JuNoEdMo

Roughly seven months ago, I made a pretty significant foray into the world of writing. I attempted my very first National Novel Writing Month or, as it's known in some circles, NaNoWriMo.

And, amazingly enough, I won....actually finishing two hundred and twenty-three words over the required 50k minimum.

This is pretty much old news to almost anyone who's even glanced at this jumbled mess I call a blog. It is relevant, though, in that I'm going to try something coming this July.

For me, July will be known as July Novel Editing Month. Yeah, I know it should probably be NaNoEdMo (which is already established), but cut me some slack here....I'm 'marching to the beat of my own drum'...or something like that. Besides, I think JuNoEdMo is sort of catchy. To quote Dr. Peter Venkman:

"The franchise rights alone will make us rich beyond our wildest dreams."


Or something like that....

Not that I can franchise anything connected to NaNoWriMo and...er....umm....oh shut up...I just wanted to use that quote.

Anyway, I'm going to dedicate July to re-reading my (NaNoWriMo) award winning story, The T.E.M.P. Agency and editing it, thus.

I saw a pretty helpful looking article over at LifeHacker that was making the rounds last December, and it looks like a decent starting point.

So, cross your fingers, rub a horseshoe, throw some salt over your shoulder, and wish me luck....

....I'm gonna need it.

IWSG

Over on uber-author Alex J. Cavanaugh's blog  he has this little exercise called The Insecure Writer's Support Group where, on the first Wednesday of the month, you're supposed to post your thoughts, feelings, and insecurities about all things writing.

Since today is the first Wednesday of June (06-06-12), that's exactly what I'll be doing here.

As a fairly new writer, one of the  biggest and most ambitious things I've done, so far, was attempting to do National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) last November. Maybe you've heard of it? It's where you write a 50,000 word novel in a month's time...coming out to around 1,666 words a day.

 Now I'm going to be honest in stating the following.

I never believed I could finish.

Sure, I figured I'd give it a decent try. I had signed up in 2010 and thought, very briefly, about trying it then, but procrastination (as well as talking myself out of doing it) got the best of me and, before I knew it, it was mid-November and I knew I'd never catch up, not 'win', and decided to leave it for 2011.

So, last November (2011) I made the decision to give it a shot. Then I started thinking about having to write over a thousand words a day. Before that, I had written some (very) short stories, sometimes taking days to finish them. Writing over 1k words a day seemed very daunting at that point. I sighed and shrugged as I do with certain things and resigned myself to fail before I even got out of the gate.

Then, a strange thing happened. I filled out a profile on a fairly new 'social media' site called Google Plus. I don't even remember how, but I ran across some people talking about doing NaNo and slowly began building my circles, adding people, and talking about the upcoming event in November.

The more I talked to the people in my circles, the more confident I became that, yeah, I could really do it.

I could 'win' NaNoWriMo.

We would share when we would meet or exceed our word count goals for the day and lend support for those who didn't. The accountability and encouragement really helped get me through that month and I'm still convinced, to this day, that I couldn't have done it without G+.  I had quite a few days where I didn't think I'd make my word count but, my G+ buddies gave me a nice prod in the right direction.

I had gone total 180 degrees from "I can't." to "I can."

The best feeling was when I got to say "I did."

I had "won" NaNo and I put 'won' in quotes because you really don't get anything from doing it, besides a certificate that you print out and the satisfaction of knowing you can start something and see it through.

For me, though, the satisfaction was the best and most important part of the whole thing.

The lesson learned from doing NaNoWriMo was that, like the Nike commercial tells us, all we really need to do is 'Just Do It.'

Sit down.
Prepare.
Focus.
Do it.

I did just that and, now, I need to apply those 'rules' to finishing my story and editing it.

Maybe by this November?  We'll see....

And, the winner is...

So, I get this comment on my previous post from Jennifer, over at A Creative Exercise blog, telling me she's awarding me The Versatile Blogger honor.

I always knew I was versatile, I just didn't want to brag...*ahem*.

Anyway, a big 'thank you' to Jennifer and go check out her blog. It's pretty versatile, as well.

Now, when you get this award, you're supposed to do a few things....and they are:

1. Thank the person who gave it to you, which is only the courteous thing to do, and link back to their blog (see above for Jennifer's link).
2. Write seven random facts about yourself.
3. Nominate seven other bloggers for the award

Seven Random Facts:

1. Everyone always tells me I have an amazing recall of actor's names and roles they've played.
2. As a child, my dad tried to keep me from being left handed so he'd take things out of my left and put them in my right hand. The effect was, I now do some things with my left (write, eat, bowl, play tennis) and some with my right (throw, swing a bat). See, told you I was versatile...
3. My mom says I taught myself to read, before I entered kindergarten, by watching Sesame Street and Mr. Roger's Neighborhood.
4. I once did a L.A.R.P. (Live Action Role Play) at a game convention with Bruce Campbell, where he reprised his role as Brisco County Jr.
5. To this day, I'll swear I saw President Gerald Ford at La Guardia Airport, when we returned from overseas. I was seven at the time.
6. I started drinking coffee when I was around 10 years old.
7. I was 42 when I got married for the first time....so, it's true, 42 is the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life. 

The Seven Bloggers

• Jennie Vongvith over at Misadventures of a Geeky Spinster.
• Jeffrey Beesler's World of the Scribe
• Sara Rios at RiosFan
• Rachel Desilet's Coffee and Cigarettes
• Jaime Cooper
• Terence Towles Canote over at A Shroud of Thoughts
• Shen Hart at Ink Stained Pawprints

All very worthy and versatile blogs to check out.

Once again, a big 'thank you' to Jennifer for the consideration and, everyone out there,.....keep writing.

Saturday (more or less) Shorts

   

          

I spent a little time going through my Google Docs via Drive, tonight, and found this little write up. It was a back story, of sorts, for a character I had planned on making for the DCU MMO.

Unfortunately, the game pretty much sucked and I never got around to making this western themed character but, I got a semi-decent story from it though.

          The first time I heard the story of The Nightranger, I was just a kid. Something my parents would tell me around the campfire on our yearly camping vacations.  They said he was the Eternal Law of the Old West….a spirit of vengeance that couldn’t die.  They said he rode the badlands of the Old West, dispensing justice to all manner of nasty hombre.

            Little did I know they were right….and then some.

            It seems that, back in around 1850, the sheriff of a small mining town in Colorado called ‘Calamity’ was gunned down by the Jeremiah Hazard gang.  About a week later, that very gang was found strung up on a big oak tree just outside of town.  The leader, Jeremiah Hazard, had a note pinned to his chest.

“The Law never dies.”

More and more vigilante justice was found dispensed in the outlying area, but who was doing it was still a mystery.  Until that fateful evening when a telegraph operator named Milo Stewart saw a dark figure, on a dark horse against the full moon of the autumn night.  His eyes glowed an eerie white as did his horses.  The horse also snorted a white fire through his nose and his hooves seemed to spark a white will o’ the wisp with each step.  A shaken Stewart sent a telegram to a friend at the nearest big city newspaper who, in turn, sent a reporter out to see if there was really a story here or just an ‘urban legend’.  As it turned out, more and more sightings were reported and the word spread.  The crooks and hucksters got scared and scattered.  Things settled down in Calamity and the Nightranger began showing up less and less.  Time marched on and the Old West settled down.  From time to time you’d hear of the “Eternal Law” showing up to dispense some justice, but they became few and far between.  Oh, and by the way, the sheriff who was thought to have been gunned down by the Hazard gang….his last name was Walker…same as mine.

You see, apparently, a very long time ago, a distant relative of mine ran afoul of a group of ‘wanderers’ as he travelled through Russia.  I’m still not sure what he did to incur the wrath of these ‘wanderers’, but a curse was placed on my relative to ‘forever make amends’ for his transgressions....whatever they may have been.  Now the curse is passed down through the generations and the first born male inherits the mantle, compelled to fight crime and right wrongs whenever he can.  The curse has taken on many names over the centuries….”Wayward Soldier”, “Dark Rider”, “Hell’s Highwayman”,  even the famous “Headless Horseman” story is based (loosely) on the exploits of a relative helping to keep  New England save from brigands. I’ve recently discovered that my father used to patrol the highways and byways as the “Phantom Trooper”, which fits I suppose, he being a police officer and all.  When my father died, three years ago, the curse was passed down….we all knew it was coming so I was prepared. A strange twist to the curse, maybe it’s starting to relax after over three hundred years, is that we can manipulate the force a tiny bit.  My father used to appear as a large motorcycle cop, dressed in black leather with a black helmet and a black energy field surrounding him. He rode a souped up Harley which he created from the dark energies we can tap into.  Being an Old West buff, I’ve gone back to the “Nightranger” moniker, my appearance much like the one who rode the badlands of Colorado but with a large, flowing, cape and a dark, energy created, horse.  As for what I can do with my cursed powers…..pray you never have to find out.

See ya ‘round Gotham…..pardner.

           

           

           

Saturday Shorts

Wetworks

"Ms. Waters....I hope you know that you're in way over your head."


"Oh, I think not, Mr. Beach", the athletically built woman, bound to the chair, replied with a smile.


"No? You're starting to sound like someone a bit wet behind the ears. Your situation is quite dire, I'll have you know." The heavily muscled man said while cracking his knuckles. His demeanor belied his very cultured, middle-eastern, accent.


She eyed his massive arms as they flexed. "To me, the situation is quite fluid. I'm confident that I'll take the right fork in the river."


"My dear Ms. Waters", he smiled, "there is no choice for you. You're heading into the rapids and about to go over the falls."


Her curly blonde hair began to droop and she started to sweat....profusely.


"See.....look at you, my dear. Your so nervous that you're sweating buckets. You're in the deep end of the pool."


Again she smiled. 


"Mr Beach?" the woman said as more sweat poured off her body.


"Yes?"


"Have you ever been surfing?"


"Of course I have."


"Indoors?"


It was then, she shimmered and exploded into a huge wave leaving her bonds behind and engulfing the larger man.


The New Mexico Police Department never did solve the drowning death of the man in a shack in the middle of the desert.

More flash fic...with extra pulp...

The Fortune Society in: 

(Diamonds aren’t just a girl’s best friend…) 

Dramatis Personae:


Aphrodite: Self-professed demi-goddess with the power to cloud men’s minds….with love. Blessed with mystical senses, she’s one of The Baron’s most capable Team Leaders.

Libby “The Librarian” Langley: Thanks to a near photographic memory and growing up in a library, if she’s read it….she knows it. One of the smartest people on the planet….also one of the most annoying.

Amanda Oakley: Just like her great grandma, Annie, Amanda is one of the best shots in not just the West, but the entire planet. Always up for a challenge, there’s no weapon she can’t shoot and no vehicle she can’t pilot.

“Prima” Donna McGurk: A one time Olympic track and field hopeful, destiny took her in a different direction. Becoming one of the ‘Jet Set’, her lifestyle affords her to travel the globe, picking up all sorts of different skills while living the high life.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Just so’s ya know….ah ain’t likin’ this one bit.” Her twin .45s barked once and two goons jerked back and spun around, falling to the ground in a heap.

“Duly noted Amanda”, Aphrodite said with a wry grin on her beautiful features. She moved a mass of thick, blonde hair from her face as she quickly turned to see another wave of Mr. Lee’s men approaching. “Orders are orders and clients are clients. Oh, and by the by, remember….don’t kill our lovely welcoming committee….”

“Ah ain’t….just wingin’ ‘em is all…”

A shrill scream to her left almost made Grammy Oakley’s favorite granddaughter, with the nerves of steel, flinch….almost.

Glancing to the side, between shots, she saw four of Mr. Lee’s well dressed, hooded, goons slowly surrounding Libby. The smaller, thinner, librarian had her left arm out as if to shoo them away with a wave of her hand. Her right hand was digging into a messenger bag which slung over her left shoulder.

Her shriek also got the attention of the fourth woman in the group. A larger than average woman, one that looked as if she spent a lot of time outdoors, lifting heavy things. The big redhead was engaged with two other hooded goons, kicks and punches flying as the two, even larger goons, looked to want to do her physical harm. A look of concern marring her attractive features, Donna grunted out “Let me show you fellas something I picked up in Paris, France…” and, with that, she spun on her heel twice and delivered two, hard, savate kicks to each side of the hooded goon’s heads….dropping them to the ground while she rushed over to give Libby a helping hand.

The slimmer woman, who bore a striking resemblance to Myrna Loy, seemed to have recovered her wits. Quickly, she pulled her hand from her messenger bag and, in it, was a large can of Morton’s salt. She flipped the lid up with her thumb and spun in a circle, dousing the goons surrounding her with the white flakes while they, in turn, proceeded to burst into flames.

“Wights” she said, catching her breath and moving away from the now dying, open flames.

“White, black, Asian, Moroccan, who cares?”, Donna said, her eyes still wide in amazement.

Giving her a confused smile, Libby shoved the salt can back into her overstuffed bag.

“No….they’re called ‘wights’. If you check the small amount of skin that shows between their cuff and gloves, it looks gray and scaly. Added in the slight stiffness of their movements and the rabid fervor in which they follow orders and you can tell they’re the newly deceased.

Donna just shook her head as she glanced over Libby’s shoulder, then ran over to Aphrodite as more goons approached.

“What? You didn’t know that?” Libby called after her.

“Hey Boss”, Amanda shouted as she continued pumping lead into shoulders and knees, the goons were being slowed, but not halted and there were more waves pouring into the large room, “ah’m runnin’ outta lead here!”

Giving her a slight nod, Aphrodite concentrated on the moving throng approaching her from the glowing circle of energy on the wall. Their arms out, fingers flexing, they prepared to rend her limb from limb. Shoving another mass of thick, blonde, hair from her face, she smiled and pursed her lips. She extended her arms wide, her clingy tunic fluttering in the air that was coming from….somewhere, no one was quite sure as there were no windows in the room containing England’s crown jewels. She began to levitate as she surveyed the mass of tuxedo clad, hooded, figures approaching….her strappy sandals leaving the ground.

“That’s it boys, come close and feel the love!”

Aphrodite began to glow and the air filled with little sparkles of light. A wave of that same light rushed over the approaching goons, halting them in their tracks. They just stood there as if unsure what to do next.

“Dazzling…” Libby murmured in awe.

“This won’t last long, ladies, so grab what we came for and let’s hop the next chariot out of here. I sense the Beefeaters are on their way.” Aphrodite said, still holding her arms out wide, a look of concentration etched on her pretty face.

“Ummm…just where, exactly, is the thing we’re here for?” Donna asked, looking at the vast and varied types of jewelry and cases in the room.

Libby pointed to the far wall. Sitting on a small pedestal under glass, a tiara made of bright diamonds shone in the darkness.

“Right there. I once read that the Princess’ crown was placed near the back of the room as to not take away from the Queen’s jewels.”

“You’re sure about that?” Donna said as she sprinted over to the case, bashing in the glass with a gloved fist before Libby could confirm.

“Of course, I’m sure. What? You didn’t know that?” Libby asked while Donna just rolled her eyes.

With the tiara in hand, Donna yelled “Got it!” and made her way over to a still floating Aphrodite. Libby and Amanda, salt can and guns holstered respectively, followed suit.

“Ah still don’t like workin’ fer that lil house painter fella….gives me the creeps.” Amanda intoned as they huddled up.

“Well, we’re not so much working for him as we are against him. He only thinks we’re doing him a service. Uncle Adolph’s blind faith in supernatural artifacts will, one day, be his undoing.” Aphrodite smiled. “This may look like a princess’ crown but, in reality, it’s the Crown of Verwechslung….the Crown of Confusion. His so called ‘scholars’ were a touch off base on this one. Once he puts it on, his judgment will be forever clouded and, the best part is, he’s paying the Society for doing it.”

“What? You didn’t know that?” Libby nodded towards the other two girls who had perplexed looks on their faces. “Plus, Mr. Lee’s after it to give to the Empress of Japan, hoping she’ll finally accept his proposal of marriage.” the librarian added.

Again, Donna rolled her eyes. “Put it on? What makes you think he’s going to wear a girly tiara?”

“Oh, there’s intelligence out there that says Hitler has some…let’s say…odd traits.” Aphrodite said, though clenched teeth, the smile fading as she continued to concentrate. “Good thing these…wight things still seemed to have some vestiges of manhood still left in them…”

Libby nodded again, opening her mouth before Donna cut her off. “If you say it, I’m gonna throttle you…”

Libby, promptly, closed her mouth again.

“Awright, Donna….yer up….” Grammy Oakley’s favorite granddaughter said, “git us outta here.”

And, with that, Donna held her left hand up and removed the expensive looking leather glove that covered it. A huge diamond, wedding, band sparkled on her ring finger. She kissed and whispered to it….

“My love, I wish us home.”

The four women began to shimmer and fade from sight. As they glowed brighter, Libby cocked her head towards Donna.

“So, how many wishes do you have with that?”

“I really have no idea.” Donna smiled and winked.

“So then….we could’ve been stuck here and….” Libby gulped.

“What? You didn’t know that?” Donna chuckled, patting Libby on her cheek. Aphrodite’s hearty laughter was the last thing heard as the four women blinked out of sight