Waiting for computers... part II
Actually, this would be part three, but the second version never got posted. The computer I was waiting for finished before I finished typing the post, and so I never posted it. Too bad, I seem to remember that it was rather amusing.
Anyway, here I am again, waiting for files to copy. (48 minutes remaining.) If I keep this up, writing a little blurb every time I find my existence all wrapped up in a slow moving computer, I may become the most prolific writer in the universe. Of course, the lure of Solitaire or Luxor is strong, and many times cancels out my motivation to do something constructive rather than simply sitting there like a lump staring at the screen. But I am accomplishing nothing rambling on like this. NaNoWriMo is over, I no longer get credit for incoherent rambling. It is time to write something worth reading. How about poetry? Nah, I have lost my taste for poetry writing, for the most part. That was a part of my life when I was a tortured soul, and I needed a vent for the pain. (sob....) Life is now much better, and I spend much less time feeling sorry for myself. I guess not all poetry is about pity parties and heartbreak, but I just don't seem to be in the mood right now.
I guess I could choose to get out my NaNo novel, and finish it up and get some polished slapped on it. But then again, maybe not. I think it needs to sit for a while, and ripen. I don't really want to do anything with it right now. It is still too raw, and the whole thirty days of writing immersion is just still to recent. Let my scars heal for a while, let the story solidify itself in my head somewhat, and then I can go back and tear it apart and fix it up a little.
(70 minutes remaining? Just goes to show how much faith you can put in those stupid little countdown timers.)
Why would I just continue to ramble like this? Shouldn't I be writing something entertaining? Nah, no worries. What I am doing now is little more than the time wasting that I would be doing if I was playing Solitaire right now. At least my typing skills are getting a workout, and my writing skills are... well not really working out but at least not becoming atrophied. The very effort of forming complete sentences must have at least a minimal amount of beneficial effect on my actual writing skills, right? And the bottom line is, that in order to become a better writer, I really do need to write often. Whatever I write, I am excercising that skill, and will gain something, if only the avoidance of reverse progress.
(Wow, that last sentence almost hurt. I really must find something more substantial to write about. Plus, I just did a word count, and I am only at about five hundred words. Ouch!)
Ace was an aging space pilot with a problem. His new commander has it in for him, and he is not really inclined to make nice and try to gain his favor. He has been flying in the Confederated Space Forces for too long to worry about the opinion of an arrogant young officer. Finally, Ace disobeys orders to save his squadron, and while he is hailed by the troops as a hero, the commander finally has his excuse to force Ace to retire. Discouraged, Ace finds a job as a public transport pilot, where he runs into Nochonis and The Tinker. Nochonis is the proprieter of the largest space craft graveyard in the galaxy, on the desert moon Rocu-Su. The Tinker is a technological idiot savant with a talent for manipulating warp and gravitational fields in unorthodox ways. When Ace learns that his old commnader has turned traitor and helped the seven headed dictator of the Emdee sector slaughter his old squadron, Ace vows revenge. Together with The Tinker, he rebuilds an old mining tug into a fearsome space fighter, and enters the Great Galactic Race as a cover for his mission of veangeance. Together, they overcome insurmountable odds as they find that winning the race may be even more important than exacting revenge, but they may be able to accomplish both!
OK, not 1000 words. So sue me…
Monday December 4, 2006 - 12:26pm (EST)© 2006 Tyler Willson. All rights reserved
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