What You Can Learn from It

Like I said on Why Stephen King Makes It Big, Stephen King get’s his popularity from making a lovable (…perhaps that isn’t the correct word) antagonist. I admit, when I was reading It, I kind of wanted It to kill “kill him”, or “kill her”. It’s just…there’s something everybody can love about a good antagonist. It’s powers, it’s attitude, the gruesome mess it leaves behind-all of these things make a story great. I recently read the Shining, and felt myself cheering for Jack (or the monster-formerly-known-as-Jack) as he swung his roque mallet into his wife’s stomach…maybe that’s just a bad obsession, but maybe it’s the fact that there are two (general) reasons for loving a antagonist. Continue reading “What You Can Learn from It” »

ReviewRipper: I’m a tough judge to please

I’m starting a new blog, ReviewRipper, in which I get the role of the mean, merciless judge. I don’t have a blog to RIP apart, but I hope that I’ll get that pleasure soon. Please, check it out. I’ve put a lot of thought into it, and I plan on it being a great blog.If you have a blog, and want it to be publicized, let me (destroy) rip-er, review it. It’ll benefit both of it.

How I got a Freelance Job with a Poem

I was searching on Freelancer.com (aka HowtoGetaFreelancer) and found somebody who wanted a writer who was creative, unique, and capable. After a few moments of consideration, I decided that that was indeed me! The requirement was that I had to write about,  in detail and four-eight sentences, why and What soda was my favorite. The result, was the poem I wrote, Pepsi, a spoof (though I do really enjoy the original) of  Trees, by Joyce Kilmer.

Continue reading “How I got a Freelance Job with a Poem” »

Write or Die: There’s no third option

During my (failed) attempt to participate in NaNoWriMo, the national novel  writing month which takes place in November (by national, I mean U.S.A. and by November, I mean November), I discovered what is perhaps the greatest writing tool for people who have any sort of attention disorder. Dr. Wicked’s Write Or Die. If you think that NaNoWriMo (which’s rules are: Write a novel in a month, no pre-written work accepted) is difficult, imagine doing writing a novel on a program that (if the setting’s on Evil and the punishment on Kamikaze mode) slowly deletes what you write at the slightest letup of word flow. In plain English: Continue reading “Write or Die: There’s no third option” »

Prologue of Forgotten

Here’s the prologue of the newest story/novel/novella/game plot I’m working on (I’ve practically finished Little Threat’s it’s a cut and paste for now), called Forgotten. The prologue explains NOTHING about the novel, but feel free to ask questions any way Continue reading “Prologue of Forgotten” »

Shocking Realization: How to get more visitors on your blog

Everybody knows how great it is to comment on blogs and watch the pageviews and visitors roll in. It doesn’t happen much. I recently, in my quest for web dominance, came up with this realization: Continue reading “Shocking Realization: How to get more visitors on your blog” »

Little Threat’s (pt. 5)

Their was only a very small portion of what used to be a highly trained (and, what the politicians cared about, lucrative) special-ops squadron remaining. 
        “Well, Well, Well, it seems as if I didn't eliminate all of you. Consider
it my, gift. Surrender, Please.” The Voice had won. They knew it. They put
their weapons on the ground. 
        “We surrender!” They all said, half crying, half yelling furiously, though regardless of their emotion, they did surrender. All of them were shooken from seeing their comrades die.
        “I'm glad that some of the Americans have half some wit. Come to the gray
building with the door open, if you will.” The Voice said, exercising
complete control over them. The soldiers did it without hesitation. All
except for one, who hesitated. The soldiers looked at him, a look of fear and anger, 
for if The Voice got mad at this soldier, they'd feel it's wrath. The man looked at them, shook his head, and ran.
        “Go! Run! You'll regret it if you alert anyone else!” The Voice spoke the
truth, if he told anyone, they would face the same fate that the squadron
had suffered.
        “But they'll know how strong you are! We'll kill you! I'll get you back
for killing Isaac.” The foot-soldier who was running cried, for Isaac was
his brother. 
        “If you are determined to kill me, give the U.S. Military my phone
number. We have our own phone service using...borrowed....satellites. The 
number is 89342851. WRITE IT DOWN.  89342851, got that? That way, I can
negotiate with your leader without having to send a messenger like you
every time. It'll be more convenient.” The Voice was negotiating terms of
release with the man, who was running desperately into the thicket. The man
continued to run until he had made it to the plane stationed outside of
Bethel. He was going to D.C. To tell them the bad news. The plane left
Bethel at 2:30 PM. 
        Herald arrived at Washington D.C. At 5:00 PM, the same day. He was beaten
up, but he wasn't as injured as his comrades, as to say, they were dead,
besides the small group of men that was being help prisoner by The Voice. 

Continue reading “Little Threat’s (pt. 5)” »

Little Threats (pt. 4)

 “Oh well, you chose your own fate. Whoever is listening through those
microphones, get an ear  load of this!” The Voice said with fury in it's...voice. Just as they
heard, gears turning and clicking sounds, and to there horror, something
 moved from the shadows beyond the gray buildings. Out
stepped (or rolled)...a small little robot. It moved very slowly over to the
foot-soldiers.
        “Oi! I'm getting a bad feeling about what that robot's going to do.”  The
tank engineer who said that was very right. After it got within ten feet of the
footmen, it began making a whizzing sound. It shook violently, and, in a extremely loud *bang*
, it exploded, killing twenty infantry men, and destroying the turrets of two tanks.
 “Shoot it! Shoot it now! Open Fi--,” The foot-man would have said more,
but he was promptly shot in the chest by what seemed to be a dart with a
very long point at the end of it.
        The battle ensued. The tanks began shooting rockets, to find to their horror that
the invisible wall stopped them way  before they even got close to it. Another robot rolled from
behind the building, this one armed with hundreds of small rockets and missiles (it seemed to be
a living web of the missiles. It's rockets all targeted the two Ospreys, which had just deployed their
parachute squad. The missiles sailed past the para troopers, to be hit by the
Ospreys anti-missile weaponry. To the Osprey's crew's ultimate dismay,
through the clearing smoke they saw five smaller missiles in place of the one bigger missile, each one flying even
quicker than the last missile.
        “Code Red! Evacua-” the pilot of one of the Ospreys didn't finish before
the missiles hit. The entire sky exploded into...blue? The other pilot was
caught in the explosion too.
        “What kind of missiles were those? Blue explosions?” A foot-soldier
asked.
        “I hate to brag but those missiles disrupt the cellular structure of any
animal tissue. In other words, Any living that was caught in that blue
blast will get it's cellular structure disrupted, the atomic bonds of it's cells destroyed,
tearing it apart atom by atom.” Everyone knew that The Voice
indeed liked to brag, but no one thought that The Voice was bluffing. It
wasn't, after all. They all knew that.
        “We'll never surrender!” A, yep, foot-soldier had had enough. He threw a
grenade at the small robot, which then exploded. The robot was gone. They
waited for the voice to say something.
        “I will test my newest invention, that I designed to get rid of multiple
targets. You'll be my test subjects. It's unnamed, so I call it Acid Rain (V. 1.2)." The
Voice said proudly, and viciously. Instantly, a small plane flew over them, and exploded.
The dust from the explosion spread out, covering the feild. It seemed to the soldiers like it had
gotten very dark. The cameramen who somehow were still alive recorded the screams of the fallen
as their skin was burnt off their bodies.

Continue reading “Little Threats (pt. 4)” »

High Def Worlds-Christopher Paolini

On my new novel, SpacialWings (you can go to the development blog of sorts here), the main character(s) visit many worlds. The trouble with this is that it is painfully difficult to create the new worlds, because you have to make up new inhabitants, names, even languages. Christopher Paolini is a good example of this-he has created a high-definition world called Alagaesia, in which the inhabitants include Elves, Humans, Dwarves, and Urgals (ogres). He even developed a  language for magic, called the Ancient Language, as well as languages for the Dwarves and Urgals. Everything seems plausible, it’s as if he’s visited this fantasy world. How does he do it? Well, it takes a couple things: Continue reading “High Def Worlds-Christopher Paolini” »

Pepsi

(to the tune of Trees by Joyce Kilmer)
If I  could only be,
a poem as lovely, as Pepsi.

A drink which makes people’s backs be bent,
to drink up heavens great essence

Continue reading “Pepsi” »