And after one week of writing, how am I doing? So far, I have written 14,610 words of my novel, and am on track to finish the required 50,000 words ahead of schedule.
But that's just the pace. What about the quality? I will post a synopsis of the story and an excerpt from it, "below the fold." Read it yourself and make your own judgment. I think it's going well so far, and several who have read the excerpt agree. Make up your own minds.
Synopsis: The Winds of Change
A colony of humans lands on an uninhabited planet and begins the work of clearing the continent-wide forest growth so the colony can have room to grow. But "uninhabited" turns out to be a slippery word when faced with forest spirits protecting their world from interlopers. Will technology win the day, or will the humans be overwhelmed by the power of alien spirits?
Excerpt:
Flames surrounded him, consuming trees and animals alike, quenching the life he’d labored so hard to tend. Mistral concentrated, drawing on every ounce of energy he possessed, but to no avail. He was no match for the sheer mass of flames sweeping the continent.
“My trees!” he cried in anguish, shedding despair like raindrops. “MY TREES!” If he could have wept, he would have. His forest was being consumed in a blazing inferno, and he was powerless to stop it.
*Brother?* The sudden thought made him spin around as if he’d been struck, impossible as that was in his non-corporeal form.
*Ostro?*
*What is wrong, brother?* He felt her concern for him, sparked by his overwhelming despair.
*It burns, sister!* he cried. *They destroy my forest!*
*Rain, brother,* she urged him. *Rain quenches fire!*
*I can’t,* he wailed in reply. *There’s too much… I’m not strong enough. My trees, THEY BURN!*
*Hold, brother!* Ostro replied, and then she was gone.
Mistral redoubled his efforts, focusing on bringing moisture together into an effective rain mass, but the raging inferno below overpowered his every effort. He rose higher as he sent out an alarm to the animals below, urging them to find water, a place of safety. He felt them respond as they began a mass migration northwards toward the rivers. Ever higher he rose, reaching further than he had thought possible in search of moisture with which to fight the destruction raging below.
Suddenly, he felt a tendril of energy flung towards him. He latched onto it desperately, even as he felt another being focused his way. Another, then another he accepted, until all eight of them were connected together into an immensely powerful gestalt, eight entities fused together as one. Within the hurricane of power roaring through him, he felt his despair ignite into fury. Dimly, he heard Ostro’s voice sounding in his mind again. *Rain, brother! Rain!*
Grimly, Mistral summoned the rain.
I hope you enjoyed that. Feel free to leave your comments, positive or negative, on what you just read.
Hmmm....you didn't overdose on Avatar in the last month and watch it four or five times...?
ReplyDeleteI give four stars on the word-play. I will admit I dislike science fiction unless apes, invasions, or Sigourney Weaver is involved. But you captured the essence of any novel written by a Alabaman....using 'grimly'. Without grimly in our vocabulary....we are a lesser folk.
You're the second person to mention Avatar to me today after reading this. But to tell the truth, I haven't seen the movie yet, so I can't comment on any similarities... or lack thereof.
ReplyDeleteFrom what I've heard of the movie, there are major differences... but not in this excerpt, I guess.
Glad you liked it!