Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Current Projects

This week, I thought it might be nice to get to know Jason and myself a little better and share some examples of our current work. There are several reasons for this. First, I thought it might be interesting to preserve some specimens of our work throughout the writing process. A sort of museum and shrine to our overindulged literary egos. Second, it is remotely possible that my self indulgence could be helpful to our fan base. Provide some inspiration or enthusiasm for starting your own project. How’s that sound fan base? I know you have a doctors appointment on Tuesday, but maybe you’ll want to make time?
Finally, I had three hours of sleep last night and figure why write a whole article when I have hundreds of pages of pre-written material.

Jason is a student, graduating with his bachelor’s in Computer Science in the fall. He started off writing in Fantasy, more specific, Urban Fantasy, but has since grown a much wider wingspan.

This from the opening page of a project called, “Who Says?”, by Jason:

Chapter 1
A knock came from the oak door, providing a clock-like tick in the apartment. Andrea woke up from her daze and patted her chest. Although she’d called for the Detective, she couldn’t get over her nerves; she hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours.
Andrea massaged her face and began breathing calmly. Next, she walked to the door and opened it with a steady hand, her thin fingers clasping the bronze handle.
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the teenage girl in front of her. “Sorry, but this is a crime scene,” she said wearily. The girl tilted her head, revealing white ear-buds embedded above her lobes, the cords shooting to her pocket.
She kept nodding her head, and tapping her foot. The site annoyed Andrea. With a rather loud voice, she said, “I’m expecting a Detective shortly, so you’ll have to go.”
The little miss smiled. “Didn’t you notice I’m not listening to anything?” She had pearly white teeth and a freckled nose.
Andrea frowned and opened her mouth, but then suddenly a thought came to her. “Are you…,” she said, but stopped. She tried again, despite the ridiculous nature of the situation. “No, you can’t be.”
“Well, darn,” the girl said with a disappointed voice. She cleared her throat, took a bow and then said, “Sydney Brinks, Ace Detective.”

This is from the opening page of a project called “The Fates” by Kyle.
Chapter 1.
“Lights,” I whispered softly, the word echoing beneath the airtight mask of my e-hood. The overheads faded away, leaving only dim, ambient light and silence in the long residential hallway. Not a tranquil quietness, as occurs in the mere absence of sound, but a deep and resonant silence. One that was recent and expectant; the residents knew I was coming.
Rows of small green lights now twinkled down the length of the darkened hall. Each beacon marked one of the omnipresent, government issued security nodes. As I approached, they flickered out like fireflies noticing something that subsists on a steady diet of their phosphorescent brethren.
Before the last lights went out I glimpsed my reflection in a window at the end of the hall. A hood and cloak bled the outlines of my body into the surrounding darkness. I wouldn’t have even seen myself if I hadn’t known to look for the unnaturally dark shadow across my face; an island of void sliding through the sea of blackness.
A crimson archipelago to the left caught my eye. Droplets of red pooled at the bottom of door 57-C. I glanced up and saw a bright streak of paint above the doorframe. I’d seen these marks on past Visits. They were a superstitious protective emblem meant to keep Death from entering the dwelling. A charm to protect them from me.

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