Saturday, March 27, 2010


Piece of the Day:
Somehow, it was the first scheme that came to mind as soon as I discovered my ability. You really wouldn’t believe what a free world suddenly opens up to when you find out you can become completely invisible.
It was pretty daring, considering I hadn’t had ample time to test drive my capabilities. If something went awry, I could be in serious trouble. But if my invisibility turned out to be only a temporary fluke, I wanted to take advantage of it while I possessed it.
As soon as I stepped out of the cab, I vanished to all eyes but my own. It was a crowded day for travel, but then the crowds only helped my escapade. Mingling in the midst of the bustle, I entered the airport. Getting past security was a breeze. The only con to all these pros was not being able to bring luggage with. I had only the clothes on my back and the cash in my pocket—and it was a miracle that those could disappear with me.
I boarded the plane with little difficulty, took whatever seat was vacant, and tried to suppress my laughter as the plane took off for Italy.

Invisibility. If I could choose any superpower to have, I would probably choose invisibility—and if possible, flight along with it. Anyway, my piece is based off what I would do if I had invisibility.

Work in Progress:
I’ve been working on more Zealandia, and on the sequel to my fantasy novel. But I’m at the library, and don’t have access to these in order to put up a tidbit of what I’ve written.

Distractions Used:
Being accosted by sinus and allergy issues has been a distraction, really; that’s why I haven’t posted in awhile.

Currently Reading:

Sunday, March 21, 2010


Piece of the Day:
“Nisho, I’m bored. Nisho?” She turned her head and walked. “Nisho? NISHO!”
“I’m right here; take it easy.” He touched her outstretched hand.
“You have to tell me before you take off like that! You know I hate not knowing when I’m alone.”
“You’re bored again.”
“We can talk about...” Nothing.
“There’s nothing left to talk about, Rakara. I’m going again.”
“Going where? Where is there to go?”
“This way, that way, forward, backward, up, down...”
“But where does that take you?”
“I want to go with.”
“Why don’t you go away yourself?”
“But how will I find you again?”
“I’ll find you.”
No farewell. All was silent. He was gone again. Distraught with this familiar situation, Rakara sat with arms crossed in a sulk.
A creative turn of mind found her not long after. Fading into herself, she felt her face tug into a smile as she snapped her fingers. Suddenly, all that was around her changed. Looking down, she could see herself for the first time, and grinned in wonderment at her own beauty.
“Rakara! Where are you?”
And she could see him, Nisho, for the very first time. She ran to him, taking his hand.
“I’m here! Nisho, you’re so beautiful!”
“You can see me?”
“Yes! I can see you! I can even see myself! Isn’t this fantastic?”
“But now I can’t see anything! What happened? What did you do?”
“I was tired of not being able to see anything, so I created something to help me see! It’s wonderful!”
“No, it’s not! Get rid of it!”
“No! You’ve always been able to see, and now it’s my turn!”
“But this is ridiculous!”
“Ugh! You’re so selfish!” Getting an idea, she snapped again, summoning everything into her hand. “How about this: we’ll take turns. I’ll set this to expand after some time so that I can see, then to contract after that same amount of time so that you can see.”
“’s my turn now!”
She cast out all she contained in her hand. “I want to give it a special name. Maybe...Rakara’s Sight.”
“Maybe Nisho’s Blindness,” he scowled.
“Or! I could call, I think I like light better. Yes, light.” She said the word at least six hundred times, relishing it more and more.

Creation. I’m in the musical “Children of Eden” now, which begins with the creation of the world. I actually wrote the above some time ago, but thought I could post it here, with a good prompt. There’s more of it posted at under my username MystrisFiction.

Work in Progress:
Didn’t get much done today, except for a little bit of my sci-fi story:

The window turned to a monitor, displaying a flickering, colorless picture. The quality was so poor, that it was difficult to determine what life form was there.
“TYG Kestrŏl akőwkika! Pesim galŭjsaf rosti!” After taking a short moment for the translation to activate, the message played again: “TYG Falconwing has been hit! Send relief vessels now!”
Ken rose from his chair—TYG stood for Tāt Yakō Galŭj, an enemy vessel. “Helm…” He was about to give the command to resume their normal course, but was alarmed at the inkling to change his mind and help the ship anyway.
Your orders, sir?” the helm asked again.
“Helm: Set a course for six degrees north-northwest, sixteen leagues, four-pulse speed. When you reach the destination, slow to halt.”
Even at a slower approach, it took only one minute to reach the destination point specified. Ken determined that the distress signal had been sent out some hours ago, which explained why it had faded to such poor quality--there was no ship, only pieces of floating debris. Yet the amount of debris spread far and wide, proving that it had been far larger than the space station he salvaged weeks ago.
“Helm: Approach at drift speed. Halt and scan for vital signs.”
As the ship obeyed, he wondered what he would do if anything was found. Bringing the enemy aboard his ship and treating their injuries would be treasonous. However, harboring the enemy as a prisoner and transporting him to the proper authorities could mean a commendation. The deciding factor came from no practical reasoning, but rather from something completely irrational: After such a boring lull, he wanted to be useful again; he wanted someone else but himself on the ship again.
One life form detected.”

Distractions Used:
Flintstones (Season Five).

Currently Reading:

Thursday, March 18, 2010


Piece of the Day:
The rising sun sheds colored hues
Upon the green of morning
Up the hills and down the meadows
Rainbow rivers pouring

Spirits sound in bright array
With fragrant essence blowing
In the winds a humble beauty
New life boldly growing

Sing out for nature’s glory
Sing out for this new birth
Sing out the oldest story
Sing out, all the Earth

Spring. It’s so gorgeous outside now, I had to write a dedication to spring. And this song could actually be useful in one of my stories, too…

Work in Progress:
Worked on a bit more Zealandia today; not much. But enough to post a tidbit here:

“Do you know how I can get back home?”
“No one in Zealandia knows. It’s never been done.”
She sat up in determination. “But there’s got to be some way. If there’s a way in, there must be a way out.”
“Addie would know better than anyone else.”
“No, I don’t!” she shouted. “Addie doesn’t know anything about this place, okay? The people here know Addie better than she knows them; how can she…?” She clamped her mouth shut to stop herself from talking in third-person. Then, with great hesitation, she asked one question she had been greatly fearing: “Have I been here before…and forgotten about it?”

Distractions Used:
Manor House. Good stuff.

Currently Reading:
My reading now consists of a copyediting project I’m doing. No details on what I’m reading, of course--it’s not my info to share--but it is good reading.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010


Piece of the Day:
I don’t think I could ever fully express the magnificence of that carriage. It was glossy black with soft red velvet drapes and wheel spokes that glistened like icicles with gold trim. It was pulled by four horses that dazzled white even in the cloudiness of the day, standing with more graceful and proud a stance than even the master had ever borne.
The carriage also seemed enveloped in an ethereal glow. Perhaps it was merely the sheer joy of that day, or perhaps it was surfacing from the boggy darkness of the servants’ narrow corridors below stairs, and rising up above stairs and out the door into the natural light.
I felt so humbled by the image of that carriage, as was proper for my status, but when he stepped out…his face, his smile at me…I knew I belonged. I knew that I was truly his daughter, though I had never seen him before--and I knew that the divine carriage before me was taking me away from my life of subservience and to a genuine home.

Carriage. While watching Manor House, I watched a carriage drive up to the house, and that was somehow enough. This blurb is about a servant girl who discovers she is the illegitimate child of a nobleman who once visited the house as a guest. I wondered about the language, but decided that she wrote this after having lived with her father awhile, and after having received education appropriate for her new status.

Work in Progress:
I didn’t work on anything new today--not yet. I was putting up what I’ve already written of my fantasy novel Indra of Fantasma and of my Alice in Wonderland story Zealandia up on, hosted by HarperCollins. I greatly hope and would greatly appreciate if anyone reading this could go there and back my books. If my books get a high enough rating, they will be considered for publication by HarperCollins, which would be my only chance, seeing as I don’t have an agent. I would especially appreciate the support for my fantasy novel. In order to support my book/s, you do need to register with the site (just use an e-mail that you don’t often check, though really the site won’t send junk mail to you). Then find my profile here (, scroll down to my books, click on them, read them, and if you like them, select “back this book” on the book’s page. I would also appreciate any helpful comments/critiques you could post there.

Distractions Used:
Manor House. This is a great English reality show sort of documentary, done in 2001. They have present-day people live in a manor house as people lived in Edwardian times in England--some participants are the servants, and some are the masters. It’s very interesting, and as long as it is, it’s a good background distraction.

Currently Reading:
Nothing yet today, but I plan to put in at least a chapter or two before bed tonight.

Monday, March 15, 2010


Piece of the Day:
It's not a boring as you might think, really. From my position, I can see just about everything that goes on in the known universe. I see comets racing across the sky, blackholes devouring stars, I can even see every event of every planet before my sight--the people, the creatures. So I really shouldn't complain.
I suppose it was heavy at first. I don't really remember, honestly. I've gotten used to it by now. I think it made me sore when I first began, but it's molded itself a comfortable place in my back and shoulders. If I shift, it feels awkward, but I really shouldn't complain.
I just wish...well, I've never been able to witness the world I've dedicated myself to. I know nothing of the struggle between humans and gods. I have no idea of the fate my titan brothers and sisters have been subjected to. If I could only glimpse, or even hear what is happening in this world on my shoulders...
But...I guess I really shouldn't complain.

Atlas. This came about, because I'm involved with a musical theatre production, and this one motion we make reminds me of Atlas holding up the world, which brought this piece about.

Work in Progress:
None today. Not much time this Monday.

Distractions Used:
That 70's Show--not on DVD, but on TV. Didn't even have much time for TV today.

Currently Reading:
Nothing today, either.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Pet Cat

Piece of the Day:
There once was a cat named Kit
Who had quite a peculiar wit.
Being round as a ball
And as wide as she’s tall,
Into her square bed she won’t fit.

Cat. As you may have guessed, I have a pet cat named Kit. And seeing as today was extraordinarily busy for a Sunday, this limerick was the only thing I could come up with for today’s prompt.

Work in Progress:

Didn’t work on any writing today, aside from this.

Distractions Used:
Cheers. It’s the only thing on TV while writing this.

Currently Reading:
Nothing today.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Hanging Flowers

Piece of the Day:
“Peonies, gardener,” she said. “White peonies.”
Penelope had ordered the same flowers for every household’s child for the past thirty years of her life, never even thinking on what peculiar good luck it was that every household she served in that duration had a garden containing white peonies. At any rate, white peonies were never the defining feature of any house--for her, it was always the child.
Boy or girl, born or found, child or ward, she loved them all for the first five years of their lives and forever. She loved children always, and they had been more precious to her since her fateful eighteenth year of life, when a woeful miscarriage decided she would be unable to have any children of her own. So she dedicated her life to the happy task most high-society married couples denied themselves: She would raise children as a nanny--at least until age five, when she would be replaced by a tutor or governess. And with her husband’s passing overseas, she could imagine no happier way of spending her life.
Penelope accepted the basket of white peonies from the gardener, inhaling their sweet scent as she re-entered the house. With each new ache ailing her as she climbed the stairs, she loathed to come to terms with the fact that her retirement would soon be necessary, and that little Amelia Waltham, the dearest of all children, would be her last child.
The maid finished cleaning the nursery just as Penelope entered.
“Thank you for watching little Mia while I fetched her flowers,” Penelope said, giving the maid a peony.
“It is no trouble, ma’am,” the maid replied as she bobbed a curtsey and left the room.
Penelope approached the crib where baby Amelia slept, and wrapped the stems of the white peonies around the railing to adorn the small bed with beauty and fragrance. As she gazed down upon her small charge, her delicate first curled in dreaming, Penelope began to weep into her handkerchief. This child’s sweet face would be the last of her lifetime. And of all the children who made their impression on her heart, none of their hearts would remember her. She could not bear it--she could not think of retiring to live alone in quiet the rest of her days.
The master and mistress were out of town.
Penelope hastened to pack up a bag of garments and supplies, and with a gentle hand, took up the baby in her arms, and made their escape.
“You are my own, little Mia--now and always.”

Hanging flowers. I was working at the library while contemplating this prompt, and there are paper flowers hung for spring decoration. It made me think of hanging flowers, which made me think of the movie The Mask of Zorro, where they’re always talking about the flowers hung at Elena’s crib by her nanny.

Work in Progress:
I think this is where I can make my excuses for having no blog posts for two days. On the eleventh, I worked all day and into early morning the next, reading through and revising my fantasy novel. I don’t know what draft it is now; beyond the tenth, I’m positive. It’s something I do--and will go on doing, probably--every couple months or so until I manage to get it published. Yesterday, I was spending the day with my sister. Anyway, that means that this section will again contain an excerpt from my fantasy novel:

During the whole ride back to the Palace, the visit to Heocles’s smithy continued to run through Indra’s head, wondering what all that tracing and questioning was leading to for her new, custom-made sword. It all seemed pretty eccentric, but if everyone in the Palace used Heocles for their weapon needs, then he must have been good at his job. For the first time, she actually felt excited at the prospect of getting a new sword.
And once arriving at the Palace, she realized how much she would actually need it.
Jiten noticed Raydan and Indra approaching on their horses, and rushed up to meet them,
looking very grim. “Where have you been?” he demanded from Raydan, his voice severe. “One of those village raiders broke in, and the Prince is missing!”
Raydan immediately dismounted from the horse and took off to find Hiko. Indra did not wait for her orders; she beat Raydan to the Palace doors by riding her horse at a gallop to the front stairs, then jumped off and burst inside.

Distractions Used:
Will & Grace. And while I didn’t watch it while I was writing, the movie Penelope served to name the main character of today’s prompt.

Currently Reading:
Ranma 1/2 by Rumiko Takahashi. I read through volume 15 while working at the library, and 16 through 24 weren’t there, so I decided to quit in favor of picking up one of my novels in queue. If not tomorrow, I’ll likely start reading more on Monday.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

River Rocks

Piece of the Day:
The river rocks with gentle sway
A drowsy lull, a peaceful grey
With softly chilled spray
To sweep away
The baleful fray
Of everyday

The river runs with steady pace
Along the bank, a thrilling chase
Its carefree race
Lights up my face
Leaves not a trace
Of worry’s place

River rocks. I was just watching the birds in the aviary we have in the living room, and some of the backdrop is decorated with river rocks bought from the craft store. Staring at them, the first line of the poem came to mind, so I thought I might as well use it for my daily prompt. I stopped after the second stanza, because I was beginning to dislike it--I think mostly because of the short lines with the same rhyme scheme repeating.

Work in Progress:
I did a little work on my fantasy novel today. I’ve been waiting for the time to read it through completely for revisions again, but didn’t have the time today, so I just tweaked some things. Here’s part of the prologue that I tweaked:

The Warrior in the distant tree could not believe her eyes. Astonishing enough was the presence of an Immortal, but even more shocking was how he watched as his army was cut down by its own members, like a reaper at harvest--that he did so with an increasingly contented smile. As she watched in fearful confusion, she imagined what she would report back to her superiors: “My intervention seemed pointless, as they defeated themselves.”

Distractions Used:
Will & Grace. I have the first and third season on DVD, and like any TV show on DVD, it makes for a good background distraction.

Currently Reading:
Ranma 1/2 by Rumiko Takahashi. Volumes 8 through 11. Admittedly, some of the plots were kinda lame/cheesy (like a bizarrely tyrannical principal trying to give everyone buzz cuts), but just as it was getting to a really interesting plot, it ended off at a cliffhanger, and I don’t have volume 12. I’ll have to get it next time I’m at the library.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Fog and Friends

Piece of the Day:
It had been foggy all day, but it fell even thicker at night. The drive through town was nothing to fear, but when the city street became a country road, it was like driving into a void.
Mykol didn’t dare drive the usual speed limit of 55 mph, and not even the vehicle following directly behind—-only visible by its frosted moon-yellow headlights—-could persuade her to go faster. The dark road diminished not fifty feet in front of her into a nondescript cloud of grey. She wasn’t worried about other drivers coming toward her—-she could see them, and they could see her well enough. But wandering animals would have no escape, and Mykol would have little chance to prepare for a sudden turn in the road.
And yet, it was thrilling--and almost amusing. As she drove through what seemed like a long tunnel, the fog billowed and swept over the car like soft, crashing sea waves. With the beautiful spectacle and the almost-blind uncertainty, it could have been a portal to another time and place.
In spite of the uneasiness she felt driving in such fog, she laughed. “This is insane! I’ve never seen it this foggy since…”
She could almost see the memory, like a projection on the canvas of fog. It was the first week of summer vacation, and she was calling her best friend to make plans for the months ahead.
“Hello! How’re you?” She was taking a walk during her work break, the dense fog hiding the willows by the pond.
“Good, good. You?”
“Good, good. What’re you up to?”
“…For what?”
Wait… Mykol stopped her recollection. It wasn’t foggy that day. I was thinking of something else.
“Hey! How’s it going?” Mykol was sitting at home, staring out the window with the phone to her ear. The birdhouses of the backyard were barely visible in the fog.
“Hey! I’m fine. You?”
“Good. My grad party is next month.”
“Oh, I can’t come. I’ll be gone for a few months.”
“…Oh. Where to?”
No…It wasn’t foggy then, either. Just nighttime. Mykol took a deep breath, exhaling as the lights of the upcoming city permeated the deep fog. “Just shut up,” she told herself as she turned in to the city streets, the light posts nullifying the need for her floodlights.
For a moment, as she sat waiting at a stoplight, her mind turned back to its previous thoughts. She jammed a CD into the player and turned up the volume, singing along with the tune. As the light turned green, she took off, determined to leave the fog behind her.

Fog and friends. I made the mistake of looking up old friends on Facebook, reminding me of two of my best friends who moved across the country without telling me (until I happened to call them the day of). I’ve never really gotten to vent about it, but I didn’t want to just write a rant, so I tied in my experience driving through the nasty fog on my way out from work last night.

Work in Progress:
I’ve been working more on Zealandia lately, which is my story inspired by Alice in Wonderland. No, I haven’t seen the movie yet, and yes I want to. Anyway, here’s a clip from the work I did on Chapter Seven today:

The Mad Clothier selected an outfit and slung it over the top of the screen, which Adelaide forced herself into. With prolonged hesitation, she looked at herself in the full-length mirror. First of all, it was a dress, which she did not like, and which only went down to her knees in front, but down to her ankles in back. The dress had mid-length flared sleeves, and was a paisley pattern in varying hues of blue. Over the dress was a full white apron with silver embroidery and lace on the shoulder straps. He also supplied her with blue paisley slippers with silver soles. “I look a cartoon from the seventies,” she muttered. But at the very least, she felt dry and clean.

As she stepped out from behind the changing screen, the Mad Clothier squealed with joy. “You look absolutely fabulous! It brings out the red in your cheeks and the glare of murder in your eyes!”

Adelaide clenched her fists as she walked to the door. “Yes, well, thanks. Bye.”

Distractions Used:
How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, and Clueless. I got them both from the library last night.

Currently Reading:

Ranma 1/2 by Rumiko Takahashi. I do have actual novels in queue, but I found a whole bunch of these at the library, and couldn’t resist. They’re quick reads, anyway. I just finished volume seven.

Monday, March 8, 2010

Global Nomad

Piece of the Day:
It was first seen in the beams of the Eiffel Tower. What few tourists had seen it could have easily disregarded it as an illusion--possibly brought on by vertigo--but it left its mark in an undeniable way--just as any ordinary bird "leaves it mark", but this was more peculiar.
The next witness report came from India, where it very contentedly made the emperor's outdoor pool its own personal bath. Perhaps it didn't leave a mark, but no one would deny what regal eyes had witnessed.
The third appearance--and the last for some years--was Tokyo Tower. Perhaps it felt the comfortable familiary, or maybe it just liked high places. By then, it had grown larger, and bent the beam it perched on. But the mark it left was enough to repay its actions.
I saw it. Just now. Just before documenting this report. Like everyone else in the States, I laughed at the tabloid stories, all with accompanying pictures (artists' renditions, not actual photos). But it's a different matter altogether when it's out on the deck, wrecking the patio furniture. I went immediately for my camera, but none of the pictures turned out. All the megapixels in the world couldn't capture it--but I was going to, if even with my bare hands.

Global Nomad. It's the name of a company that makes beads and beading supplies (I was shopping for beadery today). I don't much like what I ended up writing, really; I could have done a lot better with a prompt like that. But I thought that for the nature of this blog, it shouldn't be anything refined/revised. It should all be the first thing I come up with. Not every strike of inspiration lands a bulls-eye, after all. Btw: the "mark" was supposed to refer to something like a goose that lays a golden egg. That was the idea I was--for some reason--going with. Hopefully my mojo will be of a better grade tomorrow.

Work in Progress:
Didn't work on any today. Monday is "get all my errands done today" day.

Distractions Used:
None. Maybe that's why it turned out so ugh. I'm working at the library, so I'm not allowed distractions here.

Currently Reading:
Not yet.

Sunday, March 7, 2010


I’m Maia Jacomus, age 25, author. Well, I’ve had only one book published so far, but I’d like to try to write for a living. My one published book is an ebook, a fantasy novella called Laodamia. You can find it at (only $3!). Other than writing, I love theatre, voice acting, video games, and painting. I could go through some other random factoids, like favorite color, favorite song, food, etc., but I’ll just get to the point of this blog.

You see, sometimes, my writing mojo fails me. I’ll want to write—I’ll sit down, open my laptop, pick out a story, read over some of what I last wrote…and nothing. Seeing as I’d like to write for a living, this is something I need to remedy. So I thought a blog of writing prompts would be a good idea—get my mojo flowing…or whatever it is mojo does. Also, I thought making it an internet blog would be a good idea, because then other people can use my prompts, or suggest prompts to me. Now, notice how I said use my “prompts”—no one’s allowed to use the pieces I write, or what I may post of my current works.

So here’s how my blog is going to look, starting tomorrow:

Piece of the Day:
This section of my blog will contain my writing piece for the day. I will find a word or object associated with what I did that day, and will write something based on it—a poem, short story, or just a blurb.

What prompted the “piece of the day”. If it was suggested to me by someone else, I’ll credit his/her name here. You are free to—of course, read—and also to post comments containing your own piece you wrote based on the prompt. Also feel free to post comments containing prompts you would like to share with me/see me write.

Work in Progress:
Admittedly, I have loads of these—stories that I’ve started, and that I’m working on to make into novellas/novels/etc. for publication. I’ll post the title, and my favorite bit of what I wrote for it that day.

Distractions Used:
I seldom like to write without distraction of some kind—either music playing, or a TV show or movie playing. I like some kind of background noise to keep me alert. Otherwise, I could be stuck staring at my monitor, trying to think of an idea, and fall asleep on the keyboard. Okay, that’s never happened, but it could make me bored enough to stop writing altogether, which isn’t good.

Currently Reading:
Now that I have the time, I’d really like to catch up on my reading—I have at least ten books in queue. Hopefully, this section will be in as constant use as the others.

First post to come tomorrow!