No post yesterday (counting this day as finished when I go to sleep) and no substantive post today, but I have an excuse - I've been writing the short story of Jemma and her unhappy adventures. I meant to post it to the workshop page today, but alas, my connection makes these things difficult. It is the roughest draft I have submitted to the group, and so I am more than a little nervous to put it out for their collectively keen and critical eye. But these things must be done, and I do embellish the critique for dramatic effect. It's invaluable criticism, even when I disagree with one point or another.
The story took a couple unexpected turns, but I was generally able to keep it within the very rough outline I had envisioned. I am least happy with the ending, but I cannot see how to change it without drastically altering the story - and adding far more to the end than I like. Not only does the ending make me nervous, but the style is much different from what I'm comfortable with. I'm trying to write suspense, and suspense does not come naturally to me.
Rough draft, I'll tell myself through gritted teeth as I smile through my flensing. Rough draft.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Story Building - character interview
I'm coming down to the final couple days before posting the story I want to workshop. I'm still torn between a short story I already have written, which I must extensively revise and one of the stories I mentioned here. So in order to flesh out the latter story a bit more, it's time for another character interview! Same questions as last time.
The character is Jemma Grienyte, of the to-be-named short story where science meets magic and all goes horribly wrong.
1. What do you do for a living?
I'm a PhD student working on my thesis in magiphysic cosmology, and I get by on the pittance paid to me by the university laboratory for working as a petty rune smith. It's a little embarrassing.
2. Are any other people living with you? Who are they?
I have a roommate, another graduate student. She and I hardly see each other, but she seems nice. We've gone out for drinks a couple times, and we usually order take-out a couple times a month while we unwind for just enough time to watch a movie. She's a grad student in linguistics, so her field is as unintelligible to me as mine is to hers.
3. Tell me about your parents. How well do/did you get along with them
I get along fine with my parents, but I think they're eternally bewildered by my choice of occupation. They are both renowned grand rune smiths, and while they're proud of me for the degree I'm aiming for, they don't really know what to say to me. I guess we've grown apart.
4. What was your birth order? How many siblings did you have? Older? Younger?
I have younger twin sisters who are both in the family business. Every Grienyte is in the family business.
5. Who else was in your family while you were growing up? How did you get along with them?
Just my parents and my sisters. My extended family is almost exclusively made up of more rune smiths, though it becomes a bit awkward when certain households are much farther up in the professional hierarchy. It was a world that always surrounded me growing up, and I never wanted to stay in it.
6. What were three things you liked to do when you were a child?
I liked to get out of the house above anything, especially to go play by myself. I liked asking "why" questions to the point of irritating the adults around me. When I was a little bit older, I liked horrifying my parents by smoking.
7. What were you afraid of when you were a child?
I was afraid of ending up in the same world as my parents, where everything revolves around runes and magic and professional rivalries that get really dangerous. But on a more normal note, I was really afraid of my closet at night.
8. How did you respond to the physiological and psychological changes in your life as a teenager?
I did stupid teenage things - I smoked, I went to parties with friends where we smoked illegal substances, I drank with the same friends, I drove too fast. Looking back, I'm not sure if I did these things to horrify my parents, to spur them to kick me out of the house, or just to get their attention. It might have been all of them.
9. What makes you happy now?
I love getting first crack at the test results.
10. What is your greatest fear?
That the whole of my contribution to magiphysic cosmology will be my petty rune work.
11. What would you change about yourself if you could?
If I excised my affinity with runes, I suppose I wouldn't have this job. I guess I would stop worrying about the future and my place in it so much and enjoy the opportunities I have.
12. What is it that you have never told anyone?
I only took magiphysics so I could retain some link with my parents and the rest of my family. I was a little bit vexed when it turned out to be so interesting.
13. What do you want?
To finish my thesis! To understand the test results! To explain the interaction between magic and science with one grand sweeping theory. And I want my parents to ask about what I'm doing.
Hmm, this was not quite as revelatory as my prior interview was, though I suspect that's because I knew far more about Jemma going into this than I knew about Seaton prior to that interview. Still, I'm excited for this story. If I could bang out the whole thing in two days, I would post it a biiiit later than I should, but it would be thrilling to have a whole new story.
The character is Jemma Grienyte, of the to-be-named short story where science meets magic and all goes horribly wrong.
1. What do you do for a living?
I'm a PhD student working on my thesis in magiphysic cosmology, and I get by on the pittance paid to me by the university laboratory for working as a petty rune smith. It's a little embarrassing.
2. Are any other people living with you? Who are they?
I have a roommate, another graduate student. She and I hardly see each other, but she seems nice. We've gone out for drinks a couple times, and we usually order take-out a couple times a month while we unwind for just enough time to watch a movie. She's a grad student in linguistics, so her field is as unintelligible to me as mine is to hers.
3. Tell me about your parents. How well do/did you get along with them
I get along fine with my parents, but I think they're eternally bewildered by my choice of occupation. They are both renowned grand rune smiths, and while they're proud of me for the degree I'm aiming for, they don't really know what to say to me. I guess we've grown apart.
4. What was your birth order? How many siblings did you have? Older? Younger?
I have younger twin sisters who are both in the family business. Every Grienyte is in the family business.
5. Who else was in your family while you were growing up? How did you get along with them?
Just my parents and my sisters. My extended family is almost exclusively made up of more rune smiths, though it becomes a bit awkward when certain households are much farther up in the professional hierarchy. It was a world that always surrounded me growing up, and I never wanted to stay in it.
6. What were three things you liked to do when you were a child?
I liked to get out of the house above anything, especially to go play by myself. I liked asking "why" questions to the point of irritating the adults around me. When I was a little bit older, I liked horrifying my parents by smoking.
7. What were you afraid of when you were a child?
I was afraid of ending up in the same world as my parents, where everything revolves around runes and magic and professional rivalries that get really dangerous. But on a more normal note, I was really afraid of my closet at night.
8. How did you respond to the physiological and psychological changes in your life as a teenager?
I did stupid teenage things - I smoked, I went to parties with friends where we smoked illegal substances, I drank with the same friends, I drove too fast. Looking back, I'm not sure if I did these things to horrify my parents, to spur them to kick me out of the house, or just to get their attention. It might have been all of them.
9. What makes you happy now?
I love getting first crack at the test results.
10. What is your greatest fear?
That the whole of my contribution to magiphysic cosmology will be my petty rune work.
11. What would you change about yourself if you could?
If I excised my affinity with runes, I suppose I wouldn't have this job. I guess I would stop worrying about the future and my place in it so much and enjoy the opportunities I have.
12. What is it that you have never told anyone?
I only took magiphysics so I could retain some link with my parents and the rest of my family. I was a little bit vexed when it turned out to be so interesting.
13. What do you want?
To finish my thesis! To understand the test results! To explain the interaction between magic and science with one grand sweeping theory. And I want my parents to ask about what I'm doing.
Hmm, this was not quite as revelatory as my prior interview was, though I suspect that's because I knew far more about Jemma going into this than I knew about Seaton prior to that interview. Still, I'm excited for this story. If I could bang out the whole thing in two days, I would post it a biiiit later than I should, but it would be thrilling to have a whole new story.
Monday, January 26, 2009
World Building - architecture
I know, the substantive posts have been lacking of late. Luckily I had a burst of inspiration about something to add to the UFPE universe. A certain somebody recently returned from a vacation to Egypt and mentioned that there was a temple where the light shone directly onto a sacred statue twice a year. This made me think of Stonehenge and the like, where edifices are erected to coincide with certain cosmic occurrences. For a culture like that of the UFPE, where astrology more or less plays the role of religion (I shall have to flesh that out more), this would be a perfect addition to the landscape.
I just started reading a fantasy novel recommended to me by a friend as classic fantasy. It's very engaging so far, and I'm struck by the depth and breadth of the world just eighty pages in. This is what I shall try to find out about the UFPE world - all the details and history and cultural elements that make a society come alive. Perhaps I should try writing one of the scenes from a perspective like mine and see what little cultural things appear. But not today.
Today is for plotting this architecture business and how it coincides with the astrology. I was thinking about this yesterday, and I like the idea of the sun streaming in at just the right angle on just the right day for some purpose or another. As I picture it, there is somewhere a temple with two walls: an outer wall with six precise slits, all carved at various angles, studded with mirrors on the inward-facing side and an inner wall with six stained glass windows. On (what else?) the summer solstice, the six rays of light reflect off the mirrors and shine in through the small stained glass chamber.
Inside this chamber? That's a good question. I will eventually send MC in there, and she will shine in the rainbow light, as is her way. Right now there's a depiction of the famous astrology chart on the floor, but I can't decide what else is in there - what was the point of building this in the first place? The Secret Society probably meets in there, though I do not think they were the ones to build in. In fact, they may be the only (or so they think) ones who still know about this place.
On the Big Day, I think they all venture inside the chamber, wearing pure white robes, to gaze in awe at the perfection of the astrology and of the skill of those who created the temple. On other days, they just hang around in the space between the two walls. Now I'm tempted to go a Da Vinci Code direction with this - is there something about the chamber, besides that it shows MC's shininess, that the Secret Society doesn't know/has forgotten?
Maybe there is more after all. I can't decide whether these things are already there, or whether they must be found. Anyway, there are six sacred objects, for the six cusps where both the sectarcs and the triarcs meet. On the Topaz/Ruby cusp, there is a diamond which, when set perfectly on the triarc cusp on the proper days, illuminates the chamber ceiling with a prophecy about MC (or two prophecies?). On the Ruby/Amethyst cusp is a piece of charcoal (which gets changed fairly often) which catches on fire on the proper days, by which Secret Society (and formerly everyone else?) keeps an exact calender. On the Amethyst/Sapphire cusp lies a scroll which shows a map of UFPE continent (with a mysterious star, whatever could it mean?) on the proper days. On the Sapphire/Emerald cusp is a porcelain cup of water which can be used on the proper days as a scrying mirror, for anyone who still knows how to scry. On the Emerald/Opal cusp, oddly enough, there is nothing but a faintly worn indentation. From that viewpoint, on the proper days (or really, on most sunny days), one can get a heart-stopping view of the surrounding valley. On the Opal/Topaz cusp is the most challenging object of all - a large-ish piece of amber that shows four faces on the proper day.
It's a mystery among Secret Society members because all the other ones, except arguably the Emerald/Opal view, do something productive. The amber actually does something productive, but no one knows how to use it anymore. Someone among all four sentient species has one of those, and if they all held it on the proper day, they would actually be able to communicate with one another. Magic!
So that post took more time and effort than usual, but it was very much worth it. I like the idea of this great bejeweled, be-windowed, be-mirrored temple with these random objects on the floor.
I just started reading a fantasy novel recommended to me by a friend as classic fantasy. It's very engaging so far, and I'm struck by the depth and breadth of the world just eighty pages in. This is what I shall try to find out about the UFPE world - all the details and history and cultural elements that make a society come alive. Perhaps I should try writing one of the scenes from a perspective like mine and see what little cultural things appear. But not today.
Today is for plotting this architecture business and how it coincides with the astrology. I was thinking about this yesterday, and I like the idea of the sun streaming in at just the right angle on just the right day for some purpose or another. As I picture it, there is somewhere a temple with two walls: an outer wall with six precise slits, all carved at various angles, studded with mirrors on the inward-facing side and an inner wall with six stained glass windows. On (what else?) the summer solstice, the six rays of light reflect off the mirrors and shine in through the small stained glass chamber.
Inside this chamber? That's a good question. I will eventually send MC in there, and she will shine in the rainbow light, as is her way. Right now there's a depiction of the famous astrology chart on the floor, but I can't decide what else is in there - what was the point of building this in the first place? The Secret Society probably meets in there, though I do not think they were the ones to build in. In fact, they may be the only (or so they think) ones who still know about this place.
On the Big Day, I think they all venture inside the chamber, wearing pure white robes, to gaze in awe at the perfection of the astrology and of the skill of those who created the temple. On other days, they just hang around in the space between the two walls. Now I'm tempted to go a Da Vinci Code direction with this - is there something about the chamber, besides that it shows MC's shininess, that the Secret Society doesn't know/has forgotten?
Maybe there is more after all. I can't decide whether these things are already there, or whether they must be found. Anyway, there are six sacred objects, for the six cusps where both the sectarcs and the triarcs meet. On the Topaz/Ruby cusp, there is a diamond which, when set perfectly on the triarc cusp on the proper days, illuminates the chamber ceiling with a prophecy about MC (or two prophecies?). On the Ruby/Amethyst cusp is a piece of charcoal (which gets changed fairly often) which catches on fire on the proper days, by which Secret Society (and formerly everyone else?) keeps an exact calender. On the Amethyst/Sapphire cusp lies a scroll which shows a map of UFPE continent (with a mysterious star, whatever could it mean?) on the proper days. On the Sapphire/Emerald cusp is a porcelain cup of water which can be used on the proper days as a scrying mirror, for anyone who still knows how to scry. On the Emerald/Opal cusp, oddly enough, there is nothing but a faintly worn indentation. From that viewpoint, on the proper days (or really, on most sunny days), one can get a heart-stopping view of the surrounding valley. On the Opal/Topaz cusp is the most challenging object of all - a large-ish piece of amber that shows four faces on the proper day.
It's a mystery among Secret Society members because all the other ones, except arguably the Emerald/Opal view, do something productive. The amber actually does something productive, but no one knows how to use it anymore. Someone among all four sentient species has one of those, and if they all held it on the proper day, they would actually be able to communicate with one another. Magic!
So that post took more time and effort than usual, but it was very much worth it. I like the idea of this great bejeweled, be-windowed, be-mirrored temple with these random objects on the floor.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Short Story - Filling in the Blanks
I have two short stories on my mind tonight: the science/magic one, and one I have agreed to workshop for the writers group I belong to. I have a tendency to focus on the style of my writing and less on the plot, but the latter story was looked over by an actual professional editor and drastic changes were made at his request. He liked the finished product, but he couldn't use it after all because it did not fit with the tone of the rest of the stories in the anthology. I'll be very interested what the group has to say about it. I suppose I should submit the final version of it, even though I and a friend of mine prefer the first version.
Anyway, that shall be re-visited, but that would not make for an interesting entry, and I did mean to write something interesting tonight. Tonight I shall be fleshing out the science/magic story, and I was thinking about this as I was walking home from a bookstore. Sometimes on these walks I focus on the big picture, but sometimes I get stuck on little details. Tonight, it was little details.
The MC, whom I've tentatively named Jemma Grienyte, is working on her PhD magiphysic cosmology, known among the grad set as "astral physics." The working title of her thesis is "Angels on the Head of a String: the New Approach of Magiphysic Cosmology to the Age, Size and Composition of the Universe." While she's attempting to write this very ambitious work, she's working as an intern at something like the Large Hadron Collider of this Earth AU. It's rather more boring than the LHC, though - no chance of blowing up the planet. They're doing something scientific with lasers and such, except they're shooting the lasers through the center of a very simple but fairly powerful magical artifact.
Jemma wanted to work there so she could get the measurements as soon as they came out, but LHC wanted her because she has done a little bit of work in rune-smithing. Runes are what magical artifacts generally are called; no one actually draws runes on things anymore. They were found to be far too unstable, compared to actually cutting the artifacts and using more natural designs. That is, if you want to call for strength, for example, it's much more reliable to draw a simple tree than to draw the rune for it and hope your source is good.
Anyway, that's not important. See, all these details ensnare me, and I wanted to have something substantive in this post! Oh well, maybe I'll change gears and go with the detail flow tonight. I like to think that this rune v. picture (the technical term is hieroglyphics) debate raged on for centuries until scientists, doing something very similar to what LHC is doing now, proved that hieroglyphics yielded stabler runes than... well, runes.
So everyday, Jemma actually gets to go up to the LHC and touch (!!) the simple silver cube with the hole cut through the center to make sure the spell is holding steady. It's a very simple spell, just the charm all graduate students have somewhere in their rooms to encourage the flow of knowledge and creativity. The point isn't to measure the effects of a particular spell; it's to see how the lasers act differently, if they do at all, when run through this low-level but steady magical field. If the spell feels like it's waning - it wears out quickly because of the nature of the experiment - she takes her trusty little stylus and writes the spell on the cube again. The hiero is sort of a head and sort of a sun.
Her trusty stylus is just a piece of sharpened wood, about the size of a big novelty pen, with the sharpened end all charred. She renews it by wrapping the tip in the special herb blend, touching the whole thing to a special oil mix, and burning it just for a minute or so. She gets teased on occasion for carrying around a magic wand, and that is probably why her subconscious seized on the charred stick as her rune-smithing tool of choice.
Okay, this entry is getting to be quite long enough. Maybe I'll interview Jemma Grienyte for my next one!
Anyway, that shall be re-visited, but that would not make for an interesting entry, and I did mean to write something interesting tonight. Tonight I shall be fleshing out the science/magic story, and I was thinking about this as I was walking home from a bookstore. Sometimes on these walks I focus on the big picture, but sometimes I get stuck on little details. Tonight, it was little details.
The MC, whom I've tentatively named Jemma Grienyte, is working on her PhD magiphysic cosmology, known among the grad set as "astral physics." The working title of her thesis is "Angels on the Head of a String: the New Approach of Magiphysic Cosmology to the Age, Size and Composition of the Universe." While she's attempting to write this very ambitious work, she's working as an intern at something like the Large Hadron Collider of this Earth AU. It's rather more boring than the LHC, though - no chance of blowing up the planet. They're doing something scientific with lasers and such, except they're shooting the lasers through the center of a very simple but fairly powerful magical artifact.
Jemma wanted to work there so she could get the measurements as soon as they came out, but LHC wanted her because she has done a little bit of work in rune-smithing. Runes are what magical artifacts generally are called; no one actually draws runes on things anymore. They were found to be far too unstable, compared to actually cutting the artifacts and using more natural designs. That is, if you want to call for strength, for example, it's much more reliable to draw a simple tree than to draw the rune for it and hope your source is good.
Anyway, that's not important. See, all these details ensnare me, and I wanted to have something substantive in this post! Oh well, maybe I'll change gears and go with the detail flow tonight. I like to think that this rune v. picture (the technical term is hieroglyphics) debate raged on for centuries until scientists, doing something very similar to what LHC is doing now, proved that hieroglyphics yielded stabler runes than... well, runes.
So everyday, Jemma actually gets to go up to the LHC and touch (!!) the simple silver cube with the hole cut through the center to make sure the spell is holding steady. It's a very simple spell, just the charm all graduate students have somewhere in their rooms to encourage the flow of knowledge and creativity. The point isn't to measure the effects of a particular spell; it's to see how the lasers act differently, if they do at all, when run through this low-level but steady magical field. If the spell feels like it's waning - it wears out quickly because of the nature of the experiment - she takes her trusty little stylus and writes the spell on the cube again. The hiero is sort of a head and sort of a sun.
Her trusty stylus is just a piece of sharpened wood, about the size of a big novelty pen, with the sharpened end all charred. She renews it by wrapping the tip in the special herb blend, touching the whole thing to a special oil mix, and burning it just for a minute or so. She gets teased on occasion for carrying around a magic wand, and that is probably why her subconscious seized on the charred stick as her rune-smithing tool of choice.
Okay, this entry is getting to be quite long enough. Maybe I'll interview Jemma Grienyte for my next one!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Game - If
Yesterday I said I would write a more substantive post today, but I had an unexpected opportunity for a free (and what turned out to be lovely) dinner tonight, and as lovely dinners so often do, it went very long.
Instead of any updates on the rapidly expanding world of the UPFE or other stories, I've decided to open a book I received for Christmas and answer a few of the questions. It's at the outer bounds of what this blog is for, but I believe that thinking in new directions counts as creativity. The book is called "If... (Questions for the Game of Life)."
If you could become famous for doing something that you don't currently do, what would it be?
Finish full-length novels? That was a joke. Work in the field I'm studying for? Another joke. This is proving challenging! I suppose I would like to be famous as someone in the Obama administration of twenty years in the future, but in a relatively minor role. I'd still get my name in the papers, and I'd be smeared in political blogs of the future, so that must count for famous.
If you could choose the very last thing you see before death, what would it be?
This question cuts a little closer to home than is completely comfortable, but I'll go with it. The softly smiling face of my beloved is the most obvious answer. But if I don't have a beloved then, maybe my giant collection of penguins. If I could be cuddling one of them, that would be nice. What a morbid fancy.
If you could solve one unsolved crime, what would it be?
I'm afraid I'm not up on my crime history. It would be fun to solve one that occurred here in NYC - I'm sure there are millions of them. The closer to home the better, for the sake of the historical curiosity, but not TOO close to home.
if you had to have your mate get a part of their body pierced, exactly where would you want it to be?
I wonder if this question is aimed at my future theoretical spouse or just anybody I happen to be romantically involved with at the moment. Either way, I think men look dashing with a tiny sparkly stone stud in one ear. I don't care which one.
If you could eliminate one thing you do each day in the bathroom so that you never had to do it again, what would it be?
How funny. My mind immediately went to brushing my teeth because I generally have to drag myself to the bathroom to do it, morning and night. I suppose I could eliminate, ah, eliminating, but it would be weird to be the person who never eliminates.
Good enough for today. Tomorrow night I have plans, so I might not make a substantive post then, but I should be back with something worthwhile (for me, at least), this weekend.
This was fun. Until next time!
Instead of any updates on the rapidly expanding world of the UPFE or other stories, I've decided to open a book I received for Christmas and answer a few of the questions. It's at the outer bounds of what this blog is for, but I believe that thinking in new directions counts as creativity. The book is called "If... (Questions for the Game of Life)."
If you could become famous for doing something that you don't currently do, what would it be?
Finish full-length novels? That was a joke. Work in the field I'm studying for? Another joke. This is proving challenging! I suppose I would like to be famous as someone in the Obama administration of twenty years in the future, but in a relatively minor role. I'd still get my name in the papers, and I'd be smeared in political blogs of the future, so that must count for famous.
If you could choose the very last thing you see before death, what would it be?
This question cuts a little closer to home than is completely comfortable, but I'll go with it. The softly smiling face of my beloved is the most obvious answer. But if I don't have a beloved then, maybe my giant collection of penguins. If I could be cuddling one of them, that would be nice. What a morbid fancy.
If you could solve one unsolved crime, what would it be?
I'm afraid I'm not up on my crime history. It would be fun to solve one that occurred here in NYC - I'm sure there are millions of them. The closer to home the better, for the sake of the historical curiosity, but not TOO close to home.
if you had to have your mate get a part of their body pierced, exactly where would you want it to be?
I wonder if this question is aimed at my future theoretical spouse or just anybody I happen to be romantically involved with at the moment. Either way, I think men look dashing with a tiny sparkly stone stud in one ear. I don't care which one.
If you could eliminate one thing you do each day in the bathroom so that you never had to do it again, what would it be?
How funny. My mind immediately went to brushing my teeth because I generally have to drag myself to the bathroom to do it, morning and night. I suppose I could eliminate, ah, eliminating, but it would be weird to be the person who never eliminates.
Good enough for today. Tomorrow night I have plans, so I might not make a substantive post then, but I should be back with something worthwhile (for me, at least), this weekend.
This was fun. Until next time!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Character Building - Plot Walk
Tonight's is a short post, partly because I must retire soon and partly because I got my daily dose of creativity on a walk I from which I just returned. I have very good luck with walks and inspiration - the best plot twists and world building ideas I ever have come from walks and conversations. Getting my body moving gets my brain moving in new ways, I think.
The story was again the Ultimate Fantasy Parody Epic, and the MC again was Bad Guy L. I thought up the rough outline of his flight from home (which ties into the larger story) and his first experience with human beings. It's almost completely a positive experience too except for one tiny sour note, and that little bit of rejection is enough to eventually convince him to wage war on all of humanity - not just the guilty parties who may have destroyed his kin.
He also learns the human tongue along the way, and yes, all the people in this land do speak the same language. For some reason, in my head he sounds a little bit like the Japanese international students in some of my classes, and for equally unfathomable reasons, the people he meets up with have southern accents. It's all inexplicable but made for very amusing exchanges in my head.
And now - to bed. I plan on a more substantive post tomorrow.
The story was again the Ultimate Fantasy Parody Epic, and the MC again was Bad Guy L. I thought up the rough outline of his flight from home (which ties into the larger story) and his first experience with human beings. It's almost completely a positive experience too except for one tiny sour note, and that little bit of rejection is enough to eventually convince him to wage war on all of humanity - not just the guilty parties who may have destroyed his kin.
He also learns the human tongue along the way, and yes, all the people in this land do speak the same language. For some reason, in my head he sounds a little bit like the Japanese international students in some of my classes, and for equally unfathomable reasons, the people he meets up with have southern accents. It's all inexplicable but made for very amusing exchanges in my head.
And now - to bed. I plan on a more substantive post tomorrow.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Story Building - Outlining
Outlining is a tool I have found useful in academic writing, but I have resisted using it to plot out creative writing. I especially resist the idea when it comes to that (semi) annual writing craze, NaNoWriMo, where my philosophy tends toward "the crazier the better." The Ultimate Fantasy Parody Epic was written in such a spirit, and while I generally approve of the direction it's taken, it could definitely do with a written-out structure. It cries out for structure.
I know where the story of Volume I ends, but I'm not sure how to write the middle part in a way that even approaches compelling. There's no drama in the middle; she's just toodling along with her bard caravan, happy to be not fending off the advances of the guy she thought was her uncle. And there's no real villain in Volume I, or at least the villainry is so far behind the scenes that it's hard to weave into the narrative, which is a limited third person perspective, close on the MC.
The plots goes approximately as follows:
MC runs away from evil fake family
MC has run-in with Royal Prince (subject of a previous post)
MC is rescued by nymph, gets a new name and a clue to her Significant Heritage
MC stumbles into a quaint village, makes friends with innkeeper, gets dress
MC is discovered by traveling bard company
- I didn't write this in the original, but I thought about it, and I may add it in, to create some drama: MC is nearly chased out of the village when villagers know of her nymph-consorting ways
MC has Unresolved Sexual Tension with one of the performers
... (middle part as of yet unplotted)
MC is kidnapped by two of the performers and brought to Bad Guy Nation, where Bad Guy L (subject of a previous post or two) welcomes her home in a dramatic cliffhanger.
The nymph is a significant character later on, and her rescue of MC is an important plot point. The prince will have a role to play later on, though I'd like to get him back into the story sooner. As I have it written, the nymph helpfully blurs his recollection of the run-in with MC, but it might help the plot along if the nymph doesn't do so - or if it wears off at some point.
It could even be tied into the larger villainry to have the prince become fixated on finding MC; in fact, that would be a great way to spur the villainry. I've wondered so far how the Secret Society finds MC and discovers her Significant Heritage, and this would be a fantastic vehicle for that.
The nymph's charm might wear off sooner if the prince came upon the village shortly after they chased out MC and if they described MC to him in loving detail. Then he would become enraged, but because he's a Responsible Guy and has Duties to Attend, he can't go haring after a bard caravan to avenge his fallen companion. Instead, he shall hire his best artists to create essentially Wanted posters of her and send them to all four corners of the kingdom. I could even get MC's evil fake family involved, which is how Secret Society knows her Significant Heritage.
So I like this - as MC and her caravan travel and perform, they get word that Prince is after MC. At first caravan guy swears to protect her, but as her posters reach far and wide, it gets to be a strain on them, and she recognizes it. She feels guilty and doesn't know what to do. So - revelation! - maybe the triplets don't have to abduct her after all. I'd have to go back and change a good deal of the first chapters of Volume II, but that would be more satisfying than for her to be abducted JUST as things start to get hard. And I think I'd like her a little more this way.
So! Time to write this out in a somewhat organized form for myself. Another productive post, creative blog! If I ever have the opportunity to write one of these uninterrupted by instant messaging, email, cats, and whatever else, who knows what I could get done.
I know where the story of Volume I ends, but I'm not sure how to write the middle part in a way that even approaches compelling. There's no drama in the middle; she's just toodling along with her bard caravan, happy to be not fending off the advances of the guy she thought was her uncle. And there's no real villain in Volume I, or at least the villainry is so far behind the scenes that it's hard to weave into the narrative, which is a limited third person perspective, close on the MC.
The plots goes approximately as follows:
MC runs away from evil fake family
MC has run-in with Royal Prince (subject of a previous post)
MC is rescued by nymph, gets a new name and a clue to her Significant Heritage
MC stumbles into a quaint village, makes friends with innkeeper, gets dress
MC is discovered by traveling bard company
- I didn't write this in the original, but I thought about it, and I may add it in, to create some drama: MC is nearly chased out of the village when villagers know of her nymph-consorting ways
MC has Unresolved Sexual Tension with one of the performers
... (middle part as of yet unplotted)
MC is kidnapped by two of the performers and brought to Bad Guy Nation, where Bad Guy L (subject of a previous post or two) welcomes her home in a dramatic cliffhanger.
The nymph is a significant character later on, and her rescue of MC is an important plot point. The prince will have a role to play later on, though I'd like to get him back into the story sooner. As I have it written, the nymph helpfully blurs his recollection of the run-in with MC, but it might help the plot along if the nymph doesn't do so - or if it wears off at some point.
It could even be tied into the larger villainry to have the prince become fixated on finding MC; in fact, that would be a great way to spur the villainry. I've wondered so far how the Secret Society finds MC and discovers her Significant Heritage, and this would be a fantastic vehicle for that.
The nymph's charm might wear off sooner if the prince came upon the village shortly after they chased out MC and if they described MC to him in loving detail. Then he would become enraged, but because he's a Responsible Guy and has Duties to Attend, he can't go haring after a bard caravan to avenge his fallen companion. Instead, he shall hire his best artists to create essentially Wanted posters of her and send them to all four corners of the kingdom. I could even get MC's evil fake family involved, which is how Secret Society knows her Significant Heritage.
So I like this - as MC and her caravan travel and perform, they get word that Prince is after MC. At first caravan guy swears to protect her, but as her posters reach far and wide, it gets to be a strain on them, and she recognizes it. She feels guilty and doesn't know what to do. So - revelation! - maybe the triplets don't have to abduct her after all. I'd have to go back and change a good deal of the first chapters of Volume II, but that would be more satisfying than for her to be abducted JUST as things start to get hard. And I think I'd like her a little more this way.
So! Time to write this out in a somewhat organized form for myself. Another productive post, creative blog! If I ever have the opportunity to write one of these uninterrupted by instant messaging, email, cats, and whatever else, who knows what I could get done.
Monday, January 19, 2009
General Writing - Description
Ah, description. Description is one of my favorite things to write (along with snappy dialogue and the rare, really touching interactions). I love reading it when it's well done, but when it's poorly done (at least in my opinion), it can drive me nuts. Because of this, I've shied away from writing a lot of description, especially when I feel I should be pushing myself to write more plot. Plot remains a weakness of mine, but that's another post. Description is, I think, a strength of mine, but if I keep shoving it to the back burner, it will become more and more rusty a tool.
My UFPE short story is the perfect vehicle for practicing this. The main character, L, is attending a sort of medieval carnival - the first such event he's ever attended. I'm trying to establish a sense of wonder, of confusion, of a kind of breathless joy - which all goes sour soon enough. That comes later.
Not much in the way of actual posting tonight; I'm writing this separately in the document. Just to act of forcing myself to take the time out of my reading schedule to write is the point of today's entry. Here's an excerpt, from the beginning
Anyway, the excerpt:
The world danced before his eyes and roiled in his ears. A girl held out her hands to him, and when he tentatively wrapped his fingers around hers, she pulled him close and whirled him in a circle. Luzeoir had the vague notion that he should have been the one whirling her, but the confident smile on her dark red lips and the tug of her arms convinced him that she knew what she was doing. It was fortunate, he reflected, that one of them did.
As the two of them whirled nearer to the torches, Luzeoir felt perspiration break out along his brow and along the long lines of his torso. A wave of dizzy heat crashed over him, from nearby fire, the bodies pressed close, and the chaotic frenzy that enclosed him. He took a deep, desperate breath, and tried to catch his partner’s eye to beg for escape. Her eyes wandered over the madcap scene before them, and when she did see him, she just smiled widely.
My UFPE short story is the perfect vehicle for practicing this. The main character, L, is attending a sort of medieval carnival - the first such event he's ever attended. I'm trying to establish a sense of wonder, of confusion, of a kind of breathless joy - which all goes sour soon enough. That comes later.
Not much in the way of actual posting tonight; I'm writing this separately in the document. Just to act of forcing myself to take the time out of my reading schedule to write is the point of today's entry. Here's an excerpt, from the beginning
Anyway, the excerpt:
The world danced before his eyes and roiled in his ears. A girl held out her hands to him, and when he tentatively wrapped his fingers around hers, she pulled him close and whirled him in a circle. Luzeoir had the vague notion that he should have been the one whirling her, but the confident smile on her dark red lips and the tug of her arms convinced him that she knew what she was doing. It was fortunate, he reflected, that one of them did.
As the two of them whirled nearer to the torches, Luzeoir felt perspiration break out along his brow and along the long lines of his torso. A wave of dizzy heat crashed over him, from nearby fire, the bodies pressed close, and the chaotic frenzy that enclosed him. He took a deep, desperate breath, and tried to catch his partner’s eye to beg for escape. Her eyes wandered over the madcap scene before them, and when she did see him, she just smiled widely.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Story Building - Another Short Story
I started the UFPE short story last night, and I like where it's headed. I need to work on the descriptions, which is funny considering that I usually have to restrain myself from letting description take over a story. I fear that I've restrained my sense of description so much that I've (temporarily, reversibly, I hope) stunted it a little.
That is not, however, the point of this entry, though I may address that in a future entry. Until an hour or so ago, that would have been the subject of today's post. I've had another idea for a short story, and I want to expand upon that instead. It came up during the discussion of a favorite novel of mine, speculation about how the state of things in that world came to be. The specifics are not important, but it got me thinking about an idea that could be the foundation for an original work of fiction.
The idea is this: a typical fantasy world eventually grows beyond its sword-and-spear level of weaponry technology, first to guns and then to bombs of increasing destructive capability. Pure practitioners of the magical arts look down upon these crude tools, of course, but there are always shills willing to sell their skills to the highest bidder. While the military has used magic in the past to enhance their weaponry, someone has the brilliant idea to create something along the lines of a magical atom bomb - technology and magic fully integrated to create a sort of deathly synergy.
R&D for this weapon starts to unravel tiny threads in the fabric of reality, perhaps interfering with whatever it is on the quantum level that allows magic to exist. It's not like real world physics, where an atom bomb isn't an atom bomb until the necessary pieces are put together; each piece of destructive magic created and tested bores little holes. On the level of killing individual people, even of razing a small village, these little holes are papered over in the grand scheme of things, perhaps by equally powerful acts of creation. But where the magic reaches further and further, with the idea of annihilating millions of people, the effects start to reverberate.
Meanwhile, a lowly graduate student at Magical Princeton is keeping an eye on boring experiments and starts noticing weird blips. Maybe these correspond to strange events happening in the real world. S/he eventually follows up and investigates and after much exhaustive research, not to mention ridicule from colleagues, traces it back to Magical Area 51. S/he confronts the military scientists with these findings, and...
Threats? Untimely death? Untimely death but not before Graduate Student has left incriminating notes behind?
I like to think that things become progressively worse and worse in this world, so clearly the military cannot take Grad Student's advice right off. Of course, the military must have good reasons for doing what it does; it has access to resources beyond Magical Princeton's, and perhaps it sees a threat even worse than its own assault on reality. Are Elder Ones from the outer reaches reaching their squamous tentacles toward Magical Earth? Or are the bad vibes the military is getting actually stem from the shocks of what they are undertaking now? Somehow both?
So how does the story end? I'm currently discussing this with that same friend. Okay, I have it settled. It ends with an article, of the WWN variety. It's a morbid ending but also a little bit funny and ultimately ambiguous. Does anyone take these guys down? Or do they successfully cover it up and laugh it off?
That is not, however, the point of this entry, though I may address that in a future entry. Until an hour or so ago, that would have been the subject of today's post. I've had another idea for a short story, and I want to expand upon that instead. It came up during the discussion of a favorite novel of mine, speculation about how the state of things in that world came to be. The specifics are not important, but it got me thinking about an idea that could be the foundation for an original work of fiction.
The idea is this: a typical fantasy world eventually grows beyond its sword-and-spear level of weaponry technology, first to guns and then to bombs of increasing destructive capability. Pure practitioners of the magical arts look down upon these crude tools, of course, but there are always shills willing to sell their skills to the highest bidder. While the military has used magic in the past to enhance their weaponry, someone has the brilliant idea to create something along the lines of a magical atom bomb - technology and magic fully integrated to create a sort of deathly synergy.
R&D for this weapon starts to unravel tiny threads in the fabric of reality, perhaps interfering with whatever it is on the quantum level that allows magic to exist. It's not like real world physics, where an atom bomb isn't an atom bomb until the necessary pieces are put together; each piece of destructive magic created and tested bores little holes. On the level of killing individual people, even of razing a small village, these little holes are papered over in the grand scheme of things, perhaps by equally powerful acts of creation. But where the magic reaches further and further, with the idea of annihilating millions of people, the effects start to reverberate.
Meanwhile, a lowly graduate student at Magical Princeton is keeping an eye on boring experiments and starts noticing weird blips. Maybe these correspond to strange events happening in the real world. S/he eventually follows up and investigates and after much exhaustive research, not to mention ridicule from colleagues, traces it back to Magical Area 51. S/he confronts the military scientists with these findings, and...
Threats? Untimely death? Untimely death but not before Graduate Student has left incriminating notes behind?
I like to think that things become progressively worse and worse in this world, so clearly the military cannot take Grad Student's advice right off. Of course, the military must have good reasons for doing what it does; it has access to resources beyond Magical Princeton's, and perhaps it sees a threat even worse than its own assault on reality. Are Elder Ones from the outer reaches reaching their squamous tentacles toward Magical Earth? Or are the bad vibes the military is getting actually stem from the shocks of what they are undertaking now? Somehow both?
So how does the story end? I'm currently discussing this with that same friend. Okay, I have it settled. It ends with an article, of the WWN variety. It's a morbid ending but also a little bit funny and ultimately ambiguous. Does anyone take these guys down? Or do they successfully cover it up and laugh it off?
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Character Building - Short Story
Partly as a result of having started a book of short stories I received for Christmas, partly as a result of feeling guilty for not having anything to show to my writers group, and partly to dive back into this universe, I have decided that I want to write a short story in the UFPE world.
The MC is going to be the Bad Guy of the story, who is one of my favorite characters. During Volume II, he explains to Our Heroine that when he was younger, he left Bad Guy Nation and spent some time traveling. It strikes me that this is probably a formative period of his life and his development as a villain; as someone who is doomed by his bloodline to never be quite good enough for Bad Guy Nation (unless his plot comes to fruition), I have a hard time understanding why he turned around and chose to embrace them as fiercely as he does. Why not settle down with a nice girl who has no idea who he is, in a nice village (or city!) where he can have nice neighbors who don't care what sort of scandals a great-great-great ancestor of his got caught up in so long ago?
For that matter, how did Bad Guy Nation come to listen to him? Now that he's solidified his reputation as a leader - just not quite as powerful as he'd like - who is poised to bring Bad Guy Nation into total world domination, his compatriots are willing to overlook his bad blood, as long he doesn't try to claim supreme leadership. But why would anyone listen to him in the first place? As I think about it, I am becoming convinced that he pulled a Talented Mr. Ripley or similarly devious scheme, to arise to his preeminent position.
Like any despot, though, L did not begin life twirling a mustache. His family life was fairly normal, but their blood taint cut them off from society at large. He was not one of those children who tore the wings off flies; he just spent a lot of time alone and understood from a very young age why his family was politely shunned. He never heard any suggestion that this was unjust. I like the idea that, at some point, he or his parents expressed a hope that one day, their descendants might be accepted back into society.
In something of an ironic twist, it might be his sojourn into the outside world that convinces him that this is possible; ironic because his quest later on is to Destroy All Humans or something of the sort. When he leaves his home, he may believe he is leaving for good, but he returns with a renewed vigor. Is it a sense of self-confidence he never had? A learned skill for oration and the power of hawkish rhetoric? Does he learn something about his people that he can use to sway them? I think all of the above - and as he's conducting his research into the history of Bad Guy Nation, the Secret Society who plays a major role in this story learns about him and his special snowflake astrology that makes him their perfect tool.
So - a story of a young man who leaves his home with the idea of never returning there again, of starting life anew as an anonymous farmer in a faraway land. Something convinces him to return home and lead his people to the greatest glory they have ever known. I suppose that could almost be a novel in itself. I have an image of my head of this story beginning at a carnival in one of the great cities. L is almost swept up in the mad whirling chaos of the place when he comes across a charlatan, doing something to swindle people out of their money. It immediately jolts him out of the magic of the event, and he thinks sniffily that his people may be extraordinarily bigoted in their way but they would never cheat one another.
It's a good beginning. I'm not sure where to take it from there, though I have an idea or two. Someone is going to tell him that at events like that, everyone knows something like that will happen. It's human nature.
Yes, that's the key there.
"They come to these carnivals, knowing that they'll be cheated?"
Laughter. "Most people like to think that they are too smart to be swindled, but yes. It's the price we pay for our pleasures."
He doesn't understand. "It's exciting, but surely someone must see what that man really is. Why allow him to continue to ply his trade?"
"Everyone knows what he is. Everyone knows what Carnival is - watered-down drink, meat pies spiced heavily to cover the taste of spoilage, and woman rouged to look ten years younger. We know them, but really, they know us better than we know ourselves. They understand human nature intuitively. They know just how far they can go. When they call to us, we are helpless." More laughter. "If I could do it, boy, I can't say I wouldn't join them."
From this, L has the idea to learn about the nature of his own people, and how he can call to them.
Excellent! Another productive entry!
The MC is going to be the Bad Guy of the story, who is one of my favorite characters. During Volume II, he explains to Our Heroine that when he was younger, he left Bad Guy Nation and spent some time traveling. It strikes me that this is probably a formative period of his life and his development as a villain; as someone who is doomed by his bloodline to never be quite good enough for Bad Guy Nation (unless his plot comes to fruition), I have a hard time understanding why he turned around and chose to embrace them as fiercely as he does. Why not settle down with a nice girl who has no idea who he is, in a nice village (or city!) where he can have nice neighbors who don't care what sort of scandals a great-great-great ancestor of his got caught up in so long ago?
For that matter, how did Bad Guy Nation come to listen to him? Now that he's solidified his reputation as a leader - just not quite as powerful as he'd like - who is poised to bring Bad Guy Nation into total world domination, his compatriots are willing to overlook his bad blood, as long he doesn't try to claim supreme leadership. But why would anyone listen to him in the first place? As I think about it, I am becoming convinced that he pulled a Talented Mr. Ripley or similarly devious scheme, to arise to his preeminent position.
Like any despot, though, L did not begin life twirling a mustache. His family life was fairly normal, but their blood taint cut them off from society at large. He was not one of those children who tore the wings off flies; he just spent a lot of time alone and understood from a very young age why his family was politely shunned. He never heard any suggestion that this was unjust. I like the idea that, at some point, he or his parents expressed a hope that one day, their descendants might be accepted back into society.
In something of an ironic twist, it might be his sojourn into the outside world that convinces him that this is possible; ironic because his quest later on is to Destroy All Humans or something of the sort. When he leaves his home, he may believe he is leaving for good, but he returns with a renewed vigor. Is it a sense of self-confidence he never had? A learned skill for oration and the power of hawkish rhetoric? Does he learn something about his people that he can use to sway them? I think all of the above - and as he's conducting his research into the history of Bad Guy Nation, the Secret Society who plays a major role in this story learns about him and his special snowflake astrology that makes him their perfect tool.
So - a story of a young man who leaves his home with the idea of never returning there again, of starting life anew as an anonymous farmer in a faraway land. Something convinces him to return home and lead his people to the greatest glory they have ever known. I suppose that could almost be a novel in itself. I have an image of my head of this story beginning at a carnival in one of the great cities. L is almost swept up in the mad whirling chaos of the place when he comes across a charlatan, doing something to swindle people out of their money. It immediately jolts him out of the magic of the event, and he thinks sniffily that his people may be extraordinarily bigoted in their way but they would never cheat one another.
It's a good beginning. I'm not sure where to take it from there, though I have an idea or two. Someone is going to tell him that at events like that, everyone knows something like that will happen. It's human nature.
Yes, that's the key there.
"They come to these carnivals, knowing that they'll be cheated?"
Laughter. "Most people like to think that they are too smart to be swindled, but yes. It's the price we pay for our pleasures."
He doesn't understand. "It's exciting, but surely someone must see what that man really is. Why allow him to continue to ply his trade?"
"Everyone knows what he is. Everyone knows what Carnival is - watered-down drink, meat pies spiced heavily to cover the taste of spoilage, and woman rouged to look ten years younger. We know them, but really, they know us better than we know ourselves. They understand human nature intuitively. They know just how far they can go. When they call to us, we are helpless." More laughter. "If I could do it, boy, I can't say I wouldn't join them."
From this, L has the idea to learn about the nature of his own people, and how he can call to them.
Excellent! Another productive entry!
Friday, January 16, 2009
Story Building - Recurring Symbols
A friend and I were watching a very silly fantasy movie tonight (because it starred one of our favorite actors), and it had just about every element I'm looking to include in the Ultimate Fantasy Parody epic. The feature it worked to an especially brutal death was the recurring symbol - in this case, a vaguely Celtic swirl and a cross.
UPFE already includes a Chosen One, an ancient order of allies (though this remains very fuzzy and may be the subject of another entry), prophecies, a Bad Guy who at first seems like a Good Guy, and historical roots of the climactic conflict (which is related to the allies and remains similarly fuzzy). And what of the Significant Recurring Symbols? There is at least one thing that pops up every now and then, but it is mostly absent from the earlier parts of the Epic.
It's a rainbow, and it has several important places in the plot: it's the way the magic-wielders are ordered; it's the basis of the astrology; and our gorgeous heroine gets a name that means 'rainbow' because she shows under rainbows, which she's never seen, having grown up in a desert. But it needs to occur more often. Epics don't just drop subtle hints and hope the clever reader picks up on it; these things must be hammered in. Dead horses must be beaten. Etc.
I'm thinking of giving MC a little token from her parents (who died when she was very young, of course) with something of a rainbow on it - and in everything she sews or embroiders, a domestic activity she despises - she works that design in somewhere, no matter how tiny. Because I'm cruel, I might have her lose it at some point, and her first priority when she realizes this will be to re-create the symbol. This may even have to do with how she is recognized by the minions of the Bad Guy - and possibly by the Good Guys, when the time comes.
When she ventures out into the real world, she might get to see some rainbow-like bursts of color, too - in wildflowers, perhaps even in a spray of water. At one point, she is walking to and from a waterfall, and when light refracts through water, it makes a prism. In the wares of merchants selling threads. Excellent, all excellent.
Early on, she has something of an emotional connection with roses. This is shamelessly borrowed from one of my favorite authors; I may change the plant, but I'd like to do something with that. Or perhaps a kind of tree. Later, when we meet the Nation of Bad Guys, one of the reasons she finds them creepy is that they aren't very respectful of their trees. One of the first people she meets in the great outside world gives her a green dress, and it would be very natural (ha) for there to be that exact tree embroidered on it. She gets some of her first food, after she leaves her abusive childhood home, from a tree. When she meets the Good Guy, she's up in an alpine sort of setting, feeling all out of place and out of sorts. What would make her feel better than to see one of her favorite trees in that unexpected place?
Now that I've thought this out a little, I'm starting to see a pattern I could make from this. I fairly recently decided that the main tension in the Epic, as it is in so many epics, is between Destiny and Free Will. It'll be a philosophical point, but it was also play out in some fairly literal ways.The rainbows represent her crazy fantastical destiny, so whenever I decide to inform or remind the readers of MC's Incredible Sparkly Destiny, I'll shove the rainbows into the forefront. Whenever I want to show MC resisting the siren call of fate or generally engaging in some independent thought - damn the consequences! - it'll be trees, trees, trees.
The more I ponder this, the more I like it. Rainbows are ethereal, beautiful creations of light and dancing drops of water, suspended in the sky and eternally out of grasp. They're rare, airy visions with religious overtones - perfect to stand in for destiny! Trees, on the other hand, have a much more lively kind of beauty, and in addition to decorating the landscape, they also serve some pragmatic functions, and they can weather a lot of abuse. They're literally down to earth (groan), fitting for Free Will and Independence. I still have to consider whether I want to do a particular tree or trees in general; both approaches have their own charms.
I'm happy to report that this was another productive post. Until next time, creative blog.
UPFE already includes a Chosen One, an ancient order of allies (though this remains very fuzzy and may be the subject of another entry), prophecies, a Bad Guy who at first seems like a Good Guy, and historical roots of the climactic conflict (which is related to the allies and remains similarly fuzzy). And what of the Significant Recurring Symbols? There is at least one thing that pops up every now and then, but it is mostly absent from the earlier parts of the Epic.
It's a rainbow, and it has several important places in the plot: it's the way the magic-wielders are ordered; it's the basis of the astrology; and our gorgeous heroine gets a name that means 'rainbow' because she shows under rainbows, which she's never seen, having grown up in a desert. But it needs to occur more often. Epics don't just drop subtle hints and hope the clever reader picks up on it; these things must be hammered in. Dead horses must be beaten. Etc.
I'm thinking of giving MC a little token from her parents (who died when she was very young, of course) with something of a rainbow on it - and in everything she sews or embroiders, a domestic activity she despises - she works that design in somewhere, no matter how tiny. Because I'm cruel, I might have her lose it at some point, and her first priority when she realizes this will be to re-create the symbol. This may even have to do with how she is recognized by the minions of the Bad Guy - and possibly by the Good Guys, when the time comes.
When she ventures out into the real world, she might get to see some rainbow-like bursts of color, too - in wildflowers, perhaps even in a spray of water. At one point, she is walking to and from a waterfall, and when light refracts through water, it makes a prism. In the wares of merchants selling threads. Excellent, all excellent.
Early on, she has something of an emotional connection with roses. This is shamelessly borrowed from one of my favorite authors; I may change the plant, but I'd like to do something with that. Or perhaps a kind of tree. Later, when we meet the Nation of Bad Guys, one of the reasons she finds them creepy is that they aren't very respectful of their trees. One of the first people she meets in the great outside world gives her a green dress, and it would be very natural (ha) for there to be that exact tree embroidered on it. She gets some of her first food, after she leaves her abusive childhood home, from a tree. When she meets the Good Guy, she's up in an alpine sort of setting, feeling all out of place and out of sorts. What would make her feel better than to see one of her favorite trees in that unexpected place?
Now that I've thought this out a little, I'm starting to see a pattern I could make from this. I fairly recently decided that the main tension in the Epic, as it is in so many epics, is between Destiny and Free Will. It'll be a philosophical point, but it was also play out in some fairly literal ways.The rainbows represent her crazy fantastical destiny, so whenever I decide to inform or remind the readers of MC's Incredible Sparkly Destiny, I'll shove the rainbows into the forefront. Whenever I want to show MC resisting the siren call of fate or generally engaging in some independent thought - damn the consequences! - it'll be trees, trees, trees.
The more I ponder this, the more I like it. Rainbows are ethereal, beautiful creations of light and dancing drops of water, suspended in the sky and eternally out of grasp. They're rare, airy visions with religious overtones - perfect to stand in for destiny! Trees, on the other hand, have a much more lively kind of beauty, and in addition to decorating the landscape, they also serve some pragmatic functions, and they can weather a lot of abuse. They're literally down to earth (groan), fitting for Free Will and Independence. I still have to consider whether I want to do a particular tree or trees in general; both approaches have their own charms.
I'm happy to report that this was another productive post. Until next time, creative blog.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Character Building - Character Interview
No post yesterday - I was slacking online when I should have been reading Hobbes, so I had to read Hobbes while I should have been writing a post. One might think that, in the grander scheme of things, writing a post should take precedence over slacking online; while they're both online, the one is active and the other passive. Ah well - I'm posting now.
Last post was just sort of fun, seat of the pants story-writing. Some days I'll do something like that, and others I'll focus more on one aspect of a story. This might spur me to create tags for this journal, but that's another matter. Today's aspect is characters, and today's tool for exploring characters is the character interview.
My character is Prince Seaton (I don't even know if this is his first or last name) from my in-progress Ultimate Fantasy Parody Epic. He appeared only briefly to harass the MC and to give one of her allies a reason to show up, but he struck me as an interesting and complex character, despite his boorish behavior.
I googled "character interview," and chose this particular set of questions (from this site):
Interestingly, this also helped me establish some world-building points as well. The kingdom is ruled by two people, always a married couple (yes, I suspect this is a very heteronormative monarchy... duoarchy?). The Royal Prince, when he reaches the age of majority and before his marriage, has a harem, for reasons I have not quite thought out yet (this was part of his plot point); while I'm not certain if a Royal Princess would have a similar arrangement, I'm thinking the purpose of this is partly to give him incentives to remain the Heir Apparent and partly to make sure that he's into women and that he can produce children. The hierarchy among siblings is based on age, but if the eldest is clearly incompetent, it may pass to others.
Excellent! A most productive post!
Last post was just sort of fun, seat of the pants story-writing. Some days I'll do something like that, and others I'll focus more on one aspect of a story. This might spur me to create tags for this journal, but that's another matter. Today's aspect is characters, and today's tool for exploring characters is the character interview.
My character is Prince Seaton (I don't even know if this is his first or last name) from my in-progress Ultimate Fantasy Parody Epic. He appeared only briefly to harass the MC and to give one of her allies a reason to show up, but he struck me as an interesting and complex character, despite his boorish behavior.
I googled "character interview," and chose this particular set of questions (from this site):
- What do you do for a living?
Rule the lands of my parents from the desert territory, along peaks to the West and the edge of the plains to the East, North to the great city Du'latha. I spend much of my days traveling this land, consulting with local village chiefs and the lesser nobility, and relaying the laws of our king. Perhaps I do not travel as far as I should, for I know that there are some at the edges of civilization who do not even recognize the name of our capital. - Are any other people living with you? Who are they?
I travel with my Royal Huntsman, who protect my person. When I am at home in Du'latha, which is not often, I am surrounded by servants, any family of mine who might be at home, and of course the greater nobility, always scheming at court. - Tell me about your parents. How well do/did you get along with them?
My parents rule the entirety of our lands together, dividing the territories between my siblings and me. They are eminently wise and skilled in different areas; my father is an adept diplomat, and my mother can cow the greatest of the nobility with a single word. They're both excellent teachers. I do not see them with much frequency, but I have always been grateful and admiring of them. - What was your birth order? How many siblings did you have? Older? Younger?
I am the eldest child; I have a younger sister and two younger brothers. - Who else was in your family while you were growing up? How did you get along with them?
The greatest of the nobles are those with the closest blood relationship to my worthy parents. I suppose of those, about half a dozen could be called family - the siblings of my parents. They are all people of above average intelligence and charm, but neither my parents, my siblings, nor I have ever trusted them. My mother's youngest sister was my favorite of all of them, if I had to choose. She was not unambitious, but she recognized skill where it lay and so never sought to take on more for herself and her husband than they could manage. I do not think she wishes to be Queen. - What were three things you liked to do when you were a child?
It is hard to say that I was ever truly a child. I enjoyed riding horses, as I still do, and I enjoyed attending court more than I do now. I also enjoyed the rare quiet day when my parents could attend us children in private. - What were you afraid of when you were a child?
I should never have admitted to fear after the age of four or five, but if I must say something, I was afraid of both my parents losing the throne and of developing the wary relationship with my siblings that my parents' siblings have with the royal persons. - How did you respond to the physiological and psychological changes in your life as a teenager?
Having observed the growing children at court for my entire life, I was not wholly unprepared for these changes. I responded to them by pushing myself harder, as I became more and more acutely aware of the responsibility I was soon to shoulder. That is not to say it all went easily; even the harem that is the right of an unmarried Royal Prince used to intimidate me. I sought advice from my father and mother when I could, and I spent more time than necessary training out of doors, to chase away some of my hazy fears. - What makes you happy now?
Serving my able parents, contemplating my own future rule (though this is not an unqualified happiness), hunting, traveling through a particularly beautiful domain, securing relations with the lesser nobility and village chiefs. - What is your greatest fear?
Again, I should not like to admit this, but I do sometimes despair of the day that my brothers and sister turn against me, as they must when I assume the throne. The alternative does not bear consideration, of course. I fear as well strange rumors I hear from people at the outer edges and from the traveling peoples, about activities among the other Sensitive Peoples. But these are far too vague at present to cause much concern. - What would you change about yourself if you could?
I can think of nothing substantial I would like to change. Perhaps I would have greater natural strength of arm, as my brother Reinart does. But this is a trifling thing; on the whole I am quite contented with my person, and I strive to improve in all things. - What is it that you have never told anyone?
Along the road to [forgot village name], there was an accident with one of my Huntsman. He was the youngest and newest of them, a young fellow named Mallory. The events immediately leading up to his violent death remain hazy in the memory of myself and of all the men. This much we have discussed amongst ourselves, but there is one frightening aspect of the situation which I never shared. When I came to myself and discovered the young man slain, I found also sticky blood drying on my sword. - What do you want? (This is the key to your story!)
I want to be a worthy ruler, when I find my bride and assume the throne. I want to do well by my people, even when it means measures they find unpleasant. I wish to defend my throne as well, both from my siblings and from enemies farther afield.
Interestingly, this also helped me establish some world-building points as well. The kingdom is ruled by two people, always a married couple (yes, I suspect this is a very heteronormative monarchy... duoarchy?). The Royal Prince, when he reaches the age of majority and before his marriage, has a harem, for reasons I have not quite thought out yet (this was part of his plot point); while I'm not certain if a Royal Princess would have a similar arrangement, I'm thinking the purpose of this is partly to give him incentives to remain the Heir Apparent and partly to make sure that he's into women and that he can produce children. The hierarchy among siblings is based on age, but if the eldest is clearly incompetent, it may pass to others.
Excellent! A most productive post!
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Game - Free Association
I've been thinking about this blog off and on all day long. While I can't imagine my enthusiasm waxing for much longer, this must be a good sign. I thought of and scrapped about a dozen ideas for things to post about today; I'll be wishing for this good fortune again in a week when the tumbleweeds are rolling through my barren brain.
I finally settled on a fun game: free association! Two minutes of typing with eyes (mostly) closed, then I will construct a little story out of my lists.
Blue:
Sea, salt, water, blue, blue, neon, yellow, sign, flickering, alley, shadow, dumpster, garbage, cardboard, rats, tail, twitching, waiting, breathing, whoosh, air, breath, breeze, sun and clouds, yellow, buttercup, daisy, meadow, green, waving grass, shhhh, sleep, cottony, downy, comforter, warm, heavy, hot, red, stifle, can't breathe.
Wisp:
cloud, cold, ice, crystals, clear, shiny, melt, droplet, tiny, splash, circles, pond, mirror, reeds, toads, croak, night, warm, scented, humid, sticky, mosquito, candles, yellow, flicker, wax, sizzle, cooking, garlic, savory, green, rich, savory, warm, aroma, cinnamon, cardamom, chai tea, milk, honey, clouds
Bread:
wheat, yeast, fluff, oven, rise, steam, cut open, slice, serrated, glint, silver, blade, gleam, blood, shine, run, drop, pool, sticky, hot, garnet, reflection, shadows, ruffle, wave, tide, crash, foam, retreat, sand
The broad themes I can see here are: ocean, kitchen, danger, springtime. My spur of the moment, rough little story follows.
Her knife sliced through an onion, creating a disorganized pile of pale half-moons on the chipped chopping board. With every slick slice, the aroma of the onion drifted up toward her. Water pricked at her eyes, and she blinked hurriedly. Across the kitchen, in the little living room, a window admitted a brisk, salty breeze off the ocean, and it was to this window that she strode, hoping that the fresh air would soothe the affliction.
The air tasted heavy and wet in her mouth and delivered a tang of ozone to clear the savory, raw smell of the onion. She sniffed, once to refresh her nose and again to explore the familiar aroma of an oncoming storm. With her free hand, slightly sticky from the pungent juices the onion and garlic, she pushed the window further open and leaned her head outside. In the west, shrouding what should have been a brilliant sunset, dark clouds gathered. They hung low in the sky, indistinguishable from the shadow they cast across the beach.
As she gazed out the window, thinking about someone who should have been returning from that direction any moment now, she caught a whiff of onion. She frowned down at her hand and left the window in search of the sink and soap. On her way, she pressed a button on the long, low radio that hunched in one corner of the countertop. Static crashed out of the speakers for a moment before the signal established itself.
She continued chopping as the disk jockey suspended the play of light jazz she was trying to grow to like. He informed his listeners that the National Weather Service had issued watches and warnings for the area, and she tried to remember which was the worse one. The voice coming through the speakers sounded so serious.
The aroma of onions lingered as she finished chopping and scraped the piles on the board into a pan, slick with hot oil. A pleasant hiss briefly filled her ears, and in spite of her growing concern for the man who should have been arriving for his dinner, she smiled, just a little. The radio repeated the watches and warnings – and now sightings, as the food cooked and the aroma in the kitchen softened. Sightings sounded worst of all.
She left the stove to return to the window. The air was suddenly stifling, so still and wet and hot. She leaned outside and squinted into the distance, but when she saw jagged slashes of furious light in the distance, she slammed the window shut and hurried back to the kitchen. Her hands moved by their own accord, boiling water, shaking salt, twisting the pepper mill, as the slashes of light flickered behind her eyes.
She ate, but everything tasted dim. She lit candles, but they danced so strangely. Dishes piled up in the sink, leftover food cooled on the table, and still the slashes flickered. Her hip creaked as she let herself fall into a pillowy armchair. She did not want to see the bright, vicious forks of lightning, but she could not allow her eyes to close until he came through the door.
The rumbling, rolling, crackling, and cracking thunder should have kept her awake. But her body, exhausted by her day’s labors, and her eyes, still tender from the defenses of the onion, betrayed her as the lightning split the clouds above the sea. She slept, and the candles burned out, and the door was still.
And so - a story. I'm not sure it means anything, but the neurons that spark and spit out these things require exercise.
I'm having second thoughts about not sharing this blog. I would welcome other ideas of creative games and topics and posts, and I'm more likely to get them from people directed here than from people who somehow stumble upon this rambling. Perhaps, perhaps.
I finally settled on a fun game: free association! Two minutes of typing with eyes (mostly) closed, then I will construct a little story out of my lists.
Blue:
Sea, salt, water, blue, blue, neon, yellow, sign, flickering, alley, shadow, dumpster, garbage, cardboard, rats, tail, twitching, waiting, breathing, whoosh, air, breath, breeze, sun and clouds, yellow, buttercup, daisy, meadow, green, waving grass, shhhh, sleep, cottony, downy, comforter, warm, heavy, hot, red, stifle, can't breathe.
Wisp:
cloud, cold, ice, crystals, clear, shiny, melt, droplet, tiny, splash, circles, pond, mirror, reeds, toads, croak, night, warm, scented, humid, sticky, mosquito, candles, yellow, flicker, wax, sizzle, cooking, garlic, savory, green, rich, savory, warm, aroma, cinnamon, cardamom, chai tea, milk, honey, clouds
Bread:
wheat, yeast, fluff, oven, rise, steam, cut open, slice, serrated, glint, silver, blade, gleam, blood, shine, run, drop, pool, sticky, hot, garnet, reflection, shadows, ruffle, wave, tide, crash, foam, retreat, sand
The broad themes I can see here are: ocean, kitchen, danger, springtime. My spur of the moment, rough little story follows.
Her knife sliced through an onion, creating a disorganized pile of pale half-moons on the chipped chopping board. With every slick slice, the aroma of the onion drifted up toward her. Water pricked at her eyes, and she blinked hurriedly. Across the kitchen, in the little living room, a window admitted a brisk, salty breeze off the ocean, and it was to this window that she strode, hoping that the fresh air would soothe the affliction.
The air tasted heavy and wet in her mouth and delivered a tang of ozone to clear the savory, raw smell of the onion. She sniffed, once to refresh her nose and again to explore the familiar aroma of an oncoming storm. With her free hand, slightly sticky from the pungent juices the onion and garlic, she pushed the window further open and leaned her head outside. In the west, shrouding what should have been a brilliant sunset, dark clouds gathered. They hung low in the sky, indistinguishable from the shadow they cast across the beach.
As she gazed out the window, thinking about someone who should have been returning from that direction any moment now, she caught a whiff of onion. She frowned down at her hand and left the window in search of the sink and soap. On her way, she pressed a button on the long, low radio that hunched in one corner of the countertop. Static crashed out of the speakers for a moment before the signal established itself.
She continued chopping as the disk jockey suspended the play of light jazz she was trying to grow to like. He informed his listeners that the National Weather Service had issued watches and warnings for the area, and she tried to remember which was the worse one. The voice coming through the speakers sounded so serious.
The aroma of onions lingered as she finished chopping and scraped the piles on the board into a pan, slick with hot oil. A pleasant hiss briefly filled her ears, and in spite of her growing concern for the man who should have been arriving for his dinner, she smiled, just a little. The radio repeated the watches and warnings – and now sightings, as the food cooked and the aroma in the kitchen softened. Sightings sounded worst of all.
She left the stove to return to the window. The air was suddenly stifling, so still and wet and hot. She leaned outside and squinted into the distance, but when she saw jagged slashes of furious light in the distance, she slammed the window shut and hurried back to the kitchen. Her hands moved by their own accord, boiling water, shaking salt, twisting the pepper mill, as the slashes of light flickered behind her eyes.
She ate, but everything tasted dim. She lit candles, but they danced so strangely. Dishes piled up in the sink, leftover food cooled on the table, and still the slashes flickered. Her hip creaked as she let herself fall into a pillowy armchair. She did not want to see the bright, vicious forks of lightning, but she could not allow her eyes to close until he came through the door.
The rumbling, rolling, crackling, and cracking thunder should have kept her awake. But her body, exhausted by her day’s labors, and her eyes, still tender from the defenses of the onion, betrayed her as the lightning split the clouds above the sea. She slept, and the candles burned out, and the door was still.
And so - a story. I'm not sure it means anything, but the neurons that spark and spit out these things require exercise.
I'm having second thoughts about not sharing this blog. I would welcome other ideas of creative games and topics and posts, and I'm more likely to get them from people directed here than from people who somehow stumble upon this rambling. Perhaps, perhaps.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Setting out measuring spoons
And so on, to begin a new blog! My goal is to keep this as a creative journal - the point of posting it online is to keep myself accountable to the world at large, whether or not that world actually participates at all. In the past day, I've changed my mind about keeping anonymous; the point of this journal is creativity, which is never a solo effort.
So, creative journal. I'm not quite sure what this entails; all I know is that I'll try to keep the personal drama to a minimum. I think the point is to explore what's on my mind, what recent days have brought, what has surfaced from the morass of memories... and to see if any of that proves interesting.
And so - not much time today; I have reading yet to do tonight, but I can spare a few minutes.
Things on my mind:
Intellectual property, romantic authorship, property rights - who gets what? Who should get what? Why? I'm not a postmodernist to say that "the author is dead," but certainly the author owes much to the subject, to the environment, to learning. Are they ever compensated for these contributions? Via the canon of literary works? Via works that eventually (maybe) fall into public domain?
Advice on writing - knitters do not leave a tail at the end of a day's knitting, contrary to the assertions of one author who insists that aspiring writers should stop cold when they've reached a day's quota. Anyone who knows anything about knitting knows that this is nonsensical. It's not just wrong; it doesn't make sense. I'm as guilty of pretentious philosophizing as anyone, but I hope I don't say things as grossly wrong as that.
Looking ahead - responsibility comes crashing down on me again, but compared to many, the burden is light. Opportunity may come a-knocking. The world is brighter here.
Things recent days have brought:
People here and people there - All the things that circle around in my head make so little difference in the daylight. I don't know what to think about that. I dwell, and I dwell, and when it comes to pass, it always happens in such a different form than I could have expected. Do I berate myself for dwelling? Do I expand my expectations?
Re-emergence into the world after a long vacation - my physical space is smaller, but my world is larger. I like it that way. If I didn't, I would never have left Home and come Here. My things are concentrated, but my feet carry me further.
Things that have surfaced:
People now and people then - I've always dwelled, and I've always dreamed up ludicrous things that never happen. None of this is new. Did I ever see things as clearly then as I do now? Is there a necessary period of cooling before the lines of today's eruptions, eventually hardening and shaping the landscape of the past, can clearly be traced? Oops, more dwelling - and grandiose metaphors on the top of it. Moving on, moving on.
Remembering my habits of this life after picking up vacation habits - I like settling back into my life. Some people find routine irritating and stifling, but I find it comforting. I tend to be flexible with my routine, so there's room for change if I want it. And if not, I know what to fall back on.
Examinations and questions about some friendships I hold - outside the context of romantic relationships (thorny jungles they may be), is the idea of a person to be preferred to the manifestation? Ideas of people are easier to deal with. I wish... I wish... I can't in good conscience wish the manifestation away; do I adjust the idea?
Good enough. Only a little editing (and today is an exception, allowing even that much); I do enough of that as I go along, even when I try to turn off the Critic That Lurks. Back to reading.
So, creative journal. I'm not quite sure what this entails; all I know is that I'll try to keep the personal drama to a minimum. I think the point is to explore what's on my mind, what recent days have brought, what has surfaced from the morass of memories... and to see if any of that proves interesting.
And so - not much time today; I have reading yet to do tonight, but I can spare a few minutes.
Things on my mind:
Intellectual property, romantic authorship, property rights - who gets what? Who should get what? Why? I'm not a postmodernist to say that "the author is dead," but certainly the author owes much to the subject, to the environment, to learning. Are they ever compensated for these contributions? Via the canon of literary works? Via works that eventually (maybe) fall into public domain?
Advice on writing - knitters do not leave a tail at the end of a day's knitting, contrary to the assertions of one author who insists that aspiring writers should stop cold when they've reached a day's quota. Anyone who knows anything about knitting knows that this is nonsensical. It's not just wrong; it doesn't make sense. I'm as guilty of pretentious philosophizing as anyone, but I hope I don't say things as grossly wrong as that.
Looking ahead - responsibility comes crashing down on me again, but compared to many, the burden is light. Opportunity may come a-knocking. The world is brighter here.
Things recent days have brought:
People here and people there - All the things that circle around in my head make so little difference in the daylight. I don't know what to think about that. I dwell, and I dwell, and when it comes to pass, it always happens in such a different form than I could have expected. Do I berate myself for dwelling? Do I expand my expectations?
Re-emergence into the world after a long vacation - my physical space is smaller, but my world is larger. I like it that way. If I didn't, I would never have left Home and come Here. My things are concentrated, but my feet carry me further.
Things that have surfaced:
People now and people then - I've always dwelled, and I've always dreamed up ludicrous things that never happen. None of this is new. Did I ever see things as clearly then as I do now? Is there a necessary period of cooling before the lines of today's eruptions, eventually hardening and shaping the landscape of the past, can clearly be traced? Oops, more dwelling - and grandiose metaphors on the top of it. Moving on, moving on.
Remembering my habits of this life after picking up vacation habits - I like settling back into my life. Some people find routine irritating and stifling, but I find it comforting. I tend to be flexible with my routine, so there's room for change if I want it. And if not, I know what to fall back on.
Examinations and questions about some friendships I hold - outside the context of romantic relationships (thorny jungles they may be), is the idea of a person to be preferred to the manifestation? Ideas of people are easier to deal with. I wish... I wish... I can't in good conscience wish the manifestation away; do I adjust the idea?
Good enough. Only a little editing (and today is an exception, allowing even that much); I do enough of that as I go along, even when I try to turn off the Critic That Lurks. Back to reading.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)