Have Goggles, Will Fly

New Home...

2009-07-12T17:49:00.002-04:00

So, because this blog was odd and I didn't post to it much, I decided to try a new address, so I hope you will all be willing to change your book marks and mosey with me over to http://www.northoftheline.com

Photographs and a Few More Notes on Plot

2009-02-10T12:03:00.003-05:00

Some Photographs From My New Canon Camera

It's been cold in Richmond over the past few weeks, so I decided to stay indoors and get my apartment in order, so as not to live with piles of teetering books or old water bottles. The pictures below evidence my hard work and the weather.

The Further Exploration of Plot

Just the other day I picked up a new Moleskinne notebook with the intent of writing my ideas for my steampunk-fantasy series. Something about the cream colored paper, the oilskin cover and that silly elastic band help my ideas pour out in a flood. So far, I've added several races - gryphon riders, centaurs, forest folk and a maybe a few witches styled after Greek goddesses. There may be a sort of hydrogen bomb or weapon of mass destruction, as well as a fleet of zeppelins. The plot is developing nicely, so I wanted to touch on a few ideas on this subject again. In the last post about plot, I wrote that I believe plot should entertain the audience, grow organically from causal relationships, and funel into a final confrontation of some sort.

Plot should be based on relationships, not just on events. The decisions characters make should trigger other characters to make decisions , creating conflict. In the basic love story, boy meets girl and makes a decision to do something about it. Conflict is created and decisions are made based on the boy's desire to start a relationship. This may seem excessively simple, but with multiple characters and the author's desire for certain scenes, this could be fairly complicated.

For example, I've got a string of scenes I would like to write, but right now I'm focused on how to get my characters motivated to arrive at that point. If these scenes are forced, it will be obvious to the readers that the author has done a hack job of bringing her that you'v done a hack job of bringing your story together. If you want a gunbattle or a brawl, there should be sufficient motivation for such a thing. Most people are never involved in something so extreme, so there should be a good and believable reason that it's happening in your story. That's about all for today, but let me know what you think.

Holding the Line.
Bri

Fear This Book: An Odd Discussion of Fear and Art

2009-02-03T12:27:00.001-05:00

Today I finished reading Art and Fear: Observations on the Perils and Rewards of Artmaking by David Bayles and Ted Orland. Let's just start off by saying that this book is not a How-To manual. The writers discuss how to art-make and all that comes with that hyphenation, but the book is a shallow dip into such subjects. While giving the reader a healthy dose of how artists and their issues, the writers do not give artists a way of working out such issues.

I know the reviews on Amazon rave about this book, but I was not moved, consoled or even angered by this book. The writers offer pithy advice that in some sense may be useful. But on the whole the book is flat and I feel, more useful as a justification for artists who are having a hard time. Others may disagree and argue that the book was useful for them, or that I'm not really an artist because I wasn't moved by the writer's advice or regaling tales of how the art/publication world works. Either way, I might recommend this as a starting point for this conversation, but I definitely would not recommend it as any sort of authority on the subject.

I enjoy a discussion on theory and craft, as well as the next writer-painter-illustrator-craftsman, but after reading the same ideas repeated again and again, I began to doubt the validity of the whole work. When I picked up this book I expected slight suggestions with the authors offering encouragement. Instead, I got a book of platitudes and observations easily deduced from an artistic life, while also dealing with paranthetical insertions from the authors or badly designed boxes full of italicized maybe-funny maybe-clever advice. But then again, maybe I'm just not enough of an artist to get this book.

Holding the Line.
Bri

Plotting, Plotting...

2009-01-29T11:28:00.004-05:00

Lately, I've been reading a lot about plot, seeing as how I've begun drafting out my fantasy-steampunk series. The thing is, most of the stuff I read about plot is either too mellow and unhelpful, or too formulaic and predictable. So, today, I'm going to write a little about how I plot and see if any of you have any other suggestions. I'll probably end up doing a little series of these, to cover all my bases.

First, plot has to be organic. Events can’t just happen, like dominoes falling in a row. Plot requires cause and effect, just as it requires motivation and desire from the characters. Take for example, Star Wars:

--- Vader WANTS to capture the princess and destroy any chance of the rebels finding the plans for the Death Star.

--- Because of his actions, the princess sends a message to Obi-Wan through a pair of droids (she WANTS to help the rebels).

--- Because of her actions, Vader sends storm troopers after the droids, which were bought by Luke’s aunt and uncle (Vader WANTS the plans back in Empire hands).

--- Because of this, Luke’s aunt and uncle are killed. So, Obi-Wan and Luke set off for the spaceport (they WANT to get off world with the Death Star plans for the Rebels).

Second, plot needs to entertain. I know a lot of people really don't like this idea of entertainment and think it's base, but people love to be entertained and charmed, and it's what sells lots of books. At least that's my opinion.

Third, all of the plots and subplots MUST funnel into a final confrontation/moment of epiphany/last battle for the story to resound with readers. What if Luke never faced down Vader in Return of the Jedi? What if Rick never confronted the Nazis in Casablanca? What if John Nash never faced his personal demons in A Beautiful Mind? The what if is that the stories would be BORING. Nothing would change, nothing would matter, and there would be no resolution for the audience.

That's about all of my thoughts today. I'll post more on plot as I go. Meanwhile, check out Michael P. Kardos' article "In Defense of Starting Early" and John Truby's The Anatomy of Story. Both are pretty efficient at explaning some craft and theory issues of fiction.

Holding the Line.
Bri

Democracy and Spider

2009-01-25T18:40:00.005-05:00

With the first few weeks of graduate school behind me, I've gotten my apartment back in order from the holiday festivities and visitors and finished a few arcs of Transmetropolitan. The graphic novels follow controversial and crazed journalist Spider Jerusalem as he tries to make democracy work in a futuristic world that isn't a far cry from our present day. While apathy and stupidity are his two greatest enemies, I can't help but disagree with this charismatic and psychotic character on a few issues.

I know we're taught from birth that democracy is for the people and most importantly, by the people. Even after such a wonderful and historic election, I can't help but feel immensely small in the whole grand scheme of things. I don't email my senator, a die-hard conservative from the reddest of states, Texas. I don't try to get her to care about anything I care about, because I know it will be a futile effort, akin to talking at a brick wall and expecting intelligent discourse.

I do not participate in local government, though I do generally follow the issues close to my heart. I try to be involved in community and to do my part for the environment, but I don't feel like assailing the halls of Congress or even city councils with proposals or ideas. I don't know if this is apathy, realism or cynism. Either way, it makes me sort of sad that things don't work the way they do in comic books or in movies. Any thoughts?

Holding the Line.
Bri

High Plains Writer and Graduate School Update

2009-01-21T10:00:00.001-05:00

I haven't written on the blog in a few days because Graduate school got so ridiculously busy in very quick hurry. To update you all, in honor of receiving my loan money, I purchased the smallest, cutest, most wonderful laptop the world has ever seen and a fantastic camera to chronicle my life here in Richmond, away from my man and family.

Also, on the graduate school front, I've been attending a most brilliant Fiction workshop in which we critique each other's work and discuss various theories of fiction. Last night we talked about how, in fiction, we have expectations which are usually crushed when the writer giving us what we've always been given - the cliche expected ending. We're charmed by the writer and the work when they turn the story in an unexpected way and suprise us, even if the suprise is unpleasant. This simple bit of advice and theory has made me carefully reconsider North of the Line and the turns of plot I've chosen for that story. I'll update you on this as these thoughts develop.

Also, we reviewed my piece, given below. Everyone had great critique for me, but I thought I would let you all have a gander at it as well.

Out on the high plains, where the mesas rose up like old fortresses against the sky, red and craggy against the rising moon, the low cry of the lobo rolled up to meet the newborn stars. Lora, her curves and angles beautiful in the dusk, curled up beside Benjamin, her head on his shoulder. He kept his hands behind his head, watching the clouds skid across the constellations.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“I’m thinking I don’t like that question.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he said. She smiled, pushing him just enough so that he would push her back. He rolled her over, pinning her against their blanket, smiling widely.

“What are you thinking?” she asked again, laughing when he slumped down beside her, as if in defeat.

“I’m thinking that I like living with you,” he said. “I’m thinking that you worry too much, but that things will be alright.”

“You don’t know that,” she said. “The doctors don’t even know.”

“They got me on enough antibiotics to down a horse, Lori,” he said. “Everything’ll be fine.” He smiled and it was pale beneath the sickle moon. He motioned to her and she lay back down beside him and there by the lonely mesas, stars fell, dragging fire behind them like signal torches. As the night eased on and Benjamin pointed out the constellations to her, tracing the lines of light, connecting the dots, the radio in his truck played one of those high lonely mountain songs, and the melody drifted out over the grassland.

Holding the Line.
Bri

Viva La Revolution

2009-01-12T18:20:00.006-05:00

The Year of Books and Financial Aid

Today, I attended my first classes of the semester and then after two hours of being nice and getting nothing, I got pushy at financial aid. I got my loan money though, so I don't mind having to push to get my way. While I like to be a nice person, sometimes a little force is what's necessary to make the wheels turn.

On a different note, I have a stack of reading material that actually stands taller than me (I measured). I have decided that this, 2009, will be the Year of Books. After I finish a book, I will write a small review. Mainly, I want to keep track of this for myself, but I figure I can also give you guys some interesting book reviews. So, first up: Viva La Revolution by Mark Steel.

In this weird and quirky book, Steel claims that revolutions are not started by one group of people or one set of circumstances. Instead, these moments swirl up from just the right mix of anger, outrage, justification and ambition. While this image is powerful, I wonder if the American Revolution follows the same guidelines. Seeing as how we didn't end by lopping off people's heads to carry on our pikes, I would think most likely not.

The book so far, while candid and humorous, it also gives incredible insights into the motivations of men in times of revolution. In my steampunk-fantasy, I've planned an elaborate story about unrest in a world with many parallels to our own, so after taking notes I've got some pretty great ideas.

So, next, I plan to read up on the American Revolution, a subject I haven't touched since grade school because the founding fathers were always portrayed as boring fops - not the tremendous men who founded a nation and overthrew monarchy for democracy and equality. Reading about our founding father seems appropriate, seeing as how inauguration is only a few days away.

Holding the Line.
Bri

Magical Beasties and Revolution

2009-01-11T19:12:00.000-05:00

So, in the past week since Bear left, the house has been quiet and sort of cold and I've gotten the rearranging bug. I've rearranged all of the upstairs and plan to move several stacks of books up there so that it feels more welcoming. Where there are books, I am comfortable. School starts in the next few days and I know I'll probably have to put away North of the Line for another few months. It's frustrating, but necessary if I want to focus on my writing at university.

In my last hours of freedom, I've picked up Viva la Revolution by Mark Steele. It's a stand-up history of the French Revolution, laying out the basics in plain language, which helps. I'm also reading biographies Caesar by Christian Meier and Mao by Jung Chang. Why all the historic reading you ask? I would like a look at influential world leaders for when I write my main character who becomes a pretty influential guy.

Also, if any of you know if any interesting or informative bestiaries, let me know, please. I'm working several magical creatures into the steampunk-fantasy story and could use a good resource.

Holding the Line.
Bri

The Plot is Not Thickening

2009-01-06T10:41:00.000-05:00

One of the hardest things about graduate school is scaling down the epic stories I've always told. I need to write concise short stories, based more around character than plot. The thing is, eventually I want to write for children and they definitely don't really care as much about character development and snail-pace plot. They want to know what happens and they want to love their characters. I'm not saying children's literature is shallow. I'm saying that the adventure and the story don't get second billing to subtle character development and nearly non-existent plot.

And this leads to one of the larger issues I'm dealing with right now: plot. I'm debating how much of North of the Line I should plot out. I think I probably need to work most of it out before I get neck-deep into the story and find that I've written myself into a corner. Also, I have no idea how to plot a series. A basic books is one thing, but something as large and complicated as an epic multi-volume steam-punk fantasy is something else altogether.

The question is whether or not to plot book by book, making sure I leave enough unanswered questions to sustain interest (i.e. LOST) or create something elaborate and thought through (i.e. Battlestar). Knowing me, I'll be neurotic and continually plot the story out so that I can try to keep control of it.

Holding the Line.
Bri

Holding the Line in 2009

2009-01-05T09:41:00.000-05:00

Last Year and This Year

2008 was not my year - the stats on my blog show that. I posted less than 30 times, compared to over 100 posts in 2007. A few things about this year were beautiful. Bear and I have been together since December 20, 2007 and we celebrated when he came to visit over New Year. Most of 2008 were stressful though. I moved away from home and Bear and everything I love. Graduate school in Richmond has been a culture shock and many times I wish I had stayed closer to Texas.

Now that Bear is gone back to Little Rock the house is quiet and not nearly as warm. I do a lot of laundry and try not to notice little things like the change he stacked on the coffee table or the cologne he left on the bathroom counter. I can't express how happy I was while he was here. At the risk of sounding sentimental, I'd say that I'm more in love with him now and I know for a certainty how good life will be with him. I'm glad for that, but at the same time, it's hard to be here without him.

His visit jump-started my interest in my longtime work-in-progress, North of the Line. I've drafted a few scenes and currently, I'm working on the plot for the next few books. One of the major problems is that I'm torn between the idea of a trilogy and just running with the story for as long as I can, book count be damned. I'm also working on developing a few subplots and romance threads that have never been a major part of the story.

I hope you all had a happy New Year!

Holding the Line.
Bri

Little Red Needed Her Huntsman

2008-11-02T17:25:00.007-05:00

After a rocky but good weekend in Portsmouth, our Halloween costume party and viewing of Clint Eastwood's beautiful beast The Changeling, I'm glad to be home. I picked up a few ridiculously cute pieces of clothing before heading back to Richmond, but I regret nothing.

While the Halloween party was a train wreck at first, it evened off. I think we had an alright time. The girls who came over were almost ten years my junior, so the generation gap was incredibly obvious. I was not an immature teenager and neither was I ever really much of a girl; these girls were my antithesis. It was surreal and so I will leave it at that. As you can see, I went as Little Red Riding Hood. My huntsman called me in the middle of the party and got me out of the awkward teenage-ness for a little while and things were better after that.

This week, I don't have to do much, so instead of watching election coverage, which only stresses me out, I think I will probably watch the last season of Sex and the City and read a few Harry Potter books as I attempt to wrap up the series. I may write some, but after last week's illnesses and meanness and cold, I think I might relax. Alot. How was your Halloween?

Holding the Line.
Bri

Settling into Life in Richmond

2008-10-22T11:17:00.001-04:00

Cool Blue Evenings at the Edge of November

Leaves are falling here in Richmond and the cooler temperatures make for nice walking weather. I’ve taken to riding my bike around the neighborhood, picking up a soda from the 7-11 on the loop back home and I find that I’m beginning to enjoy life here. I have a full library of new books, a warm bed and tomato soup and grilled cheese when I come home from a long day at the Writing Center. It’s quiet where I live and so I get my work done, read in my big comfy chair and sit out on the back stoop to eat dinner and watch the neighbor’s cat stalking finches in the high grass.

While I mourn the loss of Boston from the World series, life has taken an upswing in the past few days, for a few reasons. I got a new computer and I dropped the evil composition class that was bringing down my self esteem and my grades. I picked up the perfect eight-hour-battery-life computer and NaNoWriMo starts in just a few weeks. I'll be running through it with my friend, Kathy from Travel Well, Leave None Behind. I’m preparing myself to pick up North of the Line once more. This story has followed me for most of my adolescent life and has surfaced once again in graduate school.

The Great Story

I think, and please don’t judge me for this, that each author has that one great epic story they want to tell. That story will haunt each of us until we write it and define our writing life when we do. Maybe some of you don’t believe in this, but I do. North of the Line has been that story. I have figured out quite a few things about myself in writing this story and I love it for its sudden complexities and its characters, each of whom embody specifics of my own life. The story has also matured as I have come up through college and I am pleased at the changes it has endured in the past few years. While grad school has become the bane of my existence for the moment, this story has become a way for me to escape and enjoy writing again.

Holding the Line.
Bri

Jason Varitek is My Hero

2008-10-19T12:31:00.001-04:00

Must-Win Game and a Must Finish Paper

So, while I'm waiting for the game between the Red Sox and the Rays, I'm working through the composition paper from hell. The thing has to be fifteen pages long, touching on every singe article we've read so far this semester - an impossible thing to accomplish in that page count. I do get a chance to revise it, so I guess I have a chance.

On a lighter note, tonight I get to see Boston in a must-win Game 7 against Tampa. Jason Varitek has become my hero over the past few weeks. He's knocked in some of the pivotal scoring runs for Boston and he's maybe one of the better catchers in the league. And, just as a personal aside, I adore catchers. Tonight, I hope to see a Sox victory, then Boston v. Philly next week.

NaNoWriMo!

As October and baseball's postseason wind down, I'm gearing up for November and Novel Writing Month! A friend and I are launching into the project, with a goal of 20,000 words instead of the traditional 50,000. We're both busy with school and life, her with kids, me with 150 students. So, we're taking it easy and trying to get a story going in November. I'll be posting segments of it every Friday for your consumption.

I'm not expecting a great literary work on the first go round from NaNoWriMo, but I do expect to have a few ideas to work with over Christmas break, which I will be spending in Richmond, VA.

Let's See How Far We've Come

I voted by absentee ballot last week and all I can say is that the election can't get here fast enough. I don't really care how you guys vote, but definitely do it; this may be the most important election in decades. We're picking the next leader of the free world and all of the responsibility that comes with that position. So, vote. I include the following video, just because it's pretty nifty.

Holding the Line.
Bri

Right Path and Praying for Boston

2008-10-18T15:53:00.000-04:00

As October rolls in, the American and National baseball leagues battle it out for a chance at the World Series. I admit, I'm a baseball fanatic. During college, I could never guarantee that I would ever get to see the Series, but I followed the post-season quietly, not wanting to alarm my roommates or my boyfriend. This week, Bear has discovered my obsession: baseball is my religion. The Brewers have fallen while the White Socks and the Cubbies retreat back to Chicago. Last night, the Red Sox retired Anaheim in game four. That's tons of fun, but I just want to see the Sox in the Series. Say amen.

This past weekend, I went down to Portsmouth to drop off the face of the earth for a few days. I visited my friend and after we rode bikes, we watched episodes of Frazier while we ate ice cream, grumbling about our aches and bruises and weary legs. I found I was able to concentrate, to focus on my school work, to even consider the life I'm leading. I have decided to continue with my MFA, but once I'm done, I think I'll take a break from academia for a while. I want to be a professor like my undergraduate teachers; they inspired and encouraged their students and I didn't feel like the breath got knocked out of me every time I went to class.

Have any of you ever realized that you may have set out on the right path, but maybe that you did it at the wrong time or in the wrong suit? That's what this feels like.

Holding the Line.
Bri

A Reading List for Graduate School

2008-10-05T22:27:00.000-04:00

From what I hear, graduate school is supposed to be, pardon me, a bitch. Finances, classes, jobs, grades, students, etc. I don't know if I manage my time and my money very well, but I've not run in to most of this evilness. So far, I've picked up thirty books, a few DVDs, and enough fresh fruit to survive the apocalypse. Life is good my friends. Life is pretty freaking good.

The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison
Beloved by Toni Morrison
Sula by Toni Morrison
Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy
The Road by Cormac McCarthy
All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy
The Crossing by Cormac McCarthy
Cities of the Plain by Cormac McCarthy
Tuck Everalsting by Natalie Babbitt
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
Lord of the Flies by William Golding
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
Anthem by Ayn Rand
Heaven's Net is Wide by Liam Hearn
The Harsh Cry of the Heron by Liam Hearn
Brilliance of the Moon by Liam Hearn
The Collected H.G. Wells
The Collected H.P. Lovecraft
Winter's Tale by Mark Heprin
Big Bang by Simon Singh
Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie
The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie
Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
Twilight by Stephanie Meyer
New Moon by Stephenie Meyer
Eclipse by Stephenie Meyer
Breaking Dawn by Stephenie Meyer
Snow Crash by Neil Stephenson
Smoke and Mirrors by Neil Gaiman

Holding the Line.
Bri

p.s. Thanks for the encouragement on the last post! Knowing you guys understand helps.

Blazing Epiphanies in Graduate School

2008-09-29T11:55:00.003-04:00

Blazing By

Graduate school has picked up and I'm blazing through each week, wondering some days if I've even eaten breakfast. As the months shoot by toward Thanksgiving and Christmas, I find I can't wait to see my parents and Bear. Life in Richmond is fantastic amounts of fun, but I'm ready to be with people I love. Jocelyn came up to visit this weekend and we had a smashing fun time driving out to Mechanicsville in search of a clothing store. I was sad to see her leave this morning.

Realizations and Epiphanies

I came a realization on something, but don't judge me too harshly. I woke up this morning and realized that all through high school and my undergraduate career, I did what I thought everyone wanted me to do. I made perfect grades, I had perfect attendance and I fulfilled all the requirements to get into graduate school. The epiphany came when I realized I am unhappy doing this. I like being able to read whatever I want, on my timeline. I like being able to write what I want, without fear of being crushed for mild mistakes and I like being able to get to bed at decent hours without stressing about some assignment.

What I realized was this: I was glad I wasted the weekend with my friend instead of preparing for another round of schoolwork. I'm glad we ate noodles and watched sappy chick flicks instead of laboring over some obscure article or another. I know that may sound very childish and very selfish, but I think at some point, you've got to do what you want and stop stressing over what everyone else wants.

Holding the Line.

Bri

Suckage and Twilight...Shopping Too

2008-09-18T10:10:00.001-04:00

Shopping Spree

The money from the school finally came through, along with two paychecks they’d been holding. That’s the first thing you need to know. Second is that after my money from the school came through, I went on a shopping spree. I bought cute outfits, cute shoes, cute jackets. The WHOLE nine yards. I look classy and adorable. Its amazing what money can buy: it may not buy happiness, but it comes damn close. The only thing that would make this week any better is if Bear could be here with me.

Suck-age

The thing is that long distance relationships suck. The Long Distance Relationship of Bri and Bear is probably not as bad as others. We talk throughout the week. He’s busy. I’m busy. Those are the facts. But it still sucks. Here are three reasons why.

He can't be here to check and see if there are zombies or other monster-esque things downstairs when I hear a noise at night.
He can't be here to say things or make faces or do dances that make me laugh.
He can't be here.

And so it goes. But the thing is that when I do get to talk to him on Skype, or I do see pictures of him on Facebook, it is enough for now.

Twilight...and Feminism

I just lately finished the second book of the Stephanie Meyer's Twilight series, when I hear an uproar on the Internets. There is apparently a row about the author being an anti-feminist pro-stalker vampire lover. Honestly. I read the series. I adored it. I chewed through the first two books in days. I'll tell you this. It is pulp. It is entertainment. It is base. But that doesn't mean its not a good book. That doesn't mean that kids shouldn't read it.

I'll be going into Twilight more later this week. I'll just say for now that this sort of book is the reason I eventually picked up the classics. Formula books, books like Twilight are the reasons students stick with reading long enough to develop taste and good sense in literature.

Holding the Line.
Bri

Notes from a Debate on God - Hitchens v. Turek

2008-09-10T10:58:00.002-04:00

Last night, I attended a debate between Christopher Hitchens and Frank Turek on whether or not God Exists. The debate was handled well, but I felt Frank Turek was a little outmatched. I was relieved that no chairs were hurled or pitchforks and torches brandished. I left during the Q&A because Turek started circling his arguments and I got bored with the dogma. I am a monstrous fan of Christopher Hitchens, so to actually see him debate in person was incredible.

The sum total of the debate was that Hitchens believes that religion requires a person to become an absolute slave to a totalitarian dictator who may not even exist. Meanwhile, Turek was pretty much the run-of-the-mill Christian Apologetic and made the typical arguments for God (note, specifically the God of western religion). The debate shifted near the end, focusing on such typical subjects as a woman's right to chose, morality, ethics and so on. I found this slightly disappointing in that I wanted a more substantial debate that did not fall into the routine and predictable dogmas.

I could think of various ways to answer Turek and I felt that Hitchens sort eased around the questions, either because he didn't want to answer or because it wasn't worth expending the energy because someone like Turek wouldn't have cared to listen anyway. It comes the point that it's not worth arguing, since the other side isn't interested in listening to reason, only in proving their moral superiority or justifying their beliefs. Its not that I condemn one side or the other. I just feel a public debate should rise above such childishness.

Here's a great review of the debate that goes into more detail.

Holding the Line.
Bri

Hoping for the Best...

2008-09-03T11:00:00.000-04:00

Mediterranean Markets and Bagel Shops

Over the last few days, I've been working through graduate school assignments and trying not to completely freak out over rent and bills. My money still has not come from the school and I could really use it right about now. I try to relax, walking through downtown Richmond. There's a Mediterranean market not far from here and every morning it makes my mouth water. The bakery puts off a cloud of smoke and steam, thick with spices and herbs. I also discovered a homemade bagel shop right down the block where they make their own cream cheese and will stack turkey and bacon as high as I want. While living without funds from the school, life is fairly good.

A Fiction Class...Without Any Writing

I've taken to writing in a Moleskine after last week's fiction class. I left feeling about two inches tall, doubting why I ever wanted to be a writer in the first place. The professors pedagogy was all lecture. In a two hour and thirty minute fiction class, I didn't get to write a single word. At least as an undergrad, I left almost every class with over two hundred words. So, Moleskine to the rescue. It looks fancy and nifty, and I like writing nifty and fancy ideas in it. Take that, lecturer! My notebook is superior to your pedagogy.

Politics...Hopefully Not as Usual

I saw an article this morning on CNN suggesting the likelihood of Palin being dropped from McCain's ticket later in the election cycle. While I'm not sure of that, I do know that picking her was probably a mistake. I follow politics closely, though I rarely discuss my opinions on the state of the union and our (regrettable) president. But in watching the news this morning, I was struck by a melancholy and the realization that we cannot continue on our present course. Of politics, I remember most clearly the first Gulf War, when I was five, the prosperity of the Clinton years as a teenager and the wanton disregard of the Bush administration for the Constitution, American foreign policy and human rights through my entire college career. Watching the news this morning, I was glad I already cast my vote, via absentee ballot. I've just got to wait till November to how the chips fall.

What Was He Thinking and Some Writing

2008-08-31T10:12:00.002-04:00

Waiting for Funds

I've settled into the life of graduate school. The routine is comfortable, for now. Bear has been able to talk more lately; I don't feel like we're so far apart when I hear his voice. I'm still waiting on my loan money, but once I get it, I'll have a heyday. I'll get a cute little laptop, an adorable blue bicycle from Walmart and a ton of books, beginning with The Singularity is Near by Ray Kurzweil and A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson. I'll paint the apartment and buy the Ultimate Chair. There you have it. My plan to rule the world.

Wheat Field Heresy

On a much more serious note, I've been working on the story about the scientific minded girl in the rural southern town. One of the scenes I've drafted deals with what happens when the young boy takes one of her books home, without her permission. When his father finds him reading it, he rails against his son and demands the book be taken from their home and destroyed. The boy complies, mourning even as he burns the book in a trashcan in the driveway. When he tells her what happened, the following conversation takes place. It's not so much what I'm wanting, but it's a rough idea.

"I'll buy you another copy," he said.
"It's not that," she said. "What burns brighter? The book in your trashcan or the idea still in your head?"
"I hate you," he said into the curve of his elbow. She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed.
"No," she said. "You hate what you fear and fear what you don't understand."

In Other News

McCain's VP choice is mind boggling; what was he thinking? Better...was he thinking? Also, I'm not sure I like my graduate level fiction class and I wish the rain would go away so I could go swimming. That's about it.

Holding the Line.
Bri

Adam and Eve: Controversy in YA Lit

2008-08-26T11:32:00.001-04:00

I attended my first batch of grad classes this past week and assisted in a class of almost 420 students. At some point, I'll receive my financial aid, decorate my apartment and pay rent ahead for the next six months. I figure once all the grad school issues are resolved and I'm settled, I'll be able to talk to Bear and not be at my wit's end.

Adam and Eve in YA Lit

One of the requirements for my Young Adult literature class is that I have to draft the first few chapters of a YA novel. I've decided to write on a subject that is terribly close to my heart and terribly controversial. I am of the persuasion that science and reason have been fighting an age-old battle against religion and superstition in order to bring understanding, maybe even compassion, to the world. Through people like Galileo and Copernicus, Darwin and Lyell, we learned our place on earth and in the universe was not privileged. Through countless others, we learned that the universe was marvelous in itself and vast beyond our comprehension. In short, we learned that everything did not revolve around us.

I've drafted out the first few pages, modeled on the story of Adam and Eve as well as the myth of Prometheus. Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge and because they learned, because they did not remain blissful in their ignorance, they were thrown from Paradise. Prometheus brought fire and knowledge to humanity and was destroyed for his efforts. My YA novel follows a similar pattern. A young girl moves into a small southern town with her family and the local boy is completely infatuated with her. He is pulled into her world of knowledge and science, wonder and, to his mind, blasphemy. He becomes a halved person. He can no longer believe in his God as he did before, but the fear of Hell and the uncertainty of his soul does not allow him to live fully without his religion.

It's a work in progress and I have a feeling it will ruffle a few feathers. I'm drawing from my own experience for this book, so I'm wondering if I should put some distance between myself and the work. Any thoughts?

Holding the Line.
Bri

Writing: An Oroborous Tradition

2008-08-20T09:06:00.001-04:00

After reading Stephanie Vanderslice's post on boy's literacy, I thought I'd add my thoughts. One of the themes I found the examples she gave was adventure stories. This is probably how most people come up in the literary tradition: pulps, comics, magazines, ten-cent westerns. When we're young our parents grab the cheapest, safest books that are close at hand. My progression was as follows: Laura Ingalls, Louis L'Amour, J.R.R. Tolkien, William Golding, Joseph Conrad, Cormac McCarthy. Slowly, I climbed toward more complex storytelling, character development and themes.

We all have horror stories of early English teachers who took away our story notebooks because it wasn't the assignment or who commented on the lack of substance in our reading preferences. Every form of art or creative endeavor makes this cycle, though, from genre to genre. Everything moves through cycles of epic, pastoral, romantic and so on. I use the word cycle because I don't believe that people evolve in a linear fashion. We're like Oroborous in that we come back to the beginning, time after time. We find what is useful in our literary tradition and create our own voice.

In my own work, I developed my own voice by studying the deeply personal characters from Laura Ingalls, plot from Tolkien, setting from Conrad, moral themes from Golding and beautiful language from McCarthy. The Epic is no more valuable to us culturally than the Romance. Each has a place and each offers us a tradition for our own writing.

Holding the Line.
Bri

Skinny Scarves, Orange Soda and Textbooks

2008-08-17T16:36:00.001-04:00

Beginning the Skinny Scarf and My Books

I took it easy this weekend, cleaning the house, doing laundry, talking to Bear, and drinking bright orange soda while I listened to Pandora and wrote. I picked up my textbooks, eleven books of young adult fiction, for my class. I've already eaten my way through two and plan to devour the next eight in the next few days. I also learned to crochet over the past week and started a skinny cranberry-colored scarf. It has grown in epic leaps and is now almost eight feet long. I am sure it will look completely charming, come winter.

Grad School Update

Tomorrow, I go to meet the professor I'll be working for this semester and to attend various workshops and orientations for graduate students and TAs. I'm excited, but also a little nervous. I cut my hair today, shaping it back into a cute bob, a little long in the front, but just how I like it. At least I can be confident that I look good when I walk in there.

What's Coming

After studying the Big Bang and various other cosmological phenomena yesterday and today, I find myself in awe. I'm not sure how people can look at this information and all these centuries of research and not be astounded at our abilities and our determination to find and understand our place in the universe. I'll be posting more about this later...trust me, I won't bore you. It's fairly fascinating.

Holding the Line.
Bri

I Have Chaos in My Heart

2008-08-16T17:30:00.000-04:00

Graduate School and Tradition

After attending the first of several orientations for graduate school, I made my way through downtown Richmond, easing off the stress of the past few days. I'll be relieved when school starts, but I'll miss life without deadlines. With a deadline though, I know I'll write more and I'll write better. I always do under pressure.

One thing that is bothering me is that I didn't come up on a tradition like most of my fellow writers. I didn't read Joyce and Hemingway, Faulkner and Steinbeck. I came up on Robert Heinlein, Phillip Pullman, Michael Chabon, Frank Herbert and J.R.R. Tolkien. I can guess how these writers are viewed, and it makes me worry. Alot. I just hope I don't look like a schmuck in my fiction workshops for not having read any of the classics.

Heroes and Lesser Men
"You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star."
- Friedrich Nietzsche

As I mentioned in previous posts, I've been reading Nietzsche, Kierkegaard and Sartre. The most appealing, from a writerly perspective were Nietzsche and Sartre. Kierkegaard, at times, went off into weirdness, claiming God would rejoice in all our deaths. He was a Christian existentialist...which would seem to create a paradox.

Nietzsche's Overman is everything that everyone would ever want to be. He's powerful, he's confident and he's not bound by anyone's morality but his own. He lives his own life. The Last Man is the opposite: a mediocre conformist. He can't get beyond his own smallness and his fanaticism to small ideas. Sartre claimed that man is alone in the universe and is made by and responsible for his actions.

I think the heroes in my story (among them, my villain), are rooted in these concepts. I include my villain among my heroes, because most people pave the road to hell with good intentions, never intending evil. I admire that these misguided characters act because action, to me, is a heroic quality.

Holding the Line.
Bri

Particle Physics and Philosophy

2008-08-10T22:07:00.001-04:00

Recently, I've delved fairly deeply into subjects a little out of my realm of understanding: particle physics, biological evolution and Eastern and Western philosophy. This may seems strange, but I use most of what I learned to further develop my characters and my writing.

Nietzsche, Buddhism and the Ubermensch

One of the main concepts I've been looking into is the idea of Nietzsche's Ubermensch and Buddhism. These may seem completely unrelated, but there is a connection: Nietzsche compares Christianity to Buddhism. He labels Buddhism as the more honest of the two, because Buddhism longs to end suffering while Christianity wants to end sin. Christianity condemns natural tendencies like sex and desire for strength, while Buddhism exhorts humanity to compassion and does not deny the urges million-year-old genetics. I haven't really formulated my opinion yet, but I find Nietzsche's distinctions interesting.

Nietzsche also had the ideal of the Ubermensch, and while I don't necessarily agree with all of it, I like the idea that we can aspire to something instead of waiting for an afterlife. I also entertain the idea of the Ultimate Man being similar to someone who has attained nirvana, ultimate compassion and ultimate knowledge...and maybe ultimate power?

Reasons for this Study...

Over the summer, I've realized exactly what my story could be and exactly how daunting this task will now be. I feel as if I've arrived at some important point, that somehow I've moved up a notch or two. I understand the grace and power and art of a well told story. And I realize I can tell more than a just a children's story. I can relate deeper concepts like the struggle of rationalism and humanism against superstition and entrenched authority. That's why I'm studying subjects I didn't have time to study in college.

Holding the Line.
Bri

Steampunk and Avatar OR Bri Returns to the Blog

2008-07-21T13:54:00.002-04:00

The Story Continues

I know I've been out of the blogging loop for a long time, but this summer, I'm back. I've recently settled in Richmond, VA and made a few major decisions regarding my writing. Over the summer, I revived an old obsession with the sciences and philosophy, two passions I put aside in college due to class load and thesis. I knew I wanted to write more than a simple children's story. I wanted make a statement on the role of religion and science, philosophy and personal choice.

Steampunked

I've also developed a more steampunk feel in my story. Taken from the old scientific romances of HG Wells and Jules Verne, steampunk worlds operate in a more Victorian era with steam powered engines and some technology like airships and rifles. I decided to try my hand at it after reading Phillip Pullman's His Dark Materials and watching Last Exile and Avatar. With classy action sequences, clockwork mechanisms, early universities and the unsavory aspects of the industrial revolution, steam punk fits my story more than a medieval fantasy society dominated by monarchy.

Speaking of Avatar

On a last note, I wanted to show you some stuff from Avatar. This is the first piece of American animation that has caught my eye since Samurai Jack. Beautiful and stylized, without any of the bland colors of other kiddie cartoons, Avatar offers a cast of characters, all morally ambiguous and charming. An interesting cartoon and a delightful surprise. Its only a few minutes long, so please enjoy!

Holding the Line.
Bri

A Humble House for Bri

2008-07-11T01:01:00.000-04:00

So I've moved into my new home in Richmond. Its a two bedroom apartment, with the bedrooms upstairs and a pretty great living room downstairs. I've got a willow tree in my back yard and two huge oaks in the front. The pictures below offer proof. Behold and enjoy. I'll be back with more updates as they come.

My Living Room: Before and After

My Bed: Before and After New Sketchbook, Phone and My Empty Peach JonesMy Humble AbodeNew Home, New Moi

Here I am, exhausted after a day of moving, shopping, drilling and wrenching new hardware and fixtures into my new place. I am happy, despite the disheveled look. Promise.
Holding the Line.
Bri

This is How We Say Goodbye in Texas

2008-06-25T00:59:00.002-04:00

This is the last night I will spend in my parents' house. The thought is a little mind-numbing and at the same time a incredibly joyful. No two households should ever exist under one roof; no three adults should ever expect to live in peace. I've been here less than two months and I can't wait for this coming Wednesday morning when I drive to Virginia. We love each other, but we also know we can't tolerate living with each other one day longer.

As a born-and-raised Texan, I will miss my state, but I look forward to the beach, to graduate school, and to a life outside of a small town. I'll be further away from Bear, but only for a little while. Things are as they should be.

So say we all.
Bri

The Reason I've been Away

2008-06-08T20:05:00.001-04:00

This summer has been hectic, with packing and moving plans, with graduation and settling into the idea of grad school in a much larger city. My creativity has not suffered though. I offer these as a sort of apology for my absence and general distraction.

Holding the Line.
Bri

A Meme - Please Read Dresden Codak

2008-05-21T12:58:00.003-04:00

1. The rules of the game get posted at the beginning.
2. Each player answers the questions about themselves.
3. At the end of the post, the player then tags 5-6 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read the player’s blog.
4. Let the person who tagged you know when you’ve posted your answer.

A Meme about Various Things

What were you doing ten years ago?
I had just graduated from middle school. I know. I'm a young'un.

What are five things on your to-do list for today (not in any particular order)?
Continue packing for my move to VA, sketch a character design, write at least one scene, come up with a plan to get revenge on the cat across the street for biting me (this involves a water hose) and purchasing a cherry limeade from Sonic

What are some snacks you enjoy?
peanut butter, fudge rounds, string cheese

What would you do if you were a billionaire?
pay off my student loan for grad school, go on a cruise with Bear, have a house in Alaska and one in South Texas near Galveston, write

What are five places where you have lived?
Little Rock, AR, Texarkana, TX, Nash, TX, Red Lick, TX and soon, Richmond, VA

What are five jobs you have had?
clerk at Office Depot, receptionist at Coldwell Banker, manager at a rental properties place, a tutor at university, and soon a tutor at VCU

What were the last five books you read?
Jostein Gaardener's Sophie's World
Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
Phillip Pullman's His Dark Materials Trilogy
David Peterson's Mouse Guard
Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451

What are five web sites you visit daily (in no particular order)?
The Dresden Codak
Rice Boy
CNN
Hawty McBloggy Invites You to Play
Gizmodo

And I Tag You!
Joce the Potter
Crystal King
Jaye Patrick
Qualcosa di Bello
Stace Dumoski

So say we all.
Bri

And So I Said Goodbye and Hello

2008-05-08T10:32:00.000-04:00

I know I haven't posted in a long time. With my undergraduate career ending on Saturday, my farewell to friends at graduation and saying goodbye to Bear, I sort of feel like I've been kicked in the guts, had my heart ripped out and been handed the greatest opportunity in the world, all in the same instant. Needless to say, I'm exhausted.

Since leaving the Rock, I've whittled everything I own down to only what is most important. I'll be driving to Richmond, VA with all my belongings in two cars. This includes headboards for a 100-year-old bed, a desk and all of my books. This may not sound so hard, but believe me. It is. I love my books.

I'm looking forward to it though. I'm tired of living in a box, in a crappy dorm room where the walls are paper thin and the windows mold. While I adored my suitemates, I'm ready to live alone.

Right now, my living room looks like a bomb went off, with boxes of books piled high and DVDs scattered on the tables. As soon as I get all this squared away though, I'll be able to paint, to write and get a few things in order before I head to the rest of my life. Wish me luck.

So say we all.
Bri

Some Sketches and Thoughts on Cormac

2008-04-03T23:04:00.000-04:00

Graduate School and Thesis

As the semester draws to a close and I wade through the final weeks of undergraduate assignments, I can barely contain my excitement about living in Richmond and being so near the coast. The fact that I have a teaching assistantship and three years of graduate school waiting for me in Virginia has taken the edge off of anything my professors could say.

With this newfound independence and sense of self, I've plunged ahead on my thesis, further developing themes and characters in the hopes that it'll be ready in May. I'm a little nervous because think a common misconception about fantasy is that it's full of cliches and flashy anime-style fight scenes.

I've actively worked to write past these tropes. My characters are neither good nor bad; they're just people. I find that a solidly good character is boring and a completely wicked character is predictable. Complicated characters, unsure of their own decisions and beliefs, are much more sympathetic and much more believable.

No Country

Last week, Bear and I went to Target and I picked up No Country for Old Men, the movie and the book. I've adored Cormac McCarthy for almost a year after I read The Road, so when I heard he wrote No Country for Old Men, I knew I had to have it. I finished the book in one night. I walked over the Bear's apartment and we watched the flick as soon as I was finished.

The crime you see now, it's hard to even take its measure. It's not that I'm afraid of it. I always knew you had to be willing to die to even do this job. But I don't want to push my chips forward and meet something I don't understand. A man would have to put his soul at hazard.

(In the dream) it was cold and there was snow on the ground and (my father) rode past me...when he rode past I seen he was carryin' fire in a horn the way people used to do and I could see the horn from the light inside of it. 'Bout the color of the moon. And in the dream I knew that he was going on ahead and he was fixin' to make a fire somewhere out there in all that dark and all that cold.

The thing about both book and film is that the good guys do not win. Neither have resolution. Some of my friends didn't much like that, but the more I thought about it, the more I was disturbed. The hero's death is not shown on screen, but we all wanted to see him duke it out with the villains, taking a few poor souls with him.

What does that say about us as an audience? We revel in violence. We justify it to ourselves, saying that we want to see a meaningful death for our hero, that we want to see him take some of the bad guys with him. Honestly, I think that may be the entire disturbing point of No Country for Old Men.

So say we all.
Bri

Marius in Black

2008-03-22T19:31:00.000-04:00

The Last Spring Break

This is my last spring break as an undergraduate. While the thought of life after my BA is exciting, I'm not terrified of "real life" (whatever that is). I don't sense an uncertain future looming ahead or anything so ominous as that. Surprisingly, I am not worried about this major change in my life. I've worked hard and I'm almost done.

Spring Break is a welcome week of relaxation, but more than anything, I'm ready move and find a place where I can live for more than nine months. Sure, I'll miss this university, I'll miss Bear and Ezra and all of my other friends. But a three bedroom apartment waits with a teaching assistantship and a wonderful graduate program.

Marius in Black

My idea for a webcomic/novella called Marius in Black began as a dream. I remember a young man in a pea coat standing in a wide snowy field under wheeling stars. The whole scene was caught in black and white except the flame-red of his scarf and the cold brilliant blue of his eyes. When I told Bear about the dream at breakfast, he volunteered the first words Marius would say. Here's what followed...

It's a cold night here in hell, Jezebel, Marius thought. He leaned his head back, taking in the brilliantly blazing stars, blue and wheeling overhead. The winter chill gnawed through his pea coat, but Marius relished the cold. Under his steel-toed boots, the snow grunted and soaked the heavy cuff of his jeans.

I've sketched out a few details of the story, and hope it will be my new Friday Snippets project. I know I've been out alot since late last semester, but I think this idea, in all its simplicity, would be a way for me to relax as I edit my thesis. When I woke up this morning, I started working on designs for his outfit and drafted out a few scenes before starting on anything else school-related.

So say we all.
Bri

Under the Stars and the Moon

2008-03-16T17:35:00.000-04:00

Good News for the Future

Today, I thought I'd let you all in on why I've been absent from the blog for so long..again. It's good new, don't worry. I've been accepted to Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond and the University of Southern Maine in Portland. I've debated between the two and VCU is the probable choice. I'll be able to teach creative writing my first year, live in an apartment off campus and have enough financially so I don't have to worry for at least three years.

The State of the Novel

I also haven't been around the blog much lately because I've been working on my novel for my thesis. I'm nearing the end with just a few chapters left to write. Each storyline lends itself to a dramatic conclusion and each comes together seamlessly with the others, giving me very little to worry or stress over.

The lady on the left is named Amarie, sister to the hero and one of my favorite characters to write. Her outfit was a little difficult. She has the ability to hide and reveal her wings at will, but I needed her to be able to fight and look feminine at the same time.

The character on the right is named Oni, the Oracle in the West and one of the most wicked and yet loving characters in the novel. While most readers so far have mixed feelings about her, Oni is one of the more complex characters and I really enjoy how she can roll the story just by stepping into a scene.

I've developed a fairly strong cast of female characters and while I want them to be beautiful and alluring, I also want them to be developed, as interesting and complex as my male characters. I've hinged several story lines to these two ladies and their choices turn the story near the end.

Philosophical Thoughts on Atoms

Recently, I finished Sophie's World, a beautiful book about the history of philosophy. One of the philosophers, Democritus, believed atoms make up the soul and would fly apart when a person dies. Its such a beautiful idea that I find myself actually hoping that this is how it really is. Phillip Pullman, in his powerful and poignant statement on religion and children's literature, His Dark Materials, describes the idea in language far more eloquent than I can manage.

We'll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass and a million leaves; we'll be falling in the raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze; we'll be glittering in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world, which is our true home and always was.
-- The Amber Spyglass, Chapter 23

That's all for today. Hope you enjoyed the pictures and the news about grad schools. I'll hopefully be updating more during Spring Break as I finish my novel.

So say we all.
Bri

Too Pretty to Survive the Snow

2008-03-04T18:00:00.000-05:00

When I woke up this morning, I looked out the window and saw something every student wants to see - a thick fall of snow coming down in flurries and torrents and veils. Immediately, I realized all the things I would actually be able to get accomplished since I didn't have to go to class and lab. My roommate and I watched the news reports that I-40 and most of the state was under ice. Yet...when I called the university, our classes were not canceled as we'd hoped.

So, after trudging through sludge and ice I arrived at Thompson Hall for writing and speech, only to discover that my professors, either iced in or staying home with their kids decided to cancel their classes on their own. The day was not a loss though: I brought my camera with me.

I'll have more of a post in the next few days, concerning a few concepts I've been working into my writing and a few thoughts on a series I just finished. Until then, enjoy the frosty photos.

So say we all.
Bri

God in Science and a Good Day With Bear,

2008-02-18T12:15:00.000-05:00

God in the Sciences

So, I'm a senior, so I've seen most everything weird that could happen in a classroom. I have never seen what happened on Friday in my Physical Science class. The Prof lectured on the birth of the universe. A girl on the front row, obviously a freshman, raised her hand and worriedly said: So,like...what about God and - like - Jesus and stuff?

Personally, I'm not a religious person. I marvel at the beauty of the universe and the fact that we are the only known species that ponders abstractions like beauty and truth. I find solace in a higher power because I see no way for all of this to exist otherwise. I have no problem with religion. But I had a problem with the girl who asked this question. First, she should reconcile her faith and her science on her own time. Second, interrupting a lecture wastes not only the professor's time, but also mine (not a good thing). Third, she is an adult and should deal with her problems like one.

All said, I couldn't really get angry at her. Since a college Physics class could so easily shake her faith in something she built her whole life around, I could only pity her. Any thoughts or am I way out of line?

A Good Day with Bear

While Bear had lab until late on Valentine's Day and we barely got to see each other, we had a fantastically awesome time on Saturday. But first... at the beginning of the semester, Bear gave me 3:10 to Yuma as an early V-Day present; he knew he had to give it to me before I went out and bought it. So, on Valentine's Day, I wasn't expecting anything. Then I get this message, "You should come see your car today." When I got to the apartment, I found the sweetest messages and doodles drawn across my windshield. Needless to say, I was pleased.

But on Saturday...First, we saw Jumper, which was entertaining and unpretentious, completely satisfying in its delivery. After the movie we drove down into the Rock and ate at Chili's, playing tic-tac-toe until the food arrived. Trust me when I say that, though the meal was great, it was insignificant compared to the wholly divine dessert: seven layers of chocolate in a shot glass. On the way back to the dorm, we drove through an incredible lightning storm. At the end of it all, I mark it up as a good day.

All Work and No Play

Despite submitting all of my grad school applications and getting graduation forms in the bag, I was still constantly under stress. So after talking with Bear and my mum, I decided to cut a few hours at work so that I can focus more on my classwork and my novel. I love working with students and tutoring, but I didn't love going to bed at 11 and not getting to sleep until 3 because I'm so worried over what I didn't get to write.

Hopefully, I didn't offend anyone with the earlier section concerning the question asked in my physics class. Let me know what you think!

So say we all.
Bri

Technology Hates My Thesis and Some Etc. Artwork

2008-02-07T14:15:00.000-05:00

I'm determined to have a more regular posting schedule this semester and so far, I feel I'm not doing too badly. This is the second post in less than a week. We're doing well my friends. Very well, indeed.

When Technology Rebels

Today, I meet with my thesis adviser to pass off two more chapters. I wanted to have more, but with the lightning storms, tornadoes and evil printers eating what little was left of my paper supply, I'm lucky to have that much. The other two chapters I wanted print off were either eaten whole or were not up to my usual standards. Graduate school applications and graduation rigmarole stressed me out, just a tad, so my blog schedule so far this semester pretty much mirrors my writing schedule. I am proud of what I'm turning in though - so at least, I have that.

Artwork to Appease the Tech Gods

Here and on my new Deviantart account, I give you a few pieces that accompany my novel/thesis. Please keep in mind that I am not a formally trained art student, nor have I had lessons in Photoshop 7. I'm self-taught, so please, let that temper your judgment of my artistic merit and any errors inherent in the work. Also, their heights are not accurate in this two pictures. The lady is actually about four inches shorter than the guy.

The character on the left is one of the more powerful females in my story. Fearre is the last of her House and leads her men into combat on giant wolves. In drawing her, I wanted her to be sexy and cool, but not the typical short-skirt stereotype. I think I balanced her fairly well. Fearre is a no nonsense sort of character and I hope her outfit and design show that.

The character on the right is one of my most tragic in his role as The Traitor. Laer always wants what he can't have and in the end, he destroys everyone and everything he loves to get it. He's a character torn between a few cultures and through the course of the story uses specific aspects of each to help him realize who he is. This is an outfit of his homeland, so it's not very culturally mixed. At some point, I'll do a sketch of him nearer the end of the story when he has settled on a specific look.

I'll probably post some more sketches on Sunday, but I'll drop by to post on everyone's Friday Snippets. See you then!

So say we all.
Bri

This Broadcast Continues...

2008-02-04T16:52:00.000-05:00

An Explanation

After so long with no posts, I'm surprised this blog is still here. My deepest apologies. University has started up again, and with it all the stress that built up over the holiday season has come rolling down on me.

After I completed three admissions applications I was sure I could probably crawl into bed and sleep for the next four years without a single qualm. Once I complete the official graduation hullabaloo by Friday, life will settle back into the most pleasant of routines, I'm sure.

Amid all of this stress, the most wonderful thing has occurred. My creativity has returned after a long winter nap. I meet with my thesis adviser this week and hopefully my chapters will sing off of the page. As the semester goes on, I'll post sketches and summaries to accompany my progress in the actual writing process.

Imitation and Art

In my classes lately, I've noticed a trend where people consider imitation an art. I'm not sure how I feel about this just yet. I know in my own artwork, I learned through imitation and mimicry. At what point does a plot become original and innovative instead of cliche and predictable?

I know there came a point in my own work, as a writer and an artist, where I developed the techniques I learned and created an entirely new style that was mine alone. I'll probably continue this conversation in the next few posts but the question is plain: What differentiates art from imitation? Is learning through imitation hurtful or helpful to an artist?

An Offering and An Apology

In my illustrated narrative class, I was given the assignment to create a collage from several photographs and any other work I wanted. Below is the piece I created. Enjoy and please accept this as an apology for my long absence.

So say we all.
Bri

Happy in the Sunshine

2008-01-10T19:10:00.000-05:00

Where My Heart is Happiest in Life

Classes began today, and while I welcome the challenge of new classes and new professors, some part of me is sad. I hope to be a professor someday, and though the hoop-jumping games of academia are always entertaining, I find I don't enjoy them as much. I'm thinking every semester helps to jade me just a little further as I jump through further collegiate hoops.

I think part of the sadness comes from the knowledge that this is my last semester at this university - this place where I have been happiest in life. This is the place where I woke up and learned to think for myself. This is the last semester with my very best friends, with Bear, with this community we've created for ourselves. I guess all things must pass.

Sunshine: Blinded by the Light

I adore science fiction and science fiction movies. Alien(s), Terminator II, and Battlestar Galactica all rank among my favorites. Let me add Sunshine to the list. We rented it the first day it came out and watched it twice before the night was over. I think the reason I most loved it was, like Alien, Sunshine had a large interesting cast and an interesting take on man's place in the universe against unstoppable laws of physics.

The operating systems of the ship, their means of oxegyn and food, and the dynamics of their crew never once slowed the pace of the film. Once trouble set in, the audience barely had a moment to breathe. I'm a fan of Danny Boyle (28 Days Later, Trainspotting), and Sunshine never let me down. Give it a look if you get a chance. It's definitely worth it.

Here's Lookin' at You Kids

Today, I attended the first Senior Seminar for my Honors Minors and a Persuasion class for the Writing Major. Tomorrow, I go to Physics, Linguistics, Thesis and Illustrated Narrative.

So say we all.
Bri

Friday Snippet: Hunter and Hunted

2007-12-27T20:30:00.000-05:00

Yet another piece written for my sci-fi writing class. I haven't developed much of the story behind it, but again, I like it. I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think and leave a link!

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, material liable to change. Etc.
Through the deadly crush of the snow-blanketed forest and the heavy scent of pine sneaking between the branches, Lyte knew he was Hunted. He paused, snow grunting under his boots. He knelt. Tilting his head back to the cold winter sky, he narrowed his eyes, searching for a sign of what stalked his footsteps. He could taste it, like the flat tang of rust: blood on the wind.

Traces of it, like spider webs, drifted through the blackened trees, and he saw scents and memories and whispered words of travelers long dead swirling on the air. But no sign of the thing prowling through the snow. He frowned darkly. He’d been Hunted most of his life, walking from one Edge of the world to the other since the last battle at the Port o' Mourning. But this time his ash-black hair stood on end and his nerves crackled with near-panic. A strange alien threat soaked the air.

His stomach lurched and he leaned forward, pressing his bare hand deep into the snow. Voices assaulted him in a cacophony, calling his name in lullabies and battle cries. Above all others, her voice - Even’s voice - rose out of memory, as clear as if she crouched beside him under the slate grey sky, her slender arms looped around his neck.

“I’ll never marry a Hunter,” she said.

The first time she told him that, they were children lying in rain-wet grass on a cool spring night. The whole world gleamed like a freshly painted canvas. He would turn to her, his cheek pressed against the silvered jade blades of grass. Her jaw was touched in starlight and he never answered her. He never answered her because her voice lifted off into the night and it was enough that he heard her humming and speaking in rhyme just above the cricket-song. But when he was older and all of that was gone and he Hunted the world over for blood, it was never enough.

So say we all.
Bri

Merry Christmas All

2007-12-25T04:00:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas. I hope you are all with your families and safe. See you after the holiday season.

One More Thing...

And the wonderful news I promised? You know, I never noticed it before. Then one day, he walked into the room and I couldn't stop smiling and the world sort of went vivid and just lifted, as if gravity didn't matter. Bear told me he liked me - wanted to date - and I agreed. Just that simple. Now life and everything else in it is wonderful.

So, I found this boy -
A dark-eyed chemistry boy -
A boy who likes me.

So say we all.
Bri

Friday Snippet: Ares Last Stand

2007-12-21T03:01:00.000-05:00

This was a flash-sort-of-fiction I wrote up for my sci-fi writing class portfolio. I haven't developed much of the story behind it, but I like it. I hope you enjoy. I know I've been out of the snippet loop for a while, but I'm hoping I'll have more time this next semester. Let me know what you think and leave a link!

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, material liable to change. Etc.
She waits at the docks at Olympus Mons. Far below on Tharsis Fields, she sees the lines of soldiers sprawling out in black and red. She feels a moment of regret. A few brief flickers of light, like giant flash bulbs, signal the end of her world. Mushroom clouds sprout and bloom, billowing up until they crest the seventeen-mile summit where the Alala, her last armed cruiser, hovers, tethered at the edge of heaven.
A few brief flickers of light, like giant flash bulbs, signal the end of her world.

She refuses to cry, but beads of liquid salt drift up like pearls in the zero gravity. Her brothers are dead. Ma’adim lies in ruins over her lover. The Terran Federation waits to glass her civilization from orbit. She is the last of the House of Ares.

But before the last ship out, she passed her memories on – the memories of the Battle at Sarandib Bridge, of the Terran ships looming large and menacing against the Martian sky. She may end here, but this is only beginning. Far off in the dark, the last of her fleet waited in silent wrath.

So say we all.
Bri

p.s. I have good news that I'll tell you later. Promise.

I Did Survive

2007-12-18T18:15:00.000-05:00

Post-Final Good Day(s), Grad Schools and Mold Colonies

Well, ladies and gents, finals week is finished. I got my grades this morning and from my cheerful tone, you can probably gather that things went in my favor. For the past few days, I've laid up from that gauntlet. Laying up includes going for drives, playing with fat tabby cats at Petsmart, browsing around Barnes & Noble and dozing on Bear's couch after celebrating my nomination for a scholarship.

I've also been able catch my breath and get my materials together for graduate school applications. Most of my schools have later application dates, which is wonderful. I'll have time to get my writing sample together and send off all the transcripts, letters of recommendation, shot records and other bureaucratic paperwork without pulling my hair out.

Also, as finals came down, we discovered our dorm was laced with mold At first, we didn't know if it was another flaw in this building: either way, we weren't really surprised. When your dorm has seven-walled rooms, 5/6 washers that don't work, and one-coat-paint that chips when you breathe on it, you're not surprised that mold is the obvious next step.

One Good Day
Lazing on the couch
after Smirnoff and sandwiches.
This was a good day.

Colony 01

Condensation beads
Mold colonizes my sill.
Allergies and colds!

Mass Effect...and My Face

So...I finished Mass Effect. I finished Mass Effect and my face is thoroughly melted, my socks thoroughly rocked. If you'll forgive the horrid quality of the picture to the left, you can see my version of the lead character in all 47 levels of his coolness. As John Shepard, I gallivanted across the galaxy, destroying synthetics and biological terrors while saving beautiful alien scientists and duking it out with the coolest bad guy in the whole universe.

In the bouncy MAKO land-rover, I laid siege to countless bases, cracked the decryption on hundreds of weapons lockers, and squashed newly evolving forms of alien life. I tried to play a natural mix of Paragon/Renegade, slinging out cruel words to my enemies, while romancing every available character on deck and charming my way to better deals at the markets. I tried to make sure my action were justified, that I was playing it as an experience and a story - not just another game. The results were absolutely fantastic.

While Mass Effect makes a great attempt to blend traditional RPG elements with a shooter, what stands head-and-shoulders above everything else in this game is the addictive conversation and story. Mass Effect is the first in a series of three, so hopefully any bugs will get worked out. Sure, it's got frame rate problems and loads a little slow at times, but that's hardly a good enough reason not to get it. You should look into it. For serious.

Other Stuff to Discuss

As I head toward home and Christmas break with the folks, I'll fill you guys in on the missing month of my life. I've made huge leaps in my novel, planned out an illustrated short story for next semester, read a couple of fantastic books and maybe found a field of study I hadn't considered before. So glad to be back. I'll be making the rounds this week to reintroduce myself, so see you then!

So say we all.
Bri

Catching My Breath Under the Gun

2007-12-04T02:03:00.001-05:00

Finals. I'll talk more once I can live and breathe again. Just give me a week. See you on the other side.

So say we all.
Bri

On the Side of the Human Race

2007-11-27T17:10:00.000-05:00

As I read through Robert Heinlein's Starship Troopers, I was moved by the hero's dedication to his cause. His utter belief in the righteousness of his cause was beautiful and stirring, and I found myself envying his faith. I wonder if, in our current culture of overwhelming ammounts of information, we can really relate to Rico anymore. When I finished the book, I regretted that my government did not inspire me to that level of patriotism or belief.

Either way, I sort admired and resented Heinlein's ability to see force and convenient survival morality as a positive thing. His characters voice the appealing idea that what is right for a group's survival (physically, culturally, spiritually) is what that society deems "morally correct." I don't have time in this post, but I'm not sure his arguments would hold up so flawlessly under heavy scrutiny.

Violence, naked force, has settled more issues in history than has any other factor, and the contrary opinion is wishful thinking at its worst. Breeds that forget this basic truth have always paid for it with their lives and freedoms.

Morals - all correct moral laws - derive from the instinct to survive. Moral behavior is survival behavior above the individual level...Correct morality can only be derived from what man is.
-- Lt. Colonel Dubois

Heinlein goes on at length about how wars should be conducted and the violent nature of humanity. While he was militant in most of his characters' speeches, I was touched by his belief that (at least in human-to-human relationships) we are a compassionate and loyal species.

(We have) a racial conviction that when one human needs rescue, others should not count the price. Weakness? It might be the unique strength that wins us a Galaxy...The universe will let us know - later - whether or not Man has any right to expand through it. In the meantime the (Infantry) will be in there, on the bounce and swinging, on the side of our own race.
-- Mr. Rico

In my science fiction readings class, our discussion sometimes falls back on the subject of violence and whether or not it is inherant in human nature. I don't like the idea that our species is hardwired for violence anymore than the next guy. But evolutionarily, we are the dominant species on this planet, fighting for the past billion years or so to claim absolute control, molding natural and technological worlds to our will. We are currently the only known species capable of obliterating everything.

While I adored the book, I realized that as a generation of relativists, we try to stand for something and be tolerant at the same time - we're caught in the middle and that makes us indecisive. I think that Heinlein probably conveniently simplified the underlying issues addressed in Starship Troopers. The enemy threatens the entire human species...and the enemy is not human. They're bugs. That makes a difference.

Any thoughts? What's your opinion on Heinlein's ideas or Starship Troopers in general? Are these tropes particular to science fiction or do you think they could work outside the genre?

So say we all.

Bri

p.s. I'll tell you about Mass Effect later this week.

A Collective Giving of Thanks

2007-11-22T17:02:00.000-05:00

While most of you probably spent this holiday with your families, I chose to stay at the dorm and work on my thesis and my writing sample for graduate school. My list of giving thanks is as follows. Forgive its superficial nature: I wasn't in the mood to be sensitive and deep.

To Master Chief, Ellen Ripley and John Conner for collectively saving the human race from villainous aliens and machines.

To Samurai Jack, Clint Eastwood and Roland Deschain for collectively being the coolest lone wolves to ever battle against the forces of evil.

To Office Depot, Keynote and my greatest friend Jocelyn for collectively helping me keep my novel and short stories in some semblance of order.

To Mom and Dad for collectively being there.

So say we all.
Bri

Technopeasant Webscab or Print-Media Elitist

2007-11-19T11:45:00.000-05:00

I will never forget the first computer I ever saw or my adoration of its organizational systems and its ability to hold all of my ideas in one place. I was about six or seven and my dad brought home the most hideous computer. It was a colossal monstrosity that booted up from DOS with pixelated white text on a black background. When I printed my first story, the dot-matrix printer screamed out fifty pages over the period of about two hours. I was so tremendously pleased with myself.

Since then, technology has always been an increasingly important part of my writing life: my documents in Microsoft Word, my plans in Keynote, my playlists in Itunes. Over the weekend, I picked up an article from the NWP site in which most Americans agreed that technology was an incredible aid to developing writers. Of course, I completely agree. Online communities, publication opportunities and research tools have all become readily available to the common user with the advent of the Internet and a massive information explosion.

What is most interesting to me is the widening maw between traditional print-media and the evolving front of Internet and e-book publication. An obvious stench of elitism clouds this discussion, but I find it fascinating how defensive both sides can be. According to one side or the other, Internet publishing either spells the downfall of respectable writing since "anyone" can get published or it is the hammer of justice for the "common people," demolishing those self-serving publishing houses who only favor the educated elite. I have problems with both concepts that I don't really have time or patience to develop in this post.

Just in publishing this blog, I obviously stand proudly with the so-called legion of pixel-stained technopeasant webscab wretches. But, more important (and interesting) than the debate of which is better - ebook or traditional print - is the question of why the split exists in the first place. Any thoughts?

So say we all.
Bri

A Robe of Novas and Other Things

2007-11-16T14:50:00.000-05:00

In my sci-fi writing class, we're taking a look at science fiction haiku and other speculative poetry. To be very honest, I don't write or read poetry. Once, I started working, this is what came out.

A Gift

A robe of cold stars,
bright blazing novas, he gave
to the sun-haired girl.

Coming Home

Hail, the Sons of Sol.
Bred in war and brimmed with blood,
They are coming home.

Guard Duty

Weary Norsemen, guard
Titan's lonely methane seas
and long for their fjords.

Writing and Concern for Community

When you work in a Writing Center, you are faced with students who don't want to be there and who generally don't like to write. Their professors tell them to pay us a visit. This is code for I don't want to deal with you. When you've got that attitude from a professor, combined with the student's embarrassment, life as a tutor is very unrewarding.

But, over the past six weeks, as I've observed six Composition 1 classes for my CompTheory class and seen a few very interesting things. Of six classes, only one showed issue with "remedial" tasks. The other five focused on larger, rhetorical problems. All six were concerned with the community they'd created in the classroom and offered insightful critique. I know I probably shouldn't have been surprised, but when you work at a Writing Center and see only those students who don't want to be there, it gets very discouraging, very quickly. Watching these students be so kind and respectful of each other's work was incredible.

How To Play A Game

When I get a new video game, I never play in front of my guy-friends until I've worked out the controls and gotten past the tutorial phase. I want to make sure I'm a smooth customer when the bad guys come running - that I don't look like an idiot. When I started playing Assassin's Creed yesterday, I decided it didn't much matter. I had entirely too much fun scaling buildings, swinging around on narrow ledges and collecting flags for achievements. I heart this game. It's all about patience, about sneaking and about taking your time as you explore the world and complete your missions.

And then I read IGN's review. I decided they probably didn't play the same game I did (or at least that they probably didn't play it the same way I did). They played a "repetitive" game with a "bad story." I played a game where I swooped off of high buildings, saved citizens in distress, assassinated bad guys and picked pockets as I made my way through each city. Don't get me wrong, IGN wrote a very thorough review, but you might want to check out Penny Arcade's post for another perspective. I think IGN probably played Assassin's Creed for fast-paced action, rushing to finish the game to write the review. I played it (read: thoroughly adored) for the deliberate slow-paced stealth experience.

That's that.
So say we all.
Bri

When Life Gets in the Way

2007-11-13T03:01:00.000-05:00

This weekend, I worked on my novel for the first time in about three weeks. Sometimes school and life and everything else gets in the way and I can barely sit and think about where the story must go. After reading Seanachi's post about why she writes this morning, I went to our study room. An outline for the next section of the book followed with absolutely lovely results.

One of my characters and the culture of her clan has grown delightfully sinister. I did not expect this darker side to be so fascinating. The new version of this character makes decisions in an instant, forcing the rest of the characters to react. Apparently, this formula puts my plot on steroids and speeds things up - just a tad.

Over the past few days, I have grown increasingly dissatisfied with my job. I'm not even sure why. I just walk through the door and feel tired and sort of on edge and look forward to the time I get to come back to the dorm. We're going to hope that this will pass.

So say we all.
Bri

The Difference Between Obsession and Passion

2007-11-09T15:00:00.000-05:00

My coworkers informed me today that I am obsessed. At first, I let it go. I shook it off. But it followed me through the day and I can't get away from it. I shouldn't feel the need to defend myself, to justify what I do. But I do.

I adore my novel and develop it scene by scene, chapter by chapter every single day. I'm submitting short stories to magazine and designing artwork for a class I'm taking next semester. I adore playing HALO 3 and the community of players who game with me. I adore my work at the university where I tutor students and create workshops to build up a writing scene on campus. I've carried 18 hours for my junior and senior years. I've kept a near perfect GPA while working +15 hours a week.

I don't discuss these things that I love with my coworkers or my suitemates. Generally, I'm afraid I'll bore them. So I mostly keep it all to myself and geek about it all on my blog. So am I obsessed? Hardly. Am I driven? Most definitely. The difference? A value judgment against my lifestyle.

Do my co-workers make this value judgment against something they can't understand? Against someone else's ability to be passionate about something? Or is this a form of elitism, which allows the few to determine what is useful-legitimate or base-entertainment?

Either way, I don't really have time to figure that out. This post took up enough time. I'm off to write another chapter, to play through the last two campaign missions on HALO: CE and then to eat dinner with the guys. What are you doing this weekend?

So say we all.
Bri

Snapshots of Downtown and the Rock

2007-11-07T11:00:00.000-05:00

Signs from Downtown: Pentacostal Waka-Waka

Our Transient Art and a Painted Door

Beautiful Butterflies, Bathing in the Street and Keeping Watch

Building Pressure, Lady Liberty in a Bar, Lovely Food and Jugglers

Superheroes and Stormtroopers So say we all.

Bri

Super Sunday: Stories, Scenes, Sergeant

2007-11-05T03:15:00.000-05:00

This past week was horrifically stressful: projects piled up, meals passed unnoticed and sleep drifted by as a figment of my imagination. But then the weekend came. The Weekend of the Miracles.

Swallowing Stories

I drafted out the last half of my novel and got two or three scenes written before I was overwhelmed with loads of tired on Friday night. Saturday, I brainstormed about the other books in the series (a rare and pleasant vice I entertain briefly every few months or so). Every single time I think about what comes next in the story, I sort of want to dance around and tell every single person on earth that they have no idea how much more awesome I can pack into a plot. But I don't. I hold it in. I sit on it. I swallow it whole and it holds through the next three months until I need to think about it again.

At the Writing Center I am helping a wonderful woman work on her novel. We get along fabulously, with her novel progressing with each week. But she told me something on Friday that has bothered me all weekend. She said her family pushes her to finish the book, to hurry.

My response? I told her to make some space, to gently distance her family from her project, so that she might write in peace. Writers should be able to swallow their stories, to accumulate ideas as long as is necessary, until they are ready to write. Not before. You can't rush these things.

Come Back With Your Shield Or On It.

This Saturday, I gained the rank of Spartan Sergeant for HALO 3. I was pleased. We celebrated accordingly (wink) and decided to name our clan Holt Otter. We knew we shouldn't take our name seriously, because while we aren't lousy by any means, we don't really see ourselves as a badass clan. We're friendly. We like to play, to watch out for our own and to work as a team. Otters fit the bill. The other benefit of being Clan Otter is that as we go out in teams of 2-8, we can adjust our name according to team size: Otter Squad/Platoon/ Battalion /Legion.

You can see few of us below, each member photoshopped in from various snapshots. We're a pretty well-rounded team: snipers, shotgunners, along with lite and heavy assault-explosives guys. We may not always crush our opposition, but I always thoroughly enjoy myself. A few of us didn't get into the picture, but I'll try to get a full team roster up in the next few weeks.

From the Rock

V and I went into the Rock on Saturday to the river market. Photos are due from my last trip down there, so Wednesday will be a photo post. Hope you look forward to it! And thanks so much for your suggestions for our clan name, BTW!

So say we all.
Bri

The Good, the Nameless and the Faceless

2007-11-01T15:47:00.000-04:00

This past Tuesday, I turned 22. I actually forgot about it until Sunday night and then suddenly remembered. Bear bought a cake on Tuesday night and we're still munching on it as the week goes on. This weekend the plan is to write, have a HALO 3 LAN party, (maybe) get some homework done and sleep. Also, Vespacian carved Master Chief's face and my HALO 3 insignia into a pumpkin for Halloween. It's absolutely adorable. Pictures will ensue.

The Good, The Faceless and The Nameless

I have various reasons for adoring the faceless, nameless hero.

When a hero is faceless or nameless he is more emotionally accessible to the audience. We love him because he are unknown to us. We fill in the gaps of his past, his childhood, his psyche. Most of the time, we add our own experiences in those gaps and envision a hero more and more like us - maybe to the point of actually being us.

We love him because he is cool and collected. Eastwood's Man with No Name endures as a pop culture icons precisely because of his detachment and his grace in times of crisis. The Master Chief from HALO and Samus Aran from Metroid also share this characteristic. Neither are overly emotional or talkative.

We love them because, at the end of the world, when the lead starts to fly, they stay low and frosty.

Update on Research

As I have previously mentioned, I'm conducting a research project to see if someone could accurately judge a player's gender in the anonymity of HALO 3. I'm focusing on game play, appearance, choice of weapons, player profiles and stats. So far, the only area I'm getting any sort of determining factor is in team vs. solo play.

Apparently, most females enjoy tactical, strategic object-based games, instead of random slayer matches. I'm gathering film and photos for this project and will probably post them here as I go.

I think a "Nameless-Faceless" hero story is due.

So say we all.
Bri

A History of Crazy and Cool

2007-10-29T03:05:00.000-04:00

My apologies for the lack of Friday Snippet. Things have been incredibly crazy this past week with University.

A Brief History of Crazy

I register for classes today, so I had to go visit my adviser on Thursday.
I have five novel chapters due today for my thesis.
My project in Writing for New Tech - the HALO 3 and gender project - is due this week.
My project for Technical Writing is due this week.
I still need to observe two more Comp. 1 classes for my Composition theory class.
Graduation is coming up in May and I have to pay and start the process now.
Application deadlines for Grad School are all in January, so I'm starting that process as well.

A More In-Depth History of Cool

First, I am pleased that you guys like to geek. Assassin's Creed is being released on November 13 for the PS3 and th XBox 360, courtesy of the same guys who brought you the pleasure of the Prince of Persia games. I think the thing I enjoy about what I've seen so far for AC is the fact that Altair doesn't seem to show much of his face and hasn't spoken once in a trailer that I've seen. See any similarities? I should probably do a post about my fascination with the Heroes with No Name and the Heroes with No Face. It's fascinating. I promise.

Second, my parents came up to the Rock for the weekend and we went down to the River Market where we saw jugglers, pipers, an antique carshow, and a parade which included Darth Vader, Batman, Superman, an Imperial Storm Trooper and a Jedi. It was overwhelming in its level of cool. I have pictures and promise to post them.

Third, I managed to play some of the most amazing team battles in my HALO experience this past Saturday and Sunday mornings while everyone was either asleep or in church. I have pictures and some incredible video, but I'm setting up the clips for optimum coolness. It will accompany my Friday Snippet this coming Friday, so prepare to have your socks rocked.

Fourth, I'm leading a workshop at my University for the next two weeks. I am thrilled.

Lastly - my marine-friend is safe. His brother talked to his mother who, in turn, passed the word on to us. Matt had to spend a few nights on the tarmac near the smoke, but he is safe We say thankee.

So say we all.
Bri

Three Things I Want

2007-10-24T03:20:00.000-04:00

Rain in the Rock and Fires Near Camp Pendleton: I Want My Friend to be Safe

Yesterday, while it rained and went chilly at university, my umbrella, faithful and friendly, decided to turn traitor. In a giant gust of wind, umby flipped inside out and hurled water all over me. It was so funny I could just stand there and laugh like an idiot as my shoes soaked up the cold rainwater and stained my socks black and blue. My bout of "singing" in the rain ended in a bout of sneezing later in the evening.

I learned, amid the sneezing, that a marine friend of mine might have been evacuated out of Camp Pendleton due to the fires in California today. We had a few fiction classes together while he was at University and he roomed with a few other guys from our group last year. I keep him in my thoughts and hope he is safe. I saw him for he first time since his graduation just about a week ago. It made me all kinds of happy that he stood up to say hello in his schnazzy uniform when I came in the room. He told us of his exploits in gaining his various medals and included an entire story dedicated to what a wonderful meal the Warriors' Breakfast was. He'd made a list of everything he ate! :D I hope he safe and pray for those in harm's way.

Forever New Things I Should Read: I Want These Books

The Forever War is the next big "Bri Needs to Read This" project. I've heard so much about it and Tim mentioned it in his Friday Snippet comment last week. The author came to our sister campus across town, but I wasn't able to make it to his talk. I've wanted to take on much more military-heavy science fiction since last year. So, I think, along with The Forever War and Ender's Game Series, I might try to take in some of the newer pulp stuff (the HALO and DOOM books). I know, they're cheesy, but so were the pulps from which our greatest sci-fi writers emerged.

My New Game (Read: Geek-Love): I Want Altair

Below, we have the next game Bri wants for the XBox 360: Assassin's Creed. I know, I attempted not to blog out my geek-ness, but this is the one thing that I am allowed to be an incredible nerd about. I adore playing HALO 3 and AC looks to be (almost) as incredible. According to the demo video, most surfaces in the game are climbable as you do assassin-ish things through the character, Altair (doesn't he look nifty?).

Also, the AI in the game is apparently fairly responsive to players' choices. Scaling a wall in midday garners attention from the crowd below, which in turn calls the guards. Slaughtering someone in the street or knocking someone over gains you the mob's hatred. In short, a player's actions are not without consequence. The game seems to imply that a player must move on a much stealthier and realistic level. So. Much. Fun.

Despite the gamer talk and the geek-urges, my thoughts are with those in California and my friend. Please be safe.

So say we all.
Bri

Mr. Haha, Sledge Hammers and Sexy XBox

2007-10-22T11:00:00.000-04:00

The XBox

This past weekend, I finally purchased my first gaming console. The XBox 360 has since become a way for me to save the universe, race million dollar cars and tend a garden of pinatas. Here, we have a display of way-too-much-sexy in one place. Btw, check out the gamertag on the left! I added it...and I think it looks sexy too. Gamertag, 360 controller and The Spirit. Say amen. Amen.

The Wall and the Sledge Hammer

On Caldwell Street, there was a Wall. Those of us at the dorm never understood the purpose of this Wall. It was too short to keep people out, but too tall to be anything else but a Wall. It was hideous. While it was tall enough to keep out neighborhood animals or small rodents, there were no gates at the entrance or exit. All told, the Wall was an anomaly. So imagine our amazement when we drove by Caldwell and saw a sign advertising its demolition. V and I decided to take pictures.On Saturday, after my GRE, V and I, returned to the dreaded beast along with Bear another friend whose name matches his appearance. We demolished a good chunk of the Wall with 10 lb. sledge hammers after we beautified it with a spray paint mural. We also saw two of my professors. (I discovered today, that Dr. V has a blog. Go look !) We had an absolutely terrific time drawing graffiti and pulling down the Wall while the Symphony played on the front porch and collected donations. The fact that two such extremes, refined culture and brute-force-barbarism, could exist in such a small space was amazing.

I'll post the pictures of our transitory art as soon as I figure out how to get them off of my phone camera. My main project read: ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE. I tried to draw The Watchmen shot-up-smiley face, but that got nixed when I ran out of yellow spray paint. Also, I'd never sledged anything in my life so we had fantastic amounts of fun until the people running the show told us we should stop.

Apparently, they advertised that the community could sledge the wall, but didn't actually think college kids with pent up frustration over standardized testing and academic midterms would come with hammers. Oh well. We got in a few good hits.

Mr. Haha

Afterward, Bear, V and I pulled over in the Episcopalian church parking lot where we met a gloriously fat stray tabby named Mr. Haha. He was friendly and wanted attention so we enjoyed a photo opportunity. A little girl climbing into her mother's minivan nearby informed me of Mr. Haha's name, and the fact that he didn't like to be picked up, that he would scratch me and give me the evil eye. As it turns out, he might just not like little girls who think they know everything. He loved me. And he gave a cursory hello to V. He liked Bear too. He loved me.

We continued through our downtown on foot, took a few lovely pictures. Here they are, for your viewing pleasure. I'll post more pictures of our exploits on Wednesday, at the latest. For now, behold!

So say we all.
Bri

Friday Snippet: Jericho Down

2007-10-19T06:01:00.000-04:00

Well, my friends, today was a day of accomplishments, medals and rank promotions. Today I wrote over 4, 200 words. I finished two chapters on my thesis. I gained three ranks in HALO 3 and defeated twelve higher raked people. I was god-like. How good is life? Life is very good.

Because of this, I give you a new story for Friday Snippets. We will eventually return to Dell and Iris, but this week, we celebrate the wonderful day with a new story. Please leave your own link! Please, let me know what you think!

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, material liable to change. Etc.
Rain slid down his visor as he sat slumped against the muddy mound bodies and memorial headstones. His audi-link to base had gone to blue static almost an hour ago. He needed to get up, but the assault rifle across his lap was cold and heavy. Blood splattered his body armor. His ears rang from the thunder of the artillery. He could feel the bullet lodged under his ribs as he breathed. He lifted his head, moving for the first time since he fell here in the mud. The rainwater slid down his face mask in silver streams.
"JERICHO," she said. "JERICHO we need you."

In the palm of his hand, he clutched a set of dog tags, burned beyond recognition. The letters of the name were raised and ashen. He curled his fingers over the tags, looping them through his belt. The leather pouch at his hip was heavy with the last few of his cartridges - the special rounds he wouldn't use until absolutely necessary. His audi-link crackled and he heard Aural's voice. There was pain in her words - something he hadn't heard before.

"JERICHO," she said. "JERICHO we need you."

So say we all.
Bri

The Rhetoric of Defending Earth and Her Colonies

2007-10-16T03:01:00.000-04:00

The Rhetoric of Internet Problems

The reason blogger comments wouldn't work on my computer was because the IT department on campus decided to do something that hindered any "https" or secure websites. So no one could check their email, bank accounts, assignments or blogs. Frustrating to say the least. This was remedied this morning after my roommate put in an email to the department.

Today in our Rhetoric Class, we discussed Foucault's Archeology of Knowledge. While the theory is completely fascinating, it is also completely claustrophobic. The fact that our system completely controls us through social security cards, driver's licenses and birth certificates is inescapable. What worried me through the whole class was the fact that people might become apathetic because of this knowledge. The challenge to create and bring change seems almost insurmountable in light of all of this. As the semester progresses, I'll probably talk a little more about this. Right now, I'm still digesting it.

But much news of short stories and overused science fiction stereotypes are discussed in the Weekend Recap. Continue Reading for Entertainment:

In Defense of Earth and All Her Colonies: Space Marines

This weekend I finished the fight in HALO 3. I followed that sci-fi shooter up by watching Aliens with the guys. Needless to say, we gained a healthy adoration for space marines along the way. I decided to do a short story based around a team of original characters who form a traditional squad. I want to play with some stereotypes and some traditional concepts, in an attempt to avoid the predictable aspects of the genre.

While space marines may have become cliche in our pop culture, they are pretty cool when you think about it and no mater who you are, you're sort of grateful when the space marines show up in book, game or flick. Think about it.

It's Game Over Man: Aliens

In Aliens you have Hicks and the space marines of the Sulaco. They manage to take on an entire horde of blood-thirsty xenomorphs before losing most of their numbers. When everyone else freaks out and either gets devoured by the aliens or demolished thanks to some chest-bursters, the marines manage to hold out for most of the movie. Hicks as a sort of quiet leader and Hudson as the over-paranoid marine are both pretty cool fighters and pretty cool characters. While Ripley is the main lead, I definitely think that the marines make this movie.

Jacked Up, Good to Go: Starcraft II

In Starcraft, a real-time-strategy game, you always start with a small platoon of marines and work your way toward civilization as they defend your position. In bulked-up armor and with the gritty attitude you've come to expect from such characters, these guys can completely wipe the map and hold their positions while you set up new military bases.

Wake Me When You Need Me: HALO 3

Of course we have give a hail to the Chief. In HALO 3, Spartan John-117 is the ultimate super-soldier. He fights off a race of aliens called the Flood and the Covenant who are both determined to destroy humanity and the universe. The last of his kind, Chief is our last defense. While a quiet and faceless character, he's a force of nature. Generally the other marines think he's hot stuff, which of course, is awesome.

So, sure, sometimes, space marines may seem cliche, individually or in teams, but there's no reason not to be thoroughly entertained by their extreme levels of incredible. In the end, you know we all breathe a little easier when the space marines arrive, whether they save the day or not. You know they'll hold their ground and defend Earth and her Colonies against the masses of alien invaders.

So say we all.
Bri

Blogger Comments Aren't Working

2007-10-12T09:40:00.000-04:00

All of you with Blogger, I've tried to leave you comments for the past few days, but it keeps timing out. So sorry. I'll try again, later today. If I've left a link to my snippet on your site, but no comment, that's what's happening.

So say we all.
Bri

Friday Snippets: She Deals in Lead

2007-10-12T03:01:00.000-04:00

This week's Friday Snippet picks up, again where we left off two weeks ago. Dell, after escaping the nuclear wasteland of Columbia, has headed toward the little town of Mexico. She still deals with her choice to leave Roy, the man who loves her more than life. On her journey, she has been clotheslined by two brothers on a back country road for the gas in her motorcycle. We left her last week, under the gun of the younger brother.

Be sure to leave a link to your Snippet! Let me know what you think!

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, material liable to change. Etc.
Dell stared down the barrel of the gun, down into the darkness of her own death and she did not look away. The boy was terrified. Dell eased the hammer down on her shotgun and stepped back, easing away from him. The boy was sobbing and the pistol wavered in his hand, bobbing like a cork. It was hard to breathe. She swung her leg over her bike, revving it to life. His voice wavered through the cool of the night.

"Where are you going, man?" he asked. "Are you just gonna leave us here?" His voice cracked. His face had twisted into something ugly, changed by the realization of what he was doing. The gun vomited flame. Dell threw herself low over the lines of the bike, hugging herself to its frame.

She could have, should have killed him, should have slid the bike around, ridden it to the ground and unloaded the shotgun into his chest. But then she thought of what his brother would see when he woke. She couldn't bring herself to do it. She hated herself for it, but she could pray that the boy missed.

She hunched low as the night winds pulled at her coat. She was sure that at any moment she would feel the white hot slug between her shoulder blades, feel her own lukewarm blood on her jersey. Bullets whined past her ear and then her arm bloomed in a sunburst of pain. Blood splattered across the right lens of her gas mask. She didn't stop.
"She was sure that at any moment she would feel the white hot slug between her shoulder blades, feel her own lukewarm blood on her jersey.

Bullets whined past her ear and then her arm bloomed in a sunburst of pain. Blood splattered across the right lens of her gas mask."
It wasn't until she saw the shadow of the brothers' truck against the ridgeline that she slowed and allowed herself to breath. The air was stale and thick inside the gasmask and she ripped it off. Sweat flattened her curls to her head and burned her eyes. Her face was extremely pale and her hands shook violently as she brought the bike to a stop beside the truck. The smell of blood was almost overwhelming. The fuel gage on her bike hovered above empty.

Dell swung off the bike and slumped down beside the truck, easing her arm out of her coat. She cut the hem off of her jeans and tightened it in a tourniquet around her upper arm. For a moment, she let herself breath.

After she forced a hose down into the truck's tank, she cradled her arm in the curve of her body and with her teeth, tore open one of the Snickers Roy had packed. Swallowing down the chocolate, she cringed at the prospect of siphoning. Gas welled up in her mouth and she spat it out. She paused, her hackles rising. Someone was nearby. She was certain. She let the gas drain off into the bike's tank and pulled her shotgun into the shadow of her body.

So say we all.
Bri

Take a Haiku Break with the Chief

2007-10-11T04:52:00.000-04:00

I'm There

On Tuesday, I helped run the first Creative Writing Workshops at my university and they were a smashing success. Several students stayed after and asked questions, requesting specific workshops, like how a writer might handle a series or how a writer might develop a horror story. Obviously, I would be thrilled to lead some of these later in the semester. I'm keeping an eye on it. Also, I'm still considering Graduate Programs and I'll keep you guys posted as that develops.

Now, storytime with Bri.

Rhetorically Speaking

On Wednesday, I decided I needed a break. The class I was meant to observe for a Comp Theory assignment canceled. In my Rhetorical Theory class, I realized every single one of us had read the wrong assignment and didn't have the heart to tell our professor. So frustrated was I over the canceled class and the massive misunderstanding that ensued in Rhetorical Theory, I was put out. I decided to head back early to the dorm.

Massive confusion
Rhet Theory baffles us all.
I'm going home now.

Boy, Interrupted

And that was when I met a pretty boy. He plays HALO and thinks Master Chief is the coolest. He wants to play online with me and my friends. He loves my writing. Sigh. I was about to ask for his Gamertag (yes, go ahead and laugh it up). But, before I could (you saw that but coming, surely), a friend of mine walked up, interrupting our conversation. She ignored the situation.

He made a sad face (aw) and said he had to get to class. He promised to give me his tag on Facebook and as my friend continued to talk, all I could do was watch him walk away. The only thing that would have made the whole scene better would have been if thunder rumbled and rain poured down around me in the middle of Thompson Hall. I just glared at my friend and then went back to the dorm.

And I met a boy
Pretty-writer-gamer-boy.
We could so be friends.

Heroics and Gender in HALO 3

When I proposed my idea of discussing HALO 3 and gender to my class, a rather fine fellow responded that he didn't think it was relevant. I didn't dignify him with a response. I'll wait to give my presentation before I answer insults directed at something I adore and something I consider a valuable study. He considers HALO 3 a simple video game for guys, featuring a faceless super-space-marine who slaughters alien scum.

I see the nameless-faceless Master Chief as a cultural icon, on the level with Eastwood's The Man with No Name. More than anything though, HALO 3 supports a gaming environment that almost invites studies of gender by the very nature of its anonymity.

I've been out gaming
Shooting up alien scum.
Now, I need some sleep.

So say we all.
Bri

New(ish) Design and a Hippo on My Shotgun Shell

2007-10-10T03:21:00.000-04:00

The new blog design is up, but not completely finished, as you can see. I'm pleased with it. I'm not sure what it was about the other blog that bothered me so much, but something definitely did. Hopefully this will be much more to my liking. The past two weeks have been full of everything. I mean that in a (mostly) literal way.

SO MANY TALES TO ASTONISH

This week in my science fiction class, we discussed my story "Lightning in a Bottle." Everyone thoroughly enjoyed it, which pleased me. I'm sending this one to a magazine in the very near future, so the suggestions and the critique were incredibly helpful. The thing is, I want to create a graphic novel for this short story at the same time and this might becomes a slight problem if I decide to go on with publication. The character designs have been in my head for a long while, so I think I might push ahead with this and submit something else to a magazine. Still considering it.

THE CREEP

My room got incredibly messy, clean, then messy and then clean again. I think the Creep of Mess is like a tide or something and I should probably investigate that.

FINISHING THE FIGHT...IN NEW TECH

In Writing for New Technologies (what a name, right?) I must turn in a concept for a unique research project, and I think I've discovered my topic. In HALO 3, players have the ability to watch "film" of their matches and to review their enemy's strategies. I want to know how this will change the level of strategic study in games like Capture the Flag (capturing the enemy flag) or Assault (planting a bomb in the enemy base).

I also want to see if a a team will gain a stronger sense of community and alliance if they re-see their own strategies and the strategies of their enemies. At some point, I also want to discuss some gender issues in HALO 3, but that may have to wait.

WEEKEND RECAP

This weekend, I played a few matches of Shotty Snipers (shotguns and sniper rifles only), in the Social Doubles Matches with my friend Vespacian - "V" (also known as Ezra). Here are some pics from one of our best matches. Usually, I'm a Blue, but for these matches, we were placed with the Reds. Please forgive any confusion.

A Hippo on My Shotgun Shell

The shell of choice for Master Chief in the HALO universe apparently has a giant hippo and the number 8 on it. I don't really understand why. I don't ask. He's the Master Chief.

V and Me on the Hunt This guy never had a chance. V was cloaked, completely invisible. The poor guy never saw it coming. When it was all over, V faded away like a ghost and we continued our hunt for the Blues.

Give Them Nothing. Take From Them Everything.We. Are. So. Cool.

I Got Your Back - Frag Out
With V running forward and me covering our trail from the Blue, we escaped with only slight damage. Whoorah for the Reds and pretty sweet teamwork.
Last, here is a video of the above last stand in the tunnels.

That's the update. I'll be by later in the week to continue the redesign and to post about further projects. I have all intention of becoming involved in the blogging community. I hope you all understand. HALO 3 is amazing. School is necessary. The Creep evolves daily. I'll strike some balance, some semblance of a treaty with it all, and then I will return to the blogosphere triumphant. I promise.

So say we all.
Bri

Maegan and Garrett Are Engaged!

2007-10-04T18:27:00.000-04:00

First, congratulations to my dearest friends, Maegan and Garrett, on their engagement. It's about time.

There's so much I want to do. And so much I'm not doing. I promise, I want to be involved. But there are not enough hours in the day. This site is driving me crazy, so you can be guaranteed a redesign over the weekend.

A Novel Idea

I got my novel chapters back from my advisor today and am fairly pleased with the results. He liked my revisions and we've set a day to meet later in October to review the next chunk of the story. Hopefully I will continue to improve. I'm to about Chapter 9 0f 25, we're making headway.

Tech-Class Troubles

In a week or so, I'll have my website for a tech class up and running and I'll link to it from here. I'm supposed to pose a question that has not already been asked and try to answer it myself. Instead of running toward the cosmic questions I asked one that is meaningful to me and at the same time guarantees me a ton of fun while I'm researching it.

MY QUESTION: Players in HALO 3 can rewatch their matches, from the perspective of every player in the game. How will this ability effect team strategies in Capture the Flag? Could review strategies like this be used outside the gaming world?

I'll also be starting up a sister blog for my HALO and website exploits. This will include graphics, screenshots and video I intend to use for the project. I may reference it here once in a while, if it is exceptionally cool.

So say we all.

Bri

Crushing the Teacher's Will and the Student's Voice

2007-10-02T04:10:00.000-04:00

In my Composition Theory class, we've discussed the methods the university establishment uses to educate young or novice writers in the discipline. This is what I have gleaned so far. The semester is still progressing, so please do not judge these ideas as concrete or otherwise solid. I am still developing my ideas on this discourse.

Separate departments require specific jargon in their assignments. For instance, a student wouldn't write a lit paper the same way he would write a history paper or a creative writing paper. A student must use the jargon specific to his department. When the student does not deliver that level of "professionalism" on a "university" level, he gets demolished. The departments do no instruct the students on the required jargon.
The jargon is there to prove that the student can formally spout the necessary amount of technically correct and typically empty language to be considered more than an imbecile.
Teach a student to accurately determine which jargon he should use is the job of composition teachers. Instead of focusing on rhetorical theory or critical thinking, composition teachers are reduced to teaching various forms that are not adaptable to each situation.

I work in the Writing Center at university, so I understand the frustrations of focusing on grammar and syntax - most frustrating when a student can't seem to string together six words in even a bastardized English. I understand that.

I also understand the frustrations of students who are forced to jump through a series of hoops since kindergarten in order to be awarded a diploma they can't even use to get a job. I understand their frustration with double standards and the strange sense of inferiority they feel when in the presence of their professors. I understand that conforming to requirements of form can crush a writer's voice so that it is unrecognizable and may not stand on its own again.

I see both sides, because I stand at a strange crossroads. I am tutor and teacher and students and friend. I hope none of you take offense. Offer your feedback and let me know what you think of this debate. I know that Seanachi posted about this the other day, so go give her post (and especially the comments) a look.

So say we all.
Bri

Zombies with Swords, Flag Duty and Hammers

2007-09-30T03:01:00.000-04:00

THE RUN DOWN

Usually, I focus on my academic studies and my reading and my writing on this blog. Today is a different sort of day. On Friday night, I played in a HALO 3 LAN party at the dorm with all my friends. My head almost exploded it was so amazing.

ZOMBIES WITH SWORDS

There's a game type called Infection, which simulates a zombie invasion. One member of your party is a zombie and everyone is human. Every time the zombie kills a human, that human then becomes part of the zombie's team. So the numbers of the team - originally 5 vs. 1 - becomes 1 vs. 5. This goes on until there's only one human left. Poor guy. We realized we had to follow familiar anti-zombie strategies if we wanted to live (see Exhibits A-D).

Don't get in a car (Exhibit A).
Use heavy artillery (Exhibit B).
Stay together (Exhibit C).
Put backs to the wall on high ground with clear visibility, preferably near a large store of ammunition and supplies (Exhibit D).

Exhibit A

As you can see, my friends (referred to in their gamer names) Ezra, the guy in white, and Mike, the guy in green, took a vehicle and Mike is about to be cannibalized, courtesy of me, as a zombie.
Exhibit B and C
Staying together is a brilliant strategy for anyone who wants to survive an undead apocalypse as seen in this image of Ezra and myself, armed respectively with an Battle Rifle and a heavy machine gun turret.
Exhibit D
As you can see, Mr. Bear as Covenant in green, Ezra and myself stationed ourselves according to protocol. We gained high ground, put our backs to the wall and unloaded heavy artillery on the zombie hoards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FLAG DUTY

The other game we played on Friday night was Capture the Flag. The concept is for one team to steal the flag and get it back to their base before the other team can stop them.

Long Live the Blues

I can be seen below, guarding the Blue Flag (LONG LIVE THE BLUES!) with a grenade launcher. Isn't our flag pretty?

Running Like a Little Girl

When we were on Offense, I grabbed the Reds' flag and ran...I ran like a scared little girl. I ran like hell and got the hell out of there. I was Cloaked - invisible - and you can see the grenade behind me, rippling my shield and making me visible. Mr. Bear remained behind me, to the left and died giving me time to get out of the Red Base.

Making a Clean Get-Away

Outside, Ezra (now in Blue), was waiting with a Mongoose to take me down to the beach to deliver the flag and claim victory. Ezra and I had practiced this maneuver for a few hours before, him driving at full speed and me jumping on the back with a flag. He hit me a few times, but we got to the point where, under fire in battle, we could pull it off.

Viva la Bleu

Because of that...we claimed Victory for the Blues. Viva la Bleu!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OTHER HAPPY FUN-TIMES
The rest of these are funtimes we had in free-for-all Slayer matches, where the goal was to get as many kills as possible.

Mike with a Hammer
Here is Mike (the one I cannibalized) wielding a Gravity Hammer. He's white here because of the light from its explosion. Usually he's in green.

The Result of Mike with a Hammer
He got a kill. Isn't that sweet? And by "sweet," I mean "completely awesome."
Communism in HALO 3

Mr. Bear ran Ezra and me over with a Banshee - a giant airplane-esque thing. Here we are dying. We look like we're dancing like Russians...and singing, "Moscow! Moscow!"

Viva la HALO!
So say we all.
Bri

Friday Snippets: Take Me Out

2007-09-28T03:01:00.000-04:00

The Friday Snippet this week continues to follow Dell after she escapes the ruin of Columbia, after she breaks the heart of the man who loves her more than anyone on earth. With a nuclear wasteland spreading all around her and an imminent mass migration south, Dell has turned her sights on the little town of Mexico, north of Columbia. Last week, she snuck past a military blockade of tanks on the interstate bridges only to be laid low by a rope strung across on the back country roads. We pick up with Dell, laying in the middle of the county road in the dark.

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, material liable to change. Etc.
Dell tilted the shotgun up and moonlight gleamed down the barrel bright and pure. The person above her stopped cold, the barrel of the gun pressed in hard under their jaw. Dell could feel agony flowering though her chest like a cold fire. The mask hid her face and she didn't care that her face twisted in pain as she moved her arm.

"I'd advise that you step back," she rasped. The figure's eyes shone in the dark, wide and glassy, like dark coins. "I'd advise you to step back before I blow your face off," she said, pressing the barrel up against his pulsing jugular. His eyes slid away and Dell heard footsteps at her head. "One step closer, and he this shotgun will have more brains than he does," she snapped. The footsteps stopped.

"Look," the sneaking man said. His voice was graveled, but still young. The brother, she guess. "Look, we just needed some gas. Don't hurt him. Don't worry Jim, it's alright," he said. "Just don't hurt him. We just needed some gas. We weren't gonna hurt you."

"Like hell," she said. "You sneaking around - get my bike over here. Now." She turned her head, watching the man as he moved in a wide arc around her. She sat slowly, groaning as the pressure forced the breath from her lungs. As she forced the sobbing man back, she saw his face in the dark. He was young. Painfully young. He couldn't have been much older than Matheson on that morning.

Dell managed her feet, trying not to listen as the boy wiped at his snot and tried not to sob any more as she stepped back. As the older wheeled her bike forward, she tilted her head. "Step back," she said. "You said you needed gas - so where's your car?"
"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"What needs to be done," Dell replied. The blood on her knuckles was black in the moonlight. Something in her chest rattled as she breathed.
"Over the ridge, west of here," the older said, stepping between her and the boy. "Why?"

"You and your brother are going to live," she said. "That should be enough."

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"What needs to be done," Dell replied. The blood on her knuckles was black in the moonlight. Something in her chest rattled as she breathed. But they didn't know that. They didn't even know what she looked like beneath the insect-eyed gasmask.

She lunged, the butt of her shotgun catching the older one in the jaw and spilling him backward into unconsciousness, heavy as a wet sack of sand. The boy fell under his weight. He reached inside his brother's coat. She swung her shotgun to bear and found herself staring down the barrel of an old revolver.

So say we all.
Bri

I Believe in Aardvarks, Spartans and Vampires

2007-09-26T17:43:00.000-04:00

I know I haven't been around much lately and you all have my deepest apologies on this. Life has suddenly become insane - more so than I would have thought possible. To address Joely's comment from a week or so back, I want to participate more in the 1,000 Words a Day Club, because I absolutely love the community and I have material I am working through everyday.

I'm starting to look into publication for the Post-Apocalyptic Story and I've revising a short story for a submission to a science fiction mag in two weeks. I still have my work from classes piling up in drifts...and these are the things that are killing my time:

Speaking in the Third Person: Cerebus the Aardvark

A friend loaned me Cerebus, a comic written and drawn entirely by a man named Dave Sim. The story follows a barbarian aardvark named Cerebus on his adventures across Estarcion and the city-state of Iest. With a weird mix of philosophy, feminism and a brief but touching romance, it's a graphic novel I count up there with Jeff Smith's Bone.

I Believe in Master Chief

I've also been swallowed up by the release of HALO 3, Bungie and Microsoft's Official-Slayer-of-All-Useful-Brain-Cells-and-Time. So far the graphics, the tricks you can pull as a 7-ft-tall Spartan and the game play are simply and amazingly lovely. Master Chief, John 117, is of course the hero and the range of weaponry, shields, vehicles and environments is enough to rock your socks right off. Chief has always been one of my favorite characters in a game. This is probably for the simple face that I've never seen his face. He's an Everyman. A rather tall and heavy Everyman, but sympathetic and easy to relate to because of his anonymity.

This Doesn't Bite: Twilight

On the recommendation of a close friend's little sister, I took the book she loaned to me and ate it up in almost two nights. I'm still a little ways from the end and can't get enough. The story focuses on human Bella and vampire Edward and the strange relationship they begin in the depressing gray land of the Northwest coast. Give it a read - it's part one of a trilogy - and it is SO worth it.

I have school work and a social life in here somewhere. I'm sure. But between these three (and a number of other cool things I'm not elaborating on here), I'm desperately trying not to lose touch with all of you! But I find that I sort of like wading through all the cool and discovering new ways to waste time.

So say we all.
Bri

Friday Snippets: Once Upon a Trip to Mexico

2007-09-23T23:18:00.000-04:00

Here's the Friday Snippet. So sorry, most humble apologies and all that jazz about it being late. Leave you link! I'll come and see you!

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, material liable to change. Etc.
Under the cover of dark, Dell rode for almost four hours. The fires from the inner city threw her shadow out long on the pavement and to the east and west the sky burned like burnished copper with the the death of St. Louis and Kansas city. She'd slipped past the barricades at midnight, killing the engine and walking the bike, her shotgun within easy reach.

Now, she laid low off the interstate far north of ground zero. As she approached a lower overpass, she slid the bike down into the ditch and flattened herself against the sloping hill near the exit ramp. Two tanks hunched on either side of the bridge like hulking monsters and Dell could hear the low rumble of engines and generators. It was difficult to see through the tinted lenses of the gas mask, but she snaked her way up the incline until she lay within an a few yards of the tank treads. She strained her ears to listen.

"With the power grid down from here to Detroit, they're right to move us south. No lights, no heat - and the radiation's gonna fall out soon. We can't stay here. Jones said he already heard radio chatter. The Guard's tellin' most people to stay put - but the smart ones, they'll come south ahead of the cold."

"The Guard's tellin' most people to stay put - but the smart ones, they'll come south ahead of the cold."
At that moment, Dell heard the wail of high speed aircraft overhead and saw the black silhouette of slender stealth bombers eating the stars as they raged against the sky. Sonic booms bludgeoned the air just a few seconds later and crushed her beneath the roar of sound. When her ears stopped ringing, she lifted her face from the grass and heard the men above her cheering raggedly. They fired their mortars and their guns into the night sky.

Dell slid back down the hill under the flickering barrage and cranked the bike. Keeping the lights dark, she hunkered over the handlebars, rumbling under the deepest shadows of the bridge. She was completely hidden in the open beneath the light and the thunder as the soldiers on the bridge cheered on the Stealths and the bombs sleeping deadly quiet in their metal bellies.

Dell turned off on the side roads, following her memory of the terrain. She would go north, to the little town of Mexico and she would find someone who could tell her what had happened, someone without tanks that crouched on bridges or bombers who brought death on the wind. She never saw the thick rope slung across the road.

It caught her in the chest, bruising her sternum and blasting the air from her lungs. Her grip on the handlebars went nerveless and the bike careened onto its side, screaming in the gravel as it sputtered to a halt. Dell saw sky and earth and sky again and slammed onto her back in the dust. Everything hurt at once and she thought maybe she was dying. Then she felt her fingers twitch and the cold length of Math's shot gun barrel under her left leg. She thumbed back the hammer, when a shadow leaned over her, blotting out the moon.

So say we all.
Bri

On What I Know and When the Snippet is Coming Down

2007-09-23T18:50:00.000-04:00

I know I promised a Friday Snippet. I know. I promised. But I was obscenely exhausted and this morning I found myself asleep in full clothing. I plan to post the Snippet Sunday afternoon/night, with any luck.

This is what I know for sure.

My thesis adviser met with me on Friday and took up the seven or eight chapters I completely revised over the summer and a synopsis. We made plans to meet late in October after my GRE, when I'll hand in the next 100 pages. My thesis is a novel under the working title XIII. This summer, I worked down my entire draft from last year and cut the cast from fifteen to eight.

Work at the Writing Center grew exponentially stressful. I agreed to help teach a series of creative writing workshops as well as a crash course on speculative fiction as a genre. The crash courses will last two hours a piece and span three nights early in November.

I was also asked to create a logo for the writing center and a series of flyers promoting the workshops. While I am proficient at graphic design, I am not formally trained and have not taken any graphics classes in college. I do most of my design work for myself, but I agreed to try and help.

My readings for various theory classes have tripled in the past week and I sort of want to chuck the books out of my third story window. I will probably make a post on rhetoric this week, because I've discovered a few very fascinating things in various cross-disciplinary classes.

I need to write up a resume and cover letter for a Tech Writing Class and design a CSS website for a New Tech class. These are both blehch but necessary for the coursework requirement. I understand the need for these classes - truly - but I think the classes should be optional, instead of a required part of a writing degree. Mainly because I've been fairly tech savvy since I was four or five - courtesy of my dad's technical line of work. I'm repeating code and concepts in these classes I learned as a middle-schooler. Oh well.

I may be considering going out of country for my postgraduate work and this thought alone is fairly terrifying and at the same time incredibly wonderful.

And that concludes what I know. I'll post the snippet after dinner. Wonderful Sunday to you all!

So say we all.
Bri

Sorry - No Snippet Until Late Friday

2007-09-21T03:54:00.000-04:00

Friday Snippet may be posted later on Friday.
Once I'm done with class, I'll post and read.

Long week.
Changes at work.
Crushing schedule.
SO MUCH WRITING.
A few disasters.
I'll fill you in later.
Going to bed.

So say we all.
Bri

Monday Musts: Some Lovely Things to See

2007-09-17T04:06:00.000-04:00

One of the best things about dorm life is that, while you have to deal with early morning fire alarms and frat rushes, laundry thieves and loaded schedules, you do get exposed to an incredible amount of amazing literature, music, art, foreign films and rare pop-culture. I've decided for the next few Mondays to post about these "Musts." So here we go - two items of note to start us off!

OUR HOUSE IS A VERY, VERY, VERY FINE HOUSE

House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski is maybe the most frightening and incredibly intricate books I've ever read. Danielewski sets up three narrative strands through breaking the "fourth wall" at various levels. The story is narrated through editorial footnotes by Johnny Truant. He is compiling the work and notes of his neighbor, an old man who has recently passed away. The notes, ranging from medical reports, scientific research papers, film strips and personal journal entries, detail the chronicles of Navidson, the man who lived with his family in the House of Leaves. All three characters are haunted by this thing that haunts the darkness, though "the creature" is never named or revealed in definite terms.

The thing about the story is that while it goes crazy near the end and you actually have to turn the book upside down to read some of the notes, it all works together to form this amazing reading experience. The premise is that there is a House, and in this House, there is a door. The problem is, this door is on a perimeter wall - a wall that has nothing but the outside world behind it. If you look out of a window on this wall, you would look into the backyard. But when you open that door - you don't step into the backyard. You step into a hallway as black as death where no echo returns. If you want great character driven story and something that might just scare the sock off of you, definitely give it a look. It's one of the best books in my stash.

IF YOU'VE GOT A BONE TO PICK...

Written by Jeff Smith, Bone is a gigantic graphic novel that tells the epic story of the Bone cousins, Fone, Phoney, and Smiley as they travel through a strange valley far from home. Besides the fact that, so far, I've had my socks blown off, Bone won ten Eisners and eleven Harveys (the highest awards for comics) and is one of the longest running comics from a single self-published writer/artist.

It's sort of an Everyman story, but I love the "save the world" theme that crop up subtly throughout the book. Generally that trope annoys me, but Smith pulls it off. His characters and story are never cliche and better, they never suffer from the "guys in tights" syndrome that overwhelms most traditional comics. While the story is sometimes dark or heavy as the load of the hero becomes almost too much to bear, Smith never fails to give you a line or two so that you can crack a smile and ease the tension.

Hope you enjoy these. Next week I'll probably be talking about some music, movies or anything else I run across in my stash later this week. Have a wonderful Monday!

So say we all.
Bri

Our Day in the Rock and a Papa-san

2007-09-15T14:40:00.000-04:00

Today, a few of my friends and I drove down into the Rock, our capitol, and visited an exhibit of Jim Henson's work as well as a few of the more famous galleries. I saw various works from Rivera, Degas, Monet, Seurat and a few others. When it was all over, we sat for a while in the museum garden and rested our feet. When we realized we were horridly bored with sitting, we walked down to the memorial park and I took some pictures. Hope you enjoy! Also - there's a picture of the papa-san so you can see what I'm talking about. Again, enjoy!

Rain-wet flowers outside of our dorm.

Home, sweet home. This is a shot from our wonky downtown. To be very honest, I'm not sure there exists a downtown that is *not* a little eccentric. But I love it.

This is my favorite picture from the day. We visited the Korean War Memorial after walking around the Art Museum for most of the day. I thought this was the strangest stance for a heroic soldier. His feet are turned in - he's afraid. It's something so simple, but it changed the entire emotional feel of the statue.

Birds on top of a towering interstate street lamp. I was standing on a bridge over the interstate, and had to use my full 10X zoom to get this shot - and I think that maybe the birds are really using this as a covert meeting place to plot the destruction of the human race. *Beware*

The Bridge we crossed when I took the picture of the birds and their secret spaceship. This bridge arcs over about eight lanes of traffic in the center of the Rock.

This was the site of an ruined fountain, but I saw it as the perfect model for a fortress where I could survive, with the help of friends and a ton of ammo and high-level explosives, the worst zombie invasion you can imagine. Now, on to more serious material.

The dying light of our most lovely day. Hope you enjoyed.

Oh! Behold! Papa-san - Most Comfy Chair in the World

So say we all.

Bri

Friday Snippets: I Hate to Say Adieu

2007-09-14T03:01:00.000-04:00

Thank you guys so much for you input last week! We've reached the section of this story that originally started the whole idea: the bike. That's right. An image I found online of a refurbed bike started this whole story rolling, and now, my friends, we have arrived. Last week, Dell was reunited with Roy, her estranged lover and in the same snippet, she made the decision to leave his side and broke his heart. This week, she begins her cross-country journey...

Let me know what you think and definitely leave a link to your own snippets! I will be able to get to them fairly quickly this week because I've got most of my work out of the way.

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, material liable to change. Etc.

Dell waited until Roy had moved further into the dark to bow her head into her hands. She was cold now that he was gone, now that his weight did not pull her toward him as he leaned on her bedside. She wiped her at face, furious at the hot tears streaking her face and the dead weight dragging her heart down into her feet. She heard Roy moving somewhere in the dark of the basement, searching for something. She straightened, exhaling any regret or fear in a rush.
She was cold now that he was gone, now that his weight did not pull her toward him as he leaned on her bedside.

"You're going to leave now for real aren't you?" Caleb whispered. She started at the sound of his voice, but could not stop the slow nod of her head. He closed his eyes. His fingers twirled in Corleone's fur. "You love that man. A lot." She nodded again, her throat thick with left over guilt. She stood, brushed back his bangs. "Get some rest, boy," she said. She held her hand over his eyes until she felt his lashes brush her palm, warm with tears. She pulled her hand away and he did not open his eyes. It would be better if he didn't watch her leave.

She felt her way through the dark until she found Roy's hand. Silent, they stood there in the inky black and she could feel the beat of his heart through his fingers. So long they stood and she swore she would never let herself forget that moment. He guided her hand to the cold stock of her brother's shotgun. He pulled away and did not touch her again. "I'll strike a match for you, but I don't have any more fuel to spare," he said. "The doors at the top of the incline are open, but you may have to force your way through. I've loaded some ammo and supplies in the saddlebags."

"Roy-"

"No," he said. The murk deepened around them, Dell was sure and she bowed her head. She heard the rattle of matches. A small star bloomed at the tip of Roy's fingers. She saw her brother's refurbished WWII motorcycle, loaded with saddlebags and a scabbard strapped beside the front wheel.

She shouldered on the coat he'd laid across the seat with mask and goggles. Each moment the light burned down was agony. She did not cover her face just yet, letting the mask hang around her neck and pushing the goggles back on her head. As she kicked back the stand, she swung her leg over and slid the gun into the scabbard. The bike rumbled to life. She found Roy's eyes, smoky green and shadowed beneath his long black bangs. Only a moment of light was left between them.

The match blazed down, down to his fingers. Dark. Only dark. Dell pulled on the gasmask and goggles, roaring up the incline and out into the dull red glow of the end of the world.

So say we all.
Bri

p.s. I'll post a picture of a papa-san later this weekend. Promise :) It's the most comfy chair on earth.

Making Time to Sit in a Papa-san

2007-09-13T17:26:00.000-04:00

My apologies for my lack of posting and commenting of late. For about the past week, I've not been able to find the time to visit the blogs as I would like. Lately, I've barely been able to find the time to breathe.

Yesterday I heard back from my professor who is acting as my thesis adviser. After getting the email to schedule a meeting with him, I decided I needed to get a synopsis together and clean up the draft beforehand. So, I went to the study room to plan out further scenes. Realization: the study room is the most horridly uncomfortable room on the face of the earth. The chairs are rickety, the couch ungodly lumpy and the room is hot.

I beat it back to my room before too long and plopped down in my comfy papa-san chair to write. I need the white erase board in there to plan out scenes so I might haul a beanbag and desk fan down there tonight.

I will have a Friday Snippet up tomorrow and since I've done almost all my work for this weekend, I should be able to get back to your snippets much faster than this past week.

So say we all.
Bri

When You've Got a Train to Catch

2007-09-10T19:20:00.000-04:00

This weekend was full of multiple opportunities and a wide array of choices. While I enjoyed various revelations about my writing priorities, the experience was also exhausting. The best part of the whole weekend though, was seeing 3:10 to Yuma.

Sorry, But I've Got a Train to Catch

First, let me say that I am not a huge fan of westerns. I generally think they are contrived and forced, reinforcing a set of values that seem out of date. The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, Unforgiven and Tombstone are classics in that they broke that mold. But none of them succeeded on such an emotional level as 3:10 to Yuma. Eastwood's film, no doubt, rescued the American Western from obscurity, and Unforgiven took the genre seriously, while Tombstone made it cool. 3:10 to Yuma made it human and personal.

3:10 to Yuma soared completely above and beyond my expectations. With a blurred vision of good and bad, the incredible storytelling and believable characters made this movie probably one of the most amazing I've see in a very long time. I've probably only seen a few films that were so violent and brutal, but beautiful and moving at the same time. 3:10 to Yuma was one of the best.

The One That Got Away

I turned down an opportunity for a possible grant and chance to present a paper at an academic conference. I'm still going to be supportive and to help. I will still push the programs I believe should be implemented in the department; I may write up a paper for that in the spring semester. But I thought it a waste to invest time and energy in research that didn't focus on something I'm passionate about. Also, I would have to delay leaving the Undergrad program for a year, thus delaying my MFA. I'm ready to get on with life, to get a house and a job so I can have a few of the things I want. I don't want to give that up.

The Opportunity Taken

I accepted the opportunity to work closely with one of my very best friends on an epic space opera, which we have steadily built up over the last 8 months. We kept it under wraps for such a long time because we weren't sure if we were serious or if we were just enjoying the world and the story. This past week, after an extremely long late night/early morning discussion at the Waffle House, we decided we were, in fact, dedicated. So we bought a dot-com and hope to have something up within the next month or so.

We're keeping it hush-hush until then, but I warn you: it is unbelievably full of awesome. With his vast views of overarching galaxy-wide plots and scientific interests and my focus on personal characters and crafted prose, we make a dashing team.

Pulling Away From the Station

If I haven't gotten to your Friday Snippets, I promise I will. This weekend was full (as you can see), and I've got a test or two this week. But I promise I will come and read. Just so you know, reading up on all the stories for the week is one of the most relaxing times of my blog-rounds.

Before I go, did anyone else see 3:10 to Yuma? If so, let me know what you think. Also, if you do like westerns, leave some suggestions if you want. I'll need to unwind this weekend and could check them out. Thanks!

So say we all.
Bri

Friday Snippets: Love in the Time of Apocalypse

2007-09-07T04:50:00.000-04:00

Please, leave your link to a Friday Snippet! I won't be able to read them until later today when I get done, but I definitely want to see where all the stories are going this week. Please let me know what you think - We're almost to the section of this story that I absolutely adore. I'd like a general opinion of what you guys think. Thanks!

THE SNIPPET

We're returning to Dell and her masked man this week. If this is your first time to read any of this Friday Snippet story, here's the basic run down. After Columbia, MO is nuked, our heroine, Dell O'Sullivan barely survived and rescued her cat Corleone and her neighbor's son, Caleb. After searching through the burned-out city for hours for an unknown person named Roy, Dell collapsed. Exhausted, she was overcome by memories of her dead brother, Matheson and her long-lost friend, Iris Garrick. All of this as a strange masked-man walks toward them out of the smoke...

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, material liable to change. Etc.
Dell dreamed of that long ago summer when she saw her brother's face on the morning before he died, before they laid down in the cold earth with no thought to the winter frost. She dreamed of the last time she saw him in the doorway, dark haired and smiling. She knew Iris was there, somewhere in the sunlight.

Dell flinched. She woke and dark was all around. She was cold, her hair clinging in slick curls against her brow. She felt herself leaning to the left and reached out her hand in the shadows. She felt the slow rise and fall of Caleb's chest, the warm purr of Corleone tucked in the curve of his arm. The man in the mask sat across from her. She couldn't see his face, but the outline of his profile was unmistakable. Roman nose and Asian jawline, the gleam of his eyes dark dusted green and tilted exquisitely, courtesy of his father the GI and his mother the lady he loved and brought across the sea after the war.

"Roy," Dell croaked. He smiled, standing over her. Dell brought her hands to her eyes, wanting suddenly to weep. She felt him sit on the edge of the bed and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling herself to sit. Every bone in her body ached, but feeling him laugh against her shoulder was worth it. Caleb stirred in his sleep. Dell pulled back, comforted by the rough hands framing her face. Roy leaned his brow against hers and she could see the faint sheen of his green almond-shaped eyes.

"Where are we?" she whispered.

"We're underground. My house is gone, but we're in my basement."

"When happened?"

"Nuke."

"Was it just Columbia?"

"From what I can tell from the chatter, whoever got us, got most of the east coast."

Dell's hand went to her heart, her chest clutching tight. Roy watched her, judging his next words carefully. "I've heard that we may launch back, and you know what that means."

"Then there is no safe place," Dell said. "I want to be here with you if that's how it will happen."

"Then there is no safe place," Dell said. "I want to be here with you if that's how it will happen."
"I know," he said. He lowered his head, laughing quietly. "And I want you to stay."

"But we both want to know what's going on outside," she said. Those were the most awful words she could imagine saying, but she knew she would not stay with him. She had not stayed with Math died or when Iris left and she would not stay now that the world was ending. "You still have his bike?"

"Of course."

"And...the gun?"

"Yes," Roy said. He leaned forward suddenly, kissing her for the first time since the day of Math's funeral.
"I could give you anything, Dell," he said. "And you ask for those two things."
She could feel a sob deep down in her chest, but as she pulled away from him, his hand tangled in hers and she opened dry eyes.

She could hear the anger thick in his voice, tinged with grief and frustration. "I knew you would ask for those two things, Dell," he said. She rested a hand on each of his shoulders for balance and stood. He looked up at her and she saw his face, streaked with grime.

"I'll give you both," he said. He bowed his head against her, and his words were muffled against her heart. "I could give you anything, Dell," he said. "And you ask for those two things."

So say we all.
Bri

If I Were the Last Poet, I'd Write a Song for Robots

2007-09-06T04:26:00.000-04:00

Drafts and Sidebar Dreams

Over the past few days, I've been considering a few things when it comes to my writing life. I'm thinking about putting up a sidebar of music I've heard and enjoyed recently, and maybe a sidebar with a few definite goals. I've already set most of these up courtesy of the 1,000 Words a Day Club. Here's a few of them:

Short Story Extravaganza - I want to write at least five short story drafts by the end of the year. That's five rough drafts in five weeks, if they're all 7,000 words a piece. They won't be spectacular, but they won't be terrible either. I've got the ideas, but I need to make time to write them down before they slip away.

First Draft of XIII Book One - I want the first descent, solid draft finished by New Year. I have to have an acceptable draft by Spring for my thesis, and I need to get started on revisions.

The Plot Thickens - I want to fully outline XIII as a series, so that I have some idea of where the series story arcs, as a whole, are going. So far, I've been sort of discovering as I go, but I want a much more definite road map.

Over the Threshold - I need to decide what to do after I'm finished with this series. Let's face it, I've worked on this story for so long, moving past it will be a labor in itself. I'll probably come closer to actual grief before we're finished, but I do need to have another large project planned after XIII is finished.

When the Last Poet Finds Himself Surrounded by Robots

The other thing I've been considering is a science fiction story I read for class. The story is called The Last Poet and the Robots, by Abraham Merritt and it seems to claim that in order to be human, one must be a creator, an artists, a writer, a scientist. I've been thinking this over today. And I wonder if creation is actually what "lifts" us above everything else. Or are we lifted by our ultimate powers of destruction? Is it our innovations toward beauty, or our innovations toward horrifically powerful science that makes us the dominant species on this planet? Just a thought or two that I think I might develop into a short story or novella.

Rain May Make My Snippets Run

Tomorrow is Friday, and that means Friday Snippet time. I hope Joce will send me her sketch of Dell (so amazing) so I can use it as an illustration. For the past few days, the rains have come down in torrent over the Rock. I've waded to class with water well over my ankles and while my feet do squish for the rest of the day, the storms make for great pictures. I'll post some later this weekend. I hope you are all safe and well!

So say we all.
Bri

I Used the Phrase "manipulative pedagogy" Successfully in this Post

2007-09-05T04:14:00.000-04:00

I have to unwind. I'm coiled up like a spring and am ready to blow - and the semester just started. I need HALO 3 and I need some time to write. Those are my demands. Some of my professors think they should be a hard ass on the first day of class, then be the students' best friend the next. As a senior (here would follow a list of whiny and stressful things seniors deal with), I am weary of emotional mind games and manipulative pedagogy.

My classes, while sometimes annoyingly full of homework and readings, are very entertaining and generally lively with discussion and ideas. Here follows a nice list for you!

Evolution of Rhetorical Theory - My most enjoyable theory class, thus far. I adore studying ancient and modern rhetorics as well as understanding various ways of seeing the same event or view of the world.
Composition Theory and Rhetoric - Fantastic discussions. But - the readings are chock full of academics so lost in their own self-importance it's difficult to translate their writings into readable and understandable layman's terms.
Writing for New Technologies - This is pretty much a class focused on teaching basic html. Nice, easy. The best part is that I get to think on why a webpage works, and not only how it works.
Technical Writing - Please, someone run me over with a truck. This class deals with resumes and how to find a new job after ticking off your coworkers because you stole a donut.
Science Fiction Lit Class - Squee!
Science Fiction Writing Class - The Best Class I Have. 'Nuff said.

I'll have a more coherent post for you either later today or tomorrow, but it's late, and I have to get to bed. Tomorrow, I work at the Writing Center and, because I misread a syllabus, I am ahead of homework for a small stretch. We all know what that means! Happy Fun Writing Time for Bri!

So say we all.
Bri

Speaking for the Moments Now Dead

2007-09-02T17:48:00.000-04:00

Here follows a story in which Bri:
1. Goes to the Rock to Write
2. Takes Pictures
3. Tries to Buy a Sandwich
4. Stays up to Speak for the Dead
5. Gives You Something Lovely

PART I

Yesterday, I drove into the Rock and, after a splendid time at the local comicbook shop, I wandered over to the bookstore and hand wrote a few dozen pages. When I got home, I took a long walk to the fountain with my notebook and camera to sketch and write a little more. The weather has cooled tremendously here, so I didn't mind being out. Here are some of the pictures I took while roaming about.

PART II

PART III

When I went to Subway for dinner, the girl at the register told me I owed $12 for a turkey-and-pepperjack-cheese sandwich (they were out of bell pepper and tomatoes...and everything else I put on a sandwich). I couldn't believe her. The three girls in line behind me just gawked. Somehow, I got the sandwich for half price, but walking back, I couldn't figure how a stale sandwich could cost as much as a meal at a sit-down restaurant.

PART IV

Back at the dorm, I set to eating my sandwich and typing up what I wrote through the day. That done, I stayed up until 6 AM finishing Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game. I've read various science fiction series and books, and I love to write it. The Dune saga left me in awe, and any of Bradbury's stories are, of course, powerful. But nothing struck me on the same level as Ender's Game. I found myself completely moved and actually cried over the last few pages.

The reach of Ender's compassion and the strange emphasis on his humanity - all of it just worked beautifully. My favorite concept was that the dead need someone to speak for them, because they can no longer speak for themselves. I won't spoil it for you, but honestly - even if you are not a science fiction fan, this book is wonderful for its characters, its story, and the incredible insights on human values.

PART V

This is a little animation from a The Black Heart Group. They are a trio of artists: an illustrator, a composer and a 3D animator. The Tale of How was in production for three years, and is a small part of a trilogy, which is also part of a larger work. I think it is fantastically beautiful and very picaresque and charming in the way it tells its story. Be warned, once scene of violence. I hope you enjoy!

FIN

So say we all.
Bri

Friday Snippets: Shadows Taller Than Our Souls

2007-08-31T04:12:00.000-04:00

And we're back with Dell this week. After the nuclear blast in Columbia killed her friend Daniel, Dell rescued her neighbor's young son, Caleb. Since then, she has made her way through Columbia with Corleone, her cat, and Caleb. Wounded and exhausted, Dell makes the decision to hand the boy off to some soldiers in a jeep above the drain where they are hiding. She writes his information on his arm in permanent marker and he begs her to let him stay with her.

Let me know what you think and please leave a link to your own Friday Snippet!

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, material liable to change. Etc.
Crouched there in the dark under the street side drain pipe, Dell saw Caleb's face and ash frosted his shoulders like snow. The jeep was rumbling above them, purring and coughing. She had to send the boy up, let the soldiers take care of him. And then the jeep rumbled on, down into the fire-eaten city, and Dell was still staring at the boy gulping down sobs in front of her. Her vision blurred and tears burned in her dry eyes.

Caleb flung himself at her, throwing his permanent-inked arms around her neck and choking on his tears as he tried to talk. She closed her eyes, shaking her head. She told herself she would not regret this decision. She'd done that before, when she sent her brother away. The last time she saw Math alive, he turned in the door, smiled with the early sunshine at his back and was gone into the morning. Dell forced her eyes open. Not now. Matheson had no place here in a world of ash and broken glass.
The last time she saw Math alive, he turned in the door, smiled with the early sunshine at his back and was gone into the morning.
She let Corleone into one of the pillow cases, letting him enough room so he could stick his head out to investigate, then slung both cases onto her back. She stood, Caleb's ear pressed against her chest, his arms smearing ink around her neck. He wrapped his legs around her waist, and under the shadow of leaning office buildings and skeletal skyscrapers she carried him.

She kept her distance from the wounded and the blind, those burned and staggering through the ash-drifted streets. She turned his head, forcing his eyes away and covering his ears.

"Where are we going?" Caleb mumbled against her.
"We're going to a friend. Now close your eyes," she said. "Roy will know what to do and we're almost there."

She was running before she knew it, and each step was agony up her back. She wanted to take off her shoe, the pressure of it like a vise, but she was struck by the strange fear that all of her blood would pour out if she did so. She swayed on her feet, stopped. Caleb looked up at her.

"What's wrong?" He was yelling. She could only hear him as if from a great distance, from deep down under dark waters. Dell was on her knees, ash puffing up phantom-like around her. Caleb stood beside her, trying to pull her to stand. She put out a hand to steady herself.
A man moved toward them through the smoke and his eyes were heavy lenses reflecting ruin and fire.
A man moved toward them through the smoke and his eyes were heavy lenses reflecting ruin and fire. His face was masked, monstrous with old faded leather. She was on her back then and she saw only sky, clear blue above the roll of heat. Shadows swept around them, heavier and darker than space. She wondered at that moment if Math ever saw the sky one last time before...she flinched away from that again. She turned her head.

The man with the mask loomed over them, their faces reflected in his light-white lenses.

So say we all.
Bri

Bri (Not Quite) on Fire: A Comic Story of Thursday Night

2007-08-30T03:01:00.000-04:00

Funny story and then I'm off to sleep.

Tonight, the fire alarm went off in our dorm. Understand, this noise is so loud you think you're bleeding out of your ears. So we all go downstairs to the courtyard where we wait for the firemen to come. They'll turn the thing off and chastise the Honors kid who forgot how to make easy-microwave popcorn. This is the normal routine.

But this time, something sinister was afoot. Very soon, we were all herded around front and made to cross the street, thusly blocking traffic with about one hundred students. We think this is a silly (read: awful) idea. Why would we cross the street and block the firetrucks coming to put out the fire in our dorm? Why would we not instead, go to the courtyard - where we've gathered, without incident, every time this has happened for the past year?

Anyway, back to the story. So we're waiting across the street. And it's hot. The RC (Resident Coordinator) comes out of the dorm with a policeman and yells at us from across the street. There was traffic so I only heard bits of what she said.

It went something like this: This was a drill! And you failed! If you don't want to die/be on fire don't be lazy! Get up when you hear the alarm! And don't go to the courtyard! The firemen need to get back there if there's a fire!

My first thought: Failed? Am I on fire? No, no. I'm good. Ok.
My second thought: The closest exit - the back flight of stairs - leads into the courtyard. The other exit (which does lead to the front) is around the hall...instead of six steps to the back. Hmm...
My third thought: Why didn't you tell us you didn't want us in the courtyard two weeks ago when you had our hall meeting?
My last thought: Lazy? If I was lazy, I'd still be upstairs asleep, ignoring the drill. Obviously, I'm out here, sweating with everyone else. Are we done? I have loads of homework...Man, it's hot.

Ah...the weirdness that is dorm. Graduation, how I long for thee.
So, how's your week going? I hope you're looking forward to a Friday Snippet tomorrow!

So say we all.
Bri

On Hideously Rude People and Adorable Diagrams!!

2007-08-28T18:30:00.000-04:00

I'm glad everyone loved the photos! I use a Fujifilm FinePix S700 (10x zoom and 7.1 megapx), for those of you who wanted to know. For those pictures of Robespierre, I used natural light and a macro setting on the camera. That's right: I was horribly brave. To get that sort of shot, I got about two centimeters away from him, careful that the wind did not blow him into my face. Now that I think about it, I sort of shiver.

Also, I'll post about all my classes tomorrow once I'm done! :D

Bri Meets Two People With No Manners and a Mean Streak

Today was the most outrageously rude day I think I may remember. When I went to my science fiction writing class this morning, all ready for a great day of creativity, two people were standing outside of the Writing Center. I realized fairly quickly that they were discussing the Center and how "blanking useless" they thought it was. Of course, my first thought was sophomoric. Nuh-uh, your mom is useless. But instead, this was the conversation:

Dude: "Yah, and you know the Writing Center is so f-ing useless."
Girl: "Yah, I agree. The people who work there are so-"
Me: "Excuse me? Yes, um...pardon...but I work there, by the way."
Girl: [sneering] "Yah? Well, it's f-ing useless."
Dude: "Absolutely."
Me: [O.o]

I know. I was amazed that someone could be so monstrously rude and horribly ugly. The tutors at the Writing Center are paid at or less than minimum wage and students bring in papers that need catastrophic amounts of corrections or direction. I make sure that the students I work with leave, happy. And most of them request me for future sessions - CONSTANTLY. Needless to say, I was offended. All through class, those two ignored the rest of us and made friendly with the professor.

The line to the Caff (the pit of hell where we eat :D) was out in the street, so I went to the C-Store . But they had no soda or sandwiches (I guess it wasn't lunch time at the C-Store). So I came to my room and had turkey, grapes and cheese - but no bread. We're out. All of fifteen of us on my hall are out. But, enough about the day! Look below for an adorable diagram!

A Cute Diagram for Explaining My Story

As far as Sweating with Sven goes, I'm coming up on the last scenes of Act II, so I have made it through the Wastelands of the Middle. While I know how the end comes, I'm a little nervous.

The thing is, I view a story like a series of flooded hallways. Weird, I know. This is how it works. The first part of the story is not so tense and your characters are in about ankle deep. But then there is an event that pulls the characters in. They can't turn away, so they make a choice - and I usually think of that as them opening the first door.

Instead of finding relief from soggy boots or their problems, our heroes find themselves up to their hips in deeper, darker waters and darker problems. So they scramble for a decision; because there is no going back, they open the next door...And so on, until you get to the end. By this point, the tension is so high you could snap and your characters are almost drowning.

Beware, Sven!! I approach the last door!
How's the week going for you guys?

So say we all.
Bri

On Clubbing, Spiders and Photoshop's Appetite

2007-08-26T21:40:00.000-04:00

Clubbing with Sven

Anna Black's 1000 Word a Day Club is starting up September 1. This week, I'm getting together some scrapped short story ideas to revive for this challenge. Who knows I may have a few stories within the next few weeks to submit to a mag or two. I can't wait for this to start! One of the things I loved most about the Challenge with Sven is the community of writer's I've found who are just as dedicated to writing as I am. I'm looking forward to a similar experience with the 1000 Word-a-Day Club.

Speaking of Sven - since moving in, I've been scrambling to catch up on the word count. What is most frustrating is hitting a brick wall creatively, in a situation like this. Just when I need the ideas, desperately, they all go on vacation. So, I'm working on another WIP for a day or two to let my batteries recharge. Also, I'm working on the structure of the entire series - and forcing myself not to go back and revise.

How is Sven working with you guys?

HE DOESN'T EAT CURDS AND WEY...AND HE DOESN'T MUCH LIKE MS. MUFFETT

I've started walking in the evenings, and on the way to the Fountain, I saw a few very lovely things. Tomorrow I will be sure to take my camera. For now, I am proud to present Mr. Spider. For purposes of this post, we will deign to call him Robespierre.

Robespierre lives near my dorm and every morning and ever evening, he waits. He waits for lunch! And today was the day he ate! In honor of the occasion, I requested a photoshoot to which he, at long last, acquiesced. So, for your viewing pleasure, I present the honorable Robespierre, Garden Spider Extraordinaire, with Mr. Lunch:

OTHER SUNDRIES AND TIDBITS OF INTEREST

My class schedule is lining up nicely. I get to work more than I thought, which is great. I also have two science fiction classes, one for reading, one for writing/marketing. The other class I believe I might thoroughly enjoy is called The Evolution of Rhetorical Theory. I know I sound like a nerd for that, but I love theoretics that can be applied to a practical art or discipline. The teacher is a fellow Texan and worked in an impressive university writing center. Interesting? Just a little. :D

LAST/FRIVOLOUS TOPIC OF DISCUSSION

I drew a picture of a very cool and sexy man for today, but Photoshop ate it. I'm working on reconstructing the image (lineart survived!) and I'll try to post it later in the week. Let me know how it's going!

So say we all.
Bri

Friday Snippets: When the Centre Cannot Hold

2007-08-24T05:27:00.000-04:00

Sorry for the sporadic updates this week, but I promise that once things settle down, I will have a more regular update schedule. This week is our last with Iris for a while, so I hope this helps endear her to you guys a little more. Next week, we join back up with Dell in Columbia and we'll be neck deep in the action (imagine the trailer guys deep voice over this).

Let me know what you think and please leave a link to your own Friday Snippet!

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, material liable to change. Etc.
“The governor? The National Guard?” the man behind the barricade chuckling now, a terrible sobbing sound that sent shivers through Iris’s chest. “There is no state, man. No state, no government, nobody. We’re on our own.”

“If there’s no state, by whose authority do you hold the road?” Iris called, “Please, just let us through. All we want is news of what’s happened!”

“By whose authority?” the man called. All of his laughter had fled. “By this authority.”

He stood, a heavy gun cradled in the crook of his arm like some horrible monster. Sweat slid down his face despite the morning cool, a heavy ammunition belt slung low on his hips. Iris drew back; the man saw it and smirked.

"What's happened, little lady, is that the world's gone to hell," he said. He took a pull on his dying cigarette, his face twisting in disgust. He flicked ash and ember.
“I was there two days ago when the nukes hit. Governor’s dead.” The gun swung across the road and held them in its sights.
"What's happened, little lady, is that the world's gone to hell," he said.“I was there two days ago when the nukes hit. Governor’s dead."

“They got Raleigh in the first wave – with D.C. Portsmouth, and Charleston. Atlanta, Chicago, and St. Louis in the next half hour. All gone. Anything else you wanted to know?”

Under her arms, Iris felt Andrew blanch. "Our cars, our radios?"

"The EMPs from the bombs. One nuke would done most of it," the man said. "But all of those? There's nothing left except a few old cars that might still run. Now get off our road."

Andrew's chest had gone tight. Iris knew what they heard from the thieves on the road was true; what Andrew feared in the burned wanderers was true. Iris bowed her head against his back.

“You can at least let us through to the Traveler’s Rest,” Andrew tried. Iris could hear the desperation in his voice. And she knew if she could hear it, the men could hear it, and she knew what that meant. The man with the gun smiled, and it was all teeth.

"I've heard this before," he said. He popped his pack of cigarettes against heel of his hand and pulled on free. The lighter flared like the morning through the dew. "You'll go to the Traveler's Rest, you'll go to Ashville. And then you'll want to see the cities for yourselves. Then you'll want medicine, then our doctors, then our guns and ammo. So, in the end, anarchy is loosed upon the world...as they say."

The grenade sailed out against the cold blue morning sky, black and streaming smoke in a tattered banner behind. When it tinked across the pavement, Iris felt Andrew wind tight. She reached around, gripped his wrist and dragged down on the reins. The horse reared. The detonation took the beast full in the chest and the concussion rolled over them in almost visible waves. There was nothing but smoke.

Iris rolled into the ditch, dragging Andrew after her. The roar of the barricade gunfire was deafening, but Iris wasn't sure she could have heard her own heart beat in those blind moments. And then her chest was aching. She couldn't breath. The sun had climbed up high, and she could hear Andrew calling her. He was beside her, forcing her to stop. Her throat was raw and her shirt hung heavy with sweat. The road was far behind.

She slumped down against a jut of stone, covering her face with her hands. She couldn't seem to think of words to say and that she could only wipe at snot and sweat, flushed with fear and embarassment. But Andrew was beside her.
"You know that's why I love you, don't you?" he said. The words were like a rush of cold water. He said, "Because you'll always look me in the eye."
He was talking, and his voice was a strange lull of nonsense and comforting phrases. He cradled her face in his hands, pushing back her blood-stiff curls. Her tears made mud on her cheeks.

“Iris,” he said. “Iris, I want you to look at me.” And somehow, she did. He smiled and it was strange on his pale face and the smear of purple bruise across his cheekbone. “You know that’s why I love you, don’t you?” he said. The words were like a rush of cold water. He said, “Because you’ll always look me in the eye.” And that was when he kissed her for the first time.

So say we all.
Bri

A Guide to the Seven-Walled Room!

2007-08-23T03:42:00.000-04:00

Behold! The Seven (7) Walls - not Wonders - of Bri's Room! Yesterday, I finally finished unpacking and I've nested, as you can see.

I'm far behind on my word count and catching up with Sven will be a chore, no doubt. Good news: I got a little more than 3K words today. I'll post more coherently later, and get the Friday Snippet ready.

How are you guy's doing? It was great getting to catch up with your blogs. Hope you enjoy the pictures!

So say we all.
Bri

On Moving In and 50K Undead

2007-08-22T00:21:00.000-04:00

And we're back I'll be sure to catch everyone's blog before the end of the day to say hi. I hate to give bad news, but I am a little behind Sven. And by a little I mean 5,579 words. I can probably get that after tonight and tomorrow, but I hate being behind.

The move threw off the writing mojo a little. The different setting (brown cardboard boxes everywhere, books piled in the floor and furniture with no feng shui) isn't helping much.

Right now, I'm relaxing and watching my friend Charlie play Dead Rising. It is a fantastically wonderful game where you kill zombies. There are over 50K undead in the game and, yes, my friends, you can kill them all...for great justice. He has killed a horde of them with a katana (as you can see).

Either tonight or tomorrow, I'll post pictures of the room after I get it completely decorated. We won't begin to go into how stupidly designed my hall is.

I'll mention two things:
1. My room has seven (7) walls. Four wasn't enough.
2. My bed fits only in one place, on one wall.
(A) If I turn it, I can't get the door closed.
(B) If I move it down the wall, I can't get out of it.
(C) The only other wall that I could put it on is too short.

Other than that, I have done little else but unpack and other college-esque things. I promise that I'll be by your blogs to say hello before bed tonight. That's all. :)

Move Out!

2007-08-19T00:18:00.000-04:00

Today, I packed. And tomorrow I move out. I'm returning to the land of university and normal life! I got everything I own in two cars and my room at home is barren and lonely. I'm ready to go. Once I'm moved in, I'll show pics of the dorm room (it has 8 walls!) Then I'll catch up on the word count and check in with Sven.

How's it going for you guys?

So say we all.
Bri

Friday Snippets: The End of the Line at Omega

2007-08-17T03:41:00.000-04:00

I changed my mind. Iris gets a snippet next week to finish this section. Figured she needed another and I like her so far - she has potential to be a great contrast to Dell.

I identify much more with the Dell character, so naturally, it's the easier for me to write. Who do you see yourself as? Are you a Dell or an Iris? An Andrew or Caleb? If any of you are Corleones (Dell's cat), you rock so hard.

Anyway, this week picks up from the last snippet. Journeying from Andrew's farm in Greenville, they are robbed of one of their horses and very nearly their lives. But they do learn Ashville has been nuked. After Iris rescues Andrew from the thieves, they flee into the night. So, this week...

Let me know what you think and please leave a link to your own Friday Snippet!

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, material liable to change. Etc.
Iris stirred, dew heavy in her hair. She dreamed fire and mushroom clouds, bones bleached under the sun and oceans burned to ash. She dreamed of home and the long summers after graduation when she sat on the beach alone.

Half-awake, she felt for the silver chain around her neck, hidden below her shirt. The smooth metal against her fingertips and the pendent over her heart were reassuring. She opened her eyes in the dark before dawn. Andrew’s jacket covered her but the place beside her where he should have lain was cool. She sat, shouldering into the over-long sleeves.

Andrew sat across from her, his face a blur of shadow. She shrank back when she saw the long gun across his knees.

“What’s wrong?”

“Iris,” he said. His face was very pale. When they stopped their mad ride from the thieves on the road, both had agreed to sleep the night through and continue in daylight. His hair was ruffled and wild. He looked as if he hadn’t slept.

“Iris, there’s something you need to know. While you were sleeping, I saw–” He cleared his throat. He wouldn’t look at her. “I saw others on the road.” Iris felt something cold settle against her heart. Her fingers clenched around the sweat-stiff fabric of his coat. “They were burned, Iris. From head to toe. And they didn’t speak. I don’t think they could.”

He shivered, his face twisting horribly. She could smell his sickness and her stomach turned. She wrapped her arms around herself, imagining ghostly figures slurring out of the fog. Andrew’s voice dropped. He seemed to look through her. “They didn’t see either. They just walked. We can’t stay here.”

“Jesus, Drew.”

“They’re coming from the Traveler’s Rest,” he said. “I just wanted you to know when we ride down there…I wanted you to know what may be waiting for us.” She nodded, swallowing nothing but fear, like freezing fire. He mounted and pulled Iris up behind him; when they stepped tentatively onto the road, her eyes widened.
Through the morning mists and dawn shadows, a large track tank crouched like a nightmare in the street.

As their horse reared, Iris clung to Andrew; she could feel his heart thundering through his back. Through the morning mists and dawn shadows, a large track tank crouched like a nightmare in the street. Behind concrete barricades and sandbag hovels, men in olive drab sighted down machine gun barrels. A voice, thin with stress called out in the dusky morning shadows.

“You are under orders to turn back. No civilians are allowed past Checkpoint Omega. Return to your homes!”

“We’ve come for news,” Andrew called. “Our power’s been out for about three days and nothing – not cars or cell phones or computers – nothing works. We’re from Greenville. What’s going on? Has the governor called out the national guard?”

And that was when the man behind the barricade began to laugh.

So say we all.
Bri

Answer me this....

2007-08-16T14:20:00.000-04:00

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
Yah, a guy named Brian and a family friend's baby sister. Meh. Never knew either of them - my parents adored them though.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?
Last night. Splitting sinus headache.

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
It's so mediocre - like the John Doe of handwriting.

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Smoke Turkey...thin and toasted...mmm.

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?
No.

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Probably. I have a fairly sufficient grasp on pop culture and a few deep subjects. I could carry on a pleasant enough conversation...or we could just play HALO. It'd be great.

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?
Meh...not so much. Sometimes, if it will work for a joke. Otherwise, if overused, it can be obnoxious. :)

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?
Yes.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?
I'd like to think I could. But no. I don't like heights or falling or vertigo. Nope.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?
Cheerios - the plain ones. :)

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
No. Because then I have to retie them.

12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG?
I'm a short person. And I can carry heavy things for short distances. But otherwise, no. Not really.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?
Chocolate chip vanilla.

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
With girls, I notice their hair and mouth - are they froufroued or petulant or pleasant and unassuming. With guys, I notice eyes and hands. If a guy looks me in the face, we start of on a good foot. And hands, just because.

15. RED OR PINK?
Red.

16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?
Sharp words that I don't notice I say.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?
Joce.

18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO LINK THIS BACK TO YOU?
Hrrm...if I say yes, I look like a narcissistic weakling, if I say no, I sound like an unfriendly
person. Not a nice question.

19. WHAT COLOR PANTS (Or Kilt) AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?
Blue jeans and no shoes.

20. WHAT WAS The LAST THING YOU ATE?
A Waffle.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
Stuck in the Middle With You by Stealer's Wheel (Reservoir Dogs w00t!)

22. IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?
Periwinkle.

23. FAVORITE SMELLS?
Warm bread, magazine pages, new books, old books and taco seasoning.

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
My mom.

25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO LINKED THIS TO YOU?
Meryl is awesome!

26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?
Baseball. Without a doubt. Baseball.

The Sultan of Swat, the Colossus of Clout
George Herman "Babe" Ruth at Yannkee Stadium

And my two favorite catchers: Javy Lopez and Ivan "Pudge" Rodriguez (possibly the greatest defensive catcher in history).

27. HAIR COLOR?
Reddish/darkish brown.

28. EYE COLOR?
Tawny-brown

29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?
Nope. But I do wear computer glasses. Sven brings the eyestrain. Grr.

30. FAVORITE FOOD(S)?
Ravioli and baked tortellini.

31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
Scary movies.

32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
Howl's Moving Castle. Mah-velous. Absolutely mah-velous.

33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?
Forest Green.

34. SUMMER OR WINTER?
Winter. I love scarves and coats and floppy boots.

35. HUGS OR KISSES?
Hugs.

36. FAVORITE DESSERT?
Cheesecake.

37. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?
I AM LEGEND by Richard Matheson and Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card

38. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?
Don't use a mouse pad.

39. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?
Texarkana.

40. WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK?
Everyone's!

One Step Ahead of the Plot

2007-08-15T13:19:00.000-04:00

FIVE DAYS AND COUNTING TILL WE MOVE OUT

In real life, we're counting down to the move. I've had everything packed for about a week or more, but this Saturday we load up the car. Sunday, before morning, we travel back to University! I'm so excited. What's on the docket when we get back, you ask?

1. Writing - CURSE YOU SVEN
2. Drawing with Photoshop - w00t!
3. Firefly - Need I say more?
4. Starcraft (lots) - Ditto because we lurv the scifi
5. Decorating! - Don't worry, I'll take pictures. Be assured it will be quite a lot of fun.

The Sweaty World of Sven

I'm still up on the word count but I'm dealing with some structural probelms. I've divided my story into four separate POVs - my hero, his sister, his brother, and his best friend. I'm considering a fifth - an older family friend. His POV would not be as frequent, but could offer a different perspective and some important backstory. The problem with this fifth is that he is a character capable of seeing fragments of the future.

I would consider the whole "prophecy/oracle" tropes one of the great negative aspects of fantasy. Almost all of the stories I've read which deal in prophecies are very poorly written. They do a few things that annoy me.

The Few Things

1. They give away certain plot surprises I'm sure I would otherwise enjoy.
2. In giving the prophecy, it seems like the author is giving up any attempt at subtlety or foreshadowing. Instead, he gives you a road map and says, "Now, hang on for the ride! See how cool it's going to be?!"
3. The prophecy is so vague or so mystical, it could mean anything and doesn't really help the story along at all.

Because of this, I am very tentative to try my hand at it, even to the point of maybe not adding this fifth character's POV for fear that he may be required to talk about what he sees. The strange thing about this character is that his past is infinitely more interesting than what he could see, and I think I might be able to play with the irony there. We'll see.

So say we all.
Bri

What I Found in a Flood Plain

2007-08-13T13:43:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, while driving down through the flood plain west and north of town, I ran through my current WIP several times, looking for plot holes and character slips. But as I passed the old home places of family members and friends who have moved off or passed on, I found a surprising story I'd never considered.

There was the house where a family friend lived during the flooding in the sixties when the levees broke. Her dad would troll her up to the bus stop for school in a john-boat because the water was up over the ten-yard-bridge. There was the house where my dad shot skeet off the back porch with friends and the land where my grandfather kept his cows, broke horses for side money and decided not to be a sharecropper like his father. I'm not sure what to do with these stories. I don't want to write anything with actual family - that gets complicated way too fast. But I think the material needs to be written down.

As I was considering this, lo and behold, I slowed the car and stared. A great flock of Canadian geese, probably resting in the flat lands on their way north, waddled across the road. They were quiet, hissing every now and then at looming dragonflies or a frog hopping across the road. All total, their brigade numbered in the thirties. They stepped out of the my car's path and into the grass, heading toward their pond at sunset, not giving me a second look. :)

I got a little ahead of Sven this weekend and so today, I'm taking time to clean up my draft - just a little - plan for what's coming next. I have broken the half-way point in the novel, and wander now in the dreaded middle. But, because of the woven story lines between my hero, my heroine (his sister). their other brother and their friend, I don't think the middle will be sagging.

Otherwise, I have developed a motley supporting cast around my heroine. While these characters surprise me - considering that they didn't exist until they suddenly walked in - they are turning into a really interesting group. We'll see. This week, I'm also assessing how the novel as a whole stands in getting me closer to my thesis (due this Spring).

How are you guy's doing with Sven?

So say we all.
Bri

Friday Snippets: Glass Parking Lots

2007-08-10T05:10:00.000-04:00

Alright - this snippet picks back up with Andrew and Iris on the road to Ashville. They have just been attacked. Iris was grazed, but Andrew fell from his horse. Whether or not he is still alive is uncertain. If you want to catch up, check out the menu bar above and scroll over the Friday Snippets section! (Isn't that cool?)

You know what else is cool: the illustration by my friend Jocelyn. Have a look. :)

Next week is our last week with Iris for a while - but don't worry, she's still going to Ashville. We'll be jumping back to Dell in Columbia where she has to find a way out of the ruined city, obtain arms and munitions and some form of transportation (read: a sweet motorcycle).

Let me know what you think and please leave a link to your own Friday Snippet!

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, material liable to change. Etc.

Shadows stepped out of the dark, moonlight silvering the indigo metal of their guns. Iris pressed her heels into her horse’s flanks and bolted. The gelding took the roadside fence in a single bound and thundered across the open fields. The men’s laughter echoed across the field. A few fired half-heartedly after her.

With a strong arm, she dragged on the reigns, pulling hard left. The gelding reared, spun on his back legs, pawing at the air. They came down hard. Iris hunched over his dark mane, whispering and patting his neck reassuringly. When the men lost her in the dark, they lit little lanterns and circled Andrew’s horse and his body.

Her heart hammered and hot shame crept over her face. Blood burned in her right eye, and she clenched her fists to stop from screaming. Andrew was still there. Lying in the road. She closed her eyes. She heard the men’s voices like a low rumble of thunder but could not make out what they said.
Andrew was still there. Lying in the road. She closed her eyes.

They dumped Andrew’s pack onto the pavement. They passed the peanut butter jar between them, dividing up the canned fruit. And then she saw them bend, hook their arms around Andrew and lift him between them. The sound of his voice telling them what they could go and do with themselves may have been the loveliest thing she heard in her whole life.

But that was when one of the men lifted his gun. Iris bared her teeth. Without a sound, the gelding streaked over the field, back toward the road. The wind threw Iris’ long auburn hair back from her face and in a moment of weightlessness, she cleared the fence again. Andrew turned and she saw the smirk in his eyes. The men holding him up gawked at her and dropped him. The gelding crashed into their midst, his hooves, cutting down the man with the gun.

Iris wheeled. One of the men reached for her. Just as she had seen Dell do when they were young, Iris slid out of the saddle, putting the horse between them. The second her feet touched the asphalt, she bounded back over, swiveling her gloved hands around the horn. Her feet caught the man in the face. She saw his teeth scatter out across the black tar. Mounting again, she darted past the other shadowy figures, slung low over the left flank of her horse.

She saw Andrew, crouched low. She caught him around the waist, clothes-lining him. She heard him grunt, but she pulled him up with her momentum, throwing him across the bows of her saddle. She rode down a boy who stood up out of the dark a pistol in his hand. She swallowed a wail as his face disappeared in the dark under her horse and she blazed on.

She rode and rode, until the horse lathered and she thought they might outrun the fear racing just at her back. Andrew’s hand clutching her wrist was the only thing that dragged her back to herself. She brought the gelding up sharp. Andrew slid off, clutching at his middle. She dropped down beside him.
“Are you hit? Move your hands, let me see!”

“Dammit woman,” Andrew groaned. He gestured to the saddle, waving his arm as she had when she grabbed him up. “That hurt.”

“I could have left you, Drew,” she said. “You big baby. I could have gone on to Ashville without you. Just for letting them take the peanut butter, I should have left you.” She could feel a laugh in her throat, but tears burned in her eyes. He looked up, frowned at the blood on her temple. He reached to touch her face and the heat from the road dazzled up around them.

“About that,” Andrew said. “I heard those men talking before you came back. They came from Ashville.”

“And?”

“They said it wasn’t a city any more.” He looked away, pulling his hand back. “They said it was a glass parking lot. Just shadows and dust and radiation.”

“What?”

So say we all.
Bri

When Math Fails You, Sven, and the Universe

2007-08-09T04:11:00.000-04:00

Today, I was incredibly far behind (read 4,000 words) on the Challenge and Sven was angry. So, I wrote like a fiend. So, when I did my word count, I expected to find myself gaining ground. But...I forgot to count a section.

When I tallied up my word count, I thought I wrote ALL DAY only to have it add up to less than 400 words. I almost cried. Math had failed me. But then I realized my mistake. I actually went a little over my requirement. Take that Sven, you sweaty little jerk. :D

A Few Thoughts on XIII and the Challenge

I am almost 3/4 of the way done with my heroine's story arc. She has become this powerful and persuasive young woman and I absolutely love writing her. The men who love her are also fairly sweet (read: teh lovelies) as well.
Writing these scenes makes me want to draw. Curse you, Sven! You make me focus. Le sigh.
A great thing called positioning has wandered into my writing life. I picked up this idea from a book called Chapter After Chapter. Pretty much the idea is that just how little kids get their stuff together the night before going to school, writers should do the same. So every night, I go over what I need to do the next day...and what's cool is that I usually end up dreaming about it, or at least thinking about it a lot more than I would normally.

Other Pleasnat Happenings and Wonders

That little menu bar below my header took me two days to code. Mind you, I had to learn how to code first. But it looks pretty sweet. Don't worry, there will soon be things to see up there. Right now, I'm too pooped to add the links.
I might set up a blog for XIII since that story consumes so much of my time. But I can't think of a good name for it. This is on the back burner for now.
I have ideas for short stories...lots of them. What a wonderful world.
I wrote 4,000 words today (in case you missed it above). My fingers are flipping out.
I called Jocelyn and read her a tremendously long scene. She gave great comments, though she was tired. She wants to draw costumes for my characters, which I hang up beside my computer for inspiration. She is full of awesome.
Charlie is also drawing up some characters from my short story What is Now: Easter Sunday. Whoorah for artists. He is also the coolest.

That's all for now. I'll check back in later on Thursday and then Friday Snippet Time! Jocelyn is doing an illustration for me this week and I'll be posting some of her other artwork for the postapocalptic chick lit. Prepare yourself for a day of cool.

If there are any typos in the above post, please forgive. Night.

So say we all.
Bri

On People Watching, Haiku and What I Found

2007-08-06T16:30:00.000-04:00

PEOPLE WATCHING 101

When you sit in a Barnes & Nobles, you don't expect to hear a man read aloud from his unpublished manuscript, repeating various lines to get the language exactly right. You don't expect to hear four convicts discussing their jail time and how the system screwed them over. You don't expect to see an obscenely overweight nine-year-old shuffle-running through the aisles looking for a quarter she misplaced among the books.

But my friends and cohorts, see these things I did. Yesterday, my mom and I drove down to Shreveport to spend the day and witnessed all of the above and more. We had a smashing good time people watching and trying not to laugh.

A Few Haiku for the Port of Shreve

Under Construction!
Pedestrians dart and dodge
your reckless driving.

Power lines swoop low
new buildings in old downtown
murals of mute jazz.

Muddy river swirls
Slot machines clack, good times roll
Your city is broke.

New grown shopping malls
Eateries and car dealers
Hustle and bustle!

Shreveport, your streets wind
through boulevards of green shade

I watch, sip my coke.

PLATONIC FORMS OF PERFECTION AND ORGANIZATION

As we have already seen, I have a habit of looking for the perfect pretty notebook. What I didn't tell you was that this strange habit carries over into software and organizing stuff. Somewhere on some astral plane, there is a Form of the perfect program, notebook, organization tool - and I can't hope to find it in this world (yay Plato).

Anyway, these urges to look for the greatest (insert thing) only hits me near the start of each school year. Probably because subconsciously I know I'll live in chaos for the next nine months and I'm grabbing desperately at some measure of civilization and sanity :D

Anyway, here is a product of one of my searches, and I thought some of you writerly types might find it fascinating. Because not only is it cool. It's free.

THE NEXT BEST THING

This new program I found is called Keynote - you can look it over or try it out, whatever strikes your fancy. It's like Microsoft OneNote, but free and open source which can allow you to do some pretty awesome things.

So far, I've added all of my characters, their info, the back-stories of their respective noble houses, some world-building stuff and a scratch pad for ideas with a to-do list. Sure most of that is for me to stay consistent in the story, but it also helped spawn a great slew of ideas.

I also imported the current WIP, and so now - EVERYTHING - I've written on this project, from concept to finished product is all in one place. If I need to search for some obscure detail, I have the ability to cross-reference everything to find it. While I'm not trying to make a sales pitch for this program, I figured a few of you might be able to use it and get some inspiration like I did.

HERSTORY WITH SVEN

As far as Sven goes, today I begin my heroine's story and I'm incredibly psyched about it. She's maybe one of my favorite characters and this will give her brother, the hero, a chance to chill out for later revisions.

So say we all.
Bri

Friday Snippet: Looks Like We're in for Nasty Weather

2007-08-03T03:56:00.000-04:00

Alright. We're back with Iris in the hill country outside of Greenville, SC. She's just asked her friend Andrew for a horse so that she can make the ride up to Ashville, NC. Almost two days have passed since the end of the world and all cars, electronics and means of communication are dead. Just in case you don't know, the referenced song is Bad Moon Rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival (they make everything better). Let me know what you think and please leave a link to your own Friday Snippet!

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, material liable to change. Etc.

“You want to go right now? Tonight?”

“Yes,” she said. He shook his head, running his hands back through his shortened hair. He sighed as if frustrated, as if he forgot taking the scissors to it that morning. His mouth twisted in a frown.

“It’s a long ride to Ashville,” he said. “We could make the Traveller’s Rest by early morning. They’re sure to have some clue, y’think?”

“We?”

“Sure,” he said, turning to the house. He left the door open as he rummaged through the front closet. “You won’t be going alone, that’s for sure. And one of my horses doesn’t count for the plural. I’m coming with you.”

“The Traveler’s Rest it is then,” she agreed. He emerged, sneezing. He flopped blankets and a few belts into her arms and slung a dusty army rucksack over his shoulder. She followed him into the kitchen where he packed canned goods, bread and some Cheerios.

“Peanut butter,” she said. He made a face and she said, “I know, I know. You think you’ll suffocate on it. But I shouldn’t have to be without because you’re a baby.” He gave her a put on frown, but tossed the jar and a knife into the sack.

“Do you think we should take weapons?” Andrew asked, lifting their supplies under his arm. Iris strapped two of his belts around the roll of blankets and slung them across her back.

“Weapons? Really Drew?”

“Yeah,” he said. They stepped into the evening and he locked the door. “Like guns.”

“Seriously?”

“It can’t hurt,” he said, smirking. She stopped, leaning her hip out and crossed her arms. He grimaced. “Sorry. Bad joke. But I think we probably should.”

“You have guns?”

“My father left me a few,” he leaned against the barn doors, the scent of hay and horses rolling over them in thick waves. That smell always reminded her of summer and kittens hissing at rats in her father’s loft.

“I don’t want a weapon,” she said.

“Iris.”

“No. You can play cowboy, Drew,” she snapped. Maybe a little harshly. She shrugged it off and said, “I’m just going to find out what happened. You know?” He shrugged, and she followed him into the swallowing shade of the barn. They saddled in rush of cricket song. As she lead her gelding into the yard, he stepped into the tack room.

Fireflies flickered dazedly in the heat. When he stepped out, she saw a long gun broken over the crook of his arm. He loaded it with a shell thicker than her thumb, snapped the barrel into place.

“Drew.”

“I know you don’t like it,” he said. He never looked at her as he slung the over his back by a wide leather strap. “But I shouldn’t have to do without because…” He sighed. He shook his head, and with a tap of his heels, his horse cantered through the gates. Iris followed wanting to say something, anything. And then Andrew pulled up, waiting for her to come up beside him.

Silver filled his eyes, the strange wheeling stars above usually swallowed by the city light. He smiled and she was glad for the dark as she blushed. Then as if in relief, he leaned back lazy in his saddle as they sauntered on. He tilted his head back his profile harsh against the sky.

I see a bad moon rising, I see trouble on the way, he sang. He kept his voice low, as if he shared a secret. Hope you got your things together… She laughed as his voice rose and he played air guitar, picking furiously and running his fingers down the invisible chords.

“Come any closer and we’ll shoot!” a voice cried out of the dark. Andrew pulled his horse up sharp. The mare reared. Thunder roared through the dark. Something hot blazed against her cheek. Blood splattered her shirt. Andrew sprawled in the road, the contents of his pack rolling in the dust. Iris screamed.

So say we all.
Bri

A Few Apologies, Followed by Encouragment and Fighting Words!

2007-08-01T01:08:00.000-04:00

I know, I know. I said I would blog about series, and I put up a post like I promised. But then I didn't like what I wrote so I put it back as a draft. I need to get it all well and organized and understandable before I post it. I should have known with the Sven challenge and packing and other stress factors, that I would not be as coherent with it as I would like. So if you'll forgive me and bear with me, I'll be able to deliver a much better post on those topics in the next week or so. Again, apologies all around.

In the meantime, I'll tell you about how I'm doing with Sven. I know a lot of your are going through some frustrating moments with the challenge but I hope you keep going! This past week was awful (I got about four days behind). But since Saturday, I've made wonderful progress: the word count and time limitations won't let me edit excessively (my kryptonite).

While I've read that the challenge is stressful for some or overwhelming for others, if you have a few productive days, you know it makes up for those when Sven was a jerk and the writing was more painful than stubbing your baby toe on a table or that public humiliation you suffered in grade school.

So if you're frustrated, if you're behind, don't give up! Keep going! Sven can't have the satisfaction of beating us.

So say we all.
Bri

Plans within Plans...and Packing for the Great Migration

2007-07-30T21:05:00.000-04:00

I've been off the blogosphere for a few days because I've been packing. That's right. The autumnal migration of Bri has begun once again. Today, I reduced my life to five cardboard boxes, a laundry basket and a few rugs. I still have to sort through my art stuff, but everything else is packed.

While Sven is a (still) a complete jerk, I have kept ahead of the word count and made some wonderful discoveries in the story.

My protagonist, a cool guy, has become doubly cool because of some responsibilities and goals I gave him. I was delighted when I realized how awesomely awesome he could be by changing just a few things.
I've also introduced this dashing and sort of gruff highlander who becomes the heroine's right hand. He might be (slightly) in love with her, but I'm enjoying him so much I don't see much problem with it.
I'm having a little bit of trouble with POV and exactly who should have those scenes and who can do without. Generally I work around about four POV characters (in limited third person), but if I have another one or two every now and then, I'm not sure it will hurt.
I've also been considering my heroine's half of the story. As the hero's sister, she has to be pretty rocking awesome to compete. Quite unexpectedly, her story has become as cool, if not cooler, than her brother's. We'll have to work on this.
The End of the Series is working itself out...

Which leads me to say that tomorrow, I'll begin posts on how handling my own series' various storylines and subplots (Tuesday), POV and character development (Wednesday), and theme and brainstorming methods (Thursday).

Otherwise, life is good. I'll post a video of the before and after shots of my packing rampage and probably a sketch or two from designs I've been working on for the past few weeks. Anyway, sorry I haven't been around much! I'll be around to say hi and comment later tonight, promise.

So say we all.
Bri

Friday Snippet: 36 Hours After the End of the World

2007-07-27T05:03:00.000-04:00

Alright. This week, we meet Iris Garrick, Dell's estranged long-time friend. She has no way of knowing she (and quite a few others) missed the end of the world. Hope you enjoy! Let me know and leave a link to your own snippets! Also, if you want to catch up, links to past snippets are listed in the left sidebar under Dispatches.

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, material liable to change. Etc.

The sun set low below the South Carolina hills and the world gleamed amber and ghost-blue. Iris Garrick stood in her studio doorframe, watching the stars burn through the cloudbanks piled up from the coast. She tossed her towel into the golden shadows of the glassed in room. She locked the door and took the winding side path down the hill toward town.

The last summer heat pushed down like the hand of God and Iris pulled her long burnt auburn curls into a fitful bun. Long strands escaped, but most of it tangled and stayed once the she wrapped the elastic band in a near-Gordian knot. Almost thirty-six hours before, the power had gone out. No downed traffic lines, no problem at the plant.

Cell phones all over town were dead and the landlines crackled with static. More strange was what happened when she tried to crank her car. The engine wouldn’t even stir. Iris knew there was no hope for the library’s desktops because of the power outage. But two things worried her more than anything. First, not even the battery power on her laptop would bring the thing to life. Second, the power outage and the death of every automobile in town occurred simultaneously, as near as she could figure.

As she came around the curve, she stepped carefully through the debris of one many wrecks strewn across the highways. She cringed from that thought. Those who wrecked their dead cars in town were lucky. But those on the country roads – those she heard from her studio – those drivers could not be saved. No ambulance. No helicopter. No phone to call for help. Nothing.

She wouldn’t think about that now. She couldn’t.

Passing the tree line, she saw the town’s baseball diamond and shielded her eyes against the sun. Children’s voices and the crack of a bat. The catcher leaned back on his heels as the ball arced high. Iris raised her hand and smiled. She palmed it out of the air. The catcher, a child of maybe ten, threw off…her mask, planting small fists on her hips.

A mop of black wavy hair spilled over her ears and plastered her forehead under the catcher’s mask. Iris almost choked. The girl’s frown and the jut of her chin brought life to memories Iris thought were six years dead. It was her face. Dell’s face. And that was when Iris made her decision. She would talk to Andrew. She tossed the ball back and ran.

She sprinted to the library instead of her little rent house squashed between two suburban monsters. The library doors and windows were shut: a sure sign Andrew was gone for the day. After the heat sweltered over them last night, he took scissors to his honey-colored locks this morning. That was a mistake she wouldn’t let him make again. His hair stuck out in shaggy spikes. No doubt, he wouldn’t stay in a library without open air.

With the day dying, Iris didn’t reach his home until after moonrise. She saw him before he saw her. Crossing the yard, a stack of books under his arm, Andrew paused. Moonlight dusted his blond hair and sweat-darkened shirt. He saw her standing in the road and waved. She smiled helplessly. He came up close and she clenched her fists. She couldn’t stop now.

“I need to ask a favor, Drew,” Iris said. “I’m tired of waiting for news. We all know something’s happened. So I’m going to Ashville. And I need a horse.”

So say we all.
Bri

Throwing up Road Blocks to the Creep of Apathy

2007-07-24T01:43:00.000-04:00

A SMALL NOTE BEFORE THE ACTUAL POST:

For those of you who commented on the MFA post - thanks so much! It was very encouraging :) I gave a few answers to some of the questions you asked, at the end if this post. Also - thanks to Jess at Tudor's Desk for the Rocking Girl Blogger nomination!

POSSIBLE PREVENTATIVE MEASURES

In an episode of panic early in May, I feared my novel and series lost forever to the Charybdis and Scylla of Writing. Apathy and cynicism struck such a blow that I questioned the very validity of my story, my characters - even why I ever thought I wanted to write.

Since getting over that and plunging back into the novel's world, I've found my story and my characters again. I figured I should probably understand how I did it - in case it ever happens again. I'll start a series of posts on this after my Friday Snippet this week.

Also, sweating with Sven - I'll post more about that probably later today or tomorrow. It's fun. :)

ALL THE PRETTY NOTEBOOKS

I have a horrible habit of collecting beautiful notebooks and then becoming so intensely intimidated by their beauty that I never write in them. They sit on my shelf and regard me mournfully. They seem to say, Bri! Don't you love us? Don't you want to put pretty words on these pretty pages? Bri! And I shake my head and mutter something about being sorry.

And then, Joce, my long-time friend from VA, has a brilliant idea. We'll send each other our lovely notebooks, filled with poetry, newspaper clippings, critique and ramblings. They'll fill up with strange collages and we'll exchange them. Celebrate, you lovely notebooks! You are no longer empty! You are no longer devoid of purpose! Celebrate!

SOMETHING TO POINT THE WAY HOME

I know some of you have probably seen this, but I finid it absolutely beautiful and so decided to post it here. I've noticed there have been dozens of trailers for "children's fantasy" movies in the past few years, but this is the series I've been hoping they would adapt to the screen. It makes me wish I had an armored polar bear...that could talk.

THE PROMISED ANSWERS ABOUT THE MFA

Yes, I read up on Seton Hill University in Pennsylvania. It is on my list for applications. Thanks for the heads up!

Yes, I am considering teaching creative writing. Currently, I work at the university during the school year helping students with papers and other creative writing projects. Luffs my job.

So say we all.
Bri