Sunday, November 30, 2014


The Celestial Realm (Trace)

Peter hated cranberries and he simply couldn’t eat anything with the darn things in it. Thanksgiving was, as a result, a bit of a tricky time, especially because of his mother’s explosive temper. Anyone refusing to have her special cranberry sauce was an insult to her over-sized ego.
When Peter volunteered to cook this year’s meal by himself, his mother sneered. “You can’t cook!”
One thing is for sure, next year’s meal will not include cranberry sauce.
Peter made it a point of having cranberries decorating his mother’s grave and a nice shiny plaque saying “I’m not grateful for cranberries.”

Thursday, November 27, 2014

NaNoWriMo 2014

They say I'm a winner.

The story is written, 50.000+ words. This year, I'll validate my novel (I'm very interested in some of the goodies available to winners only).

It was somewhat of a bitter sweet victory, I must admit.

I worked hard at the beginning (and good thing I did, otherwise I seriously doubt I'd have been able to complete this challenge). The third week was the most difficult; that's when life decided to take a few twists and turns, slowing me down.

This time, I had to use a voice recognition program due to a shoulder and wrist injury. Although it was definitely easier on my body, using this program changed the style of my narrative considerably. The story resembles an oral recount. Its pace is faster, the sentences are shorter and some program (I can't recall the name) tells me that its readability is 7.6/10 (is this good?). I definitely have a lot of work to do in the editing/revising process.

For me, the whole benefit of going bonkers throughout the month of November is that you can do it with thousands of people from around the globe. Yes, we could write and act like complete lunatics throughout the year as well, but there is nothing like sitting at a table with other writers and simply... write. Being there with others is paramount for the success of this endeavor.

I've hosted and taken part in several events, both on Twitter (Scrimmages) and in the virtual world of Second Life (write-ins). Some people write faster, others write slower. But being there is what really counts.

Badges, number of words, winning or losing, that seems a bit irrelevant, looking back. It's done. I'm not sure whether I'll do the NaNoWriMo again next year. We'll see.

To all the winners (and I don't mean only the ones who wrote 50k words; I mean everyone who did their best to write and reach their *own* goals), congratulations. You are truly winners for embarking in such a crazy adventure.

"I write for the same reason I breathe - because if I didn't, I would die."
Isaac Asimov

Sunday, November 23, 2014


Collins Land

From the breakfast table to the green garden and back, silence was part of life.

One day, a member of this community of a few dozen people thought “no more”. She felt like singing and that’s exactly what she did.

By nightfall, she had been expelled.

By the end of the week, the community had only two members left, its founders.

One turned to the other and said somberly “Words cannot express how disappointed I am…”

The other laughed. “That’s what you said, remember, when we started this thirty years ago. I guess we’re the only ones who hate words.”

Sunday, November 16, 2014



The remodeling of the offices was finished after two long months. The employees coughed their way through heavy dust; many continued to suffer for months. When one of them, Charles, fell ill, no one was surprised. As soon as Charles returned to work, they noticed that he could breathe much better. They asked him if he could help them. Charles never told them directly what he did, but he muttered “I’ll help you,” whipping off a bit of saliva from the corner of his mouth. In the end, remodeling didn't stop at the offices; the staff got remodeled as well.

Sunday, November 9, 2014


Tierra de Fuego

Cal unscrewed the cables and unplugged them. Then he pressed “detach”. He had been taught well. He was never to touch the “reset” area, that small circle the size of a coin.

Many failed to obey and didn’t resist temptation. They touched it. Now, they were beyond repair, doomed to perform menial tasks.

Cal was proud of himself. He always did everything right. He removed his brain and placed it inside the upgrade box. He didn’t like the looks of the new technician though …

After Cal got his brain back, he was placed in the Sanitation Department. Damn smug....bzzzzzt…

Sunday, November 2, 2014



“X marks the spot,” said Sir Thomson a bit too merrily after crashing his plane and killing Lady Thomson.

Mr. Crawford, their guest, was extremely annoyed, to say the least. The idea of flying over Sir Thomson’s deserted island seemed quite idiotic from the get-go.

Persistent as always, Sir Thomson dug until he found a box. Surprisingly, a cell phone emerged.

“Our salvation,” said Sir Thomson, oblivious of the fact that the cell tower of that area had been knocked down by his hazardous flying.

X marked the spot alright, it marked the spot where Mr. Crawford waited and waited.