Uncanny
Today's Word Count: 387 words, 36.5k total
Excerpt:
Daniel closed his eyes tightly and focused on something else, anything else. The carnival came quickly to his mind, and why wouldn’t it? It had been his home. He concentrated on the lights and the noises; they washed over him, as familiar and comforting as a lullaby. The high-pitched screams of delight, the childish laughter. Bells and whistles, sirens and dancing lights flashing, seizure-inducing excess. The warm smell of popcorn, sailing to him across oceans of grease and dripping caramel. There, someone was spooling cotton candy around their finger. Here, two lovers were locked in a sugary kiss.
The beat goes on. Had to cut some of an old sequence, but made up for it with a new one. Trying to move the story forward. New threads are slowly forming.
Onward!
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Novel Stats
Uncanny
Today's Word Count: 972 words, 36.1k total
Excerpt:
“There anything I can do to help?”
The man looked past him and inclined his head. “Your car. What model is that?”
“It’s a Toyota. But I’ve forgotten the model name. Some cloud formation. Cumulus, Nimbus.” The man leered at him. Timothy felt like he had failed a small yet important test of his own manhood. “It’s a rental,” he finished sheepishly.
“That right,” the man remarked. He looked at Timothy from the soles of his feet on up, like he was sizing him. Timothy shifted on his feet. This man could certainly do him no harm—but his heart thumped in his chest just the same.
Things are going okay. Finished my past scene, a character building one, and pasted it on in. It looks good in there--it was much too short to begin with. *Sigh* I suppose at some point I should get back to advancing the story...
Today's Word Count: 972 words, 36.1k total
Excerpt:
“There anything I can do to help?”
The man looked past him and inclined his head. “Your car. What model is that?”
“It’s a Toyota. But I’ve forgotten the model name. Some cloud formation. Cumulus, Nimbus.” The man leered at him. Timothy felt like he had failed a small yet important test of his own manhood. “It’s a rental,” he finished sheepishly.
“That right,” the man remarked. He looked at Timothy from the soles of his feet on up, like he was sizing him. Timothy shifted on his feet. This man could certainly do him no harm—but his heart thumped in his chest just the same.
Things are going okay. Finished my past scene, a character building one, and pasted it on in. It looks good in there--it was much too short to begin with. *Sigh* I suppose at some point I should get back to advancing the story...
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Novel Stats
Uncanny
Today's Word Count: 639 Words
Excerpt:
The man watched him approach, a cold look on his face. The woman had retreated back inside the car and shut the door. He glanced in as he passed by. She was looking steadily ahead, her fingers crawling in her lap like spiders. He looked ahead and fixed a smile to his lips.
“Car trouble?”
Blue jeans man scratched under his chin and batted his eyes, as if to say, you figured that one out, eh genius? Timothy felt the slightest tinge of anger slip into his heart like a thin, poisoned dagger. His smile fell a few notches. Blue jeans man said nothing. He was wringing the rag (which was actually just his shirt, Timothy could see now) like he was trying to rid it of water.
I'm filling out a character, and thus filling out an old scene that was originally about a page long. Hopefully, it will be larger and more revealing by the time I'm done with it. I like visiting the past. Sometimes, it gives me direction for the future.
Over and Out!
Today's Word Count: 639 Words
Excerpt:
The man watched him approach, a cold look on his face. The woman had retreated back inside the car and shut the door. He glanced in as he passed by. She was looking steadily ahead, her fingers crawling in her lap like spiders. He looked ahead and fixed a smile to his lips.
“Car trouble?”
Blue jeans man scratched under his chin and batted his eyes, as if to say, you figured that one out, eh genius? Timothy felt the slightest tinge of anger slip into his heart like a thin, poisoned dagger. His smile fell a few notches. Blue jeans man said nothing. He was wringing the rag (which was actually just his shirt, Timothy could see now) like he was trying to rid it of water.
I'm filling out a character, and thus filling out an old scene that was originally about a page long. Hopefully, it will be larger and more revealing by the time I'm done with it. I like visiting the past. Sometimes, it gives me direction for the future.
Over and Out!
Friday, February 16, 2007
Novel Stats
Uncanny
Today's Word Count: 617 words, 34.5k total
Excerpt:
“Daniel…do you know how you got here?”
He shook his head in reply. No, he hadn’t thought of how he had come here. Daniel had been fighting to figure out where “here” was. But then it came to him, sharp and clear, like a ray of sun piercing the clouds. He wasn’t sure he could do it, but after a brief struggle, he lifted his arms up and out. They shook violently with the effort, like he was holding invisible paint cans. He flapped them in the air, once, twice, and then he let them fall to the ground.
“You flew here?”
An old joke, planted in some dark, hidden field of his mind, came plowing its way to the surface. “And boy, are my arms tired.”
Well, things are going okay. I'm still in my Stephen King induced inspirational mode, so hopefully that continues for a while. I've found another trap that I'll have to dodge: overusing metaphors. Today, it seemed I wanted to end every sentence with "like this" or "just like that" or "as if".
I enjoy metaphors, I really do, like a wino enjoys wine. They are a good thing, I just don't want to overuse them; like a woman might wear too much makeup.
Anyway...
Onward!
Today's Word Count: 617 words, 34.5k total
Excerpt:
“Daniel…do you know how you got here?”
He shook his head in reply. No, he hadn’t thought of how he had come here. Daniel had been fighting to figure out where “here” was. But then it came to him, sharp and clear, like a ray of sun piercing the clouds. He wasn’t sure he could do it, but after a brief struggle, he lifted his arms up and out. They shook violently with the effort, like he was holding invisible paint cans. He flapped them in the air, once, twice, and then he let them fall to the ground.
“You flew here?”
An old joke, planted in some dark, hidden field of his mind, came plowing its way to the surface. “And boy, are my arms tired.”
Well, things are going okay. I'm still in my Stephen King induced inspirational mode, so hopefully that continues for a while. I've found another trap that I'll have to dodge: overusing metaphors. Today, it seemed I wanted to end every sentence with "like this" or "just like that" or "as if".
I enjoy metaphors, I really do, like a wino enjoys wine. They are a good thing, I just don't want to overuse them; like a woman might wear too much makeup.
Anyway...
Onward!
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Novel Stats
Uncanny
Today's Word Count: 500 words, 33.9k total
Excerpt:
The man stretched back to his feet, and Daniel caught a flash of light, a daggered reflection, from the man’s coat pocket. Glasses. Like before. A doctor.
Dr. Weiss.
The name came to him like a whisper on the air. A voice, just to his left. He whipped his head to the side but his chin fell helplessly to his chest. A new wave of dizziness swept over him. The man, Dr. Weiss, leaned into his colleague. They conversed quietly. Daniel strained to listen; his ears itched madly, as if someone was tickling them with a feather.
Stayed up too late last night. A friend from Oregon is in town. I'm actually surprised I was able to write anything today. Feeling good about my voice now--though I'm afraid I'm quickly becoming a Stephen King clone.
Onward!
Today's Word Count: 500 words, 33.9k total
Excerpt:
The man stretched back to his feet, and Daniel caught a flash of light, a daggered reflection, from the man’s coat pocket. Glasses. Like before. A doctor.
Dr. Weiss.
The name came to him like a whisper on the air. A voice, just to his left. He whipped his head to the side but his chin fell helplessly to his chest. A new wave of dizziness swept over him. The man, Dr. Weiss, leaned into his colleague. They conversed quietly. Daniel strained to listen; his ears itched madly, as if someone was tickling them with a feather.
Stayed up too late last night. A friend from Oregon is in town. I'm actually surprised I was able to write anything today. Feeling good about my voice now--though I'm afraid I'm quickly becoming a Stephen King clone.
Onward!
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Novel Stats
Uncanny
Today's Word Count: 979 words, 33.4k total
Excerpt:
“Ed?” Martha spoke suddenly, and both he and the nurse jumped. He got to his feet shakily, both hands grasping the bed railing. Martha was moving her head slowly from side to side, her mouth laying open shapelessly. Air escaped through her clenched teeth with a sound like a rattle.
“Martha? Oh, Martha, don’t speak.” He looked desperately at the nurse. “Can you do something?”
She mashed the call button, opened the nightstand drawer, and began to paw through it. “We can make her comfortable.”
Another nurse came in, holding a syringe. She handed it to the nurse standing beside the bed and she inserted the needle into the tube leading to Martha’s arm. Her pathetic thrashings subsided. The guttural noise died slowly in her throat. It sounded like removing a steaming tea kettle from the burner.
Ok Levi--you were right.
I posted yesterday about how, upon Levi's advice, I read an excerpt from an author before I began writing in an effort to inspire. I said yesterday that rather than inspire me, it depressed me, seeing how many leagues away I was from the supreme talent of a published author.
But now I am inspired. I guess for me it takes a day or two to sink in.
I've realized that I don't really have a voice of my own--no one writes in a vacuum. And that's a good thing.
Onward!
Today's Word Count: 979 words, 33.4k total
Excerpt:
“Ed?” Martha spoke suddenly, and both he and the nurse jumped. He got to his feet shakily, both hands grasping the bed railing. Martha was moving her head slowly from side to side, her mouth laying open shapelessly. Air escaped through her clenched teeth with a sound like a rattle.
“Martha? Oh, Martha, don’t speak.” He looked desperately at the nurse. “Can you do something?”
She mashed the call button, opened the nightstand drawer, and began to paw through it. “We can make her comfortable.”
Another nurse came in, holding a syringe. She handed it to the nurse standing beside the bed and she inserted the needle into the tube leading to Martha’s arm. Her pathetic thrashings subsided. The guttural noise died slowly in her throat. It sounded like removing a steaming tea kettle from the burner.
Ok Levi--you were right.
I posted yesterday about how, upon Levi's advice, I read an excerpt from an author before I began writing in an effort to inspire. I said yesterday that rather than inspire me, it depressed me, seeing how many leagues away I was from the supreme talent of a published author.
But now I am inspired. I guess for me it takes a day or two to sink in.
I've realized that I don't really have a voice of my own--no one writes in a vacuum. And that's a good thing.
Onward!
Monday, February 12, 2007
Novel Stats
Uncanny
Today's Word Count: 380 words, 32k total
Excerpt:
“She’s got to eat, Mr. Workman. Keep her strength up.”
Ed sighed, a long expense of breath. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The nurse drummed on the tray with her knuckles. Ed looked up at her for the first time. She was pretty, brown hair tucked neatly under a knitted wool cap, makeup applied sparingly to her eyes and lashes, smile lines etched in from years of use. She saw that he was looking at him and spoke up nervously.
Well I went with Levi's suggestion and read a little bit of my favorite author, Stephen King, for some artistic inspiration before I sat down to write.
It didn't inspire me. It depressed me.
What an amazing craftsman he is! I was looking through one of his earliest published works, Carrie. Even then, at that tender age (I think he was still a teenager), he had incredible skill and polish.
After reading through a few pages, I wanted to print out my own story simply to burn it, hang it in effigy, throw it into a river.
Maybe that was an overreaction. But man, is that guy good.
Till next time.
Today's Word Count: 380 words, 32k total
Excerpt:
“She’s got to eat, Mr. Workman. Keep her strength up.”
Ed sighed, a long expense of breath. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The nurse drummed on the tray with her knuckles. Ed looked up at her for the first time. She was pretty, brown hair tucked neatly under a knitted wool cap, makeup applied sparingly to her eyes and lashes, smile lines etched in from years of use. She saw that he was looking at him and spoke up nervously.
Well I went with Levi's suggestion and read a little bit of my favorite author, Stephen King, for some artistic inspiration before I sat down to write.
It didn't inspire me. It depressed me.
What an amazing craftsman he is! I was looking through one of his earliest published works, Carrie. Even then, at that tender age (I think he was still a teenager), he had incredible skill and polish.
After reading through a few pages, I wanted to print out my own story simply to burn it, hang it in effigy, throw it into a river.
Maybe that was an overreaction. But man, is that guy good.
Till next time.
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