Originally posted on Cristian Mihai:
“Successful and unsuccessful people do not vary greatly in their abilities. They vary in their desires to reach their potential.” - John C. Maxwell
They say hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard. And I do agree. After all, talent is never just an innate ability. It’s a lot more than just that.
It’s hard work, perseverance, discipline, vision, courage, faith, and a bunch of others all mixed up into one.
But can hard work alone make you a good artist?
View original 297 more words
Originally posted on Jodie Llewellyn:
I wrote my first book, SECTOR 12 in 2.5 weeks. It was a dare from a friend, and apparently I can work pretty fast when I have a goal. I churned out about 60,000 words in that time. It was crazy.
I wrote my second book, WRAPPED IN DARKNESS in 3 months. I committed to 1,000 words a day and got 80,000 words done in just under the 3 month mark.
I wrote my third book, CHEMICALS COLLIDE in about a month. I wrote most of it in Nanowrimo and a tiny bit afterwards.
I’m currently working on a YA Fantasy and my plan this time is to take my time. To set no goals and let it flow organically, just to see how it pans out.
How long do you take to write a novel?
Another good one from JW.
Originally posted on J W Manus:
There’s a war going on right now. Hachette vs Amazon is the big battle du jour. You can read all about it here and here and here. That’s not the real war. The real war is being fought against indie writer/publishers. It’s being fought mainly with propaganda pushed by the big publishing houses (who are part of a HUGE media conglomerates) aided by agents and big-name writers.
“In a perfect world (okay, in my perfect world) there would be a separate section on Amazon or B&N.com for self-published e-books, maybe even separate websites. I truly believe that it would help the reader distinguish the books as well. Readers don’t purchase books based on who the publisher is and don’t necessarily care. As a result, they might not even know if they’re buying a book that was professionally edited versus one that was self-published...” –Steven Zacharius…
View original 1,344 more words
Welcome back, friends. It’s time for another long, long overdue edition of my Short Story on the Spot Challenge (SSTS). Yeah, my intention was to do one of these a month and, if you’ve been following along, you know that I blew that pretty goal quickly. But that doesn’t mean I should stop trying to do them. The first one was a ton of fun for me, and any writing I can do is totally worth it.
I’ve been tossing this idea around in my head for a couple weeks. It’s still half-baked, but what fun would it be to have a story come to you complete and ready to dictate to the page? If it progresses they way I think it should, it will address certain moral questions concerning the role technology will play in our society in the future. At the same time, there is great potential for this thing to go waaaay longer than short story length. The only way to know is to get down to business…
“I need to speak with Walter O’leary, please,” the man said.
The security guard couldn’t help but look the man over from head to toe. At first glance he looked ordinary enough. You could miss him in crowd if you weren’t paying attention, except that you couldn’t help but pay attention when you saw him. His suit; grey jacket, grey slacks, white buttondown shirt, black tie, were absolutely perfect. Not just cleaned and pressed, but prestine to the point where it wouldn’t be a stretch to for one to believe the suit was almost a part of him. The man’s short, salt and pepper hair was styled with a side part that was precisely just so. His chin appeared to be perfectly shaved blue. Not a single bit of stubble to be found, even though is was getting close to five in the afternoon. It was as if the man had been unwrapped from climate controlled storage five minutes earlier and send out into the world. The notion was ludicrous, of course, but it still gave the guard pause.
There were probably a dozen or more people a day that came by the guard’s desk, asking to see someone on staff for one reason or another. The U.S. Department of Resource Management and Administration was magnet for all the wackos that had ideas for doing things better, and a dozen times a day he was turning those people away and tossing out the message card he had them fill out for whomever it was they wanted to see.
No visitors – that was the standing order.
But of all of those that tried to get in, no one ever asked for Walter O’Leary. Ever.
“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have anyone here by that name.”
The man smiled. “Yes, you do.”
The guard wanted to avoid a ‘No, I don’t. Yes, you do’ second grade pissing contest with the man. He pulled out a datapad from his desk drawer and handed it to him. “Here. Please look through the directory. Maybe you have the wrong name.”
The man took the datapad, in hand, raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know how to use this.”
“This device,” he said, setting the pad back on the desk. “I’ve never used one. We don’t have them were I come from.”
The guard couldn’t help but ask the logical question. “Well, what do you read with?”
“Nothing. Anything that we need to know, we know.”
That made the guard laugh. But he was just trying to keep the situation light-hearted. Perfect appearance or not, the guard was starting to think he had a nut-case standing at his desk, and they generally have something else they really came to do. He had to be careful.
“One moment please, sir” He reached up and tapped the communicator he was wearing in his right ear. After a moment, he said, “I have a gentlemen at post two looking for someone named O’Leary…yes…code fifteen.”
In just a few seconds, a half-dozen more security guards decended on post two, surrounding the man in a loose circle, almost casually, as to not spoke the man into some action he would regret.
The man was still unphased, unruffled, and as pleasant as he’d always been. He looked around at the guards and the stunners on their belts. “I assure you, there is no need for force. I only require to speak with Walter O’Leary.”
One of the guards that had just arrived produced a small hand scanner from a pouch in his belt. “Sir, there is no O’Leary here. Would you turn around please?”
The man did so, without a word.
The guard held the scanner, moving it back and forth across the man’s back. The scanner made no noise whatsoever. He clicked it off.
“He’s not chipped.”
As if on queue, the new guards drew their stunners. The first guard stepped forward.
“Sir, we need you to come this way immediately.”
“I see. Are we going to see O’Leary?” The question almost had a child-like tone to it.
“For the last time,” he said, “There is no O’Leary here.”
The group walked across the main concourse, toward an unmarked door on the far wall behind the guard post.
“But there is.”
“How do you know, sir?” The first guard said, not really caring.
“I told you. I know what I need to know.”
One of the other guards said to the first, “What the hell is he talking about?”
He ignored the question and said to the man, “Fine then. What does Walter O’Leary do here? Maybe we can find him that way.”
“Walter O’Leary is in charge of the machine.“
The words had barely crossed his lips when the man saw a blue-white flash, heard a woman scream, and then…nothing.
Not a bad start, I think. Not perfect. Remember, there is virtually no editing of any kind in these SSTS stories. Writing this little piece answered some of the questions I had about it on the fly, which is what discovery writing is all about. Hopefully, I can get back at this tomorrow, before I lose the rythym I’ve started here. Day 1 stats are below.
Word count: 808
Writing Time: Approximately 90 minutes
Please read and comment, if you feel so compelled.
Thanks for stopping by!