Writing and me

Writing is a huge part of my life, and I have been working on it off and on since I got here. I've also been doing a lot of reading. But today let's talk about the writing.

I started out finishing a book that I'd previously started. I realized when I finished it that it was too perfect. There wasn't much in the way of plot. I got them from point A to point B but there wasn't much struggle. Also I had a plot point that just wasn't going to work. Even if it was two books it wouldn't work because it was an impossible goal.

So I started over. This shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone. I've done it multiple times with multiple stories. But this time I actually did something a little different. I actually built an outline.

I'm normally a pantser, but this time I wanted a more concrete plan for the chapters so I didn't wander around. Unfortunately, as I progressed further into the story, I realized I don't have any side plots. It's all straight line to the end of the outline. So now I have to figure out what I want to do about side plots. I have room to put some in. I just have to figure out what they are. I've left myself a note and will go back and insert some things after I've finished the story. Revisions are good for that.

I plan on finishing the first draft of Hackers, the novel I'm working on right now. It was last year's NaNo novel. Hackers is a working title, since I have no clue what I want to call my cyberpunk novel. But now I'm completely rewriting it to fix all of the errors I found when I read through it again.

That leads me to this year's NaNo. I still plan on doing it. I'm just trying to decide what project to do. I have a number of stories waiting to be written, but none of them are speaking to me. I thought about writing the sequel to Hackers but until I get the side plots in and adjust the main plot so it can carry over into the next book (my outline didn't take that into account either) I don't want to work on it.

I've thought about rewriting Marked with the changes I've made to the world. Yes, I know. I need to stop world building and set up the guidelines I need to work with. But talking with Tims, things keep expanding and changing. Which makes me reluctant to work on Marked. Or any of the Vassa books.

That leaves me with my other sci fi novels. Which I'm not sure what I want to do with either. I intend to finish this draft of Hackers by the end of October so I'm free to write in November. I also intend to write an outline for November, to see if it helps keep me on track. If it doesn't, I'll scrap it and pants it again.

So that's my writing in a nutshell for the past six months. I've written on a few fluff pieces just to keep me writing on those days that even with the outline I just can't seem to write anything serious. But I've set my goals so now I just have to complete them.

Writing burn out

I have a confession to make. I've been slacking on my writing. You know about my Netflix addiction if you read Monday's post. But I've also been reading the archives on www.notalwaysright.com and its sister pages. There are a lot of them.

I think the main reason is I just don't feel like writing. I've spent a lot of time working on things and didn't take much in the way of breaks. I am getting some done every day, but sometimes it's only a few paragraphs rather than a few pages.

I've been feeling a little like a failure, though I know I'm not. I'm so used to cranking out sometimes around 4000 to 5000 words a day that only getting a few hundred makes me feel like I'm not doing enough.

I know I should write more. But I haven't figured out which story I want to work on. I was working on the sequel to my NaNo novel, but I realized I need to change a major point in the first one so I stopped on the sequel until I can change what I need to in the first one. I've also got a character I need to work with who changes from one story to the next and I need to give some kind of foreshadowing in the first book about the shift.

I've also got Marked to edit. I'm holding off on that until I get some world building done. I need to make sure I have all the details set in stone before I can do much with the editing. Yet I'm struggling with that too.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I know I'm going to figure something out soon but for now I think I'm going to enjoy the relaxation I feel from not writing as much as I usually do. What about you? Do you ever get burned out on something to the point where you need to set it aside for a while?

Little Serafina finds out more about real life

Before she became Nariel, Serafina was a child on the run.

 “We're all runaways,” Helena said. “It would look pretty strange if we started showing up with money to get an apartment.”

“I can't get us an apartment but I might be able to get us enough money to buy food,” Serafina said. “I don't take much because my teacher says I shouldn't be greedy. But I've bought food for my family when my parents spent all of their money on drugs. I don't think they even noticed.”

“How did you do it?” Helena asked.

“I moved the money into an account under a false name and purchased the food through it,” Serafina said. “I only keep the name I make up for a few thefts. Then I drop it and move into something else.”

“We won't be able to get food without an apartment,” Benaiah said. “Don't they deliver it?”

“You can go to the store and buy it,” Helena said.

“None of us are safe doing that,” Benaiah said. “Or have you forgotten why we're all here?”

“We're all dodging the indent acquisitors,” Jannika said, as she saw the curious look on Serafina's face. “Either our parents tried to sell us, or they got acquired and they were going to take us as well.”

“Your friend most definitely can't go out,” Helena said. “She's too new for them. They'll remember her face.”

“Not to mention that for that sum of money, especially if they do drugs, her parents will be actively hunting for her,” Benaiah said.

“Guess you're stuck in here for a while,” Jannika said.

“You don't look well fed and your clothes are pretty worn. When we do let you out, that'll be a good thing,” Helena said. “I'll have Jannika teach you when it's safer for you to go out how to beg, who to beg from, and a better way to steal.”

Nariel is a little paranoid

Here it is. The very beginning of the very first chapter of my new first draft novel going by the working title of Hackers. So meet Nariel.

Sera sat far back in her usual corner. Other avatars came and went, most ignoring her in favor of their own pursuits. A vid was up and broadcasting the very public resignation of President Belenus Bianchi.

“It is with a heavy heart that I announce my retirement. I leave the control of our grand city in the hands of Esdras Martel and the rest of the council.”

“That Martel is bad news.” She turned and looked at the speaker. He was a large, overly muscled man with pale brown skin and bright blue eyes.

Sera snorted. Compensating for something are you, big boy? She shifted a little and continued watching those around her.

“What makes you say that?” This came from a skinny waif sitting in the corner diagonal from Sera's. “He did a lot of good work during the war. Isn't that why Bianchi chose him?”

Sera mentally shook her head. The person's voice was high pitched and young sounding. Even she'd been smart enough to disguise her voice growing up as she had on the Net. “You're too young to know anything about it,” the bulky man said. “It doesn't sound like you're even old enough to remember the war.”

“I know what I've been taught,” the waif said.

“That's not knowing the war,” the man said. “You have to have lived it, or at least been alive and cognizant of the world enough to understand what happened.”

Sera sipped her virtual drink. Drinks on the Net were just as addictive as their real world counterparts. They sent currents through the neural net that stimulated the parts of the brain that led to the production of endorphins. The benefit of them was you didn't get that intoxicated unless you imbibed a whole hell of a lot more than was good for you, and the Net bartenders had readouts they could check to see your level of consumption.

Sera had been nursing hers for almost an hour. She was waiting for her contact to show up. She checked her internal chronometer. It wasn't like him to keep her waiting this long.

“I don't see why it matters if I learn about it in class or if I was really there,” the waif said.

“Learning about something from a holo text is very different from having lived through it,” the man said. “Now me, I actually fought in the war. And I'll say it plain. That Martel leaves a sour taste in my mouth.”

Sera finished her drink. She checked her internal chronometer again. She stood up. A quick transfer from her account to the Net based pub paid for her drink. The bartender noticed and waved at her. She was a regular there, in both of her personas, though he didn't know that she had two. As she headed for the door, her contact rushed in.

The price that had to be paid.

War has struck the world again. City against city, and many have died. Recruits are necessary and many are answering the call. But sometimes a soldier loses what he most wishes to defend.

 “I don't care what the recruiters say. You are not joining the military.” Ivor's father stood firm, glaring at his son.

Ivor squared his shoulders and looked his father in the eyes. “I already have. I ship out in the morning.”

“I'll lock you in your room.” His mother radiated fury.

“You do that and I get arrested for going AWOL,” Ivor said. “Besides, I've already got a bunk in the barracks. I was going to sleep there tonight.” He turned his back on his parents. “I came home to give you the courtesy of letting you know where I was going. I don't care of you approve or not.”

“If you leave, you're cut off. No money, no family, nothing.” His father's words burned in his ears.

“If that's the way it has to be,” Ivor said. He reached into his duffel and pulled out a small credit chip. He set it on a table on his way out the door. He heard his mother's strident cries, but he ignored them.

He walked down to the street where Nicolai was waiting for him. “As bad as you thought?” Nicolai asked as Ivor got into the hover.

“I don't want to talk about it,” Ivor said. His anger was rapidly cooling, leaving an emptiness in his gut.

“Did yours disown you like mine did me?” Nicolai asked. “I'm cut off completely. No money, no family, no home to return to.”

“Mine did the same.” Ivor's anger returned. “What do they expect? We're at the top of our class for anything related to do with the Net, we're both in top shape physically, and we have this need to protect everyone we love. Why can't they just accept us?”

“Because we're not only the top of our class,” Nicolai said. “We also come from wealthy families. You know how much of a difference that makes.”

“I'm not letting it stop me from doing this,” Ivor said.

“Neither am I. I'm also willing to bet there are others like us who are giving up literally everything to join the military,” Nicolai said.

“There's no shortage of children in our sector of the city,” Ivor said. “It's not as if someone will go hungry if we leave.”

Sibling relationships are not easy

Lucan's temper has frayed to the point where anything regarding his sister will set him off. His sister never seems to be anything but angry. Another day, another fight. But not all fights are equal.

Lucan got to her office and walked in. Two of his high level Hackers were in there. She was screaming at them, threatening them with the termination of their contracts because of what happened. “That is absolutely the last thing you will do,” Lucan snapped when she paused for breath. “Or we'll be worse off than we already are.” She opened her mouth to start again. “You two go on and get back to work. I'll take care of it.” They left.

“What do you think you're doing?” Alya demanded.

“Exactly what you told me to do, dear sister,” Lucan said. “I'm running the security team. If you don't like it, put someone else in charge. Like I've been telling you to do for the last two years.” Lucan hated the fact that those under him were reluctant to follow orders because most of them considered anything he said as being suspect. After all, the only reason the twenty seven year old tech expert was head of Net security was because he was the CEO's brother.

“I will not replace you, but you'd better catch this infiltrator the next time he gets in here,” Alya said.

“With what resources? You've stripped me bare, sending some of my best agents out to other cities to gather information. I'm left with the two you were screaming at and a bunch of children barely out of school to take over the jobs of people with three times their experience,” Lucan said.

“You're the best. You find him,” Alya said.

“I can do many things, sister dear, but I am not a magician. I'm also only one person. If he's as good as he's showing himself to be, it's going to take more than one person to catch him,” Lucan said. “You may have to accept that the information was copied and leave it at that.”

“That information you're so blasé about details some of our movements, including the placements of some of your Hackers,” Alya said.

“And this is why I didn't want you to send them,” Lucan said. “I understand that other cities are doing this. But they take ordinary people and train them up. They don't strip their already limited resources and reduce their fighting force down to almost nothing.”

“It couldn't wait,” Alya said.

“That's because you took too long to realize this was already going on without you paying attention,” Lucan said. “I'd already lost six of my best to assassins when you decided to deprive me of most of my crew and saddle me with children close to my age who have a hard time following my orders because they don't believe I have the skill to back up my words.”

“That's your problem,” Alya said.

“A problem you gave me,” Lucan said. His voice was getting louder. He stopped and took a few deep breaths. “We'll do our best to catch the infiltrator, Alya. But I will make no promises because with what you've left me with it'll be hard to get someone out alive if they do find him. Or them. Whichever the case may be.” He turned and walked out of the office.

Serafina refuses to pay her mother's debt

In this world, indenturement is a common thing among the poorer denizens of the sprawling mega city. To avoid it themselves, parents often sell their children to make the money they need to pay their bills. Or buy more illicit substances. Or pay off the gangs that seem to crop up everywhere. But there are those children who are quick enough to get away.

 “They're coming.” The cry created a stampede. Not of people anxious to buy things, but to sell them.

“Serafina, come here.” Her mother's voice was full of irritation.

“No. You're not selling me.” Serafina tried to get past her mother, but a thin hand caught her wrist in an iron grip.

“You're the last one holding your father and me back. You eat too much and you don't do your share of the work,” her mother said.

“I do more of the work than you do,” Serafina said, struggling. “I won't let you sell me. I'm not going to be a slave.”

“You're not a slave, Serafina. You're an indent. That means you can pay off your purchase price eventually.” Her mother held tight to her as they waited for the indent transports to pull up.

“No I won't. No one ever does.” Serafina stopped struggling, but her mother didn't let go.

“Who told you that?” her mother asked.

“Dad did. His parents sold his sister. She should have been freed already. She's still working at for them.” Serafina gathered her strength and waited.

The transports opened up and the indent accquisition teams spread out. They collected some adults who were guilty of not paying back their debts. Their cildren were taken along with them to minimize the strain on the already overworked child relocation services. It took some time, but they finally got to Serafina and her mother.

“Name of the child?” The man looked bored.

“Serafina Vincent.”

“Age?”

“Twelve.”

“Reason for the indenturement?”

“She's too expensive for us to keep.”

“Does she have any skills?”

“How should I know? She's on the Net most of the day. I don't know what she does on there. I do know she at least manages to help keep the apartment clean.”

The man tapped in the last details. “We'll pay fifteen hundred credits for her.”

“I'll take it.” Serafina's mother let go of her arm.

Before the man could grab her, Serafina was off at a dead run away from them. She was tall for her age, but was skinny and agile. She could hear her mother yell after her but quickly outpaced her voice.