Insomnia demons and insisting muses.

                         Okay,  i am often treated to bouts of insomnia.  The reasons vary. Often it is just not being able to quiet my busy mind. Last night was the first time in over a month. I am up to thirty three poems out of the seventy I do in each volume for Life drops. I will likely share later one from that. I spent some time writing on the d20 game world that I have created. Lots of details still to do on that one. Managed about two fifty on my steampunk story, and another hundred and fifty on my drow novel. Didn’t get to the others. Helped my sister’s faeries do some for their Facebook page. Shared what i found worthwhile to my author page,  to my shop page,  and to my personal page. Still felt like I should have gotten more done.  Didn’t get my crafts done yesterday.  Still my mind isn’t slowing.  Have cut way back on caffeine.  Limiting myself to two cups of coffee a week and pretty much no pop. Heck even my tea is mostly herbal anymore.  Still there are days when i can’t sleep.  I’m about to try again for st least a short nap.  So until I return…. may you sleep well and have only sweet dreams.

Bee Bee Busy

I have been busy. Several of my books are coming out in Epub format. Bedtime tales is up in all the formats. And  I have been putting some serious word time into almost all of my other W.I.P.’s . That is not counting doing the normal mom things and making jewelry. Plus this blog, some amatuer photography, and other social media activities. Not sure how I have managed all of it and still slept. However I may let things slow a bit this weekend. Burning the candle at both ends for too long will wear me out. Will post a link post later, with all the current books i have out and their various formats for ease of finding them.

prologue teaser

                 //prologue teaser //

The wind caught my ship, causing turbulence. It jerked me about so much that I am unsure if I adjusted my course right. Actually, I am fairly sure I did not. However, I landed it fairly fine as always. The landing caused the engine some minor damage. The coal box had a sizeable hole, meaning it couldn’t build enough heat for steam. Making the immediate take – off impossible. Repairs would require some wood, nails and Iron. As well as a bit of sweat equity. My supplies in general on hemp or wood for the engine could use the boost as well. So I started searching for what I needed.

         The wastelands are not a pretty place overall. They are all that remain of a once great civilization, or so we are told. Personally I doubt the “great” part of that. They destroyed their world. Using fossil fuels and nuclear energy, Not to mention chemical weaponry. The ruins are all metal and glass building with very little trees left in the wastelands. Some were tall enough to be obstructions in the skies above the filter dome. The stories claim they even used chemicals within their own bodies. Even though they were aware of natural options. Idiocy if you ask me. Still they sure left us a mess in the wastelands.

                           Mutations and chemical bogs aren’t as easy to dodge as one thinks they would be. Chemical bogs varied in size and shape but were always pools of liquid in places that it obviously should not be. Chemical bogs are a mystery that no one quite knew how to solve. Some looked like water but not all did. I have heard of bubbling sulphur bogs and the stench was supposed to be legendary. However to be honest this was my first trip into the wastelands. The wastelands are home to all sorts of creatures that the gods never  intended. Some mutations made sense, however not all did. Some mutations were merely larger, meaner versions of their non mutated counterparts. Some had grown to adapt to the terrible harshness of the wastelands. A few hundred years ago much of the world was wasteland. It took mankind a lot of time and effort to recover what we have.

            I landed dead center of the eight hundred mile circle. Each territory had a different size of area that had not yet been reclaimed. Probably a dozen wastelands throughout the world. Each covered in a dome shaped plasma filter. The filter kept the fumes contained. Some believed the mutants needed those fumes to survive.

Luckily my breather survived the crash. After all constant breathing the air in the wasteland can mutate, or worse. A breather is mostly just a small filter. It fits easily over your mouth and nose, filtering small enzymes from the air you are breathing. So those of us who explored the wastes could survive within the plasma dome. Some explorers were helping to reclaim, others salvaging for usable supplies. Then there was me. I am an artist. I scout the wastes to sketch the strange and unusual. Then I sculpt or paint from the sketches.

Preparing to leave my ship felt like I was packing for an extended trip. I was trying to not get stranded in a hard place unprepared. I took care to take anything I might have need of. I also tried to pack lightly as i could, knowing that after a mile or two the pack would grow heavy. To be honest, I was scared of what the wasteland would bring.  

                    The wasteland has beauty in it. The most beautiful spots often hide danger though. The first mutation I ran into taught me that. The most beautiful and exotic  flower I have ever seen. It had vibrant purple leaves ending in elongated spines. The center was filled in a beautiful golden liquid. I admit I got too close. Nearly got ended by the beauty that I wanted to draw…Irony I guess.

                      If I hadn’t turned to figure out where my sketchpad and pencils were, I may have not made it to fix my ship. I may not have made it home. After all, the sketches were my reason for even being here. However as they say..ya live ya learn…right?! So it made me extra careful. I picked my way more carefully across the area. Avoiding anything that I was unsure of.

           Although I thought myself alone, it wasn’t long before I realized the wasteland wasn’t as barren as everyone has believed. Some of the mutations there were actually slightly less scary, almost friendly. I saw an mouse the size of a horse who was friendly and curious. I managed a few sketches of him.

I found the most unusual companion there. At first I thought the mutant annoying, slightly scary, and thought him more trouble than he was worth. Now i realize that he likely is why i survived. His guidance across the stark and barren wastes helped me avoid the lethal dangers. If I am honest, at least with myself, I think I fell head over heels in love with him.

feeling good about the muse

Normally i feel accomplished if I get 200-300 words a day in on one of my WIP stories. So you can easily imagine how I feel that I have managed over a thousand words between the newest (broken wasteland) and the other three in the last 24 hours. This feels so very powerful to write so much in such a little time. Add to it that it is not the end of my day, and i am truly inspired to write…well it means i am feeling like a writer. I have no doubt at the moment that i will eventually finish these stories. Even if it takes longer than I would like. Each word is a positive step to the end of my story.