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Archive for the ‘tSoW’ Category


Tuesday, April 14th, 2009

Well, synopsis…is…ing….

Which comes before the outlining.

Ummmm. Yeah. I’m toying with a lot of ideas, but know I ultimately need to fix on a few pillars to address. Pretty sure what at least one of those is. Just not saying it.

My, what a helpful post!

So, writing? Yes. Just can’t say what until I have an outline.

compare and contrast

Wednesday, September 19th, 2007

The initial, raw paragraph:

    Dudana began to rock back and forth. The droning croon had resumed. She had her arms wrapped around her waist.

The first pass revision:

    Dudana wrapped her arms around her waist and began to rock back and forth. The droning croon resumed.

And that’s why I don’t like people reading my stuff until it’s ready.

(It’ll probably change again before I’m done.)

even when we drive

Sunday, October 8th, 2006

Even when we drive, we’re not safe from ideas. Especially then.

Somewhere along I-55 I jotted down notes with a pen and a receipt flat against my steering wheel. Notes that will help with the revision I need on Firebird, and since Poison‘s outline is grinding its wheels in the mud, it might be good for me to re-emerse myself in a different world for a while.

Wheee. Now I have to go put away a zillion things and buy my groceries for the week!

the naming of things

Monday, April 3rd, 2006

You know what I have a hard time with? Naming things. Names shape things. I’ve been using this word “Suppliant” throughout the book, and finally decided that it’s the wrong word. So now I need to find a new one that actually means what it means, and only make reference to “Suppliant” as a more distant terminology.

Someday I could write a whole thing about Dead Wicked and why it took me two months to reach an accord with the name, but that’s going to have to wait for me to find the time.

    Not nobody, not a thousand beers

    Will keep us from feeling so all alone


Wednesday, March 29th, 2006

Slap slap slap….

Nearing the end of this revision. I like what I’ve got. But I always do, don’t I?

chapter one and so on and so on

Sunday, March 26th, 2006

Slappity slap slap….

The book’s getting another chapter. There’s just no way I can exposition all this in the allotted 7,000 words of space.

and again

Friday, March 24th, 2006

More slapping around of the first chapters.

Bed now.


Thursday, March 23rd, 2006

I think I’ll write three and see which one I like best. Yes, that sounds like a grand idea.


Razzlefraggin complicated world mrnnfgrrrffffrrr….

still plugging

Monday, March 20th, 2006

Prologue got some attention. Collaborator and I talked. Still busy at work. Not much else to report.

George Orwell and the golden bough

Sunday, March 19th, 2006

It occurred to me at some point when I was writing about a utopian society that maybe I ought to read about a dystopian one, too. When it comes down to it — scratch the surface of a a utopia and you’ll find a dystopia screaming to get out. Ten years in the gaming industry have taught me at least this: it’s impossible to make everyone happy, ever, without lobotomizing 99% of the population or keeping them so drugged up they don’t know where or who they are. Even then, you’d still have a few complaining that their lobotomy wasn’t as nice as Mary Sue’s, who they heard got a lollipop when hers was over.

Ergo, and so, and thus, there’s a good reason to read this book: it’ll make my own better.

I find myself enjoying Orwell’s writing style. Of all the literary literature I’ve read (or had to read), I have to admit this is some of the most digestable. I like that Orwell’s observative on what reduces people to the state of nasty and brutish: desperation. Desperation over food. Desperation over shelter. Desperation over safety. There’s a lot of desperation in 1984.

What’s the point in commentary on a book that’s been a classic for nearly fifty years? Because “classics” can become swiftly dated. For all that 1984 was written long before the personal computer, the book holds up well, and so do the characters, their world, and their motivations.

Also, I can’t read it without thinking of John Hurt. If ever there was a man born to be Winston Smith, it was him.