The Three Hundred

David never suspected that the Ularins targeted him to save the human race.

Blinding White Light

The white orb in the distance is all that was left of home.  Once a thriving population of over three billion people, it was a cold dead rock.  The beacon alerting wayfaring travelers to steer clear of this world was set on automatic. 

Powered by the radiation emitted from the globe, the message would repeat until such a time there was insufficient radiation to fuel it. The message created in all known languages warned of the extreme radiation hazard.

“We set the last of the beacons, what now?”

“We have enough supplies for three months give or take. Did the Ularins leave us anything in the database regarding habitable planets?”

“They wiped all of the information except one-star system.”

“Where is it?”

“300 light-years in that direction,” Bill said, pointing to a small blue dot.

“The binary sun?”

“It is nothing like we are used to.  Two blue stars locked into a death spiral.  Why that star system and not one like ours is anyone’s guess.”

“That is in the handle of the big dipper, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“We are looking at an image three hundred years old, for all we know it has collided and is already a supernova.”

“They selected us and brought us to this ship; they must have had a plan,” Bill said.

“They gave us a puzzle and a fighting chance.  We have two hundred and ninety-eight other souls on board; let’s hope one of them has some ideas.”

Bill turned to leave as David sat there looking at the planet, which was no longer blue.  Passing outside the orbit of the moon, the earth appeared much like Venus.  A white dot against the ebony backdrop of nothingness.

The old base on the moon was now vacant, as the last of the Ularins headed out on their next mission.

***

Years before, David had been an advocate for humanitarian groups to eradicate the diseases where the plague had popped up.  There were hot spots created by mass migrations of people who had no food.  Much like the locust that gave them a reason to migrate, they traveled in packs overwhelming ‘civilized society.’ Destroying infrastructure, taking what they wanted before burning it to the ground, they murdered the people who were there before them..

His part of the military focused on finding those responsible and stopping them by any means possible.  Finding the blackened remains of towns, David threw up the first time he saw what was left behind.

Pregnant women had been tortured, their breasts cut off, and babies cut from them only to be eaten.

Young women were taken and raped, men were killed, and children either became slaves or were eaten.  Finding children and babies on spits over what was an open fire shocked them profoundly.  David and his group were disgusted by these animals.  They sought to wipe them from the face of the earth. Society had been pushed to the brink. Those that were pushed, de-evolved into the savages they came from eons ago.  His anger was causing him to de-evolve too.

Lawlessness broke out in every country, and the government ceased to be effective.  Killing its own people by the tens of thousands only sparked outrage by civilized society.  A civil war between the people and the government pitted father against son.

David left the military when his tour was up.  He did not like where it was headed. The fabric of the military broke down when they were forced to use missiles, tanks, and other weapons of war in the suburbs where they grew up.

Turning their weapons on their respective governments, society stopped.

A virus created to eliminate the old and sickly was set loose on humanity. The elite held the formula for the vaccine and kept it a secret.  The virus would remove millions without one bullet fired.  The single strand of RNA, like most unstable viruses, evolved.  The vaccine designed to protect the elite failed.

This virus was a genetic doomsday device.  Created to be thousands of times more infectious than its closest related cousin, it was unstoppable. 

Turning the body’s defenses against itself, those who caught it died a most horrific death.  Much like fish removed from the water and left on the beach to gasp for breath, this was the fate of billions of people, young and old alike.

The earth was languishing in pestilence. Millions were dying every day.  Large fires to eliminate the bodies that were once a weekly occurrence, turned daily.  Massive fires never ceased to reduce the bodies and try to control the plague. Some countries hauled the remains up to active volcanoes, where the earth could devour its own.

The odor of burning human remains only magnified the stench of rotting flesh.  No pocket full of posies would fix this.

What were once a proud people, were now piles of porcelain teeth, titanium knees, and hips, with the occasional golden nugget that was once the pride of someone’s mouth.

The Ularins had been watching from the moon.  Listening to our broadcasts, they had seen it all before.  An intergalactic police force, they waited patiently to see if the humans would evolve.

With the death of so many, so too was the end of any infrastructure to supply food.  Those that would survive would need to be the ‘master race.’

Pulling pages from Joseph Goebbels’s life, the media became the propaganda machine controlling the people through fear, emotional triggers, and hunger. There were still megalomaniacs in the world who believed that some form of equilibrium would occur, and they could swoop in and offer them a solution.

The virus had other ideas.  Science had reached its zenith and fell short of its ability to sustain itself. Those who worked to cure the effects of the illness succumbed to it.

The media let the phrase slip out, ‘A man who does not benefit the world by his life does so by his death.’

Re-writing ancient text to include this aphorism into dogma, had a minimal effect.  Many who had never cracked the sacred book before, had little idea what was original and what had been added as a control mechanism.  History had been erased by those who felt they knew better.

Those that read the text and committed suicide to aid the rest were too few to be of any use. 

Extolling the virtues of abortions through the media, were also too little too late.

Little did those who tried to limit man’s population know that they would need babies.  While supply and demand for resources should equal out, the virus had other plans.

Gang warfare became a nightly occurrence as city after city was torched by the ‘have nots.’ Politicians hoping to capitalize on their votes, lost control and soon became victims of the mob.

As resources became harder to come by, the average age of those that needed to die went down from 70, to 60, and then to 50.

The virus was tweaked again and released on to the world stage.  Younger megalomaniacs took over the development of the virus, the war efforts, and the propaganda.

Children were slaves and forced to work in the fields.  If they wanted to live, they worked from sun up to sundown.

The media dutifully told the world what was wrong, and whose fault it was. Of course, what they were preaching was whatever the elites told them to say.  Government controlled fact-checkers quickly debunked clandestine videos of the truth.

Slavery by non-disabled people was praised as patriotic, even when it meant bringing most of the food to the ivory towers of the gods.

The Ularins paid attention from their base 250,000 miles above the earth. Scouting missions were a constant as even certain media would release reports of UFOs by independent journalists.  The mainstream media used those reports as distractions. 

***

David had worked hard teaching people how to farm.  People who had grown up in front of computer screens were thrust back into an agrarian culture.  He had grown up in Iowa and knew all about Farming.

With the death of the internet, social media lost its control over the masses.  Radio and TV were next to come under assault from the lack of power.

When Samantha, his old neighbor, heard what David was up to, she contacted him via radio, using solar panels and batteries for power.  Traveling home, the two were once again on the same farm. 

He listened from the porch as he heard her inside with pots and pans on the top of the old potbelly stove.  The aroma of cornbread and roasted chicken filled the air.  Sitting on the porch of his parent’s house, the stars were more vivid than he had ever seen them.  Samantha was inside, trying to keep from burning their dinner.

Once the government fell, those who still had weapons put an end to the roving gangs.  It was not only the criminals that did not turn in their guns; it was also the farmers, the people who did not live in the city, and those who knew history.

What the virus did not kill, they did.  It was kill, or be killed. Those that knew how to survive bit their lips and defended what was theirs. 

With no lawyers, judges, or politicians left, the society which survived the plague, and the riots were polite.  It was not uncommon to ride into town and see people with stretched out necks, swinging in the breezes. The law of the six-gun returned overnight. The gang bangers did not know how to react when people fought back. 

The silent majority was silent no more. 

Coyotes from the river sent out their lonely calls. David made sure his livestock was safely in the barn.  Not unlike the roving gangs, the varmints were hungry too and were much more cunning.  David had set traps, as coyotes are nothing more than dogs that are not tame.  Dog meat is edible.

While David was looking up that stars, he had little clue that someone was looking down at him.

***

The roving gangs that were still alive brought their unique diseases with them.  Setting up radio links, the farmers knew their movements.  Assaulting them on their own grounds, there were more piles of bodies that needed to be discarded.

You either provided for the common good, or you died.  Goebbels would be proud.

The population of the planet went from billions to millions to thousands.  The remoteness of the clans halted the spread of the virus.  If they controlled the gangs, the virus would stay at bay.

The rich and powerful became the hunted. People learned the truth about the media, the lies, and what governments had done to them.  Those who were filthy rich became worm food.  Even on their private islands, they were sought out and destroyed for their treachery.  The list of billionaires who played god became the worlds most wanted.  There was not a safe place for them to hide. They had betrayed everyone, even their servants.

Part of the original design of the virus was to sterilize women.  Anti-abortion groups made it too hard to get the population under control.  The designers of the virus had the virus attack the endocrine system, among other things causing the hormones that generally control the fertility process, to stop working. 

New births plummeted before the virus mutated, eventually taking out those who were vaccinated against it.

Distancing on a massive scale would stop the spread but ensure that if they ever traveled too far from their clan, there was mutually assured destruction. Each group had their unique genetic version of the virus.  Their herd immunity only protected them.  They thought that was their answer until the biting insects infected the animals that occupied the skies, and even the livestock.

Another reason for the extreme distance requirement is the virus was airborne.  In order not to panic the masses, the governments of the world did not share that information, using draconian methods to control the spread instead.  If the virus spread, they blamed the population and not the fact that it was airborne.  They missed the mosquito as a carrier. Nobody suspected it until a researcher discovered it while researching other pathogens that seem to be mutating and traveling.

Since it could only be seen under an electron microscope, the researcher that discovered it disappeared before she had time to announce her findings, so the gods thought.

A release from a hand written note made it an underground radio station that informed the public much to the chagrin of the government.  To control the masses they needed to control the flow of information.

This bit of data turned citizen against citizen, which was another distraction from the truth.  There were reasons that the gods did not wear PPE.  They knew it was worthless.

Sterilized and separated, radio from a primitive time allowed some to communicate.  Creating energy from wind, solar, and biofuel, gave some lights, but few knew how to utilize feces as a form of fuel. Even fewer knew how to farm.  These electrical devices had a finite life span. There were no more factories.  If they could not make it, grow it, or steal it, they did not have it.

The gradual demise of the animal called man was in the works.  Those who stayed in the city did not last long.  That is where the gangs stayed until all of the resources had been depleted.  Rats soon were the only living creatures that inhabited the skyscrapers, where the gods used to live.  They carried their own version of destruction.  The bubonic plague followed the rats into the streets, alleys, and gutters where the dead and dying laid, waiting to become food for the vermin.

The gods were massacred by the very people they sought to control.  When the lights went out, and money was no longer useful, their own guards turned on them.  Some gods were tossed off the roof of the 32nd floor for an audience who craved blood.  Anger filled their hearts. After there was no more gods to destroy, they turned on each other.  The streets ran red, attracting more rats to the feeding frenzy.

History was replete with this very behavior, but of course, the history books had been destroyed. They had been labeled as racist, homophobic, and sexist. The gods knew that an ignorant society was much easier to control than one who was educated.  They had learned this from the days before the civil war when it was illegal to teach a slave to read.  The politicians who promoted that law remembered it, and used it without mercy.

A select few gods had their fingers on the buttons of a nuclear arsenal.  If they were going to go, they were taking the rest with them. 

***

With the ability to adapt, very much like a chameleon, the Ularins found the cure for the virus. Inoculated themselves before embarking on their missions, they cured and disinfected all those subjects that were under consideration before abducting them.  From their ship in orbit, the Ularins watched as once brightly lit areas of the globe went dark, they knew the end was near.  From their base on the moon, the noise of the once-bustling world diminished.  That noise is what drew them to this part of the galaxy.  As the radio emissions slowly faded, TV signals were broadcast at diminished power levels, with far fewer signals detected.

Artificial satellites went silent, piquing the curiosity of the Ularins.  Some of the satellites lost their geosynchronous orbit, raining down on the planet below in a spectacle of fireballs.  With the chaos on the streets, nobody even noticed when the international space station lost altitude, breaching the earth’s atmosphere at over 17,000 miles an hour.  Had people been alive on board, they might have been able to warn the people below that there was incoming.  Sadly the occupants had perished from starvation, as there was nobody to send supplies to them.

The fireball lit up the night sky over Siberia before exploding with the force of an atomic blast.  A few in the northern parts of Alaska felt the shockwave but had no idea what caused it.

Sporadic low power communications interested the Ularins, who soon had targets of places to visit.

The time to harvest was near. Their job was clear, find the best and the brightest of the population, and remove them before the extinction event.   They had already found the first two, they needed three hundred total.

Stars

David sat in the control center as people from different countries were educated on the ship’s systems.  The Ularins had developed a virtual teaching tool, much like some of the video games that were produced.  Unlike the video games which used the body’s senses, this tool went right into the neural pathways of the brain, creating synapses and neural pathways as needed.

The humans were unaware that their animalistic instincts for fight or flight were being modified.  Those lower lizard brain functions were responsible for the carnage of that world throughout its troubled history.

Downloading every bit of the earth’s history, the humans were also taught it in painstaking detail. 

The Ularins allowed them to see, feel, smell, and taste the entire history of their world.  From Hitler to the Rape of NanJing, they experienced all of it.  When Vlad the Impaler was part of the lesson, many were shocked beyond belief.  This was the price these three hundred people must pay for their salvation. This was their lineage, their history.  The evil people that they hailed from were responsible for the horrific deaths of millions, and these three hundred saw it all.  The end of the lesson was the creation of the virus and the evil atrocities that greedy people perform for power.

The failure of the education system was directly to blame for the massacres throughout human history.  While the definition of insanity was doing the same thing repeatedly expecting a different result, if they didn’t know history, they could not begin to comprehend why ideologies like socialism would never work. 

David was still ruminating over some history. The PTSD caused by the lesson was healed before the lesson terminated.  The memories would never leave.

Samantha could tell he was deep in thought.    Being healed did not stop one from thinking about what they learned. This method of teaching allowed one to experience all of it with all of your senses.  There was not shutting your eyes or plugging your ears.  The three hundred were to complete their education before being allowed to pilot an intergalactic spaceship.

They realized how evil the gods were.  Their right to vote was never so important to them after they learned why.  They and people like them put some of those gods in their ivory towers.

The importance of their vote never occurred to many, as they were all lost in their little worlds.  That was not their fault.

They were damned sure going to know how this happened. The Ularins would make sure they understood why their race was now on the verge of extinction. They would know why their world was at the beginning of a nuclear winter.

Samantha appeared, breaking David’s trance.

“Are you coming to bed?”

“I don’t know, look where we are.”

“Dave, ever since they took us off the farm, you have had little sleep. You need to rest to stay healthy.”

Dave allowed her to take his hand, leading him off the central control room floor.  Bill took over as she led him away, down the main corridor toward their quarters.

Sitting on the bed, he watched as the moon was much closer. “Look, you can see where their base was.”

Sam looked at the crater, and what was left of the edifice, they lived in.  Removing her clothes, she cleared her throat.  Dave turned around to see that sleep was not forefront in her mind.

Hours later, he awoke with her in his arm.  They were past the moon, headed out of the solar system, or so he thought.

“Can’t sleep?”

Dave looked over at her brushing her auburn hair from her face.  “I slept.”

“Three hours is not much sleep.”

“Why did they pick us?”

“Are we going to have that conversation again?”

“Sam, they put us in charge of three hundred lives.  These are all that is left of the race known as humans.  Surely there are better-qualified people on board to lead us.”

“I think your humility has something to do with why we are in charge.  Are you worried about the supplies and how we are going to survive?”

“That is part of it, we are out here in space, passing by the moon with only this small minuscule part of billions of stars mapped out for us.  Why there?  We are leaving our home in the dust as it were.”

David knew he could go where he wanted, but for some reason, the Ularins had only mapped out this particular region of space.  They did not tell them why.  It was like breadcrumbs in space, leading them to a binary star system. 

The crew was going through the education campaign that was more like indoctrination. The computer downloaded their memories and then added to them.  These would be the brightest and best of the human race.

David and Sam had gone through it first before the others were aboard.  The image of the white flashes from the planet below them still played in his mind.  Someone, several others had thought there could be a winner with nukes.  David did not know that the minuteman defense system was set to automatic.  When an incoming target was confirmed, the system responded in kind.

“I think we can go back and learn more if we need more information.” She said.

“How do you know that?”

“Dave, they made me a kind of doctor.  As we proceed, I have to go back and learn more.  That thing creates these pathways between the hemispheres of our brains. The more pathways the more we can learn.”

“I don’t want another history lesson.”

“We come from pretty shitty people.  They wanted us to know that.  We are capable of great things too, we have to choose.  We can dream wonderful things or we can dream evil things.  Now that we understand the evil, I don’t think anyone who goes through that would pick it.”

“I hope not, I would hate to have a psychopath on board.”

“They will not allow a mentally disturbed person to inhabit this ship.”

“What does that mean?”

“If they are defective we will jettison their body in to space. That teacher is also judge and jury.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You do now, hope the Ularins picked wisely.”

The beeping sound from the door buzzer brought him back to the present.  Pulling the sheet up over Sam, he dawned a robe and went to the door.

“Bill wants to see you; he thinks he has an idea.”

“Give me ten minutes; I will meet him in the conference center.”

Sam turned over to see him tossing the robe on a chair.  “No time for an encore performance?”

The chuckle caught her by surprise.  “I don’t remember you ever being this amorous on the farm.”

“We were not safe on the farm.  I had to cook as a cavewoman might cook.  No, I was not in the mood.”

“We are in space, we have a limited amount of supplies, and I am still waiting on the crew to be educated before I can plan anything.”

“Do you want to kill my mood?”

Turning to face the bed, he laughed, “no, I have a lot on my mind.”

“I know, once you are on task I don’t stand a chance.”

Jumping back on the bed landing on top of her, they were now facing each other. “I have loved you since we were kids.  We may not have haylofts or swimming holes, but we have a huge ship that even with the others on board, it is like we are the only ones here.”

Brushing his blond hair back away from his eyes, she kissed him again.  “There is an area on the ship that is made for Farming.  I would bet the Ularins got the seeds for such things.”

“Farming takes water. I need to go see Bill; when I am finished I will come back here.”

“Promise?”

Kissing her, he headed to the bathroom to dress and leave before he was distracted once again.

Bill was looking at some charts he pulled up when Dave walked in.

Handing him coffee Dave was wide eyed.  “Where did you get this?”

“One of our crew is now a chef.  She always liked cooking but after her ‘education’ she learned how to use the equipment in the kitchen.  Programming it for humans, out comes coffee.”

“Does this solve our supply problem?”

“Yes and no.  This device uses the same energy that our engines use.  We have to find dark matter, and we have less than three months to do it.”

“Perfect, we have to locate and figure out how to get a theoretical compound within three months, or we all die.  Do I understand that correctly?”

“It is not theoretical; we have storage tanks full of it.  We need to learn how to handle it and more about it so we can speculate about where it might be.”

“That wasn’t in my education, was it in yours?”

“No, presumably, someone on this ship will be a physicist.”

“I hope they turn up fast, the sooner I know where to head, the quicker we can get that part of the puzzle behind us.”

“Our tanks are full, think about that skipper.”

“Shit, that means we make regular trips to the gas station.”

“Bingo, I am betting this stuff is more abundant than we think.”

***

Ok, ladies and gentlemen.  This is where you come in. 

Years ago, I was working on writing more judiciously.  When twitter was more restrictive than it is now, I wrote several chapters of The Saga of the Starduster in tweets.  Stream of consciousness. 

This story you just read is, act one, of a stream of conscious session with the keyboard.

This blog is un-edited and a rough draft.

 If you want an act two, tell me.

If you have an idea for act two, let’s hear it.

What I would like from you is this, do whatever it is you do to reblog or copy or share or what have you.

Since the COVID virus, sales of my novels have cratered.  Now I realize that people are hurting, and that is one reason I am going to create this story on my blog for my followers.

If you can do anything to drive traffic this way, I would appreciate it greatly.  I can even make that little heart sign with my own two little hands.

As a business owner, I am not eligible for unemployment insurance.  I have been frugal with my money, and book sales have assisted in the past.  Too many more months of this, and I don’t know where we will be.  Maybe the Ularins will come to get us.  J

Much love -TW

Why Write?

Skinny Dipping on an Alien world was probably not their best idea.

Greetings to you fellow bloggers, readers, writers and friends.

There are days I feel like that ‘primal scream’ is going to come out when I least expect it.  If you know anything about the Myers Briggs model, I am what they call an INFJ  … I need people like fish need water.  I am a social creature.

While the business has slowed way down, I have used my time wisely.  I make a point to spend at least fifteen minutes a day in the sunshine.  I talk with friends and family on the phone and now video chat so you can see another face.  I stopped watching most of the news as most of it is just ‘el Toro de caca.’ {shit of the bull}. 

In the US, where I am currently, the media used to have value.  We would read the paper because it provided something of value.  I stopped taking it because most of the stories are creations of a biased journalist (using that word loosely) spun, not to report the news, but to make it.

In some countries, the news is so flagrantly created by a fiction writer, that it might as well start with ‘once upon a time.’  That is why you can discard it; it has no value.

I can say with almost certainty that all of you who read this have more in common than not.  If we were all in one room, we would agree with each other on almost everything.  Using a Venn diagram, if we put all of our wants and needs in different circles and allowed the ones in common to overlap, we would learn no matter your race, religion, gender, or country of origin, we would have more in common than not.  They, the purveyors of politics and power, create strife, hate, and racial tension to keep us divided, so they can control us using our emotions.  It is merely social engineering to control the herds.

Why control us? Power and greed. If you are convinced to vote for the devil, they will spend a fortune to get your vote so they can then be bought or sell their vote to big business like insurance companies, big pharma or other chemical companies. They make the laws that you must follow and they control what a business can and cannot do.

If the business wants to make more money they simply buy off someone on the committee. That is why someone will spend 19 million dollars of their own money for a job that pays $150K a year.

You would do best to ignore the news, turn it off and don’t read or watch it.  If a station like CNN has to pay every airport in the world to only have their station on, you know that is absolute brainwashing.

They are bought and paid for as well. The rich and powerful control what you read, hear and see. Even social media is bought and paid for, censoring your tweets, post on Facebook and alike.

The only thing missing in this day and age is Soma.  Yes, the blue pill that makes you a mental midget.  Oh, but wait, there is more. 

If you elect the most corrupt among the candidates, they will legalize pot, which will do what??? C’mon think.  SOMA….  Kill some more brain cells so you will be compliant. Yes they are screwing you but you wont care… Isn’t that nice?

Yes, there is a fringe element in all societies that would not fit into your Venn diagram at all.  Those are the ones that need to grow as a human and stop with the ‘poor me’ mentality. They hang on to wounds from hundreds of years ago because it relieves them of the responsibility to grow up.

Why do we write?

Let’s change that to why do people read what we write?  We provide something of value to them.  Whether it is an academic paper or a novel about wizardry, there is something of value in it for them, a reward for the reader.

As fiction writers, we make promises.  We then must keep them.  We mention a wand or perhaps a villain in an early part of the novel, and then we must do something with it.  That is the payoff.  We reward our readers and encourage them to keep reading.

I think one of the best compliments I ever received is an e-mail I got from someone reading Saga of the Starduster.

They were upset because they started reading it before bedtime on a Sunday night.  They had to turn the next page and the next.  Before they were aware of it, the time had passed by while they were in my world.  They ended up sleeping in on Monday after calling in sick… LOL 

They were rewarded to the point of shooting themselves in the foot, but, it was a compliment to me, your humble author.

If you are like me, locked down… not up… but sheltering in place, take time for yourself.  Learn yoga, find a park with few folks in it, and walk.  Use the time to talk with relatives and friends who are also ‘flattening the curve.’

Speaking of the curve, the outbreak two weeks to the day of the riots is not from opening up the country.  The media is lying to you once again to protect their inept, feckless, fiction writing, journalist.  The spread of the virus through the mobs is why we are experiencing this.  You will notice that even the news makes it seem more general like, the outbreak in Georgia instead of Atlanta specific, which is where the riots were.  Technically correct, it is Yellow Journalism.

Ok, I am off to do what I do, which will take all of about an hour and then I will be back to creating my latest novel. 

The story is about a witch coming into her own.  All the things that happen to her as she grows into her powers.

To keep this novel from being too ‘tropey’, my writing has to be ever so much cleverer than in the past.   Stay tuned for more on release dates.  Follow @authortwscott and, of course, follow me here on WordPress. 

Thanks as always, and have a blessed day.

Much Love -TW

Drop Your Drawers

If you have read any of my racier novels, you might think of this as a prelude for some intimate moment.

That is not, however, what this is.  I know, I am sorry to disappoint you.  What this is about, is writing.  Let me take you back to a conversation of plotting vs. pansting.  (as in by the seat of.)

After taking a long hard look at Scrivener, I am thinking about purchasing it once again for my Macs.  I am a PC type person, but, programs like Vellum are only written for the MAC.  Vellum is the ‘cats ass’ when it comes to formatting your book.  You can either pay people to format your book, or, you can buy the program and do it yourself.

Vellum is very easy to use, which is the secret for Microsoft, and yes, the Mac OS as well.  Let’s contrast that with Scrivener.

I won’t give you a tutorial here on this blog about Scrivener, let’s just say it is not intuitive.  Is it worth it?

It is not the price for the software you have to consider; it is the learning curve.  Now add into the learning curve, is this the way you write?

As a Panster, I have resisted plotting any part of my novels.  I have a starting point, and I have an idea of where the ending place will be, and I kind of aim in that direction via a stream of consciousness.

Ok, so let’s drop our pants down to our undies and see where we go.

I would call on New Writers to get used to the idea of creating a logline first.  Let’s say you’re like me, laying there at night waiting for sleep to find you and this idea for a story is rolling around in your head.  What if?  is typically how it starts.

What if we had this guy that is digging around using a metal detector, and stumbles on to something that triggers his detector in a big way?  He is out in the country on land he recently purchased and built this metal detector from a kit.  He and his wife take off on Saturday for something to do as a husband and wife.  Ok, they have a metal detector, then what?

As they trace the arc of the signals returned to the device using little wooden markers, they discover that under their feet is a large metallic object.

While the reader is trying to guess what they found you, the writer is just writing it as if you are there with them, as the events unfold as it were.

What if you started your story with this?

A husband and wife spend the weekend looking for golden nuggets when strong signals send their metal detector into overdrive.  Moving a few boulders away from an outcropping buried by scrub brush, they find a metallic doorway with strange-looking controls by one side of it. Within moments they are inside an alien craft that was hidden by its occupants from centuries ago.

A good logline should be two sentences, not three, but 30 to 50 words or so is about right.

Let’s try again.

An undersea anomaly causing ships to sink brings the military and several different scientists in to solve the mystery.  As the secret unfolds, they discover an ancient alien civilization has been on Earth for hundreds of years, breeding with the indigenous people, creating those with god-like powers.

Ok, two lines 48 words.  This is a decent logline.  Now, as the writer, you take that logline and form an outline for your novel. Using something like Scrivener, you plot out your book, yes in your undies…ok not really.  You get the point.

Loglines are nothing more than a very brief tease to get the reader to open the book or buy tickets to the movie.  You, as the writer, can use them to keep you on target.

What might a tagline look like for this novel?

When the captain of a cruise liner barely escapes a disaster, he brings in the government, which discovers a city filled with aliens on the ocean floor.

These are all from my novel Ghost Signals of Colorado Springs.

If you are like me, sitting inside your house bouncing off the walls, take a trip to the stars in this futuristic adventure through time and space.  Please consider leaving a review on the site from which you purchased it.  Now, if you did not like it for some reason, please let me know here.  Feedback is critical for authors.

Much Love -TW

The Saga of the Starduster

Skinny dipping on an alien world was probably not their best idea.

When communications from Earth stop, Don soon discovered the reason why.  The ISS, where he and Sergey were the last two astronauts on board, became unwilling guests of the Ularins. Their world changed forever when their doctor learned Don was carrying cancer in his lungs.

An intergalactic spacecraft three times the size of our largest Aircraft carrier was now perched over the ISS.  Watching the stars disappear, Don and Sergey wondered who it was that was hijacking them.  Sergey was worried that they were to become an hors-d’oeuvre for aliens.

Convincing Sergey to leave the gun in the safe, Don was soon a visitor aboard the Starduster.  Convinced to remove his clothing and submit to a routine physical, every anal probing movie he ever watched played through his mind.

The Saga of the Starduster is one of TW’s signature novels.  Starting as Science-fiction, the book takes the reader on a wild ride through the galaxy with twists and turns that will keep the reader guessing until the epilogue.

As TW, like many others, are now sitting at home awaiting the virus to pass, the idea of wasting another moment worrying about it seems futile.

Take a mental vacation from your sequestration and enjoy a ride through the stars while sharing the furtive imagination of TW.

From Science-fiction to fantasy and yes to the racy side of life, TW strives to give the reader their money’s worth.

Follow the link for your mental vacation.  If you enjoy the ride, consider taking a moment to leave a review of my novel on the site you purchased it from.

As always, I will be happy to discuss topics of interest with you on the blog.

-Best

Under Roswell on Sale!

“Can you imagine?”

“Sure, what am I imagining TW?”

Imagine that you find this guy really hot.  This guy is so cool that he has no clue he is cool.  You watch him work on things, and you admire the way he thinks.  He is kind to you but does not come on to you in any way.

Imagine you work with this guy for months on end, and you don’t think he is noticing you but, he has no ring and never talks about anyone in his life.

Ok, he is single, why?  The guy is built, smart and dedicated to his work.  You see him working on a pet project that his company allows him to do, and you ask him, ‘what is that for?’

The guy turns to look at you as if for the first time.  His eyes relax, and he smiles as he begins to talk with you about his hobby of technical rock climbing.

‘That explains why he is built the way he is but ‘rock climbing?’’

You can tell from his relaxed way of talking about it that if you want to get into his life, you need to try and understand what makes him tick.

You make a note to research rock climbing so you can engage him with more than a passing interest.  That night you talk to your friend, who was your roommate in college.  She tells you that there is a place not far from her that teaches rock climbing.

Now imagine you are kind of afraid of heights and yet pull it together and learn how to not only master your fears but, you can get to where you are not scared of dying.

With these new-found skills and understanding of the hobby, you began to engage Elliot, Omicron’s ‘fair-haired boy’ regarding a project he is working on.  He tells you that it is a device that destabilizes the atomic bonds of the rocks in a narrowly focused beam, making it super easy to place a hold.

Your job, however, is to report back to the owners of Omicron what he is working on.  They, of course, see this ‘toy’ as a weapon of immeasurable value.  Copying his notes and designs they are sent off to a facility deep within area 51.  Elliot is very much against building weapons, and that is why they hired Susan.

Back in 1947, this alien craft supposedly crashed in Roswell.  What they didn’t know it was not one but three.  Two scout ships crashed just, and one, a much larger intergalactic spacecraft returned into the time-space continuum of the earth, forcing millions of metric tons of rocks to eject from the ground, looking like some kind of geological anomaly.    The place is, of course, the ranch where Elliot’s parents were both living when the crash occurred.  It is also where they mysteriously, disappeared.

Onboard this craft under the rocks is a sentient computer, much like HAL in Space odyssey.  Unlike Hal, this computer can tune into the human brainwaves from quite a distance.  That computer takes an unhealthy interest in human sexuality and develops a few quirks along the way.  (All characters must have a flaw, right?)

Susan convinced Elliot to let her accompany him on his vacation.  She is giddy as she thanked her one day and called her ‘honey.’  ‘He does notice me,’ she thought.

While Susan is in hopes to snag the heart of Elliot, Elliot is in hopes of finding the mystery of where his parents disappeared to, hence the entire interests in rock climbing.  Whey they disappeared, that was not one shred of anything left of them.  Footsteps that just ended or a mysterious note left in the sand.

On this trip to the back of his ranch, while rock climbing, Elliot would dislodge some rocks that fall into a crevasse, and when they land, they make a mysterious ‘clunk.’

Ok, this is you.  Whether you are Elliot or Susan, what happens next is an adventure into another world.  What will you find, and what will you do?

The military has a listening post not too far away, and that all plays into this adventure, which starts out ‘Under Roswell.’

 

This novel is on Sale both on Smashwords and Amazon.   Down from $9.99 to $5.99 for the e-version.

This novel is 681 pages.  The print version is what it is because of the printing cost.  Many of you prefer that, and I thank you.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/670705

 

 

Netflix Another life continued.

‘But Fortunately’ Should not be in a writers tool box.

But Fortunately!

AHHH!  This story could be so much better.   Netflix, hire a consultant from NASA, would you?  Hire Michelle Thaller, she could assist you in making this a little more believable.

After yesterday, I wrote about the miserable failure of this series and then I slept on it.  Things like this trouble me.  Much like working for someone else, I will give no less than my best, and I expect my employees to do the same.

Today I watched a few more episodes during my lunch and dinner break.

I must say that they seriously need to hire a technical advisor, as anyone with a brain in their heads would know better than to do the stupid shit that they do.  Not only are there mistakes like this but also while they are supposed to be on the other ship, the camera clearly pans past stuff that is from the ship she is on.

Oh, we have a contagion, we must all step into the airlock and be jettisoned into space.

Nevertheless, fortunately, we discover a cure at the very last second.

However, unfortunately, there is not a source of gamma radiation strong enough on this star.

But, Fortunately, there is Gamma radiation on another star, so we are all saved but…We are now all sterile.  Oh no!

We are all going to die because we are drinking recycled urine and the food is running out, but fortunately, there is a moon in the goldilocks zone, which has all the stuff of life.

Oh isn’t this flower pretty let me inhale its alien pollen and sit back and chat with my friend.

Oh, let’s suck up thousands of gallons of alien water and just fill up our water supplies on the ship, which makes perfect sense.

I do have an observation that I cannot resist sharing.  Who in their right mind designed the engineering area to look like some steampunk submarine engine room complete with gauges from the fifties?  Oh and with grease.  They are using tools that would actually fit the era of the submarine.  Is that the best you can do?

The little girl is still adorable, the witchy boss is hateful, and that reporter is just…hmmmm.

The scene in the bar playing trivia did not fit anywhere.   The acting was sophomoric at best. Just possibly, you should consider borrowing some flying sharks.

Ok, I need to say something nice.  It is so hard….

I am glad the bitch died.  She needed to die a horrible death saving the mission and true to the end, she wants the credit for doing so. Much like the wicked witch of the west she just melted….

Please don’t misunderstand that I am glad the character died, she was a bitch.  I loved the actress and I hope they bring her back.

The writers are ‘arcing the characters,’ which I noticed…

The person with the alien bug in his head will probably be the next Dr. Smith, and they should leave his ass on a planet…I digress.

Here is the truth of it.  There is barely just enough to entice me to watch episode seven at a future date.  This is not the kind of thing that I would binge-watch.  If my hands are busy feeding my face, I will watch something.

Note to writers…But Fortunately should not be in your writing. Find other ways to craft your story, where there is not magic beans and happenstance to save their assess.  Have them act, as professionals would be a good start.   You can still have the drama but gees…if this is what future humanity sends into space, we are screwed and will go the way of the T-Rex.

That is my official post on this series…Lol

If you want a good read my novel Earth’s Tipping point is on KU.  It is a shame as it only puts money in Bezos’s pockets but, it is still a good read.

Cheers -TW

Another Life, a Netflix Bomb

As a sci-fi writer on rare occasion, I will see what Netflix or the Sci-Fi channel has to offer.

It has been years since I sat and vegged in front of the TV.  With over 33 Novels, out there, I have a purpose for not wasting time watching mindless stuff.

The last sci-fi I watched that was worth my time was Arrival.  I loved the way the writers came up with depicting ‘outside of time and space.’  They were actually quite brilliant.

As of today, I made it through two episodes of ‘Another Life.’

There can only be two explanations for this writing.

A:  The writers are depicting what the world will look like if we keep dumbing our people down as we are currently.  ‘Astronauts’ by definition represented in this miserable excuse for science fiction would have to be morons.  They are almost as bad as sending monkeys into space.  At least the monkeys would not mutiny. Pffft!

B:  The writers are the monkeys, and are not only a product of common core but, have no clue what goes on to train to be an astronaut.   Never would anyone with mental aberrations ever go into a program like this.  Nobody in his or her right mind would breathe air on an alien world, which by the way would have been Effing cold since it was a rogue planet.  Depicting the moon like a red hot sun…huh?

Didn’t see it when they approached the planet?  What?  Wouldnt they orbit the planet first?  Doh!

This is no slam on the actors or producers, this is just horrible writing.  It is the defacto example of one thing we writers stay away from ‘but fortunately!’  Folks you might as well have brought out a flux capacitor that generates oxygen.

I was turned off by the first episode, but I was in hopes that the second might be better.  I don’t think I can watch a third. Nobody can be this stupid.   Truly, Sharknado is a better film than this. With that film, at least you were entertained.

Let me say something good.  The little girl is adorable, and her ‘father,’ his actions are believable thus far.  The puzzle of the artifact is this series glimmer of hope. Kudos to the writer who is creating that.

Currently, we have a ship full of morons competing to be Gilligan’s island in space.  All we need is the ‘professor and Maryann’….pffft

If this is what we can look forward to with Netflix creating material, it might be time to look elsewhere.

Disagree, tell me why.

I call them as I see them.  I wasted two hours of my life that I cannot get back.

-Chow

 

Mars..Are we from there?

It would be fun to write a blog on the men are from mars and women are from Venus book. Different topic…

It is no secret that I am a science fiction writer.  If you did not know that, you are not reading things too carefully.  I was looking at this old picture of mars.

Mars-NASA

Here you can see what they are calling the Grand Canyon on Mars.

I would think this is more like the Marianas Trench on mars.

maxresdefault (1)

It takes little imagination to see that there were once great oceans covering the red planet.

mars

  • What happened?
  • Was there life on Mars?
  • Did we come from Mars?

Whether we are descendants of the red planet or not I think it would behoove us to learn where the atmosphere on Mars went and where did the water go.

As I was researching this I found that scientists are finding plastic bags and other forms of trash in the Marianas Trench.  Just possible we should go look in the trench or grand canyon on Mars for trash or other signs of a past life…or the water…

Thoughts comments and conjecture on this subject are welcome here.

The revised version of Tipping Point now 92K words is on Amazon and it is a free read on Amazon Kindle Unlimited.  Jeff Bezos is getting a divorce and his ex-bride needs money…So read my books, and help her out… 🙂

If you like my novels please consider leaving feedback.  Once a book receives over 50 (feedbacks) Amazon actually starts to assist authors like myself at that point and suggest it to other purchasers.

-TW

1947 Roswell NM

A different take on the events through the lens of a creative author.

  • If Roswell in 1947 was a real event what would it look like today?
  • If you discovered an alien spacecraft that reacted to your commands what would you do?

Elliot grew up in New Mexico raised by his aunt and her husband.  His parents mysteriously disappeared on their ranch around an outcropping in an obscure area of their ranch. First, his father went missing.  Much later his mother also went missing in the same area.

Moving to California after college Elliot secures a job with a large tech firm Ohmicron.  Developing his own inventions while being the fair-haired boy, Elliot has a moral compass that is not in line with the company.

Providing him an assistant who was primarily to spy on him goes awry when his assistant falls in love with him.  Elliot a bit of a risk taker learned to rock climb back in New Mexico.  When his friend Greg was too busy to accompany him, Susan his assistant decides she must learn enough about it so she can get Elliot to notice her.

Secretly taking classes with her friends, she learns just enough to invite herself along.

Romance blossoms when Elliot shows Susan his love of rock climbing.  Some of those were even too much for her as she slips and lands on her bottom near a dry creek bed.

Allowing her time to pull herself together Elliot coils the ropes and gets the gear ready to make another ascent when everything changes.  Watching a lizard escape the heat scurrying under a crevasse in the rocks, Elliot assumes that there must be a small place or opening.

Dislodging some small pebbles in that same direction of the lizard’s den, while wrapping up the rest of the gear, Elliot hears a mysterious metallic clunk from far below them.  Susan also heard it as she was now no longer thinking of her fall.

What they were both unaware of is how that “clunk” would change their entire lives.  They also had no idea of how that discovery would affect the lives of every human on earth and some races who were in another galaxy.

Under Roswell was inspired by the early termination of Stargate Universe.  Never trying my hand at writing I was always one to be entertained, never the entertainer. When the writers were struggling toward the end of the show with the droid robots from hell, the writing was on the wall.

I was not surprised when the show unceremoniously ended.

Not ready to let them be stranded between galaxies with an uncertain fate on a lark I tried my hand at fan fiction.

Two hours into the project I came to the conclusion that I could tell a story.

Scrapping the project, I started Under Roswell.

Four years later I wrote the end which is probably the only book that I have ever written with the words “The End.”

Thirty published novels later I am still writing as time permits.

The saga of the Starduster is my number one best seller.

Trying my hand at many different genres, from Science Fiction to romances of various kinds, it has been a fun ride. Yes, I have even written a few slightly tawdry novels including some same-sex love.

Some of the e-mails ask why I tried the LGBT stuff.  “Why not?”

Other than some minor plumbing differences, we are all the same. It is my goal to unite us as a people instead of following in the footsteps of the media and others that would seek to destroy us through bigotry and yes ignorance.

In some of my novels, I address things like labels and using sexuality as a weapon and yes being a bully.

Under Roswell is a science fiction that is actually YA.  Taking some of my characters through Russia while taking others into other galaxies is just part of the fun.  You too can ride along as our heroes save the earth from inevitable destruction.

Thanks for following me and reading along as I take you on a journey with me through the trials and tribulations of being an author.

 

Much Love – TW

 

 

 

What if an Alien visited us tomorrow?

If a flying disc landed in front of you what would you do?

I am rather amazed to see actual real footage of UFO’s caught on military aircraft cameras released to the public.  This is from 2012.

More and more we are seeing actual footage of alien type anomalies reported and making the news.  Is Trump allowing the American people to actually see some of the truth about this subject to grasp how we react?  Was the 1947 Roswell crash true?  Are we being groomed to allow us to learn the truth or is it all lies and deception?

Will we ever know the truth about Area 51?

It is no secret that I am a huge science fiction fan.  It is also no secret that in many of my novels currently selling worldwide, I talk about the danger of being discovered by an alien interloper.

While Hollywood paints this picture of friendly aliens trying to phone home or aliens that are benevolent that want to come and assist us, I fear that the more accurate representation of aliens would be that of Independence Day!

Had someone asked me when Carl Sagan was sending a roadmap to the earth on a golden record out into space complete with our human anatomy on it, I might have dissuaded him.

I found it interesting the other day when Michio Kaku said we do not need to be meeting with any aliens.  He said it would be like an intellectual trying to talk with a squirrel.

I disagree “respectfully” with him, however.  I think it would be more like an intellectual trying to talk with a cockroach.

The significance is that they would think nothing of squashing a cockroach, and at least a squirrel has some redeeming qualities.

In The Saga of the Starduster, one of my latest novels, I humorously portray what an alien society might make of earth and its population.  While my point was on target, I try to always interject humor.

The absolute truth is that we are a people ruled by our emotions.  The society that abducts Don has decided to do away with feelings as they are unpredictable and can cause war.

Our petty squabbles on this planet are purposeless.  We go to war for what someone else has.  From Cain and Able to modern day, we go to war if not literally then certainly figuratively.  We get this case of the “by gods” and stop listening to anyone else’s point of view.

No, I fear that the visits, if they are indeed happening are trying to decide just how dangerous we are.  Should we be allowed to leave our planet?  They might be researching what our natural resources are before deciding what to do with us.

Currently, as we presently are, I would say we have no business greeting other races outside of the human race.  Can you imagine the bigotry that we have today on any difference what so ever pushed out into a population of aliens who can travel light years in hours?

Given technology to reach to the stars would be dangerous for advanced civilizations.

Some of the happiest, most well-adjusted people that I know, are people who have very damned little stuff or money.  They make do with what they have.  Family, friends, enough to eat and nobody messes with them, is what they want.

The better off people are it seems to me the more screwed up that they are.  Is that just my perception?

I once met a man in an elevator going to see his oncologist.  We were in a clinic in Houston, I was bringing things up to the doctor to sell him.  As we waited for the elevator the water from the recent rain shower, we both walked in from the parking lot, dripped off us.  There were puddles on the tile floor as we closed our umbrellas and tried to look as though we had just not left a sauna.  I was not thrilled with the weather and wished that I was not working that day. I was, in fact, sure that a warm bed with a purring feline and good book would have been a much better use of my time.

Man, was I wrong!

I asked him how he was, and he said… “Every day the good lord lets me wake up and suck air, is a good day!”

I never forgot that bit of wisdom from an old gray-black gentleman.  He was wearing a suit to see his doctor, and I was thrilled to meet him.  That meeting was the most important meeting of that day and probably that year.

We should all be like that!

I stopped complaining that day.  Changed my life.  I was there doing my job, and he was there to see how much life he had left.  He was happy and cheerful, even in Houston’s miserable hot rain.

In a way, I would like to try and live in an Amish community for a bit.    The more that I know about the world that we live in, the less content that I am. Without the smartphone reminding me every few moments about how evil Trump is, or why the Democrats are so great, just possibly I might think for myself.

Why Yahoo news has joined with the likes of Facebook and Google to cast dispersions on the president of the United States is beyond me.

“How can a people this advanced be this damned stupid!”

If you want to take over a country you take over the media.  Google, Facebook, and Yahoo are the media that most look at for their news.  Ninety-Seven percent of it is negative on Trump!  Even with American’s getting fatter paychecks they still trash Trump.  Why?

It would be ok if they were balanced but they are not. Every report on the president has a negative spin on it. Triggered much Google?

Stupid might not be the correct adjective.  Possibly we are just short-sighted. Our values seem to be turning upside down and for what reason?  Who is selling this pack of lies and why?

We can only hope that if we are being visited by aliens from another galaxy or solar system, that they are more intelligent and benevolent than we are.

From what we have seen of them “which is very limited” it would appear that they do not comport with our understanding of physics.   Flying at right angles at incredible speeds would not fit our understanding of physics.  They have apparently figured out how to manipulate time.

While it appears to us that they are moving at right angles at incredible speeds they are just cruising along in a “different time zone” if you will, and when they need to get away from us they just change the time variable.

Time as we understand it is incorrect. It is not a constant as most of the world believes.

In Under Roswell, I go into detail on Time as well as in Ghost Signals from Colorado Springs.  I believe in my Hole in Time series I talk about it as well.

I certainly talk about it in The Saga of the Starduster.  Check it out!

Thanks for the purchases of my novels.  Follow me here on this blog, or on Twitter and of course, check out my website and http://www.AuthorTWscott.com

Much Love  -TW