The Needs of the Many (A UFO story)

©Jan 2013 (work in progress.)

Chapter 1

Ochio

Straehk reached the end of the path and turned to look back. This season’s crop promised to excel even his expectations, the fields full, the plants weighty with enough seed to keep the colony provided for next year and beyond. He had done his last walk-through just an hour before, trailing fingers though the heavy-headed ears of grain. Dark golden and ripe, they bobbed under his touch. It was only right that he should feel a sense of achievement in his work. Not pride, just satisfaction. A job well done. He would begin harvesting in the morning when the crew arrived, but his work here was completed and he could rest for a while.

Continue reading

30K and counting

Reached the ‘magic’ 30K total today on what might be a pretty long story in the end. I had intended leaving  it for a while to simmer, but like a hole in a tooth it kept drawing me back until I ended up writing more. It brings in several characters, mainly Alec and Jackson, but it is the ‘incidental’ characters who have been a lot of fun to write this time.  This takes the total number of my  UFO stories waiting to be published to 18, (not including two that are works in progress, – Combined Operations and Hardwired.) Combined Ops is a bugger. It seems to have undergone a metamorphosis every time I open it up, to the extent  that to make it work, I think I need to start  again and scrap at least 5K of the 12  I have already done.  I hate scrapping words. I know it has to be done, and I am pretty tough on my editing, but when it means scrapping entire chapters, or even characters from a story, then I hesitate.

‘Combined’ (or as I privately call it ..That bloody story) now has at least seven different versions as well as three or four titles. I can see myself printing each one out and then re-writing from scratch, stealing the best parts from each story! Here is a taster: ( and no.. it’s not Straker here)

He was by himself now, a solitary survivor, alone in the dimness of the empty corridor. Even his radio was silent. No, they were there, ahead of him, just a few more steps down the smooth concrete slope, round the corner to the massive bulkheads of the shelter. A few more paces, half-blinded by the brighter lights that welcomed him and glittered in stinging eyes. A cumbersome lurch  through the first airlock, bouncing, exhausted and breathless off the frame, then hands reaching  out to help him take that  second step into the cavern,  the  warning alarm audible even through the thick helmet. He sensed the heavy reverberation of the airlocks slamming into their seals behind him. So close. But safe.

He opened his helmet. They were standing there, waiting.  A quick count. A deep sigh of relief.  ‘All heads, report.’

Oh, and if anyone is utterly desperate to read any of my unpublished stories, contact me. I don’t promise to send them, but you never know.

And this post’s screenshot?  I spent quite a while searching for this one which plays an important role in my current story.

img128

Letter to a long-lost friend.

Dear UFO Movie
I hope that you and all your family are well. It seems such a long time since I heard from you. I was going to send a Christmas Card, but in all the rush I am afraid that I completely forgot! Oh well, there is always next year, and the year after that and so on.
It is now.. what… three years since you arrived on the scene, and I was hoping that we could meet up in the cinema in 2011 as planned, then it became 2012, and then 2013, but I now see according to IMDB that you are not going to come over here until 2014. Even Film Bridge International don’t seem to have much information  on you.
Anyway, this is just a quick note to let you know that you are always more than welcome, and I do hope we can meet up – sometime.
Best Wishes,
LtCdr
strakerReadingScript2

Remembering the Apollo 1 Crew

On Jan. 27, 1967, veteran astronaut Gus Grissom, first American spacewalker Ed White and rookie Roger Chaffee  were preparing for what was to be the first manned Apollo flight. The astronauts were  on the launch pad for a pre-launch test when fire broke out in their Apollo capsule.

Remembered.Apollo1

Photo: NASA

Writing Prompt 1

My muse is on holiday, or else he is fed up of what I keep doing to him and is seeking shelter for some cossetting  and pampering. He will be back. I know him too well by now!  But in the meantime I am ferlting with Writing Prompts given me by another UFO writer whose muse is  hiding from the cold weather! Not UFO, but fun to do.

Prompt: Two characters. A change of power from one to the other in the scene. Max; 1200 words.

The flarrn leaves were beginning to curl,  long fronds bending inwards as if scared to encounter  the first rays of sunlight threatening to peek over the mountain top.  Lendor walked down the path in silence, leather moccasins soundless on the gravel, head hidden beneath the deep cowl of his pale cloak. No, not pale; Lendor’s cloak was the hue of hot ash, almost white and yet not;  a casual observer might have seen a hint of searing heat in the colour as the tall figure walked down the path, the flimsy cloth of his robes rippling in the air. He kept his head down, eyes avoiding the moon overhead, one hand shading huge pale eyes from the gleam of silver reflected in the fast-flowing waters that bounded their land.

The narrow bridge across the chasm was the last one that remained. Ancient, stone built, imbued with all the magic and wards that their ancestors could call upon, but even magic as strong as that could be overcome by their enemy.  Lendor paused at the border between soil and stone, between the Keep and the bridge. It was not time yet. He looked up and saw one man  standing in the centre of the arch. A tall stocky figure, dark-clad in heavy armour, steel and leather and mail.  A warrior, powerful and strong, tasked with guarding this single bridge during the hours of darkness.

Lendor bowed with respect.  A low sweep of one hand, almost touching the ground, just as the first rays of sunlight banished the darkness of night. The chink of armour and thud of mailed feet disturbed the start of birdsong as the warrior strode from his place of duty, crossing the narrow boundary to step onto the soil as the first ray of light glinted on the keepstone at the centre of the bridge.

Lendor moved swiftly now, slender legs carrying him to that point of light. He did not look back as his friend walked away to the safety of the Hall; Farlin had done his duty as Nightwatchman, it was now his turn, as DayGuard, to protect his people. He pulled back his cowl, feeling the warmth of the sun on his long ashen hair, spread his hands wide to call on the strength of the sun, and prepared himself for the long day ahead.

(Still prefer writing UFO)

 

Gerry Anderson

I have not made any comment about the death of Gerry Anderson, simply because I cannot find the right words to express my feelings. All I will  say is that he leaves us a wonderful legacy that will endure as long as we watch and enjoy and share our thoughts with other fans.

Home thoughts

Home thoughts from abroad. Well, a-bed actually. Having spent several hours hooked up to monitors some weeks ago, and with a friendly doctor and nurses  watching me like a hawk for several  hours  ( oh boy the plot bunnies that appeared  about hospital resuscitation rooms!), I had time to reflect on the last three years and what they mean to me.

I have learned a lot about writing since I started in July 2009, and not just about writing but also myself.  I have changed my perspectives on many things: religion, tolerance, the state of education in this country  and  of course, the importance of canon. I have not changed my stance on politics, but that has very little to do with this world of fanfiction, although it is tempting to do a UFO story…  oh shit. Another plot bunny rears its ugly head!

Fanfiction,  and writing in general,  are responsible for a lot of things. Take art  for example. When I was 14 I had to drop art in order to take Geography at ‘O’ level.  Over the years I dabbled with the odd sketch once or twice, but never felt confident enough to go beyond drawing something small and then hiding the result in a sketchbook. Let’s be honest. I am not a good artist, not even a mediocre one, there are pupils at school who are far better than I will ever be,  but I enjoy drawing and that is all that matters to me. As I once said, I do it for pleasure and if other people like looking at my work, I am happy to share it with them.

Looking back, I recall that three years ago I was writing Thunderbirds fanfic.  Small stuff, inoffensive, harmless and immature. My initial attempts at UFO were the same.  I followed other writers in the fandom, gained some fans, lost others, made brief forays into forums and other fandoms and realised that the world of fanfiction is populated by people who are fiercely protective of what they see as their own domain. Quite often newcomers are welcomed  until they ruffle feathers  by standing up for what they believe in.  Sometimes ‘tall poppy syndrome’ rears its head and then old friendships are torn apart, to the detriment of the fandom itself. Splinter groups appear and once-eager writers quietly move onto new fandoms, leaving the troubles behind them.

Occasionally, sparked by a re-run of an original  series or a remake of a film, a fandom will attract a gang of new writers, all keen to experiment with the characters that they think they know, and to bring countless badly-conceived Mary-Sue self-inserts into what was once a vibrant and thriving fandom. Then the  good writers stop reviewing. They pack their bags and retreat into their own worlds or other genres, leaving the fandom to decline beneath a flurry of badly written and improbable heroes who bear no resemblance to the original characters. It has happened to many fandoms. I am watching that exact scenario happening right now in one particular fandom on ffnet,  slowly destroying what was once a wonderful repository of excellent stories.

It will eventually happen to Harry Potter, to Sherlock, to Star Trek and Stargate and Naruto and The Hunger Games and so on.

Writers  grow up and move on. They  find new adventures, new challenges,  new experiences.  I moved on from Thunderbirds. It lost its appeal, its magic. I could no longer summon up the passion for Virgil Tracy or Scott. I never had the enthusiasm to write Alan anyway, and somehow the whole fandom became tainted with mediocre tales of sisters and babies and weddings and lost twins. It no longer had any reality to the original series.

Don’t get me wrong. There are some brilliant writers out there, valiantly keeping the Thunderbirds fandom true to its origins, but they are few and far between, swamped under the waves of mediocrity.

As for me, I write my UFO stories  for myself, although  I hope that other people enjoy them.  They are, in reality, my ‘sketchbook pictures’ that I open up for others to enjoy should they wish to read them. The thrill of putting words together  to create a story is something that I hope  will never fade and I know that other UFO writers are as passionate about their writing as I am, and there are  others who only dabble in the fandom.

Each writer loves what they write, loves ‘their’ UFO as much as I love mine.   I have spent three years writing in the SHADO universe  and I am certainly not finished. There is a long way to go, I hope. I have only just begun to understand Straker and his complex character and every time I think to myself, ‘there is nothing left to write’ something appears, a picture or a word or a sound gives me that springboard to a new story.

At the moment I am working on NaNoWriMo, a fun concept in some ways, but it has made me more aware of the need to be disciplined in my writing,  not only to actually stop procrastinating, but also to  organise my work so that I can plan ahead.  I have 45 short story titles on my ‘Work In Progress’ file. Some are UFO, some original, and most of them will be between 2  and 12 thousand words.  But one of them, intended to be slightly longer, has now morphed into something with the potential to be much greater.  And that scares me actually; the knowledge that, to write it properly, I will have to commit as much time to the story as I did to The Shepherd.  But I think it will be fun to try and, after all, why do I do this?

Because I enjoy it.