Doomsday Intro: Leaving Home (@inventrix)

Nov17

Written this way so I don’t have to put specific characters w/ specific intros until I’m ready

“All right.” Mom was being more cautious than normal, which was saying something. Three holstered weapons showing, never mind how many were hidden. Behind her, Uncle Tedd had the rifle out of the holster and his free hand on the gate.

Until today, the gate had been the end of the world. Until today, the world had consisted of two hundred acres of woodland and pasture and garden, fenced in with 10-foot-tall wire fencing and then with a wall twenty feet inside that and something magic and weird inside that. Until today, the world had been ten people, fifteen during the wintertime. Until today, the world had been very small.

Today, a woman in a wagon was waiting by the gate, and Mom and Uncle Tedd were checking all their weapons. Today, Uncle Tedd was staying home – which never happened – and Mom was leaving. Mom, and you. Leaving the farm. That never happened. That was never supposed to happen.

You clung to the bag Mom had handed you, and tried not to stare at the lady driving the wagon.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/849591.html. You can comment here or there.

Trying this a different way- help me build a cast #nanowrimo

Nov17

Tell me something about a character for Doomsday (example, via Trix: They have never been to a city or large town!) and I will write a bit of an intro involving that something.

Other ideas: who their ancestor is and how that happened (Addergoole ancestry, famous person ancestry, what have you), why their change is going to be xxx, hobby, fear.

Reminder: this is approx 35 years post apocalypse, and the world they are growing up in is a mess.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/849230.html. You can comment here or there.

Nanowrimo – First and Last Lines

Nov17

last line of last night: “And spunk. It’ll be interesting to see if that lasts. I hope it does. It’s always more fun when they have spunk.”

First line of yesterday: The bell downstairs rang. They were out of time to argue.

I’m at 32,561 words! And I wrote 2,460 yesterday.

Par for yesterday was 30,000, so I’m back on my trend of being one day ahead that I started on the second day of the month.

I *did* have to back up and start again from another direction, but all the words count. I can use most of ’em in revisions!

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/848975.html. You can comment here or there.

Cast My 3rd Novella: Help me flesh out Doomsday

Nov17

A While Ago, I asked for suggestions for what sort of traits would you enjoy reading in Doomsday students.

I got these suggestions:
Someone who was raised thinking Faeries Are Bad.
Someone who is Really Damn Good at Workings.
A purebred Mara Change. (those 3 @inventrix)
kid with some kind of special needs? Physcial handicap? (@dahob)

I’m coming to the time when I need to have these 5 characters fleshed out – 3 boys and 2 girls, to go with Sianna, Sweetbriar, and Austin.

So wanna tell me something about one of these five 8-year-olds?

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/848779.html. You can comment here or there.

Doomsday Academy: Sianna Intro

Nov16

“What should I wear? What should I pack? Do you think they’ll like me? What do you think they’ll be like? Do you think I’ll get to dance?”

Sianna wasn’t really asking the questions. They were popping out of her mouth far too quickly to really expect anyone to follow them. But she had to get them out. There were so many questions, so many things she didn’t know. “Is it warm there, like the time we spent a year down south? Is it cold, like when we spent time in Uncle Martin’s cabin? What’s it like? What are the people like? Are they going to be mean, like those people…”

Sianna’s family traveled, they had always traveled. But they traveled together. And when they had been summering in a nice place on the outskirts of a really really big wheatfield, a spotted redheaded lady and a dark-haired man with the same nose and spots as the lady had shown up to talk to Sianna’s parents.

It had been one of those kids-go-play conversations, all hushed tones and some flailing of hands on her Mama’s part (and a bit more angry flailing of hands on her Daddy’s part, and that had been the weird part. Daddy didn’t get angry. Sometimes he got furious, but furious was an entirely different sort of thing from angry. Mama got angry).

But when it was over, Mama and Daddy, the redheaded spotted lady and the dark spotted boy had all been polite smiles, but polite-and-real smiles, not the weird fake ones. And Sianna had been going off to Doomsday Academy in the fall.

“Why do you think they call it ‘Doomsday;’ it sounds kind of mean. And why can’t you guys come with me?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/848500.html. You can comment here or there.

Catching up: first and last words of yesterday

Nov16

Last line of yesterday: She leaned backwards instead of away from him. “Because you’re lousy at taking notes.”

First line of yesterday: It had been a fun contrast – especially since they were both so attractive, and both so determined.

I’m on The Despot of Santa Roux Finds Love, which might be in the same Clockwork Apoc setting as To Ashbury, or might be in another apoc ‘verse.

Words yesterday were 2,546, which brought me to 30,101, or just over 50% of the way to goal!

(chart is visible here: https://twitter.com/ThorneWrites/status/534041498497847296)

Back to the Word Mines!

How’ve you all be doing?

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/847891.html. You can comment here or there.

The Thornes Go to Hershey (#altonbrownlive)

Nov16

We’ve been watching Alton Brown on TV for years. We watched Good Eats nigh-on religiously, watched Next Iron Chef when there was nothing else Alton-y to watch, and watch and love Cutthroat kitchen.

We’re the sort of people that brine our turkey every year; I make biscuits by Alton’s recipe for our soup and we do own two of Alton’s cookbooks. I think it’s fair to say we’re fans.

So when the live show was coming to Hershey, PA, well… that’s only four hours away. We’ve driven three and a half hours to Albany three times between September and October (there was a wedding); we can drive to Hershey.

T and I don’t take many vacations. We used to do conventions with the Camarilla™, back when we belonged to said world-wide live-action Roleplaying game, and we did Dragon*Con once – in neither case did we pick the hotel. We’ve turned weddings into vacations for ourselves – again, we didn’t pick the hotel. I think this may be the first time we’ve chosen the hotel… ever.

Ahem. Alton Brown.

The show was awesome. I hadn’t done a lot of research about it, so I didn’t go in expecting anything in particular – but it was everything I could have wanted. He ranted about food, he did wild food tricks, he sang. It was two hours of pure Alton.

My only sad point? He took audience questions via twitter w/ selfie. Awesome… except for the 1% of us (me) that came sans smart phone.

But all in all – awesome show. I don’t think we learned anything about cooking, but we had a lot of fun. (Also, in his song about EZ Bake ovens, I got to examine how lucky we are to live in a sub-sub-culture where the fact that my husband does 9/10 of the cooking is entirely acceptable.)

Back to the hotel. So, I was a little hesitant about staying in a Howard Johnson (hotel snob), but it was the only one on the main drag that was a) well-reviewed and b) had a king-sized bed. So.

Turns out, it has a phenomenal restaurant underneath, and an absolutely tasty brunch place right next door. So not only did we get to listen to our favorite TV-food-personality, we got to eat delicious food, too!

All in all, a very good vacation, & back home in time to feed the kitties.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/847683.html. You can comment here or there.

With another Djinni Icon Day coming up…

Nov15

…you should all go request an icon

I point you to this tag for previous Djinni art.

Thoughts include: Clockwork Apoc (Emilia? What’s she look like? The Mechanic? How about her?)

Meritocracy, my kitty? What sort of hat indicates meritocracies?

My Rock/Hard place or my subby Ace boy or my Older woman Younger guy from the last prompt call? What do THEY look like?

Cynara? Something else Doomsday?!

(I picked Cya. Trix & I are doing the Cya/Leo family tree)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/847535.html. You can comment here or there.

Beyond the ‘Basket, a story for #3ww

Nov12

Written to the Three-Word Wednesday Prompt: Crucial, malignant, yearning
Also written as a tiny character study for my next piece of my #nanowrimo: The Despot of Santa Roux Finds Love.

“Listen, it’s crucial that we get this shipment across the ‘basket.” Marie frowned at the steamboat driver, because she had yet to find that smiling did any good.

“And it’s ‘crucial’ that I get paid.” Marcus Wainwright grinned back at Marie, which he could get away with because he had the boat and what she had was a pile of fruit and wheat and a deadline.

“And we get paid at the other end of the ‘basket. Mar- Mr. Wainwright, we’ve been doing this for months. Years.”

“And that was all well and good, because you always paid. But then when my boat got attacked by bandits – well, I was out two good boat hands and the price of your shipment. I need to get paid, Miss Tanner.”

Marie took a breath. Marcus Wainwright was the most vile businessmen, the most malignant tumor on the face of the river, the most obnoxious handsome smile that she had ever seen. But he was the captain they had, the only captain that was willing to traverse the dangerous and bandit-and-slaver-ridden ‘Basket. Or, at the very least, he was the only one still alive. “If I can get you two more boat hands for this route, will you do it?”

“Where are you going to find two boat hands on this short of notice, Miss Tanner? I’ve combed every river town this side of the ‘basket. Have you been hiding them up your skirt?” He leered nastily in her direction.

She set her jaw. “In a manner of speaking. The boat hands I’m mentioning would be my brother – who I suppose people might think had hidden behind my skirts, although it’s a lie – and myself.”

If nothing else, it was worth it, whatever may come, for the stunned look on Marcus Wainwright’s face. And maybe a trip on a riverboat would solve this stupid yearning she could not seem to get rid of.

And it would, for all time, get her brother rid of the rumour that he hid behind her skirts.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/847047.html. You can comment here or there.