Are You a Good Writer?

1967.

Warm June night. City street. Twenty or more hotrods waiting to drag. I’m in first group of four, lined up. Heart pounding in my ears. Sweat trickling down my neck.

I’m the only woman driver. The car is a GTO, my boyfriend’s “Golden Goat.” He’s in knots wondering why in the hell he let me drive in the first place.

I grew up on tractors, dirt roads, and rough conditions. I know how to drive.

I jam the “goat” into first, rev, and wait for the flag to drop. I’m focused on the road. Flag drops. I max out in first, skip second to third gear and in seconds flat I finish. First.

The boyfriend, whose name I don’t recall, loses the next run-off competition.

Writing begins this way. You are focused on an idea, the action, and your characters while visioning the “finish.” The race is delayed by blind curves, arbitrary rules, and confusing advice. You’re ejected from the race. You’ve no idea why. You’ve followed the rules or so you thought. You’ve had the manuscript edited (more than once). Some incredibly talented artist created a professional cover. That’s not nearly enough.

What professional credentials do you have? (Can you create publishing credentials?) Do you have a polished synopsis? Is your letter to an agent or publishing house pristine? Succinct? Polite? You may submit, in some cases, the first ten or twenty pages of your manuscript. Do those pages create immediate interest? You believe you’ve done all of those things and more.

You will receive a reply sooner or later. All rejections are virtually the same: The agent is VERY busy, and VERY select about what they choose for they receive x-y-z submissions per week. Thank you for your submission, but NO and good luck with one or another carbon-copy agents out there.

Stop twisting yourself in knots, wondering your worth. Remember some writing advice is pure bunk. If it is common sense, it’s worth reading. My advice is to have faith in your story, your characters. Live with them; accept their faults as well as their strengths. Most of all, keep working. If you love writing, despite the roadblocks, you may be on to something.

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The Microcosm

An acquaintance of mine (I will call him “A”) finds it necessary to frequently assert that he has a “big heart.” Through repetition he has made it his reality. This includes the fact that Jesus tells him what is right.

“A’s” legendary anger threatens violence which he finds permissible because, in all cases, he’s been “wrong done by”. Unlike Jesus, he argues, people do not repay his generosity in the way he believes they should. What “way” that is remains a mystery. His personal history is littered with bitter complaints, constant judgment, and unquenchable anger.

The above is but a microcosm of a greater psychosis possessing our world, a world of illusion with broad denials. Others are not like us, not the right color, gender, disability, or other indefensible judgement. The fight for food, water, and housing are alarmingly high throughout the world. The illusions have been ceaselessly forced upon us in the forms of disease, lack of birth control, laws that serve only a few, etc. Those who claim good fortune feel it is deserved and expect more.

Creation of illusion began in ancient times, for territory, or resources. (We continue fighting the same battles.) The use of illusion was a way to control and confer wealth and power upon the few or “select.” Slight-of-hand techniques coupled with word, and deed began to predominated “education.” Power was defined by violence. Clear signs of failure were evident, but unaddressed. It’s hardly any different know.

Much has been critically studied (jaded opinions and worn ideas tossed to the side in lieu of cold-eyed evidence). Scientists, teachers, and those truly concerned with what they are witnessing have sounded alarms. The attention until recently has been muddled by wild-accusations and conspiracy theories. However, it is no longer possible to cover up earth’s degradation (though there are several dinosaurs stuck in the mud of the past and holding dollars in their fists).

Like centuries previous, we focus on our achievements and greatness, not the pain and perversity we inflict on one another. We are trapped in the belly of the whale and beginning to drown. The specter of hunger, homelessness, and abject failure (of being unable to provide for ourselves or save our families) is becoming a common reality. We cannot find a way to get out.

I am not so cynical that I do not recognize the increasing many who are finding alternative ways of becoming, rethinking, and applying creative solutions. There is more than living in a house but being unable to eat, placing our money in banks that charge us to exchange our pitiful wages, and the marketers who sell cheap goods produced by other slaves throughout the world. We are afraid, and cling to the illusions, but illusions have no life lines.

We are all in this together. We must work together to find solutions coordinate our creations to improve upon or change the circumstances. Share what works. The truth is slowly outing. It is my fervid hope that it’s not too late for we are all looking over the cliff of extinction on the planet we depend upon for life.

Lies Collapse

The toilet is backed up. It hasn’t been working well for quite some time, and not just mine. Everyone in this building and in this block is beginning to vacate. My family and I are vacating soon.

We are hearing rumors that it is a city-wide maybe even a state-wide problem. The problem is so widespread that there are no public servants, no fire, police, emergency or other essential personnel. Government is not functioning. Those wealthy barristers of justice have fled. Their lies caught up to them. Not everything was okay.

The waste lines got clogged. It was clear a long time ago that this would become an emergency. They tried to hide the problem by adding to it, and flushing worthless currency.

There are thousands, if not millions of us living in the street. At first there were fights for food, shelter, and water. It was dangerous, and wasn’t working well because we were all in the same boat. If there were classes, it was the bullies and the bullied. (Much like before.) Too many, bullies included, began to realize that if we were to survive, we would need to work together. No one could be more important than another.

It’s been about a year now. There are gardens, water collection systems, and solar cookers. Bathrooms are innovative, and so is shelter. The aspect of our lives that has changed most of all, however, is that we’re beginning to live our true purposes, our value to ourselves and to each other. We’re under no illusions. Life has nothing to do with class, race, gender, or money.

Illusions

Addicted to used books, I’m often lucky and find a keeper. The latest is Single and Single by John LeCarre, published 1999 and relevant to today’s latest scandal, the Panama Papers.

Single and Single details the lives of high rollers, shadow deals, and shell games. This world is created by the masters of illusion, the manipulators of truth.  The  manipulators promise fabulous wealth to those who  master the game of resources (including human blood). Those successful in executing this extraordinary feat of illusion are gifted with the finest the world can offer.

Unfortunately for the masters of illusion, there’s a problem. As detailed in Single and Single, the works of deception-al art are damaged, the colors fading. Those rushing in to repair are panicked. Mistakes are being made. The truth continues to leak. Damage control is being applied. It must be repaired. If not, a cascade of events will follow.

This is our reality. It is not fiction. We, the collective of humanity, are beginning to see the illusion we are living. Seeing the truth, however, is a tall order. Many have forgotten how to live without the false supports of fast foods, conglomerate groceries, and mega farms producing poisoned goods. Corporations have created so-called needs, money with questionable value, retirement savings promising no returns, but enriching those who have created the various instruments of deceit. Costly medicines may treat the dis-ease, but do not heal.

Imprisoned by debt and the hope of a better tomorrow, we can’t seem to escape. We have become prisoners. We know something must be done. Our prisons are overcrowded. The structure is weakening. Something has to give, but what?

The break from prison and our illusions is underway. Too many are seeing how weak our structures. Will the next call to world-wide war be an all-out effort to repair the illusions (to quickly bury the Panama Papers and shameless deeds)? I suggest this solution has been planned. The opening salvo, the indicator that the world is being protected and saved, will come via a horrific “terrorist” incident. The outcome is yet to be determined. Will we take up arms against the illusion, or arms against one another?

We are entering a time requiring great bravery, a time that demands sacrifices, but most of all, demands the truth and not from the indispensable corporate media maintaining the illusions.

 

The Appearance of False Benevolence

The civilization of Light Seeders is composed of a compliant world population kept safe, fed, housed, and educated by an all-powerful world government. Life is regulated from birth to death. Imagination, creativity, love, and friendships do not exist. It is a civilization of false benevolence.

When I began writing Light Seeders, pieces of history began to assemble in what seemed an ordered progression. During this progression one tyrant followed another, each with an imprint of the last. Each tyrant drove a stake through human consciousness. Distortions of science, logic, and thoughtful reasoning was becoming the norm. The cultural atmosphere was beginning to show black fringes of a nasty storm. There were several horrific wars over the ages until the storm of storms shadowed all that had gone before, a possible world-wide conflagration never before imagined.

The storm shadows were beginning to intensify when Light Seeders was begun  What began as fantasy soon became science fiction. I was in a full-blown crisis of acknowledging how limited my education had been, and how I had unnecessarily accepted those limits. (This acknowledgement is still in effect.)

I know little of earth dynamics. My visual perceptions are narrowed by what I have been told to see. (That ghosts, etc. do not exist, for example.) I know little of our astounding connections to one another, this earth, the solar system, or the universe. Physics comes closest to satisfying my quests for understanding. Too, numerous writers, past and present, continue to expand my consciousness. Best of all are friends who are unafraid to explore any subject with the intent of exploring ways of becoming full-blown human beings. Better yet when those friends enjoy a beer or two.

Learning to Navigate

Everything you’ve learned in school as “obvious” becomes less and less obvious as you begin to study the universe. For example, there are no solids in the universe. There’s not even a suggestion of a solid. There are no absolute continuums. There are no surfaces. There are no straight lines.

  1. Buckminster Fuller

Writing science fiction or fantasy is much like taking a journey to an unknown destination. What to pack? What can one take as currency? What is the vehicle you’ll travel in? Will you self-navigate or be chauffeured? You take a device to record and describe the journey. In my case pen and paper since it takes so little space.

I began my journey with speculation for fuel. The what-if questions came as a result of some breakthrough science or discovery I’d read about. The characters blossomed out of the numbers of people (animals, and other creatures) I’ve met through time. Both discoveries – science and animate discoveries – continue to provide fuel for my journey. I find it odd that in this world, let alone universe, we continue to look for something solid, safe, and predictable.

Publishing has been, to be kind, a learning experience. I’m not good at promoting myself. Further, I do not have the tools to navigate what has become a world of gadgets and passwords, sophisticated codes and symbols. Part of my ignorance in this regard has hampered my ability to communicate. For instance, I do not have a link to the book on this page. There are two. One is this:

http://www.amazon.com/Light-Seeders-Account-Esekiian-Record-ebook/dp/B013GSUZ3Y/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1458761030&sr=1-1&keywords=Light+Seeders

The other this: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/563106

Know that I look forward to your perspective regarding the book. Did reading trigger any thought, perhaps one that changed your view on something? Or simply, did you enjoy the book? or hate the book? If the latter, what is your critique? I want to hear it all, for each perspective helps enlarge my own life’s scope.

K.F. Lee

 

About Light Seeders

light seeders book

I was produced in a World One Incubation Center. When I came of age, I worked in a food production center, a facility that grew, packaged, and distributed “nutritious” spore food. I was to work as an inventory specialist until I was considered obsolescent or I reached the end of my life cycle. I would be escorted, then, to a Dome of Enduring Happiness to be euthanized and become spore fertilizer. My name is Sandaria.

Mine was not a happy or fulfilling existence. Relationships or meaningful conversations were limited to the rules, one’s duties, or other such trivial matters. In other words, relationships were discouraged, touching forbidden. Reproduction did not take place outside of incubation centers, and that was strictly monitored and regulated. Girls and women of age were subjected to monthly egg harvest, men to a progesterone block.

World One was all wrong. How could it be the greatest world that ever existed? This propaganda was repeated to us daily and from all corners including countertop holos imbedded in every one of our small, uniform apartments, or offices.

Pre-World-One history was carefully portrayed as one of war, hunger, and impoverishment. World One’s glaring contrast between the then and now was credited to our president, Armand Rockman, as were all so-called improvements.

I would learn the truth. So would others, those of us gifted. We became known as Light Seeders. Had it not been for esekiian Earth Tenders, the Light Seeders would be dead.  As it was, we fled the domed cities where we remained hidden, visited by our teachers to help us expand both our skills and understanding of why we were such a threat to Armand Rockman.

During this time, we were hunted by World One military forces. The domed cities were under increasingly tightened laws.

Within a brief period, we were spotted. We ran again, but this time to our destiny. Armand Rockman met his destiny too.

Light Seeders on Facebook!

To those of you who know me, and my reluctance to create, or otherwise participate in FB, this may come as a surprise. Surprise!

I also admit I am irreverent without regard to religion, our monetary system, or any other system that pits race, class, nationality, or ideology above or against another. We are part of the universe (ity). Each aspect of this masterpiece is connected in a symbiotic whole. I believe it rather foolish to hold ourselves above one aspect or another.

In fact, I value your comments as much as I do my own.

Do not expect me to respond with a truth I may grasp only temporarily. That, of course, is subject to change.

You can find me on Facebook at