Sand and snow, work and relaxation

. One promise I’d made to myself when I returned from Kauai was to treat myself to mental vacations whenever I found myself getting overtired from work. Even though I can’t be on the beach physically, I can put images into my head, let my imagination roam, surround myself with ‘islandy’ things, to remind myself what relaxation feels like.

. That’s kind of where I find myself tonight, for whatever reason, I feel more tired than I should be. Traffic the last couple of days has been lighter than normal, the thanksgiving chaos has subsided, and... I’m mentally down for the count.

. In the meantime, I’m going to be grinding through some of Imperfect hope as well, so I need to get myself in a creative mindset. Kauai and D’oril are in the obvious ways, very different, for those who don’t know, D"oril is a cold place, think British Columbia or the Kenai Peninsula of Alaska. However, there are many deep similarities, for one, I can put my mind in either place and find a relaxation, both could easily feel like home. Kauai, the beach with a mai tai, listening to the waves. D’oril, the fireplace blazing with crackling pine, a thick fur rug and a scotch, watching the snow fall outside the cabin.

. Since I’ll be writing about the cold place tonight, I’m going to exercise my creativity with a game of opposites. Before I go north, then here is a setting/description of a tropical beach/island, a story fragment from an idea gelling about an island culture far to the south of D’oril.

—

. Pu’anu leaned heavily on his spear as the wave crashed against his thighs and threatened to knock him down again. Even while the foam boiled about his tanned and strongly muscled legs, he leaned forward and cast his spear into the retreating surf, this time with success. The ray flopped and struggled as the tall islander pulled it in. Another breaker crashed against the shore and pushed his catch behind him, Pu’anu used the momentum of the water to work his way back up the beach even as he reeled in the ray.

. To the west, the sun sat heavily on the horizon, stretched wide and flat like a jellyball settling on a platter. Pink and red wisps of cloud stretched across the sky, reaching from the sun toward the village on the hillside behind Pu’anu like the wispy fins of a veilfish. The calm sky lent an odd feeling to the evening, for the surf was strong, angry, as if it were trying to devour the shoreline with each thunderous crash. Pu’anu struggled against the last pull of wave, then broke free to the dry sand, untouched by the pre-storm waves. He crouched to grasp the other ray he’d caught by the gills, tossed his shoulder length blond hair back over his shoulder and worked the headband back around his forehead. The lean islander began an unhurried walk back to the village.

. Pu’anu’s thoughts were far away, not on the catch he brought to his family for dinner, nor on the sounds of the island’s forest that began barely a spears throw from the waters edge. Instead, his sapphire blue eyes watched the horizon, timing the waves that broke upon the reef’s edge outside lagoon. Tomorrow he would break that barrier, sailing alone as he began his quest, his family’s duty and honor for generations past and now his sacred task. Pu’anu would travel the vast ocean in search of a new beacon to light the island’s tower, a new spirit light to guide the mariners of the islands home from their far travels.

Adventures in handymanland...

Over the last two weeks, I've had a full plate of "things to get done before the world shows up for thanksgiving", some of them involving power tools. Understand, I know which end of a drill to aim at the wall, or which finger, when struck with a hammer, brings the most colorful phrases to mind, but most of what I do comes from reading a book on it, and then trying it, albeit slowly. Thus, I get it done, usually two or three times longer than I originally estimate. I always caution Irma, "Don't look at the mess until I'm done cleaning up", and probably spend half my time climbing up and down a ladder (if one is involved), or up and down the stairs getting "one more tool", or running to the hardware store to get something "I didn't have when I started, and probably should have been obvious that I needed, but didn't think about until I pulled that other thingy off..."

Adventures. One of the projects this week involved, as it turned out, undoing a problem created last year. See, last year before thanksgiving, we remodelled our kitchen and guest bathroom, most of the work was done by professionals. However, I replaced a mirror and installed a new vanity light fixture in the bathroom. It's not hard, (well, except the generic builder installed mirror was glued to the wall, and took the better part of 2 hours to remove from the wall in pieces, very very carefully). The new light fixture went in easily, drill 2 holes for the mounting anchors, attach the wiring (black to black, white to white, green to green, don't touch the power switch whatever you do...). Screw the fixture in, install bulbs, voila, new bathroom (and a fine bathroom it is!). Everything was fine. Or so we thought.....

A few months later, in a seemingly unrelated issue, water stains started appearing in the basement bathroom ceiling (my remodelling project of 2 years past). It started very small, but by this last summer, was obvious something bad was happening on the other side of that drywall (wet-wall?). In september, I finally had a spare few moments, and cut a hole in the ceiling to find the problem.

Weird. Plumbing above the ceiling looks fine, no wet spots. Yes, there were hot and cold supply lines running from the water heater to the basement laundry room, but they weren't leaking. Drain line from upstairs, dry. Except, water was coming from somewhere. A bucket placed under the hold caught a tablespoon of water by the next day. Hmmmm.

Over the next few days, investigation revealed that water dripped from the elbow of the drain pipe, only when hot water from the master bedroom shower was run for more than one minute. Further investigation showed a possible crack in the pipe, might it be expanding with the hot water? But patching the crack solved nothing. The water was coming from upstairs.

The investigation continued. I traced the drain pipe upstairs, at first I thought it ran through the ex-laundry closet on the main floor where I built/installed some pantry shelves last year, perhaps I'd run a screw into the pipe? No, the pipe ran through the bathroom wall. Mirror mounting screws were carefully placed into wall studs, so... The light fixture.

To make a long story short, one mounting screw was driven right into the drain pipe from the second floor, leaking a tablespoon or so of water a day from showers. So, cut a hole in the wall, fix the pipe. Now I've got 2 big (well, one football sized, and one doormat sized) holes in bathrooms to patch, and 4 days till the world shows up to eat our turkey.

I finished it. Even textured the ceiling patch in the basement. A little touch up paint, and... No one will know that, It was all my fault in the first place.... ;-)

What does it all mean? I got to thinking, I"ve done a lot of varied projects around the house, from plumbing to electrical to drywall to construction. We garden, paint, landscape, do tree surgery, pick apples. Is this what it means to be a jack of all trades? I compare this to what a typical character in my stories might have to do. If he's a farmer, he's doing all that (well, no electrical, but so much more.) Cooperage, minor blacksmithy, tool repair. etc etc etc. Tending to the tack for the draft horses. Wagon repair. Hmm, guess I'm not so jack of all tradey after all. I've got a lot of more specialized knowledge, and maybe more than most peoples general knowledge, but... What I don't know, I can get from a book. My fictional character probably has never seen a handyman book. If he doesn't know how to do it, he's stuck.

It's something to think about, and remember as I'm writing.

Anyway, next time, I'm hoping to post a bit of fiction. We'll see what my muse drags out of me over the next couple of days.....

Clear skies, Jim.

Kauai Lighthouse

On the eastern coast of Kauai is the Kilauea lighthouse, set on a clifftop protruding into the Pacific ocean. When we were there this last time, strong winds came from offshore, and the albatross and other sea birds were soaring up the cliff face, circling out to sea, then diving down in search of food. Far below, the waves smashed the cliff face. It was, to say the least, exhilarating. The photo above is looking south, along the coastline from the base of the lighthouse.

I think this image is one I've kept in mind for another of my writing projects, Light house, Light home. Its isolation from civilization (a long, winding road leads to the peninsula upon which it sits) brings an image that fits a story very well. I'm still mulling over the plot of course, it's one of those projects that won't go away, I keep coming up with enhancements and ideas. Ghost singer is an off shoot of this project, a way of developing one possible character in a prequel.

So, from this picture, I suspect I'll soon post the proverbial thousands words that it is worth. Stay tuned.....

TTFN,

Jim

Description

I have found that descriptions are all too often a cliche, especially when I begin working on a project. The bar is smoky, the shadowy figure lurks in the corner, He shook in his boots like a wet puppy dog. I do notice, however, that as I get into a project, my descriptive voice tends to reject the cliches more easily. This is a thing I need to practice.

My secondary project, Ghost Singer, arose in part from a descriptive exercise where I decided to describe a singer's voice 10 ways. It was actually one of 2 similar exercises, another one I spent time listening to one singer for a while, then trying to convert the feel of the voice to words on a page. This exercise however, was a series of metaphors and similes. Two in particular struck me as story worthy. See if you can find your own story in these descriptions...

1. His voice was like a fleece lined denim jacket flecked with lint, old and ratty, but full of warmth.
2. Her song rang through the convent courtyard, birds took to wing as the echoes startled them from their slumber.
3. He sang off key, like an old pickle, just a bit too sour.
4. She began so gently and melodiously that the forest stilled its own leaves so as to be able to hear each note as if it were the only one.
5. He rang the bell, then matched the tone with an ascending sequence of clear notes, held long past the point of breathlessness.
6. She held her hand over her mouth and sang quietly, afraid to be heard, even though her notes were balanced.
7. He finished with a bellow, the roar of an ox driven to pull a too heavy cart.
8. She held her note, wavering, siren like, until the last echo of the pipe organ drifted into the night, then collapsed her voice in a rasping gasp for air.
9. He raised his voice in a tinny falsetto, shrieking his words against the clatter of the bar. A single drunk raised one eyebrow in irritation at the harshness of the note.

10. Her dulcet tones echoed through the graveyard, wide and soft and bright, such that even the wraiths of the night came forth to listen in awe, through the song each ghostly spirit remembered a time before the pain and despair of their existance. When the song ended, they held the joy for a heartbeat, then the anger returned stronger with jealousy.

Numbers 4 and 10 interested me the most, and after working on them more, became the root of a character description, a protagonist whose voice could still a forest, or calm the walking dead. From there, I needed a plot, a source of the power of her voice, and a setting. So, Inn of the Stumbling Friar, are you ready for the ungrateful dead that rise from the past to haunt you?

Clear skies,
Jim

Moral Responsibility versus Organizational Needs.

There's a scary title. It's a scary subject.

First, a legal disclaimer. The following opinion is mine. Under no circumstances should you take my words as anything other than an opinion. There is no attempt, or desire to undermine public confidence in the US Air Traffic Control System, it is the safest in the world. I am going to discuss elements of a briefing that, however, I found morally difficult to swallow. Keep in mind, I'm a INFP, and so when I become upset on a values level, I tend to simmer, and eventually break out the lance and charge the windmill. That's what healer-guardians do...

Having said that, Let me back up the tale a bit. A while back, there was an aircraft accident involving a Lifeguard flight that was flying VFR through mountainous terrain during a mid shift. To make the long story short, it crashed, killing both pilots. The reasons for the crash have yet to be officially determined by the NTSB, and that really isn't the subject of my rant, anyway.

We had a preliminary briefing on the accident last week. In it, management outlined the basics of the crash, and explained which rules the controller appeared to have violated (none caused the crash, rather they were procedural things that liability lawyers love to pick at) The gist of their briefing was that we should be careful, follow the rules, because if you don't, the liability lawyers will get us. (DD, help me out if I missed an important point)

Then we got a counter-point from the union side, the controller involved explained how the NTSB investigation went. He wasn't arguing that he didn't do things wrong, or cut corners. Rather, it seemed to me that his whole point was that, the interviews were scary and inconvenient to him, taking 5 hours of his day, and as such, he'll never put himself in that situation again.

Time and again, we've heard the scare stories, "Screw up, and some attorney will sue your pants off." I asked around, in the 20+ years I've been at Denver center, there have been only 2 or 3 cases where controllers have had to testify in a accident lawsuit, and in none of these cases, were the controllers facing any financial penalty, or career termination. However, they've had the inconvenience of being grilled by an attorney who was trying to fix blame in such a way that someone will get a lot of money, or the FAA won't have to pay.

Now, I"m all for avoiding inconvenience. And I really don't want to get involved in an NTSB investigation, I've been involved in a fatal accident, and I felt horrible, even though there was nothing I'd done, or could do. But, the sense I got from the controller's statement was that, he'd been trying to help a vfr pilot, the pilot screwed up, the controller cut some corners and now he's inconvenienced. It seemed he was saying, "THEREFORE, I SHALL NEVER HELP A VFR PILOT OUT IN MARGINAL CONDITIONS AGAIN, AND NEITHER SHOULD YOU, CAUSE YOU"LL BE INCONVENIENCED."

I heard the statement (paraphrased, but basically correct). I looked around the room and saw far too many people nodding in agreement. I wanted to scream.

Here's where I disagree. I've helped VFR pilots in similar situations (no radar coverage, marginaly vfr conditions, confusing situation) In at least one instance, I'm convinced my actions (in advising the vfr pilot to stay on my frequency, even though I couldn't see where he was, so I could feed him weather info and eventually talk him into returning to Goodland Kansas, and when he decided he was lost, vector him toward the airport after using rules to figure out where he really was) probably saved lives for that very evening there were two vfr plane crashes due to icing in the area into which my vfr was flying. Had I told him, "Can't see you, leave me alone", he could very well have been the third accident that night.

Now, I'm not advocating putting myself (and hence, the FAA) in an impossible situation, either. Follow the rules, tell the pilot about the dangers ahead, do everything you can think of to help him, but don't abandon him because it's inconvenient for you if he crashes. Sure, inconvenient, but he'll be dead. that's real inconvenience.

That's where the title of this post comes in. When I helped the VFR pilot years ago, my supervisor put it in for an award. But when QA listened to the tapes, they found 3 instances where I'd omitted the word 'suggested' (out of 7 times) when suggesting a heading for the lost VFR pilot. Because of it, they couldn't submit the "save", because the lawyers will pick it apart. Then, I was taken aside by an area manager and told though I'd done a fairly good job, in essence I'd put the agency at risk for being sued, had the pilot actually crashed while following one of my 'suggested' headings. The exact quote was, "sometimes, you have to balance the needs of the organization against the needs of the pilot". In other words, 'don't inconvenience us by helping too much when the rules don't allow it."

Gaah! DOn't help, cause we might get sued! Gaah! Gaah!

My moral responsibility is to help pilots stay out of trouble. My moral responsibility will always trump the fear of inconvenience to myself. I don't like it that there are many controller who don't feel this way, but... Those of us who do will always try.

Anyway. It's a rant. And again, it's an opinion.

TTFN,
JIm

Da Weekend

An interesting week it has been. If you're paying attention to the work in progress tally on the left, you've noted I've added content to Imperfect Hope. Grinding away. I even let my inner critic loose (okay, it escaped, and it took me a couple of hours to put it back in it's cage) on the first few scenes and did some minor revision work. In the meantime, a new project jumped out at me, tentatively titled Ghost Singer. It will take place at the Inn of the Stumbling Friar, and may include some old friends from D'oril, as well as new ones. For now, it's in outline planning stage, and feels like it will be a short story.

SO why am I allowing myself to work on multiple projects? In some ways, I feel I have to. I focus on one project (Imperfect Hope), but often ideas pop up that wouldn't fit in that tale, but carry enough power and interest to require a home for itself. It's my own imperfect hope that I will continue to focus 80% of my energy on Imperfect Hope, the rest split between writing exercise, this blog, and other story ideas that are clamoring to get out of my skull (stop shouting, you'll all get your chance at daylight!)

In the meantime, two other issues raised their heads and hissed at me this week. One, I keep going back to those personality tests, and got to wondering about alter ego's. More specifically, I thought about how most of us in the IFGS play one particular character. My observation had been in the past that what you play tends to be an exaggeration of your own personality, this seems borne out by those PC's and their 'persons' that I know well enough to recognize a little of where they may fit in Myers-Briggs. But... I know that an outsider can't truly label someone in the M-B scheme, some areas I just can't extrapolate. So, an idea has come up.

I'm going to load onto the blog a link to the anonymous MB test, and ask my readers (reader?) to take the test. Then if you're an IFGS'er, then take it a second time, from the point of view of your main character. I'm most curious to see if there is a difference. If you're not an IFGS'er, don't worry. Perhaps you might try answering the questions from the point of view of how you want other people see you, or if you were a heroic-type character. Or just take it the one time.

Then, I'll have 2 polls on the blog. First poll, you can anonymously post your MB rating, then you will have a chance to reenter the data (again, anonymously) for your character if it is different. If you don't mind me knowing your MB data, feel free to email me and tell me about your rating, your character, and what the differences are, in your opinion. I'm really interested in how you might be altering your base personality in order to create (tadaa!) what you consider to be a hero (or heroine).

If I get some data, I'll post again on some of my opinion on characters, personality, and heroism. If I don't, I'll haunt you in your sleep until you respond, or move to New Jersey...

The other issue this week will earn it's own lengthy post tomorrow or Tuesday. I know I"ve promised myself I'd not rant about work here, but this time, I have to. In a nutshell, there was a all-hands briefing I attended on Friday that raised an issue about personal responsibility versus organizational responsibility. I was stunned at the response of some of the people I work with. So, I'll rant tomorrow. Be ready to wear dark sunglasses when you read.....

For now, clear skies
Jim

Beginnings

The start of any story, whether it is short or long, has to grab the readers attention. This is especially true with new writers. Old hats at the game have name recognition, I've been known to grind through a marginal beginning based only on the fact that the writers work is known to me. There is the hope that it will improve, whereas in the case of an unproven author, there is no track record on which to base that hope.

When I started Imperfect Hope, I started with an opening scene even before I had a full plot, something that I felt would grab a reader and make him want to continue. Enticing though it was, something that I read in one of Orson Scott Card's writing books pointed out that putting a character in a dire situation before the reader has a chance to care about the protagonist is dangerous. Originally, I'd thought to start in the middle of the story, describe Redwynn's dire straits, then jump back in time to describe how she'd gotten there, and end the book with the solution. There are times when I still thing it will work, but for now, I'm keeping my time line sequential. I can always rearrange it later, I suppose.

At anyrate, I'm jumping back into the story both feet first. If you hear an unpleasant crunching sound, that's just me grinding away at the tale. Writing exercises and blogging will be my stretching, and my cool downs for this exercise. Watch out...

Clear skies,
Jim

Writing and writing

Writing exercise can be a chore, or they can be fun. Today I worked on setting practice, the workshop assignment asked me to recall a place where I once lived, and describe it in 2 or 3 pages. I chose Bedford Massachusetts, where I lived in the late 60's. I was in 6th and 7th grade then.

The exercise forced me to draw deeply from memory, and in order to avoid turning it into a dry recital of facts, I had to depict personal aspects of the setting. It ended up being 3 pages, and the exercise does encourage me to go back and polish it, something I'll do. For now, it's a rough draft type reading.

I'm supposed to give the setting enough feel that you can picture it in your mind. Use more than just sight, and don't just get sentimental. Did I write enough to bring you into my old town, what's missing.

Like I said, this is first draft. But go ahead and read it at http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=dfmh4kks_2grt9mf . Please comment as well, this is me asking for critique. I'd prefer comments in the comment field below, but because of the nature of googledoc storage, you can add comments directly to the file (I can even go back and reject them, especially if you do something like use a red font!)

Clear skies,
Jim

Writing, remembering, and dreaming

I've been putting some time into doing some workshop exercises to practice the craft of writing. In some ways, it's like weight lifting or cardio for fitness, different kinds of exercises work different parts of the writing muscles. Like my weight loss program, I'll be most successful if I am consistent.

Yesterday, the exercise was to recall 3 of my earliest (if not the earliest) memories, write them down, and then see if I can create a 3rd person story out of them. What came out surprised me. Of course,what I wrote was non-genre, quite different from the fantasy/science fiction I generally work in, but that's part of the exercise. It got me to looking at a different side of a story.

The memories were all from when I was perhaps 3 or 4, I remember living in an apartment that had a kiddie/wading pool on the other side of the apartment parking area. One of the memories involved around eating some cheerios (yes, the memory is that specific), and trying to explain to an adult (friend of my fathers who was visiting) why cheerios were good for you. Another involved seeing some twin girls, probably 5 or 6 years old (ancient to me) who each had a red scooter that they happily tooled around the parking lot on, taunting me, who wanted desperatly to try it. Third memory involved running to the wading pool one day, after forgetting to put on sandals or shoes, and stepping on a bee in a clover patch. Needless to say, I howled...

SO what can you do with such disparate memories? It turns out, a lot. I got some practice writing in a vastly different voice, describing things from the viewpoint of a 4 year old, even while I added and changed aspects of the memory to make it a story, and not just images. It turned out to be fun, though I will also admit I found myself thinking hard about the exercise. At one point, Irma poked her head in on me, and noted that I was smiling (eek, caught me enjoying myself!)

What can I do with it? Practice polishing it. Turn it around to try different viewpoints (how about the viewpoint of one of the adults?) Alter the genre and use the imagery to create depth in one of my projects. WHo knows...

Anyone care to opine about their own first memories? Call it a challenge, don't worry about a story, just dredge up what you thing you remember and share it. Belief it or not, it's fun.

Clear skies,
Jim

More Kauai

A little more travelogue. A little less pontification.

Kauai is home to the Kauai coffee company. Most people think of hawaiian coffee and think Kona. Did you know, though, that so little "kona" is grown on the big island, that most "kona" coffees are just blends, requiring only 10% kona to qualify as a kona blend. That's not to suggest that kona blends aren't good, just that it's not all you're cracking it up to be.

The Kauai Coffee Company (http://www.kauaicoffee.com/) is the largest coffee plantation in Hawaii. They sell both green (unroasted) beans, and several varieties of roasts, depending on the harvest.

It's good.

We toured the plantation, saw some of their acreage including beans about ready to harvest, sampled several of their recent roasts, and sent gifts to all the kids. Now we're waiting patiently for our first order from the coffee of the month club to arrive. Mmmmm.....

-----

As to writing this week, I've been reviewing tips/hints and stuff from a couple of the books I"d read earlier this year, and taking a hard look at my possible writing schedules. I'm going to schedule writing like a part time job, but I'll probably start pretty slowly, and build to a sustainable level. One challenge is keeping everything else together, I have a healthy to do list for this fall, and we're heading in to the holiday season. Add in work and the inevitable fatigue, and I've got to be careful to avoid burning out. (scary to think how close I was to that 4 weeks ago.) So this weekend, I'm gearing up with some writing exercises, and trying to decide where to restart. Tonight, the exercise will be to write a page or so on a very brief glimpse of a group of people I saw somewhere, a bus, or street, or something..... Wish me luck.....



Clear skies,
Jim

Who am I, Who are you?

A couple of decades ago, I remember taking a myers-briggs personality test, as part of a psychology class I was taking at the time at CU. The reason I remembered this recently is that one techinique used in character construction while writing is to run that test for your major characters, getting an idea of how and why that character may act. Out of curiousity, I did some web searches, and came up with a whole host of useful sites for character development through personality testing.

That also got me thinking. I remember when I took that M-B test, I scored as an INFP. (One good description of an INFP is found at http://www.geocities.com/lifexplore/infp.htm .) FOr those who don't know about it, Myers briggs breaks personality into 4 axis, scoring you along the axis in each area. That pigeonholes you into one of 16 categories, as defined by the 4 letter type.

In a nutshell, the first letter refers to energy orientation, where you turn your mental energy, inwardly or outwardly. I vs E

Those who prefer Introversion draw their primary energy from the inner world of information, thoughts, ideas, and other reflections. Tose preferring Introversion find the need to retreat to a more private setting as if to recharge their drained batteries. In contrast, those who prefer Extraversion are drawn to the outside world as their elemental source of energy. They must engage the things, people, places and activities going on in the outside world for their life force.

Letter 2 refers to how one perceives, or takes in information. S or N


Those who prefer Sensing Perception favor clear, tangible data and information that fits in well with their direct here-and-now experience. In contrast, those who prefer Intuition Perception are drawn to information that is more abstract, conceptual, big-picture, and represents imaginative possibilities for the future.

Letter 3 refers to how one forms judgements or makes decisions. T or F

Those who prefer Thinking Judgment have a natural preference for making decisions in an objective, logical, and analytical manner with an emphasis on tasks and results to be accomplished. Those whose preference is for Feeling Judgment make their decisions in a somewhat global, visceral, harmony and value-oriented way, paying particular attention to the impact of decisions and actions on other people.

The last letter refers to how one deals with the outside world J or P

Those who prefer Judging rely upon either their T or F preference to manage their outer life. This typically leads to a style oriented towards closure, organization, planning, or in some fashion managing the things and or people found in the external environment. The drive is to order the outside world. While some people employ an assertive manner, others "ordering touch" - with respect to people - may be light. Those who prefer Perceiving rely upon either their S or N preference to run their outer life. This typically results in an open, adaptable, flexible style of relating to the things and people found in the outside world. The drive is to experience the outside world rather than order it; in general lack of closure is easily tolerated.

So. 25 years ago, I was Labled as (I)ntroverted, i(N)tuitive, (F)eeling, (P)erceptive. Out of curiousity, I took one of the online tests again to see if I've changed.

Nope. Still INFP. Still a "Healer", or "dreamer:.

If you'd like to learn more, one web site that seems to have a lot of info is http://www.personalitypathways.com/type_inventory.html . You can see where you fit, follow links to learn more about your type, and generally fiddle with the fiddlybits to your hearts content. For a more detailed, psych type test, try http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes1.htm .

Oh, two sites that describe INFP's (me) are http://www.personalitypage.com/INFP.html or
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/INFP .

So, who are you. Feel free to comment (I"ve opened comments to anyone, don't need to be a member at all, so go ahead. Be anonymous if you wish......

Now, to apply this to writing.....

Clear skies,
Jim

THE VACATION

Yes, I capitalized everything on purpose. Two weeks in Kauai. Ahhhhh. Irma and I both agree, it was our best vacation, most relaxing, destressing, and restorative. For those who haven't been, Let me play travelogue for a bit and reveal a little of our journey.....

The Kiahuna Plantation is very well hidden behind thick flowering hedges, surrounded by gardens and pristinely trimmed lawns. It is secreted between a massive, block-like Marriot time share complex, and the (soulless feeling) Kauai Sheraton (from where the web-cam overlooks the shared Sheraton/Kiahuna beaches). The condo's are simple, we stayed in a one bedroom unit perhaps 100 yards from the beach, overlooking putting-green manicured lawns and gardens. Plumeria trees filled the area with their rich aroma, in the evening, our lanai was shaded by tall palm trees and several other types of flowering trees.

We started each day with coffee on our lanai, listening to the Mynah's squawk, and the Zebra Doves coo, often they would drop right in on our railing and serenade us. The aroma of the coffee would mingle with the floral scents, sometimes the ocean breeze would waft the salt air aroma to us. Coffee will never taste as good, nor any day start as softly and with as much promise as this.

It was in this quiet beginning that Irma and I would consider our day. Whether to start with a walk along the beach, or plan a more extensive hike. What we might fix for dinner that night, or where we might eat. We'd banter about shopping, or consider which luau or tour we might like. Sometimes we'd just listen to the gentler bird sounds, lost in our own thoughts, sometimes we'd laugh at the screech of whichever bird it was that I dubbed "Monkey screech bird" our first morning. Whether 30 minutes, or 2 hours, each morning lent an air of tranquility to the rest of our day. That is a legacy from Kauai that I'm going to hang on to.....

Anyway, that's a small taste. I'll write more later.

Clear skies,
Jim

He's Back

There is an incredible truth to the statement, "We really needed this vacation". Never was this more clear to me than after returning from Kauai, I realized how far down the rat hole I'd fallen. Comparing myself before and after is enlightening, I see how stress and dis-ease (hyphen purposefully inserted, more on that later) quietly overwhelm without giving any overt clues that it is happening. It's like the proverbial frog in a stew pot, put him in hot water and he'll jump out, recognizing that it's bad, but put him in cold water, then slowly raise the tempurature, and chances are, the frog won't realize it's too hot until it's too late: frog soup.



So, what do I do with this re-created me? (there's that pesky hyphen again. what in the world does it mean?) For one, a ton of writing ideas flooded in, everything from how to tie several pieces of the D'oril saga together, to a macro-scale idea for the legendary history of D'oril and how I can use it in the tales I've been dancing around with. New characters floated around, as well as improvements on the ones I'd already started on. It'll all start flowing together as I put my writing schedule back on the table.

In the meantime, where am I now. Essentially, I stopped all writing efforts from a couple of weeks before we left for Kauai, giving myself a mental break from this new job, until now. Today at work, I reopened Imperfect Hope and reread the first draft of chapter 1, I resisted efforts to start editing right away. I"m going to let it mull around in my brain stew for a day or so, while I review my overal plot and notes. Then, who knows.

Writing, however, feels good again. Wish me luck.

spoonerisms

Good morning.

Creative writing seems to include the ability to look at (or listen to) things from a different viewpoint. I don't know if it applies, but at least in my case, listening to words differently seems to spark some creativity. One such source is splassic Coonerism. I clean massic spoonerism. Or lomething sike that.

Spoonerism is, according to wiki, a play on words in which corresponding consonents, vowels, or morphemes are switched. The name comes from the Reverend William Archibald Spooner, who according to legend, was extremely prone to accidently wixing his mords up. Or Mixing his Words up. According to legend, one of his classic spoonerism, recorded by a student in one of his lecture halls, he once raised a toast to our "Queer old Dean" (referring to our dear old Queen.)

Many rev. Spooner quotes are no doubt, post-mortem attributions, setting up a hilarious quote too good to be true. For example, speaking to an audience of young women, he supposedly referred to the painfully hard benches, intending to say 'weary benches' and ended up calling his listeners "Beery Wenches". Cute, and quite probably apocryphal, IMHO. However, let's have fun with this.....

There is a rennaisance faire performer, Terry Foy (under the stage name of Zilch the Tory steller) who bases his act on spoonerisms. He'll take a perfectly normal story and twist the words just so. Without a doubt, he deliberatly selects the phonomes to swap in advance in order to maximize the laughs, but at the rapid rate he tells the tale, one can't tell. He will pause just long enough for you to get the joke, or perhaps try and untangle the words. As a result, you end up with lines such as "'The Prancy Fince', 'Rindercella and her stoo tugly epsisters', or 'Rindercella slopped her dripper right in the piddle of the larking mot". Think about it.

So.... In my next post, I'll see if I can't rewrite a classic tale, spoonerism style. Wish me luck.

PS. For more laugh, see Terry Foy's home page at http://www.torysteller.com/ ,

TTFN,
Jim

Thursday Stuff

Yeesh. Low grade ickyness (technical term) all week finally let go today, though it wasn't until after I left work. In fact, it wasn't until I'd forced myself to get off my duff and go to the YMCA with Irma, about 20 minutes into the stationary bicycle. Suddenly, I noticed, headache gone, no scratchy throat. Veerry Interesting.....

We went to see Stardust at the movies monday. I highly recommend it, a wonderful tale. Similar to Princess Bride in atmosphere. Sorry, kids, no blood or bad words. Some wonderful acting by Robert DeNiro, among others. It's not often Irma and I both say we want to see the movie again, and not just 'when it comes out on DVD'.

Inspiration. The low grade ickyness (technical term) has really sapped my desire to write this week, though I'm feeling more up to it tonight. Looking at Imperfect Hope, one thing I really want to emphasize in the tale is depth of character and setting. Practice exercises will continue to help me hone those skills. (Though Dialogue is another weakness. aww, heck. admit it, everything need work. ((silence, inner critic))) Developing character histories helps with the depth aspect. Setting just takes practice. So here goes.....

Feel free to comment to me. Who knows, I might just learn something.....

TTFN,
Jim

Write Stuff.

Why in the world am I writing this blog anyway?

One reason is to get my writing joices flowing before I start working on a project. The warm-up effect of this seems to be very tangible, I notice that if I spend 15 minutes or so letting thoughts out on the blog, the writing that follows seems to be more concise, rapid, and creative. Probably like a singer who warms up her voice first, or the athelete who stretches his muscles, I'm warming up my writing voice, stretching my style.

It's more than just getting the fingers flowing quickly on the keyboard, though I admit that is a noticeable effect. Changing my left brain/right brain patterns into a more creative mode seems to take 10 minutes or so. Sometimes more, sometimes less, but I can sense when I'm ready. When writing the blog stops being a "write a sentence, pause and think about what to say next" to "write as quickly as my thoughts can be put down". Once I get into that mode, I know I'm ready to fire up the WordPerfect, and...

And What. That's where the modes vary. Sometimes I go straight into writing, open up the chapter I'm working on and just go. Sometimes I reread what I've done so far, and let my mind wrap around if for a while. I"m not sure which method works better for me, but I suspect in time I'll start to favor one over the other. Then I'll know.....

Anyway. Tonight, I'm working on chapter 2. First scene, Introduce the main Antagonist, Min. He's a schemer, a spy, an assassin, and, he works for the emperor. (chorus of boo's and Hisses!) He's the one who has begun putting the pieces of the Emperor's plot into motion.

His character is complex, if it weren't for who he works for, it might be possible to like him. Oh, and he's manipulative. He stays behind the scenes, pulling strings and pushing buttons, and right now, he's got it all in front of him, everything is coming together just as he planned. (Evil laughter). But.... Fate, and Elorna's hand, will place our heroes across his path, and the battle of wits shall begin.....

(Okay, a bit melodramatic. But, the muse is ready... Wish me luck.....)

TTFN,
Jim

Musings

Imperfect Hope, chapter 1 first draft is done. For now. It felt like a milestone to put it behind me, though. Today, I'll start drafting another section of the novel, and I'll probably allow that inner critic loose for a little while on what I've done so far with chapter one. It's screaming to be let loose.

One issue that I've already identified is a bit of confusion as to the viewpoint character. Scene one was easy enough, but scene's 2 and 3 are a bit mixed up, I mostly kept to protagonist #1's viewpoint, but when I reread it lately, I noticed that occasionally I included observations that crept in from protagonist #2. Unless P#1 can read minds, there's no place for swaps like that. So inconsistancies like that will be a priority during rewrites, as well as a focus for ongoing first draft work.

Chapter 2 will start with a different viewpoint again, then switch back to P#1 and P#2. Practice Practice Practice.....

Speaking of practice. My writing exercise from last week. An exercise in Description and Setting. Maybe a bit of mood.....

I leaned against the palm tree and swirled the drink in my hand. The ice sounded dull in the cheap plastic cup, a clatter rather than the melodic clink that sounded when you swirled your scotch in a crystalline glass. At least the scotch was good, even if it wasn't your traditional oceanside tropical drink. The bartender had been scandalized when I insisted a plastic drink umbrella be placed in the scotch. In the last minutes of light from the setting sun, the drink caught the rays, liquid gold and brown and red, all blended together in an autumn colored abstract within the throwaway cup. I smiled, it was a beautiful evening on the gulf-coast beach.

A few dozen yards down the beach, a woman was putting the finishing touches on a sand sculpture. She had been scrambling about in the sand since long before I'd arrived, taking time out only to stand back and study her masterwork. Flurries of frantic digging would follow, dignity forgotten as she crawled around the sculpture, packing and scraping. Children nearby pointed and laughed. From my vantage point, I couldn't tell what she had formed from the sand, but one of the boys suddenly shouted, "An Alligator! Mom, it's an alligator." Further up the beach, one of the watching adults waved in acknowledgement. Finally, the artist stood back, satisfied. One gritty hand swept a loose strand of hair away from her face. I turned my attention back to my task.

Offshore, a yacht bobbed silently at anchor, the crew had taken in sail and dropped anchor shortly after I had taken up my watch over the beach. Nobody moved on deck, though a light showed in the cabin windows, a shadow crossed occasionally. Sea Gulls wheeled over the stern of the yacht, I could hear their high pitched squalling in between the low rumbles of the waves on the beach as the gulls fought over some scraps that had been tossed overboard earlier. I imagined the galley cook had tossed them overboard while readying the dinner, perhaps the catch of the day. Perhaps my contact was on board.

I hadn't been told how my contact was to arrive, perhaps he was waiting for darkness. I listened to the surf sounds more intently, wondering. Was he to swim? Or would he arrive by inflatable zodiac raft. Was he even on the boat? All I had was the note, sent by email the night before. "Arrive Ungers Beach, sunset. Info on Solid Shot. Put an umbrella in your drink, I'll ask if it is 'The Balvenie'. Anyone but you and I'll disappear forever." No name, all attempts to trace the origin of the message ended in failure. Oh. Solid Shot is the codename for the project I'm overseeing for the Navy. So secret, even congress doesn't know what it's about.

So..... Writing fragment turned into practice, turned into..... What.... A story? Who knows.....

TTFN,
Jim

Thursday

Writing is a job. All I have to do is show up for work and do it. Never mind that I may have to wait years for the paycheck. Heh.

Sounds cynical. Sounds too simple. Sounds... Like real life. If all I'm doing is chasing the paycheck, though, why should I change careers. Because it's something I enjoy doing. As opposed to the FAA, which grows onerous at times. Don't get me wrong, most of the time I enjoy my job. I even like a few of the people I work with. Unfortunately, there are quite a few emotional vampires there, people who whine and complain, those who feel the best way to show themselves as great controllers is to show up others, those who put down others who do things correctly. But.... They're in every field, so. Stop whining, Jim.

Writing. The image is that of the solitary type, hunched over the typewriter (keyboard), cigarette in one hand, scotch on the desk in front of him. Exploding into action when something hits him, staring mindlessly at the work most of the rest of the time. Ssshhh. Don't bother the writer, he's busy. Be very very quiet.....

It doesn't work that way for me. For one, the act of trying to be quiet actually draws my attention more than just being around me. I guess a part of me senses someone trying to be "sneaky", and wonders, Why? That pulls me away from what I'm working on. And, I don't smoke, and I won't touch a drink while I'm working, I do admit to keeping my owl mug at my side, filled with ice water or sometimes tea. I do occasionally explode into action, but usually I just grind away. Typing, reading, retyping. Turn to my notes, dig up something... Etc. When I do get into the zone, it may take a small riot to get my attention.

Writing practice... My 2 paragraph exercise over the weekend came out interesting. Non-sci-fi or fantasy genre, it feels more like the opening scene of a spy novel or mystery. More polish down the road.....

Clear skies.

Jim

Writing progress

Time for my weekly(ish) progress report.



Piper on the Hill remains in stasis while I mull over ways to liven up the plot. I still like the overall concept (who didn't like the game version?), but the weakness in the way I was telling the story needs to be addressed.



Imperfect Hope is beginning to pick up steam, I'm finding my voice and have a better sense of who's telling the story, point of view, and twists. Still, I need to pick up the pace of my first draft grinding, and stop letting the inner critic attack my work before I finish the first draft. I'm just about done with the first chapter, with 3 1/4 scenes drafted out. One thing I'm probably going to do is jump around, since I've a pretty well mapped out outline, I can jump ahead to write whatever scene interests me. I'm planning on finishing scene 4,chapter 1 tonight and then I'll pick something fun.....



I"ve done a fair amount of at-work brainstorming on Light House, Light Home. Still looks like a short story project, but one that could easily be expanded into a novel later if the idea proves out. For now, though, the story line is pretty rough.



Writing practice last week, besides this blog, included a paragraph on setting using some semi-random ideas. I'm going to practice rewriting it, as a way of practicing for my rewrites of chapters and novels in the future. I need to work on dialogue and description, I'll probably dig up some work book ideas to practice while on break at the FAA. Let's see if 30 minutes is enough time to turn off the air traffic control mind, be creative for a few paragraphs, and then turn on that atc brain again. progress reports to follow.



The thought for the day:

To fulfill a dream, to be allowed to sweat over lonely labor, to be given the chance to create, is the meat and potatoes of life. The money is the gravy. As everyone else, I love to dunk my crust in it. But alone, it is not a diet designed to keep body and soul together.
Bette Davis (1908 - 1989), The Lonely Life, 1962

This needs some thought.....

TTFN,
Jim

Writing Exercise

I think that sometimes it is a good thing to step away from the ongoing project and let my mind work on other subjects. A writing exercise in one way, write on something unrelated to what I've been grinding away at for the last few days. And grind it has seemed, for a few days, I was stuck on how unpolished my work seemed, I wrote and rewrote the same scene (#2) 3 times this week, and still wasn't satisfied. However, I went back through some notes I"d written over the winter, and reminded myself that I need to turn off the inner critic while writing a first draft. So... I got to it tonight, and put 1k words down, finished the second scene and started the third. Once I got going, it went smoothly.

So on to the "step-away". A writing exercise. Tomorrow, I'm going to write about something different. Practice, if you will. I'll combine elements into a scene unrelated to Imperfect Hope. In the back of my mind, a part of me realizes that it may end up in a tale somewhere, that's kind of how Imperfect Hope started, with a scene written for practice.

What do I want to do? I feel like I need to work on scene setting, as well as characterization. So my little tale will start with three elements and a setting, far different from the northern winterland I'm writing about in Imperfect hope. Then, if it feels right, I'll add a character. What will happen.....

TTFN,
Jim

I know the answer!

Quotes are a fun source of writing inspiration. Or at least, mental exercise. Today, I'm quoting Charles M. Schultz, of Peanuts fame. I'll then try to pick it apart and see what I come up with. Good luck, contestant number one.....

"I know the answer! The answer lies within the heart of all mankind! The answer is twelve? I think I'm in the wrong building."

Yeesh. I didn't listen to the question again!. I heard the professor start to ask a question, and in my excitement of recently reading his magnus opus, formulated a complex answer to a really simple question. In writing, the equivalent would be to plot out a story from start to finish, write the novel, only to have it rejected because... Because, for one, you didn't allow the characters you're writing about to ask you, the writer, the questions that he or she would logically ask. Why am I here? What am I doing? Why does that person hate me? How am I going to cross that river without a bridge now? Simplify the answers, you don't need to formulate a long narrative to answer everything.

So, in my active project, Imperfect Hope, I'm letting the main characters ask me those questions tonight. I think the answers will surprise me, I'm hoping they'll surprise the readers.

TTFN,
Jim

An encounter

Storms. Drifting sheets of rain slant down across the plains of Kansas and Nebraska, the sun slashes through the clouds to create a patchwork of shadow and sunlight. That's what I imagined the airspace looked like last night and tonight as I wove air traffic around and through the storms that filled my sector. Or at least, what I imagined after I'd had a chance to wind down. Somehow, during the rush, I was a bit focused.

However, afterwards. Last night, for example, I managed a walk around the facility at around eight pm. Dusk, just enough light to see, peaceful. Storms out east and west, but here at Denver Center the clouds formed a dark barrier to the west, with the sun peeking underneath the thunderstorms over Longs Peak. This in one way to unwind. Sometimes, of course, I listen for the owl that inhabits the huge cottonwood to the east of the parking lot, but last night I was distracted. Then I saw the fox.

I've known a fox family was living near the abandoned barn adjacent to the facility, but I'd never seen them. But as I walked around the perimeter of the parking lot, I noticed it. Him, or her. (ever notice how hard it is to refer to a fox as he?) Sitting at the fence line, watching me pass by perhaps 30 feet away. I slowed down, and stopped, and just watched back. And let my imaginations loose for a while.

I suspect, in the wild, a fox would never be so open about it's presence, but here, it was obviously comfortable with us hanging around. I imagined being in the wilderness, though. Watching a fox hunting while unaware of my presence. Stalking a mouse, or perhaps a rabbit (there are rabbits all around the FAA facility, so that's likely one source of food). I noticed it's tail held high as it watched me and wondered. In dogs, a high tail indicates happiness, or comfort, or other (humanly labeled) positive attitudes. WHy was the fox happy...

There's a story in it. Put it in my file for things to write about. Why was the fox happy.

Clear skies,
Jim

Another fine mess...

Time to write. I'm learning that one of the challenges of writing is changing my brain from my work mode, heavy right brain (calculations and speed estimates and climb rates and angles) to writing mode (heavy left brain, creative and free flowing). Music helps. So does, apparently, drawing, though it has been years since I've drawn freely. One idea is to work on the map of the world.

Tonight, it's music. I'm listening to a web-radio station, Whisperings, at Solopianoradio.com. It all solo piano, all the time. no lyrics to muck up my train of thought, no jarring commercials, and relaxing. There are times when I want something more energetic, but tonight, this is perfect.

So what will I be writing? Grinding through Imperfect hope, trying to get the protagonist characterizations right in their introductory scene. Finding a balance of description and dialogue will be my challenge tonight. I'll let you know.....

Oh, the tip of the day: Recognize the talent within me, and don't listen to that inner critic, at least not during the first draft. There'll be time enough to self-criticism during the revision phase.

Clear skies,
Jim

Tips of the iceberg

Just for fun, type in writing tips at your favorite search engine. Bet you come up with seventeen gazillion hits. All these writing tips, you'd think there would be innumerable successful authors, assuming those tips came from published writers. But.....

I suspect a good majority of "writing tips" come from novices like me. I collect them in my head, often just reading bits and pieces from various writers web sites. Some of them are probably even good.

However. Many are junk, or just don't apply to how I write. Trying to shoehorn a creative activity into easy to define steps indexed by happy, happy tips is like trying to eat jello with chopsticks.

Anyway. I guess the tip of the day would come from Orson Scott Card, in an interview he did recently for a gaming magazine, he noted that, with all the time he wasted playing civilization a few years back, he probably could have put out 20 books. That's a lot of money that the game cost him, in his estimation... So he suggested... Time limits. Preferable in the form of a switch controlled by his wife. Two hours gaming, and you're cut off, mister. Back to work.....

I can see how it would help, but I'm probably less stressed about my time usage right now. I often "unwind" with some solitare before I write. If I play something more substantial, like Sid Meiers Rail Tycoon, I set myself a time limit, and make sure it isn't overlapping the period I've defined as my writing time. Most of the time.

I do define my writing time with a little ritual. When I break out the Owl Mug, it's writing time. I might let myself get into the mood for 10-15 minutes, but eventually, I'm going to fire up the word processor, and get to it.

At least, that's my plan. And I'm sticking to it.....
TTFN,
Jim

ugh.

Didn't get much done over the last few days, seems like everytime I sat down to write something came up that needed my attention. I did, however, reread and revise what I'd done.

Specifically, I didn't like the bloodthirstyness the protagonists displayed in the first scene, it gave the wrong impression entirely of who they are supposed to be. So I stepped back from the hard-bitten mercenary image, who found it all to easy to kill what in all reality is just a pair of poachers, and instead began setting up a capture/release situation. This also gives me the opportunity to describe characters and setting more thouroughly. Hopefully I'll get out of my mental funk shortly and continue.....

TTFN,
Jim

And He's off!

First draft began yesterday for Imperfect hope. (after 2 false starts that were identified as false when I realized I was underprepared with background and setup.) I have to admit, I stared at the blank page for 20+ minutes before I started writing, and the manner in which it started wasn't quite what I expected. But that has happened before. My rough outline is only a guideline, As I write, I self-edit. In this case, I found motivations for the characters in the first scene that I hadn't thought of, and those motivations altered the characters actions. It makes a lot more sense when you read it, but... First drafts aren't for reading... Yet.

Anyway. I feel like I'm off to a good start. Now to keep the enthusiasm.

How bad do bad guys have to be?

So here's the question. Lets say I'm starting a story with a bad guy, doing a bad thing. And I want the hero to stop him, in this case, by killing him (a variant on the throwaway victim used so often in horror flicks to set up the villain). But I don't want to tarnish the hero too much at the start. I know with a lot of exposition, I can create the characters demeanor, but exposition at the start of a tale leads to an editor tossing the manuscript onto the reject pile very quickly. So.....

Make the bad guy genuinely dislikeable. In Fact, make him detestable. What the hero does is a service to all mankind, getting rid of this kind of scum. Cheer for the hero, right from the first scene.

Is it overdone? Maybe. Every new writer thinks what he's doing is going to be different. "Me, cliche?. No, I'm writing this for the first time."

Anyway..... This is one of the possible openings I'm working on for Imperfect hope. Show the character of the character/protagonist early on, establish him as a good guy, but one who can be, has to be, brutal in brutal times. I'll let you know if it works.....

TTFN
Jim.

Fear and Characters

I've got to admit, this has been a busy week at work. Last Wednesday, we set a record for traffic levels at Denver Center. I came home with bruises on my bruises from getting my butt kicked. Then, Thursday, we broke that record again. Yaahhhh, somebody stop the ride, I'm scared!!!

Speaking (writing?) of scared brings up the concept of fright for fictional characters. All too often in the IFGS, we play our characters as if nothing frightens them, or if we do admit to a fear, it is something outlandish that we can overact to in order to create "roleplaying". I'm guilty of that, how many remember the earlier days of Brandis when he was "Cave or Tunnel Claustrophobic". Thankfully, I toned that down as I came to create a more believable character, but it is typical of what the average roleplayer adds to create depth.

Writing requires a more realistic view on fears, if the reader is to sympathize with the character. Having a hero who fears nothing evokes images of the muscle bound stereotype Conan. I know I enjoyed that characterization to a small degree early on, but it didn't take long for me to crave characters who show human (or whatever race) sides that I can understand, and who change as their life changes. Cook's Garrett, A hard boiled investigator straight out of the noir detective novels of the 40's and 50's is one example. He starts out pretty single minded, avoid work, wealth matters only so much as it can buy another keg of ale, and dames in distress always mean trouble. Later in the series, his honor and morality come to play as he stops shirking responsibility and comes to the aid of his friends, again and again, despite a deep fear of failure. Stereotypes, they do exist, but they're overshadowed by the realness of his emotions.

In IFGS, Player Characters come to the table with the assumption that they'll win, every time. There is no doubt, facing the typical cash and carry monty-haul type adventure that gets turned out most of the time these days, that they'll succeed, and continue to get wealthier and wealthier than any king of the realm. We should paint an Alfred E. Neumann Face on every typical PC's shield or taberd. "What, ME Worry?". A fictional hero comes to the table with confidance, yes. But nobody but fools assume they'll win no matter what they do. And nobody wants to read about fools.

Clear skies,
Jim

Ideas

It all begins with an idea. A dream, perhaps, or maybe an observation. That idea may have first popped into my head months, or even years ago. Chances are, whatever it is, it has fermented in my imagination since then. Changing, adapting, realigning with other ideas.

Then, maybe the idea forms into an image. From that image, perhaps a scene, a piece of a storyline that, with more time and mental massaging, turns into a story.

That's how my writing is working, how it always has worked. Sha'te Valley, for example, my first (and in my mind, my best, if underproduced) Major IFGS game, started with an idea. A heroic stand against unnumerable foes, a battle in the backwaters that, when it was all over, the only people it mattered to were the survivors, and the few K'tath who were saved by the actions of the heroes. Most of the heroes friends would only shake their heads and mutter, why risk yourself for them. For that. I'd always imagined the heroes of Sha'te answering that question thusly: "I did it because it was right, and because I was there."

Imperfect hope's idea started with one small image, a hero, cursed with darkness, has given up hope. It is the shared hope of friends that rekindle the spark of hope within.

Writing down the world

Here goes. In essence, good readers, I've begun a new career. Yes, I am now a writer. I own the name, in the sense that I'm treating it as a new job, one that I'm going to spend regular hours on, with the goal of getting paid. (Note, for those just visiting, I'm already published, in a sense. But IFGS games aren't paid.)
You can expect to find my ups and downs here, from good days writing to bad days at my other job as an air traffic controller. For now, I'm just starting, so with me luck.
Oh, what writing method am I using? On the basic level, It's the BIC-HOK method of writing. BIC-HOK. Butt in Chair, Hands on Keyboard.....

TTFN,
Jim