Month: October 2020

Short stories, novel progress, and notes for next project

It may just be an example of an ADD mind taking a creative twist, but I have been busying myself with short stories and writing notes on other novels instead of just writing the novel. Unfortunately, I had come across a major problem to the story and it forced me to remove a large chunk of the work.

Why, do you ask? Simply put, I had made a decision for the character that she would never make, and continued writing as if the decision were normal. It wasn’t until I had gone nearly two chapters ahead when I noticed that the story wasn’t progressing or fitting with the outline I had done for the book. After thinking about it, I went looking and sure enough, I had made a simple mistake that cost me 9,000 words and three weeks of work. Needless to say, I haven’t been terribly happy with this outcome.

(A polite way of saying I’ve been pissed off about it and trying to figure out how to use ANY of that work.)

While I’ve been going over those pages and comparing them to the outline, I’ve been trying my hand at different writings, if just to keep my brain working properly. On one end, I write with the clear intention of getting paid for my work. I do want to entertain but I also really want to keep putting food on my childrens’ plates. With that in mind, I’ve been coming up with short stories and submitting them. So far, I haven’t had any hits yet, but I’ve received a lot of good criticism on my submissions. Actual critiquing from the editors, not just being ignored or told ‘this doesn’t fit the market right now’.

(It might show my age when my complaint about submissions is being utterly ignored instead of being told ‘no’, but let’s move on)

Writing short stories is some hella-good writing exercise for me. While not published, I’ve mostly written novels. I’m used to thinking my stories at novel-length, so condensing a story to 10,000 words or less? That takes work. There’s so much I want to show in the worlds I create, but if it’s not relevant to the actual story, it has to either be put aside completely or told in such a way that the reader can accept it within their suspension of disbelief. If you’re a short-story professional and you’re reading this, know that I am in utter awe of your abilities.

(Sidenote: No, I will not put my old novels up anywhere for people to read. The last one I wrote was in my early 20s, and it was horrible. Please don’t ask; I can only cringe so much before my face starts hurting.)

On the other end, I’ve been putting my recent education via Deborah Chester’s “Fantasy Fiction Formula” while working on notes for the next projects. While I’d love to have a long-running series of the current project, “Post-World Postmen” could easily be a one-shot novel to be put on the shelves. The other projects could function between 5 and 10 books, if I wrote them well enough and they were picked up. One such project is my latest attempt at writing urban fantasy (one of my favorites because it is very-much-so a genre that I find difficulty writing) and another is a very basic superhero story taken with an odd angle. When Post-World Postmen is finished, I’ll be tackling these stories while begging agents to take my book to the publishers.

Shadowrun Gig 1/12/2060 (Part 2)

We returned to our crew of new shadowrunners as they figure out how to best approach the three targets, and execute their plans.

For that, our Face, James, stepped in with his strategy.

Through his contacts, James found out that Mercedes Aurelia was looking to go into a real estate deal with her cousins, possibly as a front for their own criminal purposes beyond the activities of the Krewe of Aurelia. This does mean that James owes his Fixer a rather big favor. Our Face was able to reach out to the targets and pose as a real estate agent interested in selling them potential property, which Mercedes, while skeptical, went through her own verification system to see if this elf was genuine.

Which, of course, he was. His contacts saw to planting the right markers to make him genuine within the Matrix’s Yellow Pages. She was a bit worried about introducing James to her cousins, but the Face managed to convince her to meet him for coffee at Cafe Beignet on Royal Street. Taking their patio seats on the sidewalk, the two begin negotiating a sale that only one believes is genuine.

But our other ‘runners weren’t sitting idle. WD40, in perfect rigger form, scoped out a plausible reason to have his truck in the area of the hit beforehand. Using his actual job as cover, he asked his boss if there were any vehicles near Washington Square in need of hauling off to the ‘yard. There was one, a dilapidated Civic that would be good for scrap and little else. With his observation drone nesting nearby, WD40 set out to have his truck modified in order to haul off the wreck and give passengers a quick spot to hide, just in case. In a manner of hours, he had welded a small compartment into the rear of the Ares Roadmaster that would hide his companions, so long as nobody stared too long at the sheet of metal.

Bass, our sharpshooter, sought out and purchased the items he’d need to guarantee safe and quick getaways for the crew, scouted out the area and found his perfect camp-spot, and had his sniper rifle in place for the shooting. A couple flashbangs were purchased that could, hopefully, distract their targets and observing civilians from the potential murders enough to do the deed and escape.

The night before the gig would go down, the crew went out for a socializing round of drinks. During this, James’ Fixer, Guy Walsh, made a rare appearance in public with someone in tow, an ork with reddish skin who seemed out of sorts but knew exactly where everyone around him was in relation to his position. We were introduced to Jameson “Jim” Wiley, a transplant from Alabama in need of ‘work’. Within seconds, he was given the moniker “Tide” (thanks to his prolific use of the phrase “Roll Tide” that amused and annoyed everyone in his presence) and hired for the gig.

Tide, it turns out, was a Street Samurai, and absolutely gifted in the Arts of War and Combat.

The next day, our crew with their newest addition sets out to meet their targets. WD40 and James set up the flashbang grenades into distracting traps at the corners of the park in the morning, while Bass takes his position with his rifle. Tide assigns himself to James as a public bodyguard for appearances.

The hit goes down at 9:30 PM, in Washington Square, just as the Market Day on the Frenchman St. block starts winding down. The three Aurelias meet with James, as Mercedes shows pride in finding a decent real estate agent within Crescent City. Blink seems skeptical but trusts his cousin, while Colum, the elf of the family and a mute, stares hard at Tide. Why would he be here, he wondered. Before he could sign to his cousins, Mercedes took the initiative and approached James to begin negotiations.

It happened quickly.

Bass waited for the three to line up and took his shot. Mercedes received a high-powered round to her temple and dropped like a stone. Colum took the same round in the lung, and started to draw his own pistol. Tide stepped forward and drew his sword, making one strike upon escaping the sheath. In true samurai fashion, Colum fell beneath the blade. Bass adjusted his aim and struck Blink, while James drew and fired at the same time. During this attack, WD40 triggered the flashbangs at the corners, blocking lines of sight and distracting civilians and targets alike.

Within ten seconds, three people were dead and three other people were running for Elysian Fields Ave. James and Tide planted the evidence they were instructed to do so and made to leave, while Bass broke down his rifle and descended from his rooftop onto Dauphine St.

The crew almost did not make it to the extraction point, a back-alley parking lot across the double-lane street. A pair of NOPD patrolmen were walking their beats nearby and rushed to investigate, spotting the three ‘runners as they attempted to escape. WD40, in his truck, observed from his drone and triggered the last flashbang, which was closest to the police. As the light and sound distracted the two patrolmen, our three ‘runners made it to WD40’s truck, and our crew escaped, flashing through back streets and making for one of Bass’ safehouses in the nearby neighborhood (913 St. Roche) and laid low for the rest of the night.

The following day, after reaching out to the Johnson that hired them, the group was given the other half of the money promised to them. Tide was given a portion of the money, as a welcome member of the party.

By Wednesday, January 14, 2060, our shadowrunners are back at their homes and reading the Times-Picayune that details the murder that occured at Washington Square and how the investigation is ongoing with little leads as to who committed the crime, but talks about the items left at the scene.