Day 20

I spent three hours yesterday writing a political rebuttal of a rabid Ron Paul Supporter. Ironically enough not about Ron Paul's policy, which I know nothing about. It focused on more basic things. Like, the difference between socialism and communism (you know you've got an idiot on your hands, regardless of their political flavour when they can't make that distinction) and the use of a dictionary. I'm not posting it but it damn well was fucking creative.

Anyway, I'm pretty much done with Chapter One, sans editing. So my thoughts are turning to chapter two, I'm not sure if I will stay with Sam and Keir for another chapter or dive in the next big thing, which is introducing the third character, and establish roughly 1/3 of the plot. Not at all intimidating. Knowing me I'll probably end up doing both somehow. My problem is that I have a lot of fragmentary visions of what I want, but very little plot-wise. I know what kind of impression I want to make, what feelings I want to evoke, what scenery I want. I just don't really know what's going to happen. It's frustrating. I'm thinking that possibly I need to do some research, I'm just not sure on what. I have research lined up, in a way. I have a book I want to buy, but I can't get it in Sweden and I'd rather wait till I got back to the US to order it to avoid the duty fees (fuck you, EU). When I get back to college I'm going to be studying the New Testament in one of my classes, which will bring a lot of needed inspiration and source material.

However, until then, what do I do? It's kind of hazardous to set a story in the UK when I hardly know anything about it, I don't know where to start. So frustrating.

Oh, and uh, hopefully I'll get back with some actual writing done later tonight.

Day 17

I slumped out again. I finally decided to post it for critique. I really feel that if I want to continue on that story I need some feedback and need to do some editing before continuing. I know I know, in the meantime I could write other stuff, it just hasn't turned out that way. We'll see what happens.

Day 15

It's not much, but I got something written. I'm kind of floundering right now on where to go next. I really want to get on with the editing, but I'm reluctant because I want to get as much writing done as possible for the 30 days. On the other hand I'm not sure I can move on properly without some feedback on all the stuff I've written. We'll see what I do I suppose.

***


There was a heavy groan of frustration. "Is it midnight?"
"Close enough."
"Fine" Sam emerged with all the usual elegance of the grumpy and sleep-deprived. "I'll take it from here."
"Sam," Keir begun, concerned, "there was just one."
Sam frowned at him. "How'd it look?"
"Just like a human with a funny suit."
"You must have missed the others. Troopers don't travel alone."
"Maybe," Keir shrugged uncomfortably, he didn't care much for the Good People, not that anyone did, but when they didn't behave as they ought to behave, that was worrisome. "It made sure I saw it, and that I knew it saw me too."
Sam crossed her arms and looked to be thinking. "It didn't try to force through, and yet it behaved exceedingly bold."
"So what does that mean?"
"It means they are right pissed we swiped that book and expecting us to leave it behind in the morning if we want to live, I assume." Sam shrugged, "Or something to that effect."
Keir looked at her doubtfully, it was difficult to tell what she was thinking when he couldn't see her face properly. "You're not suggesting we do that, I hope, it could fetch a pretty price."
Sam bent down and fished her gun belt out of the tent opening. "I would if I thought that would be the end of it. However, the Old Ones were never big on fair play, and famously tetchy about their secret stuff. I'll wake you in the morning."

***

I'm also beginning to suffer from some mild paranoia that this all actually sucks really, really bad. Some decent critique would let me know how it is if nothing else.

Day 14

I wrote two critique's for Megaduck's Deepwater Black. And before you say anything Shut UP. It is too creative writing! It's the only thing that's going to happen today. However, I feel as if I'm on my way out of my slump. Hopefully tomorrow.

Day 13 - The Emos, they LIE!

Angst is the worst muse ever. It doesn't even inspire crappy poetry, it just sort of clogs your brain up with something black and sluggish. I'm not going to rant about my personal problems. I am however displeased with how they're affecting my creative streak. I was on a roll, sort of. I managed to finish the first draft of chapter one and then I mentally sat down and said "whew!"

The problem is I needed to keep going, but I felt sort of finished, and then some things happened and now the last thing I want to do is write. Mostly I want to whine, to be truthful. That and eat chocolate. I can't even live under the pretence that I'm in a deep philosophical anguish, if I was under that particular delusion I'd be drinking whisky and smoking pipe. It's just self-pity all the way and it irks me, a lot. I'll get back to this when I get back I guess.

Day 11

I missed posting yesterday, but I wrote this:

My time stuck in my first watch
My spring stuck in my first pair of shoes
My words dry in my first pen
My first pen - I won't find it again

My first kiss lost to your lips
I lost my head, but if you drowned in me
It must mean you're dead.
You're dead, I'm alive.

***

I was never a poetry kind of person. I don't think that means much more than that I never spent much effort on it once I got past my emo poetry-writing years, I often wish I was better at it. Hopefully I'll find the incentive to work more on it. As for this, it sounds emo as hell to me, it probably is. It's mostly a brain fart and bear no relation to anything actually going on in my life, I'm just trying to play around with words and see if I can do what all good poets do: Express old thoughts with new words. Old truths with new angles.

Today's (Day 12) actual entry should hopefully appear later in the day.

Day 10

There will be no entry today. RL-stuff again. My brother came home from his backpacking trip in Asia, I haven't seen him since I left to go study in the US, so me and my dad picked him up at the airport, then we made dinner together and all four of us talked. Also, he brought us presents~

Day 9

Sleeping on things totally work sometimes. I just had to spend some time thinking and visualising what I thought the scene would be like. And now, I think I'm finished with the first draft of chapter one! I am very excited. And hungry. I might reward myself with honey melon.

Anyway, for what it's worth, here it is.

***

"So, are you looking for anything specific?" Sam finally asked. Keir knew what she was thinking. This wasn't a quick and solid profit like the meds, and he wasn't about to argue the point. The odds weren't stacked for them to find something, and they couldn't bring even a fraction of the material that surrounded them back, they couldn't even look at a fraction of the material. He wasn't the least bit worried.
"No, not really." He responded airily, slowly taking a walk around, gingerly testing the strenght of a funny ladder on wheels. The pin promptly broke when he put weight on his hands. Whatever he'd take would obviously have to come from the bottom.
Behind him Sam snorted. "So what are you planning on doing?"
"I'm going to use my nose."
"Your nose."
"I can smell good business from a mile off. Two if the wind is right and the smog not to bad."
"Right". There was a short silence and then the sound of Sam taking a very deep and patient breath. "You do that. I'll stand guard at the door."
Keir grinned at her. "You're a goddess Sam."
"If I was a goddess I wouldn't be so keen on staying alive." And with that she turned heel and stomped back down the stairs to the door.

Keir chuckled and resumed his search of the room. He walked about the room two more times, pulling books at random. Most of them appeared to be for research of different kinds, he didn't get the cataloguing system and was, in addition, profoundly uninterested in the reproductive system of plants, educational research systems and nuclear physics.

He decided to explore the middle of the room, where a sort of research station stood, elevated a couple of steps. It consisted mostly of a bunch of tables and lamps that no longer worked, but there was also something that caught his attention, a lectern.

It was made out of some dark wood, which stood out against the bland and obviously mass-manufactured tables and chairs. Walking up to it he saw that the top had been inlaid with an intricate design of a white tree. Had he had the means Keir knew he would've picked up the entire thing and brought it with him. He ran his finger down the sleek surface, craftsmanship like that was not easy to come by and it would have fetched a pretty price at one of the bigger markets. He was, however, not at such liberty, it would have to stay. He knocked on the wood, more out of habit than anything, and was surprised by the hollow note that echoed back at him. He stared hard at it. If he was lucky, leaving the lectern behind would not even be a loss. Provided there was something in it. If he could get it out. Plenty of if's and maybe's, but, those were his preferred odds.

Twenty minuets later he could conclude that there were no hinges, no lock, no secret mechanism. The inlaid tree-pattern wouldn't budge and the wood was frustratingly dense and well kept and would not budge merely because you felt like giving it a frustrated punch.
After taking a moment to swear inwardly at himself, he went and got Sam.
"There's something in this thing" he explained as Sam went about the business of examining it. "Hear that hollow sound, yeah? It has to have a hidden compartment."
Sam hummed distractedly and continued her slow meticulous examination. Keir stared at her for a moment and then resignedly went down to the door to keep watch.

Keir considered himself patient. That didn't necessarily mean he didn't hate waiting. Consequently, it was a long time before Sam finally called out to him and startled him out of his internal reveries.
"Did you find something? Did you find the compartment?" He didn't bother masking his anxiousness, Sam looked pleased.
"Sure did, look here" she pointed, squatting down and showing right below the book rest. Putting her finger at a spot on the side, that looked no different to him than any other spot, she pushed and a small slide of wood glided to the side. "This opens the lid. It's really difficult to spot unless you know it's there."
"Have you opened the lid?"
"Generous that I am, I decided to wait for you." She shrugged, "also, if there's a nasty in there one of us should be ready to shoot it."
"Bundle of sunshine that you are, I'll let you do the shooting."
Opening the lid was profoundly unspectacular. Not unencouraging if you were expecting a curse or something with teeth he supposed. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, he couldn't say that he was surprised to see an old-looking book. What peaked his curiosity was that it had been welded shut with three bonds of steel. Whatever was in it would have to remain a riddle, at lest till they found the nearest blacksmith.

***

For those of you who are totally confused, I'm not surprised. This what happens when you write approx. 200 words at a time and jump around in the narrative. Hopefully it makes more sense when I post it as a whole.

EDIT:

And I just realized that blogger doesn't recognize my indents. I've been writing for almost 10 days now and I only just realized. Very embarrassing. I'll go fix it now.

Day 8

And today I ran smack-dab headfirst into writer's block again. It's the last part I need to write in order for it all to be tied together properly. The first chapter completed. Naturally it isn't working. I have no idea how what I want to happen, will happen, without being dumb. I know I should work on eradicating the dumb when I go back to edit, but I want some semblance of intelligence in there at least.

This is where having no idea where the story is going is coming to bite me on the nose. I know they're going to find a book in that library that will be important in some ways (I don't want the plot to be artefact-driven though, it's just one of many components) but I don't quite know how, so I don't know how to write them finding it. How significant is it? How zomg!destiny is it? How random? I know it's going to trigger an "alarm" for a lack of better words, so it's probably hidden and put away in some manner but, guh. I don't think it's coming tonight either way.