Friday, November 30, 2012
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
NaNo Interview by Donna McNicol
A fellow #NaNoer, Donna McNicol, has been doing an interview series all this month of NaNo participants. Today was my day. Check out my interview in the link below and the others that have come before. Keep an eye on her blog each day in November for other interviews.
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| My Write Spot |
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Another When Part Two
Here is the continuation of my serial from the #DailyPicspiration blog.
Picture 1
Picture 2
Title: Another When Part 2
I approached the time point with the trepidation of a sailor in the middle of a dense fog. There was no clear sight ahead, no way of knowing that this was the proper course, just the intuition that I was doing the right thing.
I hoped I was doing the right thing.
Would Margaret understand? Would I frighten her? If I was able to stop the actions that caused her death, wouldn't that be enough? I could return to my time and she'd be there with me, like she was supposed to be before she was so cruelly taken from me.
The way she looked, laying there like she was asleep, nearly unblemished except ... that. The blood-stained bath mat from our home ... so much blood. I shuddered, the memories as fresh as they were the day it happened.
Per the guidance in the book, I dressed in vintage clothing --my own that I never got rid of-- and had a wad of period appropriate paper currency shoved in an old leather wallet. In the breast pocket of my jacket, I carried Margaret's picture with me.
Finding the money had been more difficult than I realized it would've been. The world had done away with paper currency about a decade and a half ago and transferred everything to electronic credits. It was supposed to be easier to create a world economy that way. I still missed the feeling of a stack of bills in my wallet, another outdated item.
It took a few weeks, but I found a antiquities collector who had a large amount of the old paper currency. He said he bought it from a friend within the government when all of the known currency was on it's way to be destroyed. I paid quite a bit for the worthless paper but it would be the only way I'd be able to do anything when I went through the time point.
I was two steps away from the time point. To anyone else, there was nothing special about the cement sidewalk. Really, there wasn't anything special about it at all. It was what you couldn't see that was special. This was where the timelines merged. I had to walk through at just the right time to jump through time.
The Philosophy of Time Travel didn't tell me how to make the device to see the convergence of timelines, but further research had. Any kind of information was available if you had the credits to pay for it. The device I held in my hand only took a week to put together. It didn't look like much, but it worked, or at least appeared to work. I wasn't really sure how it knew that this was where the specific time line I needed merged with present day, but I honestly didn't care.
I had nothing to lose. Men that have nothing to lose do not ask why ... they just do what is necessary to win.
Holding the delicate device carefully in my hand, I closed my eyes, took a deep breathe and stepped forward. The air shimmered around me, almost like feathers ghosting along my skin. Sound was different, muffled and scattered.
I took another step. The device beeped and the air and sound returned to normal.
I opened my eyes.
#DailyPicspiration Week 18: Another When Part Two
Picture 2
Title: Another When Part 2
I approached the time point with the trepidation of a sailor in the middle of a dense fog. There was no clear sight ahead, no way of knowing that this was the proper course, just the intuition that I was doing the right thing.
I hoped I was doing the right thing.
Would Margaret understand? Would I frighten her? If I was able to stop the actions that caused her death, wouldn't that be enough? I could return to my time and she'd be there with me, like she was supposed to be before she was so cruelly taken from me.
The way she looked, laying there like she was asleep, nearly unblemished except ... that. The blood-stained bath mat from our home ... so much blood. I shuddered, the memories as fresh as they were the day it happened.
Per the guidance in the book, I dressed in vintage clothing --my own that I never got rid of-- and had a wad of period appropriate paper currency shoved in an old leather wallet. In the breast pocket of my jacket, I carried Margaret's picture with me.
Finding the money had been more difficult than I realized it would've been. The world had done away with paper currency about a decade and a half ago and transferred everything to electronic credits. It was supposed to be easier to create a world economy that way. I still missed the feeling of a stack of bills in my wallet, another outdated item.
It took a few weeks, but I found a antiquities collector who had a large amount of the old paper currency. He said he bought it from a friend within the government when all of the known currency was on it's way to be destroyed. I paid quite a bit for the worthless paper but it would be the only way I'd be able to do anything when I went through the time point.
I was two steps away from the time point. To anyone else, there was nothing special about the cement sidewalk. Really, there wasn't anything special about it at all. It was what you couldn't see that was special. This was where the timelines merged. I had to walk through at just the right time to jump through time.
The Philosophy of Time Travel didn't tell me how to make the device to see the convergence of timelines, but further research had. Any kind of information was available if you had the credits to pay for it. The device I held in my hand only took a week to put together. It didn't look like much, but it worked, or at least appeared to work. I wasn't really sure how it knew that this was where the specific time line I needed merged with present day, but I honestly didn't care.
I had nothing to lose. Men that have nothing to lose do not ask why ... they just do what is necessary to win.
Holding the delicate device carefully in my hand, I closed my eyes, took a deep breathe and stepped forward. The air shimmered around me, almost like feathers ghosting along my skin. Sound was different, muffled and scattered.
I took another step. The device beeped and the air and sound returned to normal.
I opened my eyes.
#DailyPicspiration Week 18: Another When Part Two
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Something A Little Different
Lately, I've devoted most of my focus of my blog on my #NaNo & #WIP500 novel, Guardians. But that's not the only thing I've been working on. Since May, I have run the #DailyPicpsiration blog that features a different author each day, with a story written by them based on photo prompts. It is a fun way to explore different genres or even test those plot bunnies out. Most of my entries have been individual stories, but I've recently started a sci-fi serial called "Another When." I have two parts posted on the blog so far. Part three will be posted this Friday.
Here is Part One for your reading pleasure. :)
Picture 1
Picture 2
Title: Another When Part 1
The book teased and cajoled me with the mystery of its contents. The modest brown cover mocked me with its seemingly innocent contents. What harm was there in a book? In the knowledge it could bring? Didn't that old PSA tout "The more you know, the more you grow?"
I reached out and caressed the soft, leather cover. The edges were a little worn but the gold foil lettering was still glossy. I wondered how many others had touched the cover of the book with such reverence.
"The Philosophy of Time Travel. What could you possibly tell me that could give me any guidance on what I'm about to do?"
The book didn't answer, not that I expected to get one.
There wasn't anything in the book that could dissuade me from what I planned to do. No mere words could stop the ache in my heart, the emptiness of my soul without her. The only thing that could stop my long suffering was her, to see her, to touch her, to talk to her. It was all her. It was always about her.
“I miss you,” I whispered to the photo that rested on my worn desk.
Gently, I slipped it out of the frame and held it between my papery fingers. The picture of Margaret had started to fade with age. It could fade to nothing and I would still remember what she looked like. The last image of her would remain burned into my retinas and into my mind until my last breath.
I was there when the photo was taken. I was the one behind the lens. We were in the field behind her house, talking about our future. Her shirt shone like fire in the setting sunlight with strands of her soft blonde hair stirring gently in the wind. Every so often, a bit of wild, winter wheat would brush her cheek, making her giggle.
I loved her giggle. I loved her. I love her still.
I miss her so much.
My hands shook, the picture trembling so much it looked like her hair was blowing in the wind once again. I put the picture back in its frame before I ruined it.
I took another moment to examine what my life had become, the old, worn desk, the dimly lit room, various papers and books stacked about. My life lacked the warmth it once had. It died when she did.
But, in another time, she wasn’t truly dead, was she? She lives on, in another place, in another when … and I will find her.
#DailyPicspiration Week 14: Another When Part 1
Here is Part One for your reading pleasure. :)
Picture 2
Title: Another When Part 1
The book teased and cajoled me with the mystery of its contents. The modest brown cover mocked me with its seemingly innocent contents. What harm was there in a book? In the knowledge it could bring? Didn't that old PSA tout "The more you know, the more you grow?"
I reached out and caressed the soft, leather cover. The edges were a little worn but the gold foil lettering was still glossy. I wondered how many others had touched the cover of the book with such reverence.
"The Philosophy of Time Travel. What could you possibly tell me that could give me any guidance on what I'm about to do?"
The book didn't answer, not that I expected to get one.
There wasn't anything in the book that could dissuade me from what I planned to do. No mere words could stop the ache in my heart, the emptiness of my soul without her. The only thing that could stop my long suffering was her, to see her, to touch her, to talk to her. It was all her. It was always about her.
“I miss you,” I whispered to the photo that rested on my worn desk.
Gently, I slipped it out of the frame and held it between my papery fingers. The picture of Margaret had started to fade with age. It could fade to nothing and I would still remember what she looked like. The last image of her would remain burned into my retinas and into my mind until my last breath.
I was there when the photo was taken. I was the one behind the lens. We were in the field behind her house, talking about our future. Her shirt shone like fire in the setting sunlight with strands of her soft blonde hair stirring gently in the wind. Every so often, a bit of wild, winter wheat would brush her cheek, making her giggle.
I loved her giggle. I loved her. I love her still.
I miss her so much.
My hands shook, the picture trembling so much it looked like her hair was blowing in the wind once again. I put the picture back in its frame before I ruined it.
I took another moment to examine what my life had become, the old, worn desk, the dimly lit room, various papers and books stacked about. My life lacked the warmth it once had. It died when she did.
But, in another time, she wasn’t truly dead, was she? She lives on, in another place, in another when … and I will find her.
#DailyPicspiration Week 14: Another When Part 1
Monday, November 5, 2012
How About a NaNo Nugget?
I've survived my first week of Nano and thought I would share an excerpt of my efforts of my story, Guardians. Any of you who have been reading my #SixSentence submissions on the blog, you'll get a bit more this time around.
Alana stuffed the letter in her back pocket and pounded down the stairs, determined to march over to David's house and give him a piece of her mind and demand some answers.
It was at that moment, just as she was about to pull open the door, that someone knocked. Full of righteous anger, not caring who was on the other side of the door, she ripped it open. No one was more startled than she was that the target of her aggravation was standing on the other side of the door.
David had a huge smile on his face, which quickly changed to confusion when he saw the murderous look on her face. She grabbed the letter from her pocket and trust it in his face.
"What is this about? Why am I the last to know?"
His face blanched as she stepped closer to him and started poking him in the chest with her other hand.
"What do you know about this? About this family I'm a part of?"
David grasped the hand that was poking him and pulled the letter from the other. "Well, hello to you too, Alana," he replied.
She huffed and pulled her hand from his grasp, resting both hands on her hips.
"Alana, I have no idea what you are talking about."
"What do you mean you don't know? Evelyn said to ask the Wards. See?" She nearly ripped the letter in half as she yanked it from him. Alana angrily unfolded the letter and showed it to him. "See? Evelyn said to ask the Wards, that you guys would know what is going on and be able to help me."
"Give me a second to read this," he asked, as his eyes flicked back and forth across the page.
Alana huffed again and folded her arms across her chest.
"What the hell?" he whispered as he finished the letter and folded it back up.
"My thoughts exactly," she replied. "What the hell is going on?"
"I have no idea. She said to ask my parents, though, not me. I have no idea what this is about."
"Truly? You haven't been keeping any information about my family from me?"
David's face softened. He stepped closer to her and cupped her cheek. "No, Alana. I have not kept anything from you."
She closed her eyes and leaned into the warmth of his hand. Alana could not believe how relieved she was that he didn't know about her family either.
"Now, can we start this over?" he asked. "It seems like we have a habit of doing that."
Alana chuckled. "I suppose we do. I apologize that I came at you like that without any warning."
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