Category Archives: Creative Writing

All of my writings in one place!

The Writing Process

As I’ve been working on my newest story over the last month or so, I’ve noticed my behavior while writing. This is something I never really thought about before, but it turns out it is an essential part of my writing process.

Since most people are interested in what goes on behind the scenes, I thought I’d give you all a look into the process I go through.

When starting a brand new story I usually spend five minutes or so just staring at the blank computer screen trying to formulate characters, names, locations, etc. Most of the time I have a general idea of what the story is about. I like to have the end of the story in my head first, and then work from there. I find that makes it easier to develop the middle and end of the story. Obviously, getting to the end of the story is what makes the story great. It’s all about the journey, they say.

Once I have a good story in my head, I start writing. Now comes the interesting part. I cannot write without some form of movement going on. I will literally write a sentence and then jump up from my chair and pace around the room. This gets my creative process flowing and allows me to think through the story in my head before putting it down on the screen. There is constant moving going on while I write, also. I am always tapping the desk or staring up at the ceiling. This makes it hard for me to write in public places because I can’t really get up and start pacing around the Starbucks. So, when I do write in public (usually at a college student center), I find myself tapping the table I am sitting at and swaying from side to side.

Once I get the story done and finished, I let it sit for a few days and then return to it. After that it gets passed around to a few people to critique it.

I hope you enjoyed the glimpse into what the writing process is like. Every one is different; that is what makes writing a unique art form. Hopefully this can somehow inspire or help you form your own writing style.

Film shapes our experiences

I’m a believer that the film media is one area of art that leaves an imprint on the lives of its viewers more than any other medium in history. (Yes, even books.)

“The X-Files” is one of my favorite television shows. I grew up watching the series on TV up until the very last episode.  It has definitely shaped my writing and the subject matter I choose to write about. Those influences are with me ever time I sit down and write, whether I know it or not.

It’s a great show and there is nothing like it on TV anymore.

What’s your favorite TV show of all time and how has it influenced your life?


Hello everyone! I have special message from Dead Skin Dave himself:

“Ahoy mateys! Dead Skin Dave here. If ye were a famous pirate captain like myself, what would yer mascot be? Me, I’m thinking about gettin’ a monkey. So what would yers be? Fish? Parrot? Dog? Any animal ye feel like can be yer mascot. Until next time, mateys!”

Wow. Well, Dave, I’ll start by saying that I would probably have a parrot. How about the rest of you?

Art Contest!!

Hello everyone! Starting today and running through June, I will be holding an art contest to draw what you think Dead Skin Dave and Tom Swiftfellow should look like based on their appearances from the following descriptions. The Winner will have his or her art displayed as I go on my first promotional tour around Southern California at the end of this year. The Winner shall also receive an autographed copy of Dead Skin Dave, the Pirate when it is published in late 2012.

DAVE: There once was a salty sea dog of a pirate known to the world as Dead Skin Dave. His short stature and horrible peeling skin made him the most unusual pirate to ever sail the seas. His brown, ratty hair waved in the wind. His tattered red shirt and baggy blue pants looked like they had seen too many days at sea. Dave’s rough hand went to the peeling skin on his face. As a young child, Dave was left out in the sun for far too long, causing his skin to dry out and peel. His condition has never gotten better.

TOM: A tall gangly man with long brown hair and brown eyes stood in front of Dave. His outfit consisted of a red polka-dot bandana, brown cloth pants tied with a piece of rope, and a white ruffled shirt that was torn in several places. A wooden sword rests on his waist, held in place by the rope. His large nose looked like a squash sitting on his face, and a single silver earring hung from his left ear. Dave felt awkwardly comfortable with the man’s cheesy grin.

The Rules:
Open to ALL AGES starting January 27, 2011 to June 30, 2011.
There are no restrictions! Be creative!

Please fold and mail your drawing in a standard envelope!

Submit your picture to: OR mail your hand drawn image to:
Ryan R Palmer
PO Box 14422
Long Beach, CA 90853

Winner determined by Ryan R Palmer.


An old story

Here is a story I wrote back in 2004 in a college creative writing class. I am thinking of updating it and sending it out for publication in a short story collection.

Let me know what you think of it and enjoy a very rough cut of my writing.

Trust No One

     Chris takes the nearest seat in the subway car and sinks down. His brown eyes dart from left to right. He clutches a briefcase tightly under his lanky arm, adjusts his glasses, and runs a hand through his short black hair. In the next car, Chris sees three men making their way to where he is sitting. Chris quickly gets up out of his seat and begins to walk forward to the car ahead of him. Chris turns his head back to see the men right behind him.

     “Stop right there!” one of the men says, as Chris feels the barrel of a gun against his back.

“Wait! There are too many people here,” another of the men says.

“Right. Get off at the next stop,” he says, as Chris swings his briefcase behind him, knocking the man, and the gun, to the floor.

Chris then tightly grabs a pole and pulls the overhead emergency brake, sending the other two men stumbling to the floor. He quickly runs to the open door, jumps out of the subway car, and heads out to the street. Running to his destination, the warm day air and sunshine beating on his face, Chris lets nothing stand in his way. Checking all around him for any sign of the three men, Chris stops in an alleyway, goes behind three large dumpsters, pushes away a gray, rusty barrel, and uncovers a small button hidden on the wall behind it. As he pushes the button, a piece of the wall moves back, and Chris enters the underground lair.

     This secret area was once a janitor’s closet and a bank vault, one right next to the other. After renovation, the two areas were sealed off from the main building, which was later converted into a McDonald’s. The bank vault, which was stripped down to the walls, had become the main area of operations, with five high-speed computers and assorted electronic devices. Five monitors were installed on the wall, displaying views of the outside perimeter of the secret lair, which alerted them to any intruders. Maps of the entire city were pinned on the wall. The janitor’s closet, which was connected to the left side of the vault by a small circular tunnel, had been turned into a small sleeping area. This small, over-stuffed hideout is the base of operations for two people. Chris is a 38 year-old former FBI agent. Ever since he voluntarily left the Agency two years ago, he spends his time helping a woman he met on the internet. Her name is Paige. A 36 year-old computer technician, Paige is an expert at all things electronic and able to invent an array of spy devices with scrap metal and a little wiring. Her long blonde hair, small physique, and deep blue eyes throw most people off to her intelligence. After talking with Chris online, she convinced him to leave the FBI and join her in her cause to unveil government conspiracies against the public. She is also on the FBI’s most wanted list for stealing government technology.

      As he enters the lair, Chris smirks at the familiar smell of metal mixed with stale air. Chris looks to his right at the bed and notices Paige waiting for him.

“Did you get it?” Paige asks, sitting up and giving Chris a hug.

“Just barely. They almost got me,” Chris says breathlessly, as he opens the briefcase to reveal a small mechanical device. 

     Paige pushes a strand of hair away from her face, picks up the mechanism and begins to take the paneling off with a screwdriver.

 “Let me know when you’ve found out what it is,” Chris says, as he unpacks the rest of his briefcase.

“I will,” Paige mumbles, concentrating on her work.

Chris crouches down to squeeze into the small tunnel that leads from the bedroom to the computer room. As Chris enters the computer room, the humming echoes of the computers drown out his thoughts. Chris walks up to one of the computers, looks behind him to make sure Paige is not looking, and logs into an ‘agent database’. Just as he is about to click on the ‘update mission status’ button, his work is cut short by the sound of Paige’s voice in the other room.

“Chris! I think I found out what this is,” Paige says.

“Damn,” Chris says quietly to himself as he logs off of the computer, crawls back through the tunnel, and walks up to Paige. “What is it?”

“Take a look at this!” Paige says, as she holds up a piece of the mechanism. “This is some sort of tracking device. The details are hazy, but I think it can pinpoint the location of anyone on the face of the Earth by using a sample of their DNA. All it would need is a piece of hair, a skin cell, or anything from the body.”

“Wow. That is impressive.” Chris says, taking a seat at the table next to Paige. “You never fail to impress me,” Chris says as he playfully throws his arms around Paige.

 “Oh really?” Paige says as she rests her head on his shoulder.

The momentary peace is broken by the sound of the alarm system. Chris rushes from the table, through the tunnel into the computer room, and looks at the monitor, seeing three FBI agents approaching the dumpsters and location of the secret button.

“Right on cue, guys,” Chris says to himself. “Paige, we have trouble!” He says as he pulls the plug on all of the computers, slides through the tunnel, and helps Paige throw the device and other important papers into his briefcase. Chris takes Paige’s hand as they rush out of a hidden back exit and head away from the lair.

     “Let’s go to Chuck’s. It’s safe there,” Paige says.

     “Right. I don’t wanna see you get hurt,” Chris says, as he turns up the street and walks straight back to the alleyway, entering a small, run-down building on the left.

They walk into Chucks’ Coffee Shop, an old 50’s style diner in the forgotten part of town. The walls haven’t been painted since Chuck bought the place 20 years ago, and the tables and booths have fallen into disrepair. The restaurant is fairly dark, punctuated by single lamps over each table, half of which are burned out.

     Chris and Paige enter the empty coffee shop, and then take their usual seat at the counter. The smell of burned toast and rotten eggs permeates the air. Chris puts his briefcase on the table.

“Uh-oh. Trouble with the law again?” Chuck asks, as he comes from the back of the kitchen out to the counter, wiping his hands on his once-white chef’s apron covered with coffee and food stains.

“Hey Chuck. It’s great to see you again too,” Chris says sarcastically. “Are you losing weight?”

“Just a few pounds,” Chuck lies. “Instead of being short and really fat, I’m just short and fat now,” Chuck says, and pats his pot belly appreciatively.

“That’s great, Chuck,” Paige says with a disgusted look on her face.

“Thanks Paige! You know you’re always welcome to hang out here until everything blows over. Just lay low and I’ll keep quiet,” Chuck says, as he places two glasses of water in front of them.

“Thanks Chuck,” Chris says, as he opens his briefcase.

“I wonder how they found us,” Paige says as she sips her water, fiddling with the straw.

“They must’ve followed me,” Chris says, as he turns his head at the sound of the front door opening.

“Wrong. We followed that,” A man says, as he closes the door to the diner and approaches the counter, keeping his eyes on the open briefcase. “You didn’t think we would leave a top secret tool laying around our offices without some kind of protection, did you?” the man inquires, standing over Chris and Paige at the counter. “Tell me, who else knows about this besides the three of you in this coffee shop?” the agent asks.

“No one. Just us,” Chris answers quickly.

“Good. I’ll start with the fat one,” The man faces Chuck, pulls out his gun from his jacket pocket, and fires, hitting Chuck straight through the heart.

“Chuck! No!” Paige screams, as Chuck falls to the floor with a loud thud.

“Who’s next?” The man says, a smile forming across his face.

“Who are you?” Chris asks, as he looks up at the sinister looking face.

“Agent Beyers, FBI. I’m placing the both of you into federal custody,” The agent says, putting his gun away and pulling out two pairs of handcuffs. He signals out the door and another agent walks into the coffee shop and grabs Paige. Chris is lead outside the restaurant, to a waiting car, with Paige next to him. Beyers and the other agent force them inside of the car and they speed away down the street.

After several minutes, the car arrives at a tall

office building. Chris looks out the window in silence. Agent Beyers pulls him out, and slams him against the car. The other agent pulls Paige out of the car, and drags her away. Chris feels a tugging on his handcuffs as Beyers drags him by the arm, as the agents lead the two up a flight of stairs and into a room.

     Chris’ eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. As soon as his vision becomes clear, Chris notices that none of the lights are on in this room, and the blinds are closed on all of the windows. He chokes on the stale air as Beyers shoves him from behind and into a chair. He looks to his left to see Paige, with a terrified look on her face, in the chair beside him. Beyers places his briefcase on the table, breaks the lock, and takes out the device.

“I’ll handle it from here,” Beyers says to the other agent, who promptly exits. “Well, if it isn’t Paige Matthews. Your picture on the most wanted list doesn’t do you justice. Now tell me what you learned about the device.” 

“We didn’t have any time to study it,” Paige says.

“She’s right. We tried to figure out what it was, but you were on our tail so we had to escape,” Chris says, looking Beyers in the eyes.

“I can’t believe that story. It’s not so much about what you know about it, but the fact that you know that it exists. If knowledge of this device were to be leaked, foreign nations would know we have this technology. I can’t risk that,” Beyers says as he sits in the chair in front of Chris.

“We refuse to negotiate with a government that keeps secrets from its own people!” Paige says.

“I see this is going to take a little more effort,” Beyers says.

Chris watches as Beyers gets up from his chair, grabs the briefcase and Paige by the chain on her handcuffs, and then grabs him by the arm, leading them downstairs. As he walks down the stairs, the lighting becomes progressively darker until he can’t see in front of him. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, bumping into the back of Beyers. The coldness of the dark room sends a shiver down his spine. Chris feels Beyers move away from him, hears his footsteps moving to the right, and the flicking of a light switch.

Only one light bulb illuminates, creating just enough light for Chris to see a set of five chairs lined against a concrete wall. Beyers looks straight at Chris, with a wry smile on the agent’s face.

“Both of you sit in a chair,” Beyers says, as Chris reluctantly sits down in the wooden chair, splinters injecting into his back.

     “Welcome to your new home,” Beyers says in a dark tone, as he sets the briefcase down on the cement, and ties Chris and Paige into the chairs with metal chains.

     “Why are you doing this?” Paige asks, looking around in the semi-darkness, trying to feel out her surroundings.

“I want to get the information out of you. Get comfortable while I take care of something. I’ll be right back,” Beyers says, as he walks back up the stairs and shuts the door to the basement behind him.

 “How are we going to get out of here?” Chris says, straining his eyes to see anything besides the light from the dim bulb above his head.

“You worry too much,” Paige says. “I always come prepared.” Paige moves her handcuffed hands to her belt and pushes a button, causing the soles of her shoes to light up, filling the dark dungeon with a ray of light.

“Wow. When did you put those in your shoes?” Chris asks, squinting at the soles of Paige’s shoes.

“Wait, I’m not done yet,” Paige says, as she pushes another button, creating a laser beam which shoots up from the side of her shoe, cutting the chains around her feet and slicing through the handcuffs.

“Hey. Why don’t I get one of those?” Chris asks, as he looks at Paige, who is now getting up from the chair.

 “Oh stop complaining. Now stay very still while I cut through your chains,” Paige says.

     Chris tucks his head into his chest, tenses his body, and flinches as a laser beam flashes in front of him. Chris feels the burden removed from around his wrists and legs. Paige reaches down to help him up, and he grabs her hand as he gets out of the chair.

     “Thanks Paige,” Chris says, dusting himself off.

     “You’re welcome Chris. You know I will do anything for you,” she says, as she stares into Chris’ eyes. “Now let’s get out of here before Beyers finds us. I can’t wait to get back.” Paige grabs Chris’ hand and starts to lead him to the stairs.

     Chris shakes her hand away and grabs a gun out of his pocket as Paige turns around to face him.

     “Sorry honey,” Chris says, as he points the barrel of the gun at Paige’s head. “I can’t let you take the device.”

A further sampling

Hello there! Today, I am presenting my followers with an exclusive look at the entire first two pages of Dead Skin Dave, the Pirate! I urge all of my fans to give me feedback on my work. How do you like it and what would you like to see in my pirate adventure story? Without further ado, here is the world premiere of the first two pages of Dead Skin Dave, the Pirate:

“Raise anchor! Lower the sails!” Dead Skin Dave barked orders in his raspy voice to his crew as he stood on a barrel to see, his rough hands on his hips, and chest puffed to the blue, cloudless sky. Four chimps, each with a small pirate hat upon its head, stared back with blank expressions. Dave stepped off the barrel and sat down on the deck, giving a big sigh. The chimps spotted a banana tree on a nearby island, jumped into a rowboat, and rowed away.

“I’ll never have me own crew,” Dave said.

Just then, a dark shadow appeared over Dave’s small ship, and he looked up in shock as he saw a massive pirate ship with a skeleton bulkhead and massive cannons looming towards him.

“Avast there! I have come for ye ship, ya scum!” The deep voice of Hairy Hazelroth said to Dave.

Hairy Hazelroth was the vilest and despised pirate of all the seas! Every visible part of his body covered in dark black hair, green ribbons tied to the end of his enormously long beard, and his giant black Captain’s hat, all made this notorious pirate easily identifiable. Hairy and his crew were known for pillaging not only Royalty ships, but even the ships of fellow pirates. Now Hairy Hazelroth had come for Dead Skin Dave! Dave peered over the wall of his ship and whimpered.

Aah! Ye sure are one ugly-looking scallywag! ‘Tis no wonder ye don’t have a crew. No one would want to look at that hideous face,” Hairy said.

Dave’s hand went to the peeling skin on his face. As a young child, Dave was left out in the sun for far too long, causing his skin to dry out and peel. His condition has never gotten better.

Hairy removed his cutlass from the brown sheath at his side and pointed it at Dave. “Ye shall jump overboard and give me yer ship!” Hairy said.

Dave slowly stood up, cowered to the edge of the ship, and prepared to jump. “P-please don’t kill me,” Dave said, tears welling in his eyes. Dave looked straight into the green pointy eyes of Hairy Hazelroth and jumped straight into the ocean. A few seconds later, the cannons on Hairy’s boat boomed, and Dave’s ship sank to the bottom of the ocean. Dave grabbed a piece of wood and fainted, drifting away on the tide.

A sampling…

Here is a little sample of what you can look forward to in Dead Skin Dave, the Pirate!

“Hairy… Hairy Hazelroth! He’s here?!” Dave’s confidence was gone from his voice.

All of the pirates stopped what they were doing, got up and ran, screaming, past Dave and Tom, bumping them on their way to the basement, bolting the door behind them. The bartender took the pieces of eight from his cash drawer and ran to the back exit. Dave and Tom were left stranding alone in the tavern.

“Well, shoot,” Dave said.

“Well, at least we have the place to ourselves,” Tom said.

“Don’t you understand? Hairy Hazelroth will take us prisoner!” Dave shook Tom by the shoulders.

“Well, I should get a drink of grog while I can.” Dave watched Tom grab a mug from a nearby table.