As is so often the case I find myself interested in getting an idea on paper. Digital paper, but paper nonetheless. Once the idea is down I can relax for a few months (or forever) and come back to it (or not) and finish it at a later date. Once the idea has been brought to life it becomes easier to let it ferment and in some ways improve. There is also the danger of just never doing. Waiting until the perfect moment and realizing that moment never comes. Life is a boomerang. You might see highs going and think that “soon” your time will come but ultimately it’ll swing back around.
Each time you throw expecting it to be different but it never is. You might get more distance but you’ll be holding that boomerang again soon enough.
So without further adieu I’m going to fire off a mental load of thoughts on my next book project.
The world around Phoen is strange. Unpleasant to the eyes and consistently hostile. The seas surrounding this great nation shake violently and boil at the border between them. The waters are so hot that they turn to steam, scalding the flesh from the bone. Nobody ever spends long at the boiling border. We gaze out at that peculiar vibrating world and wonder why we do not shake. The people of Phoen live in victorian era cities of vast size and scope. Heavy rains and snow pepper the infrequent summers and ever present winters. The air moist from all the vapor crawling skyward on all sides. A moist prison within which Phoenians have prospered.
Well…some. If nothing else Phoen is a nation of impassable borders. Land and sea, poverty and prosperity, comforting indoors and hostile outdoors. It is for this reason that so many people turn to the songbirds for inspiration and uplifting. Each of the songbirds is discovered by the time they first learn to speak and they continue singing until puberty. Paragons of purity and innocence in a nation desperately in need of such. If you desire to hear their perfect pitch you may very well need to travel quite far to hear it. All of the choirs of songbirds live in the capital city of Phoen: Sonomed. A city of 10 million people that seems to stretch on to obscenity in all directions. The haze of Phoen obscuring your view before you could ever hope to see the edge. Almost ceaselessly dark, the city is home to varying levels of crime from the petty to the mortifying. Through all of this Phoenians survive and make the best of it.
There is no place where you have a better chance of making it than here. But there is also no place where you have a better chance of being forgotten. Like a mote of dust amid a sandstorm. Talks of revolution have picked up in the city and general unrest is at a boiling point. At the center of this clash of economies comes a new threat to the fragile balance of Sonomed: serial murders.
Something ethereal appears to be hunting the songbirds. Stalking them almost invisibly until they return home. No amount of protection seems to keep this monster at bay. It crawls within the darkness and butchers them in their bed. Whispers of the end of the symphonies agitates those who haven’t an ounce of calmness left. It’s now up to the cities best detective to locate this killer before the songbirds cease singing.
For if they fall, all hope of survival falls with them.
I’ll begin writing this soon, perhaps even tomorrow. I’ve already been taking notes today about the bullet points. Something I’ve never done before is really heavily plan a book before writing it. This will be a fun experiment. Additionally I might even post progress of this book as I go along for those that would like to read it. If I do do that I’ll try my best to not quit, I know how aggravating it can be to get into a story and then never see it finished. I’ve been at fault for this more than once in the past.
Ultimately though I do write for myself before anyone else. Hope folks do enjoy it though. Or at the very least hate read it for me.