epiphaniests

12/3/06 08:27 pm - Homophobia is WRONG!!!
I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.

I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.

I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.

We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.

I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.

I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.

I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.

I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.

We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.

I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.

I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.

I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.

I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.

I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.

I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I didn’t have to always deal with society hating me.

I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.

I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.


Repost this if you think homophobia is wrong.

It's a shame that people get shunned, and killed because they're 'different'

NOT EDITED



Chapter – death of Jani
The writing group had decided to take a bit of a break. Meeting in the Dr. Z’s bar and grill –while exciting, was not the best of ideas. For one thing it was hard to concentrate over the bucking bronco party game that seemed to be going on downstairs.
To the places credit, they did have a bucking bronco, the group just didn’t realize it was quite so…loud!
The second floor was apparently not as far away as they could have hoped. But at least they were no longer being tortured with the musical stylings of Rod Steward and his revamp of 80’s era songs.
There were nine of them tonight, an absolutely fabulous meet up numbers wise if not exactly a productive get together. The more people there were, the more distractions there were to endure. Not that that was a real problem, it was part of the fun. Not to mention that in times of extreme writers block one could look back to those halcien nights of gossip and steal ruthlessly.
They were taking turns with the drink orders, deciding that it was easier in the crowded bar that one person could make the order and everyone could chip in.
It was Jani’s turn next and she was trying to decide between a diet pepsi or a nice whiskey. She’d had one already and that was usually all she allowed herself, but since the party looked to carry on for a few more hours, she was thinking of caving in.
She took the orders from everyone else and excused herself, moving carefully but purposefully through the sea of people to the crowded bar. Her companions were fascinated by the fact that this small cutie could dash about gracefully, barely seeming to touch the other patrons.Yet make it to the goal in record time. They’d joked about making it a game “who could get through with the least contact to anyone else” Jep knew he’d lose but didn’t care, it was a fun goal.
Little did any of them know, there was another judge assessing there movements. Mainly he was conscerned with little Miss Jani, he had been working up the courage to get in her way, but could gather enough info about her companions to decide that wasn’t a good idea.
He’d made her acquaintance a few weeks ago, when this writing group she was with had begun coming to the bar. Some National writing thingy, claimed to be novels but even he knew novels were longer than 50000 words! Dorks!
Jani had made it to the counter and used her elbows, to get through. She placed them together on the small open space of bar in front of her and gradually slid them apart. If any one looked askance, she smiled her killer smile and gave a toss of her long dark brown hair. She heard cheering from the table at this move. This was her best move, always worked and sometimes got her a free drink and a stool. Tonight it worked, but nothing so glorious as a stool was included in the triumph.
Getting the bar tenders attention proved a lot more harrowing. But she did and ordered and with a deep breath began the trek back. She wasn’t so lucky this time, she had the odd run in an elbow here, hip there. One guy even spilled his drink on her when he (yep, she was sure it was him) ran into her. He claimed it was her

Fault that his drink had spilled. If she had been more careful nothing would have happened.
“Watch where you’re going lady!” he growled at her, holding out his- now empty glass- “See what you done?!” He growled, “you spilled my drink! Yer gonna git me another one.” He leaned down toward her, getting in her face to try and intimidate her.
Jani raised an eyebrow in his direction, smiled prettily and brought the high heel of her pink cowboy boot down on his instep, crushing at least one toe that she could feel. As he bent over in pain, her knee (as if magically controlled) rose to meet his groin. He tumbled away from her, clutching himself. A look of horror and pain mingled on his frozen face.
She flipped her hair, bowed to her table and joined them. Luckily the drinks had arrived. Jani moved to grab her own drink, a large diet pepsi brimming with icy cubes of water. She realized that her shirt sleeve was wet. He must have gotten a fair amount of his drink on her after all. The rest of her left side and a little of her back also seemed moist. Mark, sitting to the left of her offered her a napkin to help pick up some of the extra drink.
“Ugh!” she wrinkled her nose in disgust over the smell that now pervaded her skin. “God! What was he drinking anyway? Scotch? beer? Rancid wine?” She couldn’t tell, it smelled like a weird combination of things.
The table was critiquing her latest foray and how well she’d dealt with it. They were particularly impressed by the disarming smile before the heel to the toe and groin action. They continued to chat and sometimes one or the other would drop out of the conversation to type some words in their laptop.
Jani herself was happy to see she could use this very scene to really flesh our her main characters terror of bar room brawls. It could easily have happened like this, one fell swoop and boom! If there had been a slightly different clientele here, there would have already been a bar room brawl going on.
The sound of crashing bottles broke into her typing, she looked up to see the guy across the table from her flipped backwards out of his chair. Apparently taken down by a flying chair.
Quickly she joined the others in grabbing laptops and drinks and ducking down below the table to relative safety.
“Wow, I was just thinking about how quickly this could turn into a bar room brawl and look!” she was so excited she could barely contain herself.
Legs danced around and they hunkered down when a body crashed across the table above them. They were all talking and laughing. It was a cautious laugh but it was such a rush! None of them could believe that it was happening!
Jani couldn’t tell when the first pain hit. Didn’t know if she caught some flying debris and didn’t notice. Her groan was lost in the sounds above her. The second and third ones as well, the pain doubling her up. The others didn’t seem to notice, probably thought she was just doubled over her laptop trying to get it all down. The fourth had her clutching and the fifth….

Chapter –

Crashing continued, glass, chairs and bodies hitting other bodies, tables and walls. Mark thought one man got thrown down the stairs for his trouble.
The bouncers arrived. There was no mistaking it, suddenly everything was flying in one direction…away from the stairs and into a heap on the floor by the wall. Five minutes tops and the two bouncers were standing in front of a pile of bodies higher than a table and dusting their hands.
The nano-ers climbed out from under their tables, glancing around at the utter destruction that had been done to the bar.
It was a waiter who noticed the body first. The figure was curled up in a position of pain not quite fetal but similar.

“Honey?” the waitress called shaking the form. No response to the motions. She called louder and shook the form harder “Honey! Honey wake up!” she reached for a pulse, realized the body was cool. And proptly screamed.
The scream startled the people at the surrounding tables. One of the bouncers dashed over to see what was going on. The waitress was standing now, turned away from the body. Waving her hands in front of her like she’d just been in something very dirty and couldn’t get it off.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god!” She muttered to herself, tears streaming down her face. She’d seen a lot as a waitress here at Dr. Z’s but nothing like this, no…deaths before!
She was pushed to a crouching position, her head between her legs. The bouncer had seen her start to hyperventilate and dealt with her first. He glanced under the table and “Oh God!” He said, the color draining from his face. He watched only a moment before he knew she was dead. There was just something about the body. Position or maybe the total lack of breathing…could have been anything.
HE almost needed to take the same preventative measures he was using on the waitress. She was better now, breathing regular and sitting up.
“There you go doll.” HE said comfortingly. “Noww you go over there and call the police nice like.” He gave her a push in the direction of the bar phone. Glancing at his co-worker he gestured him over, then turned and crawled to the body, feeling the pulse.
“Nothing we can do for her, but see if we can prevent folks leaving. Susies calling the cops now,” he gestured with his head to the woman at the bar. Her head bent over the phone and her eyes kept flashing in his direction only to turn decidedly away. “You see if you can casally, keep folks from leaving and I’ll see if I can get someone to block this. It might disturb folks.” His buddy Bill, nodded and swallowing hard. He put on a stoic face and casually walked back to keep an eye on everyone. Deliberately turning his back on the scene and engaging folks in a detailed talk about the fight that had happened. If people got to excited, he calmed them down and would challenge a point.
It seemed to be working so, he turned back and began dealing with the body. He’d seen her earlier with a group of folks, something about a writing group. Glancing around the bar, he saw a few of them standing by the table. They were staring at him in astonishment. Aparently they had heard the waitress’s reaction but didn’t know what was going on. One of the girls head was movoing side to side, as if looking for someone. He wondered if she realized.
At that moment her eyes locked on his. She had realized.
She slowly bent down and looked under the table. He could almost hear her spine snap when she straightened upright!
Her mouth was moving, eyes staring forward, “Oh god.” She was repeating, over and over.
The police arrived, and chaos, which had been barely confined erupted. The cops made quick work of the bar patrons and surrounded the scene. One began taking statements and names and one stepped towards the body. The rest held a kind of ragged line.
“Okay now, what happened here?” The police man asked. His badge said Officer Martin Rodgers
“She’s dead,” the bouncer said, “I don’t know what happened, there was a bar fight we broke it up,” he gestured to the other bouncer and himself, “Then Susie noticed the figure under the table and came to check and” he shrugged, “dead.” He shrugged again. “We only touched her to see if she was dead, we didn’t move her or anything.”
The officer was carefully noting down what he said, glancing at the body now and then. He knew he’d have to wait for a detective, but if he could offer clues it would help his career immensely.

REMEMBER WHEN READING THAT THIS IS MOST DEFINATELY NOT EDITED! ENJOY


The road past Ardvark bowling alley was a peaceful beautiful road, trees shading the sidewalk and the buildings still lived in, and retaining their old otherworldly characteristics.
Toku often liked to wander this street to think. Currently she was stuck on her novel, having broken 22k she just could not seem to figure out what to do with it next! Countless word wars had produced words but nothing to move the story forward! Looking back at her last few chapters she’d lost the flow of where her characters were going. Would he, would she, could that boat really lead the way to San Juan like it promised?! Argh! It was a totally ridiculous scene and yet, she didn’t dare remove it, however good sense and her basic ethics demand that she work this nonsense in somehow, lest it becomes just another way to add word count and drains her soul at the same time!
She tugged her purple hoodie closer about her face, the air being much colder than she’d thought when she set out on this walk. The wind was cutting thorugh even these jeans – they were extra thick but even they couldn’t fight it. The winds of November were here with a vengeance!
“Hey, what a great line!” she thought, her mind beginning to churn as new thoughts began forming and reforming. She suddenly knew what to do with those previous clumsy scenes and even better she should be able to get a good couple k more of words out of it. “If this writes as well as it sounds in my head, I won’t even have that much rewriting to do come March!”
A sound like rending metal drifted down from above, reaching her ears as she looked to the store front windows as she walked past.

Kill some one with a budget truck. The two girls are walking, a budget truck passes them, as they come to the corner the budget truck is there and the back door opens,WHOOSH comes the only warning of the large black piano coming out towards them, Toku’s friend jumps to the side and rolls out of the way. A fire hydrant stops her in mid roll, her back taking the brunt of the impact. Toku was slower but also managed to get out of the way, she was thrown to the left as the piano impacted her ankle. She had jumped, but too slowly, this last limb being more in the way than the rest. Still she got clear cowering against the brick building and trying to catch her breath. She watched in horror as the piano careened down the street as happy as a piano that has discovered freedom can travel.
“What?” she panted to her friend, “what the hell, just happened?” She asked.
Her friend stayed against the hydrant, her head tilted watching the show. “I don’t know, “ she breathed back” swallowing hard, “I feel like I just escaped from a Warner Brothers cartoon!”
As if of one mind they both looked upwards as if searching for the safe that surely would descend any moment.”
The piano finally came to a halt with a crash! An ice cream truck innocently approaching the stop light was surprised by the sudden impact of the large instrument of musical accompaniment. With its last lonely arpeggio ringing out through over the busy traffic sounds it went to its death.
Oddly enough, only then did Toku and her friend rend their glances from the piano and ice cream trucks death throws to see if the Budget truck was anywhere in sight.
It was gone, probably already moving before the piano was truly out of its hold. Like a majestic blue and white yacht it dumped its cargo and headed off.
“We’re lucky to be alive!” Yelled Toku in astounishment as she stepped cauciously away from the building she’d been clinging too. Her ankle hurt but it wasn’t broken or even sprained, she was thankful. She didn’t really want to continue hanging around here too much longer. The piano, while ultimately a very silly event could just as easily have proven fatal.
“I don’t think its really that probably we would be killed,” her friend observed. “After all, have you ever tried to control a piano going slowly?” I shook my head, “Well, think of one traveling at the speeds that one was. Add to that the fact that the truck was still moving so, control was pretty iffy on all sides, I think they just wanted to scare us.”
“Well they did a bang up job if you ask me!” Toku growled at her, thin notes of hysteria mixing with the annoyance at the event.
“And I’ll have you know that the whole idea I was working on for my novel,” she said, gesturing wildly, “Pfftpgt!” she gestured at her head and away, “Totally gone! Gone, nothing left!”
Her friend chuckled at her anger, “Just write this in your novel, no one would believe you weren’t writing fiction!” she laughed and gradually Toku joined in.
“You know,” more chuckling, “It would be kind of funny to ad-”
Toku was cut off mid sentence by an event that would be priceless in a cartoon. It would be the last act she participated in.
Her friend watched in surprise and Toku’s body crumbled to the ground. She looked up toward the sky and the top of the large building they were standing in front of then back down to the body of her friend. The last twitches of life fading as she watched.
She looked down, disbelief still on her face, she hadn’t even had the presence of mind to scream. Some one else was, the scream echoed around her, bouncing off the walls and around her brain.
It wasn’t possible! It just wasn’t possible.
“What happened?” A gentleman ran up to her grasping her shoulders and staring at surprise at the scene in front of him. His mouth fell open and he gasped.
She began to giggle, a mad giggle, giddy with horror, then laugh, then finally into tears, sobbing on the mans shoulder as he repeated over and over again.
“A cat should not be able to kill! Even if it is frozen! Even if it was thrown from on high!” he chanted it, till someone came and pulled him away too.
There was nothing they could do for poor Toku, her death would be one of the ones wondered at over the years. Stations would look again at cartoon violence as indicative of society.
No one thought about the cat. One poor lonely black and white cat, named Sylvester.

How did it come to be there? How could it have gone so wrong?

remember not edited yet

Murder most Nano
Where death stalks the forums and each word count challenge could be your last!
Not even a good word count can save you!

Chapter 1- prologue

Marjorie could barely contain her excitement. November was finally here and that meant National Novel Writing Month! Or nano time as the people participating in the project were wont to call it. Nano was something she’d been looking forward to for months now and this year she was all ready!
Her outline was set and reworked, the characters had been mapped out and she just KNEW that this year she’d have a novel suitable for publishing! Oh she was not new to nano, this being her third year, but where she thought the other two were okay, they were definitely not printing material. Even in these loose book publishing times. I mean some of those books that get published these days are simply asinine! No form, no interesting subject and apparently all you had to do was throw in a sexy vampire and you were signed!
[…I’m sorry, a bit off topic there. Back to Marjorie.
Honestly if she didn’t shut up soon about “How great her novel was going to be!” I am going to be forced to add her into my novel to gag her!]

The kick off, last Sunday, was a mass of people, bad pizza, talking over football games at the sportsbar / restaurant, icebreakers, gifts and talking over plots, characters and how you got your screen name. All fodder, Marjorie hoped, for an exciting, vaguely factual look at the life of a nanowrimo writer.
The best part was finding out there were a series of wars going on this year. Some with other people, some with other regional groups and then there were the personal ones like, how many words can you type in 15 minutes? The competitive side was looking at being invoked which just added power to the month. Nothing gets blood and words flowing like a good, lively competition. In fact the rhetoric was already flying fast and furious.
Midnight hit with a bang, and she was off with thousands of other lively desperate writers. The first few word challenges passing quickly, thousands of words being added to the lists in a flurry of commitment! She wondered how long it would last before life took over and people started dropping out like flies?!
She had jokingly made small bets with some of her other regional nanoers and was looking forward to Sunday’s write-in where Simon and Wendy were up for a quick 15 minute word war. Marjorie already suspected that they were competitive like herself. This could be good, I mean maybe the wars and competition would steadily get more and more interesting. She’d just have to wait and see.

This year, murder, mayhem, broken dreams, stalking ex-lovers and a whole batch of weird off the wall events were set to conspire to carry their author through the month and on to fame!. This was going to be sooo cool! Now to just get things working right. She know she can use this one song for the inspiration:
Boy meets Girl, boy trashes Girls heart!
Girl goes to police for help with the stalking terrorizing of the ex-boyfriend then there is the fact that while the police can’t really help there is this hint of a body – mainly a pool of blood where there shouldn’t be one!
Of course there’s that whole question of whether or not there is in fact a body, then of course is there murder? An intense practical joke another way to control her, drive her a little more nuts. I mean really could I make it so that the woman is brought up on charges of murder? There’s a blood pool and perhaps hints of a body. Oh yeah, this would rock! If the ex pricked himself to leave some traces of blood – so when it tested there was actual human blood, then a pool of this viscus material that mimicked blood it would cause the initial thought that someone was massacred in the bed of the girlfriend. It could all be this elaborate control tactic some kind of perverse way to drive her self doubt to the limit. Maybe even get her begging him to take her back as the only good thing in her life. No, ever since he left her life has spiraled into a veritable hell!
Questions to consider:
Was there some reason that he was exerting this type of cruelty? Did she do something to him, on purpose or inadvertainly or is this the true him that is expressing himself in this diabolical form of torment?
Now to the writing:

Helen woke with a start in the night, some weird dream that was already slipping from her memory was the catalyst. She desperately tried to bring her harried breathing back under some type of control. She sat up in bed, palms pressed against her eyelids as if by sheer pressure she could push out whatever horror was there, hiding in her head. Her breathing under control she laid back down, trying to reclaim a softer, sweeter sleep. It eluded her, thoughts of that horrible phone call earlier tonight bogging down whatever nice thoughts tried to bring peace.
She still couldn’t believe how horrible he’d been to her. Dante certainly was living up to his diabolical implications of name. Who did he think he was? She’d put up with his cheating on her, his controlling penchant, his insults. And now he went and did this, breaking up on a phone call when she could hear the breathing of some slut in the background. She wondered if he’d set it up for maximum hurt possibilities. Probably, she was beginning to know his character now. Shame it was too late to help her heart. She couldn’t believe that she actually missed him. Four hours, one tragedy and she already missed his sorry ass! She needed counseling.
She gave up trying to sleep, she was too worked up to even attempt it. To desperate for any other thoughts. Maybe a cup of coffee would work, it wasn’t like she was destined for any sleep tonight anyway!
With a huffy breath, she flung off the covers with an angry gesture she swung herself out of bed, slipping her feet into the soft fluffy slippers she kept beside her bed. She padded across the dark room and through into the living room. The lamp on the table cast a soft, pseudo warm glow upon the furniture. The stark cleanliness of the room was comforting, the soft grays of the furniture glowed invitingly in the golden glow of the lamp. White carpet thick under her slippers was a comfort in itself. She wandered to the kitchen the thought of coffee or maybe some nice coco, even better, that way if she decided to try sleep again later she might stand a chance. The-

I've got it:
Pulling an idea from last year.
MURDER IN NANOWRIMO!
It begins as challenges gone wrong, turns into sabatoge, but when murders start happening - its gone too far!

And this lets me use all the stuff I've already typed as stuff my main character types for her novel!
Yeah recycling.

I'm good, I've got story and...my characters have buggered off in other directions with out me!


I have a few thousand words and the characters are not making this easy.
How difficult is it:
Boy breaks up with girl
boy stalks girl
girl goes to cops
cops can do nothing
girl goes nuts, begins stalking boy
boy goes to cops, cops can do nothing

not hard, not difficult! No, now I've got stigmata of the heart, girl and cop forming relationship. If I'm not careful they'll be in the sack in 5k words!

Well, its that time of year again, when I actually remember to use my live journal.
This year I also have the pleasure of being a co-ML (municipal liason) so...this could be good or bad, stay tuned.

Now wait, its not as depressing or odd as that subject line might indicate.

Well, it was another session of girl gamers, I ran - which was a second for me (only gm'd a game one other time). And man it was a hoot! I was sadly unprepared, well, not as prepared as I wanted to be.
But we had a fabulous time, our intrepid band of heroines going up against the self-styled 'King of the Sky', who had just stolen the top of Big Ben.

With the help of some men from the Air Circus, a contact at Scotland Yard, a Scottish scientist, some retired dogfighting aces and one or more very helpful butlers our heroins jumped or flew bravely into what would become their very sad deaths.

As a GM it was an odd feeling to look out over your game and see...the deaths of all the characters yawning like a great black chasm before you! What is a GM to do? Does she have the henchman cast them screaming without packs into the blue void of the sky? Does she have the accomplices attack and destroy the dirigible that is carrying them? No, these are all good, instead I drag them, tied, confused and kick them over the edge of a coliseum in the bad guys hideout and make them duke it out with a Minotaur, a Bull headed guy and a minotaur with lobster claws (yes, I panicked).

Thank you for allowing me to hand you death...it was fun!

I did it! The final words to complete my november novel have been typed. I have typed over 50,000 words in just one month.

Okay: 50,262 words to be exact.

She was probably newly twenty-one, just finding a place to hang, call her own. First drink of life leads inevitably to death. But such a death, her body was sprawled in a pool of light from the aged street lamp. There was a dreamy quality about it, like all the bones had just disappeared and this was how the skin and sinew landed. There was no fear around the eyes, no horror for what would happen. In fact no bruises or wounds that I could see except…except…
I took out a pencil from my coat pocket, using it to push down the collar of her black turtleneck to view the neck underneath. An unearthly white, pearl like skin, blemished only by two bloody punctures to the side of her jugular.
I could feel myself becoming involved, even as the crime scene teams did their work Photographing, collecting like so many worker bees at the behest of their queen, bringing the nectar to make the honey of their life. So did they package up this flower to give me purpose? It’s a sad way to live. A vulture in a bad suit.
“Hermes Secret my ass!” snorted my partner, coming up behind me. It was my first warning he’d arrived.
I greeted him with a nod and a cigarette, “Do you think it’s after the myth or the jeweler?” I asked lighting my cigarette and passing the lighter to him. He shrugged, lit his cigarette and nodded his head towards the pool of water and the body disappearing into the ambulance.
“I don’t know Joe,” I sighed beginning the rundown, “Young girl, didn’t look scared, or like there’d been a struggle. Only wound I could see were two bloody punctures on the right side of her neck. We’ll have to see what the techs find.” Joe nodded and circled the scene. His eagle eyes scaring clues out of the shadows. It didn’t help much, there wasn’t much to scare.
“Very clean murder,” was all he said.
“Yeah,” I sighed, I felt tired “no prints, no witnesses, and no suspects…the usual” I grinned. I surveyed the crowd about 20 strong – word got out to the clubs and then it was everybody to the newest attraction. Like some sick form of performance art; of course now that the main attraction had been packed away the crowd was fading. The shadows subsuming them back into its shelter of darkness.
He’s here.

I sighed rubbing coarsened fingers over my large nose. Seems every now and again life comes up behind you, taps on your shoulder. Just when you turn around, death slugs you. Apparently everything is truly a competition these days.
I crouched down, felt the moisture of the evening soak through old shoes roughened by the street. It was an afterthought that would haunt me later.
I bet his shoes aren’t wet.


[hope this reads better - it always makes sense in the mind, just sometimes not on paper]

Chapter one

I should’ve had the tuna sandwich.
The body lay in the alley behind the gyrating dive of a club called “Hermes Secret”. Just lay there like so much flotsam washed up on the nearby beach. Rain pooling along side her young skin, reflecting more life then her dead almond eyes.
Shit.
All I’m thinking about is a sandwich.
I sighed rubbing coarsened fingers over a large nose. Seems every now and again life comes up behind you, taps on your shoulder. Just when you turn around, death slugs you. It seems everything is truly competition these days.
I crouched down, felt the moisture of the evening soak through old shoes roughened by the street. It was an afterthought that would haunt me later.
His shoes weren’t wet.

Well I'm off to a lovely start, I have no idea how long this one will go for.
But at first typing I've 1,295 Words and a title: The Myth of Man. I've decided to attempt the Robot killer mistaken for a supernatural freak one.

We'll see, wish me luck.
I hope to post snippets at least once a week but promise nothing.

I've been working on characters, synopsis, story line possibilities and it all comes down to the same thing...
less than half an hour before free form is the best option.
tick
tock
tick
tock

Well, there are so many options and I've only a bit of time left to decide there's the:
A. Romance novel with the winery heiress (can be written either current or past time line)
B. Hamlet as a hard-boiled novel
C. Erotic novel - hey why not. Theory being at least someone is getting some
D. Murder mystery - AI is mistaken for supernatural creature as cop tries to solve heineous crimes.
E. Write a story based around the song: The Case Continues by Ute Lemper
Ah the choices

I've been good, I've updated my profile (after creating a new one since I can't remember how to get into the old one.) Now I just need to actually figure out what I'm writing about...crap!