"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

When there's nothing left to burn

Needed to write something other than my novel for a bit. Maybe it will get me going again. So for now, I'll partake in another edition of Three Word Wednesday - impetus, solace and vindication.

Also, a bit of shameless promotion - 50 to 1 is looking for submissions, so send something in! Have a look at the guidelines and see if you've got what it takes to pack a story's worth of impact into one little tale.

Our impetus
has carried us forward,
hasn't it?
How else
would you categorize
our newfound lust
for microchips?
When at last
we've climbed
the impossible mountain
to stand at the frozen edge,
we'll mouth a question
to the wilderness.
"Your smartphone
is a nuclear bomb,"
it tells us.
"Destructive range:
ten miles."
We'll smile,
like this truth
has bestowed upon us
some kind of vindication.
In our solace we'll know:
we must set ourselves aflame.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Bon Iver, Re: Stacks

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

NaNoWriMo begins!

Thanks to the miracle of Twitter, I discovered that November is National Novel Writing Month, and an organization called the Office of Letters and Light brings writers together to write 50,000-word novels in a month. So, being the glutton for punishment that I apparently am, I decided, "Yeah, why the hell not?" So here you will find my first bits of writing for NaNoWriMo 2011, started just 15 minutes ago:

This is the beginning of my new novel, Seize.


The first thing she noticed was how quiet it had become. Highways can be so loud - one of the reasons she was glad her husband's car had noise cancellation - but right now, it was a vacuum. She turned her head, noticed how slowly it moved. Noticed the scarring on the windshield, blossoming like a horrible, prickly flower.

Next she noticed the low, humming scream. She wasn't sure where it was coming from. Was it her husband? One of her daughters? Was it her? It seemed to be coming from everywhere, rising like someone was pulling it out from under the water, a terrified child after its first foray into the pool.

Finally she heard it all - sounds came crashing in from everywhere, ripping her attention span to pieces as she tried desperately to focus on something, anything to grab hold of and stop the spinning. Why was she spinning? Her head thrashed in wild circles, forward, backward, around to the right halfway before looping violently back into the headrest. Crystalline dust filled the air - she could feel it puncturing her skin as it blew through the interior of the car, ignoring all the expensive safety features. She tried to find her husband, her daughters, but the force of whatever misspent momentum was carrying the vehicle would not let her. For the longest part of that moment, it pried her eyes outward and glued them to the windshield.

The ruined glass blew apart, and the whole car seemed to tilt forward onto its nose - but it did so violently, in a sudden, crunching screech, and she felt gravity start to fail. Again her focus failed her. Nothing to grab hold of. Nothing to keep her there. Why was she flying?

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
The Tallest Man on Earth, Troubles Will Be Gone