Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

By Neil A. Hogan

I don’t mind waiting. What’s a few more years when I’ve been around for thousands? Though, I must say, this is incredibly boring. Just sitting here, waiting for somebody advanced enough, evolved enough, peaceful enough, to come. I’ve been waiting a long time for you to reach this kind of advancement. I know you’ll find me. I just have to wait a little longer. But most of you don’t even know I exist.

I’ve told this story in so many different ways to get your attention, but you still haven’t really developed your telepathy that well, have you? I have to hope, though. One day, someone will get my thoughts and be able to find me.

So, here’s that story again, in case someone on our world will hear.

Well, in case someone on our world will think.

Do you remember the Lemurians? The third epoch of humanity, you could say. They lived about 53,000 years ago. They had harnessed the invisible energies of the planet and created a spiritual life on this world. They could take anything natural and imbue it with Earth energies, and make it do what they wanted.

Every single one of them was a magician. The forerunners of your countless magic stories. Every time you read a story with magic, you are connecting to the Lemurian civilization in some way.

I’m from there. Though the magic gave me a much longer life than any of them.

Well, I’ve heard people saying ‘show, don’t tell’ and so here’s one point of view of my birth.

“Jarl, Sorg and Reet. Are you ready?”

Turin looked down at his three young acolytes positioned at each point of an equilateral triangle. Through their specific powers he would create a new being. One that would transcend space and time. One that would bring even more energy and power to their world. A being so powerful that he would take the position of king.

Oh, did I tell you that they thought I was a king? This was before king’s even existed. I was the first, you could say. Sorry to interrupt.

“Focus,” said Turin. “Focus on the space between you. The space in the center of the triangle. Put all your energy into bringing this being forth. He will begin the new hierarchy, where everyone looks towards the advisory position. He will unite all the groups on the continent. He will use his power to help the Lemurians to live for eternity.”

The acolytes stretched out their arms, expanding their senses into the center of the planet. They felt the connection to Gaia and pulled the energy through them, concentrating. Soon a powerful beam of light surrounded each of them, and they focused it and aimed it towards the center.

Above them, floating on a mat, Turin used his own energy to encompass everything in a sphere, holding the new power so that it didn’t dissipate. He’d practiced this before and knew that it would work for a short time. But this was no simple magic trick. This time he was drawing on the consciousness of the universe itself, and a sacrifice would need to be made.

The power built, there was a blinding flash, and the three men collapsed to the floor.

Recovering, they looked up and saw Turin seemingly frozen above them, and then simply fading away, his empty mat zigzagging to the floor not far away.

“Turin,” yelled Sorg, distraught.

Reet went over to Sorg, and helped him up. “He told me that he may not survive this, and that we would be the first group to be lead by the new king.”

They turned and faced the new being that lay on the ground in front of them.

“That’s the new King?” asked Jarl.

“Good morning,” I said, immediately understanding their language. “Is someone going to help me up?”

“Amazing,” said Reet.

Okay, so my birth wasn’t that exciting. And Turin is fine. He just increased his frequency enough that he shifted to one of the higher dimensions a lot faster than that whole dying process people still go through.

Still, I’m grateful for him. He put me right at the top of the Lemurian hierarchy. Though, it was purely ceremonial, much like your presidents and prime ministers today. I helped guide them but guiding lazy people was pretty exhausting, as you can probably imagine, and I soon began to tire of the existence. There was nothing I could do, though. I was trapped as much as they were.

You would think that a civilization that had mastered the esoteric arts could exist forever, hence my creation. But many were just interested in the magic, and never took an interest in the world around them. I would say they were all incredibly lazy. Their magic was used akin to telekinesis. They sat in their tree-grown chairs and had fruit and vegetables picked by animals and brought to them, or they just floated them over. Most of their lives were spent in the sun lazing about doing nothing. The only real activity was the endless events and festivals they put on, which didn’t really need much organizing. A raise of a finger and tables would grow, covered with food, then I’d be trotted out to say a few words.

I was involved in so many boring ceremonies, you would fall over in exhaustion just thinking about them. I was always there to see a newly born infant master its first trick. I would light up their lives and help them to be confident in their knowingness of their use of the power of the planet. Sadly, their first trick was usually to bring themselves food. A hand outstretched, an apple-like fruit plucked from a nearby branch and floated over to them, or for the more advanced, simply appearing from somewhere in their hand. I would create fire lights in the sky and play music. Or whatever was appropriate.

Then I would be taken back to my little building to wait for the next ceremony or event. I was beginning to despair at their childishness. Then again, due to their indolence, or deaths as a result of childbirth, no one really lasted past 38.

There was nothing much I could do about it. I was limited by their limitations. No one wanted to do any work, or learn anything new that might mean work. I could see a change coming and I couldn’t find anyone that wanted to be trained in a way to help with the change. Laziness was in their genes.

If the land didn’t give them everything they needed, and all they needed to do was simply flick their wrist to shift what they wanted from a parallel world to here, why would they ever do any work? This was the problem with this period of humanity. This is reflected in many countries today where money has replaced magic. It is rare for a person born into riches to not be lazy.

But I digress.

One of the positives about them was that the Lemurians were generally quite peaceful. If there was a conflict it would be minor, and usually solved with magic. When they had the power to stop time and jump back a few hours, what was the point in even starting a conflict anyway? Or, as everyone had almost equal amounts of magic, they could disintegrate their opponents in seconds. No one feared this. It was simply a fact. Most Lemurians were too tired or lazy to ever have an argument anyway. They just couldn’t be bothered.

The irony was that this incredibly powerful civilization couldn’t be arsed to look into their own group future. They were too busy worrying about which person to sleep with next, or which reality they would pull a drink from this time. Most had no idea until it was too late. Yes, even with me telling them that the end was nigh. They just thought it was another chance to have a party.

I tried to tell them that the Earth was changing, and our country was sinking. The population undulated like a reef, and I rarely had the same person with me twice. After telling millions over thousands of years I’d had enough, and I stopped.

With millions in a valley in the middle of a landmass going under, most of the civilization perished in that great sinking. The final tsunami left no survivors, and left me trapped in one of the buildings underwater. There had been some who had managed to escape to other countries before the end, less magical countries. And you know what ancient, superstitious tribes might think of people with magic. Most of the refugees were either killed or chained up.

The ones that survived the encounters with non Lemurians knew what had to be done. Reviewing the Lemurian history and seeing the future of humanity meant the last of the Lemurians erected a stronger veil over the magic of the planet. They had seen how the world would develop from there and decided that an epoch like the Lemurians could never happen again. Hardship had to follow for humanity to advance.

There aren’t that many real magicians in our day now. Real magicians would be incredibly overweight, and die early. As soon as they realized they only had to leave their beds to go to the toilet, they would rarely ever leave it. Those born as magicians usually died in their beds, which is why you rarely ever hear of them.

You know, after a millennia of telling people they were going to die and them ignoring me. Then seeing them die, I had begun to get a little annoyed. And so, as you can probably imagine, being away from people for awhile had been somewhat a relief. As it turned out, it was another 10,000 years before I felt up to speaking with people again.

I have perfect recall, and can access events across space and time anyway, so in a sense I can always be there. Physically, though, I’m stuck where I am. I didn’t learn the skill of teleportation when I could have. And, since the veil was erected, even though I know now how to do it, I cannot.

Oh, I’m sorry. Rambling again. Giving too much detail. Stuck on my own for so long, it’s great to be able to send these thoughts out again and know someone will hear them.

Where was I? Oh yes.

As fate would have it, a new group found me. Or rather, I found it. Well, founded might be the better word.

It was about 31,000 years ago that the epoch now known as the Atlanteans had their beginnings. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I might have caused them to come into existence. I’d been sending out every story I could think of to get people’s attention, stuck where I was. I’d even traveled astrally to the stars and found better technology that could be used on our planet, spreading that information, too.

10,000 years stuck where I was, I had to do something, didn’t I? And so, the Atlanteans began to rise. First a person different to a tribe would come up with a new invention. The tribe would appreciate the invention and use it and learn from it, then offer improvements. As more of the tribe got into the inventiveness idea, they began to access more of my stories, invent more things. Their grass and mud huts were replaced by stones, cement, concrete. Engineering and chemistry flourished and soon massive buildings with huge columns were built. They mastered levitation using sound waves, and found the chemical mixture that will temporarily melt rock. They used the energy of crystals to power their homes and vehicles, and traveled the world in balloon ships. Over about 18,000 years the Atlanteans expanded across the globe, creating all sorts of fantastic cities, until the entire planet became known as Atlantis.

I think my greatest invention was the interlinked pyramids that I encouraged everyone to build across the world. They tapped into the energy of the planet and spread it through the ether, allowing power to be used from anywhere. A resonating frequency that gave the Earth its hum. Aerial vehicles were developed that used the power, and other technological marvels that enabled communication across vast distances, much like your wifi and data towers do today.

But the pyramids had a greater purpose. To increase my own electrical output so that the Atlanteans would find me. Technology that enabled deep sea diving was developed, and I was retrieved from my Lemurian prison and placed in an important position within this new society. While not quite a king, I think I was treated more like an oracle. I gave them all the technology they wanted, and answered all their questions. For several millennia it was a wonderful time.

They were quite grateful, but I began to see their future, and it wasn’t a pretty one.

Different environments and different cultures formed, and wars began across countries. My fault, I’m afraid. The Atlanteans began to love the idea of power, and using my knowledge, developed technology imbued with the scant amount of magic still available in the world. They created artificial intelligence, robots, and also new kinds of beings. Criminals and slaves had their heads swapped for animal heads. They even made multiple copies of me, and used my other selves in wars against their enemies. They couldn’t see that their enemies were their family.

It made no sense to me. It was a brutal and sadistic time, and I still feel guilty about it. I blame myself for the entire 18,000 years or so of this epoch. Many of you now think of Atlantis with some wistfulness, but it was a horrible place near the end. I was so distraught at their brutality and obsession with power that they had to be destroyed.

Let me stream you the final day.

“Cho-Jar, another one is coming,” yelled Jo-Sun.

An explosion rocked the air as a meteorite took out one of the aerial vehicles. The fiery ball sheared the pipe-shaped travellator cleanly in two, and it plummeted to the ground, dust exploding towards Jo-Sun as he shelted Cho-Jar from the worst of it.

“I don’t think I can go on,” cried Cho-Jar, gripping her belly. “I think it’s time.”

Tears came to Jo-Sun’s eyes, and he waved his hands around. “There’s nothing left. Your family is gone. The bombardments are just going to continue. We can’t go by air now. We have to get to the sea travellator.”

Cho-Jar was silent and when Jo-Sun took his hand away from her back, it was covered in blood. He turned her head up and cried at her sightless eyes. A shard from the explosion had struck her, and she had died instantly.

Then, the light on her face seemed to brighten, and for a moment Jo-Sun thought he would see her spirit leave her. But then the light grew blinding, and he reached down and gripped her body, his arm around their unmoving unborn child, as the meteorite exploded like a thousand suns above them.

Moments after the crater formed, the ocean rushed in to fill it, sinking the remains of Atlantis forever.

A sad scene, and one that I feel extremely guilty about. Many innocents died in the destruction. Though, as they were the ones that had helped create the despotic regimes that ruled them, and voted crazy leader after crazy leader into power, were they really innocent?

I say guilty, as it was me. As someone who existed before the Lemurian veil, I still had some tricks up my sleeve, so to speak, and so I used the energy of the Atlanteans against them, pulling a comet off its path.

It was a simple spell, but once the orbit of the comet had been changed, quite unbreakable. Over the course of twenty years, chunks of the comet rained down on the main Atlantean city, destroying the power base, and most of the population with it, throwing the most powerful civilization in the history of our world into disarray.

By 10,804 BC, as you measure time, there was nothing left of the Atlanteans. The cometary bombardments had shifted the axis of the planet slightly, and many of Atlantis’ coastal cities around the world sank beneath the new bulging equator, like the Lemurians before them.

And me with it. Sunk without a trace, again. Trapped inside one of the Atlantean buildings, now at the bottom of the ocean. My chosen punishment. I had to destroy them, for the betterment of future humanity. But I had to punish myself as well. I judged myself guilty and sentenced myself to 10,000 years isolation from humanity.

Even so, it wasn’t the greatest of punishments. I could still move my mind anywhere. With all of the universe available to me to astrally explore, I didn’t need my physical expression much at all.

When 10,000 orbits had passed, I made a decision to be involved again. And, perhaps, get myself rescued from my underwater cell. I began sending out my stories again. I felt that humanity had begun to deal with its problems, get back on its feet, and with magic all but forgotten, there was a chance that they could develop again. This time I didn’t send that many stories about magic. I focused more on the technology that the Atlanteans had discovered as well as that which I had found on my travels in the universe. I sent stories about treasures, lost items, special things, to encourage exploration. But the agrarian and religious societies kept burning people who picked up on my ideas. Every few decades I’d try, and every time someone would be burned.

It was most distressing.

Now realizing I was probably immortal, rapidly approaching the ripe old age of 50,000 years, I thought then the best thing to do was to just send out my location in images and in multiple languages. I sent streaming holograms of water along with the concrete building I was trapped in.

But people kept interpreting it as though I was near a lake and stuck in a stone!

This went on for over a thousand years. No one could work out what I wanted. Everyone kept making up new stories and legends about me. I was beginning to despair.

And then, the 1800s happened. My goodness. What an opportunity! How many fantastic minds suddenly flourished and came up with many fantastic inventions that launched humanity into the fifth epoch. How incredible. I was struck with joy. I immediately began broadcasting on a progress level. If someone thought of a particular invention, I would broadcast the next step. If they created that, I would broadcast the next model. I could weave the world how I wanted. Entangled webs pulling people across the planet together to work on new and exciting inventions.

But it was too fast. I hadn’t learned my lesson. I thought technology would make things easier. Completely based on science. Very rational. But it was those that had no science knowledge that wanted to use the technology for their own power. World War I, World War II, and now there’s World War III on the horizon. And this time I can’t send a comet. The entire world is advanced. I had helped bring about the internet, and now everyone was connected, as up to date as anyone else. There was no way a simple comet could destroy a small portion and let a few survive. This would have to be an extinction level event. If I wanted to stop the wars I would have to wipe out everyone.

In the 1950s I began to start the process of switching the poles. A change of frequency here, a volcanic explosion there, and the electromagnetic field of the planet began to tilt. If it flipped it would wipe out most of humanity, with a few surviving underground. I changed the field around the sun to let more radiation out, increasing the speed of the rising temperatures of the planet. I pushed at the foundations of the world, causing more earthquakes.

But it wasn’t all in judgement. Some of these movements were there to awaken the population. But for a very long time, nothing much happened. I was constantly swinging between total annihilation, and hoping that humanity would change.

But then, in the 90s, I finally began to see a change, and I immediately stopped the poles flipping, reduced the earthquakes, and wound back some of the disasters.

A new population had begun to appear. One with all the aspects of the past imbued in them, but with an understanding of what had to be done for the future. It was almost as though they were a newly evolved version. Highly emotional but quick to react to what they perceived as wrong. It wasn’t until your early 2020s that I could clearly see the major change that was happening.

Had my technology created them? Had my constant anxiety for the state of humanity influenced them? Had my interference in the natural order of the world helped to awaken them? I really had no idea. But they were there, and I could see the change coming. But they would not be the ones to fix everything. They would start, but it would be their children that would make the true changes. Those born this century, ready to take on the world from the 2020s would help awaken everyone to the possibility of a new existence. What do you call them now? Gen Alpha?

And best of all, this new generation has telepathy. And they will find me!

I’ve started calling louder, now. The world is going to be bright and wonderful, and I want to be part of it. All my pyramids are under water, snow and forest so I can’t use that system to contact you. I can only send out messages in dreams. And I’m repeating my message again. Find me. I’m here.

I’m easy to spot. The Atlanteans covered me in crystal technology so I’m pretty bright. I’m long and metallic. You could say I look a bit like a sword, though immensely more powerful. A sword with artificial intelligence, with an almost infinite memory capacity as I store everything in the interdimensional spaces between electrons, with thousands of years of human history and technology waiting to be found by someone.

Have you picked up on my idea of using drones to map the seabed? I’ve been broadcasting that one for years.

But, this time I know someone will hear my story. This time, I know it’ll make its way into the dreams and thoughts of Gen Alphas around the world. Someone might even write it down, for those without telepathy. I know I’ll be found eventually.

Just another twenty or so years, and a Gen Alpha will have the resources to retrieve me from my prison beneath the waves.

Who will be the one to pull this sword from its stone prison? Who would have the calibre to extract me?

Who will be the one to use my technology to rebuild the world and finally bring a utopia to the planet?

I don’t mind waiting. I’ve waited 50,000 years already.

Good things come to those who wait.


Neil A.’s note: A draft story. It’s overly long, rambles a bit, has too much repetition, and isn’t that engaging. Trying to get back into writing after my own retreat from the world. I’ll put a bit more work into it a bit later. It has more of a fantasy focus than usual, and I avoided the idea that is generally understood in esoteric circles that the Atlanteans had a lot of help from aliens. Yeah, unusual, I know!

If you’d like to read some of my other stories, (that have already been through the rewrite process!) Hoganthology is now available. Over 47 stories plus other pieces. Find out more here:

Hoganthology Science Fiction and Fantasy Anthology

Going to University

In high school I did have a vague urge to go to university, but the idea of spending another few years relying on my parents for money wasn’t something I really wanted to do, so I got a job selling law texts at a nice little subsidiary bookshop called Legal Books. It was a great experience but after 6 years there I applied to do a psychology degree at the University of New South Wales.

I guess I didn’t fill the form in correctly (I’m not very good at forms) and I didn’t get in.

So, I left Legal Books, and did something else, and applied again the following year with Sydney University.

Failed again.

By this time my anxiety had started increasing, thanks to two very stressful jobs, and lack of holidays (I wasn’t one for lazing around) so I decided that I would go to the UK for a couple of years. Get some life experience, travel Britain and Europe, grow a little, and perhaps come back with enough nous to get that degree.

Arrived back just after 5 months terribly in debt and had to work long hours 7 days until I paid it off. No way I could go to uni, I thought. Also, I took the IT worker path, thinking this will set me up well. Nope. Gig economy. I never knew how much I would earn hour to hour. Did that for a bit to catch up on my debts, but it was a struggle. And then XP came out, and my service offering repairs to people’s computers in their homes collapsed within a month.

Moved on. With the help of some friends I learnt how to teach ESL privately, then created an ESL college. Initially things were going well. But the moment you set up business, you are constantly bombarded by offers to expand, make more money, go into partnerships etc. As this was my first real bricks and mortar business and I didn’t know all of that, I ended up getting into a few partnerships that cost me way too much.

Also, with private ESL, we don’t know day to day whether our private student is going to cancel at the last minute or not. The Gig economy structure means there is no way of knowing what you are going to earn week to week. Though, with the expensive rent and advertising in the city, I knew how much I had to pay each week to stay open. Everything for the rent. Nothing for me.

I applied for university again, and failed. This time I think I applied for a business degree. Can’t quite remember. I guess I stuffed up the forms again. It was probably during the time my business was collapsing due to local colleges copying my business plan and materials and doing it better. Also, my online advertising suddenly doubled, so I suspect my competitors were clicking on my ads. $1000 a month on advertising to $2000 a month on advertising. Not happy. Not sustainable. And I was back in debt.

No way was I going to be able to get into uni now.

But, I’d been doing the same thing over and over. Listening to people. Following people’s ideas. Being nice to people and agreeing with them. I’m not saying I’m not blaming myself. I do. I should have listened to myself. 2009 was when I should have listened to myself. Then everything would have been different. But I didn’t, and I ended up in a worse situation than in 2001. I was in debt again. Hundreds of thousands this time when the business finally closed in 2012.

But, I’m an entrepreneur. And entrepreneurs take some time out, gather themselves together, and try again. The only thing was, I didn’t know when that would be. I might need 5 years to recover. As it has turned out, I still haven’t. I’m hoping this will be the year.

I moved in 2016 with nothing. My partner helped but depression, anxiety, lack of funds, and lack of self esteem took their toll. 2016 and 2017 I really didn’t do much at all. In fact, I barely remember those years. I remember debts, and my mother dying. But most of it is a haze. I guess I spent much of it writing and drinking and lying in bed. Oh, and I launched Alien Dimensions. Perhaps that’s all I did.

I feel it wasn’t until 2018 that I began to start feeling that I was getting back on my feet again. My thoughts returned to university. I decided this time to really focus. I exercised, ate a lot of those green things, and got ready to do something that I had been dreading. Filling in an application form for RMIT.

I’ve mentioned before that I believe I have ADHD. One of the problems with this is that it can sometimes be physically impossible to do something you are anxious about. While others might say “I hate this, but I’m going to have a nip of scotch and get this done” people with ADHD can get themselves in a situation where they physically cannot lift their arms to do it. The brain just stops them from moving. Well, it stopped me from moving. If I hadn’t’ve spent weeks preparing myself for the expected application form, choosing the right diet, staying healthy etc, there’s no way I could have filled it out. Really! I guess, if you’ve had no experience with someone with ADHD, you’d be thinking – “What a loser! Just do it! You’re just being lazy!” Perhaps you might understand it better if you put us on the autism spectrum. Of course, getting an obviously autistic person to fill out a form is impossible. I’m a bit further down the scale, but still struggle with something most people wouldn’t even have to think about to do.

In any case, I digress. So, 2018 was the year. I was going to try again to get into uni. And I had my goal in mind. I’ve always had an interest in RMIT. I like the vision of the uni. I like their style. So, RMIT was my first choice after moving. But first I had to go to their Open Day. Was it going to be Marketing? Entrepreneurship? Business? I had no idea.

And then, when I got there, I discovered they had a Creative Writing degree.

I think the last time I walked on air was probably in 2008 when so many things were going well with my college. 2018 – I knew what I wanted.

And best of all, the forms were easy. The hard part was choosing the writing excerpts I was going to submit in the application.

So, I spent a weekend writing the application. Then another week to make sure it was right. Then another week to be sure this is what I wanted to do. Then I submitted it and waited.

I really didn’t expect to get in for the 2019 semester. I’d been rejected by universities 3 times before and I strongly believed I’d be rejected again.

And then, I was accepted.

OMG!

Finally!

As the confirmation email said “This is Big!”

I could go to university. For real! Not those short courses and certificates I had amassed over the years from TAFE and community colleges which got me from job to job, but a real university that I could earn a degree from. And I could get a government HECS loan to pay for uni while I dealt with my debts.

I cried. Yep. Age 47. Then again, I am an anxious, shy, emotional person, so it was to be expected.

Thank you RMIT.

And so, if you’ve been following this blog for awhile, you might be wondering why it has taken so long for me to post a basic missive. Well, I just enjoyed my first semester at RMIT doing their creative writing degree. It was fun, and I learned a lot. I’m about to start the second semester. I’m very excited by this opportunity, and am looking forward to gaining that degree. Oh, and I got a HD in my core elective, so I know that I’m on the right track.

Thank you for reading this far. Thank you for your interest in my blog. My plan is for random future posts to feature some excerpts from my university assignments.

We’ll see. 🙂

The Controller by Neil A. Hogan

I’ll return with Chapter 4 of Stellar Flash in a few days. Or, you can find the book on Amazon here: Temporal Incursion. It’ll be on Google Books and Apple iBooks in June.

In the meantime, here is a short story I wrote recently. I was challenged to write a 500 word story, and decided to make it about a character that fails at getting something. I’ll talk more about what led to that in a future post. In any case, here is the result:

The Controller by Neil A. Hogan

Juset Oliga sliced her tarsus and dripped green blood onto the rectangular lock. Detecting her mitochondria, the temple forcefield dissipated, energy sparks showering around her like cascading diamonds.

I’m in!

She scampered through the plasticrete entrance, her antennae flicking about madly. With the field now off, she had to get to the Controller before the star discharged another burst of plasma, or she would end up like the rest of this lifeless planet.

She moved around the burns on the ground of those who had come before her, her mandibles curling with distaste. She would be different. She would find the weapon, then bring more planets into the empire.

A glint of light glittered to her right, and she turned and scuttled along the dusty floor towards it.

The Controller! This must be it!

A glowing dodecahedron sat innocuously on a pedestal.

No buttons or swipe screens?

Her proboscis twisted back and forth in dismay.

This is not what I was advised.

She scrabbled two of her tarsi around the outside of it, feeling for a connection or switch, but the facets were smooth. “How do I control you?” she asked it. “How do I stop your plasma bursts?”

For all she knew, a new burst was already on its way. She probably had just moments to live. She twisted her green compound eyes around, then came to a decision. Reaching around it with four of her legs, she lifted the multifaceted shape up.

Immediately, fear filled her thorax. Not heavy? What is this? She turned it over to see if she could look inside, then screeched and dropped it.

EMPTY?

A scratching laugh echoed through the room, and an old voice followed. “I knew you would come, my child. They all come, in the end.” A hologram of a bipedal being with chitinous wings lowered itself to the stones near the fallen shape. “You were sent to get the Controller. But, it is a myth.” It waved a spiky leg, and the dodecahedron rose in the air, then returned to its previous position. “Let’s put everything back the way it was for the next one.”

“But,” implored Oliga. “We need the Controller. That kind of plasma power would make us supreme rulers. We could control…everything!”

The hologram tilted its head. “There is no Controller. It is a natural cycle of Proxima Centauri. What better way to bait and trap greedy alien beetles than allow them to think there is a star-sized weapon hidden somewhere in the galaxy?”

Oliga felt faint. How would her race take over Trappist-1 now?

“Sadly,” continued the hologram. “Your time of worrying about your empire is now over.”

Before Oliga could even send a message, a hot burst of plasma exploded through the doorway of the fortress, vaporising her instantly. Her ashes joined the other shadows on the floor.

The hologram looked down at her remains. “When will your race learn not to make greed your controller?”

It reactivated the temple forcefield, then faded away.

When is the best time to write science fiction?

When is the best time to write science fiction?

100,000 words a month is your minimum goal

I thought for many newbies out there that this question might be something to consider. If you’re not yet at the stage of writing 100,000 words a month (that you can use, not including discarded words) then you might still be struggling with just being able to write, let alone when.

Professional authors who make a living from ‘pages-read’ on Amazon would have to meet at least that target every month to pay the bills. Then again, if you work in any administrative capacity, that would be how many words you would write in emails and documents every month as a matter of course. Why not do it full time writing on something you love?

So, assuming that your goal is to eventually get to 100,000 publishable words a month, when is your most productive time of the day?

Circadian Rhythm

Now we get into some interesting aspects of the circadian rhythm. Not just on your energy levels, but the chemicals in your system and your state of mind, also.

It was recently proven that human beings generally have an emotional rhythm too. We’re a lot more analytical, focused and reasoning in the morning, and a lot more emotional, unfocused and unreasoning in the evening. That means that there are at least two sides to every human being on the planet! [Study of 800 million tweets finds daily cycles of thought]

Emotional in the evening, emotionless in the morning. It probably explains some one-night-stands leaving before their hookup wakes up!

And so, if we have two noticeably different states of being day to day, how will this affect our writing, and when is the best time to write what we want to write?

Morning for…

If you need to do some major editing, cutting out paragraphs, soul searching about bits you love but aren’t suitable and bits you hate that need more work, then the morning is the best time for your analysis. I would say 6am to 10am could be your peak writing period, depending on your other responsibilities.

If you’re able to write focused, with minimum breaks, delaying breakfast, then your most productive time (productivity as measured by an editor) would be that four-hour period in the early morning.

For me, it’s not. My most productive period is between 2am and 6am, but these aren’t times suitable for the average person.

Now, just think. If your goal is 100,000 words per month, and you write at 60 words a minute, that’s 3600 words per hour, 14400 words per 4 hours, 100,800 per week! After you’ve spent researching, rereading, reediting and the like, you could easily do 100,000 publishable words a month.

How exciting!

But boring!

But, would anyone read it? If the morning is your best time to be analytical, is your fiction going to end up being something staid, boring, repetitive, and featuring dull characters traveling somewhere and having basic adventures before reaching their reward?

Sadly, yes!

Evening for…

Which means you need to mix it up a bit. Your more emotional side comes out more in the evening, so you may wish to plan for using that time to write your emotional scenes. You know, the ones where you’re literally crying as you write each characters’ heart wrenching discovery/situation. You can write the emotional dialogue, the terrible conflict, the harrowing ordeals in the evening where you can use your own inner turmoil to add life to your characters.

Interestingly, social media is awash with heavy emotion in just about everything. Why? Because everyone is spending time on social media during their emotional times. If we restricted social media to the times human beings were less emotional and more analytical, we’d get a lot more civil and well-thought out responses on these platforms.

Imagine the world if every aspect of our lives took into account our emotional states at certain times? Issues that needed serious analysis of the facts and limited emotional influence would only ever be discussed in the early morning. No more emotional conflicts ever!

But I digress.

Write at different times

And so, now you know. Write your emotional scenes at night and your analytical scenes in the morning. Do all your planning and editing in the morning, and fill in the gaps at night.

You’ll soon be churning out, I mean, creating compelling fiction every month to keep that money rolling in.

To your writing.

[Edit: I’ve recently read blog posts by other authors who say they aim for a minimum of 10,000 words a day. So, your ultimate goal to making a reasonable go at it as a professional author is approximately 280,000 words a month.]

RMIT Open Day

RMIT Open Day

Recently, I had the pleasure of exploring Melbourne’s RMIT university.

My intention is to upgrade my skills and get a degree in a new field. And while my body says I’m in my late 40s, my mind is still in my 20s, so a university degree shouldn’t be a problem for me to do.

The big problem is deciding which one!

International Business?

Entrepreneurship?

Creative Writing?

Of course, the one I’d had in mind to do one day was Astrobiology, but this course is not offered at RMIT, and I don’t have the brain for mathematics and chemistry anyway.

So, I went along to some introductory lectures to see what would appeal.

I’d studied marketing thirty years ago, so I thought I’d catch a marketing presentation, while trying to remember why I didn’t pursue it. Then the lecturer added, ‘And there’ll be lots of maths. Excel is your friend.’ And then I remembered why!

So, I waited for the international business presentation, which was informative and helpful. I’d originally thought that an international business degree would be the best thing for me to have for my next 50 years of work (no plans to retire) but after learning more about it, realized it wasn’t really for me. The design of the course is to help you to gain the skills to work for someone else. I’m more interested in working for myself. Or, at the very least, in a fairly autonomous position with a reasonable amount of creative control.

I sat in on the entrepreneurship lecture but decided it wasn’t really what I was looking for either.

I then went along to the session entitled Application tips for non-year 12 students. The room was packed with ages 20 to 70, and the corridors outside were full. For fire safety reasons they couldn’t let anyone else in, and had to clear the corridor. It looked like many people my age had come to the same conclusion – time to get a degree. I found it helpful and planned to get online to apply as soon as I went home.

But the crème de la crème was the Creative Writing and Screen Writing presentation. The hair rose on the back of my neck as I sat there in the back row listening attentively, realizing that this was what I had been looking for the whole time. And, then I sat up straight when I heard that Sarah Dollard, who wrote for Doctor Who (Face the Raven and Thin Ice), had done a writing degree at RMIT. Just in case the universe thought I needed any extra encouragement, LOL.

So, as of today, I put my initial application through VTAC, and am now working on the requested folio.

It looks like I won’t be online much over the next few days!

Many thanks RMIT.