Accidentally posted without adding text. Sorry. Got a pizza on the way.
I decided to continue Tavaar's story from where it left off. Tavaar and Sashwa are still in their hut.
Tavaar didn’t speak. The mood had become somber, as it usually did when one of them spoke like this. Every so often, one or the other would. Generally, it happened at times of great change. It was as if they were reinforcing the bonds of love which held them together. The last time it had been this somber had been when Sashwa had left for the military. Then it had been Tavaar pouring out her heart and Sashwa giving comfort. Now it was Tavaar’s turn. She looked up at Sashwa’s expectant face. How dear she was. How sweet and wonderful.
“Sashwa, are you lonely?”
There was a brief moment when Tavaar saw it. Then Sashwa’s face broke into an impish grin.
“Lonely?” she cried. “I’ve got you right where I want you: underneath me, on your back and completely helpless. How could I possibly be lonely?”
Tavaar grinned back. “You are such a scamp. I hope you know better than to act this way in front of the others? I’m going to have a hard enough time gaining respect.”
She had meant it as a joke, but Sashwa frowned.
“What?” asked Tavaar.
“Maybe you were right after all,” said Sashwa.
“About what?”
“Me not sleeping in here.”
“What?”
Tavaar was going to get up, but Sashwa held her down at the shoulders.
“No, listen! It is going to be hard, at least at first. The last thing you need is me underpinning everything by being silly. I should leave.”
“No! I don’t want you to.”
“Tavaar, you know it’s best.”
“Don’t call me Tavaar!”
“That’s your name, isn’t it?”
“Not to you. Not ever. I forbid it! I’m Darling to you.”
There were tears and hope in Sashwa’s eyes. “Do you mean that?” she asked.
Tavaar hesitated. Then, she pulled Sashwa down and kissed her long and hard. They broke slowly. Tavaar caressed Sashwa’s face.
“I am always your Darling. And you are my sweetheart. Okay?”
“Okay?”
Sashwa kissed Tavaar quickly and lifted up, but not letting Tavaar rise. Tavaar didn’t try to.
“Maybe you are not so far off in your thinking,” said Tavaar. “You are Wheylin’s twin. When we finally do have our first, I want you to think of yourself as a partial mother.”
Sashwa smiled. “I will do that,” she said.
“You didn’t answer my other question. Not seriously, anyway. Do you intend to get married?”
“I can’t Darling,” Sashwa said, solemnly, caressing Tavaar’s face.
Tavaar felt her throat tighten. “Why not?”
“Because your brothers are already taken,” she said, bending down and giving Tavaar another kiss before sitting up and laughing.
Tavaar pushed her over.“Oh, go get something to eat.”
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Tavaar - 35th Edition
So, it's the 100th post of this blog! Huzzah! And, as promised, here is the next installment of Tavaar's background story.
To provide background for the background, when I left off last Tavaar had just been placed in command of the company after arranging for Kelenbah's departure. Most of the company assumes she lay with Kelenbah to get command. She has won the loyalty of Nayvehl, but more because Nayvehl is a good warrior than because he believes in her.
Tavaar has also just learned that Gwihnna's premonition of infidelity was not a ruse after all. And Sashwa knows, but has withheld this. This is where Tavaar confronts her friend. The premonition stuff seems silly, but the truth is it is important. VERY important to the entire Swords of Fire Saga.
I have removed all references to notes I made on the text. It's a little less than 1,000-words.
Nayvehl immediately issued orders. Tavaar let him be. She started for her hut, but passed by Sashwa. Now she was angry again. She looked down at her friend, who was grinning back.
“You will come with me now,” she said.
She had caught a glimpse of Sashwa’s fading smile as she walked away. Sashwa caught up with her. Tavaar appreciated Sashwa walking in silence and let her command. She stopped at the door to the hut and waited. Sashwa gave a look, then dropped to the ground and crawled inside. Tavaar waited a moment to prepare herself and then followed.
Sashwa was sitting up as best she could. The low ceiling prevented actual standing, but she was on her knees with her backside on her heels. She looked put out.
“All right, Darling, what’s this about?” she said.
“Is that how you address your company commander?”
Sashwa flared. “Oh, no! Don’t give me that ‘I’m in command’, little Darling. Out there, you are. And in anything military you are. But not in here, little Darling. I sleep here, too.”
“Then maybe you should sleep some place else.”
Sashwa reacted as if Tavaar had just slapped her face. “Is that what you want?”
Tavaar recoiled. She had not meant to be hurtful. Her eyes welled up with tears.
“No. Not ever. I’m – I’m sorry. I – please, forgive me.”
Sashwa smiled. “Always, my love. Now, Darling, why the ruffled feathers?”
Tavaar moaned. “Can’t you at least pretend I’m in charge?”
“You are in charge, Darling. Out there. But in here we sleep together. It is your place to get away from command. Out there you must maintain control. You must lead by example. In here, you can relax. You can be weak, if you want. In here, it will be like always: I will take care of you. Okay?”
Tavaar nodded and wiped her eyes. “Okay.”
Sashwa leaned forward and kissed her. “Good. Now, why are you mad at me? What have I done now?”
Tavaar took a breath. “You have kept the truth from me.”
Sashwa’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? What truth am I hiding from you?”
“The truth about Gwihnna’s premonition.”
Sashwa fell quiet. Tavaar watched her, looking for clues.
“And what is the truth about Gwihnna’s premonition?” Sashwa asked.
“It’s true, isn’t it? I am going to have a baby, but not with Wheylin. Gwihnna saw it, and you know it’s true, don’t you? Don’t you, Sashwa?”
Sashwa sighed and collected herself before speaking. “No, Darling, I do not know it to be true. That is not my gift.”
“But you believe it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you lie to me? You said it wasn’t true!”
“No, Darling, I did not. If you remember, you asked me if I was going to tell you it was true. I said no. I did not say it wasn’t. Neither did I say what I believed.”
“Word games! You know I hate it when you do that.”
“Only when I direct them at you. When they work to your favor you appreciate it well enough.”
“You should have been open with me. You should have told me all.”
“No, Darling. I should not have. You were upset to the point of making wild plans. You offered yourself to Bolar, remember? What would you have done had I told you I believed the premonition? You may have lay with anyone, just to put it behind you. You may have lay with Kelenbah, thinking you had to. No, Darling. I gave you enough truth to calm you down and keep you going. I always planned to tell you. But the time never seemed right. I wanted to wait until the Kelenbah business was over. Now it is. Bolar agreed with me.”
“Bolar? You spoke with Bolar about it?”
“Yes. I doubted you would mind much. You had already told him everything anyway. By the King! You asked him to father your child. That’s why I went to him: to ask the same thing.”
Tavaar gasped. “You asked him to lay with you, too?”
“No! Of course not. I wouldn't do that to him. I’m not so cruel as you.” Sashwa laughed. “No. Actually, what I asked him was if there was some potion he could make for you and me.”
“What?”
“Yeah, well, I was desperate, too. I was worried for you. I mean, I didn’t know if it was true, but if it was, who would it be? I just wanted to be sure it was someone who loves you, as opposed to just wanting you.”
“And you say I was shocking. I hope he was sitting down when you asked.”
“I don’t remember. I know he was after.”
“I bet. What did he say?”
Sashwa’s eyes glinted mischievously. “Ah! So you like the idea?”
“Stop it! I’m asking, that’s all.”
“Sure you are. Well, don’t get your hopes up. We can lay together, if you want, but Bolar has no potion to make a baby from it.”
“You are nasty.”
“Perhaps. But only with you. Anyway, we had a good long talk about how things worked. He couldn’t believe how ignorant I was.”
“Ignorant! You just wanted to talk about it.”
“Yeah, well, it was interesting. I can see why you like him. He’s smart, understanding, and funny, too. As I was leaving he laughed at me and said he would give my request all the attention it was due.”
“If he thinks about it at all he will have done that. You know, he must think we’re the two most wanton girls in the family.”
“We are, aren’t we?”
To provide background for the background, when I left off last Tavaar had just been placed in command of the company after arranging for Kelenbah's departure. Most of the company assumes she lay with Kelenbah to get command. She has won the loyalty of Nayvehl, but more because Nayvehl is a good warrior than because he believes in her.
Tavaar has also just learned that Gwihnna's premonition of infidelity was not a ruse after all. And Sashwa knows, but has withheld this. This is where Tavaar confronts her friend. The premonition stuff seems silly, but the truth is it is important. VERY important to the entire Swords of Fire Saga.
I have removed all references to notes I made on the text. It's a little less than 1,000-words.
Nayvehl immediately issued orders. Tavaar let him be. She started for her hut, but passed by Sashwa. Now she was angry again. She looked down at her friend, who was grinning back.
“You will come with me now,” she said.
She had caught a glimpse of Sashwa’s fading smile as she walked away. Sashwa caught up with her. Tavaar appreciated Sashwa walking in silence and let her command. She stopped at the door to the hut and waited. Sashwa gave a look, then dropped to the ground and crawled inside. Tavaar waited a moment to prepare herself and then followed.
Sashwa was sitting up as best she could. The low ceiling prevented actual standing, but she was on her knees with her backside on her heels. She looked put out.
“All right, Darling, what’s this about?” she said.
“Is that how you address your company commander?”
Sashwa flared. “Oh, no! Don’t give me that ‘I’m in command’, little Darling. Out there, you are. And in anything military you are. But not in here, little Darling. I sleep here, too.”
“Then maybe you should sleep some place else.”
Sashwa reacted as if Tavaar had just slapped her face. “Is that what you want?”
Tavaar recoiled. She had not meant to be hurtful. Her eyes welled up with tears.
“No. Not ever. I’m – I’m sorry. I – please, forgive me.”
Sashwa smiled. “Always, my love. Now, Darling, why the ruffled feathers?”
Tavaar moaned. “Can’t you at least pretend I’m in charge?”
“You are in charge, Darling. Out there. But in here we sleep together. It is your place to get away from command. Out there you must maintain control. You must lead by example. In here, you can relax. You can be weak, if you want. In here, it will be like always: I will take care of you. Okay?”
Tavaar nodded and wiped her eyes. “Okay.”
Sashwa leaned forward and kissed her. “Good. Now, why are you mad at me? What have I done now?”
Tavaar took a breath. “You have kept the truth from me.”
Sashwa’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? What truth am I hiding from you?”
“The truth about Gwihnna’s premonition.”
Sashwa fell quiet. Tavaar watched her, looking for clues.
“And what is the truth about Gwihnna’s premonition?” Sashwa asked.
“It’s true, isn’t it? I am going to have a baby, but not with Wheylin. Gwihnna saw it, and you know it’s true, don’t you? Don’t you, Sashwa?”
Sashwa sighed and collected herself before speaking. “No, Darling, I do not know it to be true. That is not my gift.”
“But you believe it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you lie to me? You said it wasn’t true!”
“No, Darling, I did not. If you remember, you asked me if I was going to tell you it was true. I said no. I did not say it wasn’t. Neither did I say what I believed.”
“Word games! You know I hate it when you do that.”
“Only when I direct them at you. When they work to your favor you appreciate it well enough.”
“You should have been open with me. You should have told me all.”
“No, Darling. I should not have. You were upset to the point of making wild plans. You offered yourself to Bolar, remember? What would you have done had I told you I believed the premonition? You may have lay with anyone, just to put it behind you. You may have lay with Kelenbah, thinking you had to. No, Darling. I gave you enough truth to calm you down and keep you going. I always planned to tell you. But the time never seemed right. I wanted to wait until the Kelenbah business was over. Now it is. Bolar agreed with me.”
“Bolar? You spoke with Bolar about it?”
“Yes. I doubted you would mind much. You had already told him everything anyway. By the King! You asked him to father your child. That’s why I went to him: to ask the same thing.”
Tavaar gasped. “You asked him to lay with you, too?”
“No! Of course not. I wouldn't do that to him. I’m not so cruel as you.” Sashwa laughed. “No. Actually, what I asked him was if there was some potion he could make for you and me.”
“What?”
“Yeah, well, I was desperate, too. I was worried for you. I mean, I didn’t know if it was true, but if it was, who would it be? I just wanted to be sure it was someone who loves you, as opposed to just wanting you.”
“And you say I was shocking. I hope he was sitting down when you asked.”
“I don’t remember. I know he was after.”
“I bet. What did he say?”
Sashwa’s eyes glinted mischievously. “Ah! So you like the idea?”
“Stop it! I’m asking, that’s all.”
“Sure you are. Well, don’t get your hopes up. We can lay together, if you want, but Bolar has no potion to make a baby from it.”
“You are nasty.”
“Perhaps. But only with you. Anyway, we had a good long talk about how things worked. He couldn’t believe how ignorant I was.”
“Ignorant! You just wanted to talk about it.”
“Yeah, well, it was interesting. I can see why you like him. He’s smart, understanding, and funny, too. As I was leaving he laughed at me and said he would give my request all the attention it was due.”
“If he thinks about it at all he will have done that. You know, he must think we’re the two most wanton girls in the family.”
“We are, aren’t we?”
Stupid Me
I reserved the questions post for my 100th. What I failed to take into consideration was that changing a post doesn't constitute making a new one. So, technically, THIS is the 100th post. Huzzah! Huzzah!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
An F.Y.I.
This is kind of a cheat to reach 100 posts, but I wanted to let you know I will not be posting again before Sunday. I'm going to be away from my computer. So, some time next week I will submit my 100th post for this blog. Unless I hear otherwise, it will be a Tavaar episode. Tavaar is now in command of the company.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Most of The Archives are handwritten documents dating back thirty years or more. This is a problem in some cases as humidity has caused some of the writing to fade and/or wash away. Such is the case with the story of Massimo and Elva, who are the parents of the Elven Race.
Massimo was a Nomad and Elva a Pennan.
Here is part of the original version of The Story of Massimo and Elva. I believe it was written in the early 1980s.
Massimo took aim at the hart as it moved throug the trees. The distance was far, but not so great that he still could not reach it with his hunting bow. But just before he let his arrow fly the hart started and then took off.
Keeping his head, Massimo adjusted his aim quickly and left loose his arrow. It flew perfectly and struck the deer, piercing its heart and bringing it down. Massimo hurried forward to where it had fallen and began the task of dressing it out. Its weight was very near his own and to the tribe would be thankful. There would be meat for all. And the hide would serve as clothing.
But Massimo did not discard his own senses as he labored. Something had startled the hart. What was it? He was aware of nothing. Still, the hart's senses were keener.
He suddenly stopped and stood to his feet, drawing the sword from his back. He was aware of movement. several creatures had formed a ring and were now closing it in. But of what sort were they? Wolves? Unlikely. They would be quiet. Most likely they were men. And so he would need defend his kill.
Fortunately, he knew himself to be an excellent warrior, and so he was only a little afraid. He was, in fact, the best warrior and hunstman in the tribe. That was why he had made the journey so far from camp to find meat. He was the tribe's main provider. Still, it would be comforting now to have one or two other members at hand to give him aid.
That's the first page. There are seven pages written in this notebook. What I note about the style is that I still have a tendency to write rough drafts in this manner. It makes for a lot of work during the edit stage.
I never finished writing the story of Massimo and Elva. It was told orally to a friend of mine, who mostly enjoyed it. It's one of the things I need to get to once the Saga itself is published.
Massimo was a Nomad and Elva a Pennan.
Here is part of the original version of The Story of Massimo and Elva. I believe it was written in the early 1980s.
Massimo took aim at the hart as it moved throug the trees. The distance was far, but not so great that he still could not reach it with his hunting bow. But just before he let his arrow fly the hart started and then took off.
Keeping his head, Massimo adjusted his aim quickly and left loose his arrow. It flew perfectly and struck the deer, piercing its heart and bringing it down. Massimo hurried forward to where it had fallen and began the task of dressing it out. Its weight was very near his own and to the tribe would be thankful. There would be meat for all. And the hide would serve as clothing.
But Massimo did not discard his own senses as he labored. Something had startled the hart. What was it? He was aware of nothing. Still, the hart's senses were keener.
He suddenly stopped and stood to his feet, drawing the sword from his back. He was aware of movement. several creatures had formed a ring and were now closing it in. But of what sort were they? Wolves? Unlikely. They would be quiet. Most likely they were men. And so he would need defend his kill.
Fortunately, he knew himself to be an excellent warrior, and so he was only a little afraid. He was, in fact, the best warrior and hunstman in the tribe. That was why he had made the journey so far from camp to find meat. He was the tribe's main provider. Still, it would be comforting now to have one or two other members at hand to give him aid.
That's the first page. There are seven pages written in this notebook. What I note about the style is that I still have a tendency to write rough drafts in this manner. It makes for a lot of work during the edit stage.
I never finished writing the story of Massimo and Elva. It was told orally to a friend of mine, who mostly enjoyed it. It's one of the things I need to get to once the Saga itself is published.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
The Roots are Still in Tact
The original Swords of Fire is gone, I believe. The map is gone, and so are the chapters. Even the subsequent efforts are lost.
There is a memory I can faintly draw upon in which I was reading portions to co-workers at Cicero's Pizza, where I worked. The owner used the old-style theatre organs as the gimic to draw people in. The truth was, the food wasn't that great. Pasta was good, though. Ummm.
The story originally began much, much later than the current version. Hundreds of years later, and on a different world. When I went through The Archives this week I found several notebooks and loose sheets of paper dealing with this now abandoned effort. My writing back then was so bad, but many elements of the style remain. Not sure if I should be concerned about that or not. Here is a small blurb which may have been part of the original beginning. I mean original, and not just the start of the first finished effort. But notice the similarities.
Khirsha stepped lightly down the path. Using the training he had received not a noise could be heard (except, perhaps, by a trained ear). Even so, he ws moving quickly. Voices could be heard up the path and over the hill and he quickened his pace.
"Hoy, Khirsha!" called out Jasem, one of Khirsha's longtime friends who stood talking to Dregel, the third member of their threesome.
"You two could be heard all the way to Sarah," scolded Khirsha, lightly.
"Oh, come!" argued Dregel. "I hardly think so. But why bother? We're well out of town. Who's there to hear?"
"I shouldn't let the Teacher hear if I were you," said Khirsha with a laugh, and Dregel and Jasem laughed, too.
"Come," said Jasem. "Let us be going or the Teacher will be mad because we're late."
The Teacher was an aged elf who had shown up at their village just a few years earlier (as years were reckoned among Elves). Khirsha and his friends were Elves themsleves, of course, as was teh entire village of -
That's how it ends. I really did write a dash. This, I'm mostly sure, is how The White King of Ladondo began. The White King of Ladondo. That was the original Book I. I like the name, and if possible intend to incorporate elements of this story into some future work.
What I find interesting is that I kept the name "Khirsha". This Khirsha, however, was younger than the one who is now the main character in Traitor, the new Book I. The other names go away. There was a reason for using them, but I just checked and see that they are not even part of the list of thousands.
The concept of a Teacher remains, although it does not present itself in Traitor. It will in Book III. The following page contains some notes, and then there is some kind of prologue in which the name "Kesso" appears. I must have liked the name, because I use a variation of it for one of the important Saga Characters: Kelso.
The original plot dealt with the missing heir of King Fernando. (I chose the name because Fernando means "world traveler".) Shatahar (he was a Warlord from the beginning) wishes to finish his destruction of the Elves' royalty. He currently rules over the Kingdom of Ladondo in the north, tucked in the midst of three mountain ranges. He has an ice palace in the north. Very cliche stuff, I guess. He was known as "The White King".
You know, as I peruse this notebook, I'm finding an extended version of the beginning. There are no less than thirty-two pages of handwritten text. Maybe the original writings survived after all. The map is gone. Of that I have no doubts. It's too big to be hidden away.
What I enjoy about having kept all of this is that it gives me the ability to return to the past and see how the Saga evolved. Some things I have forgotten. Also, it exposes my growth as a writer. I see some bad habits no longer exist. That is encouraging.
I wonder how many writers keep their old stuff. I would expect a lot. But it's fun
There is a memory I can faintly draw upon in which I was reading portions to co-workers at Cicero's Pizza, where I worked. The owner used the old-style theatre organs as the gimic to draw people in. The truth was, the food wasn't that great. Pasta was good, though. Ummm.
The story originally began much, much later than the current version. Hundreds of years later, and on a different world. When I went through The Archives this week I found several notebooks and loose sheets of paper dealing with this now abandoned effort. My writing back then was so bad, but many elements of the style remain. Not sure if I should be concerned about that or not. Here is a small blurb which may have been part of the original beginning. I mean original, and not just the start of the first finished effort. But notice the similarities.
Khirsha stepped lightly down the path. Using the training he had received not a noise could be heard (except, perhaps, by a trained ear). Even so, he ws moving quickly. Voices could be heard up the path and over the hill and he quickened his pace.
"Hoy, Khirsha!" called out Jasem, one of Khirsha's longtime friends who stood talking to Dregel, the third member of their threesome.
"You two could be heard all the way to Sarah," scolded Khirsha, lightly.
"Oh, come!" argued Dregel. "I hardly think so. But why bother? We're well out of town. Who's there to hear?"
"I shouldn't let the Teacher hear if I were you," said Khirsha with a laugh, and Dregel and Jasem laughed, too.
"Come," said Jasem. "Let us be going or the Teacher will be mad because we're late."
The Teacher was an aged elf who had shown up at their village just a few years earlier (as years were reckoned among Elves). Khirsha and his friends were Elves themsleves, of course, as was teh entire village of -
That's how it ends. I really did write a dash. This, I'm mostly sure, is how The White King of Ladondo began. The White King of Ladondo. That was the original Book I. I like the name, and if possible intend to incorporate elements of this story into some future work.
What I find interesting is that I kept the name "Khirsha". This Khirsha, however, was younger than the one who is now the main character in Traitor, the new Book I. The other names go away. There was a reason for using them, but I just checked and see that they are not even part of the list of thousands.
The concept of a Teacher remains, although it does not present itself in Traitor. It will in Book III. The following page contains some notes, and then there is some kind of prologue in which the name "Kesso" appears. I must have liked the name, because I use a variation of it for one of the important Saga Characters: Kelso.
The original plot dealt with the missing heir of King Fernando. (I chose the name because Fernando means "world traveler".) Shatahar (he was a Warlord from the beginning) wishes to finish his destruction of the Elves' royalty. He currently rules over the Kingdom of Ladondo in the north, tucked in the midst of three mountain ranges. He has an ice palace in the north. Very cliche stuff, I guess. He was known as "The White King".
You know, as I peruse this notebook, I'm finding an extended version of the beginning. There are no less than thirty-two pages of handwritten text. Maybe the original writings survived after all. The map is gone. Of that I have no doubts. It's too big to be hidden away.
What I enjoy about having kept all of this is that it gives me the ability to return to the past and see how the Saga evolved. Some things I have forgotten. Also, it exposes my growth as a writer. I see some bad habits no longer exist. That is encouraging.
I wonder how many writers keep their old stuff. I would expect a lot. But it's fun
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
A Walk Through History
So, I've opened The Archives and have been rifling through them to see what remains from the past. Guess what? I found the original hand-written Swords of Fire. The first words written for the first book ever finished. (There is an earlier work, but that wasn't finished.)
To satisfy any potential curiosity, here is how the book Ballentine rejected began.
Khirsha looked around the cave entrance for signs of his father, but there was nothing to indicate his presence.
"Perhaps he is inside," thought Khirsha as he entered the cave.
There was no danger, of course. The cave was located in the heart of the Endo Estate which his family had owned for seven generations of Endos. They were a wealthy family. Indeed, one of the most wealthy in the kingdom. But, the military families usually were.
Not exactly something to make you want to rush out and buy a copy, is it? Well, I was young. I was barely in my twenties when this was written.
Very little remains from the original story. Khirsha is still Khirsha, but there is no way he would be looking for his father at the cave. Also, to enter the cave one now has to crawl. There is no such thing as the Endo Estate or, in fact, Endos. The family is wealthy, but they are not part of any kingdom. In fact, their relationship with the nearby kingdom is strained. They are military.
When I was young, teenager and earlier, I used to toss my writing away when I was finished. No one ever read it, except my creative writing teacher in high school. Then I read something a famous writer (I forget who) said in an interview. He complained about the use of computers when writing. Overwriting a file meant there was no history. No beginning point where a story began. He liked to keep all of his notes because they sometimes came in useful later. After that I created The Archives. Now they are boxes and boxes of unsorted material.
Very fascinating to visit. I'm glad I kept everything.
To satisfy any potential curiosity, here is how the book Ballentine rejected began.
Khirsha looked around the cave entrance for signs of his father, but there was nothing to indicate his presence.
"Perhaps he is inside," thought Khirsha as he entered the cave.
There was no danger, of course. The cave was located in the heart of the Endo Estate which his family had owned for seven generations of Endos. They were a wealthy family. Indeed, one of the most wealthy in the kingdom. But, the military families usually were.
Not exactly something to make you want to rush out and buy a copy, is it? Well, I was young. I was barely in my twenties when this was written.
Very little remains from the original story. Khirsha is still Khirsha, but there is no way he would be looking for his father at the cave. Also, to enter the cave one now has to crawl. There is no such thing as the Endo Estate or, in fact, Endos. The family is wealthy, but they are not part of any kingdom. In fact, their relationship with the nearby kingdom is strained. They are military.
When I was young, teenager and earlier, I used to toss my writing away when I was finished. No one ever read it, except my creative writing teacher in high school. Then I read something a famous writer (I forget who) said in an interview. He complained about the use of computers when writing. Overwriting a file meant there was no history. No beginning point where a story began. He liked to keep all of his notes because they sometimes came in useful later. After that I created The Archives. Now they are boxes and boxes of unsorted material.
Very fascinating to visit. I'm glad I kept everything.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
What Does it Take - And Do I Have It
So, I read a variety of blogs, each dealing with a variety of topics. A few speak about writing, and what it means to write well and tell a good story.
Often, I find myself wondering if I qualify as a good storyteller. You see, while having a lot of stories to tell, and having written several million words toward them, that does not necessarily mean I know what I'm doing. Just look at G.W. He was president for eight years and never figured out how to do his job properly.
I get worried about my storytelling. Probably, this is because so few people read my stories. Oh, I have had as many as thirty people read Swords of Fire over the past thirty years, and only a couple didn't like it. Two didn't like it because they simply do not like any fantasy story. One didn't like it because she thought it was religious. (It's not. She just thought it was.) Everyone else liked it to varying degrees. Several were very eager for the sequel, which no one but me has read. Well, I take that back. I think I may have read it to Spouse and Son a couple of years ago. Can't remember. Getting old.
There is the Tavaar background story, of which I have posted 34 entries on this blog. But those are all rough drafts, and not part of a real story. Tavaar's backstory is just a series of vignettes without any real plot. I'm simply following her life in order to define her character.
Then there is Apprentice, which has been read by four people, three who liked it and one who didn't care for the subject matter, but who liked the writing.
So I've got some feedback, and it's mostly positive. Even my blog writing has been complimented by two or three. Apparently my writing style is easy to read.
I honestly believe that most fantasy readers would enjoy my stories, if they could but read them. But convincing them of that is difficult. I have no idea how many people write fantasy, but I expect it is in the tens, or even hundreds, of thousands. I expect a good many of them also have writing styles that are easy to read, and should those of us who read fantasy but get a chance to read what they have written we would enjoy those stories, too.
In the writing group I have joined there is a man who is writing a book in which Dwarfs are the main characters. I'm not so into Dwarfs. Stereotypically (in fantasy) their personalities are too gruff for me. I prefer the gentleness of Elves and Fairy Creatures (when they are portrayed as gentle and in tune with nature). But he has a good premise, and he shared his first chapter with us back in February. I think it's going to be a good story, and I think he is going to tell it well. Will it ever be accepted by an agent or publisher? I don't know. Hope so.
But I need to be honest. If it were only about getting my stories into the hands of readers the solution is simple: self-publish on the internet. Only the honest truth is this: I would very much like to be paid for my stories - at least those I consider epic in nature. And that is where my doubts arise. It's one thing to write with an easy style, and produce works people enjoy reading for free. But what about when it requires money? Are they still interested?
Perhaps those few people who know me might be willing to fork over the twenty or thirty dollars required to buy a new book these days. But I don't know that many people. Not who have money anyway. So somehow I have to convince strangers that my writing is worthy. That is done via query letters submitted to agents and editors.
A good salesperson goes into a meeting confident (or at least showing confidence). They hold to this even amidst heavy evidence of opposition. Like the lions of the African plains, they often fail to make their kill/sale. That's the way it is with writers. Only sometimes I think it's a h*lluva lot easier for a lion on the plains to pull down a buffalo than it is for a writer to secure a book deal with an agent or editor. Lions get to hunt in packs. Ultimately, writers are on their own.
What a scary place to be.
Well, I'm the one who thought playing in the Big Leagues would be fun. If I can succeed, it will be.
NOTE: Willie Mays went hitless in his first 35 at bats when he joined the Major Leagues. He sat down on the bench one day - after striking out AGAIN - and started to cry. The manager came by, patted his shoulder, and assured him he would do all right. Willie Mays made it to the Hall of Fame. Wish I had been a baseball player.
Often, I find myself wondering if I qualify as a good storyteller. You see, while having a lot of stories to tell, and having written several million words toward them, that does not necessarily mean I know what I'm doing. Just look at G.W. He was president for eight years and never figured out how to do his job properly.
I get worried about my storytelling. Probably, this is because so few people read my stories. Oh, I have had as many as thirty people read Swords of Fire over the past thirty years, and only a couple didn't like it. Two didn't like it because they simply do not like any fantasy story. One didn't like it because she thought it was religious. (It's not. She just thought it was.) Everyone else liked it to varying degrees. Several were very eager for the sequel, which no one but me has read. Well, I take that back. I think I may have read it to Spouse and Son a couple of years ago. Can't remember. Getting old.
There is the Tavaar background story, of which I have posted 34 entries on this blog. But those are all rough drafts, and not part of a real story. Tavaar's backstory is just a series of vignettes without any real plot. I'm simply following her life in order to define her character.
Then there is Apprentice, which has been read by four people, three who liked it and one who didn't care for the subject matter, but who liked the writing.
So I've got some feedback, and it's mostly positive. Even my blog writing has been complimented by two or three. Apparently my writing style is easy to read.
I honestly believe that most fantasy readers would enjoy my stories, if they could but read them. But convincing them of that is difficult. I have no idea how many people write fantasy, but I expect it is in the tens, or even hundreds, of thousands. I expect a good many of them also have writing styles that are easy to read, and should those of us who read fantasy but get a chance to read what they have written we would enjoy those stories, too.
In the writing group I have joined there is a man who is writing a book in which Dwarfs are the main characters. I'm not so into Dwarfs. Stereotypically (in fantasy) their personalities are too gruff for me. I prefer the gentleness of Elves and Fairy Creatures (when they are portrayed as gentle and in tune with nature). But he has a good premise, and he shared his first chapter with us back in February. I think it's going to be a good story, and I think he is going to tell it well. Will it ever be accepted by an agent or publisher? I don't know. Hope so.
But I need to be honest. If it were only about getting my stories into the hands of readers the solution is simple: self-publish on the internet. Only the honest truth is this: I would very much like to be paid for my stories - at least those I consider epic in nature. And that is where my doubts arise. It's one thing to write with an easy style, and produce works people enjoy reading for free. But what about when it requires money? Are they still interested?
Perhaps those few people who know me might be willing to fork over the twenty or thirty dollars required to buy a new book these days. But I don't know that many people. Not who have money anyway. So somehow I have to convince strangers that my writing is worthy. That is done via query letters submitted to agents and editors.
A good salesperson goes into a meeting confident (or at least showing confidence). They hold to this even amidst heavy evidence of opposition. Like the lions of the African plains, they often fail to make their kill/sale. That's the way it is with writers. Only sometimes I think it's a h*lluva lot easier for a lion on the plains to pull down a buffalo than it is for a writer to secure a book deal with an agent or editor. Lions get to hunt in packs. Ultimately, writers are on their own.
What a scary place to be.
Well, I'm the one who thought playing in the Big Leagues would be fun. If I can succeed, it will be.
NOTE: Willie Mays went hitless in his first 35 at bats when he joined the Major Leagues. He sat down on the bench one day - after striking out AGAIN - and started to cry. The manager came by, patted his shoulder, and assured him he would do all right. Willie Mays made it to the Hall of Fame. Wish I had been a baseball player.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Closing in on One Hundred
So, after this post there are six more posts before Post #100. What to do for the milestone?
I'm thinking I will return to Tavaar. I love Tavaar, and I left her right after a poorly written scene. The next section was better. Well, I remember it as being better. But that's what I'm going to do - I think.
Look for Tavaar edition #35 coming soon to this blog.
(If you have other ideas, let me know.)
I'm thinking I will return to Tavaar. I love Tavaar, and I left her right after a poorly written scene. The next section was better. Well, I remember it as being better. But that's what I'm going to do - I think.
Look for Tavaar edition #35 coming soon to this blog.
(If you have other ideas, let me know.)
Sunday, March 15, 2009
What to Do Now
So. The book is completed and I have written a first go at a query letter. When I am ready I will send to Evil Editor so the Minions can have at it. As much as they have helped me in the past I do not look forward to the ordeal. I suppose it's like an athlete in training camp. They don't relish the idea of the punishment they are about to go through, but without it they will never be ready for the season.
The problem there is that there was just a post for a book which has treason as a significant issue. Treason is what Traitor's all about. I'm thinking I should delay in posting the query until at least April.
Anyway, I'm finding myself thinking about Book II, The Prophecies of Madatar. I confess this is my favorite book of the Saga. It introduces two characters who become pivital to the entire series. Also, it happens to be a fun book, despite the fact there is actual fighting and war. The stakes are higher, but that only makes Khirsha that much more fun to write. He is about to get a crash course in male-female relationships. (Why is it I have to correct my spelling of female every frikkin time from F-E-M-A-I-L to F-E-M-A-L-E? Talk about going postal. Cheesh.)
So I'm wondering if I'm doing myself, the Saga, Book I, Book II, and who knows who/what else a disservice by moving on to Book II before I even have a working query for Book I? The last time I did that I wound up with a mess. I finished Book II in the spring of 2007. In 2008 I tried getting Book I published, only to learn it was dead before it left the gates. But there's a lot of work to be done with Book II. For one thing, It is over 180,000-words. Even assuming Traitor is published as is, that seems like a high word count for a second book. I should probably drop at least 30,000-words. It's a rough draft. That should be no problem. Right?
But should I even be working on it? That's the question.
The problem there is that there was just a post for a book which has treason as a significant issue. Treason is what Traitor's all about. I'm thinking I should delay in posting the query until at least April.
Anyway, I'm finding myself thinking about Book II, The Prophecies of Madatar. I confess this is my favorite book of the Saga. It introduces two characters who become pivital to the entire series. Also, it happens to be a fun book, despite the fact there is actual fighting and war. The stakes are higher, but that only makes Khirsha that much more fun to write. He is about to get a crash course in male-female relationships. (Why is it I have to correct my spelling of female every frikkin time from F-E-M-A-I-L to F-E-M-A-L-E? Talk about going postal. Cheesh.)
So I'm wondering if I'm doing myself, the Saga, Book I, Book II, and who knows who/what else a disservice by moving on to Book II before I even have a working query for Book I? The last time I did that I wound up with a mess. I finished Book II in the spring of 2007. In 2008 I tried getting Book I published, only to learn it was dead before it left the gates. But there's a lot of work to be done with Book II. For one thing, It is over 180,000-words. Even assuming Traitor is published as is, that seems like a high word count for a second book. I should probably drop at least 30,000-words. It's a rough draft. That should be no problem. Right?
But should I even be working on it? That's the question.
Friday, March 13, 2009
What's in a World
I like to draw my worlds flat. Not sure why, other than that it simplifies things considerably.
North is always to the top of the page. World are always surrounded by oceans. I guess that's how I came up with the idea of The Great Sea. Water separates the worlds.
Worlds have mountains. Got to have mountains. The mountains create rivers which wind about and often fill basins to make lakes. Thick forests surround most lakes. Swampy regions, too. I like grassy plains and hot, arid land.
I like to draw worlds. I've drawn dozens upon dozens of them. Some (most) never do become associated with a story. Some do. Sometimes I have a story and create a world to put it in. Sometimes I have a world and create a story to go with it.
My favorite map was my original map for Swords of Fire. It's long gone now. Accidentally tossed in the garbage. Pity. I created it on a very large pieces of paper.
When I first left home I had no furniture beyond a small bumper pool table. One day, my mother showed up with some moving guys in tow. She had bought me a kitchen table, a recliner chair, and a box spring and mattress for a double bed. Which I did not have. The mattress was wrapped in brown paper, about twice the thickness of a grocery bag. That brown paper became my first map. It was really cool. Gone now.
I think what I may do some day is purchase a canvass. You can get them at art shops. Stephen used to make his own. He had got so he could put one together very quickly.
Anyway, I am going to buy a canvass and some paint. Probably acrylic. Oils are cool, but they're harder to clean. Then I'm going to paint me a world map. Mountains. Forests. Rivers. Arid places. All color coded. I like color coding.
North is always to the top of the page. World are always surrounded by oceans. I guess that's how I came up with the idea of The Great Sea. Water separates the worlds.
Worlds have mountains. Got to have mountains. The mountains create rivers which wind about and often fill basins to make lakes. Thick forests surround most lakes. Swampy regions, too. I like grassy plains and hot, arid land.
I like to draw worlds. I've drawn dozens upon dozens of them. Some (most) never do become associated with a story. Some do. Sometimes I have a story and create a world to put it in. Sometimes I have a world and create a story to go with it.
My favorite map was my original map for Swords of Fire. It's long gone now. Accidentally tossed in the garbage. Pity. I created it on a very large pieces of paper.
When I first left home I had no furniture beyond a small bumper pool table. One day, my mother showed up with some moving guys in tow. She had bought me a kitchen table, a recliner chair, and a box spring and mattress for a double bed. Which I did not have. The mattress was wrapped in brown paper, about twice the thickness of a grocery bag. That brown paper became my first map. It was really cool. Gone now.
I think what I may do some day is purchase a canvass. You can get them at art shops. Stephen used to make his own. He had got so he could put one together very quickly.
Anyway, I am going to buy a canvass and some paint. Probably acrylic. Oils are cool, but they're harder to clean. Then I'm going to paint me a world map. Mountains. Forests. Rivers. Arid places. All color coded. I like color coding.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
A New Mythical Creature
My son has been writing his own fantasy story over the past week. Every so often he gets inspired and writes. Only now that he's older, his stories are no longer just a few paragraphs. His current work is over 10,000-words. I haven't read any of it because he hasn't presented it yet. But clearly it is a fantasy work.
I know this because he asked for help in scanning a drawing he made of one of the creatures in his story. I won't post it now because I don't have his permission, but I will describe it.
It kind of looks like a lion, except it has ridges like a komodo dragon along its back, and the end of its tail is spiked like the stegosaurus?. Not sure which dinosaur had the spiked tail, but you've seen it, I'm sure. It has a mane that looks like fire and sharp claws on each of its four feet.
The creature is called, A Wulgad.
The Muses have been having fun with Son of late. He's been inspired to learn keyboards without any help from a teacher. (We just don't have the money.) But he's getting good. He can play reasonably quick with few errors. He does know how to read music. And playing the tuba gave him an inside track on learning the bass cleft.
He also draws, although not so often anymore. But he drew the Wulgad himself. He also created a comic series of stick people which now encompasses several notebooks. I try to get him to draw on drawing paper, but he likes the spiral bound notebook paper. Well, I'm not going to discourage him.
Music. Drawing. Writing.
I'm kind of proud of him. I'd like to believe he inherited at least some of that from me.
I know this because he asked for help in scanning a drawing he made of one of the creatures in his story. I won't post it now because I don't have his permission, but I will describe it.
It kind of looks like a lion, except it has ridges like a komodo dragon along its back, and the end of its tail is spiked like the stegosaurus?. Not sure which dinosaur had the spiked tail, but you've seen it, I'm sure. It has a mane that looks like fire and sharp claws on each of its four feet.
The creature is called, A Wulgad.
The Muses have been having fun with Son of late. He's been inspired to learn keyboards without any help from a teacher. (We just don't have the money.) But he's getting good. He can play reasonably quick with few errors. He does know how to read music. And playing the tuba gave him an inside track on learning the bass cleft.
He also draws, although not so often anymore. But he drew the Wulgad himself. He also created a comic series of stick people which now encompasses several notebooks. I try to get him to draw on drawing paper, but he likes the spiral bound notebook paper. Well, I'm not going to discourage him.
Music. Drawing. Writing.
I'm kind of proud of him. I'd like to believe he inherited at least some of that from me.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Coming to it Again
In all likelihood I will finish the latest revision of Traitor this week. Possibly today or tomorrow.
Normally, this would fill me with joy because it would mean I can move on to the next book. That is also written, but needs to be cut down significantly. So I'm looking at a major rewrite again.
But I won't be able to move on to the next book when I finish. I will still have two problems: Traitor will be more than 130,000-words. I am told that for a new author, that is means "dismissal out of hand". Any agent or editor who sees a book that long by a first time author will immediately reject it without another thought.
Only there is a problem with that, too. The query letter.
I hate them. Query letters are a combination of begging and persuasion. I'm no good at either. When I beg, people respond by telling me to "get the h*ll out of here". When I try to persuade, people respond by telling me to "get the h*ll out of here".
I've seen examples of "bad" query letters. Then I've seen how they have been punched up to be "good". And you know what? I really can't see the difference. I suppose it's like diamonds. I can't tell a fake from a real, but experts can.
Maybe it's like wine, or cheese tasters. They can tell imediately which sample is better. All the same to me. I'm no connoissuer - of wine or query letters.
I make what I believe to be a very good lasagne. Yet I know if I served it to one of those television chefs they would probably spit it out. You see, I used pre-grated parmesian cheese from a cardboard tube. You've seen them in the grocery store, I'm sure. Kraft? I've heard some of these chefs speak with great disdain over this.
That's the wall which looms before me. The chasm I have to cross.
I don't know how.
Crap.
Normally, this would fill me with joy because it would mean I can move on to the next book. That is also written, but needs to be cut down significantly. So I'm looking at a major rewrite again.
But I won't be able to move on to the next book when I finish. I will still have two problems: Traitor will be more than 130,000-words. I am told that for a new author, that is means "dismissal out of hand". Any agent or editor who sees a book that long by a first time author will immediately reject it without another thought.
Only there is a problem with that, too. The query letter.
I hate them. Query letters are a combination of begging and persuasion. I'm no good at either. When I beg, people respond by telling me to "get the h*ll out of here". When I try to persuade, people respond by telling me to "get the h*ll out of here".
I've seen examples of "bad" query letters. Then I've seen how they have been punched up to be "good". And you know what? I really can't see the difference. I suppose it's like diamonds. I can't tell a fake from a real, but experts can.
Maybe it's like wine, or cheese tasters. They can tell imediately which sample is better. All the same to me. I'm no connoissuer - of wine or query letters.
I make what I believe to be a very good lasagne. Yet I know if I served it to one of those television chefs they would probably spit it out. You see, I used pre-grated parmesian cheese from a cardboard tube. You've seen them in the grocery store, I'm sure. Kraft? I've heard some of these chefs speak with great disdain over this.
That's the wall which looms before me. The chasm I have to cross.
I don't know how.
Crap.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
There Has to be a Reason for It
A good number of years ago I attended a Christian Writers' Conference in Wheaton, IL. Wheaton is just outside of Chicago and is home to Wheaton College, where the conference took place.
The idea was for Christian writers to gather together in one place and learn various things about writing. There were also representatives from vairious publishing houses to look at pieces of work. It was an excellent chance to meet a lot of people in the book business.
I met several authors, but I can only remember two: Myrna Grant and Janette Oke. I was also introduced to an editor at a Christian publishing house. His company did not publish fantasy, but he told me to write a story about children and baseball. I did. I wrote Joey. Based it on an actual incident and submitted it. Rejected.
There was another author I met, but I cannot remember his name. He read one of my earliest versions of Swords of Fire: Book I. That was when it was called The Prophecies of Madatar, which is now Book II. He did an excellent job of shredding it without making me feel horrible. That's a true gift.
I remember he was especially bothered by things which seemed to not have a reason. He said the family's extended lifespans were simply pro-rated out. Which was true. He said there was no purpose in Khirhsa's traveling all over the world. He had reasons for being there, but not for going.
He had a lot more to say and I tried to incorporate all of the suggestions into my work. But his thoughts on story elements having no reason have remained strong with me ever since. I learned the reason for the family's extended lifespans. It was before me all the time. I found reasons why Khirsha should make the journey he took. I know how Abrin gets his knowledge. I know what the "madness" is which infected Khirsha, Tavaar, Sayla, Avalina, and a few others not dealt with directly in Book I. And I know how and why they were "infected".
Learning the "why" of something can be trying sometimes. Sometimes I want to write a scene because it is so cool. The problem is, there is no reason for that scene to happen. I agonize over those scenes, searching for a reason for them to be. If I can find no reason, I cannot write the scene. I hate that, but everything has to happen for a reason.
I once had to rewrite two entire chapters in order to get a character to a place they needed to be. I have altered birth dates - and years - in order to suit matters. Marriage partners have been changed (no divorce - just changed - a literary form of spouse-swapping). Everything has to fit. It can get quite complicated at times. Which reminds me, I still have to complete 350 years of military assignments.
The idea was for Christian writers to gather together in one place and learn various things about writing. There were also representatives from vairious publishing houses to look at pieces of work. It was an excellent chance to meet a lot of people in the book business.
I met several authors, but I can only remember two: Myrna Grant and Janette Oke. I was also introduced to an editor at a Christian publishing house. His company did not publish fantasy, but he told me to write a story about children and baseball. I did. I wrote Joey. Based it on an actual incident and submitted it. Rejected.
There was another author I met, but I cannot remember his name. He read one of my earliest versions of Swords of Fire: Book I. That was when it was called The Prophecies of Madatar, which is now Book II. He did an excellent job of shredding it without making me feel horrible. That's a true gift.
I remember he was especially bothered by things which seemed to not have a reason. He said the family's extended lifespans were simply pro-rated out. Which was true. He said there was no purpose in Khirhsa's traveling all over the world. He had reasons for being there, but not for going.
He had a lot more to say and I tried to incorporate all of the suggestions into my work. But his thoughts on story elements having no reason have remained strong with me ever since. I learned the reason for the family's extended lifespans. It was before me all the time. I found reasons why Khirsha should make the journey he took. I know how Abrin gets his knowledge. I know what the "madness" is which infected Khirsha, Tavaar, Sayla, Avalina, and a few others not dealt with directly in Book I. And I know how and why they were "infected".
Learning the "why" of something can be trying sometimes. Sometimes I want to write a scene because it is so cool. The problem is, there is no reason for that scene to happen. I agonize over those scenes, searching for a reason for them to be. If I can find no reason, I cannot write the scene. I hate that, but everything has to happen for a reason.
I once had to rewrite two entire chapters in order to get a character to a place they needed to be. I have altered birth dates - and years - in order to suit matters. Marriage partners have been changed (no divorce - just changed - a literary form of spouse-swapping). Everything has to fit. It can get quite complicated at times. Which reminds me, I still have to complete 350 years of military assignments.
Friday, March 6, 2009
A Million Worlds Means a Million Stories - and more
My thought all along was that, after finishing the Swords of Fire Saga, I would continue with Stories From the Great Sea. These stories could take the form of trilogies and sagas, but more often simply be stand alone tales of their own merit. My short story, Apprentice, could fall into this category. As well as others.
The Great Sea consists of so many worlds. I have not counted them, but references in my notes indicate there are at least thousands, if not tens of thousands, or even millions. Most of the worlds would either be devoid of Free People representation, or inhabited by humans. There would be worlds devoid of any real fauna. Not much of a story there. But there are so many tales to be told.
The difficult thing about these others stories is that they must also adhere to the general laws which govern The Great Sea, and which are spelled out in the Swords of Fire Saga. For instance, Swords of Fire states there are twelve dragon breeds. It further identifies them. This means any story which involves dragons would have to conform to this knowledge. The existence of Windows can be used, but the manner in which they function cannot be altered. The presence of the Children of Fire cannot be altered. Nor can their involvement.
The fact that a story might be interesting if certain things were true which Swords of Fire states are not is not the point. In order for the story to belong to The Great Sea, it must conform to The Great Sea. Otherwise, it has to take place some place else.
If Swords of Fire ever becomes successful, I shall put together all of these rules into a single volume. That way anyone who becomes inspired to write into this place will have a working knowledge at their disposal to write a believeable story for it.
I think that would be the greatest thing of all.
The Great Sea consists of so many worlds. I have not counted them, but references in my notes indicate there are at least thousands, if not tens of thousands, or even millions. Most of the worlds would either be devoid of Free People representation, or inhabited by humans. There would be worlds devoid of any real fauna. Not much of a story there. But there are so many tales to be told.
The difficult thing about these others stories is that they must also adhere to the general laws which govern The Great Sea, and which are spelled out in the Swords of Fire Saga. For instance, Swords of Fire states there are twelve dragon breeds. It further identifies them. This means any story which involves dragons would have to conform to this knowledge. The existence of Windows can be used, but the manner in which they function cannot be altered. The presence of the Children of Fire cannot be altered. Nor can their involvement.
The fact that a story might be interesting if certain things were true which Swords of Fire states are not is not the point. In order for the story to belong to The Great Sea, it must conform to The Great Sea. Otherwise, it has to take place some place else.
If Swords of Fire ever becomes successful, I shall put together all of these rules into a single volume. That way anyone who becomes inspired to write into this place will have a working knowledge at their disposal to write a believeable story for it.
I think that would be the greatest thing of all.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Where are the Creatures
Swords of Fire contains plenty of mythical creatures. Unfortunately, Book I contains none of them. There are dragons. I even have a couple of dragon stories. But they are not part of the main Saga. Same with Unicorns, Gryphons, and other such creatures.
It's a pity, because I like these creatures. But putting cool creatures into a story simply because they are cool creatures only ruins the story and anything the writer wishes to say about the creatures. They have to fit. They have to be part of the story and, unfortunately, they aren't part of Book I's story. In fact, it's hard to bring them into the Saga at all.
I've seen movies where this is done. The hero/heroine comes across one unusual creature after another, but none really moves the story along. It's almost like little museum stops along the way. Say, boys and girls, look at this dinosaur. You thought they were extinct, but here is one alive. And look at the flying lizard/bird/antelope creature. I bet you never seen or heard of one of those again. Oh, well. Back to the story.
It's kind of like infodump, only worse, because the information has nothing to do with the story. At least with background information the reader learns why characters behave as they do. They're completely bored, but they know.
Mythical creatures are cool, and when they are part of a story they can make an interesting story even more intriguing. But when they are not part of the story they should be left out. They won't mind. They have their own stories.
It's a pity, because I like these creatures. But putting cool creatures into a story simply because they are cool creatures only ruins the story and anything the writer wishes to say about the creatures. They have to fit. They have to be part of the story and, unfortunately, they aren't part of Book I's story. In fact, it's hard to bring them into the Saga at all.
I've seen movies where this is done. The hero/heroine comes across one unusual creature after another, but none really moves the story along. It's almost like little museum stops along the way. Say, boys and girls, look at this dinosaur. You thought they were extinct, but here is one alive. And look at the flying lizard/bird/antelope creature. I bet you never seen or heard of one of those again. Oh, well. Back to the story.
It's kind of like infodump, only worse, because the information has nothing to do with the story. At least with background information the reader learns why characters behave as they do. They're completely bored, but they know.
Mythical creatures are cool, and when they are part of a story they can make an interesting story even more intriguing. But when they are not part of the story they should be left out. They won't mind. They have their own stories.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Using Magic in a Story
Magic. I'm not generally keen on its use in fantasy. Too often it seems (to me anyway) that magic is used to help a writer get out of a painted corner. It's almost like using the phrase, "and then I woke up", to end a stressful scene.
To me, magic is simply undiscovered science. Perhaps there is also an innate physical ability, such as fireflies, electric eels, octopi, and chameleons. By taking this approach I put a definable limit on what my "magic" can do. Having a limit means having a weakness which can be exploited when that limit has been neared, reached, or surpassed. This helps create tension.
When I was in grade school I was not above the "and then I woke up" ending. I often wrote my characters into impossible situations from which there was no logical escape. So the entire story became a nightmare. Well, that may work with five- and six-year-olds, but it doesn't with the more savvy readers I wish to attract. So I quickly learned to seek out believeable resolutions to the situations in which I placed my characters. That can be hard. When it becomes impossible the situation itself has to be abandoned. Hate doing that, but the story has to make sense.
To me, magic is simply undiscovered science. Perhaps there is also an innate physical ability, such as fireflies, electric eels, octopi, and chameleons. By taking this approach I put a definable limit on what my "magic" can do. Having a limit means having a weakness which can be exploited when that limit has been neared, reached, or surpassed. This helps create tension.
When I was in grade school I was not above the "and then I woke up" ending. I often wrote my characters into impossible situations from which there was no logical escape. So the entire story became a nightmare. Well, that may work with five- and six-year-olds, but it doesn't with the more savvy readers I wish to attract. So I quickly learned to seek out believeable resolutions to the situations in which I placed my characters. That can be hard. When it becomes impossible the situation itself has to be abandoned. Hate doing that, but the story has to make sense.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)