Richard Schiver

Tag: works in progress

  • This week in random ramblings. Back up, Back up, Back up!

    This week in random ramblings. Back up, Back up, Back up!

    For anyone unaware of what is happening I have recently gone through a change of computers. Wednesday before last I got up and hit the power button on my computer as I usually do. It didn’t start. I hit it again with the same results. Of course at this point the panic started to set in. I had some of my work backed up on a thumb drive, but not all of it. Call me old fashioned but I never really trusted cloud storage for backing up my work.

    Long story short I purchased a new computer, using my CC which I didn’t want to do, but what choice did I really have? Everything I had ever written was on that computer, as well as the covers I’ve designed in the past and piles of stock photos purchased over the years from various vendors.

    To give you an idea of how much was there when I finally got my old computer running again and started transferring from my old to my new, there was over 1.5 gigs of writing in 1,036 files spread across 206 folders. The folder I use to hold covers was over 36 gigs. It took me a good week to get everything transferred over.

    I’m the kind of writer who can’t work on just one thing. I’m currently knee deep, about 55,000 words into The Bad Place, a story that loosely continues the saga of Sheriff Paul Odenton who appeared in Cursed (I was warned not to use that title as it would get lost, but I’m stubborn that way. One of these days I’ll change that to The Witch of Porter Mines.)and the second book of my trilogy titled Parasite. I’m a sucker for one word titles.

    I know if I could focus on just one work at a time I’d be a hell of a lot more productive.

    I am also working on and off on an interesting little tale I call Bitter Hollow, that stands at just 50,000 words. I worry I’m not talented enough to complete it the way I see the ending in my mind.

    Then there’s Lair of the Broken Queen, book six of my post apocalyptic series This Lawless Land. I stopped at around 45,000 words as I wasn’t really feeling the story though I know exactly how the series will end. I’m torn between making this the last chapter of the saga, or adding a seventh book.

    It was this last one that caused me the most pain. As I’m transferring everything over using thumb drives I begin to notice that not everything is coming over as it should. Folders half empty and such. One piece of work that vanished was Lair of the Broken Queen. All I had left was the rough outline I wrote back when I started the book two years ago.

    I’ve been through this before, in 2001 I lost everything with a hard drive failure that wiped out over ten years of work in the blink of an eye. Tried having it recovered, but no one could help me. I’ve recreated a lot of the work through memory. My Cursed file was one that vanished and I rewrote the book from memory.

    I have spent the past week poring through my files looking for the missing work. Imaging my relief when I find out I inadvertently saved the file under a different name.

    I’ve bought a number of 64gig thumb drives I’ll use to back up my more important files. I just hope that if and when it happens again, technology has not moved on to the point the thumb drive is useless. Of course the second question would be, will I be around to see it happen. At 66 I’ve entered that stage of life where you have more time behind you than ahead. But that’s a subject for another time and place. Now that I’ve gotten this mess straightened out I can move forward once again.

  • Weekly Writing Challenge 11/19/2025 Hell Hole.

    Weekly Writing Challenge 11/19/2025 Hell Hole.

    The story continues.

    “I didn’t say anything,” Jared responded from the emptiness below. Eric shrugged as he dropped another ten feet. Once again, as his feet came to rest against the wall of the shaft he heard a faint whisper. It was as if someone were standing right behind him, whispering in his ear, yet the words remained unintelligible, and his mind nibbled at them as he tried to decipher what was said. He had even felt a chilled breath against the sweaty flesh of his neck as ghostly fingers skipped along his spine.

    “Are you fucking with me?” Eric said, He was certain Jared was somehow messing with him, though it made little sense how he was doing it. After all Eric was still nearly thirty feet above the floor where Jared waited. He’d find out in time though, when the little prick realized what was about to happen and would do anything in his power to stop the inevitable.

    He dropped another ten feet and this time the voice in his ear was as clear as a bell, chilled breath washing over his earlobe as the whispered words filled him with dread.

    Beware of friends who tell half-truths.

    He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as a cold sweat broke across his arms. He glanced back at Jared, still waiting at the bottom of the shaft. It had to be him. Eric kicked out and dropped the remaining twelve feet to where Jared waited. 

    “That was so cool,” Jared said, slapping Eric on the back.

    Eric turned on Jared with a voice that promised violence. “Why are you fucking with me bro?”

    “What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything,” Jared said as he backed away with his hands up to defend himself.

    “I know what you’re doing, throwing your voice like that, messing with me while I was coming down.” Even as then words left his mouth, he realized how crazy they sounded. He struggled to calm himself down, aware that if he did anything stupid to upset Jared he might leave, then what would he do?

    They’d take him for sure. There was no loyalty in death, the normal constraints of living were stripped away when one stepped across that narrow divide. Certainly promises had been made, and he had so far kept up his end of the bargain, but it was there all loyalty ended. The moment he faltered and failed to do as he promised, they would come for him, and he shuddered at the thought.

    “I’m sorry, man, I don’t know what got into me,’ Eric said as he crossed to Jared with a smile on his face, his hand extended.

    Jared shook his hand, with relief flooding his features. “You scared me there for a minute, I thought for sure you were going to leave me down here.”

    “I wouldn’t do that to you bro, I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately, you know with Jessica talking about getting more serious, and with us leaving for college in the fall. It’s just been a lot to take in. I thought coming here today would help me put it all behind me for a bit.”

    “Wow, man, I didn’t know you and Jess were getting that serious, that’s gotta be a big step.”

    Eric nodded, a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips, while relief filled him with a small measure of peace. It would be over soon, and he could go back to being just a stupid jock, until the next time they called.

    To be continued!

    If you’d like to go back to the beginning to see the whole story go here: Hell Hole.

    Join my readers group!

    Four boys become trapped in their apartment building in the opening days of the zombie apocalypse. Together with a small group of survivors they struggle to survive. It’s not long before they learn their real enemy is in the building with them.

    Sign up today for my readers group and get an entire novel only available to subscribers. Every month you will receive an email containing either an edited short story from my writing challenge, or a chapter from a work in progress.

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  • Weekly Writing Challenge 11/05/2025

    Weekly Writing Challenge 11/05/2025

    Eric took a moment to read through the names, stopping when he came to a familiar one. Joshua Watkins. Jared’s last name was Watkins. The connection sent a chill across the flesh of his arms, and he brushed it off. It was obviously just a coincidence.

    He turned to Jared who stood right beside him. “Did you have any relatives who worked in this mine?”

    “I don’t think so,” Jared replied. He stepped around Eric to look at the plaque, the beam of the flashlight stopping on the name in question. He shook his head. “It doesn’t ring any bells.”

    Eric shrugged as he turned away from the plaque and approached the shaft at the back of the mine. This was how they would get down to the natural cave. Someone in the past had left a rope to make the descent easier, but Eric chose to use his own. He didn’t know how long the other rope had been in place, and with the amount of moisture present in the mine he wasn’t sure how sturdy it would be. Halfway down would be a bad time to find out it couldn’t hold him. Using the pinions already in place he secured his own rope and tossed the bag containing it into the black depths below. After a few seconds the sound of the bag hitting the bottom came to him.

    According to his map once they reached the lower level it would get a lot easier as there were ramps built into the interconnected shafts that would allow them to walk down to the cave. Once they were done they would use an ascender for climb back up the rope.

    “Are you ready for this?” Eric asked as he turned to look at Jared.

    Jared nodded, but Eric could tell by the expression on his face he wasn’t really ready. They would have to rappel down to the next level that was only fifty feel below.

    “I don’t know man, I mean I know you taught me how to do this, but it’s so dark down there.”

    “You’ll have the light on your helmet, as long as you don’t get in a hurry everything will be all right.”

    They had rappelled several times from a nearby cliff and Eric had proven to be adept at doing so.

    “I know, I need to quit being such a baby and just get it over with,” Eric said. He stepped up to the lip of the shaft and after turning on his light he peered over the edge. “It doesn’t look too bad, but I’ll need your help hooking up, I want to make sure I do it right.”

    “No problem brother, let’s get you set up.”

    Eric turned his back to the shaft and Jared hooked the rope through the brake bar rack attached to the front of his harness. Once they were done Jared held onto Eric while he carefully added his weight to the rope.

    “This doesn’t seem too bad.”

    “Just remember, lift the lever to speed up and push it down to slow your descent.”

    Eric nodded then pushed off the lip while lifting the friction bar. He dropped from sight with an exhilarating shout and Jared looked over the edge to watch as he descended. In a matter of moments Eric reached the bottom and looked up at Jared, momentarily blinding him with his headlight.

    “Are you good?”

    “I’m good man, I’m off the rope, come on down. This is great.”

    Jared turned and wound the rope through his own rack and stepped off the edge. He stepped off the edge and dropped about twelve feet before swinging back to the wall and bringing down the bar to stop him. As he did he heard someone talking below him.

    “What did you say?” He shouted.

    To be continued!

  • Weekly Writing Challenge 10/29/2025

    Weekly Writing Challenge 10/29/2025

    While working on today’s episode yesterday morning the purpose of the story presented itself to me. Quite frankly I can write novels easier than I can write short stories, hence the reason I started doing this challenge. To force me to buckle down and work on a short story until it was done. I chose to follow the alphabet format and have completed the first drafts of stories up to the letter G. As time allows I work on rewrites and edits of the past stories as I try to whip them into some semblance of a real story worth a read. One of these days I’ll release them for everyone to read.

    Without further adieu let’s get into the continuing saga of Jared and Eric in Hell Hole.

    Story begins where it left off.

    They didn’t look sturdy enough to support the weight pressing down upon them, and it appeared the wood had rotted away on the surface, making them half the size they had originally been.

    “You know why they call it hell hole?” Jared asked.

    Eric shrugged. “Rumor has it the mine went so deep you had to be careful which way you swung your pick.” He stopped as he maneuvered around an old coal car whose steel sides had rusted away to nothing, leaving a flat surface covered in debris.

    Eric pushed past the coal car, coming to a section of tunnel that appeared much older than what they passed through earlier. Here the jagged walls and ceiling were brown and in some places water leaked through the various cracks and crevices that covered the entire surface, filling the space with the incessant sound of dripping water.  It looked like the entire ceiling was about to collapse and he wanted to turn around right then and there.

    He was beginning to get irritated with Jared’s endless whining. If he didn’t need him as bad as he did he would never have spoken to him. He was no more than a means to an end, that of his continued survival. Promises had been made, so promises had to be kept.

    “Why?” Jared asked.

    With a deep sigh Eric turned back to face him and when he did he was struck by a deep anger at the lengths he had to go to. “Because you might hit the devils door,” he replied with a laugh.

    “That’s not funny,” Jared said, turning in a complete circle as if he were afraid someone, or something, were sneaking up on him.

    “Come on, let’s go, you said you wanted to see this room of crystals.” Eric turned and started walking into the depths of the mine. He heard Jared scrambling to get around the abandoned coal car.

    “Wait for me,” Jared said as he rushed to keep up.

    Eric smiled, satisfied he had set the hook firmly. Once they got deeper into the mine Jared would be attached to his hip, which was just as well, he didn’t want him wandering off until he’d gotten what he came for.

    The mine had operated from the mid seventeen hundred until 1890 when a cave in sealed off the lower portion of the mine, opening the passageway to the r0om of crystals. They called them the devil’s jewels, locked away deep beneath the earth.

    The miners of the time had been very superstitious, in addition to being God fearing men. But when the only exit from a mine collapses, and God does little to save you, promises made to others became sacred vows.

    Eric had learned all of this from his research into the mine when he first heard about the crystal room. Sure, he was an explorer willing to take chances, but they were calculated risks made only after he was certain about the facts. He had visited the crystal room himself, along with the mouth of the section of the mine where the collapse occurred. Someone had placed a plaque nearby listing the names of the men entombed within. It was rumored if you listened closely you could still hear panicked pounding coming from the other side.

    To be continued!

    Join my readers group!

    Four boys become trapped in their apartment building in the opening days of the zombie apocalypse. Together with a small group of survivors they struggle to survive. It’s not long before they learn their real enemy is in the building with them.

    Sign up today for my readers group and get an entire novel only available to subscribers. Every month you will receive an email containing either an edited short story from my writing challenge, or a chapter from a work in progress.

    Sign up Here!

  • Why Human Creativity Matters in Writing

    Why Human Creativity Matters in Writing

    Artificial intelligence has already entered the realm of writing. From generating articles to crafting emails and even composing poetry. AI promises efficiency and convenience. As the technology becomes even more accessible, we need to stop and ask ourselves. Should we rely on AI for our reading entertainment? The answer, for many passionate writers and readers alike, is a resounding no.

    Writing is much more than stringing words together. It’s about sharing one’s thoughts, their emotions, and their unique worldview. AI tools, no matter how sophisticated, lack empathy and experience. Their output is based on algorithms and databases of existing content. Not personal insights or original perspectives. When we turn to AI for our writing needs, we risk losing the authentic voice that makes each one of us unique. We lose the depth of human storytelling, nuanced humor, and cultural context.

    AI can analyze trends and generate text that fits a given mold. But genuine creativity, the spark that inspires our ideas and our literary works cannot be replaced by machines. The best writing often comes from past experiences that form unexpected associations, emotional depth, and a willingness to challenge the norms. When we substitute human creativity for AI-generated content, we sacrifice innovation and the possibility of pushing boundaries. The world needs new ideas, not endless rehashes of what already exists.

    Using AI in writing raises important ethical questions. Who owns the content produced by the algorithms? Is it honest to present computer-generated work as our own? Additionally, the spread of AI-written content threatens to undermine trust in published materials, making it harder to distinguish between genuine expertise and synthesized output. For students, professionals, and writers alike, this blurring of lines can have significant consequences for credibility and accountability.

    Ultimately, writing should remain a human endeavor. By resisting the urge to delegate this creative task to AI, we preserve our unique voice, foster innovation, and maintain ethical standards. Technology can support the writing process, but it should never replace the irreplaceable value of human authorship.

    What are your thoughts in using AI to write?