Novel in a Blender 3

Where was I before I got so distracted? Oh yes...


While I am a big fan of the Orson Scott Card's Ender Saga, my favorite novel of his is Songmaster. Based on his short story "Mikal's Songbird", Songmaster follows Ansset, a beautiful young boy whose perfect singing voice has the power of amplifying people's emotions, making him both a potential healer and destroyer.

The depth of emotion portrayed this book is what makes it so great. You truly feel for Ansset. This is the first book that made me cry while reading. Not that crying stopped me from reading. I just had to grab a tissue so I didn't get the pages wet.

Whenever I reach an emotional scene in a novel I'm writing, I try to achieve the depth in found Songmaster. I want to make you weep!

This novel does deal with homosexuality, so if that's an issue for you, be forewarned, but it's a great read. If you're searching for inspiration on how to pack more emotion into your novel, I can't think of a better place to look.

Creative leak

I did actually get some writing done today -- editing on my current short story and writing a couple pages of Trust's sequel. Yay for that. Yet, I've found myself with an excess of creative energy lately, and it's been bursting out all over.

My afternoon was spent coating my old dining room table in fleckstone to get rid of its outdated santa fe look that we purged from the rest of the house ten years ago. The leak really started two weeks ago when I decided I couldn't take our living/dining room anymore and it needed to face lift. Preferably, right now. That didn't happen, but I have been working away at it here and there, picking out paint for the walls, sewing slipcovers for the furniture, recovering pillows, laying out the area for the laminate flooring I want under the dining table, and painting said table.

Today, as I was innocently checking my blog reading list, I came across a post by Liana Brooks about doing a blog facelift, and darn it, there went three hours. Dinner was a couple hours late. I was too busy figuring out HTML and taking pics of my favorite fabrics from my huge stash for potential background images. Don't interupt me people. You know where the kitchen is if you decide you're starving and can't wait any longer.

So there you have it. Like the new look? Hate it? Suggestions?

Why I didn't get any writing done last night

I sat down to write, but before starting, I checked my blogroll because I'd had a busy day and had not yet had the chance to do so. That led to reading a post that reminded me that I needed to write a post. Which made me look at my bookshelf for my next Novel in a Blender selection. At which time I spotted George R.R. Martin's A Game of Thrones. Which let me to his blog to see if the long awaited next novel in the series, A Dance with Dragons, was anywhere near a press yet.

Sadly no.

(If you haven't yet indulged in A Song of Ice and Fire yet and enjoy fantasy, of the epic sort -- done correctly with not a single boring part -- with a wide array of characters that leap off the page, where near everyone gets a chance to be both good and evil depending on the pov, get yourself to the nearest bookstore and start reading.)

Which led me to wonder how the HBO series of A Song of Ice and Fire was coming along. Which let me to this wonderful video that puts pictures with the cast names. I must say, I'm very impressed with the casting. Everyone is much like I'd envisioned them.



Though I've seen the cast list before, seeing them in person makes me entirely giddy and now can't wait for the series to air. The bad news is that reports say that won't happen until spring of 2011. Though, I suppose that gives me a chance to reread the series first so I can fully appreciate the visual feast.

Oh, and I suppose that also gives me time to get some writing done.

Caving in

We all need a change of setting. This includes our beloved characters.

They do what we tell them to (most of the time) and perform as expected (most of the time) but to really get to know them sometimes it's interesting to step outside the story and see what they would do if put somewhere completely out of their element. These scenes don't belong in the novel necessarily, but are for your reference, to dig into your character's mind.

I spent my weekend in a car for seven hundred miles and my saturday night in a cave. While the car part wasn't a complete change of setting for me, I can count the number of nights I've slept in a cave on one finger. It was an awesome experience.

I was tired, muddy and sore from our wild cave tour and glad to be warm in my sleeping bag in the moist fifty-four degree air. Yet, sleep eluded me as I lay there with the metal bar of my rudimentary bunk digging into my shoulder blades.

To entertain myself, I wondered what some of my characters would do if they had to spend a night in the cave.

Mr. MC - Would enjoy the moist air and the natural surroundings because he's always complaining he doesn't get outside much and his favorite place is by water. He'd be grateful to have a bunk rather than having to sleep on the floor.

Ms. MC - Would think it was cold and would bitch about the endless noise of the waterfall that wouldn't let her think. She'd also complain about the bunk, wake up in a foul mood and take it out on poor Mr. MC.

Mr. Secondary - Would be annoyed that he was stuck in a cave with seventy-six other men and only four women and no privacy to make it any fun.

Would they enjoy crawling over rocks, mud and water, on their bellies?

Mr. MC - likely wouldn't fit in some of the places we went. He's a larger statured sort of fellow, but he'd try if Ms. MC ordered him to. Enjoy it? No.

Ms. MC - Hell no. She'd order Mr. Secondary to blow the tunnel larger so she could walk through, and she'd only bother if there was something great to be had at the end. Sightseeing is not her thing. As much as she likes nature, she prefers it hot and humid.

Mr. Secondary, would bribe someone to get in line behind the female in the group so he could appreciate the view as they crawled along.

No matter where I go, my characters go with me. They are ever so much more entertaining than counting sheep.

Shadows of the sucessor

Ms. Wildstar holds up her hand. She's staring at her fingers. I see she's painted her fingernails black, and they are an inch and half long. And filed into points. I shake my head. I knew she'd been bored since Zsmed ditched her for Delilah and then wandered off to sort adverbs with Nekar, but giving herself freakish manicures wasn't what I'd pictured her doing in her down time. She'd always seemed more the bookish or doodling sort.

She spreads her fingers wide and takes a swipe at the empty air in front of her. A satisfied smile creeps across her lips.

That's when I recognize the nails and that smile. They belong to her older, far more jaded and violent incarnation. I clear my throat. "What are you doing?"

"I found these lying around." She waves her hand of claw-like nails. "I was just trying them on. They feel so right."

"Those are Ms. MC's. Not yours. Take them off."

"But..." Ms. Wildstar glances at the shadows under my desk where I see Delilah pouting and casting longing looks at Zsmed.

Maybe this young woman does have some of the backbone of her replacement after all. However, I don't need her honing her revenge skills. Having recently cleared out a fifty pages of Ms. MC's similar lack-of-sympathy-inducing antics, I really didn't need to deal with the issue all over again.

I adopt my best accusing motherly tone. "You're not planning on doing anything to anyone with those, are you?"

Her gaze falls to the floor and her shoulders slump. "No, of course not."

That's more like her. "Good. Hand over the nail implants. They got dropped from the story for the same reason as those eyeballs that are rolling around here somewhere. Besides, you could really hurt someone with those. They're metal and sharp. Ms. MC ripped out a few throats with them in her time."

"I know. I've read." Ms. Wildstar limply points at the litter of a thousand torn pages that forms the landscape her world. "She gets to have all the fun."

"If you'd like to be tortured by having your nails ripped out one by one, I'll gladly go get the pliers, but I didn't think you were into that sort of thing."

She pales. "Um, no. That's ok. I'd forgotten that part." She backs away. "Maybe I'll go have a talk with Delilah and see if she wants to come with me to talk to those boys who don't get blown up anymore. They're kind of cute."

I try to picture Ms. Mc saying such a thing as a teen and fail. They can't be the same people. I never intended them to be the same. Nah, can't be. I smile and wave her off to her awaiting friend and impending giggle-filled adventure.