Last year, November 2012, I took on the National Novel Writing Contest and wrote 60,000 words in the allotted 30 days.
Those of you who've done it this year, you're probably thinking your pretty tough. I was. Not to dampen your spirits, but if you're truly thinking yourself the master of all writing marathons, think again.
Yes, there's something even more challenging than NaNoWriMo.
The 3 Day Novel.
And it sounds exactly like it is.
30 days divided by 10. That's all the time you have to write a full length novel.
And now, this isn't some total spoof of a post. It's real. Thousands of writers have done this - some have even succeeded (without going whack in the old second story, either).
It's not like I'm going to ever try this. Maybe later. Maybe.
Sorry I just killed all your pride in finishing a 50k novel, but it had to be done.
~Robert
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Tuesday Tales (a day late - Again!!!)
Nightmares in the Past, Chapter 3.
It was minutes only before another Jedi arrived, called through Keith’s datapad. Master Rambar, a Kel Dor, quickly released Keith and Tharalia, trapped under the debris, and ordered a team of SP-4 droids to bear Tharalia and Ina off to the medical wing of the Tython Temple.
Keith, Kian, and Kim followed soon after for Keith’s minor wounds to be bandaged. The walk spanned across the entire Temple, which allowed Kian a glance at what had happened in the more heated areas of the temple-wide skirmish.
“So what do you know about this mission?” asked Keith the Kel Dor.
“Two Sithlin’s ‘eaded off a small scale operation.” Rambar took a pull at his breathing mask. “A couple squads a’ mercenaries and Sith troopa’s.” He shrugged, disgusted wrinkles crawling on his face. Finally, he continued. “We dunno what they were tryin’a do, but whatever it was they failed.”
Kian’s ear perked up. Failed? Had they really? He shivered. That was a terrible thought. But was it entirely . . . um, what was that word - unpossible?
“Two Sith?” Keith asked, interrupting Kian’s thoughts.
Rambar nodded. “A Sith warrior and an Inquisitor.
“The Sith warrior was undoubtedly Omar - he’s a madman in its definition - but this inquisitor, was he captured?”
Rambar took in a deep breath. “‘fraid not. He jumped onto a dropship when things went ill for him. Troop a’ his men got away too.”
“Bastasi!,” Keith muttered. “Then we’ll be dealing with this again later.”
“Oh no,” Rambar shook his head, casting his arm up in a wild gesture. “We’ve forced enough information out of one of the merce’eraries. He was ca’pliant with our ques’ions. Apparently, this inquisitor was a rogue of some kind, it be even a possib’ that ‘e was working apart from the Academy. Whatever the point of this operation of his was, it be a myst’ry. But with Omie dead, they won’t be comin’ again. And a good thing that nit-twit is gone, too.”
“Don’t be too convinced we won’t hear from them again. We need to pursue this inquisitor.” Keith hesitated. “Oh, and I think you mean nit-wit . . .”
Rambar’s one eyebrow shot. “That’s what I was saying!”
Kian and Kim exploded into giggles.
Keith growled and shook his head. “Whatever. But what was that about the prisoner? Surely he would have known about the objective.”
Rambar sighed. “Evra’ time we brought up the object of the mission he just clammed up and shook his head. ‘Ventually he’d say he di’n’t know - that he was just a mercenary for “Big ‘Un”.”
Keith shook his head, staring at the floor. “That is unfortunate. If we could have only taken Omar prisoner. He would’ve known.”
“And risk the lives of two Jedi Knights, a padawan, and two younglings, plus countless more if Mr. O was not stopped there?” Rambar appealed. “Nay, that padawan is a brave lass, she did the right thing to end him there.”
Keith replied, but Kian lost interest in the conversation. Instead, he looked around at the damage that was wrought in the entrance hall. Just one small operation caused tremendous damage. Service droids buzzed about, and a group of workers from a building station nearby hustled in to repair the temple.
A worker ruffled Kian’s hair as they passed. Kian frowned and combed his hair back with his hands. They continued on down the hall, during which time he not only received three more hair ruffles, but one big pinch on his cheek.
Now that was a problem. The old preyed on the weak and helpless in all these “harmless” mind maddening ways. So frustrating. How can you ever be manly in such a situation? How he hated being little.
Kian glanced over to Kim. She wasn’t being bugged - no, people knew not to mess with her. But Kian was just another youngling to be pinched, pulled and ruffled.
Once they had reached the medical wing, Keith bandaged his wounds with several bacta pads while Rambar checked on Tharalia and Ina. Keith turned to Kian.
“Son, I need to talk to you about some very important things.”
Kian perked up. Kim edged closer.
Keith eyed Kim up and down. He cleared his throat purposefully. “In private, Kim.”
Kim’s shoulders sank. “Oh-kay . . .”
Keith took Kian behind a curtain. “You are brave, Kian, but you must follow the rules. If you do not follow them, nothing can help you, not even the Force.”
Kian searched his father’s face. “ . . . What?”
“Son, what you did was brave, but you still did the wrong thing. I told you to stay in the clan house. You disobeyed me, you disobeyed the Order. You could have died - that Sith was dangerous. Very dangerous.” Keith sighed. “But still . . . what you did, it was noble, and I thank you.”
Another voice startled in. “You’re very welcome.”
“Wha?” Keith and Kian both looked up.
Kim! Kian’s heart jumped. His friend’s head poked through the curtain’s opening - a broad smile smudged on her face, gleaming pearly white teeth.
“Kim . . .” Keith growled. Still, neither Kian nor Keith could help a chuckle.
Keith huffed and patted Kim’s head. “Well, I suppose that goes for you too, Kim.”
She blushed. “Great.” She began to twiddle her thumbs, stepping into the curtained room fully.
“So was that Sith Darth Yomar?” Kian asked.
“Darth Ohmy,” Kim corrected.
Keith laughed meaningfully, yet strained at the same time. “It was Darth Omar, yes.” His smile fell away. “Now, Kian, Kim, I believe you have something to report to Master Kaleeth.”
They both groaned, but obeyed and scampered away towards the clan house.
It was minutes only before another Jedi arrived, called through Keith’s datapad. Master Rambar, a Kel Dor, quickly released Keith and Tharalia, trapped under the debris, and ordered a team of SP-4 droids to bear Tharalia and Ina off to the medical wing of the Tython Temple.
Keith, Kian, and Kim followed soon after for Keith’s minor wounds to be bandaged. The walk spanned across the entire Temple, which allowed Kian a glance at what had happened in the more heated areas of the temple-wide skirmish.
“So what do you know about this mission?” asked Keith the Kel Dor.
“Two Sithlin’s ‘eaded off a small scale operation.” Rambar took a pull at his breathing mask. “A couple squads a’ mercenaries and Sith troopa’s.” He shrugged, disgusted wrinkles crawling on his face. Finally, he continued. “We dunno what they were tryin’a do, but whatever it was they failed.”
Kian’s ear perked up. Failed? Had they really? He shivered. That was a terrible thought. But was it entirely . . . um, what was that word - unpossible?
“Two Sith?” Keith asked, interrupting Kian’s thoughts.
Rambar nodded. “A Sith warrior and an Inquisitor.
“The Sith warrior was undoubtedly Omar - he’s a madman in its definition - but this inquisitor, was he captured?”
Rambar took in a deep breath. “‘fraid not. He jumped onto a dropship when things went ill for him. Troop a’ his men got away too.”
“Bastasi!,” Keith muttered. “Then we’ll be dealing with this again later.”
“Oh no,” Rambar shook his head, casting his arm up in a wild gesture. “We’ve forced enough information out of one of the merce’eraries. He was ca’pliant with our ques’ions. Apparently, this inquisitor was a rogue of some kind, it be even a possib’ that ‘e was working apart from the Academy. Whatever the point of this operation of his was, it be a myst’ry. But with Omie dead, they won’t be comin’ again. And a good thing that nit-twit is gone, too.”
“Don’t be too convinced we won’t hear from them again. We need to pursue this inquisitor.” Keith hesitated. “Oh, and I think you mean nit-wit . . .”
Rambar’s one eyebrow shot. “That’s what I was saying!”
Kian and Kim exploded into giggles.
Keith growled and shook his head. “Whatever. But what was that about the prisoner? Surely he would have known about the objective.”
Rambar sighed. “Evra’ time we brought up the object of the mission he just clammed up and shook his head. ‘Ventually he’d say he di’n’t know - that he was just a mercenary for “Big ‘Un”.”
Keith shook his head, staring at the floor. “That is unfortunate. If we could have only taken Omar prisoner. He would’ve known.”
“And risk the lives of two Jedi Knights, a padawan, and two younglings, plus countless more if Mr. O was not stopped there?” Rambar appealed. “Nay, that padawan is a brave lass, she did the right thing to end him there.”
Keith replied, but Kian lost interest in the conversation. Instead, he looked around at the damage that was wrought in the entrance hall. Just one small operation caused tremendous damage. Service droids buzzed about, and a group of workers from a building station nearby hustled in to repair the temple.
A worker ruffled Kian’s hair as they passed. Kian frowned and combed his hair back with his hands. They continued on down the hall, during which time he not only received three more hair ruffles, but one big pinch on his cheek.
Now that was a problem. The old preyed on the weak and helpless in all these “harmless” mind maddening ways. So frustrating. How can you ever be manly in such a situation? How he hated being little.
Kian glanced over to Kim. She wasn’t being bugged - no, people knew not to mess with her. But Kian was just another youngling to be pinched, pulled and ruffled.
Once they had reached the medical wing, Keith bandaged his wounds with several bacta pads while Rambar checked on Tharalia and Ina. Keith turned to Kian.
“Son, I need to talk to you about some very important things.”
Kian perked up. Kim edged closer.
Keith eyed Kim up and down. He cleared his throat purposefully. “In private, Kim.”
Kim’s shoulders sank. “Oh-kay . . .”
Keith took Kian behind a curtain. “You are brave, Kian, but you must follow the rules. If you do not follow them, nothing can help you, not even the Force.”
Kian searched his father’s face. “ . . . What?”
“Son, what you did was brave, but you still did the wrong thing. I told you to stay in the clan house. You disobeyed me, you disobeyed the Order. You could have died - that Sith was dangerous. Very dangerous.” Keith sighed. “But still . . . what you did, it was noble, and I thank you.”
Another voice startled in. “You’re very welcome.”
“Wha?” Keith and Kian both looked up.
Kim! Kian’s heart jumped. His friend’s head poked through the curtain’s opening - a broad smile smudged on her face, gleaming pearly white teeth.
“Kim . . .” Keith growled. Still, neither Kian nor Keith could help a chuckle.
Keith huffed and patted Kim’s head. “Well, I suppose that goes for you too, Kim.”
She blushed. “Great.” She began to twiddle her thumbs, stepping into the curtained room fully.
“So was that Sith Darth Yomar?” Kian asked.
“Darth Ohmy,” Kim corrected.
Keith laughed meaningfully, yet strained at the same time. “It was Darth Omar, yes.” His smile fell away. “Now, Kian, Kim, I believe you have something to report to Master Kaleeth.”
They both groaned, but obeyed and scampered away towards the clan house.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Writing It - Part 2
(Sixth lesson in my writing class.)
Each scene of your story should be based on three things in this order: Goal, Conflict, Disaster.
Each scene should heighten the suspense of the story until the very highest point of the climax. Each scene should be made up with those three things, Goal, Conflict, Disaster.
The hero has a goal, but he comes into conflict with something, and disaster is the result. This doesn’t mean your story has to be a tragedy, it simply means that your hero doesn’t win every time he’s confronted with a problem.
The reason each scene ends in a disaster is because it’s compelling. If the character gets everything he or she wants, then it’ll be boring. Putting in the Conflict and then Disaster tells the reader that there is really a chance things might not end up well. Something real is at stake.
Of course, you can’t just end a scene with your character being defeated, and then in the next scene he’s already coming up with a new Goal. No, that’s why you need to have a second format for the next scene. A Reaction, a Dilemma, and a Decision.
A Reaction to the Disaster in the last chapter. Your character is regrouping, recovering, maybe even grieving? But definitely defeated and discouraged. If you write it authentically - with an understandable reason for the way he or she is acting - the readers will be sympathetic, and maybe even feel defeated and discouraged with the character. After your character is defeated, give him or her some time to reflect on it. Even the sprightliest of people will get discouraged and it’s going to take them a while to recover - this is the time for the character to react, not act. Not yet, anyway.
The second part of this follow up scene is the Dilemma. When there are several possible solutions the character can make - and they all seem bad. The Disaster was so crucial that there is seemingly no hope. But now, he’s recovered just a little, so that he’s decided he has to continue, or maybe a friend keeps talking to him until he finally gets out of his Reaction stage, when he doesn’t do anything to keep going. Now he’s going in the right direction, but he suddenly realizes he has to make a choice between a few ugly possibilities. I can’t stress how much you want to make these possible choices all bad. If one is an easy pick, add something into it to make it more difficult. Let your character ponder over this.
I suggest you write out a full page of your character simply questioning what options he has. Should he sell his house or his car? Selling the car would be the more preferable choice, yes, but now you need to throw a wrench into the gears. What if his car is the only way he can get to work, even if it is a low paying job? Make the decision matter.
And finally the third part of this second scene; the Decision. Now that he’s thought over the possibilities, he has to make an action. This is a very important part in this scene because once more it’s giving the character the ball. His actions determine his fate. He then decides what Decision he will make. As I said before, don’t make it an easy decision, but make it a decision that the reader will respect, because when a reader thinks about what the possible decisions could end up in, and considers them, he or she will relate to the character, which is always a good thing.
Look at it in another way. What if the reader is holding his breath to see what the character will do, and then suddenly, with no rhyme or reason, the character picks the absolute hardest one. Then the reader will think, “well that was a stupid thing to do.” And that will annoy him. The most important thing for this part of the scene is to get the reader to wonder what he or she would do in that situation, and then give them a satisfying answer as to what the character did. If you can do this, you’ve got a great scene.
Now, as you see, the character knows what he wants to do. The Decision at the end of this scene is what he will do, in the next scene we’re back to Goal again. The character has Decided what his Goal will be.
This is why you interlock the two types of scenes every other time. Using there initials, you can create the pattern they are in.
GCD, which is Goal, Conflict, Disaster.
And RDD, Reaction, Dilemma, Decision.
And repeat it.
GCD,
RDD,
GCD,
RDD,
and so on. It’s a full scale of ups and downs for the reader and the character. It visits both despair and hope in one full cycle. If you keep this up, not only will a reader be interested, you yourself will be compelled to keep writing. The best way to get interested in writing a story isn’t just to write it, it’s to get into it. Write the character’s emotions as if you were there. As if you were just encountered with your Disaster. And now your hurting, and finally you come to the Dilemma. Make the reasons compelling, so that you yourself would say, “which one would I choose?” and then you know you’ve made a great scene.
So have your next scene, be it your first or fifth, planned out in this method.
I want you all to get out a pencil and paper, and write at the top “Scene 1", then on separate lines: Goal, Conflict, Disaster.
Then take out a new sheet and write at the top “Scene 2", and in separate lines below Reaction (to the Disaster), Dilemma, Decision.
Take some time in club today to write beside those words what your character is faced with for that part of the scene, the Decision he makes, and/or the Disaster he faces. Just something simple, just so that you have an idea.
If you do this with all your scenes, you’ll compel not only your reader to keep reading, but you as the writer to keep writing.
Do as many scenes as you can.
Also take time today to share, or listen to, any writings you want to have your audience’s feed back on.
Each scene of your story should be based on three things in this order: Goal, Conflict, Disaster.
Each scene should heighten the suspense of the story until the very highest point of the climax. Each scene should be made up with those three things, Goal, Conflict, Disaster.
The hero has a goal, but he comes into conflict with something, and disaster is the result. This doesn’t mean your story has to be a tragedy, it simply means that your hero doesn’t win every time he’s confronted with a problem.
The reason each scene ends in a disaster is because it’s compelling. If the character gets everything he or she wants, then it’ll be boring. Putting in the Conflict and then Disaster tells the reader that there is really a chance things might not end up well. Something real is at stake.
Of course, you can’t just end a scene with your character being defeated, and then in the next scene he’s already coming up with a new Goal. No, that’s why you need to have a second format for the next scene. A Reaction, a Dilemma, and a Decision.
A Reaction to the Disaster in the last chapter. Your character is regrouping, recovering, maybe even grieving? But definitely defeated and discouraged. If you write it authentically - with an understandable reason for the way he or she is acting - the readers will be sympathetic, and maybe even feel defeated and discouraged with the character. After your character is defeated, give him or her some time to reflect on it. Even the sprightliest of people will get discouraged and it’s going to take them a while to recover - this is the time for the character to react, not act. Not yet, anyway.
The second part of this follow up scene is the Dilemma. When there are several possible solutions the character can make - and they all seem bad. The Disaster was so crucial that there is seemingly no hope. But now, he’s recovered just a little, so that he’s decided he has to continue, or maybe a friend keeps talking to him until he finally gets out of his Reaction stage, when he doesn’t do anything to keep going. Now he’s going in the right direction, but he suddenly realizes he has to make a choice between a few ugly possibilities. I can’t stress how much you want to make these possible choices all bad. If one is an easy pick, add something into it to make it more difficult. Let your character ponder over this.
I suggest you write out a full page of your character simply questioning what options he has. Should he sell his house or his car? Selling the car would be the more preferable choice, yes, but now you need to throw a wrench into the gears. What if his car is the only way he can get to work, even if it is a low paying job? Make the decision matter.
And finally the third part of this second scene; the Decision. Now that he’s thought over the possibilities, he has to make an action. This is a very important part in this scene because once more it’s giving the character the ball. His actions determine his fate. He then decides what Decision he will make. As I said before, don’t make it an easy decision, but make it a decision that the reader will respect, because when a reader thinks about what the possible decisions could end up in, and considers them, he or she will relate to the character, which is always a good thing.
Look at it in another way. What if the reader is holding his breath to see what the character will do, and then suddenly, with no rhyme or reason, the character picks the absolute hardest one. Then the reader will think, “well that was a stupid thing to do.” And that will annoy him. The most important thing for this part of the scene is to get the reader to wonder what he or she would do in that situation, and then give them a satisfying answer as to what the character did. If you can do this, you’ve got a great scene.
Now, as you see, the character knows what he wants to do. The Decision at the end of this scene is what he will do, in the next scene we’re back to Goal again. The character has Decided what his Goal will be.
This is why you interlock the two types of scenes every other time. Using there initials, you can create the pattern they are in.
GCD, which is Goal, Conflict, Disaster.
And RDD, Reaction, Dilemma, Decision.
And repeat it.
GCD,
RDD,
GCD,
RDD,
and so on. It’s a full scale of ups and downs for the reader and the character. It visits both despair and hope in one full cycle. If you keep this up, not only will a reader be interested, you yourself will be compelled to keep writing. The best way to get interested in writing a story isn’t just to write it, it’s to get into it. Write the character’s emotions as if you were there. As if you were just encountered with your Disaster. And now your hurting, and finally you come to the Dilemma. Make the reasons compelling, so that you yourself would say, “which one would I choose?” and then you know you’ve made a great scene.
So have your next scene, be it your first or fifth, planned out in this method.
I want you all to get out a pencil and paper, and write at the top “Scene 1", then on separate lines: Goal, Conflict, Disaster.
Then take out a new sheet and write at the top “Scene 2", and in separate lines below Reaction (to the Disaster), Dilemma, Decision.
Take some time in club today to write beside those words what your character is faced with for that part of the scene, the Decision he makes, and/or the Disaster he faces. Just something simple, just so that you have an idea.
If you do this with all your scenes, you’ll compel not only your reader to keep reading, but you as the writer to keep writing.
Do as many scenes as you can.
Also take time today to share, or listen to, any writings you want to have your audience’s feed back on.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Writing It
(Fifth lesson of my writing class. The goal of the entire class was for each member to have written a short story, and this week we are beginning to write them. Please remember that these lessons are for young writers, and therefore I've only given the basic concepts.)
It’s finally time to actually get to writing your story. When you write, you’re almost certainly going to look back and see something you want to change.
Don’t do it.
Don’t interrupt your sentence, don’t interrupt your paragraph, don’t interrupt your page, keep writing.
The hardest part of just about everything is doing it. Especially with writing. Sitting down and just writing is one of the hardest things you can do. But now that you’ve got an idea for your story, writing it is the next key thing.
If you feel like you should write, but are dragging your feet about it, you’ve probably got a case of procrastination, which is one of the main thing that keeps you away from writing. The solution is simple. Tell yourself that today, all I have to write is one paragraph. That’s it. Just one paragraph.
By the end of that paragraph, you might still feel sick of the story, but more often than not, I’ve found that I tricked myself, and then I write more than that one paragraph because I’m starting to get involved in the story again. If you still don’t want to write, that’s actually okay. Maybe you need a day’s break from the story.
Then again, you might have another form of procrastination. You’ve likely heard of it before - yes, it’s Writer’s Block.
Writer’s Block is very real. But it’s solution is very real too.
You could look up the ‘cure to Writer’s Block’ just about anywhere, and likely they’ll have the same answer: “Just write.”
That has never, ever helped me because Writer’s Block and procrastination are two entirely different things. For procrastinating “just writing” might be the best way, but not for Writer’s Block.
Why? Because Writer’s Block, though related to procrastination, isn’t one in the same. Writer’s Block is usually caused from lack of inspiration. Procrastination, well you’ve just been distracted with other things.
So how do you conquer Writer’s Block? The thing that’s helped me most is just to simply plan ahead. Writer’s Block is basically two things, lack of inspiration, or just simply not knowing where to go in the story.
That’s why we planned out the story a few weeks ago, and that’s why it matters.
Some writers just write without even basic outlines, but when they hit Writer’s Block, it’s really going to hurt. Those who outline will have some padding for the fall if the Block does strike.
It’s not that not outlining is bad, coming up with your own style and voice in writing is critical, but it has flaws (just like outlining does).
So if you have Writer’s Block, the best way to get rid of it is step back from your writing, stop trying to “just write” and plan out your chapter - change the thing about it that you’re struggling with.
There are other ways, however. With both Writer’s Block and procrastination, you can simply look at the current situation. Is something boring you? Is that action sequence just “bleh”?
You need to keep the action flowing in the story. This doesn’t mean its all guns and swords and battle, it just means that something is always happening. Tension is growing higher every minute.
How do you do this? By increasing the stakes. By making the story goal ever more worthwhile.
While we’re talking about Writer’s Block, do any of you have questions about this? Are any of you have problems with your story?
(Yes, I'm opening it up to you on the comments below.)
~R.A.H.Thacker
It’s finally time to actually get to writing your story. When you write, you’re almost certainly going to look back and see something you want to change.
Don’t do it.
Don’t interrupt your sentence, don’t interrupt your paragraph, don’t interrupt your page, keep writing.
The hardest part of just about everything is doing it. Especially with writing. Sitting down and just writing is one of the hardest things you can do. But now that you’ve got an idea for your story, writing it is the next key thing.
If you feel like you should write, but are dragging your feet about it, you’ve probably got a case of procrastination, which is one of the main thing that keeps you away from writing. The solution is simple. Tell yourself that today, all I have to write is one paragraph. That’s it. Just one paragraph.
By the end of that paragraph, you might still feel sick of the story, but more often than not, I’ve found that I tricked myself, and then I write more than that one paragraph because I’m starting to get involved in the story again. If you still don’t want to write, that’s actually okay. Maybe you need a day’s break from the story.
Then again, you might have another form of procrastination. You’ve likely heard of it before - yes, it’s Writer’s Block.
Writer’s Block is very real. But it’s solution is very real too.
You could look up the ‘cure to Writer’s Block’ just about anywhere, and likely they’ll have the same answer: “Just write.”
That has never, ever helped me because Writer’s Block and procrastination are two entirely different things. For procrastinating “just writing” might be the best way, but not for Writer’s Block.
Why? Because Writer’s Block, though related to procrastination, isn’t one in the same. Writer’s Block is usually caused from lack of inspiration. Procrastination, well you’ve just been distracted with other things.
So how do you conquer Writer’s Block? The thing that’s helped me most is just to simply plan ahead. Writer’s Block is basically two things, lack of inspiration, or just simply not knowing where to go in the story.
That’s why we planned out the story a few weeks ago, and that’s why it matters.
Some writers just write without even basic outlines, but when they hit Writer’s Block, it’s really going to hurt. Those who outline will have some padding for the fall if the Block does strike.
It’s not that not outlining is bad, coming up with your own style and voice in writing is critical, but it has flaws (just like outlining does).
So if you have Writer’s Block, the best way to get rid of it is step back from your writing, stop trying to “just write” and plan out your chapter - change the thing about it that you’re struggling with.
There are other ways, however. With both Writer’s Block and procrastination, you can simply look at the current situation. Is something boring you? Is that action sequence just “bleh”?
You need to keep the action flowing in the story. This doesn’t mean its all guns and swords and battle, it just means that something is always happening. Tension is growing higher every minute.
How do you do this? By increasing the stakes. By making the story goal ever more worthwhile.
While we’re talking about Writer’s Block, do any of you have questions about this? Are any of you have problems with your story?
(Yes, I'm opening it up to you on the comments below.)
~R.A.H.Thacker
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Tuesday Tales (A Day Late)
The second chapter in Nightmares in the Past, a Star Wars fanfiction. And yes, I am aware that it's Wednesday, pardon me.
- - -
He towered seven feet tall, strapped in Togorian hides and shined Mandalorian armor. True stone grey eyes, long braided black hair and an unruly, full beard falling down to his silver bone belt buckle. His arms were like logs, chest like a boulder, muscle like iron, boasting decades of merciless training. A fiery red saber was clutched in one meaty fist, and a rain blue blade in the other.
But it wasn’t any of that which overrode the air with a distinct but foreign sense. It was something else, something far more overwhelming.
Cruel power, peaceful as the eye of a hurricane, but angry as a bubbling volcano. An unwholesome presence, yet so welcoming, so drawing. It was a writhing stench in the air, hideous and snapping, yet it lured. It was something far more powerful and mysterious than anything Kian had felt before, and yet somehow, it seemed as if he had felt it before.
It was the darkside.
Kian and Kim were frozen as the Sith stalked one step closer - as the Jedi Order came one step closer to the death of two young children. As much as he tried, nothing in Kian’s body responded. Nothing. Kim whimpered and struggled at his side. They were at the will of the stone grey eyes.
Kim’s training saber shot to life, and she willed herself to take a step forward. Kian steadied his ragged breath, believing that if Kim could do it, he could. His own small saber blazed out. And they stood, blocking the hallway.
Step by ringing step, the Sith quickly spanned the hallway in his long strides. Two lightsaber lengths away, he stopped. A grin spread over his pale lips. “Welcome to Uncle Omar’s ride. Have a nice trip.”
And with the sweep of sabers, a red and blue streak rushed toward the unprotected younglings. Their practice sabers wavered uselessly at their sides. Blood was about to be spilt.
Suddenly, the Sith shrieked and pulled away from the younglings, crashing a dozen yards away against the wall. Kian’s mouth fell wide open. He spun around to see what might have caused the Sith’s reaction.
But it was no reaction at all. Kian’s father, Keith, stood heaving for breath behind them, hand extended, eyes closed.
“Daddy?” Kian’s practice saber dropped to the floor.
There was no time for a response. The Sith rose swiftly and hurled himself at the younglings.
“Watch out!” Keith rasped, twirling out his saber from behind and making a leap for the two children.
Kim screamed.
Kian dropped to the ground, whimpering.
Keith let loose a battle cry.
The follower of the Light and the follower of the Dark met in midair, above the younglings. With a lightning spark, three sabers met, and slid across.
They had jumped clear over Kian and Kim, sliding blades as they did, before landing on the other side. Places reversed, the Sith leapt again, and Keith did likewise.
The sabers sparked off of each other again, raining a shower of red, blue, and green lights onto the younglings, sending burns through their clothing. Kian yelped and squirmed to the side of the hall.
“Get out of here!” Keith shrieked, meeting the Sith in the air a third time, this one followed with a hard kick into the stomach. The Sith sprawled backwards, but quickly regained his footing. Keith was between the Sith and Kian and Kim now, and the blaze of sabers began.
“GET OUT OF HERE!!!”
Kim broke her eyes from the sparring warriors and grabbed hold of Kian’s hand, pulling him down the hall. She kept one hand on her saber though, pointing it at the Sith defiantly. Kian resisted though, and picked up his own practice saber. “We needa to help him!” he whispered urgently.
“But we’re just younglings!” Kim opposed.
Kian’s shoulders sagged. He knew that was the truth. Just younglings. Nothing special. Nothing even up to average. Just younglings. They couldn’t fight. And if Kim even said that, then it must have been dreadfully clear.
Kian suddenly turned off his saber and wrested his hand from Kim. “But we can do one thing - run for help!” His words hadn’t left his lips by the time he and Kim were flying down the halls. Before turning the corner, he glanced back to the two Force-wielders.
Maybe he wasn’t doing the right thing. What if it was all wrong? What if daddy was going to die? No, that couldn’t happen. It couldn’t.
Kian snapped his eyes shut feeling the Force surge through his limbs. It wasn’t that he knew the Temple that well, with its myriad halls and rooms and stairs. No, the Force was guiding him, powering him, blurring him into the flashing walls.
He had to reach help in time. He had to. His daddy’s life depended on it.
Suddenly, he crashed into something hard and flipped high into the air, over the object and falling on the other side of it. Moaning and peaking open his eyes, he saw Padawan Ina, dazed and stumbling. She glanced about the room for the cause, her eyes finally locking onto Kian.
Her expression of caution and shock fell away and she began to laugh. “Kian? What are you do-?”
Kian jumped to his feet. “My daddy is in trouble, you needa help him!”
Kim came racing up behind, panting hard. Kian wasn’t in the least out of breath, even from falling hard on his stomach - something which should have taken the wind out of him. Master Tharalia, Ina’s Master, kneeled beside Kian, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Where is your father, Kian?”
The youngling pointed hurriedly down the hall. “Down there, down there!” he nearly jumped off the floor as he shouted. What if something were to happen to his daddy? It would all be his fault. He had almost forced his daddy to fight the evil Sith, and if he died, it would be all his fault. No . . . it couldn’t happen . . . it just couldn’t.
Ina and Tharalia dashed off down the hall. Kian and Kim raced after, several yards behind. They twisted through the halls, dodged pillars, up staircases, through rooms and at last turned the final corner.
The halls, once mixed in light greens and rich browns, was blackened and saber scarred. Pieces of the wall were torn open, another room was exposed. And still, the two battled on fiercely.
Master Tharalia slid to a stop as she rounded the corner. “Darth Omar,” she murmured. Blazing her saber to life, she held up a hand behind her. “Ina, stay back. Master Keith and I will handle this.” She jumped into the battle, confronting the Sith from behind. Ina nevertheless drew her saber and ignited it’s angry orange blade.
Darth Omar quickly retaliated to Master Tharalia’s sudden appearance. Blocking her strike with his blue saber, he laid a kick hard into Keith’s chest, effectively knocking him down the hall and taking out his breath.
Kian, Kim, and Ina looked on, eyes wide, gripping their sabers. “We have to help them!” Kim urgently whispered.
Ina blocked them from the fight. “No, stay back you two. If you tried to fight, you would only be a burden for them to protect. Master Keith and Tharalia are experienced.” She stared on, gripping her saber. Her body was jittery, she was shaking. “This Sith will not succeed.” She winced as Keith sprawled away from the fight. Her very tone was betraying that she was doubting it.
Omar’s sabers fell upon Tharalia’s. She jumped back, parrying blows and slipping into a defensive Jedi form. She slowly began to back up down the hall towards her padawan and the younglings. Suddenly, Omar pulled a tile from the wall and sent it crashing into Tharalia as Omar sensed Keith racing towards him from behind.
Ina raced towards her Master, caught under the metallic tile. She Force-pushed it off of the Jedi and kneeled beside her. “Master Tharalia?”
Kian jumped over to the wounded Master Tharalia, but kept his eyes on the battle. Spinning around, Omar met Keith as the Jedi opened into an intense flurry of Juyo form blows. He pressed down on the Sith like a raging torrent. The Sith growled as a burn swiped through his fur hides, biting into his shoulder.
Keith sent a Force-push down into Omar, crushing him to the floor, but the Sith didn’t hesitate and quickly rolled to the side. He lurched away from the fight towards Kian, Kim, and Ina.
Kian shrieked and tried to run, but stumbled and fell to the ground. He glanced back. Omar was in the air, speeding down at him. Kian whimpered and curled up, his eyes shut tight. What if he was going to die? What then? Had his life been all in vain? No, if this would be the end, it wouldn’t just be in vain. It would be pointless.
Suddenly, there was a female shout, a crash that shook the room, and a male’s growl.
Kian’s eyes snapped open. Omar lay crushed half through the wall into another room. Ina lay limp on top of him. Kian gasped and struggled to his feet.
“Ina!” Keith shouted, struggling towards her.
Omar’s stunned body suddenly lit to life. He thrust Ina off of him, then grasped his sabers. A malicious grin grew over his face. He struggled to his feet, using the wall as support. “Two down, three to go.” He locked into a vicious struggle against Keith as the sabers met into a deadlock.
Kian’s body shook. Sweat poured off his forehead. He glanced to Ina’s thin, limp body. She had saved his life, but now . . .
Kian jumped over to Kim then grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. “What do we do?!” Kian wailed.
His father’s voice echoed out from the battle. “Kian! I told you to flee, this is no place for a youngling!”
Kian glanced to Kim. He couldn’t. He couldn’t leave. What if the Sith won? What if Keith was . . . A shiver went up Kian’s spine.
“No . . . no . . . no, that can’t happen!” he murmured. But he began to pull away nonetheless. He grabbed Kim by the arm, but she wouldn’t budge.
“KIAN!!! KIM!!!” Keith screamed, jumping back as Omar’s over-powering strength finally won in the deadlock. Blocking one strike, Keith switched his saber to his left hand and sent a blast of the Force at Kian and Kim, sending them down the hall. Kim gave in, and the two younglings began to run for safety.
Kian glanced back, his eyes wide, glistening with fear.
While Keith was distracted by forcing the younglings along their way, Omar had took advantage with a flurry of blows.
Kian stopped again. Omar sent a kick into Keith’s abdomen. The Jedi hit the floor with a growl, but his eyes sealed shut and his body went lifeless.
“DADDY!!!” Kian screamed and lifted a hand as if to touch his father from a distance.
And then the cold stone eyes lifted from Keith once more to Kian. “Kian . . . Kian . . . isn’t it Kian?” Omar’s sabers blazed off. With one hand he lifted Keith into the air and with the other he lifted a steel bar, placed Keith under it, then dropped the bar, securing both Tharalia and Keith under it. He quickly collected the two Jedi’s sabers.
“Kian. That is your name, tell me it is.” Omar’s grating voice echoed through the silent hall. Kim had stopped by Kian’s side, and they exchanged worried glances.
Nonetheless, Kian instinctively nodded. “H-how d-d’you know m-my name?”
“Oh, don’t be so afraid, my little one.” A grin grew across the Sith’s face. “I won’t kill you. Now that I know your name.” He began to talk careful, deliberate steps across the battle-torn hall. He lifted Kian and Kim off the ground with the Force. They didn’t struggle, they just submitted to their fate, heads rolling back and their unsupported limbs falling like wilted lettuce.
Omar brought them within feet of his eyes, and there they stopped in midair. He glanced to the right, to the Jedi Knights trapped under debris. Tharalia and Keith’s eyes began to flutter open, weakly, despairingly.
No power remained in Keith. He was battered and bruised, but as he saw Kian hanging in the air, he began to shake and fill with an energy fulled by a temper. “NO!!!” he shrieked, struggling under the steel. But he simply flailed without strength.
A cold smile lit Omar’s face.
“And now, I’ve won.”
No sooner had the words been uttered than an orange glow emanated up through his chest from behind. His eyes snapped wide. His mouth fell open, and a wheezy noise hissed out of his throat.
Kian and Kim dropped to the ground, but Omar stood in the same position he had been in - faced towards the Jedi Knights, hands raised.
All eyes lingered on the shocked Sith. And then he crumpled to the side and fell with a clatter. In his place kneeled padawan Ina, she was frozen there for a moment, still holding her brilliant saber pointed to the sky, her matted light red hair stained with blood. Then she collapsed to the floor in exhaustion.
- - -
He towered seven feet tall, strapped in Togorian hides and shined Mandalorian armor. True stone grey eyes, long braided black hair and an unruly, full beard falling down to his silver bone belt buckle. His arms were like logs, chest like a boulder, muscle like iron, boasting decades of merciless training. A fiery red saber was clutched in one meaty fist, and a rain blue blade in the other.
But it wasn’t any of that which overrode the air with a distinct but foreign sense. It was something else, something far more overwhelming.
Cruel power, peaceful as the eye of a hurricane, but angry as a bubbling volcano. An unwholesome presence, yet so welcoming, so drawing. It was a writhing stench in the air, hideous and snapping, yet it lured. It was something far more powerful and mysterious than anything Kian had felt before, and yet somehow, it seemed as if he had felt it before.
It was the darkside.
Kian and Kim were frozen as the Sith stalked one step closer - as the Jedi Order came one step closer to the death of two young children. As much as he tried, nothing in Kian’s body responded. Nothing. Kim whimpered and struggled at his side. They were at the will of the stone grey eyes.
Kim’s training saber shot to life, and she willed herself to take a step forward. Kian steadied his ragged breath, believing that if Kim could do it, he could. His own small saber blazed out. And they stood, blocking the hallway.
Step by ringing step, the Sith quickly spanned the hallway in his long strides. Two lightsaber lengths away, he stopped. A grin spread over his pale lips. “Welcome to Uncle Omar’s ride. Have a nice trip.”
And with the sweep of sabers, a red and blue streak rushed toward the unprotected younglings. Their practice sabers wavered uselessly at their sides. Blood was about to be spilt.
Suddenly, the Sith shrieked and pulled away from the younglings, crashing a dozen yards away against the wall. Kian’s mouth fell wide open. He spun around to see what might have caused the Sith’s reaction.
But it was no reaction at all. Kian’s father, Keith, stood heaving for breath behind them, hand extended, eyes closed.
“Daddy?” Kian’s practice saber dropped to the floor.
There was no time for a response. The Sith rose swiftly and hurled himself at the younglings.
“Watch out!” Keith rasped, twirling out his saber from behind and making a leap for the two children.
Kim screamed.
Kian dropped to the ground, whimpering.
Keith let loose a battle cry.
The follower of the Light and the follower of the Dark met in midair, above the younglings. With a lightning spark, three sabers met, and slid across.
They had jumped clear over Kian and Kim, sliding blades as they did, before landing on the other side. Places reversed, the Sith leapt again, and Keith did likewise.
The sabers sparked off of each other again, raining a shower of red, blue, and green lights onto the younglings, sending burns through their clothing. Kian yelped and squirmed to the side of the hall.
“Get out of here!” Keith shrieked, meeting the Sith in the air a third time, this one followed with a hard kick into the stomach. The Sith sprawled backwards, but quickly regained his footing. Keith was between the Sith and Kian and Kim now, and the blaze of sabers began.
“GET OUT OF HERE!!!”
Kim broke her eyes from the sparring warriors and grabbed hold of Kian’s hand, pulling him down the hall. She kept one hand on her saber though, pointing it at the Sith defiantly. Kian resisted though, and picked up his own practice saber. “We needa to help him!” he whispered urgently.
“But we’re just younglings!” Kim opposed.
Kian’s shoulders sagged. He knew that was the truth. Just younglings. Nothing special. Nothing even up to average. Just younglings. They couldn’t fight. And if Kim even said that, then it must have been dreadfully clear.
Kian suddenly turned off his saber and wrested his hand from Kim. “But we can do one thing - run for help!” His words hadn’t left his lips by the time he and Kim were flying down the halls. Before turning the corner, he glanced back to the two Force-wielders.
Maybe he wasn’t doing the right thing. What if it was all wrong? What if daddy was going to die? No, that couldn’t happen. It couldn’t.
Kian snapped his eyes shut feeling the Force surge through his limbs. It wasn’t that he knew the Temple that well, with its myriad halls and rooms and stairs. No, the Force was guiding him, powering him, blurring him into the flashing walls.
He had to reach help in time. He had to. His daddy’s life depended on it.
Suddenly, he crashed into something hard and flipped high into the air, over the object and falling on the other side of it. Moaning and peaking open his eyes, he saw Padawan Ina, dazed and stumbling. She glanced about the room for the cause, her eyes finally locking onto Kian.
Her expression of caution and shock fell away and she began to laugh. “Kian? What are you do-?”
Kian jumped to his feet. “My daddy is in trouble, you needa help him!”
Kim came racing up behind, panting hard. Kian wasn’t in the least out of breath, even from falling hard on his stomach - something which should have taken the wind out of him. Master Tharalia, Ina’s Master, kneeled beside Kian, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Where is your father, Kian?”
The youngling pointed hurriedly down the hall. “Down there, down there!” he nearly jumped off the floor as he shouted. What if something were to happen to his daddy? It would all be his fault. He had almost forced his daddy to fight the evil Sith, and if he died, it would be all his fault. No . . . it couldn’t happen . . . it just couldn’t.
Ina and Tharalia dashed off down the hall. Kian and Kim raced after, several yards behind. They twisted through the halls, dodged pillars, up staircases, through rooms and at last turned the final corner.
The halls, once mixed in light greens and rich browns, was blackened and saber scarred. Pieces of the wall were torn open, another room was exposed. And still, the two battled on fiercely.
Master Tharalia slid to a stop as she rounded the corner. “Darth Omar,” she murmured. Blazing her saber to life, she held up a hand behind her. “Ina, stay back. Master Keith and I will handle this.” She jumped into the battle, confronting the Sith from behind. Ina nevertheless drew her saber and ignited it’s angry orange blade.
Darth Omar quickly retaliated to Master Tharalia’s sudden appearance. Blocking her strike with his blue saber, he laid a kick hard into Keith’s chest, effectively knocking him down the hall and taking out his breath.
Kian, Kim, and Ina looked on, eyes wide, gripping their sabers. “We have to help them!” Kim urgently whispered.
Ina blocked them from the fight. “No, stay back you two. If you tried to fight, you would only be a burden for them to protect. Master Keith and Tharalia are experienced.” She stared on, gripping her saber. Her body was jittery, she was shaking. “This Sith will not succeed.” She winced as Keith sprawled away from the fight. Her very tone was betraying that she was doubting it.
Omar’s sabers fell upon Tharalia’s. She jumped back, parrying blows and slipping into a defensive Jedi form. She slowly began to back up down the hall towards her padawan and the younglings. Suddenly, Omar pulled a tile from the wall and sent it crashing into Tharalia as Omar sensed Keith racing towards him from behind.
Ina raced towards her Master, caught under the metallic tile. She Force-pushed it off of the Jedi and kneeled beside her. “Master Tharalia?”
Kian jumped over to the wounded Master Tharalia, but kept his eyes on the battle. Spinning around, Omar met Keith as the Jedi opened into an intense flurry of Juyo form blows. He pressed down on the Sith like a raging torrent. The Sith growled as a burn swiped through his fur hides, biting into his shoulder.
Keith sent a Force-push down into Omar, crushing him to the floor, but the Sith didn’t hesitate and quickly rolled to the side. He lurched away from the fight towards Kian, Kim, and Ina.
Kian shrieked and tried to run, but stumbled and fell to the ground. He glanced back. Omar was in the air, speeding down at him. Kian whimpered and curled up, his eyes shut tight. What if he was going to die? What then? Had his life been all in vain? No, if this would be the end, it wouldn’t just be in vain. It would be pointless.
Suddenly, there was a female shout, a crash that shook the room, and a male’s growl.
Kian’s eyes snapped open. Omar lay crushed half through the wall into another room. Ina lay limp on top of him. Kian gasped and struggled to his feet.
“Ina!” Keith shouted, struggling towards her.
Omar’s stunned body suddenly lit to life. He thrust Ina off of him, then grasped his sabers. A malicious grin grew over his face. He struggled to his feet, using the wall as support. “Two down, three to go.” He locked into a vicious struggle against Keith as the sabers met into a deadlock.
Kian’s body shook. Sweat poured off his forehead. He glanced to Ina’s thin, limp body. She had saved his life, but now . . .
Kian jumped over to Kim then grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. “What do we do?!” Kian wailed.
His father’s voice echoed out from the battle. “Kian! I told you to flee, this is no place for a youngling!”
Kian glanced to Kim. He couldn’t. He couldn’t leave. What if the Sith won? What if Keith was . . . A shiver went up Kian’s spine.
“No . . . no . . . no, that can’t happen!” he murmured. But he began to pull away nonetheless. He grabbed Kim by the arm, but she wouldn’t budge.
“KIAN!!! KIM!!!” Keith screamed, jumping back as Omar’s over-powering strength finally won in the deadlock. Blocking one strike, Keith switched his saber to his left hand and sent a blast of the Force at Kian and Kim, sending them down the hall. Kim gave in, and the two younglings began to run for safety.
Kian glanced back, his eyes wide, glistening with fear.
While Keith was distracted by forcing the younglings along their way, Omar had took advantage with a flurry of blows.
Kian stopped again. Omar sent a kick into Keith’s abdomen. The Jedi hit the floor with a growl, but his eyes sealed shut and his body went lifeless.
“DADDY!!!” Kian screamed and lifted a hand as if to touch his father from a distance.
And then the cold stone eyes lifted from Keith once more to Kian. “Kian . . . Kian . . . isn’t it Kian?” Omar’s sabers blazed off. With one hand he lifted Keith into the air and with the other he lifted a steel bar, placed Keith under it, then dropped the bar, securing both Tharalia and Keith under it. He quickly collected the two Jedi’s sabers.
“Kian. That is your name, tell me it is.” Omar’s grating voice echoed through the silent hall. Kim had stopped by Kian’s side, and they exchanged worried glances.
Nonetheless, Kian instinctively nodded. “H-how d-d’you know m-my name?”
“Oh, don’t be so afraid, my little one.” A grin grew across the Sith’s face. “I won’t kill you. Now that I know your name.” He began to talk careful, deliberate steps across the battle-torn hall. He lifted Kian and Kim off the ground with the Force. They didn’t struggle, they just submitted to their fate, heads rolling back and their unsupported limbs falling like wilted lettuce.
Omar brought them within feet of his eyes, and there they stopped in midair. He glanced to the right, to the Jedi Knights trapped under debris. Tharalia and Keith’s eyes began to flutter open, weakly, despairingly.
No power remained in Keith. He was battered and bruised, but as he saw Kian hanging in the air, he began to shake and fill with an energy fulled by a temper. “NO!!!” he shrieked, struggling under the steel. But he simply flailed without strength.
A cold smile lit Omar’s face.
“And now, I’ve won.”
No sooner had the words been uttered than an orange glow emanated up through his chest from behind. His eyes snapped wide. His mouth fell open, and a wheezy noise hissed out of his throat.
Kian and Kim dropped to the ground, but Omar stood in the same position he had been in - faced towards the Jedi Knights, hands raised.
All eyes lingered on the shocked Sith. And then he crumpled to the side and fell with a clatter. In his place kneeled padawan Ina, she was frozen there for a moment, still holding her brilliant saber pointed to the sky, her matted light red hair stained with blood. Then she collapsed to the floor in exhaustion.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Tuesday Tales
Every week, or as close to that as I can manage, I will be posting a short story, or a part of one at the least. The point of this is to keep me writing constantly. In November, I will be busy with National Novel Writing Month, so I'll not need it then, but for now Tuesdays are officially Taledays. I welcome any and all to participate in the Tuesday Tales exercise, post a comment with a link to the story (be it on a blog, forum, or what have you). For this Tuesday, I'll be posting the full first chapter of Nightmares in the Past, a fanfiction based in the Star Wars universe several thousand years before the "Clone Wars", and what you might commonly think of when you hear the words Star Wars.
This tale is focused on Kian Shekk, at the time a seven year old boy. Innocent, naive, and the rest you'll see.
This tale is focused on Kian Shekk, at the time a seven year old boy. Innocent, naive, and the rest you'll see.
(I've divided it into two parts so that, if you've read the first part already, you can easily skip to the second.)
Part 1, Chapter 1.
Kian giggled and raced after the darting girl. The green and tan walls around blurred past into a splash of color, sweat beaded on his forehead and he struggled for breath. But he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t let a girl beat him - least of all Kim.
His youthful scream echoed down the hall as Kian struggled to gain ground on his playmate. Kim was sly and swift, while Kian much taller and thicker, yet still the frame of a seven-year-old. Around sharp corners and narrow passageways they dashed - startling the troubled old Jedi pondering around the halls as they flew past.
But it wouldn’t last - not with Kian’s reputation on the line! He bit his lip and surged forward, bringing to mind his father’s often repeated words. Use the Force, Kian, use the Force. He reached deep within, ignoring the physical exertion of the moment. He fumbled for the inner feeling - then suddenly his body sprang to life with new vigor. His feet hardly touched the floor as he shot ahead, cutting corners close and making quick work of long halls and steep stairs.
Kim shrieked, just as Kian leapt forward and tackled her to the ground.
“Aha!” He laughed, a pompous grin spreading over his childish face as he rolled off of Kim. “I gotcha!”
Kim pushed Kian further with a mock frown. “Cheater,” she murmured, yet couldn’t contain the giggles rising up within herself.
Kian shook his head, suddenly solemn. “Nuttuh! I won-ed fairly-and-squarely!”
Kim opened her mouth to protest - but only a squeak came out, and she froze like a rock. She quickly lifted herself off the ground, dusting her robes, and straightened, her face a mask of complete soberness.
Kian scrambled to his feet as well, for though he had not seen what caused the change of attitude in his friend, he knew immediately the only Jedi that could put a happy girl to shame without a single word uttered. Kian hung his head as he stood perfectly straight before the glaring eyes above.
“Sorry, Master Djo,” Kian and Kim echoed.
Kian didn’t dare raise his head, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Kim had. She was staring straight up at the old Jedi. Kian shivered. He wouldn’t dare do that - Djo-im’s eyes were like bonfires, they raged uncontrollably, they scorched hearts and happiness alike. Strict as the saber, the middle-aged Jedi was a stubborn, bold man - already on the Council as a Master. Even Younglings knew Djo - they knew who he was, and who he wasn’t. He wasn’t a kind, loving Jedi. He was a master of war. He wasn’t a man to be questioned by anyone but another Master on the Council - or Kian’s father. He was an aggressive soldier - he was dangerous. But not brute force alone. Though strict to the Order, even Younglings knew Djo - they knew he reeked with danger. He never shirked anything in war, possibly even to the extent of using the Dark Side . . . But was it true? A common rumor, yes, but he couldn’t be trusted if-
Kian was wrenched out of his thoughts as Djo stepped forward, and, with the tips of his fingers, raised Kian’s chin. “Kian,” his teeth snapped as he inspected the Youngling with his harsh voice and harsher eyes. “Kian and Kim, go to your clan house immediately. Do you know what could have happened if you were caught out here when the blast doors sealed? The Sith are coming!”
Kian and Kim’s eyes met worriedly. Sith? their minds echoed in unison.
Djo pushed the Younglings down the hall towards their clan house. “The Sith, you hear?! Move, move, move!”
“Yes, Master Djo-im!” they murmured, already racing as fast as their weary feet could take them. They exchanged fearful glances all the way back. Something deep was amiss.
At the clan house blast door, Kian’s father stood with shoulders thrown back and a powerful gaze extending over the room, dotted with other Jedi. He smiled at his son and Kim as they came nearer. He kneeled and patted their shoulders. “There’re the rascals! Now get inside quickly.” His eyes fell upon Kian, and the blue fire in them seemed to sink to a dull grey. “When in times of trouble, use the Force, Kian, use the Force.”
Kian’s lips parted slightly, before his father slapped him on the shoulder reassuringly once more and disappeared into the midst of a group of other Jedi. He stared after his father a moment longer. Kim hesitated, but grabbed hold of Kian in a moment and pulled him inside the clan house room. She didn’t notice his childish face creased with worry.
Part 2, Chapter 1.
A rumble, in the distance, yet so close. Shots echoed far away, yet so near. Kian shivered and huddled up against Master Kaleeth’s side. What was happening out there, beyond those silver-blue blast doors? The Sith were coming - the Sith. Cruel, evil men, shrouded in darkness. They were mysteries. The Lightside showed, the Darkside hid. Even old Master Ora said that.
Another youngling whimpered, the old Master Kaleeth hugged the boy tight, shushing him comfortingly. Kian glanced around the room. Fear was rife in all of them, even Kian’s young seven year old eyes could see that. All, that is, but in Kim. She stood defiantly at the blastdoors, hands on her hips and a chin raised determinedly.
Throwing back his shoulders and setting his jaw, Kian wobbled over to his friend at the doors. They mutually stared at them for a moment, before Kian finally turned. “What’s happening out there?” His young voice was shaky and unsettled.
Kim continued to stare forward. “My cousin is out there.”
“Padawan Ina?” Kian asked, looking at the doors with worry.
Kim nodded. “What if . . . what if something happened to her?”
Kian’s eyes widened. “Do you mean, like . . .?” Death wasn’t a subject the Masters taught younglings. But in times of war, it was always there. It hung above, always there, always.
Kim’s lower lip trembled. Kian glanced over to her, and saw something in her big blue eyes.
“We have to do something.” She turned to him, staring hard. His little understanding of the world was enough though - he could see a drastic flame in her eyes leap to life.
“You mean, go out there? D’you think that would be fun?” Kian asked.
Kim crossed her arms, rearranging the youngling training lightsaber at her side. “It’s not a question of fun or not fun.”
“It isn’t?” Kian asked. “Why would we go out there then?” He glanced down at his own practice saber, his brow scrunching.
Kim turned away from the doors. “Because something bad is going on. I once heard of an evil Sithman who destroyed an entire world with the squeeze of his hand while he was in a cockpit in space.”
Kian gasped and glanced around the room feverishly. “What? Nuttuh! No way! Who was that guy?” Was that true? How could it be?
“Darth Ohmy,” Kim replied with a fierce curve in her brow.
“You mean Darth Yomar?” Kian scratched his forehead. “He didn’t crush a planet, I heard he just threw an asteroid into the capital city.”
Kim made a throaty growl, but dismissed the subject. Grabbing him by the hand, Kim then rushed into a hallway of the clan house that led into a circular room, one of the sleeping stations branching off that of the main clan house area. It was the girl’s bedding room, lined with dozens of cots, dressers, mirrors, and some other necessities. Kim glanced back to the main room, where the majority of younglings crowded around Kaleeth, who continued to comfort the children unbeknownst of Kian and Kim.
Kim turned back, ran to a dresser, and started pulling it away from the wall. Kian ran over to her. “What’re you doing?”
Kim pulled a moment longer, before letting go of it and pointing behind the dresser, struggling to reclaim her breath. “If you’d just help me, we could get to the vendilnation thing.”
“It’s not called the vendilnation!” screeched Kian. “I heard Ina say it was called the ventul-ation.”
“My cousin isn’t dumb enough to call it that!” cried Kim.
Kian gasped. “Are you callin’ me dumb?!”
“What?!” Kim cried. “Why’d you think I did? You’re my friend, I wouldn’t ever call you that.”
“Because, well . . .” Kian cocked his eyebrow and tilted his head.
Kim growled and grabbed him by the shoulder, then rushed behind the dresser and ducked under the low rim of the ventilation pipe.
Kian giggled and squirmed with excitement. “Just like in the good stories!” He followed after Kim, falling to all fours as he entered the super secret passageway - of sorts.
They continued further in until Kim decided that they were a good distance away from the clan house. She pushed another grate out of the way and they stumbled out of the pipe.
Kian sneezed as he stood upright, dust flying all about the room. He sniffled, then look at his dimly lit surroundings. “A storage room?” he questioned.
Kim wouldn’t waste any time though, and she opened the door, letting in a stream of light into a hallway. “C’mon!” she yelled, surging out already, Kian following. After a few minutes of steady running, Kian grasped at his side and leaned up against the wall, struggling for breath. “We needa . . . break.”
Kim glanced down the hallway again eagerly, but then sighed and came to a stop. “You needa break.”
Kian’s eyes went wide. “Nuttuh! You’re just as tired as-”
Suddenly, they both froze.
A shriek, faint and a long distance away - but it was still the distinct cry of a man in pain, in death.
“Wh-what w-was that?” a sharp feeling of hurt - of fear - rose up in Kian. Whoever that was out there was dying. It was a stagnant ache in the air. Another scream. Closer to death now. Kian’s heart throbbed, he edged closer to Kim and hugged himself.
Kim’s eyes darted about the hallway and she grasped the training lightsaber at her side.
The two huddled against each other, their fearful eyes peering down the hall.
Metallic footsteps. The far off hum of a lightsaber.
Kian’s heart leapt and he choked as he attempted to swallow. His hand shook as he grasped onto his own small training saber.
A second saber hummed to life and within seconds the two clashed.
Kian glanced around the hall for the source - but to no avail. What was happening out there? Where was it? Somewhere near, there was no doubt of that.
Another ghostly scream as a lightsaber muffled under a cover of flesh.
A Sith and a Jedi. They had battled, that was clear to Kian. But who had won? Who had fallen?
The boots began again - but this time, over a slick surface.
Slowly, both Kian’s and Kim’s eyes were drawn towards one end of the hall, ending at a sharp corner. A heavy shadow fell upon the wall.
The two younglings backed against each other further, falling to a huddle of a ball on the floor, staring at the massive, jagged shadow. The hum of a saber grew stronger. Around the corner a shape came into view - first a bulking mass of fur and steel, and then a blue lightsaber - a blue, cold saber. The fear had not relieved itself from the children before a blood red saber appeared at its side. A full man stepped into the light.
“Ah, children,” came a stony voice from cracked, pale lips.
Kian lifted his head involuntarily until the man’s heavy eyes fell upon them like a boulder. “How typical of Jedi. Come here my wee bits - feel the power of the Sith. Embrace your fate.”
Something overcame Kian like a tidal wave. A force that emanated from the Sith. Strength, power, superiority - it was all there, right before him.
~R. A. H. Thacker
~R. A. H. Thacker
Friday, September 6, 2013
Kirobo and Mirata
Meet Man's next best friend...
This is real (I feel like somehow that doesn't really add to this post...). Kirobo, the machine on the left, was sent up into space as an experiment of giving morale support to isolated astronauts. Kirobo, after stepping on the moon, retold Neil Armstrong's famous words, but put a robot spin on it. "On August 21, 2013, a robot took one small step toward a brighter future for all." Its mouth blinks a dull red when it speaks. Those were the first robot words ever said in outer space.
The bot has several technological capabilities, including voice-recognition, natural language processing, facial recognition, a camera and emotion recognition. This also goes for its near identical twin on Earth, Mirata.
Kirobo is a mash of the words Robot and Kibo, which means "hope." Therefore, it's the HopeRobot. Pretty cool.
These little robot friends of ours are 13.4 inches tall, and weigh 2.2 pounds, to be exact. And they talk. And they walk (and float) in space. They were created by Japanese scientists, and therefore speak in Japanese.
My, my, don't they just look like they came out of a cross between Portal and Pokemon? That's a pretty ghostly picture, but Kirobo and Mirata are very real robots.
"Ahoy, Spaceman!"
"Activating Ghost Mode, activating Light Eyes, preparations completed."
These little guys could be equipped with some weaponry, and then who dares tell what might happen?
An army of them could be made, and they might turn against humanity, and we might be forced to fight against them with everything we have.
This'll be a cool story, no? At least, if we survive...
And you can just hear it on the wisps of the wintery air, the voices, the voices of gears and oil, cranking out of the bots... "We'll be here for you. We'll always be here."
And their promise will be fulfilled - Earth will fall to the terrible might of these droids. What could stop them now? What could keep them at bay? Do we have any hope at all? That is the question that lies before us. But naught an answer shall be brought forth, 'til the time is ripe, 'til these ages have fallen into the forgotten creases of the forlorn history books, hidden deep with must, in libraries of ages past.
~ R. A. H. Thacker
"And we, you Humans of Earth, are just the beginning. I swear it on my very Hard Drive"
This is real (I feel like somehow that doesn't really add to this post...). Kirobo, the machine on the left, was sent up into space as an experiment of giving morale support to isolated astronauts. Kirobo, after stepping on the moon, retold Neil Armstrong's famous words, but put a robot spin on it. "On August 21, 2013, a robot took one small step toward a brighter future for all." Its mouth blinks a dull red when it speaks. Those were the first robot words ever said in outer space.
The bot has several technological capabilities, including voice-recognition, natural language processing, facial recognition, a camera and emotion recognition. This also goes for its near identical twin on Earth, Mirata.
Kirobo is a mash of the words Robot and Kibo, which means "hope." Therefore, it's the HopeRobot. Pretty cool.
These little robot friends of ours are 13.4 inches tall, and weigh 2.2 pounds, to be exact. And they talk. And they walk (and float) in space. They were created by Japanese scientists, and therefore speak in Japanese.
My, my, don't they just look like they came out of a cross between Portal and Pokemon? That's a pretty ghostly picture, but Kirobo and Mirata are very real robots.
"Ahoy, Spaceman!"
"Activating Ghost Mode, activating Light Eyes, preparations completed."
These little guys could be equipped with some weaponry, and then who dares tell what might happen?
An army of them could be made, and they might turn against humanity, and we might be forced to fight against them with everything we have.
This'll be a cool story, no? At least, if we survive...
And you can just hear it on the wisps of the wintery air, the voices, the voices of gears and oil, cranking out of the bots... "We'll be here for you. We'll always be here."
And their promise will be fulfilled - Earth will fall to the terrible might of these droids. What could stop them now? What could keep them at bay? Do we have any hope at all? That is the question that lies before us. But naught an answer shall be brought forth, 'til the time is ripe, 'til these ages have fallen into the forgotten creases of the forlorn history books, hidden deep with must, in libraries of ages past.
~ R. A. H. Thacker
"And we, you Humans of Earth, are just the beginning. I swear it on my very Hard Drive"
Monday, April 15, 2013
The Tag to Rule All Tags
I decided to do this because... just because. I saw it on an extinct blog.
1.What’s your word count?
Er… *scratched head* 6,400 some.
2. How long until you finish?
*Sigh* Probably three months.
3. If you have finished, how long did it take you?
Look to the above answer.
4. Do you have an outline?
Yes, though I don’t have the ending entirely planned out.
5. Do you have a plot?
Er… yes. Why don’t you believe me?
2. How long until you finish?
*Sigh* Probably three months.
3. If you have finished, how long did it take you?
Look to the above answer.
4. Do you have an outline?
Yes, though I don’t have the ending entirely planned out.
5. Do you have a plot?
Er… yes. Why don’t you believe me?
6. How many words do you typically write a day?
Um… during NaNoWriMo I wrote 2,000. But now it’s been more like 200-1000. *Sob*
7. What was your greatest word count in one day?
Um… I don’t know. I think I remember getting about 4,000 once… or something. But I forget.
8. What was your least impressive word count in one day?
0. But if that doesn’t count… probably like 20…
9. What inspired you to write?
Well, a writing club I was in. And reading The Hobbit. And Christopher Paolini’s books. Yeah. And my brothers, too. A lot was because of them.
10. Does your novel/story have a theme song?
No.
11. Assign each of your major characters a theme song.
No. That would just take up WAAAY to much of my
time. And time is more previous than
gold, ya’ know.
12. Which character is most like you?
Hm. Good question. Probably Amire.
13. Which character would you most likely be friends with?
Tira! *Hugs fictional character* She so cute. *Glances atTaras * Maybe him after this first book is over… he
needs to straighten up before I want to become friends with him. Hehe.
14. Do you have a Gary-Stu or Mary Sue character?
I sure hope not, but… maybe.
15. Who is your favorite character in your novel?
12. Which character is most like you?
Hm. Good question. Probably Amire.
13. Which character would you most likely be friends with?
Tira! *Hugs fictional character* She so cute. *Glances at
14. Do you have a Gary-Stu or Mary Sue character?
I sure hope not, but… maybe.
15. Who is your favorite character in your novel?
Probably Tira. But that’s unfair judgment because I haven’t
even mentioned Amire or Jayco yet. And
they’ll be fun to write – I KNOW it.
16. Have your characters ever done something completely unexpected?
Eh, yeah. How’d you know?
17. Have you based any of your novel directly on personal experiences?
No… not really.
18. Do you believe in plot bunnies?
Of course. The Pink-Tooth clan lives on my dresser, and the White-Fur clan lives in my closet. They fight each other often, but whenever I write, they converge on me with horror and terror singing like dew-drops on their stingy breaths… did I just write that?
19. Is there magic in your novel/story?
A little.
20. Are any holidays celebrated in your novel/story?
Um… no, actually. I should add some.
21. Does anyone die?
COURSE! DO YOU THINK THIS IS SOME SORT OF KIDDY ROMANCE STORY!?!?!?!?!? *Gasp* *faint* Hehe…
16. Have your characters ever done something completely unexpected?
Eh, yeah. How’d you know?
17. Have you based any of your novel directly on personal experiences?
No… not really.
18. Do you believe in plot bunnies?
Of course. The Pink-Tooth clan lives on my dresser, and the White-Fur clan lives in my closet. They fight each other often, but whenever I write, they converge on me with horror and terror singing like dew-drops on their stingy breaths… did I just write that?
19. Is there magic in your novel/story?
A little.
20. Are any holidays celebrated in your novel/story?
Um… no, actually. I should add some.
21. Does anyone die?
COURSE! DO YOU THINK THIS IS SOME SORT OF KIDDY ROMANCE STORY!?!?!?!?!? *Gasp* *faint* Hehe…
22. How many cups of coffee/tea have you consumed during your writing experience?
Erm… none.
23. What is the latest you have stayed up writing?
Uh… probably like
24. What is the best line?
Um…….. I have no idea.
25. What is the worst line?
I have no idea. Probably all of them…
26. Have you dreamed about your novel/story or its characters?
Nope. I REALLY WANT TO THOUGH!
27. Does your novel rely heavily on allegory?
No, not really.
28. Summarize your novel/story in under fifteen words.
Is that possible? “Prince finds girl on beach, things turn out
to be not as they seem. Chaos.”
29. Do you love all your characters?
No… sorry… I didn’t mean
anything by it. *Pats random soldier on
the back* I killed him and didn’t even
care. Like, I didn’t even CARE AT ALL,
ONE FRACTION. That’s not really loving
him…
30. Have you done something sadistic or cruel to your characters specifically to increase your word count?
No. Well, I might have, a long, long, long time ago, and one time I wrote 15,000 words of junk because my character escaped from prison the wrong way, but I haven’t ever done what was asked. I am a stout believer in sticking to outlines.
31. What was the last thing your main character ate?
Er… I don’t think he has
eaten anything… he drank a cup of water recently though.
32. Describe your main character in three words.
Loosing his head.
33. What would your antagonist dress up as for Halloween?
My antagonist? Probably a pink dress and act like a girl. Then as people opened up their doors to give him candy, he would pull out a sword and threaten them. (Hm… well, Sergaa might not do that, but an antagonist from another of my stories WOULD).
32. Describe your main character in three words.
Loosing his head.
33. What would your antagonist dress up as for Halloween?
My antagonist? Probably a pink dress and act like a girl. Then as people opened up their doors to give him candy, he would pull out a sword and threaten them. (Hm… well, Sergaa might not do that, but an antagonist from another of my stories WOULD).
34. Does anyone in your story go to a place of worship?
No. I should contemplate on that.
35. How many romantic relationships take place in your novel/story?
Uh…… none. I don’t like romance.
36. Are there any explosions in your novel/story?
There… there isn’t! Wow, that’s gotta change – FAST!
37. Is there an apocalypse in your novel/story?
No.
38. Does your novel take place in a post-apocalyptic world?
No.
39. Are there zombies, vampires or werewolves in your novel/story?
No. I don’t like the first two (just because I don’t see the point in them), and the third one I only use rarely.
40. Are there witches, wizards or mythological creatures/figures in your novel/story?
Yeah, sure. There are a lot of non-earth creatures, like goblins and stuff.
41. Is anyone reincarnated?
No.
42. Is anyone physically ailed?
Hm… I’ll have to think about it. In the meantime, I’ll have my one character – a doctor, get maimed. MWAHAHA!!!
43. Is anyone mentally ill?
No. I generally avoid that kind of thing.
44. Does anyone have swine flu?
Why is that a question in here?
45. Who has pets in your novel and what are they?
Yes, Silly Bob has Floyd the Penguin as a pet.
(SARCASM ALERT! SARCASM ALERT!)
Anyway, no. I should make one of them have a pet.
46. Are there angels, demons, or any religious references/figures in your novel/story?
No.
47. How about political figures?
No.
48. Is there incessant drinking?
Course not.
49. Are there board games? If so, which ones?
I have one of my board games that I invented in it. (Well, in the novel I wrote before this one, at least).
50. Are there any dream sequences?
No.
51. Is there humor?
I hope. But probably not.
52. Is there tragedy?
Some. I want to increase the amount. Mwhaha.
53. Does anyone have a temper tantrum?
Yep. And pretty bad one too. Actually, it wasn’t one. It was like a half dozen.
54. How many characters end up single at the end of your novel/story?
Uh… all of them. Except for the random people I didn’t mention. But they have no connection to the story. Of course, one of them might have been a soldier in the army, and he MAY have fought in an intense position they just HAD to hold. And he MAY have been married unbeknownst to me by the end of the novel… hm…
55. Is anyone in your novel/story adopted?
Shhh. If there is, it’s a secret… maybe even a secret I don’t know.
56. Does anyone in your novel/story wear glasses?
No. Well, the doctor does sometimes.
57. Has your novel/story provided insight about your life?
Um. No.
58. Your personality?
No, no, and triple no.
59. Has your novel/story inspired anyone?
HA! I wish.
60. How many people have asked to read your novel/story?
1, I think.
61. Have you drawn any of your characters?
Yeah… three of them. But two of the drawings were fails. I might post the drawing that turned out alright. And I might draw more sometime.
62. Has anyone drawn your characters for you?
Not in this story, but my first novel I ever
wrote needed a cover, so someone drew a picture of one of my characters, who
was going to be on the cover. (Thanks
again, TV!)
63. Does anyone vomit in your novel/story?
Maybe. I’ll mark that on my to-do list.
64. Does anyone bleed in your novel/story?
Of course. Guts are spilling EVERYWHERE in the final battle.
65. Do any of your characters watch TV?
No… it’s basically the middle ages only in a different world.
66. What size shoe does your main character wear?
I don’t really care. And he doesn't either.
67. Do any of the characters in your novel/story use a computer?
No. It’s the MIDDLE AGES TECHNOLOGY!!!!
68. How would you react if your novel/story was erased entirely?
I would probably die, have a heart-attack, have a stroke, faint, have ten seizures at once, vomit, and then go sob in a corner for fifty years and never touch my computer again.
63. Does anyone vomit in your novel/story?
Maybe. I’ll mark that on my to-do list.
64. Does anyone bleed in your novel/story?
Of course. Guts are spilling EVERYWHERE in the final battle.
65. Do any of your characters watch TV?
No… it’s basically the middle ages only in a different world.
66. What size shoe does your main character wear?
I don’t really care. And he doesn't either.
67. Do any of the characters in your novel/story use a computer?
No. It’s the MIDDLE AGES TECHNOLOGY!!!!
68. How would you react if your novel/story was erased entirely?
I would probably die, have a heart-attack, have a stroke, faint, have ten seizures at once, vomit, and then go sob in a corner for fifty years and never touch my computer again.
Well, maybe
not that quite so… might we say… un-exaggerated?
Hehe. I only have 6,000 words…
HARD fought for words…
69. Did you cry at killing off any of your characters?
Not in this book. No one has died yet. *Gasp* Really? I seriously need to change that.
70. Did you cheer when killing off one of your characters?
*Sniffle* How could I? They’re basically my family… *sniffle*
71. What advice would you give to a fellow writer?
Just never give up. Even if you feel like destroying your computer. (Oh, and don’t destroy your computer, it’s not quite as important as not quitting writing, but… just don’t)
72. Describe your ending in three words.
Exile, destruction, happiness.
73. Are there any love triangles, squares, hexagons, etc.?
No. I don’t like ROMANCE.
74. On a scale of 1-10 (1 being the least stressful, 10 being the most) how does your stress rank?
Probably 7. This novel has been a Fizzlepoppin’ pain.
75. Was it worth it?
This
tag? Yeah, probably. Writing my novel? Yeah, probably. But that is a little less confident probably. This novel is hard work.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Camp NaNoWriMo
(Note, I am going to stop posting poems or other short pieces of writing occasionally, though I shall always post that sort of material).
NaNoWriMo, to those who don't know, stands for National Novel Writing Month and is a non-profit organization devoted to getting your novel written. National Novel Writing Month takes place in November and is a challenge for you to write 50,000 words in a month. Camp NaNoWrimo is part of the NaNoWrimo project, taking place in other months of the year. Note: It is not a real camp, it's only online.
Anyway, back to the subject of me doing er... attempting Camp NaNoWriMo. Yup, you probably already know what's coming.
It's April 8th and I should I have around 8 thousand words - if I was on schedule (I planned to have 30,000 by the end of the month, and I knew I could to it, because I wrote double it, 60,000, in November). But, as you can guess... I'm not on schedule... SURPRISE!!!
I have 3,900 some words. Way behind. Oh well. I've been pretty busy. I want to write - just don't have the time.
The day before last I went to an Airsoft Battle, which was fun, but sadly I didn't remember to take a camera along and film some of it. Oh well. It was great fun... although my feet were freezing because I had inadequate boots for the job - and there was about a foot deep of snow.
Still, as said early twice, it was fun. Really fun. We had two battles, both of which lasted approximately an hour and a half each, since we started later than expected and stopped at 5:30 PM.
Anyway, back to talking about the battles. We were out-manned and outgunned. It was rather amazing how good we fought, though.
In this first battle, we got the main hill first. Our enemies (for lack of a name I'll just call it Team K, and the team I was on Team P) came up the hill and tore apart our main defense. I was a rear guardsman so I didn't see much action until the enemy broke through. We were almost certain Team K would flank us, but they didn't, rather, they just swept out the left half of our forces. (This left half being the side that controlled the hill).
BUT, we weren't finished. I was, however, because as the main enemy force destroyed our left wing, I hid behind a tree and laid ambush to them.
I had a pistol.
There were three guys with Tommy guns.
I was certain I would be shot, but hey, I thought I would get at least one of them. I DID have the advantage of a surprise attack.
Unfortunately, I didn't get any. I was shooting up hill and I was nervous. So after shooting once and blowing my cover, two of the guys (and remember, they all had Tommy's), opened up on me. The tree was too small, so I was hit after they wasted several rounds.
Still, Team K didn't use the hill to their advantage. Instead, they charged down into our right wing force, into a valley, and were there picked off by our sniper, our captain, and two or so other guys.
And we won. Yes, it was rather amazing. But we won that first battle. Just BARELY, though.
As for the second battle, we laid out some more elaborate plans because now WE were the ones going to have to charge up and take the hill. Out-manned and outgunned. We were doomed.
Private D and I (I'm Private R, by the way) were on a special mission this second battle. Since D knew the terrain, he was our scout, and because I was the only one fortunate enough to have camo on (that would be white, because of the snow), we were chosen to come at the enemy from a way they least expected. Well, I was. D was going the entire way around the field, while I was... going to go straight through the field in the sight of the enemy.
So once battle #2 had started, D and I started off, circling way around. We got to the woods beyond the field and the hill, and there crept along. And that's when I saw them.
3 heavily armed machine gunners walking along the edge of the field - no more than 30 or so feet from us. I could hear them talking.
We could have ambushed them. But remember there was only two of us, three of them, and besides, I only had a pistol anyway.
So we did the only sensible thing to do. Hide.
Well, not hide. I prefer the phrase 'keep undercover'. My tree, again, wasn't big enough, so thanks to my white camo, I was hidden. After about ten minutes, the three Team K troopers were out of sight (and my feet were freezing), we head off down through the woods again. Soon D and I split up. I was going to army crawl all the way across the field and up the main hill.
I thought I was going to be shot as I did so, but when I reached the brink of the hill and prepared to surprise my enemies (in my suicidal mission), I found that... that... they had deserted the hill. Um... that was quite an odd move. Not very strategical I should say.
But then I saw movement up the hill. Not knowing it was my allies, I made a move to get away from them. I ended up joining with them - after I saw they were on my side. And the rest of the battle... well, that unfolded as easily as a napkin. Finally, we all ganged up on Team K's leader, and surrounded him. He went down fighting... but could of just surrendered and 'lived'.
So we won both battles. Which was quite surprising...
(Note: It took me like a week to write this, for some reason, and so just so you know... I'm only at 4,000 some words still).
NaNoWriMo, to those who don't know, stands for National Novel Writing Month and is a non-profit organization devoted to getting your novel written. National Novel Writing Month takes place in November and is a challenge for you to write 50,000 words in a month. Camp NaNoWrimo is part of the NaNoWrimo project, taking place in other months of the year. Note: It is not a real camp, it's only online.
Anyway, back to the subject of me doing er... attempting Camp NaNoWriMo. Yup, you probably already know what's coming.
It's April 8th and I should I have around 8 thousand words - if I was on schedule (I planned to have 30,000 by the end of the month, and I knew I could to it, because I wrote double it, 60,000, in November). But, as you can guess... I'm not on schedule... SURPRISE!!!
I have 3,900 some words. Way behind. Oh well. I've been pretty busy. I want to write - just don't have the time.
The day before last I went to an Airsoft Battle, which was fun, but sadly I didn't remember to take a camera along and film some of it. Oh well. It was great fun... although my feet were freezing because I had inadequate boots for the job - and there was about a foot deep of snow.
Still, as said early twice, it was fun. Really fun. We had two battles, both of which lasted approximately an hour and a half each, since we started later than expected and stopped at 5:30 PM.
Anyway, back to talking about the battles. We were out-manned and outgunned. It was rather amazing how good we fought, though.
In this first battle, we got the main hill first. Our enemies (for lack of a name I'll just call it Team K, and the team I was on Team P) came up the hill and tore apart our main defense. I was a rear guardsman so I didn't see much action until the enemy broke through. We were almost certain Team K would flank us, but they didn't, rather, they just swept out the left half of our forces. (This left half being the side that controlled the hill).
BUT, we weren't finished. I was, however, because as the main enemy force destroyed our left wing, I hid behind a tree and laid ambush to them.
I had a pistol.
There were three guys with Tommy guns.
I was certain I would be shot, but hey, I thought I would get at least one of them. I DID have the advantage of a surprise attack.
Unfortunately, I didn't get any. I was shooting up hill and I was nervous. So after shooting once and blowing my cover, two of the guys (and remember, they all had Tommy's), opened up on me. The tree was too small, so I was hit after they wasted several rounds.
Still, Team K didn't use the hill to their advantage. Instead, they charged down into our right wing force, into a valley, and were there picked off by our sniper, our captain, and two or so other guys.
And we won. Yes, it was rather amazing. But we won that first battle. Just BARELY, though.
As for the second battle, we laid out some more elaborate plans because now WE were the ones going to have to charge up and take the hill. Out-manned and outgunned. We were doomed.
Private D and I (I'm Private R, by the way) were on a special mission this second battle. Since D knew the terrain, he was our scout, and because I was the only one fortunate enough to have camo on (that would be white, because of the snow), we were chosen to come at the enemy from a way they least expected. Well, I was. D was going the entire way around the field, while I was... going to go straight through the field in the sight of the enemy.
So once battle #2 had started, D and I started off, circling way around. We got to the woods beyond the field and the hill, and there crept along. And that's when I saw them.
3 heavily armed machine gunners walking along the edge of the field - no more than 30 or so feet from us. I could hear them talking.
We could have ambushed them. But remember there was only two of us, three of them, and besides, I only had a pistol anyway.
So we did the only sensible thing to do. Hide.
Well, not hide. I prefer the phrase 'keep undercover'. My tree, again, wasn't big enough, so thanks to my white camo, I was hidden. After about ten minutes, the three Team K troopers were out of sight (and my feet were freezing), we head off down through the woods again. Soon D and I split up. I was going to army crawl all the way across the field and up the main hill.
I thought I was going to be shot as I did so, but when I reached the brink of the hill and prepared to surprise my enemies (in my suicidal mission), I found that... that... they had deserted the hill. Um... that was quite an odd move. Not very strategical I should say.
But then I saw movement up the hill. Not knowing it was my allies, I made a move to get away from them. I ended up joining with them - after I saw they were on my side. And the rest of the battle... well, that unfolded as easily as a napkin. Finally, we all ganged up on Team K's leader, and surrounded him. He went down fighting... but could of just surrendered and 'lived'.
So we won both battles. Which was quite surprising...
(Note: It took me like a week to write this, for some reason, and so just so you know... I'm only at 4,000 some words still).
~The WordWeaver
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