Best Nano Yet

I hit 50k for Nanowrimo on November 27th and while that felt great, I don't feel like I won yet. That's because I am using nano this year to rewrite Restoring Faith. (I'm calling it Rewriting Faith.) It's strange having the whole story planned out from the start, but it does make writing every day easier.

And the story is definitely better this time around! I have grown a lot as a writer since two years ago and I'm much better at adding failure points into my story. Some of them have been purposeful, others came about because I forgot to mention a thing earlier on and I realise if I continue to ignore it then it adds another layer of complexity for my chracters. Laziness and better writing!

It also helps that I had a couple friends look over it before I started rewriting so I have a better idea of what set up stuff was unneeded and where I need to elaborate. My villain has at least two new scenes! I'm also forcing myself to keep track of POVs as I go so that they are more consistant and I can make sure to feature everyone.

So on this last day of November, I have written the 50k, but I estimate I have another 1/3 of the story left to write. I set myself a deadline of Feburary. We'll see how that goes. I guess I should get back to writing.

Quick preview of a spot I changed in the second revision:

Hannah heard a voice and looked up to see a human hand holding out the other stone. However, the rest of his body was not entirely human shaped. Gills in his neck were the first clue, but it was the long grey tail that gave it away. His scales glinted dimly in the light filtered through the water as he tail slowly moved back and forth to keep him in place.
“Thank you,” Hannah said as she gently took the stone.
Nadir asked something, but not in any language Hannah understood. So many people spoke Common, she forgot that she was limited by language in the future. On Earth too, but that was less relevant right now. More importantly, the merman seemed to understand Nadir. They carried on a brief conversation before Nadir turned to Hannah.
“You couldn’t understand that?” he asked in Common.
“Nope. Sounded a little like Italian, but I only know how to say ‘your butt is made of cheese’ so that’s not actually useful.”
Nadir threw his head back and laughed before translating for the elderly merman.

Summer Writing Lessons

This summer feels like it has lasted way longer than three months. An entire month was spent studying and preparing for my qualifying exam, but it paid off and I passed!! I cannot express how much of a relief that is. But that's not what you are here for; this blog is about writing. I've done a lot of that too.

July was all about writing short stories. Sometimes it felt like I wasn't even reading what I wrote. I've looked back and I hardly remember writing some of the things from the beginning of the month. It was a race to put out as many short stories as possible to get points. Amidst the madness of earning points, I ending up refining my writing in ways I hadn't anticipated.

Short stories are hard for me. I love my soaring epic fantasy plots and so challenging me to write things under 500 words is a challenge indeed. It forced me to focus on one, maybe two, instants in time. It is a snapshot of a story, yet it must also tell a story by itself. This is a little bit easier in fanfiction when you can use established characters that readers will know, but when you start going into more bizarre AUs, they might as well be original characters. It forces me to think carefully about indirect characterization. Can I hint at their personality in the way they speak? Not just their word choice, but what they notice. What about body language while they speak, or even describing the surroundings they find themselves in.

Possibly the story I did that best in was The Warlock's Creation. In these few lines I hoped to tell you about the protagonist's feeling of being an outsider, not belonging. His longing to find a world where he could be appreciated for what he had rather than mocked for what he lacked. I think I did alright.

For all his cleverness, he had forgotten his umbrella. He was quite sure his grandmother would scold him and send him for a hot shower when he got home. ... Someday he would step through a painting. Vanish into a world where magic was but a legend. He kicked his feet as he walked, splashing water everywhere.

As part of our friendly competition during July, we had prompt tables. I've done this previous summers and I barely managed to finish one 9 prompt square. But I am competitive and those earn me bonus points so I stretched myself. It was still hard, but I found this easier to create the short stories. The crazy prompts weren't inspiring any plot for a grand story, but I could come up with ideas about what characters were like, what they valued, and how they acted. And for a short story, sometimes that was all I needed.

While this ability to write to a prompt might not be useful when I am working on novel length stories, I do have side characters. Previously I would just throw out a name for a person who worked in the kitchens and maybe one small defining detail, but this doesn't do them justice. As an author, I should know more about that character than the reader knows. In the future, I aim to pause when I need a new side character and write 300 words about them. No strict fields to fill in, just anything that comes to mind to give them a bit more life, even though they may only appear for one page in a story and then potentially get edited out in a later draft. If I have learned anything while writing Twin Tales it's that small characters keep wanting to return.

My month of short stories is over, but I hope I can use these lessons to improve my longer stories. After all, what is a novel but a collection of short scenes.

Character Details

Oh shoot, it's been a while since my last post. I've been busy. Particularly I've been busy revising the characters in my story.

On a recent Writing Excuses episode they talked about aksing multiple questions of your characters. A couple they suggested were favourite swear, what scares them, how would you describe them in 10 words. My friend and I have both been trying to improve our character writing so we sat down with our main characters and interviewed them using the following questions.

• How would they curse?
• Boil them down into ten descriptive words (Oily, strong, hungry, etc.)
• What is their opinion and history with magic?
• In what ways do they hold power over others?
• How would they describe their backstory to a friend? To a stranger?
• How do they react in emergencies? What would make them stop in their tracks?
• Who do they have allegiance to and why? Who is their best friend?
• What is their driver’s license appearance? Height, build, hair color?
• What do they do for fun when the plot isn’t looking? Guilty pleasures? Snacks?
• How do they decorate their personal spaces?
• What are they truly scared of losing? Certain people dying, sure, but what other things?
• Are they religious, spiritual, superstitious, realists, etc.? I.e. “Bad things always come in threes.”

It was a lot of work. More than I thought. There were times that I had to stop myself from saying that I'll just write on and see what comes up, my usual method. However, at the end, it was completely worth it. I feel like I can actually tell apart the knights of the round table and they feel more alive than just names on a page. Also writing Gwaine telling his backstory was so much fun.

Of course now I am in the process of going back through the story and making sure that what I have written reflects these choices. Not to mention using the opportunity to flesh them out now that I do know them better. It's proving interesting and self-consistency as I edit the early chapters while writing new chapters is going to be hard. Next steps is to do an abridged version of this for my secondary characters.


Favourite writing from this week:

“You know, he spoke often of you in his letters,” Nathaniel said. “He told me how you were a bright young lad with an aptitude for creative problem solving. And poor research techniques, but those could be improved upon.”

“It’s harder when you don’t already know every book in the library,” Merlin groused.
Nathaniel smiled quickly, but then looked more serious. “It made me wonder if you noticed the flaw in the mage hunter’s plan today?”

Merlin froze with his spoon still in his mouth. Flaw? What had he overlooked? Could Nathaniel tell it had been his own illusion? Merlin lowered the spoon and swallowed his mouthful of soup. Did he notice the slight burns left on Merlin’s wrists? Did he realise Merlin hadn’t slept in his room last night? William would’ve noticed, but he didn’t think Nathaniel would ever wait up for him to come home.

“Besides the illusion dropping when the ropes were untied?” Merlin asked, glad his voice sounded light, untroubled.

“True, that wasn’t particularly wise either. Though I think it was more foolish to imprison a member of the court. If I was trying to tell the king I captured a sorcerer, I would grab a lone peasant in the woods. Someone without a sword.” He stood and brought his bowl over to the basin for dirty dishes. “Although I suppose if I was better at illusionary magic and I had been captured, I would let him continue to court and only escape at the last minute so that he did meet his justice.”

Merlin felt his heart skip. He knew. Maybe not the whole truth but he knew. Hold on, he had said “If you were better at illusionary magic?” Merlin repeated. “You have the gift?”

“It’s very slight. My mother was a hedge witch.” He returned to the table. “And am I right in guessing that you have the gift too?”

Merlin nodded. He trusted William’s childhood friend, but it was still hard to say the words out loud.

On Timelines

Are you writing a story in which time is important? Are you writing a story in which you don't think time is really important but takes place over the course of more than a month? Have you written a timeline yet? Do it now.

I thought I could get away with just keeping track of seasons in this long Merlin fic, but I can't. So 121k words in, I have made a timeline. And oh my gosh it's a mess. I had to totally re-evaluate when evens happened or, more often, how much time passed between chapters. I had tried to avoid putting specific dates in, but every once in a while I found a date, or a day of the week and had to adjust. I should've done this ages ago. I thought I had learned this lesson after NaNoWriMo 2014, but apparently not.

Now I still have to figure out more precise dates on events that happened before the story, but I have an anchor point so this really helps. I expect next week will be a lot of fixing numbers mentioned in the story.

Favourite writing from this week:

Merlin and Aldrich appeared with their horses in a clearing two hours ride from Ealdor. It felt a bit weird, bringing someone else with to visit his mother. Arthur and Gwen had visited once. But that was Arthur’s idea. It was really more of a patrol that happened to take a slight detour. Otherwise, he travelled alone.

“I didn’t know you grew up so far from the city,” Aldrich said.

“It’s not even within Camelot.” Merlin laughed. “Technically Arthur’s not my king.”

“Residency within Camelot for ten years doesn’t change that?”

“Huh. It might.” Merlin thought for a few minutes, mentally running his fingers along the books in the library and flipping through pages. “Yeah, residency in Camelot for seven years makes be a subject of Camelot. Darn. I can’t tease Arthur about that any more.”

After two hours of talking and laughing and riding, they reached the edges of Ealdor. The crops were short as they rode through, but the sprouts looked strong. Merlin let his magic wash over the land and provide a little extra encouragement.

Attuned to the feel of his magic better than anyone else, Hunith immediately came out of her house and ran toward Merlin. He smiled and leapt off his horse to run to meet her.

“Merlin! It’s been so long.” She grabbed him in a tight embrace and ran her hand through his hair.

“Mother. I’ve missed you so much.” He, in turn, rested his cheek on the top of her head.
Then she pushed him away and raised a finger at him. “You have been slacking in your letter writing,’ she scolded. “Gilli has written me more than you have.”

“What?”

“And I had to hear from Gwaine about Arthur’s wedding. Yes, Gwaine wrote me a letter.” Hunith lowered her finger and placed both hands on her hips. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Ah yes, the question for which there was no right answer. He could claim he was busy, she would ask if that meant too busy for his mother. He could say it got lost in transit, she would say he should’ve found another way to send it. He could say any number of things and she would have an instant rebuttal. Better to switch topics altogether. “I brought someone new this time,’ he said, beckoning Aldrich over.

He approached warily, knowing very well the look of the scolding mother.

“This is Aldrich,” Merlin introduced. “He is from Iseildur’s camp. Aldrich, this is my mother.”

“A pleasure to meet you, my lady.” He took the back of her hand and kissed it.

She blushed. “That’s really not, I’m no lady. Look around you.”

Merlin smiled. “Took me three years to stop him from regularly calling me ‘my lord’. I suggest you get used to it.”

Speaking, not telling.

It's been kinda a slow couple weeks of writing. The last week of January, I did WIP week and wrote another two chapters on an old story. It's still not done, but the final battle is planned out which is way better than it was two years ago. I've done some more editing on my other story and wrote a little bit more. I really am not liking this chapter and it's not doing what I want, but I think I just have to struggle through to the end of it and then let it sit before I look at it again.

The writing this week is from an early chapter in Twin Tales. I added more because I need to work on adding dialogue rather than telling the reader that the conversation happened.

Favourite writing from this week:

“Knowledge is never a waste. But you probably didn’t think of it because all the books on antidotes are hidden behind the mirror.”

Naturally. Anything that was an antidote to poisons would be considered too close to magic and thus would’ve been destined for the flames of the purge. Once again Merlin sent up a silent prayer of thanks for his father’s foresight to create this secret room.

Hidden behind a mirror than only Merlin could pass through were seven large bookshelves full of books on magic that William and his father had hid when the Purge began. There had been a logical system of organization on the shelves at one point, but Merlin was awful about putting books back in the right place so piles had built up on the ground.

Gently nudging the self-cleaning sword out of his way, he set down the books he had been looking through and started pulling books off the shelf that might relate to antidotes. When he had filled his arms, he returned to the desk in the main library, and William grabbed one off the stack to help him look. They still had until tomorrow but Merlin would also need to catch up on the other chores he’d missed when out on the ride. Not everything could be done with magic.

“Merlin, look at this one.” William pushed the book he was reading to the centre of the table. “It won’t work for everything, but it’s an enchantment to nullify the effects of the most common food poisons.”

“That’d be great.” He scanned the page. “This looks like it’ll detect most of the poisons I check Arthur’s food for anyway and a couple I don’t.”

“And the book suggests casting it on the plate itself. A simple rune will light up to indicate which poison was detected as well.”

“I can hide that with a concealment charm. It’s not a difficult spell. I’ll need to renew it every couple of months to make sure it’s optimal. But this is definitely what I’m looking for.”

“Better test it out in here before you run on down to the kitchens then and place a faulty enchantment on every plate,” William said, standing up from the table. He took out one of their plates and handed it to Merlin. “Go practice on this one. I’ll ask the physician for one of these poisons.”

“I still can’t believe he trusts you sometimes.” Merlin laughed. “It’s a good thing he believes in testing science.”

William smiled in return, a matching mischievous glint in his eyes. “A good thing indeed.”

A Poem Scene

Prompt: Find a 1st-person poem, and write it in the 3rd person POV. Perhaps even rewrite it as a scene, or a story.

This is a writing prompt from Writing Excuses episode 13.2. The episode was about writing active characters and it was really good, so naturally what I wrote was about a very passive character. To be fair, I asked a friend for her favourite first person poem to use as inspiration, and it's a bit depressing. I will let you decide. Here is the poem she gave me, followed by my writing.

The life that I have

Is all that I have

And the life that I have

Is yours.

The love that I have

Of the life that I have

Is yours and yours and yours.

A sleep I shall have

A rest I shall have

Yet death will be but a pause.

For the peace of my years

In the long green grass

Will be yours and yours and yours.

Favourite writing from this week:

She stood by the grave every Thursday. For two hours, she spoke of what she did the previous week, a record in a verbal diary. She gave her life to the bones below her feet. And each time she lay a single yellow rose on the long green grass.

One week she did not come. Then again not the next. The following Wednesday, the diggers came. A trench was made where she used to stand, and on Thursday she was lain to rest.

She lay in her grave every Thursday. In their souls, they danced every day. 

Writing Goals for 2018

Oh wow. Have I really not written since middle of November? Oops. Well I won NaNo, but naturally the story isn't finished. I'm also revising last year's NaNo because a good friend of mine gave me the right kind of beta reading and now I am rewriting the beginning and rethinking characters. It's a glorious disaster. Onto the actual point of this post.

I can't tell if Kristina will continue doing the weekly prompts, but a goals prompt sounds like a good plan. So here we go.

1. Complete at least 15 of the Writing Excuses homework assignments.
For those of you who don't know, this is a weekly, 15 min podcast with great writing advice. This year they are focusing on character and I really need that. So I want to do the homework assignments and be more active in my learning.

2. Finish Twin Tales.
This is my monstrosity of a Merlin fic. It's over 100k right now. I want to wrap it up by the end of this year so I can start posting it and giggling at the feedback people will give me.

3. Revise Restoring Faith
This will be slightly dependent on my beta reader, but I do really want to eventually publish this one so getting a proper second draft by the end of the year seems like a good goal.

4. Write something non-fandom
This does not include Restoring Faith. This will probably happen with goal number one, but I want to make it it's own goal so I can keep it a focus.

How well will I do? I don't know. Real life is gearing up to kick my butt this year, especially in the summer which is usually good writing time for me. But I will find a way.

Favourite writing from this week:

But now the glimmer of hope seemed absent. Left alone with her thoughts, prospects were bleak. Not even the chocolate croissant she had saved was cheering her up. It only reminded her how far she had traveled since the tube station. She set it back on the wrapper. It was meant to be a ten minute ride home.

Yet now she was stranded in a foreign city, surrounded by aliens and in a time far removed from her own. Even if she was able to travel to Earth somehow, it wouldn’t be the same planet she left.

No family, no friends, no series finale of Bakeoff and wow she hadn’t realised how much that one hurt. She didn’t even like cooking. So why were her eyes filling with tears?

But now that they started, she couldn’t make them stop. Her family were dead. Had been for who knows how long. How long did it take them to start looking for her? How long until they gave up?

And what would she do? Try to go to uni? Applications were hard enough the first time around. Now she had no paperwork and only her previous student ID as any form of identification. Even if she somehow was accepted, she would have gaps in her education. She wouldn’t have money to pay tuition. Hells she hardly had food for the next day.

Hannah grabbed tissues from the bedside table and noisily blew her nose.

“Destinies are troublesome things,” an accented voice said. It sounded oddly Irish. The first recognisable accent she had heard this entire trip. “You don’t often understand why things happen until many years later.”

Hannah looked around, but couldn’t see anyone who could have spoken to her.

“To your right, above the table,” the voice said. She looked up but all she could see was a drawing of large stone gateway similar to the one she had fallen through. “There we go.”

Hannah blinked, rubbed away the tears that were blurring her vision. Maybe she had fallen asleep because she thought the artwork was speaking.

“You aren’t going crazy.” The drawing changed, shifted. A gargoyle that had been perched on top of the arch flew down into the foreground of the image, all the detail of the pointed teeth and large ears become clearer.

“How? You’re in a drawing,” she protested. “Drawings don’t move. Or talk.” She pinched her arm again, but just as before it hurt. No waking up from a weird dream.

“Magic, Mistress Osta,” the gargoyle replied. “You had best get used to it.”

“Right, magic.” She nodded, then shook her head. “No. This is crazy. Pictures that move, I’ll accept. Crazy arches that kidnap you from tube stations, fine.” She crossed her arms. “But no way is it normal for art to hold a conversation with someone. There was other artwork in the hotel lobby and none of those paintings moved. Something tells me this isn’t normal.”

“Now you are catching on.” It seemed proud of her. “We will make a proper adventurer of you yet.”

“Adventure? No, this has been an adventure enough. I just want to go home.”

“That’s not possible at the moment.”

Hannah felt her breath catch. “No. Saraahm said she knows someone who might know how to get me home. There has to be a way.”

“There is a way. You have to create your own path home.”

“What?”

“Talk to Father Carame, he will guide you to the right path. But there are things you need to learn before you can return home.”

Hannah was still having trouble processing the fact that she was talking to a gargoyle in a drawing on on wall, but something in it’s tone made her believe it. “What, do I have to take a class?” That didn’t mean any of this made sense.

“Father Carame will tell you more about your destiny. Think of it as your letter to Hogwarts.”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you just made a “Harry Potter” reference and focus on the rest of that. How do you know my destiny?”

“Magic.”

“Of course.” Hannah shut her eyes and rubbed a hand over her face. Magic, destiny, and kidnapping. Just your average Friday. But apparently this was the reality she had to live with right now. “What does my destiny have to do with finding a way home?” She adjusted her glasses and looked back up at the drawing, but the gargoyle had retreated to the perch atop the portal.

“I have faith that you will stumble upon the connection,” its voice said into the stillness before some intuition Hannah never knew she had, told her that the creature wouldn’t be saying anything else.

“Okay. I am officially in an adventure story. Magical creature who gives advice then disappears with a riddle. Got it.” She looked down at her croissant. She needed chocolate and then she needed sleep.