Almost Too Much: The IDIC Romance for SoCS and #STaD

Rowing down the Enterprise Stream of Consciousness! Badge by Doobster@ 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: the word “almost”.  I used the word several times, in this passage.

Since it’s also International Short Story Month,  and I’m actively participating in Story a Day May,  I combined this prompt with the May 29 “Back to Front” prompt -writing a story that begins at the end, and ends at the beginning. 

Today, I bring you – a starship captain denying his emotions, as he sees the relationship between his second and third in command evolving in a way that excludes him…oh, and there’s also a very sick Vulcan. 

But, before that – I want to share a few sentences I wrote earlier in the month, because I like what they say, and, well, they fit the prompt almost perfectly, even though they predate it.

Almost. Filthiest word of ‘em all, almost. All. Most.

Nope, no context, but you can find the story here if you’re so inclined….

Disclaimers:

  • Jonathan Archer, Trip Tucker, Doctor Phlox, T’Pol, and all the rest of Star Trek: Enterprise belong to Paramount. I play with them strictly for my own amusement – and perhaps yours, too. And because T’Pol tells me to – and she’s rather formidable! =)

  • This is an extrapolated story, occurring after the events in S4E20: “Demons” and S4E21; “Terra Prime”. Spoilers for those episodes; also for S4E17: “Bound”.

Almost Too Much

“Thank you, Captain.” T’Pol’s voice was almost gone, a thready, raw whisper.

“Don’t try to talk, pepperpot. You just sit tight, and stay still, and let me handle this. Cap’n, please don’t make her talk. Damn, I didn’t know so much could come out of someone so slender. She can’t take much more of this. I’m sorry, pepperpot – so damned sorry you have to go through this.”

“At ease, Doctor Tucker. T’Pol, I just wanted to check up on you. If it hurts when you talk, or makes you feel sick, don’t. I don’t want to make it worse -”

He broke off as T’Pol gagged. “Awww, hell!” Trip exclaimed, grabbing the basin on the table, and getting it under T’Pol’s chin just as she started to heave weakly. Trip’s fingers stroked through the sweat-crusted fringe of bangs; Jon watched them, trying to avoid the implications of that small intimacy; of Trip still being here several hours after he brought her.

When T’Pol finished vomiting what looked like nothing but bile, Trip put the bowl aside, and picked up a soft damp cloth. T’Pol leaned into his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her, gently. Jon almost said something, ordered him out and back to work, but then T’Pol’s head dropped to Trip’s shoulder, and Trip whispered harshly, “Aww, hell, pepperpot. I hate this for you. It’ s so not fair.”

“Trip, don’t.” Barely even a whisper, now. Jon had never seen the Vulcan looking so weak and defenseless. But one trembling hand lifted, made its way to Trip’s hand, and her fingers tangled with his as she sighed.

“Kaiidth,” she breathed, or something like that.

“What’d she say?” Jon asked.

“Means ‘what is, is’ – or almost that, or close to that, anyway. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, pepperpot, or that I can’t be sorry that this is so damned unfair to you – “

“Captain? I didn’t hear you come in.” The end of whatever Trip was saying as he looked into T’Pol’s face got drowned out by Phlox’s entry from his office area. Jon could almost think that was intentional, to give Trip and T’Pol their privacy – their privacy? – why the hell did they need privacy?

The little gold claddaugh ring with its jade heart peeked out from between Trip’s strong and capable engineer’s fingers. It said things that Jon didn’t want to think about, and couldn’t seem to stop.

He forced himself to turn to the doctor. It really wasn’t his business, whatever was going on with his First Officer and his Chief Engineer. He couldn’t cheat either of them out of any solace they found with each other. Not while T’Pol was wearing Trip’s dead sister’s ring, and had been ever since the baby they’d given the same name had died. The baby created from their stolen genetic material – stolen from his two best friends on his ship.

Almost under my nose, and Phlox’s. How the hell could we have let that happen to them – ?

He couldn’t go down that road now, not while he could still hear the sound of Trip murmuring to her, hear T’Pol’s thready and infrequent responses – and then the sounds of retching, and she was vomiting, again –

“Phlox? Have you learned anything about what’s causing this? Is she in danger?” Jon swallowed hard; the stink of bile and the sounds of the attack were almost enough to make him vomit, too.

What’s making T’Pol so sick? Will Captain Archer face his jealousy? Is there a reason for him to be jealous? What has Phlox learned?

If you’d like to know, read the full version of Not Jealousy.

Have you tried stream-of consciousness writing? Come join in – there’s just a few simple rules.

Get more SoCS right here!

Click here for more SOCS!

“What Kind of Home…?”: The IDIC Romance for #WeWriWa #8Sunday

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Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday! 

It’s the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Sign up below with your name, blog and email and share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Your post needs to be live between 12:00 noon on Saturday 05/16/15 and 9:00 AM on Sunday 05/17/15. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their 8sunday posts.

It’s a second chance to share a small snippet of my current writing. Most weeks, I tie them back to my WIPpet Wednesday  post, so reading both can give a deeper peek…

Disclaimers:

  • Trip, T’Pol, and Star Trek: Enterprise belong to Paramount, even if Paramount has forgotten all about them.
  • This is an extrapolated “missing scene” story, detailing some of what might have happened during the months’ long and scarcely shown return to Earth in S2E26 “The Expanse”. Spoilers for that episode.

This snippet follows immediately after last week’s WIPpet Wednesday post, Spinning

Trip has gotten some very bad news from back home, and the ship is months away from Earth. Relieved of duty and out of options, he sees only one way to ease the pain – by getting good and drunk, and staying that way. I wrote this story for the Story a Day May Challenge, using the Second-Person POV prompt, which accounts for the unusual phrasing. I actually loved the way this story turned out (the POV was fanastic for a drunk scene!), but, if you  don’t care for second-person, it might not be for you.

I’m offering ten sentences today, because the new rules let me! =D

You roll to your belly. But that only makes you feel sick, and you don’t want to sleep, anyway. “For in that sleep of death what dreams may come?” 

Damned Shakespeare, too…gotta get out of here, get away, get unstuck. It’s the middle of the night; maybe you can slip into Engineering, just for a minute. If you can touch your engines, you’ll feel better. You’ll be home. 

Awww, hell. Home. What kind of home was there now, after -? 

Can Trip get unstuck? Will he make it to Engineering? Will he get sick? Will he dream?

For those who don’t want to wait for the next installment, here’s the current “Stuck in Space” arc:*

  • Sticking Point: Trip, tormented by unanswerable questions and unimaginable loss, just wants to stay drunk. 
  • Pillow Talk?: When the “comforting” veers into uncharted territory, conversation is – challenging, and fascinating.

*There may eventually be more stories in this arc.

Want more #8Sunday? The icon is your portal!

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A Watched Kettle Boils Anyway: The IDIC Romance for SoCS and #STaD

Rowing down the Stream of Consciousness…Badge by Doobster @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: the letters ke”, anywhere in a word. I worked in a few instances, both beginning and ending with “ke”.

Since it’s also International Short Story Month, and I’m actively participating in Story a Day May, I combined this prompt with the Something different” prompt for May 22.

Today, I bring you – a human, a Vulcan, a kettle, and a secret mission. I’d tell you the name of the story, and give you a link – but the story isn’t titled or finished yet, and may not be for a few days. It’s not easy to write something completely different, and I’ve got over 3300 words, and a long way to go in this mystery that seems to want to twist into something more familiar…

Disclaimers:

Trip, T’Pol, and Star Trek: Enterprise belong to Paramount. I play with them strictly for my own amusement – and perhaps yours, too. =)

This is an extrapolated “missing scene” story, detailing some of what might have happened while Enterprise is en route to the rendez-vous point for T’Pol’s “secret mission” in S2E7 “The Seventh.  No real spoilers, beyond that T’Pol’s not quite…herself.

A Watched Kettle Boils Anyway

T’Pol’s standing at the stovetop, staring into the steam from a whistling kettle that ought to have set those pretty, sensitive ears of hers on high alert. Instead, she’s just staring, her eyes vacant, as though she’s not seeing or hearing anything in the galley.

She’s shaking so hard she’s got her hands braced uncomfortably close to the heating element beneath the kettle, but she doesn’t seem to notice that, either.

“It must not be true for kettles -”

She actually jumps, making a startled little squeak like a human woman who’s just seen a mouse, and she whirls into a defensive crouch, hands coming up to guard her face and belly, one elbow knocking into the tea mug he hadn’t seen till now, and the sound of it shattering against the deck plating makes her breath come hard and fast, her chest heaving, her eyes wide and still not here, not really.

“Hey, sorry – I didn’t mean to scare you. Just trying to make a joke – guess I figure that if I can tickle your funny bone – ”

“’Funny bone’?” she echoes, and her breath starts to even out a little. She frowns and shakes her head. “Too loud -”

“I’ll buy that,” Trip agrees. “If I come over there and turn that off, you’re not gonna drop me, are you? Cause, for a small person, T’Pol, you pack a helluva wallop…”

She looks confused, her gaze flicking to him, the screaming kettle, the door, the mug on the floor. “No,” she says, finally, in a faint voice – and her legs start to fold up under her –

“Hey – take it easy,” he says, jumping in to catch hold of one of her arms. Damn, she’s shaking so hard it’s almost like she’s in shock. What the hell does her damned government want her to do, anyway? “Lean on me. I’ll get you to a stool, okay?”

“Yes.”

On the way past, Trip shuts off the stove, and the kettle promptly goes from an angry shriek to a lower-pitched cry, and T’Pol sighs in relief, and leans into him. She doesn’t say anything; he thinks maybe she’s still more somewhere else than she is here. He wants to know what the hell’s gotten her into this state, but this isn’t the way to find out. Besides, with the way she and the Cap’n were acting earlier, it’s damned near sure to be ‘classified’. Wouldn’t be fair to try to get it out of her this way.

“What were you trying to do, test the theory? If so, I think you got the answer.” He chatters to give himself something to focus on besides how good she smells, and how natural it feels to have her weight against him like this. He guides her to a stool, and gets her settled.

“Theory?” She answers, but there’s something hollow in the word, like she’s only going through the motions here, and most of her is busy with something else. Like that damned secret mission.

“You know – well, maybe you don’t. ‘A watched pot never boils.’”

“That’s illogical. The pot would not boil; it’s the contents that are intended to do so. Nor would being observed affect the process.”

“Ahh, so you are still in there. It’s not talking about the science of boiling points, T’Pol. It means that if you keep watching and waiting for something to happen, it seems to take a hell of a lot longer than if you just- you know – went about your business.”

“The water in this kettle boiled despite my observation.”

Trip went over to it, slipped on an oven mitt, and lifted the kettle. “I’ll say it did. If you still want tea, I’ll start some more. There’s not even close to enough left here for a cup.” He didn’t mention that she must have been standing there for a long time, for the kettle to be so close to empty.

Why was T’Pol staring into the steam? What is this secret mission? Will Trip let the kettle boil over? Will he make things better, or worse?

Will I ever finish this maybe-not-a-mystery story?

Have you tried stream-of consciousness writing? Come join in there’s just a few simple rules.

Get more SoCS right here!

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Spinning: WIPpet Wednesday

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! She may be less physically present for a bit, but she’s still our fearless shepherd…or something like that, anyway.

I‘ve got another snippet from The IDIC Romance stories; as part of my Story a Day May challenge. Read the full story or explore others in this series.

These stories are Star Trek: Enterprise fan fiction, dealing with the inter-species relationship between T’Pol, a Vulcan scientist, and Trip Tucker, the extremely human Chief Engineer…

Disclaimers:

  • Trip, T’Pol, and Star Trek: Enterprise belong to Paramount, even if Paramount has forgotten all about them…
  • This is an extrapolated “missing scene” story, detailing some of what might have happened during the months’ long and scarcely shown return to Earth in S2E26 “The Expanse”. Spoilers for that episode; mild spoilers for S2E1: Shockwave: Part II.

This snippet is rated PG-13 for adult language and situations.

This snippet follows a few paragraphs after Sticking to the Plan. Trip has gotten some very bad news from back home, and the ship is months away from Earth. Relieved of duty and out of options, he sees only one way to ease the pain – by getting good and drunk and staying that way.

WIPpet Math:

  • Today is May 20, 2015.
  • I added the day (20), to its numerological value (2+0=2).
  • 22 mostly drunkenly short, only marginally coherent sentences, where Trip trips all over his thoughts, and his room…

Spinning 

You look at the bottles. Never thought you’d go through so many. You never much liked to drink alone. Your eyes go to the picture. You tried turning it upside down; you tried to put it in a drawer. Three weeks is a long time to try not to look at something, when it’s all you can think about. 

You’re tired. Exhausted. You stagger to your bed, pretending it’s not because you haven’t been sober since – awww, hell, since when? Since it had been long enough to be almost sure –

Almost. Filthiest word of ‘em all, almost. All. Most.

You fall on the bed; lie on your back, but the ceiling’s spinning. “Cap’n on the ceiling,” you say, and giggle. But it’s not funny, the spinning, any more than the Captain on the ceiling was for Miss Points’N’Logic. “She was my Cinderella. Now she’s the Evil Stepmother.” 

Logic. Damn her. Damn logic, the dirty word.

Why is Trip drinking? What’s he trying so hard to not think about? Why doesn’t he want to see that picture?

And, maybe most importantly, where, oh, where, does he come up with these nicknames for T’Pol?!

Because, I gotta say, ‘Miss Points’N’Logic’ has got to be one of my all-time favorites!

What will happen next?

  • There will be another post from the original story, Sticking Point for #8sunday
  • There’s now a sequel! In Pillow Talk? Trip wakes up in a compromising position…and that’s only the first surprise of this strange morning.

Looking for more WIPpet Snippets? Something less drunken, perhaps? Well, hop along with the little blue froggy; assorted genres, styles, and lengths of WIPpetty lily-pads to choose from! =D

At the Drop of Her Pheremones: The IDIC Romance for #WeWriWa #8Sunday

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday!

It’s the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Sign up below with your name, blog and email and share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Your post needs to be live between 12:00 noon on Saturday 05/16/15 and 9:00 AM on Sunday 05/17/15. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their 8sunday posts.

It’s a second chance to share a small snippet of my current writing. Most weeks, I tie them back to my WIPpet Wednesday post, so reading both can give a deeper peek…

Disclaimers:

  • Trip, T’Pol, and Star Trek: Enterprise belong to Paramount, even if Paramount has forgotten all about them…it was their own idea to go to the Everglades.
  • This is an extrapolated “might-have-been” story. No real spoilers; just what Trip and T’Pol show me…

This post is rated PG-13 for suggestiveness.

This snippet follows a few paragraphs after last week’s WIPpet Wednesday  post, She is Fierce”. 

T’Pol, Burning, wants to explore the Everglades, all alone with her husband, by canoe. All attempts to dissuade her by logical means have failed.

I’m offering ten sentences today, because the new rules let me! =D

He got up from his chair, went the three steps to her – furthest she’d let him get away from her in days, and Trip couldn’t decide if it felt good, or if he just wished she still wanted him right where she could grab him at the drop of her pheremones.

“I’m with you, pepperpot. Don’t worry, Doc – I’ll take care of her, and keep her safe. You can meet us at the chickee – but give us -” he looked up at the sky, to a sun that was just past noon – “well – give us till it gets all the way dark, will ya? Cap’n’ll be happy to beam you in.”

“This is unwise, Commanders -”

“Desist!” T’Pol grabbed up the paddle, her hands clenched around the pole, like it was a weapon. She gasped out a couple of breaths, breasts heaving in a way that was doing things to him – she hadn’t worn a bra or panties in weeks, and still he couldn’t get enough of the way she looked in just a T-shirt, with her hair growing out and curling at the ends in the humid air. “Your objections have been noted, but I am Burning, not ill.”

Will T’Pol keep her cool, or use that paddle on someone? Will Trip keep his cool, or show her how delicious she is in just her T-shirt? Will they stay, or will they go?

In case you don’t want to play guessing games, here’s the full story in a three-part arc:

  • Fierce:  One very determined, and very, well, passionate, Vulcan woman, and the man who loves her enough to paddle her canoe.
  • Telling Stories: Trapped in an Everglades lightning storm with a critically ill wife, Trip tries to tell her a story…
  • Don’t Shave:A drabble (100 word story) that wraps up the Everglades story arc.

Want more #8Sunday? 

Sticking to the Plan: The IDIC Romance for SoCS and #STaD

Rowing down the Stream of Consciousness. Badge by Doobster@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:stick”.

Since it’s also International Short Story Month, and I’m actively participating in Story a Day May, I combined this prompt with the second person POV limit prompt, and used both to create the story. What appears here is the beginning of a 1900+ word short story, Sticking Point”: Torn by unanswerable questions, a drunk Trip Tucker is offered acceptance and healing from an unexpected source. Clicking the title will take you to the full story. 

Disclaimers: 

  • Trip, T’Pol, Hoshi, and Star Trek: Enterprise belong to Paramount, even if Paramount has forgotten all about them…I’ve picked them out of the dustbin, brushed them off, and let them go…
  • This is an extrapolated “missing scene” story, detailing some of what might have happened during the months’ long and scarcely shown return to Earth in S2E26 “The Expanse”.  Spoilers for that episode; mild spoilers for S2E1: Shockwave: Part II

Sticking Point 

“You’re not drunk.” You stare into the mirror, and ignore the multiple images. “Man’s gotta stick to his guns.” You shake your head, hoping the images will resolve into one.

Is that logical?

“Uh uh. Logic – and people who spout it like they’re geysers – got no place here in my head, not tonight. Nope. Not even if they’re beautiful and brilliant and complicated enough that you could spend a lifetime getting to know them.”

A lifetime – aww, hell…

Shaking your head damned sure didn’t work – now though were four of everything, or maybe five. Didn’t matter. Nother drink would fix things, get those multiple images to stick together, resolve back into one.

Logic.

Lifetimes.

“Damned curse words.” No room for them in your head. Curses on the curses. “Hell with ’em,” you mutter. “Hell with you, too,” you tell the multiple images of yourself. “Nother drink, that’s all I need. That’s my story, and I’m stickin’ to it.”

But another drink only brings things like logic and lifetimes closer; you can feel them breathing hot breath, and cold, down the back of your neck, shivering through your spine, freezing and burning at the same time. Damned dirty words. Why do they always stick around, when – when –

No. Not thinkin’ that. Nothing can make you, not so long as there’s a bottle. And there’s lotsa bottles; you’ve been collecting alcohol since the mission started, askin’ pretty much everyone to give you a little of whatever they brought, anything they found on the planets they visited.

You never really expected to drink it out here, stuck in space. You were gonna bring it home –

“Stop it.” You stare at the bottle you hold – sake, from Hoshi. Just a little bottle, this one. She said her father had given it to her, to toast herself when she wasn’t frightened. You didn’t tell her that you thought her father was kind of an arrogant ass, to send his brave but sensitive daughter out here with a bottle that about screamed he expected her to put her tail between her legs at every lightyear, the way Pothos had when he saw Phlox’s bat for the first time. You don’t tell her that, because you like Hoshi, and you’re damned proud of how far she’s come, even if her horse’s ass of a small sake bottle giving father isn’t.

She’s like a little sister to you –

Stick to the plan, Tucker. Words you don’t say. Little, anywhere near sister. Logic. Lifetime.” There were other words, but you’ve forgotten them – better that way. If only these didn’t seem to be on an endless loop in your head.

If only you hadn’t been relieved of duty, forcefully, because of logic.

“No. Dirty word.” You drain the sake, because you can’t drown yourself in your work if the Cap’n won’t ket you anywhere near Engineering. Said you were a menace to the ship – what the hell does he know, anyway? You could’ve gotten those shiny, barely broke in engines up to Warp Six, maybe Six Point Five. You’d’ve worked on the damned structural integrity after; ship wouldn’t have come apart – logic be damned; that woman’s not an engineer, or an architect….

Architect. You strangle a cry; won’t let it out of your throat to breathe. It wants to stick a knife in your heart, that word.

Architect. It’s knifing and twisting, and you’re dangling on its point. Its points – her points, and her damned logic…You throw the bottle at the mirror; it’s leaving your hand before you know what you’ve done. You twist that cry into a laugh that sounds maniacal even in your own ears.

Good. Anti-logic. Just what you need. “Stick that in your damned logic pipe, and smoke it,” you say, and laugh at the shattered glass and the dripping sake.

Will Trip drink himself into oblivion? Will he get answers?

Will Trip drink himself into oblivion? Will he get answers?

What is he trying not to think about? Will the Cap’n let him go back to work?

Will I manage a story a day all month?

We’ll have to see about that. But, as for the story questions, you can learn the answers by clicking the story title, Sticking Point”, here or above.

Have you tried stream-of consciousness writing? Come join in there’s just a few simple rules.

Get more SoCS!

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Grateful Growth: May 13, 2015

ROWin’ through the rapids, and on to smoother waters.

Before I get on to today’s update…

Thank YOU!

Sunday was a tricky day for me.

It can be scary, talking about things that hurt, things that can’t be made better, but only lived with, imperfectly. Laying myself bare is something I do better through fiction or poetry than in plain text.

But so many people stopped by, with a few kind words, and sometimes pain of their own. Pain I understand…pain I’d wish on no one.

Sharing that kind of pain has healing in it for me, and I hope it did for those who bravely revealed their heartbreaks, and for those who only read, too…

Thanks for being here, with me, whatever your stories…

And, speaking of stories, here are my most recent Story a Day tales:

  • Get Out Your White Hat: Trip’s been caught red – uhh – lipped, and the tempting Vulcan has clearly gotten the wrong idea, and is not amused.
  • Fierce:  One very determined, and very, well, passionate, Vulcan woman, and the man who loves her enough to paddle her canoe.
  • Telling Stories: Trapped in an Everglades lightning storm with a critically ill wife, Trip tries to tell her a story…

And, as a special treat, here’s my 100 word Drabble, in its entirety (reading the preceding two stories will add context, but isn’t necessary). No, I don’t own the characters; nor do I profit in any monetary fashion from playing with them. It’s pure love, plain and simple.

Don’t Shave”

Falling.

Into flames.

Into nothing –

T’Pol threw her arms out. There must be an edge –

No.

But there was a scent, a mind –

Moving bands of color.

‘Red on yellow; kill a fellow.’

Danger!”

She jerked up too quickly, almost toppled. Was caught. Held in strong arms.

Shhh, pepperpot. You’re safe. We’re home.”

Safe? Home?” Eyelids parted. Not enough to see his face. “Trip?”

He helped her trembling hand. Bliss of touch, but this was uncharted terrain.

T’hy’la?”

Yes, pepperpot?”

Sigh of pleasure; fingertips caressing newly bearded cheek.

Don’t shave.”

Treasured human laughter followed her into dreams.

It could possibly be that I am imbuing T’Pol with my own love of a bearded male face – but I think it’s more that those incredibly sensitive Vulcan fingertips find the exploration too good to give up…but that’s another story, and not one I’m telling today, because we’ve got goals to chat about! =D

My updated Round 2 goalsand 2015 goals.

Color-coding key:

  • Goal attained (for the session, or the round) = blue with overstrike.

  • Goal in progress (for the session or the round) = green.

  • Goal-in-waiting (for the round) = red.

Writing:

Continue Kifo Island Chronicles Series:

  • Generations (KIC#2): Continue writing a minimum of 1 scene/week; will be a back burner project till June. Nothing new. Next up: Keep going…
  • Sea Changes: (KIC#3): Complete all planning and plotting; ready to go for JuNoWriMo. This will happen piecemeal, for now…beginning with rereading all background material and stories for the POV characters.

Draft 31 Story a Day May Trip and T’Pol stories. Use prompts.

  • 13/31 stories drafted, and almost 32,000 new words since the beginning of May. Next up, drafting remaining 18 daily stories; completing note transcription/development for remaining 16 ideas; and adding to idea list.

Editing:

  • Complete revisions for “Slow Jazz Awakening” and submit. Delete’ snippets to IDIC slush pile, tagging those destined for future stories; 16/16 scenes complete. Word count now down from 13,782 to 10,674. Began general to-do list for next revision pass -will continue organically, from here. Next up: Reread scenes and notes.

  • Move “Peach Liqueur Love” through Step 3 of Sarah Selecky’s  Deep Revision exercises. Reread original story, early revision notes, and first two completed exercises. Next up: Reread relevant exercises; and do Exercise #3.

Blogging:

  • Complete all sponsor visits on time; visit 3 other blog hop and challenge participants each day, on average. Still ahead.
  • Clean up/update blog sidebar. Updated challenges; explored some new widget ideas. Next up: Play with some widgets! =D
  • Beginning May 1, post for StaD each day – a story; a snippet, a story spark; or an essay on progress or process. All caught up, didn’t stay that way before. Next up: Continue, and develop some update posts…like for Mindful Monday.

Hometending:

  • Continue with hometending. At least 5 days weekly; include decluttering and yard projects minimum of 3 days. 2/5 days; 1/3 yard/declutter. Mellow so far this week. Still a little emotionally worn. Next up: Continue this trend, paying attention to my own needs for activity and rest.

Lifetending:

  • Continue one-on-one time with all beloveds; online and in-person writerly socialization; time with friends; social media. Blogs and comments; a bit of Facebook; hangout time with each of my beloveds. Next up: More of this.
  • Expand and extend in ways that feel natural and challenging without forcing. Try two new things each week. 1/2 new things – bought pansies on a whim. Next up….we’ll see!

Selftending:

  • Continue physical activity and exercise – 3 times/week at minimum. 1/3: Yardtending/decluttering Tuesday. Next up: More moving; more tending; more exercise; more t’ai chi.
  • Attend t’ai chi weekly. Add one at-home practice move per week. This week’s move: Cloud Hands. Car trouble – no class so far this week. Next up: Possibly attend Thursday class. Practice. Because practice makes better.
  • Meditate/Intentions journal twice weekly. 1 /2: Meditation; 0 /2: Intentions Journal. Next up: Cement meditation habit; catch up with Intentions journal.

Click the icon to enter the blog hop and ROW away!