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trifthen
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04 Oct 2007, 2:51 pm

Howdy all,

I figured I'd finally stop kicking the can and commit to looking into this stuff for once, so here I am.

In general, I'm a writer with a technical bent. That distracted me into computers and programming for over a decade, but I think I'm getting over that and finally going toward my true calling. I just finished my first novel, and I'm currently editing it before seeking publication.

Aside from that, I don't think God liked me much. I've got a complicated congenital heart defect that required surgery when I was seven, and I need to see a cardiologist every year to monitor my progress. I've hit the ripe-old age of 30, but you never stop worrying about things like the risk of instant death. I've got myopia and astigmatism, both accounting for about -15 diopters in each eye... all I can say on that account is "Thank [insert deity] for gas permeable contacts!"

And then of course, the wonderful social retardation. It's weird thinking back to when I was 3 or 4, cowering from other people, totally missing social cues, talking to myself, ignorantly living in my own little world pretty much oblivious to what I was missing, limitless fidgeting, etc. If I didn't compensate by brutally analyzing every situation I encounter to design coping and adapting mechanisms, I'd be toast.

Not to say I've let any of this cripple me. I am pretty darn old now, after all. ;) Time is the great equalizer, I've found, and while I still exhibit limitless degrees of awkwardness, I've come to accept it as part of life. We all have our own albatross to bear, after all. So hello everybody, I'll likely lurk more than I post, but I figured I'd do the polite thing and make introductions. :oops:

That said, what's the deal with the "questions about you" sticky being locked? The Mod that locked it didn't say why... so I'll assume it was deprecated in favor of another thread.


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Goche21
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04 Oct 2007, 2:57 pm

hey, I'm goche, welcome to the sight ^^

I'm sorry to hear about those medical problems, but remember God doesn't hate any of us, and every obstacle we face He makes sure we can overcome. What kind of a writer are you? Professional, books, biographies or what?



Tim_Tex
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04 Oct 2007, 3:00 pm

The "Questions About You" thread was replaced with "Questions About You 2".

Welcome to WP!

Tim


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trifthen
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04 Oct 2007, 3:15 pm

Tim_Tex wrote:
The "Questions About You" thread was replaced with "Questions About You 2".


Yeah... I had to slap my forehead about five minutes after posting. For some reason, I totally glossed over the second thread. :)

Goche21 wrote:
What kind of a writer are you? Professional, books, biographies or what?


Fiction. Dark Fiction, to be precise. Think a mix of HP Lovecraft, Stephen King, and maybe mix in some Dan Simmons. I'm not done editing yet, but this novel seems to be about 420 pages, give or take. I'd say it's a good start.


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Goche21
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04 Oct 2007, 3:21 pm

trifthen wrote:

Goche21 wrote:
What kind of a writer are you? Professional, books, biographies or what?


Fiction. Dark Fiction, to be precise. Think a mix of HP Lovecraft, Stephen King, and maybe mix in some Dan Simmons. I'm not done editing yet, but this novel seems to be about 420 pages, give or take. I'd say it's a good start.


Do you mind putting up a little of it? ^^ Just a chapter or so?



trifthen
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04 Oct 2007, 3:41 pm

Goche21 wrote:
Do you mind putting up a little of it? ^^ Just a chapter or so?


Ooookay. :) This content, stolen from my serial-novel site (http://kildosphere.com/), is half of chapter 1, and I don't really want to go through and fix all the formatting that got stripped from my cut-and-paste, so you should go to the source to read it for real if you think it's any good. Heh.


"The rabbit, he won't let me,
Go where I will go,
My family is under his spell,
And he lives in my home."
– Adriana Calloway


Winter has set in for more than a few months, here. Such a crisp and hard cold; void of life, yet chillingly alive. A naive nursery rhyme might call it "a winter wonderland." Fresh undisturbed snow still accumulates under a light flurry; a child's paradise. Were it earlier in the day, a few would be building forts and snow-men, hurling snowballs between trees, and laughing all the while.

But the sun has long since set, and all the children are at home. Some drink hot chocolate to remove the deep chill from their bones, while others sleep soundly dreaming sweet dreams. The wheels of daily life have all but stopped in this quiet little town, for all but a select few. For some, the cold quiet is a welcome change to the normal fury of the day.

For Kyle, it's paradise. Tonight, he sits on an old hill overlooking Tammond Dale, letting glistening flakes whiten his black knitted cap. The cap itself is new, something he never needed before moving to this secluded burg with his parents a few days ago. Kyle has never lived so far North, and the cold bit and froze almost viciously, something Kyle didn't expect. As calm as the night seems, the malevolent weather taints the beauty of it like a dark shroud. He doesn't care of course. Sitting atop Craig's Hill staring down on the houses and streets as a regent or King, he is warm and alive.

But besides the absolute silence, forgetting the breathtaking sight below him, Kyle has a system he's used for years. Even at his age, almost fifteen and chafing to escape the puberty and awkwardness of being a teenager, Kyle is the brooding sort. Oddly enough, this has been the case for years and nobody—least of all Kyle—knew when the walking started. Every night excepting rain, Kyle was apt to wander whichever neighborhood seemed interesting. Sometimes this was his own, but often it was blocks, or even miles away. One thing he did know: walking relaxed his mind, even as the exertion drained his muscles. No matter where his family has moved over the years, Kyle never deviates. Tonight the most enticing location was an obvious though unusual choice, and opportunities present themselves in the strangest ways.

Just like the seemingly endless "opportunities" which kept his family on the road, veritable gypsies in a world seeking stability. Kyle didn't want to brood over the unfairness. Leaving his friends year after year, trailing in his Father's endless and vibrant wake. Brooding was all he could really expect to keep, no matter where they landed. How many was it, now? Somewhere along the years, Kyle had lost track, and assumed the cycle continued even in his infancy.

Last week Kyle enjoyed his first day of school, something dreaded by children and teenagers alike. As usual, he arrived late in the school year; a more bitterly cold January, he could not remember. First impressions made their mark before the car even passed the "Welcome to Tammond Dale, Pop: 462" sign. Kyle could only imagine what possessed his father to drag his beloved family to such a terrible and worthless place. Cold always trumps beauty, yes-siree. Freezing, inhospitable, oddly malignant; when can we move in?

Though initially truculent, the here and now is unquestionably beautiful. The very hill where Kyle sat presented a sweeping majesty over the vista below. Can't discount that. So far, this was only one good thing, with at least four dozen other marks against the sleeping hamlet. No doubt about it, Kyle hated this place and resented living here already. Handful of days? So what. Get me outta here, man. Show's over.

As with all things desperately craved by humanity, it wasn't that easy. New jobs always did that for his father. Make a few more bucks, meet a few hot chicks you haven't seen before and flirt just for the Jesus Razing hell of it; live the life of adventure! Why everybody didn't live like this, was anybody's guess. It was the same story every time: get bored with sales at Wacky Widgets, take a promotion and shill for Stupendous Stuff. It didn't matter what salary he made at the previous employer, what they offered him to stay, or even the desolation of their pleads. A couple of times, good ol' Frank had been offered the Presidency of the entire sales department. What's that, Jack? Nope, don't wanna get tied down, gotta go and experience life. So long, and thanks for the memories. In the end, Frank always left as if Cerberus were hot on his heels.

By now, Kyle was sure his father was notorious in every company in The States. That didn't stop them from hiring Fantastic Frank, as Kyle dubbed him like some kind of knight, immediately after he applied. Ser Fantastic Frank, Esq. It was impossible to ignore that Frank frequently performed sales miracles, was great to work with, and any company lucky enough to have him often enjoyed a future flush with cash and investments. Nobody knew how he did it, Kyle least of all. Through everything, Frank could always count on his coy and supportive wife Jamie. That thought always prompted Kyle to chuckle, as his mother was precisely the exact opposite of a shrew, as if her very existence were for Frank's benefit.

Jamie Cemtes, loyal matriarch and completely spineless wonder, was Kyle's loving mother. No doubt she was busy hand-crafting a new culinary masterpiece to try and impress Frank. It was a tired exercise at which she always managed to wildly succeed, with each increasingly overzealous attempt. She never seemed to care that Kyle was unfailingly late to her amazing dinners, so long as Frank uttered the customary "Wow Jamie, when did angels learn to cook? Or did you teach them that, too?" It was as if she were perpetually lost in her own little fantasy world that Frank was more than willing to encourage if it meant a docile and loving woman around the house. Yes sir! Frank sure was living the life of his dreams, Kyle thought to himself bitterly.

They never fought, either. Maybe Frank was determined to have a happy and fruitful life, but problems never seemed to enter their collective consideration. Not that Kyle wasn't above trying on occasion to fit the tired cliche of teenage rebellion. They didn't exactly ignore him, for the reality was unbelievably worse. They humored his little complaints, as if they knew each was half-hearted and merely an obligation of his age. Kyle sighs and shakes his head, dislodging a sheer cliff of powder that threatened to transform him into a snowman. Nowhere to go, nobody to talk to, nothing to do but sit on a cold snowy hill and contemplate life. And why not? His problems were admittedly small ones, and Kyle found it impossible to forge depression on such a blissfully refreshing night.


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richie
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04 Oct 2007, 3:48 pm

Welcome to WrongPlanet Image


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coppelia
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04 Oct 2007, 4:51 pm

Welcome to WP!! !

:mrgreen:


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trifthen
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05 Oct 2007, 1:11 pm

Thanks everyone, I appreciate it. :)


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Shaun "Bones Moses" Thomas
I've channeled my cracked brain into writing books (http://kildosphere.com/). Hey, it's a living!