writing

The highs and lows of writing

This should not be a shock, but I am not the best writer I know. The truth is I am often not the best writer I know who sits at my desk. And I’m the only person who uses my desk. That’s just the way of it. Most times I can feel every word, every phrase and idea that didn’t translate right from my brain to the page – and it’s almost all of them. I will sit and struggle and fuss and worry about how bad a writer I am. Until I’m actually writing. See when I am in the process of laying down words I am the best writer who ever lived. In my head at least. For exactly as long as I’m working. Then it’s back to doubtsville. And that’s right. That’s the correct way of things,…

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Digital isn’t the only answer.

When you have a ton of deadlines that cross each other you learn to adapt. That adaptation can take funny forms. I use Google Calendar for all my schedules. I have Google calendars I make to schedule every project that I share with any collaborators. I keep my personal schedule updated with everything I do that can at all be scheduled. It’s glorious. It’s very busy, lots of colors, and it keeps me n track. I have a widget to show me my upcoming events on my phone, every time I look at it, and I keep it open in windows at my desk. My calendar is my life, these days. Except it isn’t enough. You see, outside of just events I also have deadlines that can’t be put into a calendar the same. I can’t put a deadline into…

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‘Twas the Night Before A Freelancer’s Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, Almost no creatures stirred, but the freelancers light didn’t go out. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, The Freelancer wanted to go to bed, but didn’t dare. The children were nestled all snug in their bed, But the Freelancer still has deadlines, instead. Words, art, music and more spilled from his mind, And the night stretched out long, the day far behind. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, The Freelancer didn’t stir, distractions couldn’t matter. Into the house a man did manage to creep, And the Freelancer only yelled, “Shhh, they’re trying to sleep!” It was jolly old Saint Nick who stood in the room, He set down his bag and came into the room. “It’s Christmas Eve, don’t you know?” he asked…

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TURN TO PAIGE NEVER (post 2)

Not sure if I’ll keep posting bits of this as I go but … hey enjoy it while you can. Here’s the first part, if you haven’t read it: Turn to Paige Never (post 1) – and now to pick up where that left off: Michael blinked a few times, trying to wrap his head around any of the things he was seeing or hearing. His brain ticked over and sputtered, failing miserably. Paige Never, for her part, headed across the room at a meaningful stride. She hung the hangers of clothes on the inside door of the bathroom and started to run the shower. “Wait, what are—” Michael started to ask. “Hey, I have dibs. This is my place, and really you’ve just got some demon insides on you. I have a few decades of dust and historical debris…

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TURN TO PAIGE NEVER

(Not sure if this is the start of something new or just a bit of fippery or what, but here it is.) A gust of wind blew, creeping down the back of Michael’s shirt. He shivered, before glancing at Ken. “I’m just saying we should find her.” “We should find her,” Ken repeated. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Michael said. He glanced down at Ken as they walked. Ken’s five foot four frame allowed Michaels comparatively towering six foot one to feel simply gigantic. There were times, when they squabbled, that Michael felt as if he could simply lean over and smush Ken into nothing. If only he knew. But he didn’t. not then at least. “You want us to go and find some woman that probably doesn’t even exist,” Ken said, his hands clenching and unclenching as he…

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Script process changes.

This last week I was writing in three different comic series at once. Which… well it can hurt the brain. The interesting part is that they also were being written with three totally different techniques. Then I thought: I should write about them! So I am. Script One was done in a Marvel Style. I’ve never worked that way before, so that was a trip. The artist and I talked over the plot and got it to a place we both liked the story a bunch. Then he went off to draw everything. When he was done with the pages he sent them to me and I scripted over them. It was a bit strange to just script over art. I knew the story beats but had very little input into how they were broken down and paced out. Once…

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RADIOACTIVE

A bit of fiction for you, with an explanation at the end: “I don’t want you to go,” Brett said. He leaned back on his hands, the grass tickling his wrists. “And I wish Cherenkov radiation wasn’t so pretty,” Fiona replied. “We don’t always get what we want, Brett.” She stood, dusting her hands off on the legs of her jeans. A lone ant, busy climbing her bracelet, flew off into the breeze to settle back amongst the grass. Brett sat, staying behind, to watch the sunset. The sky turned wild neon blues and dark purples and pinks, something that had some of the town worried. The atmospherics should be holding steady. The filtration proved different. And if the filtration didn’t work right, then they were all cooking in their skins, right then, just being outside. Except it never happened…

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WIAN BHITE – THE WORST DETECTIVE IN THE WORLD in SHAFTED

My name is Wian Bhite. I solve mysteries. This story is about a mystery. One that I solved. Because my name is Wian Bhite, and I solve mysteries. What sorts of mysteries, you may wonder. I’ll tell you. All sorts. So there I was, trapped, alone in an elevator. no one else in the car with me when it lurched to a halt between floors. The lights went out and blackness swam in. A click, a pop and a small hiss later the emergency lighting came on, casting the metal coffin in a drab sickly blood red. I didn’t panic. I reached for the emergency phone. “Hello?” I asked, the phone against my ear. “Hello? can anyone hear me? I’m trapped. Trapped in this elevator.” “Excuse me sir,” a voice replied, “we don’t show a problem with any of the…

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