You deserve an update. I rewrote my book requested by Shadow Mountain. I mailed it in about two months ago. If my understanding of the publishing world proves accurate, I have anywhere from four to ten more months before I’ll hear back.
In the meantime, I’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that something in that story was “out of whack,” or wrong, or something. The problem? I discovered the problem about two weeks after submitting the draft. I realized I must move around a LOT of plot and make my main villain a lesser one.
That discovery left me with a determination to plow through the book one more time and make things right, so to speak. But after a few days of work in this direction, it also left me with a huge bout of writer’s block (which I normally try to reject even exists).
It’s a good thing I already have much of the sequel written because this writer’s block is probably the worst I’ve ever had…The following is a story I began a few days in an attempt to break it. I like the premise, but what’s that worth coming from the author of the story? This is ALL I have written since the block kicked in:
____________________________________________________________
* * * * *
George stood there watching, cold and reserved, unwilling to do anything of help. Not that he could act as help, but at least he should try, he expected.
It did not feel right. She sat there crying for no sound reason and he stood there watching. Oh well, he decided. He was through with this scene.
George opened the portal and stepped through.
“What a disappointment, hey George?” Thomas asked. “We thought you had her there for a moment.”
“So did I,” George said. “You know women, though. You never can tell. You could be right on the verge of victory and then you suddenly lose. It happened – go figure.”
“Well well done anyway,” Thomas patted George on his back.
“You got any more missions for the day?” George asked.
“Maybe we should wait until tomorrow,” Thomas said, looking worried at George.
“I’m not tired,” George said. “In fact I’m really quite enjoying things right now.”
“You look pretty tired.”
“You can’t make me end on a bad note like that lady.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. One more mission for the day.”
“Okay,” Thomas said. Turning to the technicians he said, “Find us a good one.”
A few minutes passed as they looked for another mission.
At last, “Aha! This one’s a killer for sure,” the head technician O’Neil said.
Little did he know how accurate of a statement that would prove to be.
“Fire her up,” Thomas said.
O’Neil did. Strands of light crossed the portal entrance as a scene began to reveal itself on the other side.
Thomas grabbed for the end of the paper as it began printing off the long set of instructions for the job.
“Let’s see,” he said. “This looks like a difficult one. Could involve some time and place travel. Another one of those ‘world hangs in the balance’ type of missions. You sure you’re up to the task?”
George grinned. “That’s more my style. How long do I have?”
“Looks about…” Thomas scrolled through more of the printing which was still making its way out of the printer, “thirty-nine seconds.”
The printer continued to spew out more and more paper as the seconds ticked away.
“There’s a lot we’ll be expecting from this mission,” Thomas said, continuing to scroll through the paper.
“I’m not sure what the big deal is though. It looks like your first assignment is simply to make sure a man by the name of Henry doesn’t grab the wrong colored pencil. Not sure how that becomes a world-saving endeavor.”
“A mystery mission,” George said, grinning, “just my style.”
“Indeed,” Thomas said, continuing to scan the new pages of printing. “It’s a whole heap of stuff here. Oh, you’ll be going in on three…two…one.”
George stepped through the portal and it closed behind him.
Immediately the figurative sirens went off from Thomas’s side of things.
“Oh freak!” his arms dropped limp. Not one of those missions, he thought as the printer continued to spew out continuous page after continuous page of information for the assingment. Not one of those!
Humbert approached Thomas. “My portal shut down all by itself. Any idea why that might be? We can’t send Robert in for his next assignment because it won’t go back on.”
“What’s the big idea?” Parry shouted as he too came upon them. “Our portal froze as I was about to sent Bert out on another mission. It won’t let us – it says something about your portal.”
Thomas’s heart sunk. Please no, please no! he shouted inside.
He looked up at the other men – more approached as well.
“I just sent George in on an assignment – one of the ‘world hangs in the balance’ sort,” he said. “As you can see, the printer is still pouring out information on the job.”
He held up the large string of pages to demonstrate what he’d said.
“But all jobs print out everything before the person steps through the portal,” Humbert said.
“And why does my portal insist you two are to blame?” Ethan asked, pointing at Thomas and his portal.
Thomas took a deep breath. He’d never been around for one of these assignments and he’d hoped he never would be. So much for dreams, right?
“Not all jobs print everything before a person steps through the portal,” Thomas said.
“Those missions?” Larry, a newer portal-guy gasped. “I did my thesis on those! I never thought I’d actually get to see one of them.”
“What does he mean ‘those missions?’” Humbert asked. An older portal-man, Humbert often forgot about the intricacies of their jobs and had settled in for many many years to the mindset that everything always functioned as it should and would never malfunction or act differently than it had for any of his life.
“Those mission,” Thomas sighed, “are the missions. Where the power of all portals working or retired go to ensuring the success or failure of just one mission. That’s why none of your portals are working. I didn’t realize what I was sending George to do or I’d never have let him go.”
“You couldn’t have stopped him from going,” Larry said. “At least they couldn’t have with the others I studied.”
“But what does that mean for the rest of us then?” Humbert asked. “If we can’t use our portals right now, what do we do?”
“We watch George and hope he gets things right,” Thomas said. “There aren’t many cases of this type of mission.”
“Only three,” Larry said. “Well, four with this one.”
“Thank you,” Thomas said, not grateful at all for Larry’s knowledge on the subject. “I guess we’re all portal-watchers now.”
Professional portal-watchers and normally portal-travellers turned their attention to the printer. It continued to put out page after page of information on George’s current mission. After a good hour or so the printer finally put out its final page and duties and Thomas set about making sure tasks and responsibilities got divvied up properly to ensure a successful mission or as little of a failed mission as possible.
“We’d better work on rotating shifts,” Thomas said. “We could be here for quite some time from the looks of it. If anyone’s tired right now, I’d recommend you get some rest. We’re right outside the battlegrounds but that does not mean we can afford foolish mistakes.”
The group of portal-watchers and others hunkered down for the long journey ahead.
At first glance, George thought he recognized this place. He’d seen it before. Something called “the 1950s,” he thought.
Then something crashed into him.
“Sorry about that, sir,” a teenage boy stood up and dusted himself off. “I didn’t see you there.”
“That’s quite alright,” George said. “I hope I didn’t beat up your bike too bad.”
“It’ll be fine,” the boy said. “I’m Henry by the way.”
“Henry,” George repeated, alarm bells going off in his mind. “I’m George.”
He extended his hand and Henry took it in a handshake.
“Say Henry, you don’t have a pencil on you, do you?” George asked.
“Of course.” Henry went to grab a pencil from his shirt pocket, but it was not the one that glowed.
“How about that red one there,” George asked, pointing at the pencil that glowed.
“Sure Mister.” Henry handed George the glowing pencil.