A Winner Again

I am somewhat remiss in not posting earlier that I did, in fact, win NaNoWriMo this year. I reached 50,204 words on 29 November. It was nice to not have to worry about writing on the last day of the month. It was happy to take it off. I didn’t set out certain I was going to win this year, but I am glad I did. It’s really a small and insignificant accomplishment; one more draft for a short novel has been put into the world. I don’t have that much pride in the novel even though I think it may be the best of the four I have written so far. It certainly has the most potential to rise to the ranks of decent writing. That feels good too. In any case, another NaNoWriMo is done.

I don’t want to spoil the actual climax of my story, but I am happy with the scene which sets up the murder. Here is the scene with all the characters together right before the murder takes place.

They emerged at last into a room ten cubits square. The light came from two lamps on a bench covered with an assortment of glistening tools and strangely-shaped vessels. Beside this bench were tow seated statues of jackal-headed Anubis. The gold outlines around the narrow jackal eyes stood out against black paint of the god’s head. They seemed to be studying Thutmose as he entered the room. In the middle of the chamber on a thin table or bench a little more than waist high lay a lean dessicated body. Thutmose blinked in the sudden light compared to the darkness of the corridor then stared at the body. After a moment he recognized it. It was his father’s body, looking hardly more dead then the last time he had seen the old man.
Thutmose approached the body reverently. He looked at Jetamesh who was still standing in the doorway of the room and wringing his hands. “Where are the priests to help preform the ceremony?” Jetamesh shook he head and shrugged his shoulders. He seemed barely able to keep himself composed. Something was odd. He walked to Jetamesh and took him by the arm roughly. Thutmose tried to look his friend in the eyes, but Jetamesh refused to look at him.
The sound of a group of people approaching began to echo down the hallway. There was a sinister purpose in the quickness of their steps. Thutmose released Jetamesh. This was a part of the palace Thutmose did not know and he had no idea if the corridor they had come by led somewhere else or if he was trapped in this room. Thutmose looked around the walls of the room and saw no other doors. He took a deep breath and decided to trust in fate. He pictured the calm face of the sphinx he had seen every day for weeks on end. This was the face which had led him on this course. All he could do no was trust in the promise he had received in his dream. Thutmose slowly walked back to the table where Pharaoh’s body lay. He stood beside the head of the corpse and faced whomever was approaching. He assumed an attitude which asserted his right to be here and perform the proper rites upon his father.
In just a few more moments Thutmose saw the thin face and dark robe draped body of his brother Amenmehat, high priest of Amun enter the room. His face pinched in confusion beneath this tall headdress as he saw Thutmose in the room, but he did not break his stride and walked purposefully along the wall of the chamber. Behind him came two of the palace guards. They did not acknowledge Thutmose at all, but took up positions beside the doorway of the room. Next, in clothing as pressed and clean and his own, Amenhotep, Son of Horus, heir apparent of all Kemet. When he saw Thutmose already standing beside their father’s body he stopped short. Thutmose had a glimpse of more palace guards and a priestess behind Amenhotep before his brother commanded all his attention.
“I told you,” the prince pointed at Thutmose savagely with a finger heavy with rings, “never to return to my presence.”
“Nay, brother,” Thutmose shot back, “you said I should not return until the task of uncovering the sphinx was complete. The work is finished.”
Amenhotep was as red as coals. He advanced toward Thutmose, gesturing wildly. “Do not lie to me. That was a fool’s errand.” He smiled savagely, “Fit for a fool like you.”
Thutmose could not remember being openly insulted ever in his life. He flared his nostrils and he felt his body preparing to act. “I have been granted success by my god. Now it is time to take my place as Pharaoh, as Khepri foretold.” He looked his brother in the eye. They were of similar height and seemed evenly matched in that moment.
Amenhotep smiled. “Amenmehat, you have heard the lies and the blasphemy of this traitor.” He continued to fix his glare on Thutmose. “Guards, place this treasonous slave in prison. Pharaoh has spoken!” Thutmose glanced around the room at the four guards. Two were still by the door, but the other two were advancing slowly toward him. He could use some of what he practiced as exercises as fighting methods instead, but he knew he didn’t likely stand a chance again four trained soldiers. He decided he would not resist and again committed himself to let his fate deliver.
The priestess whom he had seen earlier was now inside the room as well. It was hard to be sure since he had only met her once, but he thought she might be the same woman who had attended the opening of the digging at the sphinx. As Thutmose watched the soldiers advance and considered why a priestess of Isis was attending an Anubis ritual, she suddenly shouted. “Strike the bear. The bear must die!”

Right now my word count is 50,204 words.
By now I should have 50,000 words.

The Lion or the Bear?

I don’t have a lot of words right now (since all my words are being used elsewhere). I had a bumper day today and did two days worth of work. I’m pretty happy with this part.

The two adherents left the military training ground behind and passed through a purely industrial quarter. They were surrounded by the smoke from kilns and the noise of draft animals. As they passed a large clay vessel factory and came alongside a open air flax-weaving operation Amenmehat asked, “You saw the beginning of the excavation work at Gizeh. What do you make of my brother Thutmose?”
“His eyes are like the desert lion. I saw one caged when I was a girl,” she added to prove she knew what she was talking about. Then she realized she may have spoken too freely. She made an apologetic noise, “Ahh...”
Amenmehat was simply looking down at the road in front of them as they walked. His expression was grave. Ahtinamun did not know what else to say so she remained silent. Then the priest spoke. “Thank you for speaking the truth about what you have seen.” They were both silent for the length of a few more buildings. Very softly Amenmehat asked, “Did you know Pharaoh has died?” Even though she knew well the theoretical progress of individual Pharaohs through the ages; each new one becoming the living Horus as each former became Osiris in an unending chain, she was still gripped with a sudden fear. No pharaoh? It had never happened in her lifetime and she felt unmoored. As the idea sunk into her mind she recalled there was a definite process.
“How long until my Lord is buried?”
“Two months yet. Then the Son of Horus will rise to be The Living Image of Horus.” He sounded very sad about this prospect.
Ahtinamun realized she was being invited once again to peer behind another veil. “Will the royal family have need of a priestess of Isis?” Even in asking she was other priestesses who outranked her could not be bypasses for this unique opportunity. Amenmehat was looking at her meaningfully. “If not, perhaps I can serve you in some other capacity.”
The priest nodded his acceptance. “Let us speak again of hypotheticals,” he said loudly with a wave of his right hand. “Let us suppose a wild desert lion, like the one you mentioned earlier.” He looked at her and she nodded her understanding. “Now suppose also a bear raised in captivity which had grown to hate the bear-baiters and the bars which were a necessary part of its life.” Ahtinamun was beginning to understand the shape of this argument. “If these two were taken from their cages and left to roam, which would be the more dangerous creature?”
“Are these beasts well-fed or starved?”
Amenmehat suddenly laughed, lifting his head back and expressing his mirth in a short exclamation. The suddenness and force of the priest’s odd laughter caught Ahtinamun by surprise. With a smile he said, “let us say they are fed but neither starved for fattened.”
Ahtinamun knew little enough about animals, especially savage beasts. She had seen a bear as well as a lion. She compared the two. She knew her mentor was not really asking her about animals. She left she had to answer very carefully. “In your example the bear would seem the safer choice, its life of captivity would have made it more docile than a wild bear, certainly.”
“Certainly.”
“However, that familiarity could be a trap. It would be a mistake to treat such a bear as tame. It could strike out when violence was least expected.” The priest nodded. “While the lion could never be mistaken for tame and no one would treat it so. Given a chance the lion would be more likely to return to the desert where it had known true freedom rather than staying in the city at all.”
“I think you are correct in all points.”
Emboldened Ahtinamun pushed forward with another point. “Of course, the question then becomes, that is the purpose of the animal? Is it a guide to be followed? If so, what use is running into the desert for most of us? If this theoretical animal is simply a symbol of power, why tolerate a symbol which returns adoration with contempt?”
“You see the dilemma very clearly, indeed.”
“And it is your place to decided between these beasts?”
Amenmehat was very grave and returned to studying the ground. “It is not my place by right or by obligation. Yet the choice is before me.”
“If we are all part of a cosmic priesthood, who better to make a choice for order than the High Priest of Amun?”
They had reached the plaza where they must part. Her to the sacred precinct and he. No doubt to the palace where the bear rattled its cage even now. “Goodbye for now, Father. I am most grateful to you for these discussions. I feel I am learning much.” Ahtinamun bowed low to the priest.
He returned the bow, but more shallowly, respecting his greater stature. “I am glad you find our time together beneficial.” Without another word the highest ranking priest in the city turned on his heel and crossed the plaza.
Ahtinamun watched him go. His black cloak cut such a grave silhouette against the white stone he was easy to follow until her view was blocked by a public building across the plaza. He was like a shadow, dark as a smear of charred resin, which moved on its own from one forgotten corner of the universe to another. She was very certain what they had been talking about. She would choose the lion. She stood at the edge of plaza for some time watching the mundane business of the city being conducted at its edges. What could she do to help bring about the rise of the lion and the fall of the bear? Perhaps the answer was only known in the lost corners of the universe where shadows roam free.

Right now my word count is 32,027 words.
By now I should have 30,006 words.

The Dream

First off:
Remember, remember the fifth of November...

I haven’t done my writing yet for today, but I wanted to put up some of what I wrote yesterday. The writing is going well. I have named my engineer Pentawer and my priestess Ahtinanum. Maybe not great names, and “Ahtinamun” is not attested from Egypt so far as I know, but they are serviceable for a writing blitz. Without more ado, here it is; my version of Thutmose’s dream from the stele. Enjoy.

He made an apology to the elder priest and stepped out of the funerary complex. It was now noon and Ra was at his zenith. He had to get out into the open, away from the incense, but Thutmose wanted a place to sit down and rest. Across from the temple he had left was a huge stone head resting right on the desert sand. The overhang of the chin created a shadowed cleft. It would be the perfect spot to rest and recover himself. He quickly strode across the desert until he was right below the mammoth face. It was crowned with the nemes, the headdress of royalty. It was the face of a pharaoh. The Horus of his day, an Osiris for all time. It was a wide face with full cheeks. So unlike the ruling family of his own day. So unlike his own face. Thutmose touched his cheek impulsively. He knew well that even in the old days temples and statues were erected freely wherever there was available space. This monument might not be directly associated with the funerary temple behind him or the pyramids away on his left. Yet somehow he knew it was. This was the face of the man who had been so important there were still people worshipping his revered memory, if not quite his hallowed name, all these ages hence. Again he felt insignificant in the face of ancient days. He was nothing compared even to the memory of this man. How could he hope to make anything of himself worth remembering?
Thutmose was barely aware his companions had finally missed him and come across the sands to find him. Maatkure touched his arm. “Prince, let us go back to our chariots and return to the river. We can spend the heat of the day in the cool of the date palms.”
Thutmose pulled his arm roughly out of his friend’s grasp. “No, I will rest right here in the shadow of my ancestors.” He walked forward again and came to the edge of the huge head. He stooped below it and walked to the middle of the cleft below the statue. The shade was cool enough and being out of the direct light of Ra was a relief. Thutmose sat and crossed his legs one over the other. His companions joined him shortly. The three talked quietly about their hunting and they resolved between them the trip was over now they were in sight of the river again. They would wait until the heat of the day passed then head back to Men-Nefer. Thutmose’s plan to make they stay in the area of tombs for the night was forgotten as the childish and petty vengeance it was. Their conversation drifted off to nothing. Thutmose felt his eyes drooping. In his sadness he choose not to resist and soon his head fell to his chest and the price, the son of Horus, slept.

He started awake to find darkness had fallen. Shadow covered him but beyond moonlight bathed the desert in shimmering blues beyond the river the black body of Nut was studded with shimmering stars. Feeling he had forgotten something important he looked around for the others. They were gone. He was alone. He did not feel alone. He felt watched. He looked around to search the edge of the shadow again for anything he had not noticed at first but now he saw the shadow had disappeared. He was not sitting on the sand as he had been he was standing looking west into the Land of Death. He tried to remember what he had left behind, he tried to call to whomever had been with him, but his mind felt like a shallow stream and his voice was soundless in the oppressive night.
A wind struck him from the west and the abrasive sand struck him. He lifted his arm to shield his eyes and he felt the old weakness slowing his movements. A thumping filled his years over the roar of the wind. He carefully looked into the west and saw a shape moving against the horizon. It walked on four legs and it’s movements were sleek like a lion. He found he bow suddenly in his hands and he drew back an arrow as the creature in the night moved closer. Each footfall of the beast’s approach was a distant rumble of thunder. He lowered his useless bow as the beast looked higher. Higher than the pyramids he had seen earlier that day. A world-filling power. He stood helpless and mute as it closed the distance from the edge of the night to him in a few simple leaps. As it came closer he could see more than just and outline. Then suddenly, the whole massive creature was revealed to him in the sliver moonlight. He stared up from the massive lion paws to the thick limbs to the human head which rode above the animal body. He mouth gaped. A living sphinx! The largest he could imagine.
The sphinx looked down at him and he felt in looking into him. He felt it read in him every failing, all the weakness, all the resentment, everything. It began to speak and he assumed he would die, blown apart by the force of a god’s whim. Instead the voice was gentle. He heard it as if he were a sleepy child being comforted by a loving father. “Look at me, my beloved son. I am Khepri, Effective for Horus, Disperser of Chaos. I have seen your dreams and read your desires. So I shall make you the king of all the earth. You have a brow fit for the crowns of many kingdoms.” The huge beast knelt and he felt it exhale with pain. Hot breath with the smell of fresh kills passed by him. The beast put it paws before it in the classic guarding pose he had seen repeated hundreds of times before the doors of temples. Leaned forward, looming just above him, the sphinx spoke again, but now its voice was strained. “Look at my face, Thutmose. We have the same face. We share the same heart. You can feel it.” He did. He felt his heart within him straining at his chest. His ka was reaching out to the beast. He felt something was wrong and he wanted to help. They were looking at each other eye to eye. “You are my protector. I need you. The desert has come close upon me and cut off my limbs.” The wind was blowing again. He seemed to be looking down on the sphinx now. It was small and he towered over it’s helpless body. The sand was covering it, burring it as it spoke to him. Gusts blew stinging sand into his own eyes as well. He tried to act, he tried to reach out and comfort the mighty creature but his own body was being buried as well. He could only stare at the sphinx as the sands covered it to its neck. “Come to me, my son,” it begged. “Do what I desire. You are my protector.” Desperation was in its voice and he felt the same desperation as the sand reached his own neck. “Trust. I will lead you.” Then the sphinx was gone, swallowed by the desert and the gusts soon covered him in sand as well.

Right now my word count it 7,104 words.
By now I should have 8,335 words.

NaNoWriMo Victory!

For the third time in the nine years I've attempted it, I have won National Novel Writing Month. With the health set backs I had early in the month I wasn't sure I was going to make it but I managed 2,000 words a day or more for almost two weeks right I the middle of the month. That but me back on track. I traveled out of town for the Thanksgiving holiday, but unlike other years, this time I had a laptop so I managed to get some work done every day of the trip. Another big help. So, I did it! I said I felt like a had a win in me and I did. Good news!

But is the draft I've slipshod smashed together any good? Maybe. I must admit when I was writing the end I wasn't happy. The diary format limits my ability to actually describe the climax of the story. I was never convinced by the stupidly long letters and diary entries which give all the details in Stoker's Dracula so I wanted to keep my pretended entries shorter. I decided, perhaps wrongly, to make the final events occur after the last entry. Rasmus talks about what he thinks will happen when signs off never to make a follow-up report. That got me to the end of my word count, but it left me with a bad taste in my mouth. If I return to this in February or so to revise it, that will have to revisited. There are some other problems with the plot. I'm not sure I like the direction I ended up taking with more and more people getting involved in Rasmus' project. He becomes the administrator and star surgeon of a hospital. Would he really go from quiet, private academic to that kind of leader? Maybe, but I would have to develop that more in revision. Lastly, I read about one paragraph of background information so to have things accurate to 1640s Prague will take a lot of work.

Is there nothing good about it? Well... I still like the idea. I could try another project with the same format. I think I am most proud of the character of Penemue, the fallen angel. In a way this is that being's diary as well and most of the things it tells Rasmus about sitting before The Throne in the days before the rebellion and watching the first human civilizations and how the exiled angels built a city inside the chasm they were thrown in can be assumed to be true. Though it is using these stories to corrupt Rasmus they are really how this particular angel feels. It joined the rebellion and ended cast out of Heaven, but it still remembers its days of glory fondly and truthfully talks about how bad Lucifer is. I have, in Penemue's parts of the diary, sketched out mechanics of heaven, the progress of the rebellion of Lucifer, the conditions of the thrown-down angels' imprisonment. All of this can be improved upon and turned into another found document it its own right or used as the basis for some other project involving angels.

Here's a section written by Penemue:

Simply stated, yes, that high angel to the depths fallen you have named was the leader of the defeated forces. I mention not that name lest the one to whom it belongs visit some vengeance on me even now. Little all your human wisdom has drawn so far from the aether about that contest. It happened not before the world was made as you suppose. It happened afterwards when humanity had already begun to fill the earth and make names and kingdoms for themselves. That was when certain of my kind first mingled among you. Wives they took to them after the fashion of the tribal rulers they emulated. At first those great men who were born of those unsanctioned unions were famous and their tales were long and filled with great glory, great woe and, above all, great deeds. Little remnant of those tales remains, if any, even in the learning of the very wise for it was long ago. So this is what provoked the war. The faction named later the rebels wished to continue the relations between man and angel as they had been. To shape further the fledgling kingdoms after the full potential of the human minds and limbs they had found, always driving those simple kingdoms on to new greatness. Even as I told you about Eden so it happened in those early civilizations. Though founded upon the original principles of Creation, such strong pushing by the angels and such rapid advancement by the men was not the design of the Enthroned and a ban was issued which in turn provoked the rebellion. On both sides it was for mankind we fought. Any history you read which does not run in this manner is not founded upon the events of those days, but upon later speculation and guesses.

Thus to your next theme. Indeed is the Almighty named rightly. Indeed that loyal host was victorious. So why sit I here confined instead of in my former place before the Throne? I have often wondered this myself, be assured. I know not an answer and I have but few thoughts as consolation. Since my rescue could surely be affected that it is not must also be a part of that sacred will which is not revealed even to the angels. Maybe I am here to work upon this epo I have here composed. Maybe when it conveys all that was done and felt in that lost contest I will be welcomed home to deliver my labor and hear it read before the captains of those days as I intend it to be heard. Maybe I am here to learn something of confinement the better to be sent on a future mission by my master. This last it perhaps slight comfort to you who are of different nature than I, but it is possible I am no longer needed or even considered by the one who made me. I was made to serve and if I am no longer of use what obligation has the maker to the useless tool? Every right there might be to set me aside. I know not the state of heaven since I marched forth. This I can accept. Your question shakes me not.

My final, verified count was 50,161 words.

Off to a Good Start

First of all, I want to point out the Kickstarter we've been running has ended with great success! We ended with 139% of our goal raised. Thank you to all our backers! This is a great showing for a first-time company. We'll have the comic, custom dice, two bonus adventures and forty different animals because of the stretch goals we reached. I'll be posting about this project here throughout the year as Brandon and I get everything written and tested and ready to go, but you can follow along on the updates page as well.

The timing has worked out great. Just as the Kickstarted ended on 31 October, NaNoWriMo began on 1 November. I am very happy with the progress so far. Having a good idea has been a great help. I've chugged along to a little over the minimum word count each day so far. I'm not over my count for the day yet today, but the day is far from over. I say I had a plan, but that isn't really true. I had no idea what the plot of the story was going to be beyond the vaguest rise and fall of the action. The only think I was clear on was the journal format. That has been going well. I've always loved the books where part of the story was in the “extra” information on the page. Information hidden in the footnotes or encoded in the dates of diary entries has always appealed to me. I am getting to do that here. Somehow it's great fun to skip three days in the dates and come back in with my protagonist making an oblique reference to what else he has been up to. That is where my plot is slowly building up. It's like Shakespeare, a little, where all the action happens off stage and you just have the characters talking about how they feel about the action in soliloquy.

Not that I'm writing Shakespeare, but I am tying to affect an “old-timey” style. My story is supposed to take place in 1648. I don't know if I have an accurate “old-timey” vocabulary for that year. In fact, I would say I don't. My word choice is much more Nineteenth Century, I'm sure. I can't actually think of anything I have read from the Seventeenth Century other than the King James Version of the Bible. The great thing about NaNoWriMo, though, is that getting it “right” doesn't much matter on the first pass. If it sounds old, it'll read as “old.” I can always go back and fix it to the right kind of old if I develop the novel beyond the writing of it this month!

Here's a taste:

I have re-read again the passage from Goloksh. So convenient to have it written out so near at had. Again, I am drawn to de Chapallon's straight-forward amateur's method of simply asking the crystal whence its power derives. The practiced magus often shies away from direct confrontations with power because he has come to know their hazards. I suspect the first small text I transcribed under its influence is the same text he records. With Goloksh I pine for the proof of this theory by the actual page itself! On what misapplied hearth did that great artifact go up in the halls of Savoy? Alas. As I say, I believe I have begun as he did and this text we both produced is the answer to the question he posed. In short it is the proper appellation of the power to which the medium of this black stone opens the way.

Right now my word count is 6700 words.
By now I should have 6668 words.

Ketchup or Catsup?

I did squeeze in a few words last night during my weekly gaming group meeting. Not many. I didn’t get started on today’s writing until late, but things were really flowing and I managed to make over the day’s count! Here is one thing I wrote tonight. Enjoy.

The plate contained half a roasted turkey breast, one egg, a dish of jerky gravy and a thick slice of sourdough. [It wasn’t what he had requested but] He didn’t argue and knew quibbling would do no good. He forked the turkey breast, cut off a piece and put it in his mouth. Cold roast turkey made a descent meal. Especially when the tavernmaster’s wife had done the roasting. As he chewed the tavernmaster returned with a small clay pot. Through a notch in the pot’s lid protruded the handle of the small ladle. “How’s the steak, Genji?” the tavernmaster asked with a broad smile.

“The best I’ve had all year.”

“I’ll bet it is,” said the tavernmaster his smile only broadening. He set the clay pot beside Genji’s plate. “Now, try some of this.”

Genji set down his knife and lifted the lid on the pot. Inside was a thick, reddish-brown paste. It smelled slightly sweet and slightly spicy. Genji lifted a ladleful out of the pot but was unsure what to do with it.

“Some people like it on their eggs.”

“On their one egg?”

“However many eggs.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No! This past season we had one of the best tomato crops ever in the Valley. We had more than we knew what to do with...”

“Really? This is tomatoes?” Genji bent over the ladle and sniffed at the paste again.

The barman nodded. “...My Mel hit on this way of preserving them. The stuff seems to last practically forever.”

Still unsure, but willing to trust his tastebuds to Mel, Genji tipped the ladle and let a good bit of the paste fall onto his egg. He replaced the ladle, cut the egg in half and forked one part into his mouth. The tavernmaster looked on expectantly. After a moment of chewing gingerly, Genji nodded his approval.

“See?” The other man said triumphantly.

The benchmark word count for today is: 8335

My total word count so far is: 8972

Very Near the End

Today was another good day for writing. It’s another record for my productivity. I first finished up chapter sixteen and thought of an interesting way to link one of Meghin’s fellow security officers to Riley. I have all this stuff that is still lingering in the distant background that I want to bring to the forefront. That’ll be draft two… or a sequel. That’s right, I am thinking of a sequel. I had all these ideas that Deep Dark would be a little fledgling democracy in against all the rule-by-corporation stuff. That set up Riley and his right hand man Rook (an android) to be at odds with the devoted company types like Meghin and Pyotr and the higher ups who eventually track them there. Well, a lot of that didn’t make it into this draft. I don’t actually spend a lot of time with Riley. Rook, as a secondary to Riley, hardly gets any time at all. That’s why I need another novel to focus on Rook and his efforts for the democracy on Deep Dark and for his own greater rights as an android (artificial person). Anyway…

I finished seventeen and eighteen too. Seventeen contains some of the most important stuff about the aliens that I’ve yet written. In a way that stuff that happens there with the alien queen is why I wrote the story. The whole theft of the artifact and such is all a device to get a few humans into a position where they can find out a little more about the history and nature of the xenomorph species. That being said, I am quite happy with the resulting chapter. It has just the right tone to it. Flowing that the reactions of both Pyotr and Meghin to what they have learned are compared and contrasted. It’s not great yet, but I think there is real potential in it.

So. I have only3,000 more words before I reach the required total. That’s much better than I hoped I could be by this point. I have a lot to do tomorrow to be ready for our after-Thanksgiving trip, but surely I can find the time to write 3,000 words. Surely. The only problem is that I have four more chapters left to write. None of the stories are done yet. I couldn’t bring them to a close in just 750 words each! My dilemma is deciding if I should write short versions of each remaining chapter to be done with the story or just continue as I have and turn in a 50,0000 word novel that’s missing the last two chapters. Decisions, decisions…

For fun, here’s another excerpt. It describes Meghin first seeing the queen alien. (I claim all rights to my original characters and words. Other names, concepts and characters are the property of 20th Century Fox. Do not re-post this excerpt without consent.)

*******
It was a tower of a creature. Meghin panned the light up from the thick spear point tail to the powerful legs in above that its torso looked like a broken mountain range of knotted insect shell. Two long arms ending in claws as long as Meghin’s own hand, rested almost leisurely on the knotted knees. The head was immense, like a demon spaceship pointing into the Earth. It flared out from a maw of needles into a dozen upward curving points. Combining the absolute worst of a spider, a snake and a rhinoceros, it was a queen. A Queen of Xibalba made real, if ever there had been such a thing.
*******

By now I should have 43,342 words.
My current count is 47,206 words.

Now For a Little Break

My goal for today was to write 4,500 words. That’s really ambitious, I feel, but I needed to get a lot done as I’ll be away from the computer for a few days. Maya and I are going a bit of a vacation. I’ll be able to write the old-school way with a pen and paper, but I’ll have to type it all up later to get it word counted. My fantasy was to get so far ahead today that I wouldn’t have to worry about it. As it is I managed 3,500 some which is my third most productive day this month. I can live with that. Also, it’s probably a good thing not to stop writing altogether at this point. I’m on track to win if I can just keep the flow going.

I’m now in chapter thirteen which is back to the perspective of the young alien queen. She’s raging about the outskirts of the hive when word comes that there are intruders. She’s not happy about it. “With every step she became more angry, more anxious to do some damage.” That’s an alien for you.

Wish us a safe journey. See you went I get back.

By now I should have 33,340 words.
My current count is 35,439 words.

Making Headway

After several days of not really getting much done I’ve managed to write a fair amount today. I wrote 750 words last night after I put up the post. I wrote another 3,000 today. That’s twice the daily quota, but even with all that I’m still only a squeak ahead of the total number I should have by now. If I could only do 4,000 words for two days in a row, that would give me a nice, comfortable margin.

So now, my main characters – all four of them – are in the same place. They are all on board Deep Dark. I’m really enjoying writing Meghin, Pyotr and Riley all interacting with each other. I’ve also had fun designing the ships I’ve been talking about. Now I know what the marine ship and what Meghin’s patrol craft look like. I’ve got labeled diagrams! On the down side I need more action! I thought I would have it when they all got to the station, but it hasn’t happened yet. Maybe in chapter twelve…

Here’s the bit where Meghin and Pyotr first arrive and contact the station. They are told to wait for the mayor and while they wait…
(I claim all rights to my original characters and words. Other names, concepts and characters are the property of 20th Century Fox. Do not re-post this excerpt without consent.)

*******
“What do you make of this place.”

“Fascinating. I think I’ve got some of these optics figured out. This asteroid is covered in domes and towers, you can see if you zoom in. These designs aren’t like anything I’ve ever seen before. How could anyone miss this as alien?”

It was a good question. The asteroid was large and very dark. Type D asteroids were always dark, but this was the largest she had seen. It had a faint red tint, but it was really hard to be sure if that was actually from the asteroid or just the reflected light of distant Lalande. Switching her visuals to high-frequency ultraviolet the constructions on the surface popped out in brilliant contrast. There were at least four main domes that Meghin could see. They weren’t really domes, however. They were more pointed than that, but they were not true pyramids, either. She was reminded most strongly of the Mayan temple platforms near her childhood home. These were round, but had the same tiers and steep sides. From these temple-domes and from the surface of the asteroid itself protruded hundreds of small towers. Most were small, but some were large. They seemed to be built at many different and haphazard angels. The thought occurred to her that they could each be pointed at a different star, as if they were part of a navigation system. “What do you make of it?” she asked Pyotr again.

“Alien. Old. Can’t say any more at this time.” Meghin thought he sounded like someone who suspects something, but wanted to keep it to himself. She was about to press him for more, but her comms panel crackled with an in-coming message.

“This is Mayor Riley Mosley of Dark 163. Please state your name and purpose.” The voice was gruff and coldly formal. This was someone used to being charge, Meghin thought.

“I am Captain Meghin Estrella with CivCom, Security Section.” She hadn’t really expected to find a formal operation here lead by people with titles and using standard comms. It was all so official feeling, like these people lived here. Maybe they did. Maybe they were squatters holed up in this alien space base for whatever reason. Now that she was here, she wasn’t sure how to proceed. Did she come out and say “xenomorphs?” It such a word of terror they might just seize up. They were outside the law, even if they nothing to do with the xenos. These people had no reason to cooperate with Security Section. Well, she decided, let’s just see how the bones scatter. “I am investigating a possible infestation. I’ve tracked a ship here from Zadjel. I’d like to come aboard your…” what should she call it? “…facility and check for evidence of the infestation.”

Standoffish the voice came back, “What sort of infestation are you talking about?”

No reason to hedge anymore. “Xenomorph.” There it was, the “x-word.” The conversation killer and the word most likely to set the residents against her, whether they had anything to do with the monsters or not. She waited in the emptiness. Her tiny patrol ship, part transport and part fighter, facing a huge, alien station turned into human refugee camp across just a few kilometers. “Now we’ll see if they’re on our side or not,” she said to Pyotr. Behind her, he made some kind of non-committal noise.

Meghin was beginning to think that the conversation was over. She was already thinking about emergency docking procedures and cutting into their hull. She was weighing this option against going back for a larger ship (and some backup). Then, to her surprise, the gruff voice came again over the speakers. “Okay. Come aboard.” It was hard to be sure through the static, but Meghin thought the voice sounded tired. “Our docking bay is on our axis of rotation. We use military docking procedures. Do you know them, Captain?”

“I’m sure I’ll manage.”

“I’ll meet you at the dock.”
*******

By now I should have 30,006 words.
My current count is 30,718 words.

On The

I had visions of doing 4,000 or more words today. I needed to write that much to make up for recent slackage and to get ahead. I really want to finish early because I’m not going to have much time after Thanksgiving. Well, I didn’t make my personal goal. I did a little more than half of that.

Speaking of half: I am half done with the novel (at least by word count). I passed 25,000 today. So, what are the middle two words of the book? Words 25,000 and 25,001 are (drum roll please: dum dum da da da da da da…), “on the.” Since that isn’t really very interesting, I will reveal the whole sentence (which isn’t much more interesting), “Lalande and the orbits of its five planets were plotted on the screen.”

Ta da!

By now I should have 28,339 words.
My current count is 27,026 words.

Right as Rain

I did not quite make today’s quota, but I’ve been ahead for the last few days so I think it’ll be okay. I finished up Meghin and Pyotr’s conversation. Low and behold I now know what the next two chapters are going to be about. Meghin has to find out some more information that will lead them to Deep Dark and Pyotr has to join Meghin on Zajdel. I keep hacking away and the word count keeps getting higher. I don’t really have anything else to say, I guess, so here’s another bit from today’s writing. I claim all rights to my original characters and words. Do not re-post without consent.

*******
Pyotr stumbled up and to the door. In the hallway he gasped for breath. Strange that he should feel so restricted. This was a life he had chosen. He had things pretty good. All things considered. He walked to the picture window at the end of the hallway. Night had come. The rocky uplands stretched away in the darkness but the sands looked almost pearlescent in the thin moon light. Far away was Olympus Mons, so tall that the top of its western slope was still sunlit. With darkness all around that ruddy peak looked afire. It was the Fire of Olympus, to be sure, and he felt its mythical pull. He felt a deep longing for open landscape and the need to escape from his bonds. He placed a hand on the cold glass and stared at the Martian night. The fate of the original fire-stealer never came to his mind.

A scream startled him out of his dreams. Now he did remember the eagle with a taste for liver. Spinning, half expecting to see flapping wings filling the hallway, he saw Skorpios Temeni grinning from ear to ear. “Day’s done Nabokov! Time for to cheer!” Pyotr’s fellow scientist lifted his face to the ceiling and screamed again. “You going three doors down?” There were several bars near the lab. One in particular was frequented by those just rotating off shift. “Wash says they got a new girl at Squat’s. I hear she’s got knockers out to here!” Temeni held his hands an unlikely distance out in front of him. “So, you coming tonight?” His smile was huge and his eyes wide.

“You know I don’t go in for that, Temeni”

“Man, what’s wrong with you?” Pyotr could only shrug. “Whatever. We’ll get you one of these days!” He turned without any more pleasantries and trotted away down the hall. He let loose yet another yawp as he disappeared around the corner.
*******

By now I should have 16,670 words.
My current count is 18,898 words.

Mother says Bring!

I did not do much writing today. It was a day for working crosswords, seeing museums and cooking a big meal. The writing I did do is pretty good. I added 700 or so words to chapter five, which is from the perspective of one of the alien drones. The other side of stealing the artifact is bringing it back home. Here’s a taste:

*******
She was not thinking about the distances she still had to run once she got inside. She had been sent to bring this thing back and she would. She would make it inside, if no further. She crawled. Lifting the stone and setting it down ahead of her she drug her knees forward until she was close again, then lifted the stone forward again. A mere ten steps from the gate, the door to home, the last entrance, she collapsed completely. Run down, she thought. It was no further away than the length of a tail strike in prime condition and yet she had nothing left. She would lay here on the jagged rocks under the whispering suns for a while, then she would be gone.
*******

There will be more tonight. I plan to have today’s quota before I sleep, but I wanted to get this post up before midnight (but I just missed it!).

By now I should have 11,669 words.
My current count is 10,977 words.

Longest Chapter Ever

Today was a good day for writing. That’s the only thing I did today, but a made great progress. I wrote 3300 words today! That’s the most I’ve written in one day yet. It’s all in chapter four too, which is still not done. It was supposed to be Meghin going to see a contact connected to the mystery of the aliens’ behavior. Even after all that writing, though, I’m not quite there yet. First I had to describe her office and them how she said goodbye to an old friend. Then she gets on a jump ship to space hop over to other side of the planet and that makes her think of when she had to evacuate Earth as a child. When she actually gets there… Well, I wrote a bunch of stuff. Mostly it is a series of conversations with really eccentric minor characters. It’s all interesting stuff, I’m just not getting around to writing the actual conversation Meghin went to have. I’m going to go work on that when I finish this post. Hopefully it turns out well.

Without my consent this guy she’s visiting has expressed himself as some kind of travel agent slash geologist who sometimes deals in alien artifacts. He’s from an Amish community on the next planet over. That’s right. Amish folks. In space. It’s an idea I’ve wanted to use for a long a long time and somehow it snuck right into this story and now I have to go with it. He uses some kind of dumbbell-shaped communication device Meghin doesn’t recognize and speaks with an accent she can’t place. Oh and he has wooden furniture. Not sim-u-plast, real wood. Very exciting stuff.

I intend to periodically put up notable excerpts when I’ve written something I consider “good enough.” Today I wrote my first of those bits. It’s Meghin remembering her past. I claim all rights to my original characters and words. Do not re-post without consent.

*******
“We call them bugs,” Mother is telling her as they pack a small bag. Granmama is already by the door, clearly upset and mumbling something about the revenge of Kawil. Little Meghin, no more than five, doesn’t understand why they have to go. Bugs are only big after all, she thinks. Mother sets down her big gun and takes ahold of little Meghin’s shoulders. There are tears at the corners of her eyes. Meghin can’t remember if she has ever seen her mother cry before. “Meghin, these are big bugs, from space.” You know ‘space,’ right?”
Meghin nods, “above the sky,” she says matter-of-factly. She is a good student. “By why do we have to go? You’re here to protect us.” The honest innocence of a child
Mother’s tears begin to fall now. “Yes, that’s what I’m going to do. But I don’t know if… I might not… I want you to be safe. I want you to go with Granmama and take care of her. You protect her. I have to fight the bugs and then I’ll… then I’ll come find you. Meghin is too young to suspect Mother could be lying to her. Mother hugs her tight and then kisses her on the forehead, the lips, each cheek. Meghin reluctantly hugs back. Her tiny hands resting against her mother’s strong arms. Her tiny nose pressed against her sweaty chest. “I love you,” Mother whispers.
“I love you momma,” coos little Meghin., starting to cry a little herself. Her lip quivers any she opens her mouth but there is nothing to say.
Mother carries her to the transport. Inside are other children, other granmamas, granpapas. Only when the transport begins to lift off the ground does Meghin become scared. Mother is left behind. At first Meghin sees her, standing at the edge of the jungle clearing and waving. Then she only sees the trees, then just a sea of dark green in the coming night with an empty brown dot in the middle of it. Then nothing at all, there are too many tears. Mother never comes to find her.
*******

By now I should have 8,335 words.
My current count is 9,063 words.