Sunday, January 22, 2017

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Good Afternoon!

Actually it's a wet and windy afternoon.
Thankfully yesterday was just partially cloudy so ActorKid and I got to the train station and then to her workshop way-the-hell-across-the-city without getting wet. Bit windy at times but that's normal.
We left home around 9AM and got back home about 3:30PM. She had fun and that's the main thing.
I like Wellington as a city to wander in so it was good for me too.

Tomorrow we have a Writers Plot picnic at TMP.
Currently it's pissing with rain and windy as hell.
I'm hoping that tomorrow we have a picnic!

Planning on making cannelloni for tea, been wanting it for ages so that's whats for dinner tonight. Messy to make and delicious to eat.

Feel like I should be writing. perhaps I should write this short monster story and get it out of the way. I can see bits of it and I kinda know how it'll come together, kinda. I know that once I start writing it'll all happen for me, because that's how it works. It's not my first rodeo.
Don't think I'm really in a monster story mood though.
So, I could jump back into Crashbyte for a bit. Potentially that's easier on my brain, as the characters are very well established and rather like old friends.

I'll figure it out and write something today, even if it's only a few paragraphs. Time to get back into it.

Yesterday while I was waiting for ActorKid I wrote up some notes for the kids writing course that starts on Tuesday at the shop. We're going to be doing a lot of descriptive writing.

I need to sit down with my course books and reorganize my notes at some stage. Some need re-writing and some need updating and tidying up.
It's on my list. :)

Meanwhile here's some opening paragraphs from various Byte novels.

METABYTE:
“Your phone!” Harley hollered.  The opening bars of ‘Wanted dead or alive’ rang out.
“Coming,” I called back.
Something flew at me when I stepped into the living room. My fingers snatched the object from mid-air.
I swiped my finger across the bottom of the screen.
“Problem?”
“Potentially,” Kurt replied. “I’ll pick you up in thirty.”


PSYCHOBYTE:
Flinging open my door, I climbed out. Reaching through to the backseat I hauled out my backpack. Hoisting the bag over my right shoulder and pocketing my keys I walked across the grass toward the dark-haired woman sporting a long ponytail and a Fairfax PD vest.
“SSA Ellie Conway, FBI,” I said, extending my hand.
“Detective Troy Fallon, Fairfax PD,” she replied, giving my hand a firm shake.
“Did you make the call for FBI assistance?”
She nodded. “That was me.”

ERASERBYTE:
“You all right, Conway?”
I spun around and looked at him standing in my doorway. “Yeah, you?”
Kurt nodded. “I’m not quite sure how we pulled that off. But we did, nor did we lose anyone.” He walked across the floor and lowered himself into the chair on the other side of my desk.
A smile edged over my lips. “I can’t quite believe Owen still has a job.”

DATABYTE:
“Special Agent Ellie Conway?” said the suit standing in my office doorway. He wore a visitor’s badge clipped to his lapel.
“Yes, and you are?”
He held up identification. Looked like a gold shield. Every man, dog, and parrot in D.C. has a shield.
“Aaron Keller, can I come in?”

SNAKEBYTE:
I tripped over a tequila bottle on my stumble to the bathroom. Light streamed through the window hitting my eyes with its full force. I winced. The morning was going as well as could be expected considering the empty tequila bottle. A long hot shower improved things enough that I could clean my teeth without throwing up.
The phone in my room rang as I emerged from the steam.
I threw two aspirin into my mouth and swallowed fast before they made me gag, ignored the phone, picked up the empty tequila bottle and went down stairs. Drinking alone in my bedroom, that’s a new low. I placed the bottle in the recycling bin outside the backdoor with utmost care.”

SOUNDBYTE:
A massive thump vibrated through the wall.
I grabbed my Glock from the nightstand. Welcome to Wednesday night in a crappy motel. Noel rolled off his bed, Sig in hand. He shoved his feet into his boots and crept to the window of our motel room. A long day hunting a fugitive named Oswald Randall and the attendant adrenaline made sleep an elusive wisp of an idea. My brain tried to carry on working and my body attempted to relax. It was a fail on both counts. The search would start again in the morning, sleep or no sleep.
I slid off my bed and dragged on my cowboy boots.

FLASHBYTE:
“You’re a smarmy piece of shit,” I murmured under my breath. My mouth was dry. I could barely swallow. Every nerve in my body was on edge.
I took a swig of water from my canteen. The cool liquid fought my tight dry throat until it won and forced its way down my esophagus.
“Demelza, my dear, you spoke?” Ameer’s voice oozed artificial sweetness as his head turned toward me.
I shook my head and bit my tongue.

EXACERBYTE:
My phone chirped like a demented cricket. It was the second call in two minutes. Demented crickets are never good. I pulled over to the shoulder and stopped. Cars whizzed by me. The phone chirped again.
“SSA Conway.”
“Ellie, Chrissy here. Just reminding you about the high school visit.”
“I hadn’t forgotten – there’s plenty of time yet.” I checked the time on my watch just to be sure. “I’m dropping by Cassie’s then I have a few things to do. I don’t have to be at the school until later this afternoon.”

TERRORBYTE:
“Are you sure this is the alleyway?” I stared down the dreary lane, hoping Lee would say no.
The whole place reeked of urine and discarded syringes. With a sense of foreboding, I pulled my badge from my pocket and hung it around my neck by the lanyard. My eyes flicked up and down the close walls of the alley, looking for cameras. I spotted a bracket that may have once held a camera. How handy.

KILLERBYTE:
“You’re gonna die – you bitch!
I looked at the words sitting alone on the expanse of white. A ridiculous thought occurred to me. Innocent words – just photons – squirted out by a display system, had no volition.
“Uh huh,” I said to myself. “Woohoo, someone else wants me dead.” What a shame this moron couldn’t see my eyes rolling. I held the cursor poised over his idiotic nickname, Addictedtolove, waiting. Sunday nights bring out the miscreants; the later it is, the worse the behavior. It was almost Monday.
I’m serious. You are gonna die.
I typed a reply, I’m sure you are, bye-bye.

Potentially the following is the opening of CRASHBYTE:
The early morning settled on me with a general feeling that something hinky was happening. Voices floated in the air outside my office. I concentrated harder on the screen in front of me.
Voices grew louder as they approached. A split second after the conversation leveled with my closed door a knock rang out. 
“Enter!” 
My eyes didn’t leave the screen in front of me. The door opened. I felt the barometric pressure change. The door closed. I shut my laptop lid and looked up to see Kurt and Lee standing in front of my desk. 

On that note I shall go write words and see where they lead. :)


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