Ohmigod this week has just kicked my ass. Every time I go home I fall asleep on the sofa and end up taking an hour to two hour nap. Which means I take that much longer to properly fall asleep later. But, on the plus side, I broke 50,000 words with Morgan! Which means I’ve hit the halfway point in the story (I’ll update the word count bars later).

This is the first time I’ve successfully written 50k words outside of Nanowrimo month and I view this as a good sign. Could it be that I’m learning, growing, and becoming more of a successful writer?

One major thing I finally finished was the first, big reveal of the book: Morgan’s past. I don’t know if I like how the reveal came around, but that’s something that can be looked at during revision. Anyway, it wouldn’t be surprising that, since this is the first time Morgan’s truthfully talked about her past in years, that she begins having nightmares again. Here’s one that I’m not quite sure I like:

“Please kid, don’t look at me,” Morgan said, cocking her revolver. It was a simple Colt and it only had one bullet left, yet that bullet already had this young boy’s name on it. “I’m sorry, kid, I really am. You haven’t done anything, I know. Just close your eyes, okay? Just close your eyes.”

Morgan’s breath hitched in a sob and she blinked back tears as she watched the young boy hesitate and then close his eyes. He was a rather brave kid; no tears, no begging, just a solemn expression that, in a way, was worse to witness. The revolver was shaking and Morgan took a deep breath.

“Kid,” she said, “I know you’re gonna be sore over this, and I — well, all I can say is I’m sorry. Someone’s pulling my strings, too.”

Suddenly, the young boy opened his eyes and lunged at her, screaming in anger, tackling her and causing her to fall back onto the floor. The gun fell from her hand and the kid straddled her stomach. His face was a mask of animalistic anger; his lips were drawn back in a sneer and his eyes flashed as he pushed his fingers against her chest, right above her heart. While his hands were curled into claws, they pushed against the skin until she felt it dent inward. Morgan’s head fell back and she stared up at the dark ceiling as the young boy dug into her flesh with his fingers. She felt the pain, but instead of being something horrific, it was liberating — it was right. She should suffer. She heard the sound of her flesh ripping open under the boy’s fingers and felt hot blood pool and flow down her body. She gave a soft sigh, as if she had been holding a breath, and smiled.

While this dream sequence shows things I really wanted to show: the guilt, the perverse yet hidden desire Morgan has for a painful justice, and the mixing of what really happened and what was just a dream built on intense remorse. But, at the end what I really wanted to write was the kid saying, “Kali-ma! Kali-ma!” while digging his fingers into her chest, because come on, it was ripe for reference, even though I don’t agree in perpetuating the myth of a blood-thirsty, cannibalistic cult to Kali. And, hey, I’d already done a Mary Poppins and a Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious reference. Yet, in the end, I resisted sweet, sweet temptation.

10:16 pm | Category: Morgan, Writing | | No Comments

Then again, I think English has spoiled me, which has been set up to be ridiculously easy sometimes it borders on the ridiculously difficult — like it goes too far in one direction.

Why am I checking out Russian, you ask? Because a character in “Morgan” is Russian, and, surprisingly, known only as “the Russian.” I don’t think I’ll tell his name — yet. He’s actually what became of another character that I had really liked named (dependent on the draft I was working on): Jonas, Lucas, or Jack. He was meant to be one of the few people that could scare Morgan and, in fact, in the old draft she comments:

Jack “Reaper” Hutton, known in the Underground as the most efficient and deadly killer-for-hire in the civilized world. Morgan, who was one of the few privy to his kill count, always felt her blood running cold when she thought of him. He looked normal enough — perhaps even bordering on the mundane and easily forgettable, the kind of guy the neighbors would probably describe as “nice and quiet” — but Morgan knew if there was one person who could bring her down, it was Jack. At one time, she had been sure that she’d take her last breath while looking into his cold eyes.*

Now parts of Jack have been chopped up and mushed into the Russian character, who has no history with Morgan. I doubt I’ll add Jack “Reaper” Hutton, but who knows? Maybe if this becomes a series (who am I kidding? I already know what I’d like a 2nd book to deal with) there’ll be a place for ol’ Jack.

But, damn, looking up Russian words for the Russian to say is difficult! Especially since the Russian language has a totally different alphabet and there seems to be only a very few Russian dictionaries online that will show the Russian word in the English alphabet (or, as I like to call it, “Runglish” ). I did, however, have much more success finding a website that listed Russian swear words. Go figure.

*Yeah, it’s rough. But that’s why it was a draft. And one that was ultimately completely rewritten, anyway.

10:07 pm | Category: Morgan, Writing | | No Comments

It’s been a while since I posted anything writing-related because, well, I haven’t been having much success in that department. Oh yes, I’ve been spending more time than ever on the computer with a word processor open — to the point where sometimes I strain my eyes and get a headache — but I have written barely 8,000 words since the beginning of this month. Pretty flimsy for me, especially since last month I actually did so well and wrote nearly 20,000 words on “Tayce” in two weeks!

But, I guess that’s the way it is. I guess I burnt myself out for a little while. Ironically, I don’t have an empty plate. I’ve got about 30 pages in “Tayce” I’m editing right now simply because I need to change them. After writing it down, I realized that the setting needed to be changed. I would just continue and worry about editing so deeply later, but the 30 pages include stuff that’s going to be critiqued soon so I will have to change it. I also am critiquing some stuff for John; he’s been working on a strategy game for a while now. He asked me to critique the rules, do some grammar checks, and see what I think — about a month ago. I feel bad for putting it off but the truth is it takes a lot of energy and time to critique his writing.

The big news on “Tayce” is that I figured out the theme. It has to do with memories and the past, two things that seem to rule Tayce’s life. I also realized that the antagonist is fixated on the same two things as well, except her response to both her memories and her past is a little more…violent. It was pointed out to me by the critique group that I have a lot of flashbacks in “Tayce” and as I was reading it all over I realized that, yes, I do. I may do something with the flashbacks if the pace really is affected — I’ve long ago figured out that if I get into heavy editing with anything I will never finish. Little bit here and there is OK — but look, I’m trying to fix 30 pages and it’s slowing me down! If the pace is affected then I will probably cut them or try to write them differently. I already know that one flashback is out the window. It was useless when I wrote it, I knew that but I wrote it anyway. Meh, I could have said the same thing in a paragraph of dialog. Anyway, it was that comment that made me realize the theme. When looking it over I thought, Wow, everyone seems to be stuck on their past. Tayce can’t really move on past her father’s death. She has no close friends besides Cotter, and she kind of secludes herself in a house full of her father’s stuff. I realized that this was something she was going to have to overcome and that the “bad guy” was perfect for it. Wow, I had a theme all along and I didn’t even know it!

P.S.
Wordpress needs to be updated again! And I just updated it to the new script like a month ago. I’m not sure I can keep up with this.

3:21 pm | Category: Tayce, Writing | | 1 Comment

I haven’t had any time to write in the past week and a half, which turned out to be kind of bad because I ended “Tayce” on a place that later I decided to completely redo. I had forgotten this fact over the drama of the July 4th weekend (no, I don’t really want to talk about it right now) and when I opened the word document today I looked at it and went, “Oh.” And then I didn’t want to deal with rewriting about 10 pages so I just closed it and opened “Morgan.”

Yup, there’s always tomorrow.

3:07 pm | Category: Tayce, Writing | | No Comments

To clarify, I don’t usually write this late at night. In truth, it screws up my internal clock, but I was on a roll and I didn’t want to stop. So I kept going and when I looked up it was 2am. I think I’m going to sleep after writing this (which will be posted in the morning). I think caffeine will definitely be in order in the morning.

1. Things get a little surreal around 1:30am, and I’m not entirely sure if what I’m writing will be any good.

2. Writing late turns off some of my “crap-o-tectors” which is nice in one way, I’m less judgmental about my writing. I suppose it’ll be equal to having a few drinks before sitting down at the keyboard — not that I ever have done that.

3. The plinky violin noises that the X-Files use during suspenseful parts is rather creepy.

4. I forgot to pick up my peppermint tea bags. They help settle my stomach and my mind. Personally, I think Stash has the best peppermint tea. (Yes, these are the random thoughts that fly through my head)

5. I think by tonight or tomorrow the probably-for-a-joke rave scene will be written (”because every sci-fi/fantasy seems to have a rave scene” ).

6. I wonder if that girl in the Applebee’s commercial realized when she did the peace sign with the back of her fingers towards the camera, in England that’s considered flipping a person off.

7. Does Scully ever get tired of saying the same logical babble and yet Mulder always seems right? Does she ever listen to herself and say, “You know what, never mind. I know how this will turn out. You’ll say some really weird shit and I’ll say ‘yeah right, that’s some really weird shit.’ And in the end you’ll be right anyway. So let’s just go with your crazy theory from the get-go.”?

8. Tayce’s full name, Taycera, sounds like something from a song. “Taycera cera, whatever will be will be…”

9. Fangbanger is a slang word already. As is Sporn, and Spore has only been out for — what, a few weeks? People are just wrong.

10. How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

…Yeah, I ran out of steam for the last one. I’m off to bed.

9:22 am | Category: Journal, Writing | | No Comments

I’ve been trying to keep a log of how much writing I am doing this summer. I wondered, “If given the time, without a million other things pressing on my mind, would I write? And how much would I write?” I made a pretty fancy Excel spreadsheet (because I’m a geek like that) and yesterday I realized I’m just over 20k this month. I think, besides November, this is the first time I’ve written so much in a month. If this continues, I may actually finish “Tayce” by the end of this summer. In which case would begin the bear that is editing (and I have a lot of editing to do for Tayce).

I’ve been writing the novel with the mindset of Nanowrimo — don’t think about it, edit later, just get it out. So I write as the story comes to me, keeping my editing to a minimum until I finish it and can look at the story from beginning to end and see what needs to be tweaked, changed, redone, and/or undone. When I took this philosophy, my output increased nearly 3x. And I can edit in the good stuff and edit out the bad. But, I also feel like I’m getting somewhere.

6:21 pm | Category: Writing | | No Comments

I am currently typing this at Crave, the local coffee shop. I needed a change of scenery; there’s only so many days you can stay at home because the damn rental car took up your gas allowance and you are currently trying to make a quarter tank last until (at the earliest) Saturday morning. Ah, good times. Luckily Crave is near-literally across from where John works so I stopped in for a bagel and maybe a good few hours of writing. Who knows? Maybe I’ll just shift from here, B&N, and/or Borders today and try to get a significant amount of my writing done today. Who knows? If I’m diligent, I may even get to the death scene I’ve been planning since I first began “Tayce.”

Speaking of “Tayce,” I was re-reading the first 15 pages or so to get my creative juices flowing (sometimes I do a little exercise and sometimes I just re-read an old part I’ve written so I can get into the right mind frame again) and I realized…it’s not half-bad. In fact, dare I say it, it’s pretty good. I like the way I began the novel, especially:

The moon was only a small slice, a poor excuse for a “C.” It threw only a little light, enough for Tayce to see just ahead of her and make sure she didn’t fall into any open graves.

Not bad; a good hook mentioning open graves. The metaphor for the moon is take-it or leave-it, but it’s a little more unique than the usual “fingernail” moon, so I give myself an extra half cookie.

Am I tooting my own horn, you ask? Yes I am, because damn it, every once in a while it’s nice to feel one’s writing is worthwhile instead of the usual “ohmigod this is a pile of drivel why am I hoping and working and sweating blood for this piece of junk that probably will end up in a slush pile somewhere?” Take the triumphs were you can, I say! So yes, I shall compliment myself. Toot toot!

9:02 am | Category: Tayce, Writing | | No Comments

Wow, there’s a Marvel mutant named Piecemeal, which sounds like a name you’re more likely to give a dog than your alter-persona. Plus, his super power seems to be a big stretch considering what piecemeal means.

This is what I get for using my Wikipedia search by mistake instead of my Dictionary.com one.

———

On another semi-related note, I’ve written something like 4,500 words since Sunday — not bad, if I do say so myself. It means that I’m actually keeping with my “try for at least 1,000 words a day” goal (although my summer reading is suffering as a result). However, I’m wondering if I’m writing anything good, per se. In a way I wish I was done with “Tayce” and was giving it its first “official” edit. I can never see the whole picture of a story until I have it printed out and in front of me, with a red pen in my hand.

I’ve been giggling over some old MSTings (Oscar, anyone?) and really bad fanfiction because, well, it’s one way to let your brain cool down after agonizing over your writing and your graduate application package (gods help me) and there’s always the worry of bad osmosis.

Of course, thinking about bad writing makes me wonder if my writing is bad and if I’m just doing the literary equivalent of vomiting onto the page (or, in its current form, screen). I’ve also been worrying that Tayce has too much “down time” in between its action scenes, but again, this may be because I have yet to see the whole picture of the story. And then I slowly spiral into an emo-whining-writer who can’t stand to look at the computer screen lest the literary equivalent of the Raven flies out and says to me “Nevermore.” Eventually, though, one must bitch-slap themselves back into the present and continue with work. Yeah, get going me, times a-wastin’.

2:46 pm | Category: Writing | | No Comments

Well folks, this may be the end for me. They’re beating down the door. John’s already been bitten. I’ve only got two shotgun shells left and the machete. They’re about to break down the door as I furiously type this last message. Whoever finds this…don’t take my stuff.

….
….

The pounding has stopped. Could it be? Could I be saved? I’m crawling over to the window, I’ll keep the laptop close.

Yes, the zombies have stopped! They’re gathering around the apartment. I can see them gathering in the parking lot and beyond. There’s hundreds of them, no doubt thousands, maybe even millions! Zombies everywhere, for as far as the eye can see! They are lined up, about arm length from each other. What are they doing?

They’re dancing! It takes me a minute and then I recognize it. It’s Thriller!

The zombies shuffle and dance quite elegantly. They contort and sway perhaps on par with the legendary Michael Jackson himself. I am watching this in disbelief, how can this be? Was the zombie apocalypse purely so the zombies could make the biggest flash mob ever?

I watch and wait and just as my computer clock hits twelve midnight, the zombies finish the song, fidget a little as if waiting for applause that doesn’t come, and then begin to shuffle away into the night. A moment later the door opens and John walks in, once again human and healthy. He looks at me, with my mouth hanging open and my eyes wide with surprise, and says, “Oh, hey. Did I eat today? I feel really bloated. Ugh. I’m going to bed.”

Happy Blog Like It’s the End of the World Day, everyone!
(By the way, if you’re just arriving, this is the end of the story. Read the whole thing here starting at the bottom)

11:59 pm | Category: Writing, Zombies | | No Comments

I had to run over a few zombies getting to Fry’s. Nothing too bad, they seem to avoid the tarmac, probably because it burns their feet. At Fry’s, I thought a zombie was at the diary area, blocking the milk, and I touched the machete’s hilt, ready just in case…but it turned out to be an old lady who couldn’t seem to decide between 1% or 2%. She seemed either oblivious to the zombie threat or immune.

Most of the zombies congregated around the Starbucks coffee bags. I got an idea and while I ran past I grabbed a whole armful. The zombies didn’t even blink. They seemed to be trying to make their stubby, bony fingers work and open the bags. When I got to the parking lot, it was a different story. There were nearly four dozen zombies slowly shambling their way towards the sliding doors!

I saw my chance, an opening that would get me to my car and I ran. I tossed the bags of Starbucks coffee behind me and the zombies went right for it, ignoring me and allowing for my escape. I tossed the milk inside and slid into the driver’s seat and skidded out of the parking lot. That was a close one!

Now back in the safety of the apartment I watch the zombies from the window again. They seem to be attracted to movement — like a T-rex — and smell. Since they can’t seem to smell me in the apartment (I made sure to lock all the windows and doors) they seem oblivious to my presence. I try to stay perfectly still when I watch them. There was one close call when a zombie appeared and scared me. I jumped, he noticed, I tossed out the last of my coffee and while it isn’t Starbucks, it was enough for make him pause. These zombies seem to like coffee and brains, interesting.

Right now, I’m watching a zombie munch on a kid’s arm and stop when the kid turns into a zombie, himself. Well, the kid shouldn’t've cut in the line for the slide, zombies don’t take kindly to people who cut in line.

More later, as this zombie apocalypse continues.

7:28 pm | Category: Writing, Zombies | | No Comments

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