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Writing Exercise: Let’s Do This (Part One)

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Who all has made New Year’s Resolutions promising to “finish that book” or just to “write more”? Okay, I see more than one hand up. The question is: How do you write more? How do you become the writer you want to be?

First rule of a writer is write, second rule is write more, third rule is write regularly, and fourth is writing something to completion.

To do this professionally means producing words with consistency and commitment, the question is how best to deliver yourself for BIC (butt in chair) HOK (hand on keyboard). Especially while working a day job, meeting family commitments, and (maybe) having enough social life to maintain the requirements for sanity.

Each month for the next three months, I will introduce two methods, and the writing challenge will be testing one of the two to see if it works for you. For January, let’s do a quick trip back to National Novel Writing Month (NaNo) for two tools for your writing chest.

First. Word Sprints. The National Novel Writing Month gold standard.

Five minute, fifteen minutes, or thirty minute typing or scribing crunches. Getting words on paper as fast as possible. This technique is used by many to destroy a writer’s block. Can’t write, then stop thinking about writing and just do it. Get words out, in any order. Don’t edit. Don’t worry. Just open the tap and get the water flowing, however rusty it is. People swear by word sprint.

So you don’t have to watch the time while typing, go to your phone’s alarm clock function. Many of them have a countdown alarm. Set it to the length you will be sprinting, click start to make sure it is actually counting down, flip it over so you can’t see the countdown, and GO.

Second. Every.Single.Day.

Just sit down at the keyboard or in your favorite chair, and do it. If nothing happens after five minutes, get up and walk away. But what matters is you tried. Day-in and day-out. You sat in the chair at some point with the intent to write. Commitment made.

WRITING EXERCISE: Try one of the two techniques.

(A) Every.Single.Day – for one week try the E.S.D. method. BICHOK.

(B) Word Sprint – For either one week, or for three weekends in January/February, do word sprints. Choose a length of time to work with and just type away or scribble in a notebook until the time is up.

Evaluate. Did you ENJOY the technique you tried? Did you feel COMMITTED while working on it? Did you PRODUCE a good product? (note – good product is a first draft you can edit later, not a finished product worthy of publication)

***

My Attempts

Every.Single.Day – I started the year with the intent to write E.S.D. Then a work convention happened the second week and I didn’t have time for three days. This always happens. I usually have too many irons in the fire and suddenly I miss a day, then a month. The simple goal of E.S.D. doesn’t make me happy; while writing is work, it shouldn’t be a toil. 

Word Sprints – I tried them once, but instead of swearing by them like some NaNo writers, I swear at them. I cannot shut off my inner editor enough and writing just to write doesn’t work for me, not even to break a writer’s block. Going outside and mowing the lawn and weeding the garden is ten times a better use of my time. But what doesn’t work for me, might work for you so try it out.

Flash: Reversed Reflections

Image courtesy of Ben Schonewille at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

The men were still following her, she was sure of it.

Heather adjusted her mirrors after pulling into the rest stop. She watched as the black Tahoe continued down the highway, positive that when she passed the next gas station it would be pulling in behind her again. But for the moment, she was off their radar.

Leaning  back, she took a moment to breathe and center herself, then adjusted the mirrors for real. Cars with intent to follow would have a red haze around them going forward. At least until nightfall, when her sun and nature-based magic failed. That’s when they will attack again, her gut said.

“I guess I could try some of the night magic.” Heather suggested to the two rear-facing seats shown in her inside rear-view mirror. The twins neither approved or disapproved the suggestion.

Not that she would do the night magic her ex-boyfriend taught her. Her demon lover. She hadn’t known how true that appellation had been when Jevil had introduced himself at the club. She thought he had just been a bragging asshole, and she always liked bad boys.

Having a guy gyrate behind her while she was dancing, and somehow whisper in her ear , “I’ll be your demon lover tonight,” made her panties melt five beers in to the night. She hadn’t questioned the magic required to perform a whisper while dancing to ear-shattering club music after sunset.

When she started showing, Jevil had flicked her aside like the butt from a used smoke, and she thought that was that. Lesson learned, sun and darkness don’t mix. Until yesterday when he had shown up at the daycare with two other men who could have passed for his brothers, wanting the kids. The twins had already been strapped in, so she floored her sedan, making one of the men leap out of the way and she had seen wings behind him for a moment before the illusion reformed. Real, honest-to-badness, bat-like wings shimmering like oil in the dim winter sun.

She had spent the night at her house, her haven, behind wards made by her coven before they had cut her from the circle, while the trio battered and pounded the magical walls denying entrance. It was the night before winter solstice, so nearly fifteen hours of her tossing what little magic she had under moonless skies. Every stone and plant in her house was drained or dead by the time the sun rose. The house would not survive another night.

Not that it mattered, because they had tossed gasoline against the side they had breached close enough to touch the physical siding, and then added a match.

Heather barely managed to get the kids into the garage and strapped into their seat in the Honda Civic before flames roared through their living quarters. She pulled out from the flames and smoke while dawn broke the horizon, which she used to power a nuclear blast of Light, capital L intended, to clear her path. She had been driving ever since, exhaustion held off only by magic. She wouldn’t make it through the night.

Stumbling out of the car, she opened the driver-side rear door. Carefully unbuckling her daughter, she took the baby over to a picnic table. Looking around, to see who was about to get an eyeful and finding no one, she kicked off her shoes and dug her toes into the sod. After that she lifted her shirt and unsnapped the nursing bra pad protecting an aching breast. The child latched on as soon as the nipple was in range.

“I know, I know. I am so sorry to have missed your morning feeding. You’ve been so good, Diana.” She had been feeding Apollo when she had smelled the gas; he had not been happy about the interruption, but settled immediately after the car started moving. Both of them had been eerily quiet as she drove in a panic to nowhere. Her coven had removed her when she had shown up with a reverse witch streak, the black lock damning against her blonde hair. Dabbling with Jevil, using sex magic at night and other seductive tricks, left its mark on her body, life, and soul.

“I should have known better.” Heather talked using the rise and fall babies love to hear. “You will know better, won’t you? You are going to be my smart little girl.” The baby sucked steady, leeching liquid from her body she hadn’t replaced since yesterday’s, goddess help her, breakfast. She had worked through lunch at her retail job since two of the staff quit. Well, management must be having a field day with her being a no-show today. She drew more energy from the soil to push back the low-blood-sugar headache and dehydration migraine. The brownish grass turned black as she killed it for her survival, removing every particle of light the living mass had stored for the winter.

The clear blue eyes of the very young stared up at Heather, studying her intently, until, finally, Diana slowed her sucking. Unlatching the nipple, Heather tucked everything back in and slipped on her shoes, not worrying about the mud clinging to her toes, before carrying the drowsy baby to the car. Laying the two-month old back into the seat, Heather started buckling the child in. Kissing her lightly on the forehead, she promised, “I’m going to do everything in my power to protect you and your brother.”

Heather quaked as she considered her words. Everything in her power. She had to do it. Closing the door, she walked around to the other side where Apollo patiently waited for her with his black eyes. As she unbuckled him for the afternoon feeding, Heather commented, “Well, I guess your daddy is going to find out how well he taught me the Empty Magics.”

(Word 975; First published 1/20/2019)

 

Geeking Science: The New Horizon and the Old Sexy

Image created in a Meme generator by Erin Penn

Our relationship with the International Space Station has moved into old married couple stage. Sexy new ideas, exciting discoveries, touches of imagination, lust of exploration, all are distant thrills of yesteryear. That doesn’t mean the relationship is over. Like an old couple, we check in periodically, encouraging those involved in our space exploration relationship to keep the long hours in the endless night. The pains of old equipment and the housecoat covered in solar dust isn’t exactly a candlelight dinner, but starlight is always there.

While we keep looking for the new thrill, like the furthest distant world ever visited by spacecraft which the New Horizon just passed and will be sending information back to us for the next 20 months (talk about long download speeds! – more about all this New Sexy here), we shouldn’t ignore this amazing relationship and responsibility we share with the world. The information gathered by the years and decades of operation will help us settle the great beyond.

If you don’t already have NASA bookmarked, go here.

I would also recommend joining the Planetary Society, a non-profit group supporting space exploration around the globe by government agencies, non-profit groups, universities, and commercial endeavors.

Space and the International Space Station may not be the New Sexy, but sometimes the best thing in the world is curling up by the fire with a good friend and sharing what is happening in our boring every-day lives. Especially when it involves Dragons. 

On Sunday, the Dragon module from the Space Station returned to earth with the newest scientific research. The experiments brought back by the Dragon include:

    1. The Design of Scalable Gas Separation Membranes via Synthesis Under Microgravity – An environmental experiment to remove excess carbon dioxide from the air. Useful for space exploration AND could maybe lead to developments which could reverse some of the carbon load damage here on Earth.
    2. Three-D printer-recycler – Turning waste plastic into filament for three-D printing. Cutting down on space debris, making every pound put into space worthwhile, and providing versatility once there. As with everything space-worthy, constant testing to make it the most robust product possible also translates to Earth uses in other harsh environments.
    3. Virtual Reality – This particular experiment is testing how astronauts react to and perceive microgravity. Long-term space use could mean we will be visiting Ultima Thule instead of just our cameras. Earth use includes helping people suffering vertigo and other perception issues.

More details about the experiments can be found at space.com: Some Strange Science Will Launch Into Space This Week for NASA (November 13, 2018) and throughout the web.

 

Image acquired from NASA – (the original blog post related to this has been deleted)
The SpaceX Dragon cargo craft is pictured moments after being released from the Canadarm2 robotic arm.

Author Spotlight: Elisa Hansen

Book Cover from Amazon

Editing can be a long journey, and I started the journey with Elisa Hansen over a year ago when I first read her “The Company of Death” and told my boss at Falstaff Publishing I wanted the book. During that time we did a minor rewrite, a couple other editing passes, brought on new staff at the publisher, and dealt with bottlenecks in getting books out the doors into hands. Also during that time I got to know Elisa Hansen as a person. And she is a pretty awesome person.

On one hand, she is a vlogger about Vampires of all sorts. Check out her youtube channel “The Maven of the Eventide”. Wonderfully camping, she explores books and movies on this long-running vlog (four years and counting). If it has fangs, it is fang-tastic for her channel. (Also includes her announcement about this book.)

On another hand, she is a mother of a soon-to-be expanding family. Her present spawn is adorable in his madness, and I think present-parasite-soon-to-be-outside-body shall be equally entertaining in her ability to tear through the house faster than the progenitors. 

A third hand is devoted to her writing career, with the publication of her second book this week and working on other vlogs.

Want to get to know this awesome lady too? Her website is here. And her patreon is here. If you are into vampires and camp, I highly recommend her vlog. If you just want to dive into an urban fantasy about Death (not humor-oriented), check out her book on Amazon (and other outlets).

Flash: Respect My Profession

“Please, could you?” he begged. His clear baby-blues pulled at her soul.

Victoria eyed Dodd’s muscular arms, the bunched shoulders pleading for rubs, the tight back ripe for touching.

She should not. She needed to stop giving away her services for free. Now she understood the complaints of doctors and lawyers, people always asking them for advice. The complaints of singers and musicians, where family and friends expected free performances at every life event from weddings to birthdays.

Victoria had spent years getting licensed because she wanted to help people. Now she wanted her career to pay her mortgage. Moreover, she wanted her friends to respect her as a professional.

Did she ask Dodd to fix her computer every time he came over? Well, maybe. That last malware infestation had been a bitch.

Sighing, she dug out the special oil blend.

A childish grin danced over Dodd’s lips as he buried his head between his crossed arms. Victoria could do a massage like no one else.

(words 169 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 9/11/2013 for the 6/10/12 Sunday Fun – See the picture that inspired the story! – As I do not know the copyright permissions, I have not copied it here; first published on the website 9/11/2013; republished 1/13/2019)