Opening Salvo - 250 words

Got my minimum the first day. I like what I got. I'll try to post a snippet in the next day or two.

"Write a Book with Me"

Holly Lisle is writing a door-stopper of a novel. Not only that, she's doing it at, for her, a snail's pace. She has invited us to write small chunks with her, and in this way, finish a normal length novel (100k) at about the time she finishes hers.

I'm going to try this. What can I lose? Even if the novel sucks, at least I'll have one under my belt.

I've had a story circulating in my mind for several years now. I keep trying to write the story several different ways, and keep dropping it as unwritable. But it won't let me go. So I'm going to try, once again!, to write the thing.

I'll try to keep some kind of word count progress here. Working title is "Soul Survivor."

Time in a Bottle

Where the heck does the time go?!?

I've been mostly dealing with my dog. She's had medical problems--growths on her mammary glands. I'd rather take a beating than have to put that poor little dog through these surgeries, but she's still a relatively young dog and I'm not ready to let her go yet.

My writing has slowed down considerably because of it, but I think things are beginning to settle down a bit. Please, God.

Truth Knows No Time Frame

1. You cannot bring about prosperity by discouraging thrift.
2. You cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong
3. You cannot help the poor man by destroying the rich.
4. You cannot further the brotherhood of man by inciting class hatred.
5. You cannot build character and courage by taking away man's initiative and independence.
6. You cannot help small men by tearing down big men.
7. You cannot lift the wage earner by pulling down the wage payer.
8. You cannot keep out of trouble by spending more than your income.
9. You cannot establish security on borrowed money.
10 You cannot help men permanently by doing for them what they will not do for themselves.

These are words by William J. H. Boetcker, a Presbyterian minister who wrote a pamphlet in 1942 called "Lincoln on Limitations".

Truth knows no time frame.

Friday Snippet, May 29, 2009

I miss the Friday snippets. I felt like putting one up.

Please don't quote, repost, or otherwise take for yourself, first draft only.

My main character and her crew are in for a nasty surprise.

"Sail ho!"

The crew rushed to the rails, peering across the water to catch a glimpse.

Katya felt a rush of premonition. Dread weighted her muscles. She turned and sprinted for her spyglass. When she turned it to leeward, rear quarter, sails sprang to life in her vision. The sails were tattered--something no shipmaster worth his salt would ever allow. She searched the deck of the vessel under those sails, looking for any signs of life. There were none that she could see. The ship ran silent and dark. More important than that, she ran against the wind that filled the Dragon's sails.

She lowered the spyglass and squinted, then raised the glass again. Yes, she hadn't been mistaken. Dark clouds massed behind that ship. She turned. Rian, never far from her side, awaited orders.

"Bring her about and take in those sails!" Katya said. "Fetch the firearms!"

Eyes of the Stone Dragon

A snip from a S&S short story I finished:

Please don't quote or repost without permission.

Dara heard the intruder step on a loose board. She watched as the man froze at the noise he’d made. She did not move, curious to see what the man would do.

He paused for a long moment, then crept to the bed where she lay like a convincing lump. The flash of a knife, a quick plunge of the blade into her chest---

Dara sat up in bed, and instantly realized her mistake. A Moon sign flared to life on the intruder’s brow and the knife throbbed in her chest. This was no ordinary intruder and no ordinary blade.

She snatched the knife from the wound and threw it across the room, but the damage had been done. Stiffness entered her simulacrum, making movement difficult. Dara used a tiny bit of magic and flicked the room’s candles alight. The candles illuminated a short, stocky man dressed in ordinary desert garb, with deep-set eyes and a gently glowing crescent moon in the center of his brow. She could feel her own Sun sign on her forehead grow warm.

“What have you done?” she said.

“What I had to,” he responded. “My name is Morion, and I need your help, Sunmaster Dara.”

“You picked a strange way of asking, Moon Follower. Sneaking around in the middle of the night, stabbing me with a spellbreaker blade--”

Morion’s lips twisted. “Isn’t that what those who follow the Moon Path do? Sneak?”

“What do you want?”

“An exchange,” he said. “In a few moments, the spell that binds together your simulacrum will unwind. I can keep that from happening. In return, I need you to help me destroy Ranifir.”

Dara stared. “One does not easily destroy a stone dragon, Moon Follower. It’s a creature of the Ancient magic, and not subject to the lesser magics. What you want is well-nigh impossible.”

Long Dry Spell

Blogging, that is. Well. At least I've been writing. I'll post a snippet here tomorrow to prove it.