Works in Progress Meme

[eredien]

I said I wouldn't do this, but I didn't put enough down for the story to die for me. And it's a handy reference. The ones of these I am not currently actually writing on I am constantly thinking about, so it comes down to the same thing eventually.

Novels:

Young Adult Novel:
[Desert: Hi. I am part of the world this novel takes place in. I am another planet. I am Old and Cool and largely inspired by one of the more lucid moments during a trip to Las Vegas' desert areas. I suffer horriby from Tolkien Syndrome throughout with various descriptions of flora and fauna.]
Young Apprentice: Hi. I am the sympathetic character who will heal an age-old rift. I am also a child prodigy. I used to be a slave before my teacher took me in even though slaves aren't supposed to do magic.
Teacher: Hi. At the beginning of this story I'm a decent guy but am eventually destroyed by jealousy for my apprentice and greed for power. I also have a crush on the wizardess who runs the household Apprentice used to work in, but I'll never tell her that in a million years 'cause I'm an idiot, rather.
Dragons: Hi. We helped to cause the age old rift but it was your fault too even though all the books were erased so you convienently forgot. Stop shooting us when we come to drink at the oases, please, and stop all these silly superstitions about us. We are not, note, the dragons in the Dragon Novel. Really. We mean it. If you try to tell us different we will roast you.
Teacher: The dragon I have killed for the magical power to get to the highest level is almost dead. Take this knife and kill it.
Apprentice: He used to be a nice guy. I don't want to do this but if I don't he'll whip me. *goes*
Dragon: I'm not dead yet. Don't kill me and trick him into thinking you skinned me instead.
Apprentice: You can talk after all! I'm doomed because I heard you speak.
Dragon: Of course I can talk, you ninny. And you're not dead yet, are you? Stupid human supersititions.Go, you idiot, he's waiting.
Apprentice goes and talks with dragons. Dragons and Apprentice together heal sociopolitical rift that was covered up about a century ago.
Magic system, flesh-eating birds: We didn't get our time in the sun yet.
Author: Sorry. You're going to be worked into the plot, I promise. Transparent.
Whores, Catamites, flesh-eating birds, Magic System based ultimately on killing and keeping the power inherent in the water away from the lower classses: What is all this violence and sex doing in a YA novel?
Author: You just wandered in!
Whores, Catamites, flesh-eating birds, Magic System based ultimately on killing and keeping the power inherent in the water away from the lower classses, and Shapeshifter's Regiment: We belong here and you know it.
Author: I give up. You're in.
*Cheering from Whore's Quarter*
Backstory: I'm explained throughout the course of the book so there's no boring prologue. But you almost forgot to add me to this summary.

Memories of Darkness/Blankers
Plot: Hi. I used to be two half-novels but then a tiny idea took me over like kudzu.
Catherine: Hi. I need a better name but haven't got one yet. I'm the heroine. I am also a mass murderer. By accident. Trust me.
Quince: Hi. I'm Catherine's one-time lover. I'm the leader of the Resistance against the aliens who landed here a few years ago. I'm generally likeable.
Aliens: Most people on this small planet are content to live their little humdrum lives. We're going to take advantage of that fact by really only worrying about the people who aren't. It's simple: if you don't let us put a tracking chip in your brain, we'll hunt you down and kill you using people you once cared about, loved, and trusted. If we don't kill you, we'll put a tracking chip in your brain anyway, and turn you into an assassin for us. And we'll make you like it, too. So just give in to our technological superiority already and we'll let you keep watching reality TV.
Early Resistance Movement, including Catherine's Parents: We will not.
Assassin: I'm going to kill you idiots. Hey, you're dead. Tralala.
Catherine: That was awful. I want to grow up and stop people like her.
Leader of Early Resistance Movement: Hey kid. Join us.
Catherine: Ok. Oh shit, I got captured on a mission.
Quince: I hope they kill her instead of turning her into a Blanker.
Aliens: We've decided to turn you into a Blanker, Catherine.
Catherine: Oh shit.
Author: She says that a lot in this book.
Aliens wipe out all memories except painful ones; addict her to drugs, train her to kill and get a buzz out of it.
Quince: Maybe she's dead. That'd be great!
Resistance: There's a new Blanker out there. Accept that's its Catherine and deal with it.
Quince: Dealing. Dealing....not Dealing...
Catherine: I don't remember much. There were some good people, maybe...hm...look at the lights glow. I feel all warm and fuzzy. Hey look, there's blood on my knife. Didn't I work with that guy once? Oh well. There's another down the next street. Let's get an artifically-induced high again.
Aliens: Our Plan is Working Perfectly. We're causing strife and division at the highest levels of the resistance movement. Plus, she is really good at this.
Author: I like to write stream-of-consciousness for drug-addled assassins but she's especially cool.
Catherine: What happens if I don't want to kill someone?
Aliens: Try it and see.
Catherine does.The brain chip fires pain into her neurons until she kills the person, at which point it releases drugs and endorphins.
Catherine: Okay. I get it already. I'll keep killing people for you.
Pavlov: Do I get credit here?
Author: Shush, dead Russian.
Aliens: Hey, Quince and his resistance is causing lots of trouble. Let's send our best Blanker in. Isn't that wonderfully ironic.
Catherine: They didn't give me my full dose of drugs today because they've been using so many of us lately.
Quince: I'm going to die anyway so I might take a chance at it. Hey, I loved you.
Catherine: Hey, I remember that. I think. Wait...oh crap. I can't deal with what I might be now. Bye.
Quince: Wait!
Catherine: I want to die. Instead I am going through forced cold-turkey detox, which is worse.
Quince: Hey, I found you.
Catherine: Leave me here.
Quince: You've got to be kidding me. If I leave you not only do I come off looking like a callous jerk, but the aliens can use you again against us and the rest of the plot wouldn't start. I'm taking you back to headquarters.
Resistance movement: Are you kidding? She's theirs still! You can't bring her in here.
Quince: Do you want her to be out there instead?
Resistance movement: Yes, but you have a point. And she's off the drugs so the chip is on the fritz a bit.
Catherine: Where am I? Who am I? What the hell was I doing for the past few years? Oh. ...
Quince: We've taken the chip out.
Catherine: You can do that?
Quince: Experimental surgery worked.
Catherine: What now?
Quince: We want you to be our point guard and go on reconnisance with us sometimes. Guard the door. You know how to take these people out.
Catherine: Hey, that's a good idea.
They settle into their new lives. Gradually more and more Blankers are turned back into normal people due to detox and scalpels. They are horrendously traumatized.
Counselor: These people are nuts.
Catherine: Duh. Try this.
Counselor: Are you trying to tell me how to do my job, bitch?
Catherine: How much do you know about these people?
Counselor: How about you, little miss point guard?
Catherine: Try me.
Counselor does. Catherine wins.
Counselor: help them if you can, then.
Catherine: I didn't need this but I kind of feel glad I am helping other people. Hey, Quince, I'm feeling a lot better now. Are you still interested in me?
Quince: Well, er, notice how I said "loved" earlier. Note past tense. I can't get involved with someone who the entire rest of the organization doesn't trust. Sorry. Really, I mean it.
Catherine: Well, that makes everything better. What can I do to make you people trust me?
Resistance movement: Well, nothing, really. We're fond of you though. Like a mascot.
Catherine: I see.
Blanker shows up at door of Resistance Compound.
Blanker: Let me in.
Catherine: Or you'll huff and puff and blow my house down?
John: Hi. I'm the Security Guard Capitan and longtime Resistance member. I feel bad for Catherine and Quince. I was friends with both of them before all this went down.
Catherine: You need a new security guard.
John: Why?
Catherine: I almost let the Blanker in but killed it instead. And I took most of these drugs because I feel like shit and they make me feel better. Next time I'll let it in.
John: Well shit.
Plot: I end abruptly here 'cause the Author can't figure out how to end yet.

Degen
Auhor: I need to decide whether these are alternate Earths or this Earth in the near future. But other than that I've got a lot of this decided. Oh, and I need to know more about genetics.
Civitas: Hi. We're civilized and stuff. And we're terrified of people with disabilities because a long time ago we found a way to make people have superpowers by messing with DNA. Except they almost took over the world and that was bad. So we made sure that no one would want to give people superpowers again by making sure that if the DNA was messed with, the person would get some kind of disability. So now we just chuck everyone with a disability into a portal we found that goes to who-knows-where. Religion here is really messed up. Even though the Author swore up and down she'd never bring it into this novel we wore her down.
Sunder: Hi. We're the people who went through the portal. Who-knows-where is kind of nice. Except for the weird killer cats and stuff, it's pretty utoptian. If you think that Utopia includes a lot of people who can't walk, or talk, or see, or have one arm. Or are political outcasts. Or just happened to look funny. Or were mistaken for people with superpowers. But we like it. And we try to forget about the nastiness and purges in Civitas. In fact, we've almost suceeded in making our own lives work here.
Mai: Hi. I'm mildly mentally retarded and can also talk to my cat telepathically. I just found a kid who fell out of the portal. I'll take it to Tif'nay.
Tif'nay: Hi. I'm the village healer, among other things. This kid is perfectly normal. Keep him.
Mai: Normal? No missing limbs? No extra thumbs? That's weird. That's degenerate. I don't want him.
Tif'nay: What did you say? Who told you that? Don't say that again, and take the kid.
Mai: Oli'er. Ok.
Oli'er: Hi. I mess stuff up by mentioning Civitas and the purges to the Young and Innocent of Sunder. I think it's my job as storyteller though. Tif'nay got her panties in a bunch about it, though. She should talk.
Tif'nay: I should. My father was the leader of the faction that almost took over the Civitas government, though I don't really know that yet, so I had a bad time of it there. Why mess up the good thing we have going here? Hand me a muffin and stuff one in your own piehole, Oliver. I know you were shitting your pants in Civitas. In fact, I was standing next to you and smelled it. Don't play all Holier-than-Thou.
Oli'er: Holy? Hah!
Author: They're bitter about the Civitas Religion Thing. With good reason.
Dom: I will now do my Hakkai impression--calm down, everyone.
All: Okay, Dom. We'll get on with our lives as normal for the next 15 years or so.
Mai and Tif'nay fall in love and raise the child, Lath, as their own.
In Civitas during the same time Lath is sent to Sunder, a top government official's wife has a baby. The baby, Orin, is missing an arm. This is a Big Problem. The official covers it up and never tells his son about it; he grows up thinking he is normal.
Back in Sunder:
Lath: I'm disaffected. I'm not special. I don't have a guide dog or epilepsy and I can't control the weather or my eye color at will. I'm going to run off and join a gang of disaffected normal youths.
Gang: We've been terrorizing the "normal" population of Sunder because we hate them.
El'iot: Hi. I'm a throwaway character in this summary but not in the novel. I know Tif'nay from way back.
Gang: Kill El'iot, Lath.
Lath: Ok.
El'iot: That sucked.
Several years later, Lath develops early-onset glaucoma.
Lath: Shit, I hope they don't notice. The Gang will kill me.
Gang: Hey, you just ran into a wall. What's with your eyes, you freak? Let's kill you.
Lath is Beaten to a Pulp.
Lath: I'll crawl back home I guess.
Mai and Tif'nay: Wow, we're pissed at you but glad you're alive. Let's go on a picnic once you've recovered.
Mai: What's the shiny thing in the middle of the picnic field?
Tif'nay: It's a portal back to Civitas. We're screwed. My life is screwed. I liked it here. Gaah!
Mai and Lath: Hey, we're feeling your pain. Literally. Stoppit.
Tif'nay: Sorry. Not supposed to do that.
In Civitas:
Orin: I have just very publicly been discovered to have no left arm. I am shocked but also realize I have to run if I want to live.
He escapes to the Bad Places in Civitas and pawns his proesthtic arm for food and a place to sleep. Meanwhile learns about the stuff that's gone down for the past 20 years under his nose.
Lath: I'm going through that portal. It's better to go through now and get some allies than wait here for destruction.
Orin: Hey, who are you? You're not from around here. And how did you get into my room at two am? I thought I locked the door.
Lath: It's a long story.
Author: I have an ending and the bits that go between but they are not in order yet. Also I want one of the bits to be a suprise.

The Story (this is a working title. It is also called "The Dragon Story." I do not know if I will get its correct name until it is finished.)
Storyteller: This is a story that will drain me impossibly. I am almost scared of attempting it, except that I must. The below is a very abbreviated summary.
Dragons [bowing]: We're dragons. But not like you've seen before unless you've engaged the Storyteller personally in deep conversation.We don't breathe fire, in case you were wondering. We weren't.
Goblins [piss on the floor]: We're going to trick them into giving up their land to us. And then we'll kill and imprison them and make them work for us, 'cause that's what we do.
Storyteller: Time went on and people fought and then things begin to heal.
This entire thing is plotted down to minutae of dialouge and character; I need time to make this come out not as a Mary Sue. It may contain snippets or chapters of Dragon stories but I am not sure yet.

Short Stories:

30 Days
Scientists: Hi. We're getting a chance to do our life's work by trying to induce consciousness artifically. We're introducing emotions to this AI in opposing pairs.
Experiment: Let's see what this whole Consciousness thing is made of.
Author: How am I going to make this work? Readers have no clue what's going on because it's too experimental! Maybe this story isn't meant for a textual medium but then I keep thinking it is and wanting to work on it and hoping it will become clearer to the readers. I know where I'm going with it. Sigh.

Downtown Transactions (Working Title)
Imagine tomorrow you woke up and the written word was addictive and could be spread like an infection from person to person. This story is set in that world. Based on earlier livejournal post.

Only Departures, Not Returns (Stairwyck)
The city of the dead is dying, and only the assassins know how.
Author: I really like the narrator of this story currently, but I don't know if he's ever going to get around to telling you the rest of you his name. It's maddening. And it's in the second person, which is a bitch to write.

"Sandman" Fanfic
A lucid dreamer meets the Lord of Dreams.

"Transmetropolitan" Fanfic
A Foglet Cloud in the City has second thoughts.

Untitled Story
Little Girl: I'm blind. Sometimes I can see though because I have eyes with computers in. Mommy and Daddy got them for me.
Watch my life get shot to hell through the mechanations of my parents.

Mother Nature's Son (finished and under revision)
Author: I had a strange brainfart listening to the Beatles' White Album.
A child was born to Mother Nature and a hunter deep in the Appalachian mountains. He grew, and fought in the Great War because they told him he was going for his country--the earth, the sky, the grasses and small birds were his country; how could he say no? He died, and the arms of his Mother enfolded him at last.

Unknown Length

Woman Wreathed in Amber (working title)
Magic can be forced into physical matter as well as being created directly through mental energies made manifest; this story concerns the fate of a country and its peoples at the time when it is forced to choose between these two paths. I hope it will be a bit like McDonald's best works or Gaiman's "Stardust."
"Gilliam inserted the key into the hole in the bird's tin innards, and turned. He sat the mechanical thing down on a little cleared space on the end of the stall, and watched it bob up and down as if it was feeding. It did nothing else for a moment, and Gilliam was beginning to wonder about the validity of the old man's sales pitch when the sounds of ticking clockwork stopped.
The bird looked up at him for a moment with a liquid eye, then spread its tiny metal pinions and flew off of the table. They transmuted into true feathers as the bird flew and circled the old man's booth, warbling a simple three-note song."

Ventura Highway (with others in Nexus writing group)
Take a roadtrip across the multiverse. I'm writing Kimlacha, an Andean jaguar goddess of music. She's taking her bi-millennial vacation. She can shapeshift.

I am going to see Harry Potter III in an hour.