Blue Pencil #5: The Anger of Modbyedelig

When one peruses Xlibris's fine bookstore, it is not unheard of to encounter "creative" spelling, and the title of this novel initially struck me as one of these. I'm not even sure how to pronounce "Modbyedelig," but at first glance I thought it was supposed to be "Molybdenum" and, as I am a huge fan of transition metals with an electronegativity of 1.8 on the Pauling scale and an atomic mass of 95.9 g/mole, I just had to check it out.

To my dismay, it turned out that this was not a treatise on the emotional state of the element with the sixth-highest melting point at all, but rather a fantasy tale by Margie L. Lauritzen-Hussey about ... well, I'm not entirely sure, but here's the synopsis:

Intrigue! Terror! Modbyedelig, the evil one, will use any means to achieve it’s dominance of OtherWorld. It is the disruptive influence in an otherwise peaceful land. A young Lace, sent Cosmos to protect OtherWorld and its inhabitants, is unprepared for the demonic force waged against her.

Yikes! Intrigue! Terror! Molybdenum!

Without reading further, I'm guessing that Cosmos is the hero? Sent by someone named Lace? OtherWorld is clearly the land of the Noun people. Judging from the cover, Molybdenum is some kind of tree (or possibly it's just angry at trees -- I'm not sure).

Lynn, William and Sara, her young friends from Human-land join in the conflict. They, along with the Centaurs, Wonkies and the indomitable Elves, encounter the wickedness of Modbyedelig.

Wonkies? Centaurs and Elves (particularly the indomitable ones) I can get behind, but I'm not sure if an alliance with the Wonkies is in the best interests of OtherWorld. Thank god the coalition is strengthened by three human children, as any Narnia fan will tell you that children are dynamite on the battlefields of fantasyland.

Destruction of OtherWorld is imminent. A story of friendship, courage, and loyalty.

I thought Molybdenum wanted to achieve dominion over OtherWorld? Perhaps these Pixie-fairies, Wookies, and assorted fae riffraff would prefer annihilation over obedience to a silvery-white metal. (To be fair, Molybdenum is very hard, though it is somewhat more ductile than tungsten.)

Well, on to the excerpt! Let's see ...

An illustrated excerpt! Very classy.

I can only assume that these are the aforementioned Wonkies. Clearly the double-line of Wonkies is headed off to war against Molybdenum and the two in the lower-right corner are either deserters or conscientious objectors.

Probably deserters. I mean, I'd chicken out, too, if my unit was sent to fight a dragon on a stick, as these guys apparently are.

War is hell.

The Wonkies marched two by two past the gate. The A's came first: Alfred, Amy, Albert, Alfonso; then the B's: Bernard, Bobby, Barbara.

"Bernard?" "Amy?" These aren't exactly names I'd expect to see attached to exotic creatures like Wonkies.

Quickly, without giving notice, three groups of two scattered off to the underbrush, hardly breathing, as the others passed them.

Ah, so they're prisoners, I guess? It would make sense, then, that they didn't give notice to the guards before fleeing (Though that would have been the courteous thing to do, they are Wonkies, and thus can't really be held accountable for their manners).

The C's were driven past. Charles, Chester, Carl; not one escaped.

Come on, Cs! Half the As and Bs just took off and you're still too chicken to make a break for it? Grow a pair!

The D's, less organized, stumbled down the path. Dagmar, Don, and Doris crept to the side of the road, scooting through the brush into the dark forest. Dave paused, raised his hand to wave good-bye to his friends. The guard was on him in an instant.

"You wanna escape? Fine! But if I see you wave to anybody, your ass is grass!"

The author continues to regale us with the struggles of Frank, Gina, Harold, Irwin, June, Liz, Montgomery, Nathan, Oswald, Patricia, Quentin, Randall, Steve, Theresa, Uriah, Vincent, Walther, Xavier, Yancy, and Zebediah Wonkie, but sadly runs out of excerpt before she can completely bore me to death.

I did learn a thing or two about Wonkies -- they are short, have stubby little legs, and are covered in fur which provides them with no protection from brambles or stray twigs.

I bet Molybdenum quakes in fear at the thought of an army of Ewoks Wonkies marching in and kicking the ever living shit out of it, despite its low density and stable market price or its ability to withstand extreme temperatures without significantly expanding or softening.

Actually, I rather envision Cosmos (who gets surprisingly little attention in the synopsis or excerpt despite apparently being the main character) as being about as impressed with the Wonkies as I am.

"I've just received word that the Wonkies are with us, sir!"

"Oh? Er ... excellent. Well, uh ... any word from the Elves or Centaurs yet?"

Blue Pencil #4: The Last One Standing

At Xlibris, science fiction is almost as big as self-help books and collections of poems about cats. It is from this deep well of imagination that I draw the latest subject for my snarky dissection: The Last One Standing, by Anthony L. McLaughlin.

In the year 2085: the moon has been colonized and renamed Gaia and a conglomerate known as the Kage Ninja Tenkai has become known worldwide both on Gaia and on Earth.

Who but the sly and wily ninja would rename the moon after the goddess of the earth?

Within the same year a young man named Mac Karasagi joins the group and is immediately accepted in among its elite. However, one year later, Mac finds himself knee deep in the Kage Ninja Tenkai's dirty secrets and a large plot that is much deeper than anything he has ever been involved with. Now it is up to this young man to bring down the larges organization the world has ever seen, and it seems as if he must do it alone.

Wait, our fate is in the hands of Mac, who is involved in a plot which, while it is much deeper than anything he has ever been involved with, is nonetheless only knee deep?

Who checked this guy's references?

I suppose I'd better hit the excerpt and find out if this story is as riveting as its brief synopsis would suggest...

The Kage Ninja Tenkai Headquarters was a rather large building that stuck from the surrounding structures. The entrance hall, however, made up the bulk of the headquarters, about sixty five percent of it...

What? Oh, sorry. I must have fallen asleep. Where was I?

It was grandeur and perhaps the most memorable thing of the building.

More memorable than the fact that it's full of ninjas? That must be one hell of an entrance hall!

The floor was made of many large tiles, each cut out in measurements of three feet by three feet, all made of a very expensive granite-marble mixture. The texture was also very distinct, a large mass of dark swirls with the occasional calligraphy-like swoosh of white.

Ninja HQ also sports four bathrooms, spacious walk-in closets, and an attached garage.

Mac made his way across the large floor and up the grandeur staircase.

I'm beginning to suspect that Mr. McLaughlin doesn't know what "grandeur" means. He sure is fond of it, though.

Skipping a bit, as the author has established the impeccable eye for interior decoration that is the hallmark of the ninja, we find Marc approaching the receptionist:

She looked up behind her crescent spectacles, she wasn't an elderly lady but the glasses she wore made her seem a bit more elderly then she really was.

Wait, she's not elderly, but her glasses make her seem more elderly than she actually is? How does that even ... oh, wait. Ninja.

"Are there any more missions lined up for me?"

The receptionist looked back down at the monitor and clicked on a few things with the wireless mouse.

A wireless mouse? The future is even more awesome than I had imagined!

"Hmm, it doesn't seem so. We'll call on you when you're needed." Mac smiled and nodded to show thanks as he turned away and quickly headed out of the headquarters.

What the hell? A treatise on the aesthetics of ninja decor, a building full of ninjas, and we're leaving already?

Mac's house wasn't too far from here, he could easily make it from this distance.

Don't strain yourself, warrior of the future.

Mac waited for a red light to come up on one of the busy intersections and ran across the street so he could continue on to his house. Mac made a few more turns and crossed over one more street before he came to the street on which his home was.

I don't know about you, but in my imagination, ninjas frigging jaywalk. Any cop on the street will tell you that if you try to give a ninja a ticket, the ninja will kill you with it.

Despite the close distance his home was in a neighborhood that seemed like a suburban far away from any city. Neon City was well built like that, though, there were several neighborhoods that seemed like suburban areas which were blocked off by large concrete walls to reduce the sounds of the city.

Jesus. I wonder how the schools are.

Mac's house wasn't too large only one story but it seemed to make up for it with length.

Hehe.

As he approached it he could see that his wife wasn't at home, her car wasn't in the driveway.

A married ninja who lives in a nice suburban subdivision? They really don't make em like they used to. In the future, I mean. They don't, in the future, make them like they used to ... forget it.

And that's pretty much it for the excerpt. An exciting sampling of a science fiction ninja adventure, featuring neither ninjas nor anything resembling science fiction. It's right up there with the L.A. Times' home buyers supplement.

Blue Pencil #3: The Jihad:Islams[sic] War In The West

For the third installment of Blue Pencil, I have chosen to move away from science fiction/fantasy for a bit, and bring you the inimitable The Jihad:Islams[sic] War In The West, by Wylie Burnett and Alodi Annis:

FOR DECADES, GREAT SECRECY CLOAKED THE ACTIVITIES OF THE RADICAL FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC MUSLIMS AFTER THEIR 20TH AND 21ST CENTURY ARMED CAMPAIGNS AGAINST WESTERN SOCIETIES. RELIGIOUS ZEALOTS FROM THE MIDDLE-EAST AND WORLD WIDE MIGRATED LEGALLY AND ILLEGALLY TO THE INDUSTRIAL NATIONS OF THE WORLD TO FORM COALITIONS WITH TERRORIST GROUPS THROUGH RELIGIOUS AND FRATERNAL ORGANIZATIONS. IN THE UNITED STATES THESE DIVERSE GROUPS BUILT CHURCHES., MOSQUES AND FAMILY ORIENTED ASSOCIATIONS THAT SERVED AS CONTACT POINTS AND PROVIDED FINANCIAL SUPPORT FOR DISGRUNTLED MINORITEIS AND ENEMIES OF THE CHRISTIAN MAJORITIES. THROUGH CAREFUL COORDINATION THE SHUR COUNCIL BROUGHT THE GROUPS TOGETHER WITH A PLAN TO SEIZE THREE WESTERN STATES. INTIMIDATION WAS BACKED BY MASSIVE WELL TRAINED GUERILLAS TO FORCE NEGOTIATION UPON A SADLY DIVIDED GOVERNMENT. THE STORY IS ABOUT THE FIVE ISLAMIC GENERALS AND MILLIONS OF FOLLOWERS WHO THROUGH YEARS OF PLANNING ARE NOW CAPTURING AND ISOLATING LOS ANGELES AND ORANGE COUNTIES IN SOUTHERR CALIFONRIA., TO FORCE THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT INTO A NEGOTIATED SETTLEMENT FOR THE FREE ISLAM NATION.

Whoa, there, you don't have to shout! .

Judging from this blurb, I suspect that Xlibris charges extra for paragraph breaks and lowercase letters in the ad copy. Spell-checking seems a likely candidate for extra charges as well.

An intriguing aspect of this no-holds-barred assault on reality is the notion that the goal of radical Islam is not, as you might expect, the fiery destruction of infidel society, but rather a "NEGOTIATED SETTLEMENT FOR THE FREE ISLAM NATION."

"Now that we have toppled the godless Americans from their position as a world power and seized key sites in Glendale, Irvine, and Norwalk, we will force the imperialist swine to NEGOTIATE! Yes, brothers, soon we will have brokered an amicable arrangement with the great Satan!"

I was surprised and alarmed to see this book classified as "Political Science," rather than "Fiction." If the forces of radical Islam are on the brink of seizing control of Los Angeles County, I really ought to buy my wife a Hijab.

Here's an excerpt:

The four Generals, three with bronze to deep brown skin and a black, sat silently absorbing the last words of a long and heated debate.

Amazingly, for non-fiction, the authors can actually describe in detail the proceedings of top-secret meetings of the radicals planning to overthrow America.

Then a concerned voice interrupted, "But the city is so vast, so spread out, it will take thousands of soldiers to be effective."

Considering that they apparently have "millions" of followers in Southern California, I don't see this as a big obstacle.

He studied each of the men's faces intently looking for support and acceptance but never doubting their commitment.

Whoa! They can even tell you what these people are thinking!

Thank God they're on our side.

Blue Pencil #2: A Deerhunter meets T-Rex

After the nail-biting intensity of G.E.E.N.I.E in a Bottle, I felt I needed something a bit lighter from the world of vanity publication. Hmm ... How about A Deerhunter meets T-Rex, by Rex Downie, Jr.? Sounds pretty good to me:

The Piper Comanche bored along at 160 knots over the Canadian bush, over the Little Current River, it’s destination Okogi up toward James Bay. But it hit instead a cosmic flight plan that changed it landing point to a sandy beach on a lake that existed ten thousand years before. The pilot was slain by the tusk of a Mammoth, and the passenger Harry Spragg then slew the Mammoth.

Well, this synopsis certainly is specific. Most synopses would leave the reader wondering, "exactly how fast was that plane going?" or "yes, the pilot was killed, but which part of the mammoth killed him?" None of that here.

Spragg then endured the great wrenching force of paradox and lived with people native to the lake area for two years, entering into combat with Sabre Toothed Tigers, Mammoths, the vorple T-Rex and a few Velociraptors thrown in to boot.

I'm not sure whether this is an introduction to the story or a description of what happens in it. I am interested in whether a vorple T-Rex goes "snicker-snack," however.

What is the Achilles heel of the T-Rex? How are Velociraptors like deer? The answers to these questions lie within, and, moreover, if you wish to escape these times for a new world in a primeval wilderness, with some excitement thrown in to boot, this book is for you.

How is a velociraptor like a deer? Neither one can whistle!

I don't know about you, but I'd find escaping these times for a new world in a primeval wilderness pretty exciting, but this book throws even more excitement in! What kind of excitement, I wonder?

I know, let's look at an excerpt!

CHAPTER SIX

The last battle; our Hero fights hand to hand.

Wow, Chapter Six and he's already on the last battle? These are truly savage times!

Harry sensed as the months passed after the Trex hunt that Yarthu had something on his mind, but his pre-occupation with Bluebird engaged him wholly, for she wanted to know his language and they spent hours exchanging word and ideas, that often left him exhausted.

I don't know about you, but talking rarely leaves me exhausted. I'm pretty sure there's more going on here with "Bluebird."

Harry's not much of a friend if he knows his friend has had something on his mind for months but he can't separate himself from some babe for five minutes to talk it over. Bros before hos, man!

He had scrawled out an alphabet with charcoal on hide and thought she'd grasped the huge chasm that lay between spoken and written word. They went together to the village nightly fires and feasts, and gradually Harry regained enough strength to go on hunts, but he couldn't pull a heavy bow and felt for awhile that his shoulder was so damaged that he was permanently injured.

Now, don't get me wrong: There's nothing I like better than time travel stories involving prehistoric times that somehow place humans and dinosaurs in the same era, but where's the battle we were promised?

Oh, here we go:

They moved on, crouching, waiting, moving, crouching, butting the spears in, as the soft grunts drew closer on either hand.

(If I was there, I'd have done more crouching. Crouching is key.)

After the third move, soft coughs came from front and rear, and Yarthu said "They charge now".

"Ahem. Ahem!" The sabre-tooth cleared its throat, informing the humans that it was about to attack. It hated Yarthu for his poor punctuation.

This warning gave Harry the eye to see a shift of color and shadow not ten feet distant in the bush to his right, and he swung the spear point right just as the massive head and outstretched paws loomed above him, and he raised the spear point into the throat just below the gaping maw, released his grip and rolled away from the beast as it flew over him, its' left paw tearing into his left shoulder.

Holy run-on sentence, Batman!

Wait, the warning gave him the eye to see? Clearly there is a supernatural aspect to the story that I'm not picking up on from this excerpt.

Blue Pencil #1: G.E.E.N.I.E In A Bottle

After the admittedly weakly-sourced fun-poking I did on Wednesday, I decided to poke around and see what self-publishing was all about (note that ParaWorld Zero, by Matthew Peterson, is NOT self-published).

I came upon a site called Xlibris, publisher of To Live Without Warning, by Timothy LaBadie, and, for as little as $300, publisher of just about anything else you care to send them.

Rather than get into the nitty-gritty details of how self-publication works, I thought I'd take a look at some of the offerings in Xlibris's bookstore. I think this is now one of my favorite sites.

I'd like to share some of these wonderful tales with you, the reader. I do this partially because of the immense entertainment value this site holds, but mostly because it's easy pickins. In honor of the editors these works clearly lack, I'm going to call this series, "Blue Pencil."

For my first foray, I have chosen the intriguingly-named G.E.E.N.E.E. In A Bottle, by Theodore Ransburg and Patrick Codden, the (really, really long) synopsis of which reads as follows (my comments in blue):

Professor Jonothon Richardson is a brilliant scientist, haunted by the biggest mistake of his career: years ago, while in government employ, his research led to an accidental explosion that claimed the life of his wife and child.

Leaving aside the question of which of Richardson's lesser mistakes might have haunted him, I'm wondering how a guy who we learn is a computer researcher managed to blow up his wife and child with his work.

"This code ... it's not compiling ... it's ... OH MY GOD!!! The CPU is overheati-- BOOOM!!! "

Now, in a lonely lab on one of Saturn’s moons, he toils away, trying to sublimate his guilt by creating the next leap in technology. By combining both organic and technological materials, he creates a living computer, capable of massive storage and computation, far surpassing even the impressive technology of the 24th Century. Thus is created G.E.E.N.E.E., which stands for “Genetically Engineered Essence, for Neurologically Enhanced Encryption.” (It is probably just coincidence that his daughter’s name was “Jeannie”...).

Yes, an intriguing coincidence, that!

His assistant is the effeminate Max DeBlanc, who attends to the Professor’s needs in a manner both effecient and annoying.

"Effeminate?" And, er ... what needs are we talking about here?

Secretly, however, Max is an Operative of the branch of the government who employs the good Doctor. His purpose is to secure the technology and make sure it is delivered into the proper hands. What he ends up creating is far more than even he bargained for, as the Professor solves the problem of true artificial intelligence. Not only is the new technology capable of super-computer tasks, but he implants it with the personality profile of his deceased daughter, in an emotional attempt to restore the life he feels he took from her.

Wait a minute! I thought it was a coincidence? Ransburg and Codden, you tricky bastards!

Just as the Professor successfully installs and interacts with his new creation, he is greeted with the unexpected arrival of a pack of super-human thieves. Nearly alien in appearance, they exhibit a terrifying ability to mutate their bodies in various ways, from surviving the rigors of deep space to forming armor plated skin and deadly tentacles. Overpowering both the Professor and the government-trained Max, they make off with their prize, following the orders of their mysterious commander.

So much for "government-trained" Max. A subtle comment on the limitations of effeminism and effeminists.

They are unaware that the organic components of the G.E.E.N.E.E. unit require a nutrient bath, that needs re-charging every few days. Meanwhile the Government, eager to get its hands on the new technology, deploys one of their top Agents, Sasha Sikorski, to retrieve it. Fresh out of a mock-combat training exercise (in which she demonstrates, purely and lethally, why she is the best in her field), she receives her new orders. When she arrives at the deep space lab, under cover and aboard a junker / courier ship, she finds the invention stolen and Max and the Professor badly beaten up.

So ... they've just been sitting there, beaten up, waiting for the cops to show? Must be disappointing when the doorbell rings and it's only a courier ... OR IS IT?

No! It's Sasha Sikorski, mistress of mock-combat!

Quickly re-grouping, Sasha commandeers the junker ship (overpowering the Captain and winning the begrudging fealty of his crew) and takes off to recover the stolen unit.

"Well, you beat up our Captain, and we're none too happy about that. Buuuuuut ... you are a woman, and space is lonely, so just let us know how we can help."

Unfortunately, the ship’s crew is indebted to the Overlord of the black market, and they can’t proceed any further into space without the mid-range drive that he holds as ransom for their latest cargo.

"Wait, you want to go where? Nope, no can do. You see, if you wanted to go kinda close by, or really really far away, we could help you, but our mid-range drive is in hock. Damn the luck."

Against Sasha’s better judgement (and the Professor’s emotional outburst),
they must journey to the heart of the criminal world – the black market headquarters of Baldezar, hidden in the asteroid belt of the solar system.

Considering that they are near Saturn, if they can get to the asteroid belt on the drive the ship has, why don't they just go where they need to go? Oh, wait. It's probably somewhere closer than the asteroid belt but farther than the corner deli. Curse that missing mid-range drive!

Once there, the ship’s crew tries to negotiate the terms of their business agreement (without the help of their Captain), while Sasha, Max and Professor Richardson shop around and try not to get themselves killed.

Oh my god. If I was at the black market, I'd totally go shopping. I mean, it's like, how often do you make it out to the asteroid belt?

Acquiring some valuable technology – and making enemies with nearly every guard in the place – the rag-tag team makes a quick get-away and rejoins the search for G.E.E.N.E.E.. The race against time is on, as the Doc calculates that her nutrient bath will run out in a few short days.

"Hmm. Maybe we shouldn't have taken time to go shopping. And, really, making enemies with nearly every guard did take a long time. Some of them were pretty cool."

When they finally manage to trace the signal, they find themselves headed for the darkest of Uranus’ moons, Umbriel. An abandoned mining facility there seems a likely hideout for the thieves.

Especially since, you know, we traced the signal there.

The final confrontation pits the Professor and Sasha against the evil artificial intelligence which has kidnapped G.E.E.N.E.E., in his element: inside his own mainframe!

Wait, "mainframe?" What year is this set in?

Meanwhile, Max and HeadTrip confront a fresh obstacle in the "real world" – another wave of genetically enhanced Mutates that guard the laboratory.

Wouldn't this indicate that the previously-described "final confrontation" is, in fact, the "penultimate confrontation?"

Will good triumph over evil? Will man secure his dominance over machines? The final answer may surprise us all, but the trip will be worth every second.

The only way to answer this question is to check out the excerpt!

CHAPTER THREE:

MUTATES IN THE EQUATION

Max woke up about halfway through his rest cycle, with a desperate need to use the waste management facilities.

Um. Let's skip a bit ...

Maybe the guy is part machine himself, he quipped. He sighed, and continued on down the hallway to relieve his call of nature.

Er, a bit further, please ...

Max's eyes flickered quickly over the Professor's torso before coming to rest on the real target—his right bicep. The Professor was not a body-builder, by any means. His physical development had been helped, however, through vitamins and technologically enhanced exercise in varying gravity fields. He was, in short, reasonably developed without being grotesque.

FURTHER!

She was a young Caucasian girl, with blonde hair pulled into twin pigtails. She looked around with a calm, curious expression on her face. As she locked eyes with him, there was some sort of familiar spark in her gaze, but it was gone so quickly it might have just been imagination in the first place.

"Hello," he began, hesitantly regaining his composure.

"Hello." Her voice was high-pitched, but not whiny as so many children's voices are. She spoke slowly and matter-of-factly.

Well, at least it doesn't involve bodily functions or inappropriate workplace ogling. But "Slowly and matter-of-factly?" All she said was, "Hello!"

What Max saw on his monitor was an unimaginably huge stream of data and computer commands scroll by on the screens in front of him.

I'm sorry, I can't quite envision how huge that stream of data and computer commands is. However huge I imagine it is, I'm reminded by the text that, no, it's even bigger.


Alas, despite the fact that no one takes any more bathroom breaks during the course of this excerpt, we are left with no answers as to the eventual triumph of good or evil. The evil "Mutates" arrive and, admirably overcoming the fact that their name is a verb, steal G.E.E.N.I.E and whisk her away to the outer edges of the solar system.

One can only hope that the rag-tag band of heroes will be unable to enlist the aid of the government that is so keenly interested in the professor's invention, and that they will, by grit and determination alone, find some way of confronting the villain in his very lair.

(Well, actually, thanks to the very lengthy synopsis, we know that they will do precisely that.)

But who will truimph? That's the question only you, the reader, can answer. (Because I'm certainly not going to read it.)

Jesus, speaking of needing editors ... I think this is the longest thing I've ever posted. Oh well.

Fiction - Divided Loyalties

I've decided to try to motivate myself to write by creating a new blog where I'll post fiction I'm working on in serial form. I'll link it here when I update, which I'm hoping to do at least twice a week.

The first entry I'm posting is the beginning of a fantasy story I'm very tentatively calling "Divided Loyalties." Some folks may have read this first bit in a different form before.

Anyway, feel free to comment, as this is a work in progress.

Divided Loyalties, Part One

Sometimes You Get the Bear...

Hi. Remember me?

If you're still bothering to check this blog, I appreciate your patience. It's not like I've kept up with the non-stop witty and insightful commentary that was my stock-in-trade in the salad days.

Why is that? Well, as much as I'd like to blame computer games, I usually do most of my posting at work (like I am now). And I have been pretty busy with work.

In fact, I recently found out that the search for another programmer/analyst here has been put "on hold" due to a hiring freeze. Isn't that super? I'd try to spin that into something positive, like "job security," if not for the fact that my company is absolutely in love with outsourcing.

Oh well.

On another note, I choked on NaNoWriMo for the third time in a row. This time I only ended up about 8100 words in before I decided it really wasn't interesting me anymore. For that, at least, computer games are at least partially to blame. But I haven't managed to finish a 30 day novel since the first one, and I think a large part of it is that feeling that, "I've done this already."

After all, the end product of a 30 day novel-writing blitz is rarely something you're going to be proud of, except for the pride of actually having finished the damn thing. I've finished one, so I keep wanting to write something worth writing and I keep finding that the 30 day novel process ends up taking whatever decent ideas I have and grinding them into a meaningless word count exercise.

This time around, I really didn't prepare for it. The companion book is called, "No Plot? No Problem!" which, I guess, is accurate if you're just pumping out word count, but it's really not interesting enough to keep me on track. It feels a lot less like writing a novel than like doing homework, and I'm too old for homework.

"So take your supposedly good ideas and write a novel!" you might suggest. Maybe I will, but I'm starting to suspect that long form writing isn't really in the cards for me. Maybe short stories, I'm not sure. I think I need a little time to form some kind of perspective about the whole thing.

Plus, I have a sandwich to eat.

"...and then a bunch of ninjas come in through the skylight."

Jeez.

I'm starting to think I should have done a lot more prepping for this NaNoWriMo. I'm only about a day and quarter or so behind schedule, but my attitude has gone pretty sour. Now I feel like I'm telling two completely different stories, only one of which is even vaguely interesting, and I'm struggling to make much headway.

I added part of a prelude to try to give the damn thing some context, but, really, I can only give it the illusion of context since there is literally no continuity for it to flesh out.

I'm starting to debate the merit of pounding out word count just for the sake of pounding out word count. I really hope something catches pretty soon or this is going to be a major chore.

NaNoWriMo Begins!

Just finished my first day of writing for NaNoWriMo 2007 at 1,683 words.

I had a small body of notes on this story that I thought I'd be using. It concerned a young man newly made a lord by the death of his older brother returning to his home.

Then an assassin jumped him. I'm not sure where that came from, though I had my suspicions the moment the character appeared. Luckily, he was saved by ... um ... somebody. So far, the other person is just a loud voice behind a door and a very heavy knock.

I guess this is a good beginning, since I'm rather curious about what will be revealed in tomorrow's chapter.

Me and my Big Mouth

So, over at Ixt's blog, I declared my intention to do another NaNoWriMo novel this year.

The last one I attempted was in November of last year, and I made it to about 22,000 words. At 1665 words a day, that's about 13 days in. It's actually better than I had thought (progress-wise, that is -- I have no idea if the story's worth a damn), which gives me some hope that I might be able to pull through a full month's work again, like I did in 2005.

The main obstacle in my way (other than the writing itself) is that, like 2006, but unlike 2005, I have no clear idea that I'm eager to put into book form.

In 2005, I wrote a science fiction novel set pretty much in the present day. It was about an attempt by a game company to introduce a very sophisticated brand of artificial intelligence into a new game and nearly going broke in the process. They had teamed with a hardware developer who was planning to make computer components specifically designed to handle intense computation of behaviors and so on to make the opponents in games more realistic and challenging. Of course, it veered into a Terminator-esque "AI out of control" scenario, which, though it had a few scenes I thought were nice, didn't exactly break any new ground in storytelling.

I had a very clear plot, well ahead of time. I outlined it, I researched it, and never really fell very far behind in the writing process.

2006, on the other hand, was a muddle. On the one hand, I felt the story I had going then was a lot more original, but on the other hand, it wasn't writing itself like the first one was.

It was about several people whose lives intersected with a missing man, and some decidedly strange events that each encountered while trying to discover what had become of him. Though it had a few cliche science fiction/fantasy elements, I thought it was a decent concept.

The problem was, it was only a concept, not a story, and that became pretty clear about the time I quit writing it. There wasn't anywhere to go with the story that I was interested enough to write.

So, between now and November, I've got to figure out a story that will keep me interested in writing it. It would be nice if that story was actually one I thought was worth telling, but I have come to understand that a crappy story, finished, is a lot better than a good idea that goes nowhere.