Marcus Lopés

LGTBQIA2S+ Author, Blogger, Runner

am writing

Pinned Down

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pinned down

This is a continuation of ‘Persuasion‘

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Daniels said as she navigated the empty streets, “but you seem young to be leading this kind of operation.”

“Maybe I am,” Michael acknowledged. “I was there when it started and know the players. Brian and I have both been targeted. On one level, it’s personal.” He glanced at Daniels. “But on the other level, and more importantly, my loyalty was never for sale. My duty, first and foremost, is to my country. I will serve her and die for her, if necessary.”

“The reports coming in indicate at least thirty arrests so far at the Agency.”

“It’s a nightmare,” Michael said. “The Agency may never come back from this. How did Angelique Romero succeed at that level of infiltration? It puts not only the Agency’s work at risk, but also that of the other law enforcement units we work with. The repercussions are far-reaching.”

“We’re going to nail these bastards.”

“I hope you’re right. For the moment, let’s focus on getting the PM back.”

“Do you…” Daniels’s voice trailed off as she made a sharp turn. “Do you think he’s still alive?”

“I think it depends on Eric Wade’s state of mind.” [Read more…] about Pinned Down

Always Have a Plan C

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plan c

This is a continuation of ‘Don’t Test Me‘

“Don’t you dare move!” Brian barked, his gun aimed at the man bent over and coughing. He fingered the trigger. “I swear, you move and I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

Adam Clarke slowly lifted his head. “You wouldn’t —”

A shot rang out.

“Brian, stand down!” Michael ordered.

“That was a warning,” Brian cautioned. “And apparently, Dad, you don’t know what I would or wouldn’t do.”

“You’re not my son,” Clarke shot back. “Your mother was a whore before I met her. I turned her into a respectable lady. I only adopted you because I loved her.”

“I’m glad I’m not your son!” Brian shouted. “Who wants to be the son of a traitor?”

“Brian!” Michael admonished as he moved behind Clarke and cuffed him. “I’m half-inclined to let Brian put a bullet in your head, but I have orders to bring you in alive. So, don’t test me.” [Read more…] about Always Have a Plan C

Don’t Test Me

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don't test me

This is a continuation of ‘I’m Coming for You‘

Men and women in dark tactical uniforms, weapons drawn, entered the building and streamed towards Michael, who stood over Winchester’s body. Michael threw a knowing look at the acknowledged leader, who then signalled to the others to lower their weapons.

“Secure the premises,” said the guy with brown hair sticking out from under the black ballcap. As the others fanned out, he approached Michael and extended his hand. “Special Agent Burke.”

Michael accepted the firm handshake, and at its release, said, “Special Agent Michael Reid. For how long? Not quite sure.” He pointed to the corpse on the floor. “Don’t know who else might be here or if they were working with Winchester.”

“We’ll find out.” Burke, holstering his gun, bit his lip. “I always thought Winchester was dirty. Just couldn’t prove it.”

“Because he had someone covering his back,” Michael volunteered. “If your team has this covered, there’s something I need to do.” [Read more…] about Don’t Test Me

Past Present Future

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past present future

“Don’t give your uncle any trouble,” his father had said and, in an unusual display of affection, hugged him. “I’m doing this for you … because I love you.”

That was what Michael Reid remembered about the day his father dropped him off at the airport. The first time in his life his father had said, “I love you.” Most kids probably would have thought that their dad was trying to get rid of them. He knew his father was protecting him, helping him escape a home that was burning down around him. His mother’s mania was the worst it had been in years. He had the scar on his arm where she’d burned a cigarette that proved it and that had been, for his father, the final straw.

So, he was sent to live with his Uncle Clive in London. Wasn’t his blood uncle, because neither of his parents had siblings. But Clive Darling, who also served in the Persian Gulf where they’d met, was the closest thing his father had to a brother.

And Michael adapted quickly to life in the area known as St. John’s Wood. But, at fifteen, his biggest challenge was crossing the road safely. The signs painted on the street, to ‘Look Right’ or ‘Look Left’ had saved his life. Repeatedly. His school mates teased him about his accent, but he didn’t mind. Anything was better than locking himself in his room to escape his parents’ Olympic shouting matches. And while he was only supposed to be gone a year — to not have to watch his mother being involuntarily committed for psychiatric treatment — he stayed long enough to complete his sixth form studies at Harris Academy. Did so well in school that his Uncle Clive convinced his father that he should remain to attend university, too. But the summer before he was set to begin at King’s College London, his mother committed suicide. He returned to Halifax for her funeral and, to his surprise, stayed. [Read more…] about Past Present Future

How I Begin

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I don’t set an alarm. I don’t need to. I’m a light sleeper and wake up a couple of times during the night. But when my back starts to ache, when I’m just rolling from side to side, that’s when I know it’s time. It’s time to get to work. This is how I begin each day.

That’s sometime between 3:30 and 4:00 am. I don’t shower or brush my teeth. I put on my running gear (shorts and a T-shirt), prepare my Amino Energy drink, and sit down at my desk. Then I capture the moment — the sort of haggard, sleepy look — with the camera on my iPhone and post it to Instagram, and sometimes Twitter. Proof that I’m up writing. Proof that I’m sticking to my routine. Already, it’s taken fifteen minutes before my pen finally touches the page.

How I Begin

A small sample of my journal collection.

I take my latest notebook (I try not to use the same one twice, so I have a diverse collection) and begin with my Morning Pages. Afterwards, I start the first draft of a blog post. By this point, I’ve been up for an hour and a half to two hours. The blog post isn’t done, but it’s time to get out for a run. I run under the veil of darkness, and when I see another runner it does feel like two ships passing in the night. The cool, crisp morning air fills my lungs and, running, I’ve gone into ‘the zone.’ I quiet my mind. I try to hear life speaking to me. Now I’m ready to take on whatever the day throws at me.

Back home, I peel off my sweaty running gear, throw on one of the ratty, fraying yet comfy ringer T-shirts I bought from Old Navy ten years ago and just can’t throw away, and finish the blog post. It’s a draft. Is it any good? Will people find value in it? I don’t know. I’ll come back to it in a few days to tweak it, rewrite it … maybe even chuck it out and start again. All that matters is that I’ve written something without letting procrastination have dominion over me.

Keep it Going

Even though I’m a morning person, getting up early every day isn’t easy. Some mornings, my energy dips low around 8:00 am. As a result, I crawl back into bed for forty-five minutes to an hour. I don’t sleep. I just lay there, let my body rest. Afterwards, I get up, shower, have breakfast, and park myself at my desk. I work on my primary writing project, which is either writing the first draft of a book or rewriting one. When I’m just staring at the spines of the dictionaries and thesauruses on my desk, I know I’m no longer being productive. The writing day is over, usually around 1:30 pm. I step out of my writing world and into another.

I don’t worry any more about how many words I’ve written, how many pages I produced, or how good the writing may or may not be. I’ve shown up and done the work. That’s what counts for me.

This is how I begin. This is how I make it over.

How do you begin each day? At what point do you know that you’re no longer being productive and must step away from the work? Hit Reply or leave a comment in the section below. I’d love to hear from you.