Goals: Almost November!

It’s been a very challenging summer. I just moved back into my apartment, following the demolition and reconstruction of my sleeping space to repair damage from mold. I’ve had a nagging cough for the last month, along with many of my writing pals.

But the good news: November is coming! And that means ridiculous writing goals. As a self-employed writer, I’m going to couple those with ridiculous publishing goals. I didn’t make my ambitious timeline for the summer, so it’ll keep me off the streets and out of the pool halls now that autumn is here.

And further good news: I’ve gotten caught up on my reading, and reviews will be following. Soon, I hope.

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Weekend Writing Warriors, Sunday 19 October 2014 (WIP: Ship’s Heart)

Martisset’s ninth name-day was observed in the dark of the moon following the Feast of Landfall. She and her namesake did the devotions in the enclosure of Martis-Mortis.

He instructed her parents to take her to the Shipwrights’ Chapel in Karisalay-Prime, where the most famous statue of the deity resided, commissioned, it was said, by the Great Shipwright herself. “Tethys will bring her there after the Feast of Settlement, while you’re busy with the Ship construction.”

“A pledge,” Martisset the Elder said to Martisset. “If you make Captain, you’ll be expected to offer libation there before you formally accept your commission.”

If you make Captain, he said, but Martisset understood when you make Captain, as we all trust you will. But not without work, not planet-sider as you are.

***

Weekend Writing Warriors offers a selection of eight-sentence excerpts from many different writers. For the full selection, see here.

 

 

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Weekend Writing Warriors, Sunday 12 October 2014 (WIP: Ship’s Heart)

“You can stop the game and keep your place. The food won’t wait.”

“Put a note to check the Ship’s Trees,” Martisset said. “I don’t like the look of the nitrogen levels.”

“I’m Captain. You’re just the Quartermaster.”

“Quartermaster’s supposed to keep track of things,” Martisset said. 

“Captain Yasmin and Quartermaster Martisset, the Landfall feast is served,” Martisset’s father said, as  the girls looked up from their argument and reluctantly shook themselves out from the curled-up posture they’d assumed around the console.

***

Weekend Writing Warriors offers a selection of eight-sentence excerpts from many different writers. For the full selection, see here.

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NaNoFeed: NaNo 2014 cover and banner reveals!

NaNo 2014 is The Fourth Prime, the third book of the Ship’s Heart trilogy. Right now I’m still writing book 1, and I may not be done by the end of October, but that doesn’t stop me from writing book 3 for this year’s November novel project.

Here’s the cover (which will display at 230×300 on the NaNo site):

2014-10-06 FourthPrime NaNo2014 v1-6 - 230 x 300

And here’s the NaNo banner, small version (for my forum signature)

2014-10-05 4thPrime - NaNo2014

and the large version:

2014-10-06 BIG NaNoBanners 1 x 5 - FourthPrime - NaNo2014

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Weekend Writing Warriors, Sunday 5 October 2014 (WIP: Ship’s Heart)

“Low angled light,” Tethys said, “and the aerial view. Yuki-Iskri found more than one Lost Colony that way. The first few times our terraformers saw one, it was the chance of surveying near sunrise or sunset.” 

Ghosts appeared at dawn and dusk, the borders of the night, and vanished on either side; Midnight and Noonday were both silent on the question of the past. Only as the tide of Night receded, or flowed in, could you sight backward along the shaft of Time’s Arrow. Martisset leaned forward to squint through the canopy, but the ghosts of Landfall had vanished in the rising day.

“What are the people from Lost Colonies like?”

“They’re the same stuff as us, the bones anyway.”

***

Weekend Writing Warriors offers a selection of eight-sentence excerpts from many different writers. For the full selection, see here.

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Weekend Writing Warriors, Sunday 28 September 2014 (WIP: Ship’s Heart)

In the cult of the Goddess of the Ancient Sea, and the shadow cult of Martis-Mortis, one meditated on the divine twins, Midnight and Noonday, shadow and sun. Shadow vanished at Noonday, without having gone away, and Midnight was all shadow.

Martisset opened the Gate of Hours between her palms, and its colors lit the mirrored walls, reflected faintly in the night-darkened glass, as she took measured breaths, matching the Ship’s Chronometer on the wall, feeling the beats of her heart. Sixty beats a Minute, that was normal and healthy.

There were black lines between the bands of color marking the five-Minute and five-Hour intervals, hair-fine, to adjust for individual differences in color perception. Martisset’s own vision reached into the near ultraviolet, her father had told her. 

Not so far that she could see the colors of the stars as Ships saw them, or Captains who shared vision with the Ships. Those more-than-human eyes saw the spectrum unfolding in its full glory, from the frequencies of earthquakes up to those of high-energy sources in the utmost heavens.

***

Weekend Writing Warriors offers a selection of eight-sentence excerpts from many different writers. For the full selection, see here.

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Weekend Writing Warriors, Sunday 21 September 2014 (WIP: Ship’s Heart)

The last light had faded in the west, behind the barely visible shoreline of the Inland Sea. 

Martisset walked down the path to the apartments of Martisset the Elder, her mother holding her left hand, and her father holding her right. The sky in the east was dark; somewhere up there was the faint obscurity of the Greater Moon, entirely in the shadow of Karis, but she could not make it out. The foliage stirred overhead in the night breeze, and the small lights marking the path woke to blue-white glow with the light they had stored from the sun.

The gate to the inner courtyard stood open, and they passed through it. Martisset’s father turned to close it behind him. The garden was fragrant with night-blooming flowers, and the scent of the ones that had just closed. Ahead, the lights of the gated house threw squares of warm light on the stone pathway. 

Luckily, she no longer had the sword-knot and empty scabbard to worry about; the ceremonial knife hung in its scabbard, in the inner pocket of her full-length vest.

***

Weekend Writing Warriors offers a selection of eight-sentence excerpts from many different writers. For the full selection, see here.

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