Intense Intros

I just started this book The Way of Shadows by Brent Weeks. Within the 1st chapter, a mere 6 pages, there are no less than 7 highly stressful situations, each worse than the last.

Mr. Weeks starts off with suppressed action: "Azoth squatted in the alley, cold mud squishing through his bare toes." This is a very unassuming sentence, simple, almost bland. Nothing is happening. No dialog. No danger. No stress. But there are two very important things that happens in this first sentence: squatting and squishing.

To squat requires tense muscles, as if one was about to spring into action. This gives the reader the sensation that something interesting is about to happen, much more than, say, standing. Standing in an alley seems very ordinary. No tense muscles for that.

And cold mud squishing through your toes gives a very real sensation to the reader. Cold. Mud. Squishing. Bare. Toes. Each word has a sensual reaction within me. I can feel my toes, squishing in the mud.

First Problem
The next paragraphs show the kid climbing into a small crawlspace under a tavern to find coppers that had slipped through the building's bamboo floor by drunken. In this crawlspace are spiders, cockroaches, rats, and a wild tom-cat, but that isn't his primary concern. Patrons, stepping overhead, could press the bamboo into his back, pinning him. He must maneuver carefully. Or he would get stuck like he did last time.

Second Problem
He must collect 4 coppers to give to Rat for his guild dues, or Rat will beat, possibly to death like he did Little last week.

Third Problem
His shirt catches on a piece of splintered wood, and he can't get loose.

Fourth Problem
The room above is occupied by arguing assassins. Azoth is likely witnessing something that could get him murdered.

Fifth Problem
The first problem became reality when one of the assassins steps on his back and slams his face under a muddy puddle. In his surprise, he almost breathed in the water, which would have revealed his presence to the assassins.

Sixth Problem
As the fight occurs over his head, he realizes that something is crawling up his leg. Too small to be a cockroach. It had to be a white wolf spider. If it bit him, not even a healer could save his leg. He must not squirm or it'll bite. Furthermore, he must move his waist band to let the spider out.

Seventh Problem
The spider crawls onto his thumb, and he looks at it. It is the white wolf spider he thought it would be, and he flings it away. Then he reaches for the splintered branch to break it off, to set himself free. The sound echoes in the eerie silence after the fight between the assassins. Who is left? Did they hear him?

Eighth Problem
As he crawls out, 6 coppers in hand, a sword is struck through the floor and into the mud, barring his escape.

So there are four basic problems throughout the chapter: the space he had to work with, the possibility of being pinned by the bamboo floor, the poisonous spiders, and the assassins over his head.

One thing I liked about how the author handled the scene is that each possible danger took its swipe at the kid, some at the same time.

Yes, this book holds much promise. I must go now. I have something I must read.

*big grin*

Writer's Dream cloud

Here's the cloud for Writer's Dream, one of my short stories that will be published in the Ménage-à-20 anthology.

Okay, I'm having way too much fun with this thing. Go make your own at http://www.wordle.net/, post it on your own web site, and leave a link here for others to check yours out.

Police Caught Cultist Responsible for Idaho Terrorist Act

A member of the human-interest group The Sandbox reported vital information last week to authorities that led to the whereabouts of the famous cultist that was allegedly responsible for the terrorist attack of a farm outside Pocatello, Idaho.

"He was lurking in some online chatroom," Mark Anderson, sheriff of Pocatello, said in an exclusive interview with Webb Times Newspaper. "We lured him out, but he caught onto us and slipped away."

After leading police on a high speed chase through the Idaho country roads, the cultist known only as CJ died shortly after being taken into custody. The coroner's report revealed poison.

"A secret compartment in his ring held a red capsule," Anderson said. "There was nothing that we could have done."

The police are still baffled as to who the mysterious cultist, code name CJ, is. The trail led to Barcelona, Spain, and then died. "It is as though he never existed prior to the week before the attack," Anderson said. Local authorities are currently talking to the FBI and CIA, which have refused to answer questions.

Funeral arrangements for CJ have been arranged by The Sandbox and will be held December 9th. Speaking with Webb Times anonymously, one Sandbox member said, "No one, not even a terrorist, should be buried without a proper service."

Written in dedication to Renee, Paul, Wendy, and Carlos. Thanks for your sense of humor.

Also dedicated to OFW and the authors of the Ménage-à-20.

wordle

Pretty, isn't it? It's composed of the words from my blog, my own personal cloud.

Just go to http://www.wordle.net/ and you can create your own cloud by copying/pasting text or by entering a web address.

You can use it to make T-shirts, to check your most used words within a story, to decorate your blog, or maybe even make a book cover...

What would you use it for?

The I-Hate-Xmas-Music Contest

I am not a Scrooge. I am not Grinch. I love Christmas--the cookies, the tree, the presents, the lights, the miracles, the Christmas story--but I hate the music. Over the last few years, I've noticed that there are hundreds of remakes of the same few songs, and everybody competes on who can sing the prettiest.

If I have to listen to one more "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" or "Silver Bells," I'm going to scream. The only music I have enjoyed in the last 10 years is the Transiberian Orchestra, a symphonic metal group that performs Christmas music.

So I propose a Christmas contest: original Xmas poetry that has a fresh perspective or a parody of an old song. Anything to breathe new life on the Christmas spirit!

Here's the rules:

1. The competition is open to a Christmas poetry or musical parody.

2. Submit as many entries as you want.

3. All entries must be in English, original, unpublished, and not submitted or accepted elsewhere at the time of submission. CYA maneuver.

4. To enter the contest, post a comment with your entry and then email me your mailing address to rita@ritajwebb.com along with an author's bio. In case you win, I'll need this to send you your prize and to post some information about you.

5. Entries must be submitted by midnight Friday, December 25, 2009.

6. I will choose several of my favorite entries and allow readers to vote to determine the winners. Voting will start Tuesday, December 29, 2009, and run to midnight Tuesday, January 5, 2010.

7. Winners will be announced on this blog shortly thereafter.

8. The first-prize winner will be determined by the entry with the most votes. The winner will receive a the latest Transiberian Orchestra's album Night Castle, as well as free publicity by having the winning entry and author's bio posted on my blog.

9. The runner-ups will be determined by any entry that I enjoyed but did not receive the top votes. All runner-ups will have free publicity by having their entry and author's bio posted on my blog.

A Full Heart

Thanksgiving Day, and I am full of praise to the One who has held me through this year. A year ago, I was facing an impending layoff in December with no job to fall into. We're a single income of 5, with 3 young children. Without a job, we lost our house before I finally found work as a testing contracting.

We actually now have a nicer home and a better job than the ones that were lost, and I have found meaning in my life in my writing. In December, I will be starting a full time job to replace my contracting one (the 4th job in a year and a week), and two of my short stories will be published in the Ménage-à-20 anthology, put together by Goodreads authors.

I thank the Lord for all that he has given me, for my family, a roof over my head, and food on the table. May we all have a blessed holiday.