04 May 2010
Good News
Good news: my semester is over! And that means, happily, that I can get back to working on this sucker! There should be updates soon, I hope.
05 April 2010
A little bit off track--but almost there.
Well, I haven't been blogging quite as much as I'd liked these last few weeks, mostly because I also haven't been writing nearly as much as I'd like. I have gotten a little off track since the beginning of the semester, mostly because I've had a lot of distractions with classwork and writing papers and reading Arthurian legend and composing poems. Secondary to that, I started seeing someone a few months ago and that has also eaten up some time, although it's time very happily spent. And tertiary, I'm in a play that is going up next week, so rehearsal time is eating up even more time I could otherwise spend writing. I thought that I would have plenty of time this semester to write, but because most of my brain power has gone toward working on all of those things, I haven't had much juice left over to do any writing with. It's hard to concentrate on writing when I have an essay due at the end of the week. I've done a little here and there, and the other night I got really close to finishing up a chapter, but on the whole, I haven't been as consistent or as productive as I wanted. And that bugs me. Mainly because I promised chapters to people and I haven't been able to deliver.
But. I am happy to report that I only have 4 weeks of school left, and starting in early May I will have (hopefully, unless I get a job between now and then) much, much more time to devote to writing, and I plan on doing just that. I plan on setting up shop at the Starbucks down the street in the evenings and cranking out a lot of work. Coincidentally, sci-fi author Connie Willis (http://www.sftv.org/cw/) comes to that same store and works a lot on her books, and I was introduced to her recently by my boyfriend, who is a barista there. So that could end up being really helpful if I ever get to talk to her about the writing process or the genre on the whole, things like that. It's always good to have connections.
So in short...I don't know if I'll have the book done by June 1. My gut tells me no, but I could be totally wrong--I could hit the ground running as soon as school is over and crank everything out really fast. I have nearly the first half finished, and the end is almost written, it's just that pesky middle section that needs to be polished off. I would love to have it completed by June 1, but I'm totally okay with pushing that back a little if I need to. The deadline that is REALLY important to me is getting manuscripts off to publishers before Christmas, and at this point I'm not worried about that.
Hopefully there will be more to come in about a month. Till then.
But. I am happy to report that I only have 4 weeks of school left, and starting in early May I will have (hopefully, unless I get a job between now and then) much, much more time to devote to writing, and I plan on doing just that. I plan on setting up shop at the Starbucks down the street in the evenings and cranking out a lot of work. Coincidentally, sci-fi author Connie Willis (http://www.sftv.org/cw/) comes to that same store and works a lot on her books, and I was introduced to her recently by my boyfriend, who is a barista there. So that could end up being really helpful if I ever get to talk to her about the writing process or the genre on the whole, things like that. It's always good to have connections.
So in short...I don't know if I'll have the book done by June 1. My gut tells me no, but I could be totally wrong--I could hit the ground running as soon as school is over and crank everything out really fast. I have nearly the first half finished, and the end is almost written, it's just that pesky middle section that needs to be polished off. I would love to have it completed by June 1, but I'm totally okay with pushing that back a little if I need to. The deadline that is REALLY important to me is getting manuscripts off to publishers before Christmas, and at this point I'm not worried about that.
Hopefully there will be more to come in about a month. Till then.
20 February 2010
Working
Busy busy, working up a storm...this is about what it looks like when I write. Thank goodness for Windows 7, I seriously think the snap feature is genius and really helpful. On the right is my "work-in-progress" and on the left usually is the original 3rd-person narrative that I work out of as I transcribe, or in today's case, a piece that I had already written a few weeks ago that I'm about to fit into the new chapter.
17 February 2010
Progress Update
The progress:
17 February 2010
Chapters completed: 4
Pages written: 36
Words written: 22,766
Days remaining: 103
17 February 2010
Chapters completed: 4
Pages written: 36
Words written: 22,766
Days remaining: 103
03 February 2010
Progress Update 2/3
The progress:
3 February 2010
Chapters completed: 3
Pages written: 28
Words written: 17,758
Days remaining: 117
3 February 2010
Chapters completed: 3
Pages written: 28
Words written: 17,758
Days remaining: 117
24 January 2010
Short spoiler
What kind of writer would I be if I didn't post any spoilers from time to time? I haven't completed a new chapter this week, but I have been working on other things that are out of order--this being one of them. Enjoy, this won't stay up for very long.
---
The noise that splits the air is deafening; easily the loudest sound I have ever heard in my life. It’s so loud, in fact, that the vibration against the floor buckles my knees and sends me straight to my knees. Despite my ears ringing, I can hear Jirel make a strange noise behind me—like he tried to yell and physically couldn’t. I flip over and try to figure out what the fuck is going on. And I realize what is making Jirel gasp for air.
It’s one of those moments when life gets so weird you’re pretty damn sure you have to be dreaming or you’re seriously fucked in the head.
Yep, definitely one of those moments. And I don’t know which it is.
It takes me a moment to realize that the shrill sound that I think is a fire alarm going off is actually me. The horrified sound is me, screaming like I had no idea I could scream. I think I might be trying to form some kind of incredulous obscenity, but honestly, I’ve lost the capability for most coherent thought. This is all due to the thing in front of me.
I don’t know what the hell it is—but I know it’s big and black and it’s definitely some kind of cat, like a panther, but even bigger. It takes up the entire corner of the room, engulfing the man with the gun I had just been staring at. A panther would be all right—strange as hell, but all right. But I have never seen a panther with six legs and tentacles whipping out from its shoulders.
Dear self: if you are dreaming, I would sure as hell appreciate if it you would wake up right now.
I feel Jirel grab the back of my coat roughly and yank me backwards. I don’t quite get back to my feet, but I roll into my gun and pick it up. As soon as I sit up again and level the pistol toward the thing, I hear the distinct pop of gunfire, and it’s not coming from me.
I get off two shots before I realize that the cat is gone. I don’t think I saw it disappear mostly because I am suddenly lying on my side, reeling from the sudden feeling of having been decked by someone’s fist, hard. I realize I’m being pressed to the ground by Jirel who is leaning over me and—what?—has my gun in his hand, and the agent that disappeared momentarily behind the giant cat is now slumped against the far wall, a splatter of blood coating the wall behind him. My ears are ringing and I feel weirdly disconnected from my body.
I note all of these things before I note the blood all over the floor under me. My heart starts fluttering wildly, panicking. I go to move my arm to lean back and figure out where all the blood is coming from, but I can’t.
And then the pain hits.
This must have taken only a few seconds, all this realization, because suddenly Jirel rolls me onto my back and kneels down next to me. He is gray in the face and his hands are shaking as he fumbles to peel my coat off.
Jesus Christ that hurt. My arm feels like it is on fire. Suddenly it all connects--the sound of gunfire, feeling like someone punched me, the disconnection.
“Fucker shot me!”
“I know,” Jirel says lowly as he tosses my coat to the side. He picks up my arm at the elbow, and the pain that shoots up my shoulder and into my neck is unbelievable. I squirm involuntarily, reaching over with my other arm to grab his hand.
“That fucking hurts!”
He leans down to look closer. “It went all the way through,” I hear him whisper.
I roll my head to the side to look. Under the blood that is slick and pooling over my upper arm, I can see a distinct bullet hole. I have to look away again, suddenly feeling like I’m going to puke.
“Please don’t throw up,” Jirel says to me in a harried tone. I’m not sure if I can honor that request at the moment. He presses down on my arm, ostensibly to stem the blood.
I feel a chill and I wish he hadn't taken my coat off, because now I'm freezing. “Fuck…”
When I turn my head the other way, I see Mara, backed into the corner. I almost forgot she was there. There is a distinct look of fear on her face.
Jirel looks up at her. “Get me a towel or something.” She stands there like she’s fucking mute. “Hey! Get me a goddamn towel!”
She jerks away from the wall, disappearing down the hallway.
Jirel leaves one hand on my arm and wipes the other on his pants, then reaches into his back pocket to retrieve his cell.
“Hang on, babe.”
Oh for fuck’s sake, I’m not dying. It just hurts like hell. I roll my head and look across the room at the dead agent. My head is still reeling from having just witnessed what I did—what the hell was that cat thing? Was it the agent? Couldn’t have been.
“Where’d the other one go?”
“I don’t know.” His voice is terse and I can hear his worry: now the other one is out there. He flips open his phone and I hear him dial three numbers.
Mara returns as he props the phone in the crook of his neck. He looks up at her and reaches out for the towel; she stops short of me and tosses it to him, as if afraid to get closer to me. She backs away quickly. Jirel multitasks, wrapping the towel around my arm as he listens for the operator to pick up. I can hear the cell ringing.
Someone picks up.
“There’s been a shooting. One injury and one fatality.”
I close my eyes. The pain in my arm is like a hot iron being twisted against my bone. I hear Jirel giving the address to the apartment. My heart is still fluttering madly, and for a second I can just imagine its frantic pulsing, pumping out all of my blood onto the floor through the holes in my arm. The thought turns my stomach and makes me gag. Jirel jumps. I turn my head to the other side, fighting the urge to be sick. I can feel the bile right at the back of my throat.
Jesus I feel horrible.
When the nausea passes I open my eyes again and pull in a few deep breaths.
Jirel has hung up the phone with 911 and has paused in the middle of dialing another number, looking down at me with concern.
“Gonna be okay?”
I know he’s only asking because he doesn’t want me to puke on him. He’s more calm about a bullet hole in my arm than the possibility of me throwing up. I nod my head and look up at him. He drags in a deep breath and resumes dialing the phone.
“Who’re you calling now?”
“Xander.”
He props the phone against his shoulder again, and looks across the room toward Mara.
“Are you okay?”
I glance over; she nods. Jirel readjusts his position next to me, still holding onto my arm. The towel is already almost soaked.
“Answer the phone…”
I vaguely remember that it’s after two in the morning.
Finally, the ringing ceases and I hear Xander’s snappish voice on the other end. Jirel shakes his head.
“I know what goddamn time it is, shut up. You have to get over here, Vira’s been shot.” I can practically hear Xander’s stunned response on the other end. “Mara’s apartment. There were two guys here waiting for us. We killed one of them and the other’s gone. I’ve already called paramedics and I’m going to get Mara to the safe house, but I need you to do some damage control before this gets out.” He pauses. “I don’t know where the other one went, it was a little chaotic in here for a few seconds.”
That’s putting it lightly.
---
The noise that splits the air is deafening; easily the loudest sound I have ever heard in my life. It’s so loud, in fact, that the vibration against the floor buckles my knees and sends me straight to my knees. Despite my ears ringing, I can hear Jirel make a strange noise behind me—like he tried to yell and physically couldn’t. I flip over and try to figure out what the fuck is going on. And I realize what is making Jirel gasp for air.
It’s one of those moments when life gets so weird you’re pretty damn sure you have to be dreaming or you’re seriously fucked in the head.
Yep, definitely one of those moments. And I don’t know which it is.
It takes me a moment to realize that the shrill sound that I think is a fire alarm going off is actually me. The horrified sound is me, screaming like I had no idea I could scream. I think I might be trying to form some kind of incredulous obscenity, but honestly, I’ve lost the capability for most coherent thought. This is all due to the thing in front of me.
I don’t know what the hell it is—but I know it’s big and black and it’s definitely some kind of cat, like a panther, but even bigger. It takes up the entire corner of the room, engulfing the man with the gun I had just been staring at. A panther would be all right—strange as hell, but all right. But I have never seen a panther with six legs and tentacles whipping out from its shoulders.
Dear self: if you are dreaming, I would sure as hell appreciate if it you would wake up right now.
I feel Jirel grab the back of my coat roughly and yank me backwards. I don’t quite get back to my feet, but I roll into my gun and pick it up. As soon as I sit up again and level the pistol toward the thing, I hear the distinct pop of gunfire, and it’s not coming from me.
I get off two shots before I realize that the cat is gone. I don’t think I saw it disappear mostly because I am suddenly lying on my side, reeling from the sudden feeling of having been decked by someone’s fist, hard. I realize I’m being pressed to the ground by Jirel who is leaning over me and—what?—has my gun in his hand, and the agent that disappeared momentarily behind the giant cat is now slumped against the far wall, a splatter of blood coating the wall behind him. My ears are ringing and I feel weirdly disconnected from my body.
I note all of these things before I note the blood all over the floor under me. My heart starts fluttering wildly, panicking. I go to move my arm to lean back and figure out where all the blood is coming from, but I can’t.
And then the pain hits.
This must have taken only a few seconds, all this realization, because suddenly Jirel rolls me onto my back and kneels down next to me. He is gray in the face and his hands are shaking as he fumbles to peel my coat off.
Jesus Christ that hurt. My arm feels like it is on fire. Suddenly it all connects--the sound of gunfire, feeling like someone punched me, the disconnection.
“Fucker shot me!”
“I know,” Jirel says lowly as he tosses my coat to the side. He picks up my arm at the elbow, and the pain that shoots up my shoulder and into my neck is unbelievable. I squirm involuntarily, reaching over with my other arm to grab his hand.
“That fucking hurts!”
He leans down to look closer. “It went all the way through,” I hear him whisper.
I roll my head to the side to look. Under the blood that is slick and pooling over my upper arm, I can see a distinct bullet hole. I have to look away again, suddenly feeling like I’m going to puke.
“Please don’t throw up,” Jirel says to me in a harried tone. I’m not sure if I can honor that request at the moment. He presses down on my arm, ostensibly to stem the blood.
I feel a chill and I wish he hadn't taken my coat off, because now I'm freezing. “Fuck…”
When I turn my head the other way, I see Mara, backed into the corner. I almost forgot she was there. There is a distinct look of fear on her face.
Jirel looks up at her. “Get me a towel or something.” She stands there like she’s fucking mute. “Hey! Get me a goddamn towel!”
She jerks away from the wall, disappearing down the hallway.
Jirel leaves one hand on my arm and wipes the other on his pants, then reaches into his back pocket to retrieve his cell.
“Hang on, babe.”
Oh for fuck’s sake, I’m not dying. It just hurts like hell. I roll my head and look across the room at the dead agent. My head is still reeling from having just witnessed what I did—what the hell was that cat thing? Was it the agent? Couldn’t have been.
“Where’d the other one go?”
“I don’t know.” His voice is terse and I can hear his worry: now the other one is out there. He flips open his phone and I hear him dial three numbers.
Mara returns as he props the phone in the crook of his neck. He looks up at her and reaches out for the towel; she stops short of me and tosses it to him, as if afraid to get closer to me. She backs away quickly. Jirel multitasks, wrapping the towel around my arm as he listens for the operator to pick up. I can hear the cell ringing.
Someone picks up.
“There’s been a shooting. One injury and one fatality.”
I close my eyes. The pain in my arm is like a hot iron being twisted against my bone. I hear Jirel giving the address to the apartment. My heart is still fluttering madly, and for a second I can just imagine its frantic pulsing, pumping out all of my blood onto the floor through the holes in my arm. The thought turns my stomach and makes me gag. Jirel jumps. I turn my head to the other side, fighting the urge to be sick. I can feel the bile right at the back of my throat.
Jesus I feel horrible.
When the nausea passes I open my eyes again and pull in a few deep breaths.
Jirel has hung up the phone with 911 and has paused in the middle of dialing another number, looking down at me with concern.
“Gonna be okay?”
I know he’s only asking because he doesn’t want me to puke on him. He’s more calm about a bullet hole in my arm than the possibility of me throwing up. I nod my head and look up at him. He drags in a deep breath and resumes dialing the phone.
“Who’re you calling now?”
“Xander.”
He props the phone against his shoulder again, and looks across the room toward Mara.
“Are you okay?”
I glance over; she nods. Jirel readjusts his position next to me, still holding onto my arm. The towel is already almost soaked.
“Answer the phone…”
I vaguely remember that it’s after two in the morning.
Finally, the ringing ceases and I hear Xander’s snappish voice on the other end. Jirel shakes his head.
“I know what goddamn time it is, shut up. You have to get over here, Vira’s been shot.” I can practically hear Xander’s stunned response on the other end. “Mara’s apartment. There were two guys here waiting for us. We killed one of them and the other’s gone. I’ve already called paramedics and I’m going to get Mara to the safe house, but I need you to do some damage control before this gets out.” He pauses. “I don’t know where the other one went, it was a little chaotic in here for a few seconds.”
That’s putting it lightly.
19 January 2010
Music!
The playlist I have for the project...not necessarily a listening playlist, but what I would ideally put in the movie should one ever be made. I know, I know, lofty goal, but I always think of the project when I play these songs. They're more or less in order of the story. The Imogen Heap song would be used for the movie trailer. ;)
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