With the help of my sis, I've got a title. I'm still not sure, so I will call it a working title for now. I would solicit suggestions, but perhaps you [the reader] want to read more story, first.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Chapter 1 - Press Coverage
June 5th, 2008
11:47am
Neil Armstrong Hall of Engineering, room 180
"If you look on page 72 of your text, ladies and gentleman, you will see a diagram of what is called a 'normal' distribution." said the TA
This is so boring, Ryan thought as he sat through yet another day of IE 230. I've already taken AP statistics and I already know this stuff. It looks like a perfect day, and I'm stuck inside with summer classes. At least it's a technical elective, and not another thermo class. Just four weeks of this and I'll be that much closer to finishing my degree. It wouldn't be so bad if class wasn't two freakin' hours long.
Looking around for something to do, Ryan spied a newspaper on the floor next to his neighbor. "Pssst" he called to the barely-awake girl.
"What?" she hissed back.
"Can I have your The Exponent?"
"Whatever." She kicked it across the floor.
Ryan stealthily folded the student paper under the desk so that the seventh page corner was on top. He waited until the TA was facing the board to flip the paper onto the desk. He clicked forth some graphite at the tip of his pencil in anticipation - only to be disappointed to find the sudoku had already been solved. In ink.
Damnit, I should've seen that coming. Ryan thought. I've already done the reading for this class, and the homework for Friday. I wonder what else is going on this week at Purdue.
Ryan scanned the newspaper quietly, taking advantage of his rear seat in the large lecture room to hide his alternate reading material. The most interesting news story was on page three:
Taking advantage of the Stewart Center's a/c was a top priority. Unfortunately, this slight detour meant running into a throng of people in line for a presentation by the Dean of Students in Loeb Theater. The presentation didn't start until 12:30, apparently, and the people in the line grew restless. They stood uncomfortably close, crowded against each other because of maintenance work in the same hallway.
"Excuse me, pardon me, comin' through" Ryan tried politely to squeeze through the mass of people. Jeez, he thought I never knew this guy was so popular. It's like the Day of the Dean or something.
Finally through the mindless horde, he ducked into a stairwell and headed downstairs, passing underground to reach the Union. Not only was it less crowded, but it was air-conditioned and out of the blazing sun.
He emerged directly across from the recently renovated Villa Pizza. Getting out of class at the top of the hour did have it's advantages -most of the students would be out and about between 12:20 and 12:30, and glancing at the clock on the wall Ryan saw he still had a few minutes before Jenny's class let out. He walked briskly past several studying students sipping Starbucks.
Across from the arcade, Ryan entered Pappy's, grabbed a booth near the back and waited for Jenny to arrive.
Current Word Count: 2,670
11:47am
Neil Armstrong Hall of Engineering, room 180
"If you look on page 72 of your text, ladies and gentleman, you will see a diagram of what is called a 'normal' distribution." said the TA
This is so boring, Ryan thought as he sat through yet another day of IE 230. I've already taken AP statistics and I already know this stuff. It looks like a perfect day, and I'm stuck inside with summer classes. At least it's a technical elective, and not another thermo class. Just four weeks of this and I'll be that much closer to finishing my degree. It wouldn't be so bad if class wasn't two freakin' hours long.
Looking around for something to do, Ryan spied a newspaper on the floor next to his neighbor. "Pssst" he called to the barely-awake girl.
"What?" she hissed back.
"Can I have your The Exponent?"
"Whatever." She kicked it across the floor.
Ryan stealthily folded the student paper under the desk so that the seventh page corner was on top. He waited until the TA was facing the board to flip the paper onto the desk. He clicked forth some graphite at the tip of his pencil in anticipation - only to be disappointed to find the sudoku had already been solved. In ink.
Damnit, I should've seen that coming. Ryan thought. I've already done the reading for this class, and the homework for Friday. I wonder what else is going on this week at Purdue.
Ryan scanned the newspaper quietly, taking advantage of his rear seat in the large lecture room to hide his alternate reading material. The most interesting news story was on page three:
Party Animal Crashes Late Night GatheringThere were a few other minor headlines, including:
By Jason DeSoto, Assistant Campus Editor
West Lafayette Police responded to a disturbance call at a Harrison Street residence late last night. The authorities were phoned in by irate neighbors after "screaming and loud moaning" were heard for several minutes. When units arrived on scene, officers found one student had attacked other party goers after showing up late.
Doug Erickson, a senior in the College of Technology said "we didn't recognize him at first, but we offered him something to drink...he kinda went crazy and got all up in our faces". Officers subdued the offender, who was reported as "extremely lethargic and uncooperative" with suspected blood alcohol levels well over the legal limit.
Property damage was minimal. Four students and one officer were taken to Purdue University Student Health Center for treatment of lacerations and bites. All but one were released this morning, she remains in good condition.
Purdue to Host Biochemistry ColloquiumRyan grew restless as the minutes ticked by and the TA droned on. Finally noon rolled around, and the lecture ended. He packed up his notebook, shouldered his bookbag, and headed through the Engineering Mall, at one point contemplating an impromptu fountain run. Resisting the siren call of the cool water spray, he headed past the Bell Tower to the Union for a lunch date with Jenny.
Electrical Problems at Lynn Hall
Above Average Temperatures Strain Facilities
Graduate Student Reported Missing
Coach Tiller's Offseason Thoughts
Purdue Prepares to Welcome New Administrator
Taking advantage of the Stewart Center's a/c was a top priority. Unfortunately, this slight detour meant running into a throng of people in line for a presentation by the Dean of Students in Loeb Theater. The presentation didn't start until 12:30, apparently, and the people in the line grew restless. They stood uncomfortably close, crowded against each other because of maintenance work in the same hallway.
"Excuse me, pardon me, comin' through" Ryan tried politely to squeeze through the mass of people. Jeez, he thought I never knew this guy was so popular. It's like the Day of the Dean or something.
Finally through the mindless horde, he ducked into a stairwell and headed downstairs, passing underground to reach the Union. Not only was it less crowded, but it was air-conditioned and out of the blazing sun.
He emerged directly across from the recently renovated Villa Pizza. Getting out of class at the top of the hour did have it's advantages -most of the students would be out and about between 12:20 and 12:30, and glancing at the clock on the wall Ryan saw he still had a few minutes before Jenny's class let out. He walked briskly past several studying students sipping Starbucks.
Across from the arcade, Ryan entered Pappy's, grabbed a booth near the back and waited for Jenny to arrive.
Current Word Count: 2,670
Prologue 2
June 4th, 2008
2:45am
Pranav's secret lab
"Roger?" Pranav asked, nervously shouldering a large file cabinet over the defective door.
Silence greeted him.
"Typical. I got here late because I had another paper to work on, okay? I'm sorry." He shined a flashlight slowly around the room, seeing the familiar grey tarps blanketing parts of the room, some with a bit of unfamiliar plaster over them. Counting, he came up one short, and couldn't figure out why. He nervously fumbled for the light switch on the nearby wall and clicked it on.
"Damn it, this place is falling apart. It's no wonder it's not being used. Roger, are you okay?" Pranav surveyed the damage. Part of the roof showed signs of water damage, and a few ceiling tiles had fallen apart, coating his precious experiment with bits of plaster and exposing some pipes and electrical wires. The wires dangled lifelessly into the room. Roger's gurney wasn't there.
Walking closer, he saw that a rather large chunk of a support beam had corroded away and fallen, creating the hole. He panicked, searching the area frantically before noticing a familiar grey tarp at the back of the dim room.
"Roger, did you try and get away from me?" He marched back to the shadowy recesses and was relieved to find the tarp-covered gurney had wheeled behind a desk, probably because of a bit of the ceiling falling. He gently steered Roger back to the lab benches and drew back the tarp.
Roger remained lifeless, lying on the gurney with small colored patches over his arms, legs, and torso where Pranav's samples had been tested. Most looked benign, but a few had either burned away the tissue or had reacted in some way.
"Ooooh, what have we here?" Pranav said, excited that any tests showed signs of life. He recorded the results in his notebook, and took a close-up picture of each test patch in sequence with a digital camera. He washed his hands and pulled on a pair of surgical gloves before pulling a small kit from his bookbag. Opening it, he gently extracted a scalpel, and turned towards Roger.
"This might hurt a little bit, Roger. Look away." Pranav tried to force the skull to look the opposite direction, but found that rigor mortis left the neck quite stiff. He struggled against it, grunting, before a wet snap finally echoed through the room.
"You big dummy! Watch what you're doing! ...sorry, Roger, that was to me, not you."
Pranav carefully sliced a small sample from the first test site on the corpse and ran it under one of the microscopes on the lab bench.
"Dang. Nothing. Oh well, we've still got 49 other promising samples to take, right buddy?"
Silence.
"Oh, it sounds like somebody is a little sore about the neck thing. I'm sorry, okay? It was an accident. Another pinch." Pranav consoled the cadaver as he took the next sample, and ran it under the microscope again.
This continued on for some time. Test samples 21, 23, 30-35, and 42 all showed signs of promise, he noted in his notebook. The last one, in particular, seemed to almost move under the microscope, a most unusual response. He noted this in his notebook before wiping his brow. His nose rankled at the scent that seemed to hang in the air.
"Geez, Roger. What did I tell you about the smell? You're gonna get us caught."
Roger stared at the wall, unapologetic.
Frustrated, Pranav decided to risk turning on the vents, if only for a few minutes to clear the stagnant air in the basement. He went to the far end of the room and studied for a moment the panel of controls near the instructor's desk.
"Hrmm...let's see...I'll try 'medium' ventilation" he said as he clicked the dial twice to the right. A moderate hum seemed like a deafening roar in the otherwise quiet basement. The additional power use made the dangling wires in the middle of the room spark, and the lights flickered. Looking around nervously, Pranav's nose tickled once more.
"Roger, this isn't going to work. The vents are so old they're just blowing around stale air. I can't risk the noise of medium, either. We'll try the low setting, and open the door just a crack, okay?"
Roger did not object.
Pranav adjusted the vent system and shouldered the cabinet to the side, leaving the door slightly ajar before going back to work. He removed his gloves and pulled a large textbook that was falling apart from his bag and set it on the counter.
"Don't give me that look, Roger. Professor Anderson has a giant ego - that's why he insists on writing his own book for the class, and making pointless updates each year to keep his grad students poor. I'm sure this book will work just fine." He paused to inspect the faded cover. "I'm sure this, uh, G. Ramero guy was a very respected author in his day."
A pause.
"No, Roger, I ordered it online. It was even cheaper that way. Don't you give me that tone - I had to pay some pretty important people to look the other way to set up this little experiment."
Scanning the textbook, Pranav made note of several characteristics of the samples. He scanned the next chapter, and spent a few minutes searching the cabinets for exotic chemicals required for the next part. Gathering them, he mixed precise amounts into a large beaker to prepare a special concoction.
I've never heard of this in my other classes before, he thought as he sniffed the slightly less pungent air. He stopped to read aloud, a nervous habit he had when he needed to concentrate.
"Create a small incision at the base of the neck, blah blah blah, inject the solution into the flap at the juncture of the cervical and thoracic vertebrae...got it. Slice n' pour. Well, Roger, that means we're going to have to flip you over."
Roger remained mute.
Grunting, Pranav managed to turn the stiff remains over on the gurney. Holding the beaker of solution in his left hand, and the scalpel in his right, he braced himself against an odor that was worse now that Roger was face-down. Hoping to avoid inhaling much more, he quickly cut into Roger's neck about where he thought it should go, and poured the solution over the incision.
Roger's body did not react well to being moved in such a manner. As the solution coursed through his slowly decaying body, what was left of his internal organs succumbed to gravity and shifted. The massive mound of tissue sloughed downward in his chest cavity, and because of the undrained amount of body fluid still pooled inside his lungs, the result was a sickening loud splorch. This was followed by a dark red ooze that flowed from Roger's body orifices.
Pranav, however, was unaware of such biological nuances, and was caught off guard by the sudden and disgusting sights and sounds. Startled, he dropped the beaker on the floor as his right arm flew back in horror. The scalpel in his hand connected with the dangling live wires from the ceiling, his other hand resting on Roger's shoulder. Sounds of the shattering beaker went unheard as thousands of volts of electricity coursed through Pranav Lee's fragile body and found their way into Roger's bloated corpse.
Pranav collapsed onto the floor as the stench of burnt flesh hung in the air.
Current Word Count: 1,906
2:45am
Pranav's secret lab
"Roger?" Pranav asked, nervously shouldering a large file cabinet over the defective door.
Silence greeted him.
"Typical. I got here late because I had another paper to work on, okay? I'm sorry." He shined a flashlight slowly around the room, seeing the familiar grey tarps blanketing parts of the room, some with a bit of unfamiliar plaster over them. Counting, he came up one short, and couldn't figure out why. He nervously fumbled for the light switch on the nearby wall and clicked it on.
"Damn it, this place is falling apart. It's no wonder it's not being used. Roger, are you okay?" Pranav surveyed the damage. Part of the roof showed signs of water damage, and a few ceiling tiles had fallen apart, coating his precious experiment with bits of plaster and exposing some pipes and electrical wires. The wires dangled lifelessly into the room. Roger's gurney wasn't there.
Walking closer, he saw that a rather large chunk of a support beam had corroded away and fallen, creating the hole. He panicked, searching the area frantically before noticing a familiar grey tarp at the back of the dim room.
"Roger, did you try and get away from me?" He marched back to the shadowy recesses and was relieved to find the tarp-covered gurney had wheeled behind a desk, probably because of a bit of the ceiling falling. He gently steered Roger back to the lab benches and drew back the tarp.
Roger remained lifeless, lying on the gurney with small colored patches over his arms, legs, and torso where Pranav's samples had been tested. Most looked benign, but a few had either burned away the tissue or had reacted in some way.
"Ooooh, what have we here?" Pranav said, excited that any tests showed signs of life. He recorded the results in his notebook, and took a close-up picture of each test patch in sequence with a digital camera. He washed his hands and pulled on a pair of surgical gloves before pulling a small kit from his bookbag. Opening it, he gently extracted a scalpel, and turned towards Roger.
"This might hurt a little bit, Roger. Look away." Pranav tried to force the skull to look the opposite direction, but found that rigor mortis left the neck quite stiff. He struggled against it, grunting, before a wet snap finally echoed through the room.
"You big dummy! Watch what you're doing! ...sorry, Roger, that was to me, not you."
Pranav carefully sliced a small sample from the first test site on the corpse and ran it under one of the microscopes on the lab bench.
"Dang. Nothing. Oh well, we've still got 49 other promising samples to take, right buddy?"
Silence.
"Oh, it sounds like somebody is a little sore about the neck thing. I'm sorry, okay? It was an accident. Another pinch." Pranav consoled the cadaver as he took the next sample, and ran it under the microscope again.
This continued on for some time. Test samples 21, 23, 30-35, and 42 all showed signs of promise, he noted in his notebook. The last one, in particular, seemed to almost move under the microscope, a most unusual response. He noted this in his notebook before wiping his brow. His nose rankled at the scent that seemed to hang in the air.
"Geez, Roger. What did I tell you about the smell? You're gonna get us caught."
Roger stared at the wall, unapologetic.
Frustrated, Pranav decided to risk turning on the vents, if only for a few minutes to clear the stagnant air in the basement. He went to the far end of the room and studied for a moment the panel of controls near the instructor's desk.
"Hrmm...let's see...I'll try 'medium' ventilation" he said as he clicked the dial twice to the right. A moderate hum seemed like a deafening roar in the otherwise quiet basement. The additional power use made the dangling wires in the middle of the room spark, and the lights flickered. Looking around nervously, Pranav's nose tickled once more.
"Roger, this isn't going to work. The vents are so old they're just blowing around stale air. I can't risk the noise of medium, either. We'll try the low setting, and open the door just a crack, okay?"
Roger did not object.
Pranav adjusted the vent system and shouldered the cabinet to the side, leaving the door slightly ajar before going back to work. He removed his gloves and pulled a large textbook that was falling apart from his bag and set it on the counter.
"Don't give me that look, Roger. Professor Anderson has a giant ego - that's why he insists on writing his own book for the class, and making pointless updates each year to keep his grad students poor. I'm sure this book will work just fine." He paused to inspect the faded cover. "I'm sure this, uh, G. Ramero guy was a very respected author in his day."
A pause.
"No, Roger, I ordered it online. It was even cheaper that way. Don't you give me that tone - I had to pay some pretty important people to look the other way to set up this little experiment."
Scanning the textbook, Pranav made note of several characteristics of the samples. He scanned the next chapter, and spent a few minutes searching the cabinets for exotic chemicals required for the next part. Gathering them, he mixed precise amounts into a large beaker to prepare a special concoction.
I've never heard of this in my other classes before, he thought as he sniffed the slightly less pungent air. He stopped to read aloud, a nervous habit he had when he needed to concentrate.
"Create a small incision at the base of the neck, blah blah blah, inject the solution into the flap at the juncture of the cervical and thoracic vertebrae...got it. Slice n' pour. Well, Roger, that means we're going to have to flip you over."
Roger remained mute.
Grunting, Pranav managed to turn the stiff remains over on the gurney. Holding the beaker of solution in his left hand, and the scalpel in his right, he braced himself against an odor that was worse now that Roger was face-down. Hoping to avoid inhaling much more, he quickly cut into Roger's neck about where he thought it should go, and poured the solution over the incision.
Roger's body did not react well to being moved in such a manner. As the solution coursed through his slowly decaying body, what was left of his internal organs succumbed to gravity and shifted. The massive mound of tissue sloughed downward in his chest cavity, and because of the undrained amount of body fluid still pooled inside his lungs, the result was a sickening loud splorch. This was followed by a dark red ooze that flowed from Roger's body orifices.
Pranav, however, was unaware of such biological nuances, and was caught off guard by the sudden and disgusting sights and sounds. Startled, he dropped the beaker on the floor as his right arm flew back in horror. The scalpel in his hand connected with the dangling live wires from the ceiling, his other hand resting on Roger's shoulder. Sounds of the shattering beaker went unheard as thousands of volts of electricity coursed through Pranav Lee's fragile body and found their way into Roger's bloated corpse.
Pranav collapsed onto the floor as the stench of burnt flesh hung in the air.
Current Word Count: 1,906
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Prologue 1
June 3rd, 2008
3:04am
In an abandoned basement lab, deep in the heart of Purdue's campus...
Pranav Lee gently squeezed the bulb and released precisely seven droplets of green fluid into the otherwise crystal clear solution. He then methodically adjusted the bunsen burner to a whiter flame and set the timer to count backwards from seven minutes.
"Professor Anderson kept telling me my thesis wasn't radical enough. Kept telling me I wasn't breaking any new ground. Well I'll show him, Roger. We'll show him, together! Isn't that right, Roger?"
Roger the corpse stared back at him, lifeless.
"That's okay, Roger. Just a few more minutes and I can try Test Solution #21. Where would you like it this time? On the arm, perhaps?"
No response.
"Oh, you'd like that very much, wouldn't you, Roger?"
Still no response.
"Don't let me forget, Roger, to turn out the light when I leave. Last night we almost got caught because of your shenanigans. It's a good thing nobody uses this lab anymore, because the door doesn't shut quite right. You be good when I'm at class, okay?"
Roger's lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling.
Startled by the quiet beeping of the timer, Pranav jumped and looked around suspiciously before scribbling some notes into his lab book.
"Professor Anderson always liked good note-takers, Roger. Said the only way to prove a new theory was to record everything so it could be tested and repeated." he said as he grabbed the beaker of light green fluid with a pair of tongs. Gently pouring a few drops onto Roger's arm, the hot liquid sizzled on the dead flesh and produced an acrid odor that caused Pranav to recoil. He returned the liquid to the stand and noted the result, before measuring out more white powder from an unmarked container.
"Pop quiz, Roger. What is Professor Anderson's wife's name?"
Silence.
"Ooooh, I'm sorry. Time is up and I'm afraid the correct response is 'Bethany'. Would you like to risk all of your winnings for a second chance question?"
No response.
"Fair enough. I know it's hard to concentrate when the samples haven't been working very well lately. Maybe the next batch will work better - I'm going to try increasing the ratio of scopolamine to catechol-o-methyl. Perhaps that will generate some response."
The next hour passed in relative silence as the two continued testing various combinations of the chemicals Pranav had smuggled into the building over the past semester.
"The Exponent says that this week is gonna be extra hot, and since everybody thinks this lab isn't being used, I need you to try not to stink up the place while I'm gone, okay Roger?"
Roger said nothing.
"Atta boy. Whew, you already smell pretty rank. I wish I could turn on the ventilation hoods, but I'm already risking a lot using the outlets for the lab equipment. It'll be worth it, though, if I can prove my theory. Anderson will be old news, and I'll rub it in his face."
After carefully washing his hands, Pranav pulled large tarps over his work-in progress before pulling his backpack on. He pulled the last tarp over the gurney.
"Goodnight, Roger. Sleep well."
Current Word Count: 652
3:04am
In an abandoned basement lab, deep in the heart of Purdue's campus...
Pranav Lee gently squeezed the bulb and released precisely seven droplets of green fluid into the otherwise crystal clear solution. He then methodically adjusted the bunsen burner to a whiter flame and set the timer to count backwards from seven minutes.
"Professor Anderson kept telling me my thesis wasn't radical enough. Kept telling me I wasn't breaking any new ground. Well I'll show him, Roger. We'll show him, together! Isn't that right, Roger?"
Roger the corpse stared back at him, lifeless.
"That's okay, Roger. Just a few more minutes and I can try Test Solution #21. Where would you like it this time? On the arm, perhaps?"
No response.
"Oh, you'd like that very much, wouldn't you, Roger?"
Still no response.
"Don't let me forget, Roger, to turn out the light when I leave. Last night we almost got caught because of your shenanigans. It's a good thing nobody uses this lab anymore, because the door doesn't shut quite right. You be good when I'm at class, okay?"
Roger's lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling.
Startled by the quiet beeping of the timer, Pranav jumped and looked around suspiciously before scribbling some notes into his lab book.
"Professor Anderson always liked good note-takers, Roger. Said the only way to prove a new theory was to record everything so it could be tested and repeated." he said as he grabbed the beaker of light green fluid with a pair of tongs. Gently pouring a few drops onto Roger's arm, the hot liquid sizzled on the dead flesh and produced an acrid odor that caused Pranav to recoil. He returned the liquid to the stand and noted the result, before measuring out more white powder from an unmarked container.
"Pop quiz, Roger. What is Professor Anderson's wife's name?"
Silence.
"Ooooh, I'm sorry. Time is up and I'm afraid the correct response is 'Bethany'. Would you like to risk all of your winnings for a second chance question?"
No response.
"Fair enough. I know it's hard to concentrate when the samples haven't been working very well lately. Maybe the next batch will work better - I'm going to try increasing the ratio of scopolamine to catechol-o-methyl. Perhaps that will generate some response."
The next hour passed in relative silence as the two continued testing various combinations of the chemicals Pranav had smuggled into the building over the past semester.
"The Exponent says that this week is gonna be extra hot, and since everybody thinks this lab isn't being used, I need you to try not to stink up the place while I'm gone, okay Roger?"
Roger said nothing.
"Atta boy. Whew, you already smell pretty rank. I wish I could turn on the ventilation hoods, but I'm already risking a lot using the outlets for the lab equipment. It'll be worth it, though, if I can prove my theory. Anderson will be old news, and I'll rub it in his face."
After carefully washing his hands, Pranav pulled large tarps over his work-in progress before pulling his backpack on. He pulled the last tarp over the gurney.
"Goodnight, Roger. Sleep well."
Current Word Count: 652
Dedication
This novel is dedicated to several influential groups of people in my life:
My family, for not only encouraging my love of reading, language, literature, and writing, but for also shaping my humor style, wit, and other intellectual processes.
My teachers, for attempting to instill in me some working knowledge of English, even if I still don't know for sure what a gerund is or still mix up "it's" and "its". I still sing School House Rock in my head to remember parts of speech.
The Ship of Fools - the bulk of my current group of collegiate friends. This novel is based on and revolves around them. Thanks for all of the funny, guys.
---
Additionally, I would like to thank Max Brooks (author of the Zombie Survival Guide), George Romero, Sam Raimi, and the creative forces behind Resident Evil and Dead Rising for the influence and entertainment.
The characters and incidents portrayed and the names herein are fictitious and any similarity to the name or history of any person living or undead is entirely coincidental and unintended.
Word Count: 116
My family, for not only encouraging my love of reading, language, literature, and writing, but for also shaping my humor style, wit, and other intellectual processes.
My teachers, for attempting to instill in me some working knowledge of English, even if I still don't know for sure what a gerund is or still mix up "it's" and "its". I still sing School House Rock in my head to remember parts of speech.
The Ship of Fools - the bulk of my current group of collegiate friends. This novel is based on and revolves around them. Thanks for all of the funny, guys.
---
Additionally, I would like to thank Max Brooks (author of the Zombie Survival Guide), George Romero, Sam Raimi, and the creative forces behind Resident Evil and Dead Rising for the influence and entertainment.
The characters and incidents portrayed and the names herein are fictitious and any similarity to the name or history of any person living or undead is entirely coincidental and unintended.
Word Count: 116
Official Introductions
Hello all, my name is Ryan and I'm a Purdue University student. I will be posting to this blog chapters of my first attempt at National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo. My writer profile can be found here.
My goal is to post about every other day. I'm shooting for 50,000 words before November 30th, at midnight. That's an average of 1666.66 words per day (!).
As of now I don't even have a working title, much less a detailed outline. I've just got an idea. For now, all you need to know is that my story takes place in the here and now.
I encourage all readers to comment. Tell me what you like, what you don't. Tell me if I make a mistake, and feel free to suggest things. If I get enough feedback, I may try put some polls on the right sidebar and YOU can influence the outcome of the story.
All writings contained on this weblog copyright Ryan Garwood, 2007.
My goal is to post about every other day. I'm shooting for 50,000 words before November 30th, at midnight. That's an average of 1666.66 words per day (!).
As of now I don't even have a working title, much less a detailed outline. I've just got an idea. For now, all you need to know is that my story takes place in the here and now.
I encourage all readers to comment. Tell me what you like, what you don't. Tell me if I make a mistake, and feel free to suggest things. If I get enough feedback, I may try put some polls on the right sidebar and YOU can influence the outcome of the story.
All writings contained on this weblog copyright Ryan Garwood, 2007.
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