Sunday, October 31, 2004
Saturday, October 30, 2004
Everyone in the NaNo forums is great.
My plot ideas so far: something cliche. I may just parody the Sci-fi/Fantasy genre, or it could turn into something completely different. Absurdity and humor are two of my strengths, so I'm going to run with that and do something totally off the wall. In any case, if I get stuck it shouldn't be too hard to come up with something.
Friday, October 29, 2004
The last oasis of fresh water gleamed like a thousand jewels in the harsh sunlight. Edward shuffled, step by step through the sand, every tortured step requiring supreme force of will to be completed. The rays of the sun were like searing, red tipped lances; just removed from the hottest part of the fire and swiped down his back, parting the flesh and burning. Life lay in that oasis; the only life left on the planet. If he could just reach it, Edward knew, he would survive. The thought of meeting other survivors like himself spurred him on towards his goal and his gaze drifted downward, as if to move his feet via telepathy. He strained to look up again, eyes on the prize he told himself. Yet, despite his efforts, the oasis never got closer. When he thought he could travel no further he looked up for one last glimpse of the oasis, but it had disappeared, simply a mirage invented by a lost soul seeking hope where there was none.
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Billy glanced in the driver’s side mirror at the pickup truck in the opposite lane.
“You better see me…I’m right here,” he muttered under his breath as he flipped the left signal on and began making the turn into the mall.
The shrill sound of a horn blared out and Billy swore, stomping on the brake pedal with both feet. Swerving out of the lane, Billy just barely avoided the collision with the truck, which had lazily made a left turn as well, crossing over into his lane. Billy fumed, his vision turning bright red as he stomped on the accelerator and laid into the horn, coming up close behind and tailgating the truck. Visions of him taking his revenge on the other driver flashed through his mind as he imagined himself pulling the other driver out of the vehicle and bludgeoning him to death with an ice scraper.
Billy followed the car into the crowded parking lot, waiting for the other vehicle to park in order to box him in. The driver slowed and stopped, having obviously glanced in the rearview and noticed the crazed driver behind him. His upper lip curling into a snarl, Billy accelerated sharply and swerved around the truck, shooting an evil look at the driver as he sped past—directly into the side door of a motorist vacating a parking space.
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Jeff peered intently at the rusty hunk of metal in front of him, a look of dismay playing across his features. “Didn’t your ad read ‘Slightly Used’?” he asked. “Now look here, son, there’s only a few spots of rust there. Look over yonder,” said the salesman, steering him by the shoulder to the front of the vehicle. “Both headlights work, the wipers are new, and the antenna hasn’t been broken by the carwash yet!” Jeff gasped in mock excitement, waving his arms like a 12 year old, whose boy band crush glanced in her direction. “Oh goodie!” Storming away from the vehicle and the flustered salesman, Jeff hopped on his bicycle and pedaled off. Maybe he could sling his Prom date on the back of his bicycle. Better yet, maybe a racing bike. The motorcycle dealership was just across the street, so Jeff changed direction, imagining himself rolling up to the red carpet dressed in a tux with girlfriend in tow, riding side saddle with her dress draped over the gleaming new Kawasaki Ninja.
Anyway, here it is:
Light, agitating the seminal interludes between vast vortices of twisting neutrino energies, bathe the Consciousness. Colors facet and splay across the empty landscape of nothing, contorting and whirling into various geometrics and patterns. Like a paint-by-number, pictures coalesce into shape as the Consciousness passes, seeming to imbue life where it lingers. These various hues throb and pulse into existence, at first dim and difficult to make out, then slowly, rhythmically, brightening. Although this process seems random at first, an outline switches into existence, a faint black pencil outline showing unfathomable patterns and objects. Blurry and indistinct, this unrealized potential cries out for the Consciousness, clamoring for shape and volume. So the intelligence moves, slowly but with purpose, bestowing life and meaning upon all He touches, creating Something from that which was Nothing.
I am a writer.
Monday, October 25, 2004
This will be my blog as I undertake the herculean task known as "NANOWRIMO!!!!" Here is where I will whine about my spectacular failure! In all honesty, World of Warcraft is releasing next month, and I expect all productivity to come to a screeching, grinding halt after a couple weeks. But, hey, what the hell.
I did seriously consider signing up for NaNo, and I would not have participated had I not thought I could finish. However, having mastered the art of procrastination, I view this as a way to escape this wretched science I have refined. Granted, I haven't written anything at length for, oh, four years? My grammar is atrocious and my sentence structures leave much to be desired. It's the struggle itself that's important though, not the end result, right? Right?