It Came From Outer Space…

I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve posted here, while I’ve taken a break from writing on here I’ve still been writing on stories just not the ones that I’ve mentioned. I finally got a good chunk of input on a story I’ve had a vague idea about doing for a while. I’ve tried several attempts at getting these ideas into a more concrete form but the little snippets really haven’t taken form the way I’d like. They’ve always come off corny or cliched. This latest mapping out works a bit better, the snippet that I was writing lost itself a little towards the end as I ran out of inspiration and tried to force things, something I should have known better than to do.

However, I’ve had a few more days to ruminate on things and I have a better idea of how to tackle things now. I know this is all very cryptic but I’m not quite ready to offer snippets of anything until I check and see if this new idea I’ve had actually works. In the mean time I got another fragment of “Too Deep” that I wound up writing out at 2 a.m. it rehashes some things already written and is entirely dialogue between Sam and Brad; but I feel if I continue it on in this way the majority of the dynamic will be written out and then I’ll be able to flesh the descriptions and story around it. I’m feeling that it might be better told from Brad’s point of view, as odd as that might be for me primarily seeing things from Sam’s perspective. I’ve previously been tackling things from third person and I think, even with the majority of the story being Sam’s retelling that it should be as Brad would be transcribing it. He is the interviewer therefore the reader should become him, and while the interactions in third person were leaving the reader more able to see things from Brad’s perspective…I think if it’s going to be an interview it should be done in the Max Brooks vein, where it becomes the reader, as Brad, interviewing Sam rather than the reader as an outsider observing Brad interview Sam.

Even with all these ideas it’ll be a few days before I get any more writing done. I have a lot of things to get cleaned out as I’m going away for part of the weekend. A friend sent me some promotional products about a festival down in Boca which interested me greatly and then said that he and his girlfriend would pay for my tickets and hotel stay as a birthday present if I really wanted to go. So, I’m very excited. It’s a Japanese festival and none of us have been to anything like this before. I’m really looking forward to it but we have to set off early in the morning and so there’s a lot of things I have to do today to get ready. The most urgent of which is clean out the kitchen sink.

I *love* my muse some times /sarc. I was up until about 11 p.m. last night hoping for the writing bean to strike, but it didn’t. I would flux between playing DOA and watching the season finale of Dr. Who, and nothing would come. Any time I got a niggling of an idea and I put whatever I was doing on pause to follow it up then thread would snap and I’d be left zoning out to a blinking cursor.

So, I finally decide about 11 p.m. that I’m going to go to bed early so I can get up first thing in the morning and perhaps exercise outside before it gets too hot. I spend about a half hour talking over something with my room mate and go to the bedroom to sleep. Then I wind up scribbling away in a notebook until 12:30 a.m.

Thank you muse! It better be good is all I can say because it meant that I didn’t wake up until almost 9 a.m. by which point it’s already too hot to be outside for more than a few minutes :p Florida while I’m at it!

I’m thinking of writing in vignettes for a while. I had the idea a while ago as a way to work on stories when I’m having a hard time completing the full length novels; but instead to write short stories with the same characters, which essentially will give me the chapters of a novel in a haphazard manner. Then I can rearrange them into the actual story later on, much the way you take snapshots with your Canon camera and the arrange the photos to make the story the way you want it. I know in our wedding album there are a few shots which are “out of chronological order” because they make the story more dynamic; and some times in stories that’s what you have to do, to tell some of the story with flashbacks after the characters are established.

It’s doubly funny because we were over at a friends house over the weekend and Kore and I were both talking about the writing that we do. Kore’s actually taking several writing workshops in summer school, and I was saying that I’m not having much luck with the whole novel thing at the moment, and she said that she had been meaning to suggest writing short stories for a while to me, and that she was going to do some of that herself, because she knows that she doesn’t have enough time to get something done consistently and I have even less time on a day than she tends to.

So, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m not sure if I’m going to be working on the werewolf story or “Too Deep” for the time being; but I will be doing the little snippets. Right now it should in theory be a little easier to work on the werewolf story because I’m working on a short game based off that “universe” which has things narrowed down a bit better once more; but at the same time vignettes come more easily to the “Too Deep” story because of the way I’m writing it, as an interview.

It’s been a while since I’ve reviewed a book, and this one is a little outside of the scope of books I normally look at. The author, Paul Kraus, was diagnosed with Malignant Mesothelioma in 1997 and was given only a few months to live. After various experiences within and without the medical community he was able to combat the disease and return to a full life. He wrote the book about his experiences with the disease and the various different kinds of treatment that he went through.

Mesothelioma is a very difficult to combat form of cancer, as both kinds attack the protective sac around some of the body’s internal organs, either pleural, around the lungs or peritoneal which attacks the areas around the abdominal cavity. Many mesothelioma patients, and survivors credit this book with giving them invaluable tools to find the best doctors and treatments to help them, including when unfortunately necessary the appropriate Mesothelioma Attorney.

I wish that we’d had a book like this when we found out my mother-in-law was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. We spent great deal of time running into dead ends with treatment possibilities, and facilities that we would hear about that just weren’t feasible for a variety of reasons.

While our situation wasn’t tempered with threats of law suits as many mesothelioma patients are because the only known causes of mesothelioma is asbestos exposure. It makes me wonder about when my grandfather was dying of a mysterious illness that was causing his lungs to fill with fluid, if that was mesothelioma given he worked in the asbestos mines in Asbestos, Canada; but you can go crazy with wondering, and it doesn’t seem like it’ll be a good idea to look into a Mesothelioma Lawyer now.

However, if you are unfortunate enough to find yourself wondering about your own health due to this disease I think you could do far worse than to get yourself a copy of the book, because it sure helps when going down a long road like that one to have a guide.

My room mate and I were discussing certain characteristics of gennies the other day. Gennies is short-hand for genetically engineered humans in the game I was running based on ‘Too Deep’ and ‘Too Deep’ itself. He was asking if one of the characters in the story was in fact a genny, and I admitted that they probably were but would not be aware of it throughout most of the story.

He said he had wondered based on certain descriptions of the character, particularly the joke about them not having hair anywhere except their head and the fact that they’d never use prototype 37c on themselves, and the lack of hangovers they experienced despite the amount of drinking that they did.

I said it makes a lot of other things make sense, but that while they had these genny traits they would have experienced them through their bloodline given they weren’t specifically engineered, they were born, but their family would have been gennies, either one or both parents.

These are those things that characters tell you though. I had started out the story, and the various iterations I had no idea that this character was a genny though the traits were there, always, in his character. I was as much a revelation to me as it will be to him in the story.

I’ve been working on the werewolf story again. I’m sorting out how things are with regards to the werewolves and spirits and ghosts. In my mind spirits mean something different from ghosts though they are similar. In this case I’m speaking of spirits as those spirits which inhabit things like plants, nature spirits, whereas ghosts are the spirits of people who died and have different goals and takes and things having understood the human condition rather than just observing it.

It’s also tricky working out how psychic visions and memories are going to work as far as translating them to text. I mean as far as I’ve experienced psychic phenomena are very hazy. You get very vague impressions and very little in the way of pictures. Mostly just ideas. I’ve experienced a few more detailed dreams. However that doesn’t translate very well to words. It’s hard to engage a reader if you don’t have something to describe clearly for them to really relate to the scene.

With writing about Sam and certain habits I realized that I have to think about the way rehabilitation might work in the future. Sam is an alcoholic by a certain point during the war, and during peace time that isn’t really dealt with until he gets hideously sick which is partially because of the alcohol abuse and partially other factors like weakened immune system.

I have to wonder if rapid detox would be common place, and if it would be a viable thing. Part of what I thought might happen is that while they’re treating him in the hospital they would replace his liver and kidneys and anything else, but then logically if they can just do that, why stop drinking? They could just do it again. He’d have to get to the route of what the alcohol does for him and what could be done instead of just numbing and drinking. I don’t see that happening if he’s just dried out and has his organs replaced. It would be so easy to just go back to filling the void when no work has been done to heal the cause of the abuse.

There’s also the fact that this future has the uber drug “Juice” which I consider to be at least 5x worse than meth in terms of addictive nature, but at least slightly better on your health, given they want their workers to actually be able to work while on it. How do you wean someone off of that? These are all things I’ll have to think about.

“You want me to what?”
House looks at me. He’s chewing on the end of a stylus, leaning slightly sideways no his desk.
“Dan,” he says, “This is Mr G.”
“Of course he is,” I retort.
“You are going to take him to procure some goods at the market.”
I look at Mr. G. in his snazzy clean clothes and his big ol’ pointy nose and nice cut hair, carrying some dumb ass hat, all shiny clean and nice smelling, and I look at House in his black coat and white collar and raggedy hair and back at G. G gives me a slight smile.
“Looking like that?” I ask.
House waits. He does this makes me say things to prove I think and shit. Many reasons why I don’t like him as much as Chambers, but we’re not going there right now.
“I mean, seriously…I walk out in slum market…shit we won’t even GET to slum market if we leave here with him looking like that, may as well just cover him in juice and throw him to the Reapers.”
“Reapers?” G asks, he fiddles with his collar and twirls the hat round in his hands.
House stands up, “Requisition suitable clothing. Talk to Genie if you have to,” he says, and ushers us both out of the door, “Slum market. Supplies. Back,” he says.
“Why don’t you just tell me what you need and I’ll get it and come back,” I tell Mr. G.
“Daniel,” House says, “Mr. G. needs some delicate supplies.”
“What the fuck ever,” I tell him and lead G downstairs.

House’s set up is…well it’s like Zenith to Nadir compared to Chambers in some ways. Everything is neat and orderly and buried and sealed. I can walk four times as far from one side to the other than we could with Chambers, but at the same time it sucks. I keep hoping for some way to get shot of here which doesn’t involve actually getting shot, because twice now and it doesn’t get any more fun.
We go under House’s office and up into the main area, where the infirmary is and the coffee lounge and the Sunday come to meeting house. I about pissed myself when I realized all those damn times they made us tromp over to church to sing praises and make nice we were actually doing all that while Chambers networked with his contacts and traded info back and forth.
Mr. G. to his credit cottons on pretty quick that it’s in his best interests to put on the clothes that I’m offering him. To the opposite of that he is not good to look at without his clothes on. At least I have a new thing to think on when I’m trying to de-horn.
“I’m not sure what House told you about me,” I tell him, “but here’s some rules that you need to remember good, okay?”
He nods.
I turn away toward the clothes racks so I don’t have to look at him, “Okay, good ’cause if you want to come back with your delicate supplies you have to follow to the letter.”
“Okay,” he says, sounding exasperated.
“You stay close. You don’t look around and gawk at everything like you never seen it before. That makes you a mark. You don’t ask for directions. I know anywhere you could possibly want to go. If I make this with my hands,” I sign back and forwards with two fingers, “we’re going that way because there’s at least three people we don’t want to tangle with. I’m not saying I can’t tangle, but can you?”
“I’ve defended myself before,” he says, tying the cord his pants came with.
“Tuck that inside,” I tell him, “Hm, you’ve defended yourself from a gang of twikes hopped up on juice?”
He swallows, “Can’t say I have no.”
“Well, then you move when I say. If we see people wandering they might not be deadly but you can’t tell. We just keep talking normal we don’t move fast. If I say something about ‘rabbits’ or ‘beaks’ then we move. I’ll signal somehow which way or you just follow me best you can. If someone asks you if you’re thirsty before we get to the market ignore ‘em or say ‘no thanks’ don’t make eye contact, if someone asks if you want juice or have juice ignore ‘em we’ll get out fast. If someone comes crying up to you saying they’re hurt or got robbed or mugged or whatever ignore ‘em.”
He looks at me at that point.
“No, I’m serious. If you get mugged over there you don’t get left alive. Reapers don’t play that, they’re not called the Robbers. They either trade you at the mine or they just do you and go. If someone’s pulling that shit they want to do you.”
“Okay,” he says, slowly. He picks up the gun he had taken off while he was changing, “am I allowed to carry this?” he asks.
“So long as you don’t show it off,” I tell him, “People show their guns they’re trying to prove something. Good way to get–”
“I get it.”
“Do you?” I ask him. I look him up and down. He’s getting on, I suppose, probably a bit older than House is or Chambers…was…definitely an Earther from the way he moves, “I mean, I figure you know more on it than someone fresh off the port given you’re in with these guys, but still…you don’t show what you’ve got. I mean, look at me, do you see any tech on me?” I turn around, give him the full view.
“You’ve got something strapped to your arm,” he says, “and you have to have something on your back there.”
I move the jacket slightly down, “Just my hair, but was the arm a guess or do I have to adjust something?” I look down at my wrist.
“It just made sense,” he says.
“I have knives, sure,” I tell him, “and that’s mostly all I carry, shitton of knives and some picks. Shoes, legs, arms, sides, hair,” I point, “but you gotta be careful with that. You got something you could just be giving your opposition something. Wise man taught me there’s all kindsa shit you can throw at someone or do to someone. Mother Nadir is fulla weapons and shit. So, maybe best if we get ‘bushed you duck and cover and I do for them.”
He sighs, “You don’t want to take me.”
“House says you need this stuff. Must be damned important to our plans for mayhem. I’m gonna take you. I just don’t like it.”
“Noted,” he says, checking his gun several times and then hiding it under his shirt and then under the big heavy reinforced jacket we’ve given him, “I’ll do my best to survive.”
“Hm,” I say, “Let’s get going.”

I’m following several writers on twitter thanks to this little hashtag: #amwriting apparently there is also #amwritingparty and #wordcount I’m sure there are others. It’s nifty to be following fellow writers for the encouragement and also the inside jokes. A lot of the the ones I follow are fellow fantasy or sci-fi authors or would-be authors, and there are a lot of in-jokes about sparkling vampires and werewolf gifts and all sorts of things like that.

I’m very interested to track down their books and see what sort of things they write, but as of now I’m working my way through “World War Z” so it’ll be a while before I take on any other books. I can’t keep up with reading more than one at a time any more.

Back on twitter I remember a few years back I was all “twitter is not worth the fuss” but that’s because I was mis-using it. I was updating random things and not looking for connections, or marketing or anything like that. Now I understand more what you should and shouldn’t share, though I’m sure I do still write some inane things at times. I’ve linked it to my facebook account so that I can remember to update both; and I’m more apt to do so on a semi-regular basis. I don’t tweet when I’m out of the house unless something insanely funny happens; mostly because I’m a paranoid sort who doesn’t like the idea of someone realizing I’m out of the house and doing something untoward.

#amwriting is very fun though, there’s a lot of mutual encouragement and commiseration from people I’ve found through it, and we’ll joke back and forth about characters doing certain things, share very small snippets or funny lines, and muse on word usage and definitions. It’s very geeky in a lot of respects; but then using twitter itself is kinda geeky.

I’m not sure where I stand on this issue, really. I’ve been reading a lot about it from a couple of authors, George R. R. Martin on his Not A Blog, and also Diana Gabaldon on her blog: Voyages of Artemis about their dislike of people using their works for fanfiction and their dislike of fanfiction in general.

I remember when I realized I’d actually been writing fanfiction. When I first started writing I flipped between writing about two sisters who had found an otter, this was after I first saw “Ring of Bright Water” and about the Tracy boys from “Thunderbirds” discovering they had a sister called Cassiopeia. I would write this dross in notebooks between classes. It entertained me greatly for a little while. I even branched out trying to speculate on the origin story of Superman and Supergirl. I named them Lyte and Darke–so creative and tried to understand where they came from. Then I actually saw the original Superman movie and the Supergirl movie and well, I was extremely disappointed in the latter, but enthralled by the former.

Then I began finding inspiration for my own stories based on the plot holes of others. There were a great many nitpicks I had with some television shows and stories that I was seeing and I started to write my own stories that were similar. I worked out planets and races and started on time lines. Originally I was writing out plot lines in the fashion of episodes, but then I was twelve. I had a lot to learn about writing. I continued off and on with my own work in between school and things like that. When I got to college I met several people who wrote fanfiction avidly. We would speculate about things that characters would do in certain situations and would write. I do get a charge when someone tells me, “OMG it’s like you envisioned X perfectly,” or something of that nature, but as I’ve gotten older I feel a bit more guilty about the idea of writing in someone else’s universe. I know that I would not be seeking money from it, but I suppose it’s the differing perspective that comes with age, and the fact that I’m much more focused on my own goals of one day getting published and have a better ability to see things in someone else’s shoes. I wonder, how would I feel if someone ‘toyed’ with my characters? Would I be happy? flattered? disgusted?

I admit there are several times I’ve seen descriptions of fanfiction and I’m going “by the Gods that’s vile.” a lot of it is drivel, much as my early ten year old work, whether fanfiction or not was utter drivel. As you get older your skills at many things improve. When I was ten I could barely scramble eggs and now I can prepare a four course meal, provided I have the spoons.

There’ve been times when I have still dabbled in fanfiction as a way to detox and do things mindlessly and I…I just don’t know any more. I recently changed the intro to my fanfiction.net account saying that I felt that I could no longer in good conscience write fanfiction because I feel so guilty.

My commentary sparked an interesting debate within our house because the idea was postulated that once you publish a book it becomes “public domain” and the whole “this is why there are disclaimers on fanfiction” and I’m thinking well that’s true but for the thousand honest fans who just want to express their love by writing about your characters, it just takes one douchebag to in that sense “ruin it” for everyone else; to take what you’ve written and rip it off. While from some of the less flame-tastic comments I’ve been reading on various blog articles speak of the fact that most communities have strict rules about who they can and cannot take fanfiction works about and how many communities will troll, roast and oust those who “break the rules” and demand payment for fanfiction or try to take credit for things they cannot.

I suppose it is personal taste. There’s so much of me in characters I write in a variety of ways that I feel that I would take great exception to finding my characters in the compromising and heinous situations that I’ve seen many characters put in and through. However at the same time it’s finding the healthy balance between being an evil ogre and being a poor sap. I’ve been run over so many times in my life, that I wouldn’t want to shoot myself in the foot in either score.

Still, most of this is purely speculative in the sense that I’m taking liberties even assuming I might ever get published. I may be getting better with writing but I still have a ways to go before any of the nuggets going through my brain become anything resembling publishable; but I don’t want it to be something I think about too little or remember too late. From what I’m reading there are many authors out there who aren’t even aware that there is fan fiction and yet there are others who know of it and condone and encourage it: Joss Whedon and J.K. Rowling are two of those from what I understand. I have to wonder how they make it work.