I've been using twitter to post my results for NaNoWriMo (I'm at 13020, and about 200 words behind).

So I thought I'd use this blog to post some thoughts about what I'm writing.

My main character, Jason, is going insane. Or he thinks he is. I'm taking after Phillip K. Dick and some of his more psychological mind-f*ck stories, so it should seem very confusing.

However, I know exactly what's going on, a fact that pleases me to no end.

Speaking of endings, I don't have one yet. I know eventually Jason's going to figure out what's going on, and at that point, he'll have to choose... does he go back to how things were, knowing full well that at least some of what he sees is a lie, or does he push on, going somewhere entirely knew (and possibly work with the antagonist to find a solution).

I'm not sure if I know the answer yet. I'm not even sure if I want to know.

For now, where we are in the story, his brother's coming in to help him. This should get him actually exploring his dilemma and unraveling it. Can they figure it out, or will Tom get sucked in to the madness as well?

:D I'll find out tomorrow.

Keyen

Keyen.

The knock came suddenly, midway between the first and second sunset. Kayen growled and turned away from the cave's entrance, pulling the shabby cloth closer to himself, and shifted his exoskeleton in a futile attempt to ward off sudden wakefulness. The knocker, undeterred, knocked again, and Kayen swore.

"I hear you in there, Kayen," The creature intoned. "Come out. We need to speak."

"Leave me be, monster!" Kayen shouted, sitting up. He gestured angrily with his long thin fingers, though he knew he couldn't be seen. "Come back when both the suns are high in the sky, or not at all if it suits you."

The creature outside sighed, and Kayen let himself believe that his argument had succeeded, and collapsed with a sigh back onto the mat. His cave was not large, and he wasn't allowed to leave, and this made Kayen very happy. He wasn't one to make friends, and cared little for the outside of his cave. He had been living here for many days, too many for him to count even if he had wanted to. In that time, his location had become noticed by the outer world. They would come, and they would ask him questions. He would answer and they would leave. It was a pleasant experience. In the more recent days, Kayen had instituted a new rule: questions came only when the sunlight from the red and blue shown into his cave. The rest of the time (the red time, the blue time, and the black time) he was to be left alone.

It was a pleasant experience.

Just moments before he was asleep again, there came something of a shake, much like an earthquake. Kayen knew about earthquakes from a different planet, and a different time. He did not care for them, and had never come to his cave. Panicked, he sat upright, and checked to see if his cave was in danger of collapsing. The dust fell, but the wall seemed stable enough. Blackness suddenly enveloped him and Kayen screamed. Insticts, from a time when such things were needed, kicked in, and Kayen took to the air, seeking to fly up and out of danger. He bounced off the ceiling, collided with wall, and landed in a heap on the floor, his legs tangled in his blanket.

And still the shaking continued. Kayen covered up his eyes and shiverred, too dazed to attempt to fly, and too scared to do much else. He held himself close, his exoskeleton shifting into it's most defensive form. And he sat like that while the world continued to shake.

He didn't die.

Kayen was suprised by this realization. The shaking had stopped, and he was still alive. He looked around, but the blackness was still thick. Still, Kayen could tell his cave was not destroyed. He was still alive, for one, and though there was some dust in the air, there wasn't nearly enough to indicate a cave in. So he was alive and, for the moment, he was safe.

And nearby someone was pulling on the void. He could sense it with his antenne. The void was being shaped. The void was something Kayen knew a lot about. It was what existed between the planets and suns, and at all times tried to pull all the matter apart. There was magic that could hold reality together, and there were some who could craft the void, pulling matter and energy from it as a one might pull dirt from a pot. It was a skill beyond Kayen, but one he understood well. A world-builder was outside his cave.

Kayen made his way to the mouth of the cave, something he had not done in many many days. He took a deep breath, and glanced out, expecting to see the faded void, with the thick black clouds of reality squirming through it. Instead, there was just black. No light at all. Kayen reached out, hesitantly and tried to probe the blackness. The atmosphere near the edge of the cave was painfully shallow, and his breath came in short labored breaths as he groped for the edge of his reality.

Instead, his fingers touched something cold and clay-like, which covered up the mouth completely. He recoiled, then tried again. There was some give, much like the fleshy parts of some creatures. He touched a third time, and was bathed in a purplish light as the creature's hand pulled away. Kayen winced and covered his eyes, blinking with both sets of eyelids to let them adjust. Finally, dropping his head, he beheld the creature.

Kayen knew his world was not large -- he preferred it that way -- but the creature was several times larger. It floated in the void, with arms and legs (2 of each) and a set of wings that vaugely resembled a bat. It looked at him calmly, it's body somewhat sillohuetted by the two suns which now hung in full brilliance in the sky.

"Now," The creature began. "The suns shine into your cave. We need to talk."

Kayen stared at this creature, then glanced at the shadow it was creating on its wall. "Yes. Yes I know you. We have spoken many times. You are the one known as Pik."

"I am." Pik said. "And we need to talk."

Kayen smiled, grimly. "You are a world-builder, Pik. If I refuse, I do believe you could destroy my home, forcing me to flee... again. I do not wish to lose my home. So we will talk."

"Good," Pik began, "It started-"

"No!" Kayen called. "I must sit. I do not like the light. We will speak as we always have." And with that he stepped back into the depths of his cave. The creature waited while Pik pulled his blanket onto the floor and sat cross-legged upon it. "Now, World-builder Pik. Tell me what has happened."

"Very well," Pik said, and began...

Creatively, I'm drained.

It's really hard for me to talk about myself without feeling like I'm climbing up onto a soap-box and proclaiming that I hold some deep knowledge that everyone is going to be wowed by. I don't feel that way, and I don't mean to project that self-assured, cocky, know-it-all vibe. It always happens, though, and it bugs me.

That's not really what this blog post is about, though. I just wanted to preface what I was going to say with that, or rather, letting my mind wander, that was the first thing that I thought to write. I'm trying to just let my fingers and my brain do the talking. The rest of me is kinda numb.

Usually when I sit down to write, I have some little idea I want to write about, or some scene that's just begging to get onto paper, or some odd and abstract setting that I want to scribble about. I don't tend to take my writing very seriously, and I do it often without even thinking about it.

Except when I'm stressed out. When I'm stressed out, the time I spend writing is, at the same time, time I'm trying to spend mentally relaxing. I carry a lot of stress in my head, and the more crazy I get with work and my home life, the more difficult it seems to let the creativity flow. I want to be writing every day, but right now all I really feel like doing is laying down. I fight it because I know I'll never write if I let myself get away with that, but at the same time, what I write in this frame of mind is usually not that useful.

The last four times I've gone off to write, I've started something new that I didn't feel like working on later. Each of the things were interesting in their own way, but none of them linked very well to anything else. They were just thoughts without ending and sometimes without beginnings. Some of them were fictional, and some of them were decidedly autobiographical. None of them are suitable for consumption by the masses, which has made me a little depressed. It's been a month since I wrote anything worthwhile outside of my comics.

Even now, as I'm writing this blog post, some part of me is trying to make me find out what I need to do get Jaimee's contacts reordered. It's not a process I'm at all familiar with, and it's exasperated by the fact that when we last got her eyes checked, we didn't leave with a prescription. For some reason, Firefox doesn't seem to believe that didn't is a valid word (except now it does), and now it's assuming that "doesn't" isn't a valid word (except that the second time it accepted it). My computer is going all kinds of weird lately. Ah well.

I just want to be writing now, but some part of me feels like I have nothing worth saying. Part of this stems from the fact that I cannot write sci-fi. Or, rather, that I'm scared to. I am not a physicist, and though I keep myself pretty well read, I am very much a layman when it comes to what the future is going to be like. I hate the feeling that people will read my work and scoff because it's not "hard" enough, and that I neglected some all-important development that's almost guaranteed to happen.

And part of me knows I'm just being silly (it's in the same vein as worrying about the hard-core fantasy buffs who want something to be exactly like Tolkein but exactly different from it as well, or even me who wants the system and process of magic to make sense). My goal should be to write, and not worry about what people might say. But when I'm stressed, it seems to be all I think about -- the audience. Who will want to read what I write? Who cares what I have to say? What can I say that's in any way unique?

These fears are stupid. I know they are, and I should just stop.

... I kinda wish it was that easy.
--Joe

(I'm gonna see about getting those contacts now).

Games I Want

For The PC -
Strong Bad's Cool Game For Attractive People (all episodes)

For The DS -
The World Ends With You

Games I Want

A wishlist of games I want. Issue 1

To Start:

PC -
Spore

DS -
N+
Mario Vs. Donkey Kong

Eurma

Random bits of a random idea:

I sat in a well-lit tavern on the outskirts of Northridge, nearly broke and trying very hard to mend the broken string of my lute. I had the weakest ale the barkeep would sell sitting next to me, and I was nursing it carefully, a few sips every hour. My clothes probably stank, and I'm not sure I cared much. It had been a bad handful of months, and I was beginning to regret not going into the army when the option had presented itself. Cheelar, hearing my grumbling, glared at me briefly, and resumed cleaning her ears in disdain. We hadn't talked for sometime, and I wasn't going to break that trend first.
The barkeep came and again glared at me, and I smiled, holding up the lute, which I had just barely restrung. It wasn't tuned, and probably sounded terribly, but fortunately I didn't rely on my musical talents to get me through the night. I smiled at Cheelar and walked up onto the raised area which served as the stage. Cheelar relaxed on the table, watching. She didn't speak, but I got the impression she was wishing me well in her silently superior way.
The interesting thing about stages is that getting up on them almost always calls attention to yourself, even if the change in height is a mere hands-breadth. Within moments I had everyone's attention on me, and the mix of people suddenly became and audience, patient and expectant. I smiled and waved.
Rather than speaking, I took the moment to tune my lute. It was something that took very little time, fortunately, and within a few moments I was strumming along towards my first song.

ToBeContinued...
-----

Did I mention I had a long day and am very tired?
It has been, and I am.

The Fox And The Devil

A fake folk tale:

One day, as the fox was returning from a hunt, it spied the devil sitting by the stream. The devil was glad to see the fox, for he knew the fox was very cunning, and the devil, as you may well know, loves tricksters. So as the fox appraoched, the devil held out his hand and cried out, "Ho there!"

Now just as the fox was cunning, the fox was also smart. It knew the devil immediately, and stayed well in the shadows. It replied, "Ho there, Devil. What brings you to the forest?"

To which the devil laughed with merriment. "Perhaps I seek to find you, among all the animals in all the trees, and all the sounds of the forest."

"I do not doubt it," Said the fox. But, as the fox was very cunning, it added, "But I do not quite believe it either. Come now, why do you walk among the trees and the animals this day?"

"Well, if you will not believe that I seeketh you (even as you do not doubt that I might), believe me when I say that this day is a very special day. It is, in fact, a beautiful day. Do you not agree?"

"I do," Said the fox. "I have hunted, and I am very well fed. It is nearly always a good day when these things are true."

"Indeed!" Agreed the devil with a laugh. "Now why are you sneaking there in the shadows? Certainly you may come out and meet with me, as we are very much cut from the same cloth."

And again, the fox was very cunning. Now it withdrew further into the shadows, and cast its voice so it could not give away the fox's location. "It is true, what you say! It is the fact that we are so alike that I have reason to distrust you."

Now the devil, who was trying very hard to see the fox, grew agitated. "I insist that we are friends, and that I only wish to talk! It is a beautiful day, and I seek someone of a like mind to share it with! You accuse me of deviltry, where I assure you none is to be found."

The fox knew not to believe the devil, for they were both cunning and cruel. But the fox also knew it could not avoid the devil forever. So the fox decided to try a trick.

"Very well," It said, letting its voice carry. "I will come out and speak with you, but I have stolen some eggs from the henhouse, and I do not wish to share them with you. You must give me a moment to secure a hiding spot."

Now the devil, much like the fox, fancied nothing greater on a beautiful day than fresh eggs. He tried very hard not to let his eagerness show. "Eggs, you say? And you wish to hide them?"

"Of course," said the fox, from its hiding spot. "It is the only way to make sure they're secure."

"Oh I agree, my dear friend the fox," said the devil. "But where would you hide them?"

"I thought I might bury them in the ground," replied the fox.

"In the ground? Where there dirt and rocks can smash them to bits? Where the worms can tunnel deep into them and ruin them from within. Where they might get lost?"

"You have a good point, Sir Devil." Said the fox from the shadows. "Perhaps they'd be best suited in the trees."

"With the birds?" the devil said dubiously. "The birds are all of a kind, friend. It is a certainty if you put them up there, then the rooster would find out. Your eggs would very likely be lost."

"A sound point," the fox conceded. "But if not there, than where?"

"Well," Said the devil, his voice thick with the false cheer of an even falser innocence. "I spied as I was sitting here a little place just by the stream. There is a perfect resting spot for a handful of eggs. If one were crafty and quiet, one could easily store the eggs there."

"I see," agreed the fox. "Where is this spot?"

"Right here," said the devil, turning towards the stream and pointing with a long finger. "Where these three rocks come together."

"I see it," the fox said, "and you are right. It is a good hiding spot. Very well, if you will promise not to look, I will hide my eggs there."

"I promise," said the devil. And it is a well known fact that the devil cannot promise without breaking that exact promise. The devil covered his eyes, and tried very hard to look at the spot in the stream.

And now the fox snuck up on the devil and bit him squarely on his rump. As the devil screamed, the fox disappeared into the forest, laughing at the devil's own folly.

And thus the devil learned not to try to trick a trickster. And thus the fox showed that everyone can be tricked.

You may suspect that these morals cannot both be true, and perhaps you are right.

Comic Collaboration Idea: The Greatastic War

Begin.

The idea is rather simple. Get some talented comic-writers / comic-teams together. Each person/group creates a country, filled with their own brand of odd-ball characters. These people (societally speaking) can be any stereotype imagined, and can physically be anything from geometric shapes to angry kitchen appliances. They are given a brief-history and a political outlook. They can be anything from terrified scaredy-cats with hideble cities to power-hungry slugs with a Nazi-estic bent.

With the participation of the comic-makers, the countries are placed on a map, and borders are drawn up, and sides are taken. The comic-makers are now aware of their enemies, and can collaborate with them on a cohesive timeline.

But effectively, each comic-maker (or group if multiple people work on one country) is now at war, and will draw their comic from the limited PoV of their country's members. The style of the story is theirs to choose (though comedy would be preferred so as to keep things light), and the actions of their nation are theirs to control.

Now we get on to the interesting part.

Each comic details the war from their country's perspective, and as a country makes an action, the other comics (told from the PoV of the other countries) react to that action. Not every action has to be acknowledged, but it should be accepted as canon.

I.E. if the Evil Overlord Manic Spiffy launches a nuclear warhead at his rival, then another comic can't say, "well it's a good thing no one's used nukes yet." (unless of course, the character speaking is blissfully unaware that such an action has taken place).

To make this work there will have to be some ground rules.
1. No bullying other comic-maker countries. If you want to have a long war with them, then the two of you should collaborate to come up with a plausable and fun storyline. If you can't make something work, you can't attack them. (of course, this cuts both ways)
2. No surprises. To this end, a message board will be created, and a unified timeline will be followed. Participants will share, in a secure location, their upcoming issues so that people will have time to react.
3. The unified timeline will be made flexible, so that montages and other story-telling tricks will be allowed to happen, but effectively, all the comics published at a given time will have a given timeframe for them to occur.
4. Events that occur (attacks, news worthy items, world-events, etc) will happen in a set order. Comics which feature those must be displayed before other comics can react to them. This may take some work.
5. NPCs can and should be shared by all. NPCs are the only group which can be eradicated completely (they don't have comics, who cares what happens to them).
6. All participants are expected to update at least once a week. The more times/week you post, the slower the pace of your comic will be (as you'll have more time for chit-chat between each major event).
7. There will be a world-master, who will be in charge of managing the events and controlling the timeline. The timeline will likely be counted in weeks or months, and will advance slowly so as not to rush through the war. The world-master will collaborate with the comic-makers and control, to some extent, the actions and goals of the NPCs.
8. It will also be the world-master who will resolve such issues as comics falling behind in the timeline (or not updating), and they will largely be in charge of the meta-comic experience.
9. When using an NPC or comic-maker's country, you are expected to attempt to portray them as they are in their own comic (or in the case of NPCs, in the comic they were introduced). You are allowed to merge them into your style, but if they're listed as being giant militant carrots, that's what you have to draw them as.
10. It should be noted that the ultimate goal is to produce completely separate comics, which intertwine. The comics should be written with the idea that the reader is not reading the other comics. This will enhance the enjoyment of all the readers.

That's the idea as it stands right now. :D
let me know via PM at SmackJeeves (I'm JimmyDabomb there) or
via email at crazyjimmy@gmail.com if you're interested in taking part.

Games I Like

I just thought I'd share a few puzzle games I enjoy playing. They're very stimulating.

Slither Link: http://www.puzzle-loop.com/
Description: Create a continuous circuit around a grid by connecting points.

SquarO: http://www.squaro.fr/en/play.htm
Description: Fill in the appropriate dots.

That's it for now.

Oatmeal madness

I like to mix my oatmeal flavors, to see what works well together.

Today I've mixed Cinnamon&Spice, Apple&Cinnamon, and RaisinDate&Walnut flavors together. It's yummy in my tummy.

In writing news, I'm still working on my short story. I had to go back and revise a part that was less than ideal, and ended up with something I'm much happier with. I find that when I've got the proper mindset with a story that I think about it while doing very mundane things. I had an idea for the next twist while brushing my teeth a day later. Current count is 5600 words.

I'm lagging in my comic making, but a nice person sent me 3 comics to help out, so I'll get a week to try to build up a queue. I'm going to get a comic up today for last friday. It's drawn, just not cleaned up. The comics go more slowly now that I'm taking more time on them, and frankly, having a new MMO to play with my wife has reduced the amount of creative time I'm taking.

However, we just got Ghostbusters, so I should be able to finish a comic while that's playing. Maybe I'll get two done. That'd rock.

One final note: you can now see Quickshots at http://qs-labs.com

Ciao for now.
--Joe

New Ideas

I'm working on a new short story that I thought of last monday, and have written about 4,000 words for so far. It takes place in a renaissance-style fantasy world, where "Crafting" has given Her Majesty's Empire everything from telegram style messaging over distances to teleportation to more durable weaponry. This is the second story I've started that takes place in this universe.

The second thing I'm working on is the potential to self-publish some of my short-stories. Specifically, the non-scifi/fantasy/odd ones, focusing on the ones that are emotional and feature humans at their worst. I'd love to get that one out and follow it with a second book that would be all my odd tales. I have lots of little ones.

The short story is currently taking up my time. I intend on finishing it before starting on the next project, whatever that may be. Staying with a project is always hard for me, so it's nice to feel focused and ready to go again.

Fingers are officially crossed.
--Joe

Project List

I've created a project list over to the side. It shows off where I believe I am in terms of finishing a given project. These are just rough guesses, though.

This is just one more step in me making this site my home. :D

Back Later
-J