Writing Goals and Resolutions - January Update

To keep me on the straight and narrow, I thought it might be an idea to track how I'm doing month by month with my writing goals for 2009, and my general New Year resolutions.

Writing Goals

• Write every day, aiming for a minimum of two pages each day.
  I have not written a minimum of two pages each day, however today I started on The Artist's Way, which requires a minimum of three pages a day!
  
• Compile an electronic anthology of my my best short stories from 2008.
  The stories have been selected, and are in the process of being edited/redrafted.
  
• Launch the Chinese Whispers anthology.
  No progress yet.
  
• Enter six writing contests.
  One entry in January - Kingston Readers' Festival Short Cuts 2009 competition submitted. Five more to go.
  
• Complete two manuscripts to a publishable standard.
  No progress.
  
• Participate in, and complete, NaNoWriMo 2009.
  I might stop mentioning this one until November rolls around!

New Year Resolutions

• Read at least one book per month.
  Books read this month - Animal Farm, Burmese Days, A Clergyman's Daughter, Coming Up For Air (all by George Orwell), The Red House Mystery by AA Milne.
  
• Get my 5k time down to 18 minutes.
  After the foot injury at the start of the year I'm starting off running 2.5k at lunchtimes. Approximate 5k time is 25 mins.
  
• Run the BUPA London 10,000 in 45 minutes.
  On course to run it, time is looking at 50-55 mins so far.
  
• Take part in a half-marathon in late summer.
  Depending on injury, might bump this to later in the year.
  
• Take part in a full-marathon at the end of the year.
  Depending on injury, might bump this to early next year.

Bits and pieces

Tomorrow marks the start of The Artist's Way. Still in my usual "non-emotional" state about it - I'll either get really excited or really stroppy about it at some point over the next 12 weeks, but at the moment I am viewing it with a sort of serene detachment. We'll see how long that lasts.

At Christmas I got a rather large amount of vouchers for the iTunes Music Store, and after buying a few albums I'd been after for a while, sort of found myself with vouchers to spare, and no idea what I wanted.

So I ventured into the Audiobooks section, a part of iTMS I've never been to before, and browsed a little bit, before alighting on the audio version of Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within.

As with The Artist's Way, I've heard good things about Goldberg's advice to authors, so hopefully this will complement things nicely. All told, listening to this can't hurt my goal this year, to be more serious about the process of being a writer.

Speaking of writing, I have a [Fiction] Friday to get on with...

"Oh, I never read that..." From Write Anything - 7 September 08

This is adapted from an article that appeared on the Write Anything website on September 07, 2008. The original text can be found here.

"Oh, I never read that..."

A [Fiction] Friday in September asked the participants to select a work of fiction that we would never normally read.

Why? As writers, why would we consider any work as something that we would never read, and what criteria do we use to decide that?

Obviously, as with all other people, we have our personal preferences. I selected a work from the "chick-lit" genre. I don't read chick-lit, but I can't say I would never read it. It isn't aimed at me primarily (for the obvious gender reasons). On that level, there isn't a broad appeal to me, but as a writer, shouldn't I dip into it occasionally? Don't I owe it to further development of my craft to experience and appreciate the work of others?

When I have read chick-lit, I have enjoyed it. I loved Bridget Jones' Diary (guilty secret #1). I enjoy Jane Austen, who some have claimed to be the progenitor of chick-lit. For my [Fiction] Friday entry I chose a book by Candace Bushnell, most famous for Sex and the City. I've not read it, but back in college I used to watch the TV show (guilty secret #2) so I have a sneaking suspicion I may enjoy it.

(As an aside, Jane Austen is also serious literature, Pride and Prejudice is my favourite Austen novel, and Bridget Jones is essentially Pride and Prejudice - so perhaps that's why I like it...)

As a reader or a writer, you may not enjoy the work of a particular writer. For instance, I find Dan Brown unreadable, yet he writes about things I am broadly interested in. If the way a particular author writes does not gel with you, then that is a valid reason to not read them.

Can someone dismiss an entire genre, represented by a plethora of diverse writers, so easily? As readers, whilst I would still encourage the occasional sampling of new works, reading is primarily a pleasure activity. If you do not derive pleasure from a particular genre, then it defeats the purpose of reading to force yourself through it. Enjoyment is subjective, and what Person A enjoys is just as valid as the Person B's preference.

But we're not just readers. We're writers too. We can validly dislike a particular author for reasons of style. We cannot validly dislike a particular genre for reasons of substance. I don't read chick-lit because as a male reader, I am not the target audience. I don't read romance because I find it formulaic and hollow. I don't read legal or crime novels because I'm trying to disconnect my life from law.

Should I close my own writing off in the same manner? Pigeon-hole myself in one genre? Most writers do find themselves working mainly in one or two genres. Is this because they can only write in those genres? I don't think so. A good writer can write well in any genre. I believe writers wind up in one genre over others because it is the one they personally enjoy the most as a reader and a writer.

We cannot be so proud that we are unwilling to look at what works in other genres. We don't have an excuse to not look at good writing across all genres, just because it is unfamiliar to us or unappealing as a reader. Sometimes our best writing comes when we move out of our comfort zone. Perhaps we should move beyond our reading comfort zone once in a while too.

Tags: Write Anything Sunday Writer Paul Anderson

Moments of inspiration

I took down my copy of Henry David Thoreau's Walden last night, and began to flick through it.

Whilst reading it I came across the following thought. This isn't Thoreau's exact words, more a paraphrasing of an idea his writing embodies:

One man cannot hope to change the world. All he can hope is that the world does not change him.

Something to think about...

The Artist's Way

Today I received an Antipodean care package, courtesy of my friend and collaborator Jodi.

The package contained Cadbury Furry Friends and Caramello Koalas. The Koalas didn't take to international postage that well (a little flat, but still NOM). For those unaware, I should point out that I'm not Australian. But I work with an Aussie and a Kiwi who bring in Antipodean treats, so I blame them for getting me addicted to Koalas, pineapple lumps and L&P (although Tim Tams are just Penguin bars minus the wrappers!).

But confectionery was not the purpose of the package, rather a book that Jodi had been meaning to send to me for some time.

Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way is a coursebook that aims to help you remove the blockages to your creativity. I know many writers who have undergone the Artist's Way, and rave about it, and there is certainly no denying that my creativity has become blocked recently.

I haven't touched The Astonishing Adventures of Captain Juan in some time, leaving me at risk of feeling disconnected from my own character. Similarly, The Long Watch: Apocatastasis has ground to a halt, brought on by a rewriting crisis precipitated by reducing the importance of one previously key part of the story, and in order to better flow into the second story, Lucifer Falls. That has itself has ground to a fault after I freaked out a little over an execution scene in the story.

So this course is something I need to do, so I'm going to start it next week. I'll keep you updated on my progress.

My kind of town? I hope not...

The deep antipathy I felt for London, a grudge borne since my childhood, is a matter of record. I thought I had got over it. But travelling on public transport around this city does serve to remind me at times of how deeply and truly crappy it is at times.

London is a city where the milk of human kindness has curdled and festered, becoming some sort of hideous cheese, covered in a poisonous mould that is then forced down your throat until you choke.

It is a city with its own language. Dr Johnston, compiler of the first modern English dictionary, once declared that the finest prospect a Scotsman sees is the road to London. Dr Johnston was obviously compiling, not a dictionary of the English language, but a dictionary of London English, a strange language where "please" is a demand carrying a threat of violence, and which must be pronounced, at least on the train and tube, with a whining snarl, and preceded by the words "can you move down".

In London English "sorry" is not an apology, but an admonishment to you for having the audacity to be where the utteror's foot wound up, an accusation that your life and job are nowhere near as important as the other person's.

Throughout the world a suit is merely a more formal means of dressing, and pin-stripe is simply a personal preference of fabric. In London a suit is a sign of entitlement, and pin-stripe marks you out as the most moral and worthy person on the platform, of infinite more importance and class than the other plebs whom you are forced to endure for the five minutes from Clapham Junction to Victoria.

It is often remarked that the British know how to make an orderly queue. Such knowledge is forgotten on the underground at rush hour, where the manic belief that this particular train is the last train out of Saigon takes hold, and people will push, shove and jostle to squeeze on-board, because there won't be another train for one whole minute. "Look, I can see some airspace above that man's head - we can pack at least another two people in there!".

Twice a day, five days a week, for the rest of your life... Is it any wonder I dream of being elsewhere? And then have nightmares that I'll wind up staying here...

Pod... cast? Podcast!

Holy crap...

Sure, it's almost been four months, but I've actually recorded a new episode of the podcast. It's got new musical intros and outros and a couple of new stings too.

Can I make it two in a month? Let's see...

Head on over to the podcasts page to listen, or subscribe in the podcast aggregator of your choice!

How do you do it? From Write Anything - 31 August 08

This is adapted from an article that appeared on the Write Anything website on August 31, 2008. The original text can be found here.

How do you do it?

Last week I wrote that writers are vain and have large egos. I said that this was essential, as you could not be a writer without both the belief that your work is good enough, and the desire to be known as a writer.

And now the flip-side. To be a writer, you need vanity and ego. But in order to write, you must set-aside your ego and become humble, without vanity.

If your ego is so great that you believe your work is wonderful, you will never accept any criticism, nor will you accept that your work can be improved. I have, in the past, had what I deemed to be very unfair criticism (anyone who reads what you write and says "you're rubbish" but can offer no specifics, is being unfair, no matter how bad the piece). I have also had some very constructive criticism. I discounted the former, which was given purely to discourage me, and took on board the latter, which was given in a spirit of helping my writing to improve.

And that's what criticism ought to be - help. A large ego will reject all offers of help, because a large ego says "why do I need help, I am brilliant". If you will not be open to the opinions of those who will read your work, what will you think of the opinions of agents, publishers, fellow writers? So, as a writer, your ego will help you overcome negative thoughts and petty criticism. When it comes to your writing, lose the ego. The unpublished louche at the end of the bar who brags about his misunderstood genius has an ego that stilts his writing. The published author who knows they are good, also knows they are good because they listened to fellow professionals when they said that this chapter could be improved, the motivations of that character seem weak, that this scene might have more impact if X, Y and Z happened.

Editing is an admission that your first draft is not good enough. Every subsequent re-write is an admission that the last version was not your best work. An ego that cannot accept that at times you are not the greatest writer ever does not redraft, does not rewrite, and so does not improve.

Your vanity will feed on compliments. But you do not improve by your compliments but by acting on your criticisms. Vanity does not hear criticism. So move beyond your vanity, and set aside your ego. When you want to be a writer, summon them. But when you want to write, set them aside.

Tags: Write Anything Sunday Writer Paul Anderson

Happy Anniversaries

It seems that 2009 is quite a significant year for anniversaries.

Both the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew and The British Museum celebrate 250 years since they opened.

It is 250 years since the birth of Rabbie Burns, national bard of Scotland, which has inspired the Homecoming Scotland 2009 campaign that I have written about before.

It is 200 years since the birth of Charles Darwin, and, still on the subject of his life, it is also 150 years since the first publication of On the Origin of the Species.

As a graduand, I can feel a measure of pride and connection to the 800th Anniversary of Cambridge University which begins today, the first Saturday of the Lent Term.

One thing I do intend to mark is Monday's celebration - the 200th anniversary of the birth of Edgar Allan Poe - no doubt by pondering many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore.

Then of course, there is the impending 30th anniversary of my own birth to attend to...

Public or private, I bid you a happy anniversary...

Fiction Friday - 16 January 2009 A very special bookmark

This Week's Theme: Your character collects something that no one else knows about—she doesn’t keep it secret, it’s just never come up.

---

You know, this will be my... I'd say my one hundredth! That's quite special. I'll have to take my time on this.

You know, I'm amazed that nobody has asked about the smell yet. I mean, I've been living next door to Mrs Carrington for the better part of two decades, and not once, not even once has she asked about the smell. And she pops in here for afternoon tea at least twice a week. Probably too polite, she's that sort of lady - older generation you see, it's all about propriety.

The stench, like rotten eggs, it just pervades everything. I've seen the utilities trucks that come by periodically, checking the sewers for blockages. Nobody can explain it. But it's like they don't want to know.

So I continue collecting my little bookmarks. All different colours, and patterns. Make them and collect them. Hence the smell. Tanning you see, the smell is awful, an unfortunate by product, but oh so necessary for this gorgeous leather I end up with. So soft...

And thanks to that big, broad back of yours, I'll get my one hundredth bookmark, and then some! You'll keep me busy for quite some time. Now try to hold still please. I'd like to say this won't hurt, but I'm afraid that would just be a lie...

Tags: fiction Fiction Friday

Quick note - and a donation!

I probably should have mentioned yesterday when I posted about the run that, although we suspected I had a stress fracture, I've now had the all clear - my foot isn't broken, I've rested, it feels better, and I'm going to start gentle training on it next week to get back into the swing of things.

And, despite not really pushing it yet, I've had my first donation! Thanks Mark!

Run, run writer...

I'm not going to say much on this for the moment - the race is months off yet, and I have a ton of editing to get cracking on with.

However, my sponsorship page for the BUPA London 10,000 2009 has now gone live. Please go to http://www.justgiving.com/paulanderson1979 for more details of the cause - Amnesty International's Human Rights for China campaign.

More later, back to the editing for now!

Anthology - coming soon

Goal number four in my writing goals for 2009 is to compile an anthology of my ten best stories in 2008. That goal is about to be completed very shortly, although it isn't quite accurate...

For a start, it's not just my stories - I'm pitching in with my Australian collaborators Jodi and Annie. Also, I have 12 stories, not ten. And, not all of them are from 2008, one was written in 2007...

But that's beside the point. The main point is, it's happening, and it's happening rather sooner than I expected! The stories will, I hope, be in their final form by the end of this month, and I expect the anthology will be avaialable to buy by the end of the first quarter of 2009 - I'll post links about where/how to buy nearer to the launch date.

The upside of this? I can point to something that's been published, and (assuming people buy the anthology...) I can actually say that I have been paid as a writer. That will help the self-esteem enormously, and maybe I won't feel so hesitant about saying "I'm a writer" when people ask what I do. I might even start giving out the business cards I have...

The downside however is that I'm going to be removing the stories that have appeared on the blog. Before the end of the month I will remove the blog posts, replacing them with a quick explanation and (once the anthology is ready) a link to where you can buy it. The only stories that won't be removed will be two that have only previously appeared as podcasts.

The twelve stories are:

1. The Tree
   
2. Nightmare on the Tube
   
3. School Reunion
   
4. A Bad Day at the Office
   
5. Transplant
   
6. Message in a Bottle
   
7. Before I Wake
   
8. Nothing Left to Lose
   
9. The Incident at St Jude's (podcast only)
   
10. Salvage the Good Times (podcast only)
    
11. Saviour
    
12. Solstice Song

So, if you still want to read them for free, the clock is ticking.

Why do you do it? From Write Anything - 24 August 08

This is adapted from an article that appeared on the Write Anything website on August 24, 2008. The original text can be found here.

Why do you do it?

You are incredibly vain, and you have an overwhelming, inflated ego.

No, don't worry, I'm not insulting you, it's fine, honestly. I have the same thing too.

You see, we're writers. And you can't be a writer without vanity and ego. Normally we see these things as negative traits, but for writers they are essential.

You have to be quite vain to want to see your name on a book cover, in an anthology, on a website (in your own weekly column....?). Because to be honest, we all of us want, even crave recognition for what we do. That's vanity.

And it takes a pretty big ego to look at the quality work that is out there already, both published and unpublished, then say "I could do that, and I could do it better."

I don't know which of them comes first - the ego that means you think you can do it, or the vanity that means you want to do it.

There is a word for a writer who lacks both ego and vanity - and that word is unpublished.

This is a profession of rejection. As a writer, you will get more rejection letters that acceptances across your entire career, and especially at the start of your career. No person likes rejection, and it can be incredibly demoralising. And again, it takes a strong ego to store up all these rejections, and say "you got it wrong - your loss."

We need to be vain and we need to be egotistical, otherwise there would be no drive to succeed. Talent is not enough. You can be the most talented writer out there, but without the vanity that craves the attention and the ego that says you deserve it, you won't even try to be noticed.

So next time you feel that twinge of vanity, or the rage of your ego, embrace it and welcome it as part of what makes you a writer. Because without them, we wouldn't even know that you are a writer, would we!

Are there other personality aspects you can think of that are normally seen as negative, but which might be advantageous to a writer?

Tags: Write Anything Sunday Writer Paul Anderson

Fiction Friday - 9 January 2009 Literati & Son, Metaphysical Pawnbrokers

This Week's Theme: With ten days until payday your character discovers they are overdrafted (adjust as necessary to fit your timeline or world)

---

"It's really quite simple, if you don't have the money to redeem the pawn, then you can't have Mr Samsa back... Well it's not really my problem that you need him for a story... To be honest Mr Kafka, I don't care if all you've got at home are cockroaches, why don't you write about them... Yeah, same to you jerk!"

Giuseppe Literati put the phone down and looked up at the man waiting at the counter. "Mr Shakespeare, back so soon? Do you have money, or is this a social visit?"

"Prithee good sir! I hast promised mine patron a performance of the Scottish Play this very evening, but regrettably find that you possess my fifth act!"

"Nobody made you put the whole of Birnam Wood into hock Mr Shakespeare..." Giuseppe drummed his fingers on the desk. Old Billy was constantly in and out, always finding himself a little short before payday, offering characters, plots, locations, all for a little scratch "to see him through".

All very standard for the unusual pawnbrokerage that Giuseppe's father had started so long ago. Billy's problem was that come payday he was usually far too drunk to redeem his pawned items. Literati & Son had so many unredeemed Shakespeare tickets that Giuseppe considered cobbling together a new play - Romeo and Julius Caesar, the Merry Moors of Venice - Part II.

Shakespeare thumped his fist down on the table. "Sir, I have not the money to pay you now, but my patron will reward me for the performance. Perchance to allow me to take Birnam now, and pay later?"

"Perchance to dream Billy - money now, or no Birnam Wood."

He pinched at his own belly and shouted "Woulds't thou have me cut off a pound of my own flesh, thou rude-growing mammet!"

Giuseppe sighed. "Well I didn't accept it last month Billy, so I won't accept it this month will I? Oh, and that reminds me, I've had to sell your Shylock."

"Sold him? Sold sir? To whom?"

Giuseppe pointed to the shifty figure trying to exit the shop unseen. "Him."

Shakespeare turned. "Marlowe? That whoreson swine!" He turned back to the counter with a resigned look. "I am ruined, ruined sir." Then, a brief flicker of hope. "Thou would perhaps take an exchange?"

Guiseppe scratched his chin. "What you got?"

Shakespeare mumbled. "Polonius?"

"Neither a borrower nor a lender be, eh? You should take his advice Billy. Still, he's in good nick. Yeah, OK. Polonius for Birnam Wood it is." Giuseppe pulled out some sheets of paper and a quill. "Fill in the paperwork and I'll get it brought round for you."

Shakespeare grinned. "Good sir, thou art a prince amongst men!"

Giuseppe gestured to the man waiting in line. "Yes sir, how can I help?"

He moved forward hesitantly. "It appears I find myself a little short before my next salary payment, and I have a few expenses. I wonder if I could give you this as security against a salary advance?"

Giuseppe leafed through the pages before him. "Christmas... watch... hair... watch chain... combs..." He passed the pages back. "Sorry Mr Henry, we don't do irony here."

Tags: fiction Fiction Friday

Bad things come in threes...

The year is going to get better, right?

Suspected stress fracture to the metatarsal. Vomiting bug. And now I've just managed to pour boiling water over my left hand.

Yup, here's hoping things get better, because I dread to see what worse looks like...

Superhero names...

Without giving any of the plot away, the short story for the first competition I'm working on features a superhero, and the name is giving me problems. The reviewers have mentioned the name a couple of times, and I agree it is cheesy, but then again most superhero names are!

Any ideas/suggestions? The character is currently called Captain Ultra, which is just on the right side of lame (not slipping into the realms of Mr Fantastic or Captain Amazing) whilst at the same time not sounding like a villain (Ultron or Mysterio for example).

Is that good enough, or should I be looking for something, I dunno, heroic?

Writing Goals for 2009

Last year, I listed my Writing resolutions, which I haven't been terribly successful in keeping.

However, thanks to reading JA Konrath's post Control Freak, and elaborated on in my Sunday article on Write Anything, this was because I set goals that were fundamentally unachievable, as they relied on factors outwith my control and a large measure of luck.

So here are my six writing resolutions goals for 2009.

1. Write every day, aiming for a minimum of two pages each day. I set a time limit for writing last year - circumstances may prevent you having that time, and there is no guarantee that I would use the time wisely. By linking the goal to an output of writing, not time, it becomes concrete and achievable.
   
2. Complete two manuscripts to a publishable standard. In all likelihood this will mean the two Long Watch stories Apocatastasis and Lucifer Falls (provisional title).
   
3. Enter six writing contests. That's only one every two months. There are two I'm about to submit for, and the writing magazine I have subscribed to have one every month.
   
4. As mentioned in Jodi's action plan for 2009, compile an electronic anthology of my ten best short stories from 2008. More on this one later...
   
5. Again as mentioned by Jodi, help her get her Chinese Whispers anthology off the ground! More on that one later too...
   
6. Participate in, and complete, NaNoWriMo 2009.

Not too many to stick to, so this should be something that I can, with effort and application, stick to.

Although it has been four days into the new year and I haven't succeeded with the first one... oh well!

What does your writing area say about you? From Write Anything - 17 August 08

This is adapted from an article that appeared on the Write Anything website on August 17, 2008. The original text can be found here.

What does your writing area say about you?

It's a sunny Thursday evening in the west of London, a rare sunny day in a summer that has been punctuated by bad weather. I'm sat on an uncomfortable chair in front of an old wooden filing cabinet that has a pull out writing shelf that I put my laptop on when writing.

On the main part of the filing cabinet are my microphone, pop filter, headphones and mixing desk for when I record podcasts. Behind them, an angle-poise lamp (with low energy lightbulb to salve my eco-conscience), a Beanie Baby skeleton called Creepers (my NaNoWriMo mascot from last year), a small plush Cthulhu toy, a Crookes radiometer and the latest addition to my desk, a large gargoyle candle stick.

There is practicality to my work area. The desk and chair are by the window, allowing me the maximum of light, which can be supplemented by the lamp. The recording equipment takes a back seat to my writing equipment, but can be brought forward when needed.

The radiometer keeps me grounded in reality, a testament to my fascination with how things work, the practicalities and realities of the physical world. The gargoyle candlestick is a reminder of my interest in the Gothic. I have collected gargoyles from the age of 18, I love them as architecture and I always find them useful to evoke the frame of mind I like to have when tackling darker stories.

The two plush toys? One is a grim reaper style skeleton, the other a representation of the Elder God Cthulhu, created by HP Lovecraft, one of my favourite writers. They are part of my fascination with the supernatural, the otherworldly, the dark and sinister, in contrast to the radiometer, which is of the material world, and which relies on the light, rather than dark.

But because they are plush toys, they remind me that ultimately, I'm supposed to be having fun doing this, and that I should never take myself too seriously.

And the uncomfortable chair? That tells me I need to go shopping for better furniture...

Have a look at the area you do most of your writing. What does it say about you?

Tags: Write Anything Sunday Writer Paul Anderson

Anti-Resolutions 2009

Another year, another set of resolutions. Last year I posted my anti-resolutions, and I am pleased to report I kept all of them.

This year Dale has posted ten new anti-resolutions, and thrown down the gauntlet to the rest of us.

So here they are, my 10 Anti-Resolutions for 2009:

1. I will not launch a campaign to have Paul's Letter to the Town Council included as one of the books of the New Testament.
   
2. I will not insist that everyone is merely a pawn in my elaborate games, especially those who object to moving to Queen's Bishop 7 to block a check during the Mazeratti Defence.
   
3. I will not run for political office with a campaign pledge to abolish Tuesday mornings.
   
4. I will not decide which team to support in the Superbowl on the basis of who has the nicest hair.
   
5. I will not advocate Mentos and Pepsi as an alternative fuel source.
   
6. Mathematics has irrational numbers and imaginery numbers. I will not insist they also include wacky or unsettling numbers.
   
7. .tcaer elpoep woh ees ot tsuj sdrawkcab epyt ton lliw I
   
8. Iway alsoway illway otnay ypetay inway igpay atinlay.
   
9. Contrary to popular belief, the answer is not 42, and I will not use it as the answer to every question I am asked.
   
10. As funny as this would be, I will not tell a child that every time a light goes out on a Christmas tree, a fairy dies, and that the only way to bring the fairy back is to clap. Then rig the lights up to The Clapper.

Tags: New Year Anti-Resolutions 2009

Fiction Friday - 2 January 2009 How it all began...

This Week's Theme: Take a favorite character you have created. Pick a New Year’s Resolution that they truly intended to keep. Now, why did they break it within 24 hours?

---

"After due consideration I believe it is in the best interests of both myself and the organisation if I resign my commission. I appreciate all that Your Excellency has done for me, and I am truly grateful, however my experience during the Sarajevo mission has convinced me that I am unsuited for the tasks this organisation was created to deal with.

Please accept this resignation as effective from today, 1 January 1998.

Yours sincerely

Gideon Strangechild, Cpt. (ret.)

The second hand on the desk clock ticked steadily towards the top of the dial. As it swept past 12, Gideon raised a glass of water and toasted the hour. "Sláinte. Happy new year." With a few pen strokes he signed the letter, lay down on his cot, and drifted off to sleep. It was over. A new year, a new start. Away from the Watch.

***

"Well Gideon, a new year upon us once again. Time marches on. Progress." Mancini slowly strode through the gallery, passing under portraits and icons. He smiled. "And speaking of progress Captain, time to move you on from your current detail."

"Your Excellency, about my position here. I..." Gideon fumbled for the envelope in his pocket.

"Yes, yes, I know. I promised you more than simply the military life. After all, you've had that. I promised you the chance to lead, truly lead. Not running around, playing soldiers. So..." Mancini turned to a doorway in the corridor. He pushed against it, and the door slid back slowly, making a pneumatic hissing sound. "Time to promote you, Commander. Welcome to the inner sanctum."

"Your Excellency, I can't..." But as Gideon spoke, Mancini had already slipped through the doorway and into the darkness. Gideon looked down at the envelope in his hand and sighed, tucking it back into his pocket, before following Mancini.

"Welcome to the nerve centre of the Watch, Gideon. This..." Mancini gestured out across the computer terminals, and display screens. "Is the control room. This is where you'll lead the Watch from now on. All of it, every local team, every regional unit. All under your command, reporting to me. Congratulations my boy."

Gideon glanced round the room. He had seen it before of course, but from the other side of a video link, whilst out in the field. His hand reached for the envelope in his pocket. "Your Excellency, this is... unexpected, but I..."

He paused, a cold shiver running down his spine. His skin prickled, a sensation that over the years he had been trained to recognise. The presence of the otherworldly. Something ancient and immensely powerful. And approaching.

"Is this him then?"

Gideon spun on his heel, muscles tensed up, ready to fight.

"This is indeed him. Gideon, may I introduce you to one of our, shall we say, darker secrets. Malapax, this is Commander Gideon Strangechild, your new commanding officer. Gideon, this is Malapax."

Gideon's eyes narrowed. "He's a demon." Malapax held his hand out towards Gideon. "Yeah, I am. Try not to get too jealous though Boss." Gideon gripped his hand warily, and shook. Mancini clapped his hands together. "Well, this is a better reception than your last commander got! Where are the others?"

"Bird boy is around, as ever. Maria's in the library. No change there. Nice meeting you Boss." Malapax reached into a pouch on his belt, and pulled out a cigar. It ignited as he clenched it between his teeth. "Oh, and call me Al, yeah? See you around." He winked, and vanished from sight, leaving Gideon with his hand grasping at thin air.

"We have a demon walking around the Vatican?" He stared blankly at the Cardinal. Mancini laughed. "Just one Gideon, that's all. Now, I'll take you to the Library to meet your second in command."

***

"... and of course as Watch Commander you have to co-ordinate the Long Watch each year. But I'll explain to you what that involves in advance."

"Your Excellency, I need to tell you..." The lift doors slid open and Mancini and Gideon stepped out. Gideon knew about the Vatican Library, but he was not a particularly literary man, so on those occasions he visited Rome, he had never visited it. The sheer scale of the rooms, the millions of volumes on shelves stretching out in all directions, Gideon's voice trailed off.

"Now, it's a big place, but she's normally..." Gideon pressed his hand against Mancini's chest, moving him back against the wall. That same feeling from the control room. Prickly, hot - the presence of the unnatural.

"Gideon what..." Gideon held his finger up to his lips, and whispered. "You said there was only one demon, yes?" Mancini nodded. Gideon glanced to his side. "There's some thing in the library..." They both stood still, peering into the gloom of the library's reading room. Near a far wall, Gideon spotted a dark shadow moving. "There!" He pointed, then sprinted forward.

Mancini squinted, trying to see what Gideon had spotted. "Gideon, wait!"

In the heat of the moment, Gideon failed to hear Mancini. His eyes fixed on the shadow figure, he launched himself forward to collide with them. Just before impact, the realisation hit him. No weaponry. He wondered exactly how long he would last in hand to hand combat against a demon.

As it turns out, precisely long enough for him to collide with the demon, knock it to the ground and land on top of it, and then find an immensely powerful hand clutch at his neck, lift him up, and slam him into a bookcase, still gripping his throat and choking him.

He stared at creature that he had foolishly tried to attack, and was shocked. He had expected scales, horns, red skin yellowed eyes, features twisted in fury. She was certainly furious. Her dark eyes flashed angrily and her red lips were twisted into a snarl; her pale skin was framed by ebony curls, flowing down to her shoulders. She was beautiful, enraged, and Gideon suddenly realised that he knew her.

"You!" he chocked out, struggling for breath.

"You!" Her eyes widened slightly, and she loosened the grip slightly to allow him to breathe. "What the hell do you think you're playing at attacking me like that?"

"I thought you were a... a..." The words seemed slightly embarrassing as he prepared to say them.

"A what? A demon?" Her eyes darted right, as Mancini approached. "Excellency. Will you please start teaching your people the difference between demons and my kind?"

"I certainly shall Maria, if you'd be so kind as to stop trying to break your commanding officer's neck." Maria release him, and Gideon slumped back against a bookshelf, gulping in air and rubbing the bruised area. "What?"

Mancini smiled. "Commander Gideon Strangechild, this is your second in command the Lady Maria de Lancet. Maria, I've just appointed Gideon as overall commander of the Watch. I think congratulations are in order."

She held out her hand to him, and said softly "My apologies Commander. And... congratulations." He shook her hand, but she couldn't look him in the eye.

"Well, this is wonderful, we're all getting along so well. Gideon, for future reference Maria is not a demon, rather she is a... well, I suppose 'vampire' covers it. She is in charge of the Vatican archives, and provides us with invaluable knowledge and expertise, both exoteric and esoteric."

"Vampire?" Maria looked at her feet awkwardly. "I would prefer a different term, but it is the closest word you have..."

"Now, Gideon, we should get you to the infirmary, make sure you're not permanently damaged, then resume with the orientation. Oh don't look at me like that Maria, you were the one who recommended him for the role, precisely because he does this kind of thing."

Maria glanced up and smiled. "Maybe next time he'll not do it unarmed, and perhaps not to a colleague?"

Mancini glanced back. "I'll mention it to him. Come up to my office later this afternoon, I think it's about time the whole team sat down and had a meeting."

He led Gideon back towards the lift. Gideon kept looking back, rubbing his neck. "She... I've seen her... She recommended me?"

Mancini laughed. "Yes, a while back now. Thought you had... potential. I'm sure you'll both get on a lot better in the future than this little misunderstanding suggests." The lift doors slid open and the stepped inside. "Oh, you said you had something to say to me?"

As the lift doors closed, he caught sight of Maria staring back at them. Gideon reached for the letter in his pocket, and crushed it. "Nothing important Your Excellency. It'll keep."

Tags: fiction Fiction Friday