Matthew S. Cox's Blog, page 20

Reviewers Wanted | Division Zero #1

With Division Zero: Thrall right around the corner (March 31), I’m hoping to find a few more people willing to read & review the first book in the series. Reviews are an incredible help to authors without the massive advertising force of a major publisher behind them (and not even every author of a huge house has that benefit.)

If you have already read Division Zero, I am truly thankful for being able to provide you with a little escape from the doldrums of the real world. I would be honored if you could take a few minutes out of your busy day and post a review (even if it’s only a few short lines) on Amazon.

For anyone who has not already read Division Zero 1 and is interested in posting a review in exchange for a free e-copy, please send me an email (mcox2112@gmail.com) with the email address you use with Amazon, or post in the comments below.

More information on the book HERE

Thanks, and happy reading !

-Matt

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Borderlands Anthology

Caller 107 Blog Tour Signup

Cover Reveal | Emma and the Banderwigh

I’m thrilled to be able to reveal the cover for my upcoming middle-grade fantasy novel, Emma and the Banderwigh! Artist Chris Malidore did an amazing job capturing the mood of the story.

Awhile back, my publisher put out a call for submissions seeking short stories for the Chronology anthology. I had a lot of ideas and machine-gunned them with about 8. While coming up with ideas for short stories, I decided to try my hand at writing middle grade and came up with a smaller version of this story. Someone I had shared it with (whose daughter still checks under her bed for ‘emery creepies’) told me the biggest problem was that the story was too short. After hearing that, I decided to novelize it.

It’s going to be a long eight months until this one comes out

(Probably around September, I may be looking for people willing to read pre-release ARCs and post reviews on Amazon.)

Ten-year-old Emma doesn’t believe in faerie tales or monsters that secret children away in the night–until she meets one.

She lives in a quiet village at the edge of Widowswood with her parents, her Nan, and her little brother, Tam. Ready to abandon the whimsy of childhood, she finds the boredom of chores comforting and Nan’s fanciful bedtime stories silly.

One morning, a wan and weary older girl staggers out of the woods and sets the entire town aflutter with whispers of a child-stealing monster lurking in the forest. Nan tells her of the Banderwigh: a dark soul who feeds on sorrow and drains the life from children’s tears.

Darkness comes calling on Emma’s happy home, threatening the reality to which she desperately clings. The impossible becomes more and more real, forcing Emma to reach inside herself for the ability to believe. Her family depends on it.

Add it on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22005757-emma-and-the-banderwigh

 

#Books #Fantasy

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Emma and the Banderwigh

Cover Reveal | Borderlands Anthology

Cover Reveal | Krystal Wade

Daughter of Mars #74 (Blind Wish part 4)

(Start at the beginning)

Jets of warm water and unscented soap massaged Risa’s body from the metal ring passing up and down the inside of the autoshower tube. She kept her eyes closed and her mind occupied with murderous daydreams of what she could have done to the three idiots. The tornado of hot air died down with the fading whine of tiny fans. Risa stepped out into the procedure room and hurried to the exam table where her armor draped like a deflated body. An involuntary squeal escaped her lips as she slipped a leg into the smooth, freezing material. Eager to stop touching the icy floor, she stuck her feet in her boots before bothering to pull her armor up past the knee.

Faint whirring, inaudible to those without boosted hearing, crept up behind her. She recognized the sound of an orb bot, and glanced over her shoulder at an eight-inch plastisteel ball with a glowing violet lens, which flickered in time with its speech.

“Greetings Miss Aum. I am happy to report your bio-scan shows no anomalies. Please follow me when you are ready to leave.”

The orb glided to the door and rotated to face her. After she zipped her suit closed and fastened her boots, Risa followed the floating sphere through an antiseptic hallway decorated in white and silver. She traced her fingertips over the glossy wall, grinning at the ability to see again.

Shiro sprang from his seat in the waiting area and jogged over. “It’s wonderful to see your eyes have that special glow again.”

Her mood flattened. “It’s not special; it’s violet.” She swiped her weapon harness from his outstretched hand. “Metal eyes don’t have any emotion.”

“Risa,” he whispered, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She tensed, managing to change the urge to flinch away into a downcast stare.

“You are too critical of yourself.”

“Am I?” Be nice. He just saved your ass. Anger drained from her voice, leaving it a resigned quiet. “I’m not in the best place right now, Shiro. Everyone thinks I’m an assassin.” She made eye contact. “I’m about to give them what they want.”

“Can we talk?” He slid his fingers down her arm and clasped her hand. “Dinner? You’ve got to be a little hungry after that. Tank time always leaves me starving.”

“That’s because you’re a man. Everything equates to hunger.” Risa pulled the harness on and pulled the nylon straps across her chest, one above and one below her breasts. “I’m not dressing up.”

“I know just the place.” Shiro smiled, and gestured at the door. “Shall we?”

“Lead on.” Her tone, and expression, remained flat.

He led the way back to the car. Something in his pocket chirped, and the doors opened on their own. Risa slipped in and reclined in the passenger seat, gazing through the moon roof at the bland cut stone overhead. Gouges, scrapes, and paint smears flashed by once they were underway. Primus City had little in the way of starry nights, being underground. Shiro lives in Arcadia. Why was he here? A knot of unease gathered in her gut. He knew about Pavo. She spent the entirety of a fifteen-minute ride hiding her face so he couldn’t see the pain. Everything outside reminded her of Pavo somehow. Shiro steered into a small, attached parking lot of a Great Red Burger franchise. A hologram by the door resembled a cheeseburger stretched and shaped in the likeness of Mars. It struck her as the kind of place with a bigger crowd at one in the morning than at the time normal people ate dinner. Her choice of attire―body armor and weapons―would also not draw much notice here.

She sat still as Shiro got out and closed his door. A moment later, guilt dragged her along behind him into the restaurant. Risa did not so much want to be with him as she felt guilty for everything he’d just done for her, money notwithstanding. The whole damsel-in-distress thing sucks. She fell into a booth seat, gazing into her lap.

Shiro broke the silence first. “I hope you’re not making that face because you’re with me.”

“Thanks.” She didn’t look up. “For saving my ass.”

He leaned forward, flashing a rogue’s grin. “Why do I get the sense it hurt you to say that?”

Risa opened her hand in her lap, and stared at her fingers. “I’m not the girl that needs saving.”

After a quiet few seconds, Shiro peered to the side, through the window. “You were once, but you’re not a child anymore.”

“What can I get you guys?” asked a fifteen-ish boy, face lit in cyan light from an oversized transparent visor.

You’re wrong. Risa squinted at Shiro. Even little, I saved myself. Not every kid would’ve crawled off into the dark on their own. “Steak sandwich and an unsweetened green tea please.”

Shiro straightened in his seat, as if the weight of her glare pushed him away. He perused the in-table menu for a few seconds. “Mushroom Swiss burger, with seasoned fries.”

“Drink?” asked the boy.

“Another green tea.” Shiro kept quiet until the waiter walked off. “Risa, I’m sorry about Pavo. Really. Words will sound hollow. If there’s anything I can do…” He let the air out of his lungs in a long breath. “The kind of change we’re trying to bring about isn’t going to come without a tax of blood. I’m sorry it hit so close, but I’m grateful it wasn’t you.”

Why Pavo? Why did I have to tell him I loved him? She tightened her jaw. I knew what would happen if I said it, and I said it anyway. Any attempt to speak would break the flimsy wall holding back tears. She imagined herself killing I/O and the odorous bastard who’d grabbed her from behind.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. It’s beyond unfair what you had to go through as an innocent child.” His serious face melted into a smile as the kid brought their food, returning to its former grimness as soon as the boy’s back turned. “It’s cruel beyond words. The thought of you shivering in the vents… I―”

“I don’t need your pity.” Risa dumped black pepper on her fries. “Besides, you’re not that much older than I am. Not like you could’ve done a damn thing about it.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t share your feelings towards the people who’d do such a thing to a little girl. Your father was―”

“A spy.” The scent of seared sirloin gave her more of an appetite than she expected; she chomped down on her sandwich.

“There’s something inherently wrong about steak that’s perfectly round.” Shiro winked. “I realize they grow it in that shape, but it still feels odd. Have you ever wondered if it tastes the same as real beef?”

“I’m not going to Earth to kill a cow―if I could even find one―to test that.”

“I can’t say I blame you for disliking Earth, but it’s not the planet’s fault. It’s a handful of greedy people. Life is completely different down there. Peaceful, almost boring.”

“Sure, if you have money.” She nibbled on a fry. “Mars is my home.”

“What kind of home is this for you?” He gestured at the window. “For anyone? Think; really think about what happened to you.” He paused, trying to make eye contact for a moment, though she kept her gaze on her food. “I want you to know I’m here for you. This planet has been nothing but cruel. As soon as you find a sliver of happiness, it gets taken away from you.”

One Nano claw emerged from her right index finger and speared a fry. She held it up, staring over it at him. “Thanks for reminding me.”

Shiro reached across the table and clasped her wrist, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand. “I respect you, Risa Black. I know I said when we first met that my intention was to keep our relationship strictly one of business… but, you are a unique and strong woman.”

She watched his thumb moving for a few seconds while gratitude warred with grief.

He let her arm slip through his fingers as she stuck the lone fry in her mouth. “I’m not asking you for anything. I’d just like to be here for you when you decide to stop letting the world kick you around.”

Risa glanced from her plate to his chest as she chewed. She retracted the claw and lowered her arm flat. When she made eye contact, her somatic response system surrounded his face with lines and indicators measuring stress, perspiration, heart rate.

“So, you’re concerned about me?”

“I am.”

The fluttering bar graphs and squiggly lines indicated truth. “It’s too―”

“Soon?” Shiro held a hand over his chest and rendered a shallow bow. “Of course. I didn’t mean to suggest anything more than being someone to talk to. You’ve only learned of his death hours ago.”

She drew in a breath and broke eye contact.

“I came to Mars to help your cause, but I’d rather help you.” He looked to his right, through the window at passing pedestrians in the underground street. “You deserve a better life than this. So does that child you’ve taken in.”

Now he’s cheating. Her gaze fell onto the table. Pavo’s dead. For all I’ve done to fight for Mars, why do I always seem to hurt innocent people? She thought about his offer, taking Kree and going to Earth with him. Pavo would want me to be safe and happy. Risa gnawed on her sandwich, playing through a different daydream of being a corporate man’s wife. The more she contemplated it, the stronger the sense of guilt stabbing through her gut became, sucking the flavor out of the steak.

Pavo’s face appeared along with his words in her memory. Thousands of us have already died for independence. If we walk away now, all that life would have been wasted.

“Am I condemned to this?” She whispered.

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Your opinion of going to Earth is being condemned? I hope that’s a reflection on the government and not me.”

“Pavo died for what he believed in.” She stared through the small bit of food remaining on her plate, eyes focused on a point far beyond. “If we give up now, everyone I’ve ever known will have died for nothing.”

He offered a hand across the table. “You’ve said you’ve lost the urge to kill, to plant bombs. At least think about my offer. The children would be much safer on Earth.”

Risa stared at his palm; she almost reached out to grab his hand, but couldn’t do that to Pavo so soon. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do when the dust settles, or if I’ll even be alive. I am not going to let the people who killed Pavo walk away.” She made a fist to keep from pointing at him. “These are the same sons of bitches who killed my father. They think they can do whatever they want. They think their little government is above consequence. They’re wrong.”

His eyes widened with a wounded look. “Throwing your life away won’t bring Pavo back.”

She studied her lap. After a few minutes of silence, the waiter collected their plates and Shiro paid. Neither spoke as they stood and made their way out to the street. She trailed a step behind, watching him walk, wondering if she could ever feel for another man the way she felt for Pavo. Shiro had saved her life in the alley, and his company paid for her surgery―an amount she’d not even seen. Maybe I shouldn’t be alone. He’s going to invite me to his apartment… A dull metallic clank echoed in her memory; Pavo walking into the pipe.

Risa whirled away to hide her tears.

“Risa?” Shiro moved up behind her. “What’s wrong?”

He’s not dead two weeks, and I’m already… “I can’t…”

“I understand.” He set his hands on her shoulders.

She caught herself imagining it was Pavo holding her, and took a step forward, whirling to face him. “I can’t. Not now. I need time to mourn…” Time to kill.

“Let me drive you somewhere safe?”

Where would I go? Some shitty hotel? I can’t go to Pavo’s apartment… I can’t go to the safehouse, and I definitely don’t trust myself alone with Shiro. I’ll either kill him or hate myself. She backed up two steps. “You’ve already done so much…” Scenes of destruction from Arden Settlement flashed before her eyes. “I don’t deserve it.”

Shiro closed the distance between them in a single stride; she raised her hand to push him away, but he caught and held it. “You’re wrong. You deserve so much more than what I have to offer.”

“Please.” She looked down. “I need…”

“Time.” He squeezed her hand. “I understand.”

Risa sighed.

Shiro smiled. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“No, I’m not.” She forced a false chuckle.

“Vid me if you need anything.” He glanced at the car. “Are you sure I can’t offer you a ride?”

“I’m sure.” She stared into his eyes for a moment, ashamed of the sound her own voice, afraid of what she might say next. I want to be with him and far away at the same time. He’s an easy escape. Her mind wandered to when she’d shown Pavo the picture of herself as a kid, before the war stole her life. He’s a chance to be that little girl in the pink dress again. That’s not who I am anymore, is it? Pavo’s voice laughed in the back of her mind, calling her adorable. Ghostly fingers tickled her sides; Risa closed her eyes and let his memory embrace her.

Sadness hardened to resolve.

I’ve got work to do. “Thank you, Shiro. For saving my life, for dragging my broken ass to the med center… and for dinner.” She stared for several minutes at the deserted street, silent but for the sound of their breaths. “I don’t know how I feel right now. I don’t know how I’ll feel when this is over.”

“You think I don’t understand, but I do. You’ve closed yourself off from every emotion aside from anger for years. When you finally open yourself to love, it is torn from you before you can even enjoy it.” Shiro grasped her arm above the elbow, as if to escort her to the car. “There will always be politicians. This war started before you were born and it will continue after we’re both gone. It’s taken away everyone you’ve ever loved. Don’t throw your life away. Revenge will never make you feel better.”

“I’m not doing this to feel better.” She started to walk away, but stopped when he spoke again.

“What’ll you do after you find the people responsible? If you find the people responsible.”

“Kill them.”

The chill in her voice stalled his answer for a moment. “After that?”

A brief memory of Kree pantomiming speedware weighed on her heart. “Perhaps I’ll visit Earth, if the offer’s still there.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Risa glanced back at a grin that almost made her feel foolish for not going with him. Her lingering, guilty stare sank to the ground as she walked away, headed into the heart of Elysium City. Shiro represented a chance at a mundane life, the kind of life she had spent years angry with every mythological deity humankind ever invented for taking away from her. Why is this my fight? She let off a weak chuckle. An angel chose me.

She wandered without destination, unable to make up her mind where to go. Glowing electronic eyes watched her from one dark alcove after another; pale yellow, green, and orange spots tracked her.

Where is Raziel now?

The people who killed Pavo wouldn’t be easy to track, and with Walsh and the Syndicate coming up a dead end, she had little to go on. Her aimless march halted as a faint skittering broke the stillness. Risa followed the sound to a narrow gap between a kid’s clothing store and a Triton Manufacturing Corporation outlet shop. An uncountable assortment of household items, consumer electronics, and toys packed the window on the right. Small outfits in the other made her look away.

Being near me will only get her hurt.

Fifteen meters in from the street, a cyclone of detritus whorled near a large ventilation duct. Her body moved on instinct, stopping at a crouch in the midst of a strong wind that flung her hair about. The cover opened with a light tug, rising on assisted struts. Risa glanced at the street for a moment, feeling separated from everything.

Once more alone.

She crawled into the depths and pulled the cover closed behind her.

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Daughter of Mars #72 (Blind Wish part 2)

Daughter of Mars #73 (Blind Wish part 3)

Daughter of Mars #71 (Blind Wish part 1)

Daughter of Mars #73 (Blind Wish part 3)

(Start at the beginning – Read Book 1 here)

Random sounds from the medtech fiddling around with equipment grew distant for a few minutes and returned. The exam table upon which Risa lay jostled when he leaned his weight on it. As his hand pressed down on the side of her head, she gritted her teeth, bracing for the sensation of a metal prong sliding into the M3 socket mounted to bone. Her fingers clenched tight on the cushion as the scrape of metal on metal vibrated through her skull and stopped with a click. Distinct tapping of a fingernail upon glass came from somewhere above and behind her. She relaxed and tried not to think about how helpless she felt lying face down and blind.

An angry digital buzz/chirp from her left made her eyes snap open, not that they did much.

“Yep,” said the medtech. “Something fried your NIU. I’ll send a notice to Doctor Avora. She’ll be with you in a few minutes. Can I get you anything?”

“No.” Risa lay still for a few minutes after he disconnected the wire. Every distant noise or scrap of conversation reminded her she couldn’t see the source. One finger tapping became a hand twitching, which became fidgeting. No matter how wide she tried to open her eyes, her world remained a void. She amused herself for a moment clicking a fingernail against her plastisteel eyeball. When that ceased distracting her, she rolled upright and swiveled to let her legs dangle over the side. “This is going to require surgery, right?”

“Yes. We’ll have to replace your neural interface unit at the very least, and we won’t know what else is damaged until that’s been done.”

Risa raised one boot. She flicked the five fasteners on the outside edge open, one after the next. A minor nudge let gravity pull it off.

Clunk.

She switched, opening the other boot. “Is the tank in this room?”

“Yes. Uhm…”

She removed her other boot. “Guide me?”

“If you prefer an AI or a woman to help―”

“I’m past the point of caring. Besides”―cold air brushed over her bare chest as she unzipped the ballistic suit―“you’re a medical professional, right?”

“I am, but I can’t know what people are comfortable with.” A squeak of his shoe gave away a twist of posture, and he raised his voice. “Windows, tint maximum. Door, close.”

A distant pneumatic hissed. She pulled her arms free from the rubbery material and pushed her suit down around her hips before hopping off the table. All conscious thought ground to a screeching halt as soon as her toes touched freezing metal. Teeth chattering, she shoved her armor down around her ankles and stepped away. Damn, it’s cold in here.

“O-okay.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “The gel’s w-warm, right? W-where is it?”

Fingertips settled on her left shoulder. “Turn left ninety degrees. Take six steps straight ahead and stop.”

She estimated a quarter turn and walked until he tugged her to a stop.

“The tank is right in front of you,” said the medtech. “The base is a short step up.”

One searching foot probed out the edge of a disc raised six inches from the floor. Having been in medical tubes more than she cared to be, she found it easy to picture it and hopped up as if she could see. She spun to face where she thought the room was. “Okay. F-flood this thing before I freeze.”

“Have you been―”

“Yeah. Too many times.” Risa fidgeted.

She crossed her arms over her stomach, shivering. A moment later, sound changed as the cylinder closed around her. Weak vibration in the floor started a few seconds before syrupy liquid touched her toes. The body-temperature gel engulfed her legs in a warm blanket that couldn’t cover her fast enough. When it reached her thighs, she let herself collapse, eager to escape the chilly air. For a moment, she lay submerged on her side curled in a ball, holding her breath. Come on, get it over with. She let the air out of her lungs in a slow series of bubbles. Holding a lungful of air proved easier than trying not to breathe with them empty. Survival instinct kicked in before she could ready herself, and she inhaled fluid.

Despite her frequent visits to medical tanks, the sensation of liquid entering her lungs awoke a primal fear of drowning. Risa clamped her arms around her shins to keep from scratching at the tank wall as she choked and gagged in small twitches. I can breathe this. I can breathe this. She chanted in her head until her subconscious mind accepted she was not drowning. Once she breathed at an even rate again, she relaxed and let the rising fluid carry her upright, weightless and comfortable.

“I guess you have done this before.” The medtech’s voice seemed to come from everywhere. “Most people don’t transition so smoothly.”

Unable to speak, she ignored him. The sound of the pump thrumming through the liquid in her ears lulled her into a meditative calm. I’m as helpless as a baby in its mother’s womb. Naked, blind, and defenseless. She raised one arm to wipe at her face. Maris was wrong. Giving up my eyes wasn’t worth it. Even if something happened to the visor, I could still see. In silent comfort, the urge to sleep washed over her brain. It seemed like only seconds before a woman’s voice echoed through the fluid-filled chamber, startling her awake.

“Good morning, Miss Aum. I’m Doctor Avora. Sorry to keep you waiting, there was a situation with another patient. Please don’t worry; I was helping a colleague. You are in excellent hands today. I understand your neural interface is unresponsive. I’ll get started in a few minutes. We’re just waiting for the replacement component, which is on its way.”

She sounds like what I’d want my grandmother to sound like if I had one. Risa gave a thumbs up.

“Charles tells me you have no idea what happened?”

Risa nodded.

“Are you seeing anything at all? Even a diagnostic screen or error message?”

Risa shook her head.

A mechanical whirr overhead gave her the impression of a small door or drawer retracting.

“Your new NIU is here. I’m going to introduce the anesthesia now. Are you ready?”

Risa held two thumbs up.

Her head grew heavy as tingling spread over her entire body. She knew she shouldn’t be able to feel the millions of nanobots depositing micro-doses of sedative in her blood, and blamed it on her overactive imagination. Vertigo, a sense of falling, lasted three seconds before the words “System Restart” glimmered in bright green letters through the blackness. Currents of viscous liquid swirled around her, causing her arm to brush against her side. She made no effort to move as she stared at the first thing she’d seen in… How long was I out?

The glowing words faded, replaced by an explosion of text in a font too small―and too fast―to read, which scrolled along the left side of her field of view. A beep sounded through her skull, and the infinite void gave way to a view of her nude figure, pale white skin tinted peach by the medical fluid.

I can see! She allowed herself a few happy tears. No one would notice.

“Welcome back, Miss Aum,” said the Doctor.

Risa looked up at the sound of the grandmotherly voice. Floor, walls, and ceiling of metallic aqua-green bristled with machinery covered in blinking lights. Her suit lay folded in a neat bundle on a padded exam table in the middle of the room. Hoses and wires of various diameter hung from the ceiling like the canopy of a techno-rainforest. A woman a few feet away clutched a datapad like a clipboard and flashed a reassuring smile. Silver hair in a neat up do, white coat, and a metal headband with electronic components poised in front of her right eye lent her an air of competence and authority.

Doctor Avora pecked at the datapad with one finger. “I’m sure you have questions, but they will have to wait for a moment. I’m going to run a diagnostic on your implants now.”

Past the doctor, a man in a teal coat collected packing materials into four empty boxes. Marsborn, and likely in his later twenties, he wore his shoulder-length ebon hair in a short ponytail. Risa rubbed her face; being able to see again felt like the weight of a death sentence had been lifted from her heart. Floating panels bearing system status checks opened all over her vision. She stared through them at the medtech, the doctor, the room, savoring every tiny visual detail.

Within a minute, all seventeen panels collapsed to thin lines and shrank to glimmering points, which faded away. Two beeps sounded in her head, followed by the doctor’s face and shoulders in a panel a few feet in front of her. Fluid swished back and forth through Risa’s teeth as she forgot laughing doesn’t work while breathing gel. She didn’t even care how the doc had overridden the option for her to answer or decline an incoming call to her headware.

“I’m seeing green down the board, Miss Aum. Your wireless connectivity is back up. All of your systems are online. Does everything feel right?” The doctor glanced at her screens. “You had some superficial flesh trauma, which I’ve cleaned up. Do you have any pain, discomfort, dizziness, disorientation, or anything out of the ordinary?”

“What happened?” Risa ran her hands over her body, squeezing and prodding places she expected to be sore. “Nothing hurts.”

Doctor Avora approached the tank, holding the datapad at her hip. The change in angle altered the bust in the floating holo pane to resemble the view of a small child staring up at an adult. “All of the circuitry within your NIU was fried, but it doesn’t look like an EMP. I had to replace the component, as well as your wireless uplink module. There wasn’t much left in the buffer memory, but from the appearance of the damage, my guess is that your transmitter overloaded.”

“How? Overloaded?” Risa blinked. “Did someone hit me with a virus or something?”

“I don’t think so. The software scans are clean.” Doctor Avora waved her hand, cycling a few screens to the left. “It looks like a simple electrical melt. Too much power ran through components not designed to handle it. Something disabled the upstream bandwidth throttle, and your upload speed peaked out at fifty or sixty terabytes per second… about ten times normal. That cooked the hardware, and drained the battery.”

Risa squinted. “Battery? I thought it got power from me moving around?”

“It still has a battery.” The doctor held up a triumphant finger and stabbed it into the datapad. The thrum of pumps filled the gel. “However, kinetic energy harvesting only generates power when you move, which is used to recharge the battery. The cell was not only drained, something sucked the power out of it so fast it burned out. The good news is your expensive parts weren’t damaged, only power starved. I don’t know where you got a Wraith, or that Japanese neuroaccelerator, and it’s probably better for me I don’t ask.”

The fluid level in the cylinder plummeted. Risa made no effort to stand; her legs folded under her as she sank to stay warm as long as she could. Her teeth chattered through burbled mouthfuls of gel as frigid air surrounded her now-wet body. As the last of the slippery ooze slurped into the uptake drain, she assumed the position―face down, ass up―and cleared her lungs of fluid. She found the process of going from gel to air less scary than the reverse, and tolerated the coughing fit with as much dignity as she could carry in such an ungainly posture. Tendrils of slime clung to her bottom lip after she relaxed. After a few full breaths, she wiped her mouth with the back of her arm and sat back on her heels.

Doctor Avora greeted her with a robe made of towel material as she stood. Risa gathered it around herself, holding it closed with a fist as she jogged on her toes to the exam table, eager to stop touching the icy floor. She again sat on the edge, hacking on the occasional wisp of gel doing flips in her trachea. For several minutes, the doctor waved small instruments over her. Fragments of conversation from the hallway outside proved her hearing enhancement had come back online.

“Any idea what could’ve caused damage like that?” Risa held her right hand out straight and extended her claws, grinning at the way the light glinted on the transparent blades. So small, yet so reassuring. A momentary daydream of how her meeting with Bax and his crew should have gone played through her mind.

“I’m not a forensics expert,” said the Doctor, “but I can tell you it wasn’t an external attack. My best guess is you had some malware that used your uplink to push far more data than it could handle. Whatever it was turned you into a short-term burst transmitter, and deleted itself when it was done. For what purpose, I couldn’t even guess.”

Her claws snapped back into their implanted sheaths. Risa made a fist, rotating her hand to keep droplets of blood running over her fingers. I’m not helpless anymore. It had to be C-Branch attempting to disable me with some kind of weapon no one’s seen before. “Don’t worry about it; I think I have an idea.”

Doctor Avora waved a handheld device over Risa’s face and chest. “You show signs of mild nerve damage, but I doubt it came from that fancy wiring you’ve got. Provided you don’t push yourself too far, you should recover in a few months.”

“The last implant was on the cheap side.” Risa picked at the robe’s hem, where it exposed her knee. “What’s it cost to regenerate eyes?”

“Regenerate?” Doctor Avora pursed her lips and leaned in close to appraise her eyes. “Well, you’d have to go to Arcadia city for that… we don’t have that sort of equipment here. Assuming you mean DNA reconstruction of your own tissue, probably four to five million credits and about two weeks of being blind. The ones you’ve got would get about a hundred grand trade in.”

Heaviness welled up at the base of her heart. “Yeah. Don’t have time for that now.”

“Surgery on the optic nerve is delicate. There aren’t a lot of people who specialize in that sort of thing, and they don’t work for peanuts. People go for implants because they are far less expensive.”

Risa glanced to the side, feeling a twinge of shame. “You know what kind of hardware I’ve got. Do I need the eyes, or would everything work with a visor?”

“The only difference is wearing a slab of metal on your face. Not exactly easy to hide.”

“Oh, like these are subtle.” Risa made eye contact.

Doctor Avora laughed. “Yes, well…”

“Am I done?” Risa shifted her weight forward, ready to stand.

“New NIU, comm link, battery, and M3.”

“The port went too?” Risa rubbed her neck behind her ear.

“Everything’s connected and delicate. A power spike like you experienced could’ve fried everything, even your brain. Your Wraith survived, but I had to replace the connectors. That’s five million your employer won’t have to spend.” Doctor Avora shook her head. “I’m honestly surprised you walked away without brain damage. You’re a very lucky woman, Miss Aum.”

“Lucky…” Risa slipped off the exam table and padded over to an autoshower hidden behind a medical curtain. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

Related posts:


Daughter of Mars #72 (Blind Wish part 2)

Daughter of Mars #71 (Blind Wish part 1)

Daughter of Mars #70 (Sanctuary part 2)

Caller 107 on sale

Curiosity Quills has marked down Caller 107 to $2.99 on Amazon for a couple of days (ends 2/6/15).

I went wide out of my comfort zone (Sci Fi) for this one, but I couldn’t help it. Some years ago – before I took writing seriously – the story that would become Caller 107 came to me as a dream. At the time, I didn’t write often; but when I woke up, I had to write down everything I had dreamed before I lost it.

For awhile I wasn’t confident enough to show it to anyone, as some of the story elements felt ‘weird’ to me, but after CQ signed Division Zero, I decided to polish it up and show them to see what they thought. What I had written was too short for a book and too long for a short story. They asked if I could make it a little longer, so I sat down and got to work.

The thing I like most about being a writer is having people who have read something I created and tell me that it reached them on a deep, emotional level. I’ve gotten some great feedback from people who have read Caller 107, especially mothers, and when one person told me they’d gotten into a discussion with their daughter about my book, I was on cloud nine for a month.

Anyway, if someone who reads this post decides to check this one out, I’d love to hear what you think

Related posts:


Caller 107

Caller 107 Blog Tour Signup

Cover Reveal | Caller 107

Daughter of Mars #72 (Blind Wish part 2)

(Start at the beginning [Hand of Raziel] here.)

Lost in a world of darkness, Risa clung to her memories of a time before her world went crazy. Between glimpses of her old bedroom and her father smiling, flashed scenes of his death. She embraced the sight of it, staring defiance into the flames with her mind’s eye. No longer did the nightmare control her. She summoned it, reveled in it, owned it. Deep within, she knew the same political machinery responsible for her father’s death had also killed the second man she had dared to love. Wicked dreams of fire brought anger instead of fear, and she found herself snarling into Shiro’s shoulder as he guided her into the side of a small car and set her down on a cushioned seat. Her hand brushed a surface reminiscent of suede, cool and soft.

Risa’s voice cracked with emotion. “Shir―”

The door closed to her right, stalling her question. A moment later he got in at her left. She decided against speaking again, and sat straight with her hands over her face, replaying the day she’d agreed to have her eyes replaced. General Maris favored the tactical superiority of artificial eyes instead of a semi-external implant like a ViewPane. He’d said it would be easier to hide, and couldn’t get knocked off her head.

Dustblow. Glowing purple dots are so inconspicuous. You just wanted the money a young girl’s eyes would get on the market. Shame fell on her shoulders. Normal people don’t give up perfect organs for machines. I was so idealistic… pissed off.

She clung to her anger in an effort not to give in to panic. Inertia pushed her to the side as the car took a corner. The lack of warning left her unable to get her hand up in time to prevent her head colliding with the window. Shiro put an arm around her, triggering an involuntary stiffening of her back muscles.

“You’re trembling,” said Shiro in a soothing half-whisper. “You can relax. You’ll be able to see again soon, and I’ll stay with you until you can.”

If Pavo’s ghost is watching me, I don’t want him to think… “I’m okay.” She reached her right arm out until she found the wall, and braced herself. “Thanks, but―”

“Too soon.” He lifted his arm.

What? How could he know? “W-what do you mean?”

“That Imari woman has not been subtle in her search for your associate. Your NetMini went offline within seconds of a call from your Japanese friend, and your current mood gave away all I needed to infer.” He grasped her hand, pausing for a moment. “I’m sorry, Risa.”

Faint trembles in her arms ceased. In place of sorrow, determination swept over her mind. I will not cry for Pavo until they all pay. “I will find the people who killed him.”

“That didn’t work out so well for you the last time you chased revenge.”

A mental image of the smug grin he might’ve had caused her fist to clench. “You know so much about me.”

She flopped into him as the car swerved through a hard left. As soon as the car straightened out, she pushed herself upright and grabbed her head in both hands, fingers splayed through her hair. I can’t stand this. Over and over, she concentrated on the mental command to activate the Wraith implant. Almost seven years I’ve been able to see in the dark, now I’m blind. I’m going to go crazy.

“Risa?”

“How?” She pulled her hands up and over her head, gathering her hair out of her face. “How do you know so much about me?”

“I thought I mentioned I have research people. Well, rather the company does.”

Risa swiveled her head as if to glance towards the sound of his voice. The same featureless darkness surrounded her on all sides. “You never did tell me which company you worked for. Can those ‘research people’ help find who I need to kill?”

“Starpoint, and possibly… but―”

“They’re in bed with military intelligence, so if C-Branch is involved, they”―Risa made air quotes―“won’t be able to find anything.” She let her arms fall dead in her lap. “Shit.”

Shiro chuckled. “I was going to say ‘but people would start asking questions I don’t have answers for.’”

She lurched forward as the car stopped, but managed to get her hands up in time to avoid kissing a hard, plastic barrier. The chirp of a NetMini’s credit scan came from her left, seconds before the door opened on a whirring automatic arm. Sounds of an open area with a large number of people moving about flooded in. Minimal conversation, most of the noise was footsteps. A courtyard. Faint melodic tones pierced the ambient sounds every so often. Primus Medical Pavilion. She caught herself trying to glance at Shiro again and fumbled her way out of the taxi, cursing under her breath while taking a few baby steps certain no curb would trip her. A hand caught her by the bicep and she instinctively drove her elbow backwards, aiming for the solar plexus of an adult male. Shiro let off a faint ‘oof’, and threw his other arm around her, trapping her against his chest.

“It’s me. Calm down.”

“Sorry.” She stopped squirming. “Little warning please. People who sneak up on me tend to die.”

“Shall I carry you?”

Again, her mind painted a smile on his face that made her want to punch it. “My legs aren’t broken. I’m just a little stiff.”

“That’s your agility wiring. You’re so used to having boosted reflexes that when they’re gone, you’re worse off than if you’d never had them. It’s not permanent; your body would adjust in a few weeks.”

“Would?” She moved to the side and put a hand on his shoulder. “I can walk.”

“You should be back online in a few hours.”

Disappointment welled up inside her. As close to a normal person as she’d been in years, and he was going to ‘fix’ it. His shoulder pulled her hand forward; her legs moved as if on their own. What’s wrong with me? A ‘normal’ girl would’ve been killed by those shitheads in the alley. Her free hand teased at the front of her neck where I/O had poked her with a sword. The more she thought about him, the more she seethed about feeling so helpless.

The presence of sound changed, making her lift her head in another futile effort to look at whatever object loomed overhead. A hiss from in front startled her, but Shiro didn’t slow. He pulled her forward, wobbling on stiff legs, into a standing wall of cold air. Pneumatic doors closed behind them, cutting off the rush of the crowd for the soft ambiance of distant conversations.

Soft electric pings interspersed with a pleasant female voice. “Attention friends or relatives of”―the voice changed pitch― “Haoru, Ishikawa”―the voice returned to its former tone― “your friend or relative has completed his procedure in good health. He should be emerging within twenty minutes.”

Risa followed Shiro’s lead through a slalom of chairs and people. How can I want to be weak? She ran two fingers over her face. I miss my eyes.

Shiro stopped after a few minutes of walking, guided her into a seat, and patted her on the back of the hand before letting go. “Wait here. I’ll make the appointment.”

She reclined, closing her eyes even though her world was already dark. Time dragged by in quiet silence. She wondered why Raziel hadn’t said a word since she watched the video of Pavo’s last moments. Is he avoiding me because he knows what I’d ask him? He’s an angel. How could he not know something was going to happen to Pavo? Why didn’t warn me. Fingernails dug into the armrests, squeezing her anger into the almost-cushioned chair. He knew I’d have gone to help Pavo instead of Arden. Rage faded to guilt at the memory of Tara. I didn’t save the settlement, but most of the people survived. She slouched forward, face in her hands. Even Pavo wouldn’t have wanted to trade so many lives for one.

“Miss Aum?” asked a neutral-toned male voice.

It took her a few seconds to remember the false identity she’d used on her first meeting with Shiro; her head popped up. “Yes?”

“The doctor is ready for you. I understand your eyes aren’t working, so I brought a hover-chair.”

“Great.” I hate feeling so dependent.

“Might want to let me hold your gear,” said Shiro, at her right.

She stood, shrugged out of the harness, and faced ninety degrees left.

“You’ll be fine.” Shiro patted her on the arm and took her pistols.

When something bumped her calves, she reached back to find a chair behind her, and lowered herself into a floating seat, which bobbed up and down for a few seconds until it corrected for her weight. The hospital worker pushed her at the pace of a brisk walk; she kept her hands in her lap rather than the armrests, not wanting to risk having her knuckles slammed into obstacles her eyes could not see. She remained quiet through a right turn, two minutes in a cramped elevator, and another series of hallways. Another soft hiss came from an opening door, before a wave of even colder air brushed her face.

“Okay, we’re here.” The man swiveled the hover-chair over a few small bumps and scooted it sideways for several feet. “I’m going to ask you to lie down on your stomach on the table. You can take your boots off if you want, but it isn’t necessary.”

“No tank?” She fumbled out into the dark until her fingertips found the edge of a table.

“Not yet. We’re going to run a diagnostic first. Where’s your M3? Ear or neck?”

“Behind my left ear.” She slid onto the table and rested her right cheek on her folded arms. “I’m not military.” At least this thing is soft.

He wiped the area behind her ear with a cold, wet lump. The scent of rubbing alcohol followed seconds later. “Hmm. You’ve got dried blood in the port. I’m going to clean it up first.”

Risa lay still while he rummaged through what sounded like trays of small tools. A cold droplet crept down the back of her neck, triggering an involuntary shiver. He moved closer and set one hand flat on top of her head, holding her down with a light, even pressure.

“I’m going to be as gentle as I can. Most people find this unpleasant. Try not to move.”

Her calm lasted until he stuck the tip of a delicate tool into the socket and worked it back and forth. The scraping of metal on metal reverberated through her skull. Between the sound scratching through her head and the feeling of the tool snagging on hard clumps, her jaw clenched and her right leg twitched. She clawed at the cushion, squirming side to side in an effort to resist the instinctual urge to do whatever she could to escape.

After a moment, he paused. “Is something wrong?”

“Ugh. This is worse than having my teeth drilled.”

He put a hand on her shoulder to hold her down. “Please stay still. I’m sorry this is uncomfortable, I’m trying to be quick.”

Hell lasted another forty seconds until he withdrew whatever tool he’d been using and connected a standard interface plug. Compared to the cleaning, the click that echoed through her brain felt wonderful. She relaxed and closed her eyes, as if lying on a massage table.

“Oh, there’s your problem,” said the man.

“That was quick,” muttered Risa.

“Your NIU is toast. No signal at all. I could’ve plugged this in your nose and gotten the same result.”

“That’s why nothing works.” Central link down. “Let me guess, I need brain surgery.”

“I’m afraid so.” He pulled the wire out. “I’m going to check with another wire and another diagnostic unit just to make sure… but we won’t know what else happened until we get a functional NIU in there.”

“How much is this going to cost?” As if I could put a price on being able to see.

“One moment.” A few electronic blips chimed overhead. “Oh, looks like everything’s covered by your insurance.” The man patted her on the shoulder. “I wish I worked for Starpoint. That’s one hell of a package.”

Risa blinked. Shiro…

Related posts:


Daughter of Mars #71 (Blind Wish part 1)

Daughter of Mars #69 (Sanctuary part 1)

Daughter of Mars #70 (Sanctuary part 2)

Writing | Dialogue Mechanics

Dialogue Attribution

Characters in fiction writing often speak―let’s face it, a story would feel strange if the characters never said a word to one another. However, just throwing dialogue down on a page soon becomes a chaotic mess. Authors have a number of techniques at their disposal to control dialogue and keep the reader from getting lost and confused. In the course of reading, editing, and proofreading, I seem to find issues with dialogue mechanics that stand out as a little iffy at best and downright distracting at worst. In a spell of attempting to be all helpful and stuff again, I decided to ramble a bit about dialogue attribution.

— Tags, Beats, and Cues —

Feel free to skip this part if you know the difference between a dialogue tag and a beat. If not, read on! There are three primary means of dialog attribution. Simply put, this means telling the reader who said what. Overreliance on any single technique makes for weak writing. Good dialogue should use a mixture so as not to create a feeling of repetition.

Dialogue Tags

A dialogue tag (also known as a ‘saidism’) in its most basic form is the word ‘said.’ Many authors regard ‘said’ as invisible to the reader and as the ideal, perfect, only tag anyone should ever use (with the occasional permission slip granted to ‘asked’). Dialogue tags may also include other words such as yelled, shouted, whispered etc, and are separated from the dialogue by a comma.

Tags can be in front of, behind, or amid the dialogue:

“Meet me at the wharf at six,” said Nigel.

Faye said, “Six? Isn’t that a bit early?”

“Hardly,” said Nigel. “Lassiter wanted us here at five. I managed to talk an hour out of him.”

 

Dialogue Beats

A beat is an action occurring on the same line as dialogue, used to attribute that dialogue to a particular character much like a tag. Beats offer a way to connect a line of dialogue to a character with a sense of flow, especially when you’re looking to convey a sense of the dialogue occuring while action happens. Beats should be separated from dialogue with periods, can occur at the beginning of dialogue, between bits of dialogue, or after:

 

Nigel rolled down the driver-side window. “Oh, bloody… I don’t like the look of that mist.”

“Neither do I.” Faye shuddered, clutching her silver derringer close to her chest. “Something’s wrong.”

“Too late now. We’re past the point of no return and all that.” Nigel opened the door and got out.

 

 

Context Attribution

The third method of dialogue attribution is contextual. A contextual attribution connects the dialogue to the character speaking it by the context of what is going on around the dialogue or by the words themselves.

 

Examples of context tagging include:

Characters with a distinctive, recognizable speech pattern/accent (the reader will know which character says something if there’s only one character that talks like that). In this example (From Emma and the Banderwigh) the second line of dialogue has an elongated ‘s’ sound, which is a speech attribute of a specific character. Only one character in the book speaks with the ‘s’ sounds elongated, so any line of dialogue with this in it can be context attributed to that character.

 

She struggled to unstick her finger, and pointed at the dead man two feet away. “What about him?”

“Hisss companion killed one of my children.”

 

Direct responses to questions, either when a character is addressed by name or if there are only two characters present in the scene.

“What time did Doctor Lassiter say he was going to be here?” asked Faye.

“Six-thirty.”

(Assuming that Nigel and Faye are the only characters in the scene, the answer to the question is assumed to be from Nigel. If the answer is intended to come from the extra-dimensional being in the glove box, you’d need to identify that.)

or

“You never did tell me what her name was, Nigel.”

“Would it have mattered?”

 

Here, the question is directed at Nigel by name. The answer logically comes from Nigel so there’s no need to tag it apart from the context.

 

 

Dialogue that only one character in a scene could possibly say and would not make sense coming from anyone else. This example is from Prophet of the Badlands. Althea, the main character, has found a malfunctioning android stuck in a creek and is having a conversation with it. The line that begins with “prophet not found” has a speech pattern (short, direct statements plus it ‘sounds’ like a machine talking.) Also, Althea’s mangling of English can also serve as a context tag.

She noticed the gun closer to the water did not spin as fast as the other did, though both still pointed at her. “You want me to help you so you can shoot me?”

“That is correct.”

With a confused face, she ventured a peek. “Why? I am the Prophet.”

“Prophet not found. You are biological contaminant. CRP directive implies removal of biological contaminants from central North America. Please move to within twenty four inches of main unit.”

She stepped out from behind the tree, still clinging to it. “You want me to get closer? Why?”

“Please move within twenty four inches of main unit. Auxiliary contaminant removal system has a maximum effective range of twenty-nine inches.”

She took a cautious step closer. “What is a auximarry taminant system?”

Althea jumped back as a twenty-nine inch blade sprang out of its chest and waved back and forth in the air. “Detachment of biological unit component ‘head’ will result in effective contaminant removal.”

 

In a nutshell, if the reader can tell who is speaking a line of dialogue by the content or the way in which it is said, that dialogue is using context attribution.

 

— Missteps (Double tags, repetitive tags, and bad tags) —

Many new authors seem to have a desire to avoid using ‘said’ at all costs. I’ve worked with some manuscripts where the writer went to great and sometimes awkward lengths to avoid using ‘said.’ While I agree that long patches of dialogue where every line has a ‘said’ is dry as hell, there are some things that should be avoided.

 

Double Tagging

A double tag occurs when dialogue is attributed twice. The most often situation is when a writer uses both a beat and a tag on the same piece of dialogue. As the purpose of tagging and beats are to attribute the dialogue to the speaker, more than one of them is redundant and unnecessary.

 

An example of a double tag:

Nigel reached into his coat and grabbed his Webley revolver. “Wait in the car, Faye. This is going to get nasty,” he said.

 

Here, the dialogue is attributed to Nigel by his going for a gun. the ‘he said’ at the end is useless.

 

I’ve sometimes even seen triple and quadruple tags where ‘he said’ or ‘she said’ is used as a reflexive add-on to the end of every spoken line of dialogue. Until the paragraph changes, the dialogue all belongs to the same character. A section of dialogue only needs to be attributed once. Something like this is going too far:

 

Faye leapt from the car and scrambled through the fog by the headlamps. “Nigel?” she asked. “Nigel? Come back,” said Faye. She crept towards the roiling wall of mist where he’d vanished. An hour ago, she’d wanted to kill him―now, she couldn’t imagine losing him. “Nigel!” she screamed. “Where are you?”

 

In this example, there’s 4 tags: the initial beat, asked, said, and screamed. While the screaming tag conveys some additional descriptive elements and might be tolerable, the asked/said are needless since the paragraph starts off with a beat. The above could be rewritten with one tag as:

 

Faye leapt from the car and scrambled through the fog by the headlamps. “Nigel?” She paused, listening. “Nigel? Come back.” She crept towards the roiling wall of mist where he’d vanished. An hour ago, she’d wanted to kill him―now, she couldn’t imagine losing him. “Nigel! Nigel, where are you?”

Only the sound of her own frantic screaming returned from the fog.

 

Bad / Explanatory Dialogue Tags

 

In the earnest efforts of some writers to avoid using ‘said’ as a dialogue tag, I’ve seen a lot of inventive verbs used as tags. Alas, most of them don’t do well. There are two primary forms of ‘bad tags.’ The first are verbs that do not convey speech and are not dialogue tags. Examples of this would be ‘laughed’, ‘chuckled’ or ‘sighed’ – all three of those are physical actions that are not speaking. More grotesque examples are physical actions such as winced or cringed. Using verbs like these as dialogue tags are clumsy as wincing or cringing (or any other physical action verb) isn’t a mode of speech. People don’t ‘wince’ words. So [“Ouch,” he winced.] does not work.

 

The second form of bad tag is what I refer to as ‘explanatory’ dialogue tags. With these, (many of which also don’t work as tags because they are not ways to speak) the author attempts to use the tag to explain the meaning of the dialogue to the reader. These tags can vary in impression from seeming amateurish to insulting the reader’s intelligence depending on how the reader takes them. Let the dialogue speak for itself and resist the urge to explain. Examples of ‘explanatory tags’ are:

 

“Yes, let’s do that,” he agreed.

“We have to shut down these sub relay breakers first, then we can kill the main. Once it’s off, we can change all these light bulbs,” he explained.

“Well where did he go?” he demanded.

“I hate this place. I hate this food. I hate this stupid dress, and I hate you!” she complained.

“No way,” he replied.

 

When a writer thinks the reader needs to be told ‘Yes, let’s do that’ is agreement – it’s like they grab the reader by the ear and force their face up to the page, yelling, “See, he agreed! see! ‘Yes means I agree!” A description of how to change light bulbs is obvious as an explanation, using the tag ‘explained’ here is redundant. Also, you can’t ‘explain’ words, it’s not a mode of speech.

Now, “demanded” is one I see a lot of, and even as an explanatory tag, it’s often used incorrectly. In the above example (which is a classic of what I seem to find all over the place) the modified dialogue is not even a demand… it’s a question. While I don’t advise using explanatory dialogue tags at all, if you’re going to use them, at least use ones that make sense. “Well, where did he go?” is a question not a demand. A demand would be “Tell me where they went!”

In the last example, the character is complaining. The dialogue shows that. There’s no need to beat the reader over the head to make sure they understand that a string of ‘I hates’ is complaining.

“Replied” is one that sits on the fence. Some people find it acceptable, while I consider it explanatory. If the dialogue tagged with ‘replied’ occurs right after a question, its presence alone constitutes a reply – there’s no need to tell the reader it’s a reply when it is already shown as a reply.

 

Rote Tags

Many editors believe that ‘said’ is the only true dialogue tag. There is a lot of precedent for this, but some writers can take this too far. When every line of dialogue has a ‘said’ on it, the text is repetitious and stale, and not a lot of fun to read.

 

“I don’t care what this thing is, I’m going to send it back,” said Nigel.

“But, it’ll kill you,” said Faye. “Even if you live, you… won’t be the same.”

“Look,” said Nigel. “You don’t have to follow me if you don’t want to. This is Lassiter’s mess. He opened the gate, and I’m going to close it.”

“I’m going with you,” said Faye.

“No way in hell, babe,” said Nigel. “You’re staying right here.

“I’m not letting you go alone. Besides, I have the amulet,” said Faye.

 

Here, every line has ‘said’ on it. As you can see, it reads like you’re falling down the stairs face first and cheek-slapping every step along the way. The supposedly innocuous ‘said’ becomes not so invisible.

 

 

Good tags

So what, you may be asking now, do I think are good tags? Tags that convey a descriptive element and do not attempt to explain or clarify the dialogue. I have worked with a number of editors, some of whom have been strict “use ‘said’ or don’t use anything!” whack you on the knuckles with the ruler types, and others who seemed not to care whatsoever what tags are used. Some would argue the ideal dialogue uses only ‘said’ and ‘asked’ interspersed with beats and context clues.

While ‘said’ is the most accepted tag, it’s also bad to overuse it (see rote tags above). When the need arises to use something else, consider words like: shouted, whispered, yelled, rasped, wheezed, and so on. Be careful to avoid words like ‘growled’ or ‘sighed’, which are sounds/actions unto themselves and not modes of projecting words.

 

The best dialogue mechanics use a mixture of beats, tags, and context clues to keep the reader immersed and the action flowing. Be wary of overusing the same words, and when in doubt, use ‘said.’

 

Happy Writing,

-Matt

Daughter of Mars #71 (Blind Wish part 1)

(Read Book 1 here)

Wet breaths puffed over the top of Risa’s head, washing the flavor of greasy salami over her hair. Bird’s bear hug crushed the air from her chest, pinning her crossed arms and trapping her weapons in their holsters. Risa strained to lean back from the sword point at her throat, staring down the length of gleaming metal at the man holding it.

NanoLED tattoos of glowing indigo circuit lines lit I/O’s paper-white hair cobalt blue where it draped in front of his eyes. Red still tinted his cheeks, the aftereffect of her kick. He shook with rage, glaring at her as though he wanted to make her imminent death hurt as much as possible. All the strength in her legs shoved against Bird as the tip teased a droplet of blood from her neck. She locked eyes with I/O, feeling more anger than fear.

These idiots shouldn’t be a threat. What the hell is wrong with me?

I/O’s malignant anger seemed to evaporate in an instant. “Now, play nice.” I/O tapped her under the chin twice with the flat.

He leaned back to give Bax plenty of room to raise the handheld stunner to her cheek. The scent of ozone filled her nostrils as the blue glowing tip neared. Primal panic took over. Risa thrashed and screamed. A lucky high kick knocked the stunner out of his hand yet again. Bax roared incomprehensible malformed words drove his fist into her gut. She let off a noise like a stomped-on goose, and hung limp.

Risa screamed inside her head, hating every ounce of feeling weak and helpless.

“I thought you liked ‘em feisty, Bax?” said Bird.

I/O frowned. “That’s not what this one’s for. Four hundred grand, boys.”

“Yeah, man,” wheezed Bird, grunting from the effort to contain her. “But they didn’t say we couldn’t―”

“Argh!” Risa yowled, and slammed her head back into the man’s teeth.

Pain exploded in a starburst at the back of her skull. She nodded and drove her skull into his nose a second time. Bird squeezed her harder, and she thrashed, growling and kicking. I/O grabbed her left leg and fumbled to contain her other wild limb.

Bird staggered; hot blood flowed down the back of her neck. Sensing his grip weakened, she forced her arms apart while letting her weight hang dead in his arms. Risa wriggled away, falling to the ground as Bax rounded another ham-fist. The punch caught Bird in the chest, turning his stagger into a stumbling fall. Risa, still fighting to breathe, kicked free of I/O’s grip. She rolled onto her front as she squeezed the trigger on the pistol under her right arm. Judging by the howl, the laser had scored a hit on Bax.

“Fucking bitch!” he roared.

“Enough of this,” said I/O, advancing. “We’ll still get half for a corpse.”

Risa dragged herself upright, one hand cradling her gut while her left arm gyrated in a desperate search for balance. Bax sprawled on the ground, both hands clamped around his left thigh. Blood and smoke oozed through his fingers from the half-inch hole straight through his leg. I/O swung his blade in a wide, telegraphed arc. Risa ducked at the cost of one or two hairs. Bird pulled a ballistic handgun off the back of his belt. It’ll hurt, but it won’t pierce. Risa instinctively held her fingers in claw posture, but her implanted blades refused to deploy. Expecting a bullet any second, she gritted her teeth and braced for impact. Air finally found her lungs as she leaned away from I/O’s backswing and pulled her weapons out. The usual floating crosshairs her cybernetic eyes provided failed to appear.

“Outta the way man,” yelled Bird, raising his weapon.

The sword went back entering the start of an overhead chopping motion. She shot a nanosecond glance to the right, at an alley offering cover, but to go for it would put her right in the path of the descending sword. With the grace of a matador, Risa slid to her left. The blade came down hard enough to spark on the plastisteel floor. Woozy from the stomach hit, she swooned backwards, raising her pistols. I/O brushed them aside with a twist of his sword, but not fast enough. Emerald laser light streaked from her left-handed weapon, through his shoulder, and into Bird’s cheek.

Before I/O could recover his sword for a counterattack, his chest exploded in a series of red spurts. A flurry of faint pops came out of the dark alley to her right. A red dot appeared at the center of I/O’s forehead, and the back of his skull exploded in a sluice of gore. He lingered upright for a second before collapsing in a heap. A rapid series of pops rang out in time with metal clanks on the ground; sparks appeared in a trail, walking over Bird as bullets riddled his body.

What the… silenced ballistic weapon?

Risa whirled toward the sound; her throat dried up at the silhouette of another man emerging from the alley with luminous green spots for eyes. She took a step back as the figure advanced. His arm went out to his right side, though his gaze never left her. He walked forward, firing two quick shots into Bax’s in the chest, and two more into his face.

Bax slumped in a heap.

Oh, shit.

She aimed both her guns at the new arrival, angered by the fear so visible in the wavering barrels of guns she couldn’t hold still. The man let the gun pivot on his finger, weight pulling the barrel to point upward. Another step brought Shiro Murasame into the light.

Shiro… Her heart thudded in her chest; she let her arms drop. Raziel, did you send him?

His lip curled into a cocky grin. “Hope I’m not interrupting. I’m sure you had that handled.”

She squatted, arms crossed over her bruised stomach, and gasped for air. “Uhm. Yeah.”

Shiro slipped his pistol inside his dark suit jacket. He glanced at the three dead men and offered her a hand. “Glad I went looking for you.”

He’s never going to let me forget this.

“How did you find me?” She coughed, rubbing her gut. “Bastard hit me right in the sweet spot. If I still had real eyes, I’d be seeing stars.”

“Call it a hunch.” He offered a hand, pulling her upright. “You don’t look so good.”

Thanks for noticing. She glared at Bax, and shivered. “Any chance of a ride?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He held out his arm as if about to escort her into a private club. “Shall we have dinner at The Azure?”

I… no. I have to find Pavo. Risa wobbled to her feet. “I can’t. I’m in the middle of something.”

Shiro brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. She cringed inside, but kept it from showing. Red text appeared at random in her field of vision, errors about diagnostic failure. One panel suggested updating the firmware version of her NIU, but the Marsnet link showed as down. The self-check process crashed, and her eyes went dark.

Blind.

“Shit,” she whimpered, trembling.

“Risa?” asked Shiro, a touch over a whisper as he grabbed her arms.

“I-I’m blind.”

His arm slid around her back, supporting most of her weight. “The light went out.”

“That’s not good. Something’s wrong with me.” No. No. No. Terror, raked an icy claw over her heart. Pavo was dead, and she seemed to have one foot in the grave right behind him.

“You’re shaking.” He tried to gather her in his arms.

You’re not Pavo. She cried, wanting Pavo to be the one to carry her broken body to the medical pavilion. No… The shutdown of her augmented hearing came on with a sensation like cotton swelled up inside her ears. While her hearing had become ‘normal’, she felt deaf.

Shiro overpowered her pitiful struggle and lifted her off the ground. “Come on, Risa. You’re in no condition to be out here on your own.”

Her eyes didn’t reboot. After two full minutes of darkness, she stopped wriggling and let her head lay against what she assumed to be his shoulder. Soft bouncing motion rocked her as he moved. Never before had she felt so helpless.

Not even the night her father died.

Related posts:


Daughter of Mars #72 (Blind Wish part 2)

Daughter of Mars #70 (Sanctuary part 2)

Daughter of Mars #69 (Sanctuary part 1)

Divergent Fate #71

(Book 2 – Chapter 2)

Wet breaths puffed over the top of Risa’s head, washing the flavor of greasy salami over her hair. Bird’s bear hug crushed the air from her chest, pinning her crossed arms and trapping her weapons in their holsters. Risa strained to lean back from the sword point at her throat, staring down the length of gleaming metal at the man holding it.

NanoLED tattoos of glowing indigo circuit lines lit I/O’s paper-white hair cobalt blue where it draped in front of his eyes. Red still tinted his cheeks, the aftereffect of her kick. He shook with rage, glaring at her as though he wanted to make her imminent death hurt as much as possible. All the strength in her legs shoved against Bird as the tip teased a droplet of blood from her neck. She locked eyes with I/O, feeling more anger than fear.

These idiots shouldn’t be a threat. What the hell is wrong with me?

I/O’s malignant anger seemed to evaporate in an instant. “Now, play nice.” I/O tapped her under the chin twice with the flat.

He leaned back to give Bax plenty of room to raise the handheld stunner to her cheek. The scent of ozone filled her nostrils as the blue glowing tip neared. Primal panic took over. Risa thrashed and screamed. A lucky high kick knocked the stunner out of his hand yet again. Bax roared incomprehensible malformed words drove his fist into her gut. She let off a noise like a stomped-on goose, and hung limp.

Risa screamed inside her head, hating every ounce of feeling weak and helpless.

“I thought you liked ‘em feisty, Bax?” said Bird.

I/O frowned. “That’s not what this one’s for. Four hundred grand, boys.”

“Yeah, man,” wheezed Bird, grunting from the effort to contain her. “But they didn’t say we couldn’t―”

“Argh!” Risa yowled, and slammed her head back into the man’s teeth.

Pain exploded in a starburst at the back of her skull. She nodded and drove her skull into his nose a second time. Bird squeezed her harder, and she thrashed, growling and kicking. I/O grabbed her left leg and fumbled to contain her other wild limb.

Bird staggered; hot blood flowed down the back of her neck. Sensing his grip weakened, she forced her arms apart while letting her weight hang dead in his arms. Risa wriggled away, falling to the ground as Bax rounded another ham-fist. The punch caught Bird in the chest, turning his stagger into a stumbling fall. Risa, still fighting to breathe, kicked free of I/O’s grip. She rolled onto her front as she squeezed the trigger on the pistol under her right arm. Judging by the howl, the laser had scored a hit on Bax.

“Fucking bitch!” he roared.

“Enough of this,” said I/O, advancing. “We’ll still get half for a corpse.”

Risa dragged herself upright, one hand cradling her gut while her left arm gyrated in a desperate search for balance. Bax sprawled on the ground, both hands clamped around his left thigh. Blood and smoke oozed through his fingers from the half-inch hole straight through his leg. I/O swung his blade in a wide, telegraphed arc. Risa ducked at the cost of one or two hairs. Bird pulled a ballistic handgun off the back of his belt. It’ll hurt, but it won’t pierce. Risa instinctively held her fingers in claw posture, but her implanted blades refused to deploy. Expecting a bullet any second, she gritted her teeth and braced for impact. Air finally found her lungs as she leaned away from I/O’s backswing and pulled her weapons out. The usual floating crosshairs her cybernetic eyes provided failed to appear.

“Outta the way man,” yelled Bird, raising his weapon.

The sword went back entering the start of an overhead chopping motion. She shot a nanosecond glance to the right, at an alley offering cover, but to go for it would put her right in the path of the descending sword. With the grace of a matador, Risa slid to her left. The blade came down hard enough to spark on the plastisteel floor. Woozy from the stomach hit, she swooned backwards, raising her pistols. I/O brushed them aside with a twist of his sword, but not fast enough. Emerald laser light streaked from her left-handed weapon, through his shoulder, and into Bird’s cheek.

Before I/O could recover his sword for a counterattack, his chest exploded in a series of red spurts. A flurry of faint pops came out of the dark alley to her right. A red dot appeared at the center of I/O’s forehead, and the back of his skull exploded in a sluice of gore. He lingered upright for a second before collapsing in a heap. A rapid series of pops rang out in time with metal clanks on the ground; sparks appeared in a trail, walking over Bird as bullets riddled his body.

What the… silenced ballistic weapon?

Risa whirled toward the sound; her throat dried up at the silhouette of another man emerging from the alley with luminous green spots for eyes. She took a step back as the figure advanced. His arm went out to his right side, though his gaze never left her. He walked forward, firing two quick shots into Bax’s in the chest, and two more into his face.

Bax slumped in a heap.

Oh, shit.

She aimed both her guns at the new arrival, angered by the fear so visible in the wavering barrels of guns she couldn’t hold still. The man let the gun pivot on his finger, weight pulling the barrel to point upward. Another step brought Shiro Murasame into the light.

Shiro… Her heart thudded in her chest; she let her arms drop. Raziel, did you send him?

His lip curled into a cocky grin. “Hope I’m not interrupting. I’m sure you had that handled.”

She squatted, arms crossed over her bruised stomach, and gasped for air. “Uhm. Yeah.”

Shiro slipped his pistol inside his dark suit jacket. He glanced at the three dead men and offered her a hand. “Glad I went looking for you.”

He’s never going to let me forget this.

“How did you find me?” She coughed, rubbing her gut. “Bastard hit me right in the sweet spot. If I still had real eyes, I’d be seeing stars.”

“Call it a hunch.” He offered a hand, pulling her upright. “You don’t look so good.”

Thanks for noticing. She glared at Bax, and shivered. “Any chance of a ride?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He held out his arm as if about to escort her into a private club. “Shall we have dinner at The Azure?”

I… no. I have to find Pavo. Risa wobbled to her feet. “I can’t. I’m in the middle of something.”

Shiro brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. She cringed inside, but kept it from showing. Red text appeared at random in her field of vision, errors about diagnostic failure. One panel suggested updating the firmware version of her NIU, but the Marsnet link showed as down. The self-check process crashed, and her eyes went dark.

Blind.

“Shit,” she whimpered, trembling.

“Risa?” asked Shiro, a touch over a whisper as he grabbed her arms.

“I-I’m blind.”

His arm slid around her back, supporting most of her weight. “The light went out.”

“That’s not good. Something’s wrong with me.” No. No. No. Terror, raked an icy claw over her heart. Pavo was dead, and she seemed to have one foot in the grave right behind him.

“You’re shaking.” He tried to gather her in his arms.

You’re not Pavo. She cried, wanting Pavo to be the one to carry her broken body to the medical pavilion. No… The shutdown of her augmented hearing came on with a sensation like cotton swelled up inside her ears. While her hearing had become ‘normal’, she felt deaf.

Shiro overpowered her pitiful struggle and lifted her off the ground. “Come on, Risa. You’re in no condition to be out here on your own.”

Her eyes didn’t reboot. After two full minutes of darkness, she stopped wriggling and let her head lay against what she assumed to be his shoulder. Soft bouncing motion rocked her as he moved. Never before had she felt so helpless.

Not even the night her father died.

Writing | Character Construction

Characters are the crux of a story. Regardless of the setting, the characters need to stay true to their sense of identity. Creating believable, memorable characters brings the reader deeper into the environment of a writer’s creation more than world-building alone can do. For me, nothing kills a story like characters who either fall flat or have a weak (or no) sense of identity. When participants in a story lack depth, or their actions seem random with no basis in a constructed psyche, it stands out.

In any story I write, I put a lot of thought into the characters involved. What goes on inside is as important (or more so) than what goes on outside. With a solid character to build on, a writer can throw any scenario at them and have a thorough grasp of how they’d react. Also, it’s better not to dump everything about the character over a reader’s head all at once. Show 10-30% of what you develop for a character, and use the rest as a basis for how the character interacts with others and behaves.

A couple of aspects of character creation that I find helpful are:

Primary Motivation

For major characters, I establish a primary trait or “concept” of what that person embodies. For example, Kirsten from Division Zero: At her core, she is a good soul with a powerful moral sense. She is resilient and has an altruistic nature that causes her to forget about her own safety when someone else is in danger.

The primary trait is the essence of that alternate psyche. Everything the character thinks or does filters through it. Her primary trait (strong moral sense) is a result of seeing into the world after death and the fears and insecurities that knowledge has caused. Others, such as her genuine altruism, are innate qualities.

Another example would be the character Joey from Virtual Immortality. His defining trait is that he is a thrill seeker. His search for an ever-stronger adrenaline rush motivates his actions. To a lesser extent, he’s a slacker―talented but unmotivated, and as much as he won’t admit it, a bit of a softie.

Background

What happened in the character’s past to shape who they are? This question I tend to answer even for minor characters. Take Curtis Warren, the clerk at the cyberware shop in Division Zero. He only appears in one brief scene, however: He’s got a metal arm to replace one he lost while he was serving in the military on Mars. He’s seen enough horrible situations in combat to leave him him unimpressed with things that would scare many people. His wife left him due in part to mental issues from his service, his drinking, and that he spent more time at his shop than at home. He’s got a dog, which he got to fill the hole left behind by the divorce. He’s jaded with a society that isn’t aware a shooting war is going on up on Mars and doesn’t care that he went up there and got maimed for their benefit. He’s a rabid fan of the “Bloodthirsters” Gee-ball team, and has come close to physical violence with anyone who thinks the “Manglers” are better.

Now, most of that doesn’t come out in the story. It sits quiet in the background defining his personality and shaping his dialogue. Even minor characters benefit from a few snippets of background. These little facts weave the character into the world and make them a reflection of their surroundings, deepening the reader’s immersion.

Oftentimes, interaction with a character and their mannerisms can introduce elements of world building in ways more fulfilling than simple narrative. Also, if the character returns in another work or later revisions expand their role you have all the necessary framework to build on.

Arc

At least for the main character, and sometimes a prominent secondary character, I chart an evolutionary arc. What I mean by that is a gradual shift from one state of thought or being to another. I feel that characters should develop over the course of a story and wind up in a different place than where they started. A character that is isolated, lonely, and angry at the start of the story may wind up learning to trust someone by the end, or they may still be isolated and lonely, but no longer angry―as they find acceptance with their situation.

In my opinion, the primary trait that defines a character should not change lightly. However, a character’s nature could change with a severe enough experience. A good-hearted character is not going to turn evil because someone stiffed them for change when they got coffee. If something so trivial sets them off, they weren’t too good to begin with. When characters change, that change should feel natural and be proportional to the experiences they had during the story.

For example, Kirsten from Division Zero starts off loathing religion and anything even remotely connected to it because of the abuse she suffered from her mother. This aspect of her character changes over the course of the series based on her experiences.

Quirks

Sometimes, a little quirk of a character can stand out in a reader’s mind long after they finish the story. These are little idiosyncratic behaviors or traits that everyone has, and goes a long way towards making them feel more like a real person. A character might have a fondness for jalapeños in their egg or love coffee. They might like cats, dogs, or the color puce. Do they have a phobia, a hobby, or a silly habit?

Take Nicole from Division Zero―she is the main character’s friend, but she has a short attention span. She will start a conversation on one topic and go through three more before whomever she’s speaking with can finish reacting to the first one. She is also rather free with her telepathic eavesdropping, and likes to take pictures of suspects who make stupid faces at her whenever she telekinetically yanks their weapons away.

These idiosyncrasies can be superficial or deep. In Nicole’s case, finding amusement in the criminals’ reaction to her gift is something to add humor to life and take her mind away from thinking about how her parents got divorced because they argued over how to raise a psionic child. It’s a mask for guilt, a barrier against the fear of how society looks at her and a facet of her constant attempts to be cute and endearing―she needs people to like her.

Dialogue  – Keeping a character’s dialogue true to who they are is very important. Even small traits in the dialogue can be used to help convey who they are. For example, an arrogant character (like Archon from the Awakened Series) does not use contractions and chooses words that make him sound self-important. Someone like Nicole (who is a conversational scatterbrain) has quick topic shifts, mangles some words, and sometimes abbreviates things never meant to be abbreviated.

For this, I find it helpful to read dialogue out loud and imagine the character speaking like you’re intending. Of course, sometimes this can present its own problems. For at least a week after writing Anatoly Nemsky’s lines from Virtual Immortality, I kept hearing my inner thoughts in a bad Russian accent.

 

In short, the most important part of a story to me are the people, from major to minor and all points in between. Every character I add to a narrative has a constructed psyche and enough history to know who they are. The grandest stage you can build will be useless without believable characters upon it, but even the most drab of setting can be brought to life with memorable characters.

Whenever a situation presents itself to a character, imagine yourself in their place. Consider how you would react in that situation. What is going through the character’s mind at that moment? Once you have your gut reaction, run it through a thought process based on the character’s inner nature and consider how their background would influence them. After that, factor in their quirks, and the result is a genuine reaction of the real person you imagined.