SoCs: Logic and Discord

Rowing down the Stream of Consciousness. Badge by Doobster at Mindful Digressions.

This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt: “naught/knot/not. This flash fiction story inspired by Star Trek: Enterprise is also the opening scene of a short story-in-progress, Slow Jazz Awakening, as a young woman considers the nature of logic and humanity on an alien world called Earth.

Disclaimer: T’Pol, Soval, Koss, and the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended, and no money is being made.

T’Pol walked through the muffling fog, her sensitive ears, evolved for the desert, catching up sounds. Staccato footprints, their force and swiftness betraying tension in the legs that made them. Bits of conversation, in several alien languages.

And laughter. Strange expulsions of breath, accompanied with percussive sound that caused sharp pains in her head; kept her always poised, ready to face danger – danger that did not come.

Humans don’t laugh when frightened,” she told herself silently – but, in truth, she did not know if this was so, and there was a certain illogic in making any such assumption.

There was a certain and undeniable illogic in being here at all.

T’Pol thought of her small and comfortable room at the Consulate. It was a Vulcan space, quiet and contemplative. The air, conditioned to Vulcan-normative heat and dryness, carried neither unexpected outbursts of sound, nor the profusion of scent that assailed her senses here, where they lay heavy on San Francisco’s humid ocean breeze. Her meditation candles waited, offering the calm of deep reflection. She would be alone, there, and there would be no need for her current state of alert.

There is a danger in breaking protocol.” This she couldn’t dispute. She was not intended to be out of the compound alone; Soval considered her still too young and unpracticed in diplomatic matters, and, perhaps more importantly, she was Promised, but not yet bonded. She was still a year from her marriage to Koss, and she risked both the termination of the contract her parents had arranged with the young man’s when they were seven years old, and the loss of her posting here on Terra – a posting that, however illogically, was of far greater importance to her than the bonding that would define the rest of her life, once formalized.

Comfort, safety, and security awaited her at the compound. All were at risk, with her current activity. Logic dictated that she should return immediately to the compound, and her life as it had been.

And yet, she didn’t turn, didn’t return to the safety of her room at the Consulate. As she had once ingested the rarest of Vulcan nectars, knowing the act would change her forever. As she had, as an infant, touched the flame of her mother’s meditation candle, even after the warning that it would bring pain…

Now, she simply kept walking, as though there was no danger, as though her muscles weren’t tightening into what a human might refer to, in the particularly imprecise manner of the prevalent human language, as ‘knotted’ – as though muscles were lengths of rope. She walked as though the sounds didn’t pain her head, as though the odors that overwhelmed her olfactory senses were not also ‘tying her guts up in knots’, as she heard a passing human male say.

An imprecise language, this English, and very different than that taught to her by her first foremother, T’Mir. And yet, very apt. Her digestive tract did indeed feel as though it was twisting and tightening, threatening to expel the plomik broth she had eaten at the evening meal, when she had too agitated by the breach of protocol she had so meticulously planned to consume anything more substantial.

T’Pol stopped walking. Her senses were being assaulted, and she was risking her position, not only in the Ministry of Diplomacy, but also as regarded her marital status, and her duty to Vulcan culture.

Highly illogical. She would return. To the Consulate, and her small, safe life. A progression of increasing age and responsibility that might, in time, allow her the freedom to move amongst the fascinating, chaotic species which named itself ‘homo sapiens’ – ‘rational man’.

She was turning to leave when she heard the strains of Terran music – discordant, and yet stirring something to life within her, something that had stirred when she touched the flame, and drank the tikkin nectars.

In time, she might earn the right to explore Earth and her people. After her marriage, and the traditional year lived with Koss, on Vulcan. If she were not pregnant; she had once postponed the marriage, and Koss might expect her to conceive their offspring at once. It had seemed an acceptable risk at the time, but now, the possibility seemed far too restrictive.

The notes of the chaotic music drifted freely to her, and something within T’Pol was compelled by them. She turned back, tipping her head to better catch its direction, and began to follow…

She reminded herself of logic, and risk, and protocol. “Kroykah,” she told herself, a word learned before all others, a command to desist that must be obeyed, even in plak tow, the blood fever of mating-

And yet, T’Pol walked on, her guts in knots, not heeding logic. The human language English had another term, one she’d always felt was completely illogical, a mathematical impossibility. “All was for naught.”

Now, as the young Vulcan woman commanded herself to return home, and continued to follow the strange human music, she thought perhaps that she was beginning to understand. 

The video below is just a bit spoilery, if you haven’t seen the series, and don’t know T’Pol’s story…

Enjoy stream-of consciousness writing? Come play – there’s just a few simple rules. See you next week, for another live-streaming look into the lovely chaos in my mind! =)

Get more SoCS right here!

SoCS : “I, Eye, Aye, Sir?”

Row down the stream-of-consciousness with us!

This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme.

The idea is simple – post an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt -this week’s is I/eye/aye, which yielded a flash fiction story inspired by Star Trek: Enterprise, and the vagaries of my native tongue…

Disclaimer: Hoshi, T’Pol, Trip, and the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just love to play with them!

Hoshi Sato frowned at the display on her datapad as she entered the Mess Hall, wondering whether it would make more sense to address this problem to the Chief Engineer, or the Science Officer.

As luck would have it, they were both here, and bickering.

All you ever eat is that broth and salads. How can you survive just on that?”

Commander Tucker, I have ‘survived’ my entire life on a plant-based diet. My metabolism and nutritional requirements differ from yours, and my physical dimensions are appropriate for my age and species.”

Your age, huh? Now, what would that be?”

T’Pol raised one elegantly groomed brow the width of two hairs. “Classified.”

Trip groaned. “I swear every Vulcan should have that word tattooed across your foreheads at birth -”

You propose to disfigure my entire species, Commander?”

Trip spluttered, “Maybe not, but it would save time.”

Excuse me, Commander, Subcommander,” Hoshi said, before Trip could get himself in any deeper. “I’m having a problem with transmissions from the Science station, and I was wondering if either of you could tell me where the glitch is, and how to fix it.”

A problem?” T’Pol set her spoon carefully into the bowl of plomik broth before folding her hands in front of her.

Have a seat, Hoshi, and tell us about it.”

Hoshi pulled up a chair. “Well, for the past three days, I’ve been getting random strings of Vulcan characters in the Sciences readouts, or else gibberish – not English, and not Vulcan either, but a hybrid of the two.”

With you so far,” Trip said, around a mouthful of mashed potatoes nearly drowning in gravy. “T’Pol?”

Is that a representative sample?” The Vulcan tipped her head slightly toward the pad Hoshi held.

This is the complete rundown.” She handed over the pad, and tried not to smile as the two heads, one fair and one dark, leaned in toward one another as they studied the readout together.

Looks like a glitch in the translation matrix – but why’s it coming up in Vulcan?”

I’ve programmed the station to accept written commands in my native tongue, and translate output to English,” T’Pol said.

Why? Doesn’t seem very efficient to me.”

T’Pol actually looked uncomfortable. She reached for her tea, and sipped, studying Hoshi rather than Trip. “I learned to speak English in childhood, but I couldn’t read or write it when I was assigned to Enterprise. It is – a most perplexing and inexact language, and poorly suited to reporting of a scientific nature.”

Trip nearly sprayed mashed potatoes on the pad, and T’Pol’s hand as she held it between them. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

T’Pol looked directly at him and said, “I. I. I.”

You what?”

Precisely.” T’Pol sipped at her tea. Trip sat there with his fork dangling in his hand, staring at her.

Precisely, what?”

Were I speaking in Vulcan, you would have known that I was speaking three separate words – ”

Come again?”

I think I get it,” Hoshi said. “Not I, I, I, but -” she tapped her chest. “I.” Next, she pointed to her face, and blinked. “Eye.” Then she pulled a mock salute, and said, “Aye, sir.”

Precisely,” T’Pol said again. “It’s the same word, when spoken, but each meaning is written differently.”

But you speak English as well as any of us- ”

Better than some,” Hoshi chuckled, and Trip gave her a dirty look.

I can infer spoken context, but I find it prohibitively difficult to discern which spelling is accurate for many words I wish to use. English doesn’t follow even its own convoluted rules. This poses considerably difficulty where precision and alacrity are necessary.”

So you input everything in Vulcan, and the station computer translates for you?”

Apparently not as consistently as it should.”

Trip took the pad from her, scrolling through the display. “Shouldn’t be a problem – looks like there’s a faulty circuit in the translation matrix – not all of your signal’s getting through. I’ll come up and fix it for you at the start of shift tomorrow, and, now that I know your little secret, I’ll keep an eye on it for you. Hoshi, will that solve the problem?”

Aye, sir.”

Trip groaned. “You know, I just heard it. Sorry I teased you, T’Pol. I’m guessing that I wouldn’t do half as well even just trying to speak Vulcan.”

Most members of your species lack the muscular control needed to produce many of the vocal forms.” T’Pol picked up her spoon, and sipped daintily at her broth.

Guess I deserved that,” Trip muttered, digging back into his potatoes.

She’s telling you the truth, Commander. I could understand Vulcan years before I could speak it.” She looked at T’Pol. “If you’d like, Subcommander, I could help you improve your written skills.”

That would be most generous, Ensign, although I would find it a simpler matter if Starfleet had elected to make a more logical choice regarding the operating language on its starships.”

Like what?” This time, Trip took the time to swallow the potatoes before speaking.

I’m competent in written and spoken Latin. Since it lends itself well to scientific discussion, it would be a more logical choice.”

Only a Vulcan would make a suggestion like that. I flunked Latin – twice.”

T’Pol reclaimed the pad, and, in flawless Latin, looked at Hoshi and said, “If you’re free, I will assist you in translating these data streams.”

Hoshi smiled. “Tempis fugit.”

An illogical statement, in any language.”

She and T’Pol rose together. Hoshi didn’t need the translation matrix to read the touch of humor and enjoyment in the Vulcan woman’s eyes as they walked away, leaving a scowling Chief Engineer to chew on mashed potatoes and Latin.

Enjoy stream-of consciousness writing? Come play – there’s just a few simple rules. See you next week, for another live-streaming look into the lovely chaos in my mind! =)

Get more SoCS right here!

WIPpet Wednesday: “…Claim Me As Your Valentine”

Do you like to WIPpet?


Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It’s hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys! First up – I’ll be in Oregon next week and  the one after.  I’ll schedule my posts, but might not  get back to answer comments or visit.  I’m gonna miss you guys!

Guess who’s back, just for this week, to tempt and tease?

Disclaimers: T’Pol, Trip, and all the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful! Ive done my best to extrapolate without violating series canon.

This snippet from The IDIC Romance, my Star Trek: Enterprise fan fiction, occurs during the climactic Season 3 episode, Zero Hour – February 14, 2154.  After a year of trauma, rifts,  and personal crisis,  TnT are finally growing closer again. T’Pol just floored Trip with a sudden and irresistible seduction…and now, the aftermath…and after the snippet, I’ve got another sweet treat for you! <3

WIPpet Math:

  • Today is February 11, 2015.
  • Math: None, except that it’s a Valentine’s Day story….and you’re welcome.

Warnings: A mite spoilery, as in we see some of how the relationship might progress. Also quite first-drafty.

T’Pol recovered herself to find Trip was watching her. He seemed both very pleasantly surprised, and worried. Perhaps other things, as well.

“You feel so much, at once. Doesn’t it confuse you?”

“You’ve met me, right?” He grinned, but studied her closely. “I’m doing this a bit ass-backwards, but, are you OK? You had me scared for a minute or two, there – I think you fainted – and then you made me forget that I was scared…”

“I am – perhaps more ‘OK” than I have been in – in far too long.” She pulled him in for another deep kiss. “I have missed this…t’hy’la.”

“Mind if I point out that you could have had it, anytime?”

“Only if you will accept my word that it’s not true in the sense you believe.”

“I’m suddenly getting the idea that there’s a lot I don’t know here.” His touch was gentle, and his concern deepened. “Am I making things worse again?”

“You are offering perhaps the deepest of healing.”


She meant it. He could almost feel it – the release of all that desperate control, the crumbling of the walls she’d held.

He wanted to charge in, storm the castle, and claim the lovely princess for his own…

But this was no fairy tale – and she’d been through hell – might still be in hell, even now, beneath the flush of release. At best, she was fragile – and in command. Aww, hell.

Trip found himself chuckling. “The Captain expects you to keep me in line, remember?”

“Perhaps, then, I should evaluate your performance, and give him a comprehensive report?”

“Aww, pepperpot.” He embraced her, settled her head on his shoulder, and sighed. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Damned if he was even gonna try to pin her down on this one. Nope. This time, he was just gonna enjoy the moment, and not try to make one thing out of it that it wasn’t. Besides, soon, she was going to get up and get back to work – and he wanted her to be able to do that without worrying about him.

Now, she craned her neck to look at him upside down. “You’ve used that appellation before. I find myself – most curious as to its origin.”

“Good. ‘Bout time I had you wondering about something, ‘stead of the other way ’round. Hey, what time is it?”

She glanced at her monitor, and then he felt her start to gather herself. “We were due in the Command Center fifteen minutes ago,” she said, and stretched against him with a decadence that made him groan. “We are quite late – I had forgotten.” And still, she didn’t quite seem to be able to pull herself away ….she kissed him again, and her paired fingers caught at his, in that delightful kissing that didn’t look like kissing, and her quiver made him wish, for a minute, that they were the two lowest peons in the chain of command, instead of the highest.

She seemed to have forgotten again, already, judging by her dreamy-sultry eyes. “Hey, pepperpot?”


“You. Me. Clothes. Work.” He held her shoulders and formed each syllable distinctly; she seemed to need that. Whatever had broken down those walls she’d had up for so long seemed to have her feeling a hell of a lot more than thinking, and he hoped he hadn’t made it impossible for her to do her job.

T’Pol actually made a face as though she’d eaten an especially tart lemon whole. She met his eyes; hers held a teasing light. “Awww, hell.”

That sent Trip into raucous laughter; she gave him that special little head tip that said she thought his sanity was in serious question, and got up smoothly – just as the comm signaled. “Bridge to T’Pol.”

“Damn, pepperpot – they caught you.”

“This is true.” She walked, stark naked and delicious, to the comm. “But only you, Trip, can claim me as your Valentine. T’Pol here.”

She was all business as she acknowledged the call – except for that smoldering way she was looking at him, and the brazenness of the way she stood there, unabashedly nude.

What‘s next? Will their tryst be discovered? Will T’Pol actually write an evaluation for the captain? Will Trip be able to resist a naked and smoldering Vulcan who’s finally open to passion again?

Well, you’ll have to keep guessing, at least for a while…but I did promise another surprise, and here it is:

Second Serving Monday: The Double Feature Edition

A weekly peek backwards and a look ahead, from my little corner of the blogosphere

So, I kinda vanished last week. Sorry about that! It was just – well, life. I can’t get more specific than that; I really don’t know anything except that I ran out of day long before I ran out of things to do. And with vacation looming ever closer on the horizon, that’s not that likely to change for a while.

To make up for my absence; I’m offering a more streamlined Second Serving that will play catchup, and usher in February a bit late, but with sincerity.

Last week in life:

  • Snow, writing, new boots, new ideas, growth, hometending, and other bits and pieces.

My last Second Serving Sunday post: The Final January 2015 Edition. 

  • Check here to access the previous week’s posts and news.

And now, features from the last two weeks

Coffee and Conversation:

WIPpet Wednesday:

  • Can You?”T’Pol has a plan, but Trip resists the logic of it.
  • Father?”: A young girl awakens alone in a forest – or is she still dreaming?

SoCS (Stream of Consciousness Saturday):

  • Dance Lessons?:  Jonathan Archer decides to ask T’Pol to dinner, only to find her in Trip’s arms, with an improbable explanation.
  • When Trip Met T’Pol” (Movie Night): T’Pol’s exploration of a human concept called love includes Harry, Sally, Trip – and contradictions that define.

Just Jot It January: A daily post on the current prompt, all month long.

  • Kids: Who Owns Their Sexuality?: An exploration of what parents can control, and whether we should try.
  • Of Zucchinis and Condoms: An impromptu question sparks experimentation and new learning.
  • Vulcan Biology – As In Reproduction: How DO Vulcans choose their mates? A foray into the fascinating fictional reality of pon farr, the Vulcan mating imperative.
  • Inter-Species Relations: A flash fiction account of T’Pol telling Trip about a life-or-death matter.
  • Sex in the Big City: An adventure to the Big Apple, and into sexuality and friendship.
  • Who Owns My Sexuality?: Is it me? The government? My spouse? Society? I have ideas.

Love Is In Da Blog: A month-long celebration of love; with weekly themes and daily prompts.

ROW80: The Writing Challenge That Knows You Have A Life.

Variety’s Spice:

We like trains!

What’s Next:

February Focuses:

  • Oregon Trip: Lots to plan and do to get ready for our upcoming vacation.
  • The rest of life – blogging, hometending, family, other writing…

This week, on the blog:

  • For Coffee and Conversation: A tribute to my Accomplice, and the life we’ve lived together.
  • For WIPpet Wednesday: A sweet surprise.
  • Stream of Consciousness Saturday (SoCS), a #LoIsInDaBl/SoCs combined prompt.
  • ROW80 Updates: My progress on my January goals for A Round of Words in 80 Days;
  • Love Is In Da Blog: A daily post on the current prompt, all month long.

In the Wilds of Internet-Land:

Life Stuff:

  • With our vacation getting closer, most of the focus will be on getting ready to go.

Aglow in the snow!


SoCS and #LoIsInDaBl Day 6: “When Trip Met T’Pol” (Movie Night)

Merrily down the Stream of Consciousness! =)

Hello there, and welcome to my weekly Stream of Consciousness Saturday post, AND Day 6 of Love Is In Da Blogall wrapped up in one convenient package!


Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Today, Bee  prompts us to explore adore/despise- the contrasts in love. Meanwhile, Lindas prompt is “opposite in emotion”. You can join either event, anytime, or just come to read more, by clicking the links.

I’ve written a couple of very serious essay posts here, this month, and I’m likely to do that again before the month is over. But for today, my mind gave me – umm, cotton candy. Braided pink and blue. Swirled together, and heated to spun-sugar sweetness with a hint of tart. Trip, T’Pol, Harry, and Sally.

I behaved myself, and only edited a tiny bit, so I wouldn’t be too twitchy posting it. It’s longer than usual, but then, it’s a double-feature. And folks seemed to enjoy Seeking a Peaceful Tide,  so…

Disclaimer: T’Pol, Trip, and all the rest of Star Trek: Enterprise are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful!

This is an as-yet imaginary scene; time-frame somewhere after Season Four episode 17, “Bound”, and before the events of E20, “Demons”, in uncharted canon waters. Spoilers for “Bound”.

I could feel the questions building in her all through the movie, and half expected them to burst out of her – but she’d learned the ‘protocol’ of Movie Night well. She just watched, her slanting brows and the way the light hit her hazel eyes – and the crinkle that matched Sally’s – showing that she was thinking hard, and not quite translating what she was seeing.

Every now and then, she leaned forward, her whipcord frame tensing a little, and then she’d look at me, and I’d be sure she was going to say something. But then she’d reach for the popcorn, instead, and there was something in the way she looked at me that said that she’d noticed the way I extended it a little less each time, so that she was gradually snuggling in closer and closer to my side.

I’d lobbied hard with Jon to get this movie shown. I really wanted to know what she thought of it, but, more importantly, how she felt while watching it.

And there would, of course, be questions.

I loved when T’Pol had questions…


I could feel Trip waiting, wanting me to forget my control and comment upon the movie. It had become a favorite pastime, among the crew – but none was as fervent as my bondmate. He was determined to surprise and confuse me. I didn’t have to guess at his intention, I could feel it thrumming through his mind.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to enlist him in my attempt to understand the human concept known as ‘love’. But both Hoshi and Phlox had said that, if I wanted to know what ‘love’ meant to Trip, it was Trip I must ask.

Trip had been equally certain – and, characteristically, far more adamant – that I needed to know what ‘love’ meant to me. He’d said that this movie, “When Harry Met Sally”, would be ‘enlightening’. He wouldn’t elaborate, and he dared me not to look at the database, the Tour Guide he had given me shortly after I joined the crew, or to ask anyone. I’d learned enough of humans, and of Trip, to accept the dare.

As I watched the climactic scene, I reached for Trip’s fingers, in the ouz’hesta. I had to dig into the popcorn to find them; he’d anticipated me, and the dimple showed in his cheek as he smiled to himself. I chose to reward him by remaining silent all the way back to my quarters.


“Aren’tcha gonna invite me in?” I made my drawl thick; she never seemed to be able to resist that, anymore. She just gestured into her dimly lit room, and stayed perfectly still while I passed her, trying to read her in the bond, and failing. She was a hell of a lot better at reading me, and it rankled -

She stepped in, the door started to close – and I suddenly had a Vulcan magnet attached to my lips.

Her kiss put Sally’s to shame, I decided. And it lasted a lot longer; long enough that I was almost panting by the time she’d gotten her fill.

“I have questions.” She seemed very collected, and, damn her, not at all out of breath.

“I’ll just bet you do. So, tell me – is it men and women as friends, days of the week underwear, good taste and a sense of humor, Surrey With the Fringe on Top, faking orgasms – ” She silenced me with another kiss, and, for a delicious minute or two, I totally forgot how much I wanted to hear what she had to say.


When Trip was breathless enough that even he would find speaking difficult, I ended the kiss, and extended my fingers to him, to lead him to the bed. “It is difficult to ask you anything when you will not be silent and allow me to speak.” I sat, bringing him with me, his fingers never allowing our contact to break, so that I could feel the stream of his awareness flowing through them, to me.

“Mmm,” he said, watching me, waiting.

“You will be quiet?” He nodded, and offered me first pose, fingertips slipping along mine, current sizzling through me, so that I moaned softly before I could go on. “At the end of the movie – Sally says, several times, that she hates Harry. And then she kisses him, and is smiling and crying – and then, they are debating the meaning of the music, in the same fashion they have always done.”

“Mmmn,” he said again. My fingers had their own will; they returned first pose, and extended it through second and into third. Trip smiled,  settling with his back against the wall, and his eyes caught the firelight and held it.

“That, then, is the nature of love – the emotions of adoring, and despising, together? Accepting both as natural parts of the relationship? Accepting one another, as each is, without the desire to make of them something that they aren’t?”

“Hmmmn.” His lids lowered over his eyes; his breathing was slow and steady.


“Not sleepin'; just thinkin’ it over.” His fingers rolled over and across mine in a lazy echo, then darted up into fifth pose, skipping fourth entirely, as he suddenly leaned forward, wrapping his other arm behind my head, and easing me back onto the bed, leaning in to kiss me deeply. “I’ve never heard anyone put it quite that way before – but then, I’ve never heard a Vulcan try to understand love, either.”

His kisses fell randomly on my face and neck. I couldn’t predict where they would fall, and I shivered up into his body, as always drawn to his energy. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Don’t think I’m qualified, pepperpot. If that’s what it feels like to you – well, your definition’s as good as anyone else’s. I can say that we do seem to both have felt both of those emotions for each other more than a time or two – and that I hope we can keep on accepting each other as-is – even while I’m pretty damned sure we’ll be knocking heads again before we know it…. but maybe that’s just part of who we are – “

I slipped my hands beneath his shirt – the soft blue one that precisely matched the shade of his eyes – and around to his back. He smiled as I explored the familiar terrain. I anchored myself in the feel and weight and scent of him, in his smile, and the way his eyes glowed when he was aroused, as he was now. All of these were centering, as I drew a deep breath, and pulled him close, so that his forehead rested against mine. And then I stared into his eyes, and uttered the words, and meant them with all that I was.

“Trip – t’hy’la – I love you.”

Write1 Sub1: Bye, Bye January! SWAG: Hello, February!

Now that January is over, and February underway, it’s time for me to report in on my Write1 Sub1 writing challenge. This is a challenge based on the writing philosophy of science fiction writer Ray Bradbury, who wrote, revised, and submitted a story a week. I’m not Mr. Bradbury, so I opted for the monthly challenge this year – a story written, and one submitted, every month (not likely to be the same story).

Writing and Submitting stories every month.


Here’s my January tally:

Write1 (2.5):

  • Began my “official” story, “Terry Acosta”, a story that will develop a third character for a novella I will be writing in April. Draft about halfway complete.

Sub1: (1):

  • I revised my existing short story, “Monday Morning Coffee”, and submitted it to World Unknown Review. This may be the first chapter in a novella; I’m not certain quite yet. I should know by June; the deadline for 2015 submissions is October 31. If I’ve written another story or two for this project by June, I will pursue it as a novella; if not, I will allow the story to stand alone, and potentially develop it further at a later point in time.

Getting My SWAG – Serious Writers Accountability Group

SWAG February Goals:

As we get closer to Story-A-Day May 2015, I finally checked out Julie Duffy‘s Serious Writers Accountability Group. It’s a simple idea; just state a simple goal to accomplish this month; and then report my progress on the first of March.

So, here’s my three very simple SWAG goals for February:

  • Revise “Slow Jazz Awakening,” the compiled version of the first three of my Star Trek: Enterprise fan fiction stories I wrote on May 1-3, 2014, for Story a Day May.
  • Review character and background materials for The IDIC Romance, in preparation for this year’s Story-A-Day May.

And that’s it. I like these small micro-goals, because they help me to focus on specific elements of my larger goals.

How about you? Are you a fan of challenges large and small? Why or why not? What’s the most interesting/most unsuitable challenge you’ve participated in? Did you see it through, or bow out? Why? (I know, I ask that a lot. I’m the nosy sort!).

Thursday’s Treat: Rocket Man

Thursdays can be tricky…well into the week, too far from the weekend…so, as a public service, I’ve reserved this space for interesting tidbits and snippets I’ve picked up around the Internet.

This Thursday’s Treat comes from YouTube: A man who (maybe, for many people) needs. No. Intro. Duction.

Besides, what would I be able to say that would compare to Bill Shatner performing Elton John‘s Rocket Man, as Only. He. Can?

Well, that was…..Shatner. Extremely Shatner. Nuff said.

Remember to beam your comments into the receptacle below – would you like more Shatner – oh, yes, there is much more! Something else? Let me know!

Until next Thursday, shanjeniah out.