A listing of some of my most recent, completed or other, projects.
Ghost of the Dragon: Reflections of Silence - a memoirish short story I thought I might enter into the Young Writer's Anthology, or not. [complete]
Into the Lair of the Dragon: Fall of Seshkozhiel - a long short story about the last of the Dragon Lords, whose dementia threatens to unravel reality and the quest of a former spy-turned-Chancellor and his young protegee to slay the creature. Niether is aware of the hidden potential in the boy or of the secretive plans of the Arch Magus. This is a tale in a world I created last night, which I think I'll continue. [In Progress. Indef. Hiatus]
Jacob - a dark fantasy short about a young, down and out actor trying to make it in the city, and his encounter with the old lady no one knows or remembers and who lives on a floor in the building that doesn't exist. This is a story about her obsession with a boy named Jacob. [Forgot about this entirely, 'til now. Will start asap]
As for the last, I truly hope over this 3 month break I have, I will be able to finally start this project:
Blank - formerly, 'The Actor's Guild' this is a story set in a different planet, and the society and culture which the remnants of humanity have fashioned there. It's a gothic-themed, dark fiction that sets out to explore identity, character, acting and the perils of losing yourself in a role - of the change that occurs, or the lacktherof, of questioning the construct of your being, of politics and the ruthless culture of entertainment. One young man's yearning to understand himself and his role in life will propel him to make the arduous journey to the Capitol City, under the tutelege of the infamous Madame Molotov. [Yet to begin.]
Most recent Projects:
Shadow of the Sun:
A YA novel/la in progress. Set in the City - the largest, and according to the inhabitants, only metropolis left in a poisoned, inhospitable world. Protected by massive, sorcerous walls, it is a dark place filled with its own share of monsters and demons, most of which exist in the Outskirts - a ghetto like area mainly outside the control of the Council and Magisterium.
The tenuous peace that exists between the two is about to be shattered by one ambitious Magister who intends to claim the last remaining seat on the Council. His campaign to eradicate and control the Outskirts has unprecedented success, that is to say, until his men encounter Sunestraka, a creature that wipes out an elite squadron and takes hostage the young boy they used as bait.
The story basically centres around the boy and the monster and the way they become friends; the evolution of their relationship amidst escalating violence. The Underground, stirred out of its slumber by the increasing raids against their number, is not prepared to lay down and die, however. In a world full of magic and technology, monsters, soldiers, psychics, witches and creatures of myth, some new and some old, the clash between man and monster for supreme dominance is about to reach a whole new level.
(On Hiatus)
Hungry Generations: A short story about a woman named Bella, her determination to live a live outside of attending her ailing Grandma's needs and the very strange, but enchanting old man she meets in a retirement home. [completed and submitted to anthology]
A Tracing of Angels: A short, flash fiction piece about a demented serial killer. [complete]
Friends: Uber short flash fiction about a lonely boy and his experience with the Afterlife. [complete]
Making A Killing: A short film about a young man who owns a cemetary and the desperate measures he goes to, to increase his business. [complete]
Magda's Key: A short heroic fantasy story about an elite group of soldiers hunting for the parts to a sacred key, which can open the door to ultimate power. Having secured the first, they seek the second deep in the Ageless Mountains. [In progress]
Campfire: A short piece about a young tribal boy and his Naming Day Trial. [complete]
2010: Novel-in-progress
A series of mysterious disappearances/kidnaps have police baffled and the media raving. All around the globe, children, elderly, brilliant artists, genius scientists and others are vanishing, with almost no common denominator between them. Behind the disappearances is a group of seriously twisted immortals, set down at the beginning of time to safeguard mankind or rather, to protect certain special individuals. Immortals that have, as time passed, grown corrupt, immoral and immeasurably twisted - no longer willing to protect those individuals, some of them have been actively killing them off, harvesting their power.
Now things are going to change. The hunted have become aware of the hunters and they're going to fight back. The time has come for those gifted to awaken to their true purpose and the world will never be the same. Someone has been working in the background, unknown to the killers, covertly working to ensure their original purpose is met; unknown and mysterious even to those he once grew up with Drake has grown unaccountably strange in his long absence from humanity and now drives to his goal with a fearsome zealotry. The chain of events he sets off will alter reality as it is known.
A schism between immortal brothers that threatens to destroy everything; a distraught Father long forgotten, now awakened, puts his own scheme into motion; an aging Detective is given one last case and will stop at nothing to see it solved; the Gifted of the world awakening to their true power, struggle to deal with the nature of their purpose as all around them an eternal war gears up for the Final Battle.
Welcome to 2010 ^_^
For now, that is all.
I'll post some excerpts and such. :p
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Long Distance Webs
Fuck me, but its been a long time since I blogged.
Well, here anyway. I've kept a most informal collection of thoughts and such on a different blog. Not worth mentioning in any case. Saw a friend's blog, reminded me of this long-forgotten place and I thought I oughta come back, dust off the old Buick and take it out for a spin.
Should I try and fill in the gap between the last post and now? Between the past and the present? I don't think so. Inconstancy is the nature of man, after all. Ah, sweet pretentiousness, how I missed you. :p
I'm currently residing in the beautiful, timeless city of Norwich, in Norfolk, England. It is quite lovely and although everything was frozen over yesterday, quite warm and sunny today. I've met some of my new flatmates and they all seem particularly cool. Which is great. They also seem particularly obsessed with alcohol, and I take it that this will be a learning experience in more ways than one, ha. At least for my liver, in any case.
It feels wierd, being so far from home, so far from everything I know - from the memories; captured instances in the river of time, locked and lodged in place, now removed from me, benign and malignant tumours both - not because I'm homesick, not because I'm lonely, rather its the opposite.
I feel nothing.
It's perplexing. I'm not worried, beyond the necessities of money and food and I have no particular desire to speak to anyone from home. It makes talking to family really wierd. How do I respond to 'I miss you so much' - not with a lie, certainly, that's not my style. I'm not sure if I'm empty, or oblivious, or self-centered, or what, but I feel completely normal.
Different.
We're all spiders, you know. Each moment, of every day, we lay a web; a strand of thought and feeling and remembrance - at the bus stop you pass every day, the broken gate you have to step over, the fruit vendor you say hello to every Friday and its a web of identity, that we construct without thought. Our prey? Well, as to that, it depends on the spider in question. For some the prey are friends and family, the aim, to keep them in and for others, the hunting kind, why the web is of lesser improtance to these and they stalk the streets; tearing into other spiders, mating and consuming selves with consummate ease.
There are thousands of different spiders, different traps, different deaths and lives to live.
I just don't know which I am yet.
I have a web, of that I'm sure. Just like the one I mentioned above and it was a web of familiarity and routine; I think, also, it was one of camouflage. I recognise I'm different and so, sometimes, I think I build a web just to seem like the other spiders. Because if they knew my true colours, they might all just run away.
Well, here anyway. I've kept a most informal collection of thoughts and such on a different blog. Not worth mentioning in any case. Saw a friend's blog, reminded me of this long-forgotten place and I thought I oughta come back, dust off the old Buick and take it out for a spin.
Should I try and fill in the gap between the last post and now? Between the past and the present? I don't think so. Inconstancy is the nature of man, after all. Ah, sweet pretentiousness, how I missed you. :p
I'm currently residing in the beautiful, timeless city of Norwich, in Norfolk, England. It is quite lovely and although everything was frozen over yesterday, quite warm and sunny today. I've met some of my new flatmates and they all seem particularly cool. Which is great. They also seem particularly obsessed with alcohol, and I take it that this will be a learning experience in more ways than one, ha. At least for my liver, in any case.
It feels wierd, being so far from home, so far from everything I know - from the memories; captured instances in the river of time, locked and lodged in place, now removed from me, benign and malignant tumours both - not because I'm homesick, not because I'm lonely, rather its the opposite.
I feel nothing.
It's perplexing. I'm not worried, beyond the necessities of money and food and I have no particular desire to speak to anyone from home. It makes talking to family really wierd. How do I respond to 'I miss you so much' - not with a lie, certainly, that's not my style. I'm not sure if I'm empty, or oblivious, or self-centered, or what, but I feel completely normal.
Different.
We're all spiders, you know. Each moment, of every day, we lay a web; a strand of thought and feeling and remembrance - at the bus stop you pass every day, the broken gate you have to step over, the fruit vendor you say hello to every Friday and its a web of identity, that we construct without thought. Our prey? Well, as to that, it depends on the spider in question. For some the prey are friends and family, the aim, to keep them in and for others, the hunting kind, why the web is of lesser improtance to these and they stalk the streets; tearing into other spiders, mating and consuming selves with consummate ease.
There are thousands of different spiders, different traps, different deaths and lives to live.
I just don't know which I am yet.
I have a web, of that I'm sure. Just like the one I mentioned above and it was a web of familiarity and routine; I think, also, it was one of camouflage. I recognise I'm different and so, sometimes, I think I build a web just to seem like the other spiders. Because if they knew my true colours, they might all just run away.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Relationships.
Why does it have to be so frustrating, navigating this path? Why must there be so many complications, obscurities, so many unknown pieces of a picture your struggling to grasp.
Why do people approach the idea of gaining someone else's affections, as a battle? Why am I constantly told of tactics, or "plays", of how to gain the upper hand or lay down the rules? Why does it become some kind of silly conquest game?
Why am I different then, in wanting none of this?
I just want a relationship; an equal pairing of two like-minded people. I just want to state my intentions, my feelings, and get a response. This makes me naive, or simple, or foolish? I dont want to hear any more voices saying no, nay, I dont think so, I'm not sure of -- from within, as well as without. I want simplicity. Matters of the heart rarely involve that.
Hakunamatata; It means no worries. Well and truly my most desired mindset and yet it seems destined to elude me. I care, too much perhaps, for small things often become larger in your mind, if you over-think things. I desire, to be near you as soon as possible - an urge it seems, that wont bear any obstacles; makes for impulsive, perhaps rash, decisions. I love, and so seem destined to be hurt, at some stage, in some manner no matter how small -- its a shocking thing to realise words can actually cut or warm so much, even on a screen, on a page, a mouth.
Always, dialogue is discouraged. Don't talk too much, don't say the wrong thing, don't tell them that, tell them this, don't let them see how you truly feel - be aloof, be distant, be warm then, hot then ---just stop. I'm not a machine. This isn't a construction, a project. I'm not an actor, so I can't become anything I want to, or project any emotion I see fit.
I am me, and this is how it is.
I care.
Why do people approach the idea of gaining someone else's affections, as a battle? Why am I constantly told of tactics, or "plays", of how to gain the upper hand or lay down the rules? Why does it become some kind of silly conquest game?
Why am I different then, in wanting none of this?
I just want a relationship; an equal pairing of two like-minded people. I just want to state my intentions, my feelings, and get a response. This makes me naive, or simple, or foolish? I dont want to hear any more voices saying no, nay, I dont think so, I'm not sure of -- from within, as well as without. I want simplicity. Matters of the heart rarely involve that.
Hakunamatata; It means no worries. Well and truly my most desired mindset and yet it seems destined to elude me. I care, too much perhaps, for small things often become larger in your mind, if you over-think things. I desire, to be near you as soon as possible - an urge it seems, that wont bear any obstacles; makes for impulsive, perhaps rash, decisions. I love, and so seem destined to be hurt, at some stage, in some manner no matter how small -- its a shocking thing to realise words can actually cut or warm so much, even on a screen, on a page, a mouth.
Always, dialogue is discouraged. Don't talk too much, don't say the wrong thing, don't tell them that, tell them this, don't let them see how you truly feel - be aloof, be distant, be warm then, hot then ---just stop. I'm not a machine. This isn't a construction, a project. I'm not an actor, so I can't become anything I want to, or project any emotion I see fit.
I am me, and this is how it is.
I care.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Strange Happenings
'The more you think of a place as haunted the more things will appear?'
Do you really think that? Its a mental, rather then atmospheric thing? Do we construct it entirely in our minds; whispers, creaking floorboards, mournful winds. Could it not be something else?I'm intensely interested in this, a friend of mine is taking me ghost hunting, to haunted places she knows of, in a few days. I'll be sure to blog about it haha; will my mix of skepticism and enthusiasm make for flat, uninteresting places while her history of 'hauntings' and bad experiences terrify her.
Will we both see one place as two? **
She was telling me once, of an experience she had:
It was dark, and everyone was sleeping; slumbering bodies criss crossed the floor of the lounge room. Only her and Nixy were awake, whispering and giggling away. The glow of the kitchen light faintly illuminated the lounge, and it seemed, called to them, beckoning. They had been debating whether to go to the effort of getting up and making something to eat. A vague disquiet settled around them as they thought about it though, a creeping cold that sneaked upon them.
Suddenly, as the tension heightened and they stared at that doorway of light, leading into the kitchen they heard an almighty crash and bang; doors opening and slamming and crashing to the ground.
'Fuck!' Nixy swore.
'What the fuck was that! Oh my god!'
They were both staring at the other with complete shock, mirrored fear in their eyes. Hearts pounding, they inevitably had the discussion we all fear in such circumstances - endlessly debated among friends. Do we go check it out? Evevntually, the decided they had to; what if it was a burglar? Or an animal, a big dog or demon cat?! All their food was in that kitchen, and if there's anything you want to avoid, its getting in the way of two mature ladies on the hunt. So they creeped toward the kitchen, poking their heads around the door.
It was complete chaos. All their food was on the ground, every draw and cupboard stood open. A heavy miasma of fear settled about their shoulders, of mouth drying heart stopping terror and confusion. What the fuck...
'Shit!'
They scuttled back inside, waking everyone up. It wasn't a matter of 'come check this out' I think, it was more a 'thats an almighty mess and we sure as hell aren't cleaning it up alone.' But when the group returned to the kitchen, it was perfectly normal. Eerily so, in fact. Of course, no one believed them, they were bullshit artists, liars, just pulling everyone's leg...
Weren't they?
**
In that instance, the newly woken people saw only the kitchen, normal as ever, whereas the other two, having experienced something saw a haunted place, each cupboard and tile, each gleaming surface superimposed atop open carnage. They saw, then, two places.
Do you really think that? Its a mental, rather then atmospheric thing? Do we construct it entirely in our minds; whispers, creaking floorboards, mournful winds. Could it not be something else?I'm intensely interested in this, a friend of mine is taking me ghost hunting, to haunted places she knows of, in a few days. I'll be sure to blog about it haha; will my mix of skepticism and enthusiasm make for flat, uninteresting places while her history of 'hauntings' and bad experiences terrify her.
Will we both see one place as two? **
She was telling me once, of an experience she had:
It was dark, and everyone was sleeping; slumbering bodies criss crossed the floor of the lounge room. Only her and Nixy were awake, whispering and giggling away. The glow of the kitchen light faintly illuminated the lounge, and it seemed, called to them, beckoning. They had been debating whether to go to the effort of getting up and making something to eat. A vague disquiet settled around them as they thought about it though, a creeping cold that sneaked upon them.
Suddenly, as the tension heightened and they stared at that doorway of light, leading into the kitchen they heard an almighty crash and bang; doors opening and slamming and crashing to the ground.
'Fuck!' Nixy swore.
'What the fuck was that! Oh my god!'
They were both staring at the other with complete shock, mirrored fear in their eyes. Hearts pounding, they inevitably had the discussion we all fear in such circumstances - endlessly debated among friends. Do we go check it out? Evevntually, the decided they had to; what if it was a burglar? Or an animal, a big dog or demon cat?! All their food was in that kitchen, and if there's anything you want to avoid, its getting in the way of two mature ladies on the hunt. So they creeped toward the kitchen, poking their heads around the door.
It was complete chaos. All their food was on the ground, every draw and cupboard stood open. A heavy miasma of fear settled about their shoulders, of mouth drying heart stopping terror and confusion. What the fuck...
'Shit!'
They scuttled back inside, waking everyone up. It wasn't a matter of 'come check this out' I think, it was more a 'thats an almighty mess and we sure as hell aren't cleaning it up alone.' But when the group returned to the kitchen, it was perfectly normal. Eerily so, in fact. Of course, no one believed them, they were bullshit artists, liars, just pulling everyone's leg...
Weren't they?
**
In that instance, the newly woken people saw only the kitchen, normal as ever, whereas the other two, having experienced something saw a haunted place, each cupboard and tile, each gleaming surface superimposed atop open carnage. They saw, then, two places.
Introversion
I was just scrolling through someone else's blog, a woman named Karen who was wondering when she would find herself. She linked to this to not having a soul mate, in my response I discovered something:
It's a terrible thing to explore one's self. I rememeber recently, in a lecture at UTS, a professor asked us what our world view was. That being, what do we identify with, where do you see yourself going, what do you uphold and what is opposing that.
And we couldn't answer him.
We tend not look within because we can't face what lies beneath the fleeting moment, the passing day or issue. I dont believe that we need someone else to figure out who we are in our entirety, rather I think we use the other person as a pillar to lean on; a reason to not look within ourselves.We don't find ourselves in other people, rather, we lose ourselves.
This, I think is partly the reason I've created this blog. To explore/invent/finally understand myself beyond the mirror reflection; to, in a sense, find the next me. And from there onward and downward to the innermost core just like a Matryoshka Doll.
It's a terrible thing to explore one's self. I rememeber recently, in a lecture at UTS, a professor asked us what our world view was. That being, what do we identify with, where do you see yourself going, what do you uphold and what is opposing that.
And we couldn't answer him.
We tend not look within because we can't face what lies beneath the fleeting moment, the passing day or issue. I dont believe that we need someone else to figure out who we are in our entirety, rather I think we use the other person as a pillar to lean on; a reason to not look within ourselves.We don't find ourselves in other people, rather, we lose ourselves.
This, I think is partly the reason I've created this blog. To explore/invent/finally understand myself beyond the mirror reflection; to, in a sense, find the next me. And from there onward and downward to the innermost core just like a Matryoshka Doll.
Writer
Writer
My heart pulses
in tune with the world(s)
and their silent stories.
My soul throbs, wrung with the emotion
of a million men.
Characters.
I hear the whispers
of untold tales: tendrils
filling the vessel,
waiting to be created.
My black blood spills:
the womb through which
worlds are born
Questions.
Yo.
I don't know what the hell I'm doing here, haha. My mum wants to make a blog, so I thought I might as well make sure I get the hang of it by making one, before she bombards me with questions and complaints. It'll be difficult learning the mechanics of this thingy if she's pointing a shotgun (both proverbial and literal, you dont know this woman! I maintain that she's the head of a terrorist organisation of some sort, like Mums Gone Wild, or something Equally sinister.)
So here I am, tired and vaguely discomforted by the notion of what I'm doing. I wonder if I can keep this seperate from my friends and family, if perhaps this space can be used to create - reveal, a hitherto unknown me? Hmph. Will it even matter?
Still, it can't hurt to churn out words, regardless of their meaning, being a writer - this excercise can only increase my aptitude for the written word. Who knows, perhaps I'll meet people new and different - fresh, in an all too uninspiring world. Given that I know little of this site, and how to navigate it, I doubt that though.
Hey World,
come say hello.
I don't know what the hell I'm doing here, haha. My mum wants to make a blog, so I thought I might as well make sure I get the hang of it by making one, before she bombards me with questions and complaints. It'll be difficult learning the mechanics of this thingy if she's pointing a shotgun (both proverbial and literal, you dont know this woman! I maintain that she's the head of a terrorist organisation of some sort, like Mums Gone Wild, or something Equally sinister.)
So here I am, tired and vaguely discomforted by the notion of what I'm doing. I wonder if I can keep this seperate from my friends and family, if perhaps this space can be used to create - reveal, a hitherto unknown me? Hmph. Will it even matter?
Still, it can't hurt to churn out words, regardless of their meaning, being a writer - this excercise can only increase my aptitude for the written word. Who knows, perhaps I'll meet people new and different - fresh, in an all too uninspiring world. Given that I know little of this site, and how to navigate it, I doubt that though.
Hey World,
come say hello.
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