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The Backlog of Books Clogging My Colon

Week two of writing again is done. I’m still just working on writing The Death Bureau, which I’m making good progress on, while also going over one last edit for The Data Job.

Editing is by far my least favorite part of writing, I’m sure my first couple of books show this more than the newer ones. I’ve enhanced and refined my editing process as I’ve gone along. The only downside is that it can cause a backlog of books to edit. Right now I have three Wonderful World books in various stages of editing, two stand-alone novels I haven’t even started editing, a short story that is almost novella length I completely forgot about and did nothing with yet, and the previously mentioned Data Job to finish editing… like I said a backlog. 

I’m sure every writer has a backlog of books they’ve finished first drafts of but haven’t released yet, but to me, it feels like a to-do list I’m behind on.

Speaking of things I’m behind on, I don’t even have real titles yet for the two stand-alone novels. I have working titles that I have them saved as, but I’m very unconvinced of what to really call them. I think I’ve mentioned the titles before… The Blue and Control. Neither title grabs you by the dick and gives you the I need to read this tingle. 

Speaking of things not finished… that Space Book Thief book, I said I’d give you a sample of. Well… here it is, but keep in mind this is a very rough, first draft with no edits yet… like me, it has issues.



The thick dusty air billowed around Pargin. Even through the thick dense, oxygen-light air, he could still breathe. One of the many perks of dying and being brought back in a new body. Inconceivable technologies, that he had no idea how they worked, had taken massive steps forward. The last time he woke up after another failed run-in with a former acquaintance he swore it would be his last, he deactivated all his backups and said this would be his last chance. In doing so he took a few upgrades he normally passed on. Aftermarket add-ons, deep black market shit. Some like the ones he’s gotten were cheap because t

hey were experimental. One of which was being able to breathe pretty much anything. Though it still had to be something, and space was full of a fair amount of nothing. Though this planet and its dust-filled air seemed to have ample amounts of pretty much everything except oxygen, but it didn’t matter, he could still breathe it. Which you know was a plus with the whole last life not dying thing. 

Pargin’s suit jacket rippled around him as the wind tore at him. His tie snapped him in the face. He’d been offered many a so-called better battle armors over the decades he’d been doing this. He even had a prime armor offered once, it had belonged to that woman Miko who flew the axe ship for a while. There had been many books written about her, not that anyone could read or find a copy. But that didn’t stop people from writing about it. The truth will always be written, it just might not be read. Anyway, he liked his brown suit just fine, it suited him. Reminded him of a time before his time, which he found fitting and all.

A beep came from his wrist, Pargin glanced down at his watch without having to raise it to read it. He knew what it said without needing the augmented reality so many people now lived their day-to-day lives with. He was in the right place. His watch, just like the matching watches on his entire team, didn’t come off much. He knew the beeps, vibrations, everything about it. While he did look at it a lot he didn’t have to. He and the watch were one, just like the rest of his team. 

The dust and dirt around him temporarily changed direction giving him a quick glance at what he was standing in the middle of. A long-dead mansion, the governor, king, ruler, dick-tator, dick head leader, take your pick, had built it for one of his wives to hide her from the other wives. Apparently, he had quite a few that didn’t know about each other. Needless to say, it all ended badly for him. But the wife whose long-dead mansion this was loved to read, much to the displeasure of her husband. He hated reading and hated her for reading. It was what had led to the great book purge on the planet. His wife, who had long started disapproving of her arrogant stupid husband, had made some attractions to the mansion. Which was why they were there today. 

The mansion was the shape of a crescent moon, with a long removed gate completing the circle. The mansion at its tallest was five stories high. It reminded him of those villa’s that people used to live in back on earth. Earth, he laughed. For a place he’d never been he sure knew so much about it well. But that was everyone really. They all knew about it, it was the origin of their species, and the setting of so many books he’d read.

Pargin pulled a small capsule-looking device from his pocket. It was a 3D holographic replicator. A small chip no bigger than a few millimeters sat in the middle of it. It was like those old 3D printers that ships used to use back in the day when they’d first left Earth. Before it became a conservation site, before The Event. 

He spun the capsule in his fingers, it was a replica of the one they’d teased Peg about pulling out of her. “Violating a political official’s back door,” he laughed to himself. 

The dust picked back up as he reached the center of the mansion’s courtyard. A giant statue of what he assumed were the dick-tator’s wife’s breasts stood ample and waiting in the very center of the courtyard, no more than a few feet ahead of Pargin. They seemed to be fairing significantly better than the rest of the property. Likely made of something more durable, a true monument to the bosoms they embodied. He stared up at them in wonder. Many people before him had stood in this very spot and not found the fabled book vault of the busty wife. He used to think as his book-stealing compadres as colleagues. Now, after so much experience he just thought of most of them as idiots. Sure youth and excitement helped, but he’d witnessed so many of them fail for not looking at the work that had been laid out before them. Even the so-called seasoned experts spew vomit-coated garbage. He’d never say it out loud, but he and his team were the best for a reason. Which to them seemed rather simple, but no one else ever did it. Research, test, review the results, cycle, cycle, cycle until you reach what you want. It wasn’t gravity-driven science. He’d found footage of hundreds of fellow book retrievers who’d failed at this very job. They searched in the mansion, under it, some even over it. They’d dredged the oceans and mined the mountains. Not a single soul had found anything. 

Pargin adjusted his tie, as the 3D holographic capsule device in his other hand activated. Politicians with Peg’s level of clout within The Circle were granted access to certain perks. One of which was using The Circles ability to override any system and activate it. Mostly it was in case of the need for an emergency exit, but more often it was used for impromptu political donor orgy parties. The capsule that was now connected with his watch, buzzed in his hand. He imaged where they’d pulled it from, and laughed at the thought of Peg getting a little buzz every time it activated. 

The red neon outline of a square about a foot off the ground drew itself into existence from the bottom up. It was no more than a few feet tall. Pargin tucked the capsule into his suit jacket pocket and ducked through the neon square. 
“Stepping into The Vault now, buddy,” Pargin replied. See you on the other side.”

The dim static that let him know his radio was working cut off as he dipped his head through the square. The static had long been cleaned up from radio channels, he’d added it back in as a way to know when he’d lost comms. Plus he felt like it fit the whole aesthetic of what he and his suit were going for. 

Like a switch had been toggled, the world around him filled with various information that now floated him and the mansion. He waved away the red neon display that welcomed him to the Circle’s Reality Appropriate Practice. He laughed at the thought that Peg was constantly bombarded by crap like this. He scanned the mansion. Large paintings of the dick-tator’s wife in various sexual positions floated where the walls of the mansion should have been. She was with an assortment of different men, in each, she smiled and seemed to be staring exactly where he was standing. Pargin laughed again. The Mrs seemed to get up to some fun she didn’t want the dick-tator knowing about. Then he laughed a third time as he realized that the Circle’s Reality Appropriate Practice was short for CRAP and that it was basically just a way to hack any network they wanted. 

Pargin’s watch buzzed, and he remembered why he was there in the first place. He tended to drift into thought the older he got. Sometimes he was trapped in memories, other times it was observations. His watch kept him focused when it needed to, an upgrade he’d purchased. He spun in a circle as he quickly looked for what he wanted, which didn’t take long. As he turned to face the giant statue of the dick-tator’s wife’s breasts, a giant flashing arrow pointed directly to them. He laughed and approached them. 
It couldn’t be that simple, could it? How could so many people miss it?

As the dust and dirt swirled around him and the augmented reality of The Circle’s crap hack, Pargin placed his hand on the right breast of the dick-tator’s wife’s bust statue. His watch beeped again. He’d found the vault door. A keypad appeared on the gigantic breast. Pargin typed in the password they’d deduced from Peg’s password hint, ‘FuCkM3m30W’. She really shouldn’t use almost her actual password in her password hint. The augmented reality of the Circle’s CRAP processed, then forced its way into the wife’s bust security system. 

The augmented reality glitched and jittered as the giant breasts statue split open down the middle of its cleavage. Each breast slid to the side, revealing a small passageway. A neon red border around it. 

Without hesitation, Pargin inched between the breasts and climbed into the newly revealed passageway. Just as it was when he stepped through the first neon square, the world again changed as he climbed through the other. The mansion and the dust storm that was encompassing vanished, instead he was left with a damp wet basement smell. Everything was black, the CRAP system must not have access to the system down here. Likely a self-contained system off the grid.

That’s probably good enough for now. What do you think? 

 

Mr and Mrs Smith

On Amazon

I want to admit something… I own a TV. Sometimes, I even watch movies and TV shows on it. I know, that makes me a monster, but it’s true. I think my love for writing actually more comes from watching so many movies and TV shows when I was younger. Like I told you last week, Stephen King was the 
writer who hooked me on reading, but it was movies and TV shows that really taught me about stories. 

Flashback to young Vaughn…

Sometimes I like to imagine that at the end of my life, I’m going to gain access to a bunch of stats about things I did while I was alive. Kind of like a video game. I don’t even care about the obvious stats, what I do care about is the amount of time I spent when I was younger looking for movies to watch at the video store. I’m sure the number is painfully high, but will measured in hours? Weeks? Or Months?

…End of Flashback by the way.


I bring this up because I feel like I have a radar built in now for really good movies or TV shows. Sometimes it’s super obvious, like who doesn’t love The Matrix or Inception, other times less so. I like good content no matter what genre it’s in. Sometimes when I’m watching it, I can’t even say why it’s so good, other than that I know it is. I had it happen with The Queen’s Gambit and Chernobyl. Recently I had it happen again, this time it was with the new TV show Mr and Mrs Smith.

After watching the first episode I knew right away there was something special about this show. Yes, I liked the original movie with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, but who didn’t? The new show had something that had me thinking about it over and over again, excitedly waiting for the next opportunity to watch an episode. After watching completing, I think it’s the fourth episode, which ends with the two main leads laughing and talking in bed, it hit me, it’s them, the two main characters, portrayed by Donald Glover and Maya Erskine, they are what is making this show amazing. It’s a combination of really good writing and really good acting. The secret for both? They feel real. They talk like normal people but in this crazy situation, and it works… really well. 

So go watch it, trust me, you’ll love it.

That’s it… the end of the third whatever these things are.
What did you think of the sample?
Are you going to rush out to watch Mr and Mrs Smith?
Do you have a backlog of something clogging your colon… wait don’t tell me, I don’t think I want to know.
Thanks for reading, this and the books, truly I mean it.

Love Uncle Vaughn

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