Tag Archives: writing

Two Days ’til NanoWrimo and I Need to Sleep

Ugh, I’m tired. Do I look tired?

I don’t know what it is. I’ve not been sleeping well at all. Wait, I haven’t slept at all.

October’s already over, and Halloween and NanoWrimo are just days away. I think I’m ready. I don’t know. Just to add to things, I’ve decided to move North to Santa Fe in January. Ugh…

I thought it best to decrease my caffeine intake. So here’s my pathetic cup of green tea.

How’s your morning going?

This post originally published here: https://plus.google.com/u/0/117749506539166811165/posts/EZkZKcXDUt4

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My NanoWrimo Survival Kit

Apparently, these are things. So here’s mine.


Modest 12″ Samsung “Princeton”. Basically, it’s a MacBook Air competitor before Intel came up with the idea of an “UltraBook.” Running Ubuntu, but I’ll be writing all my stuff in Google Drive.

Nexus 7 Android Tablet

Second screen and perfect for reading and proofreading my work. Also, games for distractions.

Cheap composition notebook and black Pilot gel pen

My particular notebook was made out of sustainable sugarcane, $3. And those are my absolute favorite pens.

Google Drive

See above. For something this sensitive, I’d rather it be stored automatically in the cloud.

Coffee and my giant writer’s mug

Frankly any caffeine will do, but coffee is my drink of choice. Black, bitter, very hot and very cheap. Dash of cinnamon for flavor. My mug was a gift, from Starbucks, but minimally branded.

Pandora and Songza

As far as writing goes, instrumental dubstep really get’s my creativity flowing. Don’t judge me. I also like Tool, Cake and the soundtrack to the french movie Micmacs

Messenger Bag and Duct Tape Attache Case

For a while I was obsessed with making things with black duct tape. One of the more useful things I made was a portfolio thing. I’ve been using it to carry loose papers, my notebook and my tablet around. I don’t always write at my desk. In fact, most of my best writing has been done at my favorite coffee shop or on campus of UNM. Those things are indispensable.

Steve the Dalek

It seems that a lot of people have what they call a “writer’s totem.” Well, I don’t have that. I have a plush Dalek, and he’s more of a slave driver/personal motivator. (I love how “dalek” isn’t a misspelled word according to Google’s dictionary.)

Originally published here. For original writing and NanoWrimo updates, visit writing.ravellopez.com.

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My New Writing Headquarters

My new Writing specific site is up! Check it out here: writing.ravellopez.com.

Until I get my stuff more organized, this is where my writing will live. All the writing I’ve posted here or on WritersCafe.org will be moved there. The works that are already here will stay here, but I will post no new pieces on this blog.

I will, however, cross-post my NanoWrimo progress on both here and my writing blog, just to keep up my followers.

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Watch me Write (and I’m moving my Writing to a separate Blog)

In light of NanoWrimo, I need some practice. So for the next few weeks, I will be live typing my current story in Google Drive.
Also, at the end of the year, I will be moving my writing content to its own separate blog. I have yet to find a good CMS, when I do, I will direct my domain to it.

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“One of Those Days”

Off the cuff, free-writing, (one-sided) dialogue practice. The opening lines came from an interesting discussion I was having with a stranger. Don’t ask. The person talking is inspired by a friend who has her clueless moments.

Tell me what you think.


It is one of those days, isn’t it?
One where you just can’t help yourself.
You know you shouldn’t, but there’s no one around to stop you.
In 15 minutes, all the wine and peanut butter are gone.
You’re horny as all get out.
There’s something in the wind, there is.
Something in the wind.

Well I can’t be the only one.
The only one who thinks adorable little otters would make great pets.
Who wonders how they would react to peanut butter.
Wine? No thank you.
The house isn’t so much as lonely as it is, vast.
Vast and full of possibilities.
Possibilities and pillows.
Not as mutually exclusive as you’d think.

Well don’t look so…
I can’t say at the moment.
It may be because my toes feel like they’ve been dipped in ice cold water.
Oh, you feel it too?
Must be the wine.
Or the otter.

Did you feel that?
Well I did. In my bones, I felt it.
One of those days, a Thursday.
This must be Thursday
I never could get the hang of Thursdays.
Now where have I heard that before?
Where did you go?
Was it something I said?

Like/Comment/Share. I love feedback. Bonus points if you can spot the quote and name the source.

Creative Commons License
“One of Those Days″ by Ravel Lopez are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.

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“All I Have” – Short Story

Less of a story, really, more of an idea. I was inspired by a very beautiful song.

This was written a few years ago, when I first started playing with the idea of writing. I plan on revisiting this and expanding it into something. I’m not sure what, yet.


All I Have

The water drops on the rooftops with a constant, light beating. Yet, the setting sun manages to break through the gray blanket of clouds giving everything an amber glow.

But the rain still persists, drowning and breaking off the delicate blossoms below my window. My gardenias remain untouched under the awning. Smiling to myself, From just inside my apartment, I admire their demure beauty. Perfect.

A whiff of smoke catches my attention. I turn away from the balcony and in the darkness, I see the small orange glow of the cigarette hanging out of an invisible mouth. As my eyes adjust, I make out his tall figure, standing in the door way. Soft, but piercing eyes materialize out of the black and turn me to stone. Our gaze remains locked as he flicks the cigarette and brushes my hair back, my behind my ear. His hand, now behind my (at this point I feel that I should soften my narration voice a little, not sure how though) head, gently guides my lips to his. His kiss, ooh his sweet, long kiss. It is all so intoxicating: the smell of his skin, the smoke, the rain and flowers, combined with his sweet lips. He pulls our bodies closer as the rain falls outside. The orange sun sets long before our embrace ends. Perfect.

I wake up, alone.

A cold, steely darkness surrounds me. I see the moon outside, peeking through clouds. She is alone too, ashamed to show her beautiful face. Her blue light illuminates nothing. I walk to the balcony where empty pots lay, broken.

“Why are you so lonely, so sad?”

No answer, but I know. I know. Her partner is gone. It has been cloudy and dreary for over a year. A year since the war started. A year without happiness, joy, dancing. A year without gardenias. A year without love.

A tear lands on shards of clay.

Please like/comment/share. The more people who read and like my stuff, the better.

Creative Commons License
“All I Have″ by Ravel Lopez is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.

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Dark Robot Fairies (Draft)

Penultimate draft, just needs a little clean up and technical fixes. I will make a new post with the final draft, as well as a link to an ebook download.
Enjoy and give feedback.

Dark Robot Fairies, Draft 2

There they were. They’re so small, probably 4 inches tall. Little humanoid bodies, like dainty metal dolls. They each had a glow of a different color about them. Like pulsing LEDs getting brighter and dimmer. Yet, through the light, I could see their bodies were a dull gray. Every so often little puffs of steam would shoot out of one or another.

In the faint dusk light, I could barely make out their shimmering, insect-like wings. When the bustle of the city ebbed, I thought I could hear what sounded like the whir of servos coming off them.

Their movement was so graceful, yet so mechanical. Like a choreographed dance of industrial robots. So smooth, so exact. Yet they moved with the breeze, so carefree. They were nimble and precise as they picked up pieces of metal or electronic junk, sorting and discarding pieces with some sort of mysterious intent. Puzzling and entrancing all at once, their strange behavior was.

In the air there was the smell of old motor oil and wet dirt. A junkyard is never a pretty sight, let alone after a rain, but that’s when they come out. I didn’t know what they were, but they were the closest things to fairies I’ve ever seen.

As the sunlight faded, their distinct colors stood out more: blue, orange, red, violet and a dozen or so more. Each had a distinct personality. The one that caught my eye more and more each visit was the turquoise one. She was always the first, always the last. She seemed more curious, more courageous than the others. I don’t know why exactly, but she became my favorite.

As the sun finally set, the orange street lights came on. That’s when they left. They dashed off towards the East where its dark and hard to follow. They lived deep in the heart of the junkyard, amongst the exposed graves of steel carcasses, all dull gray and red, rusted from the elements. At least, as far as I could tell, that’s where they must have lived.

I had only been living here for a few weeks, but I saw them out there every night I walked past the dump, and I was just fascinated. There hadn’t been a day that went by when I hadn’t thought about them: the glint of their metallic bodies, the whine of their mechanisms. At the same time they were magical and alien and yet very much of this Earth, of this dirty city.

Even the rain, as much as it poured, couldn’t clean the filth off this city, and the dump was a testament to that. Yet, that was what the fairies called
their home. I often wondered how they ended up living there

Where did they come from? I knew they weren’t simply someone’s creation. They were too mystical. It was almost as if they were born of the junkyard, like the fairies and sprites of old forests.

Once again, I found myself crossing the bridge that went over and around the the junkyard. My pace was fast. Cars sped past me. They were all filled with sad people mindlessly stuck in their ruts, going from boring jobs to boring homes. Not me. That magic, that moment was all mine. The sunlight shone through the chain link fence. I knew I didn’t have long.

I was practically running when I got to the spot. I was giddy and anxious. This time was going to be special. I just knew it.

I stopped and caught my breath, then I crouched. I could never tell if they were able to see me, but I wanted to be careful. I didn’t want to scare them and risk never seeing them again. I loved those fairies.

Then I saw her. First, as always, she was cautious at first, staying low and hopping from one perch to another. Then the next came out. Soon, one by one, there were a dozen or so fluttering about with their graceful precision. Each of their individual iridescence darted and danced. It was a beautiful show.

I sat, mesmerized, as usual for minutes. Then, I didn’t know what came over me, but I had to get closer, closer to her. I found the opening in the fence and silently made my way towards them. I was careful not to make a sound.

The sun was approaching the horizon. The lights would come on soon. I didn’t know what I wanted to to then, nor do I know now. I just had to get close.

I was almost at arms length from the turquoise one, and had managed not to be noticed. Up close, her glow was very bright. I found cover behind a rusted street sign. I peaked over the top resting both my hand on either side of my face. The only part of me visible was the top of my head, from my eyes up.

She was so close, I could feel on my face, the puffs of steam she gave off. Then something amazing happened. She saw me. I know she did. I know she was looking at me and didn’t fly away. I couldn’t tell if it was a few seconds or a few minutes, but I swear she was looking at me with her shiny black little eyes. My heartbeat quickened. I knew today was going to be special.

In my excitement, I probably put more weight on the sign than I should have because it collapsed and brought down more trash with it. The fairies scattered, but not her. She couldn’t.

What happened seemed to progress in slow motion. A pipe that fell with the sign hit her. I nearly screamed as I saw her get flung into the mud.

I was breathless as i went to her. I found her in the mud. I got down on my knees and picked her up. I delicately wiped off as much mud as I could. She was even lighter than I expected. Up close I could tell how delicate she really was. Between thin plates that made up her “skin,” I saw tiny gears and thin wires. Her limbs on her left side were torn off. Sparks flew from the torn wires.
Her turquoise glow was flickering and getting dimmer. Her crushed wings twitched, uselessly. Her one good arm was reaching up, grasping for anything. The other, half gone, moved in an aimless circle. The little body was writhing, slowly in my hands.

I didn’t know what to do with myself, with this beautiful creature that I just destroyed. I just sat there on my knees in the mud. I was on the brink of bawling, but I couldn’t. The noise itself could do even more damage. I watched this delicate thing die in my hands. It moved less and less; the light became dimmer and dimmer, until finally


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