Attention foreigners :P

Anyone bored? Do you speak a native language that is not English but also speak English? Fancy taking part in a pointless but mildly interesting project?

This project is still in the planning stage. I'm seeing how much interest there is before I go ahead with it and, if it proves popular, I may take it further.

I call it the Great Google Translate Project.

Concept: Just how (in)accurate is Google translate? I'm looking for people who speak English as a second language. The idea is to write a blog in English and have Google translate it into the languages of all the people taking part. The volunteers will then be given the English blog and Google's translation. For their part they would then translate the English blog into their native tongue properly, (with notation if you have the time) allowing us to see just how well or poorly Google did.

Furthering the project: If enough people from enough countries want to take part and fancy taking it further, we could find other translation services and repeat the experiment. Maybe we'll even send the results of the original project to Google to see if they have any comments.

If you're interested, leave a comment. Be sure to mention what language you'd be taking part in.

Bitemarks 1.4

Bitemarks 1.4

Ed lounged on the comfortable limo seats and lit up a cigarette.
"I'm guessing it's pretty urgent." he said.
"It's time sensitive." said Alf.
"A race?"
"In a manner of speaking." Alf pulled out a laptop and flicked the screen into life. It showed a picture of a man and a snow covered facility of some sort.
"The North Pole." Alf continued. "There's an archaeological dig underway. Privately funded. It's headed by this man, Dr John Keibler. It's a civilian venture. Six scientists, two technical engineers to keep the power and computer systems up and running and two military personnel."
"The army?"
Alf nodded.
"Just a precautionary measure. It's dangerous terrain what with the harsh conditions and the local wildlife. They're also there to see that there's no interference from any other countries."
"Interference?"
"It's no secret that Russia's behaviour towards the UK has been somewhat... erratic recently. After their stunt of claiming the Pole's oil reserves... well the army is a little jumpy."
"So what's the problem?"
"The military personnel are on a 12 hour call in. Every 12 hours they radio in, confirm everything's fine and that's that."
"And they missed their last call?"
"Correct. Now with it being an Arctic expedition the army won't mobilise until they miss their second call. Obviously there's always a chance the call was missed due to weather interference or temporary loss of power."
"You suspect otherwise?"
"It's been two weeks and they've not missed a single call, Ed. Our satellites show no storm activity in that area."
"Why the interest in this dig? Why are we monitoring it so carefully?"
"I thought you'd ask. It's Keibler. He's helped us before in the past, unknowingly of course. We've always kept an eye on his activities, just to make sure he doesn't stumble upon something he shouldn't or talk to the wrong people. You know how it is. We have to protect our interests."
"So you want me over there to check up on everything before the army show up and take over?"
"Yes."
"And when is the second call due?"
"About eight hours from now. It gives you enough time to get over there, check out the situation and leave before the army even mobilises a unit to investigate."
"And what if there's nothing wrong? Aren't they going to wonder why I'm there and how I even know about the place?"
"It's ok, we've thought about that. As I said before, the dig is privately funded by one Jean Beauclair."
Ed looked blank.
"He's a private investor and one of our benefactors."
"Right."
"If it turns out everything is normal then you're just there on his behalf to see how things are going, make sure his money is being spent wisely. Ask for a quick tour of the facility, make some notes and off you go."
Ed sighed.
"You sound like I won't be needing that alibi."
"Missing that call was so unlikely Ed. If it was power related it's a problem that could have been fixed. I don't know what to expect. The most likely explanation I can think of is that the Russians have kidnapped Keibler and his team. Either way you should be prepared."
"When do I leave?"
"Straight away. Time is of the essence here. We've a chopper on standby for you already and we've Arctic gear waiting for you at the base. If you see any sign of the Russian military then turn straight around, head home and let the army deal with it. Anything else and it's up to you."


Ed looked down from the chopper as the first signs of snow covered terrain came into view. He was already freezing, despite the warm clothing. He wore fingerless gloves so he could still use his gun but his fingers were starting to numb with the cold and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. The pilot, Wilbur, spoke to him over the radio link headset he wore.
"We're almost there Ed. I'll bring her down on the touchpad. This bird ain't exactly designed for these conditions so we don't want to spend more than a couple of hours here or the rotors will freeze up."
"Roger that." said Ed. He felt near his stomach for the concealed pouch that his his gun velcroed inside. He hoped he wasn't going to need it. It was one thing to shoot at monsters, another to fight it out with trained military personnel. Below, the base came into view. The lights were still on and that was a worrying sign. So much for the power failure theory. Still, no one left the building at the sound of the chopper coming down to land and that was unusual. He'd expected both soldiers out there to 'greet' them. The chopper bumped down on the helipad and slid a little on the ice then came to rest. Ed took a deep breath, slid the door open and hopped out.

He hit the floor and crouched. His eyes sweeping over the immediate area. The wind was up and there were no footprints nearby. No obvious signs of life. He placed one hand inside his gun pouch and slid his fingers around the weapon's grip then jogged over to the base doors. They were large double doors, sealed with a deadbolt on the inside or at least, they should have been. One was still in position, the other swung wildly in the wind, clanging loudly against its housing. That too was a bad sign. Ed slid up to the closed door and peered around into the foyer. It looked clear. Snow had been driven inside by the wind and by the looks of it, that door had been open for some time. He went inside, pulled the door shut behind him and latched it in place. He could still get out fast enough if need be. He drew his gun and looked down the nearest corridor. A filing cabinet was still intact and he inspected it. It contained files. So much for the Russian theory. If they were involved surely they would have taken the files. He followed the corridor down into the radio room. The equipment was still live and seemed in working order. He didn't dare push anything to confirm. He left the radio room behind and returned to the foyer, taking the next corridor. This one ended in another room with two closed doors. He peered through the window. A locker room and probably sleeping quarters beyond that. But there was something else. Either someone had picked a garish red paintjob for the room or... He pushed the doors open and winced at what he saw. Here was one of the soldiers, or what was left of him. He was behind an upturned table that faced the door Ed had just entered through. Behind his body were the bodies of four of the civilians. Something had gone down here. A defensive shootout, but against who? Cautiously Ed made his way over to the corpses and examined them. The soldier's gun was still in his hand and looking behind him Ed could see where he'd fired and hit the wall and the doors. He wasn't shot though and neither were the scientists. The soldier had died from blunt trauma to the face. Ed could see where a hard blow had impacted his skull on one side and sent it crashing into the floor on the other. Judging from the damage he was hit with something real heavy, probably more than once. He checked the civilians. He couldn't see any immediate cause for death until he gently moved one with his foot and heard the sound of bone on bone. Broken necks? He shivered and not from the cold. Whatever had killed these men had done so with its bare hands.
He crouched down and moved one of the scientist's heads with the barrel of his gun. No impact damage, so finger marks that he could see but... He recoiled sharply. There on the neck. Two roughly circular wounds. If Ed didn't know better he'd think they were... bitemarks. He checked the other bodies. All of them, even the soldier, had the same marks. Instinct and logic fought in his mind for an explanation. Instinct told him only one thing could have made those marks. A vampire. And that would explain the display of physical strength, the bare handed killings. But logic told him that was impossible. Vampires had been extinct since the early 1900s when the last of the great European Elders had been killed. This whole thing made no sense. But Ed wasn't one for complacency. He pressed the button on his headset.
"Wilbur? Do you read?"
Static and then...
"Loud and clear Ed. What's the situation?"
"Wilbur listen to me. Take off. Stay high and sweep the area. Let me know if you see any signs of life. Don't land until I radio you again."
"Sure thing. How high?"
Ed thought for a while.
"As high as you can go and still see... The base personnel are all dead and Wilbur... There may be a vampire down here."
"You gotta be shitting me."
"I don't know for sure but don't take any chances. Stay high enough that you can't be surprised. If I don't radio in in the next thirty minutes head back without me."
"Roger that."
Ed stood back up and looked around. He needed to find the rest of the bodies and make sure they were dead. From what little he knew about vampires he was certain that it would have made a spawn. All four of these bodies had been fed upon and that was unusual behaviour for a single vampire...

Bitemarks 1.3

Bitemarks 1.3

Skarletta dropped the lifeless husk of Dr Keibler to the floor and stared at herself in the small mirror on one wall. Already she could feel the ice melting from her limbs. And she could see her face healing. All over her body the dark frostbitten patches were regaining their colour. She felt the stabbing pain in her chest again and remembered the obsidian sliver. She needed to accelerate the process, that much she knew. But these surroundings were so unfamiliar. There was little she remembered other than instinct and right now her instinct was to feed, heal and survive.
Behind her the door burst open.
"Dr Keibler, I heard scream..."
Lewis' jaw dropped as he caught sight of Skarletta. She grinned at his fear. The moment's hesitation cost him his life, though he knew it not yet. A memory exploded into life in her brain and before Lewis could react she threw out a hand in his direction and placed him in the Thrall.
She looked at this creature, unable to move now of his own free will. His eyes wide and wild with fear. His breath in panicked gasps. With all the mental power she could summon she raised him up onto his tiptoes and beckoned him toward her. Involuntarily Lewis obeyed, unable to tear his gaze from her eyes and tiptoed toward her. She knew a language, bits of it still lingered in her mind and she tried it now.
"Where is this place?"
There was no response. She tried again.
"What year is it?
Still nothing. Clearly her tongue was no longer spoken. No matter. Blood spoke and Skarletta was a quick and keen learner. Lewis offered no resistance as she pulled him close and bent his head to one side, exposing his unprotected neck...


Moments later what life had inhabited Lewis' now existed inside Skarletta. She felt better. Her strength was returning and she had remembered the Thrall. A most useful talent. These people were clearly as susceptible to it as they had always been. She was capable of more of that she was sure. The time had come to make her move. She went to the door Lewis had entered through and peeked out into a corridor. She had made no sound as she moved, unlike the clumsy Lewis whose feet had clunked against the floor. She looked back at him. He wore strange devices on his feet and various coverings whereas she was still naked. She didn't like the look of his blood soaked garments. She would find something more appealing. She stepped out into the corridor as another man appeared at the other end. He wore something vastly different to Lewis. An outfit composed of earthy tones. Green, brown and khaki in leaflike patterns. Much better. He too wore the expression of shock that Lewis had. He was also pointing at her. No... Pointing something at her. He spoke in a firm voice but she still couldn't understand the words. She took a step toward him and he took a step back. His stance was so different from that of the other two men and his fear more controlled. He was scared certainly, but not panicked. Curiosity overwhelmed her. Who was this man who dare face her and point in her direction so constantly? Her face must have betrayed her anger because with her next step forwards the man reacted. The thing he was pointing roared and flashed and she felt a sudden pain in her right thigh. She looked down and saw blood. There was a hole in her leg, neat and round. It hurt, though not much, nothing like the pain within her heart. The blood of two men already filled her veins and this was a minor wound for her unique physiology. A small metal shape fell from the hole in her leg and the wound closed up behind. She looked back up at the man, a bemused expression on her face.
"Nice trick. My turn now."
He replied with a yell. Something in that strange language again. It mattered not what he said. She had tired of the novelty. His clothing would suffice for her, she had decided and she would examine the shiny thing he had injured her with. The device roared and snapped thrice more and she felt the metal balls enter her body. Twice in her chest and one more right in the forehead. It hurt this time. Hurt like hell and she snarled and pounced. She covered the distance between them in a second and twirled. He foot lashed out, kicking the device from the man's grip and she lashed out with her foot twice more. The first connected with his jaw, stunning him and the second impacted his stomach pushing him back up against the wall. Skarletta followed him, pinning him against the wall with one hand around his throat and with the other she gripped his upper jaw and pulled with every ounce of strength she had. There was a crack as his jaw snapped and a sickening gurgling tearing sound as she pulled the upper part of his skull clean off. Even as the blood fountained from the hole left behind she threw the body to the floor and pulled the man's jacket up, off his arms and wrapped it around the bleeding stump that was once his head. She cursed her instinctiveness. The jacket was ruined now and she couldn't remove the shirt without getting it covered in blood. Memory told her that people generally reacted badly to blood soaked clothing. But the lower garments were fine. She removed those now and tried them on. It took time for her to figure them out but soon she was attired satisfactorily. She looked down at herself, in the man's heavy dark boots and patterned trousers. They were loose about the waist and she discovered strips of fabric and buckles on the side and adjusted them until they were snug about her waist. Excellent. Now for some upper garments. She shuddered suddenly as her body ejected the metal balls from her chest and forehead. She felt the wounds close up again behind. She needed all the strength she could get for now and that meant continual feeding. She cast her eyes back to the fallen man. He still had blood left to give...

It's coming.

So yeah, Bitemarks will be continuing, honestly. I said I couldn't commit to any regular updates which is true. I have my nephew to look after tomorrow, dentists appointment next week, parents arriving home from Greece at the weekend. It's all kicking off at once! Just don't think I've forgotten. :P I'm hoping to drop a part on Friday and probably monday and wednesday so those are good days to check back. :)

I've also sent the lyrics for "Song for the Girl" to Kreate. He seems interested so maybe we'll get a proper song out of that too. We can at least hope, huh?

Also saw this on the front of one of the national newspapers today.
"Eight out of 10 savings accounts lose money"

AAAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHHH

*RAGE*

AAAARRRRGGGHHH!!!

Numbers *OR* letters you fucking idiotic retard cockwits!

Oh the impotent geek rage. And to think these are the same newspapers that moan about the dumbing down of schools after discovering a new module about the grammar of txtspeak. Practice what you preach.

*deep breaths*

I despair, I really do. I feel like I should go watch some Boxxy just to get some joy back in my life. ¬¬ There's only room for so much misanthropy and I've used a lot of it today. I should sharpen up my favourite stabby knife and go stab things. People shaped things.

I thought there was something else but I'm struggling to remember it. I guess I'll go grab a few hours sleep before work tomorrow.

A lesson to games companies.

So as you all know. I am a gamer. I consider gaming a large part of my life and my personality. Always have done. Be it board games, card games, handheld videogames, consoles, PCs. I love 'em. Now, videogames specifically is what I want to talk to you about. See, videogame companies don't like people downloading their games illegally so they go through all kinds of efforts to ensure that people will buy the games rather than download them from torrents. One of the methods some of them choose is DRM, usually a program like Securom that ensures that when you buy a game, you can only install it so many times then it's worthless.
Obviously... do not want.
See, as a gamer I have a choice. I can buy my games legally on disc and accept that the disc may one day break or otherwise become unusable. I can buy my games digitally through steam where I can own them for life. Or I can download them illegally, for free.
You'd think the best choice was to download them illegally for free right? But it isn't! Not only is there inherent risk (both of being virused or being caught by the authorities) there's also the chance the game won't work properly and no one's gonna give you support for an unpatched illegal download. The simple truth is. We don't mind paying for games!

So I buy a lot of games from Steam. Especially when they have offers on to save me a little cash. Today I saw two such offers. Overlord I and II for only £7! :O Needless to say, I just stumped up the cash and that game is now mine. But there was also another deal. Crysis and Crysis: warhead for £10 each. I was interested. Crysis after all is one of those games that has an amazing word of mouth review. I've often thought, if I see it cheap, I'll get that. So seeing it on offer was exciting! I could pick up both Crysis games for £20! But then I looked at the games specs and saw this.
Securom: 5 machine activation limit.

Well fuck that then. See the irony? Your over the top security just put me off buying your game. Now make the logical leap. I certainly don't wanna buy your game with securom on it. What's my alternative? That's right. Now I'm not saying I'm gonna go download Crysis illegally. I'm too lazy for one and I have Overlord to play now. But this is my point. YOU, the videogame companies, are the ones driving piracy with foolish maneuvres like this. If I can own all my steam games for life why would I waste my money on a game that can only be installed 5 times? (I know it says 5 machines, but for example, my desktop computer had a motherboard meltdown last year. After replacing that component, securom would see it as a new machine. So getting through 5 activations isn't that hard).

So there you go. You introduced an anti-piracy measure that has guaranteed that if I ever want to play Crysis, I'll be doing so by illegally downloading a pirated copy.
Do the words "Epic fail" mean anything to you?

As for me. I'm happy. That £20 stays in my bank account and I have Overlord I and II to play! Hurrah! I don't even know if they're any good. They don't have the word of mouth advertising that Crysis does. But they don't have any silly over the top intrusive security measures to limit my fun.



Oh one final thing. I realise some of you are not gamers and either didn't read that, or didn't get it.

Essentially. DRM is like being sold a car, that will stop working once it's done 5'000 miles. Now imagine your local dodgy garage down the road will sell you the same car for next to nothing, with that feature disabled.

Yeah exactly.

Bitemarks 1.2

Bitemarks 1.2

Dr Keibler took a slug from the can of energy drink. He despised the stuff but it was better than coffee and having only three hours sleep since finding the specimen. Even now the body was undergoing a slow thawing process that would hopefully minimize the damage done by it reaching a warmer temperature. The body was remarkably well preserved. Here and there were patches damaged by frostbite and as the ice melted away to give a closer view it had become apparent that she had injuries inflicted upon her by others. The throat was cut for one and there was a stab wound on the left breast, most likely what killed her. Once the ice was fully melted he hoped to get a full set of digital images to create a virtual model of her before freezing the corpse once again ready for shipping to somewhere more suitable. Somewhere where they had the technology to x-ray the body and examine in microscopic detail various parts of her external and internal structures. He walked over to the table for a closer look. She really was so remarkably well preserved. So well that it began to cast doubts in his mind about how old she was. Only the black patches and lack of clothing pointed to her long years imprisoned in her icy tomb. There was little ice left covering her now although probably plenty left beneath the skin's surface. He moved over to the head. Her hair was still intact though he knew that would not last. Dark, almost black and lengthy. It would reach halfway down her back. He touched it curiously. It had defrosted fully and although still wet, was soft to the touch. Her cheeks struck him as unusual too. They hadn't folded and sagged. He reached out and gently touched one. It felt firm, though that could just be the ice under the surface lending support. It felt warm too or was that simply a by-product of the thawing process? He moved his head closer, curiosity consuming him. He looked closely at the eyelids. The eyelashes and eyebrows were still intact and the thawing was causing them to flicker as the muscles beneath expanded in the warmth. They opened in a flash and for a second Keibler recoiled, a sudden moment of panic. It's just the heat. he told himself. Like the tendons of a body being burned. He almost convinced himself, until the woman's mouth opened and she screamed like a banshee.


Skarletta was dreaming. She knew not of what. Eagles flew. Fish swam. Tribes danced ancient forgotten dances. And then she felt. She felt an icy pain grip her body and tear her soul from those dreams into waking agony. Her eyes flicked open and she howled. The pain. It wracked every inch of her. She sat bolt upright and screamed again. The pain. She felt it now in two distinct patterns. The icy pain gripping her limbs and chest and the second lesser pain, caused by the shard of obsidian dagger still lodged in her heart. She was dying. She knew as much. And the pain was joined by the Hunger. The Hunger she knew all too well. Vision returned to her frozen eyes, locked staring straight ahead of her. And there was a man. He was babbling in some incoherent language, clearly gripped by both fear and shock. These were emotions she recognized. The language she would learn soon enough and in the process... the Hunger would be fed.


Ed Baxter gripped the temporary podium tightly and addressed the assembled mourners as, to one side, a crane-like mechanism slowly lowered a coffin into the earth.
"My father." he said, blinking the light November rain from his eyes. "My father was a great man. He was a strong man, who provided well for his family. A strong man who suffered the cruel irony of a disease that robbed him of his strength with each passing day. And yet, he remained strong. Strong in his mind as his body failed him. He was a kind man who donated generously to those less fortunate than himself, often in secret. He was a determined man. As those of you who worked with him are aware he would not rest while his work could make the world a better place for everyone, at least in his eyes."
That last comment was aimed purely a the Agency members present for they alone knew the good deeds his father had performed in service.
"He was a caring and nurturing father. A dependable and loving husband. A trustworthy and loyal friend. We have all felt the impact of his life and so we feel the impact of his death. It stands as testament to the kind of man my father was that so many of his friends showed up today to honour his passing. He would be grateful and humbled by your presence. Doug Baxter. May he forever rest in peace."
Ed stepped down from the podium and walked to the grave containing the now fully lowered coffin. He picked up a handful of loose earth from the small pile at the side and cast it into the hole, onto the lid of the coffin.
"No one lives forever." he whispered.


When he had finished talking with the assembled mourners one on one and listened to their expressions of sorrow for his loss Ed made his way back to the car. The fine rain continued and Ed kept his head low, lost in his own thoughts. It took just one word, his name, from a familiar voice to jerk him from his reminisces.
"Ed."
He looked up, into the emotionless face of Alf.
"I'm glad you came. He would be too."
Alf nodded.
"Wouldn't have missed it. It was a fine speech you gave."
"I take it you have something else to tell me."
"You did say you didn't want leave."
Ed nodded.
"I'm not ready to sit alone at home dwelling on it."
"Then in that case. We have a matter of extreme urgency." Alf extended an arm to point to his own transport. A stretch limo with tinted windows.
"I'll tell my driver I have a lift." said Ed.

Lest We Forget

Bitemarks 1.1

Bitemarks 1.1

Dr John Keibler shuddered. It wasn't the freezing cold surrounding him, standing ankle deep in the loose snow of the Arctic. It was the shudder of excitement. Both the excitement of discovery as he peered into the hole that they had created just this morning and also the excitement of knowing that they were on the verge of something awesome. Yuri Khudi might have found a woolly mammoth calf in Russia but this dig held the prospect of something better. So far three bones had been found, belonging to three different mammoths. Expectation was high that they might find a fully intact adult mammoth buried beneath the ice. That's why they were here. That's why they'd used dynamite to blow a huge hole in the ground. That's how they'd found the extraordinary cave network and that's why Dr Keibler was shuddering with excitement. Scott had already made a preliminary recon of the caves and they were safe enough for the team to go down. That was today. Now. It was exciting enough thinking about the possibility of a full mammoth being found but for the last few hours all Keibler could think about was the caves. Actual caves. Naturally formed and artificially sculpted. It raised a lot of questions. Keibler liked questions but he liked the answers even more.
"Ready Dr Keibler?"
Scott stood by his side waiting for him to make the first move and enter the caves. Keibler nodded.
"Yeah. Let's make history, gentlemen."


A couple of hours later and the excitement had started to wear off. The thing about ice is that it's boring. The cave walls were covered in layers of it so thick that there was no evidence as to how the caves were formed. Keibler didn't even know if there was rock under there or whether the walls were formed of solid ice. Worse still, they were smaller than anticipated. They'd explored them all with the exception of this last one. He presumed it to be the last. The tunnel that led towards it was far longer than the others and no doubt this would be the biggest chamber, the final one, set much further back than the others. Whatever was in here he doubted it would be a mammoth. The tunnel wasn't large enough for a huge beast to fit through. It was still a discovery nonetheless and there could still be something of interest to find but Keibler wanted that mammoth.
The tunnel came to an abrupt end and spilled out into a massive chamber just as he'd predicted. Stalactites hung down from the roof and huge thick columns of ice twinkled in the torchlight. Scott held his torch close to one of the ice columns, examining it for unusual composition. Keibler shone the beam of his light to his left and walked over to the cave wall. He followed it round, running his gloved fingers over the surface. Even through the gloves he could feel the lumps and bumps rising out of the smooth patches of ice.
"Dr Keibler!"
That was Lewis. Keibler's head snapped round. Lewis was over the very far side of the chamber, hidden behind ice columns. He made his way over there, careful not to lose his footing on the icy floor. He could see Lewis now, shining his torch at something just out of view behind that last column. He'd heard excitement in his voice but Lewis' face, like everyone else's was hidden beneath mask and goggles. What was he looking at?
Keibler rounded the last column, looked at Lewis, and followed the torchbeam with his eyes. There. In the wall. Keibler exhaled deeply.
"Holy... shit..."
This was it. The moment that would make his name. Fuck the mammoth. This was a discovery beyond all others. The ice was thick but there was no mistaking what was beneath it. Imprisoned there in the wall in front of them was a person. A humanoid. He could make out their shape, see their arms slightly splayed near their side and... breasts? He squinted at the ice.
"It's a female."
"I think so." said Lewis. "She could be well preserved in there."
Keibler stared at it a while longer as the other men assembled behind him, each one expressing their awe.
"We need to excavate the body." said Keibler. "This could be huge. I mean look at that pose. It's like..."
"Like she was put there intentionally." said Lewis as Keibler's voice trailed off.
"Maybe some sort of ritual..." said Scott.
"Scott, Lewis. You stay here. Check the ground for anything else of interest. I'll go back with the others, prep the lab and get tools."

Bitemarks: Coming Soon

I've mostly overcome my neck injury and had chance to recharge my mental batteries and so, as we usher ourselves in to what is possibly my favourite month, I am pleased to announce the impending return of Project Bitesize. I've decided to stick with Ed Baxter again for this project, which will be subtitled Bitemarks to differentiate it from the previous project. I don't know when exactly I'll be starting, or how regular the updates will be but it's coming! Soon! So pay attention.

That is all. You may resume your lives.

NaNoWriMo? :S

So I just learnt that November is 'NaNoWriMo'. A somewhat bizarre contraction of National Novel Writing Month.
http://www.nanowrimo.org/

Before I go any further... National? Talk about plucked at random for aesthetics. Seems this is taking place internationally.

Anyways. The concept is that people, presumably writers already, attempt to write a 50'000 word novel in the 30 days comprising the month of November.

O_O

Why? Why exactly? For what purpose? This strikes me as a major waste of time. In fact, an incredible waste of time. Oh sure, the actual writing really only boils down to like half an hour per day (assuming you can type around 60 wpm+) but what is the end result gonna be? Shit, that's what. The chances of you formulating a decent plot and typing in a manner that you would usually edit in at a later stage are slim to none. The end result will be a hasty, incoherent, hole-ridden shambles. Seems like a worthless exercise. I had enough trouble fitting Bitesize around my working life and that was far from novel standard. So guess who won't be participating. Me. I'll leave it to the people who have more free time than sense.