Writing

March 6, 2014 0 comments

Thursday, March 6th: Locks of Love; exercise; Arunachalam Muruganantham

Locks of Love –

It’s that time of year again. My hair is getting long and once I have 12-inches I will be chopping 10-inches off and sending it away to Locks of Love.

What is Locks of Love?

Locks of Love is a public non-profit organization that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children in the United States and Canada under age 21 suffering from long-term medical hair loss from any diagnosis. We meet a unique need for children by using donated hair to create the highest quality hair prosthetics. Most of the children helped by Locks of Love have lost their hair due to a medical condition called alopecia areata, which has no known cause or cure. The prostheses we provide help to restore their self-esteem and their confidence, enabling them to face the world and their peers.

How to donate:

10 inches measured tip to tip is the minimum length needed for a hairpiece.
Hair must be in a ponytail or braid before it is cut.
Hair must be clean and completely dry before it is mailed in.
Place the ponytail or braid inside of a plastic bag, and then inside of a padded envelope.
If you wish to receive an acknowledgment for your hair donation, please fill out the hair donation form, or write your name and e-mail address or mailing address on a full size separate sheet of paper and include inside the envelope. We cannot acknowledge donors who do not send their name and address according to these instructions.
All hair donations must be mailed to Locks of Love at:
234 Southern Blvd.
West Palm Beach, FL 33405-2701
**IMPORTANT** When mailing your donation, please make sure that you are sending it with adequate postage. The U.S. Postal Service has notified Locks of Love that many donations are being sent without enough postage, and these packages will be returned to sender! To ensure adequate postage, please take your donation to your local post office.

Go check out Locks of Love: http://www.locksoflove.org.

It’s a great organization that helps kids, and if you’re giving a hair donation it doesn’t cost anything more than postage. So why not help someone out?

Exercise –

I spend a lot of time on my computer, and as everyone knows, that’s a good way to become flabby around the middle and thighs. Type, type, typing for hours at a time doesn’t exactly build the muscles and get your heart pumping.

I run around the yard with my dog and I walk a lot, which goes well with my calorie counting to keep my weight in check. It’s unfortunate, but while my sister was gifted with the body of a sylph, I got a healthy dose of my grandmothers’ genes — both sides of my family had a tendency for heavyset ladies — so I know I have to keep an eye on myself or I could be looking at diabetes and heart problems in the future.

Exercise is something I need to fit into my schedule, but I’m lazy. All the walking and running are great for the legs, but I want to tone my arm muscles. So whenever I make tea I’ve started doing jumping jacks until the water boils, then I do push-ups against the kitchen counter while my tea steeps.

I can see the benefits in my arms already, which are losing the hanging flab, and I’m very pleased with my decision to start working out a little. Not too much (as I’m still very lazy) but enough that I can known I’m doing something beneficial for my health above cutting back on sweets and eating more veggies.

* For jumping jacks I alternate between the regular slap my hands over my head kind, and the kind where my arms go straight out, up, straight out, and back to my sides while my feet go out, back together, out, and back together in four jumps.

* For push-ups I do table presses against the kitchen counter, as I don’t relish my dog jumping on my back when he gets too excited. A table push-up involves pushing away from a table or chair that’s secure against the floor.

Arunachalam Muruganantham –

This guy is an amazing man. Seriously. I heard about him from Dear Author, who gave this link to the BBC article.

A school dropout from a poor family in southern India has revolutionised menstrual health for rural women in developing countries by inventing a simple machine they can use to make cheap sanitary pads.

and …

There are still many taboos around menstruation in India. Women can’t visit temples or public places, they’re not allowed to cook or touch the water supply – essentially they are considered untouchable.

TL;DR, this man loved his wife so much that he wanted to make her life better once he discovered how terrible conditions are for ladies on the rag in India. They’re not allowed in a lot of places and a lot of women have died due to the unhygienic way they have to deal with their periods since sanitary napkins are so expensive.

Being a cool guy, he came up with a framework machine that is being used in over 1300 villages in 23 different states. And instead of using his machines to make a bunch of money for himself, he teaches women how to use the machine and make their own sanitary napkins — which has led to them creating their own businesses and brands.

He keeps to a humble life and doesn’t believe in being wealthy, while at the same time he makes the lives of others better.

This man is a hero. Go read the article: http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-26260978

Muruganantham seemed set for fame and fortune, but he was not interested in profit. “Imagine, I got patent rights to the only machine in the world to make low-cost sanitary napkins – a hot-cake product,” he says. “Anyone with an MBA would immediately accumulate the maximum money. But I did not want to. Why? Because from childhood I know no human being died because of poverty – everything happens because of ignorance.”

He believes that big business is parasitic, like a mosquito, whereas he prefers the lighter touch, like that of a butterfly. “A butterfly can suck honey from the flower without damaging it,” he says.

I wish more people dreamed of being butterflies, versus settling on being mosquitoes.

February 26, 2014 3 comments

I am writing. I promise.

editing The Panic Pure — Editing The Panic Pure while watching The Venture Bros.

I write in Scrivener, edit in OpenOffice with Changes on, update my Scrivener file, then create a mobi to read on my Kindle where I can note minor changes still to make. In all, I read through each section 3-4 times before I do the final read through.

I have plans for The Panic Pure in the near future, which is why I need to clean it up and get it ready. As a result, I’m reading through it again and doing some editing work. As you can see, there’s a lot that goes in to making a manuscript truly readable.

By the time I’m done, every single paragraph will be coated in red and blue. There’s something oddly satisfying about seeing how much has been made different from one stage to the next.

February 20, 2014 0 comments

Friday, February 20th: The End Times whiteboard; excerpt f/m; season 5 of The Venture Bros

I’ve been writing on the whiteboard and I’ve taken lots of pics.

My New Year’s resolution was to share more and be more open to people. So I’ll be sharing my whiteboard pics. It seems a lot friendlier than dropping a chapter every now and again with no accompanying explanation.

Here’s from The End Times:

The Armada of the Zerlking. I kind of picture an Invader Zim-type claw ship and that same attitude of “Mine!” The baddies claim everything in the universe in the name of the Zerlking.

* * *

For the hop, most people asked for f/m story, so I’m getting that one ready first. Here’s an excerpt:

Driven by the beat-heavy music, Tara was panicking. She stared at her reflection in the broad bathroom mirror. She’d screwed up her makeup, and the stuff she’d used didn’t want to be washed off. Her skin had a definite orange hue even after facial scrubbing three times.

“My god, I’m hideous!” She patted her skin dry with a washcloth and smoothed on some lotion.

There was a tug against her pant leg and she looked down at Scrappy-Doo, her sister’s chihuahua-terrier mixed breed. He barked at her, a single demand. She glared back at him. “Mind yourself, little dog. Go eat your food. And stop pouting. It makes you look pathetic.”

He whined a little, but spun around three times before lying on the floor, his chin resting on her slipper. He was so small she couldn’t even feel him on her foot.

“Stupid dog,” she muttered fondly. Looking at him had given her something else to focus on and she could feel some of the tension releasing from her shoulders. She’d have to remember to give him a snack before she left.

Tara drew in a deep breath and leaned forward to use the smaller, round beautician’s mirror she’d set up next to her makeup box. She had a lot of work to do and not much time to do it in.

Tonight was her anniversary with Edgar. They’d been going out for a year and he’d promised her a night of romance. They had reservations at the best restaurant in town and tickets to a musical theater show. She’d been excited for weeks.

* * *

Season 5 of The Venture Bros is coming out March 4, 2014 on DVD and Blu-Ray. I’ve gotta scrape up some bones to buy my copy. I love this show.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nC8WMvxzRis

August 23, 2013 0 comments

Master Post: Paradigm Shift

Title: Paradigm Shift
Author: Harper Kingsley
Genre: mm science fiction
Rating: mature
Status: WIP
Notes: This is a State Rule story. There are Judges, Law Officers, and zombies.
Warnings: genetic modification capability of mpreg, mentions of forced breeding, fascist society, post-zombie apocalypse
A/N: I’m posting the Gregor POVs at my LJ in 500-1000+ word bursts. The version that will be available for purchase will have Dylan’s POVs, and his part of the story includes the intrigue and action happening in the backgound. Dylan’s actually scarily bad ass.

Summary: Gregor has been living as a Two for most of his life, but it’s a lie. He’s really a Third. And now he’s been found out and pulled into the lives of one of the great Families.

“I am a member of the Family,” Park stated as though it was everyday kind of news, and to him it probably was. Gregor was shocked enough for two people. “The Family requested that I assess you for the possibility of merging your genome with the Duadenora.”

“And I passed?” Gregor hadn’t meant to ask, but the words had slipped out.

Park looked amused. “So far.”

Chapter One: 01 – 02
Chapter Two: 03 – 04 – 05 – 06
Chapter Three: 07 – 08 – 09 – 10
Chapter Four: 11 – 12
Chapter Five: 13 – 14 – 15 – 16 – 17 – 18 – 19
Chapter Six: 20 – 21 – 22 – 23 – 24 – 25
Chapter Seven: 26 – 27 – 28 – 29 – 30
Chapter Eight: 31 – 32 – 33 – 34
Chapter Nine: 35 – 36 – 37 – 38 – 39
Chapter Ten: 40 –41 – 42 – 43
Chapter Eleven: 44 – 45 – 46 – 47
Chapter Twelve: 48 – 49 – 50 –51
Chapter Thirteen: 52 – 53 – 54
Chapter Fourteen: 55 – 56 – 57
Chapter Fifteen: 58 – 59 – 60
Chapter Sixteen: 61 – 62
Chapter Seventeen: 63 – 64 – 65 –

Gregor Tierney. Magister Dylan Park. Zero Park. Judge Rulf Tersoe.

EXCERPT:
This story is rated: Mature (for violence and sex)

He didn’t hesitate a moment to slide into Park’s abandoned spot and peer out through the observation hole. He had to kind of mash his face close to see, but he didn’t care.

Their balcony overlooked the whole theater. People were huddled in groups around the seats, their finery in disarray and their expressions terrified. The Players had been hustled off the stage and shoved in amongst the Patrons, their brightly colored costumes contrasting sharply.

There had to be over a dozen members of the Halcyon Horde standing by with weapons slung. They wore black and blue camo pants, black boots, and heavy flak vests. Each of their faces was covered with the flat black mask of the Horde, the only color the gold outlining the eye holes.

Gregor winced when the leader of the Horde cell opened fire on a woman in a red dress. A man had been holding her in his arms, and when the multicolored blast hit her directly in the chest, the man too went down with a choked cry, his limbs flailing before going still. The woman died without a sound.

“Now you see that we are serious,” the leader’s voice was strange and mechanical. He had a voice distorter built into his mask. “Would you like to live?”

No one said anything, too terrified of giving a wrong answer.

“I said, would you like to live?” the leader asked. “Answer me!”

“Yes! Yes we want to live!” “Please don’t kill us!” Hundreds of voices shouted out, pleading for their lives.

The leader laughed and turned to one of his own men. “You see how easy it is? You threaten the safety of the herd, and the individuals fall over themselves to spare their own lives. Pathetic.”

He turned and shot a young man; the guy was just a kid really, probably still a teenager. An older man shouted something–a name–and made to go to his son, but his wife held him back. She was crying, but resolute. Her husband stopped resisting.

Gregor had seen violence before, but it had always been through the safe medium of a view Screen. This… this was real and horrible and he hated his sense of helplessness, but there was nothing he could do to help. He had no training and no real weapons.

But Park does, an insidious voice whispered in his mind.

Park had weapons and training and he was out there, planning something to save the hostages. Something dangerous enough that he hadn’t been sure he would survive it, which is why he had told Gregor to stay hidden.

The leader of the Horde was still talking, rambling on about human weakness and animal herds and blah, blah, totally crazy, blah. Gregor had spotted Zero surrounded by the circle of his Family bodyguards. He was sitting quietly, not making a fuss, not drawing any attention to himself.

Gregor couldn’t help admitting that Zero had impressed him a bit. The guy had seemed like a complete airhead when Gregor first met him, the kind of useless, ornamental rich guy that wasted all of his opportunities by not even realizing what he had going for him. But Zero really knew how to be a good hostage. He didn’t even look afraid.

Gregor had been staring at Zero, so he was just as surprised as everyone else when the leader of the Horde developed a hole where his right eye used to be. The shot punched through the lens of his mask and continued on into his brain.

His legs folded up and he dropped to the floor. Dead.

There were screams from the hostages and the Halcyon Horde members started waving their guns around wildly, trying to triangulate where the shot had come from. There was no sign of Park.

When a female Horde member tried to scoop up the dropped Tumbler, her hand was barely an inch away before she was struck between the shoulder blades and was sent flopping forward, her spine severed. She aspirated a bit of blood across the polished floor and her limbs twitched minutely, then she died.

Gregor covered his mouth with his hand. His breathing was loud and wheezy to his own ears. His paranoia insisted they would be able to hear him.

/ EXCERPT