Writing Software

Please note! This is NOT an advertisement.

I use the software mentioned here but it's FREE and I derive no advantage or profit from it's use other than the proceeds from my writing.

I recommend it because I use it and it's bloody good!

I'm still getting used of becoming a published Author. By published I mean a main stream traditional Publisher with all the bells and whistles, things like a contract and advances against royalties, a media release for the first book in July or August and Editors and Publicists and all that good stuff.


The other side of getting published is the sudden attention. I have been ignored by all but a few friends for years and suddenly it seems every one wants to know me and seek my advice on writing - how the bloody hell would I know? I've been privileged to meet some very talented people , and some outright bloody fools as well. One of the most common questions I've been asked is if there is any good software for writers that doesn't cost an arm and a leg.


OK people, here's the good news, I use a program designed especially for those interested in writing novels. In my opinion it's the bee's knees and provides every facility a novel writer could possibly ask for, and in addition it's FREE. The program is called yWriter and it's available for download from SpaceJock software. It's one of those rare and truly free programs, no spy ware, adware or trojans, no reams of advertising material and no hidden links to suspect URLs. It allows the writer to construct the novel by scene and chapter and provides for characterisation, revision and editing as well as listing various elements of the novel. On top of all that you don't need a degree in computer geek speak to use the damn thing. Oh, one more thing, updates are free, and download automatically.

To good to be true? Nope, go look for yourself, the URL is http://www.spacejock.com/yWriter5_Download.html 

You might have a good look around the site while you are there, the site owner is an accomplished Author himself and besides the yWriter program he offers a few other very useful utilities for the budding author . Oh yeah, I forgot to mention the best part,  both the site and the author are Aussies too.

Another Teaser

As I mentioned in my first post I've been lucky enough to score a book contract. The contract is for a trilogy , (working title) is the Guardians. Book one  (working title again) is Lost @ Infinity. Genre is Sci Fi, theme is an Environmental Armageddon 


So for those who might be interested here is an early draft of a scene from Lost @ Infinity:-


We arrived and took up our positions in orbit. The auditing process commenced immediately and I think we were all a little trepiditious about just what the measurements would reveal. We would be the first human beings to know just how much trouble our planet was in. The first measurements, of ocean condition, took less than a month to bring in and collate. They were not encouraging. As I think I have already mentioned each ship is bio mechanical, or more accurately, bio electronic and is a living thing, not our kind of life but life never the less. Each ship can communicate with the others at a speed of thousands of Terabytes per millisecond and the collation of vast quantities of data is accomplished in a flash. It took us a hell of a lot longer to digest the results but eventually, when we did, there were a lot of long faces. There was no doubt, in a hundred years Earth's oceans would be dead and so would most of the life there in. The repercussions of that revelation were catastrophic. Along with the death of the oceans huge amounts of methane would be released from their rotting depths and the Earth's atmosphere would strangle in it's own pollution. If we coupled that with data on global warming, forest degradation and the consumption of fossil fuel we could probably make a pronouncement on the future of mankind. Mass racial suicide and planetary homicide in the name of profit, indifference and self interest. We had to stop the bloody fools while there was still time.


While the planet decays and heads down the slow and painful road to oblivion the captains of industry smile obliviously and count their profits. They are supported by their cohorts of share holders, their bean counters and the all powerful gods of commerce. How can the pursuit of the dollar and the power it brings blind them to the possibility of a self inflicted death in their own lifetime. There are some, not surprisingly mostly of our own kind, who shout warnings in the wilderness but the power brokers ignore those desperate shouts and fob them off with another committee to study the problem, and then a committee to study the results of the committee. All the time the Armageddon that mankind fears advances closer while they choose to remain ignorant that their doom is of their own making.


Admittedly our science is far in advance of theirs and they had neither the skill, the apparatus, nor the records of other planets that had gone before but even with their primitive understanding the signs are there to read. All it would take is for mankind to get it's head out of it's arse and admit they have a problem. But mankind is nothing if not ever willing to ignore the warnings so we had a problem. To bring the human race kicking and screaming face to face with the approaching storm and to admit their complicity in it's progress. Once we had achieved that we might be able to convince them to do something about it.

Write Right!

I've been writing for over twenty years, sometimes I've even been paid for it which is a phenomena I still have trouble getting used to. Just recently (like about five years ago) I decided I was going to write a novel. I even got encouragement from a few people. I had my theme and my plot and all I needed to do was to find out all the mysteries associated with the process. So I started to read everything I could lay my hands on to find out the best tips and secrets that I thought must be jealously guarded by the top published authors.


When I started out writing, and got paid for my first article it wasn't all that hard. I decided to try to get published in magazines and journals and the like. I had some skills and knowledge in aviation, including model aircraft building and flying, in martial arts and of all things photography. So I bought a whole stack of magazines and sat down to read what was getting published and what the Editors wanted. I wrote to the Editors, introduced myself, and outlined what I knew . One or two Editors even contacted me and expressed an interest. My very first story was published in the American "Soldier of Fortune" Magazine and I received a whole 500 bucks U.S. for it! Wow! I was a published author. Yeah, well. Since then I've had articles published in a variety of magazines and journals but writing for that market is basically writing to an Editorial Formula. They want 2,500 words on this, 3,750 words on that etc, etc, and you write on subjects you know about, or for most of the journals subjects where you have some expertise.


A novel is a whole different ball game. For a start the subject is open but if you want to interest a publisher it better be commercial. There might be a publisher out there who wants to publish a 150,000 word novel on the sexual exploits of a mutated frog but good luck finding them. Then again if you write that one as a fantasy it just might fly! Hmmm.


Anyway, as I was saying before I so rudely interrupted myself I set out to write a novel and decided I needed to know all the tricks first. There is a teaming multitude of books, articles, precises, lectures and tomes on writing the Great English Novel but, for the most part, they all forget to mention one very important factor - TALENT. It  is an unfortunate fact of life that some people write 200,000 words and do all the right things as far as layout, pace, character building etc, etc and then they send a very correctly worded  querie and a precise synopsis of their work to the best, carefully targeted publisher. Nothing happens! No anxious email demanding the whole manuscript, no one page contract offering world wide release in several languages - and name your own price, no movie rights, no invitation to visit the South Sea Islands for a grand book release, not even a whisper to say they might be interested - perhaps.


The net result in many of these situations is that the manuscript ends up in the rubbish bin or gets used to line the kitty litter tray. I suspect that a lot of these would be authors spend so much time ticking off the "How to do it properly" boxes that they loose track of the most important aspect - IS THEIR STORY ANY DAMN GOOD?


I've been fortunate and just recently signed a contract for a trilogy of books  in the Sci Fi genre. It's my first, second AND third books! How did I do it? Well for a start halfway through the second draft I threw all the "How To" books out the window along with my carefully constructed synopsis, character profiles, notes and time frames and just wrote. The characters just grew and developed of their own volition as the story progressed. I let the direction and events in the story have their own head as well. 


What was happening? I don't really know but in real life we don't know what is going to occur next, and if we try to predict events they usually turn out differently any way. Perhaps in fiction writing, if we rigidly prepare what is going to happen to a story, we must expect to get that wrong to! O.K. I could be a raving idiot but it worked for me and now I'm going to be published by a major house - 3 TIMES!

UPDATES

I've added a few extras to the other pages so you might like to check out :-


Things that go Bump in the Night 
and 
The Environment Page.


I'm also going to try to post a couple of previously published short stories on the I WRITE page in the next day or so. (Yes Virginia, they have been published and yes I still retain full copyright.)


Happy Reading and Happy New Year:

A sad tale of those who do, and those who don't.

I belong to a small writers group. There are only fourteen of us who are active although the books list sixty three members and, to date, I'm  one of only two members who has had the good fortune to be published. We are a diversified lot with ages ranging from sixteen up to over eighty and occupations ranging from solicitor to the unemployed. There are three members of the group who raise my sympathies and one who aggravated the hell out of me.


The one who aggravated the hell out of me is, as he tells every one who can't escape his grasp, a journalist. He is also the group's self appointed critic and, unfortunately, also it's chairman, a position he obtained by intimidating every one else. He and I should have an interesting time at the next A.G.M.


The three who raise my sympathies are a mixed lot and include both our youngest and oldest members. The one in the middle is probably the most interesting, and the one most deserving of sympathy, and more importantly, guidance. She is an ex member of the Australian Defence Force and served in Iraq. For a while the journalist plagued her with requests for stories on her military service, to the point where the Lady was about to leave the group. The journalist and I had a little conversation about that in the men's toilet and I walked out. He took some time to recover before he came out.


Like a lot of ex serving members she doesn't want to talk about her military service, she wants to write poetry, and although I'm no expert on that type of writing I quite like some of her work. Her poems tend to be about life, and pain, and fantasy. She writes of Unicorns and stars and darker things in the night. I'd like to help her get a few of her works published as I think they are good enough. Our resident critic  sneers at the lot.  I've given her the phone number of an agent I know who has read a couple of her works but I know she hasn't phoned him yet. She is to lacking in self confidence. I do hope she will keep writing, it's one way to get all the hurt, pain and confusion out.


Our youngest member is only sixteen years of age and desperately wants to write romantic fiction. She's a sweet little girl, polite in a way you don't see much in the young these days, and she spends a lot of time on the Internet. Face book and all those so called social sites. I think she gets a lot of encouragement from her peers but oh dear, if only she could learn to spell and punctuate.


Our oldest member is a delight. She always brings one of her delicious chocolate cakes to our monthly meet. No I didn't threaten to break the journalist's fingers if he touched the plate. That was someone else! Every one calls her Grand ma, and she loves it. She wants to write the history of the local area and she definitely has all the facts. Unfortunately she is that age where she gets a little muddled now and then and describes how  her next door neighbour came home from World War One. That is a bit of a stretch because he is only forty eight.

A Bit of a Teaser.

As I mentioned in my first post I've been lucky enough to score a book contract. The contract is for a trilogy , working title is the Guardians. Book one  (working title again) is Lost @ Infinity. Genre is Sci Fi, theme is an Environmental Armageddon 


So for those who might be interested here is the opening scene of Lost @ Infinity:-



My name is Grahame Charles Harris. I'm a naturalised Australian Citizen but I was born in Colorado in the United States of America where I lived until I was nine years old. I am now a forty two year old man, divorced and still fairly tidy for my age. I do not habitually use drugs of any kind and I do not have an alcohol problem. Yesterday morning I woke up in The House, not my house, The House. It seemed like an ordinary house, or so I thought at first. It has five bedrooms, all with their own en suites, a large elaborately equipped kitchen, a huge living room, another separate toilet and a jacuzzi equipped bathroom. Nothing special, white ceilings, pale blue plaster board walls, blue is predominant, carpets, drapes, the whole decor. Quite tastefully done. If you like blue.


There are a few oddities. No furniture in any of the bedrooms, except mine.  At least I assume it's mine, that's where I woke up. The pantry is quite well stocked, so is the refrigerator, and the freezer. The water taps work, they supply both hot and cold running water. The lights and power also work, all the electrical switches work. There is no telephone though. The living room is fully equipped, stereo and surround sound, television, Cd's, even Blue Ray DVDs. The music selection is very good, exactly to my taste and there is a choice of new release movies, not B grade - the best of the big hit movies of this season! Once again exactly to my taste. There is a computer, it has an Internet connection. Popular, up to date, user friendly. Strange though that there is no telephone.


The computer seems ordinary enough, current operating system, current popular browser and email program. I've found I can connect to popular search engines and websites that I know. The operating system seems to have all the current patches, at least I think it does, there are so many I'm not really sure. It also has a word processor, the one I'm using to write this story on. I started it because of all the strange things that are happening.


So why am I rambling on you ask? Because I don't want to get to the strange part. It gets scary, at least it scares me. I woke up in a strange bed, doesn't usually happen, but sometimes a single man gets lucky. How lucky can you get? I couldn't even remember who I'd been with. O.K. I thought, strange bed, queen size, very comfortable but no woman. O.K. Fine. She's already up. God, what was her name? I couldn't remember a thing, not where I'd been, not who with, nothing!


My clothes were there, neatly folded, did I do that? I usually don't. Especially if the passion of the moment demands a quick undress. I had a quick shower, got dressed and noticed that the house was very quiet. In fact everything seemed very quiet, silent even. No traffic noise, no child noise, no background noise, no nothing noise. It was about then I felt the first slight chill of unease, it's surprising how comforting that background buzz of noise is to the urban man. Pull yourself together I thought, this is good, she's already left for work. I can sneak out and avoid the embarrassment of not remembering her name, or..... my God .... ANYTHING.  Work! What time is it? Where am I? Will I be late again? The Boss will not be pleased.


I pulled on my shoes, found my car keys next to the orange juice, croissants and coffee set out for me and raced for the front door. I opened it and stopped. My senses reeled. I stood there, immobile for perhaps thirty seconds, then spun round and slammed the door behind me. Boy oh boy, what ever I'd been on the night before was still in my system. What had I been on? I usually steer clear of that sort of stuff, maybe someone had spiked my drink, maybe a Mickey Finn, maybe that's why I couldn't remember. Reflex action, I checked my wallet, no, the credit cards, and the money, were still there, so was my ID and a couple of personal photographs. I hadn't been ripped off.


I didn't feel drugged, or disorientated. In fact I felt great, clear head, no hang over, and the wheeze I'd developed lately when I exerted myself wasn't there either. I turned around and cautiously opened the door again, I peeked out, pleasant stone pathway, carefully manicured garden, the car was there in the drive, I couldn't see any damage, it's green, yep, that's mine, the one I always drive. Then I slowly looked out, following the curve of the driveway down to the road. My heart skipped a beat. I slammed the door again and waited for my my breathing to calm down. I wasn't hallucinating, it was still there, or perhaps I was hallucinating and nothing was there. Or perhaps I'm dead, or dreaming. If I'm dreaming it's way past time to wake up.

Grumpy's Grumblings

Here is a list of things that currently annoy the crap out of me which just goes to show that I really am a cantankerous, grumpy, bad tempered, intolerant, old man!

The Price of being Published.

Wow, ripper, I've got a contract, woopee, you beaut, I'm an Author, Oh glee, and I even got an advance. You mean they are REALLY gonna pay me for this??? Now hold on!  There's got to be a catch here somewhere. Marketing??? What's that? Oh! I have to do WHAT? !!!!

Media People.

I've spent 68 years on this earth and the only time I've ever been bothered by these people was when some bloody nong tried to stuff a microphone up my left  nostril, just after I'd returned from Vietnam. I sat him on his arse. Very satisfying. Since then media people have ignored me with a profound dedication.  Good.  

Now suddenly I'm to be a published Author and  someone from some damn  literary journal I've never heard of wants to know my opinion on  the third century  poetry of Lord Nerd of Mugwump.  HUH? Who? The look of  shock and horror that  I didn't have a clue  who the bloody hell they were  raving about branded me  unconditionally as a literary  whore. So I've prostituted the written word to the evil lust of commercialism?? I should  worry? I asked, as I counted off  the zeros on my advance on royalties cheque. So  I'm a literary  whore? Eat yer heart out!

Hangers On.

Now, for  me,  this is a  very new phenonema. Some bloody fool  (me)  innocently mentioned to another bloody  fool that I'd scored a book contract. The other bloody fool  mentioned this to  a third bloody fool  and  you  can  guess the rest.   I live in  a  suburb  where celebrity  means  you've won the  weekly  chook  raffle at the pub. So far  I've been  invited to  three speaking engagements, two school  lectures,   a  women's group meeting,  two service club dinners, one historical  society bash, one  football  club brawl  and the local boy scouts. The  local  boy scouts  being the only  ones  who've  offered  to pay for any  expenses. 

AND WHILE I'M ON MY SOAPBOX!

Research.

 Bloody research, blessed is research because there will come a day when everyone who writes must do research. It is the great leveler. Even those illustrious high fliers who have initials like SK and TC  have to do research. Just imagine kiddies, you creep furtively into the local library to research the sex life of the rare yumandubrah grey moth and there sitting quietly, with the very reference you want is ????  ??????. Fill in your own blanks - who ever you'd like to wake up in the morning and find you've become - or perhaps you'd just like his/her cheque book - no matter. Now of course it's highly likey that these grand pooh bahs of the literary word employ some poor slavering fan, at a pittance, to do the research for them, but, it still has to be done- Oh joy - they're human afterall - their words - complete with correct punctuation and spelling - don't come from some great voice in the sky. They too have to work at it! I am content.

Government Websites.

I am thoroughly convinced that government websites are the bureaucrat's (damn I have trouble spelling that word) latest torture to bring us poor voters and other ordinary folk down to our knees. So you want to try to find something on a government website - GOOD LUCK!! The index of all government sites is incomprehensible, a logical layout, if there is one, is not designed in a methodology we mere mortals can understand. Government websites are designed like Government offices. By the time you find what you want you're to damn exhausted to ask for it.

Search Engines.

Oogle and Numbat and Yea bloody Ha or what ever they call themselves. Have you ever tried to use them? You put in your search word, or words, something like - Senate Enquiries and Royal Commissions - and what you get back is a hundred bloody thousand hits - All references to Senate, Enquiries, Royal and bloody Commissions. It's quite easy to get over half a million hits. Hmmm you think. I need to narrow down my search, so you go to advanced search and it boggles your mind with all the options. So you got to HELP. Help? Help my arse. First you must have a degree in computer geek speek to use it and the one thing you are looking for will be conveniently buried under a ton of incomprehensible gibberish that you have no hope of deciphering. Haven't these people ever heard of plain bloody English?

Christmas.

It's that time of year again. People scramble to buy the right present, some times for children, some times for relatives they can't stand. In the process they manage to overspend, max out their credit cards and create a year long nightmare for themselves that sometimes ends up in heart break.

Weather.

Yep, weather, that stuff that can be wet, cold, hot, dry and all stages in between. Weather can be the blonde Barbie doll or the terribly ernest "mature" male on straight after the news at night. They quack on about fronts, and charts and systems and averages until you are so mesmerised by the bullshit that you don't remember what the hell they did say about tomorrow,  they probably had it wrong anyway. It annoys me because on the rare days I fight my way out of my garret, and wistfuly look for the sun, I invaribly get bloody rained on. Because blonde bloody Barbie or ernest bloody Ernest doesn't bloody know what they are talking about!!!