Ask The Characters What They Want to Do

Today’s writing was in short, totally awesome. Ten pages, and I didn’t pull anything or make any sacrifices to any Gods, real or imagined. It felt like the good ol’ days, back when I was doing the first book. It’s like I stopped positioning characters and just stood back, turned off the thinking part of the brain (that does nothing for me except spin and throw me off) and the story just played itself out. Threads of plots are coming together, stuff is coming to light. The end is coming, and it is going to be a BANG.

I’ve also been waffling about a certain scene with a certain pair of characters. I went to a lovely writer of romance I have become buddies with for advice (Nancy, AKA, wannawrite). She gave me lots to think about, and chief among them was: see what the characters want to do. Then I remembered, they had to do it for the plot. Damn plot. Well, you know what happens then. When plot gets in the way, the characters balk. Apparently, throw sex at them and they get all agreeable. It’s possible my recent rubbing up against sparklepeaches on AW is rubbing off, because I wrote my first real sex scene. I had imagined it would be nothing but the before and after, but well, I just got in there with them. Now this is fantasy, and you can’t be graphic. Your euphemisms must be beyond euphemistic, in other words, throbbing and swelling aren't allowed. And it is integral to the story, I will jump up and down and proclaim that from the mountain tops. Without the information gained through this scene, things don’t add up.

Coming near to the end of book II, and a breakthrough. And I’m spent....

Meme's

So ironic. I just asked what a meme was, saw on one on Isaac Espriu’s Place asked about copying it (which I will, but the link to the original blog isn't working) and was tagged by Sarah Dooley for a meme! It's all comin' together. I feel very special!

Sinful Nature

"Sometimes you can learn more about a person by what they don’t tell you. Sometimes you can learn a lot from the things they just make up. If you are tagged with this Meme, lie to me. Then tag 7 other folks (one for each deadly sin) and hope they can lie."

Pride -- What is your biggest contribution to the world?

My witty responses in AW

Envy -- What do your coworkers have that you wish was yours?

Two computers on their desks!

Gluttony -- What did you eat last night?

Chicken salad from Jack in the box (don’t cook on Fridays. Don’t cook!)

Lust -- What really lights your fire?

Naked pictures of Colin Farel.

Anger -- What is the last thing that really pissed you off?

An a-hole pointed out a spelling error I made in public. With a really snarky, patronizing tone. 

Greed -- Name something you hoard and keep from others.

Just about anything I can get my hands on. I wish I was less greedy and more generous. 

Sloth -- What’s the laziest thing you ever did?

Did I mention Fridays? Once I did that all week. All week....

I tag the following people:

Adam Slade

Singer416

dianalyndsey

Leah Michelle

Lee

smsarber

Sarah

Now. Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie... even though... I think all mine were filled with truthiness...

As for the book, things are hummin' along singing a song. I vowed to write every day this week, and I have, but Thursday was pathetic, with only a page and half worth. Now I am getting to some more stuff I had planned on over a year and a half ago. Now, if only the cat would leave me alone....

The Incarnation of Ghorn, really!

The question of “to outline or not to outline” has been raging over on the AW board this week. I am no outliner, but I don’t begrudge those of the I II III set their plan. I feel like the story is there, I just haven’t written the outline. I’ll get there eventually.

This “by the seat of your pants thing” can be fun. As I’ve said, I know where the story is going, I just don’t know how I’m going to get there. Sometimes that can be hard, sometimes, it is damn fun, especially when the surprises happen. In my last post, I alluded to a dragon named Ghorn. The problem with Ghorn is that in the first book, we don’t see him. He is briefly mentioned and that brief mention lets us know he is a little off. “Off” as in, not like other dragons. The first time this hint is dropped, Jale is thinking about her lover, Baerwen, who is missing, and Ghorn, his bond (think: partner) has fled because something has happened to Baerwen (we don’t know what at this stage.) When I wrote this little sentence, “He was a singular and unique dragon. In truth, few might miss him, but few knew him as she had.” I honestly didn’t know what I was talking about. I thought it might be cool if Ghorn was a little different. Every story needs its odd ducks, its comic relief. It squiggled at my brain, because if I didn’t come up with some way that he was different or strange, I would have to go back and take that out. Cut to a book and a half later, and Ghorn’s uniqueness is only a hint at his true nature, which turns out to be a much bigger part of the story (and perhaps the 3 books I see beyond the first cycle of stories - cue dramatic music!) 

What is his different-ness, you ask? To what drum does he dance? Sorry, kids, to find that out, you must wait. If the luck of the Warlocks is with us, the Tales from the Dragonfael will be finished and published someday... or perhaps you will be given the task of beta reading. (The latter, as we all know, is more likely than the former, but hey, we gotta dream, right?)

Goals, Fear, and the Incarnation of Ghorn

I’ve had some interesting conversations about goals and progress this week. Some people have commented on my “consistency” which I find flattering. I certainly don’t feel consistent.  I just see all the wasted time, as I’ve said before. Hopefully, another 49 days and this book will be done. Then on to the next book, before coming around full circle and stepping back to look at the big picture. It’s been exactly a year and a half, and that isn’t a year and a half of constant writing. I went months and months or weeks and weeks without writing, mostly out of fear. 

I’ve decided that I have to write every day. I usually love it, or I remember loving it. I know I love the feeling of “having written”. It’s been a hard go this past month. The last real string of daily writing was back in November, maybe December before getting back on the horse in the middle of May. I did some work on editing the first one in February and March, after I discovered how I had caught passive voice disease. The good thing is, the story feels alive again, even if I’m having trouble getting the words out of the Magic Fiction Machine and into the Word Processor. I even had a breakthrough the other day about a certain troublesome dragon. Guess what? He had every right to be troublesome. He finally got out a frying pan, hit me over the head with it, and made me understand his conundrum. Problem children. They are the best.

I’m going to try and keep taking my own advice. Don’t know what to do? Write. Afraid you’re messing it up? Write. Think this is going off in the wrong direction? Well, if you don’t write it, it won’t go in any direction, will it? So write.

Write.

Insomnia

I’ve noticed something. My characters pace the floor deep in the night. Often. Sleep and sleeplessness have become a part of the theme. Trouble sleeping has become a sign when diviners or sybils are going to prophesy. Dreams can be a guide, or a physical conduit for conversation. Regular humans don’t sleep deeply enough to have what are called “the living dreams.” There is even a veil to the edge of sleep, which the Dragongar can grab ahold of and pull over themselves. They can go toward the field of traveling orbs that are dreams, or withdraw and fall into restful, dreamless slumber, knowing their dragon can come under the veil and get them if needed.

Guess who’s an insomniac? 

Dunh dunh dunnnnn

My Desk, My Flair

I have little to report on the writing front. I am doing it, but I am tired of complaining about what a wrench it is. I mean, every other day it’s a wrench, and every other day I think I am Ann Frickin’ McCaffrey. So, today I am going to talk about my desk, or rather, the environment around my desk. Because I love my desk, everyday!

Now, this is the new and improved desk layout. I had a great big card table that was a little wobbly. It required a cutting board so the ol’ Mac wouldn’t tumble over if I sat down too enthusiastically (yes, that’s what I said.) 

One thing you will notice is the flair. I am a flair person. I’ve got to have stimulating pictures, trinkets, pretty things all around me. No doubt you have noticed the abundance of fairies (including Mariposa Barbie) Well, they are the statues I mentioned in the very first post about my muse. She can inhabit one or the other of these, and we can have a conversation... or I can have a conversation as she looks on disapprovingly. 

Along with the fairies are several dragons. Now, I guess this is obvious, as I like dragons, and my WIP is about dragons. I find the pictures (or figures) inspire me. I came up with idea of the tiny little dragon from one of Selina Fenech’s paintings of a beautiful red fairy with a small dragon on her shoulder. It also helps with references and size. My dragons are huge. I look at a picture and imagine that serpentine tail wrapping itself around the dragon’s body, the texture of the scales and the way they rub together, the way it hugs the legs, or flexes and tightens in anger or coils and bounces in the air when amused. I imagine the huge papery wings and the sound they would make, the air they would  displace when flapped, the way the sun would shine through them on a bright day. There are all different wing angles, and in my story, the dragon’s wing positions and body posture are forms of communication. That idea came about from looking at one of Ciruelo Cabral’s paintings of two dragons facing off.

 I'm terrible at forming faces in my mind’s eye, but I look at pictures of faces and I can talk about the slope of a cheek, the plump bit at the end of the nose, or the way chins are soft and round or pointy and delicate, or nonexistent. The way hair flows or catches light. 

Lastly, architecture. I love old buildings, and ancient cathedrals are a wealth of reference. I have stolen the faces of many famous buildings for inspiration, and also demolished them and put them back together to make new ones. I have no fewer than fifteen wallpapers of Neuschwanstein castle. I find the place absolutely magic.

Sometimes, living in my head gets a little stagnant, and going outside of it and into another artist's is pure inspiration. I like to keep these things close to my desk, things for my eye to play with and keep the internal eye from falling asleep!

The 300th Page Blues

You might have noticed the lack of posts. Well, I’ve been floundering. Have suddenly discovered what a little whimp one of my main characters is. He just floats along like a bit of dandelion fluff. I also realize I have about 4 subplots that have just sort of wandered off and been left to float in the wind. This happens every time I get to the neighborhood of 300 pages. I don’t know what to do: go back and do some fixing, because I never know where things are going until I write them, so therefore, I don’t know how to go forward. Or, do I leave well enough alone, trusting that whatever I write in the future will not affect or will be easily blended into the past?

So I have been silent on the writing front since Thursday. Not that I haven’t attempted to write, but most of it has been staring at pages, or cutting up paragraphs or pages and moving them to alternate files, thinking, I will insert something here, then realizing how fruitless that is. So I sit there, and read things about writer’s block, knowing that’s not what I really have. What I have is the fear. The fear of farking it up. So tonight, I just sat and wrote the one storyline that I knew how to proceed on. I got 5 pages. Somebody give me a big fat hug and a kiss.

I guess the good news is that there is no problem ramping up the angst on the whimpy mc. I mean, he’s a teenager in a fantastical situation, with a female authority figure leading him around by the nose. (And, though I love her, she’s a bit of a bitch, and that’s being nice about it.) His mother is a mush-headed drug addict. Gee, I wonder what the conflict should be...