Showing posts from 2013

An Aviator's Night before Christmas

The author is unknown.  It's a cute aviation play on 'Twas the Night before Christmas .  Came across it here and I just had to post it.  Enjoy! 'Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the ramp, Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ. The aircraft were fastened to tie downs with care, In hopes that come morning, they all would be there. The fuel trucks were nestled, all snug in their spots, With gusts from two-forty at 39 knots. I slumped at the fuel desk, now finally caught up, And settled down comfortably, resting my butt. When the radio lit up with noise and with chatter, I turned up the scanner to see what was the matter. A voice clearly heard over static and snow, Called for clearance to land at the airport below. He barked his transmission so lively and quick, I'd have sworn that the call sign he used was "St. Nick." I ran to the panel to turn up the lights, The better to welcome this magical flight. He called his pos

Yuletide Magic

Before hearts entwined and battles fought, a little girl invoked the ancient magic of Yule. A holiday themed short based in the magical world of the epic fantasy series, the World In-between . Download a free copy at Kobo , Google Play , iTunes Barnes & Noble , Sony , Diesel Books , and Smashwords . Amazon is charging 99 cents, for now.  Hopefully, they'll "match the price" to free soon. Happy Holidays!

Immersed in Editing

Well beyond my deadline and well over my anticipated word count, I finally finished the third book of my epic fantasy series, the World In-between . Halloween night, I penned the final words of Secrets of the Sages . Since then, I have been immersed in editing. “I am emptying the ocean with a thimble,” Silvia says in this book. Editing is all-consuming. Before a copy of my manuscript sees a different computer screen, I edit. On my desk, I keep paper and a pen ready for jotting down editing notes. How did I spell certain words in other books of the series? Should I capitalize shaman? What will be the spelling of Teresa’s family’s last name? Et cetera, et cetera. Manuscripts are funny things. They evolve with each reading. When I write, I will have what I call alpha reads. This is when I will read a few rawly written pages to a few close testers (my family). They give me feedback. I learn what works, what needs improvement and what sounded better in my head than

Poetry Wednesday 23 Oct 13

Toxic Vision by Patrick Loafman Clouds, steel gray as the sides of salmon, brushed themselves against the swollen bellies of mountains, and the full moon fell into the river and sizzled. Then I was hiking somewhere upriver to where bearded old men become spruce trees, until everything became too vivid and I collapsed, falling to the skin of the earth, my head rattling the bells of chocolate lilies, their tongues oozing nectar into my ear. Beneath the bitter umbrellas of oxalis, I could see stardust and red mites. Moss braided itself into a green rope, and I climbed further down this toxic vision, turning glistening pages of liverworts, shattered wings of cicadas, searching the undersides of the smallest leaves for a window or a mirror. I kept descending down this green rope into smaller and smaller forests, into the gray tangle of mycelia. Maybe, I imagined, this is death’s journey, to enter the earth’s pores like water. Patrick Loafman is an author, wildlife b

A Letter Home

Characterization exercise for my work-in-progress space opera , Where Pirates Go to Die . Mom, I don't know if you'll ever read this.  Had to write anyway.  Seems like something a good son should do. I'm sure you're wondering how good of a son I actually am.  I know I disappointed you and Dad, and for that I am terribly sorry. You never got to hear my side of the story.  The one where I claim my innocence.  Flyers ripped me from the interplanetary transport.  Without warning was the way they wanted it. They wouldn't let me correspond while I was incarcerated.  Not that being on this ship is any less of a prison.  But, at least I have some sort of future.  It's not the future you and dad wanted for me.  I'll never be able to go back to that life. There are a lot of things I will never be able to do again.  I have accepted that fact.  That doesn't mean that I don't miss you or my work, however trivial it seems now. If thi

A Writer’s Exercise: Foggy Inspiration

Fog on a summer’s night mesmerizes. From the time it rolls in until the sun burns it off, I imagine all sorts of possibilities. People always ask from where I get my inspiration. The answer is simple. Most of the time, I look out my window. I watch the fog hug the streetlamp, then reach to kiss the window’s screen. Eventually it fills the void between the buildings, shrouding the brick and clapboard in a hushed whisper. The sky begins to lighten. A blue-gray glow settles into the mountains. Retreating into the valley, the fog leaves a shiny roof that reflects the light of the newly liberated streetlamp. Headlights pierce through the dense air before plunging into the valley. They emerge with a heightened Doppler effect, which barges through my window. A still breeze rocks the opened blinds gently. Spreading a chill, it mocks summer. I pull my covers over my head. In my writing, I often use what lurks outside my window. I made a mist only Declan coul

To Type or Not to Type

Regular readers of this blog know that I hand write all my manuscripts before I type them. Typing, for me, is my first edit. Novels have a lot of words that need to be typed. So far, I have published just over a quarter of a million words. After typing the first 30,000 words of Secrets of the Sages, I decided to give up typing novels to try something new. For about the past week, I have been using speech recognition software. I got Dragon Naturally Speaking 12. The regular retails for $99 while the premium version is $199. My consensus, thus far, is good. I use it with my own headset. Not a pricey bit of plastic, but it does exactly what I need it to do. Since my vintage version of Word has gone wonky, I am now using Open Office. After going through the tutorial and reading an excerpt of a novel by Lewis Carroll, I began to dictate my hand-written manuscript. My book was already started in manuscript format—double spaced and first line indent at a half inch.

A Birthday Celebration

Tricentennial is a year old this month. To celebrate, I am offering the ebook for 99 ¢ throughout the month of June and into July.   Tricentennial ’s patriotic nature is great for Independence Day reading. This American dystopian novel follows extremes to their logical conclusions. Only 60+ years in the future, Tricentennial brings us to a controlled society where the survivors of “environmental collapse” live for the collective good. Twenty years into the New Era, two newly orphaned teenagers chip away the utopian veneer to find corruption, lies and high-level cover-ups. Together they discover the truth behind the new order of government that emerged and shredded the Constitution, warring the very people they claimed to serve. Xavier and Nickie Kelton, while trying to keep what is left of their family together, inadvertently start another American Revolution. Tricentennial can be found at Amazon , Apple iTunes , Kobo , Smashwords ,

Writing Workshop—Getting into Character

Character Building Exercise: A monologue of one of the main characters in my upcoming space opera, Where Pirates Go to Die . Naria : Captain of the Tigerlily The rumors are true. I have no man to complete me, nor a child to fulfill me. That is probably why I turned to pirating. If you believe that, I also have a moonshare to sell you. No one is going to tell me what kind of life a woman is supposed to lead. I bought the Tigerlily. I restored her and enhanced her. I also handpicked her crew—the best of the best at what they do. You think I care what anyone thinks about how I live my life? I am the Captain of this ship. My ship, my rules. Don’t like them? There’s the airlock. My ship is my pride and joy. Yes, it’s old, but she’s modified. What is so special about the Tigerlily? First, it has a hematite alloy bonded to the titanium hull. Gives her that pretty black sheen. Second, it can maneuver out of the Flyers’ laser snare. How? Like I’m going to tell you.

Peeking Through the Portal

The World In-between brought us from the modern mundane world through the portal to the magical Land of Sages. There, we discovered the quaint Sages’ Grove with the Empire Tree at its center. We journeyed to the magic hating walled city of Calledin. Then, we ventured into the dark Dragonlands. Bow of the Moon showed us glimpses of the Elf stronghold, Irmingard with its moat full of magic and blinding white ramparts. We raced to colorful Fairyland, which straddles the border of the Land of Sages and the Dragonlands. Beyond both lands, we traversed the mysterious God Mountain. Finally, we traveled further than the known world and lived to tell the tale. Secrets of the Sages will take us to the hot, barren grasslands of the Outlands where the Ghost Tribe finds you. We are summoned to the underground city of Grunnan—the last Dwarf state on either side of the portal. From Secrets of the Sages : Rounding a bend, they entered a large room full of multiple tracks. On the rough wall

Poetry Wednesday 15 May 13

INTO ABYSS At which point does low end, Where does abyss begin? How deep is the void in the fowl's eyes, That prey on the darkness so quiet. A winter season so withering, speechless its morning, fear in its quake. I wonder is this the paradise Hell speaks of, No heart for love, no mind for good. Where selflessness is the charity, donation for disaster, Every blood drop, from the tip of the knife is hate's revenge on love. Schizophrenic peace, must be wars sanity, Deprived soul, a wind in a vessel quilt together. The scream to be let go, but trapped till death decays the bond that holds. Pleasure the inner covet, the flesh weak, and quick to envy. So it embarks on a journey into ego, Unknowingly it will reach low. Unsatisfied by the taste, goes on to find the ingredient to enhance the aromatic artefact. Only to find the journey is to a place at the end of low, And the beginning of abyss where this lonely fortress holds. By David Worlanyo Find David on Facebook . 

Poetry Wednesday 8 May 13

Art of Noise If a symphony were a collection of memories, thoughts would be instruments, yet I wonder how the songs they played might describe the human temperament. Could percussions articulate one’s discussions? Or their tempo explain why through life we are constantly rushing? Would violins praise or hate? They may only be relevant to help foresee one’s fate. When choosing to compete, will trombones’ allure allow the rest of the song to sing? While watching clarinets show movement, I saw an oboe, harp, and flute grow wings. Whereas trumpets are knights anointed with the strength to fight, saxophones are king of the stage, and thy queen is shown through the beauty of its melody. Yet wisdom is shown through a director’s willingness to follow, for by loving the art of noise, he shall lead. Full book cover for God's Love by Calvert Tynes —Calvert Tynes Calvert Tynes is the author of God's Love . Find Calvert on Facebook .

Call Me Archaic

When people discover that my manuscripts are first handwritten, they cannot believe that I do all that extra work. Most writers type their first drafts. Very few of us bother with pen and paper. The funny thing is that I type my blog posts directly into Word. No pen, no paper and no ink on my hands. Blog posts are relatively short. I type them. Read them over. Read them aloud. Fix typos. Format. Preview. Post. One day, an idea popped into my head. It was the beginning scene for a new story. The kind of story I did not know if I would do. Sure, I wrote a dystopian science fiction, but would I touch a space opera? I did. And I decided to write it solely on the computer. Opening my extremely old version of Word, I typed my typical manuscript title page. When I started page 2, I changed the normal style to my self-made manuscript format style. I typed, “Chapter 1,” then hit enter. My opening scene sprang to life magically from the blinking cursor. Black letters in times

My Interview on Mount Pleasant Up Close

Here’s my half hour long interview on Mount Pleasant Up Close in three parts. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 It is strange to watch yourself. I can see how nervous I started. Being on the “pointy” end of the camera is foreign to me. I’ve spoken in front of large groups. I’ve performed on stage. All without fear, I might add. During a college internship with a network affiliate, I’ve even operated the camera and been floor manager. The front of the camera is much more intimate. Only being on camera more often can make it more comfortable. My previous interviews were via email with people across the pond. Being interviewed by people you know, who are also friends, is completely different. Besides being Borough Manager (Jeff) and Borough Mayor and Fire Chief (Jerry), Jeff and Jerry are co-organizers of the Mount Pleasant Glass and Ethnic Festival . Being co-founders, they have been with the festival since its inception. Every year, it gets better. This September will mark th

A Quick Update and Springtime Greetings

Not having access to the channel on which my interview on Mount Pleasant Up Close aired, a DVD of it has been made for me. All I need to do is pick it up. Look for the video to be posted the week after Easter. Happy Passover! Happy Easter! Happy Spring!

Exercising Arms

When I do research for my books, sure, I turn to internet sources and books for information. I also interview people who have experience with certain things and do or learn things for myself. One of my works in progress is the first book of a mystery series where an injured homicide detective turned PI has to relearn how to shoot. Recently, I went to a local pistol range to take a private lesson on shooting a handgun. It was my first time shooting any kind of gun. The instructor was surprised that I had never even shot a bb gun. I learned on a .22 caliber semi-automatic pistol. The former Vietnam Marine started with basic gun safety. Although I wore a turtleneck, he warned me about wearing open necked shirts for future shooting. The empty shell casings are hot when they fly out of the gun and if you are wearing a shirt with an open neck, there is a possibility that the casing can hit your skin and burn you. (Always good to know.) At the shooting bay, he went over grip, stanc

Behind the Scenes at My Recent Guest Appearance

Mount Pleasant Up Close is a weekly local TV and radio show.  The hosts are Mayor Gerald (Jerry) Lucia (on the right) and Borough Manager Jeff Landy (in the middle).  This coming week, I will be their guest. We recorded it yesterday amidst the snowstorm.  Sitting at a small table in the Borough Council Chambers, I answered questions about my books and being an author. In the beginning of my first “live” interview, I was nervous.  Jeff and Jerry started the show with a little intro, then they turned to me.  Jeff said something like, “Tell us a little something about yourself and your books.”  And that’s when it happened.  I felt as if I were having a brain freeze moment like a kid in school on test day who just stared at the paper on the desk because the answers eluded her.  I took a small pause, let out a tiny laugh, then my brain began to function properly. Once we got going, everything flowed so well. The half-hour show whizzed by faster than I expected.  Jeff an

Favorite Lines

As my hand glides ink across the blank, white page, some of my favorite lines are penned into existence. Every time I read them, they give me the same emotional response as when I first wrote them. Over the next few posts, I will share them with you. From Bow of the Moon , the latest in my epic fantasy series, the World In-between : As they drove into the city, Declan tried to look up with his head plastered onto the door window. The old adage of forgive and forget became a trudge through quicksand on a beach as high tide crashed onto the shore. “That Scholar fed me lies and I devoured them like a starving man.” The people in the pub lived their lives mostly on the insides of a tankard. “With wisdom comes responsibility. Somewhere along the way, I misplaced both.” A large serpentine yellow Dragon curled herself around the rocks the way a small child would cling to a stuffed animal or security blanket for safety. All he could smell was a uniform, musty dampness. He