Reaching for ‘The End’

I’ve been working on a science fiction novella for a couple months, and I’m almost done. The pivotal confrontation of my heroine with the bad guys is over. She won. Now I need to tie up several loose ends before the last page, and I’m stumped. I can’t write this final chapter. I need a last splash of action, a small one, but I can’t think of anything.

I’ve read many an epilogue where the authors would just list the upcoming marriages, children, and jobs of the characters before writing ‘The End’ under the last item. I don’t want to do that.

What do you do to finish your stories?  

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WEP Jun 2021 – Great Wave

Here is my entry for the June 2021 WEP Challenge, Great Wave. Neville, a Space Fleet Academy cadet, is serving on the military freighter Mariposa, which carries thousands of refugees from their destroyed colony planet to their new home, the planet Simel. Neville’s duty is being the captain’s liaison with the passengers. I wrote about Neville’s previous adventures here:

Feb 2021 – The Kiss

Apr 2021 – Freedom Morning


Neville was on the bridge for his daily debriefing with the captain when he detected a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun around. And stared in stupefaction at a great wave of pink … insects? Mice? The tiny creatures – hundreds of them – flowed like a tide from the navigator’s station up the wall, disappearing into the ventilation shaft above the pilot’s chair. The last one lagged behind, sick or lame, before it too escaped into the shaft.  

“I think they did something bad,” Sarni, the navigator, said faintly. “What are those things? I only turned away for one moment, and now my holo screen is blinking. There should be a star map there, but it is just blinking.” Her voice rose to a screech. “Where is my star map? I need to lay a course.”

“Tergio!” Captain Moss bellowed into the intercom for the chief engineer. “Report to the bridge. Find her star map.” Then she glared at Neville. “Cadet! Find those things and destroy them. I don’t allow … pests on my ship.”

“Destroy how?” Neville asked helplessly. “What are they?”

“Find out what they are, where they came from, one of the passengers, no doubt, and kill them,” she yelled. “It’s your job. We can’t have such pestilence on my ship, especially if they eat star maps.” Then she gulped, her cheeks turned pink, almost the same color as the fleeing bugs had been, and she winced. Much calmer, she said: “They probably did something to Sarni’s com-link. They’re a menace if they could do that. Find them, research them, deal with them. I want them off the Mariposa before they damage any more equipment. That’s your priority, cadet.”

“Yes, captain.” Neville swallowed his useless objections.

He collided with Tergio, the chief engineer, as he fled the bridge. Now what? he wondered, stomping towards the passenger holds. He couldn’t ask every passenger in the seven holds about those beetles, could he? Over nine thousand refugees had boarded the Mariposa for this trip to Simel. One of them had obviously smuggled aboard something he shouldn’t have. And then those stowaways escaped. And the Mariposa was a three-kilometer long freighter with tons of old equipment stored everywhere. Argh!

As it happened, he didn’t have to search at all. A short spare man with a mane of auburn hair assaulted him as soon as he crossed to the B section.

“You’re the liaison, aren’t you?” the man demanded with obvious irritation. “Norman or Nathan?”

“Neville,” Neville said. “Yes, I am. Do you have a problem?”

“Yes. You do too. I had a crate of my research arthropods, but someone pried open the lid while I was in the mess hall. They escaped. You need to find them.”

Neville stared. “Pink things?” he murmured. “Like a cross between a bug and a mouse?”

“Yes, yes! Did you see them?”

“Yeah. They just damaged the navigator’s station on the bridge.” Neville struggled to suppress his hysterical laughter. “Instead of displaying her star map, her holo vid screen now blinks. We can’t navigate. The captain ordered me to find and destroy your critters. What are they, anyway?”

“No!” the man cried. “You can’t destroy them. They are my future on Simel. They are priceless.”

“The captain’s orders.” Neville shrugged. “You should’ve had a better lock on that crate of yours.”

“I’ll talk to the captain myself,” the man declared. “I’m Professor Berum. I was the top entomologist on the planet. Lead me to her.”

Neville complied. The entire bridge listened in breathless fascination to the explosive argument between Captain Moss and Professor Berum. At first, the captain was adamant, but in the end, after much pleading and some passionate insults on Berum’s part, she relented and agreed to stay her execution order, if the scientist helped Neville recapture the beasties. Immediately.

Sarni, the navigator, still muttered mutinously, as Berum and Neville left the bridge.

“They are dusters,” Berum explained. “A household might have a family of them, no more than twenty, and they would take care of all the dust, dirt, and dead hair in a house. No need ever to vacuum or dust or even wash the floor.”

Neville, who had often been on cleaning duty at the Academy, grunted an affirmative. “But why pink?”

“To be instantly visible,” Berum said. “Pink is a color rarely used on furniture or walls or floors. I researched.”   

“How do we catch them? What would attract them?”

“Chocolate. I researched that too. It’s one of those universal food staples people brought with them to every human colony in space. They grow cocoa beans everywhere.”

Neville shouted a short laugh. “So we’ll just get a couple of chocolate bars from the mess and go around waving them? Come, dear bugs, here is your treat!”

“We-e-ell,” Berum said weakly.  

They did get chocolates from the mess. Optimistically, Neville installed Berum’s empty crate – the bugs’ abandoned home – on a small float loader to trundle with them, and they started their sweep of the ship. While they walked, Berum told Neville that his millipedes were genetic constructs, created and patented by him. They usually avoided people and worked best in an empty space. “When the owners are at work,” Berum clarified.

It took all day. “I think my dusters want to get to the passenger holds,” Berum speculated. “Lots of dust and dirt for them there, but too many people. They wouldn’t do it.”

Neville was more concerned about the warp drive, but to his relief, they didn’t find any pink varmint there. Eventually, they arrived in engineering, the section Neville avoided all day. By now, even he was tired, and the much-older Berum visibly sagged.

“You!” Tergio snarled. “I have a nasty surprise for your creepy-crawlies, Mister. A perimo pulse. As soon as I finish this pulse emitter.” He lovingly tapped an unfinished gismo on his workbench. “Tomorrow morning at the latest. That would be it for the bugs on the Mariposa. Kaput! Hah!”     

Berum flinched.

“We came to check your section.” Neville shook his head in disapproval. Nothing could be gained by frightening the old scholar.

“Is it chocolate?” Tergio demanded. “For me?” He brightened and stretched his hand for the bar in Neville’s grip. “I love chocolate.”

“It’s for Berum’s bugs.” Neville danced out of reach of Tergio’s fingers.

“Come on!” Tergio growled.

Then a pink wave hit the floor, coming from all directions and flowing towards Neville and Berum. And their chocolates.

“Lovely,” said Neville, watching the bugs scurrying into their crate and forming pink mounds around several chocolate bars inside.

“Gross!” said Tergio.

“My dusters!” Berum cried happily.  

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Toss clothes to the floor

It’s the first Wednesday of the month again, time for a post for the Insecure Writer’s Support Group.


This month, I’ll forgo the optional question and instead ask a question of my own. It has been bugging me for a while. You see, I like reading romance novels. In many of them, both historical or contemporary, when the characters are involved in a sex scene, they often throw their clothing to the floor. I wonder why?

In all my life, I’ve never tossed my clothing to the floor. I think it is unsanitary. I understand that the romance heroes, while in the throes of passion, are in the middle of an erotic interlude, their desire rages, their lust is unbridled, yada, yada, yada, but…

Isn’t there a chair in their bedroom? A drawer? A hook on the door? Maybe even a chest in a historical romance. Why can’t they hurl their clothes to any surface but the floor? They just stumbled in from the outside, their shoes are dirty, and they smudge the street dirt all over the floor while engaged in a torrid kiss. Why don’t the drop their clothes on a side table instead of underfoot?

Is it common not only in romance novels but in real life as well? I’ve never done it – I have a special chair beside my bed – but does anyone fling their clothes to the floor when they undress for bed? Or is such weird behavior reserved exclusively for smutty encounters?  

It is an insignificant detail, I know, but please, indulge my curiosity. Tell me in the comments.

Posted in Insecure Writer's Support Group, Olga Godim, Reading, Romance, Writing | Tagged , , , , | 22 Comments

IWSG – blog posts word count

It’s the first Wednesday of the month again, time for a post for the Insecure Writer’s Support Group.
MAY QUESTION: Has any of your readers ever responded to your writing in a way that you didn’t expect? If so, did it surprise you?

MY ANSWER: Yes, all the time. It did surprise me the first time I encountered a totally unanticipated reaction, but not anymore.

After my recent foray into the A to Z challenge in April, I’ve been contemplating the optimum length of a blog post. Does it exist? I went to the internet for answers, and Google spit out tons of hits. Here are two that jumped to the top.

Both of them, and some other sites I checked, recommend approximately the same numbers, depending on your ultimate goal as a blogger. If you want more comments, more interactions with your readers, your posts should be 200-600 words. If you want to come up high in Google search, your posts should run to 2,000+ words. Google needs lots of text.

Personally, I prefer to write shorter posts, 300 – 500 words, with one or two images. And as a reader, I also prefer shorter posts. When a post is over 600 words, I become bored. Of course, it also depends on the quality of writing, but even with mediocre writing, I would probably read a shorter post to the end but start skimming a longer post halfway through, and simply close the window if the post is overly long.

It is also about my time. I don’t want to spend too long on reading posts unless the information is too important for me to skip a single word. I think the post falling into the category of HOW TO, manuals of anything from using Photoshop to knitting a patterned shawl should be as long as needed, while personal opinions and journal entries should be short and spiffy.

The only exception to this rule is fiction. When I participate in the flash fiction blog hop WEP, the stories by all the participants are around 1,000 words. We all know it and gladly read each other’s stories in full.

Images also play a role. When a post includes many images on a single theme, I’d probably stay with the post to the end, especially if such posts are not heavy on text. I subscribe to a couple bloggers who post mostly images linked by a common theme. For example: ‘My garden’ or ‘Hot Air Balloon Festival’. I always scan their posts to the end.

But if the images are not connected, I rarely read such posts from top to bottom. Or if there are a glut of images plus several thousand words of text. I really dislike those. They might do well in Google search, but they take too much time to read. Of course, it is a personal preference.

What length of posts are you most comfortable with as a blogger and as a reader? Tell me in the comments.

BTW: this blog post is a little over 500 words. I think it borders on being too long.

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A to Z Challenge – Letter Z

Uph! The last one. For the letter Z, I decided to explore the digital ZONE in this science fiction / futuristic cover.  

What is your vision of a futuristic city? Skyscrapers? A classical suburb? An old-fashioned village? Or a sealed structure containing everything one needs to survive in a landscape no longer fit for human habitation?   

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A to Z Challenge – Letter Y

You wouldn’t think the word YARN fits the speculative fiction genre. Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe this cover would do better for a book about knitting. Or maybe the yarn itself is magical. Anyway, for the letter Y, here is my take.

If there was magical yarn, what would it do? What would a sweater made of it do? Would it make you invisible? Would it cure any illness? Or would it turn your skin green?

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A to Z Challenge – Letter X

This is the only letter of the alphabet for which I couldn’t find a word to fit any of my covers. Not many words start with X. A small dictionary might have only a few entries for it. My Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary has one page dedicated to X (out of 1373 pages). So I used the word EXODUS in a sort-of phonetic tackle in this sci-fi cover.

If you could choose another star system or planet for your next destination, where would you go?

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A to Z Challenge – Letter W

Wolves, werewolves, and other beasts often make compelling characters in many high fantasy or urban fantasy stories. A WOLF is also an obvious word choice for the letter W.  

If you had two wolves as companions on your magic-related travels, what would you call them?

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A to Z Challenge – Letter V

In this quasi-medieval fantasy cover, a castle rises from the VALLEY floor, and a girl gazes at it with downcast eyes. It is a fitting cover for the letter V.

What is the connection between her and the castle? Is it her home? Her prison? Her dream?

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A to Z Challenge – Letter U

For the letter U, I went with the Mary Poppins approach. On my cover, a girl travels across the sea in an UMBRELLA. The dolphins help, of course.  

Where is she going, I wonder? Is she a willing traveler or a hostage to her unhappy circumstances?

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