Betty Adams's Blog, page 141

A Valentine's Day Quest

A St. Valentine’s Day Quest

By Betty Adams

The University student proceeded cautiously through the jungle of calculations on the paper in front of her. There was a raw natural beauty in higher math that appealed to the biology student but it was wise to be careful. One never knew when a fractal would descend out of the logic tree above. She prepared to maneuver around a particularly dense thicket of derivation when something on her leg started vibrating vigorously.
“Get it off. Get it off!” she yelped as she scrambled to her feet. Her ear buds yanked her head down and her laptop up and her knee slammed into the underside of the table to make thick text books jump for its full length.
It was heartening to know that even this deep in the calculus jungle her fellow travelers could still laugh that hard she mused and she frantically dug down past layers of gum wrappers, car keys, pass cards, and loose change for what she was now fairly certain was her cell phone on vibrate. She forced her brain away from the exploration and swam up through several layers of reality before she hit the answer button.
“Hello?” She asked cautiously.
“Hey Sweetie!” a cheerful voice called out on the other end. “Guess what day Sunday is!”
A mix of affection and irritation met the interruption and the woman cast a sideways glance at the wall clock. More time had passed in the calculus jungle than she had estimated. She was well out of study time into ‘free’ time. That settled her brain set to work trying to answer the question. Sunday meant it wasn’t a work issue. It was over half a year till her birthday, slightly less to his. No siblings or parents had anything important going on either. She didn’t think they had anything planned. Oh no, was it their anniversary? Her pulse raced a bit. It was bad to forget that sort of stuff, right? Let’s see, they started dating in late fall and the trees out side said early spring so it couldn’t be that.
“Sweetie?” the voice on the other end prompted.
“Sunday…” she muttered in response. “Sunday.”
“Sunday, February the fourteenth?” He offered with a hint of mischief in his tone.
No, no, that really wasn’t their anniversary.  Dangit! They must have planned something. She reached over to dig her schedule out of her back pack. What was it? A longsuffering sigh came over the line.
“Valentine’s Day Sweetie,” he explained patiently.
“Oh. Oh!” She blinked in confusion as her brain reset. “Right, did we have plans?”
“No. Not yet.” He answered to a rush of relief. “I was thinking of asking you to dinner at our favorite restaurant.”
“That won’t work. They burned down two days after we ate there last,” she informed him.
“Right, the grease fire. How about that romantic place on the coast highway?” he countered.
“There was that mudslide three days after we ate there last,” she answered. “The building is still standing but it took out all their power and plumbing. Hey, what about that place on the beach where we always get the tacos?”
“No, “ he said with a groan. “There was an incident.”
“Oh right. They are still closed down from that freak accident with the Fukushima driftwood the day after we ate there,” she replied as she sat down at her computer again and gingerly reset one ear bud.
“Okay, how about a nice picnic at our local park,” he was starting to sound a little aggravated.
“Remember that squirrel that attacked the ranger right as we were driving out?” she asked.
“Yeah, never knew old Fred could dance like that,” he replied with a laugh, “or scream in that register.”
“Well it was infected with some crazy disease,” she informed him. “They had to bring it to the University for testing and my professors tell me they have no idea what it is or where it came from so the park is quarantined until they get to the bottom of it. Maybe we could just get some strawberry ice cream and hang out on the swings at my old school playground?”
“A great idea,” he admitted, “but the restraining order won’t expire for another two months.”
“Right,” she muttered. “Really, you’d think that an institution of learning would be more understanding about the educational benefits of a little rocketry experimentation. It’s not like that third grader really needed medical attention when all was said and done.”
“So, takeout?” he finally conceded with a sigh.
“My place or yours?” she asked.
“Yours has a better sunset view.”
“Okay, see you later. Love you.”
“Love you Sweetie.”
She ended the call and was about to resume her exploration when the odd silence of the study room caught her attention. The rest of her fellow students were staring at her with a mixture of unease and skepticism.
“What?” She demanded.
“Just promise me that if I ever buy stock in a restaurant you give me forty-eight hours notice before you eat there,” one finally said.
She blinked at that and the room broke into a chuckle. However the collective attention turned back to their studies and she shrugged the oddity off. 

Following Rabbit Holes

An author's brain is constantly spouting ideas. Every moment in the waking world is an opportunity to absorb concepts and incidences from life. These images, sounds, and smells get swirled up and mixed around in the human brain and from there produce a near endless stream of what ifs.
"If the only tool you have is a hammer all problems look like nails."
could also be said
"If you are an author all ideas look like plot devices."
Many times this results in an author having a story that looks more like a bramble tangle than a tree at the end of the first edit. Some branches can be carefully trimmed and eased into the flow of the main story but some must be ruthlessly cut out. However it is madness to throw them away. In the age of cut and paste it is the easiest thing to take a fragment of the story that didn't quite make the cut and save it away in a file for a rainy day.
"Dying Embers" has several files like that. Chapters, paragraphs, or even single thoughts not yet in sentence form fill the white space in bland documents. Maybe someday readers will get to see them. Maybe not. 
​ 

February 08th, 2016

Bridge across the river why? 
When an author writes a story it is a given that the characters are going to face challenges. That is the point of most novels after all, the adventure. Adventure is just another word of trouble as Louis L'amour described so well. Of course a story can have too much adventure. The plot can get bogged down in side quests that have nothing to do with the main body of the work. But for the most part if the intrepid hero(s) are trekking across a trackless waste something should confront them.  Bridges are excellent for this. For one thing the very existence of the bridge means that there is something potentially dangerous to cross. If the hero comes across a flat plane and suddenly there is a bridge like structure flush with the ground in the path the obvious conclusion is that there is some hidden mire waiting to trap him there. A bridge is built, often at great expense and effort, to overcome a difficulty so if there is a bridge there logically follows a difficulty. Then there is the dynamic that someone had to build the bridge. By the very nature of the requirements the better the bridge the more powerful the builders and they are probably in the vicinity. Folks don't put that much effort into a structure unless they intend to use it. A simple rope bridge offers an immediate danger but probably not a massive danger from the builders. A three tiered megaspan crafted out of some space age polymer makes for an easy crossing but its creators are probably going to be a force to be reckoned with. 
There are of course natural bridges that offer their own challenges. A stone bridge might offer no particular challenge to the part but it can set the atmosphere of powerful natural forces at work. A snow bridge is more common and more suspenseful. A tree bridge also sets the scene for the reader. A tree large enough to be an effective bridge means an old, deep forest. 
Bridges are a real workhorse of entertainment. So go out there and  burn that bridge when you get to it and find some #mondaymotivation! 

Pretty Picture

Today was involved with rediscovering this whole "outside" thing and rescuing chickens. Enjoy the pretty picture. 

Suggested Reading: Physics of the Impossible

If ever there was a must read, hard science book for a science fiction author Michio Kaku's "Physics of the Impossible" is it. In an easy to understand style Kaku walks the reader through three basic levels of impossible science: that which is only one genius or a decade away, that which is a good hundred or so years out and will depend on several different branches of science advancing considerably, and that which is for all intents and purposes magic. From classic lines of "Shields up!" to the concepts of time travel and rewriting history Kaku invites the reader to step into the world of the impossible. 

Crafting an Atmosphere

When a photographer is trying to capture a particular emotion or sensation there are many aspects to consider. The light must be at the proper angle. A specific item must be in focus. An author must do much the same thing but they have to do it entirely through words. Word choice is vitally important. Two words which are technically synonyms can have vastly different connotations. This is where it is critical for the author to know their audience. The cultural can seize on a concept and change its meaning from one year to the next. For works already in existence  this can change meanings of entire passages. Unfortunately such shifts can't be guarded against and an author must simply make sure to give the story as a whole enough heart that it can withstand the vagrancies of cultural change. 

Traditions and Groundhog Day

So here is a worldbuilding question for all the authors out there. You are building a civilization with a highly advanced technological level. They almost worship science and the scientific method. Their culture is based on empirical evidence. Would you dare give this culture a massive national holiday that revolves around making prognostications on the behavior of some random rodent? 

Reliable Fear

When an author wants to instill a sense of fear there is nothing like the known. A good old terror can connect to the audience. Spiders are are very reliable source of fear. 

A Good Illustration

A Cover Art Concept Drawing by Betty Adams not yet Developed A Professionally Designed Cover All Final and Glossy  "Don't Judge a Book by its Cover"
Most English speaking people have heard that old bromide at least once, probably many times in their lives. And yet when it comes to actual books and literal covers it is a given that everyone will do it. That is why authors put so much effort and money into making a good cover. As it is said in the publishing industry a cover must speak to the potential reader. It must say "Pick me up and buy me." 
The cover of "Dying Embers" was done in steps. The author collaborated with an artist for an image that was not at first going to be associated with this book. However the publisher liked it so much that it was chosen. Then the publisher had the layout of the cover professionally designed. The proof is in the pudding as they say.

Flashback Friday

Today is a fairly important anniversary for "Dying Embers" One year ago the funding was completed for "Dying Embers" and the editing and publishing began. It's been a long road but the final product was worth it.
And that is "Dying Embers" #FlashbackFriday.