The Wonderful World of WIPpeteering

Welcome again fellow WIPpeteers and blog followers!  No one has yet told me that posting in the late pm on Tuesday evening disqualifies me from participating on the Wednesday WIPpet, to which I thank you kindly.  I tried that 'schedule your blog to post at a certain time' function and it still alludes me.  Then there's the matter of linking up, which doesn't have a timed schedule that I can fail at mastering to use, so Tuesday evenings are a better time frame for me to manage my posting.  I must thank K.L. Schwengal for hosting this event.  It has been a motivating force that helps kick my butt into writing something every week.  I have a goal of finishing Spellbound by the end of September.  I can do this!!

Let me just say that Wednesdays are about the coolest day of the week for my inbox.  I can't wait to get home from work and respond to your comments.  It takes me a bit to make the rounds myself, and this week will be no different.  Today, the 24th of July, is a holiday in Utah, so straight after work me and the hubby will be heading over to spend time with his family, who I absolutely adore (sorry, but I really don't like the word whom. SO not using it).  Diving straight into it.  I am finishing off the first chapter, which comprises of thirteen paragraphs.  07+2+4=13, and that's how you are getting thirteen paragraphs from me today.

"Spellbound", Book One in the "How You Found Me" series 

***

Akira had been true to her word.  Harper’s Grove had been besieged with several attacks in the span of a year.  She herself had never shown back up, but Goldore had.  The Minions had.  Other monsters, creations that seemed bred from a science fiction horror show, showed up in the name of Akira, touting the flame of domination and submission.

Yet each time a new threat surfaced into Harper’s Grove, the Defenders met them on the battle field.  They fought, they defended, and they protected.

The first major attack had come from red-fleshed creatures with rough patches of sewn up skin, thick-muscled torsos adorned with large bottomed feet and an astonishingly small head that held no proportion to the rest of their body.  People quickly realized why the heads were so tiny, though; these things were dumb.  They looked like the Hulk met up with Frankenstein and fell into a pool of red dye that threw them into a washing machine and spat out multitudes of replicated violently mean, snarling creatures that enjoyed destroying everything in their path, their intellect showing nothing better than to smash, smash, smash.

They were incredibly stupid creations, fondly termed as a Golem monster by geeks and nerds of the Dungeons and Dragons culture only too happy to find a real live hoard of creatures that were once only considered to exist in video games and human imagination.

The Defenders met face to face with these dim-witted creatures and effectively eliminated their threatening presence.  It wasn’t without risk of safety to the citizens, however. Damage to buildings and personal property of those in Harper’s Grove amassed, and construction quickly became a very wealthy profession that was always high in demand. 

So had television.  News casters had managed to make an entertainment spectacle of Akira’s presence.  The attacks never happened outside of the city, and no one thought to ask why, only the desire to capture history in the making.  As annoying as those locusts of media were, they thankfully had enough sense not to send reporters flocking in.  The horrific events of the Annual Fair remained in everyone’s mind that an out-of-this-world phenomenon, Akira, had shown herself to be a dangerous enemy to contend with.  Which was why, of course, that didn’t stop the number of camera poles that went up throughout the city so that future attacks could always have an audience on standby to watch and speculate from afar. 

It was why Terry knew so much about this town and its history, the dangers of Akira and the heroics of the Defenders.   He’d studied the footage, studied how the Defenders fought, studied their skill and combative methods and team work. 

The Red Defender fought with a distinct martial arts style, showing extraordinary skill with or without a weapon.  The Blue Defender mirrored some of those skills but was also blunt and direct when riled enough with anger.  The Purple, Yellow and Orange Defenders were cunning.  Often times they played the frail warrior, feigning inability to fight as efficiently.  It was a clever ruse, for the enemy always fell into single-minded arrogance to take out the weakest link, when in fact they had walked into a trap that sprung fierce warriors into gutting their opponent with efficiency.  The Gray Defender, Terry noticed, seemed to engage himself the least in hand-to-hand combat.  His lasso and long-handed flail were weapons of distance that required calculation and strategic planning, which were utilized to acute advantage.  Though the others were no doubt fierce protectors and defenders, Terry suspected the Gray Defender was the key player in strategizing how to end a battle and truly wound the enemy.

Terry continued staring up at the monument, lost in the thoughts and memories swimming around in his head.  These were a group of highly skilled fighters, known for their magical abilities, but mostly for their message to defend, protect, serve, and not let the enemy win.   Six people – it seemed a little crazy that six people, extraordinary or magical, could fight the way they did against the alien forces of Akira.  It was true she hadn’t picked forces that had keen intellect, but strength was still strength, and her side had lots of it. 

It had been a year already.  Last week held the anniversary of the slaughter at Harper’s Grove Annual Fair.  It had been a dismal news day for the television stations to broadcast as there was no fair.  The Defenders were seen patrolling and alert, but nothing unusual happened.  So instead the news hammed it up with memorial segments and interviewing—yet again—the few survivors from that day who were forced to rehash painful memories so that their tears could be captured on film.

Still though, six people could only continue to do so much.   Yes, the police force around town helped out with the normal day-to-day nuances of law enforcement, but still, Terry couldn’t shake that feeling inside that it was time for the Defenders to expand.  Something else was on the horizon.  He could feel it.  Why and how he could, he had absolutely no idea, and he shared these feelings of foreboding with no one.  He realized the mockery he would suffer if he were to start a raining platform of impending doom.  He was the first one to throw the stone at himself for the absurdity that a nobody like him, an outsider who was very much ordinary, would have a hunch that the mysterious Akira had something up her sleeve. 

Still, though, he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling.  So here he was in Harper’s Grove, having moved here under the simple belief that he was somehow meant to join the Defenders and help put a stop to whatever it was that was coming.

He would have never guessed that the unseen threat was he, himself.   
  

What's that phrase again? Oh yes, WIPpet Wednesday!

Hello and welcome to WIPpet Wednesday!  Another week has flown by. I must say, I've been proud of myself.  I have a goal of writing one chapter each week, and if I stick to my outline (which I'm not, because already it's changed) I should be done with Spellbound by late September.  I completed chapter ten last week, and this week I have chapter 11 to complete, which is already done!  Oh yeah!  I got myself away from the apartment for two days when needing to write, and that helped out immensely.  I was able to concentrate and focus on just writing.  Mind you, I didn't feel like I wrote very much.  Coming home a few hours later to maybe 1k written doesn't feel like I accomplished a lot, but it added up in the end.  I accomplished my goal and I'm on track of where I want to be.  BUT.  (You know there's always a but, right?)  I need to re-outline the rest of the following chapters.  The story has changed somewhat, and so has the way I wanted the chapters to flow. That means the rest of this week may not feel like I'm getting ahead so much because I'm spending time outlining (and Wednesday and Thursday are full days for me where I won't be home much at all).  Nevertheless, I am feeling great! 

So without further ado, here's my WIPpet piece for today.  Thanks so much to My Random Muse for hosting this awesome event.  Be sure to click on the link to read the other WIPpeteers out there who have their own fascinating imaginations at work, and please feel free to join in with your own! 

For this being the 17th day (or almost 17th day.  I find that Tuesday evening is the best time to post this because I really hate getting up extra early before work Wednesday morning, and as was pointed out to me, it's already Wednesday in Australia!) I give you 17 sentences, finishing right where I left off from last time.  Remember, I am going in chronological order. 

****

It was widely rumored that the Defenders possessed magic, that something gave them their supreme fighting abilities.  Because whoever they were, everyone knew that the Defenders weren’t ordinary.  They were extraordinary. 

They were heroes.

When Akira, flanked by Goldore, had shown up the next morning among the fairgrounds, reuniting with her minions that had kept guard over the hostages, she had demanded an answer from Harper’s Grove citizens.  That answer came in the form of a crossbow singing through the air right toward Akira’s heart.  She deflected it with her wand staff, but that moment had started a rebellion the alien threat hadn’t anticipated.

No one should have been able to penetrate the force field she had placed around the fairgrounds.  At least, that’s what she had screamed out toward the six masked heroes charging her way.  When more arrows sang through the air, she screamed at her minions to attack, but they were already under siege.

Goldore charged forward, meeting heads with the Red Defender.  The two of them danced in a ferocious tangle of swords while Akira shrank away from the battle.  It was clear she had been prepared for a quiet surrender, not an attack.  Forced to retreat as the carnage of her minions continued to mount, she made sure to take out the lives of a few more citizens before she fled the scene, vowing that she would return, that she wouldn’t relent until Harper’s Grove was under her rule.

Terry stared at the monument of the Defenders.  This was why he was here.  They were why he had chosen to leave his small home town.   

The Happy Secret To Better Work

Have you ever heard of TedTalk?  I didn't either until my husband stumbled upon it through our Rokku, and then also through Netflix.  I highly encourage you to look it up if you have either device, or even on youtube.  TED is an acronym, which stands for Technology, Entertainment, Design.  Each episode is relatively short in length with a purpose of giving you food for thought.  Something to enrich your life.  I have yet to find one that I haven't gained something from.  In any case, I will make this blog short and brief, with one clear message:  Watch this video.  It's twelve minutes long, I hope you can spare the time.  This is a profound message on happiness, or how to achieve it through better work.  What does that mean?  That's why you need to watch the video.  I welcome you to leave comments and let me know your thoughts.  The speaker is Shawn Achor, a psychologist. 

 

WIPineering away

Whew, I've been absent for a bit.  I won't lie.  I'm not the greatest at social networking.  I'm a bit lazy when it comes to putting in the time for it, and believe it or not, I don't always know what to say.  I missed out on last WIPpet Wednesday because I, um, *cough*sort of forgot about it*cough* and the events of said Wednesday didn't allow me to make a post until the late evening, in which case I decided to just wait until the next week.

So here I am!  For any of you who would like to join in on WIPpet Wednesdays, all you need to do is share your blog on this link of the Work In Progress you have going on, or heck, you can just decide to create one on the spot!  My Random Muse has been so kind to host this event.

Yes, I do realize the date will not *quite* say Wednesday, but I'm staring at the clock, and it's reading 11:34pm.  I really don't want to have to wait until morning where I am hauling my tired butt out of bed and half-asleep.  This is close enough, right? 

First of all, I would like to thank all of you who commented on the last WIPpet I participated in, and I apologize for not replying back to you in kind.  I appreciate your comments, your support, and I love your critiques.  After all, this is a work-in-progress, if it's going smoothly, I'd say I must be some sort of genius!  But as I don't think that's the case, I do love any bit of advice that could help me get there ;)

So, enough blabbering, because this is going to be a long WIPpet for you.  21 paragraphs!  Last WIPpet started with the beginning of book one, 'Spellbound' for my 'How You Found Me' series.  From hence forth on, I will be giving you WIPpet segments in chronological order.  As such, this next segment will be somewhat repetitive, as I have already shown it to you.  But I do want to go in order, so there are a few new paragraphs at the front and at the end to help tie in and show you where I'm going. 

How did I come up with 21 paragraphs?  Well, 18 would have sufficed, but July is the 7th month, today is the 10th, and it is 2013, which would be read something like 07/10/13.  So I did the math as follows: 7+10+1+3=21. 

Because (large) parts of this are a repeat, there are two past comments that helped utilize a few (small) changes you'll see (ahem, there is no longer a Harper's Grove Annual Massacre, though that will forever make me laugh and I wish I could keep the title for that reason alone), and the Minotaur's description has been tweaked. Thanks for your comments and critiques!

****

Terry stood at the large memorial wall in Harper’s Grove Cemetery, gazing upon the names of dozens of victims etched on cold granite.  His parents had protested him moving here a month ago, but sometimes a son had to walk his own path, even if it meant walking into fire.

He’d heard the story of the massacre at Harper’s Annual Fair countless times:  Standing atop the stage and scattering local entertainment, Akira’s large emerald eyes bore down onto the crowd, glaring with fierce determination, silently challenging anyone to defy her.

“Kneel, and submit to my will!  Pledge your loyalty to me this day, and your lives will be spared.  You will know work and sweat and labor, but you will also know the freedom from frivolous argument and unnecessary warfare!  Follow me, and take pride in building a new nation that will not fall apart!” Her honey coated voice, enhanced by some sort of magic, rang through the air so all could hear.  Blank, confused stares turned into defiant expressions.  No alien was going to waltz in and declare herself ruler.    

Steve Cromwell, an older gentleman who had the reputation in town for being a heckler, shouted out, “You’re crazy!”

Almond-shaped eyes fixed their stare on him.  Akira said nothing.  Slowly, her lips pulled up in a feral smile that revealed fanged teeth while a growl rose from the back of her throat.  There was a flash, and a long bronze staff instantaneously appeared in her hands.  A half crescent moon sat on the top, hundreds of tiny emerald gems inlaid into the metallic surface.  The gems glittered dangerously as the staff pointed at Steve.  Brilliant green light shot out from the crescent moon center and hit him square in the chest.

The older man was blown backward through the crowd, the force of the blast knocking citizens down as his body carved a path.   He landed roughly on the ground, the crack of his skull echoing loudly as it smacked against the earth.  Blank eyes stared up at nothing, the jaw slanted and jutting out at an unnatural angle.  

Steve was the first casualty.

A terrible moment of silence passed, then Suzanne, Steve’s wife—her name also etched on the memorial wall—filled the air with the shrill keen of a widow’s despair.

Akira’s minions stepped out at that point, scores of them surrounding and trapping the crowd where they stood.  They were skinny, lanky gray creatures with oversized arms and hands, hard wrinkled skin similar to a rhino and just as tough. They had bald heads and melted faces with red beady eyes.

Suzanne’s cries were joined by terrified shrieks from several others, ripping the air with fear and disbelief.  Citizens scattered here and there, only to wind up face to face with one of the melted gray-faced minions, unable to escape.  Large, ape-like hands rose into the air, and when they struck down to the earth, human bone crushed and splintered. 

Stepping out next was a beast of mythical legend: the Minotaur—he was a fearsome creature with a black bull head and two great pointed horns that curved outward and were sharp as spears.  His rippling torso bulged as if the skin were ready to burst, veins popping and pulsing in rhythm to his snorts of anger. Below all of that bulk were thick stalky legs and cloven feet that danced around, demanding all eyes to turn.  Clad in bright golden armor from the waist up and a helmet around his horned head, he declared his name in a thunderous roar that rattled the ground: Goldore.  Those eyes glittered black coals of putrid and hate, targeting any human as the enemy.  Wielding his great golden sword high up in the air, devastation struck wherever it landed. 

So much bloodshed.   So much loss.

Scores upon scores of people died.  Screams echoed for miles as people scrambled to escape from a trap that snaked them in the further they tried to run.  Too many minions outflanked the citizens, holding them hostage while death claimed them in grotesque fashion.

Few found miraculous escape.  Very few, and not nearly enough.

Still, it could have been worse.  They all could have died.  No one would have known the true account of what really happened.  Akira could have taken over Harper’s Grove that very day.

She didn’t, though.  She wanted the citizens of Harper’s Grove to see her power, to taste the stench of fear and death, and to know what awaited them if they defied her.  The killing stopped.  An impenetrable shield went up over the fairgrounds, and Akira gave the town one day to gather the deceased and decide their fate—more killing and destruction, or complete surrender and willingness to declare her their new ruler.

They never needed to make that decision.

Terry wandered past the memorial wall, tipping his head in silent thanks to the souls achingly sacrificed that day.  His eyes trailed ahead, finding what held his true purpose in coming to the cemetery. 

He stopped in front of the monument of the town’s heroes, the Defenders.  Six masked champions carved from stone stood tall and upright, each holding their famous weapon of choice.  The Red Defender—the team’s leader—was at the front, legs poised to take charge, his broadsword raised up in defensive preparation to strike; the Blue Defender—second in command—held in each hand his three-pronged Sai , arms angled to impale any enemy foolish enough to slip past the first line of defense. Beside him stood the Gray Defender with a lasso in the left hand and a long-handed flail in the other, positioned to attack from the side. 

Flanking the rear was the last three of the team – the feminine curves revealing them to be women.  
The Purple Defender had her back toward her fellow comrades, her sights targeted toward the unseen enemy with her cross-bow raised and ready to fire, while the Orange and Yellow Defender finished the deadly circle, holding their bladed wheels of wind and fire that answered back to them when they flung their sharp-jutted metal teeth into the enemy’s vital organs.

No one knew their true identities—they wore masks that concealed most of their head, leaving open space for the eyes, nose, mouth and chin.  They were simply known as the Defenders, catalogued in name only by the pale, muted individual color of their uniform.  The material on their masks and suits looked something akin to thickly woven nylon mesh, yet performed like some secret militarized armor that seemed virtually impenetrable.  It was adorned with black leather straps crisscrossing at the chest and connecting to a black belt that housed their weapons.  At the center of the chest rested a gold medallion, a black D etched with bold lettering on the surface. Thick black boots and gloved hands covered their limbs.  

    

Same Bat WIPpet Time, Same Bat WIPpet Channel

It's nearly midnight, and I've just realized that WIPpet Wednesday is mere minutes away!  Depending on the time zone this blog posts in, it may still read the 25th, but in *my* time zone, it's after midnight, so I'm posting!

This has been a successful week in writing.  I've figured out that goals feel more tangible to me when I define them as chapters I want to write and finish versus how many words I want to write.  Chapters give me a picture in my head.  So!  I have just finished writing chapter 8!  My goal is to also write Chapter 9 this week as well.  I'm not sure how attainable that will be. Thursday, Friday and Saturday all have things going on.  Nonetheless, I am feeling accomplished right now.

For my 'How You Found Me' series, I have decided on a title for book 1:  Spellbound.  See what I mean about feeling accomplished?  

So, without further ado, I give you 29 lines (at least, in Microsoft Word, the formatting makes it 29 lines.  It comes out to like 27 lines on blogger).  The formula I used to rationalize 29 lines was this:  26+3=29 (the 26th day of June, plus three for the 3 in 2013).  That allows my WIP to end nicely rather than in the middle of the paragraph. 

I give you the first 29 lines of 'Spellbound.'

* * * *

One word could just about sum it up: Akira.
 
She and her band of minions and beasts changed Harper’s Grove overnight.  They had all appeared out of nowhere during Harper’s Grove Annual Fair, turning merriment into devastation.  Citizens didn’t realize the danger standing before them when she interrupted the local musical entertainment on stage, demanding the people to kneel at her feet and submit to her will.  Oliver Greenwood, a brave young college-bound photographer—his name was etched on the dark granite of the city’s memorial wall – had snapped a few photos of Akira.  Although he hadn’t survived, his camera had. 

They were the only pictures ever captured of her, depicting a woman human enough in appearance, but not quite.  There were strange features that defined her, set her apart as— well, alien.  Among her long black shimmering hair were pointed ears that peeked out at the top of her head, and her dark buttoned nose resembled something more feline than human.  Her eyes, however, were the most stunning feature: they were large and almond shaped, glittering like brilliant emerald green gems with thin black slits.  Her skin was a deep olive tone, and though her limbs and hands were human, her finger nails could extend into sharp-clawed daggers.

Last year, Harper’s Grove had been just like any other budding metropolitan town.  It wasn’t so big yet that you instantly felt lost amid the hustle and bustle of crowds and tall buildings that loomed high above, but it was digging its heels into growth and industry.  It was a thriving, friendly town, filled with citizens that stopped on the street to help a stranger fix a flat tire, or to help little old grandma cross the street.  Surfers would mosey on down to the beach to catch the waves, and girls in bikinis would flock from behind, giggling and chatting about the view.  The weather usually kept to its warm, balmy temperature of seventy degrees, welcoming sun lovers to snatch up its warmth and rays.

Now, though . . .

The cost of death had taught its citizens to be wary.  One didn’t necessarily wander around after dark anymore, and something more sinister than traffic could make you late to work, if you even showed at all.  Mothers made sure to keep their children close, and the sound of an old car’s clanking engine rumbling down the street could be enough to scatter groups of people cowering for cover into buildings or clambering into their cars to get away, afraid that the noise represented someone more menacing. 

* * * *

There you have it!  Thanks to My Random Muse for hosting, and if you want to join in on the fun, post your own Work In Progress, then link your site and let everyone see what you've got going on!  Be sure to check out everyone else's WIPpets too:)  Your thoughts and critiques are, of course, always welcome. 
 

W-w-what?! It's WIPpet Wednesday!

Wow, it is half-way through the week already!  I can't believe it, and yet here it is.  Wednesday has come, reminding me that I have written very little.  Part of that is due to the fact that the hubby and I have just acquired a new bunny in our household.  I thought he was a mini rex, but I'm really not very good at telling breeds, and with a vet visit, I found out he is actually an English Spot. 

In any case, Bubba has been the reason I have distracted myself from writing.  I'm a great animal lover, especially when it comes to bunnies.  I own a lionhead bunny as well. 

Enough of that, though.  On to WIPpet Wednesday.  On this day, June 19, there is a part of me that would love to give you nineteen paragraphs, but seeing as how I'm only at around 15,000 words, I've got to space things out a little. 

What I would like to give today for your viewing pleasure (I hope) is the blurb I am working on.  It just so happens to be ten lines, which fits in perfectly for a math equation about the 19th: 1+9=10.  As always, I welcome your thoughts.  Thanks to My Random Muse for hosting.  If you want to join the WIPpet Wednesday WIPpeteers, simply blog about your current Work In Progress, then link your blog here so everyone can follow!

The series will be titled How You Found Me.  The first book doesn't have a solid sub-title yet, though I'm tossing around some ideas.

.......

Terry Owens has moved to Harper’s Grove with one mission in mind: to join the Defenders and battle against the alien force of Akira and her driving ambition to take over the city. There’s just one problem—becoming one of the Defenders isn’t exactly a position for hire. Determined and optimistic, Terry doesn’t let that insignificant detail stop him from hoping to be the first exception. With that sole purpose in mind, it is why he tries so hard to keep himself from falling for quiet, charming, devilishly handsome James, who just so happens to be the leader of the team—until James starts to show similar interest. It catches both by surprise. After all, neither of them had ever allowed that aspect of their lives to be open for discussion. In the meantime, little does Terry know someone else is eager to make his dream of becoming a Defender come true. With her own devious plans in mind, Akira seeks to give Terry all the power he could ever want—at the cost of his own free will.

.......


Okay, it was 11 lines.  The formatting from one place to another. . . you know how it goes.

When thinking about it, 15,000 words makes this a fledgling story still.  It really isn't much, but considering it is 15,000 words into my third re-write of this current Work-in-Progress, it feels like I am making significant headway.  The reasons for the re-write are due to writing style and plot/character/setting formula.  When I look back at my first draft... *shudders.*  I guess we all feel that way about the first draft, right?  I'm finally heading in the right direction and it's sounding like how I want it to sound, give or take. 

All right, feel free to disregard my loud inner thoughts.  Perhaps this blurb will help shed some enlightenment on the previous pieces I have shared with you, or... maybe it'll just make you curious to read more!  

Mwahaha! >:-)   

Some Tidbits of Information

Happy Sunday, and wishing a Happy Father's Day out there to fathers of all types.  There are the literal fathers who have children of their own, there are adopted fathers, there are single fathers, there are father-like examples, there are fathers of pets... there are lots of different types of fathers out there.  Today, I tip my hat off to all of you.  Thanks for being an integral part of someone's life.

Today, my husband and I became the proud parents of a second bunny.  His name is Bubba. 

Aww, isn't he cute?? *waits expectantly for everyone to nod yes* I knew you'd think so too!  He's a rex bunny, and we are slowly acquainting him with our first furry bunny child, Pippin (who's a lionhead).

I assure you, that really is a bunny underneath all that fur.  He's a cutie pie!  The next few weeks will be fun and filled with adjustments and getting to know our expanded family.  I have hope that these two guys will get along together, but we'll see.

In other news, I've added a page on here.  *points to the right of the screen toward the top*  See that?  It's a review page for "The Coin!" It has been free this weekend, and there's still a few hours left on Sunday before it goes back up in price, so if you haven't, hurry and head on over and download it.  I've been a bit horrible to advertise as much for it, I do apologize.  Getting a new bunny has been a bit time consuming to my thoughts today.  In any case, I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts on it.  Putting in a review on Amazon helps out, but if you'd rather just come here and spill the beans, I welcome you to do so. 

Speaking of awesome books, my good friend Adrian has been interviewed for her recent published work titled "Forever Burn."  Want to know what it's about?  Mosey on down to Michelle Abbott's page and read the interview, PLUS join in for a chance to win some free stuff! 

I'll be seeing you guys for WIPpet Wednesday.  Toodles!

Aw yeah. . . WIPpet Wednesday is here!

*Toots the horn on the 'Little Engine That Could'*

Welcome aboard WIPpet Wednesday, folks!  Here is my second time joining in with the rest of some wonderful authors in sharing my Work In Progress.  Anyone can participate (click on the link to get yourself enrolled), and you get to see a great many tantelizing snippets of imagination-at-work out there.  Thanks to My Random Muse for hosting!

Now, today's date is June 12, 2013.  I will take day twelve from the month and give you 12 paragraphs.  Last WIPpet Wednesday I gave you a small teaser about the massacre at Harper's Grove Annual fair (not to be confused with the annual massacre of Harper's Grove Fair *wink*).  Well, that seemed to have whet quite a few appetites for details, so I am giving you the following 12 paragraphs immediately following that one short three liner from page two of the opening chapter that I 'tantelized' you with. 

To clarify, the massacre of Harper's Grove is a past event.  Terry, one of my main characters, is reflecting back on this story he's heard countless times.  He did not bear witness to the gruesome spectacle.  Akira's speech begins in the first paragraph:


“Kneel, and submit to my will!  Pledge your loyalty to me this day, and your lives will be spared.  You will know work and sweat and labor, but you will also know the freedom from frivolous argument and unnecessary warfare!  Follow me, and take pride in building a new nation that will not fall apart!” Her honey coated voice, enhanced by some sort of magic, rang through the air so all could hear.  Blank, confused stares turned into defiant expressions.  No alien was going to waltz in and declare herself ruler.    

Steve Cromwell, an older gentleman who had the reputation in town for being a heckler, shouted out, “You’re crazy!”

Almond-shaped eyes fixed their stare on him.  Akira said nothing.  Slowly, her lips pulled up in a feral smile that revealed fanged teeth while a growl rose from the back of her throat.  There was a flash, and a long bronze staff instantaneously appeared in her hands.  A half crescent moon sat on the top, hundreds of tiny emerald gems inlaid into the metallic surface.  The gems glittered dangerously as the staff pointed at Steve.  Brilliant green light shot out from the crescent moon center and hit him square in the chest.

The older man was blown backward through the crowd, the force of the blast knocking citizens down as his body carved a path.   He landed roughly on the ground, the crack of his skull echoing loudly as it smacked against the earth.  Blank eyes stared up at nothing, the jaw slanted and jutting out at an unnatural angle.  

Steve was the first casualty.

A terrible moment of silence passed, then Suzanne, Steve’s wife—her name also etched on the memorial wall—filled the air with the shrill keen of a widow’s despair.

Akira’s minions stepped out at that point, scores of them surrounding and trapping the crowd where they stood.  They were skinny, lanky gray creatures with oversized arms and hands, hard wrinkled skin similar to a rhino and just as tough. They had bald heads and melted faces with red beady eyes.

Suzanne’s cries were joined by terrified shrieks from several others, ripping the air with fear and disbelief.  Citizens scattered here and there, only to wind up face to face with one of the melted gray-faced minions, unable to escape.  Large, ape-like hands rose into the air, and when they struck down to the earth, human bone crushed and splintered. 

Stepping out next was a beast of mythical legend: the Minotaur—he was a fearsome creature with a black bull head and two great pointed horns that curved outward and were sharp as spears.  His rippling torso resembled something akin to a body builder on massive amounts of steroids, with thick stalky legs and cloven feet.  Clad in bright golden armor from the waist up and a helmet around his horned head, it wasn’t a surprise he went by the name of Goldore.  Those eyes glittered black coals of putrid and hate, targeting any human as the enemy.  Wielding his great golden sword high up in the air, devastation struck wherever it landed. 

So much bloodshed.   So much loss.

Scores upon scores of people died.  Screams echoed for miles as people scrambled to escape from a trap that snaked them in the further they tried to run.  Too many minions outflanked the citizens, holding them hostage while death claimed them in grotesque fashion.

Few found miraculous escape.  Very few, and not nearly enough.

****

There you have it!  I welcome comments and positive criticism. 

We Are All Human

"Noboday can avoid falling in love.  They might want to deny it, but friendship is probably the most common form of love."  - Stieg Larsson, The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest

A warm thank you to all of you wonderful writers who posted your comments last WIPpet Wednesday.  I had plans to visit each of your pages to return the kindness. I got to a few, but not to all.  My goal this upcoming WIPpet Wednesday is to do so. 

I want to give adequate warning that this post may not necessarily be witty or carry a message of inspiration or uplifting thought.  I wish to let you know that I am human. 

That has been a heavy thought to dwell on this week, being human.  It entails all sorts of meaning and opinion.  What I am after, though, is to let you know that among this screen of words lies a person who laughs and jokes and cries and gets upset and shows the rainbow of emotion. 

This week dealt with humanity for me.  It can be so easy to forget how human we all are.  When we don't get along with someone, it can be so hard to realize that inside both opposing parties lies a golden person who is loved and also loves.  That they, too, have the rainbow of emotion that we wish others to see in our own selves.  That we are capable of making mistakes that are worthy of forgiveness, that our actions, ill or positive, won't be etched into one tiny moment of time and branded on our skin as the only definition of who we truly are. 

It is so easy to find the negative.  Social media loves to broadcast it, because we love to find it.  We find it in ourselves, in the environment, in others, in everywhere.  It is a life-long lesson to learn how to find the positive and focus on it, to hold onto it and strengthen ourselves in betterment.  I repeat:  That is a life-long lesson. 

It really should be remembered in each other, that we are all on differing paths toward achieving that.  Some more than others.  Really though, hard as it may be, try just to focus on your own path of life-long betterment.  It's the only path you can control.  It's the only way negativity won't swallow you up and chew you into a thousand more shattered pieces. 

Why am I talking about this?  This might sound abstract, and it might sound vague and out of the blue. 

It is.

Death usually has that affect.  It's abstract, it's out of the blue, and so often times, it isn't expected.  You aren't prepared for it.

I knew someone who died last Sunday, June 2.  He was 74 years of age, he was a coworker, and he was a friend. 

I didn't often let him know the positive impressions he made on me.  I kept those to myself, ever the silent observer, keeping to myself. 

The point of this post isn't to discuss the person that I knew, however.  There are many of us that have experienced the loss of someone dear.  It causes the mind to grapple with life, with its fragility, and with its many varying aspects of negative and positive.  My point today, is to let you know that I knew a very fine human being.  My point is to let you know that I myself, am human.  I witness every day the acts of humanity.  We all do. 

That is a part of why I like writing, because I can explore some of those aspects.  Life is a very unique thing to experience.  There are exciting moments, boring ones, loving ones, scary ones, and so on and so forth.  I enjoy imagining different life experiences. 

This past week I reflected on a real life one.  There is something I wish to take from this small aspect of humanity I witnessed from my coworker:  We are all human.  We have a lot of potential differences.  That's okay.  We are going to get mad at each other.  That's okay.  We are going to love each other.  That's okay.  We are going to do something that causes someone else sorrow.  It may not feel okay, but that's still okay. 

What we need to come together and do, is try to understand that we are all human.  If we could learn to understand that we all feel similar emotions, maybe we could be quicker to forgive, quicker to understand, quicker to let go, quicker to love, quicker to see that differences don't have to equate themselves to negativity, quicker to. . . *fill in the blank.*  I think you see where I'm getting at. 

I may get mad at someone tomorrow.  What I hope to do, is to let go of that anger quickly.  I hope to view that person as someone who still loves, who is loved, and has goodness inside.  I hope not to brand someone by one moment of time that didn't set well with me. 

I saw my coworker do that.  It is my life-long lesson to figure out how he figured it out.

Stay tuned for WIPpet Wednesday, where I promise for something lighter and less heavier than the very puzzling aspect that makes up humanity. ;)  

WIPpet Wednesday

"Let's whip it, let's WIPpet Wednesday!" 

From my last post, hopefully I've got you wondering what WIPpet Wednesday really entails.  Well, it's a fun little way to give readers a taste of my current WIP: Work In Progress.  Each Wednesday, I'm going to reveal something about my project that correlates with the day's date.  Adrian has turned me onto this, and if you're curious, WIPpet is also going around at that site too. 

So, today is June 5, 2013.  I am taking the day's calendar date of 5, and using a simple math equation:  2+3=5.  So for my WIPpet today, on the second page of my manuscript, I am sharing three lines with you.  They are:

Terry had heard the story of the Harper’s Annual Fair Massacre countless times:  Standing atop the stage and scattering local entertainment, Akira’s large emerald eyes bore down onto the crowd, glaring with fierce determination, silently challenging anyone to defy her.

Well, there you have it!  Page 2, with three lines, equals 5. :)  Short and sweet, and. . . tantelizing, I hope?  I welcome any comments. 

Sunday and Wednesday will hold updates on this blog from me.  If you haven't, I encourage you to subscribe to e-mail updates.  If any one is more familiar with blogger than I am, is there a way you can view stats on users who have done so? 

I hope you guys have a great week, and thank you kindly for stopping by my itty bitty corner of the web.

Work In Progress: The Reveal of my Next Project

Happy Sunday to all of you!  I want to thank you for taking time out of your lives to mosey onto this itty bitty corner of the internet and read someone's musings.  Hopefully Little Dude's story was entertaining and worthy of your time.  If you have read The Coin, then you know that this mini story was a bit different in writing style and genre.   

Well, I am shifting writing styles/genres yet again and want to reward you with insight into my current WIP (Work In Progress).  I was tagged last week with a fun little game fellow authors participate in, which is answering a few questions about one's WIP.  I figured sharing this survey would be an appropriate way to reveal my new project with you.  My thanks to Adrian J Smith for tagging me!Without further ado...

1.       What is the name of your current WIP?

I am writing the first book in a five book series that is titled 'How You Found Me.' The sub-title is yet unknown.

2.       Give a short summary of your WIP.  

Terry Owens has moved to Harper’s Grove with one mission in mind: to join the Defenders and battle against the alien force of Akira and her driving ambition to take over the city.  There’s just one problem—becoming one of the Defenders isn’t exactly a position for hire.  Determined and optimistic, Terry doesn’t let that insignificant detail stop him from hoping to be the first exception.  With that sole purpose in mind, it is why he tries so hard to keep himself from falling for quiet, charming James, who just so happens to be the leader of the team—until James starts to show similar interest.  It catches both by surprise. After all, neither of them had ever allowed that aspect of their lives to be open for discussion.  In the meantime, little does Terry know someone else is eager to make his dream of becoming a Defender come true.  With her own devious plans in mind, Akira seeks to give Terry all the power he could ever want—at the cost of his own free will.

3.       Ready to do a cover reveal? 

 

        Not even close!  It’s on the back burner of my thoughts though, believe me.  I've got ideas stirring. 

4.       How many words are you into it? 

 

       About 13,200 words.  Because page count vastly differs depending on the format and size used (especially for the digital book age), giving a page count isn’t the most accurate way to gauge the size of an author’s story.  Though for those who are still curious, that puts me at about 31 pages in Microsoft Word.  I would like to add here, that this is my word count for a third (or is it fourth?) revision of this story.  It’s a project I have been working on for over a year. I do believe this latest revision is on the right track, which is why I am choosing to reveal it to you guys!

5.       Goal word count by the end of the week?

 

       I need to be better at setting goals, so to motivate myself, I have recently tried to set myself the task of 5,000 words this week, but we’ll see!

6.       Goal word count for the entire manuscript?

 

        60,000-70,000 words

7.       What genre does your WIP fall within? 

 

        Action/superhero, fantasy, romance, gay fiction.

8.       When would you *like* to publish this project? 

      
        My hope is toward the end of this year if I can get myself writing fast enough now that I’ve ironed out a lot of the kinks. Not all of them, but most.
 

9.       Go to page 5 of your manuscript and pick a sentence at random to share with us! 
       
        I’ll give you a little bit more than a sentence!  How about a paragraph?

Terry continued staring up at the monument, lost in the thoughts and memories swimming around in his head.  These were a group of highly skilled fighters, known for their magical abilities, but mostly for their message to defend, protect, serve, and not let the enemy win.   Six people—it seemed a little crazy that six people, extraordinary or magical—could fight the way they did against the alien forces of Akira.  It was true she hadn’t picked forces that had keen intellect, but strength was still strength, and her side had lots of it. 

10.       Will this WIP be turned into a series book?  
          
        You bet!  This will be a five book series at the very least.

11.       What has been the hardest challenge working on this WIP? 
          
       It originally was a fanfiction piece inspired by the Power Rangers (yup, I’m proud of that!).  You will see the influence as you read it.  It has been a challenge changing things around to make it enough of my own, hence the number of revisions it has gone through.

12.       What has been your favorite part of working on this WIP? 
          
        Writing Terry and James.  That’s about all I’ll say!

13.      Any special treat planned for when you finish the final draft of your WIP? 
            
        Oh my!  Well, since it’s a series, I’ll be eager to move on to the next book, but eating out and a back scratch from the hubby would be quite nice.  I’m relatively easy to please.

 

Stay tuned for WIPpet Wednesdays!  What is that, you ask?  Well, it is where I share with you an update on my WIP that somehow corresponds with the date I am posting on.  Don't really get it?  Come back on Wednesday to see what I mean :)

(Mwahaha! Come on, I've gotta leave you with a small semblance of a cliff-hanger!)

The Adventures of Little Dude: Epilogue

Epilogue:  Saying Goodbye

Little Dude was carried into a building where he was welcomed by quite a few other humans saying nice things to him, including the nice lady.  After such a long and scary ride, he needed all the comfort he could get.  Fingers came and wrapped themselves around, lifting him out of his cozy little nest.  Those fingers were soft and warm and reminded him of Mama, which also reminded his belly that he hadn’t eaten for a long, long time. 

Straightaway he opened his beak, thinking excitedly, FOOD!

Sadly, nothing came.

“Aww, you’re a hungry fella, aren’t you?” said the new lady that was holding him. 

“I think Little Dude worked up an appetite on the car ride over,” the nice lady replied.  “He wasn’t too happy about the drive.”

There was a soft chuckle.  “Is your name Little Dude?”

Little Dude chirped in response, making the new lady chuckle again.  Then soft, gentle fingers started probing his head, neck, and also his wings.

“Is he okay?” the nice lady asked.

“I can see that he’s dehydrated, but other than that he seems okay.”

“Oh good!  I was worried that maybe he hurt himself during the two separate falls that he took.”

There was more conversation that went on, but Little Dude wasn’t really listening.  Was he in Hollywood?  Had he finally made it?  More importantly, where was food?  He really could use some right about now.

The nice lady’s voice slowly cut into his thoughts.  “Well Little Dude, I guess this is goodbye.  I hope you enjoy your temporary new home until you get a little bit older.  Make sure to grow up healthy and strong!”

Wait, the nice lady was leaving?  But—but—

“Thank you!”  Little Dude squawked.  “Come see me again in Hollywood!”

The nice lady chuckled, and then she and her mate walked out the doors, and Little Dude was taken to go get cleaned off and fed. 

Even though he hadn’t quite made it to Hollywood yet, the wildlife rehabilitation clinic was a very nice place, and he made some new friends that didn’t tease him about his big beak.  He was fed and taken care of and plumped up into a nice young Starling that was ready to fly away several weeks later. 

When Little Dude felt the wonderful rush of air ruffle his feathers and found the heat thermals that let him soar high in the sky, he thought of the nice lady, and was glad that she had brought him to the best home he ever had.

As he flew away with a group of his friends, they all had one mission in mind:  finding Hollywood.  

****

There you have it folks, the story of Little Dude!  I hope it was entertaining for you.  It was enjoyable to write.

A little bit of fun facts:  this was based on a true story.  I found Little Dude on the ground in the carport of my apartment complex.  That evening was just as much as an adventure for me as I’m sure it was for Little Dude, which is why this story fluttered to life.  Though fictionalized to some extent, the events written here are true, as are the pictures and video.  They are the real McCoy, Little Dude himself!  I would love to hear your feedback.  Do you have any favorite moments you particularly enjoyed?  Would you like to see more short stories in the future?  Leave a comment please!

On Sunday I will be posting information about my WIP (Work In Progress).  I haven’t spoken much about the future project I am writing. . . get ready for the reveal!

A few other things I realize I haven't advertised:  You can follow me on twitter @booksbysmiles, and I am also on facebook too.  I am in need of gaining more likes on that page, so if you haven't already, please go on over and like it!  Facebook: Books By Smiles

Thank you so much for your interest!  I hope to keep it :)        

The Adventures of Little Dude: Part Six

Note to self:  Blogger's 'blog schedule' eludes my technical skills.  I thought I had this set to post in the morning, but low and behold, it hasn't!  Without further ado, here's the continuation...

 Part Six:  Little Dude’s Adventure

Little Dude was excited.  Did the nice lady just say they were going on an adventure?  Did she understand him when he explained about wanting to go to Hollywood just now?  Oh, how he hoped!

Suddenly his nest was being lifted into the air, which made him so excited. 

“Oh yay oh yay oh yay!” he squawked. 

A bright red car door opened up, and inside he went, his nest settling right onto the nice lady’s lap.  Did the lady have food?  Boy, he could sure use some right about now.  He was going on an adventure!  One needed to eat when going on an adventure.  He opened his mouth, but nothing came.  That made him a little sad.  When was he going to get food? 

Very soon, something happened that made Little Dude forget all about nourishment.  A great loud rumbling sounded, followed by some scary vibration.  Was this the car starting up?  Jeepers, it sounded a lot more scary now that he was inside of it!

If Little Dude thought that was the worst of it, boy was he wrong.  He started sensing movement and knew that the car was now driving, but it felt. . .

WHOA!

“What is that?!  What is that? Ahhh!” Little Dude squawked with panic.

He was moving very fast now, but this didn’t feel like the right kind of movement!  His wings weren’t flapping and he didn’t feel any wind, but his tiny body was going on a very fast and very bumpy flight. 

“This doesn’t feel right!”  Little Dude yelled.

“Shhh,” the nice lady responded to his terrified chirps.  “It’s okay Little Dude.  I know this must feel very strange to you, but I promise you’ll be okay,” she soothed.

The very fast movement and the bumpy-ness continued though, so Little Dude wasn’t at all comforted.

“This doesn’t feel right!” he continued to chirp away.   

After what felt like a long time, the movement slowed down and came to a stop.  That made him feel a little bit better, so much in fact that he stopped screaming for a minute.  Was he in Hollywood already?

“Hey,” said the nice lady’s mate.  He sounded like he was laughing.  What was so funny?  “I think he likes the car better when it’s not moving.  ”

Well that was certainly true, Little Dude agreed.

“We’re at a stop light, Little Dude,” the nice lady explained.  “This will only last a little bit, and then—”

“Ahhhh!!” Little Dude yelled.

“Yup, we’re on our way again,” the nice lady explained.  “Shhh, it’s okay little guy.  We’re taking care of you.  This will be your first flying experience.  It’s always scary the first time.  Just wait until we get on the freeway.  You’re in for a rush!”

The nice lady continued to talk, but Little Dude wasn’t really paying attention.  He was very concerned about the bumpy movement that did not feel right.  Maybe he should have waited until he was just a tad bit older so that Mama could show him the way to Hollywood herself.  He much preferred flapping his wings compared to—

“AHHHHH!!!”

The car was now going much, much faster now.  The bumpy-ness turned into very fast and very scary vibration.  What did the nice lady say to him?  Something about a freeway?  He really did not like the freeway.  Nope, he really didn’t.

The bad part was, this freeway thing went on for a very, very, VERY long time.  How far away was Hollywood?  He knew that some part of him should be braver than he was, but it was so hard to find that bravery inside when he was traveling so fast in such an unnatural way.  The nice lady was trying to soothe him, but he just couldn’t help the squawks that continued to pour from his beak. 

This is so scary!

That thought went over and over in his head until. . . was the movement slowing down?  Yes!  The car wasn’t going quite so fast, and then it was going even slower.  Finally, after what felt like an entire life time, it stopped, and the rumbling noise and the bumpy-ness went away.  For the first time in ages, Little Dude wasn’t screaming.

“We’re here Little Dude!” the nice lady exclaimed.  “You made it!  Here’s your new home until you’re old enough to go out on your own.”


Stay tuned for the epilogue on Friday!  Thanks for your interest in Little Dude!   The page views have been awesome to monitor this last week and a half.  Please feel free to leave a comment and let me know how you have (or haven’t) been enjoying this little story.