scribblemyname: (kitty: tech)

CHAPTER TWO:
Breaking the Glass

Shelley Huntington was less than thrilled with Kailin University. It was an old, respected institution built on Earth before there were any other inhabited planets to talk about. Ostensibly, the sprawling campus of white stone buildings—likely laced with nanobots and other technology—still belonged in private hands, those of William Scheffer, heir to his grandfather however many times removed that had founded it. The buildings and grounds of manicured lawns and neatly cut road– and skyways likewise failed to impress Shelley. She was an Ybreteh girl. She liked her computers and small spacecraft Abi bought her for her sixteenth birthday and the higher-tech world she had been born on.

“Anywhere, anywhere but here,” she muttered to herself under her breath. She had dumped off her things in the dorm room indicated by her room key, a tiny boxed-in affair occupied by three beds—more muttering ensued—and since then, taken to wandering disconsolately about the ridiculous maze of hallways (she didn’t even know they still used drywall this extensively) in search of the vocational orientation auditorium marked deceptively on her campus map as just inside the building across from the dorms.

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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (this was your idea)
This entry is part 12 of 12 in the series City of Glass

Due to a fear on my part of moving too slowly, I bumped up my initial City of Glass posting schedule to twice weekly. Due to the reality of my first thought being the better one, I’m bumping it back down to once weekly. The novel will now update on Thursdays only.

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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (diable)
This entry is part 1 of 2 in the series City of Glass Outtakes

ALL THEM BRIGHT STARS
Liana Mir


Summary: Kade is one of a crewful of scrappy orphans taken in by the captain of The Good Heart, a spaceship barely holding itself together. Anyone would want to leave, right? A short story of the Alliance

Author’s Note: Today is supposed to be the new post for City of Glass, but the next update is not yet ready due to an unexpected edit of chapter 1. Instead of defaulting on posting, I decided to share a short story from the world instead. I hope you enjoy!


Her name was Case, short for Casey, even though Kade had told her a hundred times that Casey shouldn’t have a nickname.

“You know, scruffy, you can just shut up now.” She eyed him balefully, blue eyes bright through a badly cropped fall of shiny brown bangs. Her blue catsuit was dark as the backdrop to the stars glimmering through the viewer beside them and she had slung one of her oversized wrenches over one shoulder.

Kade handed her another bolt.

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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (kitty: tech)
This entry is part 11 of 11 in the series City of Glass

Hayley Lamar was defined by her teachers as a no-good, rebellious troublemaker—anything but a lady and certainly not a good student. Perhaps this should have bothered her. She was raised properly in the good southern Bible belt, after all, but truth was, the moniker didn’t bother her at all.

So when her grades came through after secondary school and she saw just how much trouble she’d have hitting a regular college, she planned ahead and applied to every single Alliance priority one school on the world (there were twenty-four) and requested a scholarship. Officially, these schools went to the best of the best of the crop of young people coming up on Earth and, sometimes, throughout the entire twenty-two star systems. In reality, they went to the ones with the highest scores on aptitude tests, and Hayley knew how to score on one of those.

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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (buried: under the rubble)

In the effort to meet my deadlines on City of Glass, I pounded out the middle of chapter one, working off of some previous work that worked pretty well—before I put it in a serial. I distinctly do not care for how chapter one turned out because it seems to have lost all the tension from the prologue and I’m pretty sure it’s because I went with the outside POVs and am holding my real main characters at a distance. These are Hayley, Jena, and Shelley, who hasn’t even shown up on screen yet because I dumped her remand scene.

Should I power ahead on chapter two or rewrite chapter one? Do you care?

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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (loaded gun: wake up call)
This entry is part 10 of 11 in the series City of Glass

“So what is your specialty?” Jena asked as she carefully unlatched her cases to begin unpacking. “You’re vocational?” Her father had told her that only married students or students from the same program roomed together.

Jena’s father had wanted her to do the standard program, as he had when he attended Kailin University, but Jena had little patience for the supplementary and core classes required of semester students. She had requested an interview with her mother, then her mother had requested leniency for vocational. He grimly relented.

Hayley’s muffled “Yes” drew Jena’s attention back to current details.

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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (can you keep a secret?)

Some days I hate my writing. Today is one of those days and the reason I almost failed to update City of Glass, my current serialized science fiction novel, this morning. I hate the whole story. I want to throw it in a river to go and rot.

Every writer I have ever met has experienced this at one time or another. It’s a side effect really of our pursuit of perfection. We need that pursuit. It’s what brings you fully-developed wonderful literature instead of half-baked half-written stories that leave you wondering what we were doing when were supposed to be writing. It’s important. Without that pursuit, we would be unable to create the works that inspire us and make us want to keep putting pen to paper day after day.

But there’s thing called a commitment. I made a promise to not just put pen to paper, so to speak, but also to put paper to bed and send it out into the great wide world twice a week for readers to enjoy—or not. I really can’t control that part. Commitment is important too, necessary to us artistic types who want every word we produce to be perfect. Without that commitment, we would never be able to stop writing, editing, revising, etc. and hand over our work to the reader. It would never get to you.

And then, there’s resolve. It’s that murky bridge in between the two. My resolve is what allows me to do what I need to do, even when I don’t want to. I still hate City of Glass as it stands. I still hate the chapter I finally kicked out the door this morning. I still wish I had never, ever made that stubborn commitment to produce a novel that wasn’t finished first so I could belabor it into perfection.

But I am resolved to fulfill my commitment. The new installment is up. I have done my duty and must wash my hands of perfection.

There.

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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (let us reason together)
This entry is part 9 of 11 in the series City of Glass

It was one of those things people did not talk about. Earth had been around before the Alliance and the Human Alliance Council. It was not only one of the original twelve worlds after Kippler’s was discovered, it was the original world, and all the outsourcing for resources could not change the fact that Earth was still populous and only renewable to a point.

Jack did not talk about it much either. Ever since Kailin acquired its priority one status with the Alliance, there were speech requirements concerning what could and could not be said around the students. Undermining HAC was impermissible. Jack usually could not care less, but he tried to show at least a little restraint. Especially around green eyes glimmering with shrewd interest.

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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (fiction: coup)
This entry is part 3 of 3 in the series 5 Things Meme

Comment to this post saying “FIVE!” and I will pick five things I would like you to talk about. They might make sense or be totally random.

Then post that list, with your commentary, to your journal. Other people can get lists from you, and the meme merrily perpetuates itself, hopefully for the rest of eternity!

From arliddian: Worldbuilding

What do we talk about when we talk about worldbuilding? How about we begin with the fact that I am a worldbuilder at heart, that I empathize with Tolkien’s desire to write out stories to express the worldbuilding he had done and further, that the worldbuilding he had done was built around languages. Additionally, I was asked to write this post ages ago, but haven’t, primarily because it’s too big. I couldn’t get my arms around it.

Worldbuilding is writing. No matter what time period you’re in, what setting, what people, your story exists within a world, and the story builds that world within your reader’s mind.
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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (ruffled feathers)
This entry is part 8 of 11 in the series City of Glass

Jack Kiligree was simply minding his own business, wandering down Kailin University hallways towards the main section of garages and workshops, when he ran into his own version of vocational trouble.

Now, just to keep things straight, Jack was a bit of rough-it-out loner type, former militancy, and impatient with anything that kept a man from cutting to the bottom line. He could even empathize a bit with Dr. Clark Gabrin, muttering as they passed in the hallway. The good doc had probably heard about Scheffer’s plan to require vocationals on the Gabrin Habitat Project. Vocationals were not like the other students who came to Kailin with their academic record of excellence and dreams on their mind. Vocationals were the test-ins. They had aptitude, and that was all that was required. Not social skills (unless they claimed aptitude for diplomacy), not a proper understanding of subordination, not any understanding of their place under those who had already passed through the ranks, and apparently, not a single shred of respect for personal space.

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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (kitty: tech)
This entry is part 7 of 11 in the series City of Glass

A computer made a soft pinging sound, and a petite (read tiny) girl with dark hair and a smattering of freckles across her pert nose removed said nose from where she had buried it in one of those dry and ancient tomes on the permissible style, forms, and terms of privateering charters and what technological and weaponry limitations were permissable and/or enforcable in pre-Alliance precedent and general Alliance practice. The girl’s name was Shelley Huntington, a sufficiently English-world name to mask her Ybreteh breeding and interests. She perked up when she realized the alert was the one she had set to Elysium incident reports.

Tome dropped and thunking off the hardwood floor in her bedroom, small kosher dinner abandoned, Shelley eagerly settled in at her slim, top-of-the-line computer and set to work hacking.
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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (teadragon)
This entry is part 6 of 8 in the series City of Glass

CHAPTER ONE:
Trouble Will Do

Dr. Clark Gabrin shook out his newspaper to read the headline better. He adjusted his glasses for the upteemth time and furrowed his bushy brows as he read. Things were not doing well with the HAC-Elysium negotiations. Elysia had been on the outs with the Council for a while now, and the situation had deteriorated from bad to worse.

His large, rough hand reached out from behind the paper to tap on the tabletop in front of him uncertainly until he finally bumped with a clatter into the miniscule saucer he had placed there to hold his equally miniscule teacup, which held his daily draught of energizing tea, an intensely concentrated, drink-at-your-own-risk concoction only Clark was brave enough to try.
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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (who i am)
This entry is part 5 of 8 in the series City of Glass

Stephanie hands off the disc in its solid state before she returns to her own ship and Tyreke. She did what she came to do: found Evan, got the disc from him, and gave it to the militancy. Now she can take a moment to breathe because she is Talon, and the Darkstation sensors have decided their Alliance ship is hers. The joys of being one thing by career and another by blood, she thinks darkly.

Tyreke stares at her injured knee, and all Stephanie can find the strength to do is glower back. Doesn’t stop her from wanting to vent though. She warned their captain not to send them. Viciously, “Sergio is a—”
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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (abyss: rogue)
This entry is part 4 of 8 in the series City of Glass

The Class-I speeder is typical Elysium: all dark glass and a heartbeat from the vastness of the cosmos, but it is still an I. More like manned guided missile than spaceship, it houses little more than Seara and a couple of engines.

She does not need more. She is a spacer and space is the one place she feels genuinely at home. The militancy is sending her to the heart of the space stations of the Talons and the Medes, but they are hybrids with their planet-born interests, squabbling over planetary resources and living in stable orbit on what might as well be moons or planets. She has lived on space ships her entire life. Flying is like breathing to her, the hull like her second skin.
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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (loaded gun: wake up call)
This entry is part 3 of 8 in the series City of Glass

Gnell is the diminutive secret weapon of the militancy station on Sellus, Motac’s nearest, dinghy little grey moon, where to step outside is death by suffocation from the dust. Of course, one of the primary reasons Gnell is a secret is that she would never make such a mistake as to step outside into the thin, inadequate protection of the terraformed atmosphere. No, she stays holed up in her room, bent over her work with an enormous mug of chicory brew in one hand and a keenly intelligent gleam in her eye.

The room is small, to fit her, with no windows on the joyless view. The walls are dark blue panels, the furniture dark blue panels filled with array upon array of buttons and monitors and widgets and communication devices. One of the red lights is flashing now, a priority one signal from a priority one alert on a priority one planet about a situation she’s already aware of.

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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (you think I know anything about tears)
This entry is part 2 of 8 in the series City of Glass

“Distress call from Talon Mede. Origin: Keystation. Target: Darkstation,” Analik repeats. Again. “Attack on the Medes at Darkstation.”

Stephanie Forrester scowls. She has heard about the alert twice now, and if all is in order, so has her captain, Sergio Haus. She should be telling him, warning him not to go into that sordid, sorry mess of a planet with its orbiting stations. She’s a Talon and a part of that sorry mess of an ethnic war. Perhaps the Human Alliance Council underestimated that fact when they assigned her as pilot to the class-H—minimum crew military spaceship with a personality—Analik. Perhaps they forgot a spacer was a spacer was a spacer, and there she is, gritting her teeth again against that d— alert blaring on her panel.

“Is something wrong?” the navigator, Rayanne, asks quietly, tilting her head in that calm appraisal that’s always so d— right.

Stephanie launches herself out of the pilot station and heads back toward captain’s quarters. “Always is,” she mutters and nearly bumps into Sergio coming out.

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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (three ravens)
This entry is part 1 of 13 in the series City of Glass

PROLOGUE:
The Shattering

KEYSTATION shimmers brightly over the gas giant of Talon Mede. The space station is all glass and dark metal glimmering under the brilliance of the star system’s near sun.

Night side faces the planet, and a young girl, perhaps in her early twenties, stands near the glass about at dusk, where she can look out toward the other stations, shy fingers nearly touching the glass. She is tall with dark hair and fair skin, as that of most spacers. She is a Mede. From here, she can just glimpse the sweeping curve of emerald brilliance that is Talon Mede. More, her gaze catches the sharp edge of Darkstation.

They know. It is the only possible conclusion to draw.

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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (mood: fire)

Roses are red
as the curve of your smile
To be blessed by such beauty
makes mornings worthwhile

Roses are pink
as the glow of your skin
Your radiant beauty
shines from within

Violets are blue
as the hue of your eyes,
like pieces of Heaven
come down from the skies

Violets are soft
as the sound of your voice
More graceful than songbirds
who laugh and rejoice

Sugar is sweet
as the kindness you show
Everyone loves you
wherever you go

Sugar is loved
as you also are too
Stay near to me
and I’ll always love you


G. A. Thompson is an Alliance character whose creative pursuits include writing romantic fiction and poetry; causing noncombustible, fireproof material to combust, burn, or melt down; and inducing headaches in the Kailin University staff. He is a second-year student in the Materials Testing and Diagnostics vocational program.

Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (kitty: kidding)

So the idea of a piece of serial fiction has been bouncing around in this head for a while now, but I was always convinced I lacked the strength to discipline myself and convinced I lacked the commitment and the ability to write linear without going back to edit, and then, this quote rammed me upside the head and a good look at my profile full of serial fanfiction clinched the deal.

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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

scribblemyname: (teadragon)

My characters are beverage drinkers. From Clark Gabrin with his “fine decantation of valuable stimulants and nutrients” designed to taste like an Earl Grey to the national Vardin beverage, sluscheta; to Shelley Huntington’s addiction to all things coffee, tea and coffee seems to show up all over in my fiction.

Myself, I am a bit of a tea connoisseur. The family cupboard has always been stuffed to the brim with assorted teas, mostly supplemental or Celestial Seasonings, and my father’s pantry contained even more exotic varieties, including coffee alternatives, such as Roma and Pero. When I opened up shop in my own pantry, I included hefty doses of tea for both healing and flavor. An introduction to a local tea room owner led me to fall in love with rooibos as well. So, when my characters began showing personality through their choice of beverage, not only did it not really take me by surprise, but it made for a delightful round table of who likes what and what that says about them.

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Originally published at Liana Mir. You can comment here or there.

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