Post #251 March 29, 2021 “Characters, Characters, Characters” Today, we enter our story lab once again and look at what makes good fictional characters. Even if you have a plot-driven story, your characters are what make a story really shine. A bland or passive protagonist makes for a boring story. Interesting and unique characters are memorable, if not timeless, even when relegated to smaller roles. Go the extra mile to give each character distinction, depth, and history. Consider writing character bios for each member of your cast and see if it gives you further insight into how to portray them. Let’s look at some of the details. 1. Remember that readers live vicariously through your characters. It’ll be easier for them to identify with a character if you’ve done your homework and made the character seem real to them. But the devil is in the details. Don’t spend so much time describing the character and his or her background that you forget to tell the story. Perhaps the best way to remember this is to remind yourself that character is best revealed through action and how the character responds to the challenges he faces trying to achieve his goal. 2. In developing your character(s), strive for the unique and memorable. What sets this person apart from others? Why should I care about what happens to this character? A unique and memorable character is a little different, a bit off-beat, perhaps, displaying attributes such as physical characteristics or attitudes or a manner of speaking that sticks in your memory. Toward that end, one way to do this is to— 3. Recall from your own life people you have known who really stick out. I remember my senior-year typing class teacher in high school. One: she was black (unusual in Atlanta, GA in the late sixties). Two: she was extremely friendly and encouraging. Three: (most important) she knew I was smitten with a girl in the class and pestered me to ask her to the prom. Her name was Miss Simms. I recall her fondly even today for all these reasons. Ask yourself this: why is James Bond so memorable? Or Harry Potter? Or Tarzan or Tom Swift, Jr? They are well described. They act consistently across a number of stories. With series characters, all the author has to do to invoke a character is mention a few traits, just a few words…”shaken, not stirred,” for example. We remember these characters because they are well-drawn, they are different in engaging ways and unique in their outlook on life, not to mention in their actions in the stories. 4. How much detail should you put in your story? I strongly recommend writing character bios for your main characters. You don’t have to use every single word or incident from the bio in your story but at least if Og and Grog both have blond hair and moles on their left cheeks, you’ll be consistent in how they’re described. Readers notice that sort of thing. Even better, some times in the process of developing a character and writing a short bio, plot points will jump out at you and suggest ways of steering the story that you might not have considered. 5. Here’s an example from a science fiction novel called Monument I’m writing now that illustrates what I’m saying: Octavio Morales Patron Age: 50-ish Height: 5’9” Weight: 285 lbs Hair: Bald Face: Olive complexion, round and red, splotchy with nanoderm patches that aren’t working Other Distinguishing Features: huffy, wheezing kind of breath; crushing hand grip; small slits for eyes, lost in extra folds of fat around the eyes; smile that vacillates between a smirk and a sneer. A Short Biography: Octavio Morales Patron (aka O.P. or Octo) fab lord, scope dealer and smuggler, scoopship fleet operator and shipping magnate, transmuting plant owner, terreta developer and influence peddler in the halls of the InFed Council. Patron is the one who gives Dugay the commission for the Outer Ring project. Many words could be used to describe Patron: larger than life, boisterous, rambunctious, loud, obnoxious, annoying. All of them would be true. Patron lives aboard a luxurious personal terreta called Zanzibar, orbiting in a cycler orbit between Earth, Venus, and Mars. It is a pleasure palace worthy of Kublai Khan, whose history has often fascinated Patron and whom Patron often fashions himself after. He sometimes thinks of himself as a latter-day 23rd century Khan. Patron’s initial fortune came from his father Julio, an early sunpower investor. One of Julio’s legacies was to will ownership of several sunpower stations to his children. OP has a sister Eugenia and a younger brother Oscar (now deceased). He owns ten sunpower stations—known locally as the Sunflower Group—which beam power to customers all over InFed. Most of the Sunflower stations are inside Mercury orbit. These stations are the source of his original wealth. OP was born on Earth itself, in Buenos Aires, to Julio and Constanza Morales Patron, in the year 2195 CE. But as a child, he was relocated to the family terreta Cordoba in halo orbit around Earth-Moon L3 and this is where he grew up. Patron is a creature of space, or at least non-Earth and now can no longer return to Earth due to its powerful gravity well. Today, Patron’s most lucrative business after sunpower is smuggling, something which InFed tries to control but mostly winks at, for OP has supporters even among SpaceGuard and Frontier Corps. His smuggling includes scope, illegal fabs (nanobotic fabrication systems) and many contraband goods to a variety of settlements especially along the borderlands of InFed, along the inner ring of the asteroid belt. Another source of wealth for Patron are his multiple shipping lines…. I don’t need to have any more details on this character to have a good feel about what type of person he is. And I only do this for major characters in my story. With this, I have enough background on Octavio Patron to reliably and consistently sketch him out whenever I need him to show up on stage. This concludes our brief story lab. I hope discussing these points of good character development in your storytelling practices will help you in all your future writing endeavors. The Word Shed will take a one-week hiatus for the Easter holiday next week. The next post to The Word Shed comes on April 12, 2021. See you then. Phil B.

Post #250 March 22 2021 “Reviews: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly” Way back in 2014, I uploaded an alternate history novel called Final Victory to Smashwords.com. One reviewer from Goodreads had this to say about it, after giving the story 4 out of 5 stars: “It is a little known fact that the Manhattan Project assembled four nuclear weapons before the end of the Second World War. One, of course, was tested at Trinity Site, New Mexico and one each was dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, as we all know. The last was held in secrecy in the event Japan did not unconditionally surrender. Philip Bosshardt postulates how close to catastrophe we might have come if the Russians and the Japanese had cooperated on information gleaned from the sieve-like security surrounding the mad dash to perfect an atom bomb. This epic-length saga tells a chilling tale that rings true at every convolution of the plot. The historical backdrop is expertly woven, the characters fully developed and the pace nearly perfect. All fans of historical fiction and alternate history are going to love Final Victory.” Then another review came in just a few months later, on my series Quantum Troopers. This reviewer offered no words, but gave the episode two out of five stars. So much for reviews. Actually, book reviewers and reviewers are a godsend to any author, regardless of what they say or whether they love the book or just can’t stomach it. Why? 1. It’s feedback, man, from an actual reader. Writing is by nature a mostly solitary art. Musicians and actors (especially stage actors) can get nearly instant feedback on their performance. Not so, writers. You often feel like you’re working in a vacuum. Reviewers tell you whether the story is any good. Reviewers tell you how your efforts and your words have struck them. It’s often bare-knuckles stuff…I like this, I don’t like this, it put me to sleep, the author should be up for a Nobel, whatever. All feedback, however well or ill-intended, is useful. Just seeing your story through another reader’s eyes can give you a new perspective on what worked, what didn’t, what could be improved, what really got their blood pumping. It should make you a better writer and story-teller. 2. It’s a form of advertising. One Hollywood wag once said all publicity was good publicity. Just ask Madonna or Lady Gaga. Reviews can be used to promote your work to others. Word of mouth and unsolicited testimonials are even better than advertising in many ways. Whose opinion would you trust more on what book to read: you’re Aunt Ada or a paid professional on TV or the Internet? Reviews give you some guidance on what’s trending, what’s hot, what you ought to be looking out for. Of course, blogs like this one as well as Twitter and Facebook carry some of the same freight now for authors. More on that later. 3. Every review is a conversation. Most reviewers are predisposed to write something, good or bad, because they feel strongly about what they just read. In another words, they’re passionate. It’s a truism today that authors need to do whatever it takes to identify their readers and engage with them, in other words, start a conversation. There are valid marketing reasons to do this. Some websites like Wattpad encourage a writer-reader connection, where the writer can post sections of a work for immediate feedback. Many readers are very interested, even thrilled, to be able to contribute to fleshing out a story, suggesting possible plot lines, characters, settings, whatever. A reader who invests time in a review is a reader who wants to have a conversation. It may be a suggestion for how to do things differently in the future. It may be a poke in the eye, or the literary equivalent of a Bronx cheer. Regardless, accept it for what it is…an attempt to engage with the author in some kind of interchange. Authors should never let an opportunity for interchange with their readers go by. The next post to The Word Shed will come on March 29. See you then. Phil B.

Post #249 March 15 2021 “To Outline or Not to Outline, That is the Question” In my second post to The Word Shed, I said this about outlines: My outline drives everything, including the people (what I used to call characters), even details of the setting. From the few sentences I’ve already written, if this idea continues to hang around and doesn’t go away, I begin a process of elaborating and structuring that takes anywhere from a few days to a few months. I’m a big outliner. I can’t write a story without having some idea of where the story is supposed to go. Other writers try to ‘wing it’, and let the story evolve organically. More power to ‘em. I need the structure of an outline. Having said that, though, doesn’t mean I don’t deviate from the outline. You deviate when the story pulls you in another direction. When an idea crops up. When a character just won’t do what you want. When there’s a new idea or emotion or conflict you want to explore and dramatize. There’s nothing wrong with this at all. But I still write it down. Reasons to Have an Outline 1. Consistency. It’s like framing for a house. It holds the story together, gives it a skeleton to hang scenes on. A strong plotline is vital to keep moving the story forward, to give the players believability and to keep the reader interested (probably the most important of all). It’s possible to draw characters who are so compelling that they’re interesting in and of themselves. But it’s better to give them something to do. Some critics say plotline is nothing but character in action. I agree. 2. Keeping Order. Novels often have multiple plotlines. John’s story. Mary’s story. The trip to London. The abduction by aliens. An outline allows you to maintain continuity from one scene to another, so that in Scene 1, John has red hair and in Scene 12 he still has read hair and now two heads. Novels have lots of details. Readers notice details. Outlines help you keep some order among the details so that mistakes and obvious inconsistencies don’t creep in (as much). 3. Keeping the End in Sight. With an outline, you know where you’re going. The scenes and conflicts necessary to get there are already established, in theory. If the ultimate resolution of all the action is firmly set up ahead of time, you’ll find you can write scenes that work toward that resolution, perhaps from different angles and with plenty of complications, but always knowing where you want to end up. I once watched my dog demonstrate just how powerful his sense of smell really was. He veered to one side of the street, then another, then back, in ever-tightening arcs until he finally homed in on the target of his interest. Following an outline to a previously established resolution is kind of like that. And sometimes the target turns out to be the same thing my dog was after…and I won’t go into any more detail on that. Reasons to Deviate from an Outline or Have No Outline 1. You think up a new plot complication. Every writer is a crockpot of bubbling ideas. Sometimes, an idea surfaces that just won’t go away. Ask yourself: is it believable the character could run into this or experience this? Does it advance the plot or reveal a side of the character that otherwise wouldn’t be shown? Would it be neat and kinda fun to have this happen? If the answer to any of these is yes, go for it! Just make sure it doesn’t lead you down an off-ramp to some dismal swamp of storyland you can’t write your way out of. In other words, think it through. 2. The outline is no good. Ah, now we come to the great Berlin Wall of all writers. Everything I’ve done so far is mush. I need to start over. Well…maybe…maybe not. Perhaps, you didn’t work out the story details properly in the beginning. You start to get the feeling that the words in front of you are just words going nowhere. You’re sure nobody will believe what you’re writing. You don’t believe it yourself. Well, don’t despair. This is why Microsoft Word has an Undo button…or a Delete button. Trust your instincts. Where does the story want to go? Go there. You might want to jot down a few notes, just in case, just to keep this new plotline on track. Probably, the original problem is a poorly-conceived outline from the start. Only you can decide whether it’s worth re-outlining or just winging it. 3. I need elbow room to grow the story. Outlines cramp my style. This is okay, as I said before. Let’s face it: our writerly muses work differently, from writer to writer. Many writers value the spontaneity that comes from winging it. They like to be surprised when they sit down to type. They’ve done enough research and so internalized their characters’ motivations and backgrounds, that they can type away, inside the virtual world of the story, and be confidant that what comes out will be readable, believable and fresh. There are times when writing works this way for me too. But for me, it comes from when I’ve done a lot of preliminary work. Let’s face, every writer lives for that artistic moment when the story just flows and you can’t type fast enough to get it all down. That’s when writing is a joy. But a pro needs to be able to put words on paper (or on screen) when the words don’t flow and still have it all hang together. That’s why I outline. Next week’s post to The Word Shed will be on a subject common to all writers, one that gives every writer thrills and chills, sometimes at the same time. I’m talking about Reviews…the Good, the Bad and the Ugly. See you on March 22. Phil B.

Post #248 March 8 2021 “First Lines and Why We Need Them” “Call me Ishmael.” These words, the opening line of Moby Dick, have immortalized this story for a century and a half. What makes for good first lines? Are they really that important? Here are five well known ones: “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” Anna Karenina (Leo Tolstoy) “It was a bright cold day in April and the clocks were striking thirteen.” 1984 (George Orwell) “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times….” A Tale of Two Cities (Charles Dickens) “Through the fence, between the curling flower spaces, I could see them hitting.” The Sound and the Fury (William Faulkner) “All this happened, more or less.” Slaughterhouse-Five (Kurt Vonnegut) Here’s one of my own, from a science fiction novel: “On Europa, there is only ice…to the naked eye. Ice cliffs and ice valleys. Ice ravines and ice canyons. Ice bergs, buttes, badlands. Ice continents. Above the ice is the vacuum of space. Below the ice is a vast ocean, black as night. Normally, the two don’t mix.” Johnny Winger and the Europa Quandary (Philip Bosshardt) First lines are vital to any writing. I can’t think of any type of writing—fiction, nonfiction, news writing, sports writing, even technical writing (which I did for years) in which the first lines aren’t important, even critical. Why should this be so? Below are some ideas on why first lines matter a great deal to any writer. 1. First lines should intrigue the reader. These words should capture attention, grab the reader by the shoulders and say, “Hey, pay attention! Something important, something different is about to happen. You don’t want to miss this.” Of course, there are an infinite number of ways to do this…just look at the list above. One of my favorites from the list is the selection from 1984. From this short sentence, you can intuit that something strange is going on, or about to happen. 2. First lines should set the stage. They should establish a tone or at least some atmosphere. Look at the selection above from Tolstoy. It indicates the upcoming story must be about families. And specifically, about families in both good times and bad. Then there’s the distinction between happy and unhappy, implying that we’re about to see how bad things can get. 3. First lines (ideally) should pose a problem…or introduce a character. Look at the selection from Slaughterhouse-Five. This is a more or less satirical, semi-autobiographical account of Vonnegut’s experience as a German POW in World War II, when the city of Dresden was firebombed. The opening line is just six words. With these six words, Vonnegut implies a true story is coming, but there may be parts that are more true than others, which is the nature of satire…a greater truth buried in the minutiae of strange, unbelievable goings-on. I read these opening words the same way I read the Orwell selection…something’s just a little bit off. The problem posed is to figure what’s true and what’s not really true. Or take the Dickens selection. “The best of times, the worst of times.” What’s the problem being posed here? Maybe nothing more than how to survive when Life or Fate or the Universe constantly throws curveballs at you every day. First lines set up the reader for what is to come, be it a story, a non-fiction article, an essay, or whatever. The first words you write are like the cornerstone of a house foundation. Everything else is built from and on that. The next post to The Word Shed comes on March 15, 2021. See you then. Phil B.

Post #247 March 1, 2021 “How Many Pages Should I Write Today?” Every writer faces the same question when he or she sits down at the computer in the morning: how many pages, how many words, should I write today? This is basically a matter of scheduling. For writers of novels and non-fiction books, it goes without saying that there’s no way you can do the entire work in a day or a week, probably not even in a month. You have to divide it up into chunks, mainly because you’ve got other things to do with your life along with writing. Case in point: I’m currently working on a science fiction novel called The Farpool:Plague. I anticipate that when the initial draft is done, it will come in at somewhere around 250 pages, when formatted for Smashwords.com. Each page runs on average about 500 words, so we’re talking about 125,000 words in total. Now, how to divide that up.... I’m doing 3-5 pages a day. That doesn’t sound like much. But it leaves me with time for other tasks and projects. Writing 3 pages a day takes me about 1-2 hours, depending. But it’s 15 pages a week. Divide 250 pages by 15 pages and you get 16-17 weeks, about four plus months. At the rate I have chosen, I can do a draft of The Farpool:Plague in four months. Plus I can work on other things and have a life. Could I write more? Of course I could. But you should choose a rate that is comfortable and sustainable over a long period, since it’s unlikely you can finish a novel-length project in a few weeks. There are some writers who bat out a draft in a single marathon session of a month but I’m not one of them. I take longer and take my time and try to do the thing right from the beginning. One the most important aspects of this writing process for me, when engaged in a lengthy work, is “staying in the story”, mentally. I find that a daily regimen like I described above is a great way to do that. Even away from my desk, I find my feverish brain cogitating on the next scene, the next sentence. Sometimes ideas for snatches of dialogue or plot variations will come to me when I’m working out, mowing the lawn, eating dinner, watching TV. I want that. Every writer approaches this differently. I’m also a detailed outliner and planner, when it comes to writing a novel, or writing anything. I’ve covered some of this in earlier blog posts, but I work from the beginning to build a fairly detailed outline, with character sketches and setting and background details readily at hand for the actual writing. Sometimes my outlines and sketches are detailed enough to be lifted and pasted into the novel text as is, or with little change. That makes life easier, as long as it advances the story. The story is everything. I’m even planning on including an Appendix of some of this material at the end of The Farpool:Plague, for readers who just can’t get enough detail on my imaginary world and its people. That’s a little peek behind the curtains at the logistics or the mechanics of daily writing life. I plan to do more of this sort of thing again. My next post comes on March 8, 2021. See you next week. Phil B

Post #246 February 22 2021 “What Does That Mean? Making Up New Words for Your Story” “Litor’kel ge.” That’s what my Seomish friends from the Farpool stories say to each other. It means roughly: “Go with the flow,” or “smooth sailing,” or “may the currents be with you.” Where did it come from? I made the whole phrase up. One of the joys and challenges of writing in fiction is the chance to create and use new words and phrases. Think of ‘muggles’ from JK Rowling’s Harry Potter series. I do this a lot, since I write a lot of science fiction, where new words and phrases, even whole languages are pretty common. Did you know there are even dictionaries and grammar texts on Klingon? Before you go off the deep end on creating new words and phrases, take a moment to observe some common-sense rules of thumb about doing this effectively. 1. Your proposed new word or phrase should always look and sound like it belongs in the story. One of the best examples I can give is from my Farpool stories. The Seomish people are basically talking fish. They live underwater. Hard consonant sounds carry best underwater (try it!). Think of all the clicks you hear dolphins and whales making. That being said, when it came time to create a language and new words for the Seomish, I tried hard to make the new words with hard consonant sounds. Example: kel’vish’tu. In the world of the Seomish, a kel is a water nation or tribe. The word vish’tu means to roam about, to travel, to go on a trip. I joined these words into kel’vish’tu to refer to the Great Migration, where thousands of Seomish come through the Farpool from their oceans to the oceans of Earth. Another example is the medical/surgical procedure called conicthyosis. This is an English word denoting a procedure to make someone into an amphibious being. Note the root word: ichthyo…from the Greek ikhthys, for fishlike or relating to fish. The word sounds like its meaning. In my Appendix to The Farpool, I said this about the Seomish language…. Seomish is designed phonetically to carry well in a water medium. Hard, clicking consonants are common. The ‘p’ or ‘puh’ sound, made by violent expulsion of air is also common. Modulation of the voice stream, particularly at high frequencies (sounding much like a human whistle) produces the characteristic “wheeee” sound, which is a root of many words. Translation from Seomish to human languages like English requires some inspired speculation, since so many Seomish phrases seem to be little more than grunts or groans, modulated in frequency and duration. Most Seomish words are grouped according to several characteristics: (1) Who is speaking (the personal); (2) who is being spoken to (the indicative); (3) state of mind of the speaker (the conditional); (4) the kel-standing of the conversants (the intimant). Each classification has a set of characteristic pre-consonants, to indicate the nature of the coming words, etc. Thus: 1. k’, kee, t’ 2. tch, g, j, oot 3. m’, p’, puh’ (both anger, dislike, distaste, etc), sh, sz (both joyful) 4. each kel identifies itself with a unique set of capitalized consonants, like a vocal coat of arms. Example: t’milee, or CHE’oray…Seomish versus Timily or Chory…English. 2. Another point to consider in making up new words is that the word should always be understandable in context. One of my favorite examples of how not to do this is Anthony Burgess’ novel A Clockwork Orange. In this story, the characters all speak a sort of futuristic street-slang of British English and Burgess is so detailed with this that the book becomes almost unreadable. Remember that you are (I presume) writing for an English-speaking audience. Put the word in a context where the meaning becomes clear. Or just go ahead and provide a translation nearby. Your readers will thank you for that. 3. Your new words or phrases should be consistent with other new words in the story. If this doesn’t happen, you risk damaging or breaking that suspension of disbelief upon which all fiction, indeed all story-telling, depends. If you’re in the process of creating a believable alien language, like I did in The Farpool, you don’t have to create a whole new dictionary and rules of grammar. Maybe just an index of terms (I did that) like Frank Herbert did in his novel Dune. Just be consistent with your new stuff. Anything that breaks the spell that a good storyteller weaves over his audience is bad. 4. When you create new words or phrases, if done right, you can really deepen the sense of wonder that fictional worlds should have. You can transport your readers to a magical land where their ordinary, dreary daily real lives go away and they are exposed to altogether new words, new people, new places. Just about every reader wants that; we read fiction and tell stories in part to transport or be transported out of the ordinary and humdrum to places more special, and we want to live vicariously in those places. That’s the magic of storytelling. Making up new words and phrases is one of the great joys and challenges of storytelling. But to be effective, writers should observe a few simple rules like I’ve outlined above. Use your imaginations and let the sky and the stars be the limit (okay, that‘s a cliché, but you get the idea). And remember… “Litor’kel ge, my old friend.” The next post to The Word Shed comes on March 1, 2021. See you then. Phil B.

Post #245 February 15 2021 “Outlines” As the winter of 2021 rolls on, I am in the middle of preparing to upload another book in my Farpool series. I wanted to share a few words and thoughts about the business of outlining a story before you start writing. 1. Why outline? I can think of several reasons to do this, although every writer is different. First, a good outline (and I know this sounds like high school English, but some things you learned in high school really are true) gives you structure and a solid foundation. You don’t build a house without a foundation and the same is true of a book. The details are in the details, as they say. Also, an outline helps with what I call the ‘blank’ page’ moment of panic. You sit down at your work station and immediately you’re confronted with a blank page. What should I say? How should I say it? An outline can get you started. It’s like a map, pointing out the way to go. Outlines can help with plot problems, before they become serious problems. Doing an outline helps you find those bad old logic holes. They’ll often show up in a good outline, before you ever start writing, so you can deal with them then and the writing hopefully goes a lot more smoothly. Sometimes problems with characters will reveal themselves in an outline. Does this character have sufficient motive to move the story and react to events the way I want him to? Outlines will give you the ability to identify and fix this early on. 2. How much outline is enough? The best answer to this question is to state it like this: your outline is detailed enough when you understand the story well enough to write it comfortably. For me, that’s about 3-4 pages per book chapter. That’s enough detail for me. That’s what I did in the outlines for Time Jumpers. When the story flows and plot developments seem believable, consistent, even a little surprising, you’ve got a good outline. Often, writing an outline will even suggest new and unexpected plot directions you hadn’t thought of before. It’s a lot easier to integrate these into the story at the outline stage than later. Plot changes and logical problems may still develop later (that’s for another post) but outlining will catch a lot of the obvious ones, if done well. 3. What if the story wants to go beyond or outside the outline? Let’s face it, this happens. Ask yourself this: how far off do I want to veer? Is this a completely new direction, at total variance with my concept of the story, or is this just a side trip? Does veering off make sense? It makes sense when it can (1) illuminate character in some way; (2) advance the story in an entertaining and engaging new direction; or (3) when veering off makes a point that needs to be made. Can I get back to the main plot line okay if I take the story in this direction? Or do I have to wave my hands, cobble something out of thin air, rely on magical intervention or something else completely unbelievable to get back to the main plot line? If the main plot line is sound and yet you can justify this unexpected new direction, then go ahead and explore the road less traveled. In a word, if it feels good, do it. Just remember, the reader may or may not feel the same way. Try asking a friend or a fellow writer. You have to be straight and play fair with the reader. And maybe, if this new direction seems like a good idea, go back to an earlier spot in your outline and slip in some hints that this change could happen. Below, I reproduce a chapter outline from Episode 1 of Time Jumpers, so you can see the detail I go into…what works for me. Chapter 1 “Storm Warnings” 1. Start with Cygnus and the crew of 1st TD landing on Kinlok Island, on the planet Storm. It’s time stream T-077. The crew consists of Dringoth, Golich, Acth:On’e, M’Bela, Yang and URME. Their mission: deploy, set up and test the new weapon Time Twister. 2. We follow the crew as they go about this task, which will take several weeks. They are not overly happy about being on this hellhole sewer of a planet. 3. One day, Yang and M’Bela witness the emergence of what seems to be an intelligent marine creature onto the beach. They try to communicate with it, only to find it has some kind of sound suppressor weapon and they are both rendered unconscious for a time when the creature becomes alarmed at their approach and uses the device. After coming to, the creature is gone. They report this to Dringoth and find none of the other crew believes their story. 4. But before the discovery can be explored further, sensors indicate that a small formation of Coethi ships have just jumped out of a local time stream and seem to be in orbit around Storm. Dringoth makes a command decision: Dringoth will take Golich, URME and Yang aboard Cygnus and take off to engage the Coethi. Acth:On’e and M’Bela will stay on Storm and finish deployment of the Time Twister. That’s all I did to get off and running on my story, when I sat down to start writing. You may be different. But this is an approach that works well for me, for the reasons identified above. Try it. The next post to The Word Shed comes on February 22. See you then. Phil B.