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Mark Johnston 🍁

@markjohnston905.bsky.social

Dad, teacher, author (author.mrjohnston.ca)

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Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 10h ago

This one is from my very first novel, which I think is in need of a revisit, but is still a great story. Solar Umbrella is a hard sci-fi story about building something that can tip the scales with climate change. 🌍☂️☀️ #WIPsnips #writingcommunity #writesky

“About this spider model you drew here Parker, I just can’t see it being large enough to get around, haul water and food. It’s too… spindly,” Kate suggested looking at a rough sketch Parker had created.
“It’s too small,” DJ added with his usual level of tact.
“Classic Parker!” Ibrahim added, grabbing Parker by the shoulder in a playful manner. “Naw, I’m just kidding. Actually. Parker, you’re looking…and feeling pretty buff my man!”
Parker smiled. He was feeling pretty good. In his final year of high school, the years in the gym were paying off. He’d closed much of the gap between him and his older peers. A growth spurt had helped as well, but he didn’t think of himself as being the younger, smaller kid on campus anymore. It helped that the first year students seemed to be getting smaller every year. “Alright comedians, let’s stay on task here,” he added jovially. “I still think the spider-bot is the play for climbing trees and balancing on branches while it harvests food. I can’t think of a better design for that task. Nature selected it, after all. We’re probably not going to beat millions of years of work.”
“Sure, but what does it do with that food once it removes it from the tree?” Ibrahim asked. “And how does it carry water or carry all the instruments to test soil and all that?”
“Multiple robots,” DJ said out of nowhere.
“Of course!” Kate added, offering a high five towards DJ, which he either didn’t see or completely ignored. She pulled her hand back awkwardly. “We can have a larger robot to serve as the base of operations and the spider-bot can come out of it for more delicate work. It can get tools, bring back food, whatever it needs.”
“That’s perfect,” Ibrahim said, building on the idea. “We can set it up like a roving carrier. There’s no reason we have to limit it to a spider-bot either. Different crops can have different bots. Or different jobs. Need to plough the ground to plant seeds? There’s a bot for that. Need to pick grapes very delicately? T…

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · yesterday

From book 2 of my YA fantasy trilogy. I'm about 45k/100 into the final book now. More on trebuchets! #WIPsnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

25: Moonlight
Bert and Sana had been split up from the group and were planting new bushes in a field beside an open space where workers were trying to repair a trebuchet that hadn’t been firing properly. Bert saw an opportunity and decided to speak up.
“Not to interfere, but I’ve seen diagrams on the workings of a trebuchet before,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes to the ground. In many ways, talking to a guard was just like talking to a dragon for the first time. Eyes low, look small, small movements.
One guard laughed, but the other looked up. “A try-bush-aye, huh? Didn’t even know what it was called. You think you can fix this?”
Bert didn’t dare correct the man. “I can take a look, at least.”
“Well, come on then.” The guard waved him over. “You,” he said to Sana, “keep planting.”
She offered him a hiss in return and rolled her eyes at Bert as he walked over.
Bert had always been good with machines, and he stood looking at the trebuchet for a moment, comparing it to his memory of the diagrams Eldritch had in his tower. “Can you fire something small over the wall?” he asked. He thought he might see an issue, but wanted proof.
The men loaded a small rock and fired the device. The rock flew true, but not very far, especially for a smaller rock.
Bert nodded and climbed up the device and into the counterweight box. It hung on the short side of the arm, opposite the basket where ammunition was loaded. It was meant to act as the weight that launched whatever projectile into the air. Bert noticed the rocks inside the counterweight box were mostly to one side. As the counterweight fell, it was scraping the side of the trebuchet frame and slowing itself. As a result, it wasn’t firing with the intended full power. He kicked the rocks around and moved a few of the heavier ones, spacing them out evenly in the box. He climbed back out. “Try now,” he said, standing near the counterweight to watch it fall.

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 2d ago

From very early in book 1 of my YA fantasy trilogy. It's wild to think of how much this character has grown. I guess that's what happens in several hundred thousand words. 😊 Book 3 is my WIP 🐉🗡️ #WIPsnips #writesky #writingcommunity #writingprompts

The melee had always been Bert’s favorite. The idea of knights roaming around on foot with nothing but their wits and blunted weapons to gain a victory was thrilling!
Thronewarden Garrick Crowe had also created three new events for the tournament that Bert had never seen. First was a trebuchet-loading event where contestants would load heavier and heavier stones into a trebuchet. The trebuchet was a large wooden piece of equipment that used a swinging arm to fire the rocks an unimaginable distance. Bert had seen the stones and the sizes were incredible. To make it harder, they would have to load them one after the other until they gave up. Heaviest final stone would win.
A second new event was a javelin throwing event. All the javelins were larger than the usual ones, and had a much larger spike on the end. Contestants had been allowed to train with the specialized javelins for a while before today to get used to the weight and flight.
The final new event was an archery event. Rather than try and hit far-away targets, the contestants were tasked with firing a series of large arrows from a very heavy longbow. The challenge was not to be the most accurate, but rather to get the arrow as high as possible. A thin rope tied to the arrow would mark the distance fired.
Eldritch himself had designed the trebuchet, javelin and arrows. They were all made for a specific purpose: knocking a dragon from the air. Even a fully grown dragon would be devastated if the large rocks from a trebuchet could connect with it in the air. If thrown with enough force, the wicked tip of the javelin would also do serious damage. The arrows wouldn’t take out a dragon, but many archers firing could likely make a dragon think twice about attacking. Perhaps a poison or other substance could be added to the arrow tips as well. Bert hoped Eldritch knew of no such substance, but something told him the man probably did. A better hope was that he would keep it secret rather than share it with Crowe …

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 3d ago

Poor Bertram. Sometimes adventures suck. Sometimes literally. 🦟🐛 #WIPsnips #writesky #writingcommunity

Days passed and Bert’s excitement about being in a real adventure faded quickly. He had spent the better part of a full day trying to get through a swamp. He had ended up turning back around, covered in mosquito bites and with some sort of blood-sucking worm attached to his leg inside his boot. He had discovered the blood sucker while emptying out the brackish water that had filled both his boots. While sitting on the wet dirt, looking down at his pruned feet with peeling, white, wet skin, he realized that the adventure books he had read as a boy had skipped some seriously tedious stuff.
Trying a new route to continue deeper into dragon territory had led him to a seemingly endless growth of thorn bushes. He had been lucky to shoot a few rabbits with his bow, but otherwise had just continued walking. He had kept telling himself the bushes had to thin out eventually, but they never had. He had tried cutting them with his sword, and it had worked for a while, but swinging that thing hard enough to cut bushes was a lot harder in reality than it had seemed in his head. He had ended up with sore muscles and a partially dulled blade.

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 4d ago

Writing book 3 in my YA Fantasy trilogy and still need to look up calvary vs. cavalry. If I ever decide to write a book about horsemen attacking where Jesus died, remind me of this. Also, I have never once needed to use the word calvary. #amwriting #writingcommunity #writesky

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 4d ago

Didn't have coherent, which surprised me. This is from near the beginning of Generations, YA sci-fi about waking on a generationship, tasked to one year of labour to keep the ship moving. 🌍🚀💫 #WIPsnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

2: Welcome
Max tried to process what the robot could possibly be talking about when an unseen door slid open on the opposite wall. Max got a brief look of what was on the other side of the door. Whatever facility he was in was just as clean and sanitary as his room. He looked to the robot briefly, but it said nothing. Moments later, a man and a girl walked in to the room. The man was tall and thin, with a closed bag in one hand and a stethoscope around his neck. He was clearly a doctor.
The girl walked in front of the doctor, which struck Max as strange. She looked about Max's age, smaller than him. She looked serious, like she was trying to prove something to someone, or perhaps to herself. Her hair was pulled tight in a bun and her face showed no emotion—her lips pressed tight together, her eyes sharp and serious. Her hands were behind her back, but she held a tablet there. Max considered talking, but decided to wait. She was pretty, but she looked strange in her uniform—like a kid trying on their father's business suit. No matter how serious she tried to look, it didn't suit her. Her eyes held more depth than that.
"Oh, the patient is awake! Can you speak?" the doctor asked quickly. His tone suggested he had done this a million times before, like he was about to run through steps he was bored of. He sighed as he leaned down beside Max's chair, placing the ends of the stethoscope in his own ears. Rather than place the large end on Max's chest, he looked toward the girl.
"I can," Max replied simply. "Speak, that is." As he spoke, he noticed the girl nod at the doctor and felt the cold metal end of the stethoscope press against his chest. Rather than bite at him, the cold actually helped clear his mind further.
"Worker seems clear-headed and docile," she said to her tablet. "Oddly aware, his eyes moving quickly."
"He's strong, vitals are clear," the doctor added quietly, speaking directly to the girl.

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 5d ago

This one pretty much follows yesterday's perfectly! From book 3 of my YA fantasy trilogy, my WIP. #WIPsnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 6d ago

I just revealed a secret from book one in my final book of a YA fantasy trilogy. Feels fucking cool as hell! Been holding on to this one for years. Right around 40k words of 100ish - good time for some reveals! 1345 words this session. #amwriting #ya #fantasy #boosky #writingcommunity

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 6d ago

Bertram finally awakes after undergoing a ritual from a community be doesn't belong to. I posted a little more from this chapter earlier in the week. From my WIP, the third in a ya fantasy trilogy. ☕🔥🐉 #WIPsnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

Cat opened and closed her mouth a few times, wanting someone to argue with, but Dray’s words were true. The dragon was relaxed and unconcerned.
“Is all well?” Bert asked suddenly, his eyes still closed.
Cat stifled herself, a choking sound holding back her tears. “All is well, Bert,” she managed to get out. “How do you feel?”
“Hot. Cold. My mind is…fuzzy. Fuzzed?” He folded his body up to a sitting position, finally opening his eyes. The brightness of the early morning hurt them after being closed so long. “Where are we?”
Cat looked to Dray and the Earth Mother before answering. “At a stone circle, not far from Sue’s Manor. What do you remember?”
“Sana,” Bert said, holding back tears himself. “Our deal with Arnaud. Meeting you on the field outside Cadenport. I’m not sure what else after…” He trailed off.
“Not gone, then,” the Earth Mother said quickly.
“But his learning is,” Dray said just as quickly.
The Earth Mother nodded.
“What are they talking about?” Bert asked, patting Cat on her hand, letting her know he was okay.
Cat held on and helped Bert to stand, passing him a cup of water. “We brought you here to undergo their ceremony,” she said, gesturing to Dray and the Earth Mother. “You agreed to do it, to see what you could learn and become more like them.”
“Well, that was stupid,” Bert said as he rotated his arms around, loosening the stiff muscles.
Cat laughed. “That’s what I was thinking, but it was your decision.”
“Letting me decide was the dumbest part,” he replied.
This earned another laugh from Cat, who pulled him in for a hug. “Believe me, I’ve learned. Do you feel fine otherwise?”

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · last wk.

Near the end of my first ya novel, Generations. Max awakes onboard a generationship to complete one year of service on the vessel, only to discover what's happening is not what they've been told. #WIPsnips #writingcommunity #writesky

“I don’t think that’s true, by the way,” Harriet said quickly. “Sounds like the type of thing the rebellion would make up to make Rupert seem larger than life. It doesn’t matter though, he’s the real deal. I’ll follow his lead and trust the choice if he does.”
Max had been listening to the two carefully, but his mind had been working on something else at the same time: a plan of his own. “98, Harriet...I think. Yeah, I think I have a plan of my own.”
The two looked at each other quickly and met eyes. Harriet broke first and shrugged her shoulders. “Of course you do!”
98 put her hand on his shoulder. “Listen, Max. You’re sixteen and you’ve been through a lot. I know you’ve been important to the cause and you’ve done your share too, but...I mean. The rest of them have been doing more than their share, some of them for centuries. I love your confidence, kiddo. But, they’re not gonna listen to a last minute plan from you. They’re risking too much already.”
Max smiled at this. “That’s the thing, though. It won’t be them I need to convince. I’ll need Sophia, you two and one more person. That’s it. The rest of them can do whichever plan they choose and mine—ours—won’t be affected.”
The two looked at each other again, their looks clearly confused.
“I’m willing to listen, but no promises,” Harriet said finally.
As 98 nodded her agreement, Max laid out his plan.

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · last wk.

A chungo from book 1 of my YA fantasy trilogy. WIP is book 3. #writingcommunity #WIPsnips #writesky

12: Books
Bert took the strange pack-and-wings up the stairs to the room that had all the dragon items in it. Before placing it on a shelf with other items—a few large fangs, scales and talons—he placed it on an empty table in the center of the room. For some reason, he felt the need to repair the device, so he sat down and tried to piece together exactly how it worked.
Ever since he had been a boy, Bert had loved to take things apart and put them together again. He had once been put on first-light mop duty at the abbey, which was a bad punishment. No one wanted to wake first and be alone in the dark cleaning up the worst mess. He had earned the duty after he ruined the mighty pipes that produced the music for prayers. He had told them he could put it back together again, but they were too furious to let him try. Luckily, the man they called in to do the job had allowed Bert to assist him. The memory of placing the series of differently sized pipes together to rebuild the system still made him smile. There was a quiet joy in completing a task well.
He collected spare rope and thread and the strange, tiny metal tongs Eldritch called pliers. These, in combination with a small hammer, allowed him to bend and shape the copper of the pack. He was also able to fix up the thin metal wiring of the wings.

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · last wk.

I wrote my first novel in gdocs and have since moved to Scrivener. At some point, I copy-pasted each chapter of that novel into Scrivener as well, but now I can't find it :( Before I go digging around, does anyone know of a quick way to pdf->scrivener? #amwriting #writesky #scrivener

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · last wk.

No defuse anywhere, but this fits and is from my WIP. Bertram isn't doing so well after going through a pagan ritual and no one is sure why. 🤷🏻‍♂️☕🔥🐉 #WIPsnips #writingcommunity #writesky

1: Puzzle Pieces
Bert had awoken briefly after his ceremony, but he was in no state to talk. Besides muttering, I know how to bring about peace, he had been unable to share what else he had seen while under the influence of the solhara. He had a fever and was in and out of consciousness.
The Earth Mother was tending to Bert herself, and Catrin would not leave his side. Mira had taken off to collect Nock to see if he would be able to help Bert somehow.
"Never?" Cat asked for the hundredth time.
The Earth Mother shook her head. "Never, as I've told you, child."
Dray placed his hands on Cat's shoulders. The gesture said, be easy. "I've never heard of such a thing, Catrin," he said. "Always it's the same. We wake, tired, but full of a new sense of self. The things we see are private, but always of the same sort. Potential futures for ourselves, jobs we could do or the man or woman we will become to do our part for the Wyrm People and the wyrms themselves. Besides feeling like you have missed a night of sleep, I have never seen someone with an illness or fever like this before." He raised a hand to stop her interrupting him. "And, neither has the Earth Mother. The two of us have seen a lot in our days. Surely we would know if this was a natural occurrence." He looked to Bert, lying still on the large stone.
Cat let out a sigh. "Then, why?"
Dray shrugged and didn't answer for a moment. "Look to Smee'Fa'Ya," he said quietly.
Yellow was lazing, his large head resting on the longest stone in the circle. It was the only one fully off the ground, suspended between two huge stones balancing it. His eyes were just barely open, resting while he seemed to listen in to what was happening.
Cat shook her head while she wiped Bert's head with the bottom of her shirt. "What about him?"

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 2w ago

This one is from Solar Umbrella, my first ever novel. It's a somehow hopeful environmental disaster near future sci-fi. Parker has won a competition and is at the only lunar hotel. ☀️☂️🌍 #WIPsnips #writingcommunity #writesky

17
Fins
It was the second last day at LunaOne, and Parker was cruising the lobby looking for something to do. Kate bounced around the corner with her swimsuit on.
“Yo! Varia, hit up the pool with me!” she told him.
“Uh, okay I guess,” he replied, trying not to make his gaze too obvious. “No Ibrahim?”
“Not this time,” she answered. “He wanted to check out the drilling machine they have here that makes the tunnels. He’s obsessed with the way it sends the material out the other end to keep working quickly. We’ve already seen it four times.”
“Oh, that sounds kind of boring,” Parker lied as he added, check out drill to his calendar on his tablet. “Yeah, let’s hit up the pool. DJ and I figured out how to do a dolphin kick out of the bottom. You can go like two metres in the air. It’s wild! I’ll grab my suit and meet you there?”
“Sure thing, see you in a bit,” she answered, smiling.
Parker took off back to his room to grab his suit. He was excited to spend some time with Kate without Ibrahim for once. He had worked hard at being a good person about accepting their relationship, and felt like he achieved it, but he wasn’t pretending there wasn’t something there with Kate for him. In any case, it would be cool just to spend some time with her like they used to.

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 2w ago

Definitely didn't have cacophony 😀 I think this sound is meant to cover it though. #WIPsnips #writingcommunity #writesky

24: Stuck
Bert pushed through the bushes, and was forced to see something he had been holding out hope he never would. A statue of a dragon head, in a long line of broken vegetation that ran as far as the eye could see.
He had gone in a circle.
All the walking, the climbing, the swimming had led him back to the place he had started. Worse, even knowing he was on the line, he didn’t know how far he was from the tribute point or Wyrmgate. He had ended up where he started, but might be days from anywhere he recognized.
He’d made no progress, and was lost.
Broken, he collapsed on the ground and began to cry. Partially from desperation, but mostly from embarrassment at having failed Eldritch and himself. He had left feeling like a man, ready to explore on his own, do something important to help the people he cared about. He’d come back and he would have made a name for himself with the people who mattered to him. He was a guy you could count on. Instead, he had accomplished nothing and would return with less.
Taking a breath to stop his sniveling, he heard a cry come from the woods on the dragon side of the line. It was like nothing he had heard before. It sounded something like a chipmunk or squirrel’s chirps, but like a thousand of them crying out at once. It was somehow both ferocious and pitiful.
Standing, Bert gathered his things and moved as quietly as possible through the brush towards the sound. He didn’t want whatever it was to spot him before he had a chance to see what was happening.

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 2w ago

Bertram learns a little bit of the reality of what rebellion means. It's not just gonna be prancing around in the woods with a dragon and princess. From book one of my YA fantasy trilogy. WIP is book 3 (~25k into it). #writingcommunity #writesky #wipsnips

40: Who Says You Can't Go Home?
Thunk.
The Crow fell to the ground, a dagger sticking out of his neck. Mira pulled it free and slid beside Bert against the tree trunk. “Friends of yours, I presume?” she asked quietly.
“Something like that,” Bert replied, eyes locked on the man’s neck.
Crimson bubbled slowly from the wound, seeming to slow down as time passed. He didn’t look much older than Bert. Much of his face was covered by a helmet, but Bert was able to make out traces of a beard. The face was dirty, but the eyes were clear.
And open.
It was unnerving to see a dead man still looking at the sky. Bert didn’t know a thing about the man, of course, but he wondered if he even wanted to be here. Had he volunteered? A zealous man ready to do anything—including die, obviously—for Garrick Crowe’s benefit? Or some street rat plucked into service and ordered to cross the border with a scouting mission? Bert would never know. The man would never speak again. Never laugh with friends over food again. Never love again.
“Hey,” Mira said, snapping her fingers in front of Bert’s face. “It was him or us. We move. Everything lives and everything dies. We live.” She got up and ran forward, keeping low and moving between large trunks.
Bert took a breath, stood and followed.

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 2w ago

It's strange how these Republicans at the appropriations meeting are all going on about generational fires, rains, droughts, freezes, hurricanes and other disasters and how they need money for it, but can't quite ask themselves why this keeps happening. #politics #uspolitics #climatechange

Batman: Hmmm Thinking

Alt: Batman: Hmmm Thinking

static.klipy.com

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 2w ago

I've got lever, several times 😀 One of the cities in my series is dominated by an enormous water clock and Bert is sent to make some adjustments. ⏲️🔧 #WIPsnips #writingcommunity #writesky

“At the bottom of it is a door. It looks like just more bricks, but one of them comes loose and you can pull a portion of the wall open. Inside you will see a lever. It will be set right in the middle. I need you to pull it down and listen for three clicks.”
Bert stared at her wondering what exactly she was talking about, but got nothing from her. He sighed and replied, “down the ladder, through the invisible door, pull the lever down and listen for three clicks.” He waited for her nod. “And I am doing this in order to...”
“Oh, go and do it, boy!”
Bert sighed again. “You and Eldritch could be brother and sister, you know.”
Fisca stuck her tongue out at this. “I should hope not. That would ask questions I wouldn’t want answers to. Get moving.”
Bert wondered what that reply meant, but started moving along the wooden planks that made up the walkways connecting the parts of the clock’s workings. As promised, he found the loose brick and was able to pull open a door. Crouching to enter the space, he realized the small room he was in connected to the cisterns that held the water. Fisca had told him the water flowing from the large to small cistern was what kept the clock ticking at a constant speed. He sat still for a moment, trying to block the sound of the many gears spinning against one another. Placing his hand against the inner wall, he could both hear and feel the water rushing through the space between cisterns.
“Aha!” he said to no one.
He understood now. The lever would change the flow of water, which would change the speed the clock ticked. But to what purpose? Keeping one hand on the gap to feel the flow, he used his other to pull the lever down. He heard and felt the three clicks as he did so, and was able to feel the flow slow as a result. Interesting.

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 2w ago

A little reading while I wait for my daughter's guitar lesson to end. @cmdr-hadfield.bsky.social Park got a nice little makeover!

Reading The Apollo Murders by Chris Hadfield at the park named after him

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 2w ago

From book 1 of my YA fantasy series. WIP is book 3 👍 #WIPsnips #writingcommunity #writesky

44: Birds of a Different Feather
Bert was shocked and didn't know what to say. He had to give it to Cat, she didn't seem phased at all. Bert knew her well enough now to know she must be seething inside, but outside she was the calm princess he had known from before.
"Thronewarden, a pleasure to see you," she said, her entire demeanor changing in the blink of an eye. In a heartbeat, her hood was off, her hands resting over her waist, her spine perfectly straight, chin and nose in the air. Even her voice changed—higher, quicker.
"Indeed," Crowe replied sullenly. "Spending time with the thief-boy and some vagabonds, I see." The question of why wasn't asked, but it was clearly there.
Cat didn't respond. She just stood there, unmoving. It was clear the question was simply too rude for her to address.
"Nothing to say, Princess?," Crowe spat.
"What is it you wish me to say?" she asked simply.

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 2w ago

Surprised to find divine at all! From my first novel, a hard adult scifi, Solar Umbrella. It's a somehow optimistic climate change story. Seems all the more relevant today than ever. 🌍☂️☀️ #WIPsnips #writingcommunity #writesky

Parker was able to place the accent now, but it sounded more Scandinavian than Russian. He wondered if perhaps Alexander had spent time outside of Russia. No matter now. Wherever he was from, Alexander looked like he had been grown in a lab rather than born from a pair of human beings. The guy could be used to sell Russian vodka or something. If his brain matched the work they had seen so far, he would make for one hell of a formidable human.
"Your work was very sophisticated, Alexander. We took a look at a bit of it. You should be very proud of what you accomplished. Your victory was well earned," Kate recovered, smiling.
The other three added their agreement and took their turns shaking Alexander's hand. Alexander seemed delighted with them. At first Parker had felt like he did when he started high school—like the big Russian was almost toying with him. A god sent from above just putting in his time with a measly human before returning to Olympus to drink ambrosia and rule the universe. After a little time, he recognized the feeling better. Alexander was just as impressed with them as they were with him. He seemed like someone who had finally met his people.
"I am very excited to be taking this trip up to the moon. I've always wanted to travel in space and I did everything I could to make sure my group and I would have this opportunity," Alexander added. "To meet the lot of you makes my heart sing! I can't wait to spend this time with you, picking your brain on your designs. And the coding!" He put his hands over his heart and bent his head back, as if his body was being flooded with ecstasy, "simply...divine! In Russian, I am Alexander Eugeune. Please. Here, and in space, I want to be Alex. Oh, and on the moon as well!"

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 3w ago

From my WIP, final of a trilogy ya fantasy. Memory needs cleaning up and I won't number them in the final copy, but getting there. I've always wanted to do chapter starter things, so I'm trying. Do they have an actual name? Yes, I'm keeping that chapter title #WIPsnips #writingcommunity #writesky

2: Dreams and Dragon Farts
Memory One.
The room is hot. Too hot for the season. So many faces gathered around the table. Some I know. You are there, Cat! Sana, Fisca, Eldritch, Dray. Others. Papers. Maps. Stamps. Everyone is talking at the same time. I can't make out anything. It's like everyone is speaking the same language, but it's one I don't know. The room is hazy. No, my memory of it is. I'm sorry. I can't pull out any more right now.
— Bertram to Catrin, Cadenport
Bert spoke the words and Cat wrote them down as quickly as she could. As far as he knew, he had awoken after a full night of peaceful sleep in a room reserved for Queen Catrin Wyrmblessed in the most expensive part of Cadenport. He sat a moment, Cat being completely still and quiet, and tried to dig out more. He closed his eyes, calmed his breath, tried lying back down.
Nothing.
He couldn't even see what he had seen again, let alone get more.
"That's it, I guess," he said finally.
Cat actually jumped up and did a spin. "This is fantastic!"
"But...how?"
"It's something, which is more than we had yesterday," she said, plopping down next to him. Her smile was large and her green eyes had that glint they had when she was excited.

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 3w ago

Fed up with US news calling them "Canadian wildfires." True, but your country is responsible for 20% of0 climate changing emissions and your government is going backwards. Now lawmakers want to sanction Canada? Fuck off, eh. #uspolitics #wildfires #Canada #climatechange www.cbc.ca/news/politic...

4 Republicans in U.S. Congress accuse Canada of failing to do enough to prevent wildfires | CBC News

Republican members of U.S. Congress are slamming Canada's federal and provincial governments over what they claim is inaction in preventing the wildfires currently spreading smoke and poor air quality...

cbc.ca

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 3w ago

From Generations, my 3rd book, YA sci-fi. Much closer to the end than I'd usually share, but whatever! 🌍🚀💫 #WIPsnips #writingcommunity #writesky #🪐📚

52: Fallout
Rupert managed to get the door to open enough that he could slip through. Zhang followed, grinning ear-to-ear and tossed Max a thumbs up. It was clear they had been watching the video as Argo broadcast it. Max and the others inside the Pilot’s chamber had heard it playing on screens outside the door as the rebels worked to get in.
Max looked at Rupert carefully as he walked in, flanked by two rebels who had acquired guns at some point. The man had always struck Max as fatherly and kind, but he looked a little like a warlord as he carefully looked around the room—looking for threats or opportunities—Max wasn’t sure. He walked up to Max slowly and then smiled. Suddenly Max saw the Rupert from Sherwood. This was a man who could rebuilt the ship. Max would trust him with that role. Rupert raised his hand, and Max took it, shaking gladly.
“Not the plan we agreed on, Max,” Rupert began, “but it seems to be working. We are getting reports of workers and soldiers making their way to the core. It seems the two of you were very convincing. Oh, it’s not perfect. There are groups holding out and fighting, but it’s diminishing by the minute.”

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 3w ago

Coworker of mine has read my books as I release them. Told me he didn't want to read my latest (book 2 of a trilogy YA fantasy) until he reread book 1. Then said each book he has seen my writing improve. If you know a writer, send a nice message like that! #weeknightwriters #indieauthor #booksky

Weeknight Writers@weeknightwriters.bsky.social · 3w ago

Q3: Let's cheer things up a bit! What has brought you joy in the past week? Remember, no joy is too small! #WeeknightWriters

Notepad that says “#WeeknightWriters

Let’s cheer things up a bit! What is one thing that’s brought you joy this week?”

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 3w ago

From my WIP, last book of my YA fantasy series. My grandmother was a short woman, but carried a lot of pride in that small frame. This snarky handmaiden makes me think of her. 🗡️💌 #WIPsnips #writingcommunity #writesky

Her handmaiden rushed out quickly and put her finger over her lips. "Sir Dragontongue! The lady is meeting with Mistress Wise, Lady Grafton, the Council of Cadenport and others. You must not shout at her, and you must address her as your majesty in public. You know this!"
Bert moved to walk past the diminutive girl, but she moved sideways like a crab, blocking him. He sighed. "I am to leave right now and I don't know when I will return. Can she be disturbed for even a moment?"
"She cannot," the handmaiden said sternly. "You may write her a letter on this paper and I will ensure of its delivery at the soonest possible moment." She grinned. "That is, if you know your letters, Sir Dragontongue?" She held a pink piece of paper gingerly from her hand.
Bert sighed and shrugged. He wasn't going to push his way past a handmaiden. Perhaps he could fly Yellow back for a proper goodbye in a few days. "I am a learned man, I'll have you know," he said, taking the paper. He wrote a hasty message with what he knew of his mission so far, and promised to return as soon as possible. He promised to be careful and apologized for leaving without a word. He wished her well in her endeavors and realized that sounded stupid, so scratched it out and just wrote, I love you, always, instead. He folded it and gave it to the girl. "I need my armor from the interior room, if you will."
The girl took the letter and it vanished into her skirts somewhere. She took off quickly and returned the armor in three trips.

Nel @wasphole.bsky.social · 3w ago

Wasphole is now available! Epic early-modern era fantasy. ☠️ Enemies to enemies 💔 Heart ache and loss 🏹 High stakes conflict ☀️ Extreme weather 🐺 Wolf people Buy today mybook.to/Wasphole Visit www.wasphole.com

Tharron and Hamadreya from Wasphole. Tharron is taller, in black leather with long dark hair and facial piercings. Hamadreya has short red hair and is wearing clothes and a cloak slightly too large for him. Image by Viccsart.

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 3w ago

So, I know this is supposed to be the other coach, so I'm really pushing it with wagon, but mucho vibes 😉 From my WIP. #writingcommunity #WIPsnips #writesky

"Exactly," Dray agreed. "As I say, perhaps some memories will return in time. Until then, we must continue our quest for peace. This is just a small stop on our journey. Whatever happens, you are still a wyrmrider, a tested fighter and a good friend, Bertram. I am proud of you, and I am proud you tried this for us. Whatever the result. Your bravery astounds me." He offered Bert his hand.
Bert took it gladly. "I am lucky to have you in my life, Dray." He stood.
"If you two are done being mushy," Cat interrupted, "let's return to Mira and the others. She will be glad to see you well, Bert. And happy to have the Earth Mother safe again, no doubt."
The two men nodded and made their way down to the waiting wagon.

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 3w ago

My wife makes me a cake each time I finish writing a novel. ♥️🍰 I've somehow had 5 cakes because of it, which is crazy to me. My kids are pretty happy about it too! #indieauthor #weeknightwriters

Weeknight Writers@weeknightwriters.bsky.social · 3w ago

Good morning! Writing a book is hard, and you deserve to celebrate your wins, even if you're not published yet So, how will you celebrate when you finish your current project?

Photo of a sunny beach overlaid with the words "Good morning! Writing a book is hard, and you deserve to celebrate your wins, even if you're not published yet

So, how will you celebrate when you finish your current project?"

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · 3w ago

From book 1 of my YA fantasy trilogy. Book 3 is my WIP. Cat and Bert are surprised to find their nemesis waiting for then. The days of playing adventure in the wilds are over, the court is back. 🐦‍⬛👑🏰 #WIPsnips #writingcommunity #writesky