It's the 20th of November.
I should be with 40 000 words on each of the books.
I'm with 38 000 and something on Nume and 31 000 on The Lost Years.
I can't seem to dodge that 11 000 backlog...
In any case, tomorrow I will be working but coming home early and sunday I'm gonna plough through the dictionary like a fever running wild...
But things are looking good. Preston Nume has managed to survive yet another trial (though he's got a few scars to show for it) but, even though he's getting ready for the next lot (he knew as soon as he got on that island that they had it in for him) he's not really expecting what's gonna hit him next...
Meanwhile in Egypt, Jesus and his two companions are finding out some of the awful and beautiful truths in the former land of the Pharaohs.
I've been tempted to just focus on one of the books, finish it off and then come back and finish the other one but... i feel that there's something to gain from moving from one story to the other. What I've been doing is more or less writing out all the sequences that I had planned out. When I hit a point where I don't really know how to move forward, I jump on the other wagon and see what I can do there.
But this has been a very different NaNoWriMo. Not just because of writing two books in parallel, or doing some research for them, but mainly because i have been writing the chapters in more or less the order they'll stay for the final version.
(I say this now...)
(who knows what's gonna happen when revision happens...)
Anyway, just a quick update.
And I've just realised that I haven't updated my NaNoWriMo webpage since the first day... shame...
Thanks for staying tuned...
(and happy writings for all of you!)
Peace
Friday, 20 November 2009
Monday, 16 November 2009
Wordy Weekends
Well, last thursday night, when I arrived home I looked at my word count.
it was something like 12 000 for one book and 18 000 for the other.
Then I thought
On sunday i should be on 30 000 on both.
And that means...
I've got to write 18 000 on one and 12 000 on the other... roughly...
In three days.
Which means 10 000 a day.
(a healthy diet)
Well, I'm now more or less on 27 500 on both.
Short of my objective but definitely much closer to what I needed doing!
And let me tell you, I struggled this weekend. I struggled because I wanted to watch films and relax and read and read stuff that could be quite important for the book (and i did do a bit of all these things, just not as much as I'd like to...) but I managed to stay more or less on track (yes, there were guitar playing sessions that lasted for more than an hour to chill and collect my ideas...) and do the deed.
And once again I discover that "this stupid idea I had for a book that is now so obviously proven doesn't work" (that was my down moment on saturday... a few hours actually) is somewhat wrong...
The Lost Years was more or less on track by friday/easrly hours saturday, so I spent the rest of the weekend focussing on It's Not Too Dark Here. After a while I knew pretty damn well which scenes I needed to write but I'd lost the will power to do them. It seemed pretty pointless.
I decided to call it a day on 23 or 24 000. I'd done my best, that was it.
Then I decided to just write the synopsis for what I need to write today (still). It was a scene where the main character comes face to face with a wild tiger (and yes, there are no wild tigers naturally on that island so some very naughty character must've brought it in...).
And there was going to be a clash there...
(this is a thriller after all... what better than tigers on desert island preying on unarmed men?!)
I just didn't know how they'd meet.
I was tired.
I didn't want to write anymore.
I wanted to sleep.
(bad!)
But the images about what was going to happen after they'd met were so vivid that I started writing them down.
I thought I didn't have enough stuff for the book.
And I might just have more than enough now...
And a few thousand words more for my word count that day. I wrote for another hour or two hours. I can't remember. I was in that mood where everything just flows. If I'd been more awake I'd continued to write until I'd run out of inspiration.
Unfortunately, these things only seem to happen when it's already 1.30 in the morning and I'm about to call it quits.
(I'm sure there's a pattern in there somewhere...)
This morning I wrote a bit more tying up loose ends. And I still have a bit more to do today when I get home.
But the most important part was that, a chapter that I thought was going to be quick turned out to be long but extremely exciting to write (and, I think, to read as well). A chapter that I thought was going to be dull and predictable, turned out to be almost central to the whole book. For me it turned it's direction around. And managed to do something that I'd wanted from the onset. Which is to make this character respected in some way by the audience. Make him human.
I think this chapter takes the bonding between reader and character to a different level. For the first time we see this aspect in Preston Nume. And it took me by surprise. But it made sense so I tried not to change it much.
I'll admit that, instinctively, a different outcome was present but, that's one of the pleasures of writing, you CAN turn things around and twist the story to your particular wishes.
In terms of The Lost Years, I'm on the doorstep of the Egyptian phase. I've been reading some stuff about Hermes Trismegistus (that existed a couple of millennia before Jesus - so he won't be a character, if that's what you're thinking...) and about the Egyptian Pantheon of gods.
And this is another of those chapters that I don't have the faintest idea how I'm gonna write it...
In an ideal world I'd spend a couple of decades reading books and learning Egyptian mythology and THEN write this chapter.
Because I live on Earth, Europe, UK, London, it has to be more like some Wikipedia on the diagonal side of perception, mix that with my very own and true to life experiences and ideas and start typing!
But seriously, this book isn't really about historical accuracy (though I have amazed myself at how much of that actually is there so far), it's much more about the spiritual journey of this man that was to become one of our most powerful myths.
Obviously it is a metaphor for any journey of this type. That's my objective. I want people to identify as much with the character as with the journey itself.
The fact that we have Egyptian mythology, Greek philosophy, Assirian mysticism, Hinduism and Buddhism (these are the next chapters, in that order) is merely to frame this with a sense of completion and UNIFICATION between all these different view points.
So I'm not interested in Egyptian mythology per se, but really more in the aspects it mirrors that day and age. It becomes a vehicle to create a better sense of time and place, of the obstacles that would be those living in those days and their own journeys.
In any case the penultimate chapter will be one of the most important (and one that I am incredibly eager to start writing... but it makes sense that I wait so that I can put all the previous chapters in perspective throughout that one...) of the whole book. This is where the journey achieves a first sense of completion, of roundness. Of true purpose and meaning.
It represents our true awakening.
Where the masks have fallen beyond return.
It represents the beginning of what many call the Christ Consciousness.
So, I'm sure it will be an interesting one...
(even though I still don't know very well what I'm gonna write when I get there... then again, what else is new?!)
Peace!
it was something like 12 000 for one book and 18 000 for the other.
Then I thought
On sunday i should be on 30 000 on both.
And that means...
I've got to write 18 000 on one and 12 000 on the other... roughly...
In three days.
Which means 10 000 a day.
(a healthy diet)
Well, I'm now more or less on 27 500 on both.
Short of my objective but definitely much closer to what I needed doing!
And let me tell you, I struggled this weekend. I struggled because I wanted to watch films and relax and read and read stuff that could be quite important for the book (and i did do a bit of all these things, just not as much as I'd like to...) but I managed to stay more or less on track (yes, there were guitar playing sessions that lasted for more than an hour to chill and collect my ideas...) and do the deed.
And once again I discover that "this stupid idea I had for a book that is now so obviously proven doesn't work" (that was my down moment on saturday... a few hours actually) is somewhat wrong...
The Lost Years was more or less on track by friday/easrly hours saturday, so I spent the rest of the weekend focussing on It's Not Too Dark Here. After a while I knew pretty damn well which scenes I needed to write but I'd lost the will power to do them. It seemed pretty pointless.
I decided to call it a day on 23 or 24 000. I'd done my best, that was it.
Then I decided to just write the synopsis for what I need to write today (still). It was a scene where the main character comes face to face with a wild tiger (and yes, there are no wild tigers naturally on that island so some very naughty character must've brought it in...).
And there was going to be a clash there...
(this is a thriller after all... what better than tigers on desert island preying on unarmed men?!)
I just didn't know how they'd meet.
I was tired.
I didn't want to write anymore.
I wanted to sleep.
(bad!)
But the images about what was going to happen after they'd met were so vivid that I started writing them down.
I thought I didn't have enough stuff for the book.
And I might just have more than enough now...
And a few thousand words more for my word count that day. I wrote for another hour or two hours. I can't remember. I was in that mood where everything just flows. If I'd been more awake I'd continued to write until I'd run out of inspiration.
Unfortunately, these things only seem to happen when it's already 1.30 in the morning and I'm about to call it quits.
(I'm sure there's a pattern in there somewhere...)
This morning I wrote a bit more tying up loose ends. And I still have a bit more to do today when I get home.
But the most important part was that, a chapter that I thought was going to be quick turned out to be long but extremely exciting to write (and, I think, to read as well). A chapter that I thought was going to be dull and predictable, turned out to be almost central to the whole book. For me it turned it's direction around. And managed to do something that I'd wanted from the onset. Which is to make this character respected in some way by the audience. Make him human.
I think this chapter takes the bonding between reader and character to a different level. For the first time we see this aspect in Preston Nume. And it took me by surprise. But it made sense so I tried not to change it much.
I'll admit that, instinctively, a different outcome was present but, that's one of the pleasures of writing, you CAN turn things around and twist the story to your particular wishes.
In terms of The Lost Years, I'm on the doorstep of the Egyptian phase. I've been reading some stuff about Hermes Trismegistus (that existed a couple of millennia before Jesus - so he won't be a character, if that's what you're thinking...) and about the Egyptian Pantheon of gods.
And this is another of those chapters that I don't have the faintest idea how I'm gonna write it...
In an ideal world I'd spend a couple of decades reading books and learning Egyptian mythology and THEN write this chapter.
Because I live on Earth, Europe, UK, London, it has to be more like some Wikipedia on the diagonal side of perception, mix that with my very own and true to life experiences and ideas and start typing!
But seriously, this book isn't really about historical accuracy (though I have amazed myself at how much of that actually is there so far), it's much more about the spiritual journey of this man that was to become one of our most powerful myths.
Obviously it is a metaphor for any journey of this type. That's my objective. I want people to identify as much with the character as with the journey itself.
The fact that we have Egyptian mythology, Greek philosophy, Assirian mysticism, Hinduism and Buddhism (these are the next chapters, in that order) is merely to frame this with a sense of completion and UNIFICATION between all these different view points.
So I'm not interested in Egyptian mythology per se, but really more in the aspects it mirrors that day and age. It becomes a vehicle to create a better sense of time and place, of the obstacles that would be those living in those days and their own journeys.
In any case the penultimate chapter will be one of the most important (and one that I am incredibly eager to start writing... but it makes sense that I wait so that I can put all the previous chapters in perspective throughout that one...) of the whole book. This is where the journey achieves a first sense of completion, of roundness. Of true purpose and meaning.
It represents our true awakening.
Where the masks have fallen beyond return.
It represents the beginning of what many call the Christ Consciousness.
So, I'm sure it will be an interesting one...
(even though I still don't know very well what I'm gonna write when I get there... then again, what else is new?!)
Peace!
Saturday, 14 November 2009
RITUAL version I
This is another of the short fiction texts that I wrote for the New Scientist Competition. The idea behind this one was quite simple as you will soon see...
Because I really liked it but this version was definitely too long, i decided to see if I could write a different one.
And that you will see next week...
Enjoy!
RITUAL
(936 word count)
As he began to walk down the corridor he started to doubt if all of this was just happening in his imagination.
Was he really dreaming? How long had it been since he arrived? And how many had died simply because he refused to believe all of this was real? He remembered the car being torn apart, bits of metal flying everywhere, eating lives away.
I can feel it now.
He motioned cautiously, trying to be as silent as possible, blood pumping in his temples, breaking his focus. He held his breath but his chest burned more and more. Behind him there was a scrapping sound.
I’m getting closer.
He started to run. He could hear the hooves and the crescendo of the odzark’s sucking sounds. The walls shook in fury and began to collapse. He plunged into a large room filled with all manner of animals. He darted between them looking for cover. They stared at him, barely moving. The odzark burst into the room shortly after. Everything went silent and cold for a moment. He turned. The animals tried to run but, one by one, they were sucked out of existence as they fled. Then it saw him. It advanced. He tried to run. But there was no window. No door. He was trapped.
Emotions gathering. Taking over.
He was inside water. A pool. He couldn’t move. The waters were too thick, lukewarm and gelatinous. There were screeches and wails everywhere. Something bit hard into his leg. He screamed as he felt it being ripped apart. He tried to push it away but teeth gnawed it off.
Then they began to emerge.
The dead.
The dead were eating him alive.
My body is breaking up. My mind will surely follow. And the soul will become clearer.
The air, too dry for him to breathe. No. Not dry. Something stuck in his throat. Dust? No, not dust. Something else. Something tightening. All around him. Ropes? No, not that. He tried to move but at every gesture thin and strong threads won him over, again and again. Then a thumping sound and a whisper almost below hearing level. With utmost effort he turned his head and he saw a huge spider rushing towards him. Its fangs reared, dripping poison. Its mouth ajar, glowing jade green, hungry for his flesh. And he could feel his flesh beginning to melt as the acid dripped all over.
A burning sensation all over me. Is this what I was meant to feel? Where am I again?...
Everyone had died and he was alone. There was no escape. There never had been. It had all been a trick since the beginning. The ghosts started emerging from the walls and the trees and the lake. And at each time that they touched a fragment of his being dissolved and vanished. He could feel himself disappear one piece at a time.
What if I’m not dreaming this time? Is it going all wrong? Am I dying?!
He was running faster than he’d ever ran before. His heart racing so fast he thought he would soon die of a heart attack rather than sheer exhaustion. He could feel the hunger of the creature chasing after. It was like a scent that traversed his skin and made his brain want to scream. He could hear its claws tearing down the trees like paper. Its footsteps falling on the ground like a jackhammer.
Can someone save me?! Please!!!
As the ceiling of the cave collapsed in a great THUD! He could feel the dust crawling slowly into his lungs. How could he breathe? He couldn’t even move. It was getting hot. Hotter. The dry air, unable to fill his lungs. His heart pumping out of control. He kept on, trying to breathe, pushing his lungs in and out, desperately, but there was never enough oxygen. His mind raced. He was going to die here. He was trapped and he was going to die. He would suffocate so far away from everybody else that no one could ever possibly rescue him in time.
I can’t breathe… I can’t think… I can’t…
The air stopped working. His body felt made of sand. Then it went numb. His mind was retreating fast, into a corner of itself where it could not be seen. He was going to die.
His mind disappeared.
And with it all fear vanished as well.
A great peace washed over him. A burning sensation overcame his senses, eliminating everything, everywhere.
He felt himself wake up as if he’d always been awake within a sleepless dream.
“Welcome back.” said the smiling man with the long white hair.
“For a moment there we thought you were not going to make it.” said a younger man with dark rimmed spectacles.
He tried to get up from the table. The two men rushed towards him.
“Now now. Don’t move. You’re not ready yet.”
“You’re still plugged in. Your brain is still digesting the information cocktail we’ve been feeding it.”
“Don’t worry. In a couple of hours everything will be alright.”
“What happened? What’s all this?” He asked.
The room began to coalesce in his mind. There was a bonfire. There were candles burning. Stones carved with runes. Strange symbols painted in red on the husk of trees.
He was outside. There was a lake. A forest. And… cables?
He could now see the neural disruptor half hidden beneath a fabric depicting an epic battle scene on a great plain. There was also a tipi.
“Congratulations. You’ve just completed your shamanic vision quest. But, tell me, what did you see?”
END
Technology fascinates me. And one of the things that attracts me about it is the fact that technology doesn't merely deliver some sort of future to our doorstep. For me technology also allows us to retain the past in a different form. I think this has been at least part of the history of our world. After all many of our traditions have simply been changed superficially, accomodated within the new technological constraints.
when the Guillotine appeared it was said to be a most humane method of serving the death penalty.... and so many centuries have passed and, even though the guillotine is no longer in use, the death penalty still is around...
In any case this story affirms my belief that the near future at least will still carry today's beliefs in disguise.
I was just reading a bit about Ancient Egypt, how the Greeks and then the Romans took over the leadership of the country. Their beliefs were affected by this, of course, but more than simply disappearing and being replaced, they were altered. After all it is best to use what's already there to one's advantage rather than start from scratch (in these cases at least... the last time someone attempted to start from scratch things didn't go that well for a lot of people... and yes, I am thinking of Adolf H...)
I think that the methods may change but the core reality will not.
So, to me, this story is not saying, Shamanism will always be an illusion and a creation of the mind. For me it is saying that our own quests will make usage of anything in their way in order to make themselves real.
Technology merely opens doors in new ways, perhaps more easy ways.
It is up to our perception to cross them or not...
but beware of consequences.
Like the Hermetic Tradition teaches, there are many levels of causality and consequence - not all of them perceptible...
peace
Because I really liked it but this version was definitely too long, i decided to see if I could write a different one.
And that you will see next week...
Enjoy!
RITUAL
(936 word count)
As he began to walk down the corridor he started to doubt if all of this was just happening in his imagination.
Was he really dreaming? How long had it been since he arrived? And how many had died simply because he refused to believe all of this was real? He remembered the car being torn apart, bits of metal flying everywhere, eating lives away.
I can feel it now.
He motioned cautiously, trying to be as silent as possible, blood pumping in his temples, breaking his focus. He held his breath but his chest burned more and more. Behind him there was a scrapping sound.
I’m getting closer.
He started to run. He could hear the hooves and the crescendo of the odzark’s sucking sounds. The walls shook in fury and began to collapse. He plunged into a large room filled with all manner of animals. He darted between them looking for cover. They stared at him, barely moving. The odzark burst into the room shortly after. Everything went silent and cold for a moment. He turned. The animals tried to run but, one by one, they were sucked out of existence as they fled. Then it saw him. It advanced. He tried to run. But there was no window. No door. He was trapped.
Emotions gathering. Taking over.
He was inside water. A pool. He couldn’t move. The waters were too thick, lukewarm and gelatinous. There were screeches and wails everywhere. Something bit hard into his leg. He screamed as he felt it being ripped apart. He tried to push it away but teeth gnawed it off.
Then they began to emerge.
The dead.
The dead were eating him alive.
My body is breaking up. My mind will surely follow. And the soul will become clearer.
The air, too dry for him to breathe. No. Not dry. Something stuck in his throat. Dust? No, not dust. Something else. Something tightening. All around him. Ropes? No, not that. He tried to move but at every gesture thin and strong threads won him over, again and again. Then a thumping sound and a whisper almost below hearing level. With utmost effort he turned his head and he saw a huge spider rushing towards him. Its fangs reared, dripping poison. Its mouth ajar, glowing jade green, hungry for his flesh. And he could feel his flesh beginning to melt as the acid dripped all over.
A burning sensation all over me. Is this what I was meant to feel? Where am I again?...
Everyone had died and he was alone. There was no escape. There never had been. It had all been a trick since the beginning. The ghosts started emerging from the walls and the trees and the lake. And at each time that they touched a fragment of his being dissolved and vanished. He could feel himself disappear one piece at a time.
What if I’m not dreaming this time? Is it going all wrong? Am I dying?!
He was running faster than he’d ever ran before. His heart racing so fast he thought he would soon die of a heart attack rather than sheer exhaustion. He could feel the hunger of the creature chasing after. It was like a scent that traversed his skin and made his brain want to scream. He could hear its claws tearing down the trees like paper. Its footsteps falling on the ground like a jackhammer.
Can someone save me?! Please!!!
As the ceiling of the cave collapsed in a great THUD! He could feel the dust crawling slowly into his lungs. How could he breathe? He couldn’t even move. It was getting hot. Hotter. The dry air, unable to fill his lungs. His heart pumping out of control. He kept on, trying to breathe, pushing his lungs in and out, desperately, but there was never enough oxygen. His mind raced. He was going to die here. He was trapped and he was going to die. He would suffocate so far away from everybody else that no one could ever possibly rescue him in time.
I can’t breathe… I can’t think… I can’t…
The air stopped working. His body felt made of sand. Then it went numb. His mind was retreating fast, into a corner of itself where it could not be seen. He was going to die.
His mind disappeared.
And with it all fear vanished as well.
A great peace washed over him. A burning sensation overcame his senses, eliminating everything, everywhere.
He felt himself wake up as if he’d always been awake within a sleepless dream.
“Welcome back.” said the smiling man with the long white hair.
“For a moment there we thought you were not going to make it.” said a younger man with dark rimmed spectacles.
He tried to get up from the table. The two men rushed towards him.
“Now now. Don’t move. You’re not ready yet.”
“You’re still plugged in. Your brain is still digesting the information cocktail we’ve been feeding it.”
“Don’t worry. In a couple of hours everything will be alright.”
“What happened? What’s all this?” He asked.
The room began to coalesce in his mind. There was a bonfire. There were candles burning. Stones carved with runes. Strange symbols painted in red on the husk of trees.
He was outside. There was a lake. A forest. And… cables?
He could now see the neural disruptor half hidden beneath a fabric depicting an epic battle scene on a great plain. There was also a tipi.
“Congratulations. You’ve just completed your shamanic vision quest. But, tell me, what did you see?”
END
Technology fascinates me. And one of the things that attracts me about it is the fact that technology doesn't merely deliver some sort of future to our doorstep. For me technology also allows us to retain the past in a different form. I think this has been at least part of the history of our world. After all many of our traditions have simply been changed superficially, accomodated within the new technological constraints.
when the Guillotine appeared it was said to be a most humane method of serving the death penalty.... and so many centuries have passed and, even though the guillotine is no longer in use, the death penalty still is around...
In any case this story affirms my belief that the near future at least will still carry today's beliefs in disguise.
I was just reading a bit about Ancient Egypt, how the Greeks and then the Romans took over the leadership of the country. Their beliefs were affected by this, of course, but more than simply disappearing and being replaced, they were altered. After all it is best to use what's already there to one's advantage rather than start from scratch (in these cases at least... the last time someone attempted to start from scratch things didn't go that well for a lot of people... and yes, I am thinking of Adolf H...)
I think that the methods may change but the core reality will not.
So, to me, this story is not saying, Shamanism will always be an illusion and a creation of the mind. For me it is saying that our own quests will make usage of anything in their way in order to make themselves real.
Technology merely opens doors in new ways, perhaps more easy ways.
It is up to our perception to cross them or not...
but beware of consequences.
Like the Hermetic Tradition teaches, there are many levels of causality and consequence - not all of them perceptible...
peace
Sunday, 8 November 2009
ONE HUNDRED YEARS FROM NOW (WE’LL STILL BE HERE…)
I almost forgot to post my next story for the new scientist competition this week but here it is.
Comments only after you read it...
ONE HUNDRED YEARS FROM NOW (WE’LL STILL BE HERE…)
(982 word count)
“We’re only around because we’re still needed.” Omar shifted in his seat. “Artificial, virtual – it’s all real.” Shazzaad sniggered.
“You a fool man…”
Omar smiled. “Get your Cloud Squared…” he said. “ Oh man… the future is the worst disease a worrying man can have. Maybe we won’t have the gene policing anymore. Maybe credits won’t be a part of our DNA anymore.” He dropped his elbows on the table and stared at the youth in front of him. “Who cares? People will still want their thrills. And there will be someone - or some thing - to provide it for them.”
Shazzaad shook his head.
“Just plug yourself fool.”
“With what?!”
Shazzaad took Omar’s tattooed and rebuilt wrist and placed it inside a hollow cylinder.
“They can read our bodies. Maybe in a hundred years from now they’ll be able to read our minds too.”
Omar leaned back on his chair and smiled, looking him straight in the eye.
“We’ll be in trouble then.”
Shazzaad looked at him dismissively. Then pressed a few keys on the panel in front of him.
“Nah.” Omar continued. “As soon as you put a system up there will be someone takin' it down. People just take advantage. Of whatever is around. To end it you need to end society altogether…”
Shazzaad paused and raised his eyes from his work.
“Like that’s gonna happen…” said Omar. “If we’re not selling clouds we’ll be selling the stars.”
“Could you please shut up and stay still? Contrary to what you may think, this requires concentration and expertise…”
Omar raised his free hand and arm.
“Peace El Doctore… I’ll be good…” Shazzaad seemed not to pay any attention to him and continued to tap and stare intently at the panel.
Omar shrugged.
“And if it’s not that, it will be something else. Maybe love. Maybe forbidden thoughts. What I know is that, right now, things aren’t gonna change. We do the business. We keep the market going. Tradition. You know what I mean?”
Shazzaad leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms behind his head. He smiled. “You sound like you should get a medal or something. Not prison…”
Omar pointed vigorously at the table. ”Hey, trust me man, one hundred years from now and we’ll still be here.”
“I sure hope not.”
“Nah man. Do the rehab. Let them believe what THEY want to believe. The game is still gonna be out there. Waiting for you, either you like it or not. You just gotta adapt.”
“And thus spoke ZeroTrust’Ah…”
“No less.”
“No less…” said Shazzaad start to key in once more.
“Just be sure you give me something nice this time, a’ight?”
“As if… you’re gonna get what you need and make no mistake. Cussin’ my work…” Shazzaad peered intently on the screen, his eyes fixed on a point that Omar could not see. “Man, technology is advancing faster than at any other point in human history. Things are gonna change. For both of us.”
Omar shuffled impatiently on his chair.
“And why would it be any different? Man, you gotta remember it’s still us running this show. And the show only runs ‘cause there’s plenty of fools to keep us busy.” He ran his free hand over his hair. “Like I say, if things were to change you’d have to get rid of humans altogether…”
“Have it your way. I can change your identity but I’ll be damned if I can change an iota of that stubbornness of yours. Mark my words.” He said. “This network of yours is not gonna last very long. Only a matter of time until you’re found out.”
Omar frowned. “You done?”
Shazzaad, matching his gaze, bent over the table towards him. “And then all of us we’ll in trouble.” Then he leaned back, waiting for his reaction.
There was none.
Then he said
“Yeah. We’re done.”
Omar removed his wrist and rubbed it with his other hand.
“Nothing lasts forever man. So let it rip while it lasts. You know what’s your problem? You worry too much about the future ‘cause you just don’t wanna be in the present. But guess what? The present is all you got. Heck, all of us got.”
Shazzaad started packing his stuff into a woolie bag.
“Things will change.” He said.
“Sure. The nature of the product, for sure. But not the need.” Omar got up and started pacing the room, looking around. “Getting high is far older than any of the people that want to throw us away with their goddamned keys would like to admit. It’s just not gonna disappear in a puff of smoke. If it doesn’t grow on soil, it grows in someone’s lab. People like to party man. What else can most of us do with our lives? High is even better than busy. Or else things will seriously start going wrong.”
Shazzaad buttoned his bag and placed the strap over his shoulder.
“Your product is old. You’re risking too much.”
Omar rapped Shazzaad in the bag and followed him out.
“Man, who the heck wants safe drugs?! If I wanted safe, I’d stay at home taking care of the kittens. People want what their life lacks. ‘sides, with gene drugs dropping out and the new fixed-state ones pouring from Asia who am I to argue? The cops have better things to do than worry about what they know is on the way out.” Shazzaad simply shook his head and held his hand out for him to shake.
Omar took it, then hesitated and said
“Hey, by the way, who am I gonna be tomorrow?”
Shazzaad smiled. “I think you’re gonna like this one. Tomorrow you’re gonna be one of the good guys.”
“Serious?! A cop?! Bloody heck!” said Omar grinning.
“Later.” Shazzaad began walking away.
Omar shouted after.
“Hey! Didn’t you hear?! The new bogeyman is here…”
END
If, like me, you have been watching The Wire, you'll see what this story is also about... I was playing in my head with this thing of writing short stories for this competition, playing with this idea that one often times find in science fiction, which is a different surface (or packaging) that reveals nonetheless the same content.
So the theme of drugs came through. Quite possibly as a vague homage to Brave New World (when you start the references game in your head it never really stops...) and, necessarily so, to The Wire, being the one TV series that I've watched lately that actually says something about this theme.
To me the true basis of this story is the same as a few others that I wrote for this competition: there are somethings about being human that are very hard to change. Technology will most surely change but our nature tends to adapt to it, only to remain the same...
Hope you've enjoyed it!
Peace.
Comments only after you read it...
ONE HUNDRED YEARS FROM NOW (WE’LL STILL BE HERE…)
(982 word count)
“We’re only around because we’re still needed.” Omar shifted in his seat. “Artificial, virtual – it’s all real.” Shazzaad sniggered.
“You a fool man…”
Omar smiled. “Get your Cloud Squared…” he said. “ Oh man… the future is the worst disease a worrying man can have. Maybe we won’t have the gene policing anymore. Maybe credits won’t be a part of our DNA anymore.” He dropped his elbows on the table and stared at the youth in front of him. “Who cares? People will still want their thrills. And there will be someone - or some thing - to provide it for them.”
Shazzaad shook his head.
“Just plug yourself fool.”
“With what?!”
Shazzaad took Omar’s tattooed and rebuilt wrist and placed it inside a hollow cylinder.
“They can read our bodies. Maybe in a hundred years from now they’ll be able to read our minds too.”
Omar leaned back on his chair and smiled, looking him straight in the eye.
“We’ll be in trouble then.”
Shazzaad looked at him dismissively. Then pressed a few keys on the panel in front of him.
“Nah.” Omar continued. “As soon as you put a system up there will be someone takin' it down. People just take advantage. Of whatever is around. To end it you need to end society altogether…”
Shazzaad paused and raised his eyes from his work.
“Like that’s gonna happen…” said Omar. “If we’re not selling clouds we’ll be selling the stars.”
“Could you please shut up and stay still? Contrary to what you may think, this requires concentration and expertise…”
Omar raised his free hand and arm.
“Peace El Doctore… I’ll be good…” Shazzaad seemed not to pay any attention to him and continued to tap and stare intently at the panel.
Omar shrugged.
“And if it’s not that, it will be something else. Maybe love. Maybe forbidden thoughts. What I know is that, right now, things aren’t gonna change. We do the business. We keep the market going. Tradition. You know what I mean?”
Shazzaad leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms behind his head. He smiled. “You sound like you should get a medal or something. Not prison…”
Omar pointed vigorously at the table. ”Hey, trust me man, one hundred years from now and we’ll still be here.”
“I sure hope not.”
“Nah man. Do the rehab. Let them believe what THEY want to believe. The game is still gonna be out there. Waiting for you, either you like it or not. You just gotta adapt.”
“And thus spoke ZeroTrust’Ah…”
“No less.”
“No less…” said Shazzaad start to key in once more.
“Just be sure you give me something nice this time, a’ight?”
“As if… you’re gonna get what you need and make no mistake. Cussin’ my work…” Shazzaad peered intently on the screen, his eyes fixed on a point that Omar could not see. “Man, technology is advancing faster than at any other point in human history. Things are gonna change. For both of us.”
Omar shuffled impatiently on his chair.
“And why would it be any different? Man, you gotta remember it’s still us running this show. And the show only runs ‘cause there’s plenty of fools to keep us busy.” He ran his free hand over his hair. “Like I say, if things were to change you’d have to get rid of humans altogether…”
“Have it your way. I can change your identity but I’ll be damned if I can change an iota of that stubbornness of yours. Mark my words.” He said. “This network of yours is not gonna last very long. Only a matter of time until you’re found out.”
Omar frowned. “You done?”
Shazzaad, matching his gaze, bent over the table towards him. “And then all of us we’ll in trouble.” Then he leaned back, waiting for his reaction.
There was none.
Then he said
“Yeah. We’re done.”
Omar removed his wrist and rubbed it with his other hand.
“Nothing lasts forever man. So let it rip while it lasts. You know what’s your problem? You worry too much about the future ‘cause you just don’t wanna be in the present. But guess what? The present is all you got. Heck, all of us got.”
Shazzaad started packing his stuff into a woolie bag.
“Things will change.” He said.
“Sure. The nature of the product, for sure. But not the need.” Omar got up and started pacing the room, looking around. “Getting high is far older than any of the people that want to throw us away with their goddamned keys would like to admit. It’s just not gonna disappear in a puff of smoke. If it doesn’t grow on soil, it grows in someone’s lab. People like to party man. What else can most of us do with our lives? High is even better than busy. Or else things will seriously start going wrong.”
Shazzaad buttoned his bag and placed the strap over his shoulder.
“Your product is old. You’re risking too much.”
Omar rapped Shazzaad in the bag and followed him out.
“Man, who the heck wants safe drugs?! If I wanted safe, I’d stay at home taking care of the kittens. People want what their life lacks. ‘sides, with gene drugs dropping out and the new fixed-state ones pouring from Asia who am I to argue? The cops have better things to do than worry about what they know is on the way out.” Shazzaad simply shook his head and held his hand out for him to shake.
Omar took it, then hesitated and said
“Hey, by the way, who am I gonna be tomorrow?”
Shazzaad smiled. “I think you’re gonna like this one. Tomorrow you’re gonna be one of the good guys.”
“Serious?! A cop?! Bloody heck!” said Omar grinning.
“Later.” Shazzaad began walking away.
Omar shouted after.
“Hey! Didn’t you hear?! The new bogeyman is here…”
END
If, like me, you have been watching The Wire, you'll see what this story is also about... I was playing in my head with this thing of writing short stories for this competition, playing with this idea that one often times find in science fiction, which is a different surface (or packaging) that reveals nonetheless the same content.
So the theme of drugs came through. Quite possibly as a vague homage to Brave New World (when you start the references game in your head it never really stops...) and, necessarily so, to The Wire, being the one TV series that I've watched lately that actually says something about this theme.
To me the true basis of this story is the same as a few others that I wrote for this competition: there are somethings about being human that are very hard to change. Technology will most surely change but our nature tends to adapt to it, only to remain the same...
Hope you've enjoyed it!
Peace.
Saturday, 7 November 2009
NaNoWriMo...ing
Well, the great word race has started!
As in previous years I started just after midnight, in the first few hours of the 1st of November.
I'm writing two books this year. One about the "missing" years of Jesus life and another about a killer on a (almost) deserted island. The Lost Years and It's Not Too Dark Here, respectively.
They're both being written in English and, believe it or not, I feel that the two somehow mirror each other...
Not to say that the plot is the same (far from it), but there are definitely lost of elements in common. Human misunderstanding being a major one.
The killer story had been brewing in my mind since last November and I had a chance to plot it out in broad terms. It's just one of those stories where, at eash step of the way, you can just feel it's incredible potential. And I'm hoping that it will be challenging (and sometimes chilling...) one.
A part of me is trying to keep away from gore and extreme violence but, I do think some good measure of it will be needed in order for me to be able to drive the point forward.
I'm just at the beginning of this story. Only 6000 words into it, but it's picking up speed and there's a feeling of something alien present underneath what's happening. This is what I want to aim most of all. The world has its ways and ideas but, sometimes, there are those that are truly outcasts. Because they way they see the world is entirely different from ours. Well, at least on some very fundamental ways it is.
This is why I say that this story is a mirrored image of The Lost Years. They focus on the same themes but from different viewpoints.
In fact The Lost Years is nothing but a continuation of Morto. And, to a certain extent, also a mirror of that story. But that's a tale for another day...
I was a bit afraid of doing two books in one go but since I couldn't decide which and both were so incredibly appealing I decided to take the long route...
For the first time since I started NaNoWriMo (and actually finished at least the first draft of a book) I've never felt so much in control with this whole thing about writing a novel. It feels doable. It feels almost easy. I struggle here and there but I know at every step of the way that any obstacle is not unsurmountable. And I know it not only in my head but also from past experience.
As before, the project that I was more afraid to start - The Lost Years - is the one that's been the easiest to write. I must've put s much energy into it, in trying to work out some of the details and problems I could foresse, that it has been such a pleasant and enjoyable experience to write.
This week for instance, on tuesday, I spent the whole day at home, reading stuff and writing. It was long day, some 12 or 15 hours spent around this book and only 8 or 9000 words to show for it, but it was such a smooth and consistent ride. It felt really good.
Nume (that's the other name I give to It's Not Too Dark Here) has been a different matter. I feel I haven't resolved some of the important parts of the story quite clearly yet and so I'm always giving myself preference to write The Lost Years.
Aside from that Nume is also a more descriptive book than The Lost Years, which is more dialogue based. Something that I'm loving as well!
In both books we have quite few flashbacks showing us a bit better the conditions that brought these characters to the present moment in the story.
So far Nume is a bit behind schedule but The Lost Years is more or less on track. Days at work have been long and busy and at home there has also been quite a few things needing sorting out. So, writing has been minimal for the last two or three days. Which, in NaNoTime is a lot!!
I'm going to have to catch up tomorrow and tonight and next week when I have my friday to sunday days off work.
I won't give you the sinopsis of each of the chapters already written for now, but I will do so at a later stage. I wanted to post a daily update on this but I just don't seem to have the time.
Let's just hope that I keep the focus!
Peace.
As in previous years I started just after midnight, in the first few hours of the 1st of November.
I'm writing two books this year. One about the "missing" years of Jesus life and another about a killer on a (almost) deserted island. The Lost Years and It's Not Too Dark Here, respectively.
They're both being written in English and, believe it or not, I feel that the two somehow mirror each other...
Not to say that the plot is the same (far from it), but there are definitely lost of elements in common. Human misunderstanding being a major one.
The killer story had been brewing in my mind since last November and I had a chance to plot it out in broad terms. It's just one of those stories where, at eash step of the way, you can just feel it's incredible potential. And I'm hoping that it will be challenging (and sometimes chilling...) one.
A part of me is trying to keep away from gore and extreme violence but, I do think some good measure of it will be needed in order for me to be able to drive the point forward.
I'm just at the beginning of this story. Only 6000 words into it, but it's picking up speed and there's a feeling of something alien present underneath what's happening. This is what I want to aim most of all. The world has its ways and ideas but, sometimes, there are those that are truly outcasts. Because they way they see the world is entirely different from ours. Well, at least on some very fundamental ways it is.
This is why I say that this story is a mirrored image of The Lost Years. They focus on the same themes but from different viewpoints.
In fact The Lost Years is nothing but a continuation of Morto. And, to a certain extent, also a mirror of that story. But that's a tale for another day...
I was a bit afraid of doing two books in one go but since I couldn't decide which and both were so incredibly appealing I decided to take the long route...
For the first time since I started NaNoWriMo (and actually finished at least the first draft of a book) I've never felt so much in control with this whole thing about writing a novel. It feels doable. It feels almost easy. I struggle here and there but I know at every step of the way that any obstacle is not unsurmountable. And I know it not only in my head but also from past experience.
As before, the project that I was more afraid to start - The Lost Years - is the one that's been the easiest to write. I must've put s much energy into it, in trying to work out some of the details and problems I could foresse, that it has been such a pleasant and enjoyable experience to write.
This week for instance, on tuesday, I spent the whole day at home, reading stuff and writing. It was long day, some 12 or 15 hours spent around this book and only 8 or 9000 words to show for it, but it was such a smooth and consistent ride. It felt really good.
Nume (that's the other name I give to It's Not Too Dark Here) has been a different matter. I feel I haven't resolved some of the important parts of the story quite clearly yet and so I'm always giving myself preference to write The Lost Years.
Aside from that Nume is also a more descriptive book than The Lost Years, which is more dialogue based. Something that I'm loving as well!
In both books we have quite few flashbacks showing us a bit better the conditions that brought these characters to the present moment in the story.
So far Nume is a bit behind schedule but The Lost Years is more or less on track. Days at work have been long and busy and at home there has also been quite a few things needing sorting out. So, writing has been minimal for the last two or three days. Which, in NaNoTime is a lot!!
I'm going to have to catch up tomorrow and tonight and next week when I have my friday to sunday days off work.
I won't give you the sinopsis of each of the chapters already written for now, but I will do so at a later stage. I wanted to post a daily update on this but I just don't seem to have the time.
Let's just hope that I keep the focus!
Peace.
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