Posted in #8Sunday, Blogfest Entries, Enterprise fan fiction, Just for Fun!, Life Writing, Novel Excerpts

Seeking Clarity: #WeWriWa – #8Sunday The First

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Today, I’m trying something new – Weekend Writing Warriors Eight Sentence Sunday. It’s a chance to share a small snippet -exactly eight sentences – of my current writing. I’m sharing an excerpt from The Earth Doth Move, a Star Trek TOS/Enterprise crossover fan fiction novel. This is a rough draft written for NaNoWriMo 2014.

Want to know more about #8Sunday? Check this out!

It’s simple and fun. Sign the linky list with your name, blog url and email address on Mondays, 8:00 AM EST. Each week, the list remains open until Saturday, 11:59 PM. Then on Sunday, post 8 sentences from a current writing project, published or unpublished. Visit other participants and offer opinions, critiques, support. Writers hanging out with writers, a good time with a great group of people.

And now the excerpt!

Memory swirled with the gentle whirls of the sands, as the young man made his deliberate way across the expanse, senses awake and open to perceive any possible danger, but his awareness, at once, turned to past and future, inward and outward…

He was seeking.

Since he was only a child, even before his Kahs-wan, he had come to the desert when he needed clarity. Sarek his father would insist that location was far less important to such seeking than the disciplines of meditation. Sarek had said this to him, six hundred and four times, thus far. If he learned of this excursion, he would no doubt say it again – he was nothing if not predictable. If he knew the reason that Spock sought clarity, on this night, he would doubtless say other things- perhaps, a good many other things, and at great length.

“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few – or the one.”

This post is, in part, a tribute to Leonard Nimoy, who died on February 27, at age 83. Leonard has been, and will continue to be, a major influence in my life. I will miss him, and I am profoundly grateful that, for a time, we walked the same Earth. I shall endeavor to do as Spock bid us, and as Leonard did. And I wish the same for you – that we all will live long, and prosper, whatever that means for each of us… 

Find more WeWriWa #8Suday posts here!

Posted in Blogfest Entries, Life Writing, Novel Excerpts, Parenting, WIPpet Wednesday, Writing in Freedom, Writing Samples

WIPpet Wednesday: Losses and Lateness

Why, hello there! I know, I kind of disappeared for the last couple of weeks. Internet connectivity was almost non-existent while we were on vacation (my one afternoon slated for solitary time at a wi-fi equipped coffeehouse while my family went out on dune buggies was a fail – the Internet was out, and the dune buggies were still closed for the season…

And then, on Friday, right before we got on an airplane in Portland, OR, headed to Chicago, and then Albany, NY and home, I read the news….

Leonard Nimoy had died that morning. For those who read here often, you know this is a Big Deal to me, for many reasons.

And, yesterday, my laptop stopped recognizing its power adaptor. Fortunately, it’s still under warranty, but I’m now using my son’s battered little Lenovo, and it’s – well, not fast.

So I’m a bit…discombobulated. But here, and ready to get back into the WIPpet swing…

Disclaimer: Paramount claims to own Spock – but I think he’s the universe’s, now, if he wasn’t already. I take it as a matter of honor to treat him well.

WIPpet Math:

  • Only the math of grief.

This passage is from my November NaNoWriMo novel, The Earth Doth Move. A very young Spock contemplates his dual heritage, and his future, while he dreams. He’s visited by some important figures in his life…figures with conflicting viewpoints…

Spock dreamed that he was on her world, running with her, in Huntform, through the wild places where she made her home. He dreamed too that she was awaiting him on Earth, that, if he could only reach that planet, she would be there, when his craft landed, and they would be together.

Would he still accept the appointment with Starfleet Academy, if he had no need to reach her?

“Don’t rock the boat, son.” Trip’s voice, or that of his katra, delivering a message that Spock did not wholly understand…but then they were on a rocking boat, moving across a vast Forge made only of water, with no land in sight, anywhere, and Spock felt ill as the craft plunged through wave after wave, cold salted water – WATER! – slapping him, icy and terrifying.

“Don’t rock the boat, son.” Mother stood beside Trip; they spoke together. “It’s impossible to unring a bell.”

Spock wanted to ask them what they meant, because the words made no sense. But, when he opened his mouth to speak, the salt spray drove into him. pouring into his Breathsource, so that he gagged and retched and coughed, and could not speak.

“You will not rock the boat. You will not ring a bell, if it cannot then be unrung. You will meditate, and practice the mind rules until you have mastered them. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the desires of two young ones not yet old enough to decide the details of their lives.”

Father did not speak to him, not as one would to a son. No, he was issuing edicts, as though he were in the Council Chambers, as though he were master of the forces and pulls within Spock, as though being his father- his Vulcan father – made it so.

“Thee dost not- and WILT not master me, Sarek. I am myself; I have the right to myself, to what makes me unlike any other. It is mine; I decide how I shall share it. Not thee. Never thee!”

“Don’t rock the boat, son. It’s impossible to unring a bell.” What did it mean that the only two humans in his life- Mother, and the katra of T’Pol’s dead husband, spoke together, in solidarity, as they shared the human vernacular that was so alien to his ears and his mind. Who were these humans, and why did they so compel him, draw him, toward themselves and their strange wet world? The force of gravity could not pull him from so far away – and yet, it did. Its pressure was a constant force upon him, drawing him nearer, drawing him to a home that had never truly been his, but which was, nonetheless, his birthright, as much as the world of red skies and sand ever honing the sharpened edges of obsidian cliffs.

Humans speak truth; but they speak it in their own ways. Often, they use images intended to be evocative, and sometimes provocative. Their words are intended to paint a picture- not a realistic one, but one that combines senses and emotions blended with cultural awareness. The boat and the bell are metaphors, Spock, and the actions ascribed to these metaphors deepen and shift them.”

As always, there were messages and layers in T’Pol’s words, and her vast stores of life and knowledge offered smoothing. One day, perhaps, he would be as she was – venerable, but not unapproachable; wise, but not unkind; aged, but not rigid of belief.

Which voice should Spock listen to? Would his own be better? Will he succumb to Earth’s pull, or Vulcan’s? His unknown bondmate, and her claim on him?

Of course, I’m not telling yet! Next week, we’ll return to get reacquainted with Tisira, at the moment that precipitates her sudden birth. That was supposed to happen last week, but, for reasons I don’t yet understand, the post misfired…

That’s life, sometimes….

And here’s a treat!

Posted in Blogfest Entries, Life Writing, Love Is In Da Blog, Stream of Consciousness Saturday

SoCS and #LoISInDaBl Day 28: “I Am, and Ever Shall Be, Your Friend”

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Today at Love Is In Da Blog , Bee  is teaming up with Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday for a joint prompt: friend/aquaint”.

I was ready to get on a plane in Portland, Oregon yesterday morning when I read this. I didn’t have time to absorb before I was embroiled in a cross-country marathon journey with my family.

Today, there’s only one topic for me to write about…

Okay, I haven’t been here for a while, and it feels a little weird to be here now. But my vacation is over, and I’ve been back in upstate New York for about 24 hours now. A chunk of my unpacking is done, and, in a very mellow way befitting my state of mind and the lassitude of a three-hour time shift after a day of travel, I’m catching up on some writerly things that were set aside while I enjoyed some quality time with family and friends.

This is likely to be a scattered bit of writing. I’m full of thoughts and emotions that don’t translate so well into language. Oceans and tides are moving within me, swelling and ebbing. I’m simply allowing them to flow, and I’ll do the same with these words.

I feel I’ve lost a friend today. No. It’s more than a feeling. I have lost a friend.

Maybe we all have, even if we don’t know it.

Let me go back a bit…

Back to when I was just a little girl. I’m in my bedroom. The odds are enormous that I’m reading. It’s about 1976 or so, and there is one TV in our house – a 19″ console model that resides in our living room. We get four channels: ABC, NBC, CBS, and PBS. My parents control what we watch and when.

I hear a familiar voice from the living room, and I go as fast as I can to the love seat, where I love to curl up to watch. The voice has pulled me, and my mother laughs at me.

“I’m Leonard Nimoy, and this is In Search Of…”

Those might not be the actual words he spoke, that serious man with the deep, soothing voice. It doesn’t matter. He opened windows and doors to other places, times, and ways of being. He added riddles to my life.

He made it OK to think about things, to wonder, to fantasize.

I was only mildly aware that that man was an actor, or that he’d played a half-alien named Spock. This was the mid-seventies, after all, and Trekkies were much more underground. My parents didn’t like Star Trek – and we didn’t watch shows they didn’t like. There was no Internet, no cable in our home, no TiVo or even video tapes.

I was thirteen before I really became aware of him in that other role, and he opened up my life in new and profound ways.

I’ve never been the same. Spock entered, and acted as a catalyst. I’m not who I would have been, without the Vulcans.

And the Vulcans wouldn’t be who they are without Leonard.

They might have been a joke, or a token alien species without life or depth. It was the integrity that very first Vulcan gave to his adopted and assumed paternal lineage that offered territory worth exploring and expanding.

If you’ve read here before, you probably noticed that I kind of have a rather intense fascination with Vulcans. It might look, at times, like a fangirl crush – and to some extent it is.

But, like the tiny shift in the light in a Vulcan’s eyes, it’s far more profound than what can be seen on the surface.

For over three decades, Spock has shaped my life. In the last two years, T’Pol has come to do her part. But she couldn’t exist as she does, without her predecessor.

And Leonard made him real – for me, for others, for us all. He took Spock and Vulcanness seriously, and that gave them the ability to become something far more than what they might have been. And that, in turn, gave me the ability to become something far more than I might have been.

That’s something that friends do.

Through Spock, and In Search Of…, I came to see the world and myself as a diverse wonderland. I’ve come to see learning and knowing and imagining as valuable uses of time. I’ve absorbed something of gentleness and kindness, of passion and acceptance of others. These things weren’t part of my daily life as a child. It was Spock – and Leonard – who gave them to me.

Farewell, my friend I never met. You lived well, and with a certain quiet dignity layered over deep passions. You lived in a way I think a certain Vulcan would approve of.

I will miss you, and knowing you’re alive somewhere in the same world I live in. I will always be grateful that, for a time, we shared this world, and that you offered your gifts and your vision to us.

And I will remember.

Find more SoCS posts, and celebrate the meme’s first birthday, here!

Find more LoIsInDaBl posts here!

Float down the Stream With Us!
Float down the Stream With Us!
Posted in Blogfest Entries, Enterprise fan fiction, Just for Fun!, Life Writing, Novel Excerpts, Sexuality and Erotica, Stream of Consciousness Saturday

SoCS : “Consuming and Consumed”

Anyone can play! Click here to join the SOCS fun!

This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme.

The idea is simple – post an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt –this week’s is consume.

I’ve officially finished writing the rough draft of my NaNoWriMo. novel , The Earth Doth Move.

I still have one more rough draft I want to complete this year, so I’m offering you a streaam-of-consciousness bit of Perchance to Dream. I’ve shared another bit or two from this story in previous SoCS posts here, and here.

We’re getting close to the end, here, so there may not be any more of this draft shared – by next Saturday, I hope to be finished, and the chance of spoilers is getting larger…

So, here we are, with a young dreaming Vulcan, and danger, and questions about what he’s consumed, and whether it will consume him…

Disclaimer: Spock, T’Pol, Trip, and all the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful even when I’m not logical!

But into the dreams came those who would Hunt him. There was T’Pol, his t’hy’la, whose flames scorched and consumed. The Burning One would use him to reach her first bondmate, claim his body for her purposes.

“You told me that you would be T’Lys, for me, if I would be Trip for you, t’hy’la!” Was that his own voice that quavered into a register higher than it had in years, now? Was it he who shook so?

“I wanted it to be so…” She shook her head, and there was guilt and sorrow in her mind, and writ clear upon her face. “I’ve hurt you; I didn’t want that. I wanted to be your answer, as you’ve been mine.” There was something – a shadow, a shifting, and that same face, and her body, battered, eyes no longer focused on him, but closed, their lids swollen, discolored….broken -she was broken…..

“Was it me? T’hy’la – did I do this thing to you?”

“No, not you, son. This happened after you left- “

“Left? What do you mean, left? Trip, I have slept; Phlox says that my needs have been met, for now.” There was a fragile beauty to her, even with her swollen face, her broken body. “You said you would tell me when I’d met those conditions. Tell me now. Spock is gone?”

“You used me only for your own consumption! Would you have me stay, until I was used up, and there was nothing remaining to me? T’hy’la and Kiral have I named thee, but thee – thee wants only him -only this long-dead human you will not release!” Why was he so shaken, so angry? He had held this katra; and he had shared in her mind. She Burned; she could not be other than what she was, who she was.

What logic was there, in blaming a Burning One? Surely, she would be only as she was, and nothing other.

“What of your consumption, son?” The human had a gentle voice, a soothing manner. “No, what she did – it wasn’t OK, and you got hurt. I stopped her, as soon as I could – but you can’t expect logic of a Burning One, and you, of all people, should know the need for something you can’t have – weren’t you trying to use her the same way? Weren’t you angry only because, once the fires rose up and consumed her, she couldn’t see you or help you? So tell me, Spock – what are you consuming, to try to touch your Huntress?”

Spock wanted to hide, now, and started to back away. “I claim this as my own, and I will have privacy in it.”

But T’Pol, even broken, even with what she had done to him, pried open her eyes – only a thin slice of the muted greengold showed, but enough. “Oh, young one -what is this thing I have given to you? I fear that what you think to consume, in order to feel her, will instead consume you.”

Enjoy stream-of consciousness writing? Anyone can play, so long as they are willing to follow a few simple rules. See you next week, for another live-streaming look into the lovely chaos in my mind! =)

Join in or read more SoCS posts here!

Posted in Blogfest Entries, Challenges and Contests, Just for Fun!, Life Writing, My Poetry, OctPoWriMo Challenge, Parenting, WIPpet Wednesday

WIPpet Wednesday: Not This; Nor That


Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It is hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys!

Trip and T’Pol are taking a holiday break this week (no telling what kind of mischief they’ll get up to, but it was time that they had a bit of privacy…).

Instead, I’m going to offer you something I’ve never done as a WIPpet before – a poem.

Just a short one, in the diamante form…about another pointy-eared fascination of mine….

In other news – I’ve been published! Even cooler, I get to share the anthology with a fellow WIPpeteer, Fallon Brown!

My story, “A Splash of Red”, is a combination of a dream, my own life, and a lot of imagination…I first conceived it three years ago, and there’s been a lot of tinkering, revisioning, cutting apart, shuffling, and putting back together (literally)…

Pretty amazing, to read it in a collection on my Kindle screen!

If you’ve got $.99 burning a digital hole in your digital pocket, this anthology is definitely worth it (yup, that’s a shameless plug. Forgive me; I’ve never had a story published before, and I’m excited!). Just click on the image, and it’ll take you to the link!

Looking for something to read by your Christmas tree?

Disclaimers: Spock, his parents, his sehlat I-Chaya, and all the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful!

WIPpet Non-Math:

  • Today is December 24, 2014.
  • It’s Christmas Eve, and diamante poems look a little like stars, so there you go!
  • Sehlat bit starts at 3;13; but the whole thing is good!

Not This; Nor That


I am

As I am

Not this; nor that.

What is it that I am?

Did my parents consider that?

Query whispered to my old sehlat.

I-Chaya answered not; nor cared that I am half.

I sought after answers, silently sat

Upon my meditation mat

What is it that I am?

Not this, nor that.

As I am

I am.


May you, one and all, pass the Christmasing hours, or, if you don’t celebrate Christmas, simply a joyous winter Thursday…with light and love and life and laughter and a dream or two coming true!

Posted in Blogfest Entries, Challenges and Contests, Just for Fun!, Life Writing, NaNoWrimo, Novel Excerpts, Parenting, Stream of Consciousness Saturday

SoCS : “Bat, Bet, Bit, Bot, But.”


This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme.

The idea is simple – post an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt – this week’s is Bat, bet, bit, bot, but.

It’s November, and, for me, that means NaNoWriMo. For this month, I’ll be using the prompts to inspire passages of my novel-in-progress, The Earth Doth Move.

I’ve had great luck with this technique several times in the past few months, and NaNo is, for me, basically an extended freewriting within an open-ended framework, so I’m very excited to see what new ideas and directions SoCS will stir up! =D

And now I offer you another 662 words of the first draft of a brand new book!

Disclaimer: Spock, his family, and all the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful even when I’m not logical!

Sarek entered the sunroom, and stopped only 1.54 steps past the entrance.

The water service was set out, with two drinking bowls, directly within his line of sight from his customary seat. A quick sifting through the recent layers of his bond told him with near certainty that the ritual had not been prepared by his wife.

Which, logically, meant that Spock had performed the ritual, and made the offering, because he had some matter of import that he would discuss with Sarek, one adult to another.

Except that his son was not, in fact, an adult. Not in cognitive terms, and not physiologically. Even allowing for his human ancestry, it was obvious that he had some years left before he had completed what would certainly prove to be a unique growth process. Sarek had never been comfortable with the illogic of according the boy an adult status he had demonstrated, on multiple occasions, that he was not yet ready to assume.

But that matter, as so many others involving his son, had been decided by matters other than logic. Perhaps that was fitting, for humans certainly ascribed far less value to reason than Vulcans; however knowing that it was fitting did not make it comfortable for Sarek. The elements of chaos Spock had introduced into what had been an agreeably ordered life were dissonant and often troubling.

Accepting the offering, and what it connoted, would be to invite the possibility of further dissonance, further chaos.

Sarek took his seat, but, rather than contemplate the aesthetically pleasing manner in which the light hit the iridescent, fluted surfaces of the water service, he turned to set his bowl of tea on the ledge that ran below the window, as Amanda often did, and watched the light that shifted across the desert as the planet’s rotation carried it away from Eridani 40, and toward darkness.

But the water was still there behind him; there was no logic in ignoring its existence, or its meaning.

Bat, bet, bit, bot, but.”

The memory-voice was so vivid in Sarek’s mind that he nearly turned to seek out the tiny child who had possessed the shrill voice that commanded attention and routinely pierced the peacefulness of his ordered existence.

Bat, bet, bit, bot, but.”

Those had been the first word- sounds the child Spock had been could make. In human fashion, he said them, repeatedly, and often with fierce passion that aroused things within Sarek that were far older than logic.

Bat, bet, bit, bot, but!”

He’d screamed them at Sarek, his small, seemingly fragile body shaking with his furies, his inner chaos, as he stamped his small feet, and clenched his fists. His face had turned the most alarming shade of green, and the word-sounds would descend into screams that assaulted his ears with percussive force. But that was nothing to the assault of his violent, frenetic emotions. Sarek was certain that the child could not survive such intensity of feeling, such inner chaos. He was certain that he would not choose this life, this child, had he known what the reality of a hybrid offspring would be, how unpredictable life would become, with the addition of this half-human, half-Vulcan child.

Bat, bet, bit, bot, but!”

Amanda had seemed to know what the sounds meant, or, if she did not, to have the patience to attempt to understand what the child meant by them. But, to Sarek, they were the evidence of the gulf of comprehension between him and his son.

Bat, bet, bit, bot, but!”

Now there was the water offering, and the conversation Spock was requesting, as an adult, and in the Vulcan fashion, despite the illogic of it, when he was neither an adult, nor wholly Vulcan – and when that gulf still existed between them.

Bat, bet, bit, bot, but!”

Sarek turned, and considered the implications of this symbol. In his mind was the echoing of a very young child’s insistent, indelible voice.



Enjoy stream-of consciousness writing? Anyone can play, so long as they are willing to follow a few simple rules. See you next week, for another live-streaming look into the lovely chaos in my mind! =)

Join in or read more SoCS posts here!

Posted in Challenges and Contests, Just for Fun!, My Poetry, OctPoWriMo Challenge, Writing in Freedom

OctPoWriMo Day 15: Not This; Nor That


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Hello, and welcome to OctPoWriMo, Day Fifteen!

What’s OctPoWriMo, you ask? Well, it’s a whole month of poetic creation – 31 poems in 31 days. It’s the creative baby of Morgan Dragonwillow and Julie Jordan Scott.

This year, I intend to follow all the prompts, and get the joy of discovery…

I hope you’ll stop by, settle in, and find a little bit of magic here!

Today’s prompt was to write a poem based on the word half. The suggested poetry style was the diatelle, which I’ve never played with before.

From Shadow Poetry:


The Diatelle is a fun, syllable counting form like the etheree with a twist. The syllable structure of the diatelle is as follows: 1/2/3/4/6/8/10/12/10/8/6/4/3/2/1, but unlike an ethere, has a set rhyme pattern of. This poetry form may be written on any subject matter and looks best center aligned in a diamond shape.

There are all manner of philosophical questions that could be bandied about with the word “half”. But my mind went to one place, and stubbornly refused to leave –

Yup. I thought of Spock, that most fascinating embodiment of halfness…

Not this; Nor that


I am

As I am

Not this; nor that.

What is it that I am?

Did my parents consider that?

Query whispered to my old sehlat.

I-Chaya answered not; nor cared that I am half.

I sought after answers, silently sat

Upon my meditation mat

What is it that I am?

Not this, nor that.

As I am

I am.


Find more half-poetry here!