writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia

It's been forever, I know. I have a (new) really demanding job time-wise and I haven't been forceful enough in carving out writing time. But I did some writing on the train today, while I'm suffering from a book hangover, so I'll post some snippets. It's a little over five sentences, but I'm sure you won't mind. ;)

"Shannon, not all dream creatures are created by peaceful sleepers. Feasters a product of terror and nightmares. Like those stories about the Jabberwocky, they feed off fear. Recurring nightmares make them stronger and so do night terrors."

I swallowed and then said, "So if a Dreamwalker has a recurring nightmare or night terror-"

"They can probably create the most powerful and terrifying Feaster to come out of the Nightmare world."

So...this is probably among the most productive spur-of-the-moment writing I've done, as I thnk this will fit in very nicely to the series I want to finish first. Rock on.

For the first time since I'd met Jared, Diego, and Lisa, I couldn't remember my dreams. In fact, that was probably a first, period. I'd always been able to remember them, without fail. Then of course, I developed the ability to navigate my own and other people's and that just made them easier to remember. Even when Jared built dreams for me, ones that were full of places we couldn't go in real life, places that never existed or didn't anymore, I couldn't remember them. His face would fall in the mornings at school when he'd ask how I enjoyed it, and I had to tell him I couldn't remember.

He stopped asking, but I don't think he stopped creating. He just waited for me to remember.

I couldn't wait. I wanted to talk to Delia, but she was still gone, missing like she'd never existed. I couldn't talk to Jared, not without seeing the disappointment lurking behind his dark brown eyes. I tried talking to Lisa since she could induce dreaming with her herbs, and even concoct something to help me remember them. I tried it, the strange tea she made and had to tell her, defeat as bitter in my mouth as the tea's aftertaste, that it hadn't worked.

Finally I talked to Diego. He could help people sleep, but not necessarily dream. He could watch other people's dream's though, something he didn't really do without permission, I gave him mine. I needed to know that I really was still dreaming, that there was some reason I just couldn't remember.

The next day, Diego's face was solemn, and he pulled me aside, as though he didn't want Jared to hear.

"You're dreaming, Shannon. Jared built a dream for you last night. You were both there." He hesitated a little, as though he'd seen something in the dream he didn't want to talk about. I went red, knowing the kinds of dreams Jared has sent before. "But so was someone else. There was another figure there, another watcher, and he's the reason you can't remember. You're not just forgetting your dreams, Shannon. They're being stolen."

I just don't know which novel of the series this belongs in. I suspect the third, so I'll tag it as such for now..

Trying to get back into posting here regularly, so here! Have an excerpt from Oneiric Chronicles! This probably will bee in Book 2, not Book 1.

"I know about you, Shannon." Diego's voice was deep and quiet, low enough for only me to hear him.

I froze where I was, paintbrush poised to swipe a generous splash of blue across the canvas. "What?"

"You heard me. Jared knew for a while, didn't he? Well, now so do I. I figured it out. I figured you out."

I went cold, an impressive feat considering it was already 85 degrees outside and the sun was beating down on my shoulders. Diego came closer, throwing his shadow over me and the painting. "You- you know?"

"I figured you didn't want to tell anyone else because you had no idea how we'd react right? But you told Jared, because you guys are so close." There was something about the way he said that that made me shiver, and remember all those intense looks, the ones where I thought he was reading me. Maybe he had been. "But the way I see it, we're your friends, and maybe we'd understand better than anyone. Maybe Jared wasn't the only person who could have been there for you."

Instead of his words making me want to confide in him, they just made me angry. "Would you stop it? Stop talking about him like he's dead! He's not dead, he's just-"

"Just what? Because you and I both know he's not at any camp. I'm his best friend Shannon, I deserve to know why I can't even get a hold of him. Where is he? Tell me where he is Shannon, and I'll forget the fact that you've been keeping secrets from us for months."

Ooooooh~

Haven't posted in a while again, but I hit a real milestone this week, which as surprising considering how many days I felt like I was pulling teeth to get the minimum word count out. However, I hit 40K on Sunday, 45K on Tuesday, and am literally 1111 words away from finishing now. I expect to get 'er done tomorrow (technically later today) during the write-in. There's a scene I wrote just to make my characters happy that SO WILL NOT BE IN THE FINAL EDIT, but whatever, it counts for the word count.

Once I hit 50K, you guys get another excerpt, and I get to figure out what needs to be done to actually finish this story.

So, we're about to finish up at the Mid-Manhattan Library write-in. I wrote over 2000 words in under 2 hours bringing my total up over 20,000. According to y stats, at this rate I'll hit 50,000 by November 13. That doesn't mean I'll be done though.

There's so much plot left to happen and it would be nice to actually...get to it. I think tomorrow I'll try to write an action scene, just to see how it plays out.

For now:


Another excerpt to come later.

Two days into nano and I'm at over 10,000 words. I'm incredibly proud of myself. I have no idea what the hell I've written but that's not the focus right now. I'm just opening my brain and letting words fall out and I'll worry about making editing changes and, well, sense later on.

I posted an excerpt in my nano profile, and I'll share it here.

"Hey! Wait for me!" I yelled and I picked up my pace, running around two small children playing with a pink and red colored ball. The sun shone brightly through the trees as I chased the figure ahead of me, and I held up a hand to shade my eyes from the suddenly blinding light. The figure ahead hopped over a low park bench, but I went around, suddenly feeling like I couldn't possibly jump that high. To my left, a flock of crows suddenly fled the tree they were hiding in, their cawing sounding more like laughter than like a simple bird-call.

I made the mistake of looking at them as they took off, and when I turned back to my chase, the figure ahead of me was gone. I didn't stop running though, even though I knew I'd lost whoever it was. I ran until I found an old playground in a forgotten part of the park, rundown, and rusting. The old metal slide had chipped paint and the bottom rung of the ladder was broken. The swings were in worse shape. The chains holding some were broken, leaving the swings to hang and move sadly in the wind. One swing was missing entirely, the two long chains dangling off into nothing. In the far side, near the broken sprinkler, a small child was huddled.

This wasn't whom I'd chased here, and yet I approached her anyway. She was maybe about seven years old, with brown curly pigtails, and was holding a small blond doll. I had slowed to a walk as soon as I reached the playground, and I kept a cautious pace as I came closer. "Hi," I said, uncertainly. "Are you okay?"

The little girl lifted a tear-stained face and looked up at me, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she just closed her eyes and screamed.

Yeah it was writing this that helped cement the fact that my genre has shifted from the last shreds of fantasy into horror and supernatural. Bring on the fear factor. I wrote a second scene similar to this one that...was creepier honestly, and I'll probably post that excerpt a little later.