Spectra · Stories · Uncategorized · writing

The End of Camp Approaches – How is Spectra?

32/50 Paragraphs

And I am back to working on Spectra.

Loosely speaking.

I am melting in the summer heat while thinking about Spectra.

Someday I will have AC and my July Camps will finally be productive.

Anyway, given the random snippets of my last update, one must wonder, “Have you gotten back to writing Spectra?  Are you going to pause it?  WILL WE BE LEFT HANGING?!  And not even meet the aliens!!!

Well, yes and no.

What I have determined is that it was a very bad idea to try to squish Sheyla and Desmond’s stories together right at the start, when they have nothing to do with each other.  Because I realized, there wasn’t a good way to describe this Book.  I couldn’t say, “This is the Plot.”  There are two plots running around, that only tie together a bit later.

Sheyla: A girl tries to escape the conquest of her nation.

Desmond: A soldier tries to defend his city from aliens.

Together: Giant political war messes up Sheyla’s life, then we switch to Des for the entire first half of the book (my estimate), where he fights aliens and not Kaldoans, and then at the end they both feel all the mega consequences, and they’re in two different places, from opposing countries, and they don’t even meet.

I mean, it might work.  If Sheyla’s side turns out to be only 10 pages long…But right now my brain does not wish to comprehend it.  Cuz summer.  And…and…how do giant sci-fi battle scenes work?

So, Desmond is left hanging, while Sheyla is getting attention.

I may need to add some alien concept art to balance out that dynamic.  That would be a cool post….

Meanwhile, I need to work on 8 paragraphs to catch up to my day’s goal.

Overall, my Camp is going: Freak out over writing Spectra and fear that it won’t be PERFECTION!!! AAAAAAAA!!!!  *Still writes a tiny smidge somehow*

Are you curious what Spectran aliens look like?

Stories · Uncategorized · writing

July NaNo Naturally Derailed Itself Entirely

I had a simple goal.  50 paragraphs of Spectra counted as 50 lines in NaNo.  Writing it while I blog it.

Well, I managed to get 1 paragraph done, and then bumped it up to 5 two days after, finally on the 10th I managed two more paragraphs, then halfway through got to paragraph 16, where it stayed for the last week.  Behind by 19 lines.

NaNo ends in 8 days.

Possibly July NaNo is just difficult for me and never works, possibly trying to blog Spectra 1 while writing it doesn’t work, and quite possibly I bumped up my paragraph count to 31 today by writing random tidbits from the maniacal and atmospheric fringes of my imagination.

In short, the July NaNo of Even More Spectra has objectively failed.

Even more so, has the idea of blogging anything at all this month for it pretty much failed even more miserably.

I’m not upset over the Camp Goals/Count going at a snail pace, but man, poor Spectra, poor readers wondering what happens next…(Spolier: More explosions and shooty things.)  It is a travesty.  A melodramatic travesty as my Spectra posts continue to be half a month or a full month apart.  Perhaps this system doesn’t work for me, or perhaps it particularly doesn’t work for me in this scene.  I keep thinking, “I could write about Sheyla, I actually have some idea of what she’s up to.  I even have stuff prewritten I could just edit.  It’d go so much faster.”

But nooooo for some reason I must blog the story chronologically with Des and the Giant Battle Of Worldbuilding Choreographed DOOM, instead of giving myself more time to write it while working on Sheyla’s end of things that isn’t such a massive blank.

Perhaps I should be true to my writing style and blog it out of order and blog a chunk of Sheyla’s side and then go back to Des.

Who knows!  That wasn’t actually meant to be the point of the post, but I guess it’s an idea to consider if it’ll help me get this story out there faster…

The point of this post was merely to say, once more, my Camp NaNo has derailed, and here are a random assortment of snippets from the workable to the ludicrous that I wrote today because slogging through the Battle of Provst is highly unappealing to me (maybe that means it needs to be short anyhow…).

So without further ado, and possibly without any contextual clues, may I present the Madness of Boredom and Doomed NaNos:


A rocket ship came swirling down from space, its purple sides gleaming in the bright sunlight of late Spring.  It crashed to the earth in an explosion of orange fire as children rushed away on their bikes, screaming, while a mother held her baby and wailed in terror.

Despite only a spider being impacted by the unfortunate landing.

It must have been fortunate in that case.


Yes, that was it.

The scorched rocket was dented, the nose smushed and crunched in, but the hatch door opened up, and out stepped a fiend of unimaginable horror: baring fangs and cackling with madness, out stepped Miss Isle, blonde hair swaying with the vortexal winds from the fire.  She had come from Planet Insanity, and this denizen of malevolence was ready to conquer the world and leave all who crossed her terrorized and hopeless, begging for mercy!

Still cackling, she ran off, disappearing into the smoke, no one knowing when she would next show up, what doomful plan she would concoct.

The little children banded together, eyes wide with fear, they looked up to the TV screen awaiting news of what disaster would befall the realm.

There was a report on the crash.

But no reports on Levers of Doom, or reptilian monstrosities, or radioactive bunnies with fangs, but they knew, someday, that the dreaded Miss Isle would come back to haunt them.  The children spent sleepless night after sleepless night awaiting the moment when their ears and eyes would glimpse the terrible news destined to fall upon them.

Young Jimmy got up from his bed, his eyes brought low with dark circles.  He plodded downstairs, gloom floating all around him.  He came to the table to pour himself some cereal, while his dad read the paper and his mom let the cat out for the seventeenth time that morning.  Shuffling the pages about, the “old man” broke the silence:

“Hmm!  The Convolutionists in Congress have passed a law to self-invade the country!  How nonsensical can they get!”

“Well, dear, they said it would boost the economy and social services,” Jimmy’s mom said, grabbing a breakfast pastry.

“And at what cost?!  There’s no budget mentioned here…” he shuffled through the pages, finding the rest of the article on page C7.

“Well, it must be something.”

Their voices drifted away as Jimmy stared at his cereal growing soggy.  She had done it.  The alien had come and was behind this, wasn’t she?  He quickly sped away to the bus stop, he would have to confer with his friends about what they would do.

They gathered about in the school hallways, whispering this and that, every glance fearful, sure that the deranged Miss Isle would come around a corner and personally pounce on them and devour their guts.  What else does one have fangs for?

But only the principal came pottering by, and told them to be off to class already, don’t loiter.  So they went off to class, furtively looking around.

Miss Isle was set to make everyone’s ultimate nightmares come true.  For little Jimmy and his friends, she had already become the bogeyman to haunt their nightmares and give them sleepless nights.

This comes from my only story set in the real world.

Naturally there is not a speck of realism within it.  Two of the main characters are Dale and Heston, which you can read about at the bottom of this old post. Madness and parody lurks that way, though.


The Trials of DEATH!

Who will be the Champion to save the world?!  Find out through the DEATH Trials!!! (Sponsored by the Great and Powerful Magnificent Evil Overlord Himself)

“I am the Dark Lord Magnifico!  Behold my powers of awe-inspiring might!” he waved his wand over his top hat, his black robes billowing in the wind as he floated above the ground a little ahead of the adventurers.

“But, we’re a band of mercenary treasure hunters, not chosen ones,” one said.

“Oh, whoops, my bad,” Magnifico said, then he poofed away and searched for another group of heroes to threaten.

Magnifico stumbled from knight, to princess, to good witch, to bad witch, to dragon, to a mind-numbingly absentminded wizard, and down to a village with a dimwitted maid by a well.  Or was the dimwitted maid by the coroner’s office?

What did it matter!  There was no Chosen Hero anywhere within this blasted kingdom that he could taunt and threaten!

He ended his search for the time and went to the Monsters and Mayhem Tavern in the bad part of town, the Rough and Tumble, there to drown his sorry ambitions in a drink that some may say is tasty, and many others would say is terrible.


She wore a green satin dress, almost blue at times, the colors faded like a rainy day, the edges tattered, and yet it still shimmered, not a part threadbare.  Purple ribbon or lace bound her chiffon sleeves in place, until they trailed out at the elbow.

Her eyes were like a storming dark sea, and every threat of danger was just as present.

Loraine was her name.

A mighty lady of the Wood.  Perhaps an heir to this manor.

She would not be trifled with.

At least there was an exploding spaceship.

And it killed a spider.

And I even squished a spider while writing this post.

But otherwise…

Spectra 1 is feeling very sad.

But perhaps I should bring Des to enough of a pausing point that I can switch to Sheyla’s perspective.  But that would give away how the story goes, cuz her time is ahead…

*Literally keeps saying Provst will be obliterated and everyone dies and Kaldoa suffers all the dystopic doom as the premise of the story.*

Well, I shall consider it if the battle really doesn’t flow at all.  And nothing gets posted ever.

sci-fi · Spectra · Stories · Uncategorized

Spectra Part 4: Battleship

Part 1 | Part 3

Glimmers of light appeared over the dark city, piercing the clouds as plasma blasts from far turrets rose towards them.  More ships were appearing, and then slowly dropping from the clouds, a huge alien battleship hovered over the city.

An entire fleet of aliens had come to the city.

Desmond’s limbs were shaky, his mouth dry.  Where was Blue Shield with this thing appearing in front of them?!

There were points of light all around the battleship, and Des realized too late what they were for.  Brimming with radiance, the blasters had charged.  Plasma blasts shot out in every direction, and blinding light came flashing right towards him.  He turned to Quentin and began to push him down.

There was heat, and thunderous rumbling, then blackness, with his ears ringing. Desmond opened his eyes and was thankful that he wasn’t blind.  But his mind felt dull. Why was he staring up at the sky and all that smoke and dust?  He felt something hard and buoyant under his back and legs.  He was lying down then. He moved his head to his side, his mind still foggy.  Then he saw Quentin, also lying down on a piece of what used to be the floor, with little pulses of white around them.

Gasping, Des turned onto his knees to get up, greeted by the sight of the street far below him.   His stomach lurched and his hands and feet tingled, he looked up at the battleship.  More blasts took out other buildings, all buildings supported with white gravity.   Not enough turrets were shooting at it. Well, they weren’t powerful enough for that things armor and shields.  Smaller alien ships were soaring through the sky, and once they landed, Des knew it would all be over for someone without a gun.

Thankfully, Des still had his rifle, his pistol, and his laser blade.

“Oh, red!”

Quentin had raised himself up, only to see their new predicament: dangerously high up and slowly drifting from the central structure, with more enemy ships filling the skies.

Desmond turned his head back to the building.  A huge hole had taken out the main shuttle bay and the floors below it, while the few floors above it had crumbled away entirely, including the turrets.  Debris large and small were simply floating and bobbing around the building, slowly moving in orbit around the tower, around the central staircase concentrated with magic so survivors would have a chance to escape a collapse on their own.

Not so easy when plasma fire melts part of it.

Battleships weren’t supposed to get this close to the surface!

Coursing with panic inside, Des took a breath and carefully crawled to the edge of his shard.

“Come on, we’ve got to get to the survivors,” Desmond held out his hands to Quentin.

“Yeah,” Quentin said, and grabbing hold of Des he managed to shift the shards together, and climbed onto the other.

Stories · Uncategorized

Get to Know Me Tag (Writer’s Edition)

Yo.  Writers are playing tag right now.


– Link back to the person who created the tag – Savannah
– Thank the person who tagged you –  Thank you, Kenzie!
– Share the tag graphic (optional, optional! I know it won’t go with everyone’s blog design) –
The Get To Know Me Tag Writer's Edtion [post title image]
– Tag eleven bloggers – Someday I’ll make another tag and I’ll be able to tag people without them already being tagged.


Vital Stats and Appearance

(pen)Name: Jethan

Nicknames: Jethan, I don’t have many nicknames online.

Birthday: Shhhh…

Hair color and length: Golden, brassy dark blonde.  A bit past my shoulders.

Eye color:  Blue-green.

Braces/piercings/tattoos: I once had braces, those days are over now… *Phew*

Righty or lefty: Right

Ethnicity: Anglo-Saxon Celtic Viking



First novel written: The Dragon Keep
First novel completed: Kitallia’s Return if you can call it a novel.  It’s 15 pages after I edited it.  I’ve never finished anything.  Maybe there’s a complete novel midway in Sheyla’s series, but nothing is properly finished.
Award for writing: Nothing except fun little tag awards.  Or winning NaNoWriMo.  I have three November wins.  Plus some camp stuff, but that’s easy to relax on.
First publication: You’re reading my blog.  It’s all right here.
Conference: Nope.
Query/Pitch: Nada.



Novel (that you wrote):  Spectra, could it be anything else at this point?  No, it couldn’t.

Genre: There is always Fantasy.  Then War.  Then Romance.  Then Apocalypse.

Author: I don’t actually have one…There’s ones I like, but I couldn’t pick one, single favorite.  Unless I can pick Nintendo.  I will always enjoy the Legend of Zelda stories.  Always.

Writing Music: Pandora Journey mixes, Position Music…just go on youtube and search for epic music mixes!

Time To Write: Seems to be afternoon and evening.

Writing Snack/Drink: Water, juice, hydration.  I would like snacks, but they are distracting.  Drinks are tidier.

Movie: I have no idea.

Writing Memory: I’ve really enjoyed my friends reactions to reading Spectra.

Childhood Book: Hmm…as far as proper novels go (rather than picture books or comic books)…maybe Harry Potter.



Reading: Nothing.

Writing: Spectra when I can.

Listening to: Like I said about writing music…Starless Sky

Also, there are birds outside.

Watching: People.

Learning: Life can turn out awesomely after a long, rough time.  I bet my stories will reflect that.  (That’s why they’re so long. 😛 )

(Sheyla: <:(  )



Want To Be Published:  Certainly.  At some point.  I’m closer since I’m blogging Spectra, even though it’s very, veeeeerrry sloooow….

Indie or Traditional: Myself.  Indie all the way.

Wildest Goal: Ruling a Multi-media Story Empire

The End

I’m supposed to tag 11 people?  Nope, nope.

How’s writing going?  Anyone else behind on Camp or their personal projects but feeling very chill and relaxed about that?

sci-fi · Stories · Uncategorized

July Camp: Even More Spectra

More NaNoWriMo, more writing, once more in July.

My goal has been to write 50 paragraphs this month and I am behind on my goal.  Thankfully I outlined Book 1 in more detail, and I know what to write next.  Well, actually I just wrote that part.

But there’s still the whole battle before me, and while I certainly have ideas for it, some things haven’t clicked.  Like the fact that a bunch of people are around, and they have no names even though Des certainly should know their names.  Hello, cardboard characters, my old nemesis.

I’m working on them though, with help from my writing cabin!

Maybe my story isn’t doomed.