WRITING: Any landing you walk away from?

Sunday, April 19, 2009

It was a week long business trip coming to an end. Neither successful nor failure; it was just “necessary”. He had a week’s laundry in his checked baggage. Wifey would be thrilled to see that. In the overhead, he had his briefcase and laptop. All loaded with the supposedly precious results. He’d “written” his trip report; actually tapped it out waiting for the plane. And, did his expenses; actually spreadsheeted them out on the company’s mandated sheet. All that was left was to email them at the next appearance of a wifi. Now, putting his seat back and tray table into the upright and locked position, he was readying for the final sprint. Baggage claim, limo, and home at last. His ears popped as the place made its “final” descent.

It was just as it began to touch down, that he saw a flash simultaneous in all the windows. That was a close bolt of lightening. Did the plane blunder into it? The lights went out and the emergency lights didn’t illuminate. Strange? The plane was “dark”. It was just dusk so there was still light coming in from the outside. The plane dropped the final feet to the tarmac. The jolt scared him along with everyone else. As a frequent flyer, he KNEW something was wrong. The engines were silent. A body in motion tends to stay in motion until acted upon by an outside source. It was “his” home airport. He knew that they would soon turn on to the taxi way and slowly roll to a gentle stop at the gate. Except in this case, there was no turn. Just rolling and rolling. Behind them, they all heard a long loud crash. Or was it multiples. They just rolled along. Rumble strips. A bump onto the grass. More rolling. Then a fence stopped them and the plane tilted nose first. Junk flowed down the cabin. There were no announcements. The crew was up and “climbing” to the emergency doors. Popped, chutes deployed, and people began exiting. He was in the window seat. He sat quietly organizing his thoughts. Survival is awareness.

He looked out the window. Interesting, no lights. He didn’t know which way they landed. But either way, he should see the city lights or the terminal lights. There were none. He had to figure out what he should do. Getting out right now wouldn’t be quick. The people were crowded around the door. Those, that just released the seat belt, fell “forward” until the hit something. He thought about the best strategy to do this. His “seat mates” had demonstrated the folly of just unbuckling. Hope they survived the fall. It was dark enough that he could not see where they landed or who they landed on. He began formulating a plan. He’d hold on his neighbor’s belt so he could release his and kneel on the seat back in front of him. He then get his stuff from the overhead and exit out. His attache case had his “hotel room” kit. He wanted the flash light. It was getting darker. He could see that the movement at the bottom was essentially stopped. Time to get going.

He was a fat old guy. Not an acrobat by any means. But, it wasn’t too difficult to link the two vacant seatbelts to create two handholds. He wedged his legs on the back of the seat in front of him. Looped one arm around the spare belts. Then release his belt. He didn’t plunge forward. He was wedged. Using his handhold, he was able to mount the backs of the row in front of him. Still using the spare belt, in case he slipped, he opened the overhead. His stuff was easily reachable. The computer case yielded a cell phone. It was dead. Maybe the charge ran down during the flight. The attache case gave up a flash light. Dead! That was strange. Pocket radio. Dead! Keys with light fob. Dead. He put the keys in his pocket. Someone’s knapsack fell past him to the front. On a hunch, he opened the computer case. Flipped open the computer. Dead! He was sensing a pattern here. Everything electronic was dead. This was not looking good.

He returned the computer to its case. And, using the strap looped the attache case and computer case, he put it on his neck. Holding the looped seat belt, he slid to the next aisle. Swapping his free hand to a belt, he released his “death grip” on the row now above him. He was in row 36. It took a while to “descend” to the “lower reaches”. He didn’t have to go all the way to the bottom. Along around row 6, he felt “fresh air”. He crawled out through the galley on to the deployed chute. And, slid down. He was mildly surprised there was no one around. Some dead bodies. But no live people. No lights. No sounds.

He was afraid. Was he in a Ron Sterling Twilight Zone? He figured he was going to have to walk home. He scrambled back up the slide. It was hard but he was motivated. He was in the galley. He carefully unclipped one of those carts and it came crashing down. Garbage. He did another one. It was drinks. He grabbed a knapsack. Was it the same one? Dumped it out and filled it up with water and juice. He unsnapped another cart. Crash. It had extra meals. He collected all the candy and few bags of stuff. Back to the slide. And, out on the tarmac.

Now he had to make choices. The expressway might have people. He really didn’t want to be around people. The city streets went through some very bad neighborhoods. Maybe there was a combination. He went down the runway. A burning plane was smoldering at the other end. Why? Beyond him. He just wanted to be home with his wife and kids. At the end of the runway, there was a grass infield. And, tall security fence. Beyond his physical abilities. Scanning the ground line of the fence, he spotted a drainpipe.

Investigating, he saw a lighter shade of dark at the other end. In he went. Sloppy. Muddy. He was now outside the fence. Seem stupid to him but he just wanted home! The expressway was there so he followed the edge for awhile. Dead cars abounded. Some dead people. No live one. Maybe he’d revise his strategy.

It was a thirty minute drive home. He was in no shape. And, it was getting darker. Would the moon come out? In the distance he could see fires at various locations. He was concerned about making a profile. He walked carefully trying to blend in. A mile. Then two. till no live people. It didn’t make sense.

He approached the vicinity of a fire. It was off the expressway. But close enough. There was a fence between him and one of the “bad neighborhoods”. He could hear screaming. A woman. And, men laughing. Shots! He tried to dig a hole. All he accomplished was to get dirtier. They obviously couldn’t see him. And, he was quiet. Passing the light. As quickly as he could.

At each fire, he’d crawl. No other noises. No live people. Just dead ones. No noise. No light. No nothing.

Thirty minutes translated to what felt like twelve dark hours. Dawn was beginning to break. He was walking as fast as an exhausted man could. He was on his block. He turned the corner. His house was a burned shell. His wife was tied over the hood of her car. His children were dead on the doorstep. It wasn’t pretty. He heard screams a block over.

He felt so tired. His heart was broken. His heart was aching. The pain was the worst he’d ever felt. Then it was over.

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WRITING: It Was So Cold (A complete one paragraph story)

Friday, April 17, 2009

It was cold. So cold. He’d never been so cold. The heat in the house was set to 40. People had to fend for themselves, but the pipes had to be kept from freezing. How many decades had they struggled? He mused as his body tried to warm the bed and blankets. More than two. The “carbon tax” to prevent “global warming” was the event that had started them down a road to “hell frozen over”. But, other things had set the stage. Even the children and grandchildren were impoverished. They all lived with him. He wept. More than a decade ago, his proud son was beaten by “the economy” and came home to live. The son brought his wife and three children. Couldn’t earn enough to feed everyone; never mind shelter, clothe, or anything else. There was no work. Debt crushed that once proud son and bankruptcy left them nothing. For awhile, it was OK. There was enough work from time to time to pay the bills. But “the economy” was in a death spiral. On their little plot of land, they resurrected a “victory garden”. Some victory. Not much of a garden. He and his wife moved to the first smallest bedroom so that the five refugees could have the largest room. At the time, he groused at his sainted wife that “it was temporary” and “we could take the second larger room”. Her response was: “I see worse times ahead.” That scared him. He began to take some modest steps for “worse times”. Cut the cable. Watch expenses like a hawk. Sell stuff. Hide other stuff. The polictics of “soak the rich” sounded too much like class warfare of the Nazis and Communists. He knew from a survivor of the Shoah and another from Cambodia where that led. He hid some stuff. Above the refrigerator coils. In clocks and appliances. Curtain rods. Nothing paper. He acquired some unpapered assets. Anything with a paper trail would be lost. An abandoned prized car in the backyard covered a multitude of metal detectable “sins”. As “the economy” worsened, his daughter and once proud son-in-law arrived with their three kids to take the middle small but larger bedroom. Again for a while it was OK. The taxes were oppressive. But when you have no income, there were no income taxes. Corporations were heavily taxed to make it up and they raised their prices. So people, who had nothing, paid the taxes hidden in products or went without. There was a a lot of going without. “Global warming” need to be fought more. Despite the ever colder winters and quick cool summers. No one told the king he had no clothes. The rich left for Europe and other destinations. Taking their wealth with them. They had no allegiance to a Titanic that was going down. Despite their particular part in the political lunacy that led to the sinking. They were cheerleaders in the hysteria! Hollywood “celebrities” left if they could, but there was nobody with any money for “art”. Their Sodom and Gomorrah wound down to drugs and prostitution. Just like the whores and grifters, we always knew they were, but were too blind to see. “Sports celebrities” fared even worse. Without any attendance, teams folded. Millionaire third baseman, quarterbacks, and dribblers were flushed into the toilet bowl with ordinary people. In some ways, he was “lucky”. During one of the many crisises, he bought a low emission vehicle, so they had a car. It was a modest profit center. They could get to the store, the doctor, or to work if there was any. Six adults and one neighborhood sharing one car made scheduling a nightmare. But survivors cooperated. It was a life raft. There were plenty of cars around. Just none that were “road worthy” according to the government. “Global warming” had ruled all the non low emission models off the roads. For the children, of course. That and the price of gas was in the three digits. Yes, OPEC had finally made an oil based currency and the American dollar was a stone around their neck. American “national debt” ensured the dive to civilization’s history book as a footnote about the American experiment with “liberty”. In every tragedy, some do well. The politicians were always “saving us”. Funny how they seemed to always have government transportation, food, and lodging. So too, the bureaucrats that served them, with their paychecks and gold plated pensions, did well. And, the toadies and hangers on, who lunched at the ever declining public trough. This was all not without some unpleasantness. The various “disturbances”, that the servile media did have to report, were always crushed. One could see nearby cities on fire. The prisons were overcrowded with all sorts of economic, drug, and other non-violent crime. “Hoarding” became a capital crime. As was non-payment of taxes. Unless you were politically connected. For public safety, all the guns were collected. Not us “public”; the “public servants” weren’t very safe! The howling of the NRA, GOA, and honest men were to no avail. Of course, if you can’t keep guns and drugs out of prisons, then the collection wasn’t very complete. It amused him. The thugs came a searched the house and seized his registered guns, a few gold coins, and what they called “extra food”. But as with most things done by government, they did NOT find the unregistered guns, the various stashes of gold and silver, and the caches of food. One neighbor was pointing out stuff for the thugs. A week later, he took care of that Quisling. And, his family. That was the end of snitching. A twenty two to the back of heads was a necessary ‘rodent elimination” project. He was not alone in the clean up effort. Anyone in the neighborhood who worked for the Government often met a similar fate when the employer was identified. Live too high on the hog and it was obvious where your bacon was coming from. And, of course, wretches, who had even less, came to prey on them as wealthy. He’d had learned a lesson from Western farmers. The men of the neighborhood watched out for their own. On any given day, half the folk slept for their night watch. In a way, it was, in a way, a modest profit making activity. These modern day looters were often packing heat and carrying treasure from an earlier heist. They no longer had need for it as they went to their eternal repose in the fields, cisterns, or abandoned cars. Shoot, shovel, and shut up was the “standing order”. Yes, it was hard times. And, hard men had starving families. He worried for his family as he aged. The wife passed. And he aged. His pensions, modest social security, welfare, and his “hidings” were the sustenance that kept them alive. The churches and poverty pantries had long since given their last. Welfare was a joke. They were wealthy, because they had a place to live. Civil unrest was even decimating the police and bureaucrats. He limited what he ate because there really wasn’t enough to go around. And, he’d heard that low calorie diets made you live longer. They needed him as a “cash cow” to live forever. Each day, with each child, he walk once around the block. Exercise was good for a long life. He listened to the child and then would tell them of the “good old days”. Gas, food, and fun was abundant through out the land. But there was a cancer in men’s minds that blinded them to the threat that their fellow man presented. It was a long walk. And getting longer. Or was he going slower. And, the children getting bigger. Homeschooling in addition to government schooling. There was not much to do on the cold dark nights. Electric was too valuable to waste on anything as frivolous as TV. The end of daylight signaled bedtime. At least a bed full of bodies was warm. He, of course, was alone, in that smallest of bedrooms. What would become of his family when the “cow” died? It was so cold. He fell asleep crying: “Noooo”!

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WRITING: CHURCH 10●19●62 is done; the store is open!

Sunday, March 29, 2009

http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fAcctID=638039

http://www.lulu.com/content/6078286

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An alternative future history. What might have been? If Nikta hadn’t blinked. If children were allowed to “be all that they could be”. If adults didn’t waste their time and attention on memes and paradigms that are insanity. If I’d known. Shoulda, coulda, and woulda! The human race’s millstone — obsolete thinking. Here’s what I think might have been possible.

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(Read the book, and you’ll understand the last two flags!)

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WRITING: How did I get the book done

Sunday, March 29, 2009

On 03/20/09 11:22 AM, JohnB wrote:

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John, did you have any problem staying focused/motivated while writing your book? If so, do you have any tips or tricks? I’ve been hammering away at something for years now and I always find myself distracted and starting back at square one.

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The book was written mostly from 5AM to 6Am every morning for many months. I cheated a little and thought about it while I was commuting. I cheated more by thinking about it when I’d go to bed, head, or waiting. I cheated a little because it’s somewhat a psuedo autobiographical of my day dreams in Church back when I was in Eighth Grade.

I could have written it 45 years ago. The basic story was there. So, I really never got “writer’s block”.

I did have some equipment failures that were setbacks. One night when I couldn’t sleep, I got up and wrote for two hours. For some reason, darn windoze, it was lost. It was really good too. Oh well.

I have a good outline of the 100 chapters. I was posting it on the Frugal Squirel’s Patriot Story forum. So I have a lot of positive feedback.

I think it has to be a labor of love. With passion. I still cry when I read certain chapters. (Everyone dies in the end. rofl!)

Once I got into the habit, it just took on a life of its own.

I’d previously put a year’s worth of my blog posts in a book using Lulu to print it. My mom was thrilled. My friends were polite. But, that showed me what was possible.

Does this help?

Since, I bought a MacBookAir and a Time Machine to prevent lost data and bought “SCRIVNER” that does housekeeping for the novels. I have 11 outlines — fiction and non-fiction — in queue. May not write them all, but they are there for the “doing”.

Hope this is what you wanted,

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WRITING: CHURCH is on final approach

Friday, March 13, 2009
CHURCH 10●19●62 front cover

CHURCH 10●19●62 front cover

CHURCH 10●19●62 back cover

CHURCH 10●19●62 back cover

An alternative future history. What might have been? If Nikta hadn’t blinked. If children were allowed to “be all that they could be”. If adults didn’t waste their time and attention on memes and paradigms that are insanity. If I’d known. Shoulda, coulda, and woulda! The human race’s millstone — obsolete thinking. Here’s what I think might have been possible.

The labor of love — telling a story I’ve had in my head since 8th grade — is almost complete. Lulu is shipping me my final proof. I think, I hope, I’ve solved the light printing problem.

We’ll see.

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WRITING: Need to redo my book; splitting into two

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Readers here know some of this already. But let me recap.

I’ve used Lulu, a Print On Demand vendor, that will allow any book to be ordered on Amazon and such. The upfront cost is zero. Which, of course, why I liked it. Lulu offers an e-book option. The printed copy will be ~$40+ and the download is 5$.

In a prior effort, for example, I printed 35 copies of my blog book last year. It was a book of all my blog posts for a year.

(It was a vanity effort. I gave the first copy to my Mom for mother’s day. She was tickled. I sent friends copies. I’m told it made a great doorstop! LOL!!)

(One friend gave his two kids each a copy in lieu of a Christmas present. He had me write a personal note and sign it as a “first edition” of a future famous writer. He tells me that you had to see their expressions. He later relented and gave “real presents”. He goes into spasms of laughter every time we talk about it.)

In my spare time, I wrote a novel: “It Started In Church – October 19, 1962”. 700 pages; just under a half million words. An hour a day every morning for a year. It’s an alternative future history of what I might have been, if the Cuban Missle Crisis had ended differently. Khrushchev pushes the button, bad things happen, and, children practiced, I and my classmates wind up in a shelter. And, stuff happens from there. All that illustrates how we have “low expectations” for children. Yeah, I know corney. It’s a story I have had in my head for 50 years. Better late than never. I wrote the novel more as a goof, but I got tremendous feedback on the Frugal Squirrels web site. The more I got into it, the more it took on a life of its own. I’m very pleased with it. Now, it’s my opus.

“It Started In Church – October 19th, 1962”, or more simply “CHURCH 10●19●62” will have a link through http://www.itstartedinchurch.com/ into Lulu.

The novel on Lulu is about 600+ pages which has to cost more than $40.

That wouldn’t be SOOOO bad, BUT, (there is always a big butt), the print is too small.

I printed it at Kinkos for 50 bucks, and the result was very readable. Two iterations thru Lulu are much smaller. The first iteration was very light and barely readable. (Right Wacki?) The second iteration was better but, based on feedback from our “Rutgers Basketball Game” friends, it’s STILL too light and small. So Lulu is a little cheaper, produces a better “finished product”, and can get it into Amazon. BUT, Lulu is not without it’s challenges. Lulu has an absolute page limit of 700 pages for the size I’d like to use and 740 for the size I tried.

Argh!

So kicking and screaming, I’m forced to split the book into tow volumes. Bump up the font size and try some more.

Thus far, I’ve spent $150 and don’t have a great result.

ARGH!

Lessons Learned: What I have learned is that for “specialty texts”, like IT specialty topics, where you could sell copies at 50$+, that you could have a working business model. I think that it would be possible to “produce” topical texts that the big publishing houses couldn’t address.

Just learning about a different kind of “technology”. Next I’ll be consulting on scribes and amanuensises.

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WRITING: Printing the final draft of Church

Friday, February 13, 2009

Revision C!

Now we have to see how it comes out.

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WRITING: Book is done!

Thursday, January 1, 2009

UPDATE 1/11 later 1/12 early: According to the Lulu site, my order should ship as early as 1/12 (tomorrow/today) or as late as 1/16 (Friday). Coming by FedEx Ground Delivery. (Lingering question, are Lulu books printed offshore and that’s why it takes so long?)

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1/1/2009

Well, it’s finished. Cooked. Booked. I’ve Lulu-ed it.

Now I’m waiting for my proof copy.

It’s sad. Four decades late, I’m done.

Luddite helped with the proofing. CJ gave me a better punch. Frau gave me good input to the cover design.

But, it’s done.

All that I have to do is wait for Lulu to send me my proof.

710 pages.

Just under a half a million words.

A little less than a year.

So many lessons learned.

(1) You have to be organized.

(2) Keep one copy as the master. All changes get made there.

(3) Need versioning.

(4) There’s no good software for a big wp project.

Note: Office corrupted the doc after about 6 months. Despite creating new files. Master and sub-docs was a horror show.

Note: Apple’s PAGES sucked at big docs.

Note: Google docs choked at the size.

Note: Luggable’s WINDOZE Office locked up one night and lost three hours of my best prose.

Argh!

(5) It’s always takes longer and is harder than you expect.

(6) A GANTT chart with realistic estimates would have helped.

(7) Schedules weren’t met.

(8) Illness, job loss, laziness, and stupidity all caused delays.

(9) When blogging fan fiction, have the project DONE before posting the first segment.

(10) Was it fun?

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WRITING: TEOTWAWKI fiction – It happened in Church – Epilogue – Was it?

Thursday, October 16, 2008

It happened in Church – October 19, 1962
Epilogue – Was it?

It Started In Church – October 19, 1962
http://www.itstartedinchurch.com

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WRITING: TEOTWAWKI fiction – It happened in Church – Chapter One Hundred – Reading the will

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

It happened in Church – October 19, 1962
Chapter One Hundred – Reading the will

It Started In Church – October 19, 1962
http://www.itstartedinchurch.com

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