A Little Competition

So that 'pretty peaceful - stay at home/be on call - week', I talked about in my last post didn't really end up going as expected and I have ended up working six days out of the last 7. That coupled with three days a week at the gym and time away from the house hasn't really made for the most productive environment...

Thankfully I'm no longer on call and I am itching to get some writing done so I should have something up within the next few days.

In the meantime I've been taking another look at the various writing competitions that are coming up that I would be eligible to enter.

This is what I have found so far:

Odyssey House Short Story Competition

1500 word short story exploring the theme "How did I find myself here" and making some reference to experiences either with drugs or alcohol - may be difficult to pull of considering lack of experience with abuse of either... Still the website says that they only need to be mentioned in the story as opposed to being the main focus. Have a few ideas, will see where they go.

Submissions close 4th November.

Link

Australian Literature Review Monthly Competitions

Short story of between 1000 and 3000 words fitting the theme of the month entered - in November the theme is 'Murder', which I'm not really sure about, but it won't hurt to take a crack. Will need to do some thinking on this one.

Submissions close 20th November.

Link

The Writing Lab Facebook Competition

Bit of an odd one. At first I thought it said 420 word limit, but it's actually a 420 character limit... Still this one will be seen by the most amount of people - as it is on Facebook and the winner is decided by the number of likes (a fair system to be sure...). Though given the length and the possible exposure it seems silly not to enter.

Submissions close 31st December.

Link


Not a very big list so far, but I get the feeling that there aren't that many competitions run at the tail end of the year. Will keep checking and update with more as I find them, as well as having a look for international competitions as well as Australian ones.


Comments and story ideas welcome - always good to bounce ideas off someone.

Till the next one,



M.

Escape Velocity

Okay,

the other story that I've been working on lately (I believe I mentioned it last week) is taking a little longer than I expected. The plot is there, drafted out, and there are three or four different variations on the beginning sitting on my desktop... what I'm having with trouble with is deciding which one works best - the idea was to retell the story of an illegal immigrant (a child with his family - mother & brother) coming into Australia. Just having trouble combining the innocent/ignorant experience of the child with the seriousness of the topic. I am muddling through, but I want it to be good so I'm going to wait until it clicks.

Other than that things are pretty much the same where I am - though I am getting more writing in. The PDQ that I talked about last post is up and running properly and my character got in. So far the writing and the story are a little all over the place, both in terms of quality and coherency (we have yet to establish a pecking order and so for the moment everyone is doing everything at once - which, coupled with the differing levels of writing ability makes the whole thing a bit messy). I finding it stimulating however and it has been a good way to ease my way back into writing stuff semi-regularly and hopefully it will get better as it goes along.

On top of that I have managed to get another short story done which I will put up at the end of this post. Bear with me though. Have gone back to SF for a bit - but it is part of something that I have been thinking of doing for a while - one of several stories that show different interpretations of a single event.

Obviously this is the first. There will be more. As well as my immigrant story once it is ready/done and the stock broker when I get back to that. Have a pretty peaceful - stay at home/be on call - week ahead of me so looking to get plenty of reading and writing in.

Anywho, story:

Escape Velocity I

Trapped. Hurt. Alone.

The floor is littered with empty syrettes, stained red... used up. A hand (mine?) reaches for the box. It is heavier now, there is less in it. Only three now. Not enough. The splinter of pain returns, somewhere in my arm. Leaking red (why won't it stop?). The third last slides in easy. Brings warmth.

Two left.

I pop a stim (pill. Plenty of those left) and the world sharpens somewhat; grows bigger. Five feet by five by eight. Standard ceramic white, smeared in blood. Mine. Every now and then the lights flicker. Running out of power? Damaged? Don't know. Red fingers too slick on display to find out; wont dry, even on glass.

Pod gives a low hum. Cold air rushes in; took longer this time, lasts for less. Running out of air. Red splattered everywhere. Seeping out. Wont clot. Running out of blood. Running out of time.

Time passes. Pain returns (shit. Fuck. Getting worse. Syrettes supposed to last hours. Supposed to help clot. Help heal. Doing none of those things). Push in another; nothing else to do. Hardly feel it. I eye the last one anyway and ask the question: Would it be enough if I took it now? Enough to bump me over the edge? Military syrettes. Supposed to be strong... Should be dead already.

One left.

Good hand pulls back slide on pistol. Hundredth time. Still empty. Still useless. Still cant throw it away. Thinking is getting harder, like sifting through sand, or thick mud. Slips through fingers. Hard to keep track. The lights dim. It gets darker and the blood seeps out of the hole in my arm. Still wont clot.

Pain again. Syrette number three goes in. Fingers clumsy. Numb. Pins and needles everywhere. Feel sleepy but don't seem to die. Damn... have to think. Start to panic. Syrettes all gone. Same with bullets. Never had any to begin with. Can't overdose on stims... Crack the door?

A red lever sits behind a panel of glass designed to be shattered. Yellow and black stripes signal a warning, further explained by blurry scrawl of letters too small to see. Can only read those above, big and bold:

E.V. 19. Jötunn. New Helsinki.

Empty words, meaningless now. The Jötunn is dead, others scattered. Probably also dead.

Might be all that's left. Little me in a little box, trying to find the easiest way out.

Take more stims. Take most of them. Try to pull myself up. Bad arm fights like dead weight. Unmoving. Still bleeding dark red. I drag it with me. It hurts... God it hurts.

Fall twice in five feet. Pull my self back up, leave more red smears on stainless white. Good arm shoulders the glass. Once. Nothing. Twice. Cracks. Three... It shatters in a puff of safety glass. The pod beeps again. One last breathe. I pull the lever.

The bolts inside the door 'pop' and then cold nothing rushes in as the air rushes out.

I breathe the nothing in. Remember the old warnings.

9 Seconds left.

9 seconds. That's how long it's supposed to take.


8.

Pressure equalises. More 'pops'. The door falls away.

7.

The drive fails, the lights go dark. Blood shines in the darkness. Snap frozen. Floating.

6.

I push out, craving... space. The cold is shocking. Wakes me up more than the stims.

5.

Outside is endlessly dark and empty but all of me is bright. My hands. All that I can see glows.

4.

Down below (up?) I can see the Jötunn burn. Still alive but venting gasses, atmosphere. Burning.

3.

The other ship spits fire across her bow, breaking her back. Still she hurtles towards the gate. Towards home.

2.

Jötunn impacts. The gate spins down. Shatters. Implodes.

The light is blinding. Pure. White.

1.

Darkness.

Obviously falling back on the whole short sharp sentences things here, though I was hoping it would reflect the characters state of mind.

Have ideas planned out at least three other perspectives though so will try and alter style for each.

Other than that, can only build back up slowly.



Until the next one,


M.

Different strokes

Well that wasn't a terribly good reaction - have edited the Orlan vignette as I thought, once I reread it, that it had ended up being a little sloppy. Enjoyed writing it though and I am looking forward to the game as I think that the character could turn out to be interesting - even if the whole play-by-post/role-playing thing is not everyone's cup of tea.

Anywho - Have just started on something a little more grounded in reality for the next post (I do have a couple of other things on the go at the moment that are closer to being finished but this hits on something that has been in the news a shit-load lately so it seems best to put it out as soon as possible). So far its all planned - I just need to figure out how best to actually write it - I will explain why when it goes up.

Also - finally figured out what to write for my 'stock-broker' story, so that should be making an appearance at some point to.


Stay tuned.

M.

Through the Looking Glass

Well the recruitment thread for Wonderland seems to have stalled for the moment (as this is my first time applying for a play by post i'm not entirely sure how this usually works, though I have been told that they are usually left open for a week or two to gauge interest before the game starts) so I don't really have much to report on that front yet.

I did think that it might be a good idea to actually put the character sheet and background up here though instead of just linking to it so that I have a web formatted version of it just in case the thread dies off.


Orlan Durigar

Dwarven Vagrant

He never meant to abandon kith and kin or to and up living a life of exile, but the stone gods are often cruel and even in death Ymir has a strange sense of humour when it comes to his children – more than willing to curse one and make him a dwarf in name only – too afraid of the cold and the dark and the closed in to make the voyage home and too embarrassed about it to ever willingly bare his face to a member of his own kind again.

So now he hides amongst those who live up above and have forgotten how wide the world may be, eking out a living through small tricks, small magics and a willingness to scrap and steal. He blends in, stays quiet (a table up the back and out of the way – where he can tinker and his toys and come and go unnoticed) concealing old wounds and odd features but he has not forgotten what he is and from whence he came and every so often he finds himself drawn out by others like him – those that don't quite fit into this 'normal' world, others who remember that there is something [i]more[/i], for a dwarf as aloof as Orlan gets lonely from time to time.


Skills:

Craftsman (+2):

Dwarf kin are typically obsessive tinkerers and craftsmen and Orlan is no exception – spare moments rarely see his hands unoccupied and his pockets are always full of various odds and ends. This makes Orlan a consummate repairman and patch-maker, but his real joy comes from turning things to unintended uses and the creation of little 'friends' to keep him company.

Sharp Eye (+4):

Even half hidden under heavy brows Orlan's eyes are sharper than most. He rarely misses anything and has an especially keen eye for anything that looks to be of value or of potential use. He is an expert scavenger and discerner of details – and it doesn't hurt that such an ability lends itself well to the use of crossbow and throwing knife.

Over-active Metabolism (-2):

Dwarves are well known for their healthy appetites but Orlan takes it a step further. Given the nature of his arm and his abilities he burns through energy rather quickly and so has to eat slightly more often than your average dwarf to stay at full strength. On the flip side if he does not eat often enough he finds it harder and harder to use his abilities at all – up to and including his arm, leaving it as little more than dead weight until he happens upon his next meal.


Supernatural abilities:

Golemancer (+4):

Before his self imposed exile, Orlan was a famed practitioner of Golemancy amongst his own kind and it is a craft that he has embraced to even greater degree upon coming to the surface world – to the point where he would most likely not be able to survive without it. He is extremely proficient in the animation of normally in-animate objects both large and small – typically smaller golems are pre-crafted by Orlan before animation and are more delicate and intricate and able to act on commands with semi-independence – even when controlling several at once. Larger golems are are significantly more difficult and are often a lot less precise – both in the objects that make them up (Orlan typically just draws what ever he can for the immediate area) and in the complexity of commands that they can follow (usually limited to 'clobber' or 'whomp'). They also must be made on the fly, given the high amount of energy required to create and maintain them (Orlan will be heavily fatigued and hungry after using a large golem for any extended period) and simply because you generally cannot conceal an 8 foot, 1 ton walking pile of detritus and debris built for smashing with any ease.

Clockwork Arm (+4):

At some point in his youth Orlan lost the use of his right arm (and he generally does not like to talk about the why and the how) he has however seen fit to replace it with an arm of his own creation – one of bronze clockwork and small piston cleverly grafted onto the (long ago healed) wound which saw the loss of his natural one. Orlan animates it in the same way he animates all of his other creations but he has become so familiar with so that it requires no more concentration than it would to move than any other limb and so it thus works just as effectively as the the one he lost (although being made of metal it obviously much stronger and more durable and if Orlan so desires can take attachments that he has crafted for specific uses - also is a given that Orlan will try to keep this concealed in public, i.e. under coat and gloves).

Claustrophobic (-2):

An incident in this youth – most likely the same one that cost him his arm (again he does not like to talk about it) has made Orlan incredibly apprehensive when it comes to tight and enclosed spaces – particularly underground - something that is highly unusual and embarrassing for a dwarf. Orlan will go to almost any means to avoid any situation that would require him to face this fear as it typically makes him both extremely jittery and irrational as well as overly prone to panic. In severe cases this can progress further into temporary paralysis and blindness (he curls up in a ball and closes his eyes).



Waiting for the game to actually start and wanting to develop the character has also been good for getting me to write so I've put together a small piece to set the scene for the character.

Orlan - A Seat at the Looking Glass

Orlan comes awake with a start, coughing and spluttering as he pulls his face up from a puddle of ale - his glass lying overturned next to a half eaten packet of crisps. He mutters to himself and then snatches a hanky from one of the many pockets in his ill-fitting coat to dab at his beard, it comes away suitably wet and he stuffs it back before reaching for his pipe and a loose match which he then strikes on a dry part of the table and places in bowl, sucking air through the stem until the tobacco takes on a deep cherry glow.

He sits back for a moment and takes a puff, loosing himself in the taste and the chatter from the bar: The Looking Glass is full tonight and the old ache in his arm tells him that most have been blown in by the storm brewing outside: Come to to stand in front of fire, to drink and relax; to forget the grey and miserable mess that is London in ill weather.

From his seat, hidden away in one of the pub's many nooks and crannies, he can see a few familiar faces - yet none so far seem to have noticed him, that or they are respecting the tradition that those who sit in such spots usually do so to be alone. Something that, at moment, suits Orlan just fine.

Change is coming. He can feel it in his bones, though he cannot tell if it will be for good or bad - just that it is coming soon and it will hit hard when it does.
He wonders if the other patrons can feel it too; fey and non-fey alike. Bubbling beneath the surface. Waiting to pop.


From under the table something small gives a light tug on his ankle, derailing his train of thought. More than happy to be distracted he taps his foot against the floor in response, signalling permission. Eight spindly legs find purchase and begin to climb and he smiles as the tiny golem – about the size of his hand – pulls itself up next to him on the seat against the wall. He runs his hand along its back and shivers in response, making a delighted chirping noise as tiny wheels inside turn on an antique bird caller placed where a heart would if a clock-work spider were to have a heart.


A single thought calms it down and Orlan moves to open the tiny leather pouch that carries upon its back. Nimble fingers find a pair of loose coins - he places those on the table - and an odd collection of usual bits and pieces scavenged off the tavern floor which he deposits into various other pockets according to some unknown criteria.

Carefully, he then reties the leather drawstring before laying his good hand open next to the golem and tapping his palm with a gloved finger from the other. Obediently the spider climbs up and then curls tightly into a ball as if to go to sleep and with a mental pinch Orlan lets it do so; pulling the the small thread of its mind from its tiny body and adding it back to his own. Carefully placing the now inanimate object in an inner pocket close to his chest.

Slowly he begins to fish around for a few more coins, placing each one on the table with the others as he goes - seems to be no point avoiding everyone all night- especially not when he wants another beer.


Pretty short. Horribly nerdy - but you know what? Fuck that noise - I'm rather looking forward to this, if and when it actually kicks off.



M.

Back on the Wagon

Well things have been a little slow lately but I'm gradually getting back into writing stuff - inasmuch as I've been home (bit of couch surfing still going on atm) and have been able to concentrate on writing.

Have a couple of stories on the go at the moment but none of them are done yet so they won't be up for a little while at least.

I have however (following by apparent need to continue delving deeper into the geekiness that other people I grew up with sort of tried to shelve) applied to participate in a play by post running under PDQ rules on the Something Awful Forums - first time i've done so, so if could be a laugh.

if you by chance want to read along (provided that I actually get in), you can do so here (my username is Trumbus obviously):

Wonderland

and if you are curious about what the hell PDQ actually is there is a guide here:

PDQ

I forget whether or not I actually explained what play by post was last time - but just in case it's basically a text based role-playing game that takes place online (in this case on a forum) where each post is made from the perspective of a character in the story (which is set up and pulled along by a game master). Can be rather interesting with everyone bouncing off of each other and doing things that no-one expects.

Anyway, will be back with some actual stories sometime soon (promise)



M

Creature of Habit

One of the things that I have to come to notice as I begin to write more and more is that my ability to write decent stuff, or at least my ability to really get into what I'm writing depends rather heavily on the fulfilment of a number of personal habits and/or quirks.

The best example of this that I can think of is that, unless a really good idea takes me and I need to write there and then, I typically prefer to do my writing at night. That is not to say that I can't do it during the day, just that it I typically find it easier to get in the groove once sun is down and I'm alone and everybody else has wandered off to do their own thing.

In the past I have swayed between whether this is a good or bad thing - as there seems to be arguments for both, i.e. on one side there is the view that you should embrace the your own little quirks as, one could say, are what makes you you. On the other hand you could a so say that this only will only lead to stagnation and that the 'quirk/habit' is something that you can work through with a little effort and once you do you will be more productive for it.

Typically I've felt that the right answer lies somewhere in the middle, but the last month and a bit have messed with that a little bit as I've realised that if my habits get thrown about then things can sort of fizzle out - re: the lack of story posts and the dozen or so unfinished stories sitting on my desktop.

I will not go into the reasons - they are not personal (not depressed, actually feel really good) they have just been unavoidable and oppressive.

Anyway, for some reason I still seem to be quite capable of writing non-fiction so I figure I'll just keep with that until I get the spark back as it seems to be a little more constructive.

With that in mind I was going to write a little more on the whole habits = good/bad/? as I’ve been thinking about it a bit lately, but I'm about to head out the door so I'll save that for next time.

Also, perfectly all right if this post comes off as slightly disjointed/nutty - mostly me working through internal monologue shit in writing form - will probably give it a bit of an edit once I get the chance so that it makes more sense.


Anyhow, take care peoples.



M.

Keeper of Secrets

For reasons that I will not go into, I have not really been home much over the last couple of weeks and while I have had some opportunity to get some writing done I have mostly spent it reading and/or doing research on story ideas (also Deus Ex came out a couple of days ago so I have been busy doing a speed run through that - angry Jensen all the time).

In keeping with my call for story ideas I have made a few attempts on a story based on "A day in the life of a stockbroker" as James suggested.

I have not had much success.

At the start of the week I had a poke around in some economic websites and watched a couple of video interviews with young, seemingly 'hip' stockbrokers who had been chosen by which ever corporation they work for to act as promotion/information source on what stockbroking actually is and/or why the person watching should choose it as a career.

In my case it pretty much had the opposite effect - I found the whole thing rather soul sucking.

I'm not normally one to criticise people (or if I do it's generally for of a 'poking fun' sort of criticism) but to be honest after watching a few of these videos I came to rather quickly dislike everything about them and the world they live in.

I have a problem with any culture that is centred around an obsession with acquiring money for moneys sake, where it is treated as the only important thing in the world and how ever much you have is almost taken as some form of points systems indicating your value as an individual (if you have none you are not worth attention, if you have lots you win at life, if you have more you win several times?).

I have issues with the servile pandering of stockbrokers towards their monied clients.

I dislike how they sell themselves, both in the usually accepted meaning of the word, as in presenting themselves as best for the job (all the while surely lying, glossing over and over embellishing) and in the way in which they sycophantically trot along at the heels of their clients - leeching off scraps of wealth while they try to make as much short term profit off a system that should really be focused on long term goals and long term stability.

I will admit that my grasp on how the international economy works is rather weak at best but, given the current climate it seems to me that they way it does work is fundamentally broken and in the future a lot of people are going to have to pay a very dear price for the greed and happiness of a very few.

It makes you wonder what the world would be like if people were slightly different. If the average world view was skewed just slightly further away from selfishness, self aggrandisement and 'I'm better than you'.

Anyway, the whole purpose of this rant was really to explain that I was going to have to shelve the whole writing about a stockbroker for the moment as the whole thing made me rather uncomfortable and I the only story ideas that I could think of that seemingly had enough tension in them to be interesting were of the 'stockmarket crashes, stockbroker throws himself/herself out a window - or - stockbroker embezzles, becomes paranoid and is eventually found out and then throws himself/herself out a window' type and to me that felt a little on the boringly clichéd side.

Still it has been a little while since any writing went up so I will be hard at work on something more interesting over the next few days so then you can come poke holes in that.

*edit*

Here are a couple of the videos I watched

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hnkQtCdFY0A

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ATlRemuKN_o

Love how in the one with the woman in it she talks about her parents said they would pay for her arts degree as long as she did a 'sensible' course as well.

Also possible reason for why world economy is doing so poorly - people on stock exchange floors just spend the entire time fucking around just like everyone else.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yUlVDqHG3X4&feature=related



M.