The Female Foil
Working on rewriting Judd Falcoln: Missionary to the Stars into a serial to be recorded and published on my Youtube channel. First order of business, adding a strong female foil (plus possible romantic interest for Judd if that develops, but not right away). Picture a large woman bubbling with confidence, but kickass when she needs to be. I'm thinking she should be a strong, irreverent black woman with some attitude, but concerned about the moral aspects of "converting" alien species to various Earth religions. I'm picturing her as a little brighter than Judd, and more aware of implications of what they are doing, but also more idealistic, prone to impetuous acts and less worldly/pragmatic. Still trying to figure out her name.
Click on the Judd Falcoln label to see all posts about my sci-fi video serial.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Creating a video serial of Judd Falcoln
Creating a video serial of Judd Falcoln
A few years back, I wrote a four part serial story called Judd Falcoln: Missionary to the Stars. It was published in a science fiction anthology (with the unfortunate title "Probing Uranus" - ugh!). Over the years since, I have played with the idea of writing a novel version, but I like the serial aspect a lot. Recently, I decided to rewrite and expand the story to be a full serial, meaning many more than four parts.
But I don't want to publish this all at once. I want it to be a true serial, so that one part comes out each week, and I want each as an illustrated story video. My dream is to get to the point where I feel comfortable putting up a Patreon page and seeing if I can fund more illustrations, but I think I have an artist lined up for at least a kick butt cover. Below this post is a video story I made a while ago to show both the intended look and give a small sense of the style of writing I will use, something I refer to as comic noir.
My purpose on this blog is to document the process for those curious. If anybody is curious. I'm guessing eventually somebody will be. Click on the Judd Falcoln label to see all posts.
Note: I have a better and better video editing software now, so the eventual videos will be better quality than this.
A few years back, I wrote a four part serial story called Judd Falcoln: Missionary to the Stars. It was published in a science fiction anthology (with the unfortunate title "Probing Uranus" - ugh!). Over the years since, I have played with the idea of writing a novel version, but I like the serial aspect a lot. Recently, I decided to rewrite and expand the story to be a full serial, meaning many more than four parts.
But I don't want to publish this all at once. I want it to be a true serial, so that one part comes out each week, and I want each as an illustrated story video. My dream is to get to the point where I feel comfortable putting up a Patreon page and seeing if I can fund more illustrations, but I think I have an artist lined up for at least a kick butt cover. Below this post is a video story I made a while ago to show both the intended look and give a small sense of the style of writing I will use, something I refer to as comic noir.
My purpose on this blog is to document the process for those curious. If anybody is curious. I'm guessing eventually somebody will be. Click on the Judd Falcoln label to see all posts.
Note: I have a better and better video editing software now, so the eventual videos will be better quality than this.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Poem: Après moi le déluge
Après moi le déluge
By Ben Langhinrichs
The crowd is vast and hogs the stage,
A thousand banners wide.
Their hearts and souls, I must engage.
Oh, heaven knows, I’ve tried.
My eager ears embrace the din.
I feel it pounding on my skin.
My eager ears
My eager ears
Assure me that my cause will win.
With single voice, they call my name
As I stride up the stairs.
Their confidence and joy proclaim
My heart at once is theirs.
I know the joy of brotherhood,
My passion’s drive for right and good.
I know the joy
I know the joy
Of working for the common good.
But all at once they’re deathly still.
I stare in shocked surprise.
Then screams cut through, both high and shrill,
Cacophony of cries.
I try to move to safety when
My legs collapse and only then
I try to move
I try to move
But never will I stand again.
The noise grows distant in my ear.
My vision starts to blur.
I catch a glimpse of Death draw near,
“Please come with me, monsieur.”
I struggle back through pain so vile;
He shrugs and says he’ll wait awhile.
I struggle back
I struggle back
To see once more your loving smile.
Past fearful faces streaked with woe,
I look the other way.
A futile search for you, I know,
You stayed at home today.
And yet I sense your presence there,
A loving touch like gentle prayer,
And yet I sense
And yet I sense
The faintest fragrance of your hair.
“Pardon, monsieur, but we must go.”
So, gently, Death persists.
The fragrance fades, my heartbeats slow,
Death takes me by my wrists.
As one, we rise above the crowd,
Their shouts and screams now not so loud.
As one, we rise
As one, we rise
And silence is my final shroud.
By Ben Langhinrichs
The crowd is vast and hogs the stage,
A thousand banners wide.
Their hearts and souls, I must engage.
Oh, heaven knows, I’ve tried.
My eager ears embrace the din.
I feel it pounding on my skin.
My eager ears
My eager ears
Assure me that my cause will win.
With single voice, they call my name
As I stride up the stairs.
Their confidence and joy proclaim
My heart at once is theirs.
I know the joy of brotherhood,
My passion’s drive for right and good.
I know the joy
I know the joy
Of working for the common good.
But all at once they’re deathly still.
I stare in shocked surprise.
Then screams cut through, both high and shrill,
Cacophony of cries.
I try to move to safety when
My legs collapse and only then
I try to move
I try to move
But never will I stand again.
The noise grows distant in my ear.
My vision starts to blur.
I catch a glimpse of Death draw near,
“Please come with me, monsieur.”
I struggle back through pain so vile;
He shrugs and says he’ll wait awhile.
I struggle back
I struggle back
To see once more your loving smile.
Past fearful faces streaked with woe,
I look the other way.
A futile search for you, I know,
You stayed at home today.
And yet I sense your presence there,
A loving touch like gentle prayer,
And yet I sense
And yet I sense
The faintest fragrance of your hair.
“Pardon, monsieur, but we must go.”
So, gently, Death persists.
The fragrance fades, my heartbeats slow,
Death takes me by my wrists.
As one, we rise above the crowd,
Their shouts and screams now not so loud.
As one, we rise
As one, we rise
And silence is my final shroud.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Poem: Enduring Flame
Enduring Flame
At seventeen, you caught my eye
My ardor burst in flame.
I wooed and won, you with a sigh
Ignited just the same.
My soul is kindled by your smile
Sad heart singed by your tears.
Some loves run hot, then cold a while,
Ours more than burns - it sears.
The glowing embers of our nights
Light up the days between
Hot passion every glance incites
Lust sparks against the screen.
But what cold future lies ahead,
A passion doused by time?
Fear not, we'll burn until we're dead
In ashes we'll recline.
At seventeen, you caught my eye
My ardor burst in flame.
I wooed and won, you with a sigh
Ignited just the same.
My soul is kindled by your smile
Sad heart singed by your tears.
Some loves run hot, then cold a while,
Ours more than burns - it sears.
The glowing embers of our nights
Light up the days between
Hot passion every glance incites
Lust sparks against the screen.
But what cold future lies ahead,
A passion doused by time?
Fear not, we'll burn until we're dead
In ashes we'll recline.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Writing my first romance novel
For a while, I have been intrigued by the idea of writing a romance novel. I've written a few romance short stories, but I am very impressed by those who plot and plan their way to a good romance. Done well, it certainly rivals a mystery for planning, with a much greater demand for emotional intensity and understanding of human dynamic.
That said, I can't just write a contemporary romance. I need to pull in some of my other writing energies, so I am writing a gritty urban fantasy romance... with mermaids.
The working title is Deep Embrace. I am hoping to do this more transparently than some of my other writing, meaning occasional updates here on both progress and challenges.
That said, I can't just write a contemporary romance. I need to pull in some of my other writing energies, so I am writing a gritty urban fantasy romance... with mermaids.
The working title is Deep Embrace. I am hoping to do this more transparently than some of my other writing, meaning occasional updates here on both progress and challenges.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Poem: A Distant Drum Roll
A Distant Drum Roll
We stand in full regalia
In solemn ranks under the sun,
All mindful of the same idea,
Our duty clear, we cannot run.
Though fear may gnaw inside each breast
No outward sign will brave men show.
What painful inner doubts attest,
We grit our teeth, let no one know.
The line stands firm, as each awaits
A distant drum roll, marching feet.
What lies beyond those stony gates?
Our victory, or grave defeat?
But hark, the drum roll beckons us
The rigid line begins to move
In quiet wonder, no more fuss
It's time for valor now to prove.
The gates are open, we approach
With heads held high and manner cool.
Our courage is beyond reproach.
We start the year at our new school.
* Across from my office window is the school where all 5th and 6th graders in Shaker Heights go, leaving their familiar elementary schools behind. Every year, I watch as the brave new 5th graders wait in line for the opening bell.
We stand in full regalia
In solemn ranks under the sun,
All mindful of the same idea,
Our duty clear, we cannot run.
Though fear may gnaw inside each breast
No outward sign will brave men show.
What painful inner doubts attest,
We grit our teeth, let no one know.
The line stands firm, as each awaits
A distant drum roll, marching feet.
What lies beyond those stony gates?
Our victory, or grave defeat?
But hark, the drum roll beckons us
The rigid line begins to move
In quiet wonder, no more fuss
It's time for valor now to prove.
The gates are open, we approach
With heads held high and manner cool.
Our courage is beyond reproach.
We start the year at our new school.
* Across from my office window is the school where all 5th and 6th graders in Shaker Heights go, leaving their familiar elementary schools behind. Every year, I watch as the brave new 5th graders wait in line for the opening bell.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Excerpt: Ragnarök (apocalyptic scifi)
Excerpt: Ragnarök (opening scene)
“Don Newton ragnacked last night. Closed the garage door and turned the car
on. I can’t believe it.” Ken stood in the sunny kitchen, telephone
still in his hand, forgotten in the moment.
Carla shook her head, looking dismayed but not terribly
surprised. “Irene must be so upset. I’ll give her a call later.”
“Don’t bother. Don
left a note. Irene ran off with that
piano teacher who’s been giving lessons to their daughter, Marcia. What is the world coming to?”
As if he had to ask.
Everyone knew what the world was coming to, and even when. The mother of all asteroids, estimated by
scientists to be six times bigger than the one that killed off the
dinosaurs. The astronomers called it
Asher-Lev 14, but some joker had nicknamed it Ragnarök, and the name
stuck.
Within days, the name spawned its own vocabulary. Rag off: run away from your spouse
with a new lover or old flame. Ragnabber:
person who ransacked and looted to get things he or she had always wanted. Ragnack: take your ending into your
own hands.
“I don’t get it.
Three weeks to live, why kill yourself now?” Ken stared at the phone, which had started
beeping, and slammed down the receiver.
“I understand it.” Ken
could barely hear her. Carla leaned against
the wall as if she couldn’t hold up her own weight. She stared out the window at Lucy, playing in
the back yard. After a silence she continued,
“It’s the waiting that’s so bad. Waiting
and knowing what’s going to happen. Lucy’s
the only reason I keep going, wanting her to have a last few happy weeks, but
watching her… She’s never going to get
to grow up.” Carla looked at Ken with
tear-streaked eyes. “She’ll never have a
first kiss, or go to Prom, or have a baby of her own. She’ll never know any of that.”
Ken crossed the small kitchen and put his arms around
Carla. While she cried, he murmured
reassuring words he didn’t believe. Mostly,
he tried not to shake. A couple of times
a day, he found himself shaking uncontrollably, unable to cry, unable to do
anything. As Carla’s sobs subsided, he
turned her to face him and said, “We need to get out of here. Take Lucy and get away, away from all the
craziness.”
Carla shook herself free, not angrily, but with
determination. “You know we can’t do
that. We can’t leave your mom; she’s too
sick to travel, and she won’t leave her church now—she spends most her days
there, praying. Besides, Lucy needs to
be near her friends. This is all
confusing enough for her.” She wiped her
eyes and put on a resolute, if lopsided, smile.
“Lucy’s not going to get a whole lifetime, but I’ll be damned if she can’t
have a few happy weeks of normal childhood, or as normal as I can make
them. Besides, maybe the experts are
wrong. Maybe this is all a big mistake.”
Ken tried to smile, but couldn’t. “Yeah, maybe it is.” He knew it wasn’t, and she probably did as
well, but why push the issue? There were
plenty of doubters, or had been when the news first broke on the internet.
A couple of Chilean astronomers blogged about the asteroid,
and nobody would have paid any attention if not for the U.S. government’s
ham-handed efforts to deny the rumors.
By the third Presidential press conference in a week denying the reports
and expressing simultaneous complete confidence in the U.S. military, everybody
knew. By the time the President admitted
the truth, the internet was overflowing with evidence. Somebody even set up a live astro-webcam at
the Mt. Hamilton observatory in California.
Watch your doom approach in real time!
To read the rest of Ragnarök, visit Smashwords at http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/81721 or wait a day or two and it will be up on Amazon and B&N. Only $0.99, Ragnarök celebrates the ability of the human spirit to transcend the ultimate catastrophe.
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