Tuesday, 14 January 2014

Kicking into second gear

Its time to get serious. After a few days of dabbling around without success in finding a job, and a little more R&R, this man is ready to write. The real question comes down to what kind of goals should I set for myself? 1000-5000 words, I need a goal that will stretch my limits as a writer with a slow wpm typing speed, but also doesn't take me 16 hours to achieve.

I Know, I'll ask you! What do you think a good goal for WPD (words per day) would be for a writer on his first book! Many of you reading this probably have more writing experience than I, So, this question goes to the veterans of the trade. When you were in your budding years as a writer, what were some goals you set to keep a fire lit behind your rear end? I have an idea dying to jump onto pages, but whoever said writing your first book was easy, clearly never wrote a book. (My family says that to tease me.)

I'm just starting to write the 3rd chapter in the book, and im stoked for my future career as an author!

Stardate 172.5... Captains log. It seems to me that at this point in my career (since it hasn't started) I can start in any genre that I want! Sci fi, fantasy, whale autobiography, humor, the world is an open book, and all I have to do is open that cover.

Wednesday, 1 January 2014

The start of something spectacular.

After quickly stocking up on hot chocolate, some less then name brand goodies, and some other fattening treats, I take a seat and begin to write. Looking at the blank page, thinking... now I know how God feels. Creating a world from a blank slate. Fortune smiles upon me as I look back to my notebooks and I begin to type.

I told you I would be putting teasers into the blog, so without further adieu, here is a paragraph from the first chapter of my book, The Scarlet Sundial

The clapping children in the audience change their tone of voice from joyous cheers of excitement to shrieks of terror as the curtains are consumed in flame. Ripping the Crowned doll off his hand, Abel tears the textiles off the wooden frame and stamps it out. “That liar, the merchant clearly stated the fabric as fire resistant!” A trail of smoke rises from the fabric, stinging his eyes. After rubbing them for a few seconds to clear them of smoke, he spots Mynchah, his adopted nephew, laughing at the other end of the courtyard. Clearly enjoying the spectacle, Mynchah draws nearer to the stage, lifting the powder filled barrel that he was using as a temporary seat onto his shoulder.

 Anyways, feel free to comment if you like it, or not. As I am just starting I'm completely open to constructive, and even destructive criticism. Believe me. After eight months of having doors slammed in my face, and having my faith stretched and bruised in every possible way, i think i can handle the bad stuff too.