To There and Back Again

For once I was recharged and ready to go yesterday.  I mean, I was tired after work, but only because it was as long, boring day, and I wanted to get home bad.  But there were things to do:  a paper to edit (okay, I wasn’t really into that one), a novel to write, and a intro to the television reviews I’m going to do.  I got in there and did them.  Did them hard.  Got the paper out of the way, wrote up almost nine hundred words on my intro, then turned around and added another six hundred and sixty four words to the novel.  Really, I tried making it to sixty-six, but it didn’t happen.  Maybe next time.

Another goal was reached as well:  seventy thousand words passed.  And this time in twelve days instead of fifteen.  I had to make up for lost time, right?

It only seems like six weeks ago this had just become a novel.

It only seems like six weeks ago this had just become a novel.

The rate at which I’m working leads me to believe I’ll finish Act One in a couple of weeks–probably during the time when I’m back home in Indiana.  If this is true, then the first act will end up somewhere between eighty and eighty-five thousand words, and the other two acts, if the same size, will pull the novel in at a quarter of a million words.  Though that can change, because I believe Act Three might just end up a little bigger than the others.

Doesn’t matter.  At least I can release this book as one book, and not as a multi-volume encyclopedia.  It’s easier to read that way.

And what about those six hundred words?  Well, they’re right down here, and it’s a bit of a continuation for Annie . . .


(All excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Two: B For Bewitching, copyright 2015 by Cassidy Frazee)

Annie remembered the first time Kerry and she walked into the Dining Hall with their flight gear on and their brooms in hand—the first Saturday after the first week of classes. She’d visited Deanna in Memory’s End while Kerry was with Vicky getting checked out on an Espinoza. He later met her as she was walking back to The Pentagram and convinced her to fly around the school grounds with him.

Mid-way through their day they buzzed the Great Hall, landed in the garden, and went inside for lunch. Though Kerry didn’t seem to notice, Annie was keenly aware that at least a third of the students in the hall watched them as they walked to their then always-reserved table, set down their brooms, then unzipped their flight jackets as they sat and waited to order.

Since then they’d done the same thing many times, including twice in the last month since returning to school. Only as they entered the Dining Hall this time, Annie felt something different. It was akin to the buzz she noticed the first time the walked in like this, as if they were once more drawing attention to themselves by simply looking different.

It’s entirely possible people know something about me and my training. Most of the B Levels were aware that she was spending time with Isis in the Aerodrome, and that Kerry had been with her the first time, and today. She figured there were rumors floating about, but so far nothing had reached her ears. Whenever anyone asked either of them what she or they were doing, the answer was always the same: flying. Not that we’re misleading anyone with that answer . . .

Kerry held her seat and waited for her to get comfortable before taking the seat to her right. “You still hungry?”

“More now.” Annie unzipped her jacket, shrugged it off, and hung it on the back of her seat. “Particularly after that second flight.”

“Yeah.” Kerry retrieved the short lunch menu in the center of their table. “I wasn’t expecting a quick trip to Ipswich after getting back to the Aerodrome.”

Annie hadn’t either. Upon returning to the school they landed inside the Aerodrome—entering through the same roof entrance Annie had used the week before—and spent about twenty minutes discussing the flight. After going over a few minor issues, Isis told Kerry to saddle up once more, and motioned for Annie to follow her into the open air beyond the Aerodrome.

The moment they were outside they flew up to five hundred meters and struck out on a westerly course. They flew on a direct course for ten kilometers to the train station at Ipswich, paused there for about five minutes so everyone could get their bearings, then covered a fast five kilometers to the Crane Estate at Castle Hill. They touched down in the gardens far away from the mansion, walked around for about thirty minutes, then returned directly to the school. Isis pushed Annie on this last leg, getting her speed up to near one hundred and twenty kilometers and hour, a third more than the sixty and seventy kilometers and hour they’d flown on the first flight.


That route was easy to figure out–

Because you know I did.

Because you know I did.

And though not stated above, it was nearly thirty-two kilometers, or twenty miles, right on the dot.  An interesting thing here is the Castle Hill/Crane Estate area.  If you’ve seen The Witches of Eastwick or Flowers in the Attic, you’ve seen the house:  it was the estate used in both movies.  You can also do a wedding there if you have the money.

Or, if you're Annie, Kerry, and Isis, fly in and see the place from this angle.

Or, if you’re Annie, Kerry, and Isis, fly in and see the place from this angle.

Who know, there might be something important about this house–like, owned by The Foundation, or something?  Or maybe someone in the novel will get married there–

Let me see:  are there any couples in this story?

Humans: Intro to the Parallel Present of Synths.

Here’s my first guess post over on Author Rachel Tsoumbakos’ blog.  I’ll be over there for the next sixteen weeks doing reviews of two televisions shows.  Don’t worry:  I’m not going anywhere from here.  You don’t get rid of me that easy.

Here’s my intro to the AMC shows Humans.

On Beyond Finish

It took a little doing, but the goal was met.  2,524 words written in two scenes, and The Foundation Chronicles:  The Scouring, got the push it needed to jump over the Camp NaNo finish line.

Yah, me.

Now what?

There is always a point in creating a story where a certain amount of exhaustion sets in, and you start to wonder how you’re going to push through that curtain.  Sometimes you just gird your loins and keep working.  Sometimes you take a break so you can catch your breath, then come back feeling refreshed.

There are also those points in time when you wonder if what you do is making a difference, and if you should continue with your endeavor.

I’ve spoken of these things before, of highs and the lows, of the perseverance and the doubts.  Last Friday I pushed myself to write a six hundred word review, a five hundred and fifty word blog post, and finished the night by putting almost eleven hundred words into my story.  When I woke up the next day I asked myself, “Why am I doing this?  There’s no pay; there’s little recognition; there’s a lot of work.  Why?”  These days it gets asked a lot, because there are an inordinate numbers of stress factors in my life, and this is but one more.

I don’t do this for fun.  I know there are writers who say, “Oh, I’m only in this because it’s fun!”  Yeah, okay.  I have fun doing this to, but I also put some crazy work into getting things the way I want, which ends up front-ending a lot of work on even a simple project.  Can’t help it:  I get nuts like that.

I’m not into fan fiction, either.  Oh, I’ve done it; my current project sorta came out of a fan fiction background, one might say.  I know there are people who spend years working on fan fic:  I saw something on Facebook the other day where someone said they’ve written a half-million words of fan fiction.  Fantastic.  I can’t do that; it’s a little too much like literary masturbation to me.

I write because I do enjoy writing.  I do enjoy making stories and writing the occasional review or article, because I would like to do this all the time.  I also like the bit of recognition I get, which is always good, unless we’re writing something that we’re rather people never see–or we’re penning a novel outside our comfort zone and are curious to see if critics are going to love it if they don’t know who wrote it.

In my own way I’ve gotten a bit of exposure that was nice, and not the sort you encounter hiking on Everest when a storm blows up and leaves you freezing to death and gasping for air.  Sure, Amazon has its own Death Zone for us self-publishers, but that’s a completely different thing.  The exposure I’ve received has been for a couple of articles I’ve written, and since I never intended to publish them, the pat on the back felt great.

My fiction, however:  that stays with me, and when I’m finished I publish it for sale.  My intention is to tell stories and to sell, and to eventually do this all the time.  This is why I get crazy and upset and up and down a lot, because my expectations are great, and the realities are not so much.

But I keep at it, because one day things will turn around.  This I believe.  When I’m not all that upset with my story.