tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27524783994036985132024-03-13T01:35:27.741-05:00The Missing Dwarven PhaserThe Missing Dwarven Phaser is a group blog contributed to by members of the Write Time Writers Group in suburban Chicago, IL. Members write mystery, suspense, fantasy and science fiction (hence the name.) We look forward to sharing our unique writing perspectives, thoughts, and opinions with you.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06173447657432335992noreply@blogger.comBlogger79125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-79830794171497717552016-12-20T12:04:00.002-06:002016-12-20T12:04:23.557-06:00Lessons from CraigslistI have a script that searches Craigslist tools for sale, and sets them into a database so that I can search at my leisure for hidden gems. And what gems I find. This is not about one of them.<br />
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We are writers, you and I. You are here because you are interested in writing, and reading about writing; whether you are procrastinating some actual writing or reading for knowledge and pleasure, well that's up to you. The fact is that you write. It could be poorly, or with beautiful prose, but we all have one thing in common: That voice inside telling us we are not good enough.<br />
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We do a pretty good job ignoring it, for the most part. But it does eat at us, and in time, if we don't write, it will win. Sure, we can say "I'll write tomorrow" or "I have an idea, but it needs...", and so you don't write it.<br />
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And days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and months years.<br />
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I have a script that searches Craigslist tools for sale, and sets them into a database so that I can search at my leisure for hidden gems. Sometimes those gems are tears shed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2HgbBwCwqu35UJoEE1FknSawDFX7nXGcDmyWNgHJWiljbAHXCJZUkEPgN51Kkz6I4HgxgCzIgFyqIj7A9L6HGaf7ql8hol8k_Ck7EA8wQ2z7XpA4JzDeAgA4yGQxx0zlk570-nYtkPM/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-12-20+at+11.58.07+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2HgbBwCwqu35UJoEE1FknSawDFX7nXGcDmyWNgHJWiljbAHXCJZUkEPgN51Kkz6I4HgxgCzIgFyqIj7A9L6HGaf7ql8hol8k_Ck7EA8wQ2z7XpA4JzDeAgA4yGQxx0zlk570-nYtkPM/s400/Screen+Shot+2016-12-20+at+11.58.07+AM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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"...but I waited too long."</div>
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Think on that, knowing you can never go back and make up for lost time. What story do you want to tell, or will it be some notes found in a drawer of your desk? Some notebook or folder marked "Novel." </div>
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Eric can be found on Twitter at <a href="https://twitter.com/elmwriting" target="_blank">elmwriting</a>, and a part of the <a href="http://www.typehammer.com/" target="_blank">Typehammer</a> Podcast.</div>
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<br />Eric Michalsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01790612952495174676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-33955226361017602202016-12-09T10:18:00.002-06:002016-12-12T07:32:25.113-06:00Meeting Notes:: Dec 8Attendance was light due to holiday shenanigans, and one member down with an injury, but we did have a new person show up and and we knocked about some great ideas.<br />
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<b>Don't use that word!</b><br />
We discussed words to search throughout your work to find weeks spots. Chuck Palaniuk has great write ups on this <a href="https://litreactor.com/essays/chuck-palahniuk/nuts-and-bolts-%E2%80%9Cthought%E2%80%9D-verbs" target="_blank">HERE</a> and <a href="http://referenceforwriters.tumblr.com/post/48884709774/by-chuck-palahniuk-8-words-you-should-avoid-when" target="_blank">HERE</a>, but basically remove words like had, suddenly, then, very, thought, think, knew, is, and was...to name a few.<br />
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For a writing exercise I decided to use a few of those words, to see if I could break the rules to good effect. I think it turned out pretty well. I'll post it later.<br />
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And, it's later.<br />
The writing prompt was "Instead of murdering her, I..." for the 4 minute exercise. What follows is an attempt to break some rules:<br />
<blockquote>
Instead of murdering her, I see how painless suicide really is. The .45 is in the drawer of my desk, the chair comforting, holding the weight of my life in this world. I could murder her, but I would find better satisfaction knowing she would see that it was her that murdered me.
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Is, knowing, really, was....Even with those "bad" words I don't think it turned out too bad. Thoughts?<br />
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Also discussed story, theme and some editors ideas on what to avoid, such as flowery prose, milquetoast characters, and some other crazy items where we had no idea what they meant. Maybe someone else was taking better notes than I.<br />
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The idea of the Foil was presented, with examples such a the two characters from MoonLighting (remember that show?) or the four friends from Stranger Things. For this I received blank stares across the room. Seriously? No one watched Stranger Things? Seriously??<br />
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We touched on the voice and tone and how POV plays into this, with The Martian as an example on how it starts as first person, switches to third, then back again....and then bounces around, even touching on some 2nd person omniscient. I don't think we actually got into that, as I was dumbfounded that I again I got blank stares. Seriously people?<br />
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It is then someone said we don't have time to read, because we write so much. Evidently this is a quote from Royko. Well, we aren't Royko, so pick up a book people.<br />
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Want to see evidence where in a world people don't read? Here's a hint: Who just got elected?<br />
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Drops mic.<br />
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<br />Eric Michalsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01790612952495174676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-17846337210800508042016-12-05T08:07:00.000-06:002016-12-05T14:38:04.332-06:00#PitMad by the numbersAnother #PitMad has come and gone, and like many of you, I watched the pitches stream by wondering if ours would get picked. A goose egg for me still, but that is quite alright. Was having some geek fun along the way.<br />
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Using <a href="https://zapier.com/" target="_blank">Zapier</a> I setup a small service that saves tweets with the #PitMad hashtag into a free database at <a href="http://freemysqlhosting.net/">freemysqlhosting.net</a>. As I was set up with a free service I was not afforded all the tweets, but over the course of 24 hours I was able to capture 4k pitches. Using this as my sample data, here some some counts by hashtag.<br />
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<table>
<tbody>
<tr><th>Hashtag</th>
<th>Description</th>
<th>Count</th>
</tr>
<tr><td>#PB</td><td>Picture Book</td><td>230</td></tr>
<tr><td>#C</td><td>Children’s</td><td>37</td></tr>
<tr><td>#CL</td><td>Children’sLit</td><td>10</td></tr>
<tr><td>#MG</td><td>Middle Grade</td><td>175</td></tr>
<tr><td>#YA</td><td>Young Adult</td><td>616</td></tr>
<tr><td>#NA</td><td>New Adult</td><td>88</td></tr>
<tr><td>#A</td><td>Adult</td><td>378</td></tr>
<tr><td>#E</td><td>Erotica</td><td>2</td></tr>
<tr><td>#F</td><td>Fantasy</td><td>155</td></tr>
<tr><td>#H</td><td>Horror</td><td>38</td></tr>
<tr><td>#M</td><td>Mystery</td><td>45</td></tr>
<tr><td>#R</td><td>Romance</td><td>39</td></tr>
<tr><td>#P</td><td>Paranormal</td><td>24</td></tr>
<tr><td>#S</td><td>Suspense</td><td>13</td></tr>
<tr><td>#T</td><td>Thriller</td><td>42</td></tr>
<tr><td>#W</td><td>Westerns</td><td>5</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I did not remove duplicates, such as tweets there were RT'd.</div>
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What really throws me is the difference between young adult and mystery. Is this really where the market is at, or does everyone just see themselves as the big kids writer, while ignoring one of the hotter markets all together?<br />
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Eric can be found on Twitter at <a href="http://twitter.com/elmwriting" target="_blank">@elmwriting</a> and at the <a href="http://www.typehammer.com/" target="_blank">TypeHammer </a>podcast</div>
Eric Michalsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01790612952495174676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-12661891095401288872016-10-14T07:44:00.002-05:002016-10-14T10:15:21.681-05:00Oct 13 meeting notesMeeting notes and references from last nights meeting:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPBwxv5ThTBdF6cL5rAdTSe15K8RW05Yj-sAxLLUNP7MR0Z-hWEshHstrfjUteQXoNAyw2bfZ270MMZYu7sC3xx_ZmaphyphenhyphenB899NPxI9YSYV3liaaa_BChYCJ5rMvU4cG2uaVHQfoTFexQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-10-14+at+10.13.38+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPBwxv5ThTBdF6cL5rAdTSe15K8RW05Yj-sAxLLUNP7MR0Z-hWEshHstrfjUteQXoNAyw2bfZ270MMZYu7sC3xx_ZmaphyphenhyphenB899NPxI9YSYV3liaaa_BChYCJ5rMvU4cG2uaVHQfoTFexQ/s640/Screen+Shot+2016-10-14+at+10.13.38+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>All things pens, pencils, paper, and ink: </b><a href="http://www.penaddict.com/" target="_blank">Pen Addict</a><br />
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<b>Top 5 list: </b><a href="http://www.penaddict.com/top-5-pens/" target="_blank">Top 5 Pens</a><br />
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<b>Why Eminem is one of the most impressive lyricists:</b><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/ooOL4T-BAg0/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ooOL4T-BAg0?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<b>Rapper Vocabulary: </b><a href="http://poly-graph.co/vocabulary.html">See how well the Wu-Tang Clan does</a><br />
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<b>Reaction to Dylan's Nobel prize</b>...<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/reactions-to-bob-dylan-nobel-prize_us_57ff9013e4b0162c043a36c1" target="_blank">in tweets</a><br />
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And, to finish off...the story of <b>Iron Man</b><br />
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Has he lost his mind?<br />
Can he see or is he blind?<br />
Can he walk at all,<br />
Or if he moves will he fall?<br />
Is he alive or dead?<br />
Has he thoughts within his head?<br />
We'll just pass him there<br />
why should we even care?<br />
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He was turned to steel<br />
in the great magnetic field<br />
When he travelled time<br />
for the future of mankind<br />
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Nobody wants him<br />
He just stares at the world<br />
Planning his vengeance<br />
that he will soon unfurl<br />
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Now the time is here<br />
for Iron Man to spread fear<br />
Vengeance from the grave<br />
Kills the people he once saved<br />
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Nobody wants him<br />
They just turn their heads<br />
Nobody helps him<br />
Now he has his revenge<br />
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Heavy boots of lead<br />
fills his victims full of dread<br />
Running as fast as they can<br />
Iron Man lives again!<br />
<br />Eric Michalsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01790612952495174676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-52449873092985049242016-09-02T13:18:00.000-05:002016-09-02T13:20:37.862-05:00Everyone's A CriticIn the last writers group meeting it was discussed critiquing more work, which quickly devolved into a discussion on the technology required for such action. Let us review:<br />
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<li><b>Print out and bring to the writers group.</b></li>
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<li>You have to guess how many people are going to show up, chop down that many trees and burn that much ink, and forge so many steel staples, all so that people can dig out their red pens of justice and start marking. And then, when you go home, you have to re-read all the different scribbles and notes and x's trying to makes sense of their meaning. Oh, and you can only bring as much writing as the group can handle that evening. Sure, they can take it home...but will you ever see it again? Good luck.</li>
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<li><b>Post your work to Google Docs</b></li>
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<li>Save the trees, ink, and steel. Just post to the GD and share that link. This way everyone reads your work in their own time, makes neat comments throughout and Bob's your uncle.</li>
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OK, so far we look to have a winner. However, we must be thorough, for science and all. So let us look at some complicated, and cooler technologies that step beyond the GD. Who knows what magic lays beyond? Or, as some say, There be dragons!</div>
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Wait, before moving on, we need a history lesson. I have a post called <a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/02/git-and-writer.html" target="_blank">Git and the Writer</a>. Go read it, if you don't know what Git is. Enjoy the video, then swing on back and let's finish this thing.</div>
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<li><a href="http://draftin.com/"><b>Draftin.com</b></a></li>
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OK, I like this product. It is simple to use for most and provides an interesting revision feature. For demo purposes I have a first draft of a historical novel I put up and made changes. Here's a screen shot comparing the current version with an earlier:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr7SVpE4Pfg7ET_GhYQKczkVCYpaRjefgi_xguUKsALaGGZaj-56pDkkdYZqRe7_Ojt5OxEhluh_r6pXj1FO9-BCzE0df4y9oyiudOoGhvom6sg0x8mNLoR-JEPXVHgWF7xcb1Mj1wqEg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-08-31+at+3.31.46+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr7SVpE4Pfg7ET_GhYQKczkVCYpaRjefgi_xguUKsALaGGZaj-56pDkkdYZqRe7_Ojt5OxEhluh_r6pXj1FO9-BCzE0df4y9oyiudOoGhvom6sg0x8mNLoR-JEPXVHgWF7xcb1Mj1wqEg/s640/Screen+Shot+2016-08-31+at+3.31.46+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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Here I created a fake user, named Eric (yes, very imaginative) and made several edits and left a comment:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK_FbU7ojIIaSO8Z0fh3HcFXfb-aubkhiJzQ4H8ghkSMOluH1nAbMDd5VUE9U-waP0CYNG7HsWlQul3cup_WxJh7FG1lC-M2zMyVrzdYVDRbWcoRJ4FtC4n76ZgHneqPUlediQv6mdCQQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-09-01+at+7.38.50+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK_FbU7ojIIaSO8Z0fh3HcFXfb-aubkhiJzQ4H8ghkSMOluH1nAbMDd5VUE9U-waP0CYNG7HsWlQul3cup_WxJh7FG1lC-M2zMyVrzdYVDRbWcoRJ4FtC4n76ZgHneqPUlediQv6mdCQQ/s640/Screen+Shot+2016-09-01+at+7.38.50+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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To the left is my master, in the middle the individual changes I can accept, or decline, alone with a note from this mystery critiquer to make it better. Not very helpful sir! In any case I accepted the first change, and ignored the second.</div>
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What do I think of Draftin? I like it, but the UI needs a spot of work. It's free, easy, and fairly simple. All plus marks when asking people to critique your work.</div>
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Next I reached out to the Typehammer crew on our #slack channel to get multiple edits.</div>
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Here you can see John called me out on the spelling for friar:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6uyIS6abkvExrFdyiOcY8Ihza50aOlcMEGNwL08fclou6Iqsb4_cFfzuZkyfWGlKSkoEpfb5YvdG4fy2CfY2aiW3Frvr8kSZY2_hAn88MLrXRfpNNDy_Qat-tD3hpfZpQ-CVYwOY-jk0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-09-01+at+9.20.27+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6uyIS6abkvExrFdyiOcY8Ihza50aOlcMEGNwL08fclou6Iqsb4_cFfzuZkyfWGlKSkoEpfb5YvdG4fy2CfY2aiW3Frvr8kSZY2_hAn88MLrXRfpNNDy_Qat-tD3hpfZpQ-CVYwOY-jk0/s640/Screen+Shot+2016-09-01+at+9.20.27+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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Here I can see his change, and accept it or ignore:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr-Ce3UDp-d0GHLvILfma-kn_fVu1YiaUhW1evwjyaNuwGC3qw37bVaBtMapaBCoDia1GGlmiUa44u4kw11aOwzKshVhic8fZ6n_hLSpq-V8MchMvBhurgQMZdhPWuRp2hQPqkVrJ9E5I/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-09-01+at+9.22.38+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr-Ce3UDp-d0GHLvILfma-kn_fVu1YiaUhW1evwjyaNuwGC3qw37bVaBtMapaBCoDia1GGlmiUa44u4kw11aOwzKshVhic8fZ6n_hLSpq-V8MchMvBhurgQMZdhPWuRp2hQPqkVrJ9E5I/s640/Screen+Shot+2016-09-01+at+9.22.38+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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I can also choose to accept all the changes from John in one click, which I usually do as I trust him to catch things I miss, but not before reviewing.</div>
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Here is a remark by another reader:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7m-CZQ60fTtfbNEToasPHYTe2hd0bM-B2fn7kFwiSpYmilsFRAWFY3EwpCy_VKv_ZLP7lukfQqvIg1h4UGG3DhyphenhyphenrP8OgV6uIcUPuvgvxCLcrnzTdk5DZLwK6Eiio2OjaYcv5oJq7YepQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-09-01+at+3.25.40+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7m-CZQ60fTtfbNEToasPHYTe2hd0bM-B2fn7kFwiSpYmilsFRAWFY3EwpCy_VKv_ZLP7lukfQqvIg1h4UGG3DhyphenhyphenrP8OgV6uIcUPuvgvxCLcrnzTdk5DZLwK6Eiio2OjaYcv5oJq7YepQ/s640/Screen+Shot+2016-09-01+at+3.25.40+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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As you can see people can freely leave comments, make changes and I can choose to ignore, or accept with ease. And because it is using a revision tool I can always go back to earlier drafts with ease. Nothing gets lost forever.</div>
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<b><a href="https://www.penflip.com/" target="_blank">Penflip.com</a></b></div>
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Here is another tool using revisioning and workflow. I have several chapters of one of my novels in progress and John had started making suggestions and comments:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFXs5-fXv6_CBA7audOtyqcfdID2dolMOHCspCKsnntZoQmijWPf1ZgZNJXOQOLd5-s5pVXrDpMaPklIKlVHGvTRK-MSyH9mhDC_LtAgIEUq9Ghb-qN9ItW9mv76U1CUWX4Dpwrk0T9xc/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-09-02+at+9.04.58+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFXs5-fXv6_CBA7audOtyqcfdID2dolMOHCspCKsnntZoQmijWPf1ZgZNJXOQOLd5-s5pVXrDpMaPklIKlVHGvTRK-MSyH9mhDC_LtAgIEUq9Ghb-qN9ItW9mv76U1CUWX4Dpwrk0T9xc/s640/Screen+Shot+2016-09-02+at+9.04.58+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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Here you can see his changes, deletions and additions, his comments and the ability for me to accept or reject his changes.</div>
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If you would like to try out your editing skills with either of these tools, I have early drafts of work that you can go into and play with</div>
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<a href="https://draftin.com/documents/919321?token=KjE2fjpROI56iIsM9KK0Ume_GYLDksmfoNzXQI5ESC8XUgzePZjrQxmiS_Wo2KsMXvwFvcsKyHptQ0UIOpLNRII" target="_blank">RoF Draftin.com</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.penflip.com/michalsen/road-of-fire-novel?invite=J1XYTMSm" target="_blank">RoF Penflip.com</a></div>
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<br />
There are many more tools available to writers looking to share their work with critique groups; this is only scratching the surface. Find the tool that works best for your group and use it. Just don't let it distract your from the real reason you are doing all of this: <b>To write.</b><br />
<br />
<br />
There is one more method I would like to share, that may be a great compliment to your writing group. <a href="http://www.scribophile.com/dashboard/" target="_blank"><b>Scribophile.com</b></a><br />
<br />
This is an online, social site for writers to critique, and get critiqued. As the administrator to your writing group you can create a likewise group in Scribophile and as your members join the site, they join your group as well. This way, when each other post work, you can give preference to your group, and use it as an internal critiquing tool.<br />
<br />
Here are three different screen shots from critiques of an earlier version for Prince of Pigeon Hill. As you can see there are both inline comments, edits, as well as comments.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbzF3kMryYSfb97kOA2CMV-gqB38I4sj65z9PQHPB_ajP3cpRwniPQX7eGHHcwlJEQp3uT1x0UQLMetQ9G4PBIG-PTlWE6fSgBxgA3iGiB9-PC63dwEh9BH8F1ZKPTyzrRygPhKf5icMo/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-09-02+at+10.35.41+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbzF3kMryYSfb97kOA2CMV-gqB38I4sj65z9PQHPB_ajP3cpRwniPQX7eGHHcwlJEQp3uT1x0UQLMetQ9G4PBIG-PTlWE6fSgBxgA3iGiB9-PC63dwEh9BH8F1ZKPTyzrRygPhKf5icMo/s400/Screen+Shot+2016-09-02+at+10.35.41+AM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic7WQWyrW461Hcr89Fw01oVTOOCZOdPN3VgWLk-eGxyNHrgHkjYn9yXHidsYjPughlS4rrv8Vf9u8HyP90Zv-KLnTNiT0RhM8OaD_0z16mtTQFuf7DYoSYFsMCeBpMXhv0jVYHieVseEY/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-09-02+at+10.36.29+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic7WQWyrW461Hcr89Fw01oVTOOCZOdPN3VgWLk-eGxyNHrgHkjYn9yXHidsYjPughlS4rrv8Vf9u8HyP90Zv-KLnTNiT0RhM8OaD_0z16mtTQFuf7DYoSYFsMCeBpMXhv0jVYHieVseEY/s400/Screen+Shot+2016-09-02+at+10.36.29+AM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwdTKjEw-5hBVVtE5R6GJY911fryYBrs5Nn0E9Kn3yqbHimQT2s8_XbEnXuhq_TltjMSc_cYuw7Isz-x1o-i9dvvaZvs4S5pBwsOiqR6YRBw6p_nx1wZVjhysopCI2K-41NJV7J7axda0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-09-02+at+10.36.46+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwdTKjEw-5hBVVtE5R6GJY911fryYBrs5Nn0E9Kn3yqbHimQT2s8_XbEnXuhq_TltjMSc_cYuw7Isz-x1o-i9dvvaZvs4S5pBwsOiqR6YRBw6p_nx1wZVjhysopCI2K-41NJV7J7axda0/s400/Screen+Shot+2016-09-02+at+10.36.46+AM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
Using something like Scribophile may be a great way to augment your writers group by bringing in more critiquers from the world, and more readers to your writers work.<br />
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<br />
<br />
If you would like to join the @Typehammer #slack channel, reach out to via <a href="http://twitter.com/elmwriting" target="_blank">Twitter</a> and I can get you in.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Other blog posts by Eric Michalsen<br />
<ul>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2015/05/lets-write-novel-characters.html" target="_blank">Let's Write a Novel: Characters</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2015/04/i-sound-like-that.html" target="_blank">I Sound Like That?!</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2015/03/releasing-your-children-to-wild.html" target="_blank">Releasing Your Child to the Wild</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2015/02/the-process.html" target="_blank">The Process</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/09/every-day.html" target="_blank">Every Day</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/08/writing-is-re-writing.html" target="_blank">Writing is Re-Writing</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/01/tools-of-trade-part-1-of-3.html" target="_blank">Tools of the Trade part 1 Pen Paper / Sublime Text</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/02/tools-of-trade-part-2-of-3.html" target="_blank">Tools of the Trade part 2 Open Office / Trello</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/02/tools-of-trade-part-3-of-3.html" target="_blank">Tools of the Trade part 3 Ommwriter / Scrivener</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/02/so-you-want-website-for-your-writing.html" target="_blank">Website Development and SEO Basics for Writers</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/02/git-and-writer.html" target="_blank">Git and the Writer</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/03/twitter-tools-for-writers.html" target="_blank">Twitter Tools for Writers</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/04/kickstarter-how-it-is-being-used-by.html" target="_blank">Kickstarter :: How it is being used by writers</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/05/cut-it-out.html" target="_blank">Cut It Out</a></li>
</ul>
<div>
More of Eric can be found:
<br />
<ul>
<li>On Twitter <a href="http://twitter.com/elmwriting" target="_blank">@elmwriting</a></li>
<li>His rantings at his <a href="http://michalsen.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">blog</a></li>
<li>And on the <a href="http://www.typehammer.com/" target="_blank">TypeHammer Podcast</a></li>
</ul>
</div>
<br />Eric Michalsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01790612952495174676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-72534653299981896422016-08-02T13:24:00.000-05:002016-08-02T13:24:19.563-05:00Oops<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Normally (normally) I run all content to be posted online past my editor at <a href="http://www.admedits.com/">ADMedits</a>. No matter how well I think I have written, there are always screw ups. Take this blog for example. Wait, don't. This is one of the places I do not put in that workflow. It's not that I don't think it needs it, but rather this is more an informal communication between me and you. Speaking extemporaneously my speech would be filled with um's and ah's, but you would forgive me (hopefully) as what I would be conveying would be, well, honest.<br />
<br />
So this workflow is just me; typing, erasing, pondering, saving, coming back to, cursing, debating...and publishing. And hopefully, you enjoy it.<br />
<br />
And the beauty of this blog is that after publishing if I find a mistake, editing is easy.<br />
<br />
Let me tell you another story. This one is full of woe and sorrow. And bad grammar.<br />
<br />
For the <a href="http://typehammer.com/">TypeHammer</a> podcast, I decided to review <a href="https://www.getrevue.co/">Revue</a>, a newsletter app. I created an account and pushed out several newsletters over the course of one a week.<br />
<br />
OK, it was only to be an experiment, a trial for the app. A couple of issues out to people I know and I'm done.<br />
<br />
<b>And nope.</b><br />
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I now have complete strangers signing up for my newsletter, and the readers seem to enjoy it.<br />
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<br />
<b>Enough of the rambling old man! Get to the woe!</b><br />
<br />
I do not run the newsletter content past my editor before publishing. I did not think it was important, as so few people read it. It was to be a trial, after all. A test, a review, something I can toss aside when done.<br />
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It turns out, when I publish a newsletter, there is no editing afterwards. Yes, that makes total sense, but that doesn't mean I thought of that. In short: I'm an idiot.<br />
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Now to be fair the grammar isn't "that" bad. Just bad enough for me to cringe, and apologize on the Twitter to my readers. A fellow writer Antonin was kind enough to tweet back<br />
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<b>Moving Forward</b></div>
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I have a plan in place:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>On my Chrome browser, I have added the Grammarly and ProWritingAid plugins. </li>
<li>I plan on telling my wife (ADMEdits) about the newsletter and bring her into the workflow</li>
<li>You need to <a href="https://www.getrevue.co/profile/elmwriting" target="_blank">sign up</a> for the newsletter </li>
</ul>
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These are all simple tasks. Let's see if I can follow through.</div>
Eric Michalsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01790612952495174676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-87320160855967228692016-05-16T10:30:00.001-05:002016-05-16T10:30:55.952-05:00This Is UncomfortableWe need to talk.<br />
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Do those four words conjure a deeply seated reaction? A fight or flight response? How can anything good come from those words?<br />
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We need to talk.<br />
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And yet, here I am, spitting them out with carefree abandon, happy to know it may be a trigger phrase. Well, button up that rain coat and let's get down to why we are here: It's your writing. We need to talk about your writing.<br />
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Oh, did I strike a chord there? A sore spot? A tender nerve ending, like finger nails on a chalk board?<br />
<br />
Before you get too defensive, let me ask why you are getting defensive at all? The answer, on the surface, is easy: It is an art that you have emotionally invested in. Any critique of the art is a critique on you as a person. At least that is how it feels. How do I know? Because I feel the same way. Let me explain.<br />
<br />
I tend to write about dark, troubled characters; flawed and seeking redemption from their sins. It is easy for me to write this way, as these characters are, in many ways, me. If you critique my writing, you are critiquing my personal journey towards forgiveness. Does this mean I do not seek critiques? That would be foolish. Writing groups, beta readers, critique groups, my editor...all these things transform my personal story into a story for the masses. The end product so much different that what I set out with, but all the better. It is the journey that is cathartic.<br />
<br />
So where does it leave us, in terms with your writing? Remember, we need to talk about it.<br />
<br />
What is your comfort level when others are reading your work? Do you start with the F/F (friends and family) or do you go straight to your peers, like critique groups? Do you feel you must preface you work before handing it over? Do you have a twinge, or even a shock of shame knowing your reader will find issues, no matter how small?<br />
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These are common feelings that manifest into procrastination, stalling, rewriting and excuse finding. Are you guilty of this? I know I am.<br />
<br />
In my adventure on solving this issue I have found an even greater level of discomfort. Yes, it can get worse. I have started writing in a genre I neither read nor write. Characters in situations I have little knowledge of in a book that, if I saw it on a shelf, I would not pick and read. How's that for a sales pitch?<br />
<br />
First, why would I do this? And second, why would I admit this publicly?<br />
<br />
I am doing this for two reasons:<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>An experiment in story telling. Taking characters and events in situations I have no knowledge of and applying the craft to see what I can learn.</li>
<li>I have no choice. The story is dumping out of me...I have no idea where it came from.</li>
</ol>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This all leads to a particular set of problems: What the hell am I writing, and who would want to read it? How to I coach the reader as I hand it over to them? "I don't normally write like this, so if it's bad, don't blame me." Why would the reader need coaching, anyway?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Here's the secret I've learned. <b>They don't</b>. They are just readers, looking for a story that moves them. It doesn't matter if it is about cowboys, or aliens, or old women in a nursing home dreaming of Elvis. If the characters are strong, the conflict real, and the voice unique, your reader will only want your story.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There's the rub, isn't it? In order to overcome your fear of the reader, you need to overcome your fear of your writing. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
As for me and my crazy adventure, every day the story falls out of me, and unfolds in directions I had no idea it would take. Is it good? I have no idea. Will I let someone read it? Sure, but only after hours of coaching and excuse making. </div>
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<br />
<center>
<hr />
<span style="text-align: center;">Eric is one of the Podcasters at </span><a href="http://www.typehammer.com/" style="text-align: center;" target="_blank">@typehammer </a><span style="text-align: center;">and you can follow his writing adventure on twitter </span><a href="http://twitter.com/elmwriting" style="text-align: center;" target="_blank">@elmwriting</a></center>
Eric Michalsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01790612952495174676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-76272092952514724382016-05-04T10:07:00.004-05:002016-05-04T10:50:58.521-05:00Lean Startup Principle For Your Writing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="token p" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">One of the biggest obstacles to your writing is your own voice telling you what you are doing is wrong. It is loud, unrelenting, and until you learn to either silence or ignore the bastard, you'll just fight on. </span><br />
<span class="token p" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span class="token p" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">Here's the rub: You'll never silence it. You may get better at mitigating its affect, but it will always be there, constantly evolving to find that weakness in you that will make you stop writing. </span><span class="token lf" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span class="token lf" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span class="token p" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">If it was easy, everyone would be doing it.</span><span class="token lf" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span class="token lf" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span class="token p" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have an idea that may help, but to help understand it, let's take a lesson from Lean Startup principles. Specifically the MVP, Minimum Viable Product. From <a href="http://theleanstartup.com/principles" target="_blank">theleanstartup.com</a></span><br />
<span class="token p" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span class="token p" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #231f20; font-family: "tahoma" , "geneva" , "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 24px; white-space: normal;"><b>A core component of Lean Startup methodology is the build-measure-learn feedback loop</b></span></span><br />
<span class="token lf" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span class="token p" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">In terms of writing an MVP sounds like a shoddy work, and it may be, but I would like to see about applying the MVP methodology to an earlier process; specifically the 1st and 2nd draft, to build out that feedback loop.</span><span class="token lf" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span class="token lf" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span class="token p" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">What if, as a writer, you had a host of anonymous readers you could share your first chapters with. Not for an editorial or critique read, but rather: "Here is an idea of story. Does this capture you as a reader?" And with it a rating, like 0 stars for "that was painful" to 5 stars "oh hell yeah! Me want more!"</span><span class="token lf" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span class="token lf" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span class="token p" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you get a 4 or 5 you should be able to quiet that voice, at least for a while, and write that damn book. If you get a 0 or 1, time to re-evaluate. Maybe there could a be a critique section for the readers to explain why such a low score. </span><span class="token lf" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span class="token lf" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span class="token p" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">Of course if you do get a 0 or 1 that voice will only get louder. I don't have an answer for that other than write better. </span><span class="token lf" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span class="token lf" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span class="token p" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">I realize now this is a stupid idea as I'll just be getting 0's and 1's.</span><span class="token lf" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span class="token lf" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span class="token p" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">There's that voice again...</span><br />
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Eric is one of the Podcasters at <a href="http://www.typehammer.com/" target="_blank">@typehammer </a>and you can follow his writing adventure on twitter <a href="http://twitter.com/elmwriting" target="_blank">@elmwriting</a></div>
<span class="token p" style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #5a5a5a; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28.05px; outline: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>Eric Michalsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01790612952495174676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-64690424734690181812016-04-12T00:48:00.001-05:002016-04-12T00:48:41.134-05:00Lord Sorrowstorm Questions His Life ChoicesThe problem with scars is, if you go that route for your evil look, you're stuck with them for life. It's one thing to get them naturally, but there's no guarantee you'll get ones that look cool, as opposed to merely unpleasant. So if you want a classic like the “down one eye,” the “half-face burn,” and the always popular “claw marks,” you have to either get them inflicted yourself, or spend a good hour every morning getting the makeup done.<br />
<br />
Lord Sorrowstorm chose that last option, which would be one of his many regrets. He was just about to put the finishing touches on the eye scar (including the milky white contact lens) when he just couldn't be bothered. He sighed. He used to love Scar Time. The skin-dying to give him his trademark blue pallor was automatic, and the purple and white hair just needed to be touched up every week or so. The scars were where he could be an artist. A touch of blood there? Would bringing it up to his forehead make him more or less fearsome? He would even practice the supervillain cackle, or the smirk he used when taunting the world's leaders. Maybe even practice the speech he would give captured heroes. It was a fantastic way to boost the confidence before bursting out of his master-chamber, greeting his minions, and enacting his latest scheme against the world. Oh yes, he used to think, he'd show them. He'd show them all.<br />
<br />
These days, he can't even get started on a doomsday device without at least three cups of coffee. And even his lair had gotten stale. Same fanatics willing to kill and die in his name, same walls of a semi-dormant volcano, same giants robots. And the heroes? Same things EVERY time! It was Captain Jet and Redfern the Mystical over and over again. It didn't seem fair. Heroes get massive rogue's galleries. Why couldn't the rogues get hero’s galleries?<br />
<br />
He looked back at how it all started, almost twelve years ago now, back when he was Lazarus Soros, brilliant but unpopular high school nerd. Ah, that Career Day. No, Career Day didn't feature supervillain as an option, that would be stupid. It was, however, the last day he at least considered an honest job. He had his plan ready to go, his very first doomship set to vaporize the gym at the press of a button. But he hadn't quite worked up the nerve. And so he wandered the booths, ignoring the usual taunts from his so-called “peers,” trying to talk himself into every job they offered. Surely a job as a non-mad scientist wouldn't be so bad? He would only have to go through four years of college (which he thought would basically be just like high school with more drinking,) then probably a Masters and a PHD, when work as a lab assistant for who knows how long, and then … nope. He couldn't even get through the fantasy without wanting to blow something up. Probably a lot of somethings. Maybe an engineer? Using to his incredible mind and skills to … update music players. Or create a new operating system that would be obsolete in six months. Just another cog in a mundane machine.<br />
<br />
And so, on that fateful day, Lazarus Soros died (ironically,) and Dr. Sorrowstorm had been born. A quarterlifetime of desperation and loneliness fueled a spree of chaos like the world had never seen. From light gags like pouring Jello into the rivers of Venice to the more sinister plan to turn Disney world’s animatronic presidents on their masters, he had done it all. The world trembled before him. Everyone he know in his past life cursed his name. Especially that jock Vinny Esperanto. Though to be fair, Sorrowstorm did inject him with chicken DNA, so he had more reason than most to do so.<br />
<br />
That was the problem, Sorrowstorm reasoned. He was a victim of his own success. There was nowhere else to go. Well, he could make a serious attempt to conquer the world, but honestly, he didn't need that kind of headache. But now he was respected. They may hate or fear him, but nobody looked down on Sorrowstorm. And he was, in an evil kind of way, popular. The rest of the Axiom Nefarious cheered his schemes on. His minions saw him as a lesser god. And then, of course, there was Viceroy Vixen.<br />
<br />
On paper, VV was just Sorrowstorm's chief officer, his number 2, the dragon to his final boss. And that's all she had been to him at first, just another lost soul who refused to let the status quo exist. Sorrowstorm gave her the chance to shine, and shine she did. Sorrowstorm made the plans, but VV was all about the action. Whether she was firing experimental rays at the accursed dogooders or laughing maniacally as she bounded across a city seeding mind-control spores, her enthusiasm was infectious. Just like the mind-control spores. She brought out the best of his worst, and he always worked harder to surprise her. Sorrowstorm may have the core of pain needed to fuel a life of supervillainy, but VV showed that there could be joy in hatred, and that love was just evil spelled backwards. And with one letter changed, fine.<br />
<br />
Of course, the leather outfit didn't hurt either. Even if he knew she was lying when she claimed it was made of puppies. He knew it was at least 85% weasel.<br />
<br />
Hell, one of his favorite recent days had been when he had to cancel his plans when a pinkeye epidemic hit the minions. The two of them spent most of the day on the couch, catching up on Netflix. And just talking whenever the screen went dark. He learned more about her in one day than he did in the last decade (he never even knew her real name was Judy Vixon.)<br />
<br />
Frankly, he would be happy retiring, but he knew he wouldn't dare making the attempt. Oh, it would be easy enough to be Lazarus Soros again. A few erased records, some bribes, maybe make up a “true villain” that he could team up with the heroes to fight in exchange for a pardon. But what would his friends think? Would all of his evil buddies turn their backs on him, rejecting him as a sell-out? Or worse, would they turn on him, picking on him the same way the bullies in high school did? And what of his minions? They don't have any appreciable job skills! They would just cling to some other crazy death cult, or worse, Scientology.<br />
<br />
But he could live without them, he admitted. It was Judy … err, Viceroy Vixen that he couldn't stand to lose. Could she learn to love Lazarus as he was, without the plans and terror? Maybe. But if she couldn't, she'd just drop him to fixate on some other villain. She already looks a bit too fondly at Dapper Dirk, Gentlemen Thief and Sky Pirate. He couldn't risk her hooking up with that steam-punk poser.<br />
<br />
No, Sorrowstorm sighed. Better to keep things as they are. More Scar Time. More standoffs with the UN, more ranting about the hated Jet Squad. Wasn't that always how life was, anyway? Putting on the role that others expect of you to live the life you think you want? At least this route didn't require student loans.<br />
<br />
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________<br />
<br />
Judy Vixon grunted in her Abode of Vice, also known as her bedroom. The leather outfit seemed harder to put on every morning. Well, you get what you pay for. Weasel just doesn't hold up to regular use.<br />
<br />
As she stumbled out for another day of evil, she cast a glance at Sorrowstorm's door. He was taking forever this morning, too. What if this was finally the day, she hoped? The day he FINALLY took all the hints and announced he was quitting the evil business, or at minimum going on a long vacation? But she knew it wouldn't happen. Sorrowstorm was a consummate pro, the villain's villain. He wouldn't ever give up on his quest to conquer the world; it was just who he was. Still, she would keep on trying. Unleashing pinkeye on the minions didn't do it. But maybe a plague of dysentery would keep him home and within her grasp.Joseph Barderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04348758056369161323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-68682470297244415862016-02-23T13:34:00.000-06:002016-04-20T09:57:06.412-05:00Spend Money to Make MoneyHow much money have you spent on your writing career? What to spend some more? Have I got the deal for you!
$500 will get you distraction free anywhere writing with <a href="http://store.getfreewrite.com/">FreeWriter</a>.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3JwQv92rORCOSUcpryXwntJBNOaJbS2AIB2IahGmnJ42Nb25vqR9NbJGXaa7xOWyWS4uX3KQPwVhLokvvqpvYwSzLF9TiM7fDDJQvG9pJQi5nmwBAHID-8SpYLxviGDTCP28K61qSKzI/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-02-23+at+1.24.29+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3JwQv92rORCOSUcpryXwntJBNOaJbS2AIB2IahGmnJ42Nb25vqR9NbJGXaa7xOWyWS4uX3KQPwVhLokvvqpvYwSzLF9TiM7fDDJQvG9pJQi5nmwBAHID-8SpYLxviGDTCP28K61qSKzI/s320/Screen+Shot+2016-02-23+at+1.24.29+PM.png" width="320" /></a><br />
Now, I'm not going to say anything bad about this piece of equipment. I have never used one, nor have I heard good or bad. Truthfully, I would like to try one out, but I doubt I will spend the cash. Too many other things of import cost $500.<br />
<br />
But why? I hear you ask. Why would someone buy this? I have the answer, and you probably aren't going to like it: It's that phone that is sitting in your pocket, or in your hand, as you read this. You think the world has so many important things to say you neglect what you are trying to put down yourselves. You are easily distracted. You think you can multitask. You think you are a product of modernity and can just as easily check your Facebook as compose beautiful prose.<br />
<br />
And when you can't you realize because you are too distracted, and seek answers.<br />
<br />
Have you read my early blog posts on this subject? It doesn't take money to hide from your friends online. It takes discipline.<br />
<br />
Here is a quick start to distraction free writing:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Turn off the phone.</li>
<li>Get yourself a Moleskin and a good pen. </li>
<li>Tell everyone around you to shut up, or find a quiet place...</li>
<li>and write.</li>
</ul>
<div>
If you are having trouble with this, take up fishing. The answer lies in a wet line.</div>
<div>
<br />
P.S. If you get one of these, let me know. I'd love to check it out and talk about it on the <a href="http://www.typehammer.com/" target="_blank">@TypeHammer</a> Podcast</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Eric Michalsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01790612952495174676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-23295359104247887582016-01-21T23:41:00.003-06:002016-01-21T23:44:32.156-06:00DreamLeaks 6: Midnight Mystery MassacreGood News! I'm not dead! Just recovering from a significant writer's block. But I'm ready to get back to creating, and another dream-based short story seems like a good starting point to go on. This one is based on an unusually vivid one I had just a few days ago, and it's been demanding I put it down.<br />
<br />
<b>Midnight Mystery Massacre</b><br />
<br />
“I should have worn a costume,” Blane thought to himself. A costume wouldn't have necessarily prevented the apparent apocalypse and his inevitable demise. But it couldn't have hurt.<br />
<br />
In fact, in what he expected to be his final moments, Blane had a lot of regrets. Getting to the company Halloween party late. Going at all, really. And perhaps not voicing his input when the movie was selected.<br />
<br />
Things started out well enough. Okay, not well. Like every year, Blane's office had planned an “exciting” party for the holiday. The office would be open late, costumes were encouraged, and everyone would gather for the traditional spooky movie. This is what happens when office functions don't allow alcohol. Blane didn't care, and he didn't even want to show up. But unlike everyone else, he had actual work to do that day.<br />
<br />
Despite that, he expressed his irritation with the whole affair as blatantly as he could without getting a reprimand. He sauntered into work half an hour late (blaming it on the long lines at Starbucks, if anyone asked, and nobody did,) and immediately noticed that he was the only one there without at least a token costume. He shrugged, ignored the unspoken scorn at his lack of participation, and tried to get to work. But that wouldn't be an option either. People were so excited about the movie that all the desks in the office were shoved into the corners so people could find a place to sit. Blane did his best to wedge into the tragic remains of his workspace and did his best to be productive for an hour or so, turning a blind eye to the schlock that stole everyone else's brains.<br />
<br />
But he had to give up eventually. If the movie wasn't distracting enough, the gasps and laughs from his ostensibly adult co-workers was enough to finish the job. What could possibly be that interesting? Some movie everyone saw thirty times? He shoved aside what was left of his work and took a seat at far end of the room.<br />
<br />
Well, one thing was for sure, at least this movie was unfamiliar. Though it probably had a good reason for that. It was filmed in black and white and had a budget less than his work computer cost. Blane glanced at the movie's case: something called Midnight Mystery Massacre. Even if the movie had been better, he couldn't figure out the plot after missing the first half. He figured that spoilers be damned, he could just look it up online and catch up on the plot that way. Except a search turned up exactly zero results. Wow, this one must be obscure. Without any other options, he settled in his seat and tried to figure out the plot on his own. And then he got caught up in the movie. Literally.<br />
<br />
The next moment, he was struggling to breathe in the sunken remains of outer New York, which was just being conquered by … something at that point in the movie. Despite being moments away from drowning, he felt at peace. The water carried no sound, had no urgency. He was momentary content to rest here, basking in the shadow of whatever unearthly light up above illuminated him and the surrounding debris. That is, until he realized the debris was the bodies of other people.<br />
<br />
Never a strong swimmer, Blane broke into a panicked, splashy paddle until he managed to surface and drag himself to shore. But the streets of the city were no more comforting. They were, in fact, completely silent, save for the occasional skitter of unrecognizable feet far of in the distance. He considered hiding into a building, but the way that every one of them had every glass window blasted open from inside made him worried. He ran as fast as his legs allowed until he found something not completely desolate.<br />
<br />
Blane lost track of time and distance as he ran, never even noticing that he never seemed to get tired. Eventually, he managed to get out of downtown and into one of the wealthier subdivision, where the rich carved a mini-suburb into the middle of the urban sprawl. This area seemed to be just as uninhabited, but at least the buildings looked like their inhabitants fought back. Windows and doors were boarded up, with furniture forming makeshift cover and barricades. He continued down a road at random, looking for signs of life, when he heard voices coming from within one of the buildings. Strange voices, like that of a child, but it was the best bet he had so far, so he tentatively stepped over the table blocking the front door and made his way inside.<br />
<br />
The voices were coming from the basement, because of course they were, but Blane felt himself drawn that way despite his better judgment. But he found it bereft of life, though judging by the stench, that had been a recent development. And then he heard the laughing, the happy little chuckles coming from every direction. Where the basement had once been empty, now it had little figures emerging from behind boxes, around doorways, from the tops of shelves piled with unused clothes and broken appliance. To his regret, he recognized the ventriloquist dummies from the movie. And even more regretfully, they recognized him.<br />
<br />
“We wipe out every reprobate and snuff out every sinner!” they sang as they converged on him. “If you fight a dummy, a dummy is the winner!” Blane was in no position to appreciate the wordplay insult in the song, as he found himself swarmed by the creatures and staggered by the pain they inflicted with their tiny little knives. That last thing he thought about as things went black was the stupid costume he should have worn.<br />
<br />
At least, that's how the story felt like would end. He heard the sounds of gunshots, so close that it should have deafened him, but all he experienced was the relief of a stab-free moment. As his vision cleared, he found a woman standing over him, apparently looting the broken bodies of defeated dummies. Unlike him, she seemed built for this place, with some sort of body armor and a gas mask covering her face. She holstered her sawed-off shotgun and glared at Blane. “Hmm. I didn't expect to find any NPCs here. You better not be some helpless escort side-quest.”<br />
<br />
“Excuse me?” Blane said as he stumbled to his feet, causing her to pause.<br />
<br />
“Now, that's even weirder. I never heard that one before.” She waved a hand in front of Blane's eyes and watched his eyes follow it. “Huh. Say something original. Something unexpectedly human.”<br />
<br />
Blane was reasonably happy to comply with the woman who saved his life. “If I survive this, I'm never going to a damn office Halloween party again.”<br />
<br />
“Good enough for me.” The woman held out her hand. “I'm ZombieMauler657.”<br />
<br />
“Blane,” he replied. “What kind of name is that?”<br />
<br />
ZombieMauler657 shrugged. “Apparently, the kind of name you get when 656 other people call themselves ZombieMauler before you do. But this should be offline mode. How are you even here?”<br />
<br />
Blane explained the entire situation, from his office party to his near-drowning and up to the dummy attack. But the more he explained, the more nervous ZM got. “Wait, you think this is a movie? But I never even heard of it. Hell, I never heard of the Midnight Mystery Massacre video game until I found a cheap copy online. I expected shovelware, but this has been pretty good so far. But it's not THIS clever.”<br />
<br />
Both of them looked around warily. Was this part of the movie/game? Or another trap? “The way I see it,” Blane said, “We have three possibilities. Either I fell asleep dreaming and you're just part of my dream...”<br />
<br />
“Or I fell asleep gaming and YOU'RE part of MY DREAM,” ZM added.<br />
<br />
“Fine, FOUR possibilities,” Blane conceded. “Or we're both dreaming and in some sort of weird shared subconscious reality. Or lastly...”<br />
<br />
He didn't need to even say the last one. Lastly, this movie/game/experience was real and drew them both into it. Which mean that if they fell to wayward dummies or worse, it would really mean the end for them.<br />
<br />
“Let's work on the hypothetical that our real lives are in real danger,” ZM suggested. She handed him the shotgun. “Any chance you know how to use one of these?”<br />
<br />
“No, but I'm a faster learner.” Blane took the weapon. “Are you sure you'll be okay without a weapon?”<br />
<br />
ZM chuckled. “Are you kidding? This game's full of weird weapons. I half a dozen exploding teddy bears I've been itching to try out.” So saying, she scooped up the remains of a pile of coins that inexplicably fell out of the dummies, pulled out some weird sci-fi raygun appropriate for the setting, and took point on the way out of the mansion.<br />
<br />
The front doorway had since collapsed, so she led him out the back. Which somehow directly led to a graveyard, one far more active than it had any right to be. ZM whipped out her gun. “Watch for the red objects,” she cautioned him. “Those are enemies or about to turn into them.”<br />
<br />
Blane took in the whole area with a confused look. “What red objects? What red anything?” he asked. “Everything still looks black and white to me.” But he didn't need prompting for long. Several of the gravestones and statuaries came to life and charged them, and a bolt of energy streaked from the unearthly light up above, causing a tear in space to form. SomeTHING lurked within, eager to get out, but one exploding teddy bear ruined its ambitions quickly.<br />
<br />
But Blane wasn't as quick a learner as he hoped, and he was running out of ammo fast. While ZM mopped up the remaining enemies, he concentrated on where to go from here. Fleeing mindlessly probably wouldn't help at this point, but off in the distance, he saw a man with a lab-coat and a tuft of white (as far as he could tell) hair, waltzing through the ruins without a care in the world. He looked familiar, and Blane remembered that he had been a mad scientist from the movie, one who was supposed to help humanity before betraying them to serve the invading aliens/demons/whatever.<br />
<br />
“Quick, after that psychopath!” Blane yelled, and he and ZM sprinted after the mad scientist, who bolted away just as quickly. Behind them, several wagons full of dummies came to life and rolled behind, their wares breaking once again into song as they rolled.Joseph Barderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04348758056369161323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-82868444898877501972015-08-26T08:03:00.001-05:002015-08-26T08:52:43.239-05:00NaNoWriMo: SeptemberThere is a darkness coming, and you only have two months to get ready. That may seem like a lot of time, but it’s not. It’ll move up on you faster than a hawk on a jack rabbit. For many thousands November 1st brings excitement, and dread. Excitement from the energy of the creative masses and dread from the spouses and love interests who know they will be taking a second seat to the endevour. Be warned: Lovers will find sorrow and children will turn to crime for attention while you are off seeking your glory. Bathing will be forced upon you by the many who will be offended, and even the most devout will find a new religeon, presenting offerings to the godess of caffeen.<br />
<br />
It’s NaNoWriMo time people. That time of year when thousands sit their butts down to write the great American novel (or what every country you are country in). 50K words in 30 days. Over 1600 words everyday to create what obstentially is half a novel.<br />
<br />
Oh, and did I mention the fear? Not from the writers, but all those literary agents, publishing houses, and slush pile readers who know, come December, their inboxes will be full of Vampires, Zombies and all matters of descruction, all in their first draft glory.<br />
<br />
But that is December, and this is September, and now is the time to plan. How do I know? I have failed twice and completed four NaNoWriMo’s. The difference between winning and losing is, quite simply, Planning. That may sound basic enough, but understand that with normal writing standards, I am a true Pantser. Now, if you dive too deep into all the Nanowrimo blogs, podcasts, vblogs and such, you’ll find Pantsers saying they didn’t plan, and you don’t have to either. (Actually, I’m not sure they would say that. I’m just making it up.) But I say hogwash. You have two months. Start Your Planning!<br />
<br />
Don’t know how? Grab a pen and notebook and start writing down ideas. Are you the type of person that likes software applications, and complexity? Check out Scrivener. Are you an online type person? Check out <a href="http://hiveword.com/">Hiveword.com</a>. Do a Twitter search for #nanowrimo and see what others are doing. Same with all the other social media outlets. Or, be productive and ignore social media…whatever is best for you.
<br>
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<hr>
Other blog posts by Eric Michalsen<br />
<ul>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2015/05/lets-write-novel-characters.html" target=_blank>Let's Write a Novel: Characters</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2015/04/i-sound-like-that.html" target=_blank>I Sound Like That?!</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2015/03/releasing-your-children-to-wild.html" target=_blank>Releasing Your Child to the Wild</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2015/02/the-process.html" target=_blank>The Process</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/09/every-day.html" target=_blank>Every Day</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/08/writing-is-re-writing.html" target=_blank>Writing is Re-Writing</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/01/tools-of-trade-part-1-of-3.html" target="_blank">Tools of the Trade part 1 Pen Paper / Sublime Text</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/02/tools-of-trade-part-2-of-3.html" target="_blank">Tools of the Trade part 2 Open Office / Trello</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/02/tools-of-trade-part-3-of-3.html" target="_blank">Tools of the Trade part 3 Ommwriter / Scrivener</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/02/so-you-want-website-for-your-writing.html" target="_blank">Website Development and SEO Basics for Writers</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/02/git-and-writer.html" target="_blank">Git and the Writer</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/03/twitter-tools-for-writers.html" target="_blank">Twitter Tools for Writers</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/04/kickstarter-how-it-is-being-used-by.html" target="_blank">Kickstarter :: How it is being used by writers</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/05/cut-it-out.html" target="_blank">Cut It Out</a></li>
</ul>
<div>
<hr>
More of Eric can be found:
<ul>
<li>On Twitter <a href="http://twitter.com/elmwriting" target="_blank">@elmwriting</a></li>
<li>His rantings at his <a href="http://michalsen.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">blog</a></li>
<li>And on the <a href="http://www.typehammer.com" target=_blank>TypeHammer Podcast</a></li>
</ul></div>Eric Michalsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01790612952495174676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-19088106199059372002015-05-15T10:21:00.001-05:002015-05-15T10:21:25.679-05:00Let's Write A Novel - Characters<p>Paul covered characters and their journey in last nights Writer Time Writers Group monthly series “Let’s Write a Novel”. Turn out was moderate, but discussion lively and open.</p>
<p>Stealing the <a href="http://sketchnoteartist.com/">sketchnote</a> idea from my fellow <a href="https://twitter.com/typehammer">@typehammer</a> <a href="http://typehammer.com/">podcast</a> master <a href="https://twitter.com/y0mbo">John Uhri</a>, I submit this evenings notes, via sloppy sketch.</p>
<p><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/XIXOrE0FVCFvuKgYGujNVjaHAP1X0rguc5Elo2hhZ-0=s600" alt="enter image description here" title="5/15/15 - 1"></p>
<p>So what it is? Well, allow me to list out some of the major elements:</p>
<ul>
<li>A start, which needs a “hook”</li>
<li>A herald, which calls the hero to action</li>
<li>A threshold guardian to stop the hero from beginning their journey</li>
<li>The journey</li>
<li>The bully and/or antagonist</li>
<li>Sex</li>
<li>A major obstacle</li>
<li>Crossing the finish line</li>
</ul>
<p>The notes above are for me. An obstacle is something that is stopping the hero. Conflict is something inside the hero wanting them to stop.</p>
<p>There was a lot more that was discussed, but as you can see I’m not very good at sketching notes right now. If you want to know more, perhaps you should just show up.</p>Eric Michalsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01790612952495174676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-3809455820502582842015-04-29T09:06:00.003-05:002015-04-29T09:34:14.529-05:00I Sound Like That?!Lately I've been pushing out some short fiction as a way to procrastinate the finishing touches on a novel for submission; chapter summaries are the devils work. Another form of procrastination has been the involvement of a writing podcast with several friends, recording once a week for <a href="http://www.typehammer.com/">www.typehammer.com</a> (<a href="http://twitter.com/typehammer" target="_blank">@typehammer</a>). No matter what you may have heard, podcasting is only just a new venture to sink cash into fancy hardware. In my case, a nice mic and headphones. Please don't listen to episode 2. My audio is frightenly bad.<br />
<br />
What does any of this have to do with writing? Well, last weekend I had published through the <a href="https://plus.google.com/u/0/communities/113661273168031586623" target="_blank">#Saturdayscenes</a> writers group a twelve hundred word story called The River. Remember that procrastination I mentioned? Well on Sunday I fired up a free copy of Audacity, sat in front of the mic and turned my short story into an audio story.<br />
<br />
I quickly learned two things:<br />
<ol>
<li>I do not like my voice (seriously, who does? Mike Rowe, maybe?)</li>
<li>It is a lot harder than I have given people credit for</li>
</ol>
<div>
The takeaway for me was crystal clear. It was a great way for me to review and edit my work. Reading it back, out loud, forced me to read the material in a new light and see where changes needed to be made.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What to hear my mumbling? You can hear me say w-ivver instead of river. You can also hear my iPhone let me know I have a facebook message. Should I re-record for better clarity? Probably, but I wanted to share this work in progress. Like writing, the first version is always crap.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/202694242&color=ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe>Eric Michalsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01790612952495174676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-25656117777580311592015-04-21T00:50:00.000-05:002015-04-21T00:50:24.952-05:00StoryMaker: Nothing DiesI know it's been a while since I last used this process for storytelling, so just a reminder, the StoryMaker is a way to create random story ideas using random numbers to determine setting and theme. I first posted about it on this blog here: http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/03/the-storymaker-simple-version.html.<br />
<br />
This is another experiment using the StoryMaker. However, this one actually came out of random brainstorming, and I decided to create a real story out of it several days later. In addition, this one ended up being too long a concept to use for one writing exercise. If people are interested, I'll continue the story in later posts. By the way, the StoryMaker roll I used to create this story is listed at the bottom, after the story itself to avoid spoilers.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Avuwav would always remember the day when it all started, not that she ever forgot any other day. November 16th, 2546 by the old calendar. She was in higher education, spending her days in the old facilities and her nights at home, in a dome a good thirty miles from any of the old settlements. The commute wasn't a problem (not via 1,300 mph hypertube, at least,) but few students bothered to even visit the facility. There wasn't any need for it, after all. Any classwork could just be done online in the comfort of home, and besides, the old facility was creepy. Just standing around, studying five-dimensional math or interstellar transportation theory where people once lived and died? Why expose yourself to that emotional paradox?<br />
<br />
But Avuwav didn't mind. She was a bit of a traditionalist, who preferred making friends and seeing her professors in person. Besides, she reasoned, what was the point of learning history if you were only going to do it based on theory and holographic projections? If you were going to learn about the past, you should be willing to confront it, get the emotional scale of what it meant, figuratively live in it. Whatever, she thought to herself. At least she wasn't as bad as her history obsessed weirdo friend Qehoxa.<br />
<br />
However, on the night of the first incident, all of her justifications vanished away. Night had already fallen when she made her way to the hypertube that would take her home. But she wouldn't get there that night. Just as she made her way into the last hallway out of the ruins of the past, the doors sealed themselves. She stopped, more irritated than worried. A simple malfunction, she assumed, though she couldn't remember the last time she experienced. But then the lights in the hallway started flickering, leaving her in total darkness every few seconds. This shouldn't happen, she realized. More than that, it couldn't. Nothing had been built so haphazardly in centuries.<br />
<br />
And then she heard the voice. “Get out,” it whispered, inches away from her, though she could see nothing. A faulty com system? Impossible. That would have resonated all around her from the exact direction of the speakers. But as she stood alone in that dark hallway, surrounded by impossible things, a horrible thought struck her. What if this wasn't some faulty facility equipment? What if the only thing malfunctioning was … her? Only way to be certain. She shut down all external sensor equipment, leaving her in the comforting embrace of pure data. She ran her internal self-diagnostics a dozen times, but every time, she came up clean. A little bad memory here and there, but nobody was perfect. Nothing that would explain such irrational sensory experiences. At any rate, when she returned to the external world, all the strange phenomenon. Even so, rational or not, she didn't hesitate a moment to get the hell out of there.<br />
<br />
“What do you think happened, Qehoxa?” Avuwav later asked her friend. As soon as she got out of the hallway, she called her friend. He would be the only one likely to believe her, at least without a mandatory outside full diagnostic. Plus, she figured he would still be at the facility. He practially never leaves. He caught up her with her in the old library, one still containing real books, albeit only reprints of originals sealed in airtight containers who knows where. Qehoxa was flipping through those books now; a mostly pointless endeavor, since he had them all memorized ages ago, but he figured something would catch his optics.<br />
<br />
“I have several theories,” he replied. “But most people would call them … well, the humn word was insane.”<br />
<br />
Avuwav, who had been wasting countless units of energy by pacing back and forth behind him, was half-convinced that she was already insane, self-diagnostics be damned, but she wasn't about to let him believe that. She waved a hand to demonstrate indifference. “At this point, I'll listen to whatever you have.”<br />
<br />
“Well, you know how I took all those Ancient Human Mythology classes?”<br />
<br />
“You and about five other students,” she replied, her optics gyrating. “But go ahead.”<br />
<br />
“The humans had several myths about this sort of thing. It went by many names: Poltergeist, specter, haunt, wraith, etc. Most commonly, though, it would be called a 'ghost.' Supposedly, a being that dies and paradoxically continues existing, contrary to any law of science. Such beings normally were born out of some sort of emotional trauma, like an unfulfilled goal in life or an especially horrific death.”<br />
<br />
“Even if I believed the theory,” Avuwav said, “How would that make sense? Nothing dies. Not anymore, and certainly not here.”<br />
<br />
That wasn't 100% true, of course. Simple bacteria and cells sometimes began and end their life cycles in this facility, and the rare insect managed to get inside and die to starvation or accident soon afterwards. But real people didn't die anymore. Avuwav would never get old, never have to contemplate a universe without her. Parts may wear out in time, but they could be easily replaced. Even a particularly catastrophic body failure would just result in her hard memory transferring to a digital storage facility, where it would wait for a day or two until a new body could be made from scratch. She never heard of an android ever truly dying, not in the centuries since the first one had been built.<br />
<br />
“Ah, but think back even farther,” Qehoxa offered. “If the death of one person could be so traumatic as to defy physics itself, how much worse would the death of an entire species be? Just imagine what it would be like for your entire kind to go extinct? Sure, most humans just stopped having children when we came along, but some didn't go gently into that good night. There were wars, plagues, biological disasters.”<br />
<br />
Avuwav shook her head. “Even if we would be dealing with the ghosts of humanity, why now? Why start … hinting?<br />
<br />
“Haunting.”<br />
<br />
“Haunting us after hundreds of years?”<br />
<br />
Qehoxa shrugged. “Maybe the didn't realize we were something you could haunt. Outside of the last few generations, imagine what we must look like to them. We were thought of as things, once, tools at best. No ghost is going to bother haunting a toaster. But maybe the ghosts finally got wise that we're not just toys spinning their wheels in the ruins of their home. We're they're replacements, and it, to use the human term, pisses them off.”<br />
<br />
Avuwav was about to finally order Qehoxa to dismiss this silly idea and get back to real explanations. But then the lights went off, and all the doors in the room, which were still the wooden analog variety, slammed shut.<br />
<br />
“Qehoxa,” Avuwav whispered to her friend. “I have good news. I don't entirely think you're crazy anymore.”<br />
<br />
“I have good news for you too,” he murmured. “You're definitely not malfunctioning. Not yet, anyway.”<br />
<br />
Before they could speak further, the felt something rising up below them. A liquid pooled up and started to flood the room. Avuwav analyzed it and found herself lacking. “What is this?” she asked. “It's not water, too thick. Some sort of polycompound?”<br />
<br />
Qehoxa groaned. “Honestly, you skipped Organic Biology as well? It's blood. Part of the human circulatory system, designed to get vital nutrients to tissue and regulated by an organ known as the heart.”<br />
<br />
Avuwav started to root through the rising flood. “Well, help me find the heart, then, so we can stop this. What does it look like?”<br />
<br />
“I don't think there IS one,” Qehoxa said, suddenly afraid.<br />
<br />
“But that makes no sense,” Avuwav said. “You just said that blood is a product of a system that includes the heart. It would logically have to be here.”<br />
<br />
“It would. But it isn't.”<br />
<br />
The very idea froze Avuwav in fear. If her body had any reason to react to cold weather, it would have shuddered. And if she wasn't terrified already, the spectral disconnected pivot and load system (Qehoxa would later explain to her that it was a “skeleton”) that appeared right in front of her and laughed in her face would have done it.”<br />
<br />
Avuwav quietly asked, “What do they WANT from us?”<br />
<br />
Qehoxa looked around nervously. “Ghosts are frequently very hostile. They might want to drown us or scare us to death.”<br />
<br />
“You want to get out of her before they figure out that's impossible and try something worse?”<br />
<br />
“I thought you'd never ask.” Qehoxa charged out of the room, easily shattering the antique door as he went, and the two androids broke into a sprint. Not even bothering with the hypertube system, they simply bolted out of the facility and into the empty wastelands beyond the ancient city.<br />
<br />
“What are we going to do?” Qehoxa asked as they fled for home.<br />
<br />
“Besides never return to the learning facility again?” Avuwav responded.<br />
<br />
“Yes, but in the bigger picture. We could seal all the old ruins, but if the ghosts of a dead civilization have awakened, that wouldn't stop them. And how could we fight them? They defy logic, they violate causality, they make liars out of our sensors. We could never be certain of anything, ever again. Anything could be some plan by the ghosts, and we wouldn't even understand the why of it. This could be the end of us.”<br />
<b><br />
Future + Artificial/Horror-Ghost Story</b>Joseph Barderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04348758056369161323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-23950492268253459162015-04-07T00:26:00.000-05:002015-04-07T00:26:03.846-05:00Dreamleaks 5: Challenging FilmPhyllis sighed and checked the time again. Yup, as she feared, barely a minute since the last time she checked. That makes the the third time she checked in this scene alone. If she could even call this a scene.<br />
<br />
She glanced around, and nearly everybody in the theatre was as restless as she was. Everyone except Avi, her date, who looked ready to burst into tears. She didn't want to interrupt whatever moment he was having. But five minutes later, she couldn't stand it. “What exactly is going on?” she whispered to him.<br />
<br />
Avi just glared baack. “Don't talk during the movie,” he muttered.<br />
<br />
Phyllis insisted she wasn't the kind of person to do something that. Normally. However, it's not like there was any dialogue to interrupt. Or action. Seriously, they'd been watching a tree grow in fast-motion for the past ten minutes now. It was a very nice tree, with certainly expensive 3D effects on the branches and whatnot. But still, just a tree.<br />
<br />
“It' just … I don't have any idea what's going on?” she persisted. “I was into the movie at first, but then it got … weird.”<br />
<br />
Avi was about to shush her again, but even he had noticed the whispered conversations throughout the theater. “Looks, what's not to get? This is supposed to be the world as it would be without the characters, or anyone else. It's supposed to be a serene contrast.”<br />
<br />
It almost serened Phyllis into a nap at that point. But no! Finally, the interminable scene ended and they could go back to the actual characters … as animals. Animals dressed up like the characters from the first part of the movie, just milling about in silly characters.<br />
<br />
“Okay, so what does THIS mean?” Phyllis asked, just as the movie theater's staff burst in as a massive swarm. For a moment, Phyllis panicked, certain that the ushers were going to throw her and the other chatting viewers out. But no, instead they started to act out a dramatic battle, right between the rows of seats! This might make the slightest semblance of sense, if not for the fact that half of the staff were dressed like 1920's gangsters, and the others as giant cats.<br />
<br />
Before Phyllis could ask, Avi beat her to it. “Obviously, this is supposed to represent the battle between authority as a form of corruption and tyranny versus the amoral freedom of primitivism. Cats versus gangsters is as blatant a metaphor as you can get!”<br />
<br />
“Okay, fine, but what does it have to do with the movie that we're ostenably supposed to be watching?” Phyllis argued back. “And just think how much it must have cost to get costumes for every theater in the world.” She shuddered to imagine what the home version of the movie would be like. Maybe the Blueray would come with hand puppets.<br />
<br />
Avi refused to answer. He was too entranced with the best acting a bunch of projectionists and ticket-takers could offer contrasted with the actual movie going on, which had switched from animals dressed in costumes to babies dressed in costumes. After an eternity at at least 15 more time-checks, the staff finally went away and the lights came on.<br />
<br />
“Oh, thank God, it's finally over?” Phyllis shouted. The actually plot of the movie hadn't been resolved, or even addressed for an hour now, but she didn't care.<br />
<br />
“What, no!” Avi admonished her. “The best part's coming up.”<br />
<br />
Sure enough, the theater staff burst in, still adorned in their goofy costumes. But instead of acting out another scene, they came bearing pens and paper for the entire audience.<br />
<br />
“The best part is a quiz?” Phyllis asked as she stared at the page dumped on her lap.<br />
<br />
“It's the interactive part of the movie!” Avi explained. “It lets you reflect on the movie as it has presented itself and how your nature filtered that experience.<br />
<br />
Now Phyllis was excited, eager to have an immediate way of venting her frustrations, until she saw the questions. “What exactly does my relationship with my mother have to do with a movie?”<br />
<br />
“Ah, the real question is, doesn't your relationship with your mother have to do with everything you experience, INCLUDING the movie?” Avi said. After seeing his date's blank expression, he just grumbled, “I don't even know why agreed to come if you were going to be so critical. The art of cinema is meant to challenge you like this.”<br />
<br />
“Well, I certainly didn't expect it from this movie,” Phyllis said. “I can appreciate being challenged by some weird indie film, but this is a big summer blockbuster! I can't help but feel they let their success get to their heads. I was looking forward to this movie for years, but a movie like Avengers 2 needs more superheroes fighting robots and less still images of trees and psych evalutions.”<br />
<br />
“But,” she relented, “the puppy dressed like Iron Man was pretty adorable.”Joseph Barderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04348758056369161323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-88045298482851341452015-03-09T10:38:00.001-05:002015-03-09T11:36:46.509-05:00Releasing Your Children to the Wild<style>
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I have two rules when dealing with the Internet:<br />
<ol>
<li>Never read the comments</li>
<li>Always read the comments</li>
</ol>
To help clarify the above list of rules, understand that the first thing a writer should write is a thick skin, because when you release your children into the Wild, sometimes the Wild bites back. <br />
And then sometimes the Wild is friendly, encouraging, engaging and supportive.<br />
<blockquote>
Great read. Totally believable</blockquote>
I have been bringing two serialed stories to the public over the past month, releasing on Saturday with the hashtag #saturdayscenes. <br />
<blockquote>
I have a feeling I will like Captain William Brown. </blockquote>
The comments peppered here are from the release of the second chapter of the science-fiction Last Flight of the King IV this past weeekend. <br />
<blockquote>
Nice scene and a great story. </blockquote>
As you can see this is a nice ego-boost; validation to what I am posting.<br />
<blockquote>
Good portrayal of how absurd military ritual can seem if you aren’t thinking about the reasons for it.</blockquote>
That’s not to say there aren’t criticisms. From the first chapter I received:<br />
<blockquote>
I liked this very much, though the very first paragraph didn’t grab me. (It felt a little superfluous?) Good dialogue.</blockquote>
and<br />
<blockquote>
The beginning phrase was awkward, but the rest of the story was quite interesting.</blockquote>
and <br />
<blockquote>
Good stuff in that first paragraph, but too much, too soon. Take some of it and mix it in with his thoughts as he talks to the reporter. Great start and I love the dialogue. </blockquote>
If you were following the first chapter, and took note of the edits I made, you would see some of the changes. It was an extensive re-write on the first two paragraphs.<br />
<blockquote>
But would he be using a watch with hands? In the future? </blockquote>
This comment made me smile, affirming that I was on the right path. Yes, it is a science-fiction, and yes it takes place in the future…but I’m not going to describe something unless it will move the story forward, if not immediatly, then shortly there after. This comment told me that people are not only reading, but engrossed in the scene, and thinking about what has been written.<br />
<br />
Next weeks #saturdayscenes will be chapter 2 of Madness and the Kaiserhorde, a romance novel full of WWI bi-planes, artillery, and something resembling zombies. <br />
<br />
Last Flight of the King IV can be found <a href="http://www.king4flight.com/">here</a>. <br />
Madness and the Kaiserhorde over <a href="http://www.bigbadgun.com/">here</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
Internet comments are not always roses and sunshine. Sometimes it is nothing but thorns. I was involved in a media post where I decided on some random day to read the comments. It pushed me into levels of depression I hadn't felt since high school. I spent hours wondering how I could counter, hide or respond to the vitriol...but in the end I just never went back. <br />
<br />
<b>I can not stress this enough: </b>Hope for the best / Prepare for the worst. Be prepared to meet an onslaught of short-minded people who find their own pleasure in attempting to destroy others. Have a plan in place because when they hit, they hit hard and fast.Eric Michalsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01790612952495174676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-87331472993005854632015-02-02T07:49:00.001-06:002015-02-06T20:49:41.857-06:00The ProcessLast year I mentioned at a writers group meeting that I was thinking about penning a science fiction piece. I told the group there would be no lasers, explosions, love interests or any of the other plot devices common in the troupe. One of the members squawked saying it would be something to the effect as, “the most boring read ever.” <br />
Challenge accepted.<br />
What I have detailed here is how I have been developing this work-in-progress and promoting it for readership. I also added narrative notes for the reader if they were interested in my thought process.<br />
<h1 id="promotion">
Promotion</h1>
In terms of social networks, I spend a good deal of time in Google Plus. One of the communities I partake in is called <a href="https://plus.google.com/u/0/communities/113661273168031586623">Saturday Scenes</a>, where writers, every Saturday, post scenes, chapters, whatever they like to the public stream with the hashtag #saturdayscenes. I also post to Twitter with the #amwriting to help drive even further possible traffic. Upwards of 60 writers post, share and seek an audience by working together. It is a grand experiment full of rather nice people, good writers and a chunk of fun. Yes, a chunk.<br />
In the past I posted several short stories that received very nice reviews and shares by other writers; enough for me to try something new. A serial story released week to week.<br />
I wanted to do this right from the get-go, so I purchased a domain name, king4flight.com at google’s new domain service. Here is my cost breakdown:<br />
<ul>
<li>$12 at domains.google.com (<a href="http://www.king4flight.com/">king4flight.com</a>)</li>
<li>FREE blogger.com account</li>
<li>$5 bookcover at <a href="https://www.fiverr.com/">fiverr.com</a> (not needed, but feeds the ego)</li>
</ul>
<h1 id="the-process">
The Process</h1>
I needed a way to work on the writing while at home, or at work during my lunch hour. Enter <a href="https://stackedit.io/">stackedit.io</a>, the markdown service I am using right now to write this blog entry. When I have finished I simply publish to the blog from stackedit.<br />
And that’s it. I create, edit and publish from stackedit.io. <br />
You are probably wondering why go through all the bother. Well, for me this is less of a bother as all my content creation and editing takes place in stackedit.io, no matter my location.(lunch hour at work, home, driving…). I can also maintain content from multiple blogs from one spot:<br />
<ul>
<li>Serial novella (<a href="http://www.king4flight.com/#">Last flight of the King IV</a>)</li>
<li>Writers Group Blog (<a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/">The Missing Dwarven Phaser</a>)</li>
<li>My Personal Blog (<a href="https://michalsen.wordpress.com/">michalsen.wordpress.com</a>)</li>
</ul>
You may also be wondering why I’m posting the chapters to their own blog instead of leaving them in the wild on G+. Well, you probably aren’t, but I was looking for an excuse to show you something really cool. I have setup a small script that shows or hides my story comments during the readers experience. <br />
That’s all fun and games. What we really need are photos.<br />
<blockquote>
Here is stackedit.io interface. The markdown, where you type, is on the left, and how it renders is on the right. If you are new to markdown, rest assured it is easy and there are plenty of cheatsheets out there.</blockquote>
<img alt="stackedit" height="401" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRS5a93I37Go-a0tlOtfA7wtk5_2xPAVYZmxGkg3QVJ27j_WiCmTFpdVa4gYLB1Yl7owfvktXF_zmI4SDU3RJyrdE3wFgCmNh1wNAvjS4kZd3ZyzPCPbyAipglk_l65NrkBcyQRBFoU8Q/s0/" title="stackedit.png" width="640" /><br />
<blockquote>
By clicking the hash in the upper left gives you the fly-out menu.</blockquote>
<img alt="enter image description here" height="401" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwfvt6E4lA-WqUHxh1d8YINz-2MlzuEo-FVwg5Ee04Rf0Lk_IFa4VCiPfthKvzbvj8c_676KTYAxZx7S3spFKb7oRXnyndRH40Kui3VvaHWGSFYKAU5z-Zcfl0cuW_dw1gOQCpdMJzSxY/s0/" title="file_routing.png" width="640" /><br />
<blockquote>
Where you are given a host of choices to publish and save your material.</blockquote>
<img alt="enter image description here" height="403" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0LHhrRm3IUA1DwvIXEFLuQDiI2-lq2Oalfe941hiYdRjIKsLSVcc3qmu6YD0FLhZEGCSM6lNjrmMjwRG7OUixmg41WA98lphZ-kHM-hOWYyoDdAh4C2zZOq1aOgXhdDQZL7FlxQo5ydU/s0/" title="choose_medium.png" width="640" /><br />
<blockquote>
I choose to publish to blogger.</blockquote>
<img alt="publish post" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1zAZOH_MC5qIwR9bUoul4AxHhyJLI8xowiK0HHYqPYrLfgYP7ceYEIocTgeEYXkUM15-n-g6Clm84ac-fsikuD3RE34hZ4ZCd2Y68A-otW0GsRJrSclo9p5x2kyEa7B4hJH3LtS73rNw/s0/" title="publish_post.png" width="640" /><br />
<blockquote>
Here is domains.google.com where I point the domain to a blogger page. Easy-peasy.</blockquote>
<img alt="google domains" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA4PGj3-DZBOgYcJJZvV3LMOj7DEkjscmBHWVobGC2dGCTlfB_LbDkpcqn3ibxpeVxy7PEjNIYEXtUTmpc3E8feQhAd_pDYlWPQGva1YJUZr1tEr2qNrZDfuHcABqTYWop6uIX_3eYZgw/s0/" title="domains.png" /><br />
<blockquote>
<br /></blockquote>
<img alt="enter image description here" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsRYFk6Odq00ayJyx3z_IS7CtUlDZnksYSieXB3e2fV5JMwaysKTm-B9G6TJM57S5pWSwMt83b3MPM-qexFKdG2UC2nGtAJY15UHmQiTy3i5i6cTFP21WHdA7z7vsEh2OJrb5lD1UWD0/s0/" title="post.png" /><br />
<br />
Now, I ask….How can you choose not to read that?<br />
<br />
So, you are probably wondering if this is the end all/be all of my adventure. Not even close!<br />
<br />
Stay tuned!Eric Michalsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01790612952495174676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-18278877535235231262014-10-08T00:30:00.000-05:002014-10-08T00:30:51.262-05:00Out of RetirementThere's a saying that heroes never die; they just fade away. That's blatantly true, of course, at least the last part. Heroes can't fade away any more than the stories the inhabit do. They're remembered, discussed, remade, re-imagined, and honored long after “the end.” Oh, they're forgotten sometimes, but inevitably they're returned to, either from fresh eyes and mind or when an old fan longs for the tales of their past.<br />
<br />
But if heroes never fade away, what do they do when their stories aren't being told. Well, like the people who listen, observer, or participate in the stories, they remember their past and reminisce. So it goes at places like the Onion Knight Home for Semi-Retired Heroes. Well, semi-retired heroes and villains, technically, but they don't put that part in the sign. Not that the heroes particularly care. The battles were fought once and they will be fought again, but in between, there's no point in holding a grudge. Besides, worthy arch-nemeses are one in a million; the other “villains” exist to do little more than get in the hero's way for a few minutes.<br />
<br />
“Minutes?” laughed Cyclonic Antipathy, who managed to save the world some 237 times by his last count, but now was content to rest on a park bench in the in the home's park. “Try seconds. Not even that long, if my Ultra-Slay power was active.”<br />
<br />
Goblin # 1,620, who once felt the sting of death as often as most people breathed, harrumphed in his chair next to his best friend/regular murderer. “Not all the time,” he pointed out. “We had our moments. Not many, of course. But that time you were returning home from a dungeon, barely alive, and we got the chance to hit first. Oh, I lived for those days. Died for them, too.”<br />
<br />
“That didn't count,” Cyclonic grumbled. “We had 90 healing potions to spare, but NOOOO, our storyteller was in such a hurry. I swear that even across the rift between our reality and his, I could hear him uttering the most unpleasant oaths. Considering our adventure was rated everyone 10 and older, so it was highly inappropriate.”<br />
<br />
Goblin # 1,620 laughed and added, “Oh, speaking of bad words, remember that time when the storyteller's friend borrowed our story ...”<br />
<br />
“Don't you dare,” Cyclonic growled, but the goblin ignored him.<br />
<br />
“And when they entered your name, they called you ASSBUTT?” the goblin burst out laughing. “Thirty hours of a destined hero named ASSBUTT saving the world from pure evil. Hell, I bet you won a lot of fights just because we couldn't keep a straight face when fighting you.”<br />
<br />
Cyclonic complained, “Storytellers have no respect nowadays. And did they have to put it in all caps? Our story has the lower-case letters for a reason. Anyway, you seem pretty smug for somebody who lost so often.”<br />
<br />
Goblin # 1,620 waved a finger at Cyclonic. “Oh, I wouldn't say that. We did the math on that once. Sure, you thwarted our dark lord a bunch of times. But if you compare it to the times you died on the way, we still have a 20:1 win rate over the forces of good.”<br />
<br />
“That stupid lava dragon,” Cyclonic muttered.<br />
<br />
“Yeah, that was a ridiculously overpowered part of the story,” the goblin agreed. “But enough about that. You up for a game of checkers?”<br />
<br />
But it would not be a day for checkers. Somewhere in the reality of the storytellers, perhaps while cleaning the home or just while bored, idle hands find a game, and childhood memories of their adventures with Cyclonic (and decidedly not ASSBUTT,) flooded back. A game system is dusted off, and an afternoon spent telling the story once again. And Goblin # 1,620 didn't even mind when Cyclonic sliced him in half and moved on without a second glance. With enough time, any memories become fond memories.Joseph Barderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04348758056369161323noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-20549431385788827412014-09-28T12:59:00.000-05:002014-09-28T12:59:00.255-05:00Every dayDo you like spoons? Yes, we all have them piled in the kitchen drawer, or maybe even piled in the sink, waiting to get cleaned of the chocolate frosting we dig into on the rare occasion. Or Spoon! the call to action by the greatest super-hero of last generation: The Tick.<br />
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What does any of this have to do with writing? Hang on there floppy pants, I want to introduce you to an artist I follow on Instagram: <b style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://instagram.com/stkoru" target="_blank">STIAN KORNTVED RUUD </a></b></div>
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As of this writing he is on day 168 of his goal of carving a new spoon every day for a year. As he finishes each spoon, he posts pics of his work. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZFN3CFzc2vv6bkGCj77mRAXLAwOgIm2mxOIMytwXaololkvdCow9M8qkWq6d84nYShhai3GWxB-Bu_7W2TNgpDCLVRwstXgaAWPtR4jAlis7X_JdNfsE2227tv1Wy0ptyLTkmlSU9f4/s1600/6.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZFN3CFzc2vv6bkGCj77mRAXLAwOgIm2mxOIMytwXaololkvdCow9M8qkWq6d84nYShhai3GWxB-Bu_7W2TNgpDCLVRwstXgaAWPtR4jAlis7X_JdNfsE2227tv1Wy0ptyLTkmlSU9f4/s1600/6.PNG" height="176" width="200" /></a>
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The process has yielded some some amazing results, along with designs that are flawed and awkward. But guess what? That's supposed to happen. You are supposed to make rubbish. A lot of it. Every day dig in and spend some quality time and knock out 500, 750, or 1000 words. Every day write about something that is wonderful, or trivial, or awkward, or bad. Get comfortable with the notion that what you are writing is an important part of the process, not the final product. It is the potter removing the clay from the bowl, the sculptor removing the marble from the figure, the carver removing the shavings from the spoon. You don't write every day because people will love your work. You write every day so that when you re-write the muscles are strong and your vision is clear. And your readers will thank you.</div>
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To help keep me on track for writing every day, I use 750words.com. This is a screen shot of September so far:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQK-52HNZJ75DkP0UqIhXRCP1DWT9ya7isMr0I9m2biicU7exrONYNE-7e974UvfZrhDYahmducnyp4KXjsuTTWkzJMeXsQXDEGtjE80z2Rwhk-MsMnqbyxy-wahNPbmx5j_Bc57DYK3U/s1600/750_september.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQK-52HNZJ75DkP0UqIhXRCP1DWT9ya7isMr0I9m2biicU7exrONYNE-7e974UvfZrhDYahmducnyp4KXjsuTTWkzJMeXsQXDEGtjE80z2Rwhk-MsMnqbyxy-wahNPbmx5j_Bc57DYK3U/s1600/750_september.PNG" height="58" width="640" /></a></div>
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Yes, I have missed some days. But to be fair, my Nugget arrived ahead of schedule on September 1st. Sometimes writing has to take the backseat.</div>
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Eric Michalsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01790612952495174676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-35033167555324929052014-09-01T20:28:00.001-05:002014-09-01T20:28:49.385-05:00We made Bad Decisions - and we're proud of it!What do you get when you combine a role-playing game GM and a poet with storytelling pretensions? In this case, a new, story-flavored party game from startup game maker Diamond Dust Dreams Inc. With substantial capital already tied up in printing its first game, <b style="font-style: italic;">Kitsune: of Foxes and Fools </b><a href="http://kitsunecg.com/" target="_blank">http://kitsunecg.com/</a>, the company has turned to Kickstarter to get <b><i>News Flash: Bad Decisions</i></b> off the ground.<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The prototype of the new game is already receiving rave reviews from everyone who has played it; c</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">omments like, "</span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".ow.1:3:1:$comment10204174354066519_10204192782647222:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body" style="background-color: #fafbfb; font-family: inherit; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".ow.1:3:1:$comment10204174354066519_10204192782647222:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".ow.1:3:1:$comment10204174354066519_10204192782647222:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Bad Decisions is brilliant (and I'm not a big game person). We are definitely joining the kickstarter funding." The prototype has already been played at scifi and game conventions in Illinois (CoDCon), Indiana (GenCon), Wisconsin (GeekKon) and Minnesota (CONvergence). People see the name and say, "I make bad decisions all the time. What is this game? I want to play it!"</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".ow.1:3:1:$comment10204174354066519_10204192782647222:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".ow.1:3:1:$comment10204174354066519_10204192782647222:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".ow.1:3:1:$comment10204174354066519_10204192782647222:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".ow.1:3:1:$comment10204174354066519_10204192782647222:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body" style="background-color: #fafbfb; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".ow.1:3:1:$comment10204174354066519_10204192782647222:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".ow.1:3:1:$comment10204174354066519_10204192782647222:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">A</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">fter all, who doesn't enjoy complaining about Fools responding to
Crises with Bad Decisions? </span><b style="font-family: inherit;"><i>News
Flash: Bad Decisions</i></b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> encourages
you to enjoy doing that. You play by combining news-lead or
headline sentence “teleprompt” cards with cards listing generic categories of famous
(or infamous) people as the fools, crises ranging from mundane to outrageous,
and flagrantly Bad Decisions for you to combine into amusing mini-stories.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<b><i>News
Flash: Bad Decisions</i></b>
plays like a cross between <i>Apples to
Apples</i>® and <i>Mad Libs</i>®, with each
prompt card playing differently every time because the News Anchor (judge) gets
to set up every story. The finished game will have 200 cards each in the Fool, Crisis and Bad
Decision decks - and 60 teleprompter cards. With a PG13 approach for
selecting crises and bad decisions (from actual news stories), Diamond Dust
Dreams expects its newest game will give the much racier <i>Cards Against Humanity</i> strong competition as the next must-have
party game.</div>
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By contributing as little as
$10 to the Kickstarter project, you’ll qualify to suggest topics for future <i>Bad Decisions</i> games, such as: horror movies (“went into the woods alone - at night”), thriller/scifi (“pressed the red button”), modern European history (“invaded Russia in winter”), and biotech (“cloned what?”). Higher reward levels give supporters direct
input into the creation of additional Fool, Crisis, Bad Decision and
Teleprompter cards. Because the game's designers want to share the fun of finding and sharing ridiculous situations and choices with all of you.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The Kickstarter
goal is $20,000, enough to cover the down-payment on a full production print
run, so <b><i>News Flash: Bad Decisions</i></b> can go on press as soon as the team finishes
proofing the final prompt and play decks, including new cards suggested by Kickstarter
supporters. Game stores are already expressing interest in <b><i>News Flash: Bad Decisions,</i></b>
although even with the Kickstarter, the company cannot guarantee the game being
delivered by Christmas 2014. That said, it <i>could</i>
be printed in time to become the hot new Valentine’s Day gift in 2015.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Join the supporters of the Bad Decisions card game family and learn more by checking out <a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/440270803/news-flash-bad-decisions." target="_blank">the Bad Decisions Kickstarter page</a> This Kickstarter ends September 21, 2014 so
please click now. <o:p></o:p></div>
Susan NC Pricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617732157213111049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-26302407402206068362014-08-27T13:28:00.002-05:002014-08-27T14:19:47.342-05:00Writing is re-writing<h2 style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: start;">Just a brief topic today on writing every day. </span></h2>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWQfA7hW9wKwipabmveV9BYtIW5_tm0K99h7sLMrRk-LYkKTOPw-M5XfpZPEqQDPkf2VMZvr_DK3E9fKaHhhkvvjpfXSgd_qnRnvBC4B2UHNqCb2ogEy3i5ZNDQMHBJ6tL-dsOlQQCyXE/s1600/comic_20140826031611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWQfA7hW9wKwipabmveV9BYtIW5_tm0K99h7sLMrRk-LYkKTOPw-M5XfpZPEqQDPkf2VMZvr_DK3E9fKaHhhkvvjpfXSgd_qnRnvBC4B2UHNqCb2ogEy3i5ZNDQMHBJ6tL-dsOlQQCyXE/s1600/comic_20140826031611.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>Yes, you are supposed to. Seriously. </b><br />
<br />
<i>That's just crazy</i>, I can hear you say. Stop complaining. You're the one going around to all your friends tell them you are a writer. So write, damn it.<br />
<br />
<i>But what's the best way? What do I write about? What if it's bad?</i><br />
<br />
Let's take this in reverse order:<br />
<br />
It will be bad. <b>Trust me.</b> Anything your write down as a first draft will be crap. I didn't say that. Hemingway did. If you don't like that, go complain to him. I don't want to hear it.<br />
<br />
What do you write about? <b>I don't care.</b> I'm not going to be subjected to the painful verses you slap down on paper. Write about your cat, your girlfriend, your wife, or your wife finding out about your girlfriend. Just write.<br />
<br />
What's the best way? I have no idea. However, I do have a way that works for me that I am happy to share with you. Ready?<br />
<br />
Every evening, before bed, I write between 2 and 3 pages in small notebook. Horribly jotted down sentences of trite conversations, ideas, plots, characters. The handwriting is so bad I can't read half of it the next day. But you know what? <b>That's OK!</b> What happens is that I sleep on what I wrote and the next day at lunch I log into my <a href="http://750words.com/">750words.com</a>, notebook at the ready, and start typing.<br />
<br />
Again, most of the stuff I write with a pen I can't even read, but I have an idea and most of the time I can re-write something better, more fluid or present.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
What does this give me? <b>750 words a day.</b> </div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">I wager that is about 800 words a day more than what you have.</span></div>
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Eric Michalsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01790612952495174676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-16109200202643025142014-08-01T01:00:00.001-05:002014-08-01T01:00:30.356-05:00Here Lies Me<br />
Gregor knelt at the grave. He didn't quite know what to expect. He thought returning here would give him closure, a meaning for all he'd gone through, maybe even the chance to escape it and move on to the next state. But instead, he just felt odd. Odd and slightly nauseous.<br />
<br />
“Here lies Gregor Branson. 1971-2008. RIP,” he read, and sighed. “Really, mom and dad? That's the best you could come up with?” But he was more fixated at what was under the grave. Six feet down (unless they half-assed the grave, too,) was his own body, rotting away. Though after the bus hit him, he doubted it looked all the great anyway.<br />
<br />
So much for this trip, and possibly his whole day off. Gregor shrugged and rose to his feet. At least the perpetual drizzle set the mood. He was hoping to see the sun again, though, just once. Before he had to go back.<br />
<br />
He found Reastrom exactly where he left her, hanging out just in front of the front gates. Ah, Reastrom. His jailer, his tormentor, his greatest enemy. And, sadly enough, his only friend. Of course, she normally had the wings, horns, and talons to match her personality. Up here, she looked like just some goth girl hanging out by a cemetery.<br />
<br />
“Are you done already?” she asked him. “Ready to go back?”<br />
<br />
He knew she expected his eyes to widen, to tremble and beg not to go back, but he'd long since accepted it. Sure, he wasn't pleased when he died and found himself in Hell. Not many people would be. But it wasn't quite the way he expected. He assumed he would be tossed into a lake of fire, and maggots would eat his eyeballs. Something like that. But while they had a lake of fire and the eyeball maggots, they saved those for the truly evil people. Gregor wasn't evil. He was just kind of an asshole.<br />
<br />
When the demons read the list, Gregor thought it sounded bad, but not eternal damnation bad. He cheated on his girlfriend. Well, on several girlfriends. And maybe he embezzled some money from his bosses. Big deal, like those millionaires would have even missed it. If anyone deserved to be down there, it was them. Frankly, he felt more sorry when he made fun of the fat girl in back in grade school than any of the other stuff. So he was more indignant about his fate than despairing. At least until Reastrom got to work on him. She wasn't the lashes and venom type. No she preferred the more ironic punishments. Feeling what his victims felt, escape attempts that failed due to one trivial thing. In time, he grew to accept it all. Maybe the gods or fates or whatever had a point, and he deserved what happened to him. For now.<br />
<br />
But that was a concern for another day (and week, and month, and possibly every year until the end of time.) What the brochures about hell didn't mention was that every so often, the damned can get time off for good behavior. It's rare because well … not much good behavior down there. And even then, you only get a chance on an anniversary, like the tenth year after your death, and at the most, you get a day. Reastrom sounded as surprised as anyone when she gave him the news. And he was as surprised that he was already down there a decade as he was about getting to leave, however briefly.<br />
<br />
“How much time do I have left?” he asked her.<br />
<br />
Reastrom checked her watch. “About an hour. Not much time to do anything fun.”<br />
<br />
Gregor shrugged. “I didn't expect much else. How about we just grab a burger or something before going … going back?” he asked. He almost caught himself saying “home,” and refused to think on the implication.<br />
<br />
“Fine. Don't worry, I'm buying,” Reastrom offered. “Least I could do for the audit-torment. Some things are too low even for us. I'm just glad to get away from this awful place.”<br />
<br />
“I was wondering about that,” Gregor said. “Why didn't you go in with me? Consecrated ground?”<br />
<br />
She snorted. “As if. Graveyards just creep me out. I get depressed how many names I recognize from back at the office, and I hate thinking about work on these trips.”<br />
<br />
Some time later, the two were at a booth in the closest diner they could find, munching on greasy fries and burned hamburgers dripping semi-congealed mayo. It was the best meal Gregor's ever tasted.<br />
<br />
“So I have to ask,” Reastrom asked, her voice muffled by fry blockage, “Of all the places to go on your day off, why your own grave? Why not, I don't know, visit your parents or something? I told you they were still alive.”<br />
<br />
“What would I have to say to them?” he said. “They're alive, they moved on, they have other children who are better than me, or at least less dead. Would I just walk up to them, offer a weak handshake, and tell them, 'so hey, about death, I have good news and bad news?'”<br />
<br />
“So why not Vegas, a beach, a brothel, anything?”<br />
<br />
“Yes, that's exactly what I need; the chance to add more sins to my list,” he muttered. He didn't know how that worked, but he wasn't about to risk it. “Look, we may not have always seen eye to eye about … tortures and such, but you've been more than fair to me. Even so, any chance at a normal life again was enough. I didn't need special, just this.”<br />
<br />
“Okay, but you still didn't answer my question. Why a freaking grave?”<br />
<br />
“I was hoping to find an answer, or some mystical whatsit. You know, the answer to life or something. Maybe learn if there were … other options, visitors from other places, I don't know. It doesn't matter. Nothing happened.”<br />
<br />
“I could have told you all that,” she said between sips of liquified sugar. She checked her watch again. “Well, if there's anything else you want, you better do it soon. Get some pie? Use the bathroom? I should warn you, waiting to get back to piss on the fires won't help at all.”<br />
<br />
“There's just one thing I want from you,” Gregor told her. “You never answered my question.”<br />
<br />
Reastrom just glared at him. He didn't expect more than that. She never answered it before, either yes or no. Just gave an annoyed grunt and then upped the torment for a few days. She couldn't do that here, though of course she would remember it when back ho … in hell. But Gregor didn't care. That was the one answer he needed, the one thing that would satisfy him for any length of torture. Well, any length but one.<br />
<br />
“Is there a point to it?” he asked her for the hundredth time. “Is it all just punishment, or is it something more? If you learn the lessons, are truly sorry, will without a doubt try to be a better person, can you … move on?” Punishment was one thing, after all. But infinite punishment? An eternity of it? Unlimited suffering in exchange for the limited list of crimes even the most evil person could do? That he couldn't bare.<br />
<br />
So she glared. And he waited. They had, at most, five minutes left. He figured she would just run out the clock, and maybe give him the lake of fire treatment this time. Instead, she whispered something, so soft that he couldn't understand it.<br />
<br />
“What did you say?”<br />
<br />
“mmmm.”<br />
<br />
“What?”<br />
<br />
“I said 'maybe,' okay? And that's all you're getting, so shut up and get a damn pie or something.”<br />
<br />
“Then why keep it a secret. Why not tell people that there's a chance, however slight, they might get out?”<br />
<br />
“Because that ruins it,” she snarled at him. “It's not about being a better person so they might get out. It's about being a better person to not being a worse one. Otherwise, how will we know when people are ready, really ready to leave, and not just faking it? Gregor, the last thing I want is repeat customers.”<br />
<br />
Gregor took all that in, wondering if by insisting on the truth, he just damned himself. Either way, as they left (they had leftovers, but Reastrom insisted they wouldn't need a doggie bag,) he insisted on giving the waiter a really generous tip.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Reastrom knelt at the grave. Gregor never did get another day off. Reastrom figured the bosses learned that she slipped up, let a moment of sympathy get to her. She had the same worry he did, that by learned the truth, she condemned him to be down there forever. But today, she revealed just one talon and carved a little something into his still-boring grave. It would be days before anyone even noticed, and even then, they had no idea what it meant. They just assumed some vandal was having a bit of fun, though they couldn't explain why the new words looked they were made from an animal's claw. Or why they glowed bright red. Whatever the reason, they figured that the grave's new epitaph, “Here lies Gregor Branson. 1971-2008. RIP - 2008-2079” meant something to somebody.Joseph Barderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04348758056369161323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-46855946045849280222014-06-30T00:20:00.000-05:002014-08-01T00:57:10.603-05:00Dreamleaks 4: The DEMI FiresThis day had not been going well for old Toby. For starters, he planned on biking at least part of the way to work, but halfway there, he remembered he brought his laptop home to do some work on the weekend, and he wasn't about to risk that on a bike ride. Then he got to work and had almost his entire day wasted on meetings, busywork, and insipid office banter. Even right now, he had a half-dozen co-workers in his office, huddled together around a computer screen watching some stupid video while he was trying to get something finished. It had already gotten dark, and he just wanted to go home.<br />
<br />
Of course, all of this seemed pretty trivial when the fires started.<br />
<br />
Because he wasn't the only one staring at cats being morons, he noticed it before anyone else. The office complex just next to their own glowed from within, an intense light that shattered any remnants of a normal work day. For just a moment, as he saw the panicked figures screaming through the building's glass entrance way and even hotter blue flame build among the more “normal” red flames, Tobias could only stare in horror. And then he burst out of office, moments ahead of their own evacuation, while babbling “no, no, no, no, no!” to himself. Not fire, anything but fire. Not with what he knew about Data Efficiency Management, Inc., his employer, and the secrets he knew about his co-workers.<br />
<br />
Both DEMI and the other office complex were some distance from the rest of the city, down the hill in a little side road all their own. Even so, as Toby and the rest of his office made their way outside, he could hear the wail of the incoming fire trucks, assuring Toby that no act of insane heroism on his part would be needed, that the actual professionals would take it from here. Even so, Toby could barely fathom the horrors he witnessed around him, too stark for even the endless blaring lights and sirens around him to drown out. He saw one EMT crew frantically try to save a man with a gaping hole blasted in his chest even going so far as to massage the poor victim's heart from the inside! And as the fire went out and the smoke cleared, he saw people sprawled out on the ground and stairwells, looking no different than if they were sleeping. Which, Toby tried to rationalized, they could be. It's not like the firefighters and ambulance crews would just leave people, not after the fires had stopped. Right?<br />
<br />
Before he could think bout it more, he learned that his boss Irene had called a department-wide meeting to discuss the fire and what it meant. Toby, under the excuse of needing some fresh air, stayed behind as long as he could. The last thing he needed after all this was dealing with Irene. Irene was a hard-ass on her best days, and something like this would make her into a tyrant. Even worse, she wasn't in the loop about the important stuff. Toby was, and if Irene wanted answers, Toby might not be able to bluff his way out of it.<br />
<br />
See, DEMI isn't just a mediocre network solutions company. They're secretly a safe harbor for refugees, refugees that most people wouldn't even believe existed. People with powers beyond what science can explain, perhaps, or with a heritage including some creature that shouldn't exist. He knows for a fact that the receptionist is, in fact, some kind of mer-creature. And his office friend Tessa, the one with the burn scars on her arms? That wasn't just the result of some childhood accident, it turned out. Tessa is a pyrokinetic who came about her powers at a really bad time. But Toby knows Tessa. She's harmless. There's no way she could be responsible for something like this. Could she?<br />
<br />
As he pondered this, however, he saw flames billow up in the other building again. And this time, they flowed through the power and gas lines to his office as well. Since everyone was still returning after the last fire, they made it out safely this time. But two fires separated by mere hours? This couldn't be an accident.<br />
<br />
The firefighters arrived even sooner this time. Hell, they probably didn't even all make it back to the station yet. But while this second fire was put out almost immediately and without any casualties as horrific as the first, it was clear that the firefighters had the same suspicions that Toby had, if not exactly the same theories about the cause. It was clear that the police would be here soon, and this time, Irene didn't even wait for people to get back into the office before she ordered her entire department into another meeting some distance from the building.<br />
<br />
But Toby couldn't have imagined what she did next. As soon as they were out of sight, she pulled out a gun and yelled, “Everyone, on your knees! NOW!” Once they got over their shock, Toby and his coworkers complied, Tessa included. Toby couldn't say what would happen next, but he had two guesses. First, Irene was in fact responsible for the fires herself and she wanted to get everyone's silence before the police came asking, one way or another. But not even Irene could be so homicidal, Toby thought. Theory two is that she also believes these fires were started by someone, and so of course her first instinct was to blame it on her underlings. That's so Irene. Of course, Toby also knew she could be exactly right. So what would he do? What even counted as the right thing to do? Would he keep his friend's confidence, knowing that to expose her or her powers would likely be a death sentence or worse? Or keep quiet, risk his own life, and possibly let an arsonist go free do cause more death and destruction?<br />
<br />
Toby had no idea what to do. But he knew that whatevre happened, it was going to get messy.Joseph Barderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04348758056369161323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2752478399403698513.post-8866971359170043782014-06-12T20:59:00.000-05:002014-06-12T20:59:18.338-05:00Cutting, part 2<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Last time we met I expended some calories on the usefulness of cutting what you have written. Today I thought I would provide some details on what I mean.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-d82c688c-92d4-9a90-d64b-435b5efe3bae" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Here is a an opening to a short fiction (approx. 700 words) I've been working on as practice to keep as concise as possible. It opens:</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 39pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> It is easy to take a person; they won’t be missed right away. The key is to not break their timing. If they are out for a walk, they may be missed within an hour. Take them when they are going to the store, maybe two hours. A movie or church, three hours, (but really, who goes alone?). My personal favorite is shopping. No one know how long they will be gone, so that if you can take them when they first depart you can have upwards of six hours before someone starts to worry.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Originally the opening was much simpler: "</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is easy to take a person.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">" In the early drafts this was important to me, and later I expounded on "why". In the cutting exercise I removed the why until it was time to reveal that part of the character and in its place set the "how".</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Notice I have not written "How", as in "How" to actually take a person. In truth that is the "easy part" from the opening sentence. What I need is an emotional commitment from the reader, and I do this by providing common situations the reader may find themselves in. Everyone, at one time or another, goes to the store alone. When I plant that seed of belief in the mind of the reader, I then spring the trap, forcing the reader to see themselves in the situation.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 39pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nobody sees a white minivan. Nobody.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 39pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">...</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 39pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">the door slides open, a swift push of the cattle prod and they fall right in, rolled in plastic and taped shut. I drive off and no one ever sees them again. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Revealing the psychotic behavior in the voice I use, I rely on the reader to envision themselves in the position of the victim, and finding themselves in greater peril as I remove the rules of normal social behavior. This is someone among us, driving a plain white mini-van, watching for an opportunity. I have removed all the pretense and backstory of why. It doesn't need to be there, at least not yet.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">From here I build a bit of backstory with only hints of "Why". The reason is two-fold:</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It cements the psychosis of the voice, allowing the reader an edge of comfort in their belief. (This is then immediately rewarded.)</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Set the stage for the final reveal.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The reward I mentioned comes in the next part of the story:</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 39pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> The walls are gray and smell like disinfectant. The people wear white, some with many keys. I smile at all of them, but they don’t like me.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In a perfect world evil is locked away tight. I do not have to use the phrase mental hospital. I also do not have to explain how or why the voice was caught. It doesn't matter. The reader finds a moment of comfort that the evil is now locked away.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So now the voice of the story has shown that he is evil and that he is locked away. I am not expecting the reader to feel at all sorry for him, but I need to give a hint of insight before the end.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 39pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Criminally insane. That’s the phrase I couldn’t remember. So much is a fog now, I shuffle across hard linoleum from one room to the next, my robe hanging open. Most times I don’t care. I like the colors on the quiet TV. I like the little candy pills in the paper cup. The water tastes funny and isn’t that cold. I can smell something decaying, but it is fleeting; vaporous.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I'm about 600 words into the story and thus far the voice has taken people and buried them away:</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 39pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I sit at the steel mesh window and watch the trees and sky. So clear and clean. The woods far off remind me of my other life, the cabin and my van, the people and all the holes I dug. So many holes. So many bones. The shovels were well worn.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And here I could end, evil tucked away from society and good prevails. But where is the fun in that? And are you sure you know the difference between good and evil?</span></div>
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<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have about 100 words left to change your mind.</span></div>
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Other blog posts by Eric Michalsen<br />
<ul>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/01/tools-of-trade-part-1-of-3.html" target="_blank">Tools of the Trade part 1 Pen Paper / Sublime Text</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/02/tools-of-trade-part-2-of-3.html" target="_blank">Tools of the Trade part 2 Open Office / Trello</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/02/tools-of-trade-part-3-of-3.html" target="_blank">Tools of the Trade part 3 Ommwriter / Scrivener</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/02/so-you-want-website-for-your-writing.html" target="_blank">Website Development and SEO Basics for Writers</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/02/git-and-writer.html" target="_blank">Git and the Writer</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/03/twitter-tools-for-writers.html" target="_blank">Twitter Tools for Writers</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/04/kickstarter-how-it-is-being-used-by.html" target="_blank">Kickstarter :: How it is being used by writers</a></li>
<li><a href="http://themissingdwarvenphaser.blogspot.com/2014/05/cut-it-out.html" target="_blank">Cut It Out</a></li>
</ul>
<div>
Follow Eric on Twitter <a href="http://twitter.com/michalsen" target="_blank">@michalsen</a> or catch up on his rantings at his <a href="http://michalsen.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">blog</a>.</div>Eric Michalsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01790612952495174676noreply@blogger.com0