Monday, February 24, 2014

Leave it to the Fans: My thoughts on Star Trek Continues and the Star Trek Phenomenon.


Title: Leave it to the Fans: My thoughts on Star Trek Continues and the Star Trek Phenomenon.

Author: ProvidenceMine.



So, you’re one of those fans who think that Star Trek is dead, or broken. 

With every fiber of your being, you honestly believe that J.J. Abrams has led Star Trek into the slaughterhouse and butchered it beyond recognition.

Personally speaking, I’ve always found J.J. Abrams’ version of Star Trek to be deeply unsatisfying.  Sitting in that darkened theater watching the 2008 reboot (or was it 2009?), I felt as if I was watching a Michael Bay movie with all the smugness and cartoonish sensibility that seem to characterize his works.  The twisting of canon was particularly unfortunate; between the destruction of Vulcan and the unexplained appearance of an Orion woman in Starfleet (Orions are not a part of the Federation), I left the movie house pretty disgusted, vowing never to see another J.J. Abrams’ Star Trek film again.

And I’ve kept that vow.

I just continued to kick back and enjoy the various forms of Star Trek fan works out there.

A few years later, while I was still wasting time on Twitter, I was searching for Star Trek fan artists (writers, artists, crafters, filmmakers, etc.) that I could follow.  I spotted the Twitter icon of Star Trek Continues and was struck by both the physical similarities of the actors to their characters and the painstaking detail in recapturing  the famous photograph of Kirk and Spock looking up into the camera.

I read the caption, went to their website and was intrigued.  Star Trek Continues is a webseries that takes place during the last two years of the Enterprise’s five-year mission.  I checked out their works on Vimeo, which consisted of three vignettes and (at the time) one full episode. 

Simply put, I was blown away!

Seriously blown away!

Talk about studying your subject matter! 

Watching Star Trek Continues was, literally, like watching The Original Series!  The sets, cinematography, music, and direction are so faithful in their detail it’s astonishing!  The stories are beautifully written and true to the human drama that Star Trek was renowned for. 

However, what impressed me most of all was the cast.  These supremely talented actors not only play their roles to utter perfection, they even fit their characters physically, which was astounding to me, considering that none of the actors resemble anyone from the original cast. 

Star Trek Continues is the crown jewel of fan production!  It’s as if The Original Series never ended after its third season!  And unlike some other fan productions that look like they’re fan productions, Star Trek Continues looks as professional as Star Trek did back in the day.  Even a fan production like Of Gods and Men, as well done as it is, simply doesn’t have the polish that Star Trek Continues does.  And, the best thing about this webseries is that they’re just getting started, with only two full episodes under their belt.  More stories to write and produce mean more episodes to look forward to.  So, if there is any doubt in your mind that Star Trek lives, then you really need to check out these webisodes!

Since the time J.J. Abrams first took a shot at The Original Series, I’ve heard many fans lament the death of Star Trek, or the destruction of it.  Now, as much as I have a real distaste for the reboot( more like giving it the boot), I can’t say that I share the pessimistic view of many of my fellow Trek fans. 

How is Star Trek broken?  When did it die?

I truly don’t understand what these people are talking about.

While it may be true that Star Trek is not at the height of its popularity as it was in the 70s and 80s, that is not to say that Star Trek is dead, broken, or on life support.  After all, nothing stays at the peak of its popularity forever.

That’s simply a fact of life. 

All you need to do is think about a certain group of sparkly little blood suckers and of how things have quieted down considerably in their neck of the woods.

Star Trek, even past its prime of popularity, is still going strong! All you have to do is go on Amazon to look at all of the new novels and merchandise that come out each year that are based on the series.

And, let’s be honest here.  Many fans might not like the J.J. Abrams reboot, but there probably never would have been one had it not been for Star Trek’s continuing impact.  The mega box office for both reboots is yet another testament to the series’ endurance.

Star Trek is not, nor has it ever been, dead. 

The problem lies with Hollywood.  In the case of Star Trek, the mainstream film industry simply can’t deliver the goods anymore.  This is not only the case with The Original Series, but with the whole franchise. 

The last television show, Enterprise, didn’t receive bad ratings because Star Trek went out of style, it received bad ratings because it was a poorly executed show.

The last film before J.J. Abrams version, Nemesis, didn’t fail at the box office because Star Trek was no longer viable, it failed at the box office because it was a miserable movie.

Those two spills and messes were brought to you by Hollywood.  Period.

From where I stand, I think that the problem has been we’re always looking to Hollywood to ‘bring Star Trek back to life,’ if you will.  Considering that Star Trek is indeed a product of Hollywood, that’s understandable. 

As it goes, Star Trek is no longer something that Hollywood, in its less than infinite wisdom, can work with anymore.  It will not find new life in that town of tinsel the way it did back in the 70s and 80s.

The present and future life of the Star Trek phenomenon belongs to its fans.

I had written earlier about the new books and merchandise that continually show up on Amazon.

What about the abundance of fan fiction, fan productions, fan clubs and fan artwork that are out there, online and offline?  It was the fans that continued to breath new life to Star Trek.  They did it after Star Trek went off the air back in 1969, and they continued to do so after Enterprise went off the air back in 2005.  Do you know how many years that is?

And, during all those years, there were some incredible fan works that were produced, right?

The writings of Wildcat and Jean Lorrah, websites like My Star Trek Scrapbook…

…and fan productions like Star Trek Continues.

Talk about paying homage! 

Hey, as long as you believe that only the studio heads in those stucco casted and palm tree shrouded luxury buildings are the only people who can bring back Star Trek in all its glory, then, yes, Star Trek is truly dead, broken, or on life support.

However, if you leave it to the fans, then Star Trek is not dead.

It’s alive and kicking!

  
















 






Thursday, February 13, 2014

Man-Hating Wing Nut Bitch


Title: Man-Hating Wing Nut Bitch
Author: ProvidenceMine
Parts: One
Rating: R for violence
Codes: Rand, Kirk, Spock
Summary: A different take on the attempted rape scene from The Enemy Within.
Disclaimer: Paramount Pictures owns all of Star Trek and its characters.  This is a work of fan fiction, and I will not, in any way, profit from this.




Blondes make the best victims.  They’re like virgin snow that shows up the bloody footprints.

--Alfred Hitchock



Janice Rand stepped through the doors of her quarters and sighed emphatically.  Oh, Thank God that’s over, she thought as she hastily removed the strap of the recorder case from her shoulder.   She walked over to the counter at the other side of her room and dropped the recorder there.  She rotated her shoulder and then her neck, taking deep breaths throughout.  She didn’t think that anything so small could make her feel like she was lugging around bars of lead, but a double shift had a tendency to do that.

Rand was looking forward to spending some time with Nyota and Warren Kyle, who had just started seeing each other a few weeks ago.  They would meet in the rec room to play a few rounds of pool.  She smiled, thinking how cute a couple they made, and how happy she was for her best friend.

Rand patted the back of her head and cringed at the thought of how her hair must look after a long, arduous day.  She walked over to the dresser unit and touched the hatch gently, waiting for the rotating walls to reveal the dresser with all it provided for her.  Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Rand got to work on her hair, angling her head while she repositioned pins and tucked in straying strands of flaxen back in place. 

Straightening herself for a final appraisal, she noticed movement in the shadows right over her bedchamber behind her.

“What the…”

Alarmed, she turned to see what it was.

It was The Captain.

“Oh Captain!  You startled me!  I didn’t know what…”

The Captain raised a carafe of alcohol to his lips and took a swig of the amber liquid, taking it down in audible gulps.  Rand looked at him, and was struck by this gesture, and of how he wiped the dribble from the corners of his mouth and his chin.  It seemed so alien, so ugly, like something that a pirate, or a hobo, would do.  It struck with a particular unease because The Captain was behaving this way in her quarters.

And he had been hiding in a corner of her room.

Waiting for her.

Talk about not following protocol.

The captain always called on his starship personnel either through intercom, computer, or a messenger sent to one’s door.  It was only his two chief officers whose rooms he entered, and that was rare. 

Not only was this not protocol, it was an affront.

What exactly was going on? 

He stood right in front of Rand.  There was something about the way he carried himself here; smug, almost surly.  The typically hurried, distracted, clipped demeanor was gone. 

“Captain?  Is there any reason at all why you’re in my room?  Is this an emergency, or something?”

The Captain didn’t answer, but swept his eyes over her body in an intrusive and calculating manner.  In the past, Rand had loved it when the captain took notice of her, stealing some glances along the way.  Hell, there were even times when she encouraged it.  A cross of the legs here, an arch of the neck there.  But not this.  This attention she didn’t like.  She didn’t like the cold, clammy way he made her feel.

The Captain’s lips curled obscenely into a leering, pompous imitation of a smile.

“Jim will do here, Janice.”

“Oh,” she replied uneasily. 

Calm yourself, she thought.  After all, you could be overreacting.  Maybe you’re being a bit of an alarmist.  Her gut, however, was telling her otherwise, tugging at her like an irritating, impatient brat on a mother’s skirt hem.

God, this wasn’t right at all!

“You’re too beautiful to ignore.  Too much woman,” he said, putting down the carafe on the counter bordering the bedchamber from the rest of the room.  “We’ve been …pretending too long, Janice.”

He moved towards her, and she instinctively backed away.  The Captain took notice, mockingly tilting his head as he continued towards her.  “You’re backing away from me, Janice.   Is…this…a …little…teeaassssse?”

What Rand needed right now were eyes in the back of her head, big bug eyes that could pop out and through her thick blond coiffure and guide her the fuck out of there!  As it was, she was aiming blindly for the door, trying to pick up the pace without falling over, or ending up against a wall.

“Stop pretending, Janice!” 

Rand was suddenly disoriented.  She couldn’t recall exactly when The Captain had closed in on her, but there he was, his hands like talons on her shoulders, digging into her so hard that the pain was almost numbing.  She yelped and tried to pull away. 

“Let’s stop pretending.”

The Captain pulled her to him and leaned in for a kiss.  Rand pushed against The Captain’s chest and turned her face away, the smell of alcohol and stale saliva that seeped from his lips revolting to her.   She took the heel of one of her hands and pressed it under his jaw, trying to push his face, his mouth, away from her, but his strength overpowered her.  Her arms trembled as The Captain pushed against her hand and drew in closer, his hot breath dank on her cheeks.  She struggled valiantly until her arms finally gave way under his physical power.  The vapors of his breath engulfed her nostrils, making her gag while his lips laved her cheeks and jaw, leaving them wet and cold with a repugnant, reptilian slime.  His kiss was abrasive, sloppy, like a damp, caked up, oily rag. 

Rand managed to jerk and turn her head away, his residue still sickening fresh on her mouth.  She twisted violently in his arms and tried to pull herself away, trying to break his hold on her body.  She fought back tears that stung her eyes, tried to hold back the tremors that coursed through her.  She’d be damned if she’d show this animal her fear, confusion and hurt!  She would only show him her rage, would fight with it, fight her way out of this nightmare!  

Rand suddenly felt her legs hit and tumble against something.  

It whipped underneath her, making her legs buckle and lose her balance.

The foot of The Captain, no doubt.

She was falling, still caught in The Captain’s grip.  She flayed her arms and legs, trying to recover her balance, the ground underneath her.  She couldn’t, and in her crumbling resolve the sobs racked their way out, choking her, the tears thick and blinding.

Not like this!  Please, not like this!

Her back hit the floor, causing her arms to throw themselves over her head.  Rand let out a groan from the pain that coursed through her shoulder blades, her spine, the back of her head.  She felt like she was submerged in water as her body throbbed numbly.

Hovering over her was the face of The Captain, emerging from the cloud of her tears.  Rand could feel The Captain pin her arms over her head, piling one wrist on top of the other and pushing them down, while his free hand slithered under her uniform skirt, grabbed hold of the waist of her shorts, and pulled at them roughly, the fabric digging into the flesh of her hip.  The Captain’s nails scraped Rand’s pantyhose right below the hip, creating a tear and leaving a scratch on her skin, wet from her blood.  She yelped and shut her eyes tightly, her whole body tensing up as if doing would make it all stop.

NO! NO!No!No!Nononononon……………The word ebbed inside her, simultaneously expanding and contracting in her head and body. 

Suddenly, there was a stillness, a centering. 

Rand stopped crying, stopped tensing her muscles.  She was able to release herself from her imprisoning fear.  She opened her eyes and looked directly into The Captain’s and smiled.  She arched her back, giggling.

“Ooh, honey.  Why so rough?” she cooed.

The Captain stopped, cocking his head sideways like a confused dog.  He even made a stupid little dog sound. 

Rand scanned The Captain’s body and bit her lip, tugging it softly.

“No need for you to work so hard, Jim.  Why don’t you just let me take off my uniform?  I am a big girl, you know.”  To emphasize her point, she grounded her butt into the carpeted floor.   “Pleeeesssse?”

The Captain smiled at this welcome change, and grunted his approval. 

“I knew you’d come around and stop teasing me.  That’s a good little girl.”

The Captain released her and positioned his arms on either side of her.

“Let me look at you first,” she said.

She ran her hands up the sides of his upper body, sweeping them up his shoulders, his neck, and ending on his face.  Rand traced his cheekbones and temples delicately with her fingertips.

“God, I’ve always thought you were soo handsome.  The most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

The Captain was like a cat under her strokes, making low, throaty sounds as he leaned into her fingers, her touch. 

Rand continued to trace her fingers along the lines of his face until they settled onto his cheeks, cradling his face.  The Captain rubbed his cheeks against her palms, and she applied more pressure at his urging.  She pressed her palms into his skin, slowly kneading her fingertips into his cheeks and temples until her nails latched onto their target.

“AAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Rand took her sweet time, reveling in the sensation of The Captain’s flesh ripping and curling under her nails the way the skin of a fruit gives way under the blade of a peeler.  Of course, she had the added bonus of his blood collecting under her nails as well, moistening the skin behind them.

Desperately tearing himself away from her attack, The Captain bolted upright and howled to the ceiling, raising his hands to his shredded, bloody face.  Rand scrambled out from under him and got up.   

Rand stood over him, staring at him with a kind of hatred she didn’t know was humanly possible. 

“I’ll bet that hurt,” she said in a low -pitched tremor.

In one swift movement she kicked him under the chin, sending The Captain reeling and slamming head on into the dresser. 

Rand watched him quietly, waiting for him to untangle himself from his twisted limbs.  When he finally recovered, The Captain’s expression betrayed a mixture of surprise and….

Something else.

His eyes were wide, his mouth slack. 

Was it fear?

Rand walked over until she was directly over him again, her body shaking in uncontrollable rage.

“Get up,” she said.

The Captain was now crouched, readying himself, his eyes no longer the round saucers they had been earlier, his mouth no longer slack.  He had the look of a predator now, narrowed gaze and tight drawn lips on a face red with fury.

“You’ll pay for that, you little whore!” he snarled.

He leaped from his spot and charged, his arms reaching out with hands and fingers curled inward like claws.  He let out a roar, a roar meant to frighten her, but Rand was unfazed as she leaned sideways and stuck out her foot when he was close enough to make contact.  She whipped it underneath him, making him tumble into the counter where she had placed her recorder earlier.  His head met the edge of the counter and he spilled onto the floor, where he rolled around, holding his head with both hands and braying like a jackass.

“YOU’LL BE PUNISHED FOR THIS, YEOMAN!!!!  YOU’LL BE COURT-MARSHALLED FOR THIS, I PROMISE YOU!!!

“Oh, it’s Yeoman now, huh.  What happened to the first name basis thing?”

Rand stood triumphant, exuding a smugness that further grated on The Captain as he looked up at her from his hands and knees.

An appropriate position for him, she thought.

“Would you prefer being called ‘cunt,’” he taunted.

 “It won’t matter one way or the another, asshole, because you might not even survive this mess you put yourself in!”

The Captain snickered, and Rand laughed in response.

“Are you kidding me, bitch!  By the time I get finished with you, you’ll either wish you were never born or you’ll be begging for more!  You’ll be the pet of all pets!”

“Wish I was never born?  Begging for more?  Pet of all pets?  God, you’re just full of clichés, aren’t you.”

Oh, how his words infuriated her, made her taste blood, his blood!  She wanted to destroy him, rending him impotent, hollow him out! 

This man--whom she thought she loved.

Hell.  Who the fuck did he think he was?! 

Or she was, for that matter?

Did he think he was some CEO in some 20th Century office with a docile, pencil-skirted secretary? 

Rand watched The Captain like a bird of prey.  He was crouched on the floor like the animal that he clearly was.  When he made a move, she mirrored it, her body language making it clear that she would make good on her threat.  The Captain smiled in a nasty teeth- baring grimace, and she responded by doing the same.

“You must be some kind of dyke, the way you hold you head up and ignore the men when you pass them by.  I’m gonna take you down a notch!”

“Go for it, Cupcake,” she sneered.  Rand reached for a long, intricately carved sculpture that sat on a small, round table, placed just off-center in her room. 

That slight turn away from The Captain cost her.

Like a blink of an eye he was on her, his fingers tightening around her throat.  His grip may have been like steel, but her will was much stronger.  She locked her hands on his and tried to tear them off her while she gasped for air.  The Captain leaned in and pressed his mouth on hers, forcing it open.  The slimy, coated tongue of The Captain snaked its way in.  Rand bit down into his tissue and tasted the blood of The Captain now flooding her mouth.  He let out a screeching cry like a jackal and stumbled back.  He was livid, crazed, rabid, his face crimson, his eyes wild, blood streaking down his chin.  He lowered his eyes on her, stretching his quivering lips to bare clenched, bloodstained teeth.

“YOU…MAN…HATING…WING…NUT…BIIIIIIIIITTTTTCCCCHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Rand was able to grab the sculpture and, gripping it with both hands, slam the instrument squarely into his kidneys.  

The Captain’s body bent, like a stem, into the blow.  His extremities contracted into their joints, making him look like a collapsing marionette.  His face was like a red mask of horror; eyes glazed and bulging, contorted, quivering mouth.  The sound that came out of him was wordless, distorted, warped.

“MMMUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHH…….”

A ripping, gurgling sound, long and loud, followed, coupled with a foul stench that wafted through the quarters, assaulting Rand’s nostrils.  She placed two fingers to her nostrils to block the offending odor.

Don’t tell me…

The pant area, in between his crotch and his buttocks, glistened at the seams, and then expanded, but not smoothly, like a balloon filling up with air or water.  It rose in heavy, ungainly chunks, like wet sand.  The Captain’s legs twisted together and he crumpled to the floor. 

He lay there on his back, his limbs tossed about like a discarded scarecrow.

A straw captain.

Rand stood over him, noting how pathetic he looked.  She snorted in disgust as she removed her fingers from her nostrils and gripped the blunt object with both hands.

“You bring alcohol into my room, try to rape me, and then you take a dump on my carpet?”

 She raised the sculpture over her head and positioned herself, so that she would be able to get in a good aim right above The Captain’s forehead, to give him a good braining.  Rand took a deep breath.  She could just about taste her revenge as surely as she could smell the unmistakable stink emanating from The Captain.  She watched him writhing on the floor, teeth gritted, his eyes wide with terror as they zeroed in on the weapon of choice that she held over her head. 

Hell, she thought.  This was gonna be easy.

The Captain shook his head, whimpering dismally.

“N-n-no-noooo…”

Rand stopped for a moment and blinked, as if she was waking up for the first time.   She looked down at The Captain, and suddenly found herself a lot less eager to hold up her weapon.  She started to hesitate, looking at The Captain’s face full of fear, helpless.

“What the hell am I doing?  Am I actually trying to kill this clown?”

Feeling defeated, she lowered her weapon, but she didn’t let it leave her hand.

“I can’t do this.  I need to called security.”

It was like Rand was on autopilot.  She went over to her desk where her computer was situated and pressed the com.  She knew what she had to do.  She knew she’d have to turn herself in. 

However, Rand also knew that she had the truth on her side, that she was defending herself against a man who had been taking advantage of his position of power in the most repugnant way, a way that saw its way out back in the late 21st Century.  The Captain was not living in a time where he’d be able to fall back on that “knowing people in high places” bullshit and use the System to bully a yeoman.  The Captain was finished, his reputation in ruins.  He would be sent to a Federation penal colony and be a target for other inmates who loathed sex offenders as much as anyone else on the outside.  He’d have to watch his back, all right.

And she didn’t give a good goddamn shit.   

-----------------------------------------------------------------------  



“Shit!”

It still hurt to get dressed, even after all those cortisone shots she’d been subjected to in sickbay.  Rand had no way of seeing the bruises without a strategically positioned mirror, but she could sure as hell feel them.  She pulled out the top draw to her dresser and reached for a pair of pantyhose.   From her mirror she could see the corner where she had first spotted The Captain’s face, staring back at her. 

Rand stopped what she was doing and simply stood there, staring at the counter and remembering the carafe of alcohol he had placed there.  She still couldn’t quite understand the physics behind it all, of how a malfunction in the transporter room could split an individual in two to create a ‘good’ captain and an evil’ one. 

There were two things she did understand, though.  It was the ‘evil’ captain that invaded her room, and it was the ‘evil’ captain that tried to rape her. 

There was something else. 

A few more things, actually. 

Things that nagged at her as she continued staring at that counter behind her. 
  
It was certainly true that the situation was highly unusual, and that the captain needed to be fused together in order to become a whole man again.  It was certainly true that the ‘evil’ captain was an intruder on board the ship.  But it was also, most certainly true that this ‘evil’ intruder was, in fact, the captain himself.  It was just another part of him. 

His evil part.

There was never any intruder on board at all, just the same damn man split in two. 

So, as this whole situation was deemed unusual, the captain was able to get away with his crime.  After all, it was the ‘intruder’ who attempted the rape, right? 

Bullshit.

 In the mirror’s reflection, Rand had noticed a shiny half-moon ring on that counter.  Funny, this was the first time she’d noticed it, what with all the feces and urine that had to be shampooed to death out of her carpet. 

How fucking sloppy can you get?

She’d be sure to call cleaning and maintenance before heading for work this morning.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Calling it an awkward moment was putting it mildly. 

Captain Kirk was heading for the turbolift right at the time that Rand was stepping off of it. 

The two of them stopped and looked at each other among the usual bustle on the bridge, though it wasn’t exactly a ‘time stood still’ moment.   Rand looked at Kirk, whose smile was tepid, even hesitant.  He gazed deeply into her eyes, as if searching for some kind of sign from her.

Forgiveness, perhaps?

Rand returned his smile, equally as wan and hesitant.  But, unlike Kirk, who seemed to be looking for some kind of assurance that things were square between them again, her smile came from a place of uncertainty, of not knowing whether she’d remain on the Enterprise under the command of this man, or whether she’d put in for a transfer to another ship. 

“Yeoman, I just want to say…”

“No, no, sir.  Nothing needs to be said.”

“Is there any chance that we can talk about what happened?”

Rand sighed.  “I think I’ll need more time before that could happen, sir.”

Kirk looked sad.  “I understand.  I won’t press the issue.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said rather flatly.

Without another word, they went their separate ways. 

There was something that Rand noticed as Kirk was walking away from her.

He was limping.  How about that!

Rand couldn’t help but smile to herself. 

Talk about leaving her mark.

Rand spotted Mr. Spock across the way and walked over.  She handed him a report that needed his attention, and he took the PADD, looking it over before approving it with his signature.

“The intruder had some interesting qualities, would you not say?”

Rand, who hadn’t been paying much attention to Spock, suddenly turned to him and blinked. 

Did he really say that?

What, was that his poor attempt at flirting? 

What was that, exactly?

She didn’t know what bothered her more, the comment, or the leering quality that dripped from his voice?

Or was slimy the more appropriate word.

“Would you please specify exactly what it is that you mean by ‘interesting qualities’, Mr. Spock?” she asked levelly, trying with every inch of her being from taking this alien by the ears and wrapping them around his throat like an ill-fitting bowtie.  She was surprised how calm she sounded, considering.

The smirk on Spock’s face faded.  He cocked his head, looking somewhat confused.

“Specify?  I don’t understand,” he said.

Rand was the one with the smirk on her face, now.  “It’s not too hard, Mr. Spock.  You simply need to specify what qualities a would-be rapist would have that I might find ‘interesting.’  Is that so difficult?”

Spock didn’t say anything, he just stood there with a blank slate for a face, holding the PADD dumbly in his hands.

Rand nodded.  “Ah, I thought so.” 

She leaned in, half whispering in the Vulcan’s ear.  “May I suggest, Mr. Spock, that since you’re living among humans, that you learn to know the difference between statements and questions that are okay, and those that are not okay.  Maybe then, you’ll manage to be less offensive than you all ready are.” 

And with that, smiling sweetly, Rand snatched the PADD from the hands of a stunned Mr. Spock and sauntered off towards the turbolift.




                                        THE END





 Outline: started 11/21/13    finished 12/2/13
Draft Zero: started 12/2/13 finished 12/17/13
Draft One: started 12/18/13 finished 2/10/14
Finished Draft: started 2/11/14 finished 2/13/14










Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Just Want to Get Something Off My Chest...

Dear Reader,

No, I didn't finish that story yet.

I'm working on it, though.

I just wanted to take the time to get something off my chest, as it's really been nagging at me for quite some time.

First off, I want to say that I love following blogs, and I love reading other people's stories on various internet sites.

I also love leaving comments on these sites, in order to show the creator my appreciation of the work that they do.

But, there's one thing that really annoys me.

I don't like it when my comments are not acknowledged.

I really don't understand why comments from admirers go unanswered.  I tell you how much I enjoy your work, and you don't reply.  It gives a message to the commenter that the creator doesn't give a damn about their 'fan base,' if you will.  It makes the creator look, frankly, arrogant.

It's a 'fuck you' to the reader!

I'm not going to take the time here to single out the bloggers and writers who ignore comments, because it seems to be most of them, unfortunately.

I would love to get more comments from my readers! I would love to connect with them! What blogger or writer wouldn't?

Apparently, many of them don't want that connection.  Perhaps that's why most comment sections I see  on many sites go blank.  Why waste your time, or gushing train of thought?

Am I right, or am I being a bit sensitive?  After all, it doesn't just happen to me. It happens to most commenters
 on these blogs and sites.

Now, don't get me wrong here.  I can understand if you have hundreds of comments, and you simply are unable to get to them all.  But, most of these site don't have so many comments that the blogger or writer can't take the time to acknowledge them, even if it's a matter of typing a simple 'thank you for your kind words' at the bottom of all the comments.

That's how I would do it.

I would do that if I got more comments on my blog.

Just saying.

Well, dear reader, I just want to thank you for letting me say my peace.  Please keep this site in your thoughts.  I will finish that story as soon as I can.

And please, leave a comment.  If it's a constructive comment, I will post it and answer it.

Take care,

ProvidenceMine.






Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Just checking in...

Hello, Dear Reader!

I just want to thank you for reading my story 'Tis Charity to Show, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it!

I also hope you enjoyed my little rant on social media! Writing that was certainly a lot of fun!

I just want to let you know that I am starting the preliminary notes on a new story staring Star Trek's resident blonde bombshell.  I'm very excited about this particular story, and I'm counting on it to turn out well.

However, I need to give you a heads up on something.

This story might take a little while to develop.

As you know, I'm not one to rush on a story.  So, it may be a few weeks before it shows up on this blog.

Couple that with
a few challenging things that are happening in my life right now, time will certainly be something I'll need on my side.

So, here's hoping that you'll keep me in mind until my next Rand adventure appears on this page!

Thank you,

ProvidenceMine.

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Why I Finally Took That Dump and Relieved Myself of both Twitter and Facebook!


Why I Finally Took That Dump and Relieved Myself of both Twitter and Facebook!


Author:  ProvidenceMine



You’re a new fan fiction writer.  You’ve just finished building your website/blog on a place like Blogger.com, Wordpress, or Tripod.  You’ve uploaded some of your stories and topped them all off with a little introduction about yourself, and the type of stories that you do. 

Now, all that’s left is to build a readership.

Of course, the logical thing is to continue working on your site, posting as much as you can, and maybe try to get your website/blog listed in one of those fan fiction directories.  That could take awhile though, trying to build your audience that way.

Hey, what about social media?  You know, Facebook and Twitter?  People seem to swear by them, claiming that these tools were responsible for the success of their blog, website, business or career!  Social media is supposed to get the word out on your product in a much shorter time period, right?   Why, you could get hundreds of ‘likes’ on your Facebook fan page and hundreds of followers on Twitter, which would surely equal hundreds of readers to your site, right?  All those people who follow you could be potential readers, equaling hundreds of hits to your blog, right?

Eh, not really.

Social media wasn’t the magic bullet that everyone made it out to be.

It was more like shooting blanks.

That’s not to say that my audience never grew.  It did.  Just not through any social media tools.  That’s why I dumped both my Facebook and Twitter accounts.

I didn’t need them, and I have no intention of giving any other brand of social media a try.

Dear Reader, let me take you on my own journey through social media, so that you may see exactly why I think social media is something that you can ultimately do without.

In May of last year, I opened a Twitter account on the emphatic advice of a relative who swore by her blog success through this particular tool.  I was a little hesitant, but excited nevertheless. 

Now, according to the founders of Twitter, one must tweet at least three times a day, because that’s supposed to be the best way to get a lot of followers.  So, that’s what I did.  I would sit at my computer, pad and pen handy, and brainstorm flights of wit in 140 characters or less.  I would even find things on the internet to retweet  (clicking the Twitter button under an article, picture or video on the web) back to my account, if I thought it was something that might be of interest to present and future followers.  Well, it took a little while, but it did pay off, having built a Twitter following of around 750 (I can’t remember the exact number anymore).  I even developed relationships—if you can call them that—with some of my followers.  At times, it could be fun.  I’ll admit it.  The only problem was that, for all the times I spent trying to build a Twitter following, I could have been doing a lot more writing for my blog.  In the false belief that Twitter would help build an audience for my blog, it became a preoccupation that, at times, took me away from what really mattered, and that was my writing.  In short, Twitter was time consuming.

Twitter was also lacking in results.  Eventually, I was able to obtain around 750 followers, give or take.  Now, I suppose I should have been proud of this achievement, especially since there were Twitter accounts that had been established before mine, but with a lot less followers.  I also should have been excited, as over 700 followers could potentially equal around 700 new readers.

Let me tell you all about the results of my hard work (LOL), laboriously tweeting and retweeting on my account.  Out of the approximate 750 followers I had on Twitter, I had obtained—guess how many of them became readers to my blog.

Three.

Three is a pretty measly number when you’re trying to build your readership, isn’t it.

 What can I tell you?   I followed the Twitter rules, and they didn’t deliver.  Needless to say, I was growing more suspicious about this whole ‘Twitter phenomena.’  Indeed, I was becoming really skeptical of social media in general, as Facebook was proving to be an empty promise, too.

I already had a personal Facebook account, so it was fairly easy to start a fan page for my blog, putting aside some of the technical glitches I had to endure.  According to the administration on Facebook, you had to receive 30 ‘likes’ in order to get access to your statistics, like the amount of visitors to your page.  Well, I must have been on this social media tool for over a year before I received 25 ‘likes’!  Believe it.  The difficulty I had in getting just 25 ‘likes’ was absolutely mind-boggling to me!  So, you can imagine how  disgusted I was when someone decided to ‘unlike’ my page, bringing me back down to 24.  Oh, dear.  It would probably be another five months before I reached 25 again.

Seriously, you’ve got to be kidding me.
I felt like a prisoner drawing tally sticks on my cell wall.  That’s a pretty good idea, I think, of how it’s like ( no pun intended) to be on Facebook.  Never mind the difficulty of trying to get my ‘Facebook friends’ to support my page by simply clicking on the ‘like’ button.  Out of the 56 ‘friends’ from my personal account (which, I’m proud to say, I dropped also), only 19 of them ‘liked’ my fan page.  And what cracked me up was the fact that some of the ‘friends’ who didn’t ‘like’ my fan page actually had the audacity to send me stuff that they wanted me to ‘like,’ or participate in, or sign.

Why, the nerve of some ‘friends,’ huh?

Now, maybe if I was able to bring readers to my blog through my fan page, then maybe all the trouble would have been worth it in the long run, except that the amount of visitors who actually came to my blog through Facebook, out of the 25( or 24) people who ‘liked’ my page was…

Can you make a guess?

ZERO!

Did they ‘like’ me?  Did they really ‘like’ me?

With ‘likes’ like these, who needs the ol’ kick in the ribs?

However, there was something that I found quite curious during my time on Facebook.  Many of the fan pages of independent writers would have as much as 300 ‘likes,’ but yet, when I actually looked at the activity on their page—the ‘likes’ to uploads, comments, conversations—these fan pages were like digital deserts!  Some fan pages had a little activity, but most had none.

Zip.  Nada. 

These fan pages earned a place of honor in the null set.

Remember your high school math, folks?

So, I started to wonder whether or not the amount of ‘likes’ one received on their fan page actually made any difference at all in drawing an audience to one’s site/blog.

Ain’t ‘likes’ grand!  Apparently, not these ‘likes.’

As for grand, it’s more like a grand illusion.

Meanwhile, back at the blog, my readership was indeed building.  While I never actually went viral, I did receive as many as 145 visitors, usually with a new posting, of course.  Sometimes, though, I could get that much when I didn’t have a new posting, which was always a pleasant surprise when I would logged in to check my stats.  While I didn’t always get that many readers to my blog, my readership was growing quite nicely.

So, what was going on?  What was the catch?

The catch was that they weren’t coming from social media!  They came from Google, Yahoo, Bing, and various links.

But not Facebook or Twitter.

Social media didn’t even enter into the equation.

So, what was the bottom line?

I didn’t need my Facebook or Twitter accounts.

Period.

However, I had a little problem.  I was hesitant to drop my accounts.  I was still stuck on the idea that social media was supposed to help me get a readership.  I thought that, perhaps, while it wasn’t helping me right now, that it would pay off in the long run.

But, wait a minute!  Social media was supposed to bring me an audience in much faster time than any ‘long run’ method, like networking, guest blogging, posting in fan fiction archives, or putting one’s web address in a fan fiction online directory.

Oh, boy.

Now, I was torn.

To drop, or not to drop my social media accounts?  That was the question, and an irritating one at that!

So, I started to do some research to see if anyone in that Vast Wonderland of Internet had come to the same conclusion I had.

Most of the articles that showed up in my search were, unfortunately, singing the praises of social media, and how to try to work without it would leave you behind in the dust.

Give me a break.

Then, as I was playing with more entries, this curious phrase, ‘social media is bullshit,’ popped right up.

Social media is bullshit?

I decided to check it out, not really expecting much, as leads like ‘social media is useless’ would come up with articles that were titled “Is Social Media Useless?”
Of course, the article would always end up telling the reader that it was the best thing since electric nostril hair clippers.

However, things were different this time around.  This time, I got more than some article or commentary. 

I got a whole damn book!

Social Media is Bullshit, written by a young man named B.J. Mendelson. 

The author actually had a whole website devoted to his book.  I looked it over, and I was intrigued.  This young man seemed to be saying what I had suspected about this social media thing! 

That it was bullshit.

Hype.

Without clothing.

Excited, I went over to my favorite online haunt, Amazon.com, and read all the reviews to his work.

Man, did I feel vindicated, like a wrongly confined mental patient who was rescued and then detoxified off of all those hallucinogens. 

No, Alice.  You’re not crazy. 

Did I order that book, you ask?  Quoting a former contender from up north…

You betcha!

I didn’t stop there.  I went over to my second favorite online haunt, YouTube, to see if Mr. Mendelson had any videos on his work, and he did.  I watched three of his interviews, a review of his book, and two lectures that he gave at colleges.  While I will not get into detail about the things he revealed on these videos, what I will say here is that he brought a harsh, glaring light to the social media myth! 

Then, the book came in the mail.  I sat down and read it voraciously!  While the author focused mainly on business and not-for-profits, he did touch upon individuals in the arts who were trying to spread the word about themselves( of course, this didn’t include fan fiction writers, LOL).  Mr. Mendelson’s book, which went into even more details than his interviews and lectures, blew me away!  It served as the catalyst I needed to finally grow some balls and dump Facebook and Twitter!

I took that plunge and never looked back, nor have I joined any other kind of social media tool.  When I dropped those accounts, it was like a fat chain was sawed off my ankles!  It freed me to do more of what was most important to me—writing!

So, my humble advice to any fan fiction writer considering social media?  Well, if conversing with an audience you already have is what you want to do, then knock yourself out.  However, if you want to attract more readers, or gain a readership if your site doesn’t have one yet, then here are the things you should do:

1.     Keep on writing!
2.     Post as frequently as you can without compromising your work.  In other words—no rush jobs!
3.     Try to find a site where you can guest blog, maybe even review other fan fiction works.
4.     LOVE what you do!
5.     Don’t, DON’T waste your time with social media!
6.     And, if by chance you happen to be on social media, and you have the same sneaking suspicions that I had about it, then do yourself a favor and dump the damn thing!

I’m so very glad I did!
 










Friday, November 1, 2013

'Tis Charity to Show Chapter VIII Part 3




‘Tis Charity to Show
Chapter VIII
Part 3


It was the large, strong, warm enveloping of Rand’s hand that lifted her tenderly out of her prolonged lethargy.  She opened her lids slowly to the shock of fluorescent glare that pierced laser-like into her eyes. 

“Of course.  Sickbay,” she thought groggily.

Her body felt like one long sandbag, even turning her neck was a struggle as she tried to look into the face of the man who was holding her hand.


“Janice, honey.  How are you feeling?  Talk to me.” 

His voice was so gentle, like the strokes from his thumb gliding back and forth on the back of her hand.  Rand smiled when she saw Khobran’s face emerge from the harsh pool of light.  Even though she was still weak, that look of adoration on her young lover’s face, coupled with his hand wrapped around hers, fortified her.

“Khobran,” she whispered.

Her voice was thin, hoarse.   Khobran leaned in, reaching out with his free hand to stroke the lines of her jaw, her hairline.  She closed her eyes, rejoicing in how the tips of Khobran’s fingers made her skin tingle.  Tears started to brim behind her closed lids, and she took a long, deep breath of quiet exuberance.  Oh, how she had missed this!

“Oh, Janice! You have no idea, in this known universe, just how much you scared me!   You literally looked like death standing on that transporter platform!” 

Rand opened her eyes.  “I looked like death, huh.  Thanks for that,” she chuckled.  “God knows I felt like death.”

“Well, you look a lot better now.  It took a few days, but the medical staff was able to bring your color back.  You’re still a bit thin, but you’re filing out at least.  How do you feel?  Weak?”

“Like a lead paperweight.”

“Mm, you poor thing.  Don’t worry.  Dr. McCoy says you’re getting better.  You and the rest of the landing party.”  

“Even Riley?”

“Yeah.  They’re operating on his face now as we speak.  The damage was pretty miserable, but Dr. Truth is confident they’ll be able to rebuild it to its original appearance.  Spock really did a number on him.”

You ain’t kiddin’!  Thank God of Dr. Begay!  He prepped Riley up real well.  He’s a good doctor, and, unlike some other doctors I know, a real nice guy,” she quipped.

“Hey, Dr. McCoy had all of sickbay working overtime to get you all back up to speed, so lay off him,” Khobran chided gently with a light squeeze on her hand.

“I guess you can be a good doctor and an asshole, too,” Rand snorted.

They chuckled, Khobran’s being soft and deep, while Rand’s was a bit strained.  Afterwards, there was a silence that grew between them, though it wasn’t awkward.  The expression on Khobran’s face grew more serious.  

“It was really scary for me, Janice!  When the ship tried to make contact with the landing party, all we got was static!  The captain even sent a shuttlecraft down to Tijus after awhile when all attempts to reach you failed!  But, the strangest thing happened.  When the craft reached the planet’s atmosphere, there was some kind of force field blocking its way!  Some glassy, amber colored force field.  It was as if that planet, or something on that planet, was determined to keep you down there!  It was really creepy!  I can’t tell you how frightened I was!  I couldn’t think straight the whole time you were down there!”

Rand didn’t even bother to hold back the tears, letting them flow down her cheeks.

“I spoke to Mr. Spock in the other ward.  He told me what went on down there, or the basics anyway.  The basics were enough for me, quite frankly.  The very thought of you down on that forsaken planet, going through all that while that thing was feeding off you makes me ill!”

“It was pretty awful, Khobran.  I honestly didn’t think we were going to make it!  That thing held us prisoner, tormented us by hurling our unresolved issues in our faces…”  Rand choked up, unable to finish her sentence.

“I know.  Spock told me about that, but not in any real detail.”  Khobran hesitated for a bit.  Finally, he took a breath, preparing himself.  “You know I have to ask you this, Janice.  Was our argument among those ‘unresolved issues’ that came to the fore down there?  Be honest with me.”

Rand closed her eyes and nodded.

“So, it’s fairly safe to say that I was partly responsible for your ordeal,” he said, his voice slightly cracked.

His fault?!  Rand opened her eyes, his statement having a sobering affect on her.

“Your fault, Khobran?  I don’t understand…”

“Oh, come on Janice!  You and I know that if it wasn’t for the argument  I started…”

“Khobran!  Listen to me!  Listen very carefully!  You can’t blame yourself for what was happening to me on Tijus!  Don’t be ridiculous!  You weren’t even down there!”

“But…”

“Khobran, if it wasn’t our argument it would have been some other unresolved issue!  Do you know that I was a relentless nose picker as a child?  Could you imagine how my nose would have looked liked at the end of the mission?”

Khobran looked at Rand incredulously, as if not believing that his girlfriend could actually make a joke out of the ordeal.  Rand gave him her best deadpan expression and wriggled her nostrils, like a rabbit.  Khobran shook his head and laughed, in spite of himself.  Rand laughed too, a little more robust this time, but still weak.

“Seriously, though,” she said after the laughter subsided, and her tone grew more somber.  “It’s just as much my fault. Frankly, I should have trusted enough in our relationship to tell my family about you.  I was just too damn insecure from all those past relationships.  You have to believe me, it had nothing, and I repeat, nothing to do with any kind of shame…”

“Janice, I know,” said Khobran softly, tracing the thumb of his free hand along her lips.  “I had time to think while you were down there.  I know you, I know you too well to honestly think that you didn’t want your parents to know you were involved with an Orion.  I know about those jerks you’ve been involved with.  I can understand this need not to ‘jinx’ anything.”  Khobran cradled Rand’s chin between his thumb and forefinger.  “I really hate what they did to your trust.  If anyone’s to blame for our quarrel, it’s those losers!  I promise that you can trust me, Janice.  If that means I have to keep reassuring you of that fact, then I will!  I love you so much, Janice!  I’ll never let you down.”

Khobran stroked Rand’s lower lip with his thumb, his touch light, feathery, enticing her to pout it just a little.

“I love you too, Khobran,” she said, her voice quivering slightly as the tears began to peak again, for the third time.

Khobran leaned in and brushed his lips to hers, kissing her delicately before pulling away. 

“You’re still very weak, darling.  So, that means I’ll have to restrain myself for awhile.  I can’t wait until you’re in top riding condition again,” he said slyly with a cock of his brow. 

“Mm, good riding condition, huh?  Be careful what you wish you, big boy!  You’ll need an ice pack by the time I’m finished with you!”

“That can cut both ways, sweetheart!”

He leaned in for another soft kiss, but this time, he added a little tongue for good measure.

“Khobran, honey.  When I’m back in ‘top riding condition’, we can contact your parents so that I can apologize to them and explain my behavior.  Then, we can contact my parents so that I can introduce you to them, OK?”  she proposed between kisses.

 Khobran pulled away.  At first, he didn’t say anything, he just gazed at her, his large violet eyes swelling with tears that threatened to fall.  His smile was sweet, slightly crooked, boyish.

“Oh, Janice!  Thank you for that,” he said empathically.

He stroked under her chin, along the length of her neck with his fingers until he reached the hollow of her collarbone. 

“Get some sleep, Janice.  I’ll see you later, all right?  I want you to close your eyes now.”

And she did, as Khobran continued to stroke along the lines of her face until he reached her forehead, stroking it gently from one temple to the other, lulling her into the most peaceful, gratifying sleep that she’s had in days.



                                                  THE END


  BASIC OUTLINE:  Started on 2/21/12  
                                    Finished on 3/21/12


DETAILED OUTLINE:  Started on 6/12
                                            Finished on 8/7/12


DRAFT ZERO:  Started on 8/11/12
                             Finished on 11/1/13            


FINAL DRAFT:  Dates as chapters appeared on ProvidenceMine’s Star Trek Fanfic Site.