Hello everyone, I'm back, and I've written a bunch for my novel, so here it is.
Damian looked up sharply. He had to move, or he'd be caught between the blast and LARCO's private military forces. Shrugging the satchel back over his shoulder, he grabbed the disk and ran. The tunnel walls blurred into grey streaks beside him as he sprinted. Gasping, he reached the elevator. His hand grasped the lever, but it wouldn't budge. He backed away slowly as the doors began to open.
The first soldier took a step from the opening. He was a light infantryman, armed with a submachine gun. He raised it to his shoulder to fire, but he was a split second too slow. His helmet shattered as Damian's first shot ripped through it. His body hit the floor mere moments before those of his companions. Damian stepped over the corpses and into the elevator.
There was an SMG on the floor. Damian picked it up and inspected it. It was just a standard issue LARCO SF90. It was already primed, and he shouldered it. The elevator reached the top of the shaft, and the doors slid open. Peeking around the corner, he saw nothing. He took a tentative step out, and that was his mistake.
He hadn't checked the other side. A soldier tackled him to the floor, stabbing down with a serrated combat knife. Damian raised the gun to block, and sparks flew at the contact. He batted away the second stab, and punched the man in the face. The soldier rolled, dragging Damian over as well. Damian kicked underneath him, breaking free of the grip, and stumbled to his feet. He'd dropped his gun, and the soldier was now standing in front of it. The soldier grinned, stepping forward and thrusting at Damian's chest. Damian reacted swiftly, redirecting the lunge and placing one hand under the man's hand, which was clenching the blade, and one on the side of the blade itself. He twisted his hands and the man's wrist shattered. Yelling, the assailant doubled over in agony, then looked up. Damian's boot caught him in the temple, and he crumpled. Damian reclaimed his gun and ran down the hall.
There were doors, everywhere, and about a million hallways. Damian looked about, frantically searching for the right one. They all looked the same. There was a deep rumbling, and he took off at a fast jog. The bomb would go off at any minute, and he was still in the building.
Friday, March 27, 2015
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Novel Continuation #3
Sorry this is a bit late, I went out of town and my blog wasn't ready until today.
Here's a bit more of my novel, then on to buisness.
It would have to be fast. Damian grabbed a small case out of his jacket pocket. There were three small syringes inside, filled with tranquilizers. He picked one out, tested it by pushing the plunger a bit, then pointed his gun above him at the camera. The bullet took the camera through the power cord and then continued out of the other side with a small clang. The guard turned around just as Damian jabbed him with the syringe. He gasped and dropped to the floor. Damian ran past him and kicked the startled engineer in the face as he looked up, using the force of the follow-through to turn him towards the scientist. The scientist, an older man with peppered hair, stood still, looking at the gun pointed at him.
"Turn around, and run out that door," Damian said, gesturing towards the exit.
The man hesitated. He'd be punished for running. Damian gestured again. "Run now." The man nodded slowly, then ran out the door. Setting his pistol down, Damian moved to the computer. It was running a complex system for monitoring the reactor. He closed it and opened up the database from the desktop. He got a request for an access code. There was a disc-shaped machine the size of his thumb in his pocket. He pulled it out, and inserted the adaptor into the port of the computer. It began running a series of algorithms to crack the access code. He walked over to the reactor. It was a large metal cylinder covered in pipes and pressure valves. Damian opened the satchel, and pulled out the explosives. He pressed them to the metal, then connected the wires to the detonator. Behind him, there was a beep as the disk finished its job. Then the alarms went off.
I hope you are all enjoying my blog (not quite sure who actually reads this), but I have been trying to write while listening to music, and it actually does work. Music helps me think, and I've found that I am a lot more creative if I'm listening to music. Fast paced music works best, as listening to Pachebel's Canon just puts me to sleep. For those of you wanting to write, you should definitely listen to music as a booster.
Here's the band who inspired me to write this book, actually: Fun.
Here's a bit more of my novel, then on to buisness.
It would have to be fast. Damian grabbed a small case out of his jacket pocket. There were three small syringes inside, filled with tranquilizers. He picked one out, tested it by pushing the plunger a bit, then pointed his gun above him at the camera. The bullet took the camera through the power cord and then continued out of the other side with a small clang. The guard turned around just as Damian jabbed him with the syringe. He gasped and dropped to the floor. Damian ran past him and kicked the startled engineer in the face as he looked up, using the force of the follow-through to turn him towards the scientist. The scientist, an older man with peppered hair, stood still, looking at the gun pointed at him.
"Turn around, and run out that door," Damian said, gesturing towards the exit.
The man hesitated. He'd be punished for running. Damian gestured again. "Run now." The man nodded slowly, then ran out the door. Setting his pistol down, Damian moved to the computer. It was running a complex system for monitoring the reactor. He closed it and opened up the database from the desktop. He got a request for an access code. There was a disc-shaped machine the size of his thumb in his pocket. He pulled it out, and inserted the adaptor into the port of the computer. It began running a series of algorithms to crack the access code. He walked over to the reactor. It was a large metal cylinder covered in pipes and pressure valves. Damian opened the satchel, and pulled out the explosives. He pressed them to the metal, then connected the wires to the detonator. Behind him, there was a beep as the disk finished its job. Then the alarms went off.
I hope you are all enjoying my blog (not quite sure who actually reads this), but I have been trying to write while listening to music, and it actually does work. Music helps me think, and I've found that I am a lot more creative if I'm listening to music. Fast paced music works best, as listening to Pachebel's Canon just puts me to sleep. For those of you wanting to write, you should definitely listen to music as a booster.
Here's the band who inspired me to write this book, actually: Fun.
Sunday, March 15, 2015
A Continuation: Novel Installment #2
Well, I need to keep up with what I've been writing. I've written a lot since I posted the first part of my book in the comments section on another post back in February. So, here's a little bit more. I'll try to add these in every blog from now on.
The LARCO guard stood, shuffling his feet against the cold. Every so often someone would walk up, flash a card at him, then step through the gates. He coughed, shivering despite his coat. At least he had a coat. Many people didn't. A young man approached him and flashed a card, then headed for the gate. The guard drew his club, rushing over. The man turned just as the club hit with a dull thud. He doubled over. The guard dealt another savage blow. "That is not a valid card," he roared, winding up again. The man cowered behind the card. "Yes it is," he groaned. "It's a temporary… I just got it."
The guard looked. It was indeed a temporary. But… that wasn't the original card…. was it? He wasn't sure. No matter, the card was valid. He picked the man up from off of the ground. "Sorry, friend," he said. The found man dusted himself off. "It's okay," he mumbled. Walking through the gates, he dropped his temporary through the shredding grate.
Damian rubbed his arm, wincing slightly. Those clubs hurt. He hated wasting a temporary, but the guard hadn't fallen for his fake. He walked down the hall, climbed the stairs, and turned left. There was a small elevator, made for sending small loads down a shaft to the generator room in the basement tunnels. He stepped inside, pulled the lever, and sat down.
The ride was boring. LARCO ads played continually, advertising for everything from hardhats to coat hangers. Damian sighed, waiting fro the doors to open. They did, and he stood, peering out. Nobody. He walked out, unzipped his jacket, and pulled out a pistol. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a long container. It was meant to hold medication, but Damian had modified the metal tube to fit onto his gun. He screwed it on to the end of the pistol. If he had to kill anyone, it would at least be silent. He jogged down the tunnel, following signs leading to the reactor where the building produced energy. There was a set of large doors at the end.
Damian turned the handle and carefully pushed the door in. Seeing nobody, he quietly stepped in. Standing ahead, the was an armed guard overseeing an engineer working n the reactor as a scientist typed away at a worktable. Damian groaned inwardly.
That's where I'm stopping for now, but there'll be more next blog. Here's where I drew my inspiration from for the tunnels and the reactor room. Gorgeous, I know.
The LARCO guard stood, shuffling his feet against the cold. Every so often someone would walk up, flash a card at him, then step through the gates. He coughed, shivering despite his coat. At least he had a coat. Many people didn't. A young man approached him and flashed a card, then headed for the gate. The guard drew his club, rushing over. The man turned just as the club hit with a dull thud. He doubled over. The guard dealt another savage blow. "That is not a valid card," he roared, winding up again. The man cowered behind the card. "Yes it is," he groaned. "It's a temporary… I just got it."
The guard looked. It was indeed a temporary. But… that wasn't the original card…. was it? He wasn't sure. No matter, the card was valid. He picked the man up from off of the ground. "Sorry, friend," he said. The found man dusted himself off. "It's okay," he mumbled. Walking through the gates, he dropped his temporary through the shredding grate.
Damian rubbed his arm, wincing slightly. Those clubs hurt. He hated wasting a temporary, but the guard hadn't fallen for his fake. He walked down the hall, climbed the stairs, and turned left. There was a small elevator, made for sending small loads down a shaft to the generator room in the basement tunnels. He stepped inside, pulled the lever, and sat down.
The ride was boring. LARCO ads played continually, advertising for everything from hardhats to coat hangers. Damian sighed, waiting fro the doors to open. They did, and he stood, peering out. Nobody. He walked out, unzipped his jacket, and pulled out a pistol. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a long container. It was meant to hold medication, but Damian had modified the metal tube to fit onto his gun. He screwed it on to the end of the pistol. If he had to kill anyone, it would at least be silent. He jogged down the tunnel, following signs leading to the reactor where the building produced energy. There was a set of large doors at the end.
Damian turned the handle and carefully pushed the door in. Seeing nobody, he quietly stepped in. Standing ahead, the was an armed guard overseeing an engineer working n the reactor as a scientist typed away at a worktable. Damian groaned inwardly.
That's where I'm stopping for now, but there'll be more next blog. Here's where I drew my inspiration from for the tunnels and the reactor room. Gorgeous, I know.
Friday, March 6, 2015
My First Titled Blog: What is a Character?!
Hello again!
Characters are difficult things, let me tell you. By definition, a character is just a person in a literary work or movie. BUT, they are more than that. How many people have ever cried when their favorite character died, got outraged when the main hero was betrayed, or swooned at the sappy romances in teen novels. Well, that'd be pretty much everyone, I suppose. In my quest to write a novel or two I'm looking at characters, because they're kind of important. Characters are my favorite part of books. I love to read about them, to learn about who they are and what makes them tick. It's almost like 'collecting' each individual, I guess. So, I've researched what makes a character a character.
I read about creating a believable, relatable character online. From what I read, it seems to me that you have to start with a name. I'd disagree, personally, but that's one way to do it. I like to start off with this question: What gap am I filling with this character? If you start with this question, it's easier to develop your character.
For example:
Your scene is a bar. Your protagonist is about to get a big promotion, and has come to have a quick drink as a celebration before going to work. He's decked out in his suit, standing at the bar, chatting with the bartender. Boring. You need something to spice up this scene. What you need is a member of a rival gang. What? I never mentioned that your protagonist works for the Mafia? That's because… he doesn't. But, your new 'rival gang member' doesn't know that. He's about to attack your dude because he LOOKS like a Mafia thug in his slick suit.
Now you have a 'What.' He will attack your protagonist… let's call that guy Bob because it's tiring to continually write 'protagonist.' You also have your 'Why.' Now you need a 'When.' When will this fight take place? How about after your new character walks in and sees Bob talking to the bartender, who is the Godfather's lead informant? Excellent. 'How…' as in, how is this fight going to go down? Well, Bob's going to get his can kicked, obviously. It's a tragic event, and he won't get to be there for his promotion! His boss will be ticked! Oh NO… hahaha. All you need now is the most important part: the 'Who.' Not the band, but the last question (har har har). Well, we know he's a thug. He's suspicious. He's tough. Let's call him… Bruno. It fits his description. Creating a backstory should be easy from there.
So that's a small lesson on what I think it takes to make a character! Here's a pic of my favorite artist, who olds that position because of his wonderful characters: Brandon Sanderson.
Characters are difficult things, let me tell you. By definition, a character is just a person in a literary work or movie. BUT, they are more than that. How many people have ever cried when their favorite character died, got outraged when the main hero was betrayed, or swooned at the sappy romances in teen novels. Well, that'd be pretty much everyone, I suppose. In my quest to write a novel or two I'm looking at characters, because they're kind of important. Characters are my favorite part of books. I love to read about them, to learn about who they are and what makes them tick. It's almost like 'collecting' each individual, I guess. So, I've researched what makes a character a character.
I read about creating a believable, relatable character online. From what I read, it seems to me that you have to start with a name. I'd disagree, personally, but that's one way to do it. I like to start off with this question: What gap am I filling with this character? If you start with this question, it's easier to develop your character.
For example:
Your scene is a bar. Your protagonist is about to get a big promotion, and has come to have a quick drink as a celebration before going to work. He's decked out in his suit, standing at the bar, chatting with the bartender. Boring. You need something to spice up this scene. What you need is a member of a rival gang. What? I never mentioned that your protagonist works for the Mafia? That's because… he doesn't. But, your new 'rival gang member' doesn't know that. He's about to attack your dude because he LOOKS like a Mafia thug in his slick suit.
Now you have a 'What.' He will attack your protagonist… let's call that guy Bob because it's tiring to continually write 'protagonist.' You also have your 'Why.' Now you need a 'When.' When will this fight take place? How about after your new character walks in and sees Bob talking to the bartender, who is the Godfather's lead informant? Excellent. 'How…' as in, how is this fight going to go down? Well, Bob's going to get his can kicked, obviously. It's a tragic event, and he won't get to be there for his promotion! His boss will be ticked! Oh NO… hahaha. All you need now is the most important part: the 'Who.' Not the band, but the last question (har har har). Well, we know he's a thug. He's suspicious. He's tough. Let's call him… Bruno. It fits his description. Creating a backstory should be easy from there.
So that's a small lesson on what I think it takes to make a character! Here's a pic of my favorite artist, who olds that position because of his wonderful characters: Brandon Sanderson.
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