Category: Writing

The turmoils of night and day,
The mistakes that arose,
A celestial voice bade me let you go,
Voices of confused innards,
The pacing of floors at midnight,
Yearning for what was out there
Out beyond myself.
A short respite came,
But still did you need to fly from me,
My poesy misapplied,
My incapable self.
Fly away.
Fly to your love.
Do not think of me,
Only pray for my spirit.

Interesting the language of the times of the recent luminaries like Lewis and Tolkien, where the meaning of the sentence depends on its end. Similar to German, where the verb comes at the end. It takes some careful following of each thought until we know the conclusion.

Excerpt 1 from Ascension Ceres:

Two hours later, E and Perry saw the TGS headquarters building. Once a gleaming glass and electrically-lit edifice, it had now been shattered by projectile weapons and sparked electricity. The bus stopped and E helped Perry get out and sat her down on the stairs to the main door. He saw people scurrying out carrying cardboard boxes full of possessions.
“I’ll try to be fast.”
E entered the building and found a console kiosk and logged in. He accessed the personnel system, but there was too much to go through. How could he get W’s real name? Useless. Then he remembered Perry mentioning her family. He perused the records for Puncher and found an address. He saved it, but what next?
E ran to the wood and gold building directory and skimmed down the list until he saw “7A-7X.” Hmm. He stopped a security guard as he was leaving.
“Is the seventh floor still occupied?”
“Sorry, no information there,” said the guard, “but you should get out of here ASAP.”
Seeing the elevators were not safe, E took the stairs up. He found himself in a hallway of frosted glass and silver-handled door knobs. Let’s see, A, B, C and he jogged down to W. Finding the door locked, he tried to break in with the butt of his EM gun, but couldn’t. Just then the door opened.
Track 6922 opened the door and E could see a couple of other people clearing out shelves and cupboards.
“A massive cyberattack shut down TGS three days ago,” said 6922. “All management has left. Which model are you looking for?”
“Where is W?”
“She’s at these coordinates,” he said while handing him a mini-crystal. “Be careful out there, and—just know that she won’t know who you are. And you may not like what you find.”

***
E opened the hatch from the selftaxi and a light drizzle hit him. He looked up at the sun covered in red mist.
“Wait here,” he said to Perry. She nodded.
E squished through the mud until he got on the stone path. Around him there was only five feet of visibility in the fog.
He walked until he saw a small, lone, glass-domed building in front of him, right where Track said it would be.
He knocked. She opened the door and looked up at him. She was wearing a yellow parka and her green eyes were under black hair.
“You’re real.”
She nodded.
“Do you remember me?”
“One of my favorites,” she said with her natural-sounding voice.
“What does it all mean?”
“I’m just a stand-in. What are you looking for?”
E shook his head.
There was supposed to be companionship in Eden. This was a farce.
“You’re just an employee. You’re complicit.”
“Look, I didn’t mean any harm to you.”
“No one means harm in the Ocean.”
E turned and jogged back to the taxi.
“Wait,” cried W.
E sat next to Perry.
“What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said.
The small EV sped toward the aurora nuclearus. They were frightened of what would happen.

***

Memory shorts out, a fizzle.
But real electricity is directed.
Power, face burnt out.
Nothing remains that is separate.
We are subsumed under image.
Please tell me when this is over
So i can get back to thinking.

Just finished Syd Field’s Screenplay: The Foundations of Screenwriting. It was a good review of the most well-known screenwriter’s teaching.

Boiling it down:

Act I – The setup
–Plot point 1
Act II – Confrontation
–Plot point 2
Act III – Resolution

Each act has a beginning, middle and end.

Field uses real scripts, real movies and years of training to cover the discipline from concept to finished script.

It was actually my second read and I did absorb more.

I have had a couple of scripts in the works for ages now. I suffer from writer’s block often and Field speaks to that. He also covers collaboration, adaptation and copyrighting.

Just brilliant.

I’ve been thinking about gravitas. Your voice is developed and the more confronted your flaws and faults, the more authority starts to develop.

If you decide that big words makes one look more intelligent, you present yourself as striving to be relevant. Plain writing will let your readers know you are genuine. You don’t have to prove yourself if you are just honest.

There’s a comedian that appeared unsure of himself back in the 90s. Now he has decided to reference obscure subjects and be unpredictable in that manner. You can’t “figure him out.”

I like to think my authority more developed since I was in undergrad. It doesn’t mean I’m an “authority,” but just that I know myself more now.

Authority developed means territory staked out. I’ve just started.

Is it possible to create fiction without touching on Jung’s or Campbell’s types?

Trying to break the stereotype should not be the goal. Story is challenging because you are making new spins on old stories.

For the longest time I thought being unique and new would help in writing stories. J.K. Rowling borrows from a lot of classical and British forms. Yet she is one of the most successful writers on the planet. Even science fiction borrows from forms.

Along with this is another question I have: Is it possible to write great fiction without having a storytelling spirit at birth?

I think reading is just as important as writing a lot. You learn by both.

Can’t go back to visiting my professor at his book-hidden desk. Can’t rush it either.

Writing takes time. Writing takes skill that can be built.

Lindsay Addario on Firing Line with Margaret Hoover. She covered her times as a war correspondent and the losses of fellow journalists and the decimation of civilians in local communities.

Photographing the Reality of War – The New York Times (nytimes.com)

I wanted to be a photojournalist for a bit, until things just happened. It’s not glamorous (just the idea of a Pulitzer maybe). You have to love what you do.

Just getting back to writing again, as I was on a birthday “getaway.”

Waiting to get my new 100th edition of the Writer’s Market. From years of journalism, literature and writing conference suggestions:
Writer’s Market 100th Edition: The Most Trusted Guide to Getting Published: Brewer, Robert Lee: 9780593332030: Amazon.com: Books