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Thursday, March 31, 2011

Prequel: Chapter 1

Because I have actually had to work for a living these last couple weeks, my blogging & creativity have taken a hit (Unless you count the poem I wrote last night at midnight... Yeah, highly sleep deprived!)

If you have been following me, You know why I have been struggling. So in an effort to at least try and stay on top of this whole blogging thing, I have decided to put up the first chapter of my prequel. Please, please, please (I can beg more, just ask me) let me know what you think!






Chapter 1
Commander


Alarm klaxons rang out, echoing loudly off hallways and corridors. Rushed footsteps, and shouted commands were buried under the noise. Tension hung heavy in the air as all hands ran to their respective stations. A few paused along the port side to catch a glimpse of the war vessel that was threatening them.

"I said, Turn off that klaxon!" Star-Commander Renile screamed (the klaxons ending in the middle of his request). "Thank you," he snapped. Renile, his hair gray at the temples, and the still flashing alarm lights reflecting off his bald cap, was in a very poor mood.

Renile faced his second in command, Captain Hapter, and glared angrily. "How did they follow us? You said that warp jump would leave them behind!"

"I'm not sure, Sir. It should have worked. I don't understand how they made that second jump so quickly." Hapter's voice was strained, and Renile smiled inwardly. It was always good to keep your underlings in their place. He let none of that smile show, as he faced the mammoth display on the far wall. "Status report!"

The bridge went into a flurry of action, as everyone turned to face his or her terminals.

"Sir," an Ensign stood and saluted, "with the upgrades to the warp engines, we will be ready for another jump in about fifteen minutes.” Sweat began to bead on the younger man’s upper lip. “Sections two, seven through ten, and twenty-four are venting life support. The areas affected have been sealed, but we have lost access to some key parts of the ship. Also--"

Already bored with the report, Renile cut off the Ensign. He knew that they had taken damage. That’s war. He wanted to know if they could fight back. "What is the status of our shields and weapons?"

The Ensign, Renile couldn't remember the man’s name at the moment, and truthfully, he didn't care, glanced down at his portable screen. "With the damage to section eight, our weapons are at forty-three percent, and our shields are still down."

"Sir?!" Commander Renile demanded, angry that this lowly Ensign had forgotten to address him properly.

"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir."

"Divert all available resources into getting our weapons and shields back up." Renile grunted in disgust. The fool Ensign probably hadn’t even thought to do any of this. Renile knew better than to trust that men would do what was common sense.

"Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir.” The Ensign glanced down at his handheld. “It will take several days to fix the shields and get them operational. We can’t even touch the weapons until we fix the holes in our hull."

"Sir," Captain Hapter interrupted, "they are hailing us."

Renile glared at his captain before flicking his wrist at the screen.

The image of a handsome woman appeared, her brown hair pulled back sharply and forced into a tight bun. Her austere face and small nose showed none of the familial features that ran in the Renile family.

"Star-Admiral Renile," Thal Renile addressed his younger sister, "I am so glad you were able to keep up with us."

"Drop the crap, little brother, this ends now. Your shields are down, your weapons are crippled. Surrender and I will try to make sure you have a fair trial." He bristled at being called little brother. He was the elder, but she outranked him, and had him in height by a couple inches.

Thal could feel Keirin Renile's cold fuze to his bones. He had been right to defy her, to refuse to attack that frigate filled with refuges. That she would talk down to him in front of his men, just added more insult. He had earned the title of Star-Commander, and he expected to get his due.

"I will surrender when I'm dead! Those refuges didn't need to die. They were no threat, and were unarmed. You should be placed on trial."

Commander Renile turned away from the screen and gave the signal to terminate the connection.

"That was a direct order! It is your duty—" His younger sister's voice was abruptly silenced as the signal was cut.

"Sir, they are powering up their weapons. We won't last long under another bombardment. We need a few more minutes before our next jump is plotted. We won't live long enough," Hapter stated beside him.

"Well, we will just have to jump with the data we have."

"With all due respect, Sir, there’s no telling where we’ll end up." Hapter's jaw snapped shut at Renile’s look. Did the man really think he was an idiot? How could Renile have become a commander without knowing that? Jumping without having the entire route plotted could land them anywhere, including inside a planet or sun?

"Do it, or die! Or would you rather I boot you out the hatch to her?" Renile said, nodding to the empty screen.

"Plot the jump quickly, Ensign Keller." Hapter ordered.

Ensign Keller's hands flew across his terminal.

Renile sat in his chair, trying to present an air of confidence, but inside he roiled.

"Incoming barrage, prepare for impact. Ensign, it's now or never. Punch it!" Hapter yelled.

The ship lurched, and shook, then everything went white.


Okay, I lost some of the formatting on pasting it here, so please forgive me if I missed a paragraph. And please let me know in the comments what you think.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

A Soldier


I passed a soldier the other day,
Talking to his family far away.
He gave his love, claiming all would be "alright"
They need not fear, he was far from the fight.

I asked him why he chose this life,
Away from his family and wife,
He said it was for their rights,
That he would always choose to fight.

That day, his words stuck with me,
That for their rights, he wouldn't flee.
He would fight for his beliefs,
For others, he delivers relief.

Months later, I would see him in the news,
There would be a fight. One he would lose.
He fought bravely, and not in vain.
Many enemy soldiers he had slain.

His friends were in dire straights
They needed help, before it was too late.
Three soldiers owe him their life,
He left behind two kids, and a wife.

I tell this tale not to make you sad,
Though I know, there are those that will get mad.
These words were written, tears in eyes,
For all those soldiers, families, lives.

A solder right now fights for rights,
Be they ours, or under some distant lights.
Even when they are very far,
Their heart sits next to all of ours.

So when you see a soldier in the street,
Make a point to give a greet.
They have families just like you,
In this country of Red, White & Blue.

Author: SGT Bybee, Jace K

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Coping with Time Management (Or Lack Thereof)


Wow! I started to get a great schedule down, blogging on Mondays, editing on Tuesdays, working on my prequel Wednesdays. Thursday was reserved for tying up loose ends. By then I am with my family, and though I love my family dearly, it is impossible to work on my writing with them around. (Note: Yes, today is Friday, and I am around family. It has taken me over 30 minutes just to write this much.)

So what happened? Fridays have become my new days to blog, and no time to write or edit. (Okay, absolutely no joke, it is now Saturday morning, and I am at work... Shh, don't tell my boss.) What happened was a shift in work for this month. Instead of getting paid for my hobby (if you have been following me, you will know I am a geek!), I have been put on orders till near the end of next month. This shift has taken away nearly all my time. Never fret, I will endure, and get back on schedule as soon as possible. My WIPs are screaming for attention, and I want to work on them. Which is probably why this post is going to be so short... Ta-ta!

How do you deal with time management issues?

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Confidently Humble


I have a phrase I use to describe myself. "I am the ultimate geek, minus three things: I don't wear taped together glasses, I don't wear a pocket protector, and I am danged good looking!" (Note: Last part is edited for younger readers.) Yes, I am confident in myself. I know my skills, I know my personality, and I know who/what I want to be. Why, then, do I find myself so nervous when someone is reading my WIP(Work In Progress)?

Last Monday, at my Writer's League meeting, we broke into two groups to help critique what others had brought. I had brought the first two chapters of my as yet unnamed prequel. Two others in the group brought their WIPs, and five in the group meant that not all of us were reading, some waiting. I waited... It felt like I had handed my newborn baby to a stranger. What would she think? Would she hate it? Was it even worth sharing?

Parts of my prequel are sci-fi, the first two chapters, very much so. The nice lady reading my WIP wasn't a sci-fi fan, and didn't understand much of the lingo. She gave some wonderful advice on a few terms that could use some clarifying. The next round I was able to read someone else's, which took my mind off of my own. What I read was good, and truthfully, there was little I could offer to help her. I received some good feedback on mine: A few sentence structure issues, but otherwise a good start. The next person to read mine is a real-life editor. Within seconds she was marking up my pages and writing in the margins. After page one she looks up at me, and asks if she what she is doing is okay? I'll be honest, my first thought was, If it is that bad on page one, how bad must the rest of it be? Knowing that, just as we sometimes have to let our children get hurt so that they can grow, my WIP needed this in order to get better.

Our meeting ended before she had the opportunity to finish reading. She gave me some excellent advise, and began going over what she had marked. As she turned to page three, I saw how marked up the page was, and was surprised by my own reaction: I was ecstatic! When finished, she told me she wished she had the time to finish reading it. I was more than happy to let her. In the end, she said that it was a good story and really drew her in. She couldn't wait to read the full thing.

At this point, some of you are probably wondering if I am writing this just to brag, or what the point is. I have been called conceited and cocky (Derned right!). I have also been told I am too polite, (I'm sorry). In the end it all boils down to this. When meeting and networking with other people, it is good to be confidant (not cocky), but when it comes to letting others handle your WIP, be very humble. They are not out to destroy it or you. They are there to help it grow and become much stronger.

Tell me in the comments below how you handle others reading your WIP?

Monday, March 7, 2011

The Life and Lies of Every Author


I was once asked if I truly believed that the things I write were real. Since I write fantasy/sci-fi, I had to stop laughing before I could answer. Do I believe that dragons roam the world, and elves are hiding in every forest? Of course not! But afterwords it got me thinking.

This subject came up during the recent Life the Universe & Everything event last February and it got me thinking again. As authors we can see our worlds, hear our characters, and touch their lives. Does this make them real? No more real than any of the other myriad thoughts that flutter through our minds on a daily basis. What then of the thoughts that lay behind our make-believe worlds and characters? Those can be very real.

Dan Wells doesn't have to be a serial killer or even believe that what serial killers do is right, to write about them. That doesn't change the fact that serial killers exist. I have often heard it said that an author writes what they know. (for Dan's sake, I hope he acquired his info from studying rather than experience.)

We do things to our characters, and model these worlds from the clay of our creativity. We force our characters to endure things that would make many normal people break, and then think, What else can I do to them? Part of this is necessary. You can't write a good book without conflict, and it will get mighty boring if the main character does nothing but win all the time. Sometimes it is hard to punish our characters, who want nothing more than to survive to the end of the book, and sometimes it is truly wickedly fun.

In the end, I truly believe that when an author writes, they bare a portion of their soul, or their own psyche if you prefer. Some authors are able to write scenes that would make a Marine cringe, but balk at scenes dealing with *gasp* sex. While some of this may be due to what genre is being written for (i.e. keep erotica out of the hands of YA), I can't help but believe that a large part of the scenes and scenarios that we craft are built from our own moral fiber.

Please tell me in the comments below if you have ever written a scene or story that has made you extremely uncomfortable.