Terminological Inexactitude

Kepler-22b

2012-01-22T00:03:00.001+08:00

PleaseNote: The following documents were leaked onto publicforums on March 18^th without the knowledge or authority of the International Defence and ExplorationAgency (IDEA), and have beendismissed by them as "a hoax withthe intent of inciting animosity, fear and grief".

Thedocuments, labelled top secret andconfidential, are reportedly the logs of Dr Clodagh Stonewall, an Irish astrobiologist aboard theinterstellar spaceship, IES Virtus.

Asmany are aware, the controversial exploration ship, along with its crew of 188men and women, arrived at its destination, Kepler-22b,3 months ago. Their last public transmission was 2 months ago.

IDEA has stated that the Virtus mission is going as planned,however the recent draught in public radio transmission from the expedition haslead to growing concern for the welfare of the crew and caused a flood of disastertheories across the globe.

Thepartial logs included here are so far the only source of information the worldhas received since January 12^th on the space mission many believe tobe ‘ill-fated’.

Theoutlawed hacking collective known as WeHold The Power has taken responsibility for the leak, and they claim therewas much more such correspondence between IDEAand the crew of the Virtus. Theybelieve these logs point to a “fataltragedy” occurring on Kepler-22b,however, these claims are unsubstantiated and criticized by many experts, andas such they should be considered with discretion.

This is the beginning of my newest short story which can be found here.

Skeleton Kisses

2012-01-21T23:07:00.002+08:00

There is so much, so freaking much, in the world that is tale worthy. In news articles on the net or in magazines, in chance encounters while at the corner store to get milk, in bits of gossip from the lips of a housewife with a boring life, or my personal favourite, Wikipedia. Inspiration is everywhere and anywhere you chance to look.

No one will ever create a world as rich and humorous and compelling and motivating and scary and enthralling and sickly as this earth that we live on. History is so rich, so unbelievably detailed with moments that make you reassess your views on life and your place in this world. It is brimming with emotions so concentrated and powerful that it has literally molded our modern thinking. I'm not just talking about events, but thoughts as well. Speeches, intentions, unwritten rules that govern actions, motivations, empathies and that horrid emotion, love.

The 'Lovers of Valdaro' is a story that has captured the hearts of romantics worldwide, because they actually look like they died while making out (or booping noses at least), and because they were found near the city where Romeo was exiled and was told of Juliet's death. Also, the city was the setting for some opera that sounds like a type of pasta by some Italian dude that probably ate a lot of it. Who cares. If you haven't heard of these star-crossed lovers (seriously?) click here.

There are lots of theories surrounding the duo (a boy and a girl, around 20 years old), which I don't particularly care for. If history has taught us something, it's that the past is full of crazy. We will probably never find out what happened, but it may just be for the best. Go and enjoy your soapies. As for me, I'm gonna write a story about these olden day lovers. Genre: horror.

Journeyman - If The Earth Was a Poet

2012-01-19T16:21:00.005+08:00

Mother Nature, Gaia, Terra, Earth. Home. The big bluish-green globe meandering aimlessly (not really) through the solar system, brimming with crazy wildlife, delicious produce, and giant floating ice mountains that sink ships. A haven in a universe full of lifeless rocks and emptiness.
I wish I were on it, I really do.
Instead, I feel that I live on one of those lifeless rocks, a planet of consequence full of men with insatiable appetites. Forests destroyed en mass. Deserts grow uncontrollably. Oceans become lifeless and empty. Life gets shorter. Human fear becomes hurricanes of man-made carnage, wars and famines and disease. Pandemics viciously cull populations. But the humans prevail. This lifeless rock has an energy that keeps on giving, and we keep on taking.
Let me live in a world of my choosing, pretty please?

I enjoy writing fantasy, primarily medieval or ancient era fantasy, because I can escape the world of today. Because earth collectively sucks. I create a realm of men, not human men, that bend to my will and desire for a healthier and more youthful world. Yes, I make myself a god. Albeit a nice god who rewards hard work with more hard work (because it's character building!).
Sure, they wage wars, oppress with religion, endure epidemics and famines, conduct unhealthy activities like assassinations, treason, and blasphemies against the church or state, and sometimes take potshots at little homeless kids with their crossbows for a good hearty laugh. But they are civil when it comes to their world. ("There, there, world. I didn't mean to scuff your grass. Here, take some manure as recompense.)
Trees are a building product. Fish are a source of food. Steel is used for utensils and weapons and hip replacements. There is no mass production of anything, except maybe arrows for warfare. There is no destruction of entire forests, no sapping the ground of fossil fuels, no gases to pollute the air or plastic bags to pollute the dirt. I live in those worlds, in my head. The land tells me what it wants, and I provide. Yes, it has a voice. And yes, I listen and record.

If our earth had a voice, would we listen? Of course not. The earth has always had a voice, but we ignore it. These days at least. Way back when, the ancients believed the earth was a powerful deity, a goddess even. They worshiped the earth, and sacrificed to it. Gaia (Mother Nature), according to the Greeks (or Terra in Roman mythology), gave birth to all the Great Gods as well as the Titans. She was the beginning and end of everything. To them, she was life. Mortal creatures were born from her earthy flesh.
This is, of course, scientifically accurate. We are made up of the elements of the earth, and when we die, we return to the ground. From dust to dust, as the saying goes.

The pain in creating a world, for me, is no matter how much I strive for uniqueness, it will always be based on this world. Plants grow in dirt and are sometimes edible. Fish live in water. Sharks believe they can fly. Men build to satisfy their egos. Animals are food and sometimes clothing. Mosquitoes exist (Why!? For the love of God, why!?), The weather is uniformly unpredictable and annoying. Gravity is equal to ours.

What if gravity wasn't equal? If it was more forceful, the men might be shorter, stockier, and stronger. They would probably find it hard to jump. Buildings would have to be more sturdy. Birds would need to be lighter, or have bigger wings or something. I don't actually know, I'm just throwing some ideas around here.
If gravity was lighter, men would probably be tall and lithe. They would have almost no muscle mass, and going to the toilet would be a problem (floating faeces, anyone?). Maybe they would need some kind of anchor to keep them grounded, or they could wear a weighted belt or moon boots. Probably not.
What if the atmosphere was thicker, as in, closer to being like water than air? Would men breathe through gills and semi-wade around instead of walking? What if the land was constantly moving, like a rolling wave or a sand dune? How would they build? How would they draw maps? For the sake of heck, how would they sleep?!

The Midnight Foray - About the Ill

2012-01-19T00:41:00.000+08:00

I was reading through my NaNoWriMo project this evening, trying to revise a few chapters so that I could send them to a friend to proofread, and I noticed things in there that I can't believe came out of my brain. Not that it was fantastic or anything, but it just did not seem to agree with my way of thinking.
This leads me to think that I am not actually awake when I write, but instead entranced into some fictive dreamlike state. Probably not true, but could be. Who knows.
So, the problem is, when I go to edit this stuff, I can't remember (or never knew to begin with) what my intentions were in regards to characters, motivations, and plot. This is mainly only a problem where the chapters in question are half finished or partly written.
This is all pretty irrelevant to anything, but I do want to know if it happens to other writers. I might ask one someday.

Back to the point of this blog. Inspiration.
I over-trained at the gym a few days ago (over-training means I actually went), and today my arms won't bend straight and I feel like I have a dagger in my butt-cheek. Just one butt-cheek, the other is fine.
Anyway, all this discomfort got me thinking about life and how easy it is to complain about the small things. I learned during my recent studies into disabilities, that a quadriplegic person can have spasticity of the limbs, which causes a sharp and sustained contraction of the muscle or group of muscles. The pain is reportedly a number of times greater than the worst muscle cramp that you or I have experienced.
That, and it is sustained. As in, no relief.
Imagine a muscle cramp that continued for hours or days or even weeks! What a way to live.
One of the young men I talked to at the Paraquad I visited (a residence for spinal cord injury patients) told me that he literally tripped over a mound of sand at the beach in the shallow water and landed face first. Then snap. He broke his spine in the lower neck region (between vertebrae C-5 and C-6 if you know your anatomy) and he is now confined to an electric wheelchair with loss of function from the chest down and partial impairment of his arms.

So little force. Such a vicious aftershock.

Why am I writing this down on a blog about writing? Well, firstly, I am grateful I have use of my fingers for typing. Also, I find it so hard to comprehend such a thing as paraplegia. I can only imagine that feeling of no control must be so frustrating, so infuriating at times. I know this thought can apply to many conditions that prevent motor control, such as Parkinsons, Multiple Sclerosis and Cerebral Palsy too, and they are just as perplexing.
How do these people handle the unresponsiveness of their bodies?

As an author, how can I write a character with an infliction, whether it be SCI (spinal cord injury), MS or another ailment, write their thoughts, their new found beliefs, their renewed view of the world and everything in it? Does the world become a bigger place now that they cannot travel? Do they view unafflicted people differently? Do they resent us, or pity us? Do they dream and aspire to accomplish the same things we do? Do they continue hoping modern medicine will cure them soon? Does their demeanor change permanently, or do they grow to accept their condition and return to the same person and personality they were before.

I wish I had the time to spend with them, to question them. But it would be selfish of me. I write fiction, and it would not help them for me to write about the condition of these people in a book of falsities and fabrications.
But I feel the need to write about them regardless. I will make stuff up, like I always do. And my stories will seem contrived and ungrounded like they always do. And I will delete them. Like I always do.

Inspire - Looking Forward

2012-01-18T23:42:00.002+08:00

It's a fresh year, I have a fresh career, and a fresh start to anything I decide to do. First off, this darn blog.
I know it will come in handy one day, and I'm going to start using it as a palette for my thoughts, where I can spew things out, swish them around, mix and match, and later make them into something coherent and maybe interesting for someone... somewhere... somehow.
My mind is a bit of a mess where inspiration is concerned. I find it (inspiration) in the strangest places, and I always fail to record it. Well, I am going to write down inspiratory (is that a word?) stuff in this blog as often as life permits.
It may be boring, it may be bland, it may inspire across the land.
So today is the start of the beginning of the first day of the new blog. I will finish this one now and begin work on my next installment. Come forward, muse. Inspire me, and I shall immortalize you.

Mama would be so proud.

2011-06-03T17:58:00.000+08:00

I'm officially on Smashwords! Although at the moment I only have one measly story up. (More are on their way, I swears!)
My author page can be found here, and a link to my first story is here. That's right. I said author page. I am now calling myself an author, kosher or not.

And I'm aware there are no prerequisites to uploading a story to Smashwords, but I'm still excited. Don't take that away from me.