Drunken Raine's Escape

New Site

2011-01-11T11:17:00.000-06:00

I have a new site.

http://justindherd.net

Worldbuilding in Slow Motion

2010-02-08T08:37:00.003-06:00

So now that I finished ViNoWriMo (check out keypub.net for more information), I'm stuck in the position that I don't want to touch that novel until the March 14th winners are announced. I would love to start querying, but The Faithful is currently being read by my fiance, with the ending of the novel up in the air. I can't quite be shopping it about if I don't even know what the length or the ending will be.

I have two projects I can work on. I can work on my next novel, which is set in a desert wasteland on the side of a cliff, or rework my first novel, Between the Shadows. I'm stuck in between new ideas for both of these and can't quite decide which way I'm leaning.

On one hand, I have a brand new novel with a new place that I can expand on and feel creatively fulfilled. On the other, I have an old property that I'm giving a fresh breath of life. The old story felt empty, amorphous. With the new ideas I have, it changes so much of the original work that there is no way to keep the original manuscript and build off of it. I now have two more novels under my belt, so many lessons I've learned that it just seems like a flawed concept to keep going back to try and fix the errors in it.

Maybe after I'm done I'll find that the two works aren't entirely dissimilar, but I'd hate to read that old manuscript and get lost in that version of the world and lose what I had been thinking about. It truly is a reimagining where I'm going with it, not just another run through with edits to try and correct fundamental problems with the manuscript.

Here I am, stuck between two projects, each with its own creative possibilities.

I'll let you know where I'm going.

I'm here, I swears.

2009-12-17T13:31:00.003-06:00

It's been awhile. I'm not ignoring you, I swear, blog of mine. Well, I kinda am. I used to have a program that came with my laptop that allowed me to just type a post and it would do it without logging in, but I haven't been able to find it online again.

I'm nearing the end of my re-imagining of my second novel. I just hit my 15k goal and am pushing past it. Listening to short-story podcasts, rocking out to several different bands, and overall spending most of my unemployment searching for retail managerial jobs and writing like crazy.

Is it just me or did this Christmas sneak up on everyone? It hasn't really felt like it's winter here in Oklahoma. There's been a couple ice days, but nothing really that big. No snow, some rain, and maybe three days that have dipped below 32 degrees. Kinda weak.

If you want to jump onto some of those short-story podcasts, I've been enjoying the following:

Podcastle - Fantasy (http://podcastle.org/)

Pseudopod - Horror (http://pseudopod.org/)

Escape Pod - Science Fiction (http://escapepod.org/)

Drabblecast - Weird Stuff (http://web.me.com/normsherman/Site/Podcast/Podcast.html)

Knee Deep in Words

2009-04-16T12:57:00.001-05:00

I think it's interesting that in the past two weeks I have gotten the bug to write words. That, with the latest events of my life, I'm now abuzz with the need to write. To finish my second novel, to twist, warp it, into something that exists, even if it's not good.

I just passed 275 pages into the novel, while I have no idea how long it's going to be, what twists it will take. The truth about the novel is that I have the general feeling of where it will go, but this was originally a two book series that I was trying to stretch out to three.

The problem came with that I had introduced too many characters and gods and a ton of events and characters I'd have to cut away that I froze for six months on what to do next. Eventually, I realized I should just push, wrap all my ideas into a workable project and then dissect it and bring it all about. Maybe it's the wrong way to go about it, but it's what works.

But now that I've thrown myself head first into it, I am losing a bit of the control - some of the events are falling away so that my ending is in flux. I'm not sure what it will come out to be, whether or not they'll end in 20k/30k or even 50k words. I'm enjoying it thus far, even if it is a bit middling right now.

Fifty thousand words in and no idea where to stop.

Wish me luck!

Heartbreaking . . .

2008-12-12T02:45:00.003-06:00

Kylie from Connecticut by Ben Folds
It's just a thought
But where did it come from?
What does she do with it
If it comes back?
A note from his assistant
There by the telephone
She sees it again
As she turns out the light

Kylie is calling from Connecticut
She says you've got the number
It said:
Kylie is calling from Connecticut
It's there on her mind
As she closes her eyes

She believes
There are things you should know about
When you've been married for
Thirty-five years
And her heart belongs to a man
That she hadn't seen since
A magical night when the children were small

Kylie is calling from Connecticut
She says you've got the number
It said:
Kylie is calling from Connecticut
It's back on her mind
As she closes her eyes

Kylie is calling from Connecticut
It's probably nothing
Yeah, nothing at all
But
Kylie is calling from Connecticut
It's all coming back
As she's reading old letters
That she hid in the closest
With the pictures she'd cherished
That she kept to herself
For a good thirty years
As she closes her eyes

Link (Live performance)

There's just so much that can be pulled from the lyrics, as simple as they are. I can totally imagine this woman's life and circumstances that brought her to this place, laying in bed and silently worrying about "Kylie." A name from the past she had forgotten about for "a good thirty years" until this note came up. And that she would say nothing about it to her husband, a man she hadn't known since the children were young. But Kylie is that person that he always loved, never forgot and that it's still there, hidden amongst all the years that had passed.

Simple phrases bring about the most complex ideas. The melody is amazing and I cannot escape it. As time passes, it just seems to be building the images and lives of these people. It's almost an unofficial sequel to his songs The Last Polka and Missing the War from Ben Folds Five days, which deals with the failing marriage of these two people. As if they were neither strong enough to break away from each other and years later are miserable in their own rights, despite her love for him and has grown to depend on him. He's a comfort to her, despite her not knowing who he is anymore. He's there and that's all she really has now that the kids have left.

It's even grown since I began to write this post.

What do you guys think about it?

In the search of focus . . .

2008-11-12T10:47:00.002-06:00

I'm sitting here, listening to music (which is now muted because Pandora can't seem to find something I actually want to listen to), watching History Channel that is a show on comedy, reading the Authoress's new e-book "Agent Demystified" and am trying to write my current novel right now.

What I need . . . is focus.

It doesn't help that when I sit down and try to write that I'm so out of practice over the last several months that I end up writing a few sentences and then moving onto something completely different. Or I get up and walk away. I just can't seem to keep myself focused.

That being said, I've written several pages today. Which is several more than I have in the past month. Perhaps two. Is that a bad thing? Maybe. But I'm trying to keep myself down and working.

Now to turn off Pandora, close this, Agent Demystified, let Greg Behrendt finish his comedy special, turn off the TV, and grab my mp3 player so I can actually keep focused.

Maybe by the end of today I can actually hit two hundred pages. Only . . . twenty-two pages to go.

------------------------

Update: Focus did not come.

Back on Track?

2008-10-15T16:25:00.002-05:00

Hey everyone . . . it's been a little bit. As you can see by the post below, I'm still trying my hand at the whole writing bit. I think I'm going to be finally getting back on track with the whole writing. Hopefully it'll get me back into my novel. My girlfriend (Miss Guilt in Black Panties) keeps telling me that I'll have it done by the end of the year - we'll see.

I really do hope I get it done. There are a couple of factors that are falling into the not category. One is that the holiday season is rapidly approaching (actually starting with this week)which means that dozens of games are releasing in the next month and a half - which means I'll be exceptionally busy at work which takes up most of my days. Plus I've been out of it for quite some time so hopefully I'll be able to ricochet back from my writing slump.

On the upside, however, I did just get a new laptop from Dell that will allow me to write whenever and wherever I feel. The last is the most important. I just can't seem to write when I'm at home, despite getting a two-bedroom apartment precisely for a writing/reading room. Oh well. Now I have my new laptop, I'll be able to write wherever, as long as I have some music to help inspire me and give me a rhythm to write to.

On a similar note, the Authoress is having a Secret Agent contest in which yours truly has been entered as Post 43. Please leave some good feedback for me. It is the first 250 words from my first novel, which Joe Keck is reading and editing for me currently, so it'll most likely be in very rough (and bleeding) shape when I get it back, but it needs it.

Until next time.

Justin

Stinging with a Purpose

2008-10-15T14:58:00.007-05:00

Marise's hands stung as she silently walked down the street. No, stung was not the right word. Burned. They burned with a purpose she had not known she'd had an hour before. She had suspected it, something lingering in the shadows just beyond the periphery of her vision. This feeling though was a confirmation of all that she had suspected. There was a purpose for her art. And that felt good, this recognition.

The sleeve of her red jacket grazed the skin, lighting it afire. Every time something touched it, it renewed her sense of the larger picture. Her eyes had been opened and they now scanned the environment with a renewed interest she had long forgotten. Darkened alleyways were more alive with steam rising off the ground in droves. Hidden people revealed themselves to her now.

She had no place left to return to, so she threw herself into the darkness, becoming reborn in that murk and decay into something more. A figurehead. Her purpose would be revealed soon enough.
-------------------------
As the underground released him from its grip, Pryor stood triumphantly in the dank air of the above. Not much had changed in the years since his last visit. He was not one to suffer the pains of a growing population. While the area had exploded in size, he could immediately tell that the place still was rife with moral decay. There had to be some way to awaken these poor slobs. To create something more in their petty lives.

And then she emerged from the darkness, making her way triumphantly straight into his arms. There she was. He had found his figurehead.

. . .

2008-09-17T16:34:00.005-05:00

The light faltered as she crumpled to the ground. He had been called quite involuntarily. The hard clapping of feet against the pavement receeded quickly off into the distance. In the flash of darkness, a figure stood there with his violet eyes glowing.

He held her, the warm liquid pouring from her side. It never occurred to him to avoid it, and his hand slipped into the sticky substance, dark and crimson. He kept his eyes trained on her face and tried to keep himself composed. On the surface, his face was stiff as he revealed himself to her.

Recognition spread across her face, remembering him from a distant memory. Her features contorted, unable to bring forth the recollection. Mascara streaked her face, marking her for the remainder of her life.

"I'm dying. . ."

"Yes."

She choked on some of her fluids and lost herself in a spasm of coughing. He pulled her to his chest and did his best to calm her down. It wasn't working.

After a minute, she quieted down. She looked up at him with large eyes and asked him the most simple question. The most blatant one. She barely managed to get it out, but it rang clear and true in his ears, "Where am I going?"

He looked down at her and remembered when she was young and full of life. Not this ghost of a woman he saw before him now, her life bleeding out onto the grimy pavement. Despite his commands, tears began to slide down his cheeks. He wanted to comfort her. He really wanted to. But he couldn't bring himself to lie to her like he had lied to so many before her. He pulled her close and whispered, "I don't know."

Going in the Opposite Way of Writing

2008-09-17T16:15:00.002-05:00

Sometimes life just breaks down the door, grabs you, and pulls you out on a journey that ignores your pitiful screams of "WAIT!" and "I'm not ready yet!" And that's wher I've found myself for the last month.

For those of you not privy to the events of the past month, I've been promoted to the Store Manager of a (not-so-local) GameCrazy store. In this exodus to this store in Lawton (roughly an hour and a half away), I've had to move myself all the way there and take over a store that has been without a store manager for the last month (which is when I got the store but as held back at my old store until certain things got taken care of). Now I've taken over the store and am in the process of putting in a filing system and fixing the way they do paperwork.

What does all this mean?

I have had no time to write. I'm moving up in my company, but stalling out on my actual passion. Add to the fact that my laptop was stolen about a month ago and am now restricted to writing on random computers or at home on my desktop where there's so much shit to do that I cannot seem to focus on the writing at hand. I need to re-immerse myself in the world and will do my best to get back into the habit. Maybe I'll finish this book by the end of the year.

God I hope so.

Between the Shadows, Prologue

2008-08-06T15:01:00.013-05:00

Two trains and fifteen minutes ago, Daniel Evans’ life was perfect.

He slid the door to the final compartment open. Greeted with scattered faces – uncaring and bland, he sighed. Nothing new. Thin fluorescent lights mounted to the roof of the compartment left little light to expel any shadow trying to invade.

A light at the back of the car flickered slightly. Shadows played on each person’s face, obscuring their features and transforming them into something else.

Something less than human.

He shivered slightly and averted his eyes.

He pushed past several men dressed in identical black suits – dirty carbon copies of himself. The suits were a staple of their position as Prefects. At least that’s what he used to be. The Wretched were after him now.

The slight rocking of the car on the tracks left a rumble growing and faltering with each new track crossed. He stared at the ground, trying to keep from focusing on the task at hand.

He wasn’t succeeding.

Seventeen minutes ago, Daniel had been a functioning member of society. This latest train – the third and last in his short train-jumping career – careened toward its next stop. He suspected he had already passed the thin line of safety, impossible to detect but all too noticeable in hindsight.

There was little time to escape from their grasp. Running was the only option. Running, coupled with a blind hope of finding somewhere safe to hide, didn’t give him much to go on. Exaggerated stories and water cooler discussion guided him through the underworld of the city.

The intercom above crackled to life. “Next stop . . .” Silence.

On any other day, the slight pause would have gone unnoticed. However, to a man on the run, that pause spelled out his ultimate capture. Standing up, Daniel scanned the train for any quick exits.

“Central Square,” the announcer stated, in a calm and soothing voice. A click signaled the end of the announcement. Daniel breathed a sigh of relief.

Feeling the train slow down, Daniel’s breath caught in his chest. As the train ground to a halt and the doors started to open, he felt a knot in his stomach tighten.

Time came to a standstill. In those fleeting moments, the doors seemed stuck in place, unwilling to budge for any man. Finally, they broke free of what had held them.

Before they opened completely, Daniel squeezed through the narrow gap and began to fight against the river of pale businessmen. An area opened up in the middle of the station, near an old dried-up fountain, as the commuters flooded into the train.

The fountain was in clear view of the cameras but covered by light. Shades of green fell through the tinted glass above. It was oddly decorative for the rest of the city, with ornate carvings surrounding its base and a beautiful woman at its center, her hair flowing behind her in the wind. Now the fountain was dry, deemed unnecessary and wasteful. The fountain had not faired well with the passage of time. Its once gleaming image had shifted to a dirty black, like a lump of coal that spreads its filth to anyone who so much as brushed up against it.

Daniel wrestled himself free from the Prefects, while they filed into the train, on their way to their respective jobs. The doors slid shut behind him. Something was wrong. The station was too clear.

Daniel turned back to the train and watched in dismay as it disappeared into the darkness. On cue, the lights above the platform shut off.

The knot in his stomach vaulted back. In an instant, it tightened into an unbearable grip, making him want to throw up. His joints seized and a cry escaped his lips. The pain was gone as quickly as it had come, but a dull ache replaced it moments later.

He had stepped right into their trap.

A single open door offered salvation. The figure of a man stood there, waiting. Daniel sprinted toward the door, his only hope rested on the fleeting notion that the man would help him.

The Wretched slowly appeared on the platform. Their breaths heaved as they waited for the other lights to shut off. The clicking of their claws echoed off the stone walls, mixing with their wet breaths, twisting into an eerie harmony. They anticipated the brief chase . . . anticipated the takedown.

Daniel had never heard something breathe with so much fluid in its lungs. The exhalations came out in gurgles, as if the Wretched were drowning in their own fluids. Yet they thrived. He froze as the fear washed over him. They had been following him the entire time.

For a moment, Daniel thought he should’ve given up. Things would’ve been so much easier. Too late now - all there was left to do was run.

Click.

Another light went off.

Darkness nipped at his heels, toying with him, as it brought the Wretched that much closer.

Click.

Darkness.

Thrown forward, Daniel slammed into the pavement as a thud filled the humid air. The claws of an overzealous Wretch tore into his skin. The breathing of the approaching Wretched had intensified to the point of near hyperventilation.

Pain shot through Daniel’s chest as the air ejected from his lungs. His face ached, blood flowed into his mouth. He spat without much force, the mixture of blood and saliva landing right in front of him. Then regretted it a moment later. Without hesitation, his face slammed into the ground once more.

“Oh god . . .” Daniel managed to moan as the Wretched swarmed around him. Looking toward the last source of light, Daniel saw the single beam falter as the door slid shut.

They’re always watching, Daniel thought as the hunters smothered him with their hot and sinewy bodies.

Screams filled the air in the next moment.

“Twenty-three minutes,” a man noted, his voice lost amongst the screams. A metallic snap followed right after. “Impressive run, Evans. Too bad it ended a bit too quickly. I was starting to have fun.”

Broken Illusions

2008-07-27T08:45:00.006-05:00

She kissed like someone who was trying to remind herself that she did in fact love this man once. In the extended moments the kiss lingered on their lips, each person could tell that it was all over. The love had dried up long ago and every excuse that plagued their brain just made them more and more miserable. It was a fitting tribute to a brief life together that had lived long beyond its time.

She stared at him with gentle eyes that betrayed her true intent, "I'm sorry . . ."

"You don't have to be," he replied, already reducing her to a stranger once again, "it was bound to happen." He turned his back on the tears already sliding down her face. He pushed himself forward and out the door, unwilling to let her see the inner turmoil bubbling up to the surface. Without turning back, he said, "You can have anything you like. Just don't be here when I get back."

And with that, he was gone.

Music Meme

2008-07-18T09:56:00.003-05:00

Here's a meme within a meme from Atomic Zebra's blog.

Instructions:
1. Open your music library (iTunes, winamp, media player, iPod, whatever) [I made an empty playlist in Windows Media Player, then drug the entire "My Music" folder into it.}
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question below, type the song that’s playing
5. New question — press the next button
6. Don’t lie and try to pretend you’re cool

* Opening credits: Feed Us by Serj Tankian
So I never have really listened to this CD but it definitely has a driving guitar riff that makes me like it as an opener.

* Waking up: We Come Out at Night by Avenged Sevenfold
The title definitely focuses on what time I would wake up, but I'm not much for Avenged's "singing" at this point in their career. The guitars once again and the double bass drum pedal would definitely get me up and going.

* First day at school: DMV by Shane Koyczan
"I'm a resonable guy, but I've just experienced some very unreasonable things."
Perfect for the feeling of "pointlessness" at the first day at school and trying to impress everyone that the summer did so much for you and you're someone new, but knowing that they only remember the old you.

* Falling in love: The Road I'm On by 3 Doors Down
Who knew that falling in love was going to be like feeling helpless and lost. But hey, it's the same road we're on... If this is what falling in love is like, I dread what breaking up is going to be like.

* Breaking up: Lyndon (Movement III) by Dredg
I love this freaking band. The song has no vocals but is a hopeful song, that this is not the end. This band is what you'd call art rock, which seems an interesting conundrum but they pull it off. As the song moves on, it gets harder, more driving, and more complex. It's a perfect song for moving on and up in the world.

* Prom: My Apologies by The Hush Sound
It works in its own way. It's about remember the past and wondering why you've held on when everyone else has moved on. But you've made mistakes and who can say that prom hasn't been a fucked night in some way or another.

* Life’s okay: How Can I Hold On by Stabbing Westward
I doubt anyone would think this title spells out a way to say that "Life's Okay." As the song starts, you find out that he's lost his love and he's still waiting, feeling nothing but cold and bitter resentment. Something tells me that life is not going to be okay if you're listening to this song.

* Mental breakdown: Love Song (Unplugged) by Korn
"Love song for the dear departed. Headstone for the dear departed. Head trip for the mortal earthbound. One sip of the blood I've found."
Yeah, this is definitely a breakdown. Guess we're losing ourselves even more than we thought.

* Driving: The Wretched (Live) by Nine Inch Nails
The driving beat behind it and the piano help moves you forward. A perfect driving song that has you nodding your head with the beat.

* Flashback: The Bridge by The Knife
Once again another instrumental track that definitely lends itself to a flashback. Synth keyboard and driving beats will definitely leave you nostalgic for the old new wave days.

* Getting back together: Only You by Portishead
"It's only you who can tell me apart and it's only you who can turn my wooden heart . . ."
Although the music lends itself to sadness, their something bitter sweet with the return of a lost one. The lyrics are perfect and it's easy to lose yourself in it.

* Wedding: The Long Run by the Eagles
What do you guys think? It could work, but it's not really the wedding song. Maybe the initial love song, but I don't think it'd work that well for the whole wedding bonding song.

* Birth of child: The Egg and You (from Cowboy Bebop) by the Seatbelts
Hilarious name for the birth of the child. It's a jazzy tune that makes me happy in my central area. It's upbeat and sounds like the performers are having a blast playing it.

* Final battle: Paranoid Eyes by Pink Floyd
Not exactly a driving anthem to battle to the death. In fact, it's a bad anthem to die to as it keeps talking about how much of a coward you are.

* Death scene: Unprotected Sex With Multiple Partners by Against Me!
This would have been a much better final battle fight song that anything else. I guess I'm going to go out with a blast. The song has nothing to do with the title, but still it's a great title to go out to.

* End credits: Afterthoughts by Godhead
Like we entered this movie, with powerful beats and a driving score . . . we're pulled out of this misery in the same way.

"Sifting through the ashes of my life, I thought I found the one that I could always trust. You've taken everything and left me here with nothing. And I don't believe that I, could ever be with you. And I don't believe that we, could ever be together."

Somehow I think most of these songs were off the mark by one, but that's what you get when the local geek just shuffles your music and gives you the random shit it chooses.

Enjoy kids.

Just an Escape

2008-06-14T11:07:00.003-05:00

Rain pelted the sidewalk and the surrounding buildings. Sheets of white blinded Raine as he moved diligently forward. Despite his determination, the streets had been abandoned long ago. Tonight was not safe and even though it was left unspoken, it was understood by the masses to stay locked indoors. Not by any tangible feeling, but something simply floating in the air.

Light poured over him as he passed under a streetlight, illuminating the rain and giving it shape. At first it was nothing more than a shadow. A mere optical illusion, but as Raine squinted his eyes, he realized it was much more than that. His steps, hollow against the roar of the rain, halted immediately and he watched as the form solidified and the figure of a woman stepped from between the rain. Long blue hair swirled and twisted with the rain, perfectly highlighting the round face of a teenage girl. Her eyes, however, revealed centuries of knowledge and patience.

"Hello Raine. It's about time we met."