People read my stuff here and I apologise that I keep going back and editing it.
Most of what I’m doing now is trying to put the stuff in that makes it into a story.
Structure is very good but characters that actually live are what is needed or in my wife’s words, you are finally writing a story.
Yes, Jean. I’ve finally cleared my mind for writing. I need to get up to speed again and this beast is nearly the best top of the range spec I could buy.
Hand-built, it peeded off the guy who came in to finally make it work and he thinks, quite rightly, I’m a loonie for doing it, but every piece of this box is standard. I know where it goes; I know where replacements go; I can replace everything and dynamic Raid 1 holds my writing, it has a high spec GPU so when do I internet research and write at the same time I get, via two co-ordinated ethernet links the performance of a gaming machine so the Internet images don’t slow the machine down.
It runs a touchpad, a graphics tablet and a mouse at the same time if I have that many hands, plus Dragon Naturally speaking.
The screen is a bendy long wide screen so I can have full vision on writing and Internet access and the system took a few months to build.
It is also mirrored in terms of operating system and backups with another machine.
Now, all I have to do, is honour it with some decent writing.
James Droga, Martan Matira and David Jamesson met in a small chamber, hardly big enough to take their beards.
They stood upright before the capsules as if supplicants seeking safety.
The capsules: silver; resembled a cross between French Japanese Politically cheap hotel capsules.
Staring into one screen; your political future pushed into another, allowed a button – ensuring you stood as cracked as the stone was?
A cracked and crackling square exploded into colour and light danced around them taking their minds off a capsule erupting longways before reverting to vertical.