Totally not evil

And we’re back for another insane and illogical installment of

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When we last left our heroes (in chapter one, chapter two, and the somehow-worse-than-both-previous-chapters-combined chapter three), T.J. and Rendar were on a secret mission that involved kissing awkwardly for A Totally Plausible Reason; Jen had just met a gorgeous, heroic, and trusted-completely-by-everyone sergeant named Steve; and in a thrilling science fictiony climax, there was a mighty space battle that concluded when  the Sffon Cruisers were tricked into destroying themselves via Three Stooges Pie Fight logic.

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In this chapter: T.J. and Rendar are attacked by the slowest moving fighter in the history of space warfare, Jessica receives a medal for her tactical genius, and we at last learn the identity of the Sffon spy. (Hint: It’s the guy smiling evilly at the camera when bad news arrives.)

Read on for the next ridiculous chapter of Fighting For the Galaxy…!

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Chapter 3: Which is somehow worse than the previous chapters combined

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Welcome back, eager readers, to the third installment of the thrilling, high-quality, not-at-all-silly science fiction masterpiece of my 13-year-old self,  Fighting For the Galaxy!

To get you in the right mood, here’s some heroic space battle music courtesy of YouTube:

And boy, is this a chapter deserving of epic music, as it features an ASTOUNDING space battle with a NOT AT ALL STUPID conclusion! Wow!

Of course, the majority of the chapter involves T.J. and Rendar reluctantly locking lips while Jess and Mark attend Jen’s totally rockin’ party, but what sci-fi fan isn’t dying to know how Mark and Jess met, or how cute Jen’s new guy, Steve, is? (Spoilers: He is TOTALLY cute.)

So, venture below, intrepid readers, and journey once more into the distant future of 2007…!

Continue reading “Chapter 3: Which is somehow worse than the previous chapters combined”

In which there is more Fighting For the Galaxy

Welcome, friends, to another exciting installment of…

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But T.J., you may be saying (out loud to your computer). Didn’t we just have a Fighting For the Galaxy Friday Thursday yesterday?

And the answer is that yes, yes we did. But it has come to my attention that as today is actually Friday, I am honor-bound to provide another chapter of gif-laden science fiction dreck to you, my faithful readers, or risk tarnishing my good name forever.

So, put on your flight helmets and get into a consequence-free shouting match with your superior officer, because it’s time for another thrilling chapter of FIGHTING FOR THE GALAXY…!

When we last left our heroes, Commander T.J. Baer (and her faithful friends, Jen and Jess) had just refused to participate in a space battle against the murderous Sffon Collective because it was an obvious, neon-lights-flashing Trap. Captain Torel Abrigio, fingers planted firmly in his ears, dismissed T.J.’s warnings and ordered the fleet to proceed – and they were all blown to bits, including the majority of the planet Saturn (for some reason). When we rejoin our heroes, Captain Abrigio, T.J., Jess, Jen, and a few other survivors are facing down the fearsome Council of the Galactic Military to defend their actions.

And because I was thirteen when I wrote this, there will also be a swingin’ party where there are, like, boys and stuff.

AND NOW BACK OUR STORY:

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Fighting For the Galaxy Fridays

Summer, 1996: I was thirteen, and my mom, brothers, and I were living at my grandparents’ house until our new house was ready to move into. It was a good summer for many reasons (sword battles with curtain rods come to mind, for example), but it also marked a milestone in my life:

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It was the summer I wrote my first novel.

Holed up in my uncle’s old bedroom with its olive green carpeting and slightly sunken mattress, I spent night after night hunched over my mom’s word processor, listening to *insert 90s bands here* on the radio and composing what I hoped would be a science fiction masterpiece.

Said masterpiece was entitled, “Fighting For the Galaxy,” and was my first foray into the glorious realm of the Mary Sue. It starred  25-year-old Commander T.J. Baer of the Galactic Military, fighting alongside her best friends, Jen and Jessica, against the murderous Sffon Collective. It featured space battles, aliens, romance, betrayal, intrigue, inexplicably bikini-clad maids, and a guy named Rendar. And it was, I felt at the time, the finest thing I – or, quite possibly, any other author in the history of mankind – had ever written.

The other day, while going through a box of old writings, I found Fighting For the Galaxy. And I am here now to tell you that it is both phenomenally bad and completely hilarious. For those reasons, I will be sharing  it here on this blog as part of a regular installment I will be calling…

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Boom.

Of course, today is Thursday, but why split hairs when there’s awful, hilarious pseudo sci-fi to be shared?

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Being Luke Skywalker (and other dreams of an 11-year-old girl)

So, when I was a kid, I wanted nothing more than to be Luke Skywalker. Not whiny farmboy Luke or patience-challenged who-is-this-muppet-and-where-the-hell-is-Yoda Luke, but kick-ass, calm and cool and awesome Return of the Jedi Luke. To pursue this lofty goal (as, I should mention, an 11-year-old girl living in small-town Pennsylvania), I did a number of things. First, wardrobe. Very important. Black shirt, black pants, … Continue reading Being Luke Skywalker (and other dreams of an 11-year-old girl)

Regarding my dad, who put up with a lot

So, Facebook has informed me that it’s Father’s Day weekend, and as Facebook has never lied to me before (except all those times it lied to me), I will take it at its word and blog accordingly.

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With that in mind, I thought I’d blog a bit about my dad, who is, after all, 50% responsible for my existing in the world, and that’s kind of a big deal (to me, at least). But more than just giving me the gift of existence, my dad also, as it happens, was a pretty awesome father.

Behold, an embarrassing photo of myself as a poofy-haired ironing board wearing someone’s grandmother’s dress:

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My dad, you may be surprised to learn, is the gentleman in the back-right of the photo. In case you’re still straining to pick him out, here’s a handy close-up:

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My dad, sadly, passed away of a heart attack when I was twelve, which was particularly illogical because his heart was easily the strongest part of him. He had a bit of a temper, he could paint an elaborate tapestry with swear words, and he never shirked from punishing me when I did something really wrong – but I never doubted for a second that he loved me. He was always gentle, always kind, always affectionate and loving, and the saddest thing, I think, is that I never had the chance to tell him how much I appreciated that.

As kids, we’re all selfish little brats sometimes (or a lot of the time, in my case), and then we grow into obnoxious emo teenagers, and then finally we move away from home and become semi-sensible adults who can look back on all the temper tantrums and emo poetry and say to our parents, “Man, I’m sorry you had to put up with all that.”

I can offer such apologies to my mom, but sadly my dad never got the chance to see me move out of the brat phase and become a (mostly) non-bratty adult. And I really regret that. I know he loved me, but I wish I could’ve had the chance to show him that all the lessons he and my mom tried to instill in me did stick, and I’m a better person today because of what I learned from him.

Anyway, a few memories of my dad that always make me smile:
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Tath Matherhorse and the Gentle Kiss of the Wind

Horror of horrors, I just came across the original version of my fantasy novel, penned when I was around fifteen. Sadly, my fifteen-year-old self thought that good writing meant cramming as many adjectives as possible into a single sentence, and likewise thought it was a brilliant idea to name a character “Tath Matherhorse.” Actual lines from the story: A soothing darkness had fallen over the camp, … Continue reading Tath Matherhorse and the Gentle Kiss of the Wind