Clarion UCSD Write-a-Thon: Update -- Week 1

I was going to wait until the end of week 1 before reporting on my Write-a-Thon progress, but I may be out of town for the holiday weekend, and there is no better time than the present!

As far as my personal writing goals are concerned, here is what I've accomplished thus far:

1) I have written, for at least an hour, every day since the Write-a-Thon began on June 26 (or, 4 whole days in a row);

2) I have written 5,587 words (or 22 pages, going by the novel standard of 250 words per page), which means I am a little more than halfway to my stated goal of 36 pages by the end of the Write-a-Thon;

3) I have completed one rough outline of the main plot (which may be split into two or more novels);

4) I have not begun work on the secondary plot lines on paper, but they are developing in my head;

5) I have worked a bit on character backgrounds for the protagonist and antagonist, and I have ideas for at least four secondary characters.

I would like to clarify that of the 22 pages I've written so far, much of it has been work on backstory, world-building, plot, and character development -- very little writing of the actual narrative has been accomplished. Originally I had wanted to get at least 36 pages of SOMETHING written down; now that I find that to be coming so easily, I am hoping to accomplish a minimum of 40 pages of narrative (that is, actual writing of the story) by the end of the Write-a-Thon, not just 40 pages of any old thing. I believe I can do that much.

I encourage anyone following along with this blog to please consider, if you have not done so already, supporting my participation in this Write-a-Thon with a small donation to Clarion. Even $5 will go a long way if enough people are willing to give.

If you have already donated, you have my deepest thanks! And if you are unable to donate, simply reading my blog and offering feedback or encouragement would be wonderful support!

Thanks for reading!

Clarion UCSD Write-a-Thon: Update

My Write-a-Thon Participant page is now up and accessible for those interested in sponsoring me with a donation, or just checking out my poorly written bio.

All money goes towards keeping the annual Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy writing workshop up and running. Anything you can donate would be appreciated! (Also, there are prizes for the writers for donations received -- like mugs, t-shirts, and even an iPad2!) And if you can't give your financial support, I invite you to continue reading my blog anyway -- every writer needs an audience, and it should start with YOU, my dear friends and family!

Also, if you are a writer or aspiring writer who needs that extra push, please consider signing up to participate (it's free!)

Please keep watching my blog for more updates in the coming days -- only 11 days remain before the Write-a-Thon begins! I am (metaphorically) sharpening my (imaginary) pencils in anticipation!

Thanks for reading!

"Space Travel" -- Incomplete SF Flash Fiction

Incomplete flash fiction. August 2010.

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Water. Water is vital to everything in life. Air is vital. Food and shelter are vital. Love and companionship are vital.

Space is harsh. Traveling through it, doubly so. It is cold below decks, where the “economy” travelers are sequestered. Families sit huddled in every layer of clothing they can squeeze into, swathed in blankets if they are fortunate enough to posses one, and – for the very lucky few – huddled around the scant heaters which cycle in the barest dregs of warm air from the decks above. Food and water rations are as scant as the warm air, as likely spoiled or bug-infested as not – stale and tasteless, and likely made up of nutritionless fillers, which serve to sate the belly if not the body. We have heard that luxury liners serve the finest champagnes and rarest cuts of beef, clean water… even real chocolate. This was hardly a luxury liner. The richest travelers aboard might get an extra ration per day, a slightly warmer deck.

Most of the room on the ship was preserved for cargo space, and since the cargo was worth more to the captain than the lives of his passengers, even the cargo had better environmental controls than the people. If a person died, well the ship had already made its money from them. If the cargo were ruined, it’d fetch nothing at port.

I was one of the unlucky ones traveling alone. I had no family to huddle with, to share body heat. I had been forced to find space near the hull, the coldest part of the deck, where heat slowly bled away through the metal bulkheads. I sat, knees pressed as closely to my chest as possible, breath misting from beneath the tattered blanket draped over my body and hooding my head.

(August 23, 2010)

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"First Snow" -- Incomplete Flash Fiction

A bit of fantasy. Written December, 2010.

* * *

The first snow of the season drifted quietly from the heavens and settled on the stone walkway in the sleepy late afternoon light. Men and women in coats and cloaks bustled through the streets, hurrying home from work or errands, dodging carriages pulled along by pairs of horses or the occasional high-wheeled cart towed by ox or mule, racing the lamp-lighters and the chill, eagerly towards home and warmth and food and family. Some slipped into inns or taverns, seeking a hot meal, a crackling fire, or the warmth of cheap wine or ale in their bellies. Women wrapped in silks or fine wool, trimmed with furs as often as not, glided along the shops with brown-wrapped, twine-bound packages tucked under their arms, laced, booted heels clicking and clacking on the paving stones; gentlemen in dark coats stepped aside, tipping their tall hats to the ladies, making their way from their places of daily employ, some headed for the gentlemen’s club for a pipe and lively conversation, others home to wife and children and supper.

All in all, it was a pleasant sort of evening. Katerine couldn’t have been more pleased to see the snow as she stepped out of the booksellers shop, pulling the door shut behind her and plunging the key into its’ lock with a satisfying clink. Honey colored curls peeked out from beneath a pale fur-trimmed cap, a matching cape settled just-so over her shoulders atop her neat, if plain, wool frock. She was grateful for the thick wool stockings and sturdy laced boots as she slipped into the throng, breath misting in front of her as she began picking her way home. Blue eyes twinkled in the lamp light and her pale cheeks began turning rosy in the chill air.

Once she turned from the main boulevard and began her trek along a somewhat less busy side-street, she lay back her head and stuck her tongue out into the chill air to catch a delicate snowflake with a girlish giggle. This time of year left her feeling that magic was afoot; from the twinkle of the stars overhead, the golden gleam of the lamplights lining her way, to the warm crush of bodies on the sidewalk and the welcoming mirth of voices in the nearby inn. And, of course, the silver glisten of softly falling snow. Soon, she’d wake one morning to find the city blanketed with the silky white powder; children would be squealing in delight, chasing each other with snowballs, sliding down embankments with make-shift sleds, tromping through knee-high snow banks heedless of the cold and the wet, caught up in the glee of a winter playground. She longed for her own childhood days and the hours of freedom that at the time seemed so short and fleeting; though, in truth, her spirit retained more of that childlike wonder than most her age.

She was pleased to note, as she climbed the steps to the boarding house, that someone had placed a cheery evergreen bough, wrapped securely in a wide, crimson ribbon, to the heavy front door. Smiling, she inhaled the piney scent as she pushed her way inside. Warmth and light and the sounds of girlish chatter welcomed her home as she peeled off her gloves, cape and cap, and stepped into the front sitting room.

(Dec. 01, 2010)

* * *

Another year gone

So, it appears my enthusiasm for "updating with new content weekly" was a bit... overstated. And so, we see the root of my problem with writing: I don't write. I have no discipline. It is my hope and intention that this change.

On that note, I'd like to announce that I've just signed up for the Clarion UCSD Write-a-Thon. This is a six week fund-raising event in which participants pledge to write x number of pages, or y hours per day for monetary donation to Clarion to support it's writing program. More information can be found at The Clarion Foundation, and Clarion UCSD Write-a-Thon.

As soon as my application for participation is processed, I will provide the link to my Write-a-Thon writer's page.

Additionally, I've applied for admission with College of Southern Nevada, in the hopes of taking a writing course or two this fall, if any seats are left by the time my application is processed. I applied in November for the Spring semester, but it took a month for my application to be processed and by then classes were full.

Good things are in the works. I just need to learn to follow through.