Serah of the Runners Chapter 2: A Shadow on Luna

The second chapter of my fourth novel, Serah of the Runners, is now live! You can now read A Shadow on Luna. This second chapter delves into some new characters that are going to significatly influence the fate of our heroes (and villains). But you spoilers still!!! If you have not read The Battle for Langeles you may want to do so first.

You can find my first three entries to the series here

Serah of the Runners is due out October 17th 2019! Preorder coming soon!

Chapter 2

 

A Shadow on Luna

 

“So that’s it?”

Kirka stood looking at her console. Her brown hair held streaks of gray and her short slender form shaped by the low gravity of Luna and a lifetime of food rations hovered just above her chair. Her sharp nose and hollow cheeks deepened the power of the gaze for her gray eyes.

“That’s it,” said Loni.

Loni was her opposite, short with darker skin and light hazel eyes. Everything about Loni, was round. Kirka had always wondered how, despite the lack of gravity of Luna, Loni had stayed so healthy and thick. Most Lunites were thin and wispy, but Loni, considered one of the most beautiful women of Luna, had her pick of all the men with her curvy feminine form.

The end was coming now, the image on the screen showed streaks of light, flaming arrows ready to end their world in fire. Most of the Lunites had no idea of their fate. But now, Kirka and Loni did. There were rumors, of course, hints that ROAM’s hostility had finally reached a critical point. Doomsday prophets preached from every corner that Kirka would let them. Of course, with such a small population, people didn’t pay them much mind, especially since the commons was only a twelve hundred meters long in the underground of Luna.

Kirka said, “Dammit, how could do they do this to us? After all we’ve done for them. They wouldn’t exist without all of our efforts. Centuries of work and neither of us have anything to show for it.

Loni said, “They’re jealous; they’ve always been jealous Commander.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming. I should have been suspicious when our delegation never arrived at their destination.”

“You don’t think it was an accident, do you?”

“I had my doubts, but now I see that all they wanted was our Solidonium.”

Loni said, “I don’t think most of ROAM knew what was happening and, well it’s not like we could skim that Asshole Ithica from here is it? He was probably planning this the whole time. Maybe only a few in his inner circle knew. Most of the Martians seemed open to long-standing trade, and I know at least a dozen people who were ready to migrate over there.”

Kirka shook her head. “We should have known when Ithaca won that election. All that talk of purity and now…”

Loni said, “I can’t believe there’s so much hate for telepaths there.”

To say that there was hatred for telepaths on ROAM might have been an understatement. When they had first learned that nearly a quarter of Luna 1 and Luna 2 were telepaths, and that the entire power structure of Luna surrounded telepathy, ROAM had stopped transmitting to Luna for two months. It seemed in that time that the key issue of the bi-annual elections on ROAM centered around what to do around Luna. Of course, it was Luna who needed ROAM more than ROAM needed Luna, especially now that all of Luna’s ships were filled with Solidsonium and more than halfway to ROAM. It was if the moment they had launched aid to their neighbors, the doors had closed. Those ships were supposed to be coming back filled with parts to upgrade and repair both Luna’s alcoves and food dispensers, something that all Luna desperately needed. But now that the ships were more than halfway, there was no turning back. Even if they reversed course, it would be 37 months for return with the remaining fuel and the pilots didn’t have enough supplies to survive that long.

Kirka said, “AI, How long till impact?”
“Commander, at their current velocity, the rockets will impact Luna 1 in 13 months, 5 days and 12 hours and Luna 2 thirty-four minutes later.”

Loni said, “Should would turn the ships around?”

Kirka thought long and hard, so long, that Loni repeated her question, but in direct mind to mind contact, as if Kirka hadn’t heard.

“I heard you. There’s no help for us. The ships would never make it back in time, and even if they did, they could only accommodate a few hundred, not even a third of our population. Plus, there are the pilots to think about isn’t there.”

Loni frowned, “What do you think they’ll do to Darsee and Collin when they get to ROAM?”

“Neither of them is telepathic, so they might be okay. It’s certainly better than dying of starvation, isn’t it? If the ships had an alcove, then maybe it would be worth turning them around.”

“And what if they decide to execute them or torture them?”

The lines on Kirka’s face deepened. “Even if we did call them back, Where would go?”

“There’s always earth.”

Kirka snorted. “You really want to go there, don’t you? That has to be the fifth time in the last six months you’ve suggested it. Have you seen any of the latest climate reports? Things are getting worse, not better. Besides, it’s not like anyone’s even alive down there.”

“Underground maybe?”

“It’s moot though isn’t it? It will take the ships twice as long to get back here as it will the rockets. We’re done. It’s over and no doubt the stabilizers will fail, and the moon will end any chance the earth might have had for recovery.”

For the centuries since the Lunar war split Luna into two discreet pieces, Kirka and the other survivors of that war had maintained the Lunar orbit above earth. Luna was on a slow decay and the power required to stabilize the orbit in full was far beyond their reach. They best they could do was delay the orbital decay and hope like hell, their best scientist, Loridian, could find a solution in the long term.

Loni said, “We should give them a choice.”

“The pilots?”

Loni nodded.

Kirka ran her hand through her hair and closed her eyes for a moment. Both pilots knew in advance that this was likely a one-way trip. Both had nothing to live for on Luna, and it was why they were both chosen. They were expecting to start a life on Mars. Still, that was a far cry different from going into what was now enemy territory with no way of defending yourself.

“That’s fair. They deserve to make the choice. AI?”

“Yes, Commander Kirka?”

“The next time we are in broadcast alignment for the shuttles, will you notify me so that I can send a message?”

“Yes, Commander.”

Loni jumped and floated to another consule. This one closer to Kirka.“When are you going to tell everyone?”

“Tell them what? That ROAM, the people that we spent so many months convincing everyone to help has betrayed us and sent rockets to destroy us?”

“Yeah, that thing.”

“I don’t know Loni. You know what it’s going to do to everyone? You know how tense things are already? Thousands of people suddenly told they are going to die? We might tear ourselves apart before those missiles reach us.”

“They have a right to know.”

“They do. But how much time in advance?”

Kirka wished she had the answers, but no matter how many years she served as commander, no matter how many times the council reappointed her, there was simply no easy answer here.

“I have to think about it Loni.”

“And the council?”

“This is a security issue. I am in sole command of security. All those five will do is to complicate the issue. Better to hold out for now.”

“They’ll stick you back in storage if you do that.”

Kirka shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. I am not interested in turning those rockets into another excuse for political theater. You know how Grayson and Sanders get.”

Loni nodded. “Well, don’t think too hard about it. You know that’s not going to help.”

“I need to get some rest. I’ve been on for 18 hours now. AI?”

“Yes, Commander?”

“Keep all information about the incoming projectiles classified until I deem otherwise, maximum security clearance.”

“Yes, commander.”

 

 

 

 

2.

 

Historians Note to the Text

 

Commander Raldaz Kirka had a long record of military service. Officially a military representative of the mid 21st century European Union, she lead the war on Luna for the Europeans and Americans against the Chinese and Russians. During the day of the great split, in which a fusion core ruptured and split the moon into Luna 1 and Luna 2, Commander Kirka was severely injured. She spent nearly a century inside an alcove. Upon revival, she was immediately commissioned to take control of both Luna 1 and Luna 2 which, were on the verge of total collapse from high crime rates, severe food shortages, and two warring gangs. At first, she was considered a poor leader, one of strict and apathetic persuasion, but, when after only a single year, Lunites found peace and stability, her talents were recognized, and she maintained command for centuries until the conflict with ROAM and the beginning of the Great Migration.

 

For more on Commander Raldaz Kirka, including her published works, biography and genealogical relations to Matron Angela, visit library 34n in section 9143.

 

Matron Mariposa Phillips 832.1.6 I.S.

 

 

3.

Three days. For three days and nights Kirka tossed and turned and paced and braced herself for what she needed to do. She needed to tell Luna general, needed to announce to all her people that the end was coming and that death was a certainty. She tried to discover a way out, a route toward liberation, but it seemed certain that there was no path forward. So far, she had only told Loridian, and had then spent nearly every free moment for two days grilling them on possible strategies for saving Luna. Loridian had no answers.

Now she stood on the deck of her command, one of the only spots that had an open view of the surface of Luna 2 and allowed for a view of the greater starfield, and of the earth. She gazed down at the planet. Loni had been right, even a descent into the wasteland on the surface would have given some hope to the people. Even that would have provided them with an opportunity to rally around something, to cradle it and give birth to a chance. But they were denied even that.

“Commander, my long range scopes are detecting something coming our direction.”

“Yes, I know, you don’t have to remind me AI.”

“Commander, this object is different than the projectiles.”

She walked from the window and over to her center console.

“What? Describe it.”

“The object is massive and is approaching at a steady speed from the direction of earth.”

“From Earth?”

“Yes, Commander.”

“What is it?”

“At this time, that is unknown. However, it has adjusted course on several occasions since I began tracking it, which would indicate that it is a humanmade object.”

“How long have you been tracking it?”

“Twenty-three hours.”

“And why didn’t you say something about it before?”

“The parameters you set for detection of an object require that I verify whether it is a naturally occurring or a manmade if time permits.”

“Fine, How big is it?”

“Exact dimensions are difficult to calculate from this distance, but it appears to be more than fifty kilometers in width and fifteen kilometers in height. I cannot tell the other dimensions from this angle.”

“Too large for a ship then. AI whats the ETA of the object?” 

“Commander, at its current velocity, the object will reach Luna 2 in eighteen days, five hours and fifteen minutes.”

“I want you to alert me the moment you know more; anything at all do you understand?”

Kirka’s heart was pounding. She didn’t know why, but something about this object gave her a strange sense of hope. It wasn’t a natural object, so it could it be one of the long lost colonies from the asteroid belt? But that didn’t make any sense since it was coming from earth did it?

“Acknowledged commander.”

Kirka spun around in her chair and moved to her screen for a closer look. The object appeared to be some kind of oblong disc but in the scopes it was tiny.

“AI will you contact Loridian?”

“Captain, Luna 1 will not be in broadcast alignment for 2 more hours.”

“Fine, alert me when it’s time.”

Luna 1 no longer had any way of detecting long-range threats, not after the meteor shower had damaged their scopes a few decades back, so it was up to Kirka to be the eyes and ears of Luna general.

Kirka paced back and forth. Loni was late. She was always late for shift change, and Kirka was growing tired of that. Why had she promoted her in the first place? It’s not like she didn’t have others that she could have picked.

The object intrigued her. If it was making course corrections and coming from the planet, what did that mean?

“AI, what is the likelihood that this is a transport vehicle?”

“Probability is high.”

“Why’s that?”

“During the end of the 21st century, there was the development of technology that would be capable of moving thousands of humans into space at one time. There was also the development of the technology to move entire cities.”

“We know that failed. We know cities never walked and that it was just a pipe dream before the Lunar war made things on the surface worse.”

“Commander, there is no reason to assume it failed. Just because we lost contact with the surface does not necessitate failure.”

What if it was a ship or a transport? Would they be able to accommodate all the Lunites? Could it be Earthlings? They had watched the earth for centuries now and had been certain that if all the population wasn’t dead, that they were at best scattered or more likey underground. But their scopes weren’t that powerful, everything that allowed for long distance viewing and been destroyed in the Lunar War. They had only discovered that ROAM was still around out of sheer dumb luck when ROAM had sent a transmission exactly as their communication array was aligned with the planet a few decades earlier.

For now, though, they would watch and wait and see what the object was. Maybe just maybe, when she announced that ROAM had sent missiles to destroy them, she would have good news as well. After all, it wasn’t as if their situation could get worse than impending doom right?

Serah of the Runners Chapter 1: A Long Way Down

I am very happy to finally post the first chapter of my fourth novel, Serah of the Runners. The book picks up just where Upon Stilted Cities: The Battle for Langeles left off… which means there are huge huge spoilers for this chapter! If you have not read The Battle for Langeles you may want to do so first. You can find my first three entries to the series here

Serah of the Runners is due out October 17th 2019! Preorder coming soon!

Chapter 1

A Long Way Down

 

Frank walked back down the corridor toward his station. It was time to get back to work. With Saud destroyed, the last thing Manhatsten needed right now was a clogged recycling system. Work was good at times like this. There were still rumors of a few of those strange battles on the streets, but any sanitation worker knew the networks of tunnels just below the surface of the city, and so they avoided the conflict. Even when the city was in chaos, sanitation still had to do its job.

Jenny said, “So what do you think will happen now, Frank?”

“Don’t know. Never survived a war between cities before. I ain’t that old.”

Zelda said, “Can you believe how fast we’re moving since Saud blew up? I never knew the city could move like that.”

Then, the motion of the city shifted. Frank grabbed a guard rail and steadied himself. Both of the women did the same. The city was stopping. After several moments of silence, Frank let go of the rail and resumed his trek down the corridor.

“Speak of the devil huh?” Frank scratched his head. “The city isn’t supposed to be able to move that fast, I don’t think. But, maybe someone in the Uppers figured something out.”

Zelda said, “I wonder why the hell they stopped in the middle of a storm warning.”

Jenny said, “Maybe the battle isn’t over?”

Frank said, “What do you mean? Everyone saw that blast from Saud. They’re just mopping up the few that got inside now.”

Zelda stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Frank.”

Frank turned. Jenny was several steps behind Zelda and also paused. “Yeah?”

“Frank… have you ever heard of a city blowing up like that before?”

Frank thought about it. He thought of all the stories and the vid screen films about battles with other cities. He thought about how they used those giant guns and how they took shots at each other’s shields. But now that Zelda had pointed it out, he couldn’t remember a city ever becoming a giant ball of light and disappearing all at once. He was sure he wouldn’t have believed it himself if he hadn’t seen the thing with his own eyes.

“No… No, I don’t think so.”

Zelda frowned. “Something’s wrong Frank. I can feel it in my gut. Why else would we stop in the middle of a storm warning? Ain’t never happened before as far as I know.”

They fell silent and resumed walking and entered central sanitation. The dank air was familiar and comforting to Frank. A lot of people complained about working in sanitation, but he loved it. Did he wish the pay was a little better? Sure, but the job was just fine. He didn’t mind getting dirty. It was a job worth doing, a job to feel useful; a job that if it didn’t get done, it would cost lives. A man couldn’t ask for a job more important than that. He was necessary, and that was satisfying.

They only needed to do a routine check. There was a full crew working already, but with the battle, Frank wanted to be sure there weren’t any other hidden problems. Michael, Andrea, and Scott were working hard. When they saw the trio, Frank asked, “How’s it going down here? Any surprises?”

Michael shook his head, and his long beard waggled back and forth below his chin. “Nah. Everything’s running like clockwork. Andrea had to climb up into one of the pipes and deal with a blockage, but other than that, nada.”

Frank glanced over Michael’s shoulder at Andrea, who looked surprisingly clean for climbing up inside a pipe.

“How’d you get out clean?”

Andrea’s dark eyes regarded Frank. He knew she hated his guts, but he couldn’t understand why. Might have been something to do with the fact that she had the sense of humor like an angry hedgehog. “I already went through decon.”

“Ah. You lose a toss or something?”

“No, I volunteered.” Her words were sharp and curt.

Frank nodded and looked around. “Jenny, will you head back and check on the bio recycler?”

Michael said, “I think Scott’s back there already.”

Frank said, “Yeah, doesn’t hurt to have two eyes on it, though, does it?”

Michael shrugged. “Sure thing, boss.”

For a little while, Michael and Frank caught up while Zelda and Jenny double-checked everything. There was tension between the two teams; there always was. Michael liked Frank okay, but he hated Zelda. Andrea hated Frank, and Jenny, after bawling her eyes out over Jose, had slept with Scott and the aftermath was less than ideal. He was hoping that sending Jenny back with Scott would force them to talk things out a little, but that was probably unrealistic.

When Frank was satisfied that everything was in order, he called Jenny and Zelda and bid farewell to the other team. The three of them would be back on the clock in another nine hours again, and so there was no point in lingering too long.

The trio walked up the corridor for several dozen meters in silence. Frank took the lead. He thought maybe Jenny would have something to say to Zelda about Scott and wanted to give them both a little room.

It was Jenny that broke the silence, “I’ve been thinking…”  

In the silence of Jenny’s pause, Zelda said, “You and Scott get things figured out?”

Jenny’s eyes were glassy but cleared for a moment as she looked up and over at Zelda. “What? No, nothing to do with that. Scott is… Never mind.”

Frank turned and, walking backward, said, “What then?”

Jenny said, “I was thinking about what we were talking about before, been thinking about it a lot. A city shouldn’t blow up like that. It’s not right.”

Frank said, “Why’s that?”

“We learned all about city combat in scholar school.”

“You went to scholar school?” asked Frank.

“Yeah… but I dropped out. I was… I studied city mechanics. I wanted to be a shield engineer; you know, one of those people who jumps around on those harnesses checking the shield ribs for energy fluctuations? But well… there was an accident when we were up one day… and I couldn’t go back…”

Jenny leaned against the wall, grabbing for something to hold on to, as if the terrible thing was happening all over again. Frank had seen that look before in Jose’s eyes, how they grew like deep wells of pain overflowing with something dark and sticky, something he couldn’t ever really escape. He supposed maybe that’s why Jenny had liked Jose so much; she saw something familiar in him, a shared experience of horror and trauma.

Zelda changed the subject. “So, why shouldn’t a city blow up like that?”

The light came back into Jenny’s eyes. She blinked. She said, “Because cities are too big to blow up at once… unless…”

Frank said, “Unless what?”

“Unless they destroyed the core.”

“The core?”

“Yeah, you know, the power core that makes all cities function. Our professor told us it’s like a miniature sun. But, she also said that it was near impossible to destroy.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because the architects planned for just about everything. She said that another city could shoot at the core’s location for a year and they would never get to it. The whole core is encased in Solidsonium and a second internal EnViro shield. You’d have to destroy both things at the same time, and that’s supposed to be impossible from the outside.”

Zelda said, “So wait, what you’re telling us is that Manhatsten didn’t win the battle?”

Jenny said, “No… at least not by attacking from the outside.”

There was silence for a moment. Frank felt his gut clench.

He said, “Jenny, what could destroy a core?”

“Our professor said that only two things could destroy one. The first was a critical overload. But, you’d have to be an architect for that, only they know the codes and the exact sequence required to start the process. And we only have one architect left, and I don’t see him going over to Saud in the middle of a battle with no way back, do you?”

Frank and Zelda shook their head in unison.

Zelda said, “And the other one?”

Jenny said, “It’s also not possible.”

Zelda said, “Why not?”

“Because you would need an atomic weapon and you’d have to detonate it inside of the core past both the Solidsonium and the EnViro shield. But that can’t happen.”

Frank said, “No?”

“Well again, you’d need to have access, so you’d have to be a high ranking person inside the city in the first place. Second, no one has even seen an atomic weapon in a thousand years. We think maybe the architects purposely made sure they were gone and buried before the cities started walking. They didn’t want humans lobbing nukes at each other once the inevitable conflict started. They were trying to get the environment to heal, and a weapon like that would make things far worse.

Frank opened his mouth to speak, but it Zelda cut him off. “But what if someone found one?”

No one spoke for a moment. That tightness in Frank’s chest grew. Then he said, “You don’t think there’s one of those on Manhatsten do you? Like, if we did that to Saud, couldn’t they do it to us?”

Jenny said, “I don’t know. I mean, we are the good guys, aren’t we? Didn’t Saud attack us first?”

But no one ever had the chance to answer that question. The whole of the city shifted. It was as if some angry deity had picked the city up and lurched it hard sideways, shaking all the domed contents within like a snow globe. All three slammed against the wall, and Frank felt a blinding pain on the side of his head. Everything went black for a moment.

He scrambled around, his hands clawing for something to grasp. Frank grabbed the rail leading up the stairs. The whole of the city shook. With Saud gone, what the hell was happening? Was it the core? Was the same thing happening to them as it had in Saud? But that didn’t seem right. Saud had vanished almost instantly, and the fragments had scattered to the four winds.

Something was wrong with the city. The floor was tilting, and he felt the weight of gravity tugging at his back. He didn’t know how he knew, but the city was falling. Something had knocked them over or had destroyed the legs.

“Zelda!”

“Right here.” Frank looked back and saw the familiar outline of Zelda’s thin, birdlike form. She was clinging to the railing now too.
            “Is Jenny back there?”

“Here, Frank.”

Good, we gotta get out of here. I think the city is falling…”

Neither of the women contested this point. It was the only explanation. A massive jolt and suddenly, the floor shifts? The only thing that could do that was the city falling over.

The tug of gravity grew, an irresistible mistress. It took all of Franks effort to hold on. The stairway had disappeared below him. He was dangling; the pull on his large belly was immense.

Jenny screamed, but Frank couldn’t turn around. His entire focus was on holding the railing. He had no idea how much longer he could hold on. The angle grew deeper with every passing moment, and it was all he could do to keep from falling back into the long corridor that led to the heart of central sanitation. How far was he from the door that led inside? He didn’t want to find out.

“I got you,” said, Zelda. But again, Frank couldn’t look back.

“Zelda, you gotta get you and Jenny around me somehow. I…”

“You’re not gonna fall, Frank. We won’t let you.”

“Yeah well, you always warned me this gut was gonna get me killed, and it looks like you’re right. I can’t hold on much longer, especially since it’s almost a straight drop now.”

Frank knew if the city was falling, it didn’t matter. They could all die now, or they would die later when the shield failed, or a storm came, or in a hundred other terrible ways. But the survival instinct in Frank made him hold, made him grip tight. If nothing else, he wanted to see his wife one last time before he died and he couldn’t do that if he let go.

Frank felt his fingers slipping.

“Dammit, ladies. You gotta get around me or get to the other railing or something. You don’t want to be underneath me if I fall.”

Jenny wept. Frank was glad to hear it, it meant she was still there, still alive, still holding on tight.

Zelda said, “No, Frank. I’ve been at this too long with you. If you go down, we go down together.”

Jenny’s sobs increased, and through mumbles and tears, she said, “I don’t want to die.”

Frank tried to adjust his grip, but he lost one of his hands off the railing. Later, he would wonder how the hell he managed to swing his arm back up and grab hold again, but for now, as his whole body reached back up, he felt a sense of comfort in reestablishing his grip.

“Frank, don’t you dare let go. Your wife would never let me hear the end of it.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m doing my best, but please Zelda, get you and Jenny across or around me. I can’t do this much longer.”

The city dipped forward, and now they were hanging vertically down the stairwell.

Zelda said, “Shit. Well…” she shifted her grip, and now Frank could see both Zelda and Jenny fighting to hold on.

Tears streaked down the side of Jenny’s face. At that moment, he was glad they were both petite women. It made it easier for them to hold on longer. He, however, wasn’t going to be able to do it.

Zelda said, “Well, you don’t have to worry about knocking us down now do you?”

Frank said, “Guess not. Guess we gotta play the game like in school, huh? Who can hold on the longest?”

Zelda said, “Ha, you’re screwed then Frank, I always won that game.”

Even at that moment, Frank couldn’t help but crack a smile. Here they were dangling down what had to be several dozen stories of corridor, and he couldn’t help but grin. He guessed that even if he didn’t die today, he would probably die grinning and laughing.

His arms trembled from the strain. The metal of the square railing dug into his fingers, leaving deep grooves bright with pain.

“Zelda.”

She looked up at him, a grave expression on her face.

“Zelda, you’re the best friend a man could ask for, you know that?”

“Don’t let go Frank.” Her voice shook. “Please don’t.”

“I don’t wanna, but let me say this. It’s been an honor working with you all these years, Zelda.” The noise of cities tremors echoed up and down the corridor and Frank had to raise his voice.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better friend at work. And you, Jenny, I wish I had the chance to get to know ya a little better.” He readjusted his grip, but he could feel his fingers slipping. His right hand was numb, and his left a blazing fire. “It’s been great working with both of you. I only wish I could see Jose’s dopey face one last time.”

“Hold on Frank; we’ll figure a way out of this. We always do.”

But Frank’s fingers couldn’t do it anymore. His arms had never felt strain quite like that. No matter how hard he wanted to hang on, he couldn’t. There would be no grabbing hold again this time.

“Goodbye Zelda. Hang on as long as you can. Tell my wife I love her, alright?”

He let go.

He started to fall. There was a sense of freedom in it. He thought for a moment that maybe if everyone had just learned to let go like he just did, that maybe, just maybe the world would be a little happier.

He looked down and watched as the corridor stretched out before him. It seemed to take an age to fall. Time stretched like the entire lifetime of the universe was available to him now to think about all the things he loved about his life and all the things he regretted. First, his fondest memories flooded him. He thought of the lifetime of laughter and friends and family. Then he thought of Jose. He thought about how he had felt so helpless when he the SO’s arresting him. He thought about the last uprising and how so many people he knew were sentenced to the Runnercore or were killed, all because of the greed in the city. He wished he had been more outspoken, or that he had done something to change their fates. Frank wished that he had taken a stand and right there, he promised himself that if somehow he survived the fall, he would stand and be true. It was too late now though wasn’t it? The ground was rushing up toward him, and in a few seconds, his life would be over.

But then all motion stopped. For a moment, Frank thought he had hit the other end of the corridor, but looking around, he realized that he was hovering, mid-air. Nervous about his strange circumstances, Frank looked around for something to hold on to, but there was only the concrete wall. His stomach flipped, as it did in childhood when his father tossed him into the air. Then, he dropped to the floor, the actual floor. For Frank, the sweet comfort of stability on the ground married with the pain of his short fall.

He lay on his back, checking himself. His ass and his pride were bruised, but he had barely fallen a meter. What the hell had happened? Shouldn’t they all be crushed under the weight of the collapsed city? 

He heard footsteps and saw that both women were running toward him.

“Frank, you asshole.” Zelda’s voice shook, and there were tears down her cheeks. And then Zelda’s arms were around him, and then Jenny’s, and the three of them cried together. They were alive. The city was alive. They didn’t know what happened, but somehow everything was okay, at least for now.

 

2.

 

Dear Reader,

The lesson that Frank learned in those few moments when he expected death would stick

with him through the coming days, and the coming battles. For difficult times were ahead, and Frank would lose many of those he loved and cared about before it was all over.

When great change comes, it tears things asunder, it uproots the old and leaves us gasping and injured and exposed. In those times, we are raw nerves, bare roots, open flesh. But if we are willing, we can get up again. We have the chance to go forward into the world and take what we have learned and lost with us. Then, we may bandage our wounds and look often at our scars so that we do not make the same mistakes again.

See Frank now; see him for what he is. He is an ordinary man in extraordinary times. But in so many ways, it is the ordinary we need. Hope lay in the courage and the strength and the will to move forward in the ordinary so that we can give birth to the new.”

Matron Mariposa Phillips 833.12.13 I.S.

 

 

 

  1.  

 

They surfaced. Something was wrong with the light. Frank looked around. One of the buildings was leaning into another. Luckily, it was one of the shorter ones. People were scrambling out the front door before it collapsed, but most looked like they were okay. There were fresh cracks in the street, some as wide as a person. Everyone was outside. Many of those on the concrete and earth stood dazed and confused, statues frozen mid-moment like in the ancient city of Pompei. They were puzzled slices of life.

There were several fires, and a few people were doing their best to put them out. The old automated fire systems were working, but barely. Frank swore. They would have to go back and check the water pressure to ensure that there wasn’t a clog. If too much smoke filled the city…

Then, some of the gazes cast upward. People pointed up toward the EnViro shield. A conspiracy of whispers and hushed voices bathed the city in rapturous awe. They grew to mumbles and mutters in a slow drone. Someone screamed. Frank looked over and saw a woman fall to the ground. She hugged the earth as if it were her child, and she was saying goodbye to for the final time.

“Frank.” Even Zelda whispered. “Frank, what the hell is that?”

Frank traced the end of her finger skyward. His mouth opened to say something but then closed again. He felt vertigo and the sensation of the ground falling out from under him. He grabbed for Zelda and Jenny.

Jenny, clinging to him said, “That’s… that’s…”

Frank grabbed his chest. That terrible tightness was back, but this time, it shot down his arm. He fell to his knees, barely feeling the impact of bone on concrete as the shock rippled upward.

“Frank?”

Zelda was on him in a moment. “Frank, what is it?”

“I think… I think I’m having a heart attack.”

Jenny moaned. It was a loud and long wail. “That’s…”

Zelda helped lay Frank down gently. “We gotta get you to an alcove Frank. There’s an emergency one a few blocks away.”

Frank just nodded and laid on his back. The pain was less now, but there was a fog settling in over his mind. He stared up at the sky, drinking in the new and terrible view.

Jenny shouted. “Oh Gods. That’s earth. It’s earth. It’s earth. Why is earth in the sky?”

Jenny, too, fell to her knees and wept.

Frank watched the earth. He watched as it started to grow smaller in the sky. They were moving away from it now. To where, was anyone’s guess.

New Excerpt from Strange Reflections

Hello all,

This is an excerpt from the horror novel I am currently working on titled “Strange Reflections.” This passage is from Chapter 5: The Rescue Party.

If you are interested in this story you can read the first 3 chapters here.

Special thanks to my friend and fellow author Sarah Rosmond for the new image.

Enjoy!


Excerpt from Chapter 5

There was laughter echoing down the maze of mirrors, a slow rumbling movement of a malignant will. There was no source, but it filled her, penetrated her, and she felt a compulsion to stare at the nearest mirror.

Amanda turned and gazed long at the scar that ran up her face. As she looked at her reflection, the glass turned back time. Her wounds unknit and exposed flesh opened. She reached up to touch her face and felt the shock of the same pain she had felt on the day when the explosion had rocked her convoy. She pulled her hand away and looked down in the reflection and saw that there was blood. Then, shocked at the sight she lifted her same hand to her face and saw no blood. Looking again into the mirror she saw the wound gaping, bits of skin hanging from her mangled face. Her leg in the mirror was a shattered wreck. The moment her eyes touched the reflection of her leg, she felt the pain of her wound surge and grow till she crumbled to the floor.

It was the pain that broke her gaze. Later, she would realize it was the pain that protected her, had saved her from the madness of that moment.
But Armin was still staring. He was a statue, raptured by the seduction of his reflection. His body tensed. His fingers were flexing and clenching in rhythmic movement.

Armin’s jaw worked. “No.”

Amanda said, “Armin, what do you see? What is it?”
He stared into the reflective surface; his eyes fixed his mind focused. Amanda could see sweat gathering on his forehead in the dim light.
She thought about what she had seen and wondered if Armin saw that very same thing.

“No it’s not true.” His voice was barely a mask for his rage.

“Armin?” Her voice quivered. Gooseflesh took possession of every pore of her skin.

“Armin.” She stood, moved forward and rested her hand on his shoulder.

But Armin did something he had never done before, something that Amanda had never thought him capable of. Armin, the joker, as he was always known in the squad, had never seemed to have a hateful bone in his body. Armin, the person who was the life of the party, always quick with a joke or a sarcastic reply, did not even turn his head as he raised his left arm and punched Amanda hard in the face.

The blow was so violent and so forceful that Amanda couldn’t understand how he was able to gain the leverage he needed to knock her back. She stumbled and fell, a shot of pain crawling up her leg for her ancient wound, like tiny spiders nibbling on her nerves.

“Armin? Why?”

Armin screamed. He drew his pistol and fired, his finger worked and moved and gushed out lead into glass. The sound of the air changed quality as the ringing took possession of her ears. The mirror cracked and shattered and bits of glass fell to the ground and tinkled with an almost lyrical quality despite her muted ears. Armin fired till he was empty and then threw his sidearm at what remained.

Some of the scraps hung in malformed triangles and Armin screamed again, pounding his fists on the glass to knock out every tiny piece. Blood leaked on his forearms and gathered on the tips of the triangles. Some carried the stain with them as they fell to the ground.

Even as the last pieces fell to the floor, Armin did not stop. Instead, he began his work on the next mirror, and Amanda watched as the glass cut down deep to tendon and bone, though he seemed not to notice.

She had to do something. She forced her body up, her leg crying in agony as she did. She mustered all her strength and charged him. She felt the collision in every nerve, and as they both fell to the floor, bodies mingled from the impact. He moaned like an angry beast.

Armin’s blood flowed freely, and as Amanda lay on top of him, it seeped and stained into her skin and garments.

“Armin. Stop. You have to stop.” She shook him.

His eyes were glassy, and he craned his neck to try and gaze into yet another mirror. But Amanda, realizing that it was the pain that had broken her hypnosis grabbed one of his forearms where the glass had cut deep and squeezed as hard as she could. Armin yelped and looked at her, eyes full of rage.

“Armin snap out of it. Don’t look at the mirrors.”

But his neck stretched and reached for a glimpse like an addict craving a fix.

With her free hand, she smacked his face. It was barely a slap, but it was all she could muster.

He fixed his eyes on her again, the rage focused. He reached up and grabbed her by the throat for a few moments her held tight, and she could feel the blackness swarming behind her eyes. Just before she lost consciousness something softened in his eyes. He let go.

“Amanda?” His voice was rough and muted by the ringing in her ears.

“Armin…” She coughed and sputtered but forced her words through the mucus built up by his stranglehold. “Don’t… look… at… the… mirrors.”

He nodded and stared at her for a moment. “How did you get blood all over you?”

She returned his gaze. “Armin… look at your hands…”

He did. For the rest of her days, she would never forget the look of horror and revulsion on his face.

NaNoWriMo Winner!

I am very happy to say, that I successfully hit the minimum goal for NaNoWriMo this month working on my fourth book in the Chronicles of the Great Migration, Serah of the Runners. 

However, at 56007 words, the books is really only about half done. I do have to say, I am very excited about the direction this book is going. Serah’s story is fantastic, and the aftermath of the Battle for Langeles may just shock you. I never thought things would turn out this way, but these damn characters surprise and shock me and every turn. And, if you finished Battle for Langeles, you might just be wondering what happened to a certain few characters… Some of that is answered here, some of them you won’t see again until Book 5 The Children of AEIS

I plan on continuing my current writing pace all throughout December so that the first draft of Serah of the Runners can be finished by years end. That way, I can release it early next year! My hope is to get Book 4 late winter, Book 5 late spring and conclude the series by next fall. At the pace I am writing at it should work… provided the final book in the series isn’t much longer than I think it is. 

Also, a very special thanks to Lyndsie Clark, who I met at MileHiCon several weeks ago, and who basically became a badass writing partner during this month and held my ass accountable. Thanks for spending all the hours in coffee shops in silence with me Lyndsie! Check out her blog here

Why the hell did they do that? or How to Understand People and Your Fictional Characters

Inside

This entry applies to writers and general audiences. For writers, you can use this blog to think about how your characters make choices. For the general populous, you can consider how conflict and misunderstanding arises and perhaps consider some of this to help in your daily life.

When I teach anthropology I have a saying that I drill into students heads.

You don’t have to like it, but you do need to try and understand it.

This is the essence of what we call cultural relativity. There is a lot of misunderstanding about this topic. For example, if someone tells me that cultural relativity is postmodernism, or that it’s ‘poison’ or that it means anything goes, I know they have absolutely no clue what they are talking about.

I wrote an answer on cultural relativism on Quora on this question a while back so I am not going to go into detail here but in short, if you want to understand someone’s choices (especially if they are in another culture) then there are three things you need to consider to begin that understanding, context, conditions, and choice.

I am going to tell you something that is really really hard for many us raised in the Western part of the world to understand. You are not an individual. This doesn’t mean you aren’t responsible for your choices, but if you want to understand how the world works, put that idea aside for a moment and consider the following.

1. Context

You are contextual. What do I mean? Well, you live in a particular culture at a particular moment in history and you speak a particular language. In some cases even being born a few years earlier or later can radically alter the course of your life. Think of people who were born just in time for the Vietnam War and were then selected in the draft versus someone who missed the war by a year or so.

This body of knowledge (as some of us social scientists call it) is so vast that we spend years growing up and learning all about it. This process is called Enculturation and is largely what institutions like elementary school is all about. Primary school is far less about learning facts, and more about learning how to behave in your given society. Every culture has their version of passing on their culture, though it varies.

Every culture is holistic. Each facet of your context is an integrated whole. Technology, economics, religion, etc. All these things can impact the entire culture. For more on this read my past blog on Worldbuilding Part 2 Anthropology and Key Elements of Culture

Of course, history is a big part of this. What has been happening for the past few decades or even centuries before your birth directly impact your experience. You, as an individual are not free of a cultural and historical context. Change that context, and you also change. Remember, no matter what you do, your culture and history is constantly changing all around you. Life is a dance of constant change and movement. No matter how tightly you clamp down on something, it still changes.

2. Conditions

Embedded within context is your particular experience. Let’s get specific. Let’s assume that two people grew up in or around Denver, Colorado. One grew up in a wealthy area that is heavily Protestant and the other grew up on a poor neighborhood that is heavily Catholic. Their cultural context is pretty much the same. They grew up at a particular time period in a particular culture but the conditions of their lives are different and thus their experience will be different. Their gender, the color of their skin, the religion they subscribe too, even the block they grew up on, changes the conditions of their lives and their experiences within the cultural context.

This is why you get an extraordinary amount of variation within a particular culture in a particular part of history (have I said particular enough for you yet?). Even something as simple as catching the last bus versus missing the last bus to make it on time to work can radically change your conditions. Maybe you got fired from your job as a result or perhaps you got a promotion as a result. Perhaps you are diagnosed with a chronic disease or maybe you won the lottery. Your conditions are constantly changing within the context of your culture. Change really is constant.

3. Choices

Okay, now we can talk about choices and free will. Your ability to make choices (or your agency) is impacted by both your context and your conditions. Your choices are not limitless and you certainly can’t make a choice that you don’t know exists. There are also laws, taboos, and social pressures that influence how we choose and move through the world.

But we certainly aren’t passive actors either. Individuals can cause massive changes to both their own conditions and their cultural/historical context. Even minor figures in the historical records influenced small things in ways that may or may not have had a big effect on that particular cultural moment.

Why should you care?

Well if you are fiction writer, this may help you to flush out character profiles and understand the choices your characters make. I talked about this a lot in my third part of World Building.

If you are just someone trying to get through their day, and your boss is a total asshole, sometimes a little understanding can help to dissolve conflict.

But honestly, the real core of this is this is how we can solve big problems. 

If you can take Context, Conditions, and Choices and use these three to analyze someone or something, you can understand it’s source and how it persists. You can see where big and complex problems arise from and can in turn act to address them. Of course, it’s not always so clear or so simple, but without understanding, you can’t even really begin. Honestly, this is a huge reason why people who, have nothing but good intentions, go out into the world to solve an issue, and it backfires and makes things far worse.

Let’s go an intense route for one moment. What about suicide bombers? Anthroplogist Nasser Abufarha asked this question in his book “The Making of a Human Bomb: An Ethnography of the Palestinian Resistance” 

Now this guy has got some guts, he did his research with some pretty scary folks. But in his research what he did was examine context, conditions, and then the individuals (the agents) who carried out some of these attacks. He talked to leaders of these terrorists cells and tried to form a picture of why they do the things they do. Their answers? Well I will let you read for yourself if you want to dive in, but let’s just say quickly that violence begets violence.

You want to understand the rise of Hitler? Context (The history of the interwar period in Germany and of antisemitism) Conditions (The experiences of Hitler’s life that made him such an angry asshole) and Choices (The genocide of six million Jews).

If you can understand some of this stuff, you can solve all manner of problems. Of course, even if you have the answers you still have to contend with political bodies and economic interests who may or may not want things to change, but that is an entirely different topic.

Seeking understanding, and information of the experiences and context of your fellow human beings can change the way you think or behave forever. Sometimes understanding can illuminate our experience and in that light, perhaps you can see an easy way to dissolve conflict.

Look, I get it, you might be thinking right now (if you made it all the way through) that this seems like an awful lot of work. You’re right. It’s a lot of work to be an informed citizen, to know the history of our own country, let alone other’s. But consider this, maybe if you aren’t sure about something, consider withholding judgment. Instead, find an expert or pick up a book on the topic before you decide that one particular group of people is evil, or that a singular event is an anomaly. History and Culture are really messy things, and it’s rare that there are clear black and white answers.

The world really is an amazing place and a little patience can make it all the more beautiful. People are just so damn interesting if you let yourself see it.

Worldbuilding Part 3: Constructing Character Identity using Anthropology

landscape-1328858_960_720Alright, so after reading my first two blog posts on world building you have some semblance of the kinds of dynamics that go on in crafting a cultural environment right?

Also, here they are if you need them.

World Building Part 1 
World Building Part 2

So here’s the key question, how does your world impact your characters? This really is the biggest and most important piece of your world building and the easiest place to lose consistency. If you mess this up, your story could suck or at least have readers rolling their eyes. At the end of the day, it’s compelling characters that we care about. Also, don’t forget to listen to your characters. They have hopes and dreams too.  

I touched on this a little bit last time, but this time we’re diving deep into a little social science of identity construction.

1. Nature vs Nurture

Since good old Descartes (but really all the way back to the ancient Greeks) wrote on Dualism in the 1600’s there has been a question of what influences us most, Nature or Nurture.

Most of you probably know this already but the answer is both.

Humans are not a tabula rasa (a blank slate). On a very physical level we have certain tendencies that have been fostered by natural selection. For example, human’s don’t have wings (of course if they do in your story you might need to consider various elements of winged culture) they walk on two legs (known as bipedalism) and they speak.

A terrible example of world-building done wrong because of the physical limitations is the Planet of the Apes series. Now, I enjoy those movies but what kills me is this. In order to have human speech, your mouth, throat, and tongue must have a certain shape to produce human noises. Apes do not have the physical apparatus for speech and even the shape of their face and neck would have to change significantly before they were capable of human-like speech. Still, they are fun films and I do enjoy them, but I can be heard grumbling like a disgruntled Star Wars fan after I watch them.

So that’s an example of nature, there are certain things in our neurology and physical makeup that put limitations on us as well as certain instinctual things that pop up.

There’s now also some science to suggest that your experiences and traumas may pass themselves on to the next generation. This surrounds epigenetics, and I am not going to get into this here (as I am definitely no expert in this area) and admittedly there is still a lot of unknowns about the science behind this, but if true, it certainly complicates things doesn’t it?

What about nurture? Well, there certainly isn’t something inherent or genetic in religion. If there was, we would have people who have never had any contact to Christianity spontaneously becoming Christian in remote areas (we don’t). We are enculturated (basically taught our culture) as we grow up. Our family brings us to church or perhaps we are raised Atheist or Buddhist or Pagan and learn the values and ideals of those practices (remember that purity stuff back in part 1). A huge portion of your personality comes down to nurture.

Speaking of which…

Personality is one of those that is a hard mix of both. If any of you out there reading this have more than one child, you know that they are born with a tendency towards a certain personality. Some children are more cautious, some are absolutely fearless (I’ve got both types and it’s fascinating to see the difference). Some have short tempers and are emotional while others are calm in almost any circumstance. Add environmental factors and it shapes and reshapes their personality. People always have tendencies but the wonderful thing about human beings is that we are capable of changing the way we experience the world, it’s just that a lot of us don’t because it’s a lot of work. As some of you frequent readers know, I have spent a great deal of time working on meditation and have seen changes in my own thinking and experiences, but damn is it hard!

So how does this relate to your character? Well, what elements of nature and nurture come into play? If you have a genetically engineered winged population that’s going to change the experience of your character. Are there benevolent vampires? Well, they gotta eat, right? Perhaps your humans have undergone gene editing to live on Mars but suddenly find themselves back on Earth? Robert Heinlein’s famous sci-fi book Stranger in a Strange Land posits the question of a human who is raised by Martians returning to earth and how he struggles to understand what it means to be human with some fascinating cultural results. So, just in the nature/nuture part, there’s a lot to consider.

2. Imagined Past

So, before I get into this, when I use the phrase ‘Imagined Past’ I don’t mean that something is made up. What it means is that our upbringing and cultural perspective foster history in such a way that we imagine that one event is important and another isn’t. Of course, there are objectively more and less important events in history, but how we imagine those events unfolding is based on things like culture and ideology.

The reality is, history is always messy as hell. I don’t care what event you are talking about. Nothing is ever straightforward and simple. Remember our discussion in part one of world-building on Power and Resistance? That’s why.

The Imagined past is your perspective and your wider culture’s perspective on history and events. They are an interpretation of what happened and why they happened that way.

Let’s take an example that is debated every October, Columbus Day.

If you are a fan of Columbus Day you might say that we should honor a man who changed the world and ‘discovered’ the Americas. Here is a perspective on that point of view.

If you are of indigenous heritage though or perhaps you’ve read some pretty terrible (and true things) about Columbus… you might be a bit more critical of this point. For that perspective check out this article.

But where you sit on the side of Columbus isn’t the point here. The point is, both sides IMAGINE THE PAST and take a certain perspective on what happened and if the events were good and we should honor Columbus, or they were bad and we should ax the holiday. I am, admittedly very critical of Columbus day, but it is impossible to argue that 1492 wasn’t a very important year in world history. After Europeans realized there was a huge chunk of populated territory waiting to be exploited, the world changed significantly. The event happened but how we interpret it changes in our imagination and our perspective. That is imagined past.

So why should you think about imagined past in your worldbuilding? Well, if you have a story where two sides are at war, you might consider having characters from both sides of the conflict. For example, In Avatar the Last Airbender, where four different nations rule the world (one for each of the four elements) the Fire Nation, the conquerors have a very different imagined past as the Earth Kingdom, whom the Fire Nation are trying to subjugate. The amazing thing about that world is that you have characters from all four nations (I really recommend that series if you aren’t familiar), and you get an amazing backstory and shift in perspectives of characters from different nations and even variety within each of the nations (Remember in Part 1 we talked about how every population is variable?) So consider that in your world-building, how do your characters imagine the past? How can this create conflict? Could the sharing of a perspective of the various perspectives on a historical event change the character interactions? Could it further entrench them? Perhaps part of the past was hidden and is now revealed and changes how charters see things? Think of how your favorite stories do this well.

3. Intersectionality

Red alert Red alert! If you have heard this term before and don’t understand it, you might cringe at its use. I promise I don’t have some crazy agenda here so just hear me out.

It’s actually really quite simple.

Intersectionality = Identity is complex and variable

Intersectionality is really about considering the various components of identity. Identity is really complex.

I will use myself as an example to begin with. A White, Middle Class, Straight, Male, Raise Catholic (and now Buddhist), with a Graduate Degree in Anthropology and raised on the East Coast is going to have certain kinds of expectations, perspectives, and thoughts that will impact his perspective. All of those components, plus my personal experiences went into making me the person typing this blog right now.

Now, imagine an African American, Woman, Wealthy, Gay, raised Atheist, with a degree in Engineering, and Raised on the West Coast. She’s going to have very different experiences, expectations and perspectives then I do right?

Intersectionality shows us that Identity is Conditional. It is based on the various ingredients of your life and your experiences and fosters different identities. 

But it’s still not even that simple! Because imagine you took another copy of me and raised me five blocks away in near identical upbringing both of us are still going to end up different, aren’t we? We may have a lot in common but maybe my clone loves Nickleback (which means we couldn’t be friends) and thus we may end up going to different concerts and meeting and encountering different people and thus changing our experiences and perspectives.

Let’s talk about freewill really briefly here too. Though, if you want a prolonged philosophical discussion on this check out my blog on Freewill. When studying a culture Anthropologists often look at something we call ‘agency’. Agency means basically, your ability to act based on the rules (formal and informal) of the society. Agents are individuals within a society that have to function based on cultural norms, laws, and expectations. So yes, we do have free will, but our culture puts rules around what that means. For more on this check out a YouTube Video on ‘Field Theory’ Also if this or anything is confusing to you, feel free to comment and I will do my best to clarify.

There is nothing wrong with difference, but if we want to understand someone else’s perspective and why they might think or act in a certain way, then intersectionality, understanding the conditional nature of identity is a good tool to consider. 

What about intersectionality in your characters? Well, intersectionality can help you to avoid those annoying stereotypes and tropes, such as strong women come from tragic backgrounds. Maybe, for example, the woman in question was raised as a blacksmiths daughter and had to work with her father and deal with difficult customers on a daily basis. Or perhaps you have a character that comes from a race of elves that are savage and violent, yet the character has adopted a pacifistic religion after a personal revelation? The point is you can look at the conditions of your characters lives and upbringing. Some people make character profiles in this regard where you can plot different parts of your character identities. I don’t do this unless I run into a roadblock, but some of you may find it useful to do so. Really, there is no wrong answer for method in writing.

Oh, one more thing, your identity changes every day little by little (or a lot if your world comes crashing down) based on your experiences and daily interactions. You are never the same person from day to day. Consider this also in your characters. 

4. Personal Bias and Blind Spots in knowledge

 

All of the above contributes to this section. Everyone has blind spots in knowledge. Everyone has bias and limitations as to what they can see and understand. If you put me in front of a motorcycle and tell me to fix it I will blink at you until my eyelashes fall off. If you tell me to understand the experience of a Muslim woman growing up in Sri Lanka, I probably can’t help you there either. There is nothing wrong with having blind spots, the problem is, when we assume that blind spots equal weakness and we make arrogant statements to cover it up (I can’t tell you how many times I myself have done this only to realize what I was doing later).

So back to me and my conditional identity. I grew up on the East Coast. On the East Coast there is often a kind of linguistic style in play where it’s actually weird and awkward not to interrupt people. We are very often active communicators cutting each other off mid-sentence and it’s not considered rude. Also, I come from a huge family. Now you might think your family with 3 kids is big, but my Dad had 14 brothers and sisters and I have 3 brothers, with some of my aunts and uncles, who were my age raised almost like siblings. So, on top of this east coast conversational style (Here’s a wonderful YouTube on that for you who really want to understand the linguistics of it) and my huge family upbringing, I can be a loud, arrogant, interrupting son of a bitch. Now living in Denver Colorado, it took me a long time to understand that people don’t always appreciate the way I communicate because this region in the Rocky Mountains has a very different conversational style. So there is a huge blind spot for me. Understanding that blind spot was really powerful and helped me to see the way I bulldoze people in conversation sometimes. 

So what are your character blind spots? Is your character a Buddhist monk and barely knows anything of Christianity? Is your character a male who suddenly finds himself in a female-dominated society? Hell, look at Star Trek TNG, is your character a Klingon growing up in a human world and trying to bridge both cultures? What kinds of things wouldn’t your character easily understand because of their training or knowledge? A pacifist priest isn’t usually going to understand combat. A warlord may not understand diplomacy. Good characters have flaws and weakness and blindspots. No one likes a perfect character. They are boring. My character Mimi, in Mimi of the Nowhere, doesn’t trust easily. She struggles with sharing intimate parts of herself after a long life living on the streets. Blindspots can also be where your characters grow and change. The world you built could suddenly come crashing in and force them to change and alter their identity.

 

I hope this short series was helpful for some of you on your writing journey. Certainly, there are other blogs and podcasts and stuff on worldbuilding out there, but I hope sharing some of my knowledge and experience from my field of study helped you to consider some things about your writing.

I am more than happy to entertain other questions and perhaps write future editions to this series but unless someone has a specific question about worldbuilding, I’m gonna call this series complete for now. Good luck with your writing journey!