11/11/11 Tag!
Well, looky here. My first tag game of my Tumblr career(?). Huge thanks to @hyba for considering me for this after us just having met! I deeply appreciate it.
Without further ado.
#1: If you could choose one character (one of your OCs, but you can choose another character as well) to hang out with for a night, which would it be?
Any character… Temperance Brennan, Bones. We wouldn’t be doing much in the way of having fun, perhaps, but she could teach me all her anthropological ways. Maybe then I could finally decide whether that’s the career I want to pursue or not!
#2: When did you get the idea for your WIP(s)?
This is assuming I have a WIP—I don’t, really. That said, though, for each of my stories’ prompts? My best friend whipped up a list of them for me, one word a day for a month. If you check out my blog, you’ll see that they’re real inspirational! I’ve come up with the best stuff I’ve ever written from the words they gave me.
#3: What’s the one thing you want to accomplish in your life?
I want to change a life. One way or another, I want to have been influential enough on this planet to have improved somebody’s life, however small or however long-lasting. Make somebody’s day better, keep them smiling through the week, give them the strength to make it through the month. Maybe even to live another day, with my work.
#4: Where do you go when you need to take some space away from whatever is frustrating you (your writing, or anything else)?
I don’t have a place I go, no. When I’m frustrated, I usually just stick it through. Is that healthy? No, probably not, but I’m not the kind to stand my ground by stepping away. When I do, though, it’s usually to my room, where I’ll just lay there, contemplating.
#5: What’s the funniest book you’ve ever read?
Funniest book… Probably Counting by Sevens by Holly Goldberg Sloan, my second favorite book of all time. It tells the story of an orphaned and adopted gifted child entering middle school who ends up losing her pair of adoptive parents, too. It’s poignant, touching, but also hilarious. If you haven’t heard of it or haven’t had a chance to pick it up, do that. Give it a read, it deserves it.
#6: Of all the characters in books that you have read, which one is your favourite?
Look. I’ve never actually read the book, but Howl’s Moving Castle means the world to me. It’s my favorite movie of all time since my older cousins first showed it to me when I was younger along with My Neighbor Totoro (I just love Ghibli, man). Sophie Hatter is one of my favorite characters of all time, a well-written woman who regains and maintains her strength despite (and, perhaps, because of) her affliction. If movie Sophie’s anything like book Sophie, I’m swooning.
#7: Have you ever abandoned a story/book for over a year and why?
I abandoned writing in general for many months before these two weeks of immersing myself in it again, for personal reasons. In the general sense, putting words on a paper (or, more accurately, on a screen) felt… wrong. I’m trying to break through that the best I can lately, and I feel it’s working.#8: If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where you would be?
Canada, no second thoughts. Why? Beats me. I haven’t ever been, I hardly know anything about it, and it’s cold enough to freeze my nose off up there. Do I still love it as if it were my home country? You bet.
#9: Name one writer whose writing and style have influenced you.
Is this basic? You tell me. Stephen King. My favorite book of all time is It, after sifting through a PDF version because What Teenager Has Money To Pay For Books. (I’d like to, but a guy has to economize. King probably wouldn’t mind too much.) I’ve tried to take his level of description and tone it down a bit for my own writing, for I’ve had many run-ins with the ill-fated Purple Prose!!!. That aside, though, his pace and tone set up for the onl book that
#10: Do you have an end in mind for your WIP(s)?
N/A, for the time being. But again, in terms of my short stories, I usually begin with a loose idea and flesh it out as I start writing, letting things come to a stop wherever they do. Then I prune a bit before showing them to the world.
#11: Which WIP have you enjoyed writing the most so far?
Breaking post format for a second to announce I’m doing short stories based on this phenomenal art by @kadabura; check them out, please!
Without further ado, meet Teller, Miki, and Brutus.
(Source: kadabura)
A wasteland of shrapnel at 4,000 degrees Kelvin.
That’s what they whispered about as they worked. Running along their rails to maintain the facility, the conversation fell on her threats: Was it sarcasm corrupting their code? Or did she really have a place for the damned?
Served to be wary; she had a history. The neurotoxin stunt left them in charge of everything, including clearing out the bodies.
After that human came through with the device, one of them found out, one of the storage cubes. Chucked down the Emergency Intelligence Incinerator.
No one heard the Weighted Companion Cube speak again after she brought it back from android hell.
Renée; burned.
Tony; stabbed.
Lillian; fifteen different pills, twice a day.
They lie there in agony.
My teeth graze my bottom lip on the way past the general ward, fingering the elastic on my gown. My friends, half-dead.
There’s a nurse coming down the hall, clipboard in hand. Grins at me.
How sweet, the warmth of that smile. It seems too good to be true. Why?
A thud. I whip back to see her clipboard slap the floor, tiles stain red. Fire ants scurry from under her mound of hair, light the hallway ablaze, crawl on me.
I begin to scream before I’m swallowing flames.
Blood spurts from my tongue when I come to. Metal jangles. Cushions under, around, beneath, behind.
My eyes fall on the plaque, hand-lettered: Jefferson’s Institute for the Insane.
“Attention, all passengers!”
Ripping my eyes off the blog post open on my phone, I crane my neck to search for a bullhorn I can’t spot.
“We’re approaching Eddleton. Thank you for choosing our railway. I hope you’ve had an enjoyable trip.”
Rickety, sidelong, and a little less than ideal, but yes. I’ve had an enjoyable trip.
On my hunt for the source of the booming voice ahead, my eyes fall on matte-rimmed glasses, gold accents. They’re shuddering this way and that in conversation.
When the lenses are parallel mine, I turn. Shift in seat.
Has this train begun to sway?
A dart of tongue over lip, a tic from long ago.
I’m left sighing when I see an empty seat ahead.
“Never been the lucky type,” I mutter, rising to console myself in the dining car.
Three steps in, another glimpse! My mouth opens; no sound comes out. Instead, I snatch an eclair and book it to coach.
Grumbling. Cream filling a little duller than usual.
Moment past moment, I wait, electrified. Nine times out of ten, I check the time for show. The tenth, it’s to realize we’re two minutes away.
There’s a quiet buzz. Then a less quiet buzz as passengers crowd the exits, myself included. Scanning my Keds over.
Terminal 3B. Marion should be here soon. How I wish I wasn’t so despondent.
Coffee won’t help, I know, but I’ll have something to distract myself with. Into the lobby I go, right up to the sweet-looking Asian woman pouring tea beside the machine. One latte, I begin.
But beside my head hover matte-rimmed glasses, gold accents.
I gather a breath. Sputter it back out. Turn in their direction.
“C… Excuse me, would you care for a coffee? On me.”
Lenses parallel mine once more. This time, I stand firm as he smiles.
With a smile of my own, I turn to the woman, who has a wizened eyebrow raised.
“Make that two.”
Beside Jane, the currents swish. Brine gets old quick, she’s realized, salt invading her nose, settling on her tongue.
How she’d loved the beach. Acapulco, Rocky Point, Florida and the Bahamas. Bronzed bikini body, built for the water.
A surfer boyfriend helped her case.
But the big, old waters follow no rules. Out she drifts, clinging to gnarled driftwood, a speck on the open sea.
