Musings on Nonexistent Peace and Writing in General

I have been lacking with blog topics so I thought I’d share some background, foreground, and wandering thoughts about Nonexistent Peace, which you can read what’s completed of it here.  Maybe this post will motivate me to write more of it.  As for you, the person reading this, maybe it will get you interested in reading what I have already written of Nonexistent Peace and/or offer a glimpse into the horrifying way that my brain ticks and tocks.

The first thing to know is that Nonexistent Peace is a working title of sorts.  How could an author, any author, possibly come up with a fantastic and meaningful title for a story when they themselves don’t even have the full thing solidified in their head yet?  In fact, if you read the prologue of the story, you should be able to spot the line that the title comes from.  If you want my honest opinion, I hate that title.  Of course, it’s not like I can think of anything better at this juncture.

Now then, to delve a bit deeper into my thoughts, I’d like to mention that Nonexistent Peace isn’t the “first book”.  I tend to think of grand things and in my head there is a whole book that takes place before this one.  I have just decided it is less interesting than my plan for Nonexistent Peace.  That “first book” (do you feel as silly reading that phrase as I do typing it?) is a much slower introduction to this world than the crash course Nonexistent Peace will be.  I personally believe the crash course is more exciting, more engaging.  On the other hand, it’s harder to write, having to introduce things while not shoving to much down a readers throat at one time. I guess I just like challenges.

You may be wondering how Nonexistent Peace comes off of another book and you would be correct to wonder.  As of Chapter 1 Part 1 of Nonexistent Peace, which is as far as I have written at the time of writing this blog post, there’s no lead in from the “first book” present yet.  Juli and Casi are completely new introductions to this world I’m building.  It’s Chapter 1 Part 2 that continues off the “first book”.  Dylan (such a plain name after Juli and Casi isn’t it, there’s a reason for that)… as I was saying, Dylan gets introduced in the next section of Nonexistent Peace and he’s the bleed over from that “first book”.

This may be why I’ve been dreading (and avoiding) writing this next section for Nonexistent Peace.  How much of Dylan’s back-story should I tell?  How much do I need to tell?  Should I put it all up front or leave some for later?  I get the feeling that there’s a lot I can fuck up.

And then there’s this other problem with how stories in my head exist.  Some people outline, others spend months making timelines and getting as many details in place as possible.  I can’t work that way.  Stories in my head are this ever changing mass of ideas with what I guess you could call guiding points.  I have these points in my head of how the story should progress.  These points are targets, some are big plot points and some smaller things that I need to guarantee get covered.  Even these targets are sometimes in flux and not completely decided upon.  It would be an understatement to say that it’s a challenge to guide this world and these characters in my head in such a way that both makes sense and hits these targets.

I suppose my main point about my writing is that, while I have a set of target that I’m aiming for, each individual section is mostly made up on the spot.  Sometimes I think I feel as lost, as unsure and unknowing, writing a section as people feel reading it, and I hope that’s not a bad thing.  I so very hope it’s not.

Your humble author,

Nonexistent Peace: Chapter 1 Part 1

I finally was able to finish the next section of Nonexistent Peace.  I hope you enjoy it.  If you haven’t read the prologue, you can read it here.  All posts in this story can be read here.

Julisia awoke from the nightmare, choking and gasping for breath.  The burning wetness of water-filled lungs still drowned her memory.  Utter panic swept through her as she rolled over in bed onto her hands and knees and coughed her guts out onto her pillow.  Her wheezing breaths were intermittent as she simultaneously tried to take in air and hack up her dinner from the night before.

On the other side of the dark room Casima stirred, awakened by her friend’s distress.  At the snap of her fingers, a pair of pinpoint lights sparked to life.  They seemed to come from within the wooden beams in the rafters, illuminating the entire room with a warm light.

Julisia had collapsed onto her side.  She lay away from the mess that now occupied where she had slept.  The choking coughs had given way to sobbing.  Her legs were pulled up to her chest as she curled into a ball, trying to occupy as small a space as possible.

It had been that dream again.  The one where she drowned to death; where her own mother killed her.  Not only was it her single lone memory from before she had died, it also tortured her in her sleep, disturbing her peace, never letting her forget.  It was horrible and it sucked.

“Oh, Julisia,” Casima cooed in sympathy as she slid from her own bed.  Her feet were silent on the wood floor as she padded softly across the room to comfort her friend.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, the slight shifting from the extra weight causing it to squeak.  Julisia continued to sob as the older woman pulled her gently into her lap.  Casima brushed her hand through Julisia’s hair, carefully untangling the black strands from the crying woman’s small horns.  She made soothing noises, tenderly quieting her friend.

They stayed that way as Julisia’s tears slowly dissipated.  When they were silent, neither attempted to talk to the other.  Neither needed to talk.  This had happened before, many times before, and each time was just as bad as the last.  Nothing Casima could say would dull the harsh edge of Julisia’s nightmare and they both knew it.  So, Casima did the only thing she could to provide what small amount of comfort possible to her friend and stayed silent.

A nightbird’s cry pierced the air from the other side of the closed window.  Its shriek was harsh in the silence as it cawed on.

When Julisia finally spoke, her voice was coarse and faint, her throat raw, “After eighteen years, you’d think I’d stop having that nightmare.”

“It’s a bad nightmare,” Casima responded, staring out the window where the nightbird continued its sharp call.

Julisia sat up, slipping out from under Casima’s hands to sit on the edge of the bed, “But eighteen years?”

Casima folded her hands daintily in her lap.  “I’m not sure this is the kind of thing you ever get over, Sarah,” she put care into the name, her words quiet.

“Please don’t call me that,” a slight twinge of annoyance had entered Julisia’s words.  The last thing she needed was for Casi to start calling her Sarah.  “Not right now.”


They went silent once more.  Outside the nightbird still screeched.

Continue reading

Nonexistent Peace: Prologue

The water filling the porcelain white tub was lukewarm.  It filled her mouth, made its way down her throat and burned her lungs.  She tried to cry, tried to scream, but each breath was just more water into her already waterlogged respiration.  The small heart in her small chest raced.  Precious bubbles floated to the surface with each desperate gulp.

Hands forced her under the water, holding her there.  They were manicured to perfection, the ivory white tips glistening in the light filtering through the bathwater.  These were the hands that used to care for her, that should care for her, and that still cared for her, in their own twisted way, but they didn’t answer her water filled cries.

Her arms flailed fruitlessly, her small weak body no match for the hands which held her.  Water splashed around the tub, inconsequentially spilling onto the decorative tile.  It ran through the cracks, seeking lower ground, slowly puddling.  Such a small mess for such an atrocious deed.

The world was going dim.

There was no peace for her panicked lungs, just calm for her body.  Her struggles slowed.  The sloshing of the water slowed with her paddling arms, no longer cresting the top of the tub with each oscillation.

Sensing her defeat, the hands relaxed.  They caressed her, calmed her even as the pain grew worse and the world darkened.  They no longer held her with force, becoming almost gentle, easing her into the darkness.  The darkness where nothing awaited her but calm.  A calm nonexistence.

She would die, then she would fade and then she would no longer be.  Within that nonexistence she would be calm, but she would not be at peace.


She would never be at peace.

Read the next part here.