4.6.19 - Excerpts

Drill Sergeant Black leaned against the hatch. Her cap hung low over her nose, muscular arms rippled with tattoos. “This isn’t the place for vendettas, Recruit,” she said in a flattened tone.

“Yes ma’am. Sergeant Blue’s orders were to knock my opponent out. Took me longer to get it done. Won’t happen again.” Crash kept his gaze fixed.

Her chin slightly lifted, revealing a hint at a smirk. “See that it doesn’t,” she ordered. “You showed leadership there,” Black added.

“I didn’t lead, ma’am. None of them are responsible for what happened, just me.”

The lip of Black’s cap rose, revealing sharp honey-brown eyes. “Leadership is keeping soldiers out of a fight they can’t win and shouldn’t be in.”

Crash chuckled and instantly regretted it. He winced.

“Probably a rib fracture, concussion. Is it true Earthborn take months to heal from bone breaks?”

He nodded, the blurs became clearer. “Without medical attention, yeah. Meds drop it to a few days.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“How long do you take to heal?”

Starnes gauged his balance. “Nowhere near as long,” he grinned. “Catch you later, Crash.”

Wendy adjusted her trajectory to where the Skyrunner would be with one second before the ship broke the light barrier. With two seconds left, she cut the engines. Her fighter again spun 180 degrees, sliding sideways into the open hangar bay. “NOW!” She kicked open the landing gear and full thrust, neutralizing momentum right as the carrier reached slip-stream entry.

4.3.19 - Excerpts, progress, words play

I think I’m going to start including excerpts to start these. Maybe do progress at the bottom? Publish these from time to time while I work through GRv4.

The first humans killed with their hands. The last will, too.
War is two things: Winning and dying. The second is easy, the former, not.

Every day of recovery
there’s a new insight,
a new limitation to test,
a nerve
newly waking up like
kindling over chilled
but ready firewood
healing pangs

42
is the answer to
life
the universe
everything
thank you,
Mr. Adams

42
is the number of
days
I hold you in
my arms again
thank you,
Universe

4.1.19 - Recovery Day 4 & Excerpts

He could sit here all night, pay his tab, and only the bartender and bouncer would speak to him. Neither would swear knowing Glitch, if pressed. His mind drifted between watching the band and nursing his drink. With two pungent tokes, his heart rate slowed as vape clouds mingled into dive bar haze. He wrapped himself in a comforting blanket of anonymity and bourbon.

Days one through three were rough. Managing pain, resting, and recovering mobility is a bit of work. Thankfully, I have a great support group. I am grateful and lucky.

Don’t know how I’ll ever repay them, but I hope to find a way.

Count the staples

Recovery means feeling like glass
Trembling at the fear of breaking
From every falling drop of rain
Fresh with the painful truths
Of how brittle we feel
When it’s time to heal

UNADJUSTEDNONRAW_thumb_b34.jpg

Recover

This’ll be the first in a series of progress pictures over the next few years.


3.28.19 - Bilateral Reconstruction

Tht’s a good name for something sci-fi.

That could be the meds.

Also.

That. Really. Hurt.

That really hurt.

It was worse than the doctor thought. Not just the patella but the ligaments to either side.

I’ll get a phone call tomorrow about the results and recovery.

For now, I’m glad it’s done.

I want to recover.

But I’m scared of how long it could potentially take.

But I want to recover. I want this to be the low point. It gets better from here.

I get better, from here.

“Wants”

I want to write
a story I can be proud of.
I want to write a story that
deserves to be heard.
I want to be
successful.
I want to scream into the void,
and hear a scream back,
for once.
I want you to reach out.

I know you’re out there.
I miss you.
I want to find out if I can finish what I start.

3.28.19 - Progress Update and Excerpt

So… personal progress first: I’m having surgery tomorrow to repair the ruptured patellar tendon in my left (formerly the good) knee.. This is not how I wanted to start my spring break, but I’m trying to look at it positively. At least I’ll have close to ten straight days to recover before I have to go back to work. Hopefully within a few weeks I’ll be cleared for physical therapy and be back in the gym shortly thereafter. It’s not going to be easy, but I know I’m going to be so grateful to be back on track, working on making myself better. The gym has been my outlet for depression over the past few years. And I can’t wait to get back.

But while I’ve been on injured reserve, I finished the third draft of Gravity’s Reach, the first book in this saga I dream of getting published. Draft One came in at around 200,000 words. Draft Two knocked that down to 140,000. Draft Three got me to under the red line of 120,000, which is what I needed to get published. So I’ve gone ahead and done a few housekeeping things like creating actual chapter breaks and a table of contents. Ran spell check a few times (for what small amount of good that does), and now I’m starting Draft Four, in which I hopefully tighten everything together and make it something someone other than myself would want to read.

The good news? I’ve got ten days to dive into it, with nothing but rotating ice packs and strong medications to keep me company. Well, there’s the dog. He’ll be around.

Random wonderings when you’re writing science fiction:

People know that Sol is another name for the Sun, right?


Crash pressed against the cold window, took in the soft glow of Earth, and wondered if he would see home again.

How’s that for an opening sentence?