I wrote this in several sittings so it's not as polished as it should be, but it's a first draft and of a decent length. I'm satisfied with it for now.
I'm heavily influenced by D&D at the moment. I've been running a campaign now for about six hours, maybe more, and I have to say it's freakin' awesome. I have a great group to play it with and they've been really imaginative.
I'm hoping I can use some of their ideas in this, and vice versa.
Today is Bank Holiday Monday, I plan to drink coffee from my favourite coffee place and write this novel.
This is more of an interlude than a chapter, standing at only 700 words, but for now it's a chapter. Also mainly because it takes place in a different character's perspective and a different place.
Anila; to be fair she's got no fixed idea in my head yet what she looks like. She's more like a bundle of ideas and concepts at the moment, but that'll change as I write more with her. Eventually she'll be a proper main character with her own perspective chapters regularly.
For now, please enjoy this!
Chapter 4, and we find out a little more about Victor. Public opinion has this guy as some sort of saint, but the reality is apparently far from the truth. I've used some older material on this chapter, and I'm hoping it still comes together to make a coherent chapter; much of it, about 80%, is brand new and written this evening, mostly after a pint of beer, so I hope it still makes sense. As always, this is a FIRST DRAFT.
Read MoreChapter 2 - we find out a little about what's going on.
Visually, in my mind at least, Victor is based on Sarge from Quake 3. No shit. Down to the cigar and everything. He's a world-weary fighter, seen it all, done it all, killed it all, retired but not really; he's something like Bruce Willis' character in that film about the retired assassins.
Chapter 1 - I've sat on this for far too long, so I'll just get it out there. As always, this is a FIRST DRAFT.
POISONROOT
Trip stumbled on through the night. Thick clouds covered the moon but ahead, through the gloom, he could see his goal; the village of Monk’s Retreat, at once close and far away to his twelve-year-old mind. He took a deep breath and pushed away his weariness, concentrating instead on heading towards the small town. An especially sharp gust of wind blew through him and he shivered, hugging his simple brown robe closer. Not for the first time, he wished that the monastery had believed in warmer clothing. Or better weapons.
Read MoreI know that a prologue is meant to be written after you've written most of the rest of the story but, screw it, I know where this story is going; I've got it planned out, the whole document. It probably means I'll fall into JK Rowling's trap where my final chapter is still doggedly trying to fit into a dress that is ten years too small for it, but we'll see. I'll be glad to get to the end of the book!
So here it is, the FIRST DRAFT (and those two words apply to everything else about Poisonroot that come onto this blog) of the first part of Poisonroot. This is a special project for me, because I'm writing it twice, effectively; parts of the world and setting are being used for my D&D campaign which I'm running with the brilliant Nana Li, John Aggs, Chippy and my beautiful wife Susan; somehow, miraculously, all four have blogs I can link you to!
The Prologue!
I wanted to write a sequel to 035 - Hold My Hand but this wasn't quite what I had in mind. It's there, though, and done now.
I'll admit that this is a little loose. There's too many places, it's too bitty, I'm not really sure why Shania came back to see John and it ends with someone's nipple being forcibly embedded in a person's back. But hey, I wrote it and it's staying that way. I'm feeling tired and cold and slightly feeble, and I don't want to go back and rewrite it.
I haven't had the time to write recently. I saw something that said that writing should be in your top five things to do if you want to try and be a serious writer. I do want to be a serious writer, but I suddenly realised earlier today that I haven't actually sat behind my netbook all week. Literally, I switched it off last Sunday and didn't switch it on again until today. Crazy thought there.
Read MoreWhile watching an episode of the original series of Star Trek, I stumbled upon a journal post in my deviantArt account. Live-Love-Write, one of the groups there, has a weekly writing prompt, and to be honest I rarely give it much thought. This week, emboldened by the two pieces of fiction I've already completed and uploaded today, I looked at it.
The result is a post-apocalyptic mix of a true gentleman in a situation not unlike The Hunger Games (the first book of which I've read and truly enjoyed) and The Running Man (King at his best as his pen-name Bachman). It's not long, it's not even particularly good, perhaps, but it's a successful twisting of what should have been a wonderfully positive prompt. All of the examples they gave were about lights finding you in the darkest of times, positive things leading you onwards. Of course, I immediately wondered what it might be like if you didn't want the light to find you, if the darkness were your friend. This is the result.
A love story, this time, and taking the theme completely literally this time. I really enjoyed writing this one and it's something I'm sure I'll return to. I know a lot of things have been set on Mars but I tried for a slightly different idea here.
Edit: My wife (who has an excellent blog over here) has suggested I make a sequel to this, continue the story. It's swilled around in my head for a couple of weeks and I think I have a solution. It's going to be a bit of an homage but I think I can pull it off.
Read MoreWell here we are. The writing bug is back, and feeling good. Each piece seems to feel more natural much better.
I don't plan these in any way. I generally start with a central idea, given to me by the theme, usually a twisted idea. Thought process for this one went 'Stars in the sky, stars on TV, stars sewn onto something as badges or embroidered (like Soviet stars), been looking at tattoos today, ooh, tattooed stars.' The whole story went from there.
Probably the first time a character in a story has surprised me by revealing something about themselves right at the end.
I've been out of writing for a long time. My last piece was Easter, about two months ago, and before that it was a long old time.
My reasons for this sound, to my ears at least, mournfully self-pitying. However, as far as I'm concerned, this is my story and I'm sticking with it. My job has kept me very busy and I simply haven't had the mental space to write. I sometimes feel like writing requires at least two of these three: Time, willpower, energy. Pick two. I haven't managed to have two of those in the same space for nearly a year now.
Read MoreInitially an idea we had for the Manga Jiman competition 2010, I was stuck for inspiration when I came across the plan. The next theme fitted it quite well; originally it was set during the day, but it was easy enough to repurpose, and actually I think it words better this way. I enjoy the idea of the grainy green night-vision goggles with the people picked out in white.
Written in a Cornish pub called something like Cornubia in Gwithian.
The last piece for Oxy. The real thing will be here someday, promise.
Robert turned the flower over in his hand. A lily, pale white, stamens heavy with pollen. He held it up to the light, catching the delicate tracery of veins in the glow from the phoslight.
“And you found this... where?” he asked.
The young man sitting on the other side of his cluttered desk gulped down air. He was one of the furthest patrols in the area and there was no telling how far or fast he had run to get this back to base.
Read MoreThis one fitted the idea for Oxy really well; a world too polluted to live out in the open, unless you had filters which you kept refreshed with precious oxygen. The rain was acid and only mutants could survive in it for long.
This one flowed easily.
Grozchev was the antagonist for Oxy, my NaNo piece. He's a truly horrible person; I like making horrible people. They're so much fun to write about!
Definitely going to finish Oxy sometime.
He says.
Another piece for the failed NaNo entry. Meela, as a character, stayed in, as did Richard from the previous Theme.
Meela stared out the window. The rain spattered against the pane, droplets combining to form rivulets that dribbled down over the windowsill and fell the twenty storeys to the ground. Her forehead rested against the cold glass, breath misting up a small circle.
“Why do you have to go?” she had cried.
“If we want a healthy child, I have to go.” He had been so careful to keep his expression warm, loving, despite her outburst. Damn him, he had always been so good at that.
Read MoreThis was originally designed to be a taster piece for my NaNoWriMo 2011 work. Ultimately, I didn't like that and never completed it. It will definitely come here as a short piece, though; it deserves to be finished.
The setting is somewhat more sci-fi than most of my stuff, too; perhaps I tried too much change all at once. Anyway, here it is! This and the next few of the 100 Themes were for NaNo, but obviously with different focuses.
Something rather more a period drama, I think. Also an experiment in first-person writing, once again. It's not my favoured type of writing but it's something I'd like to work with.
'My Dearest Clarabel,’ the letter began. There was a strange splodge of dark brown in the space before the end of the line, as if something liquid had been dripped onto the paper. My mouth twisted in distaste. She’d cried over this. Ugh.
Read More