Posts filed under ‘UNPUBLISHED WORKS’
A NEW GENRE
While reading the May, 19 issue of Time over breakfast this morning, I came across an article which proved quite exciting for me. The article discussed movies released or soon to be such as Godzilla, Into the Storm and Snowpiercer.
In discussing these movies, a new genre was mentioned, at least new to me, cli-fi. This is a story of science fiction or fantasy dealing with a climate or environmental factor.
My novel, The Beast Awaits, which I sure you are all getting sick of hearing about, is about stem cell research gone bad leading to global warming. Is that a fit or what?
I plan to start working on a new query letter and will share it with you soon to see what you think.
WHAT IF ALL ACTIVISTS HAD THEIR WAY?
What if all activists, all those that are sure their vision of how things should be would make the world a better place, had their desires made reality? I find nothing wrong with people having strong feelings about the way things should be done and how, who believe if only society would listen to them, the world would be a better place.
Here is where I may get into trouble.
The problem I have with many activists, please note that I did not say all it’s ‘save my ass time’, is that their narrow-mindedness and unwillingness to listen to reason, at times, or do their homework. In some instances some have already won, but do they know it? I’ll get to this latter, in a rather nebulous manner, in a future project.
Here’s one example about not listening to reason, I can think of more. I can recall listening to an NPR show where a guest was discussing the latest methods in farming to improve crop production when a young woman called. She thought all farming should return to the way it once was, a more natural process with nothing artificial. The guest understood her viewpoint but said that if that was done, with the amount those methods would cause yields to diminish, that people would starve. Nothing would deter her in her opinion no matter what the guest said. She just went on saying how things should be more natural. Tell me, in this instance, who was right?
I’ll now talk about what started me on this train of thought.
I’m now in the process of a major rewrite of my novel, Sweet Depression, hoping to God that someday you will have a chance to read it. At the same time I’m also toying with the plot for a sequel. Now I know the accepted rule is not to write a sequel until the first book in the series is published, but at times it’s difficult to control the production of my brain, the direction my mind chooses to take. I just take notes and hope something worthwhile results. That is the reason this piece came into being. In the sequel to Sweet Depression activists have their way. Guess whether the results are beneficial or have a horrible conclusion.
I’m not the first to come up with a plot centered on activists. I suggest you read Michael Crichton’s novel, State of Fear, to see how an excellent writer handles the subject.
MY BUDDY ELMO
I’ve mentioned Elmo in the past. He exists as a figment of my imagination. One that I’ve grown to know over the years since he was first created. He began life as a short story, but due to his thirst for adventure, he grew into a novella, Elmo’s Sojourn. In this story he is a retired Los Alamos scientist experimenting in his cellar when he stumbles on a method of space travel through wormholes. This novella will be available as an eBook released next February by Melange Books. For those who can’t wait, Elmo’s Sojourn is already available now in an anthology, Curious Hearts, also published by Melange Books.
I decided for Elmo to have more adventures, but during his earlier years while working at Los Alamos resulting in another novella, Elmo’s Invention. In this episode he sets out to invent a time machine. His machine works, but not as he had anticipated and results in a caustic response from the public. This novella is in the editing process and will hopefully find a home.
I will continue to follow Elmo into his youth.
SANDY HOOK ELEMENTARY, A POEM
My consistent readers,
My mind has been in a whirl since the shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary.
I cannot imagine the thoughts going through the tiny children’s heads as they waited to be slaughtered.
I grieve for those little lost souls and for their parents.
For what it is worth, I wrote this poem.
SUFFER THE ANGELS
The devil entered
And twenty angels
Destined for grace
Were slaughtered.
The devil entered
And twenty angels
Destined full lives
Were gone.
The devil entered
And still we doubt
The strength
Of the devil’s tool.
Until we know the devil
And the strength his tool possesses,
More angels await his calling,
We are all the devil’s work.
RADIO INTERVIEW
Here is a link to the radio interview I had yesterday,
I hope it gives you a chance to learn more about me.
Take care,
Walt
UPDATE CHAPBOOK
My consistent readers,
I have many projects currently in progress. I am writing another novella with Elmo as a reappearing character. The first time I’ve used a character twice, but I really like him. I’m also rewriting some old short stories and see if I can find them a home. Also, there is The Beast Awaits, my second novel which I hope to publish, someday.
But I figured ‘what the hell’ I’ll start something else, something where, for the most part the work is already done. I’m thinking of publishing a chapbook of poetry. A chapbook is more of a pamphlet than a book. The reason I am discussing this with you is that in the past some of the busiest days on my blog was when I was sharing my poetry. So for any that enjoyed these poems, could you please go to both of my poem areas, Published Poems and Unpublished Poems, and select the poems that you enjoyed or said something to you. I know this will take time but I would really appreciate the effort. I’ll get back to you with the poems that made the cut.
Thanks for your time,
Walt
9/11 POEM
My consistent readers,
I first published this poem on my blog last year on 9/11.
I wanted to revisit the memory burned in my mind that fateful day ten years ago.
JUMPERS
They were like birds flying,
Leaping from flaming windows,
No wings to purchase air,
No hope of flying home.
They were like birds flying,
Tumbling in twos, alone,
Flashing by in a smoke-filled sky
While crowds watched in horror.
They were like birds flying
Flights, imprinting the nation’s memory.
They were like birds flying,
Carrying us into a world of fear.
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