Daily Archives: December 4, 2013

Petting — a WIPpet/ROW80 post


To shortcut to the WIPpet, click here, but you may wish to read on, since this check-in supplies a lot of backdrop to this week’s excerpt.

I didn’t check in yet again on Sunday.  No reason (well, I have reasons, but…), I just didn’t do it.


manuscript (Photo credit: El Chupacabrito)

Right now I’m trying to recalibrate my head from NaNoWriMo to see if I can finish up Release before Angry Robot closes their Open Door (many, many thanks to Kathi for directing me to their event).  Though I feel torn about that, and this is why:

Originally Release was meant to be starting book in a trilogy (Parvenu) that would introduce a future-version of my world after they’d recovered from the destruction of their homeworld.  Then I got deeper into The Swan Song series and have since discovered that the history I wrote for Release just doesn’t fit.

Since there are a few thousand years between The Swan Song and Parvenu, I suppose some of the history my (very unreliable) narrator knows could be just wrong.  But there are also some people in the story that….  Well, we’re talking a few thousand years, and Alanii is in the first chapter.

No, Alanii is not a vampire.


Crossroads (Photo credit: Richard Elzey)

So, I really am not sure I actually want to release Release.  But it’d be nice to do something with it rather than continue to let it moulder in a drawer.

Beyond that?  I’m behind on everything else.  Finishing NaNoWriMo took more out of my this year than ever.  And despite my 59,707 wordcount, I don’t feel I won, because I didn’t work consistently, nor did I stay on the project I’d intended to write from the start.  😦


Today, as I noted in my ROW80 check-in, I’m posting a piece from Release.  Thirteen smallish paragraphs from the twelfth chapter:

an old pirate ship.

an old pirate ship. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

His gaze wandered the sky. “You think Dave is such a philanthropist that he would risk his life getting us out of the that Hell if he wasn’t getting something out of it. She’ll belong to him before the day ends, but, for now, she’s still mine. I want to see her one last time and thought you would, too.”

Mystery solved. Now the test made more sense, though I did wonder why Chaz hadn’t chosen to land the Indolence as his last memory. It also suggested what Dave was doing on the main deck–preparing the papers.

“Sorry you’re losing…” I looked up, following his gaze and caught my breath. Opalescent clouds floated over my head, hanging off of a tarred grid that clutched at them. A child trying to catch spilled water. The solar sails writhed in the breeze, producing a sound akin to sighing. Each sail had a voice of its own. They sang in harmony. “Oh…”

Chaz sighed along with his ship, but I caught a small chuckle from him. “It’s alright, kid. She is just a machine, no matter how beautiful.” He sighed again and reached up to caress one of the sails. “It’s the memories that are going to be hard to leave. Not the ones I have, but the ones that I know would have come.”

I looked at him curiously. “Does that hurt?”


“Mind if I touch them?”

“Of course not.”

English: Artist's conception of a solar sail

English: Artist’s conception of a solar sail (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The sail felt like icy cold water. The flow of color brought a slightly different texture as it passed from white to pink to green and between. White ran under my fingers like a soapy sponge. Pink felt like clear oil. Green gave the impression of very weak syrup. I pulled my hand back and for a moment after, my fingertips glistened.

“Rub them, kid. They make different sounds when you do.”

I looked at him sideways, but tried gently poking at a small patch of white. The whole sail trembled and gave off a small squeak before sighing again. I tried again, running a finger up and down on its surface. The sail giggled, I’m sure of it. Had Chaz been joking when he had said the ship was just a machine?

Chaz was busy making his set of sails purr like contented housecats. Did he ever climb the rigging and pet the upper sails? Didn’t they feel left out?

“She screams when she’s in landing mode,” he said suddenly. “That’s why no one is here to meet us yet. You can’t hear it through the hull, but…”

There you go…  Hope you enjoyed it.  And if you have any comments or suggestions, they’d be extra greatly appreciated this time, because I’m at such emotional crossroads as to what I’d like to do with this book.  Thanks bunches!

Cheers to K.L. Schwengel at My Random Muse!  She hosts WIPpet Wednesdays (it is like herding cats, after all) for us.  WIPeteers post pieces of a draft (Work In Progress) that somehow relate with the date at the group linky and bravely invite company, comments…  even gentle (or not-so gentle) critiques