Change of plans!

Well, that ended up being a far more unproductive hiatus than I expected. I had plans of scaling back flash fiction entries to ramp up working on my novel, but that didn't really eventuate. As with previous book writing attempts, I lost impetus, and then started forgetting things (like the name of the big baddie and other important elements). Though I think I worked out what the problem was - all my attempts at longer pieces have taken themselves far too seriously. A corollary of this is they've often been far too sweepingly grand and epic in scope and scale, so I've ended up overwhelming myself. Instead of trying for a tome that you could use to bludgeon a burglar to death, I have decided I'm better off with a lighter, more comedic and thinner first attempt. So I think I'm about to declare it a wash out (for now), and start something more true to my normal style of writing. I guess in theory I could try plugging along, but I'm thinking it'd be better to shelve it instead. I do like the laid back 350-a-day pace - even though there have been days (or perhaps that should be weeks) where not a skerrick has got done so I will probably stick with that.

Post Nano Post

Nanowrimo? More like NanowriNO. I got off to a good start, especially considering the second day was Sports day so a bunch of the free time I had went up in smoke. But my progress after the holidays was practically nonexistent.

However, a mate suggested instead of a word count, to write for at least 30 minutes a day. He's doing some sort of grueling exercise regime for 30 minutes a day, so if we both stick at it, it'll be great. Again, it's only early days, but it is working so far. I should go back and read what I've already written soon, I've already forgotten the name of one of the two main antagonists already, and who knows what else.

My friends who were also doing nano also have piss poor word counts yet again, so at least I can take refuge in that I'm not alone at having little progress over November.

That's enough whingeing for now, on to writing!

Sky-Blue Sparkle-Pony

As our school expanded, so did our playground areas, and our playground duties. I picked up one in a new area, which was forlorn and lifeless as it was just used as a thoroughfare. Practically my only companions there would be the occasional teacher passing through... and Sky-Blue Sparkle-Pony. After a while (over a term late, of course) our sports supplies arrived, and the area sprouted badminton nets and a basketball hoop, so there was an explosion in the student population. Through long months of playground duty, Sky-Blue Sparkle-Pony stood vigilant guard with not just me, but other teachers on duty, but I think she went largely overlooked. Incongruous, yet easy to miss... a light blue, with a smattering of rich dark purple stars on her hind quarters and matching hooves. Her mane, flowing free in the wind of the ether. Her face was joyous yet solemn at the same time, and she had a wistful look in her eye. Sky-Blue Sparkle-Pony had a coat that felt like suede. “Merely” a sticker, placed by some happy student on one of the windows, overlooked by most. I always greeted her as I walked past, and waved goodbye when I went off duty.

Its the little things, the silly things, that I keep looking for. Who needs a gorgeous sunset over a beach, or other magnificent sights on a grand scale, when you can have tiny patches of wonder. Lower the bar, and keep your eyes peeled for small gifts. Then your joys are abundant, and the payout is even greater when you do ser something large and awe-inspiring.

I kept meaning to take a photo of Sky-Blue Sparkle-Pony, and even though I always have my camera on my hip, I was hesitant to do so. It may have been I just wanted to hold her in my mind, pristine and ranging free, instead of corralling her in a soulless picture, miss-filed and then forgotten. Last week, when I went on duty, she was gone. That doesn’t mean she didn’t touch my life. A damp and miserable duty meant there wasn’t many kids to supervise, so I spent time daydreaming about her instead. Where she came from, and where she went, because she couldn’t have been only a sticker. I started to write a short silly story in honour of Sky-Blue Sparkle-Pony as a creative writing exercise one night, but then we went to bed after the first paragraph. Sky-Blue Sparkle-Pony was in my mind as I was drifting off to sleep, and I couldn’t help but think there was something familiar about her.

A bolt from my subconscious jolted me awake... Sky-Blue Sparkle-Pony was a My Little Pony! I wasn’t completely sure, but my hunch felt reasonable. Last night, I started poking around, trying to find out if my suspicions were true. Her form seemed similar to the ones on their website, but I couldn’t find an exact match. Maybe a knock off. Maybe I was wrong. How about an image search, with a few terms thrown in to narrow it down. I found her, my poor Sky-Blue Sparkle-Pony. Good old Rule 34 strikes again. At least it wasn’t too extreme. So after that, the wheels fell off my version of happiness for her. My inner child isn’t just an inner child, but more of an complete unit... I don’t really have much space - or use - for an outer adult (except maybe to buy booze). I’m happy and confident with my inner child, and while I don’t mind rainbows and bright shiny colours, I’m not so sure I can knock out a paean of happiness to Blue Belle the My Little Pony. To Sky-Blue Sparkle-Pony yes... but it may take a little coaxing to get her to trot back into my life. So instead, I expanded this explanation as the writing exercise. So that’s two unfinished ones in quick succession. Let’s hope that someday, the publication deals come as thick and fast and easily!

*****

Sky-Blue Sparkle-Pony

The herd stirred, and nickered softly in the glow of the Aura of Happiness. It was time for them to go out into the myriads of worlds at different periods in the timestream, taking diverse forms. The stallion whinnied in benediction, and dismissed them with a flick of his tail. Sky-Blue Sparkle-Pony galloped without motion, and after an infinitesimal moment that somehow seemed stretched, she found her place and purpose. Part of a set of children’s stickers, Sky-Blue Sparkle-Pony knew it would be easy this time for her to spread joy. Much better than last time, when the only way she had been able to do so was by being eaten. When she was depressed, she could still feel the tiger’s claws rending her. It had taken the herd many revolutions indeed to be able to summon her back into existence.

*****

Ceased due to Rule 34, even though it wasn’t overly graphic. May come back some day. I will always love you, my Sky-Blue Sparkle-Pony!

Writing Challenge

 Chuck Wendig has decided to throw these up every week. This time, it was a picture entry the one above... Can't do the direct link to his Flickr due to scotch, but somehow I don't think I'm neccessary to drive traffic to him, so its all good.

My entry was supposed to be a hard boiled private dick sort of story. Didn't work. This is all I've got, it sucks dead donkey balls. Maybe I'll fix it. Maybe I won't. Maybe its just a start that'll get fixed someday. Didn't even finish writing, it wasn't going anywhere. Didn't really edit, either.

I'm not too down, while the picture is great, I couldn't get in the style this week. But I've done a bunch of reviews, so I am writing (a few meh's and a fail I think, but screw em).

Gumshoe

"Same again, thanks sweetheart" I say, waggling my empty coffee cup at the dame in the waitress uniform. She sighed, and came back with a fresh cup of Joe. I'd had two already, and a third would mean no sleep for a week, but when you're on a stakeout, you gotta look the part. I slurped off a mouthful and then surreptitiously turfed the rest out in the potted plant. With a generous pour from my hip flask, I refilled the cup with the good stuff... just enough to counteract the caffeine high. In this line of work, you need steady hands. It's not so bad, being a private dick, sure the hours are longer than back when I was on the force, but I'm my own boss, I don't have to answer to no-one no more. I notice a twitch at the curtain to the room the mark is in, and like a shot I'm engrossed in the funny pages... head down, just a regular schmoe having a break. This dive of a flop-house is more up market than his usual haunts, so business must be on the up and up. I'm sure the boys in blue would love to have a chat with him about that, but they'd only scare off the big fish. In the reflection of the glass, I see him heading out the door, so I throw down a five spot to keep the waitress sweet on me tomorrow and hoof it after him. I've got a knack at being a subtle tail, after the time I put in down in the Bronx, but a New Orleans Jazz band could be banging and blaring away for all the care he's paying. Can't say as I blame him, as its bucketing down and the wind is making sure that your birthday suit gets soaked.

Down to the wharf, and into a little hole in the wall bar - not his usual stomping ground, so maybe he is working tonight after all. I give the area the once over then head on in. I order a beer and a bourbon, and hunker down at a table with my back to him, but close enough so I can hear what he's saying, and fish out my deck of cards and get all engrossed in a game of solitaire. Our chum is getting nowhere fast with the skirt behind the bar, and I think the evening may be a complete washout. Then bold as brass, in waltzes one of Harvey's boys. So I'm back to earning my keep, as even if these hours ain't billable to my current client knowing what Harvey is up to is always bankable.

Next morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed, I'm warmly greeted by the dame in the diner. I take a stool where I can see the hotel out the front window, and order the blue plate special. I think I'm gonna haveta linger over coffee yet again, but once more there's the twitch to the curtain, so I shovel the last of the eggs and hash into my gob, and wolf it down. Telling her to keep the change, I'm out the door and after him like a flea on a dog. After last night's conversation, I definitely don't want to lose him so I stay as close as I can, doing my best not to be too conspicuous dodging the puddles. We go by Shanks' Pony over towards Brooklyn and in my head I'm already counting the notes, crinkling that filthy lucre in my fingers and trying to decide if I should pay my overdue rent or splurge.

*****

There's always next week, as he's doing it every week now.  And there is my stuff too, so I don't look at it as a defeat.