Running (NaNoWriMo Practice 2)


During the month of October I will be putting myself through writing exercises that I shall coin with the name freewriting.  I am doing these exercises to try and get my mind to just write without worry or concern as I psych myself up for this years National Novel Writers Month event.  Then I will post my writing on here for you to check out.  Enjoy!

Azel ran.  The loose cloth of his black outfit whipped out behind him much the same as the long locks of his blonde hair.  Blood pumped with each racing step he took and his heart felt like exploding.

The night was coming alive with more and more shrieks every minute and he saw and felt more and more shadows racing around corners and in between buildings the further he went.  Whoever opened up the door for these monsters forgot to close the damn thing.  Azel knew he was a good hunter, but this was too much even for him.  There were hundreds.

So, he ran on.  Buildings continued to race past in shadowy blurs that hid the beasts that pursued him.  He had just taken a sharp turn down a side passage, trying to shake the monsters off, when he saw someone step out of a doorway.

“In here now, you idiot.”

He couldn’t see the person clearly, but the voice left little doubt in his mind.

Oh, great.

Still he darted into the door the shadow held open without question.  The room was empty except for a simple bed and a table with a lantern resting on it.  His muscles and chest burned with exhaustion and he collapsed on the bed.  He turned his head as has rescuer closed the door, and the light from the lantern confirmed the identity of his twin.

“Cale, you saved my ass,” he wheezed out.

“Isn’t that how it always how it goes?”

Cale walked over and sat down next to Azel on the bed.

“But I guess that’s what brothers are for?  Tell me what the hell you did.”

Azel took a deep breath and sat up.

“It was just a hunt.  Some demon was prowling the shadows and I cut it down.  Next thing you know, I have hundreds of the bastards chasing me through the city.  I think someone opened a gate and left it open.”

Cale gave a wry laugh.  “That’s great.  Any idea what we should do now.”

Azel thought for a minute.  They could wait out the night here in the hovel they were holed up in, but each minute they waited risked the chance of ordinary citizens being hurt or killed by the demons.  No their best shot at ending this quickly lied with making their way back to their temple and meeting up with rest of their order.

“We need to get back to father,” Azel answered.  “Him and the rest of the Night Guardians can help us end this tonight.”

“I knew you were going to say that, but damn,” Cale said with a sigh.  He ran a hand through the same blonde hair that Azel had and looked at his twin.  “Alright, what’s the plan?”

“We take to the roofs.  We’ll be out in the open, but we’ll be able to see the monster’s coming.”

Cale nodded in understanding.  “Are you rested enough to get going again?

“I’ll be fine, besides we haven’t any time to waste,” he said as he rose from the bed.  “Are you ready, brother?”

“I am, let’s go.”

They walked to the door took a check of gear and armor, gave each other one last nod, then with one calm deep breath, Azel kicked the door open.


Shadows (NaNoWriMo Practice 1)


During the month of October I will be putting myself through writing exercises that I shall coin with the name freewriting.  I am doing these exercises to try and get my mind to just write without worry or concern as I psych myself up for this years National Novel Writers Month event.  Then I will post my writing on here for you to check out.  Enjoy!

He felt the aberration watching him.  It was hiding in his shadows.  The very shadows that he guarded and was meant to keep safe.  Damn the bastard that let the thing loose.  How many souls had it consumed while it was hiding there?  He shook his head.  It didn’t matter whether it was one or a hundred.  He would finish it.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He focused on his connection with the shadows and willed his own shadow to reach out to the murky pool the beast hid in.  He visualized the shaded hands reaching across the well lit alley and grabbing hold of the shadow pit.

What happened next never got old.  He felt his shadow seize it and a terrible shriek rent the air, chilling blood and sense.  He pulled and a ripping noise added it’s own terrible tone to the cacophony.  The monster that was pulled from the shadows was even darker than his hiding place and it the energy of the consumed souls dripped from its jagged mouth and claws.

Once he had it out, the shriek subsided and the monster seemed to grin wickedly at him.  Then it lunged.

“Nice try,” he whispered, “but these are my shadows now.

He focused his mind and body, fell back into his own shadows and reappeared behind the beast.  He leaped forward drawing a dagger from the sheath on his back and grabbed the beast from behind.

“Rest well in whatever hell you came from, beast.”

His voice was as cold and merciless as the blade the tore open the beasts throat.  Once again it shrieked in the night, but this time it was pitiful and seemed to cry for help.  Then its blackened form vanished like smoke on the wind.

He sighed, as he sheathed his blade, and turned to walk away.  But the night exploded with what sounded like a hundred shrieks each as vicious and savage as the beasts.  And one thought came into his mind.


The Tension of Tense and Naughty Narrators


Tense. It has several meanings. Right now it is the pressure in my shoulders. Sometimes it’s that feeling that hangs in the air and lets you know that something is about to happen. And for writers, it’s the tone that sets an entire book.

And don’t get me started about those damn narrators.

You read a book and one of the first things you notice is who the hell is telling the story and when is it happening. When I read the first line of a book, I stop and ask, “God?” But no. It’s not my god, or your god or even Khorak-nazir, patron deity of the humanoid ant creatures.

No, it’s the little guy in the corner telling you about the first day of school, and how nobody wants to be his friend, or it is the god of the book, telling you every detail, every action and every tiny little thought that passes through the main character’s head, along with his girlfriend’s, her cousin’s and that damn humanoid ant in the corner wondering why the hell  he’s about to be stepped on by the kid on his first day of school.

We’ve all read a hundred blog posts about the different tenses and narratives that a writer can use, so I’m not going to lecture for the hundred and first time about it. I’m here to ask you a simple question. What do you prefer?

I’ve read fantastic stories where the narrator helps me truly visualize and live in the moment that is happening in a book. I’ve also read great tales where Timmy Two-shoes tells me about the first day of school, and how he took down the entire alien armada that came to probe all of his teachers (suck up).

I’ve also read two amazing books by a great writer, no names here *cough* Rothfuss *cough*, where the tense and narrator switches around so fluidly, that for a minute you have to stop and say, “Wait. How the hell did I get here?” Yeah, he’s that good.

All of this aside, for my own work-in-not-so-progress, I cannot settle on a narrator or tense. Some days all I want to do is jump into the main character and let you live the day in his shoes and see the world through his eyes. But then, BAM!

The antagonist shows up and its fight time, BITCHES!

Now I’ve got to tell you about a fight scene, a part of the story that should be beautiful and descriptive, only to be held back by the limitations of the narrator’s mind and scope. He knows how he feels about the fight, about how he is doing and about how his enemy is doing, but it has to look way more amazing to the bystanders. Joey Bystander is bystanding in the other corner watching Timmy chop an alien in half with a shank he sharpened out of the ruler in his desk, and he can’t tell you a damned thing, because this is Timmy’s story.

Now, giving you a slight peek into my brainchild of a story, I’ll let you know that on my current novel, my main character has something else inside him that, under the right conditions, turns him into something else.

So I’ve started playing with the idea, like Rothfuss, of having multiple tenses and narrators. I’ve thought about having a Narrator 1 for the back flash chapters that give a sneak peek into the events that led up to current events, and Narrator 2 is my main character telling you the story in the present day. Then, when my narrator turns into something else, Narrator 1 is back to tell you what’s going on, since Narrator 2 is currently indisposed.

(Damn coffee ran right through him!)

But I can’t tell if this is just a nonsensical hoping on my part, or if this actually has potential.

So, that’s your homework. Two simple questions that I want answers for.

What’s your favorite tense and narrative and do you think I’m crazy?

So, feel free to leave your comments down below so I and the handful of other readers on this here fancy blog can read em’ and respond or feel free to hit me up on my stalking grounds.

Ahem, I mean on Twitter.

I’ll just be waiting here anxiously in the corner with my laptop hoping Timmy will get over his whole first day angst and stop this damn alien from probing me…

Writing Rebellion


I’m back!!!  I know I’ve been gone for some time, I know you’ve all met me so drastically and I know, despite the fact that I’m blogging for the first time in a long time, I may disappear for a while again, but such is the way of my life these days.  I want to dedicate myself to one thing at a time but I’m nothing if not the perfect Gemini, bouncing around from project to project, book to book, game to game and wife to wife.  Just kidding about the wife! 😉

My hiatus has not been chocked full of procrastination like usual, but I haven’t had much time for much of anything.  I’ve got a new career, that is going swimmingly, but it is salary pay and therefore I work way more than I ever used to.  Then my time off is spent with my family and trying to find an hour of relaxation.

But always at the back of my mind was my muse, coaxing me, “Justin… Justin… let’s play…”.

But I have so many things that I want to do in my free time.  And all involve creativity and imagination.  Whether it involved playing a game, or working on an interesting character idea for the Skyrim Blog, or just reading the hundreds of books that I am currently in the middle of.  However, through all of that not once has writing been an outlet for my creativity.  I have been thinking of several different story themes and plot, still trying to find one that just clicked in my head and said, you need to write this, but writing has lost its original purpose for me.

For too long, writing has been changing from it’s original purpose of allowing me to create and express myself, and it has slowly evolved into something much more base.  It has become little more than a means for me to save my family from the mundane paycheck to paycheck that our lives have become.  For too long, I have pissed and moaned about not being able to give my family the life I never had, that it has allowed my mind and imagination to grow stagnant from resent.  My ideas lack their own sense of purpose.  For too long, my writing has been living and not-living for me.

It is time for a rebellion.

It is time that I start living for my writing.  I remember the first stories I ever started writing, and how I wrote them simply to tell tales.  I will get back to that.  I will write to write.  I will write to let my stories live, and I will work for them.

If any of you find yourself in the same place, then join me.  Join my rebellion.  Tell me how you rebel against the oppression that is life and the inhibitions it chains you with.  Or if you have broken through this stagnation before, give me your tips, challenge me to write something new.  I’m always up for writing a new short story, so challenge me.  Or just leave a comment or a like in support of my rebellion.  Let me know that my war does not go without notice!

Blood Lust


Here is a small story I did for the the website.  It didn’t really get any attention on there, but hey maybe you guys will like it!  Along with that, feel free to check out my other tiny/short stories and collaborations over at their site.  My name is LastWord there!


“Again!” she cried.

He glanced at her flushed face. The scarlet hue of her cheeks made her green, lust filled eyes pop at him.  She was really enjoying this.  He turned back to the “man” sitting in front of him.  Her husband was already beaten to a bloody pulp, but still she wanted more.

He almost felt bad for the poor sap.  But then all of her black eyes and bruised cheeks came to the forefront of his memories, the most recent was a set of broken ribs she had been given after the bastard had drunkenly attacked her.  He looked down at his bloody and busted knuckles.

The man deserves this he thought, and his rage rose up once more and turned his normally gentle hands into instruments of pain.

He stalked in on the man, his hands and legs tied to the wooden chair he was propped up in.  As each blow connected with the man’s face and torso, they slammed with a meaty thump, but their noise was nothing to compare with the sounds of ecstasy the woman began crying out behind him.  Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as she ran her hands over breasts and the smell of her arousal splashed in some lust with his anger.  His attack would continue for a long time, until neither she nor her husband could take anymore.

Ink-stained Pages and Button Mashing


Wow. Two months to the day since I’ve blogged.  I do apologize for my absence.  It’s the same old same old. Work, work, work.  Plus we are trying to decide if it’s time for my son to go to Kindergarten next year or do another round of Pre-K.  He’s really bright, as his teacher called him “out of the box” smart, but he lack certain social skills that would make all day Kindergarten hard for him.  Mix that and playtime and spouse time into the few hours I get each day and it life still remains a struggle.

But that’s not what is important.  What is important is that I’m trying again.

I have two stories out to an acquaintance who is beta reading them for me, in order to give me some constructive feedback (I still don’t plan on doing anything with them right now) and I recently picked up a copy of “Read. Set. Novel!” by the folks at NaNoWriMo! I’m looking forward to finding some free time to try to utilize the book to help me better plan and outline the novel that sings from my soul and cries from the prison of my mind.

Not much admittedly and I could try harder, but my head might literally explode from never slowing down.  But there is one more thing I’m trying to get better at, though I still remain rather unsuccessful. Video games.

If you’ve read in the past, you know that I have a video game problem.  I find it too easy to get swept up in the stories of the many video games I own, and it keeps me from writing my own.  This would be fine if my first idea for writing had panned out.  I had wanted to write for Forgotten Realms or a video game publisher so that I could mix the two interests, but when I actually started a novel back then, Dungeons and Dragons stopped taking unsolicited submissions, and the latter requires a college degree which I foresee no time  to obtain.

So, instead, I’m trying to remain vigilant.  Every time I think of playing a game, I challenge myself to write instead.  Most of the time I fail, but I’m still trying.

It’s what I’ve got for now, so I’ll have to make it do.

What about you guys?  What vices do you have that keep you from writing?  Or what suggestions do you have for me to become stronger and more self-confident in my writing so that I give it more time?  Leave me a comment or just take the time to hit the like button to let me know your support!


Life is full of distractions. Deal with it.


I recently read an article on Yahoo News about a new gaming console that is coming out (WOOHOO!).  With any of these such articles I love to read the comments section, to see the general public’s feelings on such things.  They usually involve a whole lot of snide remarks from people that think their words are worth hearing, much like this blog!  The comments in this article did not fail to impress.

I won’t quote any such comments, one because I don’t like to quote sources without their approval, and two I’m really lazy, however their was one that like all other articles had to link the this particular article to politics.  Basically the one that struck a chord with me said something about video games were just a a distraction to keep the public’s eyes off of our countries real problems.

This is the single stupidest thing I’ve read this morning, mostly because I only woke up thirty minutes ago, but it is stupid to me none the less.  Of course, it is a distractions, but what is life if not just one giant pool of distractions intended to keep us semi-unaware of the reality of life.  It sucks.  But the distractions are what makes life worth living.  If there was only one problem after another, with nothing in between, then what would be the point of living.  There you have it, my own personal thoughts on the meaning of life.

Another reason that this is stupid is simply, that every individual does not need to worry themselves over every single cotton-picking problem that this country or world faces.  We don’t need that burden, and most of us don’t want it.  It’s not my job to worry about this countries financial problems, I have a hard enough dealing with my own financial problems.  I pay taxes that ensure that someone else that has been appointed by my votes to take care of my city’s, state’s and country’s problems.  “But what if they aren’t doing a good enough job dealing with our issues, Justin?  Shouldn’t you be worried about your money or choices?”  No!  Regardless of most actions that I take in life, this country’s problems will continue on, despite my care or despite who is in office.

Thirdly, I am certainly glad that there are distractions in this world.  As a writer, I’d hate to think that my content would be only white noise on peoples hearts.  What we do as writers and entertainers is intended to build layers upon the human soul, helping them filter the world through another layer to dampen the pain that is life’s plight.

Lastly, on a note that is very much a tangent, I must point out, that people really only get worried about a problem when it involves money or guns.  The public will tell you that problems like freedom of speech or other such “little” things are of little concern.  But when they feel their money or guns are threatened they question why you care about a video game console.

I repeat, life is full of distractions, so deal with it, and accept that I am allowed to not care about every god damned problem in the world.  Thank you.

Now I’m going back to bed, because I’m still tired from work and that article and this blog post now have me a bit too riled up to be polite to the rest of the world.

Fucking cheers!