Author: Jacob Swift

Swift is a US Postman, writer, RPG player, husband, and father, based in a small town in Louisiana. After ten years of not seeking publication, he’s decided to try again. In the meantime, he works a manual labor job and cares for his family. This blog site is a spot for him to put his notes and thoughts down, as well as brag about his family’s accomplishments.

Time for some short stories!

I know it’s not good to hold on to ideas that don’t make the cut when it comes to publishing, but I want to make one specific argument on keeping rejected stories: they’re just damn fun to write.

I don’t honestly know how to look at a story idea and not have multiple stories attached to the one idea. When I sent out my submissions, I had planned on building them into more than one short story. In one case, I wanted to write a series of short stories that followed a single narrative. But the submissions did not make the cut with the publisher, so they’ve just been sitting in my Documents folders, gathering digital dust.

I do plan on reworking the story ideas into other ideas, but that’s a ways down the line. For now, I just want to enjoy the ideas as they are, and I’d like other people to them. So, I’m adding on to my Story Writing page!

I have one series in particular that I’ve always wanted to work on, plus a few fan-fics that are just fun story ideas to play with. When I finish a chapter or a short story, I’ll put them up here for perusal.

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.

Shadowun Gig 1/12/2060

Beginning the campaign with a tutorial session so as to let the players grow comfortable with the game mechanics, we’re at January 12, 2060 in New Orleans.
The Crescent City has continued to grow and thrive, despite the setbacks brought on by politics and weather. The Levy Breaking of 2019 is distant memory but remains as a point of pride within the culture. The Troll and Ork populations were pushed into the Lower Ninth Ward as humanity continues its policies of prejudice, and have turned the district into a hub for the two peoples. Elves flaunt their beauty in the French Quarter while Dwarves and Humans mingle throughout Garden and Middle City.
The 3 players who begin the campaign are:
-Donnie “WD40” Bordelon is a Human with a penchant for all things mechanical, working with one of the major scrapyards just outside the city. His VCR (Vehicle Control Rig) was installed in order for him to better manage the large vehicles necessary in the scrap yard, but he’s tinkered with his own vehicles and drones to accept his mental commands.
-Maynard Ulysses “Bass” Basse, a Dwarf with a talent for finding good hiding spots and exploiting them with a rifle, he is the one who can look at a map and tell you precisely where the sniper is going to be or should be.
-“James”, an Elf who plays his cards close to his chest and keeps several up his sleeve, is one of those folks who knows practically everybody but nobody can ever place him. A skilled wordsmith who knows precisely who to call if you need a cache of bullets, an invitation to a Mardi Gras Ball, or a body disappeared.

The gig (the NOLA term for a shadowrun) starts as all three are contacted by their Fixers, each believing them to be suited for a job that is floating about. The three meet the Johnson (the person who is negotiating the terms of the gig) and each other at the second story of a bar down in the French Quarter. The Johnson is flanked by two bodyguards who are stark contrasts to their boss: a Human dressed in an all-white suit to their traditional black. The Johnson speaks hautily in his Russian-accented English, which spikes the interests of James and Bass.

The gig is simple: He wants three people dead. What complicates the gig is that he wants the hit to go down in broad daylight, made as public as possible, and for items of evidence to be planted around the area. The hit is supposed to go down in Washington Square Park in two days’ time, when all three targets will be at the park. There is a market day happening along Frenchman St., just a block away from the park, and the streets will be crowded with foot traffic.

The team begins their planning. They ask around for info on who the three targets are, why they’d be at the park, and why their deaths would be important for the Johnson. They’ve pieced together the facts over several hours. The targets are all young people with status in the Krewe of Aurelius, who controls the Lower Ninth Ward district and oversees the local gangs in the area for the benefit of the Lamigo Family. Rumors were uncovered about the rival Koronev Family, who had established themselves within the northern districts, wanting to establish footholds outside their territory. The evidence meant to be left behind all point to a rival Krewe of Aurelius known as the Krewe of Mait’rede, who has bad blood with Aurelius.

The three plan out the hit, while still investigating. James find out that the targets are all cousins who frequently visit each other, named Blink, Mercedes, and Colum. Bass learns that the only person within Koronev who has been pushing for the territory expansion is a young upstart named Markev “Maestro” Koronev. WD40 figures out the kind of security the targets are employing for the meet and uses his drones as countermeasures while planning the getaway.

How will this group of Shadowrunners execute their plans and the targets? We will find out on Saturday night (October 3, 2020) at 9PM CST.

Being Non-Political in a Partisan Society

                Throughout the day, I am bombarded with political biases, be they right or left, Democrat or Republican, or occasionally a third-party. I will be asked questions and expected to give an opinion. For the most part, these questions come from family or friends, and I feel perfectly fine with answering those questions. Sometimes, I will see something on the social media platforms I visit that are politically motivated, and I will share my opinion on the subject.

                There are moments, however, when I must be careful about having a public opinion about something political. In those times, I must be ‘non-political’ during a time that my country is heavily partisan and vocal about its politics.

                I should note here, thanks to a friends’ observations: this does not mean I am apolitical or do not care about issues. I don’t believe you can be apolitical in our current climate and still be a functioning human being. I care very strongly about my politics. I am also under heavy restrictions where they are concerned.

                I must explain, every time I must refrain from giving an opinion: I must follow the rules of the Hatch Act.

                To provide context: The Hatch Act of 1939 prevents federal officials from endorsing or voicing politically biased opinions when performing their duties as a federal official. Specifically, it applies to members of the executive branch, but broadly, it applies to people who work for an organization with government backing. If you’re in uniform, you cannot give your opinion on political matters, because you’d be giving an endorsement of a bias. This, in turn, would mean that the organization you represent (through your uniform) also endorses your bias.

                Sounds a bit crazy but trust me: litigation can get that in-depth. I was a Union Steward for two years; I’ve used this exact kind of legal language in my grievance negotiations.

                Now, when I am not on-duty and not in uniform, I can speak freely. I usually do and gleefully dive into the discussions that grow from such moments. I am very vocal about my politics, so long as I do not represent my organization.

                (You’ll notice how careful I am about naming my workplace. It doesn’t take much effort to know who I work for but refraining from naming them in this essay gives me the loophole I need to talk about these things.)

                I have to be very patient with customers during working hours to provide facts without seeming politically biased. This is harder than it sounds, since giving such information can, to the customers, put me within a particular camp without me saying anything that is actually biased to one side or another.

                To give you more context, let’s look at the COVID-19 pandemic. As a federal official, I explain to customers approaching me that we must, as per CDC regulations, maintain social distance and wear masks. I have mine at-the-ready for such an occasion. One of my customers told me that I was an idiot for following such regulations, and that I had to be a “dirty liberal nutcase” for doing so.

                I’m used to getting yelled at during my job. People aren’t happy about a lot of things that have to do with my job, and I’m generally quiet and passive about these outbursts. It’s generally best to just let the customer air their grievance so I can thoroughly and logically address their problems. But when this happens, my nerves go on ‘high-alert’ and I make sure to phrase my responses accordingly. As a member of the executive branch, I’m held to a higher standard and all the bullshit that comes with such. It’d be all too easy for me to begin explaining something, have it sound biased, and that customer to have their phone out, recording.

                If that were to happen, I’d be up for discipline at the least, or fired outright. There was a moment when, in a public setting after work, I was in uniform and talking politics with a close friend, and a bystander took out their phone as if to record when I told them, bluntly, to not do so. It is the sort of situation that can make someone a bit paranoid.

                Now, as my organization is drawn further into the media spotlight, I am asked more often to give my opinion on political matters. These questions are earnest. My opinion is honestly sought after, so I don’t fault the person asking. But it puts me in a precarious situation, or as I’ve said to friends, I’m dealing with the existential crisis that is my job becoming political while I am restricted from being so.

                I want to talk about the issues that surround my day-job, folks. I have concerns and worries. Unfortunately, I am held to a higher standard than others and must follow the rules of the Hatch Act. I always tell people “ask me when I’m out of uniform or not representing my organization”. I would gladly dive into the discussions at those times, but only then.

                Until this extremely partisan time is beyond us, I must maintain a non-political stance. I can only ask for understanding during this time.

Adding Content and Figuring out How This Works

The more I delve into building this thing, the more I’m reminded that I was never given an education in basic tech work. One day I’ll finally have the skills I need, but for the moment it’s trial-and-error and a lot of “BUTWHYDON’TYOUDOTHAT?”

I’ve been wanting to start putting up a few of my stories and campaign ideas up here for a while. Occasionally I have essays or concepts that I want to explore, but after so many years of adding to the files, I’ve been wanting to share some of these ideas.

The fun part to figuring out how to share these ideas? I’m a organization freak and I like knowing that if I put a story up as a page, it’s visible and easy to find. So far, that’s proving problematic.

But as I continue to learn how to build this website, I’ll invite you to read the first chapter of a Shadowrun story I’ve always wanted to pursue.

https://wp.me/PbJpCI-4N

If I finally figure out what I’m doing, I’ll put up more stories, but for the moment this is my “I’ve been writing in one world too much, I need a good distraction” project.

The Question of Monetizing

It has been brought to my attention that I can use this site to make a little money. I was told, by both people and ads, that I can design this place to be a spot where you, the reader, would pay for the content I put out into the world.

Now, let’s understand a few things.

I do want to make money from my writing. Becoming a successful (that is, funded) writer is both a dream and an ambition. I’d like to actually be home to see my kids grow up instead of the “two hours a day during a week, Sundays guaranteed” thing I have going on at the moment. I’ve been tempted to set up a Patreon, because if anything else, having people pay me the occasional dollar would force me to adhere to a writing schedule/routine.

But this place? I’m not so sure about that.

I’ve seen charities I’ve wanted to support, and in the future (that is, when I figure out how to set it up and it get attention) I will set up donations for people to give money to those charities, but beyond that I don’t want to turn this place into a money-grabbing cesspool. Yes, I want to make money for my words, but this is a place I can put my thoughts down for the simple joy of knowing someone would read it.

I’ll be adding a couple of new pages within this site soon, writing prompts and gaming notes. Maybe I’ll give Patreon another look.

Enjoy the Sunday, folks.

Stepping into a New World (RPG)

It’s one of my bragging points (in all honesty, should not be a bragging point but should make you feel sad) that I have been the main game-runner of RPGs for my group for nearly 20 years. From my first session of 16 people in Dungeons & Dragons (3rd Edition) way back when I was 15 years old to now, I’ve been the guy among my groups that would write up adventures and challenges. I actually have several files in the cabinet with “Campaign” marked on it, some with “Finished” and most just unresolved. That’s the way of it, unfortunately.

But one of my players, the guy I usually call “my buddy” because he’s the friend I talk to every day but likes his privacy on the Internet, reached out to me a week ago with a proposal: he wanted to get a group together for a game.

This is not new to me. I’m used to one player getting to me with a “I want to play this scenario!” idea, and I agree to it. I love writing up plots and challenges, seeing what the players would do in a given situation. Sometimes it gives me the opportunity to try out a new monster, trap, or puzzle. My favorite was a chess-style challenge that stumped the players for, I kid you not, over an hour. I was stupidly impressed by their willingness when I said “For this part of the game, I need all of you to turn in your phones and tablets so you cannot cheat” and six adults put their cell phones and computers into a basket in order to keep playing. That’s one hell of a compliment.

But this time, my buddy had something different. “I want to have a game based in WarHammer 40K, and I want to run it.”

Well. Holy shit.

WH40K is the only tabletop game I did not get into. I’ve delved into at least 20 different systems and games, up to and including GURPS and Call of Cthulhu. I did not get into WH40K because, to put it bluntly, I could not paint all of the miniatures. I’m not talented in that respect and I did not want to flaunt my lack of skill in the area. So, I left that world alone.

So, imagine my sheer terror when my buddy says “The game is based in the WH40K universe, all about a ship and crew, and I want you to be the captain of the ship”.

Just gonna sweat in my utter ignorance of the world I’m supposed to be knowledgeable about, especially when I gather a crew (players) among my local group to find out most of them are extremely avid WH40K players. I twitched when, in the group chat between the other players, I made a suggestion and they just responded “We put our faith in the captain. It’s your call.”

Y’all, I’m not used to that.

For once, I’m being given the responsibility of “Party Leader”. I’ve played in a few one-shots over the years, sure, but I always, always, made sure I was someone that did not make the crucial decisions. I am so used to making the “Big Decisions” as the GM (DM) and that was something I could simply do. To think I’d be making the decisions and then have to look at someone else who actually made the rules?

Holy Control-Issues, Batman.

I will say that I’m enjoying learning about the universe I’ll be stepping into, soon. The history-nerd in me is champing at the bit to explore all the nooks and crannies of this extremely rich world, though my buddy is putting restrictions on what I should read (which, as his usual GM, I understand) and I have to stop myself from digging too deep.

I might actually post write-ups of those adventures here, so if you’re curious as to how well the GameMaster-turned-Lead-Player does in a crisis, follow this site and I’ll set up a page for it.

Cheers, folks.