For a while now I have not done much at all. My activities for the past month or more have been looking for work and trying to get on top of that, making a manageable task of it, and playing World of Warcraft in a stress-relieving, hiding-from-the-world sort of way. Which is not always successful, as the game itself is often fairly stressful and upsetting for me.

But! I do seem to have gotten on the better end of these things, so that I can turn attention to what I had wanted to do with February and March (and January and...), getting some work done with personal projects. The big one at the moment is editing the work I finished writing in November 2008.

I'm not quite sure what to call that, structurally. In content it is somewhat a parody and condensed version of the standard epic fantasy. In form at the moment it is either a short novel with three parts or a trilogy consisting of two novelettes and a novella. I suppose that does not much matter.

Originally I had hoped to be done with editing this by the end of March. As it is now late March and I am only just beginning that seems impossible, and really since I have never edited and revised a finished work of mine before (not having many of those), at least none of much length, I really do not know how long it will take.

The approach I am taking is to first reread and reacquaint myself with the story, not fixing anything more extensive than spelling errors and missed words but taking note of anything that will need repair or re-examination later. Once I start the work itself first priority is to make sure it functions as a story, without those pesky holes or broken bits. After that is taken care of, then I can worry about making the words pretty and flow nicely. After that I suppose I leave it another couple of months before checking it over again and seeing if I can find some people to proof it for me.

As of reading through part 1, not many problems showing so far. Mystos refers to himself as a wizard, so need to check if later he insists on sorcerer and if so change that from wizard to sorcerer. Need to sort out Kal-Kal's movements and the identity of the rider ahead of them. Problems less easy to specify include probably reducing the jokes relating to alcohol and alcoholism (on the basis of Not Actually Funny and Maybe Hurtful), significantly adjust the opening section for similar reasons, and maybe make Arryn a bit less bitter and angry. Maybe not, but making his responses proportionate is under consideration.

There is of course no warrant the finished product will be any good, but I wrote this thing, and I am going to fix it up until it is the best version of itself I can manage, and then I will finally be done with it.

In other areas, well, not much to report. Been considering casting details for what I refer to internally as the 'Jedi Detective' and 'Star Trek: Diplomacy', as well as a couple of other fannish projects... I am inclined to be a bit quieter about collaborative projects unless I know the people I am collaborating with are okay with my talking about our work in progress in somewhat public ways. In settings where there are humans and a number non-human species who count as people, I try not to have humans dominate by default. Ami has pointed out this can lead to problems with fictitious alien diversity obscuring and crowded out human racial diversity - is it really any better if your main cast is one white guy and three other white guys in masks and makeup? So that's something else to consider and balance.

I still for the Diplomacy series want to give more presence to Federation member species who are often overlooked in the shows, at the moment leaning to having an Andorian captain and human 1st officer, with a mix of human and alien crew in key positions, weighted further from human than found in the television series' but probably not as far as I might have gone. The crew concepts I think were previously more developed, but faded from being left fallow. Writing them out like this might help retention.

As for the Jedi Detective stories, had been wondering if our lead might be of some alien species with a Corellian padawan. Now thinking to have our lead as a Corellian Jedi Knight and clueless about who the other characters might be, except sometimes I wonder about having them accompanied by a droid also. Still in very early stages of character development, wondering if trying to write out a story might help things along.

I think that's all for now, and out.

Last time I put it down was when Stephen Wraysford's thoughts turned to the pain of abandonment as something he had feared all his life. When I read that I felt I now understood why Faulks had chosen to write a James Bond novel.

Abandonment as the source of pain had been a major theme in The Girl at the Lion d'Or too, so if that is a recurring theme for Faulks the author it makes sense for him to pen something Bondly. The character James Bond is not only someone who is a loner, he is lonely. An orphan, essentially raised by the British government to work for them in his adult life, the most stable connections he has are friendly colleagues. Any closer connections he forms die or betray him. Loneliness and the pain of abandonment are easy enough themes to work into a Bond story.

Looking at the brief bit relevant on Wikipedia it seems this may well be what he did.

On being open about...

Writing?

Again, something I have written about previously. How publicly to talk about my writing in progress? Looking back at my previous words on the subject it seems I had decided, as my future is unlikely to having any sort of fandom following my writing, there is nothing to be lost by being public about my process and the steps taken to complete each tale or part thereof.

There is another tension to take account of. I desire to share what I am excited about and working on, yes, and find such difficult to remain silent about. However I also enjoy to surprise people.

Last time, and I think most times I write about this I decide to be very open about process and progress. But usually at the time I am in the middle of trying to actually write something, so what gets produced is mainly progress notes and frustration venting, excerpts. Not so much the other stuff. Then months pass and I forget or am not making anything in the meanwhile.

I had the thought, accompanying the idea of writing more publicly, that people might be interested in seeing how writing actually happens. A few problems with that: 1) a lot of the people who I don't know don't read what I write are creative people themselves, so likely have their own experiences anyway, 2) since as I said I don't have any sort of following and am unlikely ever to develop one, people are not likely to be interested in how I specifically go about writing things. On the plus side, that means I don't have to worry about spoilering someone who wanted to find out what happened next by reading along.

I suppose the main reason to do so would be "Because I feel like it". Why else? And I don't think I could bring myself to do so for every story in progress, meaning if someone does care about being unspoilered there would potentially be opportunities.

Oh, this seems a bit of a pointless post. It could have been distilled to "For as long as I remember to and feel like it, I am intending to be more public about my writing in progress than most writers seem to be".

Here we are again, back from a bit of an absence. Bit of an absence from writing too, so it feels although I suppose I have kept up as well as I ever do.

Laptop conked out for a while and despite having backed up the story which is our present main focus the most recent work on it was still locked away for that period. Consequently in effort to keep busy a new very short piece was written and a couple of others.

Also over this period I have had to deal with Centrelink a couple of times, which is sharply disheartening. Hopefully employment will be found soon and hopefully some capacity for time management will be found which allows continued progress in other areas too.

So far as accomplishments go... Monday was actually the first time parking in a parking lot which was nearly full. That went quite well. Elsewise, have continued being taught basic parts of coding and managed to construct some equally basic functioning program, of which I am very proud. Still proceeding with that, and some more exercises to be worked on after the immediately scheduled postings are done.

Back to writing. Managed to get a piece which has been frustrating me for some months out of the way today, and which was a significant part of the past few days' silence. Am still not happy with it, and may well revoke it from its own little canon. At least it is done.

One advantage of being back in Vista for the time being is being able to go back to working in yWriter. That is where I started this story, and that is where I would like to finish it. I have said, I think more than once, that having worked on erotica all this year and then some, that I am quite looking forward to working in another genre for a while. This weariness is probably not helped by long patches of writing apathy earlier in the year, which stretched what could have been single month projects out over several. But that is why we try to build up momentum, to retain familiarity with the story and its voice and what it needs and getting far enough into it to go longer into the act of writing.

I still need to be more at ease with working on revision and research. Those may not contribute to wordcounts directly, but they do (should do) result in something better at the end.

The stretch of draft being posted this time constitutes the entirety of what was written since I stopped using yWriter until I went back to it. All the way up to where I am up to, in fact, so for next week's post (let us believe for this moment there will be another of these posts in one week and not several) the extract will contain whatever has been written over that interval. Some direct evidence of how slowly I proceed.

I think, having settled by now more into what this story is supposed to be, there are for now fewer major adjustments to be made in redrafting and polishing from here. Not that it does not need editing, but at least currently this section is not intended to be scrapped or substantially rewritten. Some earlier events will need adjustment to fit better with the shape of things, and most uses of 'Bri' will need to be replaced with Brianne as although the story does not take place in first person our perspective is closely enough entwined with Anna's that the nickname suggests a familiarity and a casualness she does not currently possess about the situation.

Anna held no awareness of the trail of moments passing, only the sweep of the broom until it was done. She was careful when her sweeping intersected with the locations of Bri and Echo to leave them undisturbed, or increased in comfort. So too when sweeping became dusting, sometimes even of objects in use. She experimented at those moments with gestures of respect and found a preference expressed for those which emphasised her tail, plus on one occasion, the last occasion, being swatted by Bri for calling excess attention to herself at inappropriate moments.
Later she was told she had done well enough for the day and it was time for dinner. This meal was not her responsibility. It was Echo's, and Anna was to serve as her assistant. Mostly she assisted by performing chopping and other cooking type actions toward an end she was not privy to, the final assembly done by Echo herself.
This time she got to eat at the table, and it was much more comfortable than cold tiles on her rear. Echo was an excellent cook. Plus she got some credit for helping out.
It felt weird, the meal and the remainder of the evening. They were nice to her, asked about her work at the library, talked about their own, as if she were their guest and not their prisoner. Anna was feeling a lot more like a guest by the time she cleared the table and got called into the entertaining room.
They watched a movie together, Bri in the big armchair, Echo and Anna seated together on the floor in front of her. Anna's tail was curled in her lap and it felt good when Bri left her hand down to scritch at Anna's scalp.
At the end of the movie they all stretched and yawned and agreed it was time for bed.
“What do you think?” asked Brianne. “Has our little kit been good today?”
“She has. Wonderfully good, except that little break for the door earlier. But that won't happen again, will it?”
“Nno.” Anna shook her head violently. “Won't be doing that again.” Surely they would let her out sometime.
“Mm.” Brianne looked her up and down. “I think she's earned a bit of a reward. You can come with us dear; tonight you don't have to sleep on a board.”
They led Anna up to the bedroom they shared. Echo rummaged in the wardrobe and removed a large dog bed, furnished it with thick and comfortable-looking blankets, and arranged it at the foot of the bed.
“Surely you're not serious.”
“This is where pets sleep. If you're naughty you can go back to the board, or out in the yard. If you are very good indeed, well, only family gets the big bed.”
Anna groaned under her breath, but saw no point arguing. She tried to make herself comfortable while the others undressed. It was surprisingly easy and she was quite cosy when the light went out.

When Anna woke her first action was stretching. A little sore, a little stiff, well-rested and pleasantly warm under sunlight spilling across the floor. After a little while she roused herself further and discovered Bri and Echo still sleeping.
Now might be a good time to sneak out. She could be gone before they noticed.
Carefully Anna stepped out from the blankets, tiptoed across the floor and inched the door open without a creak. She slipped downstairs with desperate grace, pausing in front of the kitchen door. They hadn't really been so horrible to her. Except for the kidnapping. And the strapping her down to be fucked. And making her do service-work for them. Although the latter two were pretty nice. Maybe she could leave them a going away present, to show she didn't have hard feelings any more.
Anna decided on pancakes. Simple, easy and quick. She hummed as she worked, watching sunlight play on the grill, warming her arm. But pancakes cool quickly, and they had said they would let her go to work on Tuesday. She could leave then. It was peaceful enough here performing service, and the sex was good. She could think of it as an unexpected holiday. She took breakfast up on a tray, tail swishing.
Both were stirring. They accepted her offering with drowsy good humour. Echo suggested she join them and eat her own breakfast sitting at the end of the bed; Bri pointed out they'd be done before Anna could make something for herself and bring it back, so she sat and talked instead.
As Anna gathered up the trays she was reminded the garden needed tending as well as the rest of downstairs. She had no intention of that, not while the sky kept up this holiday downpour. But first, her own breakfast, also pancakes, with jam and sliced banana. The rain kept on rattling.
There was not actually so much to keep her occupied today, especially as she did not pass the morning being caned. Straight after cleaning up breakfast she took to the downstairs with her broom. Without any distraction permitted or available she surprised herself with how quickly time vanished into the sweep of that broom and its dustpan escort.
She started when Bri interrupted to say it was time for lunch and gave Anna their orders.
Again she sat with them at the table for lunch, tail hanging out a hole at the back of her chair, and learned a bit more about their current projects. Of herself she had little to say, having performed nought but cleaning and other service since the day before. If she had been to work, if this were not a long weekend, then perhaps she would have something to say, but that was not today.
Today was determined to be a quiet day, taking on a startlingly routine feel as Anna finished with the Nest's insides. She hesitated a bit, wondering what to do - perhaps leave? - then went up to check with Bri and Echo.
“There's still the garden,” said Bri.
Anna stalked over to the window and flung open the curtains to show rain still streaking thickly down, hoping they would not insist on her going out in that to be drenched.
Brianne chuckled deeply but said nothing until Echo suggested they might give her some of their clothes to repair. That became Anna's assignment for the afternoon and when she said she did not know how it was suggested she learn.

By dinnertime Anna had accomplished very little sewing. She had secreted herself away in the small downstairs study, surrounded by needle, thread, the skirts Echo and Brianne had assigned Anna to repair, and books from their library on how sewing happened.
A shadow moving in the doorway turned out to be Echo, come to collect her. Anna felt her cheeks flush lightly and she moved to shift her infinitesimal progress out of sight, not quite wanting to own up to her lack of sudden sewing mastery.
“Oh, your fingers!”
Echo rushed in and took up Anna's hand, bringing it first up to examine, then to lightly kiss the two fingers that had been pricked and plastered in the course of Anna's experiments.
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, yes. Just a bit sore. They'll be fine by the time we sleep.”
“Then let's get you to the kitchen.”
And Anna found herself swooped up before she could say another word.
“You won't always have to cook,” said Echo, leading. “We like it too much to give up, although you do pretty well for yourself. This weekend, cooking is all yours to settle you in, but remember not to get too used to it.”