Goals and Stuff

A friend of mine recently started a fitness blog.  By doing the blog, she is holding herself publicly accountable to meet and adhere to the goals she has set for herself, and I applaud her and her efforts.

And though I am not in peak physical condition, the exercise I will be holding myself to is actually about writing. When I was in middle school we would have days where we basically had free roam. We didn't have assigned topics, styles, or anything. We simply had time. We could write whatever came to mind, and in that moment of freedom, we truly spread our wings. You could start by writing a journal, or writing a song that came to your head and what it meant to you, or you could write about a book you were reading, or how your favorite hero would deal with what you were dealing with.
And yes, that easily could have been more for the Thought Police to have easy access, or for the teacher to have a day off, but whatever the cause, the results were beautiful.

I have begun writing a book series, and already have a few chapters, characters, viewpoints, etc. Yet there are times when I look at the computer screen, the smartphone screen, the notebook, or whatever I am using that day, and I don't know what to write about the one topic I have been working on. So I keep tripping over writer's block, rather than just going around it. I see what is on the other side, and I don't know how I want to get there, so I don't end up writing anything. And day by day, each time I do it, I fall more and more into a habit of slacking and procrastination.

My slacking ends today.

I will be writing every day for an hour a day. I will try to make it roughly the same time each day so that it becomes a habit and I grow accustomed to writing when I get home from work as a means of relaxation. Since there is some room for life to get in the way, I will hold myself accountable to at least 5 hours a week. I will set my alarm for 60 minutes when I sit down to write, and even if I can't think of anything to write for my series, I will write something anyway. And if it isn't for the series I will post it here. I'm going to try not talking too much about the plot and such of my stories because I don't want to give too much away. So if I do write part of the book, the entry in my blog is likely to be shorter.

All that being said, I still have 45 minutes to go today, and want to start off with good habits, so here's something that's been running through my head for a while, but I never bothered to put it to pen. Please forgive me that it isn't well polished, but editing comes after writing.

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Benjamin Franklinstein (An alternative Fantasy history)

The story of Benjamin Franklinstein is one told to young children that let curiosity guide them. Benjamin Franklin was a man that had many ideas, in a society that believed the future was built on ideas, rather than loyalty. There are some who called him brilliant, for a time, but it became clear the man was mad.
No matter how good his intentions were, all he created brought people pain. Ben had created a fireplace that allowed people to feel more heat but the smoke would leave the chimney, and this caused many people to leave the fires burning overnight. As the families slept in their nicely warmed beds, the logs would crumble, roll, and start the home on fire. When he heard tales upon tales of this, he sought redemption by building more. He created a small enclosure of glass to be held in front of the face. He told the people that it could improve their vision, yet the ones that wore it would see worse than before, often tripping and having the glass dig into their eyes. He invented what he called "Daylight Savings Time", which created an outcry of the populous due to people being late for 6 months of the year. Even his attempt to help farmer's plan for the season went horribly when the day he said would be best for planting was followed by a flood, so most crops were drowned.
The people's rage was so great that they attacked him in nearly every town he went. His right eye was cut out to show the pain endured from his "bifocals." They burned his left arm to signify those lost in the fires. And they damaged his right leg beyond repair, that everywhere he went he would be late. Eventually he found a cabin outside of a town with many youth, and few adults. Due to their numbers, the children would ridicule him, but speak to him, and the adults were kind enough to simply ignore him.  Until one day that he announced he would make himself right with the world, and create a better world by doing it.
In a final attempt to prove that he did have some good to bring to the world, he stated that he would create a cleaner energy than coal, or die trying. And die he did. In 1752, Benjamin Franklin tied a key to a red kite and let it fly during a lightning storm. As he predicted, the kite was struck by lightning. The seven lightning strikes, one after another, sent him flat. As his body lay motionless and steaming, the crowd moved in. The whole town had come out to see this man make another mistake. And as the kite drifted into the sunset, the mayor poked Ben Franklin's body, and the mothers reminded their children that curiosity always kills, Ben's body moved.
An inhumane roar arose from the recently deceased man, and the crowd quickly dispersed. In the moment of being stuck by so much energy and force, Ben's mind had been opened, and he would finally be able to make the world better. But in order to do that, he needed to be a full man again.
As the town got pitchforks and torches to drive out this unacceptable horror, Ben went to the cemetery, and began to find the parts needed to bring his plan to fruition. Though his skin was now covered in burns from the lighting and scars from so many unhappy citizens, he felt no pain as the rain ran across his torn flesh. He dug, deeper and deeper, as the angry mob searched for him.
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Thomas's father put him to bed early that night, as soon as they got home from watching Old Ben's crazy antics.
"Mind your sister, lad, and keep an ear out. Don't open the door for no one, lest it be me, y'hear?"
Thomas's father, and a few others in the village, had left that night, but weren't heard from again. Every day at least one more person went missing, but Thomas kept watch on his sister. Soon houses were abandoned, and people were leaving in broad daylight, taking nothing but the clothes on their backs.
Family after family, and home after home, Thomas grew more and more alone. With so many people gone, Thomas, having 13 summers, was one of the oldest ones left. He, his sister, and four others that got left behind made up the youth. The adults were an even poorer lot. One old man who had lost a leg fighting natives and couldn't leave, two widows, and a man that had lost his wife and children in a bear attack and refused to leave his family's resting place. The adults taught the children how to tend the abandoned animals and to take care of themselves, even how to hunt. And one by one the widows went missing, then the old man.
With just seven townsfolk remaining, the man decided to join his family, and hung himself from the rafters of their home.
That night no one went missing. The children had all slept in the same home to watch each other. Timothy woke first, and counted the others before waking them and stepping outside.
In the middle of town they had a flagpole, and it stood their still. Yet rising far above the flagpole was a red kite.
Ben came from out of the shadows, his body now a twisted mass of the bodies of others. He greeted Timothy, who had often visited his cabin, and Timothy screamed and fainted. The other children had not come outside, and sat huddled in the house.
They heard the scream, and huddled tighter, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, and none willing to check on Timothy.
Seconds passed. Minutes passed. And then when they could wait no longer, Timothy's little sister, Deborah, stood and, body trembling, went to check on her brother.
~
He sat there, calmly and healthily, talking to Ben in hushed tones. Ben's mind had been opened to the world, and he had been traveling. He had gone from cemetery to cemetery throughout the colonies, always in secret, taking the minds of those that had passed on, and adding them to his own. His intelligence was staggering, and he sat on the doorstep sharing it freely with a boy that hadn't experienced much outside of his own town.
Deborah screamed, "Tim! Get away from him! He's been killing the townsfolk!"
"No, Deb. It was the man who lost his family. I made the mistake of unburying his family on that night I died, and though I thank them for their sacrifice in helping me on my journey, I do not believe he could forgive me. Seeing his wife's leg and arm removed, or his son's eye taken from his skull was too much, and it drove him to insanity. He is the one who had been destroying your town, and I am sad that I had come too late to stop him. But with you and Timmy here, along with the others, we will make this place the center of a nation, and the hope of the world. My ideas know no bounds, and neither shall yours!"




Thus began the unlife of Benjamin Franklinstein. He would meet his promises. In twenty years he was voted President for Life, and still rules over the Americas to this day. Though his cabinet has gone through many changes, the Americas are seen the world over as a technological marvel.