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bear by san

March 2017

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writing dust bible 'house of dust"

she came from distant waters where northern lights explode

421 words on Chill this evening.



And isn't that encouraging?

Yes. Actual words on the actual novel.

And because I care, here's the incredibly rough hot-off-the-presses completely unedited first POV of the draft in progress. I will not, you understand, continue posting as I go, but I figure this is probably the way to make you hate me more than through any other means at my disposal.

If you have not read Dust, you probably want to skip this, as it does spoiler the first book somewhat. As you might imagine.


When a great ship is in harbor and moored, it is safe, there can be no doubt. But... that is not what great ships are built for.

--Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D., "Letter To A Young Activist During Troubled Times"



The first hint of returning sensation was the icy tickle of fluid dropping across his lids, lashes, nostrils. Pain followed after; the tidal roll of hurt along his body, injury severe enough that his symbiont could neither heal nor silence it.

Within his acceleration tank, Tristen Conn opened his eyes. As the hyperbaric fluid drained from around his chest, his diaphragm spasmed. Shattered ribs ground in his flesh. The tank opened, spilling him on the slotted deck like a newborn festooned with blood-stringed goo.

He pushed against the deck, but pulped arms could not lift his face clear of the puddle of hyperbaric fluid. He heaved. Slime roped from his nose and mouth, tinged blue with blood, bringing bright pieces of tooth and lung tissue with it.

He could not raise his head. He thought, And then there were none. And gave himself up for dying.

But here he was. And if he was hurt, he was living. Beside his shattered cheek, cobalt tendrils groped across the deck, met and merged like pooling mercury, sent questing tendrils crawling out until they found Tristen's skin. As his symbiont repatriated its estranged fringes, pain increased. Crushed bones shifting in rent meat. His body and its symbiont struggling to heal.

He might have whimpered, but the whistle of compressed breath was his loudest sound.

As he lay there, breathing, staring along the seemingly infinite curve of acceleration pods lining the deck in either direction, Tristen had a great deal of time to think. And one of the things he thought was, Isn't it peculiar that mine is the only opened tank?



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Comments

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Juicy. ;)
1) OW.

I figure this is probably the way to make you hate me more than through any other means at my disposal.

2) Didn't work.

1) Yeah, I think it's one of the owier things I've written. Or will be when it's polished shiny.

Really, I should have popped his eyeballs like grapes, but it's space opera, and I blinded him last book, and anyway fifty years of living in bat guano and cockroaches buys you a certain amount of sympathy, even from me.

2) Well, that's secretly kind of a relief.
I am squicked. And totally delighted. (Partially because of the squick.)
Of course, when I said I wouldn't argue if you made Tristen a protagonist, I didn't say Tristen might not want to object.
Well, he already had the icon.

*g*

Maybe he can apply for a transfer to a Tim Powers book.
prrrrs

I'm intrigued!
Eeee! Tristen! I can't wait to find out exactly how crazy the last 50 years have made him.
Oh.

A little.

(My favorite bit from the first book is still !Elric and !Benedict conspiring to coparent a couple of teenaged girls.

Because, you know. That's fucked up. Let's put it in!)
\o/!

(Poor Tristen. Fate's own squeaky toy, en't he?)
Hey, nobody else on the ship is much better off, at this point...
That seems like a pretty interesting beginning. And that question he's got at the end there, that's probably an important question. And it probably points to things being not really as good as they initially look.
They never are, are they?
Oh, my. Oh, my, oh, my. This book is going to be good!

I'm currently halfway through 'Dust' and I'm really enjoying it. I love the mix of Zelazny and Malory. I know that the sequel will be wonderful.

Why, I wonder, has nobody else done 'Malory-in-Space?' Malory and Space Opera seem to go together so well. Or have I missed something here? Suggestions welcome!
EVERYTHING is better with Mallory.

Including cop shows.
*wants* It was eerie and lovely and I like it. Especially after reading Dust, which made me happy.
Thank you.
Wanted to tell you -- I just finished Dust and really liked it.

Now I want a Gavin...
That would be a cool thing to have, wouldn't it?
Perfect timing, since I just finished Dust a couple of days ago *g*. And, it looks like I'm gonna enjoy this one just as much.
Thanks!
At first, when I started reading, I did not hate you, I loved you for posting this. When the last sentence hit me, I felt not hate--you don't hate somebody who writes all those achingly beautiful stories--but a burst of outrage: not now!
Looking forward for this one, Bear.
I will try to deliver something worthwhile. *g*
Hee. I do love you. And that was only nearly the first line....
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