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Writing Exercise: Listen to the Music

Erin Penn 1 Comment

Image courtesy of Stuart Miles at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Every writer takes in inspiration through their senses, with some senses being stronger than others depending on the author. 

Me. I’m visual and touch. I see the scenes, feel the temperature, touch the surfaces. To write I need to be touching something – a keyboard or pen and paper. I’ve thought about DragonSpeak, but it doesn’t catch me on fire. To write, I just need to sit in my space with no distractions so I reach my inner space where things are happening. Sound is a big no-no for me.

Other people need other cues to write. Some people light a candle a favorite scent. Some people need certain lighting. Fuzzy clothing or other tactile trigger can indicate time to write. A nice cup of tea with a certain flavor not used any other time of day. So many rituals to activate the mind through the strongest sensory channel, letting it know TIME TO WRITE.

A lot of writers depend on music. For some, the music is part of the activation ritual only, not the ongoing process. They just listen to the song and approach the music for inspiration like I do visual prompt. Then turn off the music and write.

But most writers who employ music have it in the background to define the writing space.

David B. Coe listens to jazz. John Hartness has a certain playlist for when he writes fighting scenes. If you visit a coffee shop, you will see several writers with laptops and earbuds playing music. Many writers publish the “soundtrack” of their novel; music they listen to while creating or were inspired by for the story. Gibson House Press describes some in Novel Soundtracks (published November 19. 2018 – .

Me, when I hear words, they come out my fingers from my time doing transcription. But some people swear by it. Others want music without words. Sometimes people need words but can’t write with real ones so they work around the words interfering with their writing by listening to music in foreign languages.

Video game soundtracks are extremely popular because they are internally rewarding; they are built to be addicting and keep people doing the activity. (Looking for an outlet? – try Pandora’s Video Game Music Radio).

I’ve been remiss in not suggesting this sooner. Even though music is no-go for me (I listen to music for everything but writing), it may be the perfect thing for you.

WRITING EXERCISE: Explore Music with Your Writing. Go to Pandora or other music site, if you don’t have one already, and sample different types of music. Can you think of new words when hearing words? Does latino, classical, jazz, or video-game-experimental float your creativity? Think about your senses; which are your strongest for memory and interacting in the word outside of visual? For your starting ritual for writing (if you have one or think you need one), see what happens if you add a particular song or particular type of music. Remember for some writers, they only use music for particular types of writing – like fight scenes. Would that help you?

WRITING EXERCISE BONUS: Randomly pick one song. Can be through a large playlist or a random generator (like and use it as a prompt to write a flash.

Flash: New Leaf

Erin Penn

From Article : A Graduate Student Created First Man-Made Biological Leaf Which Can Produce Oxygen Just Like a Plant

“Captain wants to know when you’ll be up and running again.” Computer processors judged the XO’s projection within the SoftSuit to how far his voice would carry if the room actually held air and aimed the broadcast accordingly while he ducked another dozen hanging wires and stepped over debris littering the floor to get close enough to carry on a conversation with the department’s senior surviving lieutenant. Whichever of the HardSuits around contained that person.

Normally he would have addressed the lieutenant by name and the software would have closed off a direct communication channel. Normally Cheshire would have known who was in charge as the organizational chart resorted instantly from incoming status reports. Hell, normally the captain would have use her direct link with the ship’s net to know the exact status of everything happening on the colony ship.

But things were far from normal after the Wittzerk attack. And since the captain was integrated with the ship for the trip’s duration, submerged in a gel-bath as the living part of the combination living and artificial intelligence directing the ship through real-time and folded space, one of the elite humans capable to the feat, he was crawling through the guts of the ship on her behalf using a jury-rigged radio to send reports up to the bridge, at least until wires could be reconnected by the scrambling techs, getting his uniform dirty for the first time in decades.

It was exhilarating. He had forgotten what line work was like.

Not something he wanted to do all the time, but acting a TrNaval officer instead of a glorified cruise director for a bunch of sleepers brushed off the spider webs.

The green and yellow HardSuits of Environment and ShipMain swarmed around him as he reached cleared floorspace, but no one stopped. After enjoying the artificial gravity steadiness for a moment, Liquid lost power twice while he was there and he nearly lost his lunch, he barked into his microphone, “Senior, report!”

Two people jumped, one deep green and one eye-searing glow-in-the-dark-of-space yellow, as software directed a more precise message than the previous general broadcast. Cheshire steps ate up the distance between him and the green one, while Hinson’s voice filled his ears. “Primary Gravity functional for the deck one-beta grid, additional maintenance will be required to meet spec, secondary gravity online to spec, trieary gravity … yeah Robert, we stealing parts from that to get prime and second going and until manufacturing is working again ain’t nothing going to get that stuff to work. Three nodes were complete losses. Water will be online in ten more minutes, probably and air pressure in sixteen hours. Too many holes. Stupid frigging shotgun weapon.”

“Thank you ShipMain. Continue, priority on this grid AirProduction and embroyo status tubes.” Hinson was the second best ship maintenance worker so Cheshire let the use of his first name slide. Most of the time they used first names around the colonists awake for transition training; no surprise a good portion of his staff couldn’t switch back to military protocol.

(words 511, first published 7/21/2019)

Geeking Science: LightSail 2

Erin Penn 1 Comment

From the Planetary Society Kickstarter site

It’s been a long journey to start this long journey, and I have been on it from the moment the Planetary Society Board presented the idea to its members, through its Kickstarter, through LightSail 1’s fiery death on the Russian Launch Pad, and finally the deployment of LightSail 2.

You may remember the Bajoran lightship on Deep Space Nine, the one Captian Sisko and Jake created reminiscent to the real-world Kon-Tiki expedition to prove a raft could cross the Pacific from South America to the Polynesian Island, in the fictional story’s case to prove the Bajorian traveled to Cardassian territory in their early space travel.

The cool thing is lightsail ships were a real scientific thought at that time, just hadn’t been proven viable. The ability to travel through space riding on just photons from the sun. It would be much slower than a rocket booster, but not everything needs to be done immediately. Station keeping weather stations, slow fly-bys of planets sending millions instead of hundreds of photos, communication arrays throughout the system. The possibilities are endless. And cheap – as the weight of the sails are negligible when compared to rocket fuel or nuclear power … and tons less dangerous.

The long journey? Oh, that will be LightSail 2 in orbit right now with its sail due to be deployed on July 23, 2019 and going for about a year. That is a lot of orbits around the Earth, a very long journey.

You can follow its journey around the earth through the LightSail 2 Mission Control link.

Breakthrough Initiatives plan to use lightsails to send their fleet of small ships to Alpha Centauri.

This is now. This is our future. We can reach the stars.

Author Spotlight: Janine Spendlove

Erin Penn

Wattpad Cover

Ever meet a person that inspires – really inspires, Janine K. Spendlove is one of those. She writes. She publishes other people work when she has time. But that isn’t all. I mean, that stuff is cool. But there is more; sky’s the limit for her.

Janine K. Spendlove is a KC-130 pilot in the United States Marines. More than that, she is an officer. She has been a liaison in Washington DC and overseen squadrons. Some of her story is shared on Whattpad in Earning My Wings: A Mormon Woman’s Journey to a Marine Corps Aviator. 

And should you think that the hardening to be Marine Pilot and Officer would stop her from having fun, she also loves knitting, making costumes, and playing guitar.

With most of her time consumed by the Corps and random stationing for her and her husband around the world, her few times at a keyboard are focused on short stories; her published works have appeared in Time Traveled Tales, Athena’s Daughters, and Dogs of War – to name a few. She even managed to kick out a four-book YA fantasy series – War of the Seasons. Many of her stories focus on the military or military thinking (go figure), but they also hold a lot of diverse characters.

Some of my friends shared a Facebook post she made after viewing Captain Marvel. In it, she opened up her heart about being a female military pilot. She shared about her geek love of all things Marvel from the Avengers to the Black Panther. She told us about how some of her experiences paralleled Carol Davners, including being told to leave the Man’s Branch, as well as called out scenes she loved in the movie.

What hit home the hardest for me though is the following:

“But Captain Marvel gave me something no other film has truly managed to before now: I felt represented on screen as the big movie hero.

I look at Carol and take away all her superhero powers and what is she? A woman who volunteered to serve her nation…”

“I sat back afterward and was like ‘is this how every single male peer of mine feels after watching war movies with prominent heroic military characters?’ Because, y’all, it was an amazing feeling.”

Think about picking up some of her works – the shorts stories, novels, or non-fiction. The full list can be found on her website: https://www.ailionora.com/works/ 

Flash: Jail Break

Erin Penn

Rating: Mature

Rare sunlight filtered through the bars into the dungeon, highlighting the paleness of Dagonet’s skin. Prison life did not suit a noble of his stature. He was a knight and heir to a County. Other lesser warriors and nobles could expect to wait in the dank, dark reaches of their enemy’s castle for ransom to be paid. Those like him, heroes on the battlefield and nobles baptized in the same waters as princes, are housed in locked towers with full bedchambers or allowed the dignity of parole.

He had been offered neither parole nor politeness. The lordling’s anger seethed deep; these affronts will not be left unanswered.

Heavy doors opening and closing echoed to his cell. Clinking keys jiggling. During the nine days since his deposit in this stygian hole, his captors inadequately provided his needs through one girl. They hadn’t even honored his prowess with guards, bored or abusive.

Small slippered feet were the first to be seen on the stone steps, then the hem of servant garments. A covered basket emerged from one sleeve and oversized keys from the other, the hands completely concealed by the ill-fitting sleeves. Eventually the blonde chit’s pleasant face became visible.

“Good after the noon, Sir Weckheim.”

His eyes narrowed as she approached, not returning the greeting to one so below his status. Undeterred by his disregard, she confidently opened the cell door and brought the food in. She left the door ajar with no fear of his escape, his chains were heavy and cumbersome and would take an ogre to break, and she was not allowed to carry the keys to them.

The young woman gracefully kneeled, putting the keys to one side and her basket to the other.

“The cook sent the normal slop, the stuff given to the beggars.” She pulled a half-full bowl out of the basket of vegetables in chicken broth. Then she sent him a shy look, keeping her head appropriately bowed. “But today the staff had sausages, and I managed to sneak a few out.”

Dagonet’s stomach growled as the girl laid out three thick rolls of spiced meat longer than his hand. He had not had solid meat since the morning before his capture on the battlefield. Hearing the sound, her head snapped up and her face went from a mask concentrating on her duty to a sweet smile.

It transformed her.

Kneeing in a golden pool of sun, the first light to grace the cell in days, her grey linen dress tight across her legs and breasts, the oversized sleeves pushed up to her elbows, the female became for an instant the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  Her hands were elegant, nimble in movement, leaving dust particles shimmering in their wake as she pulled another item from her basket of bounty.

Dagonet didn’t process it, he was transfixed by other attractions.

Her smiling lips were rich and plump as berries. The light changed her eyes into blue orbs of cool water.

Already seated, he found it easier to fall onto his hands and crawled to her. His chained clinked menacingly as he approached. He watched her breasts rise and fall as she inhaled, the cloth confining them clearly showing her arousal as her nipples hardened.

“And … and … the cellar had a bottle of wine go bad.” She stammered, licking her lips. “It’s vinegary, but with the sugar and cloves I added it should be better than…”

She stopped talking as he drew up in front of her. He took the bottle from her loose grip and placed it beside the meat and stew.

“Later.” The knight whispered his first word spoken at or to the servant, before taking her face in his hands and pulling her in for a kiss.

She tasted of fennel and garlic, her skin as soft as down.  Dragonet slid his right hand to grasp her breast, the girl’s mouth opened in a moan and he plundered freely. His left hand ceased controlling her head and moved to press her willing body closer to him.

Her nimble, uncallused fingers danced over his bare chest. His captors had removed his armor, stripped his clothes to bind his wounds, and never gave him new garments. Much bolder than ladies of his rank, the woman’s hands quickly found their way into his braies to beguile his manhood.

He pulled away slightly, her lips waiting until the last minute to break away. Panting rapidly, he unlaced her kirtle. Before he could cup her breasts, she pushed him onto the cut stone floor.

“Oh, no, my lord, I want to see what I am mounting first.” Her saucy glee nearly made him laugh, but she removed his drawers and was stroking his prick before his laugh escaped. A moan replaced it. Her sly look came back, “Now this looks like a much better sausage than what be served at my master’s table.” After the declaration, she took his cock wholly into her mouth and swallowed.

No woman had ever taken him in such a fashion. He nearly released from the sensation.

Her tongue darted along his hardening length. Then she took him by his tip and drew her sweet berry lips tight around him, and slowly, like drawing juice from a peach, sucked him until she reached his root. How she did not gag he could not fathom, for he had never been so hard or long before.

“If you are going to mount me woman, do it now, or I will ride you, mouth and pussy, until you cannot use neither.”

The blonde released his cock with a pop. Climbing over his legs, she drew her skirts high and slid onto him, like a sheathe accepting its favorite sword. She drew up on her knees until he was nearly outside her channel then fell again, going deeper.

It still was not deep enough to please him. He rolled them over with his hands holding her thighs, he kneeled and settled his weight heavily between her legs, pinning the wench. Moving the chains so they held the skirts down, he then pushed her legs high and hooked them over his shoulders. Grasping her fleshy ass, he lifted with hands he used to control raging warhorses, and impaled her with his complete length. Holding her ass steady, he drove into her again and again.

Her shrieks echoed each slap of flesh, growing louder and louder. Dagonet moaned counter to each thrust. Eventually the wench screamed. The echo bouncing from the dungeon to the countryside. Dagonet held on through gritted teeth as the woman’s womb tried to milk his seed.

He remained kneeling, holding her ass high and her legs over his shoulders as pants and moans continued to come from the incoherent female. He held a 24-hour vigil on his knees without food or drink, he certainly could wait until the wench was ready again.

When her spasming sheath slowed its pulsing, he pulled his rigid cock partially out. Then plowed it in again, harder and faster than before. Less than two strokes later she screamed again. He kept pounding into her, until a third scream – deeper, longer than the earlier two tore from her lips. Finally he released, pumping her chamber full until he had no more to give.

Nearly unconscious, the knight collapsed onto the female, her legs sliding down his arms and back. He slid lower until his head rested on the belly his seed had filled and drifted off.

(words 1,251 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 9/19/2013 for the 5/27/12 Sunday Fun – See the picture that inspired the story! – As I do not know the copyright permissions, I have not copied it here; republished new blog format 7/14/2019)