Freewrite is here

Freewrite is here.

I never doubted it. Honest. Yes, it's a year later than they said—well, maybe just eight months. Some might have doubted. Not I.

Another project I contributed to, a tablet with the world's greatest operating system and interface, didn't make it. But I never doubted that till one day they said they couldn't do it.

Still, the Freewrite is here. A typewriter for the 21st century. Web enabled, internet connected.
Distractionless.

Will this make me a writer? No. I am one. Will it make me a better writer? A harder question to answer. It may, because with it I may write more.

That was the idea behind the product in the first place, and why I thought to support it.

For I am kid, distracted by shiny new toys. And the Internet is full of shiny new toys, and email, and music, and interactions with friends, and...

It doesn't hurt that this Smart Typewriter qualifies as a shiny new toy. I know me: my strengths...and I'm conscious of many of my weaknesses.

So this blog entry, the resurrection of my blog if you will, is a start with this new toy. This new toy designed to help me do what I love to do. 

Tell stories.

NaNoWriMo ended - I didn't

November came and went, as Novembers are wont to do.

Five times I've "done" National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). The first three times I "won"—in that I crossed the finish line represented by November 30th with more than fifty thousand words under my pen. The fourth time I came close, a sprint at the end pushing me to over forty-nine thousand words.

This time I'm almost fourteen thousand words short of the goal. I wrote for twenty-nine of the thirty days. A good run, spoiled only by the day after Thanksgiving when I went to the well, and it was dry.

Part of my reason for doing NaNoWriMo was to remember to write (almost) every day. And I hit that mark. Another part was to get the follow-on from my flash story, Timeshare, out of the back of my head and into the world. I hit that mark also—though there is more to do there.

Still, it would have been nice to get the fifty thousand words out. Didn't happen. I'm not going to weep into my single malt scotch over it. Rather I'll continue writing in December.

There are the remaining Goldberg Variations to get down on 'paper'. There are thirty thousand words of a story I've been writing for years now to get off actual paper and into electrons. I like the story, and the heroine, too much to leave them languish unread. Plus I found the story when I unpacked a box last week!

To all who essayed NaNoWriMo this year—Huzzah!

On to December.

The end's in sight - if I use binoculars

So, if I write 3,000 words a day for the rest of the month, I'll make it.

I got off to a good start, and I've written every day so far this month, but I'm still behind. The "written every day this month" is an improvement over other years. But I'm 18,000 words short of the fifty thousand. And six days to write them.

The story is working out. It's coming to something of a climax. I'm a little worried that the climax may be arriving too soon. But I've yet to get there so things may work out in the end.

The story is certainly the start of a series. I think this first part gets the main character, and "friends", from the fire into a frying pan. There are more adventures to have.

But first I have to get across the fifty thousand finish line. And do it without having to do an eleven thousand word day on November 30th. Doable, because I've done it in the past. But it's preferable to spread the words out a little more than that.

Onward...

Day 12 - Leading from behind...

The 12th day of…NaNoWriMo has just come and gone, here in the Midwest at least.

I should be at a shade over twenty thousand words now. I am, in fact, at nineteen thousand, two hundred forty. Not particularly bad. Other years things have been worse at this point.

The writing is going well. Some additional minor characters have turned up. They shall strut upon the stage, contributing to the action while there, and then fade away. In truth, at least two of them are slated to not fade away. Their end will leave a larger mark than that.

The story seems to be working. There's a strong possibility that it will reach a satisfying conclusion—but the characters will go on. Ricardo Alvarez won't reach his timeshare salesman by then end of this book.

There's room for a second one. And who knows after that?

I'm typing this year rather than, as in past years, writing the story longhand with a fountain pen (or three.) A change is as good as a rest…as the saying goes. And, also, I didn't get enough of my act together to get set up for writing the story.

I type at about the same rate as I write—around one thousand words in an hour. I'm taking the "write the next sentence" approach to the structure. Meaning I don't have one, a structure I mean. Nor an outline. Just the next sentence. Then the next. Then the next.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

It's working for me. It may not work for others.

However you're doing it, I wish all NaNoWriMo writers the very best for this insanity.

Seventeen Syllables to Novellas

I have the honor of doing a guest blog over at Friday Flash dot org today. The road from seventeen syllables to novellas—or how living in a city can change your haiku.

Or, for that matter, how writing short poems can influence your prose.

Ramblings, in other words. Ramble on over, if you please.

Not by Dark Alone

To the left is the cover of my first long format work. Science Fiction, for I love the genre and always have.

I recall my younger sister saying, "Science Fiction? No. That gene skipped me."

And it's true. I and my other two siblings inherited our father's love of the genre. But the third in the family, no.

This story — more about it at this link — began life as a National Novel Writing Month exercise. My first. As such, it suffered from early KjM writing, to say nothing of the tricks NaNoWriMo writers get up to to make their word count.

It needed to marinate for a couple of years before an actual story could be made of it.

When I was younger, traveling to school on city busses, I had the experience of sitting off to the side of a group of people my own age — all of them signing. Utter silence. But much hilarity, excitement, animated conversation going on five feet from me. And I was as one deaf. I knew nothing of what was going on. The image, the feeling, have stayed me to this day.

What would it be like for a non-telepath in a race of telepaths? What could such an individual bring to society? What would one like that see that others might miss?

And so, Alphard, the protagonist of this story.

If you get to read the story, I'd love to know what you think. Honest!

Final edits — and the hunt for a title

My manuscript came back from the caring hands of my good friend who had offered to copy-edit it. In keeping with her goodness and her wealth of experience, she offered more than simply a rigorous copy-edit.

I was delighted to discover that much of our conversation about the story was around the mechanics of English and the use of stronger, as in vital rather than colorful, language.

My friend did highlight two areas where the plot thinned rather than thickened, but the lapses are easily repaired.

One thing, however, needs to change — the title. *sigh*

I knew it did. The current working title is the second one the work has had. But I knew it needed to be something else.

If I only knew what it should be.

Anyway, I know I'm in the final editing phase. There's nothing structurally wrong with the story. A nip here, a tuck there, a sprucing up and final dusting and it will be ready.

Once I have the title...and maybe a new cover.

Yike!

Editing...editing...editing...

It's been a long time coming. And it's not here yet.

But it's taking shape. Thank goodness for another set of eyes. Eyes that are not so used to the text on the page/screen that they can't see what's there - just what I imagined I'd written.

As is often the case, the story I can hear in my head doesn't quite get to the page in the same form. But it will.

But, as can be seen, it's a painful exercise. For the other pair of eyes - and blue pen - as well as for me, the hapless writer. There are some parts of this story that were only clear to the writer of same. As such, readers were on their own. And that won't do.

Some of it I can lay at the door of my less-experienced self. Some of it as a result of my first NaNoWriMo effort. I had the story, and some art. But not as much craft as is needed.

However, it's not all bad, or not as bad as the marks on the page above suggest. As can be seen from the second photo - parts of the story as written are likely to survive.

It's a humbling experience. And humility isn't my strong suit.

To keep from despairing, I'm also in the process of hammering my second novel into shape. Ever the optimist, that's me.

Interacting with an earlier me

I'm deep into editing, with the assistance of another set of eyes, my science fiction novel. Actually, this is one my my science fiction novels. The first one I completed.

And there's the rub. It's the first one. It dates from the NaNoWriMo nonsense of 2008. It was the first NaNo I'd participated in. It's a long time ago in many ways. Editor Unleashed, the blog and forum created and run by Maria Schneider, was still extant then. I even had a guest post there about my NaNo experience. My claim to fame was I was writing my novel by hand, with a fountain pen.

So, a long time ago. And it shows...

Over the years, I've gotten better. I like to think I have. That my writing, by dint of applying craft, by practicing, by writing, has gotten better. By "better", read 'readable'. Not legible - there's much more work still to do about my handwriting.

But 'readable'. Short, effective sentences. Far fewer sentences becoming, because of the piling-up of explanatory - and often sub-sub-subordinate - clauses such as this one, something of an obstacle course for the hapless, or even really interested, reader.

We've discovered far too many sentences such as the above. I don't write like that today. Not nearly so much, anyway.

Some of my early writing, even before November 2008, was formal in tone. Particularly when doing dialogue. I know I've improved there. Its ghosts walk yet in this novel.

I take heart. I can see, and hear, that my writing's improved. I can measure the distance between what I know now, and what I clearly didn't know then. Or, if known, scarcely applied.

There's much work to do to carve this novel into shape. Others I've written since aren't as bad. But I like this story. I like the characters. I won't let my ineptitude get in the way of their playing in the sun.

"They call us Dark" will see the light of day.

A Song of Danard - live at Short-Story.me

My A to Z Challenge story for April 1st is here: A: Joan of Arc.

This entry is to celebrate the fact that another of my stories about the wanderer, Thon of the River People, was picked up by Short-Story.me and appears on their site today. No joke, honest!

Below is the first few paragraphs to A Song of Danard.

The town of Danard was sung the world over, its walls old before the foundations of many a lodge were laid. Thon looked up as he left the forest that lay north of the place.

The town spilled down the two sides of the peak he could see, and those sides he couldn't. A road ran from the main gate, following the course of a small river, source of the town's water.

He nodded appreciation for the town's builders. "A hard place to overthrow," he said. Thon settled his shield on his back and began the steep road to the town. There was little shade to be had and he stopped after an hour to quench his thirst.

"You are far from home, Man of the River."

Thon whirled at the sound of the voice, his black knife ready in his hand. A scraggly tree, branches bare but for a few leaves, stood near a curve in the river. Beside it sat a woman of many years, her brown robe shapeless on her, her hair thin and gray. Her face was leathered from years of sun, her eyes bright with intelligence.

"Who are you, woman," Thon said, "that you know me?"

The remainder of the story may be found here: A Song of Danard: Short-Story.me.

I hope you enjoy it.

Lucky Seven - Current WIP (They Call Us Dark)

I was tagged by my friend, Estrella Azul, as part of the Lucky Seven meme currently making the rounds of the Interwebs.

The rules of the meme are as follows:

1. Go to page 77 in your current manuscript
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next 7 lines as they are - no cheating
4. Tag 7 other authors (done on Facebook)

The work-in-progress I'm using is this "once and future" story that I've been working on for far too long. But I'm getting there.

Telepathic aliens run across a potentially sentient race of mammals - although there's a problem in communicating. Can communication be effected before the remainder of the species, to which the two the telepaths have abducted belong, arrives?

Is the mammalian species bellicose? (They're humans - so the question sort of answers itself, no?)

Might they take it amiss that two of theirs were abducted? You betcha.

So, in accordance with the rules of the meme, here are the seven lines.


Ryuu (I understand, Scholar Alphard.)


I waited as he sifted through the possible outcomes of the new, truncated, time frame. I could see he was near a decision and so pressed a little harder.


Me (There's no need for our arrival at the location of these creatures to attract much attention. It can all be arranged out of the glare of public view.)

By the way, the telepaths can't speak, and sound isn't really a concept for them. Difficulties ensue.

Many thanks to Estrella for picking on me (I'm sure I could have worded that better) :)

I'll now give some thought to how to/who to pass this on.

Songs of a Wanderer

For the past few days I've been working on a short story, one featuring my wandering "Man of the River People". The first one I wrote in which this character, Thon, appeared can be read at Short-Story.me. It's "A Song of Aine".

I have a thought about a follow on to that one, but it needs to marinate a bit more.

But, he's a wanderer, so there is ample scope for tales to be told. Someday I must find out what set his foot on the road away from the River in the first place.

I wrote a story of his wanderings with the intention of submitting it to Short-Story.me. They have a maximum limit of 2,000 words for the short stories they publish. My tale came out a couple of hundred too long.

So, on to the craft of tale telling. And it's an aspect I enjoy. The paring away, the tightening of the language, of the action. All the while hoping there's still a story left at the end of the day.

It took a few passes and I was able to rid the tale of the clumsiness that sometimes creeps in when you're not looking. Taut as a bow string.

The text editor I was using informed me I had 2,000 words to the story. There's a rightness to that - something about being just on the edge.

Of course, Microsoft Word informed me I had 1,999 words. Sigh.

So, given I believe Short-Story.me use Word (that's their preferred format in which to receive submissions), I added a single word.

Off into the world has gone my "A Song of Danard" - I'm hoping they'll like it and publish it.

We'll see.

In other news, my Year of the Dragon, Special Edition Cross fountain pen arrived today. More on that another day.

Brave New World...

...with apologies to Aldous Huxley.

I've always been intrigued by the fact that, in music, when technology brought about a better - more capable - instrument, from the shadows came composers and performers who knew how to create music that previously had not been possible.

When a keyboard instrument that could play both piano and forte (soft and loud) was invented, there was a Mozart available to ensure it would be heard forever. When the same instrument gained a greater range of octaves, Beethoven stepped forward to make use of this expansion for greater music than had ever been heard.

When Dr. Moog created his synthesizer in the 1960s, a fiendishly problematic instrument by all accounts, Wendy Carlos was there to switch on Bach.

Electric guitars came to the fore and Jimmi Hendrix, Rory Gallagher, Eric Clapton were on hand to show us how it's done.

How that process works is a mystery to me.

There are changes happening in the area of writing also. I have the ability to create blocks of text - witness the text on this web page. I can weave stories with words. Such weaving has gone on since humans developed speech.

Often, though, words were only part of the package. Seldom in the oral tradition was the storyteller simply recounting a tale. Gesture, facial expression, movement were, and yet are in many parts of the world, of a piece with the words. I imagine the concept of the play grew from such performance.

Through history, books were not always simple blocks of text. Illustrated manuscripts attest to that. In these modern times, there are new tools for creating stories, books, that are more than just words.

Apple's new iBooks Author is one of them. There have been others, of course, but Apple knows how to capture the limelight. They have excellent marketing. I know they do - I've been marketed to most successfully by them over the years.

But, they also have excellent  design. So this new tool, to create new forms of books, is their usual mixture of power and simplicity.

You have to have more of a visual sense, and talent, than I have to really make something good, something fresh using this tool. So, I shall continue to create blocks of text.

I look forward, however, to seeing those come forward who finally discover a tool worthy of their talent. It has always been so. It will be so again.

And what will they create?

The Ninety-Eight Percent Solution

I've participated in the madness that is NaNoWriMo for four years, since I first ran across it in October, 2008. It's always been a blast. The first year, I enjoyed the story I was writing - that, to my shame, I find I am still editing.

In Year Two (2009) I tried something I hadn't tried before - writing from multiple points of view. Three main point-of-view characters, trying to keep them all balanced in my head.

In the third year, I took one of my Goldberg Variation flash stories and expanded it into a novel. It, actually, has the potential to become a series. I knew the ending I wanted to reach, but wasn't sure I have enough novel to get there. I tried something new here also, filling out initial character studies and blocking out the main scenes (at least for the first part of the story). There was always the intent to block out more scenes during the month of November. Didn't happen.

This year, year four, something new occurred. I didn't complete the fifty thousand words in the allotted time. I got close though, 98%. Nine hundred and some words left to write, but not the time in which to write them. As it turns out, the story is huge. There're a lot more than nine hundred words left to write to tell it properly. They will be written, at a slightly more leisurely pace than what went on last night.

This was the scene last night, shortly after midnight. My right wrist was tired, my shoulders stiff and my poor pens were worn out. Given I had to write over 7,000 words in the evening, I decided I wasn't going to stop to refill any pen that ran out of ink. Happily I had enough pens to hand meet the need.

From the top left: a Sheaffer Valor - black and palladium finish, Waterman Carene - black and gold, Aurora Optima - red with gold nib, Pilot Vanishing Point - blue carbonesque finish and the Edison Urushi Herald.

All did sterling work. The vast bulk of the words during the month were written with the Sheaffer. It's been a while since I used it and t'was good to take it out for a run. The others played backup in case I needed it. And last night I did.

So, I didn't win NaNoWriMo this year. Still, getting to 98% of the goal - that's not bad by any measure.

Notebooks, pens and NaNoWriMo

I am late to this.

The above could well be a comment on many things in my life, but let's just go with Scribbles Blog Hop, Noland edition on Tony Noland's Landless site.

Earlier this month, some eight days or so ago, a group got together to blog about their use of pen and paper, notebooks and journals, in their writing process.

Pictures and discussions ensued. And I'm late to the party.

So be it.

I've mentioned on this blog, and in comments on others, that I use a notebook and one of several fountain pens when writing anything larger than flash fiction (and sometimes even then). There are several reasons, chief among them being I get distracted easily. With the entire Internet (or an appreciable part thereof) but a click away, I need to go "old school" to give me a chance to concentrate.

It works.

In addition, I enjoy writing by hand and I get to use those functional works of art, my fountain pens, for their purpose: the capturing of thought.

Battered - Unbowed

My main notebook is a leather notebook case into which I usually slot a 50-page Levenger ruled pad. It has good dense paper, which takes ink well.

On the left of the pages is a wide margin allowing for notes and ideas as they hit me while writing something else.

I was given the beautifully soft leather cover over 10 years ago, and it has aged with use. Exposure to California sun has caused fading. Its surface has recorded the hard knocks that life deals out. Character marks one could call them.

I like them because they show that I'm making use of the gift that was given and, while I do try to take care of my things, daily use leaves its mark on all of us, in one way or another.

Small Notebook

I have a second notebook that I generally carry with me. It's smaller, more suited to capturing the random thought (of which I have many) as it goes by. I recall when at a doctor's surgery a couple of years ago, awaiting the results of an outpatient procedure, I wrote a flash fiction story in the notebook.

I found it useful to divert my attention from what had just occurred, and what might subsequently. The story was published - and nothing untoward occurred resulting from the above-mentioned procedure. Everybody wins!

NaNo in progress

Right now I'm in the middle of my fourth NaNoWriMo effort. As in previous years, I am writing the fifty thousand words by hand. While tackling NaNoWriMo by hand has its virtues, it's not without its challenges. Writer's cramp (not to be confused with "block") is one of them. The issue of getting the first draft computerized is a second.

For that I use Dragon Dictate to get my words into files - adjusting the text along the way. A form of editing that doesn't feel like editing. It's an easy way to get a second draft that cleans up some of the nonsense that spilled out during the thirty days of November.

I am behind in my word count for NaNo 2011, but not egregiously so. Onward.

Blues - Fading to Gray

Since my baby left me

Ain’t no music in my soul.

I said, since my baby left me

There ain’t no music in my soul.

She took away the sunshine

All I got left is gray and old.

I looked across the room at the singer. Head back, eyes closed, his fingers wringing sadness from guitar strings late into this night.

“You’re playing my song, brother,” I said, so softy no one heard. “You’re playing my song.”

For much of my life, I’d lived in the shadows. She changed all that. Everywhere she went, life was a blaze of color. You couldn’t look at her without being dazzled. Green eyes, red lips, flame to her hair.

I was dazzled. So dazzled, for a long time I couldn’t see. So I shut my eyes and saw all the colors she brought to our days, to our nights.

She changed my life from shadow, then changed it back again.

I used to find people. I was good at it. It’s what they paid me to do.

I found her. And I found him. I found them.

There was one last flash of brilliant red. Then my world grew dark again.

I still find people. It’s how I pay my way, now I have nothing left to lose.

I look once more at the singer. “I’m not here for you tonight, brother. No matter what you say, there’s music yet in your soul.”

I drop a twenty in his glass. “Me? I lost my soul two, three lifetimes ago.”

I drift towards the man in the expensive suit pouring expensive champagne into two much younger women. He’s the one I’m here to find.

I’m still good at it.

En un pueblo de la Mancha...

I am currently reading Don Quixote, in translation for my Spanish is no longer up to dealing with the variant in use at the time of Shakespeare. Once it may have been, for I lived in Spain and was, for a time, fluent in the language. But that's now in the past.

The version I'm reading is a recent translation from 2009 by Edith Grossman, someone known for her translations of Latin American, rather than Spanish, literature. As the editorial review states: "...an honest, robust...Quixote for our times."

I've been drawn to the character of Don Quixote all my life, at least since I first encountered him. A long time ago, and far away, I had a VAXstation with the name DonQ. The company I worked for, Digital Equipment, had a world-wide network of computers before the world-wide-web was available. Each computer on the Easynet (as it was known) had a unique name - limited in the number of characters you could use.

I was unable to name my computer "Don Quixote" because of that. It's possible even "Quixote" was too long. Memory no longer delivers the details as it once did.

The idea of this madman wandering the world, seeing differently to all around him, has a definite appeal. Even knowing that the man was indeed mad, and the world was not as he saw it, does not take away - for me - from the appeal. Perhaps a quixotic view in and of itself.

It doesn't hurt that the book is regarded as the first modern novel and the finest, and last, of the very novel type Cervantes set out to satirize. There's something particularly elegant about that - which also appeals.

The image above is a Picasso - a print, you understand. It hangs on the wall of the office in which I do much of my writing. For a while it was the wallpaper on one of my smartphones.

Speaking of writing...I'm getting prepared for NaNoWriMo 2011. Prepared, or panicking. One of the two.

I've made sure I have sufficient writing pads for my words and ink for my fountain pen. This year I'm taking my Sheaffer Valor for a run across 50,000 words in 30 days. I have plenty of ink, and I may need it. In testing the pen this evening, I discovered it lays down ink quite generously. There'll be some bleeding through the page - and not just the writer bleeding red as he scrambles to the finish line.

There's still more work to do on my outline so I have an idea that will last through the 1,667 words per day. I'm certain the story's there, but I'd best have some basic bones in place on which to hang the meat of the tale.

To all engaged in this madcap endeavor, I say "Buena Suerte". It's a quixotic kind of adventure, no?

Getting ready for November

We're mid-way through the month of October. And, as you can tell, I managed to recover my MacBook. I'm not entirely convinced about the new version of Mac OS - Lion. But, it's up and running now so I no longer care.

There was a time I would, but now I simply need computers to, what's the phrase?, "just work".

Halfway through October means only about 15 days to the start of November and the madness that is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).

I'll be working again with pen and paper, so the lack of a functioning MacBook would not have been a huge problem. I am really hoping not to do what I did last year - have to sprint madly at the end. In truth, 1,667 words per day is not a lot - given I managed over 11,000 on the last day of November last year!

So, the intent is to go the steady route. Let's see how that works out.

During NaNoWriMo 2009, I wrote the first book of a two-parter (although there's a third percolating at the back of my mind - but, for the moment, it can stay there.) This year I'm going to write the second part, picking up a few months after the last scene of the first.

I have some ideas about the plot. Some of the characters, those who made it through the first, return. There are some new ones.

Right now I'm working out the plot trajectory/points. I am not an outline kinda guy but I am going to "block out" some of the main areas of the story as the narrative will unfold from (a minimum of) three different points of view - as the first story did.

I'm using, as I did for NaNoWriMo last year, an application named Index Card for the iPad. In addition to its corkboard metaphor, it can turn the cards into an outline.

The outline can be imported into Scrivener, giving me some structure on which to hang the text.

For the moment, I've just drawn the lightest of character sketches, color-coded according to the narrative's point of view character. When I lay out the different scenes, I'll maintain the color coding. The theory being I should be able to tell at a glance how balanced the story is.

I'll let you know.

To all those embarking on NaNoWriMo this year - good luck, and keep writing.

Let's start at the very...ending

It was a bit weird, I'll admit that, but I was young then...

Back, in the days before these days, in a place before this place, my father and I were talking. He spoke of Asimov's Foundation Trilogy (for there were only three books in the series back then - told you it was a while ago.) I suspect now that Dad had read of the republishing of the series, which is why it sprang to his mind. He'd read them when they were first published.

I was fascinated by what he told me of the books, of how Asimov had, seemingly, mapped out an enormous sweep of time and written stories set at different points along the timeline. But these three, in my Dad's opinion, stood far above the others.

I took myself off into the city, seeking out the series. Sure enough, in the vibrant Science Fiction section of one of the main bookstores, I found "Second Foundation". Imagine my dismay when I discovered, prior to buying, this this was the third in the series. The other volumes were sold out.

Even then I was an "instant gratification" kind of guy. So I bought it. And read it.

A week later I bought "Foundation and Empire". And read it.

Finally, "Foundation" - bought and read.

It was a fascinating way to read the trilogy. The third book spent the early part dealing with The Mule, this mutant who had come out of nowhere to upset the Seldon Plan. Yet I had to imagine how bad this was, and how bad things had become, because I hadn't seen that part of the story yet.

In the second book a character rages against a "dead hand" controlling events. I, as the reader - the out-of-order reader, had the same feeling. An almost mythological being, Hari Seldon, seemed in charge of the overall direction of events - and nothing the actors on the stage could do would change this. And then there appeared The Mule, and all the concern at the beginning of the third book fell into place. 

Finally I "met" Hari Seldon in the first book. It felt strange to see the man after seeing the impact he'd had on events so far in his future. Such a towering force contained within the frame of a man. It was interesting to hear him speak for himself, rather than his being "intoned" by acolytes hundreds of years after his death.

I've since read the trilogy a number of times. All the "correct" way - "Start at the very beginning..."

But I've never lost the feeling the first reading gave me. The having to figure things out, to attempt to create what had gone before, the history, as the characters knew it. They weren't there when it happened either, they just knew what they'd been told.

It was a great adventure to try discover the world in which they lived, and how it got that way. It's a feeling that's never left me.

I'd love to write a story that way. Backwards. It's been done - the movie Memento does it well.

My main problem with trying to write a story that way is...how I usually write stories. I tend to start at the beginning, and write till I reach the end - being surprised (if I'm lucky) a few times along the way by the twists and turns the story and the characters take.

To begin at the end, and have the story flow backwards...would that mean I'd have to know everything up front?

Possibly not.

Optical character recognition, anyone?

There are, as I've mentioned before, advantages to my habit of writing longer pieces (short stories and novels) by hand. The primary advantage is the lack of distraction.

The Internet is not just a click away when you're writing with a fountain pen on a pad of paper. And I need all the help I can get - *oh, look at the pretty shiny thing!* {sigh}

However, there is a disadvantage. When done with a novel, there are around four full pads of text to, somehow, computerize. Not to worry, where there's a technical problem, there's a technological solution.

And we all know technology won't fail us, yes?

"Yeah, right" I believe is the phrase I'm searching for.

I use a Mac for my writing. Other than for small stuff, I really haven't found the iPad useful for the purpose. And I try not to sweat the small stuff, as they say.

Recently I upgraded to Mac OS Lion. I'm an early adopter, what can I say.

The speech to text software I use to dictate my scribblings...ah well, it's not all that Lion-compatible, is it? There I was, being all "early adopter" and "techie" with my OS Lion and text to speech software. And where did it get me?

Up a gum tree without a paddle - or some such mixed idiom.

I'm actually only three pages short of completing the loading of one of the novels I'm working on. No tragedy. I can type that as easily as dictate it.

Of course, there is the other three pads full of another novel waiting in the wings to be entered. Well, I've enough to be going on with editing the current one. By the time I'm done with that, Dragon Dictate for Mac will have the problem fixed.

Ever hopeful - a requirement when you depend on technology.