Heaven Forbid

The story I wrote a little over a year ago that basically changed the take I had on a lot of my characters. So now I am facing doing a rewrite of it, or at least of part of the actions from it. Only this time I plan to give the fights purpose and other things they did not have before.

On a side note, I was looking for badass Bible quotes and came up with something off a cracked article:

From there Elisha went up to Bethel. As he was walking along the road, some youths came out of the town and jeered at him. "Go on up, you baldhead!" they said. "Go on up, you baldhead!" He turned around, looked at them and called down a curse on them in the name of the Lord. Then two bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of the the youths - II Kings 2:23-24

I don't think I ever remember reading this part.

Writing Quotes

I have been taking a bit of a forced break from my writing lately, mostly because of the fact that I am trying to just kill some time and not write. Well I have been looking over some of my favorite quotes from different books and things on writing. I might be posting some of these from time to time:

"2nd draft = 1st Draft - 10%"

This first one is from Stephen King, I like it because I take it to mean that we can always trim a little off that first draft. I am one for brevity and I like the idea that I can really get down to it and shave off a lot of unnecessary words.

"When you write a story, you're telling yourself a story. When you rewrite, you're taking out all of the things that are not the story."

This is just a cute little saying, it comes again from King and closely precedes his advice to write with the door closed and edit with the door open. I don't really agree with this because I am constantly showing my writing, going back and chipping away at little things as I am writing and coming back to write more, but I think that it could work for some people.

Remember, these are not facts or rules that everyone will agree with. Nor will they work for everyone. But I think that for some, at least one of these things might help them or give them that extra little boost or even just inspire them to do the opposite.

Place yourself in the background. Write in a way that draws the reader's attention to the sense and substance of the writing, rather than the mood and temper of the author. If the writing is solid and good, the mood and temper of the writer wil eventually be revealed and not at the expense of the work. Therefore, the first piece of advice is this: to achieve style, begin by affecting none--that is, place yourself in thebackground. A careful and honest writer does not need to worry about style. As you become proficient in the use of language, your style will emerge, because you yourself will emerge, and when this happens you will find it increasingly easy to break through the barriers that separate you from other minds, other hearts--which is of course, the purpose of writing, as well as it principal reward. Fortunately, the act of composition, or creation, disciplines the mind; writing is one way to go about thinking, and the practice and habit of writing not only drain the mind but supply it, too.

This final quote comes from The Elements of Style by William Strunk and E.B. White. The book is in its 4th edition and has come to be regarded as pretty high up the chain of books on writing. It's very brief and very affordable. Well that's all for now I think I might post some more later.

Novel

At a certain word count, a book turns into a novel or rather a book is considered a novel. I don't think I even knew that until very recently but when does a book feel like a novel? When, while writing it, do you get the true sensation that you are writing a novel? This experience with Four Winds has been fun, its been very different from what I expected and when I started out I didn't ever think I would go in half of the directions it has. A book and characters growing and learning and growing outside of what you expected isn't bad but as I sit here on the cusp of 80,000 words I look back and know that this isn't it. I've started a series, I've got a long road of editing and rewriting and added ahead of me and I still have to find a publisher for the damn thing.

Even then, this is really exciting.

Racism in Houston

Th internet affords one a lot of opportunities to make an ass of themselves. Stupidity is the cancer that infests the information super highway and it seems to come in many forms. Bigotry has found a new home in cyberspace and I was shocked to see some of the things posted in my own city on the site Topix which is like a large forumor some such shit. Basically, from what I can tell, its a place where some people go to discuss things and some cyber degenerates go to beg for online sex. But to each his own.

Anyway, these comments were posted in a thread about racism that made me take notice. The basic idea is that the commenter used an unregistered guest account to make a stereotypical ethnic name and troll (for those who don't know, trolling is fueling the argument in a bad way) the site. The first one is as follows.

Written by "Eboneesha"

My name be Eboneesha Li Herenandez, an African Hispanic Asiatic-American Girl who just got an award for being the bess speler in class. I got 67% on the speling test and 30 points being black, 5 points for not bringin drugs into class, 5 points for not bringin guns into class, and 5 points for not gettin pregnut during the cemester. It be hard to beat a score of 120%. White dude who sit nex to me is McGee . He got a 94% on the test but no etstra points on acount of he have the same skin color as the opressirs of 150 years ago. Granny ax me to thank all Dimocrafts and Liberuls for suportin Afermative action. You be showin da way to true eqwallity. I be gittin in medical skool nex an mabe I be yo doctor when Barrac take over da healtcare in dis cuntry.

The second post is probably the same person and equally ignorant to the facts.

Written by "Papi"

My son took a test for the fire department in a large city here in Texas. He got a 72 on the test but got 30 points added for being Hispanic. That 102 total put him in the academy and some anglos who might have scored 100, left out. He felt bad but I told him what the heck! If they're giving out benefits for free, what the heck!

I'm sorry, people who write stuff like this and believe this kind of shit should be told better...wait no they should be drug from their cars and hit with a pipe wrench. I know we're not supposed to advocate violence--but just call it going back to my Crusader roots. While I don't neeccessarily agree with affirmitive action, it doesn't work like that and on that small a level. In fact it should be done away with, because it might have been needed for a short time, but I think that time has passed--black president and all, kind of hard to say a black man can't get anywhere in this country.

Even then, these people are obviously sick, degenerate KKK members or something like that. Because while the average racist person has a small level of innocent racism to one subject (like interracial dating) these mongoloid dick heads seem to think that a fifty year old stereotype represents an entire set of ethnic groups. I've got one thing to say to people like this, if you have to use the internet to say something that you feel because you're too scared to say it to the face of someone do us a favor and leave--and take your white hood when you go.

WTF

This is a wild video I saw posted here:

Civilization by Marco Brambilla from CRUSH on Vimeo.

Rape and Child Porn are Constitution Rights?

I am becoming increasingly disgusted by the state of some people online and what they view as appropriate. After some feminists lobbied to have Rape simulators and child pornography games banned, a ban which I fully supported, there was a mobilization the likes of which you don't often see on the internet. People shouting about free speech, about their rights, about America being more open sexually...what were they all so adamant about protecting? Racial rights? Gay rights? Abortion rights?

No.

They wanted the right to play sexual games that involved children and raping women. And I don't mean the legal definition of a child. A sixteen or seventeen year old girl, while considered a child, is fully grown in most ways biologically and in many country they are considered adults for sexual purposes. I am talking about actual children. Persons nine and ten years old and sometimes younger.

What's worse is that the ban's major target, rape, is seen to be by some as a normal sexual desire for someone to have. They don't see anything wrong with playing a game where the entire object is to rape someone else and there is no other path to take. In fact, they see the way that stores have stopped carrying the games and that Amazon.com refuses to sell them as a gross miscarriage of justice.

People cried out that "even women have rape fantasies"--yes some of them do claim that, but the fact that they're having a fantasy about it doesn't mean they want to be raped and truly saying that you think a woman would enjoy rape should upset any woman within a ninety three million mile radius. Some would make the argument from an anthropological argument that rape is only culturally unacceptable here, therefore its not our right to promote our values worldwide. To them I say this, rape, whether accepted or not anywhere in the world, if it is truly rape. It's wrong. Rape is never right, never can be. End of story.

These games were made in Japan, a place where things are seemingly calm. But lets not forget that a years ago there was a call for them to provide separate train cars for women because of men rubbing against them. So its not that hard to see that even in a country as set on honor of family and the like, there can be problems. But the thing is, countries like Australia have already banned animated child pornography--the portrayal of rape I doubt will be messed with there. The U.K. took steps to do the same recently. While the U.S. is kind of playing with the idea, even going as far to take a man to court over it, I think that the issue here is this.

If a company wants to make video games about rape, child molestation and bestiality, they are actually free to do so because of our Constitution. But any store, corporation or person is free not to sell, own or buy them and we are all free to protest them. Furthermore, if you find sexual gratification watching actual rape--not that role playing stuff--then there might be something wrong with you. Correction. There's something fucking wrong with you. If you get sexual gratification from seeing children nude or placed in sexually explicit or suggestive situations, you are a pedophile.

I can't sugarcoat this and I frankly don't care about the feelings of anyone who would want to argue these statements with me. On the subject of pedophilia and the outcry that the people always make about "can't you just call us Lolicon Lovers?" Nope. I could call the Klan Aryan Race Enthusiasts, doesn't make them any less of a horrible cancer in the body of the Human race.

Students of the Universe Part 1

As it appeared on Writer's Beat.com

The stench of hot garbage in the alley was so harsh and pungent it was hard to distinguish any other smell. Heavy rain from the previous night had washed through the alley. The water was brimming with the fumes and juices of meals long passed. As the sun reached between the buildings to reveal trains of people and cars moving through the streets, it also brought more revelations.

Between the two red brick buildings, where illumination held little dominion, a body lay bludgeoned and caked with crusty blood. What had once been the face was now a shredded mess of tissue, decomposing over a bag of burst open garbage. The corpse’s arms were spread, the right actually twisted out of joint. The skin had been ripped apart at the shoulder and showed a yellow mass of tissue.

The medical examiner made it a point to say that the person had probably laid there for a while before expiring. It had been a painful death.

Each car passing in the road sent water spraying from the divots in the concrete. The sound almost drowned out the words of the uniformed officer as Lewis slipped a cigarette into his mouth. “She’s been here a few days,” said the officer as Lewis took a drag, “It’s a wonder that more of the blood didn’t wash away.”

Lewis nodded, “Could you have at least tried to cover up some of this goddamn smell…”

“Sorry Agent Reynolds,” the officer said, “But the alley is filled with trash.”

He plucked the cigarette from his mouth and turned to the cop, “Well before you call me out here to stand in some shit like this next time, remember—a picture’s worth a thousand words.”

The cop grimaced, his mouth parted as if to speak but then he just strode off. Lewis knelt down next to the body. A hot putrid odor was rising from the corpse. He un-holstered his side arm and used the nose of the weapon to push back some of the trash and get a better look at the body. He sighed, blinking as he tried to push through the horrid smell.

“Not a bad looking girl,” Lewis remarked to the nearest officer, “Bit of a brown bagger.”

The cop glared at him with eyes wide, but said nothing.

Lewis covered his mouth to cough and then looked up, “Where’s my partner?” he asked.

“She arrived earlier,” one of the medical examiners said, “But I think the sight of the corpse got to her.”

Lewis turned and walk towards the medical examiner; she was a short chunky blonde who appeared too young to work for the police department. In the back of the investigator van, near where she stood, there was a box filled with instruments and supplies, he snatched one of the wipes out of the box to clean his gun off as he spoke, “I’m going to find Agent Prescott.”

“We can’t leave this body here…” she replied.

“It’s been here for at least a few days,” Lewis said, “I doubt that it’s going anywhere.” He returned his gun to its holster and walked off down the alley way. He turned the corner and stopped to look through the window of a deli. A harsh glare on the glass forced him to cup his hands over his eyes, but he spotted her at a table in the corner with bottle of tea. He left his cigarette dying on the sidewalk as he neared the door.

Lewis was hit was a rush of warm air as he entered. He hadn’t realized it was that cold outside until he was inside. He rubbed his hands together as he made his way over to her. She sat with her legs crossed and her head hung. Chances were she hadn’t spotted Lewis yet because her long brown hair was in her face.

He came to a stop right next to her, then turned to the man at the counter only a few feet away, “Can you get me a coke?” asked Lewis.

The man at the counter nodded and walked off to get the drink.

She never looked up from the table as she lifted the bottle of iced tea and took a sip, “American tea isn’t even really tea,” she started in a low, flat tone, “All I taste is bloody lemons.”

Lewis ran his hand over the top of his short hair, “You okay, kid?” he asked.

“I hated that we were transferred,” she said. She scooted closer to the table some, but she had to be careful of her injured arm. Only a few weeks prior she had taken a bullet in the arm. It hadn’t hit anything too vital, but while it healed up the two of them had been moved to an Investigative Crimes Unit inside of the F.B.I.

“Well they had to give you time to heal up, Holly,” Lewis said as he sat down.

As she nodded Lewis caught a glimpse of her eyes, tinted a shade of red. Her hair hid the way the eye shadow had smeared. Holly exhaled roughly, “Does the victim have a name yet?”

“I didn’t bother to ask,” Lewis said.

“I see,” Holly pushed the bistre tendrils out of her face, “I suppose we should try and scrape up some evidence.”

Lewis gazed out to the street, “Yeah,” he said, “Although witnesses for this kind of thing are usually few and far between.” When he glanced up again he spotted someone in the alley adjacent to the scene of the crime, “I might know where to start.”

Lewis threw a twenty on the table and didn’t bother to wait for change. He and Holly made their way across the street and into the opposing alley. A blustery wind pushed at them as they came to a stop next to a makeshift shelter. Sticks were lashed with bits of string and twine, made to support a blue tarp that was haphazardly strapped down.

A little ways up the alley was a man who was little more than waxy red skin wrapped over bone. He was mostly naked with a cloth bundled about his crotch like a makeshift diaper. His bony fingers grasped a stick that was burnt at the end, as he scratched something into the side of the building with it. His eyes were wild as he danced with eccentric motions still holding the stick. The hole of his mouth appeared in the scraggly yellow beard as he muttered to himself.

Holly shrunk back behind Lewis as they approached, “Sir…” Lewis started. The man didn’t react. “Sir, I’m Agent Reynolds and this is my partner Agent Prescott, we’re with the F.B.I.”

The stick scratching at the wall became more pronounced as the man tossed his head back to let out a cackling chuckle. He brought his head down and scratched at the spotty clumps of hair on his head.

Lewis and Holly stepped closer to the man, Lewis sighed, “Sir, did you hear me?”

Holly pointed up at the wall, “Lewis,” she whispered form behind him, “That’s Umbral Calculus,” she said, “I remember it from Uni.”

“Math’s never been my thing,” Lewis said as he approached the man. He touched the man on the back, his reddened skin was sticky with sweat and calloused. “Sir!” he shouted.

The man turned around, “Hmm,” he said glaring at them, “Can’t you see I’m busy, boy.”

Holly’s muscles constricted as his gaze fell on her, she swallowed hard, “That’s a right complex equation you’ve got there, Umbral Calculus if I’m not mistaken?”

He nodded, “It would seem you possess a keen eye, I was hoping to show that these two equations are in actuality similar. Of course in proving this I will have proved very little besides that they are related…these numbers have no practical application for me, you see a common beggar.” As he spoke his movements were exaggerated and dramatically pronounced, like a theater actor.

Lewis put his hand to his chin, “I see,” he said, “And do you teach this class out here often Professor.”

“I’m called Skarkiss,” the beggar replied, “These equations are the way that the universe speaks to me, it speaks to us all. I am a mere conduit through which the communications are passed down and read out through, like a seismograph reads the vibrations of the Earth. I am a professor in nothing, I teach no one…I am just a student of the universe.”

Lewis rolled his eyes, “For fuck’s sake.”

Missed

Seems I need to stop neglecting this place, I have missed blogger but I have also taken up a second, secret blog elsewhere on the web. I will be maintaining them both, but this will be my out in the open, outright, blog. My life has been poured into this thing for the better part of four years after all. I will continue to update this.

What's going on with me? Well my novel is coming along and some other smaller fiction writing. And then there is my job search. But I'm around, if you stop by--drop me a line.