NaNoWriMo 2016

OK, I have decided to once again participate in the NaNoWriMo this year.  This will be my 4th year in a row to participate and I have achieved Winner status the last 3 years, having written over 50,000 words each year. Of course I do need to work on this novels that I have written to get them into some type of publishable form.

This year I am toying with an idea that seems relatively plausible and revolves around various mythological deities and earth as a great social experiment.  I have always been fascinated by the fact that all of the ancient cultures had gods that were similar but with different names.  My novel will explore this concept.  I am tentatively calling it 'They Were Right!'

Wish me luck as I will be spending much time and effort to get my 50,000+ words on the page between November 1 and 30.  If you would like more information on the National Novel Writing Month, please visit http://nanowrimo.org.

NYC Midnight 2015 Screenwriting Challenge - DONE!

OK, I have been remiss in my duties here.  I finished up and submitted my entry into the 2015 Screenwriting challenge over a week ago and I haven't posted it, or a link to it, here, yet.  this post is aimed to remedy that situation as I present, for you perusal and hopefully, enjoyment, my screenplay titles 'Drisa.'

This is a screen play in which I was limited to 12 pages to tell my fantasy story of adoption while including a personal assistant.

https://www.dropbox.com/s/71v4qpfr8anpgp9/35_DRISA.pdf?dl=0

Please comment below and tell me your thoughts on it!

Dan

To be a writer, one must write

Honestly, that is all it takes to be a writer - writing.  Now to be a successful writer, writing needs to become a habit.  I've been following both Paul Guyot (@Fizzhogg) and Brian Koppelman (@BrianKoppelman) both on twitter and their own blogs (http://paulguyot.net/ and http://briankoppelman.com/ respectively) for a while now and I have learned so much from them.

All of their advice and wisdom, however boils down to the fact that to be a writer you have to write. Every. Single. Day.  Write when its easy and the words just seem to flow onto the page of their own volition.  Write on the days when you have no idea what to write about as well.

Don't be intimidated by the empty page. Rather hear its siren call, begging you to put pen to paper and fill it with your words. Those words don't have to make sense at first, write what you feel and what you want others to feel.  Write about what you see and hear and smell and feel around you.  Its amazing how the slightest prod can turn into some of the most wonderful stories or scenes or dialogue that you've ever written.

Don't get me wrong, just as often as not, when you do this you may get something that's god awful.  that's OK too!  The process of expressing yourself is a learned behavior and the more you practice it the easier it becomes. Nothing written is a waste of your time.  Everything helps you to become a better writer.

So, have you written today?  I have. :)

The Vacation

Following is my submission to Round one in the NYC Midnight Short Screenplay Challenge 2014.  My group was assigned to write Fantasy, in a submarine with a magnifying glass.

I hope you enjoy it!


THE VACATION



Sarah and Abraham won an all-expense paid cruise to exotic places but it was more than they bargained for.


FADE IN:

INT. DAMP, MOLDY, DIRTY ROOM OF A SUBMARINE.

Sarah and Abraham are sitting in chairs on either side of a small table. On the table are various small petrie dishes and other glassware.

ABRAHAM

(with complaining tone)

Free cruise around the world she says. We'll travel to exotic places and see rare marine life she says. All expenses paid she says. The chance of a lifetime she says. Look where its gotten us... on the bottom of the ocean!

SARAH

(placating tone)

Now, dear it is all expenses paid and we are seeing marine life we haven't seen before.

ABRAHAM

You never mentioned the fine print, though, did you? You didn't mention we wouldn't be leaving the vessel. Nor did you happen to mention that we would be working in order to acquire our accommodations and food.

SARAH

OK, I may have mislead you but isn't it nice being away from the forest. Isn't this exciting?

ABRAHAM

It was nice for a few days, it was exotic , it was different, but that was 3 weeks ago! Now its just monotonous...

FADE TO BLACK

FADE IN:

INT. DAMP, MOLDY, DIRTY ROOM OF A SUBMARINE.

Straightening up from crouching over the table and gesturing with the magnifying glass in his hand.

ABRAHAM

OK, I will admit it is all expenses paid, but I would sure like to at least see the sun! And this exotic marine life isn't exactly easy to see even with this magnifying glass!

A loud mechanical buzzing invades the space downing out any additional dialog for the next 10 seconds as it ends...

ABRAHAM

(picking up in mid sentence)

Sheets on the bunks. I wish they would stop with the noise already. It reminds me of when you tried to learn to drive the old desoto.

SARAH

Well I did learn to drive it eventually. I think the problem may have been that...(the rest is drowned out by the recurring noise)

ABRAHAM

(once noise subsides)

Every other day, we are tormented by this noise. There is a pattern there, but I don't understand it. Can you dampen the vibration and quiet it down?

SARAH

I could but my reserves are down, I need the sun and fresh air to recharge.

ABRAHAM

OK, my love, don't worry about it. Let's see if we can't get some more work..(the rest of what he is saying is once again drowned out by the noise.)

Abraham waits for the noise to finish then sits back down to the table and holds the magnifying glass over a small dish. after a few seconds of looking

ABRAHAM

(IN A SATISFIED TONE)

Well, look at that I think I see a blue one but he won't stay still. Can you cast a stop motion spell here for a moment so I can grab it.

Sarah gestures with her hand and mutters under her breath

SARAH

There that is all I can do for now, my magic is all but depleted with the hull almost totally blocking me.

ABRAHAM

Got it! Thank you dear. Hopefully this is enough for today my eyes are getting hard to focus. Can you put this in the transporter?

Abraham hands a small pipette to Sarah who walks over to a small panel on the wall. She pushes the red button next to it. The panel opens and Sarah squirts the contents of the pipette into the receptacle. She then types in a code and hits the green button and a sound of water flowing is heard.

SARAH

I think that is all we need for our upgrade to...

Her voice is once again drowned out by the sound but this time it lasts a good 20 seconds. As it goes on both Abraham and Sarah stand and look at each other. The light gets brighter in the room as the noise stops. Then nothing happens.

FADE TO BLACK.

FADE IN:

INT. DAMP, MOLDY, DIRTY ROOM OF A SUBMARINE.

ABRAHAM

Three days. Three days we've been waiting for our upgrade. They said it would be 'soon' but now its been three days.

SARAH

Now, Abraham have patience, these things take time. They've always followed through in the past, there must be a delay for some reason.

A blinding light fills the room and Sarah and Abraham come together in an embrace as a large circular object intrudes on them from the ceiling and they are swept up into it.

As they disappear the camera zooms out farther and farther to show a pipette stuck into a dish with small compartments and a water sprite holding a magnifying glass.

WATER SPRITE

(in her own bubbling language with subtitles)

Found a mating pair this will earn us a penthouse!

FADE TO BLACK

NaNoWriMo 2014

We are fast approaching an exciting time of year. While the holidays are exciting, they aren't what I am referring to.  It's time for the National Novel Writing Month!

Each November hundreds of thousands of writers fuel their imaginations with coffee and attempt to put together a novel of at least 50,000 words in just 30 days.  While it is quite an accomplishment to complete your rough draft in that time, it is not impossible.  If you break it down, you only need to write 1667 words a day for 30 days.  Given that the average typist can type at least 25 words a minute, that translates to only 67 minutes of typing every day.

One of the great things about NaNoWriMo is that while you are writing your own novel, you are not writing alone.  You can participate in many events during the month to keep you motivated and cranking out the words.  There are virtual write-ins, actual write-ins as well as forums, blogs and various other resources available to the aspiring writer.

This is my second year participating and I am proud to say that I was successful in creating my very first novel last year.  Its currently in editing and is titled 'A Quarter Ton to Kona.'

So, why not dust off that idea you've had rolling around your brain for the last however many years and see what you can do?

NYC Short Screenplay Challenge

Was surfing the book of face this afternoon and a page was suggested to me.  That page was for the NYC Midnight's Short Screenplay cChallenge 2014.  I followed the link (http://www.nycmidnight.com/Competitions/ShSC/Challenge.htm) and started reading about the competition.  It looks interesting to me. The one part that has me hesitant is having to pay for the entry, but I think it could be a good investment to get some feedback on a bit of writing I produce.

The intriguing part is that they will provide a genre, a location and an object which provide the framework for the screenplay. I might just register adn see what I can do.

The early entry deadline is tomorrow (9/25/2014) which saves $10 off the entry fee.

THE CALL

Here is another excerpt from my novel:

I am in the middle of revising a budget spreadsheet at work when my cell phone rings. I look at the caller ID and it is Linda’s cell phone. I quickly answer.

“Hello.”

She doesn’t say anything right away so I think she hadn’t heard me. “Hello. Hello. Can you hear me” I say.

“I hear you” comes the reply and I can hear that something is wrong.

“Hold on a second” I say as I get up and head outside for a bit more privacy. Working in a room full of cubicles doesn’t afford any privacy.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“The doctor said I have to have more tests to make sure, but he thinks its breast cancer and wants to do a biopsy.” This comes out in a rush followed by the sounds of her sobbing.

“Oh dear,” I murmur as terrible thoughts flash through my brain. I haven’t had any direct dealing with this exact thing before but we have had family and friends who had.

“Where are you?” I ask.

“I just got home” she replies.

“I’m on my way.”

I know Joe, my boss, won’t have a problem with my leaving. I hurry back to my desk, save the work I had been doing, shoot Joe a quick email that I have to leave for the day and am out of the door before the computer shut down screen disappears.

I know Linda needs me and I hurry to get to her. The 25 minute drive to the house isn’t good. All of these horrible thoughts keep flashing through my head. What if we are too late and there isn’t anything the doctors can do?  What if we try everything and it isn’t enough? What if she suffers through all of the treatments we can find and cancer still wins in the end? I stop myself right there. I need to not look at the negative, but focus on the positive. I instinctively know that I have to be the strong one for her as she had been for me. I have to be the one who stays positive and focused on getting through this and everything being alright. We technically don’t have a diagnosis of cancer yet and that is a slim hope that I have to hang onto with all my might.

When I get home I find Linda in our bedroom lying on the bed. It is almost as if she is already defeated. The buoyancy and life are out of her. I can tell she’s been crying. She already looks half dead. I go to her and pull her into my arms. She starts sobbing anew. We sit there with me holding her for 15 minutes before the tears subside. Neither of us says a word for a while longer. Finally, she speaks first. A single word. “Why?”

I pause for a moment.  This is the same question that has been swirling through my head. There is nothing I can offer but the truth. “I don’t know dear. I don’t think there really is a true Why to this. We have to focus on beating this and not on what caused it.”

She murmurs her agreement, and starts sobbing again.

It breaks my heart to see her like this.  I want to make it better, to go back to how happy we were just this morning before this happened.

“We don’t know if it really is cancer, the doctor only thinks it might be. It could be benign.” I try to calm her.

“You know they wouldn’t send me to the oncologist unless they had a really strong suspicion, especially with my family history – my mom and my Aunt.” She fires back.

“When is your appointment with the oncologist?”

“Tomorrow at 10:00 I think.”

“I’m taking you. I’ll call Joe later and let him know I won’t be in tomorrow.”

“OK. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me silly!  Where else would I be but with you? I LOVE YOU! You know that and know that I will do whatever I have to in order to take care of you.”

“I Love you too.” is her reply.

We just sit there in each other’s arms for an hour, not wanting to break the spell In my mind I am hoping that if we don’t move then this isn’t happening. Unfortunately it is.

Inspiration and insight

I've been doing a good bit of reading and surfing looking for ideas, inspiration  and insight into the world of writing and publishing. I've been working on my novel A Quarter Ton to Kona and thinking that it might be a great movie.  Ok, a good movie.  The point is that I have been thinking that I need to find out how to go about writing a screenplay/script.

Along the way, while trying to find out the basics, I came across a screenwriter, a SUCCESSFUL screenwriter, who has also been giving out little pieces of wisdom he has garnered from his years in the business.  His name is Brian Koppelman.  Many of you won't recognize the name but will recognize some of his work.  His list of writing credits includes Rounders, Runaway Jury, Ocean's Thirteen and Runner Runner. Needless to say he knows a thing or two about the industry and following your dreams.

He dispenses his wisdom through a series of Vines he calls Six Second Screenwriting.  Here is one that really hit home for me:

He has many more which are all tagged with #sixsecondscreenwriting

Most of his Vines are inspiring and thought provoking but this one hit home.  I want to be a writer so all I need to do it get off my butt and write.  The more I write, the better I get.  There is no overnight success I need to put in the work and hopefully, one day I can produce something others want to read or see, but the main point is I am doing it.

Write Everyday - it will change your life!

What tense do you use most often???

I read an article in Writer's Digest (WD) online yesterday that got me thinking and wondering - what tense do you write in most often?  The article was written by Brian Klems who is one of the editors at WD.  He was listing the pros and cons of writing in present tense and it got me thinking.

I had read a few articles/blog posts from other editors and authors who almost universally suggested that present tense was the way to go.  It lends and immediacy and in your face quality to the story and keeps it lively, or so the arguments went. It made sense to me at the time and I bought it wholeheartedly.  I even went back and am editing my novel, A Quarter Ton to Kona, rewriting it in present tense.

Klems' article got me thinking, though. Was this the right thing to do?  I'm not sure at the moment.  I'm just over halfway through the novel with the edit and its coming along slowly.  I don't think there should be a hard and fast rule about this.  Mixed tenses are great as they allow the author to bring in past events and manipulate time lines. I even think about the classic stories and fairy tales that start 'Once upon a time...' and realize that past tense is very useful in story telling.

So, I'm curious, when you write, what tense do you use?  Do you stick with one or do you use mixed tenses as appropriate to tell the story?  I would love to hear what you think!

Keep on writing.

Novel or Screenplay

As I'm writing my novel, "A Quarter Ton to Kona",  I see that there is massive competition for resources in the novel space and it scares me a bit.  I really think my novel is a pretty inspirational story and that it could well help people make positive changes in their lives.  My fear is that the message won't be seen by very many if I stick with the novel format.  If I could get it made as a movie, I think it has a much better chance of reaching people.  I can actually see it in my mind as the movie plays out.  The scenes are perfect for the screen and it might actually allow there to be more subtle nuances than I have written, depending n the actors used.

I have other ideas that seem to play out in my mind as if they are on a screen.  I can see and hear the action and ambient or background sounds as well as see and feel the dialog. "The Elevator Story" also lends itself to that type of presentation.  I can see scenes and action and I think it might play out better on the screen than what I can write.

This brings me to my dilemma: do I continue to work on both of these, editing and rewriting them as novels, or should I look at them as screenplays and rewrite them as such?  Should I write the novels and adapt them to the screen?  I just don't know.  I'm more comfortable in the novel arena as I have read many, many novels, but never looked at a written screenplay.  That is my big hesitation.

What would you do?????

Editing is much harder than writing

Last fall as I prepared to complete the NaNoWriMo and produce my first novel in 30 days, I figured that the initial writing was going to be the toughest part.  I was so wrong!  That was the easy part.  The editing of what I wrote is so much harder.

As I was writing my novel I was free to let the ideas flow and capture the essence of the story on paper.  Now that I'm writing I not only have to make sure that the story flows, I have to make sure I have a constant voice and that I am truly painting the picture that I thought I was.  One of the toughest parts is deciding to remove material that seemed  crucial to the story but which adds no appreciable value.

In fact I have found there are a few sections that I wrote which do nothing for the story except bog it down and confuse the storyline.  Now I can't bear to actually delete these sections.  What I have done is removed them and placed them in another document for safe keeping in case I feel they have something to contribute to the story at a later date.  They are almost like children.  Just because they don't fit in doesn't mean we throw them away.  We keep them and nurture them so that they may blossom in their own time.

Who knows I may actually take some of these sections and create a new story.

Writing tools

Being a technical writer by trade and new author of fiction by choice, I find it interesting that there are so many different authoring tools out there. When I first started writing, oh so many years ago, I was using WordPerfect.  With a change of positions and working for a Microsoft shop, I soon learned Microsoft Word and that has been my writing tool ever since.

I am quite happy with using MS Word for all of my writing needs. At least I have been until going through NaNoWriMo last November ans seeing the myriad other writing tools out in the world.  I now wonder if I am giving up some key functionality or time saving  feature by not using another application.

Right now I am sticking with Word since that is where my novel currently lives and it is where I am editing it.  I'm looking for opinions of regarding other tools, though.  All of my computers run on Windows so that is the first consideration, but do you have a favorite writing tool and if so, why is it your favorite and what does it do that Word does not.

Please let me know what you think in the comments below.

Thank you!

Novel Excerpt number 3

Here is another excerpt from my novel "A Quarter Ton to Kona":

A RIDE TO ENJOY RIDING

Since I had been diagnosed with prostate cancer I had not been back on the bike.  Not even for a short ride around the block.  Recognizing that I could be off the bike for a while, Saturday morning I decided it was time for a ride.  I didn’t have a plan for how far I might go, but I wanted to get out and enjoy it.  It was supposed to be hot, but my plan was to head out early and try to beat the heat.

I got up at 4:40 and got dressed for the ride.  The sun was due up about 5:25 and I hoped to see it rise while I was riding.

I grabbed some PowerAde along with a couple of Honey Stinger waffles for breakfast and headed into the garage.  I aired up the tires, put a stick of gum in my mouth, grabbed my helmet and gloves and was out the door before 5:00.  My destination was somewhere to the west.  I wasn’t sure how far I would make it since I haven’t been on the bike in a month but it didn’t really matter as long as I get to ride today.

There were just a couple of wisps of cloud in the sky, catching fire from the sun just below the horizon as I swung my leg over my steed and I headed off to the west.

I tried not to ride too fast but as I started going I just felt like I needed to push it.  It was if I was trying to run away from something and the harder I pushed myself the better I felt.  Shortly my breath was coming in ragged gasps, but I kept at it.  My world collapsed down and all I was aware of was my breathing and the turning of the cranks.  I felt the pain start in my legs, a burning ache that would normally make me back off, but today I needed to feel that burning.  I needed to push as hard as I had ever pushed. 

I passed Fort Apache Rd and Grand Canyon Drive and I kept pushing.  Ahead of me I saw the sun start to light the tops of the mountain peaks.  I pushed harder and the burning intensified.  My breathing was nothing but gasps for air, but I didn’t want to let up.  I made the slight turn along the kink in the road to the left and knew I was only a mile from the intersection of route 160.  I kept the hammer down, but knew I was running out of steam.  I down shifted a gear and then another as my legs were giving out.

I was to the traffic information sign, less than a half mile to go.  I dropped down to my middle ring and it was too easy, I was turning the cranks too fast, but that didn’t last long.  I was slowing as the turn approached.  I downshifted again and hit the slight downhill before the climb to the turn.

I was on my middle ring and upshifted a gear, then two to keep my momentum into the climb, but my legs were weak, I had nothing left and quickly had to down shift, one, two, 3 gears.  I was in my second to lowest gear ion the middle ring and barely able to keep moving forward but I was still moving.  I made it up the incline and around the turn. The road leveled out a bit here and I stopped for a moment to catch my breath and take a drink of PowerAde as the sun cleared the eastern horizon.

In that moment I simply enjoyed the breathtaking view as the sun light the landscape.  As the light flooded the valley I appreciated the subtle differences in color, the browns, tans and taupes all looked rosy in the light from the rising sun.  I knew it was a good day.  How could it not be?  I was here, enjoying the sunrise, having gotten here under my own power, riding my bike.

The moment was fleeting.  As the sun rose into the sky the temperature started to climb as well.  I felt the drain the exertion had put on my body.  I started riding again, heading slowly down the road for another mile or so before I recognized that I was in no real condition to go farther.  It had been stupid to push so hard so early in what I had hoped to be a long ride.  I was cooked.  I was done.  Fortunately it was downhill back to the house and I had to do little more than steer the bike as I was exhausted and barely hanging on.

I got to the house, put the bike in the garage and staggered into the house.  I collapsed into my chair.  It took a while to regain some strength but it had been worth it to be out there and see that sunrise this morning on the side of the road with no one else around.

I realized I had forgotten to stop my Garmin when I entered the house.  Fortunately I had it set to pause whenever I stopped moving.  I stopped it now and curiously put it into the cradle to download the file from my ride.  I had no real expectations for the number but was surprised when I looked on Strava. Seems I had set a personal record on the segment from Fort Apache to Route 159. Looking at the numbers I realized that I had done that section a full minute faster than I had done it before. I guess going all out on the bike does have its benefits.

After that I was tired and ended up nodding off for a couple of hours until Linda woke me to go get ready for some breakfast. It was a good morning.

To be a writer

In my mind, I've always had the ability to be a writer.  I can sit down and churn out many words about this or that topic almost at will.  Primarily these words are in the form of instruction manuals or training aids - what I would normally think of as "technical writing."  This is the easy stuff.  It has a specific purpose, a well defined framework and it has a very specific structure.  Where I falter is in the realm of fiction.

I love a good story.  I love to read stories where the underdog saves the day and does so through various trials and feats of self-discovery all encapsulated within a tale full of humor and light.  Piers Anthony is one of my favorite authors because he has a great sense of humor and incorporates that into his work.  I would love to write like him, but I am not as clever nor as quick with a quip as he seems to be.

My goal is to explore this realm of fiction writing and hopefully to produce something that others might feel is worth reading.  I know there are stories I need to tell, now I just need to tell them.

To be a writer isn't all that hard.  To be a writer, all one has to do is to put words on page or on screen.  What is hard is to be a good writer and that is what I want to be.  So forgive me as I practice and refine this craft and put forth small snippets of my writing here so that I may garner a bit of honest feedback.

EPIC FAIL

Since I had friends as well as family members who are dealing with diabetes it has become important to me to support the Diabetes Foundation.  One great way to do that is through their Tour De Cure cycling events.  I was looking at their website and saw that they had an event coming up next spring as I was planning out my events I wanted to ride in the next year.  It fit in nicely with the other events I wanted to do, so I decided it was one I was going to do.  They had 4 distances and although I haven’t been riding as much as I would like, I figured by the time the event rolled around I would be in shape to do the 30 mile distance. So I signed up and then completely failed to train for it as I should have.

Not only didn’t I train as much as I should have, I let my eating get out of control and ended up gaining weight going into the event. Not a lot, but I shouldn’t have gained any.  With those two strikes against me , the third strike was that I hadn’t ridden or even driven the course ahead of time so I really didn’t know what I was in for in terms of the difficulty of climbing the hills.

It didn’t help that the day turned out to be one of the warmest days so far this year.  It was my mind outpacing my fitness that got me into trouble.  I get these unrealistic expectations of what I can do while reading race and ride reports from much fitter riders.  In my mind I can struggle through a 100 mile ride with minimal climbing or I can suffer up a challenging hill with the rest of them.  Of course, until I get my weight under control and put in many more miles and hours on my bike, that isn’t really the case.  Its great to visualize where you wan to be, but you have to take reality into account as well.

The day started well.  I was chomping at the bit to get riding.  It drove me a little crazy that we weren’t starting our ride until 10:00 am.  This was so that more of the riders were finishing closer together and to help manage the finish area.  Unfortunately for me this meant waiting until the day warmed up.  A Lot!  Most of my rides happen in the nice early morning cool of the day, before sunrise, even.  Waiting to start until 10:00 meant that on average the temp would be 20 degrees warmer than I normally rode in.

I still figured this would be OK, I would just need to make sure and keep hydrated.  Little did I realize how much hydration that would mean.

I got to the M Resort, which was the Start/Finish line for the event about 8:30.  As I said I am terrible at waiting for things to start.  Normally I’m a fairly patient person, but when it comes to getting out and riding in events, I get nervous and anxious for the start.  There was no early packet pickup the day before the event, so once I got there I unloaded the bike in the parking garage and rode over to pick up my packet.

Check in was effortless and easy since I had met the fundraising goal ahead of time on line, it was a simple matter of signing the waiver and picking up my t-shirt and rider number.  Once I got them, I headed back to the van for any last minute adjustments and to get out of the sun.

I put the t-shirt in the van, pumped up the tires to the correct pressure and grabbed one of the powerades I had brought along.  This went into my bottle cage.  I opened the other one and took a nice long pull.  I figured I would need it.  I locked up the car and headed back over to the start area to check it out and make a trip to the Port-a-potty. Once I was done, I headed over to the bike mechanic area. 

Derrick from my LBS had told me when I picked up the bike earlier in the week that he was going to be there at the start to help with any mechanical issues.  I just wanted to say ‘Hi’ and to let him know that so far (after just a couple of rides) the new wheels were performing well.  My only issue to date had been a couple of pinch flats.

Derrick saw me rolling his way. “Those are some sexy wheels,” he said admiring his handiwork.

“Yes, they are and they are doing well.  My only issue is I think I need wider tires as I’ve had a couple of pinch flats.”

“No way.  Are you sure you had them pumped up to the right pressure?”

“Checked them before every ride,” I told a bit of a white lie. “I think its just a matter fo hitting some small rocks just the wrong way with all of the weight on here.”

“OK, but I’m not convinced,” he said.  Then another person needed his attention.

“Thanks again.  I’ll let you know how they do.”

“You do that and you might need to bring them back in after a couple of hundred miles to re-tighten the spokes, but I do put a pretty good preload on them so maybe not.”  With that he turned away to help someone else.

I realized that it was probably my own fault I ended up with the flats, but to be on the safe side, I would get the larger tires which seemed to be more forgiving of pressure variations.

Looking at my phone I still had over a half an hour until the start of our wave.  I rode back to the van and got another drink of the powerade, then made one more trip to relieve myself.  The nerves were starting to key up and I just wanted to get riding.

It was quickly approaching 10:00 and I needed to line up for the start.  I rolled across the parking area, marveling at how easily my bike rolled on the new wheels and Continental Gatorskins.  I had been leery of them after getting a couple of recent pinch flats, but felt confident that with the proper inflation all would be well.

They called everyone to the starting area and introduced several of the red riders and had them all move to the front to lead us out.  The red riders are all riders who have diabetes and are participating in the ride.  There were about 15 red riders in our wave.

The MC was really trying to get us pumped up with the yell of “Go Red Rider!” which we were supposed to say whenever we passed a red rider on the course.  They weren’t hard to identify with their red (obviously) jerseys. Little did I know at this point, but I would be seeing a lot of a certain red jersey for most of the ride.

It was finally time to do the final count down.  Five, Four, Three , Two , One… Go Red RIDERS! And we were off.

I was at my accustomed place near the rear of the field and was riding along with the group at a comfortable pace.  The first part of the ride was a gentle downhill followed by a slight uphill.  I was cruising along and came up to the back of what turned out to be the last red rider in our wave.  My thinking was he was going a bit slow, but I felt comfortable matching his pace so I started following him through the first few miles of the ride.  I hoped he didn’t think I was stalking him or anything, but I was letting him set my pace for me.  I knew that if left to my own devices I would be riding harder right now and I though that I would pay for it later if I was, so I stuck with him.

 At least until the first steeper downhill.  I noticed, looking ahead, that we would be going back uphill so I decided to let my bike roll.  I had the advantage of the much greater gravity assist, as it were, and actually got up to a fairly good clip.  Unfortunately it wasn’t enough to sustain me through the uphill and I was downshifting and ended up much slower heading towards the light.

I barely made the light and then was able to coast for a bit as there was another gentle downhill.  This was followed by a much steeper climb and there was no way I was riding up it.  I stuck it out as best I could but eventually I dismounted and walked up the hill.  There were several other riders also walking up the hill.  The walking wasn’t too bad, but it left me just as out of breath as riding did.  Add to that a tightening of the muscles of my lower back as I was pushing my bike and it was the start of my undoing.

I made it up the hill OK, having stopped a couple of times to try and stretch my back and catch my breath.  As I got to the top, The last red Rider caught up to me towards the top of the hill.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“Yes,” I gasped.  “Just not used to such steep hills.”

“”We’re almost at the top.  You want to rest for a minute?”

“No I’m good, its my back that is giving me fits – its very tight,” I wheezed. With that I got on my bike and continued on along the flat and slight downhill to follow.  Then we came to the steepest hill of the day and there was no way I was riding up it.

I had gotten bit ahead of the red rider on the downhill and he quickly caught me on the climb.

“Go on ahead, I’ll get there,” I told him.

“No rider left behind,” he said back.

I stopped about halfway up the hill for a bit of a rest.

“You want to have a seat there?” he asked me indicating the curb ahead.

Knowing that if I sat down I would have trouble getting back up, I said “No, I just need to lean on my bike and try to stretch out my back.  I’ll be good to go in a minute.  By the way, my name’s Anthony.”

“Juan. “

“I didn’t realize these hills would be this steep.” I offered as way of explanation for my apparent unpreparedness for this ride. “I’ve been doing some climbing but much more gentle grades.”

“I never do a ride without previewing the course either on my bike or at least driving it in a car so I know what to expect,” Juan told me.

“I had looked at the elevation profile online, but it certainly didn’t look this steep.”  After a minute or two more, I said,” Let’s get going.”

Truth be told I could have used a few more minutes of rest.  It was very hot out there reaching 90 or so and I was sweating up a storm.  I had drunk half of the powerade I had with me and we weren’t a quarter of the way through the ride yet.

As we set off there was another short downhill and I let the bike run free, quickly breaking away from Juan and getting up to a quarter mile ahead of him.  Of course there was another bit of uphill and he quickly caught me as I once again dismounted and had to walk for a bit.

We rested at the top and I could tell he was wanting to get rolling, so we mounted after the briefest of rests.  It was just enough for me to drink almost all of my powerade and get rolling.  That was a mistake as we had another gentle incline and I started to get a hitch in my side.  It took me back to my grade school days and one particular day when I went home for lunch.

I had forgotten some homework at home.  This was in the era before cellphones and constant communication.  I didn’t need the homework until after lunchtime so I decided that I could make it home and back during the lunch period.  Now we actually lived just under a mile from the school.  I wasn’t any type of athlete but I figured I could try to make it by running both ways.  Sure I was a husky lad back then in the 5^th grade or so, but I wasn’t obese by any means.

As I ran along I started getting a cramp in my side, what we would call a stitch.  My best guess now was I was getting a cramp from drinking too much water.  If I slowed down and walked I was OK, but if I tried jogging the stitch came back.

I was experiencing the same thing on my bike.  If I started pedaling quickly on the uphill, my side started hurting and I knew that I had drunk too much too fast. The catch 22 was that if I got off and walked, it was my back that was hurting me.  Fortunately that uphill was relatively short and we were into a nice downhill, at the bottom of which was the aid station.

Again by virtue of the downhill and my rolling along so much faster under the gravity assist, I beat Juan into the aid station by a minute or two.  I dismounted and slowly walked my bike along, looking for refreshment as well as shade.  I was boiling in the sun.

I did grab a couple of small cups of water and a half of a banana, but not finding a convenient seat nor shade, I just got right back on my bike and pushed on.  In retrospect, that wasn’t a very smart move.

There was a bit of relatively flat road just out of the aid station, but it quickly rose again.  The lack of rest had me once again pushing up the hill even through it wasn’t as steep as some of the others.  I knew that this was to be the highest point of the ride so I was eager to push up it and head down.  I actually had to stop twice up the hill before making it to the top.  It became very apparent that I should have taken a much longer rest at the aid station.  I quickly drained half of my remaining  powerade and was getting quite warm.

I had been fighting with the committee in my head on every one of the hills.  They kept telling me that I was in no kind of shape to be doing this.  That I was too unprepared.  That I was holding others up and being selfish.  It was getting harder and harder to disagree with them.

Fortunately it was time for a fairly long downhill and I felt good on the way down, except I wasn’t really cooling off.  The heat was really starting to affect me.  Add to that the need to stop a few time on the way down due to stops signs and traffic lights and by the time we hit the bottom and made the turn to start climbing back towards the M, I was done. The committee had wore me down as much as the heat and hills had, if not more so.

I made it a few blocks into the climb but had to pull over and rest.  Juan was right there waiting with me as was the SAG vehicle.  One of the advantages of being the last riders on the course is that the SAG vehicle wasn’t far away.

“I’m done. I’m way too hot and I’m feeling just a bit faint.” I said as I got off and was determined to not go any farther.

“Why don’t you grab the rest of your hydration and have a seat in the air conditioning in the SAG wagon,” Juan suggested.  He really didn’t want me to quit.

“No, I’m done.  I know my body and there is no more left in the tank,” I replied. The committee had convinced me.

“Are you sure.  I have your bike, go sit in the A/C and see if it helps.”

At that point the driver of the SAG was there asking if we were OK.

“I’m done.  I’m too hot and don’t have anything left.”

“OK, come and get in the truck and relax,” the driver said as he grabbed my bike and put it into the back of the pickup.  It was a bit of a struggle getting up into the cab as it sat pretty high, but sitting in the A/C felt wonderful.

We sat there for a few minutes and Juan came back over and asked how I was.

“Better, but I’m done.  Thank you.”

“I’ll see you at the finish line,” he said and headed out on his bike.

Now I had thought that they were going to run me back to the M and then head back out onto the course, but that wasn’t the case. With me along for the ride we continued following the back of the pack of riders.

“Does it make you nervous when we follow you,” Ted, the driver, asked.

“No not really nervous, I just feel bad for holding everyone up being so slow.”

About that time Juan had pulled over for another as we had come upon a father and daughter who were on the side of the road.  It seems that he was suffering from the heat as well.  Their bikes went into the bed of the truck and they joined me in the back seat of the cab. No I was actually feeling much better and seeing that there was only a couple of miles to go back to the M was thinking that I should get out and ride it.

The committee quickly overrode that idea saying that I would look ridiculous if I made that decision and then didn’t make it.  Unfortunately I listened to them for the second time.

About this time 3 or 4 rider passed us which was a surprise as we had thought we were at the back of the field.  We surmised that they must have made a wrong turn, or had topped somewhere out of sight along the way and we passed them.  Ray got on the radio and asked if someone could sweep the course to make sure no one else was left behind.

We continued on behind the riders until the sweep vehicle caught up to us as we were nearing the M.  At this point Ted peeled off and headed towards the start area while the other vehicle brought up the rear of the field.

As we pulled into the start area, I jumped out and they handed down my bike.  I got on it and rode over to the tent area where I spotted Linda and her friend Kim.  They had come out to greet me on my completion of the ride and were going through all of the vendor tents.

I snuck up on her and surprised her being there so soon.

“Good Job honey,” she said.

“No, I didn’t make it the whole way.  I had to SAG out.  I was just too warm.” I told her.

“But you did the best you could.  How far did you go?”

“Just over half way.”

“I’m still proud of you,” She said.  I was full of mixed emotions.  I was mad at myself for giving in and for feeling the least bit of pride in the compliment she had given me.  I didn’t feel like I deserved any credit.  In my mind it was a n utter fail.  I had been so sure I could do this with no problem and then to not make it but half way – it was an Epic Fail.

It starts tomorrow...

The NaNoWriMo event for 2013 kicks off tomorrow (actually midnight tonight) and I can't wait.  I have been chomping at the bit to start writing but have stayed my hand to keep with the spirit of the event.  I have decided on a topic and even loosely planned out some plot points to make throughout.

And a title:  A Quarter Ton to Kona.

I hope it will be an inspirational fictional biography of someone who later in life decides to become and athlete, overcome very stiff odds and obstacles in order to complete an Ironman World Championship in Kona, Hawaii.

Of course as with any good story he may or not make it to Kona.  He will have some big obstacles to overcome and hopefully will make it.

What should I write about????

This is a question that has been worrying me for the last few weeks.  I thought I had it nailed down, until another thought struck me that just sounded so much better.  Right now my plan is to write on this new subject for my novel for NaNoWriMo.  the dilemma has me thinking though, what do author's do who produce multiple books per year, to get inspiration.

I would think they would try to stay on topics that interest them and about which they have some knowledge, but I'm finding, through research, that isn't necessarily the case.  I've read many tips and how to's that authors have put out that insist they start with a very vague notion of a topic or even just with a character and let the novel flow where it may from there.

Others have posted that they put together fairly detailed outlines and plots points and scene descriptions from which they build the story.  I guess what I'm really finding is there is no one right or wrong way to go about this creative process. Its a fairly organic and messy process, this creation and it often follows its own form regardless of how the author tries to shape it.

For this project I have a fairly loose plot with a few main points I want to introduce and make sure are included, but I'm not necessarily stuck on making sure any one point is included in the final story.  I'm going to put in what seems to fit and leave out the rest.  I know there will be many other things that will occur as the story is written that I can't even think of today.

My goal for the month is to create a first draft of what I hope to be an inspirational story with its roots in reality but still a fantasy.

NaNoWriMo 2013

Have you heard of NaNoWriMo????  No?  neither had I until about 10 months ago when I stumbled across it when looking at information about writing a novel.  I was looking for inspiration and found this site: http://nanowrimo.org/dashboard .  Here was an organization dedicated to helping individuals write a novel or novels.

Their main focus to an annual event called the National Novel Writing Month, which occurs each November and has as its goal the writing of a 50,000 word novel by the end of the month.  How cool!

Anyway I am going to participate in the event this year and I urge anyone else who ever thought about writing a novel to check it out as well.

The chore

"Man I just can't shake this feeling.  I need to do something, but I just don't know what."

"Was it work related?  Was it something for your family?  Does it have to do with your trip?" Mani asked, trying to be helpful.

"I just don't know," was John's muttered reply as he lost himself in thought once more.

He knew there was something he had to do, something he had to create and it felt very important. No time to worry about it though, the truck had arrived and it was time to work.

As they opened the rear doors to start unloading the trailer, there was a thunderous crash as the rear most crate came crashing to the ground.  It was followed by the tinkling of broken glass from inside the crate.

"aww Shit!  Why the hell didn't they stack it right?" roared Mani.

"'who knows.  I'm just glad it didn't hit me!  Hey Dumbshit, who loaded this trailer?"

"Your mama!" yelled George in his pathetic attempt at humor.  No real answer was forthcoming and it really didn't matter.  They would have to clean up the mess created by someone else as usual and face the bosses' wrath for the broken equipment.

"...do it?" asked Mani.  John had missed it lost in his own thoughts.

"Do you think they will do it?" he asked again noticing John hadn't been paying attention.

"Do what?"

"Announce who gets promoted to the next level today," was Mani's exasperated reply.  He sometimes wondered why he tried at all.  Most conversations with John were predominately one sided on his part.

The promotion.  John had successfully blocked it from his mind for the last few minutes, but now it was back.  The idea that he could, somehow move up to the next level filled his every waking moment since it had been announced last week.  His longing to move up, to improve his life was almost too much.  He wanted it so bad it hurt.

Before the announcement he never even dreamed that something like this was possible.  He had been happy with his station.  Now, it wasn't enough.  He had to have more.  More power. More privilege. More money. More of everything.

As they removed and stacked the last box from the truck, Mr. James pulled up in his jeep and was yelling at them before he even got out.

“Why isn’t that put away yet?  I don’t pay you to stand around looking pretty, I pay you to work.  Get those boxes stowed in the locker and get this mess cleaned up.  Who broke this one?  Do you have any idea how much that is worth?  That is a years’ wage smashed on the ground…”

Mr. James went on and on, but having heard it all before, John once again tuned out everything but his own thoughts on the promotion as he went about his work, moving and stacking the crates.

He fantasized how he would buy his new bride everything her heart desired.  New furniture, new clothes, flowers everyday.  He would spend his free time hunting the biggest game and bring her the finest skins.  He could see himself stalking his prey and driving home his blade.

Wait, something had changed.

John came back to the present and noticed everyone had stopped what they were doing and were staring at him.  Looking down he realized he had acted out his fantasy of hunting.  At his feet lay Mr, James with a knife in his throat.

At that moment his life changed.  All hope of advancement was gone.  All he could do was to run. So run he did.

He ran out of the compound and into the wilderness. He could hear the guards raising the alarm, but he was intent on nothing but escape.  He was just about to make the jump into the river when the bullet found him.  I pierced his back, dead center and smashed through his spine, exiting from his breast in a spray of blood.

He crashed to the ground. Aware of the commotion as the guards ran over to him, but unable to move as his lifeblood poured from his chest and soaked into the ground.

His last fleeting thought was regret that he would never see his wife again.

First contest entry...

OK, I have to admit I'm just a little disappointed that I wasn't chosen as a finalist in the Clarity of Night writing contest I recently entered. It was my first ever attempt at writing fiction for others to judge. I took the approach that I wanted to write it my way and not read any of the other finalists or winners from other contests, before I submitted my entry. I wanted to see what I could do with out that influence. In hindsight if it was all about winning the contest I realize this was a definite tactical error. In terms of learning and growing as a writer, I felt this was the right approach and I still stand by it.

Here for your entertainment and in hopes of soliciting additional feedback via comments, is my entry for the contest:



Ultimate Power
By Daniel Weise

“Where are they?” Joel hissed into her ear.

“Not here.” Mya responded.

“I need them. Now. I can’t control it without them.”

He released his grip on her tunic and she fell to the deck. She knew she had to see this through. Her tribe was counting on her to stop him.

“I know where they are, but you can’t get them. No one can.” She lied. It was a desperate move, but she was sure he hadn’t seen.

“You’re lying.”

The boat shuddered and groaned under the weight of another wave. The intensity of the storm was increasing.

She chose when to make her move very carefully. She had underestimated the fury of the storm without the dampening effects of the crystals, however.

As he drew back to hit her again, the boat was lifted and dropped onto the reef.

The hull shattered and bodies were broken and battered as they were thrown on the rocks and tossed by the waves.

She had done it. He was no longer going to enslave her people. She enjoyed a brief moment of freedom before she crashed down on the rocks and felt her spine snap just before oblivion took her.

The storm whipped waves ground everything into a pulp on the jagged rocks.

When the storm eventually relented, the only remnant of their existence was the 3 faceted crystals glinting among the debris, waiting for the next unsuspecting traveler to find them and become corrupted by their power.