Beginnings

[ashnistrike]

papersky and buymeaclue both posted this, and I found it interesting. Beginnings of things I'm actively working on--nothing that's finished, nothing that seems abandoned. I'm a slow writer, so "working on" may be read as "have added something to in the last year." Papersky did first paragraphs or so, rather than first sentences. Contrary to popular opinion, I don't think first sentences actually stand on their own, so I've followed her lead.



Black and White Market (SF short, riffing on Kipling’s ABC stories. 926 words so far.)
Tilde Horovitz looked around, rubbing her hands together. "This is definitely not the good part of town."

"Where did you expect to find a place like this?" Gregor's voice dripped condescension. Tilde was 43 years old, and he was 17. When she was 17, adults had all been stupid, too. There was probably a genetic theory that accounted for it.

Changewinds Book 2: In the Sight of Justice (Novel, direct sequel to Chaos Dancing, which some of you have beta-read for me. Chaos Dancing is finished, awaiting only the completion of the synopsis before it goes out into the world. 21,464 words.)
"Are you certain this transport is safe?" Stardance peered out the window at the brief landscape of steel and wing-flaps.

"All the ones I've been on have made it back in one piece," I said. "I figure my luck'll hold for now."

"How does it work?" She was fingering her utility belt, and I had a worrisome image of her deciding to re-engineer the plane in mid-flight.

Changewinds Book 3: Cities and Thrones and Powers (Actually a prequel, but it goes here in the sequence. About 5000 words that I'm pretty sure I'll keep when it all comes together, in several disconnected scenes.)
The empire is eternal. It has existed since the beginning of memory, when the great city of Nexus was only a cluster of stone buildings huddled against the palace. It will last until every star in the heavens is conquered, and beyond. It is the ultimate expression of the will of Destiny, She who holds a world in each hand, for her favored children. At its center is Destiny's Daughter, telepathic avatar of goddess and people both. As it is now, so it shall be for all eternity--world without beginning or end.

At the moment, though, the empire bleeds.

Changewinds Book 4: History (Why can't I write these one at a time? I have written the first chapter of this, plus scraps. 12,896 words.)
"What kind of moron invents a time machine by accident?" I'd been asking the same question all day, with increasing exasperation and no useful answer. Then again, it had been a long day.

Child of Earth, Child of Fire (Fantasy short. 6232 words.)
"Get away from my child."

There was a strange man in Daniel's playroom. He was slender and clean-shaven, with black curls down to his shoulders. He wore some sort of silken tunic and pants, and he had the smooth brown skin you usually see on Indian women, though there was a distinctly Arabic cast to his features. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. My son sat a few feet away, playing his miniature keyboard.

Daniel looked up at the sound of my voice. "He doesn't grant wishes," he told me.

Familiar Strangers (Fantasy short. Probably unpublishable, as the markets for stories about D&D players meeting their characters are limited. 5,323 words.)
Four figures raced down a stone corridor. At least, they were racing as fast as they could with one of their number half-leaning on another one.

For Want of a Kingdom (SF novel, probably. 1,595 words.)
Wilkins served me well.

That wasn't the way he thought about it, of course. To him, it was a mutually beneficial deal: from me he received the occasional quiet hint about his markets, or the breath of early word on the direction of a political wind. In exchange, he might invest in a particular company and redirect its work, or lobby against certain small items on a national budget. Ultimately, however, it was all dependent on the power that Wilkins respected, that was mine.

At least, yesterday it had been mine. Today all the operatives at the Terran outpost were clustered around the ansible, listening to disaster.

Humanity (Star Trek antifanfiction with the serial numbers rubbed off, resulting from an extremely manic conversation with yunatwilight. Possibly a novel, probably unpublishable--but lots of fun to write. 2,960 words.)
Takevi had been good for 23 years. After he survived the massacre, he had stepped out of the rubble cradling Dr. Mendes' body directly in front of the television cameras, and been very careful to stay in their view until he was too well-known to disappear. It had been his survival programming, simple instinct undercutting rational thought just as it would for a human.

Inheritance (Short story, but likely to lead into a novel. Either SF or fantasy, depending on how you classify a "technology" based entirely on individual psychic abilities. 1,574 words.)
A good number of people came to the stronghold for the Aldrean heir's birth, but I left as soon as the lady went into labor. She was a week early--I'd intended to miss the whole thing if I could. Pain was sometimes unavoidable in the course of my duties as prime reader for the household--but no one needed me to tell them how this felt. A reader isn't a peep, but I can still pick up hurt that strong. I caught two of Rytha's contractions before I made it out. Each one resonated through the stone walls, hard enough to double me over even with shoes and gloves separating me from the bare rock.

Terrible and Fair (Fantasy, riffing on Snow White. What happens when you don’t invite the Seelie to the naming ceremony. 2,411 words.)
The foreign prince wasn't so much, Gaetane decided, peering through the slats above the throne room. He looked dull, standing stiffly in attendance of the Radoslau ambassador. Now if she had been permitted to be present at these negotiations, as she had at so many others, she would have been burning with interest. She frowned: and why had her parents not allowed her this particular opportunity, less than a year before she would marry and assume political duties of her own?

Prince Cyprian, still appearing bored, glanced up.

The Course of Empire (The story I didn’t submit to Twenty Epics. Fantasy, likely to be an epic of a more traditional length. 1,019 words.)
The road ended on a broken bridge. Once-grand columns grew from the river like stone trees, their ornate branches fallen in piles of rock at their roots. Ilxta eased off his pack, and walked out over the water, testing each step carefully before putting his full weight onto it. Fial, half his size and unladen, skittered behind him. Hoisting herself on the ruined rails, she peered over the side.

"It's Autumn in the glorious empire," she said, grinning. She pointed at the columns, keeping her grip with her tail and the long fingers of her other hand. "Look how the leaves have fallen."


Let me see if I can add anything to one of these, now.

Comments

[tavadriel.livejournal.com]

*mouth open in jealousy*

Wow, do you have a lot of projects. With actual beginnings.

But I do agree with you, on having more than one project "open" at the same time - my muses are tempermental enough; when they speak, I write, regardless of how many other stories I *should* be working on. Inspiration lost is a horrible thing.

Good luck on all of these!

[ashnistrike.livejournal.com]

*snort*

You could have gotten away with that jealousy before you were doing NANO projects every other month! :)

And of course, the one I went to work on afterwards was the fourth Changewinds book, which I not only can't submit any time soon but can't really show to anyone except Nameseeker until I finish at least the 2nd and probably the 3rd book.

[tavadriel.livejournal.com]

But NaNo's are for practice, not real - they're awful. The things I've done for wordcount are terrible. Or just shameless smut. Not publishable, in any light.

Of *course* the muse wants to write whatever is most difficult and/or inconvenient. It's in their rules or something. That's why I have a folder full of Jewelle drabbles and notes, and almost *none* of them connect with each other.

Seriously, though, I think there's a lot of good in writing out of order. Makes it easier to find and change/fix the new ideas before you have to retcon your own work. For example, if I hadn't "let" Nyssa come out and give me a few scribbles, I would have missed her connection with Damia - which changes a lot of things.

And then there's "Cultural Exchange", with a centered, mature Sundance - and I have no idea how he gets there from where I left him in "Touched by Earth".

Writing - when you realize that sanity just isn't an option.

[ashnistrike.livejournal.com]

Yeah, there is some good in writing ahead. By the time I get Book 4 out, people are going to say "Wow, look at all these things she had planned from the start." Not quite--I'll just have spent so freaking long on Book 1 that I had time to go and plant clues for the bits of Book 4 that I wrote in the meantime...

Listen, I had a lot of reasons why the Changewinds stuff was unpublishable until Nameseeker talked me into it. And the first draft is always a mess. What you need to do next is Novel Editing Month.

[liminalia.livejournal.com]

Hey dear, I need to get in touch with you soon and collect my Pat Califia and Anne Bishop before you move, and I lost your email addy. Btw, what did you think of the Califia?