Guess what? I’m writing another novel. Wahoo! Two novels,
actually, but it’s taking a lot more time than I’m used to. What gives?
In the past, and with the aid of deadlines imposed by my
previous publishers, I've published 10 novels.
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| Shelf of previous novels |
Without a deadline imposed on me, I've finished… 0 novels (though I've started two).
See the problem? I've got the aforementioned 2 novels I'd
like to complete, but it's easy to let my RPG-writing day job take up all my
"writing spoons" without a novel-writing deadline to motivate me to
make mental space for both.
In addition to other Patreon perks for my patrons, I’ll be
providing excerpts from in-progress novel chapters, short stories, and game
design work, as well as occasional thoughts and strategies on writing fiction and
RPGs. Most perks will be for patrons. But not always. In fact, this being my
launch day, I face the prospect of getting the word out to anyone who might want
to lend a hand. So, I’m sharing this excerpt widely! (And you’d have my thanks if you
helped me spread it around a bit, too!)
Excerpt The Ark Of Broken Dreams:
The shadowy stairs and a man who wasn’t there dissolved as I opened my eyes. Bird song and dawn light feathered the pine canopy overhead. My hammock swayed a bit, probably momentum left over from a bit of unconscious thrashing. Realization calmed my quick breaths and thudding heart. My shaky laughter filled the campsite.
Across from the dead campfire in her own hammock, Shiela Gilbert watched me, her head poking from the top of her sleeping bag. “Why so happy?”
I smiled, actually glad to see her for once. “I just had a nightmare that scared the living shit out of me. I’m laughing because it wasn’t real.”
Her mouth quirked as she considered. “Hmm. Haven’t had one of those for awhile.”
Field geologist Shiela Gilbert was a no-nonsense achiever with little tolerance for ephemeral “crap,” as she called it. Things like the interests and concerns of other people, for instance. Or whatever nonsense they dreamed about at night. What got her excited was the discovery of new mineral deposits, stratification, subduction zone maps, and other things geological. Otherwise, she tended to tune others out.
“I still get bad dreams,” I admitted. “From time to time.” Though not usually ones so real. The dream reminded me of when I was a kid and stayed up late watching Creature Feature. A habit that had inevitably led to nightmares: blood stains on the floor that wouldn’t come out, mud men that pulled you underground to some unspeakable fate, and dead faces staring in through second story windows.
Although the nightmare I’d just had was completely new. I’d been watching something called “DEVILTRY” on tv. The show’s title had animated, then slithered right out of the screen into the real world, morphing into a sort of demonic dragon-thing. Whose teeth, though made of letters, were horrifyingly sharp. I ran, only to come face to face with something on the stairs.
You know those specks that sometimes float on the surface of your eyes? The little phantom dots, floating around that you can never quite focus on? That’s what the man coming down the stairs was made of.
Yeah, like I said. A bad dream.
Thanks for reading! Please check out my Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/brucecordell
