever thought possible. Add the erotic romance elements into the mix, and you have something that makes those classic 'Civil War' novels look like a walk in the park. (The books that were titled by each state's given name; Texas!.)
Tooting my horn a little? Yes and no. I am proud of what I've gone and accomplished as a disabled individual and as a writer in question. But I'm not going to glorify this as a new publishing standard and hope to hell that people will follow me and emulate what I've spent the last 4 years trying to finish.
In fact, I would advise against trying in the first place. Seriously here folks. Don't even try!
Writing expansive tomes that stretch hundreds of thousands of words takes years of practice and a deep understanding of your craft.
Simply jumping on the band wagon and declaring in a broad voice; "I want to be like So and So!" isn't going to make your book any better.
Wanting to be like someone and understanding what they really wrote are two different things here. I've come across newbie writers whom want to be like Stephen King or J.K. Rowling, but they lack the general understanding of what they've gone and written.
No single book that they've published is one and the same. Each storyline or plot will be different from last book. And in time, the next generation of novels that they publish will take on a life completely apart from the very first novel that they spent years writing and publishing.
Which is why I don't want to copy or be copied by anyone who wishes to follow in my footsteps.
Each of my novels may have a singularly running theme in the beginning, but over time?
Everything changes.
But you also have to have a deeper understanding of what I'm writing as well--and be prepared to encounter (and deal with) the myriad of track changes and pitfalls that each book has engrained within.
For example, The Starchild explores the beginnings of the legendary Starchild of Ancient Lore; and Isis McGowan's thrust into that unsuspecting mantle. The 14-year-old girl is plagued by both uncertainties, challenges, setbacks, and everything under the sun--while grappling with the repercussions of having virtually unlimited power at her fingertips.
Pretty straightfoward, right?
Think you can duplicate the book down to a science?
No.
And why not?
Because while you may be able write something similar in style to The Starchild you won't be able to grasp the subtle nuances and inflections embedded into the novel itself.
And what's more, Starchild Duel completely blows off the cover to what sequels should be and read like!
Here you have a much different storyline which deals with personal confrontations, past events, but also has a much darker tone to the overall storyline than the last book.
This novel is a "no holds barred" entity--where anything goes and there is no line drawn for anyone involved in that conflict.
Which makes trying to duplicate The Starchild that much more difficult. If you were expecting to find the same pattern in the second book--from the first one--prepare to be vastly disappointed.
The same applies to The Price of Freedom. While the first novel may illustrate a generational war being fought on many levels and fronts, the second book; The Catalyst of Freedom will completely deep-six that notion entirely--throwing off any hope of trying to ensconce into that one entirely.
Stories of the Dead Earth may be a little easier on the surface (based on its fantasy orbits), but the storyline elements itself may prove to be a migraine for even the most enthusiastic entrepreneurs of "copy and paste".
If there is one thing I enjoy doing the most, it is to make my work as layered as possible.
I know most people will complain in the near-future that my works are to "wordy" for their tastes, but this is the way I approach my writing. Prose should be used to tell a story; not to limit oneself by getting your point across in the fewest words possible. (Where's the fun in that? lol)
With Stories of the Dead Earth, I took my cues from both fantasy, religion, and a multitude of my favorite RPG games--and combined that knowledge to create what has become a very fun and exciting adventure!
Most aspiring writers only look at the one thing which they like about their favorite author; the one thing which they want to adopt and integrate into their own works.
Not what makes that book so universally recognizable under the surface.
There is so much more to writing a novel or copying someone else--than just first-time impressions.
"I want to write horror like Stephen King!" I hear from the majority of new writers.
"I want to write a book like JK Rowling!" (Personally, I hope not. 10 years of dealing with that insane book craze is enough for me. Can we go onto something else that won't make my hair go gray prematurely? lol)
But do they know how to write those kinds of books or what it takes to reach that kind of level of professionalism?
Most likely not.
Which brings me back to my own books. I know enough of my own storylines and plots to see where everything is going to fit--not to mention all the deep-seated nuances and inflections contained within. People can try and copy what is The Starchild, what is The Price of Freedom (good luck going for that 1 million words kids!), but unless you can truly understand what I am trying to write--or what King and Rowling wrote and published--the best you can come away with is more of a pale copy of the original--that is nowhere near as good.
This is why I am such an ardant advocate of sticking with what works for you; while trying to stay as original to your books as close as possible.
Unfortunately, few people ever listen to me anyways. It's like I'm talking to a brick wall or a room full of deaf people. (No offense to the deaf!)
Doing: Writing this blog; surfing the net; answering e-mails; working out
Watching: Nothing at the moment. (Quiet day.)
Listening to: "Track X" by Sheep on Drugs; "No Love Will Heal" by In Strict Confidence; "Maniacal" by KMFDM
Reading: Kushiel's Scion by Jacqueline Carey (Page 173)
TOPIC: UNDERSTANDING THE BOOKS YOU INTEND TO WRITE
When the Price of Freedom is completed sometime in 2011 or 2012; I'll either be looking at an impressive personal record of 1 million words, or I'll be pretty damned close! (lol)
But the point of writing the first book in this six-book saga isn't to simply shoot for a million words, but to tell a story. I've already crossed the threshold by achieving a new high in any of the books written so far. But I still have a long ways to go.
Of course, I'll have people tell me that I should cut my book down and fit it into the space of a breadbox. but seriously everyone: Who am I writing this book for? An industry that doesn't want the book anyway, or for a small eclective group of readers--whom might enjoy something a little different from usual fare of commercialized literature?
I know that I have a lot of work ahead of me--in terms of editing--but for right now...I need to focus more on finishing the book instead of worrying about all the little details about publishing, marketing, and shrinking it down so massively that what is left is completely unrecognizable to the average reader with an 8th grade reading equivalent. (Sad but true. There are studies that show that some Americans can't read past the 5th or 6th grade level these days.)
13 years ago, I couldn't have imagined doing something on a scale this large. My maximum ceiling limit back then was 60,000 words (like today's minimum allotted word counts by agents and publishers), and I was having a bitch of a time trying to break 100,000 words.
Nothing I wrote seemed to be working! lol
No...
Scratch that.
The problem wasn't the word counts. It was me.
My mind simply hadn't evolved to a point where I started to see things differently with my writing. Doors inside my mind were still very much closed off and I was just plodding along the best I could.
Sometime in 1999, I finally did it though.
I hit the magical number of 100,000 words! (Okay, so it was 99,500. But close enough. Is anyone going to roast me alive for stretching things out a little here? >g<)
But the problem was, my book back then wasn't good enough. It needed some work. However, I couldn't see that.
Couldn't see beyond my own limitations. It took the words of one editor to finally unlock the doors to greater potential within me.
I spent the next 10 months rewriting that book and broke through another milestone while doing it: 200,000 words!
But even then, I wasn't done with the book. While the novel was being looked at by my second agent, I suddenly had an ephinany; a revelation like none other: I had this "urge" to go back and rewrite that book over again and make it better!
So began another long journey into what would become 300,000 words. (With some spare change included of course.)
And that book was none other than The Starchild.
But why 1 million words (potentially) for The Price of Freedom and only 300,000 words for The Starchild and its sequel; Starchild Duel?
Quite frankly, it's because of the way I've approached each storyline by the extent each saga will run: One will always be longer than the other by design. Not by simple default.
For example: Stories of the Dead Earth is a first-person POV saga that limits itself by the simple fact that the storylines will be shorter and the action fast-paced. So the maximum word count for this saga shouldn't breach no more than 125,000 words maximum. (I'm shooting for 110,000 conservatively.)
The Starchild saga could easily breach 400 to 500,000 words--eventually. 300,00 words (for right now) is the absolute ceiling limit for the first 2 novels in this 30 book series. (I planned out this saga some 10 years ago with some storyline modifications over the last 4 years.)
The Price of Freedom is so much different than anything I've ever gone and created. This saga involves a much deeper and more richer storyline than what I have currently running in both The Starchild and Stories of the Dead Earth. (Which was my answer to people's nagging persistence that I write 'shorter novels'.)
And it has taken me to new levels of storytelling than I ever thought possible. Add the erotic romance elements into the mix, and you have something that makes those classic 'Civil War' novels look like a walk in the park. (The books that were titled by each state's given name; Texas!.)
Tooting my horn a little? Yes and no. I am proud of what I've gone and accomplished as a disabled individual and as a writer in question. But I'm not going to glorify this as a new publishing standard and hope to hell that people will follow me and emulate what I've spent the last 4 years trying to finish.
In fact, I would advise against trying in the first place. Seriously here folks. Don't even try!
Writing expansive tomes that stretch hundreds of thousands of words takes years of practice and a deep understanding of your craft.
Simply jumping on the band wagon and declaring in a broad voice; "I want to be like So and So!" isn't going to make your book any better.
Wanting to be like someone and understanding what they really wrote are two different things here. I've come across newbie writers whom want to be like Stephen King or J.K. Rowling, but they lack the general understanding of what they've gone and written.
No single book that they've published is one and the same. Each storyline or plot will be different from last book. And in time, the next generation of novels that they publish will take on a life completely apart from the very first novel that they spent years writing and publishing.
Which is why I don't want to copy or be copied by anyone who wishes to follow in my footsteps.
Each of my novels may have a singularly running theme in the beginning, but over time?
Everything changes.
But you also have to have a deeper understanding of what I'm writing as well--and be prepared to encounter (and deal with) the myriad of track changes and pitfalls that each book has engrained within.
For example, The Starchild explores the beginnings of the legendary Starchild of Ancient Lore; and Isis McGowan's thrust into that unsuspecting mantle. The 14-year-old girl is plagued by both uncertainties, challenges, setbacks, and everything under the sun--while grappling with the repercussions of having virtually unlimited power at her fingertips.
Pretty straightfoward, right?
Think you can duplicate the book down to a science?
No.
And why not?
Because while you may be able write something similar in style to The Starchild you won't be able to grasp the subtle nuances and inflections embedded into the novel itself.
And what's more, Starchild Duel completely blows off the cover to what sequels should be and read like!
Here you have a much different storyline which deals with personal confrontations, past events, but also has a much darker tone to the overall storyline than the last book.
This novel is a "no holds barred" entity--where anything goes and there is no line drawn for anyone involved in that conflict.
Which makes trying to duplicate The Starchild that much more difficult. If you were expecting to find the same pattern in the second book--from the first one--prepare to be vastly disappointed.
The same applies to The Price of Freedom. While the first novel may illustrate a generational war being fought on many levels and fronts, the second book; The Catalyst of Freedom will completely deep-six that notion entirely--throwing off any hope of trying to ensconce into that one entirely.
Stories of the Dead Earth may be a little easier on the surface (based on its fantasy orbits), but the storyline elements itself may prove to be a migraine for even the most enthusiastic entrepreneurs of "copy and paste".
If there is one thing I enjoy doing the most, it is to make my work as layered as possible.
I know most people will complain in the near-future that my works are to "wordy" for their tastes, but this is the way I approach my writing. Prose should be used to tell a story; not to limit oneself by getting your point across in the fewest words possible. (Where's the fun in that? lol)
With Stories of the Dead Earth, I took my cues from both fantasy, religion, and a multitude of my favorite RPG games--and combined that knowledge to create what has become a very fun and exciting adventure!
Most aspiring writers only look at the one thing which they like about their favorite author; the one thing which they want to adopt and integrate into their own works.
Not what makes that book so universally recognizable under the surface.
There is so much more to writing a novel or copying someone else--than just first-time impressions.
"I want to write horror like Stephen King!" I hear from the majority of new writers.
"I want to write a book like JK Rowling!" (Personally, I hope not. 10 years of dealing with that insane book craze is enough for me. Can we go onto something else that won't make my hair go gray prematurely? lol)
But do they know how to write those kinds of books or what it takes to reach that kind of level of professionalism?
Most likely not.
Which brings me back to my own books. I know enough of my own storylines and plots to see where everything is going to fit--not to mention all the deep-seated nuances and inflections contained within. People can try and copy what is The Starchild, what is The Price of Freedom (good luck going for that 1 million words kids!), but unless you can truly understand what I am trying to write--or what King and Rowling wrote and published--the best you can come away with is more of a pale copy of the original--that is nowhere near as good.
This is why I am such an ardant advocate of sticking with what works for you; while trying to stay as original to your books as close as possible.
Unfortunately, few people ever listen to me anyways. It's like I'm talking to a brick wall or a room full of deaf people. (No offense to the deaf!)
Saturday, January 5, 2008
SATURDAY SURPRISE.
Status: Writing Chapter 14 to Stories of the Dead Earth-Book 3: Jasper
Doing: Writing this blog; surfing the net; answering e-mails; working out
Watching: Football! (GO SEAHAWKS!)
Listening to: "What I've Done" by Linkin Park; "Doomsday Clock" by Smashing Pumpkins (From the Transformers movie soundtrack)
Reading: Kushiel's Scion by Jacqueline Carey (Page 123)
TOPIC: INVITE TO SUBMIT AGAIN IN 2011.
The last of the query submissions for The Price of Freedom have finally run their course and this one rejection was a bit of a surprise.
From the Spiridon Literary Agency:
"I’m glad you’ve a project you feel so positive about. But from a publishing perspective, it is best to wait until the book is complete before approaching an agent. An agent is someone who tries to sell an already complete book to publishers. You need to finish writing this, revise it, and make sure it is in top form before submitting to agents. A few years is a long time. When it’s complete, you can query again if you like based on what is done.
Thanks again and best wishes."
I just hope that Alethea doesn't mind when it comes back nearly three times the current word count amount. (Of course, I'm not planning on submitting this book again until after I get The Starchild up and running. I'll need the extra funds to help with the editing of POF.)
I still have lots to do with the book. :0)
Doing: Writing this blog; surfing the net; answering e-mails; working out
Watching: Football! (GO SEAHAWKS!)
Listening to: "What I've Done" by Linkin Park; "Doomsday Clock" by Smashing Pumpkins (From the Transformers movie soundtrack)
Reading: Kushiel's Scion by Jacqueline Carey (Page 123)
TOPIC: INVITE TO SUBMIT AGAIN IN 2011.
The last of the query submissions for The Price of Freedom have finally run their course and this one rejection was a bit of a surprise.
From the Spiridon Literary Agency:
"I’m glad you’ve a project you feel so positive about. But from a publishing perspective, it is best to wait until the book is complete before approaching an agent. An agent is someone who tries to sell an already complete book to publishers. You need to finish writing this, revise it, and make sure it is in top form before submitting to agents. A few years is a long time. When it’s complete, you can query again if you like based on what is done.
Thanks again and best wishes."
I just hope that Alethea doesn't mind when it comes back nearly three times the current word count amount. (Of course, I'm not planning on submitting this book again until after I get The Starchild up and running. I'll need the extra funds to help with the editing of POF.)
I still have lots to do with the book. :0)
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
TUESDAY ACCOLADES
Status: Currently writing on The Price of Freedom--Chapter 182.
Doing: Writing this blog; surfing the net; answering e-mails; working out.
Watching: Evening News
Listening to: "Halcyon" by Chicane
Reading: Windows on a Lost World by V.E. Mitchell (ST-TOS)
TOPIC: STORY TWISTS
Never thought that that this would pop up in The Price of Freedom.
For a time now, I've had to focus more on what was happening with Kayla Sorenson and her ongoing struggle to find her true identity and what her purpose in this long and ongoing war between humanity and the Neos.
Of course, I'm used to the fact that I like to drop a bombshell on my readers every now and then, but this one has me kind've stymied.
Three times or more--throughout the book--either Kenneth Sparks or Kayla Sorenson was visited by their future daughter; Felica Sorenson.
In many guises, she visited them in the year 2166--throughout the first 5 months of the year; each time either saving their bacon, giving Kayla a boost, or in this latest case...?
Stopping her from killing Kenneth Sparks.
But this latest visit also comes with a surprise: Felicia is pregnant with Kenneth's child!
How did this happen was explained in a later chapter--as Felicia "rescues" her estranged mother from her own insanity.
The reason behind the joining.
However, it hasn't been fully explained as to whether or not this is the same Felicia from the current timeline, or another version of her which alternated from another aspect of the timesteam.
Felicia isn't talking and neither Kayla nor Kenneth know much pass their past experiences with their wayward daughter.
So another mystery still has yet to be solved. And by the looks of things--it doesn't appear that it will be solved in this book. Possibly in The Catalyst of Freedom, but I can't be sure--as that storyline is still in bits and pieces. (In terms of an outline.)
And another twist in the current storyline is still unfolding. Because of what happened in Felicia's subspace domain, Kayla has been regressed back to a teenage girl.
16-years-old and no longer pregnant with Felicia.
What's going to happen when she returns to 2166?
I don't know. But count on a very interesting read from here on out. (Not that this book has ever been boring from minute one...?)
Sky
Doing: Writing this blog; surfing the net; answering e-mails; working out.
Watching: Evening News
Listening to: "Halcyon" by Chicane
Reading: Windows on a Lost World by V.E. Mitchell (ST-TOS)
TOPIC: STORY TWISTS
Never thought that that this would pop up in The Price of Freedom.
For a time now, I've had to focus more on what was happening with Kayla Sorenson and her ongoing struggle to find her true identity and what her purpose in this long and ongoing war between humanity and the Neos.
Of course, I'm used to the fact that I like to drop a bombshell on my readers every now and then, but this one has me kind've stymied.
Three times or more--throughout the book--either Kenneth Sparks or Kayla Sorenson was visited by their future daughter; Felica Sorenson.
In many guises, she visited them in the year 2166--throughout the first 5 months of the year; each time either saving their bacon, giving Kayla a boost, or in this latest case...?
Stopping her from killing Kenneth Sparks.
But this latest visit also comes with a surprise: Felicia is pregnant with Kenneth's child!
How did this happen was explained in a later chapter--as Felicia "rescues" her estranged mother from her own insanity.
The reason behind the joining.
However, it hasn't been fully explained as to whether or not this is the same Felicia from the current timeline, or another version of her which alternated from another aspect of the timesteam.
Felicia isn't talking and neither Kayla nor Kenneth know much pass their past experiences with their wayward daughter.
So another mystery still has yet to be solved. And by the looks of things--it doesn't appear that it will be solved in this book. Possibly in The Catalyst of Freedom, but I can't be sure--as that storyline is still in bits and pieces. (In terms of an outline.)
And another twist in the current storyline is still unfolding. Because of what happened in Felicia's subspace domain, Kayla has been regressed back to a teenage girl.
16-years-old and no longer pregnant with Felicia.
What's going to happen when she returns to 2166?
I don't know. But count on a very interesting read from here on out. (Not that this book has ever been boring from minute one...?)
Sky
Sunday, September 30, 2007
WEEKEND CHAOS.
Status: Currently writing on Zombie Nation: Outbreak Zero; Chapter 179 of The Price of Freedom
Doing: Writing this blog; surfing the net; answering e-mails
Watching: Pink Floyd's "Live Pulse" concert on PBS. (From 1994)
Listening to: Nothing at the moment. Pink Floyd will do for the time being. :0)
Reading: Resistance by J.M. Dillard (ST-TNG) (On page 225 finally!)
TOPIC: MILESTONE OF MILESTONES
This one should've gone out a few days ago. But I was so backlogged on e-mails--I haven't had the time to post a new entry.
Oddly enough, ourecho.com doesn't seem to be functioning at the moment. (shrugs)
So I can't post my monthly chapter entries for this month.
Anyway, I am currently at 302,795 words on The Price of Freedom. Chapter 179.
Things have taken a turn for the interesting--to say the least. Kayla Sorenson transformed yet again and this time, she appears to be completely disconnected from reality and those around her.
Kenneth tries to reason with her, but he ends up getting smacked around again--like the last time in Union City; prior to the city's destruction.
But this is on the heels of an F5 tornado which came out of nowhere--and sucked everyone involved inside it.
Hence, Kayla's transformation.
So this time around, she's more light and energy--but she's also machine as well. An interesting angelic hybrid if I do say so myself. :0)
Unfortunately for Kenneth, he's weaponless. The twister sucked up their weapons when the old farmhouse was broadsided.
So I don't know what's going to happen as a result of this new encounter. I'll be finding out when the new month starts.
Doing: Writing this blog; surfing the net; answering e-mails
Watching: Pink Floyd's "Live Pulse" concert on PBS. (From 1994)
Listening to: Nothing at the moment. Pink Floyd will do for the time being. :0)
Reading: Resistance by J.M. Dillard (ST-TNG) (On page 225 finally!)
TOPIC: MILESTONE OF MILESTONES
This one should've gone out a few days ago. But I was so backlogged on e-mails--I haven't had the time to post a new entry.
Oddly enough, ourecho.com doesn't seem to be functioning at the moment. (shrugs)
So I can't post my monthly chapter entries for this month.
Anyway, I am currently at 302,795 words on The Price of Freedom. Chapter 179.
Things have taken a turn for the interesting--to say the least. Kayla Sorenson transformed yet again and this time, she appears to be completely disconnected from reality and those around her.
Kenneth tries to reason with her, but he ends up getting smacked around again--like the last time in Union City; prior to the city's destruction.
But this is on the heels of an F5 tornado which came out of nowhere--and sucked everyone involved inside it.
Hence, Kayla's transformation.
So this time around, she's more light and energy--but she's also machine as well. An interesting angelic hybrid if I do say so myself. :0)
Unfortunately for Kenneth, he's weaponless. The twister sucked up their weapons when the old farmhouse was broadsided.
So I don't know what's going to happen as a result of this new encounter. I'll be finding out when the new month starts.
Monday, September 17, 2007
RIP ROBERT JORDAN
Status: Currently writing on The Price of Freedom
Doing: Writing this blog; surfing the net; working out
Watching: KIRO 7 News
Listening to: Nothing at the moment
Reading: Resistance by J.M. Dillard (ST-TNG)
TOPIC: ROBERT JORDAN DIES AT THE AGE OF 58
This shocked me. I mean, I haven't read the Wheel of Time since 1993. But this bit of news had me stunned.
CHARLESTON, S.C. - Author Robert Jordan, whose "Wheel of Time" series of fantasy novels sold millions of copies, died Sunday of a rare blood disease. He was 58.
Jordan, whose real name was James Oliver Rigney Jr., was born and lived in this southern city most of his life. He died at the Medical University of South Carolina in Charleston of complications from primary amyloidosis with cardiomyopathy, his personal assistant, Maria Simons, said Monday. The blood disease caused the walls of Rigney's heart to thicken.
He wrote a trilogy of historical novels set in Charleston under the pen name Reagan O'Neal in the early 1980s. Then he turned his attention to fantasy and the first volume in his Wheel of Time epic, "The Eye of the World," was published in 1990 under the name Robert Jordan.
Jordan's books tells of Rand al'Thor, who is destined to become the champion who will battle ultimate evil in a mythical land.
Book 11, "Knife of Dreams," came out in 2005; there was also a prequel, "New Spring: The Novel," in 2004. The other titles in the series include "The Great Hunt," "Lord of Chaos" and "The Path of Daggers."
Jordan was working on a 12th volume at the time of his death, Simons said.*
"The younger devotees of the series, who seem to be legion, have a habit of dutifully rereading the complete gospel before each addition. ... (Jordan) creates a universe simple enough to master and then challenges the characters to do the same in meticulously choreographed battles against chaos and dissolution."
In a 2004 online chat on the USA Today Web site, Jordan said he hoped to finish the main "Wheel" series in two more books. "It's not an absolute promise, but I'm very much hoping for it and I think I can do it," he wrote.
Most of the books made The New York Times list of best sellers.
In an interview with The Associated Press in 2003, Jordan discussed having a best seller. The first time it happens "you go out in the middle of the floor and you do a little dance. Then you go someplace booze is being served and buy a drink for everybody in the house.
"You have to have talent to some extent — I certainly hope I have talent — but you have to have luck as well," Jordan said. "Once you get that first shot, that will get you noticed for the rest of your books and that will give the rest of your books a better chance."
He said in the interview that his Southern background came through in his work, even though it is set in a fantasy world.
"What I write is certainly not set in South Carolina, but I have had a number of reviewers comment on the fact that I write with a distinctly Southern voice," he said.
"It goes beyond more than simply where the story is set. I believe it is something we take in in the air and the water. It's a matter of word choices — of the rhythms of sentences and the rhythm of speech in particular."
A graduate of The Citadel, South Carolina's state military college, Rigney worked as a nuclear engineer at the old Charleston Naval Shipyard before taking up writing full time in 1977. He served two tours of duty with the Army in Vietnam. He was decorated several times, including winning the Distinguished Flying Cross and the Bronze Star.
He is survived by his wife, Harriet McDougal Rigney.
*EDIT:
There are indications that his 12th and final volume will be completed from the notes Robert Jordan left behind--prior to his death.
Doing: Writing this blog; surfing the net; working out
Watching: KIRO 7 News
Listening to: Nothing at the moment
Reading: Resistance by J.M. Dillard (ST-TNG)
TOPIC: ROBERT JORDAN DIES AT THE AGE OF 58
This shocked me. I mean, I haven't read the Wheel of Time since 1993. But this bit of news had me stunned.
CHARLESTON, S.C. - Author Robert Jordan, whose "Wheel of Time" series of fantasy novels sold millions of copies, died Sunday of a rare blood disease. He was 58.
Jordan, whose real name was James Oliver Rigney Jr., was born and lived in this southern city most of his life. He died at the Medical University of South Carolina in Charleston of complications from primary amyloidosis with cardiomyopathy, his personal assistant, Maria Simons, said Monday. The blood disease caused the walls of Rigney's heart to thicken.
He wrote a trilogy of historical novels set in Charleston under the pen name Reagan O'Neal in the early 1980s. Then he turned his attention to fantasy and the first volume in his Wheel of Time epic, "The Eye of the World," was published in 1990 under the name Robert Jordan.
Jordan's books tells of Rand al'Thor, who is destined to become the champion who will battle ultimate evil in a mythical land.
Book 11, "Knife of Dreams," came out in 2005; there was also a prequel, "New Spring: The Novel," in 2004. The other titles in the series include "The Great Hunt," "Lord of Chaos" and "The Path of Daggers."
Jordan was working on a 12th volume at the time of his death, Simons said.*
"The younger devotees of the series, who seem to be legion, have a habit of dutifully rereading the complete gospel before each addition. ... (Jordan) creates a universe simple enough to master and then challenges the characters to do the same in meticulously choreographed battles against chaos and dissolution."
In a 2004 online chat on the USA Today Web site, Jordan said he hoped to finish the main "Wheel" series in two more books. "It's not an absolute promise, but I'm very much hoping for it and I think I can do it," he wrote.
Most of the books made The New York Times list of best sellers.
In an interview with The Associated Press in 2003, Jordan discussed having a best seller. The first time it happens "you go out in the middle of the floor and you do a little dance. Then you go someplace booze is being served and buy a drink for everybody in the house.
"You have to have talent to some extent — I certainly hope I have talent — but you have to have luck as well," Jordan said. "Once you get that first shot, that will get you noticed for the rest of your books and that will give the rest of your books a better chance."
He said in the interview that his Southern background came through in his work, even though it is set in a fantasy world.
"What I write is certainly not set in South Carolina, but I have had a number of reviewers comment on the fact that I write with a distinctly Southern voice," he said.
"It goes beyond more than simply where the story is set. I believe it is something we take in in the air and the water. It's a matter of word choices — of the rhythms of sentences and the rhythm of speech in particular."
A graduate of The Citadel, South Carolina's state military college, Rigney worked as a nuclear engineer at the old Charleston Naval Shipyard before taking up writing full time in 1977. He served two tours of duty with the Army in Vietnam. He was decorated several times, including winning the Distinguished Flying Cross and the Bronze Star.
He is survived by his wife, Harriet McDougal Rigney.
*EDIT:
There are indications that his 12th and final volume will be completed from the notes Robert Jordan left behind--prior to his death.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
VACATION OVER--WORK BEGINS ANEW
Status: On vacation (One day left)
Doing: Writing this blog; recovering from being sick.
Watching: Nothing. (Seeing how the Mariners got spanked last night by Tampa Bay. I was passed out yesterday night--so I didn't see the actual end to the game.)
Listening to: Some old Electrobox taped music from C-89.5
Reading: Resistance by J.M. Dillard (ST-TNG)
TOPIC: STARCHILD DUEL AND THE PRICE OF FREEDOM
The week starts anew with a revival of both Starchild Duel and The Price of Freedom.
The plan is to complete the last three chapters to Duel before the final battle between Cara Hastings and Isis McGowan--and go from there.
The intrasystem fight between the two combatants is going to take a more integrated and complex approach.
I could most likely start the fight off by a brief tussle over the Moon before both jump towards Mars via a hyperspace conduit. (These are short jump methods of travel used by the Starchild of Ancient Lore. For long-distances, a hypergate bypass conduit is more favorable.)
I'm still not sure if Talia McGowan is going to want to remain behind. Since Jalen Osoro of Pasik III merged her spirit with the stranded Starchild of Ancient Lore.
I don't think that Tarnek is going to be able to stop her from leaving anyway.
And as soon as Isis gets done playing her role as the 'human ice cube'...?
She's going to have her hands full as it is.
So the novel is sitting at 291,504 words with 144 chapters in play.
As for The Price of Freedom...?
Things couldn't anymore dicier for Kenneth Sparks and Kayla Sorenson.
The shit's flying in the fan as reinforcements from Wynne show up on the heels of an Neos strike force.
Having switched sides, Timothy Caldwell, Kim Sanders, and Anna Ellison join in the fight--and eventually the journey to Jonesboro, Arkansas.
But old scores between them have to be settled first--and that's provided they can survive the Neos as well.
Previously, the 101st Combat Division; 13th Reconnaissance Unit had been partly massacred by another Neos incursion--short of Wynne itself--and at the hands of Kayla herself; when she had been transformed by one of Mother's Seeker units.
The survivors were taken hostage by Susan Meyers people in Wynne and tortured for information and other things--as per Neos sympathizers.
Kayla was left inert and in a stasis lock, while Kenneth Sparks spent 17 days as the female overseer's prisoner and personal sex toy.
This aspect of the storyline took 208 pages to flesh out.
The book so far sits on 174 chapters with 295,656 words.
Doing: Writing this blog; recovering from being sick.
Watching: Nothing. (Seeing how the Mariners got spanked last night by Tampa Bay. I was passed out yesterday night--so I didn't see the actual end to the game.)
Listening to: Some old Electrobox taped music from C-89.5
Reading: Resistance by J.M. Dillard (ST-TNG)
TOPIC: STARCHILD DUEL AND THE PRICE OF FREEDOM
The week starts anew with a revival of both Starchild Duel and The Price of Freedom.
The plan is to complete the last three chapters to Duel before the final battle between Cara Hastings and Isis McGowan--and go from there.
The intrasystem fight between the two combatants is going to take a more integrated and complex approach.
I could most likely start the fight off by a brief tussle over the Moon before both jump towards Mars via a hyperspace conduit. (These are short jump methods of travel used by the Starchild of Ancient Lore. For long-distances, a hypergate bypass conduit is more favorable.)
I'm still not sure if Talia McGowan is going to want to remain behind. Since Jalen Osoro of Pasik III merged her spirit with the stranded Starchild of Ancient Lore.
I don't think that Tarnek is going to be able to stop her from leaving anyway.
And as soon as Isis gets done playing her role as the 'human ice cube'...?
She's going to have her hands full as it is.
So the novel is sitting at 291,504 words with 144 chapters in play.
As for The Price of Freedom...?
Things couldn't anymore dicier for Kenneth Sparks and Kayla Sorenson.
The shit's flying in the fan as reinforcements from Wynne show up on the heels of an Neos strike force.
Having switched sides, Timothy Caldwell, Kim Sanders, and Anna Ellison join in the fight--and eventually the journey to Jonesboro, Arkansas.
But old scores between them have to be settled first--and that's provided they can survive the Neos as well.
Previously, the 101st Combat Division; 13th Reconnaissance Unit had been partly massacred by another Neos incursion--short of Wynne itself--and at the hands of Kayla herself; when she had been transformed by one of Mother's Seeker units.
The survivors were taken hostage by Susan Meyers people in Wynne and tortured for information and other things--as per Neos sympathizers.
Kayla was left inert and in a stasis lock, while Kenneth Sparks spent 17 days as the female overseer's prisoner and personal sex toy.
This aspect of the storyline took 208 pages to flesh out.
The book so far sits on 174 chapters with 295,656 words.
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