Writing Sya

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9.27.2006

Going Very Slowly

That's the bane of the weekday. It's not so much that I'm blocked for ideas as the fact that I can't really block out a large amount of time to write. There's so much other stuff to do that takes precedence over writing fiction that there's no more time left at the end of the day. Or you feel quite drained. But I am writing bit by bit so progress is going, abet slowly.

[ posted by sya on 1:17 PM : (0) comments ]

9.26.2006

I Should Be Writing

Currently, I'm doing the 2006 Fall Warmup which is basically doing 25k in two weeks. I have about 5k done right now. The plot revolves around the concept of magic as an infectious disease. Theoretically, I should know what I'm talking about since I'm a microbiology grad student--but this is fantasy, not sci-fi, so anything goes. Oh, and I should also say that this was inspired by aphids.

It was just this morning that I was thinking about publicizing Nano locally. But I'm just not sure how the local student population will take it--they seem more concerned with sports and big makeup (or at least the undergrads are). Besides, I just moved here so I don't know how the local Nanos will take that--about a veteran Nano from elsewhere moving into their turf. But then again, I'm not even going to touch the job of municipal liason--I don't have the time and I'm terrible at motivating other people because much of the time, I sound like a crank.

Anyways, I would also like to say that I'm getting tired of hearing about people failing to make 50k one year or another. Stop making excuses, everybody, and just write!

[ posted by sya on 12:23 AM : (1) comments ]

9.19.2006

Prompted Again

Here's another one from here: At least 600 words. Include peanut butter, a male cheerleader, spongebob squarepants, and a rubberduck keychain.

* * *
Fourth Planet From Deneb

"Your driving sucks!" Leona yelled at her cousin over the roar of the hover-jeep.

"What?"

Freddie took a sharp turn over a rocky embankment making her stomach lurch. If he went any faster, she would probably end up decorating his dashboard with the peanut butter sandwich she had eaten for lunch. The magnetized container on the dashboard managed to flip onto its side, spilling out replicas of twentieth and twenty-first century toys. Leona dumped a slinky, a strange yellow anthropomorphized thing called SpongeBob Squarepants, and a rubber duck keychain back into the box.

"For an anthropologist, you have an abominable taste in fake artifacts. And the fakes aren't even that good either." She was afraid that her remark was lost to the wind. The top of the hover-jeep was down and the cool air ripped at her hair. Her eyes watered and she wished for the climate controlled interior of her space vessel.

But this time, he heard her. A cocky smile slashed across his face. "I like collecting things no one else will collect. Everyone's into the Valians these days. If I see another malachite-encrusted vase, I'm going to puke."

She moaned and clutched her middle. "You're evil. Remind me again why I'm wasting my shore leave with you?"

"You said you wanted to get away from it all. Something about small minded bureaucrats?"

Leona thought about the smarmy border guard who had insisted on inspecting all her cargo before she was allowed to unload it on Signus IV. And then there were the quota enforcers on Eridanus. And the permit checkers at the edge of the Zorkian Neutral Zone. She ground her teeth just thinking about it. "Those idiotic, asinine, f--"

The hover-jeep ground to a halt with a loud whine.

"--wits. If I had a subatomic particle for every moron who asked for my ship's designation when they could have just as easily scanned its signature, I'd be able to--"

"--build your own neutron star," Freddie finished for her. "I know, I know. You really should get out of cargo transport and do something with your degree on terraforming."

"I was temporarily insane when I got that degree," she replied. She looked up as her cousin got out of the hover-jeep. He had parked in a clearing that was already half full with animal-drawn carts. The clearing itself was surrounded by rocky hills. A small path led from the clearing and through a narrow pass between two of the hills. "Where is this place?"

"Come on, you'll see. The natives of this planet are absolute fanatics about it."

"Somehow, that does not reassure me." She hopped out of the hover-jeep and felt her stomach twinge and then reluctantly settle down. She let out a small huff as they headed toward the path. "I mean, these colonists have practically reverted to the Stone Age!"

"There's a reason for that," said Freddie. "The original colonists were technophobes who wanted to create a utopia."

Leona snorted. "Like that ever works. I mean, just look at Gentia III. What used to be a homey little place is now just a toxic ball of goo."

Her cousin just shook his head at her pessimism.

After the pass, the path widened out into a bowl-shaped valley that had been terraced on the sides with stone benches like an amphitheater. Leona and Freddie made their way down the steps, past the natives in their naturally dyed, hand-woven clothes. She was acutely aware of the curious stares that they were drawing, but Freddie, as usual, seemed oblivious. Finally, they found seats close to the arena where tall, muscular women in jumpsuits were doing warm-ups on a field marked regularly with white lines.

"Is this football?" she asked as the women did some practice throws with an ovoid object.

He nodded. "It's a variation of the old Terran game."

The referee made an announcement on a megaphone in the natives' language and the audience wildly cheered and whistled. After a minute, the women began lining up for the opening play. A group of men with nothing on except colored paint and some pom-poms in strategic places trotted out to lead the crowd in chants.

"Are they who I think they are?" asked Leona, appalled.

Freddie just grinned.

[ posted by sya on 11:09 PM : (0) comments ]

Prompt #2

Found here:

Genre: any

Characters: Boss - anyone; Worker - anyone

Scene: The worker has been called into the boss' office. Something's going down, and the worker isn't sure what's happening, but he/she knows some secret of the boss' that might come into effect if needed.

Stipulations: I want the following worked into the scene--a frisbee, a reference to Frankenstein, a poodle

* * *
There were times when I believed that having a mad scientist for an advisor was not such a bright idea. Like today. It was by no stretch of the imagination that Dr. Craighorn's mood-o-meter had tipped from insane to irate when he sent an e-mail demanding that I see him in his office at noon, sharp. He even included an image attachment of a smiley face being roasted alive by another smiley face with horns and a pitchfork.

My stomach growled. Oh why did it have to be noon? I had missed breakfast because I had overslept. Damn those evil-overlord majors and their late night techno parties.

"Hey, hey, hey," chirped Alden from the other side of the lab bench. His eyes were covered by a pair of goggles. In one hand was a part of a circuit breaker. The other hand had part of a human arm. "What's got you so down, Des?"

I was tempted to snarl that it was none of his business and that electrocuting a patchwork corpse was so 1818, but I managed to turn my face into a civil grimace. "Craighorn wants to see me."

"Ooooo. You're goin' down."

"Shut up, Alden. I know you like wearing ladies' unmentionables."

"Everyone knows I wear ladies' unmentionables. The question is, does Craighorn know?"

Something about Alden's rhetorical question triggered something in the back of my mind. Something about a website and some logged IPs...

I found myself grinning. "Oh, I'm sure Craighorn knows. He thinks he knows everything. But I've got eyes too."

My labmate frowned, suspicious. "I don't trust that look on your face."

"Don't diss the face. I've got to have some sort of expression when the boss is going to deliver the smackdown." I checked my watch. Five minutes until the lion's den. "Well, wish me luck. I'm going in."

"No way," Alden called out as I walked to the door of the lab. "I'm saving all my luck for the time he orders me into his office."

The laboratory was separated from my advisor's office by a sparse concrete hallway lit by bare bulbs dangling from wires in the ceiling. The faculty kept on harping about getting funds to renovate the place but as far as I knew, none of them had the guts to go to administration to demand it. At the end of the hallway was a window--a bit grimy--but I could see the athletic field across from the lab building. The razor frisbee team was having their practice. Deadly yellow discs whizzed across the air to decapitate poodle-shaped straw targets.

I turned back to look at the closed door of Craighorn's office and gulped. Despite my bravado in front of Alden, I was feeling a bit like one of those straw poodles.

I knocked.

"Come in."

My advisor was one of those stout, burly men who liked to wear short sleeves just to show off arm hair. He was sitting behind his desk. His beard and hair was unkempt, as usual. The surface of the desk was littered with papers and spare robotic parts. But what really made the sweat trickle down the nape of my neck was his posture--ramrod straight, hands clasped in front. His red-rimmed eyes regarded me hawkishly as he curtly told me to take a seat.

"How is your project going?" he asked.

"It's going as planned, although I have a few glitches," I began. "But I'm trying to work them out. I just have to do some programming..." I babbled a bit about coding and optimization as well as trying to rationalize my robot aesthetic design--but then I just petered out.

Craighorn stared at me for a couple of moments. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and wrapped my arms around my middle to keep them from shaking.

Suddenly, he threw something at my head.

"Ow!"

The papers slid down my face and into my lap. It was an article from the research journal Un-Nature. At a brief scan of the abstract, all I could tell was that some scientists in Japan had managed to condition squid to swarm onto populated beaches by sonar.

"Cephalopod control is going to be hot research!" Craighorn exploded. "We've got to get on the bandwagon before it's jumped the shark!" He pounded his fist on the desk, sending a prototype robotic brain crashing to the floor. "And you, Des, are going to start a new project! I want you to put in an order for some Mesonychoteuthis hamiltoni by the end of this week!"

I slumped back into the chair with a whoosh of breath. So, he was insane and not irate after all. Squid, I can handle. And as for that website, well, it'll stay as a backup plan. For now.

[ posted by sya on 12:14 AM : (0) comments ]

9.18.2006

Another Prompt

The following was inspired by this prompt: Churn out a story at least 994 words. Follow a single-father of two. Include a book of stickers, a checkbook, a baby carrier, a teddy bear, and a coffee shop. Actual word count: 1,034.

* * *
At the Latte Dragon

Alec was tired. Tired of taking care of his children. Tired of teaching physics to community college kids who defied the laws of physics every day. Tired of the whole damn town. So when he spied the Latte Dragon on the corner of Main and Cumberland on his way to the grocery store, he made a bee-line to it, hoping that some coffee would take him through the rest of the day.

Earlier, he had taken the kids out of day care after a trying class where the students had insisted on floating in the air while they listened to him lecture about the laws of gravity. His one year old had raised a ruckus from being disturbed from her sleep. His toddler had thrown a small tantrum about getting a book of stickers just like his friend. At least now, he thought ruefully, Valerie was peacefully napping in the baby carrier he had slung over on his back. Conner was docilely tagging along with a teddy bear in one hand and a lollipop, that he had purchased from the local candy shop, in the other.

The chime at the door tinkled as the trio entered the coffee shop. The place had a warm dark feel--the walls bare brown-black bricks, the tables and chairs deeply stained pine, and the stool seats a worn faux leather the color of charred paper. The patrons were all students chatting and working on wireless laptops or the arty types arguing about Spinoza and Hume. The one patron in front of him was a gray-haired lady who whipped out a checkbook to pay for one measly muffin.

When it was his turn, he headed to the counter with the order on the tip of his tongue.

"Double espresso and hold the sugar, right?" inquired the woman at the cash register. Instead of the expected apron, she wore a long kimono-style dress of olive silk embroidered with golden thread. Her dark hair was long and loose; her eyes were sharp and black, penetrating.

"Are you a mind reader?" Alec replied. Then he sighed. "Don't answer that. You probably are."

The woman smiled, revealing what looked like too many teeth. "You catch on quick."

"One would have to," he muttered under his breath.

She raised an eyebrow at the remark, but then turned to the barista, a masculine hulk at the espresso machine, and repeated the order to him. Alec was somewhat disturbed to notice smoke faintly drifting up from the man's nostrils as he pulled at the machine.

"That would be two-fifty," she declared. As he dug out his wallet for the money, she added, "You know, not everyone in this town realizes that things around here aren't like other places."

And I wouldn't have if my ex-wife hadn't run off with a bad boy motorcyclist who turned hairy every full moon. Werewolf beats physics nerd every time. But out loud, he replied, "I guess so. I suppose some people aren't very observant."

"It's that or they just don't want to believe." She handed him change from a ten with a sympathetic glance. "How old are the kids?"

"I'm three," Conner piped up when he pulled the lollipop out of his mouth. "And Val is one. How old are you?"

Alec frowned. "Conner, it's not very polite to ask a lady her age."

"That's all right," she said, amused. "I don't mind giving it out. I'm three hundred and sixty-five."

Conner was impressed. "That's old."

"Oh, that may seem old to you, but I'm pretty young for my kind. Now my grandpa's old. He's breaking two thousand and fifty in a couple months."

"Did your grandpa see the pyramids being built?" the little boy asked.

"That was before his time, unfortunately."

Alec could hardly wrap his mind around that number. If the professors at the biology department got a load of this, they'd blow a gasket. "Exactly how long does your kind live?"

"Three thousand is about average," she replied. "The oldest dragon I know is my brother-in-law's great-aunt. Now she was around when the Ancient Egyptians were chiseling out their hieroglyphs."

"Do you think I could ask her about the pyramids?" Conner said excitedly.

"Sorry, kid. Last I heard, Great Aunt Simi was out in Borneo looking for treasure to augment her hoard."

"What's a hoard?" the toddler asked.

The cashier got a waxy look in her eyes. "A hoard is a large collection of very shiny things. Great Aunt Simi is old school--she likes gold and nothing but. I collect doorknobs."

"Oh." He stuck the lollipop back into his mouth.

Alec wrinkled his brow. "Doorknobs?"

"Our basement is full of them," the barista said in a deep gravelly voice over the whirring of the espresso machine. "She's obsessed with them. If it's brass or crystal, it's an automatic buy. And she wastes her time polishing those things instead of doing housework."

"Ha! Look who's talking. The attic is stuffed to the gills with all of your darn books!"

The whirring of the espresso machine stopped. The barista turned to hand Alec a white porcelain cup filled to the brim with foaming liquid. "Don't listen to her. She's just jealous that I have more books than she has doorknobs. I have a friend whose great-great-great grandfather is still around. He saw the Mesopotamians start building their cities."

"Good God," Alec replied.

The barista chuckled, showing sharp teeth. "That old dragon is an anomaly. My friend thinks he took an eternal life potion but never admitted it to anybody. Which is pretty likely since he is an avid collector of recipes."

"Of course, the downside for living longer is that we don't reproduce very much," she said. "Which is fine and dandy as long as some poor misguided hero doesn't come at us with a lance."

Alec just nodded. "Uh, okay. Well, thanks for the espresso."

"No problem." She held out a hand. Her nails looked like claws. Three chocolate chip cookies wrapped in cellophane appeared in her palm. "These will probably be better than all that caffeine. One for each of you, compliments from the house."

As Alec took the cookies, he wondered how they would be better.

[ posted by sya on 2:07 AM : (0) comments ]

9.17.2006

Writing Prompt Results

The following are the results of some writing prompts I found on NaNoPubYe.

* * *
Cheap

The flash of cheap, red earrings caught Carmen's eye when the bell to her candy shop rang. Amanda, the resident wannabe fortune teller and monster hunter was on the prowl in her tight strapless tank and squeaking vinyl mini-skirt. A pair of snakeskin Jimmy Choos completed the ensemble--with heels high enough to cause a nosebleed.

Indeed, Carmen cursed her inheritance of her father's werewolf nose as she finished stacking the fresh shipment of jawbreakers. She could smell the cheap perfume permeating from across the room. And then she spotted the totebag Amanda was carrying.

Oh no.

Carmen wished for an escape route. There was no way she would be bashed in the head by that crystal ball again.

* * *
A stranger was knocking at the door.

It was one in the morning and a stranger was knocking at the door.

The man was wearing one of those black dusters and a wide-brimmed hat that obscured his face. But she could see the winking pendant at his throat--someone at the Council had sent yet another minion.

She pulled away from the peephole to retie the belt on her bathrobe and to scan the foyer for anything that might make her look more imposing. Hair curlers and bunny slippers were not going to cut it.

The knocking became a pounding.

She finally grabbed the black umbrella leaning against a corner. Her cousin had given it to her on her birthday saying, with a wink, that it was a special umbrella. But who cared, even if it was made of shadowlurker hide? What mattered to her was that it had a sharp, pointy end.

With the umbrella handle clutched in her left fist, she opened the door a crack and jabbed. A satisfyingly painful howl replied to her greeting. With a smug smile, she slammed the door closed and figured she had about a week before the Council started pestering her again for her magic formulas.

[ posted by sya on 11:55 AM : (0) comments ]

9.15.2006

A Link

Dare to Be Bad! I so need some motivation to write. I've got to carve out another weekend some time (not this weekend, though) to get some rough drafts done. But wait--maybe there's this. 25k in two weeks? Heck, yeah! If I can do 30k in 3 days, hopefully this will be a piece of cake.

[ posted by sya on 9:34 AM : (0) comments ]

9.08.2006

Prompt #1

I found this writing prompt here:

Genre: Fantasy
Main Characters: 1) Male. Thief. Just stolen the signet ring of the King; 2) Male. Sheriff. Hunting down the Thief; 3)Female. Daughter of the King. Hunting down Thief.
Challenge: Write at least a 500 word scene from this "novel". It can be anywhere (beginning, middle, end). Use at least two of the characters and interact.

* * *
The birch twig crackled three times in the hearth, spitting glowing sparks into the air. An ill omen.

Tangred slowly straightened up, feeling his knees pop. The skin under his eye patch itched. The morning divination had not warmed him--another bad sign. The first frost had come and stayed, the snow chilling everything. Nothing warmed properly, not even the morning porridge. His small office in the corner of the parliament building was poorly insulated, the first to become stifling in the summer and the first to freeze in the winter. Just that reason alone made him reconsider his post.

A knock at the door made him pause as he walked to his scarred oak desk that had been shoved to the corner of the room for the Instrument that the alchemists from the Royal Academy had insisted on stashing in his office. He called out for the person to enter.

A woman stood on the threshold when the door opened. The first thing Tangred noticed was her paleness and her red mouth. She wore a velvet green overcoat that made her eyes glimmer and her dark hair was pinned underneath a matching wide-brimmed hat with dyed plumes. He recognized her, Lady Fanlen, a close advisor to the king and the daughter of a supposed witch. It was rumored that she was also the king's bastard. Tangred could see that--her straight aquiline nose and high cheekbones mirrored that of the monarch.

"My lady, what brings you to my humble office?" Slowly, he made his way back so that the Instrument stood between them.

Fanlen's mouth curved ever so slightly in amusement. "My dear Sheriff, I have a job for you on behalf of the king. I am sure that it will bring you out of your boredom. It concerns a certain signet ring that was in his possession."

"Was?"

"It was stolen from him. We are pretty sure the culprit is a man named Gillon. I want you to help me track him."

He shivered, not from the cold. "You ask much of me, my lady. That man is too dangerous to be handled by myself, let alone a dabbling diviner."

"You knew Gillon, did you not?"

"Knew is perhaps too tepid a word. I knew him from the university. He claimed to be a friend. And then he took my eye."

Fanlen cocked her head and then stepped close enough to touch the Instrument. "You're angry. I can see it since you are coloring. But it is a subtle thing. An ordinary observer would not be able to tell." She smiled as if she could see something else. "Perhaps the king was right to insist upon you."

"I think he is wrong."

"You really don't have the authority to dispute his majesty's word," she replied. She reached out to touch the top of his hand. Her fingers were remarkably warm despite her pallor. "We do not have any time to lose. The more we speak, the further the thief's trail will be."

Tangred didn't like her look. Her eyes were intense as if she was trying to mesmerize him. "I have other responsibilities as well--like this Instrument."

She gave a small laugh. "Those absent-minded alchemists won't know if you're gone a day or two. Come, the carriage is awaiting us."

As he went to get his coat, he wondered how she even knew that the Instrument belonged to the alchemists.

Note: The characters and setting from the writing exercise above have nothing to do with the project I'm planning for this year's Nano.

[ posted by sya on 1:56 AM : (0) comments ]

9.06.2006

On Binge Writing

Lately, I've been thinking of binge writing--the kind of writing where you forgo everything, sit down at the computer, and just type madly. This past weekend, I had such an experience doing The 3-Day Novel Contest (unofficially, since I did not want to throw away fifty bucks for the entrance fee). It reminded me a lot about my first year doing Nanowrimo: I found out about the contest not long before it was going to start (for Nano, it was in the middle of October; for the 3-Day thing, it was one day before), I had no idea what I was going to write since I didn't do any planning, and I did not know how I was going to pace myself.

You cannot control when you discover something like Nano--whether it be one day or eleven months beforehand. But you can control the planning and pacing--and if you do that, binge writing doesn't have to be such a chore. You might even be able to have a life while binge writing as well.

I am a big fan of planning. Knowing what I will write next eases the writing process. I don't have to sit in front of a blank monitor wondering what is coming next or even worrying if I still have any ideas left in my rapidly frying brain. Another big variable that I try to nail down is pacing and time management. If I carve out time in the morning right after I wake up and some time right before I go to bed to write, I won't have to worry so much about running out of time. Of course, it helps too if I write whenever I find a spare moment in the rest of the day.

I'll just throw this question out to everyone. What sort of strategies do you use to cope with having to write a mind-boggling number of words in such a short period of time? For the newbies: Are you already carving out time in November to do your writing? And for the Nano vets: What tips and suggestions do you have for successfully binge writing?

[ posted by sya on 12:19 AM : (0) comments ]

9.05.2006

Update #4 on Insanity!

This is the final update on this craziness on a 3-day novel (or rather novelette). I finished with a little more than an hour to spare at 32,010 words. It's just pure craziness. (Tentacle monsters! Pirates! Plot holes the size of the Grand Canyon!) It's been a while since I've done any writing without prior planning and I've realized how much I do depend on it to have things go smoothly. As it is, the draft I've just created over Labor Day Weekend is way too rough for me to show it to anybody although I suppose there are bits and pieces of it I could probably cobble together later to make a decent short story.

(Cross-posted at Syaffolee.)

[ posted by sya on 2:01 AM : (0) comments ]

9.04.2006

Update #3 on Insanity!

25K! A showdown with Cthulhu and the pirates is imminent. But first, some sleep...

(Cross-posted at Syaffolee.)

[ posted by sya on 1:25 AM : (0) comments ]

9.03.2006

Update #2 on Insanity!

I don't think there is any way I can finish this today. Currently, I'm up to 20K. I suppose I could have been further along if I didn't do my laundry or go grocery shopping. I might try to finish this tomorrow--either early morning or in snatches during lab when things are incubating. So far, I had some ninjas make an appearance as well as having Cthulhu crashing a cephalopod convention. The pirates have been plotting about a takeover. Cthulhu might make another appearance, but I'm not sure yet. And dang it, I still don't have any idea where my plot is going.

(Cross-posted at Syaffolee.)

[ posted by sya on 8:15 PM : (0) comments ]

9.02.2006

Update #1 on Insanity!

At the moment, I'm up to about 9.3K worth of words and I have absolutely no idea where the plot is going. I probably wasted a lot of time today sleeping and eating regular meals and going on bathroom breaks and surfing on the internet for inspiration. I probably wasted more time staring at the screen not knowing what to type. That's the bane of writing a novel without any sort of plan.

What I have so far: my main character is the Eater of Souls (from Egyptian mythology) and she's going on a cruise. Her companion is a neurotic cat with an obsession for shiny objects and her love interest is a surly folklorist who's on an enforced vacation. I'm definitely going to fit some pirates into the plot somehow. Currently, I'm contemplating ninjas as well. You can obviously tell that I'm getting desperate.

(Cross-posted on Syaffolee.)

[ posted by sya on 11:42 PM : (1) comments ]

9.01.2006

Insanity!

I just found out something called The 3-Day Novel Contest. And I thought I was crazy writing a novel in one month during November for the past five years. This contest has you writing 30,000 words in 3 days. And it starts tomorrow! I'm thinking about doing it. (Without registering, of course. I don't have fifty bucks to throw away on doing something this impulsive.) But I don't have any plans or outlines or ideas on the plot. And more importantly, I only have two days to do this because I plan on being in the lab on Monday.

We'll see. By Tuesday, you'll know if I survived or crashed and burned.

(Cross-posted at Syaffolee.)