Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Voice and person. . .

Post #199, 200 is next!!!!!!!

Last night as I re-read some blog posts my MC of Dominion Day made last year I realized that when written in first person he has a quirky voice not evident in third. This frustrates me because I am not a first person writer, I write in third. No offence to those who write in first it is a hard position to write and I admire them.

I have struggled in the rough draft of the second book because the MC comes across as boring to some people. When I read his journal entries I am surprised at how personable he becomes. The question is, HOW do I translate it from one person to another.

I will figure it out, I love the story too much to let it go for a stupid reason. It will take time, and that is why I am glad the problem is in the second book not the first.

Just to illustrate what I mean I am including a journal entry (or two) from the things I was reading last night.

Planning to die
For those of you who don't know or haven’t thought about it. Planning to fake a death isn't as easy as it sounds. There were things that you don't normally think about. Wills, where to get a new identity, where to live, how to transfer your assets if you can... How to "Kill" yourself.

I was working on things as the new cloaking program was being tested and loaded on the Infinity, the ship we flew on. A plan was forming in my head and I was getting exited to see if it would work. I prepared my house and assets to transfer to Gage's possession if I succeeded.

There were two material possessions I hated to leave; my home which I had lived in for almost nine years and my Dodge Prowler my vanity item. But no material possession was worth staying in the Corps and under Derek's thumb.

I shipped a few boxes to be delivered to my sailboat, it was docked in Sydney Australia at the moment. I would live on my boat while things calmed down from the spectacular act that would hopefully end the war and secure my "death" in the eyes of the Corps.

The act...
Of course Gage's cloaking program worked, it had to. Everything that came from GA Tech was a huge success. Gage and his "housekeeping program" Mat, which was really an artificial intelligence program were genius'. My 60% of the company had given me quite a large retirement. If I really lived to be able to use it.

The plan was in place, and I had one definite advantage. As the munitions expert I insisted that I work alone. So if something went south, I wouldn’t take anyone with me. Once I was on the ship I would head straight for the engine compartment and set things up to destroy the ship. I would be alone and no one would see me from that moment we parted.

First, I killed an officer and stole his uniform. I made sure a door key was on his person. That was my ticket off the Mother ship. I dressed the officer in my uniform and stuffed the dead body in a utility closet. My homing beacon was in the pocket. Second, I opened the door to the engine with an EMP that melted the door controls. Whoever was guarding the area in the middle of the Anterrans sleep shift would have to fix it themselves. Third, I placed the explosives on the engine and critical points. They, of course had designed their smaller ships just like the big ship. And I knew every inch of the engines in the smaller ships. I had taken many down in my years of service.

I placed the last of the explosives, and left for the third level where the escape shuttles were housed. As I ran with the five minute detonator in my chest pocket the Earth military engaged the mother ship. In the violence that occurred as I attempted to escape the detonator was engaged. Just before the doors to the escape shuttles I informed Derek that the doors to the engine housing were locked shut and I was stuck inside. I told him I was trying to get out but I might not make it.

I opened the first shuttle door that I saw and jumped in. The shuttle was jettisoned and I flew in a haphazard way towards Earth. My boat was following my global positioning receiver and would meet me when the shuttle touched down in the ocean west of Africa where the mother ship had been this morning when we entered it. The explosion happened too soon and my shuttle was caught in it. The explosion fried my instruments, and sent me off course. A reality that I hadn't even considered. (I told you it wasn’t easy to fake your own death)

I saw, as I attempted to control the crafts descent, land where there should have been water. As the shuttle, under emergency landing procedures, hit that land it knocked me unconscious.

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