tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53682483628047747612024-03-08T04:42:27.199-05:00Elemental StorytellerThe musings of a Fantasy and Science Fiction Writer.Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-10995166342468163702014-05-25T13:09:00.002-04:002014-05-25T13:09:40.896-04:00Update<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">After much consideration, and my concerns preying on me for the last couple of years, I have decided to delete the majority of my posts. The reasons for this are many, but the largest worry was this: I wish to publish my work as I get it finished, and I constantly fret someone with unpleasant motives will come along and steal my work, claiming it's theirs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">My stories are my children. I have nurtured and developed them for years--many since I was in middle school (some even earlier). I care for them and their characters deeply, and it would be unbearable for me to see them taken from me. I just have too much invested in them and too much at stake for the risk to seem acceptable. I thought that back when I started posting them, and I still do today. A conversation this weekend cemented those worries, so I have pulled my work.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I doubt many people will notice (or even care) since I wasn't getting many hits on my blog, but the majority of those I was were from foreign sites. Whether spam sites or not, I don't know, but I'm familiar with an artist from Canada whose work was stolen and claimed by a certain now-deceased dictator from the Middle East for a novel he'd written (not sure if he also stole the novel, but he certainly stole the artwork; the artist had photos of the book).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I may, if I attempt Camp NaNoWriMo or the official National Novel Writing Month in November again, post as I go as proof that I'm doing it and to keep myself accountable, but I'm not sure yet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I apologize to anyone who was actually reading my work. I hope you understand.</span>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-61450136156754365772013-12-21T13:21:00.000-05:002013-12-21T13:21:32.486-05:00Brink book two information<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I haven't touched my first National Novel Writing Month story in years--not since I didn't get very far beyond the original 50k words for the challenge. I wrote it back in November, 2011, completely from scratch. New characters, new world, new everything. I'd hoped it would be a way back into the writing I'd done during college and before, but, like I said, it didn't get very far. It proved to me I could still write, however.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I started printing it off for a family member to read since he was incarcerated back in 2012, and recently received a letter from him (and a friend of his he'd been sharing it with) saying how much he liked reading my stories. I hadn't sent him story pieces in a while because of my move and my printer refuses to be on speaking terms with my new computer. I went home this week to do laundry in anticipation of bad weather, and borrowed my parents' printer to get the boys some more.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">That led to me re-reading Brink as a whole. I still feel it is <em>definitely</em> not my finest work (really, <em>really</em> not my best writing), but there's decent storyline there. I got to looking around, and noticed I'd only posted the NaNoWriMo parts here, not the bit I'd written beyond (I actually have some of the ending written...somewhere...too). I knew I'd posted the first part of book two somewhere, and found it on my LiveJournal. Given I locked all of my LiveJournal posts due to someone telling me they were going to take my ideas for their classwork for examples, with or without my permission, no one is able to see them but me.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Given the guys' interest--interest and excitement over my work from readers is a huge part of inspiring me to continue to write, even on pieces I haven't touched in years or don't particularly like--I've been debating picking it up again. So I've decided to post what little I still had from the original attempt. To understand it, a reader will have to go back through the archives to the earlier posts (each is labeled) and read Book One, but it's a good way for me to keep tabs on my progress. This way, too, if I get a system crash that takes out computer, thumb drive (it's on at least two), <em>and</em> external hard drive, I still have a copy.</span>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-72706140869375295702013-12-01T21:29:00.000-05:002013-12-01T21:29:17.025-05:00100 Words Challenge reminiscent review<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-size: large;">Today I was feeling a touch nostalgic, and found an older file folder on my external of a challenge project I was doing with a friend and three of her friends back shortly after I graduated from college. We started it November 2007 (I graduated in 2006). My last addition was in June, 2011. I was up to 82. I have part of 83, Smoke, written somewhere, but never finished, as enthusiasm for the project had pretty much died off by then. The challenge was: we came up with a list of 100 words, then had to write short story clips that embodied each of those particular words--100 total. What we wound up with was a list of 102, as other words suggested themselves as we went along. I did 82, and the next-nearest was my friend at just over 50. On a whim tonight I decided to amble through my contributions; I had some good stuff in there, turns out. It's been fun to go back.</span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-size: large;">Some of my stories were inspired by music, or games, or even events earlier in my life. Some I used from other writing I'd done, because they just fit too well.</span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-size: large;">The project was great exercise, and I may eventually finish the list--only spirit, agony, war, strike, blindness, evil, psychotic, ancient, frustration, pity, soft, window, heaven, oppression, smoke, light, loss, differences, ripples, and natural to go.</span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-size: large;">I'm thinking of posting some of those old pieces here. Haven't decided which ones. I will probably leave out the fan fiction ones...I love Transformers, and was writing a Generation One-loyal and -accurate story based on that old original '80s cartoon series. I did a lot of fun little blurbs from it as words, but to enjoy them, you really had to be a Transformers geek like me. Others ranged from my entire gamut of stories--science fiction and fantasy works I've been working on my entire life, and some that were spur-of-the-moment created just from the impressions a particular word left me.</span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-size: large;">I guess we'll see what comes of it.</span>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-34060954445458715692013-10-29T21:58:00.000-04:002013-10-29T21:58:22.608-04:00Untitled Pre-NaNoWriMo 2012 fantasy prologue excerpt<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Georgia;"> So I was rummaging about on my newest thumb drive to figure out what was on it, and I stumbled across something I began right before National Novel Writing Month last year (November 2012), as kind of the prologue to the story I intended to write for it. I actually remember sitting in the upstairs break room at the greenhouse where I worked, on my last fifteen minute break of the day, toward the end of the season--the longest I'd ever worked there--and scribbling this down on a seed company's notepad. Given they wound up keeping me into November, I didn't wind up actually taking part in NaNoWriMo 2012. But this still remains, and I may eventually do something with it. It's not even a complete scene, because that was all I could write in fifteen minutes by hand. Had it been on computer, I would've been faster and gotten more down.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Georgia;"></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He woke to
darkness and the sounds of unbridled chaos around him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The darkness he knew; those possessing magic
of any strength were born blind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chaos,
too, had become intimately familiar over the span of…how long now?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Days?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Weeks?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had become a companion
following his abduction by mage hunters in Nordren, along with their palpable
hatred and the abuses they eagerly supplied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He’d never caused trouble, nor had he heard of the fanatics who had
taken him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Judging from the agonized
screams he had heard over the span of his imprisonment, he wasn’t their first
victim.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The chaos he heard
now was of a different sort, one that told him he was one of their last.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The sounds were
not of torture or beatings or misery, but of the sharp clash of steel on steel,
arrows thudding, and battle cries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His
captors had become the victims of someone else.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And it appeared
they were just as helpless against this sudden threat as he and his fellows
were against them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He almost felt sorry
for them.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He had become
familiar with the sounds of combat from time spent on <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">Fort</st1:placetype> <st1:placename w:st="on">Nordren</st1:placename></st1:place>’s
practice fields.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a boy, he’d been
drawn to the Guard as they ran through drills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He knew from sound alone the skill of a combatant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This group—there were too many, friend and
foe, to distinguish the number of the attacking party—were not battle masters,
but they were certainly well-trained and worked as a cohesive unit.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The din abruptly
died down, the lull filled with heavy breathing and the shifting of
weight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could smell the thick coppery
tang of spilled blood, and the sharp taint of ozone that suggested at least one
of the newcomers was a mage.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s the last
of them,” one of them said into the quiet—a male.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His statement was followed by the sound of a
blade being flicked clean of blood and homed.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Anyone
hurt?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The second speaker was a woman.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A chorus of
noncommittal grunts and denials answered her as more weapons were
sheathed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He counted no more than six.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Dorr, Ranvel,
check the cells for survivors,” the first voice said. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Find any more of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">these</i> fools<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">—</i>” the sound
of a boot striking flesh “—kill them.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“None deserve it
more,” another voice, another male, answered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His tone was deeper and held gravel compared to the first’s.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Just be quick and
clean,” the first said with a heavy sigh of familiarity of the second male’s
habits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We’re not like them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t string it out.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Should,” the
second male stated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Only fitting.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Eye for an eye
and everyone would be blind,” the woman spoke again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Or, in your case, Dorr, dead.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The second male,
Dorr, grunted and tromped away; from his heavy tread, he had to be a big
man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was followed by a lighter but
still heavy series of footfalls.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The woman
sighed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Should I go with him and talk
him down?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He may like warmongering, but he’ll obey
orders.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“He’s right, you
know, peace-keeper,” a new voice, another male, stated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His voice was as grating as the one called
Dorr’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Don’t pretend you believe
otherwise.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She did not reply
to his barb.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What about that
one?” the first male asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He dead
too?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Fingers touched
his throat; surprised, he flinched.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’d
not heard anyone approach.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The voice belonged to the one who called the
woman a peace-keeper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That can be
remedied, if you wish.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Galen,
stop.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The woman, again, this time with
steel in her voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Look at him—he’s
shivering.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“He’s a mage,” the
first said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Probably one of those taken
from Nordren or Galar.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Not a good sign,”
the woman agreed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Doesn’t bode well if
the cult has spread this far.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Cult?” he could
barely rasp out the word through the rawness of his throat; he hadn’t been able
to scream in a long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The voice that
came out couldn’t be his own.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Galen, check him
over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Make sure they didn’t do something
irreversible.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Galen grunted and
he felt strong hands run over him, expertly checking for broken bones and
internal injuries.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Got a name?”
Galen asked while he worked.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Vash.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What kind of a
name is that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sounds like a sneeze.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He tried
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Jason…Vash.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Galen snorted. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Still sounds ugly.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #003399; font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Galen!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The woman didn’t sound amused.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-45264963965333231652013-08-31T22:56:00.000-04:002013-08-31T22:56:02.985-04:00<span style="color: #38761d;">Sorry about the long time away.</span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;">That should change now--new living arrangements, new job, new computer...lots of fresh things. Now that I've got my life somewhat in better order and status, an internet-attached computer, and access to my music, I believe I can start writing again. Most of my work was on my beast of an external hard drive, inaccessible for about two years.</span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;">Hopefully inspiration will take over and I can start posting bits and pieces of things here again.</span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;">Stay tuned!</span>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-6988296323668923402012-08-30T22:53:00.001-04:002012-08-30T22:53:56.341-04:00Tales from Ferelden; stories based on the DragonAge RPG series and computer games, part one<span style="font-family: inherit;">I decided to start GMing a DragonAge RPG this month, and am having such a good time I decided, being a writer, and, as GM, essentially narrator of the game, to storyline the characters' adventures for the fun of it. The games, campaign arcs, and world copyright the makers of DragonAge; characters copyright their respective owners.</span><br />
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Late spring had fallen on Ferelden
in the form of late, icy drizzle that worked its way under the armor to chafe
massive sores where it rubbed and chill to the bone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had muddied the <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Northern Road</st1:address></st1:street> to the point everything
that traversed it was covered in thick sludge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>For <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Arden</st1:place></st1:city>, it was just one straw closer to
breaking the metaphorical camel’s back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>First, he’d been sent halfway across the continent in search of new and
exotic materials for his forgemaster, the legendary armorer Wade of
Denerim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Arden</st1:place></st1:city> had wanted to travel, but this time of
year the weather was fickle and he hadn’t known what to prepare for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Second, given Wade’s…finicky tastes in
armoring materials, it had been nigh impossible finding enough variety to
justify the price of the trip.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>At least, finally, he was on his way
back to Denerim with his small supply caravan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The weather was making travel difficult; he and his escort had been
forced to push a loaded wagon out of deep mud.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Arden</st1:place></st1:city> was exhausted and irritable when the
small city of West Hill came into sight through the misty rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Evening was starting to fall, and he was
looking forward to getting his precious materials out of the elements so he
could sit down and get a hot meal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sleep would be nice after far too
many hours on the road.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The apprentice weaponsmith got the
horses stabled, rubbed down, and the carts packed away, then all but drug
himself to the inn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The warmth of the
place made his cold, damp skin immediately start to sweat, but he had no
complaints.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There were few patrons; <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Arden</st1:place></st1:city> noticed a slim
redhaired Dalish Elf woman sitting at a table near the fireplace with a Circle
Mage eating what looked to be bread and thick stew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both, he noted jealously, were dry, though
the woman’s hair still looked damp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
two were talking quietly and barely spared him a glance.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";">He also saw a giant of a man in heavy leather armor with an axe
and a huge “bastard” sword strapped to his back—a shield, short bow and quiver
of arrows, too!—headed up the narrow stairs to the second floor, followed by an
anxious-looking robed mage and a very small boy who couldn’t have been more
than seven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other than that, there didn’t
appear to be any guests despite the weather.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That means I’ll get a room.<o:p></o:p></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Arden</st1:place></st1:city> went to the bar and waved at the
serving girl at the far end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She came
over and regarded him with what he figured she thought was a sultry come-hither
look.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“A meal, a room for the night, and a
hot bath,” he told her.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The serving girl sized him up, then
brought him a brass key, leaning carefully on the bar so he had ample view of
her cleavage.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Would you like your bath <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hot</i>, ser?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Arden</st1:place></st1:city> kept his attention on his pouch of
money while he counted out his coins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Not
in the way you’re thinking, sorry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank
you for the offer nonetheless.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She pouted and straightened, crossed
her arms over her bosom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No company, no
bath,” she told him flatly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Or dinner.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Irritation flared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was wet, hungry, tired, and sore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t need a rude barmaid to add to his
list of today’s grievances.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Forget the bath, then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the meal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ll just take a room and haul in my own water.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She slapped a room key down on the
counter in front of him, then huffed off to the kitchen.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Arden</st1:place></st1:city> sighed and heaved himself up off his
stool, grumbled his way upstairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At
least he’d have peace and quiet the rest of the night.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>From the table by the fire, the
Dalish Elf woman watched the soggy newcomer head upstairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knew she and her companion, the mage
Rylan, had looked much the same upon their arrival that afternoon, but several
hours of warmth and dry clothing had improved their spirits immensely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Riari had been hired by the Mages’
Circle to escort Rylan from the Tower on <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">Lake</st1:placetype> <st1:placename w:st="on">Calanhad</st1:placename></st1:place>
to the Great Library in Denerim so he could do research on the Primal and
Creation branches of magic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually,
Riari didn’t deal with mages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was
more accustom to acting the guide to traveling merchants or the occasional band
of adventurers throughout the wilds of Ferelden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t common for a mage to leave the
Tower, let alone without a Templar escort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Most mages were decent enough, but the Chantry—and its Templars—seemed to
think all of them would be possessed by demons without church supervision, and
they took great pains to convince the world—mages included—this was the
case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Riari didn’t believe them, but had
heard stories of the occasional mage losing a fight with a demon, but she’d
also heard stories of that happening to normal people, who let ambition or
greed or vengeance blind them, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Either way, it was extremely rare, and quickly dealt with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Riari was more concerned of a spell being
miscast and being on the receiving end.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So far, though, Rylan had been the
perfect gentleman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A bit nosy in his
attempts to be friendly during their long trip by foot to Denerim, perhaps, but
polite and helpful.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>With the worsening weather, they had
agreed a dry night at an inn would do them both good after days on the
road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had made good time reaching
West Hill, and made arrangements shortly after noon, which had given them time
to dry out and relax.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She almost pittied the
newcomer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The evening had brought another
interesting arrival as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>About an
hour before the latest traveler, a big man Riari recognized as an Avvarian
Hillsman, had come in and settled at the bar, his heavy leather armor and
weapons dripping with water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had
eaten three plates of stew and secured a room by the time a young apostate mage
had come in with a young boy in a state of shock.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The Avvar warrior had gone about his
meal while the runaway mage and the innkeeper spoke in hushed tones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even with Riari’s remarkable hearing, she
couldn’t hear what was said over the sounds of the locals who had gathered for
ale to ward off the day’s chill, but was able to gather the apostate wanted to
leave the child at the inn before the Templars hunting him came sniffing
around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The innkeeper seemed concerned
as to the boy’s welfare, but didn’t appear to want to be saddled with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There had been some arguing, then the giant
had shifted and added himself to the conversation.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The innkeeper left shortly after,
and the Avvar offered to share his room with the apostate and the boy for the
night as protection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Riari had heard
rumors of bandits during the trip here, and assumed they were the reason the
apostate had a child in tow.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Are you finished?” Rylan suddenly
asked her.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Riari became aware she’d been toying
with her food for the last few minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She nodded, and the mage took both their plates to the bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She got up and headed upstairs to the room
they’d procured earlier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She didn’t like
sharing a room, but until they reached Denerim she was short on funds, and,
since she was supposed to keep an eye on the mage, sharing a room was more feasible.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Solel gestured to the bed in the
corner of his room as he stripped off his pack and set it against the opposite
wall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You and the young one may share the
bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no need of it.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The renegade mage eyed him
dubiously, so the big Avvar ignored him and unpacked his bedroll.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t particularly want to be stuck with
this Anders fellow, but Solel had a soft spot for children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The moment the apostate had told the
innkeeper he’d saved the boy following a bandit attack that had seen the boy’s
mother and older sister raped and murdered, and his father murdered for trying
to stop them, Solel had known he would involve himself regardless of what the
innkeeper said.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And regardless that Solel was on his
way back to his Hold in the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Frostback</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">Mountains</st1:placetype></st1:place>, having been
delayed with guarding a caravan for the past two weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>West Hill was the last civilized place he
intended to see for a while.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The innkeeper had seemed a decent
sort—he’d run out to gather a group of locals to help hunt down the bandits,
leaving Solel to offer his protection for the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The apostate, who introduced himself as
Anders, was a bit reluctant to take him up on his offer, but Solel was a
difficult man with whom to argue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His
size alone intimidated most people into agreeing with him.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>While Anders got the boy settled,
Solel removed his armor, cleaned and dried it as best he could, tended his
weapons, and went about setting a rather nasty surprise for anyone who might
try to enter the room unannounced.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What’re you doing?” Anders asked,
coming to peer over the giant’s shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Leg trap.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Anders made a face, impressed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That’s nasty.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Supposed to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told you I’d protect you and the boy for
the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I keep my promises.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Apparently.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Solel grunted and continued his
work.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Just one question, though,
Avvar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we need to get up in the
middle of the night to use the…facilities…how do you propose we do that without
risking an important limb?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Solel nodded in the direction of the
window.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That, or I’m sure there’s a chamber
pot under the bed.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh, right.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Solel finished with his trap and
settled on his bedroll.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“When you’re
ready, turn down the lamp, but don’t put it out.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Smart idea.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Solel snorted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m just full of them.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Riari, too, set a couple of traps
before climbing into bed in full armor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At Rylen’s raised eyebrow, she shrugged.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Call me paranoid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My kind aren’t exactly welcome most places as
anything but slaves, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">your</i> kind
are feared throughout Ferelden because of what you can turn into.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Rylan studied the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Riari had laid a pair of tripwires in close
succession; one appeared to be just that—a thin line meant only to trip an
intruder—the other attached to a small pouch.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What’s that?” he asked, indicating
the pouch.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Riari pulled the blanket up, laid
her short sword beside her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Sneeze
powder.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Rylan winced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Cruel woman.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Just thorough.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The mage got settled in the room’s
other bed; Riari was impressed to notice he had the sense to keep his wand with
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She reached over and turned the
lamp down so it barely gave off any light.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The nightlight’s charming,” Rylan
commented.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Another necessity.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Scared of the dark?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She shot him a glare.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“All right, all right!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sorry.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Arden</st1:place></st1:city> sighed as he settled into bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was good to be out of his wet, chafing
armor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had taken the time to clean it
and his weapons—Master Wade wouldn’t have taken him on as an apprentice had he
not known to care for his gear—and laid them out to dry as best they could
overnight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He still wished he’d been able to
get a warm bath—he hadn’t had a way to warm the water he’d drawn from the pump,
but he was warm <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">now</i> and—mostly—dry,
and that made a world of difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’d
made a meal out of a few travel rations he’d still had in his pack; not much,
but filling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now that he felt better, he
also felt far more exhausted. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He crawled gratefully into bed,
oblivious to the scratchy straw mattress and the stiff blanket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It still beat sleeping in the back of a wagon
or on the hard or muddy ground.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He was so eager to get to sleep he
forgot to bolt the door or turn out the light.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Arden</st1:place></st1:city> was awakened at a freakishly early hour
to the sound of a sword clattering to the floorboards out in the hall and quiet
swearing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The lamp on the nightstand had
nearly burned itself out, but he could see enough to grope for his sword and
scramble to his feet before the door was kicked in and he found himself
face-to-face with a beefy local man wielding a longsword.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Arden</st1:place></st1:city> dimly heard shouts from the other rooms
before he was forced to scramble to defend himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The intruder swung at him with a powerful
two-handed strike he barely managed to block.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He and his opponent circled, trading blows, but neither could break the
other’s defense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Arden</st1:place></st1:city> knew some basic combat training thanks
to Wade’s coaching—“One must <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know</i> how
to use the weapons and armor one makes!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One can’t be an artist without the knowledge!”—and it seemed like the
lout he was fighting had similar experience.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The apprentice weaponsmith suddenly
lunged in and caught his attacker across the arm, drawing blood, but received a
slash across his chest in return.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Swords
rang again, then the enemy was backing out the door, holding an arm to a nasty
belly wound.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Arden</st1:place></st1:city> let him go—scrambling instead for his
armor and shield.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t care if it
chafed anymore.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Riari cranked the lantern up in the
same movement she unsheathed her short sword and leapt at the pair of bandits
to come stumbling into her and Rylan’s room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One of them hit the tripwire and sprawled flat on his face; the Dalish
woman was on him immediately with a strike that laid open his shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The other got a faceful of sneeze
powder and wobbled unsteadily into Rylan’s path as the mage unleashed a
surprisingly potent Arcane Lance spell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bright white lightning lit up the small room and the intruder, and set
Riari’s hair on end from her proximity as she dodged a swing from the other
man.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Rylan!” she barked, throwing him a
glare as the mage’s opponent dropped hard to the floorboards, unconscious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her attacker, having met her brutal offense
and seeing his friend sprawled on the grounds, made the sensible choice and
fled.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sorry!” the mage shouted back over
the noise of the dissipating energy, though he looked far too smug over the
success of his spell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Rather a good
hit, if I do say so myself.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’ll be your <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">last</i>, you idiot!” Riari snapped, slapping at the resultant flames
licking the doorframe.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“But it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">worked</i>…”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Solel’s leg trap caught itself a
rather unfortunate victim as well—the last of the bandits, intent in sneaking
into the room to deal with the apostate and the boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hadn’t</i>
been counting on was the Avvar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Solel closed with him and in two
quick blows it was over—the man fell head-over-heels down the stairs into the
common room, practically on top of the stunned innkeeper before hobbling as
fast as he could for the door after his companions.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hey!” Anders said, looking after
him, “that was one of the men that attacked the caravan!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These weren’t local bandit catchers!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Solel gave him a glance as he
flicked the blood from his battle axe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Apparently
not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone must have told them you
were here.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Anders looked utterly
befuddled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That can’t be right—the innkeeper
said the bandits were staying here and he was gathering a group to catch them.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Solel scowled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“They attacked us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">we</i>
supposed to be the bandits?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Anders started pacing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The Avvar gestured him back toward
the bed, where the boy was sitting up, wild-eyed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Stay put.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There might be more of them.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The shouting down the hall was
getting louder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Arden</st1:place></st1:city> heard the sounds of fighting, then the
loud, receding crash of a body falling down stairs, then more shouting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Realizing there might be more
bandits attacking other guests, the young weaponsmith ran down the hall—barefoot
but armored and armed with sword and shielf—to help.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Solel heard running footsteps
approaching from further up the hall and stepped into the doorway, throwing his
arm out just as the man approaching reached him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The unfortunate <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Arden</st1:place></st1:city> found himself effectively clotheslined
by the massive Avvar’s arm, then was staring up at the giant in pure terror as
the big man stood over him.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hey, you got another one!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Arden</st1:place></st1:city> had just a split second to see the mage
from downstairs with the elf woman coming from down the hall, then he was hit
by the potent zap of the mage’s Arcane Bolt spell.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #99cc00; font-family: "Traditional Arabic";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He had enough time to think, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Well, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">this</b>
is the perfect ending to a horrible day</i>… before blackness swept over him in
a ripple of white-hot electricity.</span>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-71726649465054965692012-08-06T10:41:00.000-04:002012-08-06T10:41:08.645-04:00<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: inherit;">Finally got some time to post an update.</span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;">Yes, I successfully finished Camp NaNoWriMo in June. I absolutely didn't like what I'd written, so I'm not going to post the rest of it...that and it was sporadic sections of scenes that wouldn't make sense unless someone had read a great deal of my older Immortal works.</span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;">No, I'm not going to do the Camp NaNoWriMo for August. Work, lack of inspiration, and a funeral at the beginning of this month showed me it wasn't a good idea.</span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;">I'll try my best to tackle the true NaNoWriMo in November, but no promises. Things have been complicated and I need to sort a few things out.</span>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-73581097753169058882012-05-25T23:31:00.003-04:002012-05-25T23:31:43.881-04:00Camp NaNoWriMo<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> I have a dilemma on my hands this summer.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> This year, the group that puts on National Novel Writing Month is doing two "Camp NaNoWriMo" months...June and August, in which the same challenge put forth in November for National Novel Writing Month occurs: write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> I was debating to attempt at least one (if not both) Camp months this year, but that was back in November, before my finances grew tight enough I can't afford to replace my computer.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Another complication is this: in November, with my current job, I have no work, so can focus on my writing all day most days for the month to easily make quota. In the summer I work nearly 40 hours a week at hard manual labor in heat and humidity. It will take a lot more willpower to reach the goals, even on a day-to-day basis with access to a computer.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> June is closing fast, so I need to reach a decision soon.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> If I decide to do it, I will be working further on the story I started back in November: Dragon-Child. I made it to nearly 75,000 back then and the story's not done yet. I won't be counting my earlier quota, of course, but definitely furthering the storyline since it's unfinished.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> So.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Should I attempt a Camp NaNoWriMo? Both? Or not at all?</span>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-37445017451226489302012-02-22T22:10:00.000-05:002012-02-22T22:10:07.018-05:00The Vault, co-written with Dan V. part four<div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Raio motioned to her, but she ignored him and approached the bar instead. Raio scowled; in all the time Banner had known him, he'd <i>hated</i> to be dismissed like that. The girl made it look easy.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>Must be history between them.</i> Banner didn't voice the thought aloud. He didn't want Raio mad at him, too.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The girl appeared again, and this time she approached the table, bearing a trio of drinks. She set a Blue Moon in front of Banner, and a Heineken at Raio's elbow. She sat in the third chair, her back to the door and the crowd, and sipped her own drink--what appeared to be a hand-mixed cherry Coke with maraschino cherries floating in it; Banner could see the thick red syrup in the bottom of her glass. She settled back and regarded him with sharp violet eyes.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>She looked like any other young woman Banner might see in his line of work--average height, average build, average features. Not too much makeup, and unremarkable red-brown hair long enough to be pulled in a tail--or braid like it was now--or tucked up and hidden under a wig or hat if needed. It was no wonder Raio had chosen her; she could blend in pretty much anywhere.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Raio was still scowling at her over his beer. She ignored him, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, like she and Banner shared some amusing secret. Banner sipped his beer and pretended not to notice.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He turned to Raio instead. "What the heck is all the secrecy about, Raio? You'd think we're undercover spies or something."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Judging from the girl's growing smirk, she felt the same way. It made Banner wonder if she'd deliberately botched her tailing technique to tick Raio off.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Oh, you know Raio," she said with a shrug. "Likes his drama."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Raio sighed and indicated the girl. "Banner, meet my latest protege, Capri." He glared at her. "And--I hope--my <i>last</i>."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Capri snorted. "Don't believe him." She offered Banner her hand in a firm, confident shake. "He wouldn't give up his hobby for the world." She sipped her Coke. "It makes it all the more fun to drive him nuts."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner didn't doubt her. Raio was former-CIA, now "retired" and had started a lucrative business to training security teams. His "hobby" as Capri called it, was to recruit and in-depth train a select few for higher freelance work and exclusive private government contracts. His specially trained operatives--like Banner--were allowed to live and work where and as they wished, but had the obligation to drop everything and answer when Raio required.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner was a little different from the others. <i>He</i> could turn Raio down.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Whatever you're selling, Raio, I'm not buying." Banner crossed his arms over his chest.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Raio sighed again. "Banner--"</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"No. No way. Not after last time, remember?"</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Raio made a face. Of <i>course</i> he would remember. Banner never intended to let him forget. At least he had the decency to look guilty.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"It's not a big thing," Raio protested.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Raio, no means <i>no</i>. I've got a good job and a little something I'd call an actual <i>life</i> now. Not interested."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Capri studied him. "What's the matter? Afraid?"</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner ignored her mocking tone. "No, but I'm not stupid, either. He nearly got me killed last time. Told me he wouldn't do it again."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"This isn't like that," Raio said quietly. He looked stricken, but Banner didn't let it change his decision.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"No offense, old man," Banner answered, "but it <i>always</i> turns out that way. I'm tired of it."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"But--"</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Don't you even want to know what he wants before you turn him down?" Capri interrupted, seeing Banner open his mouth to cut Raio off again.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner shook his head. "No, because then I'd feel guilty and inclined to change my mind. Besides. I have a good job I don't want to sacrifice. I've already done that for him before." He pinned Raio with a hard look. "Twice."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"You <i>owe</i> him, Banner."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner nearly snorted beer out his nose. "<i>Owe</i> him? For what?"</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Raio looked helpless; the conversation was utterly beyond his control. Banner almost felt sorry for him. <i>Almost.</i> Given how Raio had treated him over the years, and up until a few moments ago <i>still</i> did, he couldn't, quite.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"He taught you everything you know!" Capri snapped, now defending the man she'd been harassed.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner grunted. "Not true. Not even <i>half</i> true. And I think the <i>last</i> thing I did for him more than squared us."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Then do it to one-up him," Capri suggested. "Not many can say Raio owes them a favor."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"No." He pushed his seat back and got up. "Thanks for the beer. Maybe next time you come to town you could just come to chat. It's been fun."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Banner." Raio spoke quietly, almost quiet enough he couldn't be heard over the pounding music. "I'm sorry."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner shook his head. "No, you're not. If you were, you wouldn't be here."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He didn't look back as he marched out the door.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 19.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It was past two when Banner finally dragged himself home. He bolted the door and heaved a sigh. He didn't want to help Raio; he didn't want to screw up what little life he'd managed to carve out for himself in the last couple of years--he didn't care <i>what</i> he owed Raio. His life might suck, but at least it was <i>his</i>.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>As much as a run-down apartment and night job </i><b><i>can</i></b><i> be. Who am I kidding? It's not a life--it's barest survival.</i></div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He stepped around the pile of laundry he'd tossed in the middle of the living room and approached the aquarium by the bedroom hallway. It was a seventy gallon saltwater tank; he'd chosen to put it where the hall and the far wall of the living room cornered so it was one of the first things he saw when he came home--it helped remind him to feed the fish, but also kept the light from crawling down the hall into his bedroom at the far end.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A smile tugged the corner of his mouth at the sight of the flame angelfish flitting between chunks of coral-covered live rock. The black-barred bright orange fish had been the last addition to the tank, given the species' reputation of aggression toward newer tank mates. As things were, everyone was getting along.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He opened the hood and sprinkled some food across the water's surface. There was an immediate rush by most of the tank's occupants to gobble it down before the others did.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Sorry I'm late, guys," he told the whole community, when even his shy blue-dot jawfish emerged from its den under a solitary piece of live rock. "You've got to be starving."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>They certainly acted like it. He put some more food in, and this time some of it floated down where the invertebrate members of the community waited. He watched them scramble for a moment, then shut the hood again.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The tank was pretty much the one nice thing he owned. It had taken him years and a lot of money to set up the miniature reef, but it had been well worth it.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Watching the fish was calming after the tense meeting with Raio. Banner sighed heavily and sprawled on the worn full-length sofa that ran along the wall to his right, between the tank and the door. <i>What a night off this turned out to be.</i></div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He heard the soft, hurried pad of footfalls approaching from the back bedroom a moment before he heard the chirp-purr greeting fro his big orange cat. Banner hadn't bothered to turn on any of the lights when he'd come in, so all he could see in the tank's light was a blue-tinted orangish cat-shaped blob in his peripheral vision. A moment later, the cat landed on his chest with a heavy thump.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Oof. Hey, buddy." Banner stroked the cat's broad head.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The cat, a stray tom he'd taken in and neutered, was orange tabby mixed with Siamese. His thick fur was creamy in color, and instead of a Siamese's dark points, he had orange striped ones. He also had the build of a tabby instead of being thin and leggy. Banner hadn't come up with a good name for him yet.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He lay there with the cat purring on his chest and watched his bright blue starfish climb the glass at the front of the tank now that the feeding frenzy had finished.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>Maybe I'll call in sick tomorrow,</i> he thought. <i>Raio would think that means I'll take the job, though.</i></div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>His stomach rumbled. He sat up and transferred the cat--who meowed in protest--to the floor.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"I need something to eat, too, bud."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The far side of the living room was also the dining room. Banner ducked into the small kitchen, its doorway in the wall opposite the tank's. The cat followed him, still meowing.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Yes, I know I'm home late," he told him. "There's no need to yell at me."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The cat twined around his legs while he rummaged in the fridge, dug out week-old pizza. He ate it cold, along with a can of Barq's, standing in front of the fridge in the dark, illuminated only by its glow. To appease the cat, he poured a shallow bowl of milk.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Where's your girlfriend?" he asked with a mouthful of pizza. "Hmm? Where's Sparkler?"</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The former tom ignored him, distracted by the milk.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Spark?" he called. "Sparky?"</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He found the leggy black-and-white kitten curled up on his pillow in the back bedroom. He'd found her, spunky and fearless, out behind the Vault when he'd taken trash to the dumpster not long after he'd taken in the tom. She had white toes on both front feet and a white stocking on her left hind leg, a splash of white on her belly, and a drop of white on her nose. She'd been little more than bones and claws and appetite when he'd caught her. He'd gotten scratched pretty good. Now she was growing like a weed and queen of the apartment. He hadn't gotten her spayed yet; she was still too little. He'd named her for her spirited personality.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Hey, little Sparkler," he greeted softly, scratching her small head with one finger. An immediate purr answered him; it sounded like her head was full of little ball bearings. She stretched her front paws out, little claws extending like tiny needles. Banner chuckled. "How's my sweet girl?"</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sparkler made a funny sound and stretched to turn belly up, then relaxed and fell asleep again. Banner chuckled and left her alone. He kicked one of her catnip mice when he headed to the closet; it squeaked cheerfully as it bounced away. He turned the closet light on and stripped down to his boxers, left his clothes in a pile on the closet floor. On cue, the big cat trotted in and made himself a nest in them.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"I think we're getting predictable, old man," he told the cat.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He turned the closet light off again and climbed into bed, carefully lifted Sparkler from the pillow and deposited her next to him. She got up and insisted on pillow space, curled up beside his face so her fur covered his nose. He snorted and rolled onto his back; the tom abandoned the closet and landed on his chest.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner sighed and closed his eyes.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 19.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A knock on the door woke him instead of his alarm clock. He shuffled through the living room, beyond groggy, jealous of the two cats still asleep in his bed.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Capri stood on the other side, holding a box of fresh Cinnabon giant rolls and a package of uncooked bacon. She wore a bright red cami and a comfortable pair of blue jeans.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Hey," she said into his befuddlement. "Can I come in?"</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner scowled.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Raio didn't send me," she told him when he went to shut the door in her face. "This is just me."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>With a grumbling sigh, he let her in.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A look of utter delight lit her face at the sight of the fish tank.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"You have an aquarium?" She set the food on the table and flitted around the laundry to peer in at the inhabitants. Banner could only watch in his blurry-eyed, brain-muddled state. He couldn't even figure out how to wonder why she was there.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"A flame angel, an orchid dottyback, a golden semilarvatus butterflyfish…" she named each of his inhabitants in turn, then looked at him in surprise. "A <i>blue-dot jawfish?</i> Aren't they hard to care for?<i>"</i></div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></i>Banner's brain still wasn't working properly, but Capri didn't seem to notice, too taken by the underwater world. He could smell the Cinnabons on the table and his stomach growled.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Capri walked right through the mountain of laundry to reach the table. "You have a skillet? Figured you're a guy--you'd want bacon for breakfast."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner's brain managed to offer her a grunt and a vague wave toward the kitchen. Capri smirked, then rummaged around until she found it.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"No good until you've had your coffee, huh?" she asked him, searching the cabinets. "Do you even <i>have</i> coffee?"</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The smell of frying bacon woke him up enough to wonder why she didn't seem to be bothered he was only wearing his boxers. It also woke the cats; they came trotting from the bedroom, Sparkler mimicking the former tom, tails in the air.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The big cat stopped dead in the kitchen doorway at the sight of the strange woman and looked at Banner with his big blue eyes as if to ask what the heck she was doing there. Banner couldn't have told him.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sparkler had a much larger reaction. She bolted back around the corner and down the hallway, every hair standing on end, and darted in the nearer bedroom. Banner heard her claws scrabble and knew she'd gone under the armchair.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Capri gave Banner an amused look, but didn't say anything.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"You <i>can</i> get dressed, you know," she told him. "This is going to take a little bit."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He rankled at her tone, but she was right. There was no sense arguing that it was <i>his</i> apartment and he could throw her out if he wanted.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He stopped outside the first bedroom door and saw Sparkler's white-toed paws and white nose peeking out from under his chair. He got down on his hands and knees and crawled into the room, picked up and rattled one of her bell balls back and forth in front of her nose trying to lure her out. The kitten was interested, but not buying it.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner left her to calm down and pulled on his jeans from the night before. Then he fed his fish and waited for Capri to get done with the bacon. She'd set two of the big cinnamon rolls out on plates with forks and knives, so he dug into one. He was halfway done before she set a glass of milk in front of him.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Guys are all alike," she muttered.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Hey, I didn't ask you to show up and feed me," he said around a mouthful.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"No, but you <i>could</i> be a more gracious host." She didn't look at him, occupied with the remaining bacon in the pan.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"I let you in. I think, given what I know about you and what we both know about Raio, I think that's gracious enough."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>She didn't have an answer to that. She finished with the bacon and put the plate between them on the table. The former tom took up the third seat, peering over the edge of the table at the meat.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Cute. What's his name?"</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner shook his head. "Doesn't have one yet."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"You're an interesting guy, Banner."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He shrugged. "Why are you here? It's not to get to know me."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Capri echoed his shrug. "I want you to reconsider."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner glared at her. "No."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A muscle twitched in Capri's jaw. "This isn't <i>about</i> Raio. It's not even <i>for</i> him. It's about <i>me!"</i></div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>That stopped Banner's retort short.</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"He talks so highly of you, Banner," she told him. "And I want some safe but real life experience. My father runs a big security company and asked Raio to train me--called in a favor from when they worked together. I asked if I could learn from you. Raio told me you wouldn't take the job if he asked, but I insisted. You're his best."</div><div style="color: #387620; font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Her gaze went to the aquarium while she talked. Her expression was almost…wistful. "It seemed like a great idea. Raio said you'd settled down and wouldn't be doing anything…high risk anymore." She held up her hand when he started to open his mouth. "No, he didn't say what happened. And no, I didn't ask."</div>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-30048823625955779222012-02-12T19:34:00.000-05:002012-02-12T19:34:45.791-05:00New Story: The Vault co-written with Dan V. part three<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So here is Dan's first contribution. Given the fact he has little writing experience, lost two family members this week, and had to endure two rounds of editing from me to tighten his sentences and help him hear Banner's voice...quite the trooper. I didn't expect or ask him to work on it given his family losses, but he did anyway.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #00b050;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span><span style="color: #0070c0;">“Lovely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course it would be raining,” Banner muttered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">At least it’ll be hard for anyone to sneak up on me.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #00b050;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The line of patrons waiting for the bouncer’s approval stretched clear down the block and around the corner despite the downpour, crowded together in mutual misery but unwilling to miss the chance to be on the other side of the famous Vault door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rumor ran rampant that the door was actually one from a bank Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid had robbed back in the cowboy heyday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everyone</i> wanted to claim they’d been through it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was sad.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Banner lived close to the bar so the current weather was only a minor annoyance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He liked the convenience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was close to the bar so he could easily walk to and from work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If there was trouble he could be there in minutes as backup.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There was a disadvantage to being security—he was always looking over his shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’d learned the hard way when he was starting out under his mentor.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When Banner reached the apartment building he noticed something was amiss.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s not where I left you.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He double-checked the flower pots, welcome mats, and light fixtures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One flower pot was shifted – not a lot, but enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He went over, lifted it, and found a note written on the underside.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Good job, boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The skills I gave you haven’t died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to speak with you. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It concerns both of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usual place and time. – Raio</i></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #0070c0;">“Well, I’m not going to get much sleep tonight.” Banner grumbled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It’s been a long time since he’s tried to get in touch with me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder what he wants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He always wants something.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Banner erased the note, replaced the pot, and headed back to the Vault.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He had to get a taxi because he didn’t have a car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finding a taxi willing to stop in the rain was like trying to break into the Vault.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There was an advantage to living down the street from Vault.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the best place to get a cab this time of night.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Five or six yellow taxis were parked in front of the Vault waiting for fares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Banner got into one.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #0070c0;">“<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Spokane</st1:placename> <st1:placename w:st="on">International</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Airport</st1:placetype></st1:place>, domestic entrance please.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No problem,” replied the cab driver.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As the cab pulled away from the curb, Banner thought more about the note; something about it felt wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then it hit him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That wasn’t his handwriting. </i>He realized, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the words were written too neatly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Raio writes coded messages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t do it this time. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder why.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>His hackles stood on end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The feeling had saved his life before. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked out the cab’s window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He noticed a nondescript car about five vehicles back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’d picked up a tail from the bar.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It was something Raio had taught him, and did himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I wonder if he’s trained anyone else.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed like something Raio would do to strengthen his organization.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Banner started to discreetly flex his muscles in anticipation of trouble.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’d learned many multi-situational fighting styles under Raio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’d also been taught never to have cold muscles.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The cab pulled off the interstate at the airport exit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A quick glance behind him said the car was still there.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Where would you like me to drop you off, again?” the driver asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Domestic flight arrivals please.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Very good.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The driver pulled the vehicle up to the curb and stopped.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Here we are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’ll be $53.46.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Banner handed the man three twenty dollar bills.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Keep the change.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thank you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have a nice night.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Banner scanned the crowd, saw a man standing in the loading zone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had dark hair with gray beginning to show through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was also wearing an expensive, well-tailored dark blue pinstripe suit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It sat well on his broad frame.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Banner knew for a fact his appearance was misleading; the suit was deliberately padded to make him look big.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hello, Raio.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Raio always radiated presence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His look commanded respect and authority without seeming arrogant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was only twelve years Banner’s senior, but in security that was a lifetime.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Were you followed?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was tailed from the bar.” Banner answered.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Was the tail obvious?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“To the trained eye, yes.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I see.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why is Raio asking these questions?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If there was a tail he’d be more on edge.</i> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #0070c0;">“Was the tail a new recruit?” He hoped that was the reason for the interrogation.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Raio waved him off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Not here.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Where do you want to go?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Perhaps I shouldn’t have given you that compliment, boy.” Raio spat the insult. “That should be obvious.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Fine. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know a place with tight security, and you can get a drink.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Take me there,” ordered Raio.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They hailed another cab and headed to a bar secluded in the back alleys of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spokane</st1:place></st1:city>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was very close to the airport, but not one of Banner’s usual hang-outs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The cab made the final right turn to reach the bar and Banner checked behind them, wary of another tail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yep</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">same</i> vehicle.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The tail’s still there.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Good.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Good?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why is that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">good</i>?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Not here,” Raio hissed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They reached the seedy looking bar, paid the driver, and went inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Raio chose a booth with a view of the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before conversation got started, another person entered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked younger than Banner by the same margin he was younger than Raio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Given his profession, Banner knew not to judge age by the exterior.</span>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-86326733377763642512012-02-04T11:40:00.002-05:002012-02-07T15:55:38.214-05:00New Story: The Vault, co-written with Dan V. part two<div style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-size: small;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>Rizo was behind the bar this evening, mixing cocktails and making passes at a couple of fangirls down the bar from where Banner sat with his Blue Moon. Rizo was a ladies man, darker and more chiseled than Banner's rugged looks. More than once he'd seen the other go home with a girl he'd turned away. Rumor that he was a vampire didn't hurt, either.</span></div><div style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-size: small;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>"Yo, Ban." Riz was suddenly standing in front of him. "It's your night off. Don't you ever go home?" The bartender's lips pulled in a smirk and the dim house lights glinted off the gold ring in his left ear. "Got nothin' better to do?"</span></div><div style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-size: small;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner shrugged and took a pull on his beer, which Riz immediately topped off.</span></div><div style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-size: small;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>"Your paycheck won't make it out the door," Riz warned though they both knew it was a lie. Riz wouldn't charge him--boss's policy.</span></div><div style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-size: small;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner shrugged again. He didn't drink enough for the boss to want to charge him, anyway. As for going home…Banner frowned as Riz echoed his shrug and moved away to offer the fangirls his attentions again. He knew he probably should go home to his shoddy little apartment and deal with the mountain of laundry piled in the tiny living room--he was wearing his last clean shirt. He didn't like being home much. It reminded him how much his life currently sucked.</span></div><div style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-size: small;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>"All work and no play make Ban a dull boy," a voice teased from his right.</span></div><div style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-size: small;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>"Yeah," Banner agreed without elaboration. He didn't even glance over at the speaker. "Hey, Vesi."</span></div><div style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-size: small;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>The woman who stepped up beside him made Rizo's two fangirls glare in utter, furious jealousy. She possessed naturally what they had gained artificially, and carried herself with the confident grace of <i style="text-indent: 0px !important;">knowing</i> that. She wore an open-backed silvery-blue haltertop that fit like her own tanned, smooth skin and equally snug denims with a pair of high heels that matched her shirt. Her dark hair was shot through with bright blue. She only allowed it to grow to her shoulders. Her eyes were as bright blue as the streaks in her hair. Banner knew she had been in more than one man's dreams--himself included.</span></div><div style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-size: small;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>Like Banner, Vesi was a Pariah. Her abilities dealt with the properties of water. Her name even meant Water in Finnish. Like Banner, Vesi could also hide easily in society, and, like Banner, she chose to work at the Vault. Unlike Banner, she could make a small fortune every night.</span></div><div style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-size: small;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>"Go home and get some sleep," she chided him as Rizo filled her drink orders. "Then go out tomorrow and play." She elbowed him in the chest when he pivoted to regard her. "The last place you need to be on your day off is at work."</span></div><div style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-size: small;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner grumbled into his beer as she walked away, but Vesi was right. He watched her navigate the narrow paths among the tables as he finished the Blue Moon. He set the glass down, nodded to Rizo, and shoved off after Vesi. He followed her through the maze of patrons until he was near the Vault's door, then slipped out without saying goodbye. She'd probably gripe about it when he came to work late tomorrow night.</span></div>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-72834805007507839192012-02-04T11:39:00.001-05:002012-02-07T03:13:22.645-05:00New Story: The Vault, co-written with Dan V. part one<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"> The other night when we were running errands at Wal-mart, I, of course, found myself in the notebook and pen aisle. Every so often I like to browse it. On the spur-of-the-moment, I suggested to Dan that we could try to write a story together. He actually liked the idea, so we bought a new notebook and two different color pens--mine green, his blue. Each of us will consult the other on characters and plot and setting, but we trade off the notebook for the other to write a section when we come to a good stopping point. I've decided to post it as we write since I haven't been writing much lately with my computer dead from a fried mother board and no way to afford a replacement on winter lay-off. As with the notebook, I will denote my writing in </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">green</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">, and Dan's in </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">blue</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">.</span></b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"></span></span><br />
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font-size: small; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>The Vault was the most eccentric bar in Spokane. The night scene had certainly become livelier with its opening and subsequent surge of popularity. It was one of only a handful of bars that hadn't gone belly-up during the Big Crash. It was also one of those rare themed places where the name suited the decor, and was crazy enough to continue to draw a crowd.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font-size: small; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>The proprietor, a big wall of muscle who looked as if he could have wrestled professionally in his younger days--and often played bouncer when he wasn't doing paperwork--had installed a massive antique bank vault door patrons had to pass through to enter the common room. There was a second such door to the office. The tables were built from old safety deposit box racks, as was the bar itself so it could hold any supplies the bartender could want.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font-size: small; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>The Vault was an idea place for people with "paranormal tendencies" to hang out for an evening of entertainment after enduring a hard day of hiding their abilities from coworkers and family. Ever since the Big Crash, which had not only screwed with governments world wide, technology, and economy, but also biology--warping genetics of man and beast alike, places like the Vault were widely sought by those whose transformed genetics had given them unique appearances or abilities. It was a unique hideaway in an otherwise suspicious or outright hostile world. There were a few "groupies" who frequented the bar as well, obsessed fangirls seeking to hook up with a vampire, werewolf, or other fantastical being. For the most part, though, it hosted those beings the world preferred to shun and ignore.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font-size: small; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner was one such creature. Though it was impossible to tell by common scrutiny--most days Banner was <i style="text-indent: 0px !important;">happy</i> he looked normal--Banner was a Pariah. That's what the world had named these the Big Crash had changed, anyway. He supposed it was better than freak or mutant or monster or thing, but Pariahs got called those, too, in less official or friendly company.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font-size: small; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>Banner had what were called Draconic powers. When his emotions got the better of him, his skin would flush to reveal he was really covered in scales. He could use them, too, as camouflage, or to even mimic clothes. He could change faces and skin tones at will, which, if the government found out, would make him a sought-after spy. It wasn't something Banner intended to disclose.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font-size: small; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>He <i style="text-indent: 0px !important;">did</i> have scales he couldn't hide on his back. They ran along both sides of his spine, from below his shoulder blades to the small of his back. They were a dull white like old scars, which is how he played them if they were seen--such as at the gym when he was working out. If women asked, he claimed a bizarre mountain bike accident in Colorado. It was partially true. He <i style="text-indent: 0px !important;">had</i> had a bike accident in Colorado while camping with his family--the trip was an annual reunion event, involved the entire family for a week of hiking, biking, skiing, eating, shopping, and catching up with a year's worth of news from all over the United States. It just hadn't been the cause of his scars.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font-size: small; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>He was the picture of the rugged outdoor type: unruly brown hair, sparkling green eyes, strapping build without being over-muscled. He was attractive enough to be hit on by both normal and Pariah women, and usually he enjoyed flirting back, but rarely went beyond that. He preferred to be picky, especially after seeing his sister's string of romances that had left her two children and no husband, and his cousin's five kids with an equal number of women. His job didn't allow as much time as he wanted to invest in a relationship, anyway.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font-size: small; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span><i style="text-indent: 0px !important;">Guess that's what comes with security detail for a place like this.</i></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font-size: small; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>It wasn't a bad line of work, especially on a night like tonight--one of his few days off. On top of security to keep the frequent attempts at trying to breach the Vault's office for the thrill of it--there seemed to be no end to them, he thought sourly, and it was rapidly becoming tradition for new patrons to give it a shot within hours of their first visit--Banner often played bartender. Bartending was something of a hobby. Not to mention it allowed him to get a feel for which customers would be more likely to attempt robbery; sometimes he slipped something into their drinks, or had the bouncers remove them under some other pretense. Having Draconic abilities had its benefits; he could literally <i style="text-indent: 0px !important;">smell</i> a heist brewing.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font-size: small; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>Tonight, though…</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Medium'; font-size: small; text-indent: 0px !important;"><span class="ecxApple-tab-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; white-space: pre;"> </span>Tonight he didn't care. It was his day off. The others could manage without him. He didn't like handing the responsibilities over to someone else, but he'd burn out otherwise.</span></span></div>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-6576974118848236772011-11-26T11:57:00.000-05:002011-11-26T11:57:51.427-05:00NaNoWriMo Update<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: inherit;">I have decided, after much consideration, not to post the remainder of my NaNoWriMo project here on my blog, given it is getting more mysterious foreign traffic than that of friends and family who actually knew I was doing it. I have written over 61k words currently and still have not reached where they pick up one of my favorite characters (Andur), which is a good sign. I hope to have him with them by the end of the month (personal goal) or get to 70k words, whichever comes first. The novel is sitting at 105 pages! Very exciting.</span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">Once NaNoWriMo is over, I have to give the computer I'm borrowing back to its owner. That means my writing will probably slow to a crawl again, but I hope not. I'm going to see if my laptop will plug into an old monitor so I can check to see if the screen is just dead or if there's a bigger problem. My beloved Alienware has been a trooper all these years, so it may just be time to put it to rest and attempt to save for a new one (after my emergency car purchase is paid for).</span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">This year's NaNoWriMo worked out far differently than last year. Last year I struggled all month with inspiration and talking to the characters, as I started a 100% brand new story. This year I wrote the "prequel" story to one I've been working on since elementary school. I've known the characters a long time and most of this story in my head, but realized I needed to write it down so people would understand the interactions and relationships in the part I've written more recently (Jemspur: Firstborn). My writing style was stronger since I was already familiar with everyone and the setting, and I wasn't scrambling for ideas since I've known the generalities most of my life. It was almost pathetically easy to reach the 50k site goal with Dragon-Child.</span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">It was also nice to get a large chunk of something I fully intend for publication done. It eases the anxiety about ever getting anything finished a little.</span>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-32310327313299284572011-10-23T22:09:00.000-04:002011-10-23T22:09:40.885-04:00National Novel Writing Month, November 2011<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Well, I find myself facing November and the approach of National Novel Writing Month. My job has come to an end for the year. Since July, I've had very little inspiration and no time or interest in writing. My computer has a problem--the screen stopped working when my Norton Antivirus updated and apparently Vista didn't like it. Add in some other massive unexpected expenses and problems, and I did not think I would have the time, inspiration, or capability to write this year.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Then my sister bought me a handmade journal. At least that way I could write, even if not officially. I bought new pens to write in it with. And I got the idea for a story.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Today, I got access to a computer for the month if mine doesn't fix itself like it did the last time Norton and Vista fought. I bought a new thumb drive to keep my story on if I need to switch computers between uploads.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> I just hope I get the support and understanding from friends and family. National Novel Writing Month is a huge sacrifice of time and effort on my part. I have been wondering a lot this week if the reason all of this stuff has happened and all the doors in my life have shut to allow me to focus on this month and my writing--the thing I have always felt God has called me to do. To suddenly get inspiration after so long, let alone a renewed <i>interest</i>, is a sign for one. To get access and supplies is another.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> The story I intend to do is that of Mirinia Dragon-Child, from her creation as far as I can go. I want to at least reach where she meets Avalan, where most of the current story I have redone starts. If I can get into that part, even better. But the goal is to deal with the story involving her and her band of companions, a story I barely began many, many years ago.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> More details and character list to come this week while I sort out and decide for certain if this is what I am to do.</span>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-81450213466897439932011-07-27T13:17:00.002-04:002011-07-27T13:17:31.533-04:00Work, work, work.<span style="color: #990033; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I haven’t updated my blog in a while…guess it’s time to remedy that.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #990033; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Most of the reason for the delay is work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The greenhouse has kept me on past two staff cuts, so now my survival is week to week instead of month to month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve stepped up the job search and applied to multiple libraries across the state, and gotten some suggestions of library-related employment from WLPL where I volunteer.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #990033; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Because of all the work, I have not been writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With it being summer—in all its heat and humidity glory—I have no energy when I get home at night for any sort of inspiration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also haven’t been reading much, as said elements make me very tired so I rest every spare moment I get.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #990033; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have</i> read I haven’t been recording.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same with some of the writing I’ve gotten down.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #990033; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Dan has been away for two weeks training for his job, which has left me a lot of time to think and evaluate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We talk on IMer most nights to catch up on daily adventures—such as my computer crashing last night, only four days after the warranty expired; good news, it’s all backed up on the 2TB external my sister and brother-in-law bought me for my birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also copied my writing files and installed them on the external to be on the safe side.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #990033; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>On Dan’s suggestion, I’ve started focusing on my rather hefty <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A New Breed of Warrior</i> rework off my “goals” list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Originally it was just supposed to be a slight retouching of the sections I’ve already written, but since my writing style has improved and changed<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>so much in the time since the last rework was started, I need to do a full overhaul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That puts a lot more pressure on me this year, and Dan thought it best I start whittling away at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went with his suggestion because I was tossing ideas around as to what to throw my focus on—I only have to do about half a chapter to get to my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sunfall</i> goal for the year, and have absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no</i> idea how long it would take me to reach <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brink</i>’s given I can’t get the characters to talk to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked Dan which story off my goals list he would be interested in reading, and he suggested <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">New Breed</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #990033; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Because I don’t take my computer with me to work, but I have an hour lunch break, I dropped by the back-to-school aisle at the grocery store while getting lunch late last week and bought a couple college-rule notebooks, a pair of my favorite pens, and set myself to brainstorm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since I can’t seem to get ideas to finish the first chapter (Dix’s creation and beginning of training), I started thinking about the start of the second (Wolfsong’s nightmare and the status of the mercenaries).<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #990033; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>While I liked the premise of the original chapter I’d written, it just seemed to be too slow at the start, with too much information and not as engaged as I would prefer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It needed to be more visceral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I needed to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">feel</i> Wolfsong’s confusion, terror, and loss better than how I’d written it before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s a lot of information in that chapter I still want, but more compact and integral rather than stated.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #990033; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Fresh notebooks and pens have always been one of the best ways to stir inspiration for me, so I wound up getting a considerably better start on the chapter than its original.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dan is reading both the original and the rework.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #990033; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’m debating<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>about using my National Novel Writing Month time this year to focus on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">New Breed</i>’s rework instead of coming up with something new or different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The intensive span would be good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, one of the official requirements is that you’re not writing something you’ve already written (translation: you can’t use it for rework).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I don’t know if I’ll just unofficially use NaNoWriMo, or if I’ll get my rework material done and then focus on the sections in between for the month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>November’s still a ways away, though, so I’ll have a better idea in time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-24024025193353992542011-06-06T19:24:00.000-04:002011-06-06T19:24:24.778-04:00May 2011 Read List<span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Forgotten Realms: Legend of Drizzt Anthology: The Collected Stories</i></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by R.A. Salvatore; novel; anthology)</span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Halo: Evolutions volume II</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(anthology; novel)</span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Among Thieves</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Douglas Hulick; novel)</span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Bleach, volume 1: Strawberry and the Soul Reapers</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Tite Kubo; manga)</span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Bleach, volume 2: Goodbye Parakeet, Good Night my Sista</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Tite Kubo; manga)</span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>G.I. Joe Volume 1</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by IDW publishing; new series; re-read)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>G.I. Joe Volume 2</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by IDW publishing; new series; re-read)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>G.I. Joe Volume 3</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by IDW publishing; new series; re-read)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>BattleTech: Angry Voices in the Dark</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Loren L. Coleman; revived series; Kindle)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>BattleTech: Trial Under Fire</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Loren L. Coleman; revived series; Kindle)</span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>BattleTech: A Face Full of Blades</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Loren L. Coleman; revived series; Kindle)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>G.I. Joe: Disavowed Volume 3</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by IDW Publishing; graphic novel)</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The Warded Man</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Peter V. Brett; novel)</span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Bleach, volume 3: Memories in the Rain</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Tite Kubo; manga)</span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Bleach, volume 4: <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Quincy</st1:place></st1:city> Archer Hates You</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Tite Kubo; manga)</span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Bleach, volume 5: Right Arm of the Giant</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Tite Kubo; manga)</span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Bleach, volume 6: The Death Trilogy Overture</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Tite Kubo; manga)</span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bleach, volume 7: The Broken Coda</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Tite Kubo; manga)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Bleach, volume 8: The Blade and Me</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Tite Kubo; manga)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Bleach, volume 9: Fourteen Days for Conspiracy</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Tite Kubo; manga)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Bleach, volume 10: Tattoo on the Sky</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Tite Kubo; manga)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Bleach, volume 11: A Star and a Stray Dog</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Tite Kubo; manga)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Simon’s Cat</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Simon Tofield; comic)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Simon’s Cat: Beyond the Fence</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Simon Tofield; comic)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-38413481221488037612011-05-11T23:10:00.000-04:002011-05-13T16:43:47.357-04:00The Struggles of Inspiration.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #009900; font-family: "Traditional Arabic"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I find it rather ironic…I used to be able to write anywhere, anytime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got a lot of writing done in classes in both college and while getting my Masters; my mind liked to be running at full-tilt and simply sitting and listening to instructors and professors lecture apparently didn’t occupy enough of my thought processes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead of chewing gum or playing with my pen or texting on my phone or browsing non-relevant web pages like many of my fellow scholars did, I wrote.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of it was taking notes, sure, but most was my own work.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #009900; font-family: "Traditional Arabic"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Don’t get me wrong, writing didn’t keep me from paying attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quite the opposite, in fact.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #009900; font-family: "Traditional Arabic"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I wrote a lot at work, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would jot ideas down, write on my (very scare) breaks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would utilize any scrap of time I had to get just that little bit more down on paper.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #009900; font-family: "Traditional Arabic"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Now though…now I can’t seem to write even with long spans of unoccupied time to utilize.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sit and stare at my computer screen, or at a piece of paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m tired all the time from working, volunteering, and maintaining my relationships, both with friends over the internet and family, local friends, and my boyfriend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s like the creative part of my brain has shut off.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #009900; font-family: "Traditional Arabic"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This happens to writers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s one of the causes of writer’s block.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s frustrating and depressing.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #009900; font-family: "Traditional Arabic"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When it hits, I wonder if I’ve lost the ability I had back in school to tap my creativity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I get so bogged down in work and life I can’t properly focus on my passion for the craft.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I neglect characters (which honks some off, and causes others to fade out in disappointment or sulk and not talk to me).<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #009900; font-family: "Traditional Arabic"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I discovered through National Novel Writing Month I can actually force inspiration out of pure desperation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t like to do that; it doesn’t feel like I write as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #009900; font-family: "Traditional Arabic"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s also hard to maintain the creativity and inspiration you need when you’re a chronic worrywart like I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With my job situation, the economy, and a multitude of other life worries at my age, it tends to suck the interest and creativity right out of me.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #009900; font-family: "Traditional Arabic"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It helps that I’ve been reading, but it doesn’t help that most of my to-read list is now at Grandma’s, further away than my overpriced storage locker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know if the price of gas driving out there is worse than what I was paying.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #009900; font-family: "Traditional Arabic"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I have a little more time next week, which is both good and bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good for me to try to focus on my writing and getting another goal checked off on my list for the year, but bad as it lowers my next paycheck.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #009900; font-family: "Traditional Arabic"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Everything combined keeps hitting me over the head with a huge faith lesson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God and I have had trust issues for the past five years, due to the loss of a very precious relationship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I’m being held back because of these trust issues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God wants to make a huge point before we move on.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #009900; font-family: "Traditional Arabic"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I just hope we get it sorted out before I run out of job, funds, or places to live.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-53162553721953922502011-05-02T16:01:00.000-04:002011-05-02T16:01:29.425-04:002011 Book Read List: April<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dragon Age Volume 1</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by IDW, Orson Scott Card; graphic novel)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>G.I. Joe: Hearts and Minds</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by IDW, Max Brooks; graphic novel)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Star Wars: Crosscurrent</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Paul S. Kemp; novel)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><state w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Indiana</place></state> Jones and the Secret of the Sphinx</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Max McCoy; novel)</span></i></div><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So much for the 12 novels a month idea!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>April saw the start of my greenhouse job, so I’ve had very little reading time.</i></span></div>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-51523484409374007502011-04-06T18:59:00.000-04:002011-04-06T18:59:21.646-04:00Books Read List for March 2011<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vampirates: Demons of the Ocean</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Justin Somper; young adult novel)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Shadows of the Apt: Empire in Black and Gold</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Adrian Tchaikovsky; novel)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Feed</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by M.T. Anderson; young adult novel; One Great Read summer program pick)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Tomb Raider Volume 1</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Bandai/Topcow; tankobon; re-read)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Tomb Raider Volume 2</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Bandai Entertainment; tankobon; re-read)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Tomb Raider Volume 3</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Bandai Entertainment; tankobon; re-read)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Tomb Raider Volume 4</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Bandai Entertainment; tankobon; re-read)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Tomb Raider Volume 5</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Bandai Entertainment; tankobon; re-read)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Return to the Labyrinth Volume 1</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Tokyopop; manga; re-read)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Return to the Labyrinth Volume 2</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Tokyopop; manga; re-read)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Return to the Labyrinth Volume 3</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Tokyopop; manga; re-read)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Return to the Labyrinth Volume 4</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Tokyopop; manga; re-read)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Green Rider: First Rider’s Call</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Kristen Britain; novel)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Drenai: The King Beyond the Gate</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by David Gemmell)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Medusa (Kurt Austin Adventures)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Clive Cussler and Paul Kemprecos)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Star Wars: Lost Tribe of the Sith Book Six: Sentinel</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by John Jackson Miller; Kindle)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Star Wars: Boba Fett: A Practical Man</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Karen Traviss; Kindle)</span></i></div>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-21088506594360595582011-03-22T18:23:00.003-04:002011-03-22T18:27:19.315-04:00The Inconvenience of Inspiration.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If there’s one thing I’ve learned about writing, it’s that inspiration is a fickle creature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You cannot force it without consequences (usually detrimental).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can beg, plead, and try every manner of trick to get it going, only for it to blatantly ignore you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, at the most possibly inconvenient moment, it slams into you like a Mack truck—you won’t have a pen and paper or computer ready, you won’t have the time…</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s quite possibly the most frustrating thing about being a writer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That or a very close second to listening to all your characters argue and squabble in your head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t decided which.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Case in point: I’ll give you a play-by-play of my latest run-in with my temperamental muse, which took place yesterday.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mondays are my barn-cleaning days at my job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I muck stalls, pick the arena, rake the aisle and breezeway, sweep the walkways, pick up stuff left out: lead lines, muck boots, helmets, trash, and grooming supplies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is all on top of my usual feeding and turn-out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It takes quite a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m usually left alone with the normal barn noises and my thoughts, which makes it feel a lot longer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used to take my iPod with me, but all winter it was too cold since I needed my ear warmer and can’t fit my headphones under it (I don’t use earbuds; they don’t fit and they’re uncomfortable; I have a pair of ear-only ones that fasten over my ear with glasses-like earpieces; they look silly, but the sound is much better and they’re comfortable).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Monday was the first day I’d remembered to bring my headphones with me—I listen to my iPod through my car stereo all the time, but the headphones had disappeared for about two months.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I didn’t start listening to the music until I got feeding and turn-out done, so I could distract myself while mucking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Raking up horse manure is probably one of the most inconvenient places for inspiration to strike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s nowhere you can go (no place clean and/or dry, anyway), and usually I’ve forgotten to keep a pen and notepad in the car; they’re usually at home where I took them in the last time to transfer my handwritten work into the computer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t take breaks often, anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Work comes first.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So there I was, cleaning out the arena, listening to my iPod on shuffle, thinking about one of the scenes I’ve been wanting to write out for a while now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s the new scene of how Dix Osis winds up with Wolfsong’s Warriors—he stows away on the ship and is discovered by the youngest pilot Wolfsong hires: Paul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got some images and dialogue as to how the scene would work, as well as multiple battle stands among the Immortal (of which my infamous Kett is part) thanks mostly to the fact that I listen to a lot of military-beat-esque music from movie and game scores.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I figured when I got home I’d sit down and work on the Dix scene.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat down at about 3:30, having wrapped work up sooner than anticipated, and wound up staring at a blank Word document for hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did a little work for my Cicada Creek Stables stories, but nothing I was happy with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt depressed and frustrated and tired.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I talked to Dan online for a while, but he was multitasking and not very chatty, so we said goodnight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went upstairs and took a shower, then figured the shower had woken me up enough (it was now about midnight) that I’d read for a little bit.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My mistake was listening to the iPod again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got no enthusiasm to read, and I didn’t want to go back downstairs and turn my computer on again, so I got out a notebook and one of my favorite gel pens and sat down at the “art desk” my sister built this winter (I’m still housesitting).</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t even get a start down for the Dix scene with the music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I thought I’d give it up for the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d listen to the iPod a while to help me relax enough to sleep.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I walked into the guest bedroom where I’m staying and was hit over the head with images and dialogue for the ending of Brink, the story I began thanks to National Novel Writing Month.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So I wound up sitting on the floor at the doorway to the closet on a pillow, my Brink binder on my lap as a makeshift desk, scrabbling to write as fast as I could to get the scenes out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The reason for the location?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d taken the tall lamp and the desk lamp out for more lighting in the “art room” at night, so there was no light except in the closet.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My handwriting is far slower than my typing, but I was writing fast for that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cannibalized three or four short scenes I’d started to write for other stories and added new elements to suit Brink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I heard the clock downstairs again, it was two am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And here I sat, wide awake, racing to get everything I’d seen and heard in my head down on paper, despite the early morning feeding to come.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I finally made myself put it down and go to bed, knowing I’d have to get up in a few hours to get out to the barn.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Why doesn’t inspiration ever come when it’s convenient?!</span></i></div>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-41235693644910161752011-03-20T01:14:00.002-04:002011-03-20T01:14:55.511-04:00Know How You Think. Know What You Like. Use Them.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As a writer, it’s important to understand how you think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you know your thought process and what stimulates your creativity, the easier it is to harness inspiration and generate ideas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s why it’s also good to know what you <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">like</b> in general.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes the smallest thing you like can be used, whether as something in your story, or as the start of inspiration for it.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Since this has been a very rough week for me (in more ways than one), I tried over the last couple of days to rediscover little things I like and trace my way back over the way I think; I won’t spend time on my thought process because it’s different for everyone and, as a pessimistic introvert, mine’s really different from most.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As for the little things…</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Perfume bottles have made an appearance in my stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Favorite foods, favorite places (such as Big Sur and Grand Tetons), even favorite books—such as <place w:st="on">Treasure Island</place>—have made it in, whether altered slightly so the feel of a location is there, to having the book on a coffee table in a scene.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My white-and-black cat, Cassiopeia, made a cameo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like plants—especially orchids—animals—especially horses, cats, and dragons—and semiprecious stones like hematite, tiger’s eye, seraphenite, and moss agate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like gel pens in multiple colors, and to use a variety of fonts in a variety of colors on a variety of colored backgrounds, depending on the story I’m writing and the mood I’m in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like the delicate detail of dollhouses and their furniture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love the contained, fragile world aquariums contain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love the smell of old books, the feel of them.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I like the feel of the solid presence of a cat snuggled up against or on me when I sleep or read.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like the feel of the wind in my hair and the freedom—the outright euphoria—I can only experience when I canter or gallop a horse across open pasture, something I haven’t done in far too long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like the weight and balance of holding a blade in my hand, or the tension drawing my bow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like the feel of embroidered Chinese silk, the color with which it glows in the sunlight—colors that can’t be duplicated by any other fabric.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I love the smell of a forest in summer—the cool of its depths surrounded by a radiating warmth from the sun mixed with the dappled shadows.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Each of these things can be utilized in my writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I’ve said before, I try to incorporate real things from my own life as a way for people to know me better, if they know what to look for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s like my secret code to people I know and love, saying: this is who I am…can you see me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can you understand?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can you accept?</span></i></div>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-19018576433501753232011-03-03T11:38:00.001-05:002011-03-03T11:39:32.104-05:00When in doubt, interested, or curious, research!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: green; font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: green; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’ve neglected my blog a little in the last couple </span>of weeks due to being ill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I find amazing about that span of time—and a bit creepy—is the wild trails my mind went on while I was sick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got a clogged ear and sinuses, and that seemed to spur my brain to contemplate things I don’t normally.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: green; font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>These included a lot of aging thoughts, such as marriage, pregnancy, kids, balancing job and home life, retirement, and the health issues that run in my family along with older age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The older we get, the more potential issues show up.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: green; font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As I’m nearing 30, there are a lot of things changing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most people I know my age are engaged, getting married, or considering/having kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The younger siblings of the friends I grew up with are in late high school or college.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since I’m getting older, my chances of marriage and kids narrows; after 30, apparently, the chances of having a child without birth defects grows, as does risk of complication.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m starting to feel old.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: green; font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Granted, the unlike-me contemplations provide<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>good opportunity for writing research.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes a glimpse at mortality, too, will do that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the last two weeks, I had to watch one of the horses I’ve known for years be humanely euthanized due to old age and colic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Daddy turns 60 this year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a strange “interview” by an insurance agency wanting to recruit me to tell its services to senior citizens, and some of the information they gave us about the aging populace was a bit…intimidating.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: green; font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So, as with many things that pique my interest, I spent a good deal of time researching them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Marriage and kids are two things that are a possibility in the future, and growing older definitely is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve dealt with animals and breeding, and taken physical health classes in school, so though reproduction isn’t foreign to me, there are still little things everyone is expected to know but no one really talks about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Guess that’s one good thing about the internet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It makes “uncomfortable” subjects accessible.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: green; font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>One of the reasons I looked into the topic of pregnancy, too, is the fact that one of my main science-fiction characters was born due to a one-night between Kett and her mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was curious how good the chances for this were, given it seems like a lot of people who <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want</i> kids can’t have them, and others who don’t want them have them.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: green; font-family: "Goudy Old Style";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This brings me to the tip of this entry—when in doubt, research!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you’re interested in something and want to use the topic in your writing, research!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve read many authors who didn’t research something in their work that had parallels in real-life, such as the author who thought the horse colors bay, chestnut, roan, and dun were the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Granted, some authors love to show just how much they know and researched, which leads to information overload on a reader.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">don’t</i> have to put all the stuff you know on a topic into your work, just enough that it fits the story and if people look it up for themselves, they can see you’re correct.</span></span></div>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-28871451733656269122011-03-02T23:39:00.002-05:002011-03-02T23:39:59.113-05:00Books Read in 2011: February<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">G.I. Joe: Origins, volume 4</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by IDW Publishing; graphic novel)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Transformers: Drift</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by IDW Publishing; graphic novel)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>20,000 Leagues Under the Sea</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Jules Verne; Kindle)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Fullmetal Alchemist Volume 24</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by Hiromu Arakawa; manga)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Halo: Evolutions volume I</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(anthology; novel)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Dragon Age: The Stolen Throne</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(David Gaider; novel)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Dragon Age: The Calling</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(David Gaider; novel)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Transformers: Bumblebee</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333399; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(by IDW Publishing; graphic novel)</span></i></div>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-18301609320553958162011-02-23T17:11:00.003-05:002011-02-23T17:12:21.588-05:00Evil Editor.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There is something a writer must do that I both love and dread.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is: unleash the evil editor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love this part of my writing because it allows me to strengthen my work and enhance its impact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It lets me evaluate the quality, adjust where I need to, and often get a fresh perspective and new ideas for other scenes.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I hate it because oftentimes I can’t seem to get anything further done in a piece.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I edit the heck out of things and get depressed over how worthless I’ve made myself feel by hacking into a beloved work, or—as is the case with most of my older stuff—I don’t know where to begin to edit to give it the best facelift.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are many older scenes in things I dearly love and want to keep, but they feel…silly…either because of the structure or dialogue or some other minor something I’d be embarrassed to show the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m always anxious about sharing my work publicly, because I don’t know what people will think—of it, or me for writing it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I already know many people think I’m crazy since I talk to my characters.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My best friend of nearly 20 years, Ian, told me a few months ago he wants to read <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brink</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The man doesn’t have a computer or internet so I can’t easily get it to him, but what he said while we were talking on the phone reminds me of my biggest anxiety—and of how well he knows me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He told me he wanted to read <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brink</i> in part because my writing always has a bit of me in it: something I’ve experienced, something I’m currently going through, people I know in alter-ego form, stuff I’m struggling to cope with, animals I know, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something</i> that has “me” in it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said growing up he could always tell what I was dealing with, how people or life were treating me, and my outlook on things simply by reading.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of everyone I know (yes, boyfriend included), Ian possibly understands me the best.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I think his determination and willingness to read my work has a great deal to do with it.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>That may be why my “evil editor” side is so fierce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I keep going back over things to try to hide the stuff that, if someone knew me, would stand out as obvious truth about me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unintentionally, a lot of my writing turned out to be subliminal therapy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I grew up hearing from teachers “write what you know.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did, and incorporated it into a bit of everything I wrote.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Because of my tight connections to my work, I hate cutting things out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it must be done for the good of the entire piece.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Few people (and I can’t actually think of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">any</i> off the top of my head) enjoy rambling piece of work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They want to escape, or be entertained, or both.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To do that, you have to let the editor out.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’ve been editing pretty much as long as I’ve been writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do most of it in my head before I ever write anything down; even in college writing classes I rarely went back and changed things once it was put down on paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mulled it over, adjusted it, readjusted, scrapped, spliced, and tweaked everything over and over and over until I was satisfied it was good enough to be written out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In high school, friends would actually give me their creative writing papers to edit before they were handed in to the teacher for critique.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was nominated head editor of the book my Novel Writing class published in college, and actually copy edited an international veterinary magazine published by the vet school at Purdue during that time as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For me, editing doesn’t take a lot of thought; I literally do it in my sleep with my own stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m good at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I enjoy it.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Problem is, I’m so hard on my own work I don’t get very far very fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a lot of partially-done stuff I’m frustrated with because the evil editor side won’t leave well enough alone.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Enter <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brink</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Participating in National Novel Writing Month in November forced me to write and forced me to lock the evil editor in its cage for the span of thirty days (actually, about twenty-eight, in my case; I finished early).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was so little time to write I couldn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">afford</i> to waste it on editing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It averaged about seventeen hundred words a day, approximately 6 pages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to do that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">every day</i> or fall behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fortunately for me, I’m paranoid and a perfectionist, so I averaged about thirty-four hundred a day four or five days a week and took weekends off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was overwhelmed by the amount of work I did, and, above that, the quality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t the best I think I can do, but it was far, far above the worst.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Now that I have a set of goals laid out, the evil editor has reared its head again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I desperately love my Kavalren story, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A New Breed of Warrior</i>, but, given its age, the quality is well below my current ability.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a good deal of deliberation, I’ve decided I’m scrapping at least one large section in favor of starting over with a stronger point of view.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like the way it’s going.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The overall storyline will not change, but a lot of other things will to bring it up to preferred quality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This puts a lot of strain on my one-year goal for it, but there’s still ten months left so it could happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would certainly be rewarding.</span></span></div>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5368248362804774761.post-29107735262449207422011-02-21T19:06:00.001-05:002011-02-21T19:10:54.929-05:00A little late for New Year's resolutions, but goals just the same.<span style="color: maroon; font-family: Gungsuh;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: Gungsuh;">Writing Goals:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: Gungsuh;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Next year (2011):</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-fareast-font-family: Gungsuh;">Finish rework on written parts of A New Breed of Warrior.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-fareast-font-family: Gungsuh;">Get outline written up for the remainder of A New Breed of Warrior.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-fareast-font-family: Gungsuh;">Get second part of Brink written.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-fareast-font-family: Gungsuh;">Participate in National Novel Writing Month, preferably with completion.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-fareast-font-family: Gungsuh;">Get at least one chapter further written in Sunfall.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: Gungsuh;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Next two years (2011 and 2012):</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-fareast-font-family: Gungsuh;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>Finish Brink.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-fareast-font-family: Gungsuh;">Finish rework on written parts of Kett and Nayisa’s story Immortal: Legends (Immortal Born, Immortal Beginnings, Immortal Blood).</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-fareast-font-family: Gungsuh;">Plot out remaining sections of Immortal: Legends.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-fareast-font-family: Gungsuh;">Participate in and complete National Novel Writing Month 2011 and 2012.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: Gungsuh;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Next five years (end of 2015):</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-fareast-font-family: Gungsuh;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>Finish Immortal: Legends for publication.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-fareast-font-family: Gungsuh;">Finish A New Breed of Warrior for publication.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-fareast-font-family: Gungsuh;">Finish Brink for publication.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-fareast-font-family: Gungsuh;">Finish Sunfall.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-fareast-font-family: Gungsuh;">Complete 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, and 2015 National Novel Writing Month challenges (successfully).</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-fareast-font-family: Gungsuh;">Complete some more sections of various other stories (namely Jemspur among the Dragonsword Saga).</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-fareast-font-family: Gungsuh;">Finish off the 100words list.</span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; mso-fareast-font-family: Gungsuh;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They say (whoever “they” are…) that you should try to have short-term and long-term goals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat down today after much thought (I do far too much thinking when I work at the barn and brainstorm while trying to write or convince sleep to come) and wrote out 1, 2, and 5 year goals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They really look almost overambitious at this point, but I have to start somewhere.</span></i></div>Olivia Kirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02725803444336007721noreply@blogger.com0