{"id":2092,"date":"2020-12-09T21:26:26","date_gmt":"2020-12-10T04:26:26","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/?p=2092"},"modified":"2020-12-19T19:17:53","modified_gmt":"2020-12-20T02:17:53","slug":"inspired","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/2020\/12\/09\/inspired\/","title":{"rendered":"Inspired"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

prompt: “Write a story that takes place in a writer’s circle….”<\/em>
available on Reedsy<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kala sat at the terminal, ready to type, just as soon<\/em> as the ideas started flowing. She had thought about this for years, and here she was at last. Still, nothing. No bolt of inspiration, no moment of \u201cA-ha,\u201d not even a glimmer of an idea. In retrospect, this seemed like a bad idea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe if I describe my characters first.<\/em> She began to type. \u201c161 cm, 58kg, euro complexion, bushy medium-blonde curls\u2026.\u201d Kala sighed and deleted what she wrote. I just described my mother.<\/em> The blank screen taunted her for forty minutes until her comm chimed to remind her the group was meeting again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She closed the terminal and headed back down to the meeting room. The atmosphere was all too cheerful for her current mood, so she continued past to the exterior door. The scene before her, a wide avenue lined with rows of identical blocks could be almost any city in the Federation. If she had walked the one kilometer to the opposite exit of the block, she would be standing by a lake right now. Surrounded by trees derived from birch, alder, and spruce, the lake boasted the best freshwater fishing off Terra. That\u2019s what the block information screens said, anyhow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With only a hint of a decision Kala began walking to the north side of the block. If she took the outside route, she wouldn’t need to pass by the workshop to get to the lake. There was a certain novelty in walking outside<\/em> a block.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Self-driving vehicles whispered past with no apparent order, traveling in what seemed random directions on the avenues. She stood and watched for a few minutes and realized how little attention she paid to such things. Those traveling farthest used the center of the avenue, and proximity to the shoulder told one where each would turn, and in what direction. What had seemed random chaos coalesced into an intricate dance. The algorithms that piloted the taxis, busses and delivery vehicles allowed them to avoid one another while maintaining the most efficient speed and travel distance possible. How did people ever steer these things manually? It must\u2019ve killed millions.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kala walked slowly, taking in the surrounding sights. She marveled that for her entire life she hadn\u2019t paid attention to the world around her. Up close, the blocks looked impossibly tall at one hundred stories. Those in the distance, however, appeared as featureless, squat grey boxes, the square kilometer footprint far exceeding the height.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rounding the corner to the west side of the block the lake opened to her left, beginning halfway down the block\u2019s width and continuing south for another two kilometers. The only beach access was here, the rest of the lake guarded by the trees genetically engineered to survive on this planet. There were fish in the lake, also genetically engineered to survive here. That people stocked the lake with living fish and other people hunted them made no sense to her. She could go to any grocery in any block and pick up lab-grown fish, poultry, pork, beef… any meat desired, and nothing had to die. Short the funds for that, one could pick up the subsidized meat-replacement protein in any style, although the fish-style was rather tasteless and soft.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She walked right on the water\u2019s edge, not concerned that the lake was lapping at her feet, soaking her shoes through. The air smelled green, somehow, as though the trees were painting the sky. Nice image, Kala, but I\u2019m not trying to write poetry.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey, Kala, are you\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The voice startled Kala out of her reverie. She turned to face the interloper. \u201cOh, Tal. What\u2019re you doing out here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m out here to ask you that same question.\u201d Concern crossed his brow. \u201cWhy weren\u2019t you in the group?\u201d Tal raised a hand. \u201cWait, let me guess. You didn\u2019t finish a paragraph to share, and you were\u2026 embarrassed\u2026 sad\u2026 afraid you\u2019d seem out of place?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t finish a single word. All the talk about write what you know, find your voice, don\u2019t be afraid of sounding foolish\u2026 it\u2019s not working.\u201d Kala crossed her arms tight across her chest. \u201cI know what I want<\/em> to write, but I can\u2019t.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course you can. You just have to believe it.\u201d Tal put an arm around her. \u201cWe\u2019re just trying to convince you of that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t understand.\u201d Kala pointed at a bench up the beach a few meters. \u201cSit?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They sat in silence for several minutes before Tal spoke up. \u201cHelp me understand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe story I want<\/em> to write is about a conspiracy. What if all the crazy conspiracy theories about Dome 412 are almost<\/em> true? What if\u2026 the truth is closer to those theories than the official reports?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s an idea. Ideas are easy, execution is the work. Remember that from yesterday\u2019s talk?\u201d He cocked his head to the side. \u201cPerhaps it just feels too ambitious to begin with. How about starting with something a little lighter?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou still don\u2019t understand. It\u2019s the only thing I can think about, but I can\u2019t <\/em>write it. This story gets out, I end up in prison in the Oort Cloud.\u201d She sighed. \u201cOk, now I sound crazy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, I don’t expect you\u2019d get locked in Federation Max for writing a story.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI always wanted to be a writer.\u201d Kala looked across the lake, afraid that Tal was looking at her with pity for her sorry mental state. \u201cIt\u2019s really all I dreamed about. Life got in the way though. Career. I made my home in the Federal Defense Force for twelve years.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat was your job there? Police? Fire? Combat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCriminal Investigations. Dome 412 was the case that made me quit.\u201d Tears pooled in her eyes. \u201cThe evidence we had was\u2026 destroyed. All of it. The official<\/em> story was the one the media assumed and reported from the beginning. Over forty-nine thousand civilians and Federal troops dead. Zero separatist terrorists. I held the truth in my hands and let my superiors destroy it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAh, but the official reports said all the terrorists were all killed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, it said there were no surviving terrorists<\/em>. The reason wasn\u2019t that they were all killed, the reason is they were never there. Didn\u2019t it seem strange to you that the official report redacted the number of terrorists killed, but not the number of troops or civilians?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tal leaned in close. \u201cLook, Kala. I like you, you\u2019re a good person, so here\u2019s my final advice. If you have to drink yourself blind or take hallucinogens or beat your head against the wall to think about something else, do it. Come back to the retreat and write some inane kak about talking animals or ghosts or time travel\u2026 anything really. Because if you don\u2019t, if you leave the retreat without<\/em> writing some non-threatening, safe<\/em> thing, you\u2019ll never get to tell your story.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt means, Major Perrin, I\u2019m not an aspiring writer, I\u2019m a CI investigator. I want the story out too, but I wasn\u2019t there. As long as you write anything here that\u2019s not about 412, I can go back to my superiors and tell them you aren\u2019t a threat. But I have to show them something.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy are you telling me this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBecause the truth is bigger than either of us, and I don\u2019t want to be the one to shut it up.\u201d Tal took a deep breath. \u201cYou start writing, you keep writing, and you get good. Really good. Get your name out there even if you spend every credit you earn on marketing. You have to be well-known before you can write that story safely. You may still go to FedMax, but the truth will be out there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey\u2019ll disavow me, smear my name, say I\u2019m crazy. You know that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey can try, for sure. It\u2019ll be much harder after you\u2019ve written a few popular novels. Your service records will be public by then. They should always be a part of your marketing materials.\u201d He counted off on his fingers. \u201cNine commendations, youngest person to make Major in Criminal Investigations, glowing reviews from your superiors, all of it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She looked back to Tal. \u201cI\u2019m right back where we started, unable to come up with anything else to write.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOk, writing assignment: a child, found stowed away on an interstellar flight. Why, how, all that stuff.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you, Tal.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFor the prompt? Don\u2019t mention it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFor not sending me to prison.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His eyebrow shot up. \u201cAnother of the things you should file under \u2018never mention it again.\u2019\u201d <\/em> He chuckled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kala stood. \u201cWalk back with me? I think I need to sit down and write now. I have an idea.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe stowaway?\u201d \u201cNo.\u201d She offered her hand. \u201cAnd before you go asking, I won\u2019t tell. You\u2019ll just have to wait until the draft reading tomorrow morning.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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