It’s Showtime!

And, as promised, Part One of Diners at the Memory’s End.  And don’t mind the banner, though it is a little hot.

Filling My Mind With the Offerings of the Day

Yesterday was one of those days where I was flying up and down the emotional scale so quickly, it wasn’t even funny.  That seems to be the case with me any more.  I’m all over the place mentally and emotionally–just like Elton is saying right now, it’s like being a Madman Across the Water, seeing everything so very well.

Yet never seeing what you need to see for yourself, right when it’s in front of you.

The day was taken up with work–naturally–and thinking about making a planet.  I know, that last is pretty strange, but the reality of it was it didn’t take very long.  I needed it for my new story, because I wanted to visualize one of the characters, and I needed to know about her home, the planet she came from.  So, I made it:

Ah, there we go; the Cymru Newydd system, with satellites Cardiff and Tryweryn.  Nice place, no?

And here’s her home up close:

Isn’t she pretty, with Cardiff in the background?  You could almost imagine some dragons flying around that place, can’t you?  Ah, but that’s for a later story . . .

I was able to determine that the planet is small, but dense, so it’s mineral-rich, while having a gravity that’s .9 of Standard gravity, which is to say 9.8 meters/second squared, which is to say just like Earth’s.  So my character might be a little taller than normal, but not so much as to be Beowulf Shaeffer-like.  I mean, that’s how I was going to have her in the first place, but it’s what happens when I start thinking way too much about how things should be, and I start drilling into the detail just a little too much.

Then I started getting into conversations about posting this new story on another blog.  That actually went on for several hours, and it was–interesting.  Hearing about why the owner of the blog was happy to see me come on board–ah, you gotta love it when burgeoning writers begin slamming other writers over whether their work sucks or not.  Lookie here:  unless you’re pulling down Stephenie Meyer-sized paychecks on your work, you’re in no position to be telling another writer they suck, and that their work is shit.  When you’re in the big time, you can start your own website and publish to your heart’s content.  Until then, kick back, enjoy the ride–and don’t be a dick.

Oh, and do that to me, and I’ll eviscerate you and your story.  But in a nice way . . .

So the first eight parts of Diners at the Memory’s End will show up on another site, one that I’ll link to just as soon as it sees the light of day.  Now, I know some of your are saying, “But, Ray, a while back you said Diners would have sixteen parts–”.  Yes, I did.  I guess that means if you want to find out how the story ends, you’ll need to buy it once it’s finished.  In the business, that’s called hooking your butt.

Then the evening came, and the roller coaster continued, and . . . damn, I don’t know, if I were a woman I’d say I was feeling very emotional.  Don’t know how you ladies do it, but I felt like I was dying.  I just want this week to get over so I can get out of where I’m at now, and be somewhere else come Friday evening.

I kept editing, though.  I got through half of a chapter in Her Demonic Majesty, but said chapter is about forty-five hundred words long, so still some to do tonight.  Then when that’s done, maybe I’ll look for beta readers.  Or I’ll just query it.  I haven’t decided.  Right now I want that novel sold, I really do.  But it has to be right before I do.  Oi.  Why am I doing this again?  Because I love it?  Ha!

I need to work tonight.  I need to get myself into my writing.

Living my life can be such a pain; my characters are so much more interesting.