Baxil [bakh-HEEL'], n.
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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in the "Baxil" journal:[<< Previous 20 entries]
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01:50 am
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Hi again! (and LOH: 056-058 ++)
The momentum of silence has gotten pretty overwhelming around here. The longer I go without saying something, the greater the urge to have that "comeback" post be the greatest thing ever, the Nobel Prize-winning, sliced-toast-beating collection of devastating witticisms that will cure cancer, poverty, starvation, cholera, and the Republican party.
Pretty clearly, that isn't happening. I mean, not even my writing can fix Sarah Palin.[*]
But anyway! I should at least say something and start trying to kick the silence habit. After all, I've kept myself pretty busy -- just not here. Witness:
- Oh hey wasn't there this novel I was posting to the Web? Even though I haven't mentioned anything about it since ... um ... May?
Then there was a month where I disappeared off the radar. I'm better now. And I came back with:
- Change of Mind -- even if you've been giving the novel a pass, this short story (~7500 words) about a mage's experiences with telepathy-as-mental-health-tool should be worth your time. A tip o' the hat to
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) dragonzuela, who challenged me with the original concept in my Writing Requests thread.
- And
Racing Stripes by ~baxil on deviantART
-- a tongue-in-cheek self-portrait. Oh, and you knew I had an art gallery, right? The newest piece of art there is from around the time of John McCain's bar mitzvah[*], but it's the first time I've ever posted them so let's just call them "new" and be done with it.
There's much more to say, as ever and always; but for now i'll be content with re-breaking the ice.
Current Location: ~/Brainstorm
Current Music: Brainpool, "Who's That Man?"
Tags: legend of hero, multimedia, writing
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04:12 pm
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Writing Quicktakes: Escape from Below
A quicktake from the recent Writing Requests thread. More are on the way; read the others via the above link or my microfic tag. Thank you all again for your creative kickstarts. :-)
As with my other quicktakes, bonus trivia is in the comments (as an incentive to click through).
That hollow knock again, a burst of sound from every direction, inside and out. William woke with a start. Pressed up against the window, lit only by the almost-glow of his radium-handed wristwatch, were the eyes of an inhuman face.
Adrenaline sheared through his bloodstream, and he jerked backward, smacking his head against the curved steel wall of his tiny prison. Color exploded into his vision.
Blind, William fumbled under his seat for the reassuring chill of the two-foot iron rod. The hatch had a habit of sticking shut once back on the surface; that had been his excuse for stowing a prybar in the bathysphere when he went down. But really, it was a psychological tool. Stuck in a tiny circle of steel amid miles of open water, William found it all too easy to feel helpless, and having a weapon to hold -- as useless as it was -- gave him back a sense of control.
The colors spread, danced, and cleared only gradually; departed, and left the merman at the porthole behind.
Oh. Them. William's heart started to beat again.
William put down the prybar and groped for the electrical connectors at his right. As his fingers found the wire, he reflexively glanced at his watch face. The glowing hands formed a perfect corner, rigid, perpendicular, the only sharp angle in the cramped globe of the bathysphere: nine o'clock. Huh, William thought. There was something about nine o'clock, teasing at the edges of his memory, but it didn't seem pressing -- a merman was back.
( (2,000 words) )
Current Location: ~/computer_desk
Current Mood:  awake
Current Music: "Metal Gear Uh Oh! The Beat Have Started To Move" OC Remix
Tags: microfic, ttu, writing
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12:48 am
![[User Picture]](http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/70349389/240226) [Link] |
Legend of Hero: 015-016
Tonight was Tuesday night -- when the local Go club meets in downtown Nevada City. I missed it again. Came home to help the AT&T tech try to fix our sporadically dying Internet connection, and sink my brain into writing.
I do miss Go, even if I feel like I don't have the bandwidth for it right now. It's become a hobby of one of my main characters, the scheming Shadow King, and I have an unfinished short story where he engages in a friendly game with a random theri while the Archon kibitzes with intent.
But I do have to admit it is nice to reclaim the time. Instead, I finished another short story that's been on the queue since October, one of the quicktakes from the requests thread. I figure I'll post it this weekend.
Speaking of posting stories! ttustories' Wednesday update will be slightly delayed; I can't save the most recent version to HTML from this computer. (Which is fine -- it gave me an excuse to post this instead.) And besides, if you haven't been manually checking that journal when its M/W/F updates come in, there's already new material for you there. In Hall of Heroes: Act III, our heroes finally meet some Shadowlands residents -- and run into some complications on their way home. Meanwhile, David's girlfriend stars in Crissy: Act I, trying to find out what's happening to her gaming buddies.
A thought occurred to me today that I thought I'd share. I'm reaching the age where a number of my friends seem to be refocusing their lives around child-rearing, and it's certainly something kadyg and I have discussed ourselves (even if there are no child plans on the horizon). There may be something to the whole "biological clock" after all.
And: The way my journal has shifted focus so dramatically in the last month or two to my writing is making me start to believe I'm being hit too. But in a different way. In a very real (if literal) sense, child-rearing is a creative process ... I just happen to be devoting that nurturing instinct to my muse instead.
Suits me fine. I'm better with ideas than with kids anyway, and I did commit to working on my writing this year.
Current Location: ~/computer_desk
Current Music: Mike Oldfield, "The Source Of Secrets"
Tags: legend of hero, writing
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09:11 pm
![[User Picture]](http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/70878635/240226) [Link] |
winnah, winnah, chicken dinnah*
![[NaNoWriMo 2008 winner!]](http://www.tomorrowlands.org/images/lj/nano_08_winner_viking_100x100.jpg)
As a celebration, I'm posting Premonitions: Act VIII a day early! Yay!
Next week's Wednesday/Friday posts are going to find us in a different world ... a world where reality doesn't quite work the same way it does here; a world where new characters are introduced; and a world where Bax recovers from November and does no story writing at all. Back here in this one, feel free to let me know what you think of the story so far.
I'll continue to post new sections three times a week over at ttustories, but I may scale back the notifications over here. Are you folks actually following them regularly, or do you prefer to read novels in bigger chunks instead of the webserial way?
--
* kadyg requests that any actual chicken dinnahs mailed to us be packed in dry ice.
Current Location: ~/Brainstorm
Current Mood:  accomplished
Current Music: "Victory Fanfare," Final Fantasy IV OST
Tags: legend of hero, ttu, writing
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12:56 am
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Legend of Hero: 002
In the interests of collecting the webserial a little more cleanly, I've moved my NaNoWriMo novel -- which seems more and more to be stuck with its working title -- off to its own journal:
ttustories
Updates will remain Monday/Wednesday/Friday.
I have arbitrarily decided -- and I am very open to persuasion on this note -- to post the story there uncut; I will post a one-sentence link here when ttustories updates. So, you can friend me to get simple update reminders, or friend TTUstories to see the entire thing on your friends page. If you're the feed-readin' sort, Livejournal has you covered -- add http://ttustories.livejournal.com/data/rss to your RSS reader.
For those of you who missed or skimmed the last post, you can still start reading from the beginning. Today's installment is Premonitions: Act II.
Current Location: ~/Brainstorm
Current Mood: awake
Current Music: Nobuo Uematsu, "Dreams Fade," FFX OST
Tags: legend of hero, ttu, writing
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04:31 pm
[Link] |
My novel - let me show you it!
Now that my brain can set aside politics again ... it's NaNoWriMo time! If you're writing too, remember to friend me in between bouts of typing, and let me know in comments if you're posting your story anywhere. As for me sharing my writing? I'll let y'all call the shots.
Poll #1292743 NaNoWriMo presentation
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: AllHow should I share my novel? Should I share it now, while I'm writing, or later, after November?
Current Location: ~spiral
Current Music: Jonathan Coulton, "Still Alive"
Tags: writing
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04:11 pm
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Writing Quicktakes: The Winchester Experiment
A quicktake from the recent Writing Requests thread. More are on the way; read the others via the above link or my microfic tag. Thank you all again for your creative kickstarts. :-)
As with my other quicktakes, bonus trivia is in the comments (as an incentive to click through).
That night, the sun rose, reddening the cloud-studded sky.
Wearing uneasy expressions, the assembled scientists considered it. "Gentlemen," Winchester said soothingly, "I can assure you my team's safety standards are the strictest possible, and experimental modeling has concluded there was no danger whatsoever from what we just saw. We'll study the effect, but there's no reason for concern." Then, almost offhandedly: "Cassie, hit the lab's circuit breaker."
"I hope this isn't an omen of worse to come," Donovan blurted out.
"Winchester," Cassie said urgently from behind the control panel, "it's still on."
"I know," Winchester -- still seated -- said in a controlled voice.
Cassie pressed some buttons. The console lights dimmed into standby.
"Doctor Winchester, nothing remotely like this was in any of the analyses!" Vorga shouted.
"Are you sure?" Cassie asked. "Let me check."
"I don't mean to alarm you," Donovan said, "but I think the machine's still running."
"Er ... no?" Cassie said, looking confused.
Suddenly, the illumination winked out. They all looked around uncertainly, eyes adjusting to the soft glow of the control panel and the colorful limn around the isotope in the test chamber. Then, from O'Toole: "Just to be clear. You turned that off, right?"
As if in answer, the isotope's glow turned from green to a menacing red. Then, with a flash of noise that sounded like cotton candy and rotten eggs, the color burst outward through the clouds.
But, incredibly, nothing seemed to change. "Cut power! Cut power!" Vorga shouted.
Cassie got up and wildly swung her fist at the large red cutoff button. It slammed back into the console.
There was a loud subsonic thump that jarred their bones, and a shower of sparks.
As one, the scientists leapt up and scrambled backward -- except for Winchester, who was already against the back wall, staring at his colleagues in the manner of a priest who caught children vandalizing the church. In the chaos, Cassie smacked into Donovan; O'Toole went down in a tangle of folding chairs; and Makunouchi tripped, his foot caught in a loop of cable. The regulator's cord popped out from its socket.
Every head in the room turned. Cloudy, transparent glows -- as if the air itself was afire, in a pale, sickly green -- had puffed from the isotope, billowed past the thick quartz shielding as if it wasn't even there, and were rolling outward at them.
"Something's escaping the isolation chamber!" Donovan shouted, pointing.
"Wait, no, it's alright," Cassie said, looking more relieved. "That's what our projections said it would do."
The isotope's glow turned the shade of freshly cut grass.
"Okay, we weren't expecting that," Cassie confided, worry creeping into her tone.
The room went dark again. As everyone blinked to adjust their eyes, the isotope's glow quickly increased again to its normal levels.
"At this point," Winchester said with a satisfied tone, "the isotope has just finished charging. That was the end of the show. Everything else will be a matter of ensuring energy is appropriately distributed to match the observed effects, within the parameters predefined by the experiment."
As the isotope's glow grew to the edge of painful intensity, the circle of light behind the test chamber winked out.
"Yes," Cassie said, looking at Winchester. "All readings so far have matched exactly the simulations we ran."
"Are you really sure this is safe?" Donovan asked.
"Nope," Winchester said, smiling.
The isotope's glow doubled. The lenses focusing its light whirred into a new orientation to compensate.
"Not much longer now," Cassie told O'Toole, eyeing the wall clock.
"Well, Mark," Winchester said, fixing his eyes on the worried-looking Donovan. "Note the isotope is now discharging stored power. That's why there's no danger of overload; nothing's being added to the system until after it's done. You'll see us charge it later."
"And when should your demonstration end? Or," O'Toole said with a smile, "as the case may be, begin."
"Heh," Winchester chuckled.
"Mark," Donovan said, glancing at the wall clock himself.
The scientists felt a slight tug against their bodies, though it didn't move or unbalance them. Later, in interviews, with the benefit of hindsight, they'd realize it wasn't in any of the directions they could point.
"Mark," Winchester said, consulting a watch. Then he turned to Donovan. "What's your name, sir?"
The isotope began glowing with a soft orange hue. The lenses inside the test chamber shifted to focus its light through the chamber's solid quartz sides, and projected the light into a small circle against the far wall, where sensors were set up to record its intensity.
"Pay him no mind," Doctor O'Toole said. "I think this should be interesting. When does the show start?"
"Oh, please, doctor," Makunouchi said, rolling his eyes.
"I'm not sure I like this," Doctor Donovan said. "While I appreciate all of the care you've put into safety, can we even contemplate what might happen in the event of an overload?"
"That's what we came here to see," Doctor Makunouchi said cheerfully.
"Certainly," Winchester said. "We've isolated a source of pure tachyons, a particle with positive weight in the fourth-dimensional axis. By bombarding the isotope with carefully controlled gamma ray bursts -- which we will do, in our frame of reference, after the experiments -- we can induce the source to reverse polarity, leading to carefully controlled localized time reversals."
"Good afternoon, Winchester, Cassie. Doctor, would you mind summarizing the project for our visitors?" Research Director Vorga asked.
"I don't know," Cassie said. She straightened. "Here they come."
"For the last time, Cassie," Doctor Winchester said, "it'll be fine."
Current Location: ~/brainstorm
Current Mood:  devious
Current Music: David Bowie, "Space Oddity"
Tags: microfic, writing
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09:30 am
![[User Picture]](http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/3864626/240226) [Link] | Quick question to the silent audience. Have you been enjoying my recent writing? Any feedback? I'm not doing it for the accolades*, but it's nice to hear it's leaving an impression.
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* "So why are you doing it?" ... Well, it ain't for the money, and no really I don't write for the egoboo, though it's admittedly a positive factor. The act of creativity itself is the important thing. And sharing it. I could say it's for the practice -- it's like a muscle; you have to stretch it or it atrophies -- but that would only be a partial answer. Closer would be that I feel like writing is something that defines me. It's a way I can be not just another guy whose life is filled with work, friends and video games. Plus I seem to have a knack for distilling life into Story, and I might as well use the darn thing.
Current Location: ~spiral
Current Mood:  tired
Current Music: David Bowie, "Space Oddity"
Tags: writing
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05:56 pm
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Writing Quicktakes: Legislative complaints
A quicktake from the recent Writing Requests thread. More are on the way. Thank you all again for your creative kickstarts. :-)
Dear Citizen,
Thank you for your submission about politician Rand-231. We value all feedback and are constantly trying to make your civic engagement more meaningful.
We take all claims of product defects very seriously. Your report has been examined and automated testing has been completed, and we would like to confirm that Rand-231 is working correctly and as designed.
In order to address your specific concerns, our technical support system has automatically reproduced several items from our list of Frequently Asked Questions. If you feel you have concerns that have not been addressed, please open another support request, reference your prior request number (#27B-6/10984262001) in the submission, and one of our technical support agents will contact you.
Best Regards,
Eliza Sharopnikel
Diebold-Halliburton-Meshuggener Automated Feedback Response Team
support@robosenate.gov
---
Thank you for submitting your request to our Frequently Asked Questions Retrieval System. Your original request follows for your reference. FAQ responses are automatically chosen via matching of keywords in your request. For the complete FAQ, visit dev.robosenate.gov and click on "FAQ."
Original Message:
> you damn godless commies. this is the LAST STRAW. i keep telling you
> our senator rand is broken. now it's getting worse. this week he voted for
> polygamy marriage with multiple guys. it's not bad enough the homos can
> marry, now they have to take OUR WOMEN too? i thought he was supposed
> to represent us and pocatello-brigham is the second most conservative
> (AMERICAN) district in the sixty-three UNITED STATES according to
> fox global's two-minute infuriating facts. I would expect this from a copy
> of senator clinton but there's NO WAY a rand should support that kind of
> abomination of a bill! HOW DARE YOU!!!~ next it'll be abortion and then
> maybe he can make it legal for your mom to abort YOU and dump your
> fetus in the SAN FRANCISCO bay. then we can code our own senator
> and finally get some real AMERICAN values in the heartland of our
> country. and bring back flag worship - we need theocratic rule - GOD
> BLESS THE USA you atheist nazis. LOVE IT OR LEAVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Relevant FAQs:
22. What models of RoboSenator are available?
In order to begin the transition from polarized gridlock to automated progress, RoboSenator Version 1 shipped in 2032 with support for several classic lawmaking styles then in favor: the Clinton, the Kennedy, the Gingrich and the McCarthy. Two years later, several moderate models were prototyped -- the "Waffler," the "Apathetic," and the "Compromiser" -- as well as beta releases of ideological models released by political party coders: the Rand, the Reagan and the Roosevelt.
Due to popular demand, several historical models are scheduled for a 2038 release: the Stalin, the Mao, the Khan, and the Richelieu.
25. How does my RoboSenator become more responsive to the needs of its constituents?
The ability that sets DHM's RoboSenators apart from the competition is the self-modifying nature of their code. Each district's senator is copied as a snapshot from the current development tree of that stock model, and then allowed to change its voting parameters based on input from its district. It does this through a combination of polling, blog-scanning, and event tracking, weighted by our proprietary metrics.
27. An issue polls at less than 50% support in my district. Why is my RoboSenator voting for it?
Because several factors are individually considered in determining a RoboSenator's parameter self-adjustment, polls by themselves do not always match a RoboSenator's voting record. Some, but not all, of the reasons for this include:
- Issues are ranked by importance in district polling. For issues weighted as "unimportant" or "marginal," polls are only a minor factor, superseded by other measures of civic engagement such as rallies or blog posts.
- Due to differences in poll wording, support numbers reported on your local newscast may differ from those collected by the RoboSenator's unbiased heuristic modeling.
- RoboSenator models start with their own weighting on various issues, viewable in the per-model source code at dev.robosenate.gov. New RoboSenators may take some time to learn the views of their exact district.
31. My RoboSenator supports an issue that most other RoboSenators of that model do not support.
Due to regional variations between different voting districts, your RoboSenator will differ from other RoboSenators of same or similar model. This is by design. Your RoboSenator is responding to the needs or desires of your district.
32. My RoboSenator supports an issue that the model's namesake would have disagreed with.
Due to parameter self-adjustments, your RoboSenator will not always retain the initial settings it had upon deployment to your region. This is by design. Your RoboSenator is responding to the needs or desires of your district.
34. My RoboSenator supports an issue that seems unlikely given my area's (conservative/liberal) rating.
Due to regional variations between different voting districts, your RoboSenator will differ from other RoboSenators representing similarly ranked districts. This is by design. Your RoboSenator is responding to the needs or desires of your district. Factors such as ethnicity or religion often play a role. For instance, areas high in members of Church of Jesus Christ of Final-Days Saints are often "conservative" but support issues such as plural marriage; and areas high in members of Church of the New Holy Roman Empire are often "liberal" but oppose issues such as abortion.
42. My RoboSenator has recently changed its opinion on an issue even though there have been no polling or district changes for months.
Due to the algorithms that guide self-modification in RoboSenator parameters, voting district changes (such as annual redistricting) can take several months to be reflected in voting patterns. This is by design. The algorithms are designed to resist manipulation by only responding to trends observed over time, discarding outlying results caused by blogbombing or flash micromobs.
78. How can I get my RoboSenator to support a particular issue?
While it is extremely hard for activists to overcome raw polling numbers on issues important to your district, your RoboSenator responds favorably to continued, consistent direct action and advocacy on most issues. Organizing rallies, news coverage or blog coverage in favor of your issue are all statistically proven ways to influence RoboSenator voting, especially on issues identified as locally unimportant or locally marginal.
163. Is your company run by atheist commies?
Eric Meshuggener is an atheist commie. However, he is outvoted 2-1 on our governing board. The other two are on your side.
164. Is your company run by theocratic nazis?
James Halliburton VI is a theocratic nazi. However, he is outvoted 2-1 on our governing board. The other two are on your side.
Have a nice day,
Hal Megillah
Diebold-Halliburton-Meshuggener Automated Feedback Response Team
support@robosenate.gov
Current Location: ~/brainstorm
Current Mood:  good
Current Music: "Awakening," Xenogears OST
Tags: microfic, politics, writing
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01:10 am
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Writing By Request: A Bit Of Exposition
A quicktake from the Writing Requests thread last week. I'm going to tackle them in no particular order, though I'll try to generally work from the top down. I wrote this one first because a full scenario sprang immediately to mind. Thank you all again for your creative kickstarts. :-)
"This," Cern proclaimed, "is where I get to do a bit of exposition. I realize it's a traditional sign of hubris, the monologuing, but I have to get my practice in. I'm going to be saying this on TV eventually, you see. I have to have my delivery down."
"You're not worried that I might escape?" Bond asked, straining at his ropes.
"Oh, I'm sure you've got something up your sleeve," Cern said. "But isn't it better to take that risk, and actually enjoy victory? I mean, who else is capable of truly appreciating the struggle that took place here? We have to savor it, you and I, like a fine wine."
"Well," Bond said, "I would have to admit that you've earned the right to gloat. And I do confess to some curiosity."
"I appreciate you being such a good sport about it," said Cern, strolling past the fifteen-foot monitor with the satellite view of the Earth, and running his hands lightly over the console's brightly-colored control buttons. "It's a relief, frankly. It's so rare to find a sense of perspective. Put together a mad scientist, a suave superspy, and a tractor beam aimed at the moon, and the whole world expects a shootout -- some sort of bloodsport ending in murder or Armageddon. No subtlety. No style. Nobody appreciates the value of a good rivalry these days, do they?"
"About that," Bond said. "Wouldn't you say that 'rivalry' implies an ongoing relationship, which is to say, at least one rematch between the same opponents, namely, you and I, which would, I'm afraid, be precluded by my unfortunate and untimely death?"
"Now you're catching on," Cern said brightly. "You see, all along, I've been hoping that someone like you would come along." He looked around. "This isn't for the cameras. But I never really meant to kill you, not after seeing your brilliance on full display." Cern paced over to the smaller, secondary monitor, typed in the command to connect the communicator to the U.N. videophone, but paused before hitting Enter. "I mean, how many people could have done what you did with the laser-guided sharks?"
"Why, thank you," Bond said with a smile. "I'm glad you noticed. Too many people think a giant gun-toting army is the solution to every challenge, when really you can accomplish so much more with a single man with some creativity and wit."
"Now, see, that's what I say!" Cern beamed. "And the best part, the very best part? When it comes down to the climactic duel, the raw brawl, mano a mano, brain to brain ... you know exactly where you stand. When you win, it's because of your own actions, not some army of faceless and incurious soldiers."
"I certainly would look forward to a rematch," Bond said. "After all of our clashes across the length of the island, to be done in by that overhanging pipe in the escape tunnel leading here is frankly something of an embarrassment."
"It was, but you put up enough of a fight that I think we can still both be proud of the game," Cern said. "But I digress. They'll be expecting my speech soon. I would hate to disappoint. Tell me how this sounds." He cleared his throat and faced Bond directly. " 'Mr. Secretary-General -- people of the world -- I speak to you from Skull Island, which was just the site of the epic clash between the evil genius holding the world hostage and the lone hero sent as their last, best hope.' "
"And soon-to-be site of a smoldering crater," Bond said resignedly.
"Well, yes, there is that little matter of the four-hour self-destruct switch neither of us can reset," Cern sighed. "But cheer up. The yacht in the harbor is afire, so I'm escaping in my mini-submarine. Who would have predicted that you'd have one too? I certainly didn't see it on the monitors in the security room. All that the world will know is that I left you for dead in a locked room as I ran to beat the timer. Your return will come as a shock to millions."
Bond considered. "And thank you for that, Cern. If I may offer a little unsolicited advice in return? If you're really serious about the rematch, then you might not want to call the U.N. from here. The fleet is only an hour away."
"I see what you're saying. They'll be swarming after the call. The mastermind's unarmed mini-sub would inevitably be found by dozens of destroyers -- and all of the sharks are dead already." Cern made a face. "You're right, I suppose. But it's a shame. My speech would have been so much more dramatic live."
"I'm sorry," Bond said. "I'll make up for it in our next meeting."
"Yes," Cern said, straightening his bow tie and smoothing the arms of his tuxedo. "I know you will."
"I'll carve out a mountain fortress," Bond said. "No pesky navies."
"Then I'll be sure to bring the grappling hook gun," Cern said with a dapper smile. "See you, Doctor."
"Next time, Jake. Next time."
Current Location: ~/bedroom
Current Mood:  okay
Tags: microfic, writing
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04:42 am
[Link] |
Epic Gaming Tales -- CSI: Luvine, Episode 5
Here's another look at the world surrounding the characters in our tabletop role-playing campaign ... only about eight months after the play session in question. Better late than never.
Those who were disturbed by the graphic violence of the previous episode will be relieved to learn that this story contains nothing of the sort.
Jailhouse
1:28 a.m.
It's never a good sign when you wake up with a splitting headache.
It's an even worse sign when you haven't been drinking.
I peeled my face off the desk and sat up; vertigo nearly took me down again. I touched the back of my head. Pain sheared out; my vision went momentarily fuzzy.
I cursed and stood up. Staggered, clutching the wall, to the jail cells in the back room.
Empty.
I moaned. As bad as the night was going, the morning was going to be worse.
( In which the Constable tussles with organized crime )
Current Location: ~/bedroom
Current Mood: tired
Tags: csi: luvine, roleplaying, writing
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03:47 pm
[Link] |
Time slips by; (and) Ask me to write!
October 1 already? Oy. Another blob down.
It's a little morbid, but the sentiment behind the link is also a good kick in the pants. My life is not infinite, and if I procrastinate on the things I want to accomplish, they may not get done at all.
So. Writing. Something I ostensibly want to do; time to kick-start it. After staring writers' block, other projects, distractions, and basic laziness in the face for seven goddamn months, I finally pushed through the last 2% of the 98%-done "CSI: Luvine" episode sitting around from February. I'll post it tonight after I leave the office.
Also: I'm going to publically commit to this year's NaNoWriMo. I actually have a story I'd like to write, about some kids in TTU sucked into a strange land where magic takes an ... oddly recognizable ... format. Another month to plan it -- and to figure out the most graceful way to put my social life on hold -- and then, hopefully, a novel!
And in the meantime, I'd like to give my muse some exercise. ( Will you help me out? )
Current Location: ~spiral
Current Mood:  ambitious
Current Music: Yuko Fukushima, "To The Darkness of Hell," Arc the Lad: TOTS OST
Tags: ask me a question, writing
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09:33 pm
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Video game poetry
THE HAVING OF GUNS
(From "Old Hero's Book of Practical Guns," by T. R. Iggerman)
The Having of Guns* is a difficult issue,
For a hero in video games that are fun;
Many guns he must tote, lest he shoot and then miss you,
So I tell you, our man must have THREE DIFFERENT GUNS.
First of all, there's the gun that he shoots if he's near you,
like a flamethrower, shotgun, a D'eagle or Uzi,
If need be, a crowbar or chainsaw can smear you,
All deal death at close range; don't be choosy.
But I tell you, a man needs a gun in distinction not lacking,
A gun that shoots farther, and less broad and wide;
How else can he snipe from afar while wall-hacking?
Or clear out a level before stepping outside?
The guns of this nature will now be highlighted,
Such as his sniper rifles, or railguns, or AWPs,
Such as guns that shoot lasers, or by lasers are sighted --
All guns that at long range I promise are tops.
But above and beyond there's still one gun left over,
And that is the gun that no shooter omits;
The gun that makes game players sigh like a lover,
The gun that kills HALF OF THE MAP when it hits.
When you notice a gunhaver laugh with abandon
Then, no matter the game, you will know what he's done:
His mind is fixated on firing at random
With explosives, explosives, explosives so fun
With unbeatable, l33table
Bee-eff-gee-eetable
Blow up the map-able
Havable
Guns.
--
* If the "Gunhaver" reference for video game shooters hasn't crossed your path yet, then at least there's this for some context.
Current Location: ~/bedroom
Current Music: "teh noob song," teh pwnerer
Tags: games, geekery, wordplay, writing
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03:19 pm
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500 words
I pulled to a stop and cracked open the passenger side window. "Is everything alright?"
The man leaned down, and I saw brown eyes through the opening and days of stubble through the glass. "Yeah," he said in an unconcerned voice. "Wouldn't mind a lift, if you're headed east."
"Where's your car?"
"I'm walking. Just gotta hit Fort Denver for some supplies."
"Seriously? No car? Hop in." I leaned over and yanked the door handle.
He stepped back as the door swung out, then leaned back down, making no move toward the car. "It's only fair to warn you. I've got two handguns on me. If that's a problem, I don't blame you for leaving."
The sense of duty that had compelled me to stop for a man alone in the woods kept me from stomping on the accelerator, but it didn't prevent the awkward silence. I tried to recover: "Hey, out here with the zeds, who could blame you?"
"Away from the cities, the danger is really overstated." He shrugged and lifted his coat to show a holster at his belt. "You need to stay armed, but they don't travel in packs."
The sight of the actual gun again halted conversation. "Uh," I hedged, "truth be told, I'd be more comfortable if you kept them unloaded in the car."
"That's fair." He unslung his backpack, fished a pistol from the holster and a second from under his arm, and removed both clips, making a show of zipping them into his pack's main pouch.
"The chamber too," I said, remembering an old gun safety video. He pulled back both slides to show the guns were empty.
"I'll ride shotgun if you hit a swarm," he said. "And if we don't make it to the fort tonight I'll keep you safe camping."
"Don't be crazy," I said. "I'm not stopping outside the walls."
"You just did, didn't you?" he said with a smile, and sat in the car.
I'd just barely started the old Chevy rolling when his smell hit me. I wrinkled my nose and rolled down my window. "Not a smoker?" he asked. "Sorry."
"It's okay," I said, trying to sidestep to the usual hitchhiker formalities. "I'm Dave."
"Jim," he said, putting on his seat belt. "I didn't smoke until this started. Then I discovered it was nicer to stink of tobacco than to stink of a week's worth of B.O."
"Try sponge baths."
"I was in Phoenix on Z-day. We lost water when the dam blew. It was tough just finding enough to drink. We spent our zed watches reminiscing about being clean."
I smiled wryly. "Kansas City flooded."
He laughed. "We should have been so lucky. Zeds don't swim."
"They wade just fine," I said, and changed the subject. "Do you tell everyone who stops about the guns?"
"Always."
"How many rides has it cost you?"
"Three," Jim said, and shrugged. "All we've got is each other, now. Each other, and trust. That's bigger than any ride."
Current Location: ~/bedroom
Tags: hitchhikers and other random encounters, microfic, writing
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09:24 pm
[Link] |
Quick take: "The L33t Starfighter"
"The Last Starfighter" satire fanfic, based on discussion in this f-locked post about hacking "Starfighter" to beat it.
(ETA: Gods. How is it possible that I am the first person to riff on this theme? The Internet was supposed to contain everything, dammit!)
=========================================
The monotone voice again: "A candidate has qualified."
Centauri stared at the screen, muttered something unintelligible, and hit the space bar to acknowledge. "Weapons guidance hack?"
"Affirmative," his computer answered.
"Auto-steer cheat?"
"Affirmative."
"Faked lag evasion?"
"Affirmative."
Centauri rolled his eyes. "Bring him up."
( It's not long )
Current Location: ~spiral
Current Mood: devious
Current Music: DJ Liljo, "Inspired Reality"
Tags: fanfic, microfic, writing
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09:25 pm
[Link] |
Dragon 0, snow zombies 1
... Wow. I never thought I'd have an excuse to use my zombie icon in context based on real-life events.
The following story is 100% true. And 100% unintentional.
--
While my second job -- at the grocery store -- generally involves me sitting in front of a computer all evening, I've been working a cash register a great deal lately. Due to some poorly timed staff turnover, we're short on closing-time personnel, and I'm one of the few managers who's reliably around during the evening shift.
One of the tiny fringe benefits of this is that the store has developed something of a tradition as the clock ticks toward closing time. The last cashier, at 8:50, will pick up the intercom and announce to shoppers that they've only got 10 minutes left to shop; and at 9 p.m. will make a second announcement that the store is now closed.
The reason this is a fringe benefit is that it's a chance for some improvisational creativity. As long as it's not work-inappropriate, any message that gets the point across is tolerated (if not actively encouraged, depending on who happens to be working). And when it's my turn at the helm, I try to make the messages as memorable as possible.
Tonight, as closing time drew nigh, it was just me and a few other employees in the store. A freak snowstorm had blown in, blown through, and left a rare daytime layer of fresh powder on the ground. Most of our customers had chosen to stay home and stay warm rather than drive through dark, icy streets.
The restaurant and deli had already closed up, but Alicia and Tristan were still there, finishing up the paint job on the rear doors and hallway. I was manning the lone cash register.
It was time for the first announcement. I glanced out the window at the white bushes and sidewalks, and inspiration hit.
"Attention California Organics shoppers," I said. "It's now about 9:00, and I'd like to let you know that the snow zombies have finally broken into the store. We're fighting them off as best we can, but it's time to begin a calm and orderly evacuation. We've got just enough time to check you out if you stop by the counter on your way out. Thank you."
I heard some laughter and cheering from the back of the store. <Not bad,> I thought. <I haven't eaten for eight hours, my blood sugar is in the basement and I could lose a staring contest with a ferret -- but I can still crack a good joke or two.>
After confirming there weren't any customers in the store (or driving into the parking lot), I started going through the usual closing routine: lock door, water and cover produce, turn off freezer case lights. When there was nothing left to do but hit the switches that killed the store lights, I picked up the intercom again.
"Attention California Organics shoppers," I quipped. "Aaaah! The zombies have reached the power generator!" I hung up, lunged for the switches, and the store descended into twilight.
<... Not bad!> I thought, and smiled to myself.
As I pulled the drawer from the cash register and gathered my belongings so I could resettle in the office and count out my drawer, the other two employees clocked out and started walking out toward the rear door. "G'night!" Alicia called out. "Have fun fighting off those zombies."
"I'll be fine," I called back. "I'm pretty sure I brought my shotgun."
Then I started walking through the dark and desolate store.
The very dark store. With nobody in it. Except me.
And the zombies.
Something at the front of the store must have caught my attention. Because just as I was walking into the back hallway, I turned around.
There was a muffled impact against my left arm. I staggered sideways.
I caught my balance and whirled around. Nobody in sight. I glanced down at my jacket sleeve to see a spattered line of bright crimson.
( AAAH! Zombie attack! )
Current Location: ~calorg
Current Mood:  amused
Current Music: "Triangle (Retriangulated)", Bluetech, via net radio
Tags: work, writing
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07:10 pm
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Writing tips: How to edit
A friend of mine, whose writing I admire, recently complained to me:
What I ... don't know how to do is edit my work. Not copy-edit, actually edit it; ... figure out what works and what doesn't and why. ... I have no idea where to even begin working on it.
She may not be the only one. So I'd like to publically offer a few immodest thoughts[1] about where to begin working on it.
First of all, simply by worrying about editing your work, there is one fact you must realize: YOU ARE A BETTER WRITER THAN YOU KNOW.
Re-read that. Repeat it to yourself a few times (substituting the appropriate pronouns, unless you refer to yourself in the second person). There is a reason I wrote it in bold. And it is this:
Worrying about editing means that you CARE about your writing. You do not merely want to produce words, you want to produce CONTENT. You want to enhance your reader's experience. Considering the range of highly paid famous authors who can't be bothered to do this, simply by agonizing over editing you have already outclassed some professionals.
You are a better writer than you know.
But still. Editing is big and complex and scary. Where do you start?
The answer is: Write first, edit second. No, strike that: Write first, period. Let editing drift in organically.[2]
Here are some good reasons why you shouldn't make a point of agonizing about your editing skill:
1) Paradoxically, simply by virtue of thinking you suck, you're better than most people. In between having the ability to assess your own writing skills, and the desire to improve, you're already doing enough right that anything you write in earnest will get you most of the way there.
2) Yes, you think you can't edit, but: Context.
2a) Consider dreck like the "Left Behind" series. This shows that popular acclaim, cultural influence and large amounts of money do not require ANY editing, not even slightly. Seriously, go read some of Slacktivist's ongoing takedown of the series that I linked above. You'll simultaneously feel much better about your own writing abilities and horrified that a major national bestseller could be done with such a total and complete lack of quality.
2b) Consider Isaac Asimov.[3] He wrote 515 titles. Five hundred and fifteen titles. His writing career spanned 1939-1992, or 54 years. This is approximately nine NaNoWriMos per year, sustained, for his entire career. At that pace, it is basically impossible to do the sort of editing discussed above. Now, you're not Isaac Asimov, but you can still take heart in the fact that great, award-winning, wide-ranging writing does not always require editing -- and if you can improve your writing skill sufficiently, you might not need it either.
3) Reputable publishing houses -- should publishing be your intention -- employ professional editors whose entire job is to sit down with the author and suggest/enable these sorts of fixes. That won't help with the "my stuff sucks" feelings that are required by the author's job description, but it will give you an assisted chance to take a novel that's good and turn it into a novel that's great.
4) The editors in 3) above -- and your friends who could offer productive suggestions -- and writer's groups you may want to join -- can't help you edit unless you have source material to work on. Readers who offer useful feedback won't exist unless you give them something to read. In other words, how to "begin working on it" is to -- write more! :)
4a) Even if you never edit a given story, just having it written helps -- you learn what you like and dislike about it, and which of your experiments worked out well. Even if you never finish a given story, just having made the attempt helps -- you see where you stalled and learn what slows and stops you.
4b) The more you write, the better you get at identifying flaws in your writing style. "Hey, my last four stories have all stalled out on romantic dialogue. Now I know what I need to focus my editing mojo on!"
To round out the list at an even five:
5) The best editing that I have ever done has come about thus. I finished writing a story, or hit a stalling point. I let it sit untouched for long enough to have completely forgotten it. I came back later, and saw it with fresh eyes, as a reader. Then I reacted to it as if it were someone else's, criticized (or enjoyed) it accordingly, and took my own advice.
This is a lot easier to do if you're producing enough material to drive old or stuck stories out of your mind. If you keep thrashing at a single tale over and over and over again for months at a stretch, soon you completely lose sight of what simply reading it is like. In order to edit it productively, you have to stop editing, keep writing, and then pick it back up again later.
Besides -- I've discovered some of my own best writing this way. It's one of the greatest joys of a creator to dig back through your old corpus, exhume a few bodies, and then find out that they don't actually stink.
--
[1] Maybe I'm not the best person to talk about editing. After all, by the time I reach the end of a story I'm generally done with it. (On the other hand, I keep a mental sketch of the entire plot in my head from the beginning; I write in second drafts; and I immediately re-read everything I produce and microedit it again; so everything that comes out of my fingers is generally about as polished as it's going to get anyway.) On the other hand, I could argue that that strategy has gotten me this far, and so I've got to be at least as much an expert as anyone else who wishes to speak up on the matter.[^]
[2] This is NOT to say "ignore editing." By all means, get feedback -- experiment -- take advice -- read how-to- books. But these are not things you should worry about, because as you write, you will end up working on individual little pieces of the Giant Editing Puzzle, and by doing a lot of writing instead of a lot of editing you'll end up with a lot more output and just as much knowledge.[^]
[3] Also consider the "Criticism" section of his Wikipedia article. I think we can all agree, if only on the strength of his awards, that Asimov was a great writer. And yet there's plenty to hate about his writing. You will always have legitimate criticism to contend with, no matter how great you get. Past a certain point you have to say "fuck it" and just be a great writer anyway.[^]
Current Location: ~spiral
Current Mood:  motivational
Current Music: Toad the Wet Sprocket, "Dam Would Break"
Tags: writing
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02:57 pm
[Link] |
Epic Gaming Tales -- CSI: Luvine, Episode 4
[WARNING: Contains brief scenes of graphic violence.]
Interrogation Tent
3:16 p.m.
"My lord!" he pleaded, wrestling against the ropes holding him to the table, face pale and glistening with cold sweat. "I turned myself in to the Guard! I swore I would tell you all I know! Have mercy!"
I picked up a slender knife from the small tray at his side, wiped it against my smock to clear the blood away, and held it up contemplatively. "Indeed you did," I said calmly. "You turned yourself in to the Priory Guard. Strange behavior for an admitted slave trader, wouldn't you say?"
He began whimpering at the sight of the knife. "Please, lord. Please."
"And indeed you shall tell us all you know," I said. I leaned over the table and looked into his eyes. "Start with this, Aerik. What are the names of your three friends -- the ones you say you saw on the ridge?"
( In which the Inquisition uncovers the truth behind the improbable routing of a slaver camp )
Current Location: ~spiral
Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: Chopin, "Nocturne in B, Op. 9 No. 3"
Tags: csi: luvine, roleplaying, writing
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04:42 am
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Books vs. films
A peaceful Saturday filled with roleplaying; and a lazy Sunday filled with ... well, basically, laying in bed until sunset. Nice to have a down day once in a while.
I had intended to do a fair amount of fiction writing. Didn't get around to any of it. But I did respond to everyone who asked for an inner-animal guess in my previous thread, which is a good feeling; and I read through the novel The Prestige, on which last year's movie was based.
It was a good reminder of why movies will never be able to fully replace books.
Prestige: The Movie and Prestige: The Book diverge fairly radically from each other. I didn't understand why until I was more than halfway through. Because Prestige: The Book is in itself two separate stories. The actions of the two magicians are told twice, and exactly twice -- once from the point of view of each rival.
It's a book that you cannot read in a linear fashion. Once you reach the second half, you have to read it in parallel -- constantly flipping back and forth to contrast the two retellings of the same scene. You begin to notice that even the dialogue differs when the two characters interacted directly; and it's strongly hinted that, through editing or omission, not one but both of the characters are unreliable narrators, twisting the truth to paint themselves in a better light.
There is no objective or omniscient view of the characters' conflict. You only have their words against each other; and it's that tension that gives the book its impact.
I don't think you can do that in a movie.
There's something about a visual image that forces a certain omniscience. The camera is itself a character in the scene; it observes impartially, it records accurately. To do otherwise -- to have what's on screen be an inaccurate representation of the film's events -- would break cinematic expectation so badly that no major studio would touch such a film with an eleven-foot pole.
The counterexamples are probably few enough to be listed by name; and the only one that comes immediately to mind is Hero, in which certain scenes are later revealed in a plot-important way to be complete fabrications of their narrator. But to have a clearly demarcated wavy-lined flashback be overturned is one thing; to have the central events of the film later called into question is a recipe for audience confusion.*
(Edited to add: "Rashomon" and "The Usual Suspects" have also been cited in multiple comments. It's interesting to note that, so far, every one of these movies is about character(s) telling a story. That extra layer of abstraction is necessary to hew away the instinctive rules of cinema.)
The implicit rules are different in a novel. There is no camera to provide a single, omniscient vision of the plot; there is only a narrator (omniscient or internal) retelling it. There is more freedom to play meta-games.
There's an extra investment to taking stories from the written word, but there's also a richer payoff.
--
* This isn't to say the dramatic reveal can't be done well; cf. The Sixth Sense. But that's not seen events being redefined; that's context being added to chilling effect.
Current Mood: insomnia
Current Music: "Still Alive (ending credits)" - Portal OST
Tags: books, films, writing
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05:09 am
[Link] |
Epic Gaming Tales -- CSI: Luvine, Episode 1
Greg's Cabin
8:12 p.m.
The rhythm of the knocking was urgent, though with an odd hesitation. I opened the door. It was my nephew, Jonas. ... Again.
"Mmm?"
"Er, uncle," he said, clearly far more uncomfortable than could have been explained by the earlier accident. "The constable asked me to come fetch you."
"Why?"
"Well, it kind of started after Prostration. Simon --" my other nephew -- "came and found me. Us. He was worried, and so we followed Simon into the woods." Jonas fidgeted, and I noticed the bandages on his arm. "When we got to the scene, the mountain lion was dragging the body off into the woods, but broke off and attacked us. When we killed it, we realized it had torn his throat out. So we all ran back to town and got the constable, who took a good look at the scene and decided he wanted your help figuring it out."
"Alright." I grabbed my cloak from behind the door, along with a few weapons and woodsman's tools. Constable Noname* had called on my well-trained eyes before.
Jonas shifted. "You see, we're not sure it was the cougar that killed him."
"Mmmm?"
"Well, yeah. Simon did see him chasing that stranger away from the house. Maybe that's the guy who killed dad."
"... WHAT? My brother's dead?!"
Jonas cringed. We ran to the crime scene in silence.
( In which a murder is solved )
Current Location: ~/Brainstorm
Current Music: Aerosmith, "Cryin'"
Tags: csi: luvine, roleplaying, writing
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