100 pages in 30 days

I know I've been quiet for a while, and I'm very sorry about that. I've been taking part in Script Frenzy during April, trying to draft out a comic book script based on Alive! And finally, today, I managed to hit that magic 100 pages... then I validated the page count and found it was 135 - how did that happen?!

Of course, the story's not finished yet and so the comic script isn't either, but I'll try to get it finished once the story ends, and then maybe try to find an artist who'd be willing to draw it for me.

Not enough hours in the day

Why is it that when you think you've got everything sorted out and you know exactly what time you're going to have to spend writing (or whatever else you choose to do) something comes along to change all your plans?

In my case it's been a change of workplace that's added to my commuting time, giving me less time to spend doing other things, including writing.

I have still been able to keep up with Alive! though, and that story is due to end in July. I think the Crazy Horse might just have reached Mars by then...!

Character profiles: Elliott Macintyre

Name: Elliott Macintyre
Age: Early 30s

Position: Second in command and helmsman, Martian Freighter Crazy Horse

Personality: Fairly laid back and experienced in startship operations, Elliott is the one Dak relies on to make sure paperwork is in order, timetables are kept and the ship is all working properly.

“Hey, Brown, open your eyes, look at me, Jackson.”

The voice sounded far away and Jackson wished it would go away. His head hurt like the worst hangover he’d ever had, although he couldn’t remember drinking anything.

“Brown,” the voice wouldn’t shut up, and now whoever it was talking was shaking him as well.

“Go ‘way,” he groaned, keeping his eyes shut.

“Hey, you scared me for a minute, Brown,” Macintyre said, sitting back on his heels as he opened the first aid kit he’d grabbed from the bridge. “Hey, stay put,” he added as Jackson tried to get up. “You’ve got a gash on your head and you’re leaking red stuff all over the place. Keep your butt on the deck ‘til I’ve cleaned you up a bit.”

Jackson made a noise which could have been taken as a grumbling assent or as a swear word. Elliott ignored it as he poured a liberal amount of coagulant powder onto the three inch cut on the hairline of the other man’s head, then wrapped a bandage around it.

“There was a hull breach,” Macintyre continued. “Looks like you were in your bunk when it happened, and you got thrown out and hit your head on that cabinet there,” he pointed to a low cupboard with a brown-red stain on the corner. “Don’t you remember anything?”

Jackson shook his head then winced in pain.

“You sit there a while longer before you try moving,” Macintyre told him. “You’re not bleeding any more, but you’d better let the doc see you to patch up that cut. If you can stay put for a minute I just need to check on Anna. I’ll be back in a minute.”