Pat Griffith's Blog, page 11
February 5, 2014
Age of Extinction
Maybe it's predictable what today's post would be about but I don't care. It was this or Ender's Game. One word....GRIMLOCK
"Among the winners , there is no room for the weak."He's grumpy. He's arrogant. And he thinks humans are dumb, but I love him anyways. I didn't always like him. His character has grown on me as he's evolved. It will be interesting to see how Michael Bay ruins him. While most of MB's designs lack uniqueness I do like what they've done with him. I know I shouldn't be excited but I can't help it.
This is Dinobot, a Predacon turned Maximal. Technically a completely different personality from Grimlock but the similarities are there.
Isn't he the best?
January 20, 2014
Permission Granted
Last week I was at a writer’s meeting and the host said that he did his first book for the purpose of learning the process of self-publishing. And he said something about making room for mistakes. In that moment I realized that is my greatest fear in regards to my writing life is making mistakes.
In the chaos that is today’s publishing scene there is no clear path. Everyone has their method. Everyone has an opinion to be sure. An aspiring writer could read hundreds of blogs and buy several dozen books on how to navigate the ever changing landscape. For as many “how to” blogs available there are just as many war/horror stories about mistakes people have made. So what is a writer to do?
Ray Bradbury said it best, “There is no failure unless one stops.”
As far as I’m concerned, I have no other option. I must move forward and I will stumble and trip, lose money better spent on other things but I’m okay with that. It’s part of the process. Making mistakes sucks. And you feel like an idiot afterwards. Some mistakes are devastating too, and it will take a while to get back track.
In that same moment, back in paragraph one, I also felt a tremendous amount of freedom. It’s okay to make mistakes. We’re all just trying to figure it out. So a few things I offer on the matter of mistakes:
1 –Be sure you are meeting with other writers of all types, ages, genres, and levels. I have never regretted meeting another group of writer’s, I always walk away with something valuable. Most writers I know are willing to share their mistakes so you avoid the same. Also, you get to learn where not to waste your time.
2 – Paste the quote below where you can see it every time you sit down to create.
3 – After having read it, take a deep breath and do something fantastic.
In the chaos that is today’s publishing scene there is no clear path. Everyone has their method. Everyone has an opinion to be sure. An aspiring writer could read hundreds of blogs and buy several dozen books on how to navigate the ever changing landscape. For as many “how to” blogs available there are just as many war/horror stories about mistakes people have made. So what is a writer to do?
Ray Bradbury said it best, “There is no failure unless one stops.”
As far as I’m concerned, I have no other option. I must move forward and I will stumble and trip, lose money better spent on other things but I’m okay with that. It’s part of the process. Making mistakes sucks. And you feel like an idiot afterwards. Some mistakes are devastating too, and it will take a while to get back track.
In that same moment, back in paragraph one, I also felt a tremendous amount of freedom. It’s okay to make mistakes. We’re all just trying to figure it out. So a few things I offer on the matter of mistakes:
1 –Be sure you are meeting with other writers of all types, ages, genres, and levels. I have never regretted meeting another group of writer’s, I always walk away with something valuable. Most writers I know are willing to share their mistakes so you avoid the same. Also, you get to learn where not to waste your time.
2 – Paste the quote below where you can see it every time you sit down to create.
3 – After having read it, take a deep breath and do something fantastic.
January 5, 2014
Character Spotlight - Esben/Edward Drake
Edward Drake was born to Indian parents who immigrated to the United States before he could walk. His father died when he was young and his mother remarried to an American while he was in middle school.Edward has master’s degrees in bio-mechanical engineering and business management. He started with Alpha Cortex Solutions while studying at university. By the time the Elbie of the Arcadia collective arrived on Earth he was already on the path to becoming CEO. His natural charisma and ambition make him the perfect match for the Esben designation.
As CEO of a cutting edge pharmaceuticals company he needs to look the part and his designer of his choice is Alexander Amosu. Each suit is customized to the buyer. Similar to L'heilh, Edward is always in style whether at work or at home.
December 20, 2013
Character Spotlight - L'heilh
Before L’heilh was, well L’heilh, she was known by her host’s name, Diana Carter. She has always had a keen sense of style long before she could afford it. Diana was recruited by Esben for her natural ability to influence. People wanted to do things for her. Part of it was her natural beauty but it was an attraction that went deeper than her looks. The most important factor being of course was finding a compatible Elbie that could enhance this quality. She brings a higher level sophistication to the group of whom Nolin benefits the most, though that is not how he thinks of it. When I saw this top in White House Black Market I knew immediately it was something she would wear. Most of the clothes I see for her tend to be black and/or white. But I also know she would wear lemon or turquoise as well. Her fashion sense I would say is much bolder than my own. But no matter what the color you can count on it being elegant, feminine, and for the right occasion.
December 5, 2013
Gifted - A short story
The innocuous looking box sits on the corner of David’s desk, perfectly aligned to the edges. He likes it when his PA does that. The shipping label is nondescript and gives no indication of what company it is from or what kind of products they offer. Completely inert and yet he feels his blood pressure rising at the thought of its contents.
David doesn’t believe in destiny. Such mystical notions are childish. Feature articles, podcast interviews, blog posts, and personal appearances all tout his brilliance and his quiet climb to power from a humble patent clerk to the Director of the Unites States Patent and Trademark Office in only a matter of months. The American dream prescribes nothing more than hard, honest work and you will be rewarded with a rich and fulfilling life. Whenever someone bestows accolades on him for his forward thinking and innovative genius this is the line he gives them.
When asked, he claims to have done nothing extraordinary. He makes decisions and takes risks that make sense in their context. It’s what anyone would do given the same information and options. It is a source of constant bafflement to him. It’s all so obvious and natural to David. One step leads to the next logical step, then another, and so on. Simple. All the fuss and analysis really is unnecessary.
David had spent years as a clerk, doing the work set before him, never looking for anything more than the next stack of documents to file, his next paycheck, the next government mandated holiday. All “I”s were dotted and all “T”s were crossed. Then one day he took a step back and he could see the whole picture and not just the one square inch allotted to him. And for the first time in his life he had decided to do something about what he saw, to be the agent of change in the world, as suggested by greater men.
But in truth it wasn’t just any day. There is a specific day. At the time it seemed trivial. Shocking, but trivial. But the change in him, and his life, seemed inextricably linked to an incident so odd, so very unexplainable that they have to be linked. He doesn’t like thinking that this is the case and he tells himself it was coincidence, but it has never let him go.
It was the same as any other day because that was how he liked it. Order. Routine. No surprises. At the time he had had the same address for forty years. The same barber for fifteen. The same alarm clock since he was in college. He called his sister every Sunday at 6pm. He wrote his nephew once a month. He paid his bills as soon as they were due and he never answered the door unless the person had called ahead. The postman knew to use a special knock.
Leaves were changing from bright summer green to yellow as autumn settled in. He had his lunch in the usual place, a small park across the street from the office. Right bench, right side, in case someone else wanted to sit on the same bench. But they never did. Turkey, cheddar, mustard, no mayo. When he was feeling adventurous it would be Monterey Jack instead. Otherwise his lunch was as predictable as his schedule.
As he ate his sandwich and thought about the order of actions he would take after lunch, a woman walked into the small park. Her short, platinum hair that had been purposely disheveled as indicated by its resistance to the breeze that rustled some leaves across the cobblestone path. She walked, crossing her steps one over the other in the most absurd way as she came toward him, slowly and with purpose, eyes locked on him.
Her hands were tucked into the pockets of the long brown coat she wore, the fur collar framed the bottom of her porcelain face. Her high heeled boots clicked on the cobblestone as she walked right to the bench he sat on. She smiled. He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like a mischievous smile. The smile of a rabble rouser.
He looked around of course. There had to be something else of interest in the area. No woman had ever looked at him his whole life and now here was this... person giving him direct eye contact. She sat down next to him. Not on the other side of the bench, as he would have done, but one inch from him. He could smell the buttery softness of her authentic leather coat and the acidity of her hair product.
He continued to eat his sandwich, the sound of his chewing amplified in his ears. Maybe she didn’t like sitting alone. Perhaps she was in danger and sitting with another person made her feel safe, but she should call the police if that was the case. He was not capable of heroics, never had been. The thought of being in imminent danger made his hands shake. Why did this woman have to choose him, he was of no consequence.
He couldn’t take it. No one ever came to this little park and now it was about to be a crime scene. He shoved his half eaten food into the insulated bag he had and leaned forward to stand up.
“Wait.” The woman touched his arm. Her long, elegant fingers compelled him to stay. He didn’t know why. The tone of her voice, maybe, like a summer afternoon, warm and inviting. “Are you David Dresher?”
Her voice was hypnotic, curious and kind, but also commanding. He blinked at her. Her hand slid down his arm and rested on top of his. Her palm was hot, as if she had just been holding a fresh cup of tea. He shivered. She smiled, burgundy lips curving up at the corners in amusement. “Please tell me I’ve found the right person.”
He had never been one for words, but now he found he was completely devoid of them. David nodded his head.
“Good.” Her smile widened. “I have something for you.”
This was it, David thought. She has a gun. Or worse, a knife. I don’t want to die. His brain had failed him, neither flight or fight had kicked in, he was paralyzed, stuck to that park bench like he was a part of it.
The woman leaned into him. Her hand moved to his cheek. She turned his face toward her and pressed her lips to his. The fur from her collar tickled his chin. The world burned white hot as he tried to absorb what was happening to him.
He had been kissed once before, by a girl in his music class. They say next to each other every day, sharing the same music stand as they played clarinet. They had been practicing in one of the sound proof rooms for an upcoming concert. They were the only clarinetists and there was to be a ten bar solo, they both wanted it to be perfect. He was the better player and he had stayed after school to give her pointers. Just before leaving she hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. It was so sudden he didn’t know what to do. She giggled and waved at him as she rushed out the door leaving young David in a daze.
A digital beeping snapped him out of the memory. He looked down at his calculator watch. Lunch was over. He looked around. He was alone. Not only that, he had his sandwich in his hands, paused midway to his mouth. He threw the sandwich in the garbage and rushed back to work, deciding he would call his doctor right away and get some tests done. Hallucinations of that magnitude could only be the result of a brain tumor.
As usual he went into the bathroom to wash up before returning to his tasks. Focused on his hands, he made sure he soaped between each finger and past his writs. He looked in the mirror to see a burgundy imprint on his lips. A sudden drumming pounded in his ears, he felt light headed. It was real, it had happened. That woman had kissed him and disappeared, quite literally. He had not seen her leave. He took a paper towel and wiped the pigment from his lips and used extra soap just in case.
As he returned to work something happened. People looked at him. Some of them even smiled. “Good lunch?” Eric from accounting clapped him on the back as he past him in the hallway. “Beautiful sweater.” Shelly from HR commented as she cruised by his cubicle. Anyone who walked by him said something or did something. Friendly gestures and casual comments had not been part of his prior interactions with his co-workers. Usually they looked past him like he was an apparition that haunted the hallway but now they took notice of him.
He called his doctor anyway. Diagnosis, negative. More than negative. Since his last check up, less than six months ago, his blood pressure was down and his insulin levels had evened out. He told no one what had happened and never returned to that park again. He didn’t need to. The friendly gestures and casual comments led to actions. People asking him out to lunch and he accepted, with reluctance at first. Within a few short months he had friends. There were people in his life who wished him happy birthday and asked him to their house for celebrations. That day in the park had been a turning point. It was strange to think that a kiss from a beautiful stranger had changed so much. It was just a kiss after all.
Or so he tells himself when it creeps into his thoughts. Thinking back on those days it’s like he is watching another person living that life. He feels no association to the man he had been. What matters is who he was now.
After cutting the tape he peels back the four sides and looks down on a pile of biodegradable foam pellets. Dipping his hands into the pile his fingers find another box within. A smaller silver box shimmers with an electrical current as he brings it closer.
He sits down at his desk and sets the box in front of him. This technology has been available for some time but it was only until now that he found the resolve to acquire it. After taking a deep breath he flips up the lid. He feels pressure throbbing in his temples.
A shining silver bracelet gleams under the florescent lighting. There are no markings of any kind just a band of black that runs around its center. A small card wedged into the lid reads: DPA Certified Technology.
The item is not from the Department of Planetary Affairs directly but it has passed their standards which are the highest in regards to these matters. Certainty is what David wants. The banishment of doubt is what he is looking for.
No matter how many times he thinks it through or the number of possible explanations he can devise for the changes in his life he always comes back to the same conclusion: Elbie.
He does not display any of the usual signs of a host; accelerated healing, interference with electronics, or waking visions. No one ever mentions self-confidence or a social life as side effects of being a host but there is no other way to know for sure.
He is ready for the truth.
He takes his sweater off first. It is too hot in his office. He will have to tell his PA to check the thermostat.
Just put the band on. In a few minutes he will know that all he is today is something he had found within the depths of himself or is the result of an outside entity that has been planted there by a beautiful blonde.
David takes the item out of the box and slips it over his wrist. Blue for Elbie-free, red for not. He snaps the ends shut.
He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Does knowing change anything? What will he do if he has one? Will he register or ask for it be removed? His life has only improved over the years. He is the same person he was ten years ago, just more involved with his world.
His mind fills with burning white heat, like the center of new born star. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears. He opens his eyes. The silver band is settled in its silver box. David closes the lid. He will have his PA return it to the company this afternoon. This is who he is and there is no changing that.
David doesn’t believe in destiny. Such mystical notions are childish. Feature articles, podcast interviews, blog posts, and personal appearances all tout his brilliance and his quiet climb to power from a humble patent clerk to the Director of the Unites States Patent and Trademark Office in only a matter of months. The American dream prescribes nothing more than hard, honest work and you will be rewarded with a rich and fulfilling life. Whenever someone bestows accolades on him for his forward thinking and innovative genius this is the line he gives them.
When asked, he claims to have done nothing extraordinary. He makes decisions and takes risks that make sense in their context. It’s what anyone would do given the same information and options. It is a source of constant bafflement to him. It’s all so obvious and natural to David. One step leads to the next logical step, then another, and so on. Simple. All the fuss and analysis really is unnecessary.
David had spent years as a clerk, doing the work set before him, never looking for anything more than the next stack of documents to file, his next paycheck, the next government mandated holiday. All “I”s were dotted and all “T”s were crossed. Then one day he took a step back and he could see the whole picture and not just the one square inch allotted to him. And for the first time in his life he had decided to do something about what he saw, to be the agent of change in the world, as suggested by greater men.
But in truth it wasn’t just any day. There is a specific day. At the time it seemed trivial. Shocking, but trivial. But the change in him, and his life, seemed inextricably linked to an incident so odd, so very unexplainable that they have to be linked. He doesn’t like thinking that this is the case and he tells himself it was coincidence, but it has never let him go.
It was the same as any other day because that was how he liked it. Order. Routine. No surprises. At the time he had had the same address for forty years. The same barber for fifteen. The same alarm clock since he was in college. He called his sister every Sunday at 6pm. He wrote his nephew once a month. He paid his bills as soon as they were due and he never answered the door unless the person had called ahead. The postman knew to use a special knock.
Leaves were changing from bright summer green to yellow as autumn settled in. He had his lunch in the usual place, a small park across the street from the office. Right bench, right side, in case someone else wanted to sit on the same bench. But they never did. Turkey, cheddar, mustard, no mayo. When he was feeling adventurous it would be Monterey Jack instead. Otherwise his lunch was as predictable as his schedule.
As he ate his sandwich and thought about the order of actions he would take after lunch, a woman walked into the small park. Her short, platinum hair that had been purposely disheveled as indicated by its resistance to the breeze that rustled some leaves across the cobblestone path. She walked, crossing her steps one over the other in the most absurd way as she came toward him, slowly and with purpose, eyes locked on him.
Her hands were tucked into the pockets of the long brown coat she wore, the fur collar framed the bottom of her porcelain face. Her high heeled boots clicked on the cobblestone as she walked right to the bench he sat on. She smiled. He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like a mischievous smile. The smile of a rabble rouser.
He looked around of course. There had to be something else of interest in the area. No woman had ever looked at him his whole life and now here was this... person giving him direct eye contact. She sat down next to him. Not on the other side of the bench, as he would have done, but one inch from him. He could smell the buttery softness of her authentic leather coat and the acidity of her hair product.
He continued to eat his sandwich, the sound of his chewing amplified in his ears. Maybe she didn’t like sitting alone. Perhaps she was in danger and sitting with another person made her feel safe, but she should call the police if that was the case. He was not capable of heroics, never had been. The thought of being in imminent danger made his hands shake. Why did this woman have to choose him, he was of no consequence.
He couldn’t take it. No one ever came to this little park and now it was about to be a crime scene. He shoved his half eaten food into the insulated bag he had and leaned forward to stand up.
“Wait.” The woman touched his arm. Her long, elegant fingers compelled him to stay. He didn’t know why. The tone of her voice, maybe, like a summer afternoon, warm and inviting. “Are you David Dresher?”
Her voice was hypnotic, curious and kind, but also commanding. He blinked at her. Her hand slid down his arm and rested on top of his. Her palm was hot, as if she had just been holding a fresh cup of tea. He shivered. She smiled, burgundy lips curving up at the corners in amusement. “Please tell me I’ve found the right person.”
He had never been one for words, but now he found he was completely devoid of them. David nodded his head.
“Good.” Her smile widened. “I have something for you.”
This was it, David thought. She has a gun. Or worse, a knife. I don’t want to die. His brain had failed him, neither flight or fight had kicked in, he was paralyzed, stuck to that park bench like he was a part of it.
The woman leaned into him. Her hand moved to his cheek. She turned his face toward her and pressed her lips to his. The fur from her collar tickled his chin. The world burned white hot as he tried to absorb what was happening to him.
He had been kissed once before, by a girl in his music class. They say next to each other every day, sharing the same music stand as they played clarinet. They had been practicing in one of the sound proof rooms for an upcoming concert. They were the only clarinetists and there was to be a ten bar solo, they both wanted it to be perfect. He was the better player and he had stayed after school to give her pointers. Just before leaving she hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. It was so sudden he didn’t know what to do. She giggled and waved at him as she rushed out the door leaving young David in a daze.
A digital beeping snapped him out of the memory. He looked down at his calculator watch. Lunch was over. He looked around. He was alone. Not only that, he had his sandwich in his hands, paused midway to his mouth. He threw the sandwich in the garbage and rushed back to work, deciding he would call his doctor right away and get some tests done. Hallucinations of that magnitude could only be the result of a brain tumor.
As usual he went into the bathroom to wash up before returning to his tasks. Focused on his hands, he made sure he soaped between each finger and past his writs. He looked in the mirror to see a burgundy imprint on his lips. A sudden drumming pounded in his ears, he felt light headed. It was real, it had happened. That woman had kissed him and disappeared, quite literally. He had not seen her leave. He took a paper towel and wiped the pigment from his lips and used extra soap just in case.
As he returned to work something happened. People looked at him. Some of them even smiled. “Good lunch?” Eric from accounting clapped him on the back as he past him in the hallway. “Beautiful sweater.” Shelly from HR commented as she cruised by his cubicle. Anyone who walked by him said something or did something. Friendly gestures and casual comments had not been part of his prior interactions with his co-workers. Usually they looked past him like he was an apparition that haunted the hallway but now they took notice of him.
He called his doctor anyway. Diagnosis, negative. More than negative. Since his last check up, less than six months ago, his blood pressure was down and his insulin levels had evened out. He told no one what had happened and never returned to that park again. He didn’t need to. The friendly gestures and casual comments led to actions. People asking him out to lunch and he accepted, with reluctance at first. Within a few short months he had friends. There were people in his life who wished him happy birthday and asked him to their house for celebrations. That day in the park had been a turning point. It was strange to think that a kiss from a beautiful stranger had changed so much. It was just a kiss after all.
Or so he tells himself when it creeps into his thoughts. Thinking back on those days it’s like he is watching another person living that life. He feels no association to the man he had been. What matters is who he was now.
After cutting the tape he peels back the four sides and looks down on a pile of biodegradable foam pellets. Dipping his hands into the pile his fingers find another box within. A smaller silver box shimmers with an electrical current as he brings it closer.
He sits down at his desk and sets the box in front of him. This technology has been available for some time but it was only until now that he found the resolve to acquire it. After taking a deep breath he flips up the lid. He feels pressure throbbing in his temples.
A shining silver bracelet gleams under the florescent lighting. There are no markings of any kind just a band of black that runs around its center. A small card wedged into the lid reads: DPA Certified Technology.
The item is not from the Department of Planetary Affairs directly but it has passed their standards which are the highest in regards to these matters. Certainty is what David wants. The banishment of doubt is what he is looking for.
No matter how many times he thinks it through or the number of possible explanations he can devise for the changes in his life he always comes back to the same conclusion: Elbie.
He does not display any of the usual signs of a host; accelerated healing, interference with electronics, or waking visions. No one ever mentions self-confidence or a social life as side effects of being a host but there is no other way to know for sure.
He is ready for the truth.
He takes his sweater off first. It is too hot in his office. He will have to tell his PA to check the thermostat.
Just put the band on. In a few minutes he will know that all he is today is something he had found within the depths of himself or is the result of an outside entity that has been planted there by a beautiful blonde.
David takes the item out of the box and slips it over his wrist. Blue for Elbie-free, red for not. He snaps the ends shut.
He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Does knowing change anything? What will he do if he has one? Will he register or ask for it be removed? His life has only improved over the years. He is the same person he was ten years ago, just more involved with his world.
His mind fills with burning white heat, like the center of new born star. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears. He opens his eyes. The silver band is settled in its silver box. David closes the lid. He will have his PA return it to the company this afternoon. This is who he is and there is no changing that.
November 24, 2013
FAQ
When people find out that I am an avid Transformers fan the first thing they ask me is if I liked the Michael Bay movies.It's complicated.
The movies are loud and overblown. The battle sequences are SO LONG. And they are so heavily military. Having said that, my biggest issue with the movies is true of almost any manifestation of these robots, too many humans. Except for Beast Wars there are always meddling people getting in the way. The 3rd MB atrocity was the one most focused on the relationships between the Cybertronians. It also borrowed from G1 story lines. Mostly "Ultimate Doom" which was about using the space bridge to bring Cyberton into Earth orbit. But any true fan would have giggled at Megatron booting Lincoln from his seat like in he did the episode "Atlantis Arise." I digress.
More than anything else is Michael Bay's insistence on appealing to immature male humor. It is insulting and irksome. The 2nd movie is a travesty regarding this. It's only redeeming value was Optimus Prime in IMAX during the forest battle. I nearly cried.
Despite all these flaws there is one thing the movies do. The keep the franchise alive. I got to ride the 3D experience at Paramount because of it. There is a steady supply of creative and unique t-shirts available all the time. Comic books, art, even G1 replica toys. It's heaven for a fan like myself. So NO I don't like the movies but YES I am glad they exist. I own them all and I will be going to the 4th one. Hopefully they have learned their lessons, but I doubt it. Doesn't matter either way because I get to keep feeding my obsession due to their existance..
November 17, 2013
Alien Invasions
It was awesome! A really nice night with friends and new acquaintances. We had art from five fantastic artists: David Landry, Alyssa Abshier, Robert Chambers, David Yapp, and John Epsey. The cake was provided by Delia's Desserts. Check it for yourself.
A big thank you to all my volunteers, Heather, David, Robert, Ben, Kathy, Linda, Natasha, Delia, Cari, Shannon, and Joe. Thank you to everyone who came out to the event, it was great seeing you all and I hope I got to say to each one of you. It was a great night. If you missed it, don't worry there's always book two.
A big thank you to all my volunteers, Heather, David, Robert, Ben, Kathy, Linda, Natasha, Delia, Cari, Shannon, and Joe. Thank you to everyone who came out to the event, it was great seeing you all and I hope I got to say to each one of you. It was a great night. If you missed it, don't worry there's always book two.
November 1, 2013
Nano's coming, you in? (repost)
On October 31st, 2009 I made a split second decision to do this crazy thing called National Novel Writing Month. I did not have a story idea of any kind. I literally started with “Once upon a time” because it was suggested by their book. Every day that I sat down to write I was awed and amazed at what came out. Not because it was quality writing but because it was a world and characters I had never met before. I spend years mulling over my characters and their realities. So when all these new people started appearing I just couldn’t believe it. The story, to my surprise, ended up being a redemption tale for one of my nastiest villains from a story I have never been able to complete. That first year taught me some important things.
First- I can create, under pressure, and without a plan. Because my method for years has been to let stories simmer in the back of my mind I had no idea I could pull off spontaneous story telling. I had to trust the characters and the places I found them in and in the end it paid off. It’s a complete story and the elements of the story tie together pretty well despite the frenzied circumstances they were created under.
Second- Habit goes a long way. If you don’t already have the habit of writing everyday this is a good way to get into it. I give myself permission to have one day off a week, but if your brain is accustomed to having to create something on a consistent basis it will. It may not seem like that at first, but commit yourself to writing daily for six weeks and see what happens on that 43rd day. If you can do it at the same time of day that will help too. It gets easier, I promise.
And third- Get that first draft written as fast as possible. This helps keep continuity of character personality together as well as plot. For 2009 I didn’t finish the story by November 30th. I managed to return to the story in January and finish off the narrative but the characters had changed without my consent and I think it’s pretty obvious. The plot suffers over a long period of time because you forget what you’ve said.
I succeeded in 2010 at writing 51,000 words of material for a future sci-fi epic but it is not a story. It is only pieces and parts of a story. Some of the material will be usable, but I’m thinking I will have to chalk up most of that material to an exploration of world and characters. Which is fine but it didn’t feel as amazing since it’s not a complete story.
For 2011 I experienced some of what I had in 2009, new people and situations with no prior knowledge, but I lacked the drive to push through it. This year my goal is to knock out that first draft for my next Lysandra story. I know how I want to start and I think I know how I want it to end, but everything in between is a mystery. By November 30th I may have a workable first draft or I might just have bunch of parts. I’m really hoping for the former.
If you decide to do NaNoWriMo tell your friends you are not available and clear your schedule. This will help you to avoid feeling guilty about telling them “No” and you must tell them “No” or you will pay for it later. Definitely write something every day, even if it’s only a paragraph. And go to the write-ins in your city. Sitting with a group of strangers as tired and exhilarated as you are is fun and you get to meet some really great people.
October 31, 2013
Ender Wins
I have lived in San Francisco for 10 years. For all ten of those years on Halloween I stay home. If you are not familiar with Halloween in San Francisco let me just tell you that my first year here people were shot and killed.
Now I do not make a habit of letting fear dictate my actions. In reality I do not go out on most holidays because I do not like crowds, much less drunk crowds. Add on top of that the affinity for pot in this city and the over the top costumes. Having gun fire as well just tells me my instincts to avoid the whole affair all together were correct.
However, I will be out there tonight. On the streets, in the underground train cars with all that craziness for one reason. Ender’s Game.
I can’t wait until Saturday and it starts at a decent hour. So for the first time ever I will brave the streets of San Francisco, at night, and on Halloween so that I can see a movie I have been waiting for for years. It is the first time and depending on how things go tonight, it could be the last. We’ll see.
Now I do not make a habit of letting fear dictate my actions. In reality I do not go out on most holidays because I do not like crowds, much less drunk crowds. Add on top of that the affinity for pot in this city and the over the top costumes. Having gun fire as well just tells me my instincts to avoid the whole affair all together were correct.
However, I will be out there tonight. On the streets, in the underground train cars with all that craziness for one reason. Ender’s Game.
I can’t wait until Saturday and it starts at a decent hour. So for the first time ever I will brave the streets of San Francisco, at night, and on Halloween so that I can see a movie I have been waiting for for years. It is the first time and depending on how things go tonight, it could be the last. We’ll see.
October 13, 2013
Astounding Asimov
It is an undisputed fact to say Isaac Asimov is astounding and/or amazing but after re-reading some of his essay’s its worth stating for the record again. Isaac Asimov is always looking to humanity’s bright future. He acknowledges war, overpopulation, and pollution as potential dangers to our continuance but his writing always points to the best we can offer in the face of these obstacles. In 1977 he wrote: “In any civilization with computer science so advanced as to make teaching machines possible, there surely will be thoroughly centralized central libraries. Such libraries may even be interconnected into a single planetary library... Each machine would be plugged into this planetary library and each could have at its disposal any book, periodical, document, recording, or video encoded there” -From The New Teachers
In this essay Asimov is imaging what education in the future will look like. Each person will learn what they want and at their own pace. The traditional class room as we know will be a thing of the past. This is a trend of course but the above quote sounds a lot like Google.
1989, Future Fantastic. “In the 21st century we will see a society in which one third of the population will entertain the other two thirds.” It might not be two thirds but with the proliferation of Podcasts and You Tube channels I would say it’s not that far off.
Same essay. “There will be no bar to travel. You can still be a tourist or visit your friends in person by closed circuit television.” Not exactly, but close enough. Can we say Skype, Google hangout, GoToMeeting, etc to see people we could not otherwise afford to.
This one is interesting. “...the technochildren of tomorrow will be accustomed to living in a decentralized world, to reaching out in a variety of ways from their homes—to do what needs doing. At one and the same time, they will feel both entirely isolated and in total contact.”
This is exactly what is happening. While Asimov is a perpetual optimist the simultaneous isolated connectivity is not having the positive impact I think he imagined. I have seen a few articles and I know there a couple books on the subject. Being connected online has not done anything to make most people feel MORE connected, only more alone. A person may have 2,000 friends on their social networks but still experience profound loneliness. It is definitely a modern paradox that we have yet to figure out how to deal with.
This is just what I read today. If I get any more good ones I will tweet them.
