This year, rather than throw myself into the holidays, I've assumed my Gollum-self and hunkered down in my writing cave. Yes, I filled the stockings, baked the cookies, hosted the extended family, cleaned the house, did the tree and presents thing with the kids, but then I ran back to my cave where only the tip tapping of keys could be heard throughout the day. It helps that my family got a Kinnect for Christmas and have been heavily occupied with it, which means more writing time for me.
My goal is to wrap up Trust's sequel, which was my NaNo novel, by the end of this year. Yes, that means there are only mere days left, but I'm almost there!
Which brings me to this announcement from Chuck, the Barthromian captain.
"We're ready for me now?"
I nod. "Go on. The others are listening."
Chuck clears his throat. "As many of you know, Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him vanished a couple days ago. Many of us thought he'd wandered back into the wastelands behind the desk after our plan to get our beloved writer to write us back into novels failed. We were wrong."
Nekar shouts, "Well where did he go?"
Chuck looks at me. "She wrote him into the sequel."
Protests fill the air.
"Now, now, I know this doesn't seem fair, but trust me, we should be grateful."
He leans close and whispers, "And thank you for not keeping your word to write me into that novel."
"You just weren't right for it. I'll find somewhere else for you."
"No, really, that's fine. I'm happy here." He plants a huge grin on his face. "See, really happy. No need to send me elsewhere."
"Suit yourself." I direct his attention back to the angry throng.
Chuck steps to the edge of the desk. "I've seen where he went. We're better off here. Way better off. She may have let him back in, and even given him part of his name back, but he was crazy and she killed him."
"That's right." I eye my suddenly silent characters one by one. "So next time you fill out your Christmas lists, keep in mind that I might give you what you ask for, but I won't guarantee you'll like it."
"This is the part where you laugh evily," Chuck whispers.
"I'll let you take that part. You need the practice. Now get out of here, I have a novel to finish writing."
Showing posts with label Trust. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Trust. Show all posts
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Feeling productive
Despite overbooking myself for volunteer work, crazy amounts of actual work, planting our garden and an all day garage clean out project, work on the back half of Trust is still clipping along at a productive pace. Who needs sleep?
Everything is falling into place. Connections are presenting themselves that allow for further word count reduction. More description, motivation and tension is working its way in.
I start each writing session by reading the previous session's words. So far, only minor tweaking. No fits of 'OMG, this is crap!', or 'what was I on yesterday? This makes no sense'. We'll see if it all flows as nicely during the overall read through, but so far, I'm feeling positive.
Here's to hoping I didn't just jinx myself. Now, back to writing.
Everything is falling into place. Connections are presenting themselves that allow for further word count reduction. More description, motivation and tension is working its way in.
I start each writing session by reading the previous session's words. So far, only minor tweaking. No fits of 'OMG, this is crap!', or 'what was I on yesterday? This makes no sense'. We'll see if it all flows as nicely during the overall read through, but so far, I'm feeling positive.
Here's to hoping I didn't just jinx myself. Now, back to writing.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Novels in the oven
For me novels are like that recipe you vaguely remember your dearly departed grandmother making in your childhood. You know what you want, but no one can tell you just how to put it all together. The exact taste is right there on the tip of your tongue, but you just can't quite name the ingredient you keep missing. And you need to give it time to cook. But now much time? Too much and it's overdone and dry, not enough and you've got a mushy mess of stark flavors on your hands (or fork).
I write a rough draft, add in some notes of intent for the really rough spots and toss that puppy in the subconsicious oven. (No real puppies were harmed during this post.) I turn the light on inside the oven and sit and stare. Nothing cooks when you watch it, I swear. So I walk away. I have no freaking idea when this meal is going to be done. Rushing the process just makes me bang my head on walls. So I go look for something to eat while I wait for the DING!
I eat my obligatory vegetables. I enjoy some broccoli while editing, some carrots while I read books and blogs on writing. Sometimes I munch on a salad go on critique sprees. I do enjoy my veggies, but I long for that main course. It smells so darn good. Why isn't it done yet?
I sneak a few pieces of chocolate cake while I read books for fun and catch up on the tv shows I otherise ignore. That cake is indulgently wonderful, but it's not filling.
Nothing quite hits the spot, so I sneak off with a sandwhich and write short stories. Filling yes, but still not what I'm craving.
And then it comes. A DING that fills my head and sends my fingers flying over the keyboard to find that draft I'd set aside so long ago. All that time waiting, smelling, drooling, and now I grab my fork and dive in. I can't stop eating. I must. Keep. Eating.
Once I wash the dishes and get over the stomach ache, I'll sit back and ponder if I got the recipe right this time. If I did, who knows, I might finally be ready to invite some friends to dinner.
I write a rough draft, add in some notes of intent for the really rough spots and toss that puppy in the subconsicious oven. (No real puppies were harmed during this post.) I turn the light on inside the oven and sit and stare. Nothing cooks when you watch it, I swear. So I walk away. I have no freaking idea when this meal is going to be done. Rushing the process just makes me bang my head on walls. So I go look for something to eat while I wait for the DING!
I eat my obligatory vegetables. I enjoy some broccoli while editing, some carrots while I read books and blogs on writing. Sometimes I munch on a salad go on critique sprees. I do enjoy my veggies, but I long for that main course. It smells so darn good. Why isn't it done yet?
I sneak a few pieces of chocolate cake while I read books for fun and catch up on the tv shows I otherise ignore. That cake is indulgently wonderful, but it's not filling.
Nothing quite hits the spot, so I sneak off with a sandwhich and write short stories. Filling yes, but still not what I'm craving.
And then it comes. A DING that fills my head and sends my fingers flying over the keyboard to find that draft I'd set aside so long ago. All that time waiting, smelling, drooling, and now I grab my fork and dive in. I can't stop eating. I must. Keep. Eating.
Once I wash the dishes and get over the stomach ache, I'll sit back and ponder if I got the recipe right this time. If I did, who knows, I might finally be ready to invite some friends to dinner.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Holed up in my writing cave
I'd planned on a continuation of the rescue of Ms. Wildstar for my midweek post, but instead, I've been writing. Oh man, does it feel good. It's been a long time since I've actually been writing rather than soley editing. Since last November, actually. Too long.
After a much needed refilling of my creative well, I dived into writing a few new middle chapters for Trust. Thankfully, I left a clearly outlined plan for this section during my last round of cuts or I'd be banging my head against the wall, wondering what the heck I intended to do in the space where I deleted 13,000 words. I have to admit, outlining isn't totally evil after all.
Why delete 13,000 words? My plot needed focus in that area. Total refocus, to be exact.
It's so good to be working with these characters again. I've missed them while playing with short stories and Sahmara's Sunset.
I found that listening to the CD's I had been obsessed with at the time when I was doing one of my major rewrites that inspired this current version, has been a wonderful way to get back into the character's motives. Not that I can listen to music when I actively write, but I do do a good deal of mental writing in the car or while I'm working and that often happens when I'm drifting off into la la land with background music. Perhaps that's not such a good thing when I'm driving. Hmm.
After a much needed refilling of my creative well, I dived into writing a few new middle chapters for Trust. Thankfully, I left a clearly outlined plan for this section during my last round of cuts or I'd be banging my head against the wall, wondering what the heck I intended to do in the space where I deleted 13,000 words. I have to admit, outlining isn't totally evil after all.
Why delete 13,000 words? My plot needed focus in that area. Total refocus, to be exact.
It's so good to be working with these characters again. I've missed them while playing with short stories and Sahmara's Sunset.
I found that listening to the CD's I had been obsessed with at the time when I was doing one of my major rewrites that inspired this current version, has been a wonderful way to get back into the character's motives. Not that I can listen to music when I actively write, but I do do a good deal of mental writing in the car or while I'm working and that often happens when I'm drifting off into la la land with background music. Perhaps that's not such a good thing when I'm driving. Hmm.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Plot Bunnies
Along with changing a good deal of names in Trust due to some editorial feedback, my subconscious percolator has finally come up with a way to shave 14k off the word count and bring a good deal of scenes closer together to solve some other issues the novel was encountering. I have been working on it. Honest. But with NaNoWriMo lurking around the corner, my easily distracted mind is in overdrive.
In getting ready for this year's event, I've been working on new posters, t-shirts an a set of stickers based on plot bunnies. This led to checking out a crafy lead I remembered spotting last year: Cute easter bunnies. Easter? Noooo. Plot bunnies!
And so after a trip to the Dollar Tree, Big Lots and then Walmart to find the right kind of baby socks (really, I had no idea it was going to take an freakin hour to find a bulk pack of baby socks with a cuff! Not to mention there must have been a rush on back to school baby shopping because all the hooks, shelves and displays were all decimated.), a small portion of craft supply chaos invaded my living room.
The first few of my warren of plot bunnies came to life. I feel like I should be laughing evily here and milking the giant cow.*
Yes, I'm using buffalo snow for stuffing. It's the same darn thing that you buy for stuffing any other time of year, but after Christmas you can find it on ultra clearance.
Behold, the cute little bunnies. Cute, sure, but not quite there yet. They needed something else. So I went back and raided my craft pile. Mountain, really, but 'pile' makes me sound a little less obessed with crafty stuff, doesn't it? Maybe? Ok, humor me.
After some added flair, I present to you the first occupants of 2010's Plot Bunny warren.
Shh, don't tell my son that I raided his drawer of plastic weaponry left over from MIA action figures. It's a cool barbed sword and it even comes out of the little leather sheath I made for it for extra plot bunny fun!
Up next: the ninja, pirate and princess. Any other suggestions?
*from Heroics for Beginners. If you enjoy humorous fantasy, I highly recommend it.)
In getting ready for this year's event, I've been working on new posters, t-shirts an a set of stickers based on plot bunnies. This led to checking out a crafy lead I remembered spotting last year: Cute easter bunnies. Easter? Noooo. Plot bunnies!
And so after a trip to the Dollar Tree, Big Lots and then Walmart to find the right kind of baby socks (really, I had no idea it was going to take an freakin hour to find a bulk pack of baby socks with a cuff! Not to mention there must have been a rush on back to school baby shopping because all the hooks, shelves and displays were all decimated.), a small portion of craft supply chaos invaded my living room.
The first few of my warren of plot bunnies came to life. I feel like I should be laughing evily here and milking the giant cow.* Yes, I'm using buffalo snow for stuffing. It's the same darn thing that you buy for stuffing any other time of year, but after Christmas you can find it on ultra clearance.
Behold, the cute little bunnies. Cute, sure, but not quite there yet. They needed something else. So I went back and raided my craft pile. Mountain, really, but 'pile' makes me sound a little less obessed with crafty stuff, doesn't it? Maybe? Ok, humor me.
After some added flair, I present to you the first occupants of 2010's Plot Bunny warren.Shh, don't tell my son that I raided his drawer of plastic weaponry left over from MIA action figures. It's a cool barbed sword and it even comes out of the little leather sheath I made for it for extra plot bunny fun!
Up next: the ninja, pirate and princess. Any other suggestions?
*from Heroics for Beginners. If you enjoy humorous fantasy, I highly recommend it.)
Thursday, September 9, 2010
The editing knife strikes back
"Where the hell am I supposed to put those?" Nekar points to the planet-sized words floating down from my desk.
“Sorry. I had to make some changes in the star system.”
“Why? I liked those names.”
“Me too, but two editors didn’t, so I’m changing a few things.”
The character formerly known as Zsmed storms up to my desk. “A few?” He rips the nametag off his shirt. “I woke up this morning with this. Why in Geva’s name am I now called: Good-looking-cocky-fighter-pilot-that-once-slept-with-Ms-MC-and-was-violently-killed by-Mr-MC? Do you have any idea how much of a mouthful that is? Delilah ran out of breath when she yelled my name this morning and almost passed out.”
“You two arguing? I thought you were getting along.”
Good-looking-cocky-fighter-pilot-that-once-slept-with-Ms-MC-and-was-violently-killed by-Mr-MC scowls. “We weren’t arguing.”
“Oh. Oh! Right. You know, I created the lot of you, unless I’m writing the intimate scene, I really don’t want to hear about the details, ok? I’m glad you’re still getting along though.”
He taps a foot and cocks his head. "My name?"
"I had to give it away. I could give you the one I traded it for, but I'm confused enough as it is. You guys have all had the same names for years, this is going to take some getting used to."
“I don’t even know what race I am anymore!”
“Yes, well, I had to make some changes there too.”
“And what are you going to do about this then?” He waves the nametag in my face.
“I suggest you don’t ruin that. You’ll be needing it for awhile. You might also want to watch out for-“
Good-looking-cocky-fighter-pilot-that-once-slept-with-Ms-MC-and-was-violently-killed by-Mr-MC is swept off the desktop as another discarded planet’s name drifts downward. He yells and shakes his fist at me while clutching a giant B.
A strange stabbing sensation accosts my toes. “What the…” I peer under my desk.
Another character, his tattered clothing covered in dust, raises his knife for another blow.
“Stop that!”
He glares up at me. “I’ve killed an entire warren of killer dust bunnies, traversed the forest of cables and survived months in the dark darkness that transcends black behind your desk. And now I come back to this?” He points at his nametag. “Do you think you can tell me what to do?”
“Put the knife down! That hurts!”
“On one condition. I want a new name.”
“What, you don’t like: Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him?”
“How can you even read that from up there?” He examines the nametag. “This has got to be two point type to all fit on here.”
“I’m all-knowing, remember?”
“Is that so? I bet you didn’t know I was going to do this.” He pulls out a gun and aims it at me.
“No, but I do know that the gun is empty. Otherwise you would have shot me to begin with and not bothered with knifing my foot.”
Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him tosses the gun aside. “How do you know I would do that?”
I reach down and pat him on the dusty head. “It’s all in the name dear. Now go find some cover until the rest of the big changes hit the ground.”
“Sorry. I had to make some changes in the star system.”
“Why? I liked those names.”
“Me too, but two editors didn’t, so I’m changing a few things.”
The character formerly known as Zsmed storms up to my desk. “A few?” He rips the nametag off his shirt. “I woke up this morning with this. Why in Geva’s name am I now called: Good-looking-cocky-fighter-pilot-that-once-slept-with-Ms-MC-and-was-violently-killed by-Mr-MC? Do you have any idea how much of a mouthful that is? Delilah ran out of breath when she yelled my name this morning and almost passed out.”
“You two arguing? I thought you were getting along.”
Good-looking-cocky-fighter-pilot-that-once-slept-with-Ms-MC-and-was-violently-killed by-Mr-MC scowls. “We weren’t arguing.”
“Oh. Oh! Right. You know, I created the lot of you, unless I’m writing the intimate scene, I really don’t want to hear about the details, ok? I’m glad you’re still getting along though.”
He taps a foot and cocks his head. "My name?"
"I had to give it away. I could give you the one I traded it for, but I'm confused enough as it is. You guys have all had the same names for years, this is going to take some getting used to."
“I don’t even know what race I am anymore!”
“Yes, well, I had to make some changes there too.”
“And what are you going to do about this then?” He waves the nametag in my face.
“I suggest you don’t ruin that. You’ll be needing it for awhile. You might also want to watch out for-“
Good-looking-cocky-fighter-pilot-that-once-slept-with-Ms-MC-and-was-violently-killed by-Mr-MC is swept off the desktop as another discarded planet’s name drifts downward. He yells and shakes his fist at me while clutching a giant B.
A strange stabbing sensation accosts my toes. “What the…” I peer under my desk.
Another character, his tattered clothing covered in dust, raises his knife for another blow.
“Stop that!”
He glares up at me. “I’ve killed an entire warren of killer dust bunnies, traversed the forest of cables and survived months in the dark darkness that transcends black behind your desk. And now I come back to this?” He points at his nametag. “Do you think you can tell me what to do?”
“Put the knife down! That hurts!”
“On one condition. I want a new name.”
“What, you don’t like: Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him?”
“How can you even read that from up there?” He examines the nametag. “This has got to be two point type to all fit on here.”
“I’m all-knowing, remember?”
“Is that so? I bet you didn’t know I was going to do this.” He pulls out a gun and aims it at me.
“No, but I do know that the gun is empty. Otherwise you would have shot me to begin with and not bothered with knifing my foot.”
Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him tosses the gun aside. “How do you know I would do that?”
I reach down and pat him on the dusty head. “It’s all in the name dear. Now go find some cover until the rest of the big changes hit the ground.”
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Remaining nameless
I sit here this morning, surveying my plethora of discarded characters, not wondering, as you might think, where one of them might be or what they are up to. No, I'm wondering which ones I can lure up to my desk to rip our their names.
Why this sudden need for names? Well, due to certain events, I find myself in the position where I must rename several main characters in order for my novel to proceed down the path of possible success.
Why does this suddenly sound like a board game? In its current state, my novel does not pass go or collect $200. It doesn't even get that piddly job where you get $12,000 every payday. (Where can I get that job in real life?) And please don’t let me land on that ‘you just bought a skunk farm’ space!
While I am rather attached to the current names of my characters, I also like the idea of passing go. The names that belong to these that are milling around on my floor amongst the crumbled papers and adverb crates aren't doing anything productive at the moment and I like them too. As a plus, these guys all came from the same novel so I don’t feel quite so much like I’m grabbing names from thin air.
You might imagine I’m sitting here, perusing my character stock with steepled fingers and pursed lips. You’d be right.
They’re going to notice me and get suspicious soon. If I don’t post on Friday, you’ll know this didn’t go well.
“Hey you.”
“I have a name, you know.”
Not for long…
Why this sudden need for names? Well, due to certain events, I find myself in the position where I must rename several main characters in order for my novel to proceed down the path of possible success.
Why does this suddenly sound like a board game? In its current state, my novel does not pass go or collect $200. It doesn't even get that piddly job where you get $12,000 every payday. (Where can I get that job in real life?) And please don’t let me land on that ‘you just bought a skunk farm’ space!
While I am rather attached to the current names of my characters, I also like the idea of passing go. The names that belong to these that are milling around on my floor amongst the crumbled papers and adverb crates aren't doing anything productive at the moment and I like them too. As a plus, these guys all came from the same novel so I don’t feel quite so much like I’m grabbing names from thin air.
You might imagine I’m sitting here, perusing my character stock with steepled fingers and pursed lips. You’d be right.
They’re going to notice me and get suspicious soon. If I don’t post on Friday, you’ll know this didn’t go well.
“Hey you.”
“I have a name, you know.”
Not for long…
Monday, June 21, 2010
The truth about Vayen
In friday's post, Vayen had a great time lying to you. Well, to me actually. I wouldn't let him anywhere near the keyboard. He'd only get into trouble and he does that enough without encouragement.
Without further rambling on my part... the truth is revealed:
1. I am an awesome pilot. I can fly anything. This one time... well, I don't want to brag.
LIE -Vayen never trained as a pilot. He's got plenty of other things to deal with without having to fly anything.
2. I'm a neat freak. Messy rooms drive me insane. I don't know how anyone can live like that.
LIE - As if. He drives Delyn nuts with his "relaxed" housecleaning habits.
3. Bring on the front lines, I'm a hands on kind of leader who loves to be in the middle of everything in person.
LIE - That's Delyn. Vayen prefers to leave the front line fighting to those who are trained for it.
4. I have a thing for Caltessian and Verian women. If I could find an agressive Caltessian woman in a short-statured, devout Verian with telepathy, I'd be at Geva's gates.
LIE - This one couldn't even be typed with a straight face. Vayen prefers his own kind, Balorian women, but managed to bond to a human woman instead. Nothing ever goes his way. Poor guy. (Yeah, I'm snickering.)
5. Some might say I have substance abuse issues. I would say I like to have a drink now and then. Okay, fine, maybe a few, but my experience with drugs was not entirely my fault.
TRUE.
6. I harbor no grudges with my Caltessian co-worker. After all, neither of us was physically involved in the war that took my family from me. I'm sure he lost someone he knew too.
LIE - Compassion for his co-worker is not Vayen's strong point. Then again, the lack of feeling is mutal.
7. Profanity is intolerable.
LIE - Again, not even typed with a straight face.
Thank you for playing, Vayen. Now back into the book with you!
Without further rambling on my part... the truth is revealed:
1. I am an awesome pilot. I can fly anything. This one time... well, I don't want to brag.
LIE -Vayen never trained as a pilot. He's got plenty of other things to deal with without having to fly anything.
2. I'm a neat freak. Messy rooms drive me insane. I don't know how anyone can live like that.
LIE - As if. He drives Delyn nuts with his "relaxed" housecleaning habits.
3. Bring on the front lines, I'm a hands on kind of leader who loves to be in the middle of everything in person.
LIE - That's Delyn. Vayen prefers to leave the front line fighting to those who are trained for it.
4. I have a thing for Caltessian and Verian women. If I could find an agressive Caltessian woman in a short-statured, devout Verian with telepathy, I'd be at Geva's gates.
LIE - This one couldn't even be typed with a straight face. Vayen prefers his own kind, Balorian women, but managed to bond to a human woman instead. Nothing ever goes his way. Poor guy. (Yeah, I'm snickering.)
5. Some might say I have substance abuse issues. I would say I like to have a drink now and then. Okay, fine, maybe a few, but my experience with drugs was not entirely my fault.
TRUE.
6. I harbor no grudges with my Caltessian co-worker. After all, neither of us was physically involved in the war that took my family from me. I'm sure he lost someone he knew too.
LIE - Compassion for his co-worker is not Vayen's strong point. Then again, the lack of feeling is mutal.
7. Profanity is intolerable.
LIE - Again, not even typed with a straight face.
Thank you for playing, Vayen. Now back into the book with you!
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Lies, I tell you, all lies!
Scott Free seems to be my blog muse lately. That alone is odd. Or was it crazy? No, he wasn't crazy, that was one of his lies. I'll get it straight, I swear.
Yes, I've been tagged with the bald-faced liar award... again.
Since I've already shared my lies and bequeathed the award upon others, I'm going to pass the honor to one of my favorite characters, Vayen. For a man from a novel called, Trust, how can you not... well... trust him?
This will probably be more fun for those of you who know Vayen, but everyone is welcome to play.
1. I am an awesome pilot. I can fly anything. This one time... well, I don't want to brag.
2. I'm a neat freak. Messy rooms drive me insane. I don't know how anyone can live like that.
3. Bring on the front lines, I'm a hands on kind of leader who loves to be in the middle of everything in person.
4. I have a thing for Caltessian and Verian women. If I could find an agressive Caltessian woman in a short-statured, devout Verian with telepathy, I'd be at Geva's gates.
5. Some might say I have substance abuse issues. I would say I like to have a drink now and then. Okay, fine, maybe a few, but my experience with drugs was not entirely my fault.
6. I harbor no grudges with my Caltessian co-worker. After all, neither of us was physically involved in the war that took my family from me. I'm sure he lost someone he knew too.
7. Profanity is intolerable.
Learn the truth about Vayen on Monday. He's quite happy to be let out of the book for a little while. I don't usually let my working characters out to chat. It tends to inflate their egos. Let's just hope he stays in line and doesn't catch sight of any discarded characters that he might hold a grudge with. That could get messy.
Yes, I've been tagged with the bald-faced liar award... again.
Since I've already shared my lies and bequeathed the award upon others, I'm going to pass the honor to one of my favorite characters, Vayen. For a man from a novel called, Trust, how can you not... well... trust him?
This will probably be more fun for those of you who know Vayen, but everyone is welcome to play.
1. I am an awesome pilot. I can fly anything. This one time... well, I don't want to brag.
2. I'm a neat freak. Messy rooms drive me insane. I don't know how anyone can live like that.
3. Bring on the front lines, I'm a hands on kind of leader who loves to be in the middle of everything in person.
4. I have a thing for Caltessian and Verian women. If I could find an agressive Caltessian woman in a short-statured, devout Verian with telepathy, I'd be at Geva's gates.
5. Some might say I have substance abuse issues. I would say I like to have a drink now and then. Okay, fine, maybe a few, but my experience with drugs was not entirely my fault.
6. I harbor no grudges with my Caltessian co-worker. After all, neither of us was physically involved in the war that took my family from me. I'm sure he lost someone he knew too.
7. Profanity is intolerable.
Learn the truth about Vayen on Monday. He's quite happy to be let out of the book for a little while. I don't usually let my working characters out to chat. It tends to inflate their egos. Let's just hope he stays in line and doesn't catch sight of any discarded characters that he might hold a grudge with. That could get messy.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
The truth behind Trust pt 3
The all-powerful Delyn had to go. She needed to knocked down, kicked a few times and maybe smacked upside the head once or twice for good measure.
However, doing so, made the story, as it was, fall in on itself. And honestly, I was rather sick of writing her in all her various incarnations. She just wasn't doing it for me anymore. I needed a fresh voice to breathe a more constructive direction into the story that I wanted to mold this chaos into. And thus, Vayen spoke unto the masses.
We took some time to get to know one another--both turning around to smack Delyn away from the front seat, because she still wanted to drive. It took several drafts to find a workable balance between them.
It wasn't her story that I wanted to tell. I'd done that. Several times. I wanted to tell his. His story clicked, angels sang, all that good stuff that happens when you know you've made the right move. In the process, Delyn lost a lot of her over the top backstory--which made her a much more sympathetic character.
For me, it was exciting to flesh out another side of events I'd only made scant mention of previously--such as how Vayen came to be working for Delyn and their earlier connection. He got jealous when she looked elsewhere, which tamed her sleazy side. He gave her a reason to tone down the cold, hard face she was so fond of. He made her work within the realm of the story I wanted to tell. (And that, Scott, is why I switched from one MC to the other.)
Not that the switch solved everything.
I realized that the story would be much stronger if it were in first person. So I rewrote it. Then I realized that hard sci-fi wasn't what the best angle for the story. It was too dry. I wanted the characters to really shine instead of the tech. So I rewrote it. Then I realized that flawed characters using sci-fi tech, killing people for whatever really important reason wasn't as engaging as it could be. The story needed other layers. So I rewrote it.
Within that flurry of rewriting, Trust was born. Hallelujah.
Thanks to Scott Free for being my post muse.
However, doing so, made the story, as it was, fall in on itself. And honestly, I was rather sick of writing her in all her various incarnations. She just wasn't doing it for me anymore. I needed a fresh voice to breathe a more constructive direction into the story that I wanted to mold this chaos into. And thus, Vayen spoke unto the masses.
We took some time to get to know one another--both turning around to smack Delyn away from the front seat, because she still wanted to drive. It took several drafts to find a workable balance between them.
It wasn't her story that I wanted to tell. I'd done that. Several times. I wanted to tell his. His story clicked, angels sang, all that good stuff that happens when you know you've made the right move. In the process, Delyn lost a lot of her over the top backstory--which made her a much more sympathetic character.
For me, it was exciting to flesh out another side of events I'd only made scant mention of previously--such as how Vayen came to be working for Delyn and their earlier connection. He got jealous when she looked elsewhere, which tamed her sleazy side. He gave her a reason to tone down the cold, hard face she was so fond of. He made her work within the realm of the story I wanted to tell. (And that, Scott, is why I switched from one MC to the other.)
Not that the switch solved everything.
I realized that the story would be much stronger if it were in first person. So I rewrote it. Then I realized that hard sci-fi wasn't what the best angle for the story. It was too dry. I wanted the characters to really shine instead of the tech. So I rewrote it. Then I realized that flawed characters using sci-fi tech, killing people for whatever really important reason wasn't as engaging as it could be. The story needed other layers. So I rewrote it.
Within that flurry of rewriting, Trust was born. Hallelujah.
Thanks to Scott Free for being my post muse.
The truth behind Trust pt 2
That which eventually became Trust would have died a quiet death in a cheap ream of typed, white-out-encrusted paper if, years later, a co-worker hadn't mention wanting some practice drawing comic book characters. He knew I toyed around with writing and asked if I wouldn't mind whipping up a bio for him to work from. Oh heck, why not.
And Delyn was born.
(I particularly like her legs. I want her legs. Let's just pretend they're mine. Ok?)
Though the majority of what I wrote for him no longer applies--and so I won't post it here to aggravate those of you who have read Trust--here is a taste of what he had to work with.
---
I noticed you were staring at my blade here. You should be more careful, I felt you all the way across the room. Lucky I’m in a good mood isn’t it? What’s that? Buy me drink? Well I suppose that could be interesting. You mind if we go back over to my table? I prefer my dark corner, if you know what I mean. I see by your smile that you do.
So what do you need... or is it want? What ever do I mean? Are you serious or not because I do have better things to do than sit around and talk to shady characters in the middle of the night. 100 credits for me? It’s a good start to a friendship. So who are you? A writer? You want to do something on me? Well I can’t say I’m not flattered but why me? You’ve heard of me?
Another 100? Must be then. So what do you want to know?
Where to start... at the beginning? No, that’s what everyone does. First of all, I’m not like everyone else, not like anyone else actually. I do things my way. I pick my own partners. I follow no ones rules but my own and they tend to change frequently.
---
As sweet and awkward as teen Ms. Wildstar was, Delyn was anything but. She was dark, cold, snarky, and apparently, sleazy too. She could do no wrong--invincible, all-powerful and able to find an out to every situation. I didn't want to see her knocked from her pedestal of kick-ass awesomeness. Let me tell you, when she was applied to the story, it made for a really annoying read (once I stepped back and really read it).
Which is why...
to be continued
And Delyn was born.
(I particularly like her legs. I want her legs. Let's just pretend they're mine. Ok?)
Though the majority of what I wrote for him no longer applies--and so I won't post it here to aggravate those of you who have read Trust--here is a taste of what he had to work with.
---
I noticed you were staring at my blade here. You should be more careful, I felt you all the way across the room. Lucky I’m in a good mood isn’t it? What’s that? Buy me drink? Well I suppose that could be interesting. You mind if we go back over to my table? I prefer my dark corner, if you know what I mean. I see by your smile that you do.
So what do you need... or is it want? What ever do I mean? Are you serious or not because I do have better things to do than sit around and talk to shady characters in the middle of the night. 100 credits for me? It’s a good start to a friendship. So who are you? A writer? You want to do something on me? Well I can’t say I’m not flattered but why me? You’ve heard of me?
Another 100? Must be then. So what do you want to know?
Where to start... at the beginning? No, that’s what everyone does. First of all, I’m not like everyone else, not like anyone else actually. I do things my way. I pick my own partners. I follow no ones rules but my own and they tend to change frequently.
---
As sweet and awkward as teen Ms. Wildstar was, Delyn was anything but. She was dark, cold, snarky, and apparently, sleazy too. She could do no wrong--invincible, all-powerful and able to find an out to every situation. I didn't want to see her knocked from her pedestal of kick-ass awesomeness. Let me tell you, when she was applied to the story, it made for a really annoying read (once I stepped back and really read it).
Which is why...
to be continued
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
The truth behind Trust pt 1
Blame Scott Free for this one (and those to follow, this is going to take a few posts).
When did Trust go from being Delyn's story to Vayen's story? Well, that's kind of in the last third of the evolution process.
Yes, Trust evolved. Every other novel I've written comes out of an idea and flows onto the page--through various degrees of agonizing birth, but never the same way (thankfully) that Trust did.
It's a story that's grown with me, through the teen years, dating, marriage, divorce, dating, marriage, and two children. It's always been with me, and it wasn't until I forced myself to put it down and write other things that I was finally able to detach myself from the immense world of characters who were as real to me as anyone else I talked to on a regular basis and finally write the story it was meant to be. I could finally see it for a novel and not a hobby that I slunk off to when I wanted to be alone.
It grew up. I was ready to cut the apron strings and kick it out of the house.
Might as well bare it all, while I'm at it, I suppose.
The story that began around 1983 as "The adventures of Dan & Dana", was about two kids who crashed their space ship after things went wrong at the children's rocket festival. They end up on another planet ruled by the evil Prince Barstone. It was, well, awkward. Really, really awkward. The most memorable lines were:
"Remember that Dana?"
"Yeah, I remember, I remember all those days in the cramped ship, and the frightened faces as we left the atmosphere, and I remember when we lost contacct on the cb, and I remember when we ran out of fuel and crashed here just last night!"
There are so many things wrong there that I'm just shaking my head and hanging my head in shame. CB's in space? Really? Oh my. The part that makes this the most memorable is that I had spelled remember wrong. Yes, every time in that long repeating sentence.
Once on the planet, they meet up with two boys named Matt and Jason. Together, they proceed to defeat the prince and his nefarious plans and escape the planet to go on a new adventure. At this point, the story consisted of 6 legal sheets of yellow paper with handwriting much neater than what mine is now. The pages were tucked away until a few years later when current events brought them to mind again.
In 1986 the Challenger space shuttle exploded. This was a traumatic event for most kids in school as we were all avidly watching the launch during class. Oh hey, I had a story somewhere about kids in space and a space ship festival! Now, in high school, Dana became Alexandria (cue Ms. Wildstar). Mostly because I'd found a new favorite name.
I figured if I was going to dive into this writer thing, I'd better have the right tools. So I saved up my money and bought a typewriter (and a lot of white out). It was really noisy and my parents banished me to the farthest room in the basement with it.
By the time I was in tenth grade, I had a hundred fifty page story and made my creative writing teacher read it. I'm pretty sure she skimmed it or she clawed her eyes out and then got replacements over the weekend.
It was full of teen angst, giggling girls oogling the mysterious cute and troubled new boy on the bus, and no way, they got stuck in space after their space shuttle replica misfired during the shuttle tribute! Guess what? They end up on a planet (cue the Barthromians) and have an adventure. I know, you didn't see that coming.
After some encouraging and not so encouraging comments from my creative writing teacher, I tucked the story away and got involved in real life teen angst, along with plunking away on my typewriter with a couple sequels in which Matt and Jason also got to hook up with space chicks (cue Delilah).
Over the next few years I went on a sci-fi reading binge and grew up a little.
To be continued...
When did Trust go from being Delyn's story to Vayen's story? Well, that's kind of in the last third of the evolution process.
Yes, Trust evolved. Every other novel I've written comes out of an idea and flows onto the page--through various degrees of agonizing birth, but never the same way (thankfully) that Trust did.
It's a story that's grown with me, through the teen years, dating, marriage, divorce, dating, marriage, and two children. It's always been with me, and it wasn't until I forced myself to put it down and write other things that I was finally able to detach myself from the immense world of characters who were as real to me as anyone else I talked to on a regular basis and finally write the story it was meant to be. I could finally see it for a novel and not a hobby that I slunk off to when I wanted to be alone.
It grew up. I was ready to cut the apron strings and kick it out of the house.
Might as well bare it all, while I'm at it, I suppose.
The story that began around 1983 as "The adventures of Dan & Dana", was about two kids who crashed their space ship after things went wrong at the children's rocket festival. They end up on another planet ruled by the evil Prince Barstone. It was, well, awkward. Really, really awkward. The most memorable lines were:
"Remember that Dana?"
"Yeah, I remember, I remember all those days in the cramped ship, and the frightened faces as we left the atmosphere, and I remember when we lost contacct on the cb, and I remember when we ran out of fuel and crashed here just last night!"
There are so many things wrong there that I'm just shaking my head and hanging my head in shame. CB's in space? Really? Oh my. The part that makes this the most memorable is that I had spelled remember wrong. Yes, every time in that long repeating sentence.
Once on the planet, they meet up with two boys named Matt and Jason. Together, they proceed to defeat the prince and his nefarious plans and escape the planet to go on a new adventure. At this point, the story consisted of 6 legal sheets of yellow paper with handwriting much neater than what mine is now. The pages were tucked away until a few years later when current events brought them to mind again.
In 1986 the Challenger space shuttle exploded. This was a traumatic event for most kids in school as we were all avidly watching the launch during class. Oh hey, I had a story somewhere about kids in space and a space ship festival! Now, in high school, Dana became Alexandria (cue Ms. Wildstar). Mostly because I'd found a new favorite name.
I figured if I was going to dive into this writer thing, I'd better have the right tools. So I saved up my money and bought a typewriter (and a lot of white out). It was really noisy and my parents banished me to the farthest room in the basement with it.
By the time I was in tenth grade, I had a hundred fifty page story and made my creative writing teacher read it. I'm pretty sure she skimmed it or she clawed her eyes out and then got replacements over the weekend.
It was full of teen angst, giggling girls oogling the mysterious cute and troubled new boy on the bus, and no way, they got stuck in space after their space shuttle replica misfired during the shuttle tribute! Guess what? They end up on a planet (cue the Barthromians) and have an adventure. I know, you didn't see that coming.
After some encouraging and not so encouraging comments from my creative writing teacher, I tucked the story away and got involved in real life teen angst, along with plunking away on my typewriter with a couple sequels in which Matt and Jason also got to hook up with space chicks (cue Delilah).
Over the next few years I went on a sci-fi reading binge and grew up a little.
To be continued...
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