The Helicopter Ride

  • k-avatar“This is church! No kissing allowed here!”
  • be glad you’re not me
  • the Rhode Island coastline
  • unlimited plenty and moon colonies
  • to enhance its size

Tune In Next Time Part 41                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

The helicopter ride was as bumpy as promised, despite Lyudmila’s piloting expertise. Time and Trouble wouldn’t stay out of my lap, jumping to lick my face. She laughed, but she still looked sad over the mess she was in with the Alliance. Seeing me studying her eyes, she said, “Be glad you’re not me.”

Distracted by the rambunctious pinschers, I didn’t even notice how long we were flying until the Rhode Island coastline came into view below us. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“Jason has made contact with a splinter cell of ninja pirates, who long for a more progressive world, a world of unlimited plenty and moon colonies. They are a small group now, but our arrival will help to enhance its size.”

We had landed in a parking lot about a block from the shoreline, and hurried into the quaint building before the rotors had even come to rest. Once inside and out of sight, Lyudmila’s heavy breathing in the dim space overwhelmed me and I swept her into my arms. As our faces converged, we were accosted by a man wearing a velour cassock and a broad hat with a peacock feather plume.

Jason lisped, “This is church! No kissing allowed here!”

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After Wiping Her Tears On Her Sleeve

  • by jenare grossly underrepresented
  • save trouble and time for me
  • he would never have wings
  • curio shop in Baltimore
  • attract the attention of the young gentlemen

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After wiping her tears on her sleeve, Lyudmila explained. “You know how women are grossly underrepresented among the ranks of both ninjas and pirates? When Thor got that hiring quota legislation passed, I applied to both.”

A supremely bad idea, I knew. The Pirate Ninja Alliance was still in its infancy, and there was much distrust between the two factions. By applying to both she might appear as a double agent, especially if her connection to John were known. “How’d that work out?” I asked, knowing the answer would be convoluted.

I was not wrong.

Lyudmila grabbed my hand and hustled me through the back halls of the White House as she filled me in.

“… so then John had to save Trouble and Time for me,” she said. Trouble and Time were her matching Miniature Pinschers, kidnapped by Jorgenson earlier in her sprawling tale. “You know how John was, before he and Tessa got together and she made him get his shit together. He would never have wings in his backpack, or a parasail or anything, so he had to go to this little curio shop in Baltimore and buy a pair of reproduction Da Vinci strap-ons, and then glide out to where Jorgenson’s ship was moored.”

We climbed the narrow back stairs as she talked, my wrist in her vise-like grip. We emerged onto the roof, a two-seater helicopter waiting in the shadows.

Lyudmila pulled a tiny steel whistle from her cleavage and gave an inaudible toot. From the helicopter sprang Trouble and Time. The two small dogs pranced into the moonlight and yipped to attract the attention of the young gentlemen who were supposed to be standing guard.

A quick, silent sprint, and Lyudmila and I were in the helicopter. She was in the pilot seat. Once more she blew her whistle, calling her dogs back. The guards pulled their weapons, but as we lifted off I tossed the velvet cape from my Jason costume out the open side. It fluttered down upon their heads, allowing us to rise into the night.

“Jason is waiting for us,” Lyudmila said with a smile. “Buckle up, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

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Looking Ahead at 2016

r-avatarIt’s a brand new year, which means it’s time to draw up a plan for our writing.

Son of Music Novel’s first draft is resting quietly in the virtual bottom drawer. Once we’ve forgotten everything we wrote we’ll pick it up again and edit it with fresh eyes, then take it to our critique group.

To help us do that forgetting we’ve begun to spec out Son of Science Novel. We had approximately a day and a half of just sort of staring at each other, trying to remember who had survived the first book in the series and imagine what they might get up to next. Then – BOOM! – the ideas exploded and we’ve started filling up the pages in a new steno pad. Jen’s made her first timeline and her first list of potential character names. Kent’s list of topics to research is growing by the minute. It’s amazingly fun.

Not that it will be fun for our characters. Nope. They’ll hate us, which is how it should be.

Coming into the brainstorming we had some pictures and preliminary notes on two real-world locations that seemed like fruitful story settings. Early ideas seemed to rule them both out, though, much to our chagrin. But now we’ve found a way to work with one, and possibly both of them. Huzzah!

We’d like to think that the brainstorming and outlining won’t take as long as they did for Son of Music Novel. If they keep going at this pace, we should be golden.

Once we get this baby outlined nicely, we’ll switch back to Son of Music Novel and do those edits, and while we’re at it we’ll pull up Music Novel itself and find ways to tie the two narratives together more strongly.

Meanwhile, we’re waiting for good news from the agent who is currently looking at Science Novel. 2016 might just be the year this all takes off.

Lyudmila Speared Me With Her Gaze

  • k-avatarescape from one calamity
  • in a variety of frownings and snortings
  • I’d like to have another kiss
  • no longer aimless
  • “I screwed up. I screwed up bigtime.”

Tune In Next Time Part 39                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Lyudmila speared me with her gaze through the sights of her pistol, and I could tell she recognized me instantly. Secret service agents began diving on top of Freya, thinking they were protecting the president. Soon they were heaped up to the ceiling. Aunt Züg flung herself behind the dogpile.

That left just Lyudmila, the phony Tessa, and me.

The strange noise coming from Not-Tessa climbed in pitch and volume, then she bolted for the exit, moving with superhuman speed. Rather than give chase, Lyudmila kept me squarely in her sights and approached. “Forget her,” she said, still training the weapon on me. “Let’s go, back steps.”

Story of my life, to escape from one calamity by being engulfed in another. At least this meant the conspirators in the White House didn’t have the real treasure, which was with the real Tessa. I hoped. As she directed me along the passages, Lyudmila finished ridding herself of cake and toothpaste in a variety of frownings and snortings. “You don’t need the gun,” I told her. “I should be thanking you.”

“Shut up,” she said. “Do you know what I’ve been through to track you down? And where the hell is John?” I shrugged, my thoughts and concerns now aimless. Much as I worried about Tessa, I couldn’t help thinking how I’d like to have another kiss from Lyudmila. “Well? Where is John!” she demanded.

“You told me to shut up,” I said. “And anyway, I have no idea where he is, or Tessa. And I think we need to find them.” My concerns were no longer aimless. “Something’s going on here, and one or both of them are mixed up in it.”

Suddenly Lyudmila collapsed in tears. She holstered the Glock and said, “Don’t you think I know that?” After three great, heaving sobs, she said, “I screwed up. I screwed up bigtime.”

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Tessa Lowered Her Hood As Directed

  • by jenShe trembled and twitched
  • throb of blood-vessels in my ears
  • worms were in a frenzy
  • the nude celebrity site
  • Others were silent.

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Tessa lowered her hood as directed, and stood. Something about her seemed wrong, her movements were not the fluid, graceful motions of the girl I knew so long ago. She trembled and twitched, her skin seeming to crawl across her frame. The throb of blood-vessels in my ears sounded as if my head were packed full of worms and the worms were in a frenzy. I hadn’t been this disturbed since the time I saw my father’s scandalous pictures on the nude celebrity site.

“Never mind about those ninjas and pirates,” I said, forgetting to employ Jason’s trademark lisp. “That’s not Tessa! That’s an impostor!”

Not-Tessa twisted her head to look at me, emitting a faint keening sound. Some of the secret service agents began muttering into their radios. Others were silent.

“Then I suppose we are all impostors!” The voice came from the direction of the birthday cake on the table, which suddenly erupted, pelting us all with chocolate crumbs and minty blue frosting. On the platter, Lyudmila, contortionist and John’s sister, finished unfolding herself and stood, brandishing a Glock.

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2015 – That Was The Year That Was

r-avatarIn January of 2015 we wrote up a schedule for our year in writing, and then promptly did not look at it again until just now. Imagine our shock and delight when we discovered that we pretty much stuck to the plan!

  • Novel #5 (aka The Science Novel) is in the hands of an extremely capable agent, and we’re reminding ourselves to be patient as we await a reply
  • Novel #6 (aka Son of Music Novel) is in the can
  • and we have indeed begun brainstorming for Novel #7 (aka Son of Science Novel)

But how did we get here? Let us cuddle up with warm beverages and take a look back at 2015.

January was all about getting to know our new characters.

February saw us chugging through the outlining of Novel #6, and extolling the virtues of writing partnerships.

By March we had most of the kinks worked out of the rough outline we call the Plot Rainbow, and were preparing to move to the next step in our process.

In April we were still in the preparatory phase for the new novel, honing the characters’ voices, and dealing with a (gasp!) disagreement in the Writing Cave.

May brought the actual start of composition. Finally.

In June we were patting ourselves on the back for our deft theme incorporation and thorough world-building.

We spent much of July talking about music. This is Son of Music Novel, so it makes sense. Also, we were 43,000 words in!

By the first week of August that word count had leapt to 72,000 words. Yikes! We talked about our marketing efforts, and also went on a field trip.

Our schedule disruptions continued in September when we attended a writing conference and visited with our good friend and fellow author Reggie Lutz.

In October we were still chugging away on the first draft, encountering only a few minor problems.

November saw completion of the main narrative. We even had time to read through the whole damn thing over Thanksgiving break.

Which brings us up to the present day, December 2015. Son of Music Novel’s first draft is completely complete, ancillary material and all. Sure it’s long, but we’ll worry about that later. For now we’re making plans to see Star Wars again before Kent heads back to work.

Next week we’ll talk about our plans for the upcoming year.

Happy New Year!

The Body of Water Mother Was Pointing At

  • k-avatarother worker won employee of the month
  • please put your hood back on
  • we’re trying to make our own luck
  • bedeck me in the other world
  • posted images of a coded note card

Tune In Next Time Part 37                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

The body of water Mother was pointing at was officially known as the Sea of Imbroglio, which was the nearest my father would ever come to a memorial. It formed in the same cataclysmic events that expanded and merged the Great Lakes, eradicated Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Michigan, and took Father’s life. Mother wept at its mere mention. Now it was to be the staging ground for her next big scheme?

The truth struck me like a jai-alai serve to the head. This wasn’t Mother, it was her twin sister, Aunt Züg! That was why she failed to recognize Freya or me. I squinted at Freya, trying to read her awareness of the ruse. Without the sitting president to back my play, it was too risky calling out Aunt Züg’s deception.

“Tessa, darling,” the ersatz Ambassador to South Dakota said, “have you seen Jason’s brother at all lately? I promised him to Jorgensen when this is all over.” Tessa shook her head. “I see. Now, please put your hood back on. Listen up, all of you. The recipe for revolution is three parts chance and two parts ideology, and we’re trying to make our own luck. None of us can afford to slouch like some other worker won employee of the month. It’s no use crying, ‘Let them bedeck me in the other world with ribbons and medals,’ for it’s in this world that the Ambassador to North Dakota posted images of a coded note card showing, we believe, the only weakness in his citadel’s defenses. It’s these ninjas and pirates whose alliance we must exploit. And it’s the precious treasure brought to us by Tessa — please lower your hood now — that makes it all possible!”

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“That’s All Very Impressive, I’m Sure, Jason.”

  • by jenon this green, almost transparent sea
  • Whenever she wore pants
  • we could be dead by morning
  • makes me want to move to South Dakota
  • bloodless cheeks

Tune In Next Time Part 36                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

“That’s all very impressive, I’m sure, Jason,” said my mother, the former president and current Ambassador to South Dakota. “But do you really think this a time to be spitting mad flow? We could be dead by morning, all of us.”

The fact that my own mother couldn’t tell me apart from my twin is not something that makes me want to move to South Dakota, that’s for sure. But I didn’t say that out loud. Out loud I said, “Word,” and crossed my arms over my chest in my best imitation of Jason’s ludicrous posturing.

If Tessa’s bloodless cheeks were any indication, she had not expected Mother’s arrival. The poor girl was trembling. That was good news for me, as it kept her attention off of me.

Whenever she wore pants, my sister Freya was practically indistinguishable from her brother Thor, but that should not have fooled our mother, so her next statement surprised me. “Thor,” she said, turning her withering gaze to Freya, “the Pirate-Ninja Alliance are in formation on this green, almost transparent sea.” She indicated a swath of ocean off the South Dakota coast.

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Begin Again

r-avatarFinally! The first draft of Son of Music Novel is officially done. We wrapped up the lingering loose ends a few days ago and tucked it away for safekeeping. As we mentioned  a few weeks ago, we prefer to take things to critique group once we’ve sanded off the worst of the imperfections, which means that our new baby is not quite ready for its public debut. It’s all tired and shagged out following a prolonged squawk, and needs a bit of a lie down while we work on other things.

Picking up a new project (or revisiting an old one) forces us to focus on something different and drives the details of the newly completed novel from our minds. That way, when we pick it up again, we can look at it with fresh eyes. Obviously we’ll never be unspoiled readers of our own work, but one does what one can.

Our new project will be a sequel to Novel #5, which we cleverly code-named the Science Novel. Most likely it will be known here on the blog by the nom de guerre Son of Science Novel, even after we decide on its real title. We dug up some existing notes on potential directions the sequel could take, reminded ourselves which characters survived the first outing, and looked at the pretty pictures of the not-so-pretty locations we’re taking inspiration from for possible settings. It’s been fun and refreshing to shift gears, and we’re looking forward to a deep dive back into the world we created for Science Novel.

That and watching The Man in the High Castle, and seeing Star Wars again.

 

Mom Dozes – Holiday Prompt

  • k-avatarshe didn’t see me creep
  • blink a bright red and green
  • I’ll be back again some day
  • we can hardly stand the wait
  • a bowl full of jelly

Mom dozes in her recliner, the television screen flooding her and the rest of the room with a greenish glow and whitish noise from the football game. She always falls asleep during halftime, which is why I waited until the third quarter to make my move, so she didn’t see me creep down the stairs and out the back door. In my backpack are all the supplies I think I will need, and on my way through the kitchen I grab the only food in the house, a bowl full of jelly beans. Although I’m desperate to start my new life far away from this place and that woman, I know with depressing certainty that I’ll be back again some day. Leaving the televised crowd noise behind, I hear tree frogs and night bugs. I see no one, but the chilly air amplifies the shivers I’ve been experiencing since I decided it was time to strike off on my own, and in my imagination eyes watch me from every shadow, feral slit-pupil eyes that blink a bright red and green. To distract myself, I slide the postcard out of my pocket and reread it in the hard beam of my flashlight: “We can hardly stand the wait!” The words of welcome dispel some of the shivers, and remind me that I’m doing the right thing, leaving the only home I have ever known. I flip the postcard over to see the university’s motto flying over an aerial shot of the campus. Yes, sophomore year was a good time to run away.

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