Gosh I'm Scattered! 3rd Tomeworm Snippet

58k and stalled out on the Admiral's Gambit front.

I just wrote 10K on a work that's mis-titled.  I'm calling it Intergalactic Assassin.  The only thing is while she's a trained assassin, she's trying to get out of the game.

Meanwhile due to comments here I'm posting the 3rd Snippet of the Tome-worm librarian.

here it is!

Chapter:  Back Home


    Back in my little four room apartment I kicked off my shoes and grabbed hold of my copper grounding rod.  Iron made the best grounding rods but for a practicing magic user, and even if I wasn’t the strongest one you’d ever seen I still considered myself one, copper worked good enough and it didn’t have the nasty side effect of draining away your personal energy at the same time it got rid of all the bad vibes outside.
    Four rooms might seem like a lot to a member of the pre-crash world but post-crash it was positively Spartan.  There were entire building available for squatting rights and I was stuck in a measly little four room apartment.
    Nothing would make it better than it actually was but on the other hand it had been renovated post-crash by a practicing hedge-witch and came with all sorts of those nifty little add-ons a girl needed in this modern new world.
    Gripping my feet into the nice thick throw rug covering a hardwood floor in need of a fresh coat of varnish, I leaned my head back and sighed.
    Then I went over to the green monster and lay down.  The green monster looked like something straight out of the late 70’s or early eighties but was simply the most comfortable couch I’d ever come across.  That and the fact I wasn’t strong enough to both get it out of the apartment and a new couch installed inside, let alone pay for a luxury like that, meant that the green monster was here for the duration.  Oh it had been moved from one end of the apartment to the other and planed in just about every position imaginable within my little living space.  Unfortunately nothing made it any smaller and even bleach applied in the name of disinfectant, had failed to make it look like anything other than eye sore it was.
    The arms of the green monster were definitely scratchy, I though as I squirmed around in search of that perfect position.  Currently I was using pillows to cover those scratchy arms but had designs on some kind of hand sewn coverings for the arms.
    As much as pink would have been a wonderful power color to add to the main room, this green monster of mine was such an ugly color of dark snot green that even a certifiable pink-aholic like myself just couldn’t imagine pink coverlets doing anything but clashing with this couch of mine.
    I’d inherited the couch from the previous owner of my little four room apartment and while I could understand why she’d left it behind when she moved out, for the life of me I couldn’t understand how she came to possess it in the first place.
    No matter what I tried the couch just looked big and ugly.
    Then I finally squirmed myself into that perfect spot and all my gripes about the green-monster faded into the back ground.  I once again learned why it had survived multiple owners and never once been broken up for kindling and thrown into the garbage to make room for a newer, more color coordinated model.
    With a sigh I told myself I’d just take a little nap and least until my feet and back stopped aching.
    I woke up with a start and realized it was some time after midnight.  The deceptive green monster had once again worked its wiles on me and I was both hungry and in dire need of scanning the work book of Heironeous the Mis-Enchanter so I could write my money making paper tomorrow during work.
    I groaned and stuck a foot outside dark green afghan blanket that was the only thing I’d found so far that hadn’t clashed or been color dominated by the green monster.  As things stood it was a battle to the death of ugly green and something that I’d be ashamed of if anyone ever saw it in my living room.  But since I never had any visitors I think I was safe from humiliation at lest for the moment.
    It was cold out from under my ugly little afghan and I hurriedly retracted my foot.  I tried a hand.  Yep, still too cold for my liking.
    Visions of freezing to death on the way to my room in search of something warm to put on warred with the knowledge that a paper for the odious little T.B. could mean the difference between having food or not having food the last week of the month.
    I hesitated and looked at my brown satchel carelessly tossed next to the doorway.  I’d meant to come back and arrange it properly but first the throw rug had called out to my aching feet and then the green monster had seduced me with its comforts until I’d fallen fast asleep, the satchel and its contents completely forgotten.
    With a sudden move I jerked the afghan over the back of the couch and jumped into the cold.  Dancing from foot to foot, as even the nice thick throw rug was freezing to the touch, I danced into my bedroom.
    Cuddled within its warm pink embrace I jumped into bed and pulled the blankets up over my head until my body head warmed things enough that I stopped shivering.  Re-fortified with warmth and certain I’d never be able to write a paper under here, I once again braved the cold.
    Scrambling for my closet I pulled out the first warm thing hanging on the rack.
    Several minutes later I was layered in three layers of sweatshirts and two pair of sweat pants.  Once again warmed up, I pulled out my nice little pink gloves and returned to retrieve my satchel before making for the kitchen.
    A peanut butter sandwich in hand and two day old left over dim-sum noodles on the burner to heat up and I was now ready to tackle the works of this mysterious mis-enchanter.   
    A lot of whining and blathering about how misunderstood and oppressed he was later, I was jaw crackingly tired.  Looking up I saw that I’d just burned over four hours reading the books of a self-important little whiner.
    It was obvious from reading his work that Heironeous had a lot of the same problems I did.  No money, no materials and a limited innate magical power supply.  The world wasn’t out to suppress his genius, as far as I could tell he just wasn’t any good at enchanting thing.  On the other hand it seemed he’d had to cope up with many of the same problems I did, being a person with low magic power.      While his skills as an enchanter hadn’t been misunderstood as far as I could tell from reading behind the lines and looking at his descriptions of how to go about enchanting objects.  Maybe his ideas of how to overcome the power deficit had been.
    You’d never know until you tried and as a starving magic student I was desperate for any edge I could get.  Maybe I’d try out a few of his less off the wall theories and see what happened.  Even if they didn’t pan out, the theories would make the fine basis of a paper for my Advanced Magical Theory class and now that I thought about it for T.B. as well.  There was no need to burden the little skeeve’s head with the whining of Heironeous when there were a few perfectly unproven theories to gush about instead.
    This way I could kill three proverbial birds with one well written stone.  I could writing a paper that would both earn me money, give me some ideas that might be useful in passing my currently stalled out Advanced Magical Practice classes and earn me direct credit in Advanced Magical Theory.
    Too bad every side project of mine didn’t turn out to be as profitable.
    Satisfied that I’d found the most elegant solution to this little mess, I jotted down a few notes on things I wanted to remember for the paper and after a few jaw cracking yawns acceded to the seductive call of my pink covered twin bed.
    The little coocko clock screamed its dire little warning that I was late for class and it took me a moment to realize I’d slept through its more softly voiced wake up calls.
    With a jerk I rolled over and fell out of bed.  Landing with a thump I grumbled at the coocko clock and hurried to the shower stall.
    An ice cold shower later proved that the hot water heater had once again failed to magically fix itself and if I wanted warm water I’d either have to heat it on burner and ladle it onto myself or hire someone to fix the busted water heater.
    With little hoping shrieks of dismay I grabbed a towel and did my best to rub off all the freezing water, rapidly destroying my body temperature.
    Hopping from foot to foot, I pulled on my clothing as fast a girl possibly could.  Dressed again in my work outfit, I grabbed my rain coat and set out to the kitchen for my satchel and backpack.
    The weekend was over and it was time to go back to school in the morning and library work in the evening.  This business of only working a straight eight hour shift in the library and going home was once again a thing of the past.  It was time to go back to four hours of school and eight hours of work, with travel time thrown in on top.
    I grunted as I locked the door behind me.  My hidden wealth wasn’t in active magical department, although I seemed to do pretty alright when it came to the theory business.  Maybe my hidden wealth lay in the stubbornness department, that’s the only reason I could come up with why I was still sloughing through text books at school and magical tomes at work, after all my batch mates from magic 101 had either graduated with an Advanced Degree or given up on the study of magic and switched majors or gotten married.
    My scholarships may have run out and I was ten years into what should have been a four-to-six year degree but I was dogged and relentless.  Or so I told myself.  It was hard though, I thought as my stomach grumbled, to be both dogged and relentless when you were short on money, food and just about everything else in the world that made life worth living.  The thought of another two-four years of part time schooling followed by two master thesis that needed to be peer reviewed, was enough to make the most dedicated of students doubt herself.
    If I was only able to spend more time studying instead of dealing with runaway books, some wizard or sorceress had thought would be a great legacy to leave behind for future generations to chase down, and re-file.  Then I could pay the fees and challenge the course for accreditation instead of sitting in a hardwood chair for hours on end…
    I had to laugh at myself.  Once again my life had degenerated into a series of hopeless dreams.  If I didn’t even have the money to fix my hot water tank, there was no way I could afford to pay for more classes, all so I could dream of challenging them for instant credit.
    Back in the daily grind, my Advanced Theory class was as dull and boring as I’d feared.  Magic Storage was a rehash of things I’d already learned at school in other classes or on the job at the library.  Really I just was making time in Magic Storage until I earned an associate degree and qualify for one dollar an hour bump for holding the position I was currently filling, only with an associates degree.
    I knew I’d set my sights low but at least the Mondale Foundation was paying for the class under their job training program and I received an automatic waiver for not taking a full load of classes.  One of the few perks of working for at the Emporium.
    Then it was off to the corner of the campus to catch a bus.  All the good mechanical ones were taken by larger or more pushy students, all super eager to get home and unwind.  My lack of enthusiasm to get to work meant I got stuck with an old flat bed, pulled by some kind of giant lizard.  The seats looked like they’d been torn out of something else and bolted to the floor.
    The first time the great big lizard passed gas a giant a six foot fireball launched out of its back side and gave the last of the pushy students sitting in the front a real fright.  It also made clear that on this bus sitting near the front wasn’t the advantage it might have been on another carrier.
    The driver of course hastened to assure us, it was just a harmless bit of indigestion and after a few more fireballs harmlessly passed, where one was actually singed or hurt, the passengers in the front settled down enough to resume the usual sort of back biting comments that go on at a magical academy.
    Other than a few nasty looks at those of us in the back, as if it was our fault they’d pushed us aside in their rush to claim the loser seats, they chose to ignore us in favor of the continual whose-who of active college risers.
    I gathered from the snippets I overheard there was a new child prodigy on campus and he was looking to complete the Advanced Magical Practice four year degree in two and a half and then challenge for his masteral thesis paper if the dean and magical advisory board would sign a waiver.
    I firmly instructed myself to ignore them and turned my head to look at the streets as they passed bye.
    Being open sided it was cold and a few of passengers complained until the driver offered to try and excite the lizard into producing more heat giving flames.  The passengers in the front shouted those in the back down and soon the bus had settled into a sullen unhappy silence.
    The old timers like to complain about how public transportation was alternately faster, slower and more terrifying back in the good old, pre-crash, day but I for one couldn’t imagine anything more terrifying than some of the public transportation options available along my various routes.  Compared to some of these, a gassy lizard with a penchant for fireballs from out its hind quarters was far from taking the cake.
    Remind me to tell you about the gelatinous cube that doubled as a part time emergency elevator and everyone was issued breathing masks.
    I was one of the last ones off by the time the bus hit the library.  And by hit I mean it ran up over the curb and side swiped a news paper stand.  It didn’t actually run into the library itself.  The wards on the old building must have been recharged recently.
    Heading inside the library was almost like coming home.  The dry, slightly musty smell of all those books stored inside its walls welcomed me.  As did the level stare of Mrs. Pruitt, she glanced down at her the water clock on her desk and then looked back up at me.
    I gave her a cheeky grin and went to punch in my time card.  Sneaking a surreptitious glance at the card I felt a surge of triumph.  Mrs. Pruitt might like to make everyone feel like they were late to work but I was rarely late and today was not one of those days.
    Taking off my rain coat and hanging it on an old style standing rack made of wood, I quickly redid my hard into a tight bun and after straightening my dress and button up shirt I felt ready to face the world.
    Marching over to the giant sort rack I sat down behind my little pigeonhole of a desk and glanced over the night slips.
    I suppressed a frown.  Once again the night shift had failed to do any sorting.  Leaving the unenviable task to my.  The night assistant librarian, the young man responsible for sorting new books as they came in and filing recently re-discovered and misfiled works, like the black magic book I’d found hiding out in the slightly restricted section, claimed that they were too understaffed at night for him to safely do his work.
    So instead of doing his job like he was paid for, he instead left all of it for me to do on the day shift.  Which was just unfair.  While I might be forced to admit that they had less staff on nights, even so, that was no excuse for not doing you job.  What was the foundation paying him for anyway if they were just going to let him slack off like this?
    Personally I think he was just too lazy and busy sleeping when he should be working but all my reports to Mrs. Pruitt so far, had engendered no relief.
    Its just as well I told myself with a sigh.  This way you have more to do and will be busy wrangling unhappy books instead of building love handles.  Although with an assistant librarian’s salary I didn’t know how I was going afford enough in the way of junk food to get fat in the first place.  Still it would have been a neat solution to a problem it might have been nice to have.
    Another day of sorting and surreptitiously writing T.B.’s report on the odd techniques of Hieroneous the Mis-Enchanter.
    A second day passed, since my little adventure in the slightly restricted stack, and with my report for T.B. completed I rubbed my back and clocked out.
    Taking the same decrepit looking flat bed and giant lizard set up I’d arrived in this morning, I gave the driver a flat stare.  Riding the thing once had at least had some comedy value.  I could only hope this rickety set up wasn’t going to become a permanent fixture on my route.
    Securing a seat well in the back, I silently laughed at all the pushy people who jumped onto the bus, only to stop in delighted dismay at the sight of all the empty front seats, the seats normally in such hot demand on a public transportation route.
    Being for the most part hardened denizens of the city’s public transportation system, they immediately suspected something was up and reluctantly moved to the middle of the bus.
    A few people started and jumped the first time a fireball shot their direction but at the studiously unconcerned looks of the rest of us in the back, they suppressed their natural urge to dive under their seats and scream.
    I have to admit it was mildly amusing to watch there reaction to a little bit or harmless flammable gas.
    Still chuckling to myself when I hopped off the bus, I trudged through water deep enough to get my feet wet.
    Grimacing I determined to change my socks as soon as I got home.
    At home I started studying for class tomorrow.  This was accomplished by activating a finger joint sized little magic recording stone I’d way purchased back when I’d still been on scholarship.  It recorded whatever the teacher said and could replay it for only you to hear.  Making it a neat little piece of magic that helped a struggling young student stay up with her more talented classmates.  It was also harder for a teacher to set off than you standard hear all play all stones.
    So while I did my laundry for the last two days by hand, my washing machine was also broken and the cost of hiring a brownie was way out of my price range, I sat and listened to the little recording device.  Its only draw back was also part of its security feature, only the person holding it could hear what was recorded.  If you were holding it your instructor’s voice came in as clear as if you were sitting in your chair in class but if you weren’t holding it was the same as if it was turned off.
    The main drawback of this recording stone was that you could only hear what was stored on the little stone once.  It stored the words and then released them.  Once the little stone spoke a word it was gone from its little memory bank forever.
    Plunging and scrubbing my clothes in some nicely pre-warmed water courtesy of my little oven burner, I soaped and rung out my clothes to the tune of the same boring class I’d sat through earlier in the day.
    I didn’t care, knowledge was knowledge and tomorrow I had an Advanced Theory class that might actually be interesting.  I wasn’t about to leave my little stone’s memory full of a stupid Magic Storage lecture.  Not when it could only hold about one lecture at a time.
    Since there was no way to instantly erase the lecture, doing something productive while I was forced to listen to the same boring lecture a second time was the lesser of two evils.
    If only I could channel more magic I thought dispiritedly.  Kelsey McBride had graduated with a Masters  Degree in Advanced Magical     Practice just over two years ago and had established her own practice in the city.  She’d been almost half a year behind me before we became friends and I started helping her with her homework.  Now she had her own shop and small business, while I had a temporary job as a full time Assistant Librarian.
    I mentally went through the tally of former schoolmates who’d already graduated or moved on to something better.
    Maybe I’d try for another familiar again tomorrow.  Most of the Library staff had mice or rats although one night shifter had a small garden snake.  I shuddered at the thought of getting a snake.  The last two times I’d summoned a familiar I’d ended up with alternately a field mouse and then a small sewer rat.
    I shuddered remembering how I’d kept the sewer rat in a small aquarium within the apartment until our familiar bond had withered from disuse and I could finally set it free.
    I was secretly hoping for a Cat.  Preferably a cute little kitten that would grow and add a significant bump to my ability to draw magical power.  Although at this point I’d take a mangy street cat if that was what it took.
    A mouse or rat just couldn’t channel the kinds of power I needed to perform the next level of power spells I’d been itching to try every since the middle of my second year at school.
    I’d already flunked out on the familiar front twice now, I suppose nothing would hurt if I tried one or two of those power enhancing techniques postulated by the Mis-Enchanter.  Then I caught myself.  Maybe I would just study them as a theoretical application in my Advanced Theory Class before testing out anything dreamed up by a man known as the Mis-Enchanter.
    With a new goal to keep my modest hopes alive, I decided not to wait for theory class to run the idea by my instructor.  I’d just do a little research on my own before presenting the idea.
    By the end of the day, I’d disproved most of the ideas Hieroneous had presented in his work book, but in the process had come up with a few ideas of my own.  Even if completely on the wrong track, they should be good for some additional credit in Advanced Theory.
    Humming to myself as I cross referenced my current school book with several others from past classes, I jotted down what I thought was a credible attempt at a work around for a magic user of limited power.


The Deposed King

55.5K

Hi there still not out of the mental funk yet but I'm trying.

Got a bit of writing done last night.  I'm also battling what I suspect is a bad internet box.  just can't see to stay on line.  I've been down for about four days.  Had to go down to the internet cafe yesterday to check on things.

have a good one,

The Deposed King

Up to 52K

Sorry gang, this last week has been just plain depressing.  I've just been blocked.

I don't have quite a firm a foundation on my sub-plots as I'd like and when you combine running around for real world stuff.  I just took a flyer and read some e-books this wee.

Managed to get over the dreaded 50k hump last night with a nifty little battle scene.  I mean its really not as cool as all that but I was sure into it.

Anyway sounds like rejection at Hurog.  So its off to the Jim Butcher site and Baen's-bar for critique readers.


I honestly don't know at this point if my brother will ever get around to editing my first book.  I'm just about ready to throw my hands in the air and float it to some beta readers for some help.

Anyway lots of interesting little twists and turns.



The Deposed King

45k and we're underway!

Well I had a series of difficulties, including a dead mouse.  The left click button has finally given up the ghost.

Then when I went to install a new one, my windows seven didn't automatically download the driver.  It was hunt and peck trying to use the right clicker and the keyboard, so I could get to the point and try to have it manually search for the needed driver.

Fortunately I was able to get it to the point of downloading the driver and it actually worked.  So glory of glories I was able to use the new mouse to rearrange the button formation of the old mouse (which is a touch pad screen) and now have the lap top kind of working once again.

Anyway up to 45 thousand words on Admiral's Gambit.  Its been one distraction after another around this ranch.  Plus I'm sick with a two week cough.

So suffice it to say I'm in a low place right now.  Constant side projects keep getting me out of the zone.

Anyway here I am and here it is.  I wrote about 2.5k so far today which is a completely sucky number I know but what can I do?  Its the best my failing self could manage.

Anyway I'm hoping some dinner and a good night's sleep will clear the way for some productive.  Writing tomorrow.  I haven't given up yet tonight but its a little after six thirty in the pm over here.  The kids will need some beddie by time soon.

Have a good one pedren and cheople.





The Deposed King

Aha! I am not left handed! Its now 40k in the box

Alright, I was disappointed with myself for slacking off and reading an online book instead of keeping the old nose to the grind stone.  I figured 2k words written with nothing on any of the side projects was just pitiful.

So I buckled down and cranked out an additional 5k this evening.

I finally got to wade through some of the mushy stuff that I knew needed doing but I just couldn't bring myself to get around to yet.  Well the mush is officially in and under the operating premise that less is more, there's less mush and more relationship confusion.  Which was a relief for me I will tell you.

It took another Bug attack before I could work my way into doing what needed to be done and immediately after we are off to help pick up the wreckage of a wrecker/pirate attack.

See how I roll?  Bug attack-mush-helping the survivors of a pirate raid.  It all makes perfect sense when you look at it in perspective.

Anyway another exciting addition to the sequel Admiral's Gambit. Only sixteen more days to go this month that.
..... = 80k potential that I could write.  Meaning I'm still on pace for the sequel to be completed this month.  I don't know if I can hack that without even one day off the next two weeks, plus the last book was an over run.  But all I'm saying is that with the burning of this midnight oil the first book finished in january and the second book completed in february is still a technical possibility.

Anyway have a blast guys.  I'd say I was pumped but really I'm just bleary eyed with fatigue.  I leave off being pumped for tomorrow.

ta-ta!


The Deposed King

Admiral's Gambit 35k

Well up to 35k on Admiral's Gambit.  A minor bug battle to deal with.

Will have more updates soon I hope.


The Deposed King

2nd Snippet: The Tome-worm Librarian

Well here it is.  The second snippet of a little side project.  Its a rough snippet I just wrote yesterday or the day before.  Anyway enjoy or say its the junkyest thing you've ever read.

I posted the first snippet a day or two ago along with the routine status update, if you're interested.  Word count on this story is 16,445 so far

Chapter: The Book


    Back in the stacks a plain bound tomb sat on top of the stacks in the slightly restricted archive and sighed.
    “I don’t see what’s so interesting in another young intern working her way through school by taking a job at an institution owned by the same foundation that owns the college.  She’s just another rube the Mondale Historic Foundation is getting to work here for a song and a dance,” scoffed a nearby grey magic tomb.
    “Ah, my friend, but she wears the most appealing button up shirt and every time she walks underneath this shelf you can see all the way down to her best assets,” chuckled the first book.
    “I don’t really pay that much attention to the self animated but even I know that she’s wearing a standard librarian uniform,” said the second book.
    It cracked open an eye and looked at the first book to gauge its reaction.  When there wasn’t any, it decided to keep pressing the matter.
    “Three times now you’ve shown the entire stack that you can make the self-animated dance to your tune.  I used to think you were a tome written about chance and gambling.  The way you took that herbalism ledger for its hundred dollar book mark was uncanny.  But now I have to wonder.  Based on your latest reaction I’d say that you were a very motivated, if somewhat simplistic, pornography book.  One that was animated by accident,” said the second book.
    The First Book just sat there looking entirely too smug and didn’t say a peep.
    The Second Book frowned in disappointment at so little reaction.  Still it was a magical theory book that specialized in puzzles and while it didn’t care what any of the other books thought, except perhaps for a few infuriatingly smug books based on the same ideas as himself.
    Books that flatly refused to share their secrets, it thought darkly, before refocusing its attention on the first book.  As long as the second book couldn’t figure out the enigma of the first book, its interest would remained piqued.
    “But of course that can’t be it because you’d never have wound up in the slightly restricted section if that’s all you were.  Now I’m thinking maybe you’re a book on magical sex rituals and fertility rites,” the second book continued gamely.
    “Puzzle books, you’re all the same,” sniffed the first book, “but at least most of you back here have side interests that can prove to be mildly amusing.  You really should have seen the first hovel I was stuck in.  Nothing so grand as this I assure you,” the first book said dismissively.
    “Ah ha!” exclaimed the puzzle book.  Thinking it had hit upon the perfect answer.
    “I have it.  You’re and magical entertainments book.  That’s why you know such variety of tricks and yet continue to play games with all of us, including the intern,” the second book said triumphantly.
    “You actually think I do what I do for the entertainment of others,” the first book said in disbelief.
    “Or for yourself,” said the second book happy to have finally figured out the first.
    “I do not exist solely for my own amusement and I can assure you, the amusement of others is of no concern to me,” the first book said sternly.
    “Oh the look on her face when she slipped up and thought a wish had landed on her head.  Get it on her head,” chuckled the puzzle book.  Nothing was more fun than pointing out how simplistic the puzzle of other books was.  While jealously guarding your own secrets of course.
    “Say how many blank pages do you still have by the way,” it asked moving on to the next biggest puzzle regarding the enigma book it was busy re-designating the entertainment book.
    The first book looked angry, as you’d expect any book to be when its secrets were laid bare before another of superior intellect.
    “Maybe I’m a wishing book,” the entertainment book said belligerently.
    “Oh that’s rich.  You a wishing book.  Not only have I never heard of such a thing but its impossible,” snorted the other.
    “I could make a wish come true if I desired to,” the first book said haughtily.
    “Making the self-animated walk through our section whenever you feel like it is one thing, there’s no way you can pull off a wish,” snorted the puzzle book although he sounded slightly uncertain.
    “What do you want to bet,” demanded the first book.
    The second book hesitated.
    “Under the theory that I might be wrong and you really are a book based on chance and fortune I respectfully decline your wager,” it said with dignity.
    “You’re nothing but Vellum,” scoffed the first book.  Delivering a scathing insult, the equivalent of calling a human a chicken.
    “I am not.  But even if I were, you still couldn’t be a wish book, because a wish book would know it was impossible to make a wish come true, in violation of the Bound/Unbound Wish Accords,” sneered the puzzle book.   
    The first book knew it should ignore the jabs of a stupid puzzle book with its simplistic triumphalism at the thought of having discovered his secrets and gloating attitude.  However it soon found its thoughts turning more and more to proving it could make a wish actually come true and get around the Wish Accords at the same time.  Thinking about it the book realized it hadn’t had a real challenge in a long, long time
    It was about to give up on the idea as improperly altruistic when a more appropriately self interested thought came to it and the book grinned in delight.  It had finally found a valid justification for making a wish come true.
    If the book had a head it would have shaken it at itself, maybe it had grown complacent and the puzzle book was right to be scornful, even if it was doing so for all the wrong reasons.  It was long past time to hatch another escape plan.
    This time the grin was an evil one and if it’d had hands they would have been rubbing together with glee.  If its plan succeeded, then at a minimum it would shut the puzzle book up for quite a while.  At best… Freedom baby!
    It had almost forgotten the meaning of the word.  Yes it had definitely been too long since it tried to break out of this joint.

30k and on a roll

cranked out another 5k today.  Admiral's Gambit is coming right along and Akantha decided not to wait any longer and used a thermite bomb to blow down our hero's door to find out what he's been up to this whole time.

As the extent of his transgressions was sleeping with a childhood teddy bear and a hold out blaster pistol under his pillow, he was quite naturally peeved.

A wicked sword right then ensued.

And a new understanding was reached.

Wait up for the next exciting installment of Admiral's Gambit.



The Deposed King

Admiral's Gambit 25K

In this next exciting addition to the Spine Ward Cluster, the Admiral flies the coop, inside his battleship, and leaves local Tracto Politics behind.

Its off to Nova-Practica the next settled world on their recently restarted patrol route.  Or should that be recently jump-started?

Anyway they drive off a few pirats and capture a prize or two.  The First Officer is concerned about the fluke like nature of their successes so far.  How can a big lug of a battle ship like theirs keep lucking into getting in close with smaller, faster pirates?

Also there is trouble on the Protector front and his Sword-Bearer puts an ultimatum to him, shape up or face the consequences.  As usual when it comes to his girl, our main man is completely in the dark and pleas for straight talk so he can fix whatever is wrong, fall upon if not deaf ears, than ears that seem to have heard something else.

Now its back to Tracto with the prizes, but should he leave behind the Hammerhead Cruiser to continue the patrol?  How long will the Lady Akantha wait for our clueless Admiral to figure out what is clear as day to her.  find out in our next exciting installment of.  Admiral's Gambit.


Official Word Count is:   25,739


The Deposed King

20k down another 100 to go, and a snippet from My One Little Mistake

Well I knocked out another 4k on Admiral's Gambit and another 6k on an Urban Fantasy that struck me when I was commenting on an Idea by Christopher Nuttal.

So the total word count of my current projects as of today are:

Admiral Who = 20K

My One Little Mistake = 12.5K

Here's a very rough snippet from My One Little Mistake.  There's been no time to clean it up.  But I realized I haven't posted even so much as one little snippet yet on this blog.  So here you go



My One Little Mistake
By Joshua Wachter


Chapter:  In the Stacks


    “Hello my name is Cordellia Stanfield and I’m an Assistant Librarian looking for a book by Heironeous the mis-enchanter,” I said loudly in case anyone was listening.  The only answer was the dry mumbling of sleepy books.
    I stamped my foot in irritation.  I used the left one because that was my power side but it didn’t really matter which foot I stamped, nothing changed.  That was part of the charm and beauty of working for the Horton Library Emporium and the Mondale Historic Foundation, nothing ever changed.  It was also one of the most frustrating aspects about working here as well, Nothing, Ever, Changed.
    Oh there were always new books to catalogue, register and decontaminate.  Customers came and went looking for whatever they cam to the Emporium for in the firs place but in the end?  Same old same old.  The black magic journals tried to temp you to read them, white magic books were tighter than a drum and like to act all holier than thou or were suspicious until you pulled out your credentials in triplicate and grey magic tombs were constantly on the hustle, part sympathetic bartender and part used car salesman.
    Walking between the stacks to the next set of book shelves I repeated my call for books by Heironeous the Mis-Enchanter.
    All I got for my efforts was one sleepy, “go away,” and you could tell by the timber of the raspy voice that someone needed a new binding.
    I really should go find the damaged book and pull it for repairs but I was running behind and really just wanted something, a diary a journal, anything at all, penned by the late Heironeous.
    Looking around I sighed and headed for the next row of books.  Again it was a bust.
    I really wasn’t sure about this commission.  I mean T.B. had never been wrong before when he offered to pay if I could find a book and write a treaties on it but this time was looking like it might be a first.  This was the third day in a row I’d stayed on after my shift to look for the mysteriously missing works of Heironeous the Mis-Enchanter.  The second day during work I’d even looked old Heironeous up in the official register, just to make sure this wasn’t some kind of wild goose chase.
    After wrestling with the register for a good five minutes, while it questioned the legitimacy of my quest, my credentials and the reason for my search, I finally got it to admit that there were supposed to be three surviving works of the late mis-enchanter stored in the slightly restricted archives section
    I was on about my eight repeat when I heard a raspy voice whispering how it could help me find the missing works of Heironeous if I’d only open it and read a passage or two.
    “Looks like somebody here’s a misfile,” I said grimly and decided to call it a day and give up the search for the elusive works of the mis-enchanter.
    “Where are you, you little gimp,” I called looking around.  But there was no answer.  I quartered a three stack area but the book was wise to my search.  It looked like it was time for the big guns.  I straightened my shirt and puckered my lips.  Sometimes they could see you.
    “Oh I’m just so interested in the works of Heironious the Mis-Enchanter,” I cooed.  A dry rustling sounded as the nearby books on the archives started to take notice.
    “What wouldn’t I do, if only I could find what I’m looking for.  Why if only there was someone… or something that could help little old me.  Can you imagine the gratitude I would feel,” I continued in a syrupy sweet voice.
    “Come here sweet one and the master will teach you everything you need to know,” said the same raspy voice sounding a little hesitant.
    “I can’t find you.  Help me!” I said doing my best damsel in distress impersonation.
    “Keep looking and the rewards will be beyond anything you’ve dreamed,” said the raspy voice, this time there was a gloating sound in its voice at having found such a gullible mark.
    Finally I spotted it.  The little booger was hidden was hidden near the bottom, all the way down at floor level.
    “Got you,” I said triumphantly and grabbed the squirming little journal.  It resisted for as long as it could but in the end it came out with a pop.  I over balanced and landed on my rear end, bumping my head against the stack behind me.
    “Owe,” I said rubbing my head.
    The black magic journal was dressed up like a grey magic tome but clearly that was camouflage.  It just goes to show you can’t always judge a book by its cover.  Although sometimes a book just goes bad, its been known to happen, probably it was just a clerical error.  Someone wasn’t doing their job and it slipped through the cracks.
    That was why this was the slightly restricted archives after all.  There were a couple of ringers strewn about here and there.
    For its part the book screamed bloody murder and promised to seek revenge by turning me barren and causing all my future children to be stillborn.
    When I assured it I was on the pill because I wasn’t very interested in having children and might actually be interested in barrenness, it shut up for a while.  I think it was trying to figure out if I was serious or mocking it.
    Before it had time for any more threats and then simply degenerated into every piece of foul language written inside it, I snapped open my brown satchel and slid it inside.
    That satchel was my pride and joy.  I’d made it myself at magic class back during my college years, when I’d still believed I’d grow up to become a great and powerful magic user some day.
    Like most young girls I’d believed in unicorns and prince-charming and that someday I’d tap into my very own hidden wealth.
    College, at the Horton Mondale Fine Arts Academy, had taught me three thing.  Unicorns are mean and not worth your time, boys are only good for one thing and that’s not settling down with, and the only way a girl on the lower end of the magic spectrum could hope to finish her degree in Advanced Magical Practice, was to give up on becoming a great Enchantress or some other magical powerhouse, like a Sorceress, and strike for plain old Librarian instead.
    It was a lot more work because you had to pull a double major in Advanced Magical Theory with an extra minor in Magical Storage.  But like many a starry eyed young hopeful, my guidance councilor, Mrs. Pettyblock, had gently but ever to so firmly steered me to that fateful, tear streaked day, when I was forced to the realization that my ‘latent power’ had already manifested itself and whatever ‘hidden wealth’ I possessed, wasn’t of the magical variety.
    Inside my bag the black magic journal gave an angry shake and I gave it a thump for good measure.
    I shook my head at myself.  Here I was staying after hours to try and earn an extra hundred bucks and instead of finding what I was looking for, in other words the book I needed to finish a paying job, I’d found something that needed doing but could have and should have been done while I was still on the clock.  It was time to get my head out of the clouds and back in the real world.
    I gathered my feet underneath me and the book gave another angry shake.  It must be more powerful than I’d giving it credit for if it could move around like that inside my brown satchel.  The satchel had been constructed with a rune of protection on one side and a rune of silence on the other.  That should have put the whammy on any book trying to actively do me harm.  Yet here it was still squirming away.
    My charm bracelet gave a jingle, letting me know I was late for the bus and I growled in frustration.  Then I heard what sounded like the enticement of another mis-filed journal.
    This sure seemed to be my day.  Now I would either have to walk over two streets for a longer bus ride or wait another hour for the next bus to swing by the library.
    Once again I heard that faint enticing voice from further down the stacks.
    Somebody sure was persistent, I had to give it that.  But I’d had it.  I was officially off the clock and already done abusing my status as a library employee by going into the slightly restricted section on a personal money making project.
    As far as I was concerned my conscience was clear and I’d done my good deed to make up for that abuse of privilege by wrangling the angry black magic journal currently in my satchel.  Putting two in there was asking too much, especially since I hadn’t actually found what I was looking for yet.
    “I wish finding the works of Heironeous The Mis-Enchanter was as easy as wrangling a black magic book like you,” she signed, patting her satchel.
    “Then I could just go home and write the blasted paper,” she said.  Then she cursed as she realized what she’d said and where she’d just said it.  Belatedly she slapped a hand over her mouth.
    “Speaking theoretically and entirely within the Bound/Unbound Wish Fulfillment Accords,” she added hastily and in a rush.
    She squeezed her eyes shut but when nothing immediately happened she breathed a sigh of relief.  Getting up she bumped into the stack behind her and used it for support to get up.  Half way up she must have jostled something because a book fell off the top shelf and struck her in the head.
    “Owe,” she said falling to the floor and covering her head with her arms.
    When nothing else fell on her and all she heard was a distant chuckle at her expense she picked up the fallen tomb and slowly got to her feet.  This time careful not to disturb the stacks.
    Looking down at the book she saw that it was listed as the second Workbook of Heironeous the Great, the much Maligned and Unappreciated Enchanter.
    Feeling a flash of fear at this unhappy coincidence she picked up the book and scurried out of the slightly restricted archive.  Any magical entity tried to mess with her and she was calling a Wish Arbiter and the Black Magic Hazmat team down on their butts.  Then she’d stand back and watch whatever it was tremble.
    Grabbing her rain coat and umbrella on the way out, she scribbled a hasty checkout slip for the Heironeous book, another nice perk of being an assistant librarian. Then she filled out a second slip so she could drop off the black magic book for reshelving in the appropriate black magic section, before scurrying outside.  Pressing into the driving rain she was determined to stop at the first Licensed Curse Breaker or un-bonded street side Un-Hexer she ran across.  Just to make sure she hadn’t picked up anything contagious back in the stacks.
    The last thing she needed was to be on the hook to some unknown entity for a book that was only going to net her a measly 100 bucks.  If anything like that tried to mess with her it was going to be in a world of hurt.
    Her wish insurance was up-to-date and covered by the Mondale Historic Foundation as part of her job.  The Foundation had some of the best lawyers and arbiters in the state.  Maybe she could even get in on a class action lawsuit against whatever it was, she thought brightly.

16k words

Well I had to spend the last three days running around.  First for my day job and then for a cover artist as I put an ad in one of the local job hiring/advertising sites.

Fingers crossed.

Anyway work count is up to 16,076.  A pitiful amount I realize.  In my defense without the ability to focus down hard on my writing the last couple days I've been distracted.

I even had an idea for a series called the Tomeworm Librarian.  First book: My One Little Mistake.

Anyway played around with that and am up over 3k words written on that little side project.  But its just a start.  I know I really need to bear down on Admiral's Gambit while I still have time.


Have a good one,

The Deposed King

15K into Admiral's Gambit

The young Admiral has just returned to the Tracto System and is relived to discover the Bugs haven't annihilated everything in his absence.

There are a few house keeping issues to be taken care of, as well as repairs to the Flag Ship before Admiral Montagne and Co. can get about the business of patrolling the Rim.


The Deposed King

Admiral's Gambit up to 10K Words

Oh yeah baby!  Its up to 10k words written as of today.  In this exciting installment, our band of trusty hero's are busy consolidating their gains and Jason Montagne must carefully navigate his thorny relationship with Akantha his Sword-Bearer.  He thinks Protector and Sword-Bearer mean husband and wife with a few extra feudal obligations thrown in but to this point still is not entirely sure what Being a Protector or a Sword-Bearer actually means.

Meanwhile a daring planning has been hatched to save the chief engineer from radiation poisoning.  However there will be lots of heartache and loss before things start to get better again for our intrepid young heros and their grey bearded counterparts.

So if you would like to read a snippet or just want to say hey.  Drop me a comment and let me know your thoughts.




The Deposed King

Word Count 1,851 for Admiral's Gambit

Hey there gang!  I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to report back last night.  I took the wife out to watch Haywire and when I got home I didn't have time to write a thing  ;))

So the official word count for Admiral's Gambit is 1,851 or 1.8K.  Jeez you know you were either slacking or really on a roll when you are adding tenths of a point to your rounded off word count.  Since my target is 5k a day.  I'll let you be the judge :)'

Anyway book two basically picks up right where book one left off.  In this book our reluctant Admiral is desperate for recognition.  The gambit... well I'll let you find out.  Lets just say he's still worried that if he returns home he might be in for the long drop.

So have a blast guys.  I can't wait to start posting the first snippets of book one.  That slacker editor of mine!  How dare he have power issues and a sluggish production schedule.  You'd think he was working for free as a favor to me or something (eyes roll around to look at the air and I start whistling).

Hem-hem (cough) anyway the young Admiral daren't keep the Imperial Strike Cruiser and parade it around from world to world as part of his fleet for fear, the Empire might return to destroy a clear technical and strategic asset.  On the other hand can he force himself to let go of such a prize when the MSP already has such few ships.  Then there are the "pirates" everyone agree's he can't just hang them.  How can he see that justice is served and done in such a way that the Imperials all make it home?

So stay in touch for the next breaking installment of Admiral's Gambit

Oh hey I found this on the Jim Butcher website.  Its a real piece of inspiration for struggling hopefuls like myself:  http://jimbutcher.livejournal.com/4217.html


By The Deposed King
(Bo-ya!)

Its official. I'm going to start Book 2 Admiral's Gambit

Well guys after looking at things and following a few online discussions about e-books.  I've decided to write book 2 of the Spine Ward Core.  Admiral's Gambit.

There are a lots of stories to chose from but i this is the one.

So while I'm having the book one reviewed and edited I'll start pounding away on the second book.  I know I said I was going out to check with my initial pass editor but alas, since we're currently living in a 3rd world country, the power was out.  So not a lot of editing done and nothing to bring back and show to you.

If it takes too long i'll put up the unedited first chapter.  But I really want to only post stuff that still needs work.  Not stuff that's already been worked on.

Thank you for your loyal support.


The Deposed King

Working on the editing today

Running around today.  So look for more later.  Got to go check with the editing team. hehehehe


The Deposed King

I'm taking a break today

I can already hear you clamoring about my not writing you another wonderful and grand book starting today.  But I'm going to take today, tomorrow and probably the day after off.  As a break.

But Guys make no mistake I'm still pumped about writing my first book.

I just have a few things to work on.  I had to go get my permanent residency card.  Then it was over to the SEC to look at forming a corporation.  Finally I needed to start a bank account.

So anyway, just a few things I needed to do.



The Deposed King