Category: Writing (Page 1 of 5)
The air was wrong – lighter with aromas of fire, food, stale sweat and metal instead of home. A home deep under miles of igneous rock that did not smell of sweat and bleach. Home smelled of gasses, ventilator grease and old rubber; the sensation of wrongness gnawed at the edge of dreams where they lapped at the shore of waking; like dreaming of a place far from home, warmer, redder.
Under a strange sun.
Warm was joined by the sound of someone snoring, echoing close from steel and alumaplast. Not an echo from rock. The soft susurration of ventilation and the hisses and clicks of another nearby bio-creche. Just one and not three. Beneath him lay his Evercool sheet, blanket and pillow, inviting him to stay in his dream of comfort, luxury and decadence. He began to note the sounds. Hiss. Click. Snore.
This is not home.
He opened his eyes and whispered, “Where am I?”
Above his head rose-painted alumaplast ceiling tiles refused to answer. He propped himself on one elbow to survey the environment while holding down panic as it rose in the back of his throat. It was all terribly wrong. Completely different from the room he went to sleep in. The bunk room of an Alpha One Oh Seven Courier was designed to hold one to eight occupants. He saw one, his brother, who should have been on the bridge instead of snoring in his bunk with the curtain pulled. Another creche, in the opposite corner, was closed and running. Most likely another brother.
I had no idea what an A107 ‘Courier’ class ship was when I went to bed. I wonder what else I just learned. Base cargo-cap, five thousand seventy tons. Base accommodation four two-tier bunks, table and chairs. Minimum bridge crew, two. One point one eight gee. Thanks to the mobius generators.
“This isn’t fair,” he whispered cautiously, “bed angle sixty.” The bed portion of the stasis rig tilted silently to the specified angle. From there he hoped to assess the depth of whatever crisis he had dropped into. His usual morning health report popped up and he swept it aside with a flick of his wrist. The room had twin two-tier bunks and four personal effects trunks magged in place on the steel rail and alumaplast deck. The other creche was stenciled “Four”.
I bet he doesn’t know yet. If he did, he’d be screaming.
To his left was a table with three dull plastic chairs two of which were draped with reddish gray coveralls, skin-suits, and gray snareboots. In front of each seat, on the table, was a set of ID papers. In the center, a deck of cards and a large carton of deep-sleep-teaching chips. He stood and tip-toed through the open hatch to the bridge, where he found three seats with consoles and the typical forward holovid of most spaceship design. Home was six hundred ninety-two and three tenths millions of kilometers away.
“Ugh,” he bit his tongue, and now I can pilot too.
The consoles were arranged in a classic triangle of Nav to the left, Com to the right and Pilot in the center. The Com seat hung lazily at an angle, as if in conversation, and the Nav faced stiffly forward at a badly worn console. The holo, focused ahead of the little ship, showed a freighter, the Floyd Henderson, outbound and two passenger ships inbound outlined against a background of stars across the inky black of deep space. Each pinpoint of light had an overlaid information icon that would provide type, velocity and vector when queried. He scanned the rest of the bridge, assuring himself that the emergency side ports, and circuit-management panels matched his new memories.
Knowing Five, I’m mostly just glad to be alive. From kilometers deep to outer space in a blink.
He continued his silent tour, back through the bunk room, stopping briefly at the table for clothes. A check of the IDs offered him a choice of being Jeremathy, Rus, Liam, Jian, MeDano, or Nash. All with the last name of Zebros. He left the cards on the table, finding the word play on their lab designation of “Lab Z, Brothers” held little humor. He shrugged into one of the sets of clothing as he surveyed the aft hall hosted a wall-galley where the counter had been turned into a repair bench and the microwave was covered in kaffe. Across from that was the shower and personal waste system. Further back, the creche marked Two, containing another brother, partially blocked the hall. One of the standard language labels stuck on the medical console was lit from behind. He shook his head and whispered, “Damn.”
Everywhere, hatches stood open, unwashed dishes were piled and other safety regulations had been ignored. Fortunately the overhead airlock was double-locked for travel. That was unsurprising since the engines wouldn’t fire unless the lock safety was engaged or a complex set of instructions were entered to override safe-mode. He slipped around the creche on the elevator/lock and looked right and left through the cargo hatches. The holds were each partially filled with crates. Further along the hall he found a handful of maintenance panels. It smelled vaguely of cleaning products, metal and well-done meat. A few little fluffs of fabric stuck to the air return in the ceiling.
Examining the floor, he found two incongruous tiny rust-colored spots on the deck below the recycling plant access panel. He crouched to look at them closely and decided they were dried blood. He stood and turned to the right cargo hold where it stank of sweat and something pungent, chocolaty. It contained crates marked as titanium parts, a mail packet data center and the discarded packing material from three creches.
He dogged the hatch closed and crossed to the second hold where he found crates of nitrogen-stabilized fruit and two unlabeled crates. In the corner he found a smallish, palletized claz’r turret. He closed the hatch and returned to the galley where he counted the dirty aluminum plates and flasks proving not only that the sleeper was Five, but that he had worked for at least two days before going to sleep.
He ran the dishes through the outside hatch on the head, part of the algae recycling system, and stowed them properly in the galley. The work table had a vise and metal micro-mill where he found a small container of fresh metal shards. The tiny locker of tools and repair items was open. Sitting unsecured on the ledge was a broken switch and switch cover which he also stowed before examining his food options.
The galley menu was enormous. It was well-provisioned and had all sorts of great recipes that could be ordered from based on the remaining foodstuffs and biomass. He had no clue what half of them were, but settled on eggs and juice and skipped the “Real Kaffe” the description of which was “A bitter hot beverage containing caffeine, frequently consumed with cream and/or sugar syrup.” It sounded more like a drug than a drink.
He took his breakfast to the bridge, closing the safety hatches in his wake, where he applied his new knowledge to the consoles. It took him only two tries to get logged in and open the pilot and navigation programs on the captain’s console. There was a vector check and analysis he could do and a vlog he could review. The vector had been sent from Majin traffic control and verified both automatically and manually by the pilot. He did the calculus for the vector to see where they were going.
The ship was outbound from the Majin refueling station, accelerating at two gee toward a point in space where a local gravity wave intersected an M-space string. He recalled from watching holos that the point was called a twistor due to its n-dimensional appearance as a subspace tornado. They would reach it in forty-three minutes for transit to the Al Sharab system. The ship was owned by the Drago Corporation and employed as a courier for their business interests. Typically the ship carried specialty medical parts and drugs, short haul items as needed, and any local mail from point to point. Apparently a few black-market parts made their way aboard as well, finding their way into the hands of people with questionable funding sources.
Since Five had never been good with details, cleaning or proper discipline, One checked all the life-support systems for anomalies and viability. The soda filter sensor indicated the filter had been installed at Majin five days ago and the estimator indicated that it had been in use for seven days. He checked the particle filter system to verify its viability and found the same service date and time, but its estimated use was eighteen days. He queried the life support system for explanation, but it wasn’t robust enough for a detailed analysis. Then he found the recycler was overloaded by two hundred sixty kilos.
He considered the situation for a few moments. Then he checked the readouts for biological pathogens, finding several potentially deadly germs. He shuddered with dread at that news and hoped the creches had enough antibiotics to keep him alive.
Multiple germs, aromas, fluff, stressed filters, a broken switch, blood on the deck and overloaded solid waste. It doesn’t look good for us. Even if it wasn’t luxurious we were safe in our nice clean lab and not flying away in a coffin.
He was surprised to see only twenty-three days of semi-stasis had passed instead of their usual twenty-seven. He began reviewing the logs for information on how they had made it into deep space. The vlog was adequately labeled with weekly and daily titles that indicated the 2/3 Drago had docked five days ago at Majin station, dumped the mail packet, accepted a transshipment of fruit bound for the Federation military facility on Kohnor, exchanged waste material for O/H2O, and replaced their filters.
The bridge seats had been occupied by Draveth Par, Olo Fayed and Vachs. Just “Vachs” – no other name. They were worn in a pattern that indicated years of use. Olo, who had handled all aspects of nav data, including vector mapping, appeared to have turned toward Captain Par most of the time. The chair turned easily when he pushed it, but always came to rest one hundred five degrees away from the forward display. Vachs seemed to have been a nervous communicator and trader, his console was scratched and the key characters were nearly worn away.
Captain Par’s seat had molded completely to his buttocks. The left armrest pad was cracked and shiny from many hours of his large elbow wearing through it. He felt the worn spot with his elbow finding he was taller than Par based on the wear points. He could imagine the captain sitting here day after day, chin propped on the heel of his hand. He might even have cat-napped through the flight from in-system to transit points – many days of boredom spent waiting for the Minkowski field generator to eventually stop and drop them back into real space. Hopefully where they had aimed.
The vlog indicated that on the second day in dock, a man identified as Jian Zebros contacted them to move some critical medical equipment toward Earth through the next two legs of their route. He agreed to pay point-to-point charges as well as passage for himself. The captain made note to search him thoroughly before un-docking. Zebros hadn’t given him the opportunity.
He skipped forward through normal activities until he saw a large, pod-sized crate being lowered into the ship, followed by Vachs moving it to the hold. This was followed by a second crate. When the third arrived, someone was standing atop the crate, visible from the waist down. Vachs looked up, “Where’s Fayed? What the hell are you doing? No!”
He strangled on his own blood, sliced by beam of coherent light as the unseen assailant killed him with a blaz’r. As his lifeless body dropped to the deck the masked figure landed, cat-like, blaz’r outstretched toward something under and behind the camera. He fired again twice. On the second of the three camera screens, the recording of the bridge, the captain jumped from his seat and turned toward the airlock. His movement blocked the view of the camera through the bunk room but in an instant he crumpled to the deck.
The killer, moving like Five, stalked forward through the three camera views to the bridge. He pulled off a pair of gloves and imprinted his thumb on the open command console taking command of the ship effective immediately and, assuming Fayed was dead, sole control over it. He stuffed the blaz’r in his waistband and pulled off the mask, yep – Five, dropped it on the captain’s seat and began tidying up.
Not all revisions are created equal. Some manuscripts are clean first drafts that fell out of your head onto the page like they wanted to be written. Other stories fight you every step of the way and you have to whip them into submission to make the novel work. Still others are stories you wrote and revised countless times until they became a tangled mess (even though you still love that story and swear you’ll make it work).
A Character Must Be More Than A Chess Piece
A character, to be acceptable as more than a chess piece, has to be ignorant of the future, unsure about the past, and not at all sure of what he’s supposed to be doing.
Remember: Plot is no more than footprints left in the snow after your characters have run by on their way to incredible destinations. Plot is observed after the fact rather than before. It cannot precede action. It is the chart that remains when an action is through. That is all Plot ever should be. It is human desire let run, running, and reaching a goal. It cannot be mechanical. It can only be dynamic. So, stand aside, forget targets, let the characters, your fingers, body, blood, and heart do.
A bad penny always turns up
A barking dog never bites
A change is as good as a rest
A good beginning makes a good ending
A house is not a home
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step
A man is known by his friends
A new broom sweeps clean
A person is known by the company he keeps
A poor workman always blames his tools
A problem shared is a problem halved
A prophet is not recognized in his own land
A rising tide lifts all boats
A soft answer turneth away wrath
A swarm in May is worth a load of hay; a swarm in June is worth a silver spoon; but a swarm in July is not worth a fly
A trouble shared is a trouble halved
A volunteer is worth twenty pressed men
A woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke
A woman’s work is never done
A word to the wise is enough
Accidents will happen (in the best-regulated families).
Actions speak louder than words
Adversity makes strange bedfellows
After a storm comes a calm
All good things must come to an end
All roads lead to Rome
All the world loves a lover
All things come to those who wait
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy
All you need is love
All’s fair in love and war
All’s for the best in the best of all possible worlds
An army marches on its stomach
An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure
Another day, another dollar
Any port in a storm
Appearances can be deceptive
April is the cruellest month
April showers bring forth May flowers
As you make your bed, so you must lie upon it
Ask no questions and hear no lies
Attack is the best form of defence
Bad money drives out good
Bad news travels fast
Barking dogs seldom bite
Be careful what you wish for
Better safe than sorry
Better the Devil you know than the Devil you don’t
Better to remain silent and be thought a fool that to speak and remove all doubt
Big fish eat little fish
Blue are the hills that are far away
Boys will be boys
Business before pleasure
Caesar’s wife must be above suspicion
Carpe diem (Pluck the day; Seize the day)
Charity covers a multitue of sins
Cheaters never win and winners never cheat
Cheats never prosper
Children and fools tell the truth
Christmas comes but once a year
Cleanliness is next to godliness
Clothes maketh the man
Cold hands, warm heart
Count your blessings
Cowards may die many times before their death
Crime doesn’t pay
Cut your coat to suit your cloth
Dead men tell no tales
Distance lends enchantment to the view
Do as I say, not as I do
Don’t bite the hand that feeds you
Don’t burn your bridges behind you
Don’t cross the bridge till you come to it
Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face
Don’t get mad, get even
Don’t leave your manners on the doorstep
Don’t let the grass grow under your feet
Don’t meet troubles half-way
Don’t mix business with pleasure
Don’t put all your eggs in one basket
Don’t put new wine into old bottles
Don’t rock the boat
Don’t shoot the messenger
Don’t spoil the ship for a ha’porth of tar
Don’t sweat the small stuff
Don’t throw pearls to swine
Don’t trust anyone over thirty
Don’t try to run before you can walk
Don’t try to walk before you can crawl
Don’t wash your dirty linen in public
Doubt is the beginning not the end of wisdom
East is east, and west is west
East, west, home’s best
Easy come, easy go
Empty vessels make the most noise
Enough is as good as a feast
Enough is enough
Even a worm will turn
Every Jack has his Jill
Every little helps
Every man for himself, and the Devil take the hindmost
Every picture tells a story
Every stick has two ends
Everyone wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die
Everything comes to him who waits
Faint heart never won fair lady
Fair exchange is no robbery
Familiarity breeds contempt
Feed a cold and starve a fever
Finders keepers, losers weepers
First come, first served
First impressions are the most lasting
First things first
Fish and guests smell after three days
Flattery will get you nowhere
For want of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe the horse was lost; and for want of a horse the man was lost
Forgive and forget
Fortune favours the brave
From the sublime to the ridiculous is only one step
Give a dog a bad name and hang him
Give a man enough rope and he will hang himself
Give credit where credit is due
Go the extra mile
God helps those who help themselves
Good talk saves the food
Good things come to those who wait
Half a loaf is better than no bread
Handsome is as handsome does
Hard work never did anyone any harm
Haste makes waste
He that goes a-borrowing, goes a-sorrowing
He who fights and runs away, may live to fight another day
He who hesitates is lost
He who lives by the sword shall die by the sword
He who pays the piper calls the tune
He who sups with the Devil should have a long spoon
Hindsight is always twenty-twenty
History repeats itself
Home is where the heart is
Hope springs eternal
Horses for courses
If a job is worth doing it is worth doing well
If at first you don’t succeed try, try and try again
If God had meant us to fly he’d have given us wings
If ifs and ands were pots and pans there’d be no work for tinkers
If life deals you lemons, make lemonade
If you build it they will come
If you can’t be good, be careful
If you can’t beat em, join em
If you lie down with dogs, you will get up with fleas
If you pay peanuts, you get monkeys
If you want a thing done well, do it yourself
Ignorance is bliss
In for a penny, in for a pound
In the kingdom of the blind the one eyed man is king
In the midst of life we are in death
Into every life a little rain must fall
It goes without saying
It is best to be on the safe side
It is better to give than to receive
It is easy to be wise after the event
It takes a thief to catch a thief
It takes all sorts to make a world
It takes one to know one
It takes two to tango
It’s never too late
It’s no use crying over spilt milk
It’s no use locking the stable door after the horse has bolted
It’s the empty can that makes the most noise
It’s the singer not the song
It’s the squeaky wheel that gets the grease
Judge not, that ye be not judged
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer
Laugh and the world laughs with you, weep and you weep alone
Laughter is the best medicine
Least said, soonest mended
Let bygones be bygones
Let sleeping dogs lie
Let the dead bury the dead
Let the punishment fit the crime
Let well alone
Life is just a bowl of cherries
Life is what you make it
Lightning never strikes twice in the same place
Like father, like son
Little pitchers have big ears
Little strokes fell great oaks
Little things please little minds
Live and learn
Live for today for tomorrow never comes
Love makes the world go round
Love will find a way
Make love not war
Manners maketh man
Many hands make light work
March comes in like a lion, and goes out like a lamb
March winds and April showers bring forth May flowers
Marriages are made in heaven
Might is right
Misery loves company
Moderation in all things
Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
Thursday’s child has far to go,
Friday’s child is loving and giving,
Saturday’s child works hard for its living,
And a child that’s born on the Sabbath day
Is fair and wise and good and gay.
Money doesn’t grow on trees
Money isn’t everything
Money makes the world go round
More haste, less speed
Nature abhors a vacuum
Never go to bed on an argument
Never judge a book by its cover
Never let the sun go down on your anger
Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today
Never speak ill of the dead
Never tell tales out of school
Nine tailors make a man
No man can serve two masters
No news is good news
No one can make you feel inferior without your consent
No pain, no gain
Nothing new under the sun
Nothing ventured, nothing gained
Oil and water don’t mix
Old soldiers never die, they just fade away
Once a thief, always a thief
Once bitten, twice shy
One half of the world does not know how the other half lives
One hand washes the other
One man’s meat is another man’s poison
One might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb
One law for the rich and another for the poor
One volunteer is worth ten pressed men
One year’s seeding makes seven years weeding
Only fools and horses work
Opportunity never knocks twice at any man’s door
Parsley seed goes nine times to the Devil
Patience is a virtue
Pearls of wisdom
Penny wise and pound foolish
People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones
Possession is nine points of the law
Practice makes perfect
Practice what you preach
Prevention is better than cure
Pride goes before a fall
Rain before seven, fine before eleven
Revenge is sweet
Rome wasn’t built in a day
See a pin and pick it up, all the day you’ll have good luck; see a pin and let it lie, bad luck you’ll have all day
See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil
Seeing is believing
Seek and ye shall find
Set a thief to catch a thief
Shrouds have no pockets
Slow but sure
Softly, softly, catchee monkey
Speak as you find
Still waters run deep
Stupid is as stupid does
Success has many fathers, while failure is an orphan
Take care of the pence and the pounds will take care of themselves
Talk is cheap
That which does not kill us makes us stronger
The age of miracles is past
The apple never falls far from the tree
The best defence is a good offence
The best is the enemy of the good
The best things in life are free
The bigger they are, the harder they fall
The bottom line is the bottom line
The boy is father to the man
The child is the father of the man
The cobbler always wears the worst shoes
The devil finds work for idle hands to do
The devil looks after his own
The end justifies the means
The fruit does not fall far from the tree
The good die young
The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence
The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world
The husband is always the last to know
The labourer is worthy of his hire
The longest journey starts with a single step
The more the merrier
The more things change, the more they stay the same
The only good Indian is a dead Indian
The price of liberty is eternal vigilance
The shoemaker’s son always goes barefoot
The squeaking wheel gets the grease
The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach
The whole is greater than the sum of the parts
There are more ways of killing a cat than choking it with cream
There are none so blind as those, that will not see
There are two sides to every question
There’s always more fish in the sea
There’s honour among thieves
There’s many a good tune played on an old fiddle
There’s many a slip ‘twixt cup and lip
There’s no accounting for tastes
There’s no fool like an old fool
There’s no place like home
There’s no smoke without fire
There’s no time like the present
There’s none so blind as those who will not see
There’s none so deaf as those who will not hear
There’s nowt so queer as folk
There’s safety in numbers
They that sow the wind, shall reap the whirlwind
Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it
Those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones
Those who sleep with dogs will rise with fleas
Time is a great healer
Time is money
Time will tell
To the victor go the spoils
Tomorrow never comes
Too many cooks spoil the broth
Two blacks don’t make a white
Two is company, but three’s a crowd
Two wrongs don’t make a right
Variety is the spice of life
Virtue is its own reward
Walls have ears
Waste not want not
What can’t be cured must be endured
What goes up must come down
What you lose on the swings you gain on the roundabouts
What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander
When the cat’s away the mice will play
When the going gets tough, the tough get going
When the oak is before the ash, then you will only get a splash; when the ash is before the oak, then you may expect a soak
What the eye doesn’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve over
Where there’s a will there’s a way
While there’s life there’s hope
Whom the Gods love die young
Wonders will never cease
Work expands so as to fill the time available
Worrying never did anyone any good
You are never too old to learn
You can choose your friends but you can’t choose your family
You can have too much of a good thing
You can’t have your cake and eat it
You can’t make a silk purse from a sow’s ear
You can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs
You can’t make bricks without straw
You can’t run with the hare and hunt with the hounds
You can’t judge a book by its cover
You can’t win them all
You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar
You pays your money and you takes your choice
You win some, you lose some
Youth is wasted on the young
Narrative Hook: Story opening that grab’s the reader’s attention. A “Ticking Clock” of impending doom if the protagonist’s objective is not met. Use of cliffhangers by ending a scene, chapter or story in the middle of action, hooking the reader (keep them moving forward).
Foreshadowing: Hints of something to come. like: The gun on the wall in Scene 1 is eventually fired.
Symbolism: Small facts, objects, deja vu, represent something bigger; appearing repeatedly.
Self-fulfilling prophecy: Protagonist attempts to thwart prophecy but in attempting, fulfills it.
Plot Twist: Surprises the reader with something unexpected. The protagonist dies or turns out to be something other than the protagonist. A false trail diverts the reader’s attention from what really happened. A hidden connection between characters or facts is revealed just in time. The exact opposite of what the reader expects happens.
Object of Power (MacGuffin): Either the protagonist wants it, or the object drives the plot of its own accord. Something the protagonist wants for unknown and unimportant reasons.
Science Fiction Demonizes ‘Our’ Opponents
I’d like to stray from the trend in most science fiction that I feel is over played and possibly immoral. The ‘other’ or the ‘enemy’ has been portrayed as faceless automatons that ‘we’ can indiscriminately blast to smithereens. In I, Robot there are the hoards of robots, red ones target positive (looked just like the video game). In Star Wars, the faceless ‘clones’, presumably all Jango Fett or what have you to make them soulless. The Princess Leia that commented, “Aren’t you a little short …” That was a pretty silly looking moment and we all laughed inwardly and hoped for there to be sparks of – well, you know – a humma humma Bowchik Bowchikawika Bowwoww
Playing a video game frequently involves making the enemy red in some way (colored red, not necessarily communist), very often masked or helmeted to obscure all but the red eyes of berserk. In Far Cry, there have been about thirty or so faces, still it’s annoying to have to kill characters that just keep moving toward you instead of taking cover. Makes them faceless as well. The game even spawned the same red shirt dude in one conflict. It was like he just came back to life…
Brings me to zombies or walkers, biters, etc you can sort of see on some of them that they were people, but not so much after third season of the Walking Dead. World war Z = fantastic idea that the infected would be as athletic as it possibly could be, resulting in fast overruns and massive losses of human life. Israelis with flamethrowers = fighting off the Islamic Nation.
I get it.
Why can’t we just have an opponent, like in the honor Harrington Series, that disagrees with ‘us’ (all right minded people of faith, equality, fair play, hard work, and discipline) and that’s all it takes. Like kindergarten, we attack in the sandbox to take dominance over the light blue Tonka truck and crush our opponent’s green army men, using cunning, Testor’s glue, Ohio Blue Tip Strike Anywhere Matches, and a hammer. My bff didn’t talk to me for weeks, even though Dad bought him more army men and whipped me. And that’s what happens with demonization. It shows the fundamental error of stopping communication.
My views come through. How could they not? As it always shall be. But it isn’t a case of ‘here they are, you suck’, because that just makes his mom even madder than before, rather a case of ‘here they are, these are core and we really should agree on this because it’s in our best interest to, these others we could discuss, those over there are not going to work for us.
Real people, not demons, still trying to kill each other… Morally ambiguous and unsettling. People should behave like people, saving lives, trying to win by not killing if they can avoid it.
Meditation, thanks to Joel Osteen for pointing me this way:
The Bible tells us that every person, no matter how much faith they have or how good they are, will face disappointments. It may be something simple like not getting recognition you hoped for, even if it was especially difficult or tedious accomplishment.
Sometimes it’s all you can do to stand up. Depression by itself is terrible; living through it alone excruciating; it’s an illness in your body and you can’t change it through sheer willpower.
Whatever it may be, the reality is that we’re all going to suffer some setbacks. No matter what has happened, one of the main keys to overcoming disappointments is learning to let go of the past.
If you feel “stuck” today, you may want to examine what you’re holding on to. Be willing let go of past disappointments by choosing forgiveness.
Sometimes I just don’t know what to say. Usually it’s the wrong thing.
It really upsets me to see people attempting to write literature when they can’t write basic English. No, really. Really upsets me.
Maybe I’m the infamous “Grammar Nazi” of the Interwebs or maybe I’m just an asshole. I’m usually an asshole.
Feels like I take the time to proofread and get to a second draft before I submit while others just plunk down any old gibberish. I’m watching the proverbial monkeys with typewriters.
Maybe I should drop the writing group. It doesn’t seem to be doing me any good.