Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Poe War
I found a really good site that deals with writing techniques and tools. I'm reading through it slapping my forehead at the brilliance of the exercises. The tips and activities that it suggests are really helpful. I'm really trying to get through this book that I'm writing, so any resource can be very helpful. Here's the site: http://www.poewar.com/
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
The Blessed X - Renewed
Muhahahahaha! I've done it! The Blessed X isn't annoying looking anymore. It's actually readable! Go over there and take a look. Click Here
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Latest
This is what I've been up to lately. Below I've listed the hook for my book. It's a small excerpt from it, but I didn't want to list the entire thing for all to see without copyrights. I'm sorry that I haven't posted in forever. There's just been no motivation to do so for some reason. Anyway, let me know what you think mom.
My dear friend, I’ve undertaken to write to you and others like you in answer to all your questions. My silence isn’t changing the mail I’ve been receiving, nor is it helping me to move from place to place, they still find me, so I’m going to write to you answering all your questions once and for all. I plan to be as descriptive as possible and tell the story exactly as it happened. I’ve also included with this letter my journal entries from the time. Use them and my writings however you need.
My sincere hope is that you and others will stop asking me questions concerning what happened up there in Chochokpi. This should quell the curiosity.
-Michael
I was sitting at the top of a hill overlooking my small town beneath. The town of Chochokpi had been my home for three years. It was small and quiet, removed from the rest of the world cradled in the Rocky Mountains. Fog settled in every morning, which is why it was named Chochokpi meaning “throne for the clouds” in Native American Hopi language. One could only reach the town by one road or by air. I liked it for its seclusion and for its modest population just over two thousand. True, it was one of those towns where everybody knew everybody else, but I managed to stay out of that loop for the most part. I kept to myself except for a few friends. People noticed my reserved nature, but treated me with kind hellos nonetheless.
I looked down at my blank notepad and then back toward the town. I was a writer. My first novel had been published, unfortunately. Initially, it left me star-struck with the notion that I had natural talent for writing. I decided I wouldn’t have any trouble getting another book published, but I was wrong. It’s like going to Vegas and winning your first time. From that point on, you think you can win and spend more than you should when you go back. I’d submitted over a hundred pitches since my first book, but I didn’t hit a jackpot. My will waned as I watched my once robust earnings drain from my bank account. I would need to find work soon if I didn’t get published, so I kept searching for ideas.
The sun had set and a calm breeze filled the air. It was late autumn. Dusk brought with it the orange and pink painted sky accented by its glowing reflection off the treeless, snow capped peaks around the town. The mountains really could boast of its small towns and their beauty. It was here that I settled after the book signings and fame drove me away from the California coast. I was twenty-six when I moved here.
My perch was on a pronounced cliff that jutted out of the bowl the town was settled in, just about a mile behind my house through the woods and above the tree line.
The lights throughout the town were on and gaining more visibility with each darkening second, but as light drained from the sky and the stars began to show more prominently I noticed the lights in the city stop casting light.
November 22 2:30am
Tonight I had a lapse in consciousness and as far as I can tell, it was a significant amount of time. One moment I was looking over my town and the next I was knocked backward while a flash of light flooded the sky. That’s the last thing I remembered till I woke up. The breeze had been warm and calm, but when I came to, I noticed that it was cold and whipping at my face. When I moved, my joints cracked and popped. It was apparent that I’d been lying there for hours. I feel sick to my stomach even now. I stumbled back down through the woods and to my house, almost throwing up two or three times. I’ll keep a bucket near my bed tonight. I’ll think about all this in the morning.
My dear friend, I’ve undertaken to write to you and others like you in answer to all your questions. My silence isn’t changing the mail I’ve been receiving, nor is it helping me to move from place to place, they still find me, so I’m going to write to you answering all your questions once and for all. I plan to be as descriptive as possible and tell the story exactly as it happened. I’ve also included with this letter my journal entries from the time. Use them and my writings however you need.
My sincere hope is that you and others will stop asking me questions concerning what happened up there in Chochokpi. This should quell the curiosity.
-Michael
I was sitting at the top of a hill overlooking my small town beneath. The town of Chochokpi had been my home for three years. It was small and quiet, removed from the rest of the world cradled in the Rocky Mountains. Fog settled in every morning, which is why it was named Chochokpi meaning “throne for the clouds” in Native American Hopi language. One could only reach the town by one road or by air. I liked it for its seclusion and for its modest population just over two thousand. True, it was one of those towns where everybody knew everybody else, but I managed to stay out of that loop for the most part. I kept to myself except for a few friends. People noticed my reserved nature, but treated me with kind hellos nonetheless.
I looked down at my blank notepad and then back toward the town. I was a writer. My first novel had been published, unfortunately. Initially, it left me star-struck with the notion that I had natural talent for writing. I decided I wouldn’t have any trouble getting another book published, but I was wrong. It’s like going to Vegas and winning your first time. From that point on, you think you can win and spend more than you should when you go back. I’d submitted over a hundred pitches since my first book, but I didn’t hit a jackpot. My will waned as I watched my once robust earnings drain from my bank account. I would need to find work soon if I didn’t get published, so I kept searching for ideas.
The sun had set and a calm breeze filled the air. It was late autumn. Dusk brought with it the orange and pink painted sky accented by its glowing reflection off the treeless, snow capped peaks around the town. The mountains really could boast of its small towns and their beauty. It was here that I settled after the book signings and fame drove me away from the California coast. I was twenty-six when I moved here.
My perch was on a pronounced cliff that jutted out of the bowl the town was settled in, just about a mile behind my house through the woods and above the tree line.
The lights throughout the town were on and gaining more visibility with each darkening second, but as light drained from the sky and the stars began to show more prominently I noticed the lights in the city stop casting light.
November 22 2:30am
Tonight I had a lapse in consciousness and as far as I can tell, it was a significant amount of time. One moment I was looking over my town and the next I was knocked backward while a flash of light flooded the sky. That’s the last thing I remembered till I woke up. The breeze had been warm and calm, but when I came to, I noticed that it was cold and whipping at my face. When I moved, my joints cracked and popped. It was apparent that I’d been lying there for hours. I feel sick to my stomach even now. I stumbled back down through the woods and to my house, almost throwing up two or three times. I’ll keep a bucket near my bed tonight. I’ll think about all this in the morning.
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