Of Food and Nursery Rhymes

The hunger had nagged at him all day. At work, on the commute, every little action punctuated by appetite. Now he was home. He could relax. But did he dare? A naughty little snack here and there never did hurt anybody... Jeff tugged open the fridge door.

His mouth watered at the pedicured foot.

So, I've been a bad boy and don't have any writing to show you aside from that SUPER short story I slapped together. It feels a lot like the Very Short Stories I write on Twitter. Essentially you have a character limit, and have to make a compelling story fit in there. I feel like it's helped me grow as a writer.

Apparently my subject matter is still drek, though.

No matter! The book is plugging away. I'm still getting agent refusals left and right, but I have one or two things that are looking promising. Maybe I'll entered the esteemed halls of "published writer" yet. Until then I'll keep plugging away at the second book.

Also, damn you, Kelly. You turned children's rhymes into a terrible thing.

"Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack,

All dressed in black, black, black,

She had a knife, knife, knife,

Stuck in her back, back, back.

She can not breathe, breathe, breathe,

She can not cry, cry, cry,

That's why she begs, begs, begs,

She begs to die, die die.

I feel the creative juices flowing. Maybe something will come of that?

LISTEN TO ME!

The more that I write, the more I look at the writing in other things. Shows, movies, books, it doesn't matter, I'm deciphering if they're a good story, and what makes them a good story.

Veronica Mars is a damn good story.

Interesting, multi-faceted character? Check! Interesting, multi-faceted cast? Check! Great storyline? Check! Kristen Bell, who I wish would just return ONE of my phone calls? Oh, uh, check!

I'm only in the first season, but it promises to be a good one. There's an overall plot for the season that tingles my spine. It's more heavily touched on in some episodes than others, but it always has a presence. Of course that doesn't mean that there aren't other, interesting stories being told, or that this somehow negates the power of the seasonal plot. Everything feels pertinent, relevant, powerful.

Where other shows would do self-contained episodes, or introduce a "villain of the week," Veronica Mars turns that trope on its head. Everything, and everyone, is related. Slowly the story constructs a vast, interesting universe. It's not just a story. These are people, and by God, you love them and hate them as much as you would those in your life.

So watch it. For the love of God, watch it. It deserves so much more recognition than it's garnered. If you hold any respect for me, even any shred of pity, go watch this.

Please.

Trembles in the cold, forgotten and alone.

Oh, also, the book's chugging along fine. I took a break for my birthday, but I've been plugging along today. The book is at 11,000 words, and I feel like it's going to be longer than the first.

The fact that the first one wasn't a fluke is, well, exciting as hell in itself.

E & E Forever

So, I lied.

A few nights ago a friend of mine, Joe Kawano, put a gun against my head and made me write. It was terrible. There's probably emotional scarring to go along with it, to be honest.

Yet I hope my suffering can bring you all some joy.

I don't know quite what's going on here. I just started writing and it... well, worked. It's not the best, but I think it has some nice imagery and flow. The opening is especially a joy to me.

As for Johnny's second book, I'm hard at work. It's flowing nicely, and the world's getting a little broader. I hope that with each book, we'll explore a region of it, whether it's technology, races, or cultures. By the time I finish this, I want the world to be fully fleshed.

The barrel still burned bright, cherry red as a cigarette. Elizabeth laid at his feet motionless, a good chunk missing from her abdomen.

"It was the only way," he whispered, more for himself than her. Her nails still were raked red with his blood. He'd seen teeth in tiger's shorter than the talons, and neck ached with the slow, steady bleed. He needed to get out of here or he'd die.

He couldn't handle another attack. Into the alley he stumbled, slamming into trash cans and brick. The former when tumbling to the ground while the latter stood strong, a handhold for a dying man. Eustice shook his head, trying to clear out the cobwebs.

Overhead something eclipsed the moon. A flutter of bat wings and it was gone.

Eustice picked up the pace. His legs trembled and the cannon was held limply at his side. Bit by bit he left a trail, bit by bit he grew slower. He felt cold, cold as the corpses that pursued him.

"Just a little farther," he mumbled. The alley swam and dipped, up becoming right, and down becoming something north of left. Bile choked his throat, and Eustice was sick against the wall. His shoulders shuddered and his stomach ached.

"It's time to give up."

Eustice swung around, his hand cannon brought to bear. He was tragically too slow. A casual hand swatted it to the side, the gun dancing across the asphalt. There she stood, in all her glory, empty abdomen and all. Eustice couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He had killed her once already -- he couldn't try it a second time.

 Elizabeth smiled sadly, raising a handful of razors into the air.

"This was always the only way."

Why We Write and Etc

I've started writing the second book.

I've got nothing set in stone with the first book. No deals, no assurances, just a big, fat maybe with a side of dismissals. Yet here I am, writing the sequel to a book that may never see the light of day.

Why the hell am I doing that?

The answer's simple: Because I have to. Because it keeps me sane, because it keeps me happy, because deep down inside of me, there's a story and a world that comes crashing up. I have to write because I have no other option.

Also, it is tough as hell to create another world on the fly. I'm putting a lot into this. Everything that I went for in the first book, I want to make bigger in the second. I want the violence, the relationships, the banter, and the world to feel more visceral, more in-depth. I feel like the first book was putting the parts together.

The second is making them work well.

Updates might be a little less meaty here. I'll have the occasional short story, but I think more posts will be just talking about what I'm going through. It's easier to write, and requires a lot less of my brain. That way, I'm able to push this book out one day.

Also, two of my friends got me into Warframe. That is going to consume my damned life, right there.

Assholes.