BY DANIEL DURRANT
In a world driven by steam and power-hungry Industrialists, can one man change the course of history?
Edward Rankine, inventor and engineer aboard the battle-cruiser Dominator, has devised an ingenious plan to open the frozen Northwest Passage.
Believing he is performing a service for the benefit of mankind, Edward is appalled to discover there is a saboteur in his midst.
Working with a crew of ‘Jacks and Jills’, mechanically enhanced humans sentenced to a life of servitude, Edward is forced to battle on the icebound waters of the northern seas.
Not only does Edward have a mutiny on his hands, but he must also find a way to save the passengers aboard the Dominator, possibly abandoning his own noble ambition in the process.
Will Edward’s plan succeed in the face of adversity, or in failing to clear the Northwest Passage will he stumble…
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“It’s none of their business that you have to learn to write.
Let them think you were born that way.”
It’s nobody’s business what a chore it is to get the thought down onto the page, sometimes. Because it is motivated by too much pressure, not enough for the love of, which is what made me able to write and re-write 9 drafts of ’til the fat lady sings’ which has all the elements of classic Green melancholic tragedy, layered in black comedy oozing forth, derivative of a far-off Truman Capote story from long ago.
There is too much to take in and so many distractions abide, from the anxiety-laden escapism (say of the twitterspere which is infitinte in its decrepitude and ability to keep afloat by sheer empathetic energy, how does that become the only constant–chaos?) and then the sickness, when the body quits, it’s a no-go. I spend 60 hours in agony wishing I would die again, hate that, but that’s how bad the pain was.
And so much to do, the anxiety, the avoidance, all right there. What is wrong with me? It’s burn-out, I realize, and a good case of it, but I have been able to accomplish at least one progressive goal each day (except the last 2-3 when I was just sick, detox necessary).
SO this little book added to the reading list, that never gets finished. again, I say, what is wrong with me? Perhaps the question lies not in the what and the wrong? The constant accusign grown so accustomed to, but the question shouldn’t be a disappointment (I will never catch up, I can always measure time in anxiety-provoking increments).
BE DELIBERATE ABOUT FORMAT. THOUGHT SO, DREADING THAT. FORMAT, FORMAT, FORMAT. IT’S GOOD IN A WAY BECAUSE STRUCTURE FORCES CREATIVITY WHEN THE THROUGHLINE ISN’T THE CONSTANT GOBBLEDYGOOK OF A MEANDERING FREE ASSOCIATIVE STORY.
THE REAL FEAR COMES WITH THE IDEA THAT PERHAPS THIS FEELING THAT IT HAS ALL BEEN AN AWFULLY CRUEL JOKE AND THAT IT’S MEANINGLESS, AS SUSPECTED, WELL THAT NEVER SEEMS TO FULLY EVER GO AWAY DESPITE THE IMAGINARY ACCOLADES AND REAL TIME ACHIEVEMENTS.
SO, THIS BOOK, I AM NOT SURE WHERE I FOUND IT BUT I CRAVE A CERTAIN FOCUS AND A CREATIVE ROUTINE THAT BINDS SUCCESS TO ME WITH ALIGNMENT. I THINK I AM READY ONE MINUTE, THEN BECOME SEMI-CATATONIC ( I SAY SEMI BECAUSE IT’S ACTUALLY NO LAUGHING MATTER, AND IT’S JINX-RELATED IN THEORY, RESPECTFUL OF REAL LIFE MISERY, WHICH I WOULD NEVER WANT MORE OF, NO THANKS, ANYWAY, TA TA.)
Choose a format that can support what you’re building, or your
story will collapse
“People on the outside think there’s something magical
about writing, that you go up in the attic at midnight and cast
the bones and come down in the morning with a story. But it
isn’t like that. You sit in back of the typewriter and you work,
AND THAT’S ALL THERE IS TO IT.”
“If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all
others: Read a lot and write a lot. ”
– Stephen King