Communion Of Dreams


Excerpt.

With a little luck, this week I’ll finish up another chapter, one I have been slogging away on for FAR too long. As is plainly clear to anyone who even casually reads this blog, I am not one of those writers who is able to just jump in and dash off page after page of text. I spend days thinking through scenes, how they integrate into the overall story. I’ll spend hours researching stuff which seems just completely tangential to the narrative, because I want everything to actually fit together properly. And I’ll often labor over a couple hundred words of text, trying to capture just the right tone. Whether I accomplish those goals in the end is another matter altogether.

So, for me at least, and for most of the time, writing is just hard work. And as I have noted both here and in personal communications, there are times I fear I have lost my way completely. That I am fooling myself to think that anyone will ever have the slightest interest in plowing through all that text. I’ve felt that way a lot over the last year. Gah.

And then, there are days like yesterday.

When, in about 90 minutes, about 1200 words just flowed out of me and onto the screen. When months of set-up and research all came together. Here’s a bit of that:

The back doors of the van were open, and there, cradled by her mother, was a little girl, about 8 years old. Her rich Indian coloration couldn’t hide the fact that there was already a blueish hue to the skin of her face and hands. With no hesitation, Megan stepped forward, glanced at the mother, and asked “how long has she had this color? The cyanosis?”

“Not long,” she said, in a plain Midwestern American accent. “Maybe 15 minutes.”

Megan looked to Darnell. “They didn’t give us any oxygen. About the only thing we have which might help are A.C.E. inhibitors, and I have no idea where those are in the crates they loaded. And they take too long to really work.”

Darnell studied her face, then turned to Joey. He started to say “I’m not sure …”

“Dar, wait,” said Megan. She looked at the girl, then at her parents. “There may be something else we can do.”

“What?” asked both Darnell and Joey, at the same time.

“Llangelynnin isn’t far,” said Megan.

“We passed through there just half a mile or so back,” said the girl’s mother. “But there’s not much there.”

“Not the town. The old church, up in the hills above. It’s about two kilometers,” replied Megan, looking from face to face. “It was a place of healing. Particularly for healing children.”

 

And the next bit, which I wrote today? It went back and referenced something I had planted in a scene 11 chapters ago. And which ties in to a critical scene in Communion of Dreams that I wrote about a decade ago. Even better, all of that was intentional — pieces of a much larger puzzle, finally falling into place.

Writing a novel is just brutal hard work. At least it is for me, most of the time.

But I no longer feel like I have lost my way.

 

Jim Downey

PS: Communion of Dreams will be available for free download this Tuesday, like it is on the first of each month. Likewise Her Final Year.



In defense of laziness.

I started this blog 9 years ago. Well, OK, that isn’t technically true until next Saturday.

That was 1,823 blog posts ago. And something on the order of a million words, give or take about a hundred thousand, according to my best estimates.

During the same time period I wrote another hundred thousand words or so for freelance articles (here, and elsewhere). And 187 blog posts/another 100,000 words here.

In addition, I helped write/compile/edit Her Final Year (which is available for free download today, btw). And rewrote/edited Communion of Dreams (also available for free download today) at least twice.

Oh, and I’ve been working on St Cybi’s Well. Have about a hundred thousand words done on that.

That’s between one and a half and two million words, depending on how you want to figure it.

And saying it that way sounds a bit impressive, and makes me feel better.

Feel better?

Well, see, I haven’t put up a blog post in almost a month.

And only 10 in the last three months.

And St Cybi’s Well was supposed to be finished more than two years ago.

What gives?

I’m not entirely sure. It’s not writer’s block, exactly, since I have been making progress on SCW, all along. For the last few months I have been in a steep downturn in my usual bipolar cycle, but it hasn’t been so bad that it has caused me the sort of depressive lethargy which can be deadly — I’ve actually had a clear mind and have been fairly productive in other aspects of my life.

Perhaps it’s just laziness.

But I’m not lazy. Oh, I mean that I can be lazy, sometimes, but it is just not usually a defining characteristic of my personality.

Perhaps …

… I dunno, perhaps it is just something that happens to authors, sometimes. And that’s OK. Really.

I guess you could call it unprofessional. Un-workmanlike. But let’s go ahead and call it laziness.

You know, like the laziness of everyone who is overweight. They’re too lazy to go to the gym.

Or the laziness of everyone who isn’t rich. Because clearly, they just don’t work hard enough to earn money.

Or the laziness of all those people who don’t do well in school. Hey, a little more effort, and they could have graduated from an ivy league.

Or the laziness of being judgmental, thinking that you know what other people need to do to improve their lives. To meet your expectations.

Oh, wait, that really is lazy. Sorry.

 

Jim Downey

PS: This isn’t meant in any way to excuse my failure to meet my obligations with my Kickstarter backers. Any such who would like a refund are certainly welcome to it; and for those who continue to tolerate my delay, I will make it up to them when the project is finished.



Well, that’s an interesting take on the book.

New review up at Amazon:

3.0 out of 5 starsNew Age Sci-Fi, October 15, 2015
This review is from: Communion of Dreams (Kindle Edition)
I borrowed this book from the Prime lending library as I was in the mood for a good old sci-fi first contact story and the books description lead me to believe that’s what it was. The first part of the book was exactly that. But then it shifted and did become more of a spiritual, new age-y, story about aura’s, healing hands, meditative states, etc. that just happened to take place on Titan. That’s not a bad thing, but it just wasn’t what I was in the mood to read at the moment. I should have suspected as much as the cover art and title depict nothing alien/space related, my bad. The story was interesting and kept my attention, the writing was good, the ideas presented interesting. But heads-up, if you’re in the mood for aliens, this might not be the book to read.

Well, I can’t really disagree, but … huh.

And there’s also a new review of Her Final Year you might enjoy.

Have thoughts about either one? Comment here, there, or maybe even write your own review!

 

Jim Downey



Free books!

Just a quick note: both Communion of Dreams and Her Final Year are available for free download today! Go get ’em! Tell your friends! Tell your family! Tell your pets!

Except fish. Fish don’t like books. At least as far as I know.

 

Jim Downey



Living in the future.

Via Lawyers, Guns & Money, this passage from an article about current naval warship technology:

The biggest reason to build big ships may be the promise of electricity generation. The most interesting innovations in naval technology involve sensors, unmanned technology, lasers, and railguns, most of which are power intensive. Larger ships can generate more power, increasing not only their lethality (rail guns, sensors) but also their survivability (anti-missile lasers, defensive sensor technologies, close-defense systems).

Unmanned technology. Lasers. Railguns.

Tell me that ain’t living in a science fiction future.

And speaking of the future, tomorrow is the first of the month. And that means the Kindle edition of both Communion of Dreams and Her Final Year will be available for free download. Help yourself!

 

Jim Downey



Writer’s block.

A friend posted this little aphorism to my profile on Facebook:

Writer’s block: when your imaginary friends refuse to talk to you.

My response:

Hmm. Pithy, but not sure I agree.

For me, being blocked isn’t about the technical stuff – dialog, description, understanding motivations. That’s all pretty straight-forward.

Rather, it tends to happen when I am trying to see the whole arc, and how a particular scene will fit into the developing narrative. There’s always a balance between knowing that you want to get from point A to point B on the ‘map’ of your story, and then working on the scene-by-scene movement. It’s been described as being like driving at night: you may know your destination a 100 miles away, but your headlights only illuminate the quarter-mile of the road ahead at a time. Being blocked is like having your headlights fail.

Jim Downey

Oh, and if you’re not at least following me or the Communion of Dreams page on Facebook … well, you should. I’m obviously brilliant and share a lot of interesting links and observations about the world there.  Just think of what you’re missing!  😉



Just one problem …

She stood there before the large table at one end of the closed hanger. The whole space was brilliantly illuminated by the lights high overhead, but additional work lights illuminated the piece of debris on the table from several additional angles, so that there were almost no shadows cast. The white paint had been abraded. There were smudges of something like algae here and there.  Barnacles were clustered along joints, where they could get purchase either on the flaperon itself, or on other barnacles which had attached before them. There were even bits of seaweed, still drying.

“It looks fine to me. I mean, just what I would expect after more than a year in the ocean.”

“Yeah.”

“So, it’s from Flight MH370. What’s the problem? Why’d you call me in?”

The man handed her a clipboard containing a paper report. She took it, glanced at it. “I don’t read French. What’s it say?”

“Well, among other things, the barnacles are dead.”

“I guessed that from the smell.”

“Yeah, but what’s interesting is that the lab determined that the barnacles were more dead than they should be. I mean, they had been dead longer than expected.”

“Oh? Why? What killed them?”

He reached out, as if he were going to touch one with his gloved hand, then thought better of it. He continued to look at the encrustations. “Starved to death. Seems they couldn’t digest the plankton there off of Réunion.”

“Why not? That’s where the barnacles are from, aren’t they?”

“Yep. That’s exactly the type found there.” He turned to look at her again. “Just one problem: these barnacles can only digest left-handed proteins.”

She sighed, looked down at the clipboard out of habit, even though she knew she couldn’t read what was there. Then she looked back to the man. “Mirror lifeforms. Dammit.”

“Yeah.”

“And they promised — PROMISED — that this wouldn’t happen again! OK, I’ll alert the Council.”

“Thanks.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tomorrow is the first of the month, and both Communion of Dreams and Her Final Year will be available for free download all day tomorrow.

 

Jim Downey



Thoughts on this day.

I wrote this nine years ago, and posted it to this blog seven years ago. It seemed like a good time to repost it.

And as my birthday gift to everyone, Communion of Dreams is available for free download today. Please, spread the word to anyone who might enjoy it.

Jim Downey

 

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Thoughts on This Day

One birthday, when I was nine or ten, I woke with anticipation of the presents I would receive.  Still in my pajamas I rushed into the kitchen where my parents were having coffee, expecting to get the loot which was rightfully mine.  My father happily handed over a small, wrapped box.  I opened it eagerly, to find a little American flag on a wooden stick.  My father said that since my birthday was July 4th, he thought I would appreciate the gift.

Horror-struck first at not getting anything better, then a moment later at my own greed, I guiltily told my parents that I thought it was a fine gift.

After a moment, of course, my folks brought out my real presents, and there was a fair amount of good-natured teasing and laughing about the little trick they had played on me.

That was almost 40 years ago, and I can no longer tell you what presents I received that day.  But the lesson in expectations and perspective my dad taught me that morning always remained with me.  My dad had been a Marine, fought in Korea, and was a deeply patriotic cop who was killed while on duty a couple of years after that birthday.  I have no idea what happened to that little flag on a stick, but I do still have the flag taken from my father’s coffin, carefully and perfectly folded at the graveside when we buried him.

I’ve never looked at the American flag without remembering what a fine gift it really is and, as so many others have written, what it represents in terms of sacrifice.  I love my country, as any Firecracker Baby is probably destined to do.  You just can’t ignore all that early training of patriotism, fireworks, and presents all tied up together.

But that doesn’t mean that I am blinded by patriotism.  As I’ve matured and gained life experience, I’ve learned many other lessons.  Lessons about tempering expectations, living with occasional disappointment, accepting that things don’t always work out the way you plan no matter how hard you work, how good your intentions, or how deserving you are.  Still, you learn, grow, and do the best you can.  This, it seems, is also the story of America.  I believe we are an exceptional people, holding great potential, with our best years still to come.  But nothing is guaranteed.  We must honestly, and sometimes painfully, confront our failures, learn from them, and move on.  The original founders of our country were brilliant, but flawed as all humans are flawed.  Some of their errors led directly to the Civil War, that great bloody second revolution of the human spirit.  That they made mistakes does not negate their greatness; rather, it shows us our potential even though we are not perfect.  They knew, as we should know, that only we are responsible for our self-determination.  Not a king, not a God, not a ruling political class.  Us.

Today we’ve been gifted with a small box with a flag inside.  A token of our history.  Let us not take it for granted.  Let us not think that the thing itself is more important than what it represents.  Let us look on it and declare our own responsibility, our own self-determination.

Happy Independence Day.



Freedom First.

Playing a bit off of the title of my previous blog post …

Starting tomorrow, and until further notice, the First of the month for each month will mean that you can download Communion of Dreams and Her Final Year for free. Each month. Every month.

Why? Because offering free downloads is one of the basic promotional tools on the Kindle platform. It’s a way to generate sales and interest in a book. And also because it’s important to get the books to readers who may not be able to afford even the modest price of an e-book. For someone struggling as a care-provider, sometimes even a $2.99 price tag can be hard to budget for. Likewise for people who find themselves on hard times, and need a little hope and escape … something which I like to think Communion of Dreams can provide.

So we’ll give this a try. If you know anyone who might enjoy either or both books, let ’em know that they can download them for free tomorrow. And July 1st. And August 1st. And …

 

Jim Downey



Out there … and down here.

Via Laughing Squid, a nice little animated exploration of the Fermi Paradox:

(Does not contain spoilers for Communion of Dreams. 😉 )

* * *

Been a busy week. Part of it was putting in my garden:

Garden

(That’s just the tomato plants — the super-hot peppers will go in next week.)

Part of it was a MASSIVE job converting a 16 x 16 storage space into the beginnings of a workshop:

Shop

(There’s still lots to do, but man, what a change from being hip-high in grungy boxes and scattered junk!)

And part of it was we have a new addition to the family:

Kitten

(He’s just 6 weeks old, entirely too cute, bold & adventurous, and tiny. For now. No name yet, though given his grey color I suggested perhaps we should go with Dukhat … )

* * *

I’m just now finishing up the first major revision to the working copy of St Cybi’s Well. I already have a couple of people lined up to take a look at it with fresh eyes, but if anyone else is interested also having a preview, leave a comment and I’ll get in touch with you.

Lastly: for Mother’s Day weekend, the Kindle edition of Her Final Year will be available for free. Check it out, download it, share it with others!

Jim Downey