Posted in Fiction, Life, Uncategorized

‘Tis The Season–Or Another Update…

Life is now getting kinda hectic with work getting heavier and heavier. Just checking in so that you all know that I am breathing and writing the new novel. Have actually written over a dozen pages and have more mapped out. Still trying to decide on a couple different endings. One is bittersweet and the other perhaps a trifle ambiguous. And, then there is the third more saccharine  sweet option, but unless the characters pull me in an unusual direction it won’t be that one. I rarely do sweet.

Maybe because sweet doesn’t feel real to me. My actual experiences may have started off sweet but they rarely end so. Endings that I enjoy writing and reading are the ones that make you stop and go hmm. They make you think or question yourself, maybe teach you something new or make you look at something in a different light. I also love the ones that make you cry or laugh. The ones that tug at the heart strings. Simple and sweet just doesn’t normally make the cut, but maybe I will take pity on my heroine and give her some love for once.

There’s enough death and destruction in the real world, do I really need to punish my fictional people with it too? Like my other novel, I find I have a plan to follow but the passion takes me in new directions making me question some of the planned ideas. The end result will be a mix between the two as I am determined not to let this one derail. I have some handwritten notes to type up and some decisions to be made and I have to write around work and the kid, so, it will be slow going but I will get there. Thanks to all for the support. I hope you are all writing well and had more success at NaNoWriMo than I did.

I will be returning in January for a profile on J.R.R. Tolkein. I will post a short post around the 18th or try to, to say happy birthday to Michael Moorcock, another of my fantasy finds a la thrift store. I will also do a post around the 16th, I may make them the same post, for Philip K Dick. One of my favorite sci-fi authors, I will probably touch on Blade Runner, and Total Recall as they were based on his short stories, as well as Minority Report.

January birthdays that I will cover also include Edgar Allen Poe on the 19th, and Philip Jose Farmer on the 26th. Both pioneers, one  in horror/suspense, the other in sci-fi. Whew, going to be a busy couple of months! Happy Holidays to any that pass this way, and good fortune to you and your loved ones! *hugs* JenRae.

Posted in Life, Uncategorized

Giving Thanks

As I recover from over eating and begin to think about this holiday of Thanksgiving, which was made a national holiday by Abraham Lincoln in an attempt to heal a fractured nation, I ask did it work? I’m not sure, but I do like the essence of this holiday regardless.

I believe gratitude is important and giving thanks is one way of expressing gratitude which I try to do for at least a few minutes each day. I think it is very important to stop and take stock of what you have, why you have it, and to remind ourselves that we are blessed.

That no matter how little material things you may have, the fact that you can read this, that you most likely have electricity and access to the internet, that hopefully you had food in your belly and water to drink is in fact something wondrous. Something as simple as being able to breathe can be taken for granted, but it is something we unconsciously do thousands and thousands of times each day.

Even if we are more privileged than this basic level, if we have a job, and an income, a vehicle or the ability to support a family, that is significant. There is someone out there who wishes they could do this or had that, that is just a dream of theirs but a reality for some.  Others are even more blessed and have a surplus income and what seems like a dream life.

Whether they are happy or not only they can know. I do not have this blessing. Sometimes I wish I had more money because I feel the stress of paycheck to paycheck survival and no matter if I get a raise or a windfall, something seems to always happen where these reserves are suddenly needed and therefore need to be used up.

Life does have a funny way of working out, and I truly believe if you practice gratitude every day you are less likely to take your life for granted, are more likely to appreciate what you have, and are more likely to be happy with your life because you know how lucky you are, or how things could always be worse.

We are all survivors of our own maze which is customized specifically for our trials and tribulations. One person’s journey will not be like another’s, so even if someone lives in a mansion and seems happily married and seems to have everything going for them, it is important to know you do not know their journey, you can’t know what they are going through or where they came from or where they will be in the future. Someone that is begging on the streets may actually be happier and appreciate the sandwich in their hand at that very moment from a kind stranger, whereas the person in the mansion could be a prisoner  of a debilitating depression.

I believe true wisdom comes from learning from our mistakes and withholding judgment. Knowing our own journey, and being the best we can be every day. Doing the right thing even if it isn’t the easy thing, and always thinking of the consequences of our actions and who they might effect and how. But withholding judgment of another’s actions while we refocus on our own.

So what am I grateful for? I am grateful for a family that loves me even when I make a poor choice. They may berate me or roll their eyes, but I know when I am broken down someplace they will answer their phones and help me out in a moment’s notice. Not everyone has that.

I am grateful for a healthy, wonderful ,smart son, even though he can be a challenge but there are some who have not been as lucky. I am blessed that he is healthy. I can only imagine the pain of parents who aren’t as fortunate.

I am grateful that I have a roof over my head with heat and light, a working fridge and food to eat, water to drink, a working car, a decent job, and the ability to write words. And an audience willing to read these words.

I am grateful for my health, for still feeling young at heart, for being able to still love and be loved. I know I am capable of it and able to accept it which is something. I have not been hardened or jaded by the past. Not everyone can say that. I am alive. Every day is a gift. I will try harder not to waste this gift because it is precious and not something which can be replaced.

 

*Hugs to all. And Happy Thanksgiving!*

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Life, Uncategorized, Writing

What’s New In The Zoo… Or More Random Thoughts

I have ran the gamut of emotions this weekend. My car died on me in a roundabout on Thursday and I had to push it into a parking lot and call AAA. It was old. Eighties. Not late eighties. In all honesty, it is very close to me in age and I didn’t always take the best care of the car. But she was known as Old Betty by me and my son and she will be missed.

Also, to get a new car I had to cash out my retirement IRA which means I am starting over setting aside money for retirement, which truly is heartbreaking to me. But the silver lining is that the IRA wasn’t earning that well anyway, and we don’t know what the future holds. I am lucky I had it there to fall back on.

Another issue is that I am working a lot which is good for financial surprises like this, but I am also very tired. My computer is also having issues and now that I had to buy a car, I don’t think I have the resources to invest in the computer. Although it might be a simple issue to resolve.

But, despite all this, I got a lot of good things happening. I got to dress forties style and attend a murder mystery style dinner event which was fun. I got a brand new car no previous owners and it will have no issues for a long time. I can actually go on road trips if I wanted worry free. I have been hesitant to go far for fear of breaking down in a random place.

I have an idea for more characters for the new novel but I need to draw their pictures and flesh out more backstory. I actually know how I want the first scene to go. Need to do more prep work before November though. Deadline is coming up so I must use my time wisely.

I believe sometimes for growth or perhaps a reason beyond my understanding, I have to go through a rainy season to get to the rainbow at the other side. I feel like I had a rough few days but now that it is almost done I feel a sort of relief. I survived and will continue to survive. I will make it work, fix my credit and the end goal is to buy a house and publish a working novel. And, I think those goals are very reasonable and doable.

I also believe in true love, even though I haven’t found it yet, I believe I will. It is all about timing and being able and ready and willing. I feel I am personally in a good place mentally. It took me forever to mature but I feel finally like I have my feet on the ground and am ready for life and all that is out there. I am ready for an adventure and responsible enough to make it happen.

I hope everyone that passes this way is having an awesome weekend full of memories. Thank you all. I am fortunate to have people in my life I can fall back on and to have an outlet in this blog and to have such dedicated supportive readers. So many blogs out there that I truly feel blessed to have any followers on mine. So, thank you. *hugs*

JennRae

Posted in Uncategorized

Happy Birthday to Ursula K Le Guin

Happy birthday to one of my favorite authors of all time, Ursula K Le Guin.

She has been one of the authors that has inspired me and also a pioneer for science fiction women writers. Before her success, often women writers had to use initials or male pseudonyms to get published.

Some examples would be Andre Norton and C.J. Cherryh who are both also amazing writers in their own right.

But Ursula is unique. She wrote thought provoking works in the genre and did it with an undeniably female name.

She also writes poetry and literature, fables and fantasy. I have a number of her short story collections from the Birthday of the World and Worlds of Exile and Illusion, to many others.

She deserves a better post but alas my computer is having issues so this will have to do.

Another book I own and highly recommend is the Dispossessed. Also The Left Hand of Darkness is a classic which I also own.

For fantasy fans her Earthsea trilogy is also well done. My favorite out of those was Tombs of the Atuan. She is a true hero to me and an inspiration.

She is an example of what is possible to achieve in the field and that the only limitations really are in the mind and what one believes is possible.

Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized, Writing

Sci-Fi Writing Prompt #2 – The Eyes Have It

Sci-fi writing prompt #2- People have their eyes removed at the age of fifteen and replaced with recording devices that allow the government to see everything they see.

I opened my brand new eyes and looked around in wonder. Everything was so clear and concise. I could even zoom in on details. “I’m so jealous!” Stephy says petulantly stamping her foot in frustration.

“You have to be at least fifteen to have the surgery, sis. You know that. That’s when the sun’s radiation has damaged the eyes and the sockets are finally fully formed. That’s what they say in Miss Miller’s class anyway. “

“Isn’t it just amazing? You can do so much more with these eyes than your natural ones. You can memorize images you can take a copy of what you see for later. But, there is one thing you must do to keep them in working order. You must download them every night on this special platform. You can’t miss a single night or you might experience a glitch. It is very important. So important, your mom has to sign this special government form saying she will ensure that you do so.”

The eye doctor holds out a fancy pen and a long document to my mom with a nod and a smile gesturing to his desk. She sits down takes the pen from his hand and scans the document. Her eyes are also artificial but an older kind, the kind that first came out couldn’t do as much as this model.

She signed carefully printing her name so it could be read. Only a handful of people could read cursive so it was decided that printing had to be used on government forms exclusively when typing wasn’t possible. Once the document was signed the man put it in a machine which sent it to the government offices instantly.

“There, now we are all done. I can’t wait to do the surgery on little Stephy in a few years. Now, remember, every year I have to examine them to make sure they are in working order and that everything is processing normally. And, you must download it every night. Okay?” He smiles and opens the door for us and we file out of the office, the sunlight is bright and I feel my robo-eyes adjust to the lighting instantly.

It feels a little weird. Everything is so different but the same. I can clearly see in the distance. Sometimes my eyes seem to be drawn to particular sights. Like it has a mind of its own. It is a little unnerving because I can intentionally focus on something, but I just get the feeling that the eyes are saving something else.

“Mom, you have these eyes, do you ever get the feeling that they are looking for something on their own?”

“What? That’s nonsense dear. They can only look at and focus on what you are seeing.”

“I know that, but you can see a lot without really thinking about it, you know. What if they are saving details for their own agenda?”

“They are simply eyes, Cathy. They don’t have an agenda.” She sighs and pulls me along shaking her head in irritation. My mom was a committee member of the local government. They had to report weekly on anything unusual in the neighborhood. You know, in case of terrorism. Terrorists were all around trying to destroy the country from the inside out and you just had to be aware of what was going on. So, they would get together and go over reports.

My mom was very pro government. It was the duty of every citizen in her view to assist the government in any way they were able. She had the download device in her purse. It was a thin long black rectangle with a couple small jacks that plug into the eyes and download the data of the day. I am guessing it sends the information much like that machine sent that document. Straight to the Government Office of Internal Thought Processes.

There were government offices for all sorts of things and committees at every level so people could feel involved and a part of the process. It was important to feel like you belonged to something. And since religion was banned, the government tried to make people feel as loved and safe and included as before without all the unnecessary unscientific stuff that religion had.

My teacher said religion made people stupid. Sometimes I would occasionally see my mom get a bible out at night and read a passage or two before she hurriedly locked it in her safe. She seemed embarrassed, or ashamed of it. But I know it gives her something I do not have. Some kind of feeling, because afterwards she seemed calmer or less anxious.

I often have trouble sleeping despite the soothing sound machine and the temperature being set to the ideal sleeping conditions in my room. Sometimes I would surprise my mom at night because I simply felt lonely. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t alone in the house. That despite all the gadgets and machines, I needed to see something human.

I would check on Stephy too. She would be snoring away clutching her teddy bear Graham Cracker the Great, toys put away, circular rug askew in the otherwise neat environment. She had no trouble sleeping. I envied her. She looked peaceful, happy. I wasn’t sure there wasn’t something wrong with me. I didn’t feel like that. I am not sure I ever did.

It was at these times that I would catch my mom and dad doing unpatriotic things, or less than patriotic things, Miss Miller would say. I know they need to be corrected but something about them not being perfect made me feel better. So I let it go. Even though we are supposed to report things to the school about suspect behavior at home. The fact that my dad often leaves in the night and I don’t know where he goes. Stuff like that that I know the government people would want to know.

I say nothing because I secretly like the fact that they aren’t robots. I like being human. I like them being human. Sometimes I doubt I am human. Sometimes I don’t feel human. I feel like I am pretending and watching the humans, trying to learn how to be human and failing. I feel so disconnected and just wish I could find the right plug. Maybe if I change somehow I would feel more a part of things. Maybe I should join my class committee and become a part of the government machine. Maybe that is what I was missing.

When we got home the first thing my mom does is put my download platform next to hers and Dad’s, three little black platforms in a row waiting to charge and download our eye’s data. “There, now isn’t that nice? We have just enough space for Stephy’s when she is older. There was one empty spot on the counter, waiting for my sister. Stephy ran to check on Graham who was sitting on her bed propped up just like she left him.

“Where is Dad?”

“You know Cathy, he is working. He has a very important job. He isn’t allowed to talk about it. But it can take him away for a long time, but if it wasn’t vitally important, he would be right here with us. You know he loves you, right?”

Her expression was one of concern, but the artificial eyes couldn’t show it. When my sister was being comforting, you could see it. Something in the eyes showed it. In these eyes, you felt nothing. Maybe this is why I feel disconnected. How can you connect to something so cold, and empty?

“Of course,” I say automatically. Part of me wondered how Dad could drive away at night if his eyes were charging in the case. True, cars drove themselves, but he wouldn’t be able to record any events, how could he know what was happening? Who he was doing business with? What kind of business would he be doing that the Government wouldn’t be able to download? Or is he not downloading his eyes? I wondered about what the eye doctor said about a glitch. What would that be like?

Night came and I took my eyes out like the Doctor had showed me to, and placed them carefully on the connections on the platform. My parents hadn’t downloaded yet, but they went to bed later they explained, and I went to my room with its perfect temperature and the soothing noises and the window with the artificial picture of trees on it.

We were on the 37th story of the building but the window was made to look like I had a garden waiting outside, a beautiful dream-like paradise I could visit. But none of it was real. I could no longer see it without my eyes and I still had trouble sleeping. I heard dad leave in his car. Not many ventured out at night. Except for special exceptions there was a curfew. Terrorists and people up to no good were up past curfew. I hoped my dad was an exception but it was hard to say. Terrorists were supposed to blend in with us, and be trained to fool us.

I got up carefully, feeling around my bed and the wall making my way to the door, blind. I managed to get to the platforms where the eyes were. I knew mine was the closest to me, being the most left of the three. I casually felt the other platforms and the eyes weren’t there. They weren’t being downloaded. My own parents were lying to the government and breaking their contract! I was horrified. How could they do this? I grabbed mine carefully putting them in.

My eyes adjusted to the low light, and suddenly I saw flicker and static and saw an Eastern Yellow Swallowtail butterfly superimposed on my vision, for just a second. A logo for the Government Science Department of Robotics flashed and a stream of words scrolled up and then they went dark again. My eyes crashed. Maybe they weren’t done downloading? I had no idea what time it was.

They came back online in a flash; the butterfly made one more appearance and then it was gone. I went quietly to my parents’ room and peeked through the keyhole. I saw my mom kneeling down below her bed, her bible in hand in her nightgown, alone. Her back was to me, I could only assume the bible was in her hand, but I knew it was likely. I crept back to the hall way and decided to go back to my room with my eyes in. I didn’t like not being able to see. It was scary and I hated feeling isolated. I got under the covers and held my blankets around me like a cocoon to try and feel safe. Not sure it worked but day happened eventually.

I got up and drank my breakfast meal and started getting ready for school. My parents were all ready up looking at their screens reading and watching the news while Stephy drank her breakfast pretending to share it with Graham.

“Good morning everyone.” I say cheerily and tired.

“I see you got your eyes back in. Didn’t have any trouble did you?” Mom asked hardly looking up from her coffee and screen.

“None at all.” I say with a smile. I could pretend too. I could pretend everything was normal. The door bell rang with a calming chime. I got up, “I’ll get it.” I go to answer the door and three men in Government police uniforms consisting of bullet proof vests, black masks and assault rifles storm in.

“Freeze. This household is in lock down for further investigation for unorthodox behavior and failing to download eye data. It has been brought to our attention that you break curfew and are continuing to do religious observance. The Government Health Agency has expressly forbid religious observance and the offending book will be confiscated and destroyed. Also, the car is being taken to our offices and is being downloaded to see where it has been going and to whom. You have the right to remain silent, anything you might say will and can be used against you in a court of law.”

None of us moved, knowing that the police were given free rein to shoot on provocation. Stephy started to cry, and Mom went to comfort her, but one of the men gave her a shake of the head, his visor and mask making it so his expression couldn’t be read.  My mom sat back down slowly.

I could see her desire to comfort Stephy in her face, but her eyes were devoid of feeling, recording the information coldly, disconnectedly. There was no soul in our eyes. Stephy was the only one whose eyes had that weird quality. That could show what was going on inside her. Something the robo-eyes could not and would never be able to do.  One of the men grabbed the teddy bear from her, Stephy screamed and clawed toward the bear, tears flowing from her eyes, yelling “no, don’t take Graham, he is my only friend!”

The man elbowed Stephy and she fell down hard, looking up confused, my parents frozen, unable to move. The man looked in the back of the teddy pulled out a machine. Graham had been a sort of eyes for Stephy too apparently. “Confiscating this for evidence.” The man says unconcerned. “Leave a guard at every exit, make sure they stay in lock down, no one here goes anywhere until the investigation is complete.”

My mom looks at me with her machine eyes. I would say accusingly, except the eyes didn’t show it, they showed no humanity whatsoever, but the rest of her expression was hurt, or what I must guess was hurt. I am not very good at reading people’s faces or expressions. It is always the best guess for me, and I am wrong as often as I am right.

“The eyes see what they see, and they report what they see. I can’t help that you were betraying the Government. You are at fault for being unscientific and secretive.”

“Oh Cathy, you have no idea what you’ve done.”

“I’ve done my duty. We must all do our duty. Isn’t that what you said so many times before?”

“I wish I could cry right now.” My mom puts her hands on her face but no tears will come from the artificial eyes, no release from the pain, she holds Stephy and rocks her, and examines the bruise on her face. My dad stays in his chair, in total shock, not moving, not saying a thing. Stephy grabs what’s left of Graham, the machine part gone out of his back, his black glossy eyes hidden camera machines. How many more were there in the house?

Her tears got his artificial brown fur wet and messy, she clung to him more than Mom, who tried to be empathetic, but it is hard to project that without the windows to the soul. All of our windows were fake throughout the house. They were all windows to no one leading to nowhere.

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing

Better early than late…Happy Birthday to Robert Jordan

Robert Jordan’s birthday is Monday the 17th of October so I figured I would write something on how his books influenced me and my writing. He of course is the fantasy writer that was writing a very long series and unfortunately, passed away before it was complete. Many are worried that George RR Martin might share this fate, but honestly I don’t know.

I guess when I was reading Wheel of Time, at first I was interested, the further the series got along the harder it became for me to take it seriously. I felt like many times Mr Jordan was treading water; less plot was happening because the story had splintered into so many directions that he was busy just trying to keep up and so it felt like he was lost. Like he knew he should end it, but didn’t know how. I am not sure he would have ever finished it. Honestly, he may have never wrapped it up even if he had lived another ten years it was all ready at book 13 or 14 I believe when he passed? I may be wrong, I haven’t fact checked so I’m going on memory here.

Okay, so how did he influence  me? Well, going back and working on my novel from 2001 it is painfully obvious to me in every half smile, bitter laugh, and gawd knows what else, that he had a direct influence on my word choices and how I defined characters. Going back and trying to re-read Wheel of Time, the first thing I notice is how repetitive these things are. A character is defined by how they swing their braid, or how they half smile, or some other little gesture, and it repeats throughout the books. It is a defining feature of that character. It is also annoying.

Mr. Jordan had great skill as a puppet master, keeping many lines going at once, and that also affected me, unfortunately that is a skill that takes a lot of practice to perfect, and my skill wasn’t there yet.

So, while I think he is a decent writer, his works for me are more Anne McCaffery and less Le Guin. More middle school literature, than college. It is hard for me to go back and enjoy them.  I do recommend them to people who are young and haven’t read much fantasy, they are pretty light fare. I would say they are more epic in nature than Piers Anthony, and not as high fantasy as Terry Brooks, but the writing level is about the same. Not as medieval or descriptive as Martin, so an easier start into fantasy. It is like the  Hobbit as opposed to Lord of the Rings. A 6-inch sandwich as opposed to a foot long.

Posted in Uncategorized

Sci-Fi Writing Prompt #1–Bread and Bots

From the e-book Other Worlds Writing Prompts by James Mascia

Strange worlds –1. Your characters live in a world where brain scans accurately detect lies and convictions are made instantaneously.

She sat in the small cell waiting for the Brain Star to come, the laser bars taunting her in the meantime with a view of freedom so close but so far away.  She heard her stomach give a loud rumble.  She looked around the bare cell wondering where people went after this. No one had come back to talk about it, but from what she had heard the Brain Stars were never wrong and could detect a lie and would mete out your  punishment  right then and there.

There were no people around her. Perhaps in the neighboring cells but she couldn’t hear anything. She knew the laser bars were impenetrable. She threw the apple core from her basic lunch at them and watched it disappear with a sizzle into nothing.  All the food was finger food so she had no implements like forks or spoons to do anything with.  The plate was a paper like material that crumbled into nothing within 30 minutes.  Her uniform was also extremely basic. A bright yellow jumpsuit, no belt or accessories allowed. They took no chances in here. No guards to bribe just machines cruising around in the metal hallway. Always watching but never directly interacting.

“Come on. Let’s just get this over with. I know I’m on a camera somewhere and I know someone has to be watching this somewhere. Just scan me and send me wherever people go. The waiting is intolerable.  If this is really fool proof, why don’t you just go around scanning people going about their lives why wait until we are starving and desperate to torture us? Please, someone say something!”

What she wouldn’t give to hear another human voice. Even the robots here said nothing. She could hear a whir and a hiss of movement but they never spoke to her.  Finally one of the robots she saw zoom by stopped its blue light swiveling toward her cell. It hovered there bobbing slightly. A couple more showed up doing the same. Finally she watched as a larger bot approached slowly steadily rolling on treads. Could this be the infamous Brain Star? It had a large cup coming out of its chest area. She saw flashing blue lights inside the cup which was about the size of her now shaved head. That was the first thing they did was strip her of her clothes and shave her head, and give her a cold shower with robots scrubbing her body red and raw.  She shivered at the memory.  She felt the light stubble on her head which felt prickly against her palms.

The two smaller bots approached the laser panel with the large one between them. The lasers flickered off for a second but both little bots trained laser guns on her person blue lens whirring as they adjusted their aim. The large robot entered her cell clamped onto her arms tightly. She squirmed and kicked, eyes rolling back in fear shouting obscenities yelling “Please, anyone out there? I was alive, I was here! I don’t want to die alone! God forgive me. I was hungry, is that such a crime?”

The robots said nothing. The large one clamped the cup like device onto her head while it held her still in an ever tightening grip.  Soon she stopped resisting and slumped against the bot. It flashed images from her brain scan on an internal camera. It saw a little girl running in a meadow; it then saw a teenager stealing a candy bar from a store.

It saw a young woman take a baseball bat to a food store at night, with the intent to steal. Saw her hurriedly eating the bread out of the bag while robots surrounded her, coming closer. She swung the bat at the bots, destroying a few while more kept coming, some of them getting back up a little worse for wear. Finally one of them stunned her with a jolt.

The bot saw images of her getting cleaned and head shaved, saw her placed in the cell and laser bars activated. Saw all the images of her ranting and raging about the solitude and lack of words.

There were so many people jammed together in the world now that hunger had reached a crisis so it was thought more humane by the leader to put the extra populace to sleep much like what was done with cats and dogs in the twenty-first century. It was for the good of all of course.  The needle entered her head from the cup putting the girl to sleep forever. The robot saved the memories like one does the minutes of a meeting.

The leader would review the materials later if he liked, but most likely this case wouldn’t merit much interest. It was too common.  The robot without passion filed away the scans out of duty, the beauty and tragedy of life lost senselessly not noticed or truly experienced.