tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30055634167946260852024-03-12T18:28:29.421-07:00OZEROJoseph Picard's writing projects and life ramblings including the kiddos, and life in a wheelchair.Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.comBlogger241125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-137100697111600252023-08-05T11:26:00.003-07:002023-08-05T11:26:42.941-07:00Just a bit of a flashfic ... spicy! AND NO CHICK! <p>I just had a lil idea after dinner the other night, and popped out 500 words...<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRhWLa8zQDRC3yGK7pf-6KfWRkp8wlJ_KpIXDpg9PZNXtlJb6qF2G35BwhE-M7SOGtCFx_x9ayzl7Wvzc6E62PAKm8qkA5gOLs-xkQraEgZ7d6NtrgUyHzcwGTPjgzzCNi7z8jrO6a2KeHgOfoLZA37xEkRg04sTZ8LEj4lM-GXdLfx_hoWIEw0BM7KQc/s768/jalapeno.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="768" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRhWLa8zQDRC3yGK7pf-6KfWRkp8wlJ_KpIXDpg9PZNXtlJb6qF2G35BwhE-M7SOGtCFx_x9ayzl7Wvzc6E62PAKm8qkA5gOLs-xkQraEgZ7d6NtrgUyHzcwGTPjgzzCNi7z8jrO6a2KeHgOfoLZA37xEkRg04sTZ8LEj4lM-GXdLfx_hoWIEw0BM7KQc/s320/jalapeno.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">omfg. AI art is SOFA KING STUPID. I asked for a dozen variations of spicy pepper, hot pepper, and it always gave me a hot chick. This was "Jalapeno monster". She has nothing to do with the story. I wanted a literal anthro pepper. I'm including this just to bitch about it. I know if I found the right tool, and had the right keywords, I could maybe get something that isn't tryign SO DEPERATELY to be a hot chick, but is it worth it? No. Screw that. On with the story-</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>- - -</b></span></div><div><p><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; text-indent: 27pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;">The chemist carried heavy black tongs with heavily gloved hands. He wore welding goggles, which I found myself envious of. If one squinted, you could see that the tongs were carrying a container. A metal cylinder, with flat sides, making it more hexagonal from above.</span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-b8ffee9b-7fff-f1e2-dae9-f2784fd9a85a"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mounting the tongs to one edge of the table, the container was suspended over his week’s food supply. Bringing out a wrench, he called to me, “Make sure you’re secure. Somewhere you’re not liable to trip and fall or something.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Is it going to… push me?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Nah, it’ll just be hard to see for a bit. Hang on.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“What?” It was already so bright! The chemist clamped the wrench onto what I now saw was a lid. He heaved and strained. As the lid began to loosen, the brightness in the room became omnipresent. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I heard the loud clunk of the lid landing on the floor.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The brightness was such a shock, it took a while to realise it had come with sound, like a hurricane was escaping from the container, now resonating all about. I heard the light fixtures shatter, but this made no impact on visibility.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I hollered over the cacophony, “You should have lent me welding goggles like yours!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“With it open now, the goggles… they do nothing!” His goggles landed on my hand - not for me to wear - just as proof that he wasn’t wearing them anymore. It didn’t stop me from trying them on. It was true. The goggles, my eyelids, nothing was impeding the light. If you’d told me it was bypassing my retinas, and just stimulating my brain’s optic centres directly, I would have believed you.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I heard metal move, and where I knew the container to be, I saw a single drop fall. It was somehow brighter than the surrounding light. I couldn't call it a different colour. I couldn’t only reason that it was a different frequency somehow- but that was almost assuredly too simple of an explanation.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The drop fell onto the supply of food. I assume that’s what happened, but only because it stopped falling, and I knew that’s where the food was.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I heard the chemist grunt, and the drop was broken. Smeared apart in one direction, then the other.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Here!” the chemist called out as I felt a tool press against my hand, “Help me bury it!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As we both attacked the food, trying to mix and bury the liquid, then mix and bury again and again, I eventually realised that the horrendous sound was dying down, and the brightness was subsiding, slowly.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Almost,” the chemist said in a soothing tone. When he decided we were done, the food glowed silently in the otherwise dark room. “Hang on, I’m going to go get my eating calipers.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He actually planned on eating it. I knew that was the plan, but it still seemed like madness. “I think I saw the time knife.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He chuckled. “Yeah. That’ll happen.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Most people are fine with sriracha.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg0KnjDadGolesxoKVIkD4DPglK_j2N6ws3QuHPcQEdCDkTCeG99jSWpPqbVo8R7k-ehrmT4GdKhMs1tFeZYEvPHMSuX8sGiD0YvohBGwxuAvzQIlKFr6oI1wTzU90ECCxd7oRsOXDG4Obqz8JNmjXBCX9Ry6mOe1BohLF3ZzHcOSJWVxPw9pWorI-BF4/s650/goggles-do-nothing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="506" data-original-width="650" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg0KnjDadGolesxoKVIkD4DPglK_j2N6ws3QuHPcQEdCDkTCeG99jSWpPqbVo8R7k-ehrmT4GdKhMs1tFeZYEvPHMSuX8sGiD0YvohBGwxuAvzQIlKFr6oI1wTzU90ECCxd7oRsOXDG4Obqz8JNmjXBCX9Ry6mOe1BohLF3ZzHcOSJWVxPw9pWorI-BF4/s320/goggles-do-nothing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">As always, go by my site <a href="http://www.ozero.ca">Ozero.ca</a>, or right to my <a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/Joseph-Picard/author/B002LPT7VA">amazon author page</a> to check out my novels... which have nothing to do with all of this.</span></span><p></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></div>Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-76652721000323993902023-06-20T19:01:00.001-07:002023-06-20T19:01:55.624-07:00Kindle Unlimited, and <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">As of this moment, all of my books are BACK in the Kindle Unlimited library. </span></p><p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/Joseph-Picard/author/B002LPT7VA"><span style="font-size: large;">https://www.amazon.com/stores/Joseph-Picard/author/B002LPT7VA</span></a></p><p>This includes:</p><p>The Lifeack series -<br />1- Lifehack<br />2- Watching Yute<br /> 2.5- Cassidy's Ladder (Short bonus epilogye story for Watching Yute)<br />3- Echoes of Erebus</p><p>The Rubberman series -<br />1- Rubberman's Cage<br />2- Rubberman's Citizens<br />3- Rubberman's Exodus</p><p>- Daring Dragon Davey's Dastardly Deeds<br />- The Many Grape</p><p>Those of you with a Kindle Unlimited membership can now borrow them to read them for free, and I'm able to run the occasional freebie promos for everyone else! </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Does anyone have any requests for what I should run a promo on first?<br /><br />---</span></p><p>In other news, work on the next series pushes on. The Daughter or Erebus series book 1 has had a working title of "The Hungry Spark", but this is not necessarily the final title.</p><p>It will be my first book since the multiple sclerosis ramps itself up, so the brain juice is flowing kinda slow. Semi-ralated to the slow MS-brain thing, the book may be significantly shorter than the books in my previous trilogies- I'm considering trying to get smaller books out more often.<br /></p><p>The seires continues Sarah's life after Echoes of Erebus, and several pathways lie open to Sarah for future books... so stay tuned...!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNuA25ggGDyFcEavzb06N7lXUo_98OXoK7F-8D366lUrTTF_nqIA4nmwUUUeTt8HbWXmOLJ0Yc8jeRNBlRdc-RCUMqVdiiiXlx-2GEVzBLaf0C7cpWvXM1jjX6FKPLDQj9CdAtBDnd6R5stWrZ6p0ETrwMe2ebUD_GuGa9AP7DBRcR9ceF7jtxOEKjd_U/s550/doe%20sleep%20cover%20musing%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="385" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNuA25ggGDyFcEavzb06N7lXUo_98OXoK7F-8D366lUrTTF_nqIA4nmwUUUeTt8HbWXmOLJ0Yc8jeRNBlRdc-RCUMqVdiiiXlx-2GEVzBLaf0C7cpWvXM1jjX6FKPLDQj9CdAtBDnd6R5stWrZ6p0ETrwMe2ebUD_GuGa9AP7DBRcR9ceF7jtxOEKjd_U/s320/doe%20sleep%20cover%20musing%202.jpg" width="224" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ohhhh, by the way, I've made new covers for my first series.... these were long overdue:<br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3TpWIvcbu18J9xS4GcV8P_-6CwkNX_DMq3_9yjk7lQNGKm79HtarO3qfiEfYbqo9sjICXp8nXkudGt26FHGXpZy22S-ClcaOd9GTbkWbX0H0aNtLgki2W4VtcRKgzocRt53pMysrlpE1Wo6zbXGuukEhsNXfjFoOm_4TD81wx8uwrzE_d9h97cv_j62E/s1500/2022lifehack3d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1044" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3TpWIvcbu18J9xS4GcV8P_-6CwkNX_DMq3_9yjk7lQNGKm79HtarO3qfiEfYbqo9sjICXp8nXkudGt26FHGXpZy22S-ClcaOd9GTbkWbX0H0aNtLgki2W4VtcRKgzocRt53pMysrlpE1Wo6zbXGuukEhsNXfjFoOm_4TD81wx8uwrzE_d9h97cv_j62E/w143-h205/2022lifehack3d.jpg" width="143" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWEbdZY2Ch5VNbwJlF7CVB1S05C7YmLsCStVrtPEcSF6NdYKeCEJy1dAr3XUk-XSbbPk20o1wEmacyRmPfTqur5-DnqVnd6RPcAq27MIoZNBqru8I51IucwMw7hTGhHkpocStCGGFUKHEXqHChE7PO-VZUFJzye64oXI5xOfjfe3nX_wgYqWYCUB_G-3Q/s1500/2023yute3d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1044" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWEbdZY2Ch5VNbwJlF7CVB1S05C7YmLsCStVrtPEcSF6NdYKeCEJy1dAr3XUk-XSbbPk20o1wEmacyRmPfTqur5-DnqVnd6RPcAq27MIoZNBqru8I51IucwMw7hTGhHkpocStCGGFUKHEXqHChE7PO-VZUFJzye64oXI5xOfjfe3nX_wgYqWYCUB_G-3Q/w141-h202/2023yute3d.jpg" width="141" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtiD8bSsCv017BQZ576GhRIxyIVFdiAEbbQfn0t_oDCZFIQgvnu4LPduufXzsN7rnO29qLVdshS252FtQzhPBuGiz289xu0M5wzlCC_9_-ADY6AVBUi_bIkb_NeqIx95PJU_81pRp6tGO-LGovpvVso-QC63KFRjVemOTSzuwIh1LwA__YhFXPmdhKK08/s1500/2023eoe3d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1044" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtiD8bSsCv017BQZ576GhRIxyIVFdiAEbbQfn0t_oDCZFIQgvnu4LPduufXzsN7rnO29qLVdshS252FtQzhPBuGiz289xu0M5wzlCC_9_-ADY6AVBUi_bIkb_NeqIx95PJU_81pRp6tGO-LGovpvVso-QC63KFRjVemOTSzuwIh1LwA__YhFXPmdhKK08/w142-h204/2023eoe3d.jpg" width="142" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Grab em <a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/Joseph-Picard/author/B002LPT7VA">here</a>!</span></div></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-90390533466548629472023-01-22T01:12:00.004-08:002023-01-22T01:12:28.412-08:00<p> As usual, I've been neglecting this blog. I've been doing tik toc vids, and the main topic is my books, I just put out <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@joseph_picard_ozero.ca/video/7191397015647997190?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7165564862554195462" target="_blank">a talk about Watching Yute.</a><br /><br />Other vids have been my old art, or a talk about my disabilities. There might be more about those going forward, we'll see...</p>Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-28798504439504790182022-09-18T20:05:00.002-07:002022-09-18T20:07:19.469-07:00<p> Here, have a slightly spoilerey map for the Rubberman series! The books tell of the biggest events to happen to this post-apocalypse multi-generational bomb shelter. A hope-from-the-dark scifi series on kindle paperback or hardcover</p><p>https://amazon.com/dp/B079VR3MY5?binding=kindle_edition</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5qRoxryO4xwZMjfZNbdKs4A0NnICOtyIiXaQg6e-MF0Fb3mAF5x10EZQJYMr0y7imLWMsVMLe6iiCEPSvuHI05PT-oINEoNetrG9pF-TocX1jM2u4ak1g_cbd1HXfU3E2qyrpleovtXXB9oUZMAszAr1FHfkpQDAwM8MWQDohroK-dB9i9-anjAZz/s900/rubberman%20public%20map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="694" data-original-width="900" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5qRoxryO4xwZMjfZNbdKs4A0NnICOtyIiXaQg6e-MF0Fb3mAF5x10EZQJYMr0y7imLWMsVMLe6iiCEPSvuHI05PT-oINEoNetrG9pF-TocX1jM2u4ak1g_cbd1HXfU3E2qyrpleovtXXB9oUZMAszAr1FHfkpQDAwM8MWQDohroK-dB9i9-anjAZz/w400-h309/rubberman%20public%20map.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Book 1: Rubberman's Cage</p><p>Subject Lenth discovers there's more than 4 people in the world when he escapes his Unit, explores the facility, meets other sub-cultures in the facility, meets a SECOND GENDER (fascinating!) encounters a room with a wall that opens and put him in another area, (elevator?? what??) doorknobs, papaya. and faces a Subject with a very different outlook, who discovers how to murder.</p><p><br /></p><p>Book 2: Rubberman's Citizens</p><p>Leena is a Citizen, and KNOWS her quarantined section is better than any other. All the Citizens agree. Given the regimented abuse Citizns suffer under whoever the current leader of Citizenry is, those other areas must be horrifying, right? What? Citizens are locker in for the safety of everyone else?? Looks like Leena and her friends will have to take some initiative... </p><p><br /></p><p>Book 3: Rubberman's Exodus</p><p>Tara and Sasha and the 2 chiefs in Engineering, and maintain the generator. Routine stuff until the uranium unexpectedly runs out. The lives of everyone in the facility are turned upside down, when a call for a little extra help from outside the facility brings devastating truths.</p>Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-83537791443736024092022-08-16T12:14:00.007-07:002022-08-16T12:17:02.163-07:00RUBBERMAN'S EXODUS IS OUT!!!<p>At the time of this writing, just the paperback, but hardcover and kindle are being processed by team Bezos at we speak. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981396054/">https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981396054/</a></p><p>This is readable on its own, but nicely caps off the Rubberman Series. It's a biggie, at nearly 300 pages.<br /><br /></p><p>I recently was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, (yeah, on top of my 20-years-plus of paraplegia, yaaay!) so my concentration is kind of a mess these days. Thankfully, Exodus was in late editing when the MS hit hard. It's nice to finish off the series the way I wanted, but it does likely mean it's my last novel. I have plans to eventually redesign all my covers, and maybe do new editions of my older stuff with a bit of re-writing. But that's later.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-c0226OPRw80B4-8Y0b5HTAJ_KOdy4RZrEb3RCcmgsZ6qBkFdc8aQewWOwS7j577RBnDv3R3fQTDOonA5D-y1nQ__9DbV14x0_32Mr6ZltIt3COzkDjWEH74zZI2x6AkJg2hgQKO2lKgIzzLFTJWA0hHWrlRSdBa7VXgdg7ZK3y_31jXg6yPO9Q0U/s2598/exodusBatteryNplugsdemo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2598" data-original-width="1524" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-c0226OPRw80B4-8Y0b5HTAJ_KOdy4RZrEb3RCcmgsZ6qBkFdc8aQewWOwS7j577RBnDv3R3fQTDOonA5D-y1nQ__9DbV14x0_32Mr6ZltIt3COzkDjWEH74zZI2x6AkJg2hgQKO2lKgIzzLFTJWA0hHWrlRSdBa7VXgdg7ZK3y_31jXg6yPO9Q0U/s320/exodusBatteryNplugsdemo.jpg" width="188" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">133 years. Time is up.</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Lead Engineer Tara and her partner Sasha face the coming end of the facility generator. For generations It has served thousands of people who have been hiding underground from the ravages of the war, and the lingering Enemy above.</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Up and down the Grand Elevator, though the entire facility, every resident's life will be shaken when the generator sparks its last amp. The Great Actual, the anarchistic Citizens, and all of the regressed sub-societies in between will have to face the unknowns of the surface.</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Old fears will pale against new circumstances beyond their imagination, and new attention brings judgment upon all.</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So the initial intent was for Tara and Sasha (sweeties 4 ever!) to be the main focus of the book for most of it, but the events were so big that other parties had to have focus for notable chunks, most notably Messenger, who's the fella in charge of running the Grand Elevator that connects the different sections of the 40-story deep bomb shelter.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Other characters get their moment in the sun, from Lenth of Rubberman's Cage, and Leena of Rubberman's Citizens. This story affects every resident of the facility. Other per-established characters play important roles too, many of which (and some new ones) are named after real-life (and/or FB) friends. I gave them every chance to object to how I was having them behave!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's launch day, and many things are nuts... but I'll get some nice excerpts posted here soon...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Eeeeheeheee... so many new things brought up that I think will surprise my long-time readers...</div></div><br />Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-83341407183387801532022-07-24T08:54:00.000-07:002022-07-24T08:54:28.960-07:00Rubberman that hill<p>I was listening to "Master of Puppets" in the background (not my typical kind of editing music) as I was editing Rubberman's Exodus, but by the end of the following section, I was required by law to switch to "Running up that hill". Sasha recently discovered that she was very agoraphobic.... and yet...<br />-------<br /><br />Tara had little time to absorb the idea before Sasha's grip on her hand tightened. “Us?” Sasha asked meekly, “going into that? And going out into all that to get there?” Her eyes were locked on the outside, wide, and darting around all that 'empty' out there.<br /><br />Messenger cast a sympathetic eye on Sasha. “I suppose just Tara would be - ”<br /><br />Sasha made a sharp whimpering noise. “N-no...” A mix of not having Tara with her, or worrying about Tara out there alone was terrible enough. But there was one final factor that she could address with less embarrassment. “I can do it. I'm going to do what needs to be done. I can do it.”<br /><br />Tara took Sasha's hands in hers. “Are you sure?”<br /><br />Sasha blinked with a nod, and did her best to reset herself. “I can. It's just right over there. I can see it, I'll be back inside in no time.”<br /><br />“That's right,” Tara said, looking closely into Sasha's eyes.<br /><br />“If you're ready...” Messenger said quietly. He turned to one of the nearby Providers. “I don't know how long this will take. Maybe an hour? I'll call if it looks like it will go longer.”<br /><br />“We can do this together.” Tara said, holding Sasha as if it were a dance. They began slowly towards the void, but Sasha's breathing wasn't calming down.<br /><br />They got ever closer to that looming void, and Sasha's confidence crumbled. “I appreciate what you're trying to do hon, but it's not.. it's not...” Sasha's steps broke any rhythm of dance, becoming smaller and less frequent.<br /><br />Tara leaned in with a kiss, and turned the dance more intimate. She held Tara and did most of the work of moving into the light. “We can.” she whispered into Tara's ear, “We're together.”<br /><br />Tears came from Sasha with a gasp that turned into a gentle sob. “And you're in just as much danger out here as I am. We have to go back.” Sasha gently, but forcibly moved against Tara's body, to try to push them back inside.<br /><br />Surprised at the strength Sasha was using, Tara couldn't bring herself to fight with enough force to correct their course. Instead, she simply stopped, and grabbed Sasha tight. “It... it's okay. I... you win.” Holding her so close, Sasha's trembling breath seemed to overtake them both.<br /><br />Messenger quietly stepped closer, and held out the comm device Tavish had given him. “Hang onto this,” he said softly to Tara, “I can probably get the Colonel to call you on it if we need to talk.” After Tara took it, Messenger began walking back to the AirLimb.<br /><br />“Neil,” Tara called to him, with apologetic eyes.<br /><br />“I understand.” Messenger replied before continuing on, leaving Tara holding Sasha.<br /><br />Sasha began to buckle, but caught herself. “I'm failing at my duty.”<br /><br />“Hush.”<br /><br />“And I'm causing you to fail because you need to take care of my weak ass.”<br /><br />“Hush.”<br /><br />“No hush, Tara,” Sasha said, pulling away. Before Tara could react, Sasha bolted out into the void towards the AirLimb, head low, as fast as she could. </p>Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-21799477330695828082022-01-07T22:03:00.004-08:002022-01-07T22:08:24.365-08:00Big update, big changes...!<p> Want the good news first or the bad news?</p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Good: </span></b></p><p>-My 10-year-old son and I put out a silly little 24-page book. He ran the show, made all the final decisions and general plot. He also did about half the work of the cover.</p><p>-The third and final book in the Rubberman Series, Rubberman's Cage, is about 2 months from release. It rocks.</p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Bad:</span></b></p><p>-I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis after going into the hospital with what I thought was a mild stroke. The diagnosis is only about a month old, but looking back, I have a feeling it had been affecting me for a long time. As most of you know, I'm already a paraplegic, and I've recently passed 10 years of that, so... yay... double disabled now. SO FUN.</p><p>-I can't justify paying for my old webhost... frankly, it had a lot of capability I was paying for that I would never be using. SO, I'm in the middle of moving everything here. Including the ozero.ca domain.</p>Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-934773481078739592021-09-09T15:54:00.031-07:002021-09-09T16:02:09.843-07:00Your writing voice, and BEING CORRECT.<div>In a writing group on FB, someone posted a snip of their WIP. People gave a lot of feedback, myself included, but several points made, (often with a great deal of conviction!) could easily have a counter-point that I felt would have been just as valid.<br /><br />For example, someone pointed out 'head hopping' going on. I'm kind of blind to light head hopping, and am fairly guilty it that myself...<br /><br />I tend to think of it as "the narrator takes the side of whoever did something last." ie:</div><div><br /><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">-----------------------------------------</span></div><br />"Give me your lunch money!" Dave commanded. Usually, this was enough to score a buck or two from Timmy. He complained less than he used to. Good Timmy.</b></div><div><b><br />"You know I have to eat, don't you?" Timmy knew Dave didn't care. Frankly, Timmy didn't care a lot either. He'd given up, and kept extra money in another pocket just for this kind of situation. That didn't make handing over a buck and a half any more fun, but it prevented getting beaten up later.</b></div><div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">-----------------------------------------</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div> </div><div>Is that head hopping? I guess so. Does it bother me? Nahhh.. does it bother readers? <b>IT BETTER NOT, OR I'LL SEE THEM AFTER CLASS!!!!!</b></div><div><br /></div><div><div>I guess my overall point is that you have good flow, and aren't making MASSIVE ERRORS, a lot of aspects come down to taste. <i>NOTE- Don't make excuses for crap calling it your style. It is a skill to determine the difference at times. If it kinda bugs you a bit at the moment, but "It's okay like that.." there's a good chance it isn't okay like that, and will bug you when you read it years later.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>There comes a point where you're just fine-tuning your voice. One person will tell you not to use the word 'said' to tag dialogue, the next will tell you that said is an 'invisible word' that gets in the way less, and everything in between. I've gotten a lot of mileage out of just leaving a quoted chunk of dialogue in close proximity to an action, and leaving it up to context to help tell the reader to understand who's talking.<br /><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;">-----------------------------------------</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Tired of Dave's bullying, </b><b>Timmy fled. </b><b>"Bite me!"</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>------------------------------------------</b></div><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div>That said, I am a heavy user of "said" unless something else expresses the mood notably better.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tuning ao many aspects like that are going to depend on your voice, and the scene.</div><div><br /></div><div>and 2 months after publishing, you'll decide you made all the wrong decisions. And you'll be right. And wrong.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">CongratulaI'msosorry.</div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iN1UXfFQ8MI/TPwfezEnLcI/AAAAAAAAAOc/BPGXwIvcqHoGmPn_BTHkNPIBtBvzUOWAQCPcBGAYYCw/s641/641px-mad_scientist_transparent_backgroundsvg.png" imageanchor="1" style="font-weight: 700; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="641" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iN1UXfFQ8MI/TPwfezEnLcI/AAAAAAAAAOc/BPGXwIvcqHoGmPn_BTHkNPIBtBvzUOWAQCPcBGAYYCw/s320/641px-mad_scientist_transparent_backgroundsvg.png" width="320" /></a></div><div></div>Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-75072220395722773992021-08-11T13:50:00.002-07:002021-08-11T13:50:57.458-07:00Poggers.<p><span> <span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">English, like any language, is subject to change and evolution over time. This is fine, and fascinating. From nouns being used as verbs, and slang becoming entrenched in the zeitgeist, I'm all for yeeting obsolete dogma. While still being able to recognize and utilize the old rules as appropriate and when needed.</span></span></p><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Now and then this unbridled evolution can give us a bear with razor-encrusted tentacles flowing from the sides of its neck. Should it be observed? Certainly. Should it be accepted? How does it behave? Does it steal pick-a-nic baskets and shred campers? Observe, maybe run. Maybe dust off and nuke it from orbit.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2ms5mei5ELg/YRQ39JfKyoI/AAAAAAAABu0/LDYb8xhQamMXcsk8571_zOUuG7g1zCUPQCLcBGAsYHQ/s500/unnamed.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="272" data-original-width="500" height="174" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2ms5mei5ELg/YRQ39JfKyoI/AAAAAAAABu0/LDYb8xhQamMXcsk8571_zOUuG7g1zCUPQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/unnamed.gif" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Where do we draw the line between "suck it up, language changes and also sometimes facets of our culture have their own entire vernacular" and "This is horse-apples"?</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Can you gronk it? Should you gronk it? Will not gronking it harsh someone's vibe? Would inadequate gronkage rob you of something fly or poggers?</span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SVQRc7Pcrlc/YRQ1L-Fb3_I/AAAAAAAABus/nmgfY2WSTYMG1rvYICqRqTsPX5_0XBccACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/thumbs.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SVQRc7Pcrlc/YRQ1L-Fb3_I/AAAAAAAABus/nmgfY2WSTYMG1rvYICqRqTsPX5_0XBccACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/thumbs.png" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div></div>Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-45216212553844729222021-08-09T09:48:00.000-07:002021-08-09T09:48:31.989-07:00Comma, Comma comma. Comma?<p> In "writing thoughts no one asked for, and anyone who cares already has an opinion" #43857333, subsection commas 7434.</p><p>The line-</p><p>"Dad carried Ella and Grandpa carried the bike."</p><p>I changed this and put a comma after Ella. Why? When you read it, you understand properly what's going on. BUT... a comma does separate the thoughts.</p><p>Mid-way through the sentence, especially if you're not reading with strict attention, in a rush, stoned, whatever.. for a moment, your brain MIGHT be picturing Dad carrying Ella and Grandpa.</p><p>This is of course, idiotic. The comma isn't NEEDED. But its inclusion makes it more readily digestible.</p><p>This particular example is for work (name changed, obv) and the reports I edit are to be usable in fast, easy references by law types, but for my own prose, I don't want readers tripping as they read, even a little- (unless I want to slow them down for a reason, but there's smoother ways to do that). I over-use commas if anything, but if the clarity is at stake, I'll suffer a few too many commas over a few too... few.</p><p>This message has been brought to you by commas. Commas: for home, office, camping, or Oxfordian lists. Now available in wingding!</p>Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-41082326701194239102020-11-25T23:41:00.002-08:002020-11-25T23:41:49.574-08:00Coffee with Golconda review<p>E.A. Bass treated me to their eclectic sci-fi novella that's a blend "between comedy, drama, psychedelia and mystery."</p><p>It has a general feel of a collection of short stories that seem only tenuously connected at first, until the strings begin to draw it all together.</p><p>Before I get into the review, let's drop a <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08M49NG82/" target="_blank">link to its amazon page here.</a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08M49NG82/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="629" data-original-width="420" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lroW3lx2yoQ/X79YCeZyINI/AAAAAAAABOw/QlOWylEbKk4w_cOdw_qg7xLjx7n8hwAxwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/coffee%2Bwith%2Bgolconda.jpg" /></a></span></div><p>Coffee with Golconda will tell you what you want to know when it is good and ready, and you will mind your manners until it does. You will flow between unique locales, imagery and thought-teasing metaphors that bring vastly differing settings vividly to life.</p><p>There were many moments when I felt strong Terry Pratchett influences, quirky yet meticulous, though that could just by my perspective- then in the next moment, things might turn surreal, or gently philosophical from the unique perspectives of Golconda and those that encounter him- only to shift to back quirky on a dime, then back again.</p><p>The world-building is gradual, doling out dollops of information casually, sometimes paying intense attention to a tiny detail, or referencing the bigger picture almost dismissively, or casually informing you that some of your assumptions were silly. (You should have known better, and Golconda will set you straight. When it's time.)</p><p>Once Coffee with Golconda has told you what it has to say, you might want to go back and read it again to see what you could not see before.</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">. -oO*Oo- .</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p>Update from me about Rubberman's Exodus, quick status update as long as I'm making a rare blog post (I KNOW I should do more here, sue me!) I am past 60% in my second editing read of the 'final' book, after which it goes to my betas, and an editor, then one last editing read from me. The cover is basically decided, but as a fair warning to my longtime readers who have paperbacks of the rest of the Rubberman series... I WILL be launching with covers in the same style to match a full set, but I DO have general plans to address ALL of my covers. I've been vain (doing them all myself) and/or lazy with my covers so far... they're not laughably bad, but they're not great... the day to fix that is coming.<br /><br />Oh, by the way, Rubberman's Exodus IS bigger than Cage or Citizens, and very very nearly rivals my biggest book to date, Echoes of Erebus. <br /><br />.... Erebus' daughter might have something to say about that in the future...</p>Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-46122910154230861102020-07-06T10:59:00.000-07:002020-07-06T10:59:21.577-07:00And they held each other. Fresh excerpt from WIP Rubberman's ExodusFresh scene, barely edited, so proceed with caution. Tara and Sasha are among hundreds of others in what equates to an internment camp built out of a repurposed fish processing facility. They recently had a very bad time in a bombed-out ruin, which was not helped by Sasha's agoraphobia.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Book progress is at 92k words. The ending is in sight, but it's got a fair chunk to go yet! Oh, and here's the current cover I have. The final will probably look a lot like this.<br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-55gHnFisK6M/XwNlapeN5lI/AAAAAAAABKk/oVQgN6cQoP8hnKR5g6V6Z79io4dnAUfBQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/exodus%2Bairlimb%2Bcover%2Bbeta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="995" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-55gHnFisK6M/XwNlapeN5lI/AAAAAAAABKk/oVQgN6cQoP8hnKR5g6V6Z79io4dnAUfBQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/exodus%2Bairlimb%2Bcover%2Bbeta.jpg" width="199" /></a></div>
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“How ya doin'?” Tara said, putting an arm around Sasha's shoulders for a squeeze.<br />
<br />
“Oh. You know. Spectacularly.” She grabbed Tara's hand and gave is a squeeze. “Same as the rest of us. Grateful to our kind hostess, and looking forward to trying to sleep in a room with a couple hundred other people again. With this stink. Oh, and there's that little wet spot outside looking at me.”<br />
<br />
“Wet spot?” Tara glanced out towards the direction of the ocean. “Uh, yeah. That's... that's something all right. Hey. We gonna talk about what we saw in those ruins?”<br />
<br />
Sasha's gaze shifted into a distant nowhere. “Can... can we not?”<br />
<br />
“Okay.”<br />
<br />
Sasha wrapped herself into Tara, burying her face into her shoulder, and squeezing at tight as she could. “Tell me that's not the world,” she mumbled into Tara weakly.<br />
<br />
“Well... yes, we're told that place is like one in two places like that, and the vast majority of the world isn't... that.”<br />
<br />
“No good,” Sasha said, squeezing desperately, even tighter. “Tell me that didn't exist.”<br />
<br />
Tara nuzzled into the hair near Sasha's ear. “I don't know what you're talking about, Sash. We're home. We're in our room on our own bed. The generator's doing fine, and we even have the day off. I'm going to keep you in bed all day, and not let go.”<br />
<br />
“Never let go,” Sasha whispered.<br />
<br />
“Of course not. You're my Sash.” Tara gave an extra bit of squeeze, unsure if it could even be felt against how hard Sasha was squeezing.<br />
<br />
“You won't let go because I'm weak?”<br />
<br />
“You're my Sash.”<br />
<br />
A few moments passed as they held each other, doing their best to ignore their surroundings.<br />
<br />
“I hate being weak. I hate that it makes you have to … to deal with me.”<br />
<br />
Tara moved back enough to look Sasha in the eye with a stern expression. “You. Are. My. Sash. I know how big it is out there. I know how that's making you feel. I have trouble logically understanding that hugeness out there. You can't help how much it affects you, but you push through. I've never been prouder of how you handled that run to the AirLimb back at home, or how you followed me into those ruins. I've never been so ashamed of myself for bringing you there.”<br />
<br />
“Tara, no...”<br />
<br />
Tara grabbed Sasha close again, almost forcefully. Hints of sobs struggled to push their way through Tara's voice. “Y-you are my Sash. You're so strong, hon. You're my...”<br />
<br />
And they held each other. And others held each other. Some needed comforting, others chose to explore cautiously. Others stared at the sea.<br />
<br />
And night eventually came.<br />
<br />
And they held each other.Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-69998296497468676322020-06-06T15:43:00.000-07:002020-06-06T15:43:05.593-07:00Rubberman's Exodus new sneak peek- Kevin gets memey.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: start;">Rubberman's Exodus at 75% first draft completion- here's a snippet written today. Minimal editing on it at this point. This graphic shows a bit of the as-of-yet unreleased map to the facility the Rubberman series is set in.</span><br style="text-align: start;" /></div>
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At Engineering level, the remaining thirty soldiers moved into the loading bay. A row of empty clothing hooks lined the left wall. Ahead, a barricade of taupe, slightly-damp, steel barrels greeted them, as well as Kevin's face peeking out from a gap near the top.<br />
<br />
“Nice outfits,” Kevin said. “Are you fellas here to tell us when Tara and Sasha are getting back? It's been a lot longer than we were expecting. We were told you might be coming, though.”<br />
The lead soldier answered back, “We're here to ensure that facility operations are secure, in interests of public safety. Please remove the barricade.”<br />
<br />
Kevin looked to the side, to someone unseen behind the barricade, and said quietly. “He's here for safety. Yup. Kinda how I saw it.” Kevin turned back to the soldiers with a smile. “Yeah, no thank you, we've been maintaining this facility for a long time, and things are secure here. I'm guessing it was one of your friends that cut our connection to the Grand Elevator. That's not safe. Also, I don't feel like moving these barrels again, they're heavy cuz they're filled with water. Water from the cooling pool. The one where we keep the depleted uranium, so, you know, handle at your own risk. I'm a professional.”<br />
Kevin flipped down his Rubberman suit's mask, completing his hazard suit. “So, you can leave, see ya!” Kevin's now-masked face disappeared from the gap, immediately replaced with a box to seal the gap.<br />
<br />
The soldiers didn't need to know that the vast majority of the water it the cooling pool was entirely harmless. The pool was now a bit lower than it technically should be, but the risk was low, especially for what was hoped to be a short duration.<br />
“Yeah, okay, now what?” Kevin said to a nearby Engineer, suited up as he was, as were the nearest twenty Engineers.<br />
<br />
At that moment, a 'foomp' sound came from the other side of the barricade, and a canister barged through the box in the gap. The canister rested on the middle of the room and started belching out smoke.<br />
Kevin looked at the smoke canister, and said “Son of a crap-sniffer!” He taped the filter on his mask, and pointed vigorously at the gap in the barricade, and yelled, “Am I a joke to you?!”Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-22535765144832552682020-05-31T23:31:00.003-07:002020-05-31T23:34:19.598-07:00Time Travel Ruins Everything.I just watched a vid that criticized Futurama for retcon-ing the tale of Seymore the dog. It went on to examine retcon in other works, and of it, and remakes, and followups long after the original... suck. And hard the original works that we've grown attached to, and don't need having had messed with.<br /><br />Here's that vid: https://youtu.be/nxDroU9WAmc<br /><br />Eh. A lot of good points. Though I had a different take. I don't have time travel in any of my writing. I feel in falls into deus ex machine pretty easily, and once an audience/reader knows Tim travel is in play, the question will often hang in the air if anything they've seen so far will matter, or be wiped away in an instant. If told well, it's not that extreme, and can be done well, but... meh... Tolerance for time travel varies from person to person, but when I heard Avengers: End Game was going to be a 'time heist'.... ugh... I enjoyed the flick well enough, but... but every time I consider watching it again, remembering the great moments, I also remember I have to go through all the time stuff first. And the Hawekeye stuff. And the... ugh. And I end up re-watching Castlevania or something.<br /><br />So... Time travel ruins everything. Ok, not everything, but a lot. I'm not so concerned with Seymore's retcon, the initial episode hit hard, and it's not like it was retconned next week or anything. It was left to simmer, and if we're of a Time travelly mindset, we can merrily accept that both outcomes are simultaneously true. Time travel makes that mindset very possible.<br />
<br />
As opposed to Rey kissing Kylo. We can hate it, we can wish it didn't happen, but in a time-travel free world, the fanfic-est mind needs to accept that it happened in canon.<br />
<br />
What happened in canon if Futurama? Yes. It all did, none of it did, because the time travel factor exists. A wild card that is theoretically unceasing. This is also true of say... star trek. They love the time travel, but are less trigger-happy with it.<br />
<br />
Star TREK microwaves don't accidentally cause time tra... .. yet.<br /><br />Futurama's a lot more loosely goosey with time. We can hate it, or accept the freedom it supplies us to accept alternate timelines. Like we accept Rose Tyler getting a photocopy of the Doctor to keep for herself. But then Trek had that Romulan thing that we have to accept, because rules are rules, and timelines are flexibly strict, and we have to ignore accepting adherence to the solid fluidity of the rules of infinite choices we have only many of, but none.<br />
<br />
..... time travel ruins everything.Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-3171983386906503742020-05-28T16:47:00.003-07:002020-05-28T20:18:51.114-07:0059.78260869565217% Exodus<div style="background-color: clear; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="font-size: 14px;">April 10th, I declared the Rubberman's Exodus to be 30% done. That's first draft, but I edit as I go, so my first drafts tend to bear a striking resemblance to my final draft, minus typos.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14px;">Today, I compared wordcount or Exodus compared to the previous book, Rubberman's Citizens, and by that metric, Exodus) is 59.78260869565217% finished. So I'm pretty pleased with this pace. I know I'd had stints where I had been getting multiple pages per day, and I'm not doing THAT right now, but it's been a slow and steady thing.</span><br />
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This isn't the final cover, but the final might be similar.</div>
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In other news, I've decided on a name for the next series. I've leaked an experiment for a cover for the first book of it in closed groups, and is purdy. I miiiight do a cover reveal on that when I've polished it up a bit. I'm not too happy with the rubberman series covers. I had a theme, I wanted a cohesive look, but they don't draw you in much.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the next series will follow a character or two that my readers already know. It's an idea I've pondered for quite a while, but the concept has crystalized a lot lately. Unlike my other two series, where they take place in the same world with other main characters taking centre stage, this series will decidedly star one central character. In that way, it will be a bit of a step towards serialization.<br />
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And yes, it's a she.<br />
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Sort of.<br />
<br />
-- Also, the house can get pretty loud with multiple students doing some classes on zoom, and my wife working from home often using zoom.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Here, I memed.</div>
<div style="background-color: clear; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<br /></div>
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Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-31203923645339262212020-04-22T17:27:00.000-07:002020-04-22T17:27:53.777-07:00Write a book, darn you! Outlines and plotting in your pants.My job in the real world is 'facility attendant' as a seniors' activity centre. There's karaoke, there's bridge, there's tai chi, table tennis, and on, and on. But covid's got stuff such down. Which leads to bored/isolated seniors. The activity co-ordinator has taken it upon herself to do these newsletters to help. She asked if I could throw something in, and knowing I write, she asked if I could put together a bit about writing for bored seniors. I whipped something out. I've done talks on it, and contributed to books about it, but I figured others might get some use out of what I wrote for the newsletter... Here we go!<br />
<br />
--------------<br />
<br />
I used to write little short stories for fun, but the idea of writing a full book seemed like an insurmountable feat I would never dare to challenge. But one day, I ended up with a short story I liked enough to write 2 sequels and a prequel for. The sum of them formed the blocks to my first novel. As much as I still like that book, through my own fiddling, and talking with other writers, I've come up with a bit of a system to make it easier.<br />
<br />
I was taught about outlines in school, but it always seemed like such a tedious waste of time. It can feel like that when your assignment is half a page, but if your goal is a hundred or more pages, it gets a lot more useful. There's writers who are 'plotters' who plan everything in detail before they get into 'actual' writing, and there's 'pansters', who fly by the seat of their pants. That describes my first book, I suppose, but now I'm somewhere in between a plotter and pantser.<br />
<br />
Once I have my basic idea, I separate it into single line plot points- just to keep me on track. I'll use a cliche for an example-<br />
<br />
-Dragon steals princess from castle<br />
-King puts out a notice for a hero<br />
-Bob sees the notice, and talks to king, gets directions<br />
-Bob goes to fight dragon, wins, yay.<br />
<br />
Each one of those lines could be described for pages and pages, possibly a meaty chapter.<br />
<br />
Line one might turn into describing the town, the castle, the princess going about her daily routine, an omen as the skies turn dark, and a screech is heard. You can go onto as much detail as you feel like, and stretch thigs out. Of course, there's a risk of dragging things out too long, so making sure what you're describing remains interesting enough to support the length can be a tricky balance. This is an instance where brutally honest feedback comes in handy.<br />
<br />
The most important thing to remember is that your outline is not a prison. Maybe you get a new idea as you're writing chapter 2, and decide Bob loses to the dragon, and ends up having to go questing for some magic weapon, or the directions were useless, or the king was in on it, getting the princess kidnapped for insurance money. Maybe it wasn't a dragon, maybe it was 5 trained apes in a dragon suit. You can easily end up with something that bears only the slightest resemblance to the original outline.<br />
<br />
Honestly, one of the main purposes of an outline is to set markers to make the entire process of writing a book seem like less like one huge task, and more like manageable bites.<br />
<br />
Once you've come to an ending, read it. Over and over. Being able to see your own flaws is a trained skill. When you already know what something is SUPPOSED to say, you subconsciously 'auto-correct' typos, plot holes, and awkward parts that aren't explained well. Self-editing can only go so far. When I think I have a book perfected, that's when I hand it to people I know who will be BRUTAL in finding errors, and honest, not sparing my feelings. Nothing is ever complete- I've had pro editors take a swing, and typos still get out. They say the best way to find an error is to publish, but it's up to the author and/or publisher to weed out as many as possible. Even 'the big guys' have this issue. There comes a point when you have to say 'good enough'.<br />
<br />
But once it IS good enough? Then publishing is the next step. It can be as humble as having a single copy made for yourself, as ambitious as getting an agent and chasing the big traditional publishers, and anywhere in between. But that's a whole other topic...Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-91484865375970288162020-04-18T16:35:00.000-07:002020-04-18T16:43:50.626-07:00Small authors are stalking you.<span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">The thing about being a nobody writer is that in slow times, the KIndle unlimited reports occasionally imply the reading path of a single reader. It's a bit creepy in a way, but fascinating. If I am to draw the simplest conclusions based on how many pages have been read of which book, it would appear that someone in the states had a slow start to my first book,, Lifehack, but picked up speed, dong the bulk of it yesterday and the day before, them moving right on to my 2nd book, Watching Yute.
Yute has A very different tone, but it has not slowed them down. (Again, I'm drawing conclusions COULD be 1000 readers each reading one page, then moving on, or 250 people reading 4 pages, etc, etc, but I think my initial conclusions are pretty likely.)
I worry that Yute's vastly different (and depressing!) low-action tone would turn off people who just finished blowing up 2 cities worth of zombies, but, my new reader seems to be into it.
There is an urge to lean over their shoulder and see where they are exactly, and gush. "Ooh, see that part? She was implying... oh, you got that? Good. Ooh, this next part is good, READ IT REALLY HARD! I'll hold your hand if you need support."
A small writer very much appreciates support, (and good lord, a review?? That can make a month!) but the little ones are watching from the corner when you wander into their shop. They dearly hope you enjoy whatever little candy you pick up, and would treasure feedback if it was a little too sweet? Oh, you would have liked a stronger hint of raspberry? The gooey centre could have been bigger? Would that have been too overt? I don't want to diminish it by putting in too much, but Ohh yes, the middle can be... SO GOOD. Did you rush in for it? Did you savour the outer layers? They were there for your pleasure, to complete the experience.</span></span>Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-7688398494425143832020-04-10T09:18:00.000-07:002020-04-10T09:44:20.253-07:00Rubberman's Exodus is at 30%... and what's with my series' consistency?<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="2mvca">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="76ute-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative;">
I've been fortunate enough that the majority of reviews for my books (as few as they have been compared to many books) have been positive. By one means or another, (and/or an updated cover) my first book remains my most popular.<br />
<br />
Among the handful of reviews that are not-so-positive, pops up a notion now and then that "It started out good, and then..."<br />
<br />
Yeah, I get that, I can see why that can happen. Lifehack was born from a set of four not-so-short stories. In the first one, our hero is mostly alone, doing a typical survival v zombies thing.<br />
<br />
After the first quarter of the book, (passing from story 1 to story 2) she is basically rescued, much less alone, no longer living in that oppressive claustrophobic threat that seems to be a mainstay of typical zombie fare.<br />
<br />
Around here, there's a bit of a shift into ROMCOM territory. And people looking for a ZOMBIE BOOK... are prone to get turned off. The other side of the coin is that people not really into general zombie stuff have really enjoyed it.<br />
<br />
I warn people as such... "If you're a big zombie book fan, this isn't it." I don't dwell on gore nearly as much. It's there, it impacts our hero, but I don't feel the need to run the readers' faces in it.<br />
<br />
The tonal shift from the first quarter to the rest of the book comes down to the book not being grounded in one consistent theme in some ways. First-book-itis, maybe.<br />
<br />
This inconsistent tone is also reflected in the Lifehack series as a whole. The following book, Watching Yute, is drastically different. There are some zombies in it, but they barely muster a side-story, with the nanotech aspect being the bigger threat.... and in much more subtle/tangential ways. The book is also a huge downer, on purpose. I love it, it wrecks me. But it's a HARD turn from the hijinks of LIfehck<br />
<br />
Then the series caps off with Echeos of Erebus. The hijinks get ramped back up a bit, the depressing bits get toned down, and we end up with a sort of balance of action/drama between former 2 books, Then glaze it with extra nanites.<br />
<br />
<br />
As a series, my first 3 books weren't planned very well. I still like the books, and the world they formed, but it didn't help foster a readership that could justifiably be off-put by the drastically shifting tone from one book to the next.<br />
<br />
AS SUCH- the Rubberman series was planned and laid out from the start with a skeletal framework that could host several stories that felt more consistently .... related to each other. As I write book 3 of Rubberman, (Rubberman's Exodus) there is going to be a dramatic shift- but it was planned all along. I've just passed what will probably be the 1/3 mark in the book, and I'm writing the beginning of that shift.<br />
<br />
10 years down the road, will I be seeing reviews saying "Huh, Exodus started OK, but..."? Well, too bad. Can't please everyone. And there HAS to be some shifts in tone. Consistency for consistency's sake would be dull. Rubberman's Citizens is a little bit of an outlier from the bulk of the series, with a handful more action, and taking place mainly in one section of the series' 'geography'.<br />
<br />
There's a balance to be had. Will the balance I settle on please everyone?<br />
<br />
Absolutely not.<br />
<br />
Will my next series have a balance that pleases everyone?<br />
<br />
Absolutely not.<br />
<br />
Am I going to let that keep me up at night?<br />
<br />
Guess.<br />
<br />
.</div>
</div>
Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-54670233369611675092020-03-27T12:19:00.000-07:002020-03-27T12:19:12.461-07:00Contact in the dark. Rubberman's Exodus WIP fresh section<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
Fresh section, checking in on a couple of side-characters during the blackout. This isn't edited much, and could likely change by the final book.<br /><span style="text-indent: 0.49in;"><br />---------------</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Contact?”
Gabe called into Contact's dark office, “Are you here?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Gabe
is that you?” Sounds of Contact fumbling to stand accompanied that
of a cup falling to the ground, then rolling away. “<i>Get these
lights on!</i>”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I...
I'm sure Messenger is working on it, Contact.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Have
we asked him? Properly?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I'm
not sure where he is. What... what do you mean by asking him
properly?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Contact
scoffed. “In recent years, I've seen people addressing the
Messenger with less reverence than is <i>proper</i> for the servant
of the Great Actual. This is all a <i>warning!</i> A <i>punishment!</i>
We must throw ourselves before Messenger and beg for forgiveness!”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I'm
not sure-”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I
blame that Lenth! A mere Subject, and-”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Contact,
the Messenger seems to favour Lenth well enough, if Lenth were to
blame-”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><i>Whatever!</i>
It's not right! He's a problematic sort!”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Gabe
sighed. “Contact, the reason I'm here is just to make you aware
that several Subjects are out of their Units. It seems that in light
of this unexpected blackout, some Managers have decided-”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><i>They're
loose!? Subjects running around loose!?</i>” Staggered footsteps
could be heard in Contact's direction, going nowhere very quickly.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">None
of them are above Manager level right now, and they're peaceful. It's
only a dozen or two. It's not like Citizenry's spilled out.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Contact
let out a horrified gasp, and then a moment of silence.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Contact?
Are you a-”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><i>Has
anyone checked that Citizenry is secure?!</i>”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">From
the Grand Elevator shaft, things seem quiet,” Gabe said.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><i>This
is all unacceptable! Find Messenger! Politely! Now!</i>”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Gabe
sighed. Again. “All right. Stay safe here, okay, Contact? I'll...
make sure I post a Provider near your door to keep <i>problematic
sorts</i> away from you.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Post
two!”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Sure.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Four?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Sure.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">And
do we know where those shock-sticks are?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Four
guards with shock-sticks. I'll see what I can do.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Good,
good. You're a good man, Gabe.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Sure.”</span></div>
<br />Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-158894665639857912020-03-19T10:30:00.003-07:002020-03-19T10:30:44.854-07:00Corvid (NOT COVID! BECAUSE!!!) total giveaway mar 19-24<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Corvid
(You heard me) giveaway! All my books, free for kindle users (which
is a free app also) starting FRIDAY, March 19<sup>th</sup>, though to
TUESDAY March 24. (Except Rubberman's Citizens, which is only
eligible for 19<sup>th</sup>-20<sup>th</sup>, due to a recent
giveaway) -oh, and as always, they're on kindle unlimited for those
who have that, and miss the giveaway, or just wanna credit me some
points.. :P </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Joseph-Picard/e/B002LPT7VA/">https://www.amazon.com/Joseph-Picard/e/B002LPT7VA/</a>
</span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">SO,
this entails the entire Lifehack series including the short Cassidy's
Ladder, the Rubberman series as it exists thus far, and The Many
Grape.. glib descriptions:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">----------------------------------</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Lifehack:
Girl meets nano-controlled zombies, doesn't like em. Meets another
girl, other girl doesn't like HER, love, death, techno zoms. My
zombie stories aren't as gory as many zombie fans might like, tastes
vary, many non-zombie readers have really enjoyed Lifehack.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Watching
Yute: Lifehack's world, 2 years later. Different girl, melancholy
angst, finds love, and more angst, and more angst. This is not a
happy book. I love it, but people who need a happily ever after story
can steer clear. Contains some zombie-type content, but not much,
really. I guess they were feeling too angsty.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Cassidy's
Ladder: A short story, with zero sci-fi, and zero zombies, that
focuses on the main character dealing with all that sticky angst she
was left with. For those who realllly need that happy ending.
-although this can be read and make sense even if you haven't read
Watching Yute</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Echoes
of Erebus: Last book in the Lifehack world. Another 2 years later.
Different girl, who technically isn't a girl, trying to figure out
what that means, and what to make of the fact that her dad/creator
LIVES IN A CORNER OF HER BRAIN, and was responsible for all the
zombie fun from Lifehack. And she's made largely from reconstituted
fish bits. Zombie content: Notable. But moreso for zombie-related
abomination thingies. May contain a talking lizard.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">All
of the above constitutes the entire Lifehack series. They can all be
read independently and they make sense. On to the Rubberman series-</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">----------------------------------</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Rubberman's
Cage: Boy grew up in an environment about the size of a house with 3
Brothers and a guy in a rubber suit in his ceiling who controls their
daily routine. And that was all he knew to exist. A couple of people
die, hero goes exploring through what turns out to be a 40 story deep
facility that's been running independently for generations, resulting
in fractured sub-cultures that all hold dear to their own versions of
ignorance as to what's actually going on. And our hero learns about
such crazy things like... like papayas, and elevators, and these
lumpy men called …. wo-men. And somehow a tree is going to eat his
Brother, but that's hard for him to get his head around.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Rubberman's
Citizens: One of the areas in the Facility is the Citizenry. They
were once the luckiest around, but over time, they've degraded into a
brutal little society where systematic abuse is inescapable and
expected. They used to lock everyone else in the facility out. Now
everyone in the facility keeps them locked in. -but seeds of
rebellion were bound to take root eventually. Leena leads against an
increasingly insane local dictator, but keeping her friends and loved
ones safe as the next dictatorship begins in the wake of the last
one- will take some out-of-the-box thinking.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Rubberman's
Exodus- SHUT UP, It's not done yet!</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">----------------------------------</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Also
in the giveaway is The Many Grape. It's really better in paper form,
due to being made more than 50% of illustrations, but it's still
readable if you click and zoom and all that junk as you go along. So
what is it? I've been fOrTuNaTe enough to have done many a month of
time in the hospital. Meals come on a tray, and on the tray is a
packing slip. These packing slips are often worded in odd ways, such
informing me I was getting ONE GRAPES. Or HALF BANANA. Not half A
banana... but HALF BANANA. Begging the question, half banana and half
WHAT? In response, I began doodling stupid little things on the
packing slips to amuse myself in the short time between finishing the
meal and the tray getting picked up. Th staff liked them, so... BOOK.
In contains pictures of the packing slips and their defacement by me,
and some kind of comment about it, and/or hospital life. It's a goofy
little thing.</span></div>
<br />Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-43698887330114585242020-03-13T12:07:00.000-07:002020-03-13T12:13:33.229-07:00Rubberman's Exodus- the blackout falls upon Citizenry<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">First draft of the section where the inevitable blackout strikes, and the Citizenry section has to deal with it...<br />--------------------</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Shrieks
flooded the air in Citizenry. They knew the lights would dim,
except those for the gardens, not now, gardens and all, darkness
reigned.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Cody?"
Leena called out to her favourite, who she knew was still in the
room.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Leena,
you okay?"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Yeah.
Must be everywhere, I hear a fuss out in commons."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Bet
some of those idiots are thinking this is the wrath of the Great
Actual," Cody said, remembering the past rashes of zealotry that
plagued Citizenry.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Oh,
no doubt he's involved in some way," Leena said, "but we
don't need people freaking out over it."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Yeah
well, a bit of freaking out is maybe called for," Cody said with
a hint of a tremble in his voice. "It wasn't supposed to be like
this!" Indeed, the Citizens had never known such complete
darkness. Yelling could be heard, though it sounded to be mostly
confused yelling. People calling out to each other. So far
nothing too horrible sounding.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Leena
had found her way over to Cody, and gave him a hug. "I'm gonna
go be leadrly or something. If you hear me hit a wall, try not to
laugh too loudly."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"You're
go...? Leena, the walkway is a heck of a drop to the Commons floor!"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"There's
a railing. I'm only going that far."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Already,
a couple of people could be heard walking up the walkway ramp to come
see Leena, but she made it to her destination before they got to her.
She faced out into the vast darkness, facing out across Commons, and
called out, "<i>Hey Citizens! It's Leena! How's it going?</i>"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"How's
it going?" Cody critiqued quietly.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"<i>Can't
see!</i>" came a reply from a voice further down the ramp.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"<i>It's
dark!</i>" came a voice from below.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"<i>Ev...
everyone remain calm!</i>" Leena called out. Hearing the voices
from unknown people that she couldn't track made her realize how
vulnerable she was in the dark. If darkness like this had happened in
more dangerous times in Citizenry, it would have been very, very bad.
If any Citizens were inclined to behave very badly... this was the
time to do it. "<i>Citizens together!</i>" she screamed out
an old rallying cry.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"<i>Citizens
together!</i>" Came a reply from the dark, then another.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Leena
screamed out again, as she began carefully walking down the ramp.
Replies of "<i>Citizens together</i>" came back in greater
and greater numbers. On her way down the ramp, she pumped into a few
people, and gently nudged them to come with her.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Before
long, Leena was at the bottom of the ramp, with Cody by her side, and
an unseen mass of rallied Citizens around her. The chant had fallen
apart as the people down closer together talked in more normal
volumes.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"<i>People?</i>"
Leena called out. They knew her, and gradually hushed to hear better.
"Kay, first of all, I love you people. Everyone safe?"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Agreeable
mumbles came from every direction, punctuated by a "<i>What's
going on?</i>" from someone.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Don't
know!" Leena said, "I guess the dimming thing went a bit
extreme. I gotta talk to Messenger, which means I gotta get to the
communication device which is in the the Grand Elevator loading bay."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">A
flurry of questions without answers came to Leena, to which she
answered "I don't know yet" and variations thereof, which
pretty much continued all the way to the Grand Elevator. Actually
navigating there was an exercise of bumping into people, people's
shacks, and a big garden box or two. A few surprised yelps from
smacking into things, and Leena began to sense when she was close to
something big. Things just sounded a little different. The ambient
sound of Commons and its people were blocked, or reflected in
ways she could navigate if she took things slow.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">When
she got to the loading bay, she found the communication box easily
enough, careful not to change any of the knobs that she wouldn't be
able to see to re-tune. A careful hand found the power switch and
<i>click!</i> The unit's little lights came to life. Static began
monitoring for Messenger. She got the handset, hit the button, and
called, "Messenger, this is Citizenry. It's Leena. We're all
kind of... a little freaked out right now. Everything went dark. You
said dim. This is totally dark other than the communication box's
lights." She let the button do the allow the static to resume,
and give Messenger a chance to reply.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">None
came.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Messenger?"
She tried again. Murmurs of worried Citizens around her surged a
little. "Shh," Leena requested of them.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Messenger.
Talk to me."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Silence.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Lenth?
You out there?"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Silence.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">"Actual?”</span></div>
<br />Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-6028228006255501172020-03-10T10:02:00.000-07:002020-03-10T22:15:37.593-07:00Grease<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
The following micro-short was inspired partly by the youtube vid: https://youtu.be/_Axa2YXonYM - the graphic on it, largely. I wrote this as I listened to the music.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
------------------------------</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
She stood on the
rooftop, sucking back on an e-ciggy as I approached. “We're just
grease,” she said. She was looking out to the horizon, and given
her sunglasses, I barely knew she realized I was there.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
“Grease?” I
asked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
She stomped on the
roof. “Building owned by millionaires.” She took her e-cig out of
her mouth and held it up. “Sold to me by millionaires.” She took
her sunglasses off and held them up. “Millionaires? Billionaires?
It's sick.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
“Capitalism got
ya down?” I chuckle.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
She shook the
e-cig and fiddled with it. “Piece of shit.” She tossed it down
and ground it into the roof as if it were a normal cigarette. “And
now I have to get another, pay my tribute to the gods of money, so I
can get my next fix. And to give tribute to one millionaire, I need
to work for another, doing work as a disposable, interchangeable
commodity, like a can of spray grease.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
I looked her up
and down. She stood like someone on a 15 minute break does. Tired,
but 'active'. Still 'on', but aching to be 'off'.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
“You're not
disposable grease to me,” I offer.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
She smirked, still
facing the horizon. “We can be greasy together, and that makes it
alright, huh?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
“It's
something.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
“Until one of us
gets sick.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
“I... we could
manage easily enough.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
“But what if
it's <i>really</i> sick?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
“We'll find a-”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
“We're
disposable, we're dime a dozen.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
“Hon... are
you... sick?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.48in;">
She crumbled into
herself, shuddering, and went down the stairs. “...grease.”</div>
<br />Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-25863182549463348942020-03-08T23:44:00.000-07:002020-03-08T23:44:03.766-07:00Rubberman's Exodus- WIP excerpt<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Third, and likely last book in the Rubberman series (previously known as Rubberman's Blackout) is coming along. Characters sometimes surprise a writer, and do- or become- things not originally intended. Sasha was intended to be an assistant to Tara, a lover, but not too deep... then I found out she was severely agoraphobic. That's already complicating things...</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
---------------------------------</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">That
dark void stared back at Sasha as she forced herself to edge towards
Tara. The sound of Tara striking with the pickaxe seemed distant.
That void just seemed to go on forever. The light specks shimmered,
some brighter, some darker, seemly swallowed into the nothing.
Glittering as they tried to escape, but getting nowhere.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Dozens
of them. Hundreds? Thousands?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">How
hungry was the void?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Sasha
felt light-headed. The void seemed bigger and bigger the closer she
got to the threshold. If she went much further, it would surround
her. It would consume her, just like the glittering flecks up there.
How long were they up there? Would they ever fall? Or be sucked away?
Would the void bring her up there, and people would look up and see a
fleck that once was Sasha? It all began to melt in her mind. She
could feel cold on her cheeks where her tears had been falling.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"<i>Sash!</i>"
And suddenly, she was safe, she was held. She surrendered to it, and
gasped, only now realizing that she hadn't been breathing. The
breathing came back riding trembling sobs.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Sasha,
let's get you out of here." Being guided by Tara's arm around
her, Sasha turned to face away from the void, looking back across the
storage bay. That much already helped immensely, but she knew that
the void was right behind her.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"I
didn't throw up." Sasha muttered. When did the drop that bucket,
anyway? If she didn't notice that, maybe she threw up and didn't
notice. She looked down on herself. Clean. She found her hands
clasped together, with Tara's hand over them. "My hero,"
Sasha said meekly, disdain in her voice meant for herself.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Sasha,
Shush. Let's go find you a place to sit down."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Did
you finish the hole?"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Pretty
much."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"I
was useless."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Liar,"
Tara said.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Sasha
was quick to respond, "Less than useless, I'm a burden."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Shut
up."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"I
am."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Stupid
bitch," Tara said affectionately as she pulled Sasha closer for
a squeeze, "Never a burden."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Liar,"
Sasha echoed to Tara softly. She squeezed back hard, but over Tara's
shoulder, that endless empty stared back at her. She forced herself
not to sob harder, but her sharp inhalation gave Tara a clue to keep
them moving. Away from the void of the big room.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Break
time," Tara declared. "Let's go lie down."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">In
a fairly large room Sasha hadn't seen yet, between the hallways
toward Actual's rooms, and the big room, they found a sort of sofa
Sasha could lie down on. There wasn't room for Tara, but she sat on
the floor next to Sasha and leaned her head against Sasha's shoulder.
"Should I get that bucket?"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"No,
tummy's fine." Sasha reached out to find Tara's hand. "Well,
that big void doesn't seem to bother <i>you</i> much," Sasha
said. It was only now that Sasha noticed that this room had a big
rolling door that looked suspiciously a lot like the one to the big
room. The big room was so big, that this door almost certainly led to
it as well.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"The
'big room' certainly is disconcerting," Tara said.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Sasha
scoffed a small chuckle. "Disconcerting." She wanted to ask
Tara how that endlessness didn't feel like it was trying to crush
her. How the strange things in the ceiling that wasn't there didn't
terrify her. How the looming return of that Enemy didn't make her
want to take the Grand Elevator back to the bottom and hide under the
bed. But she said none of it, and just squeezed Tara's hand. Tara
brought Sasha's hand to her lips, and just rested them on the back of
her hand. "Hon, hon, hon. Been a long day."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Fuck
yes," Sasha said in little more than a sigh.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Tara
just kept her lips on Sasha's hand. They sat in silence and Sasha
found herself melting into Tara's warm breath. It wasn't long before
sleep found Sasha. Tara gently placed Sasha's hand up onto her, and
stood. As she went into the central room again, Actual was nearby
with a concerned expression. "She... is she all right?"</span></div>
<br />Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-68375631489529017922019-11-23T21:42:00.002-08:002019-11-23T21:42:50.924-08:00Black Friday 2030Black Friday, 2030- the world is a mall. Stores prepare to meet yearly requirements to survive.<br />
<br />
All stores are fully staffed, including stun-stick armed guards to keep shoplifting down, crowds under control, and staff at their posts.<br />
<br />
A buzzer rings, and it begins.<br />
<br />
But there is no motion.<br />
<br />
Everyone stares from the stores into the vacant mall byways.<br />
<br />
No one can shop. They're all at work prepared for shoppers.<br />
<br />
Not that they have money.<br />
<br />
All the money belongs to two guys somewhere, who may or may not be alive. But the money is held by a computer that says they have it. The computer's name is AM. The assistant manager at the tie store knows why it was named that, and tells frie- uh... coworkers about it, and they shrug it off as being nerdy trivia.<br />
<br />
But today they all stare, silent and motionless, out into the mall awaiting customers who cannot come. No one leaves until the quota is made, or everyone gets laid off and the store gets shut down.<br />
<br />
They all get shut down forever. To open tomorrow. And begin hiring.<br />
<br />
Apply online. Through AM.Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3005563416794626085.post-33672274969615329832018-11-07T09:02:00.000-08:002018-11-07T09:02:02.938-08:00<div>
When I wrote my first book, Lifehack, I intended it as a stand-alone one-off, (OMG, I R RITE A BUK???) but it had started a world I could tell other stories in. Watching Yute and Echoes or Erebus follow the same world, and have some recurring characters, but have different feels to them.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Lifehack was pretty 'hollywood', with a couple cities worth of casualties and fun over-the-top weaponry here and there, and a big happy ending. Watching Yute was intentionally a downer, with smaller battles and far smaller, but much more personal deathcount. Echoes of Erebus was somewhere in-between, but was pretty heavvvvy sci fi with the main character not even being human. And I call those 3 books a series. They DO have a continuity for that world and while they're readable separately, there are aspects that impact the next book.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But as a series, it wasn't well planned out.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then we have the Rubberman series. I'm working on the 3rd book, and still following, more or less, the plan I made for the series. They're still readable separately but are much more tightly linked, thematically, and in the characters involved.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I had a plan for at least 4 books in the series, with an open end that could lead into other things, but as I chip away at book 3 of Rubberman, I find the concept set for 3 might not provide enough content for a book...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Which means, book 3 might end up being the original concepts for 3 and 4.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Which means, "Rubberman's Blackout".... might not be the title...and that bigger things will happen in it that was planned for book 3. It COULD be the end of the ... initial series.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As for what happens in the wake of the events of book 3/4?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
MUeeeheeeheee....</div>
Joseph Picardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04982401998611353435noreply@blogger.com0