Doubt.

“Finn,” he said, and she knew it was something serious by the way her name lingered in the air like a cloud.

“Mm?” she mumbled back, sleepily tracing her free hand across his chest. Her eyes were half hooded, watching the evening light catch like fire on the crimson strands of his hair splayed across the pillow. The pads of her fingers ran trails across his skin, delighting in their freedom to do so, and a soft smile tugged at her mouth in the pause that followed.

“Do you ever have doubts?” was the heavy weight pulling her lover’s mind down, and Finn staggered under the unexpectedness of the question. She gained a foothold a moment later, her eyes drifting to his hand that lie on his stomach. She admired the slender fingers, calloused from a lifetime of work and strain, tipped by claws that were meant for tearing and prying. She had only ever felt gentleness from them over the years, had only felt warmth when she slipped her delicate hands into his capable ones. The digits were the same, the spaces between his fingers always waiting for hers to fill them. She thought of the girls at court, who often approached her during her travels and asked what it was to be in love with such a man. Finn always knew what they were really asking-

Why was she not afraid?

Shadow cat lovers had destroyed the human kingdom, after all. His mother had tainted a king and brought down a dynasty, had ravaged the land with unhappiness and dreadful rumors and scorn. History stood as a tell tale sign that any and all who took those of shadow blood as their lovers were brought down in the worst darkness imaginable. They would ask her what he was like, and she, weary of the same questions meaning something else entirely, would look them in the eye and state if they wished to know, they should have gotten to know him instead of seduce him for his standing.

They thought her foolish.

She thought them idiotic.

They were ignorant to the man that had saved the kingdom his kin wished leveled. They were ignorant of how when he was alone with someone he loved his posture changed from that of a silent bearer of immeasurable weight to one buckling beneath it. They did not know that he resented his standing, that he wanted nothing to do with being Commander, that he was so strong under a duty he had never wished. That he feared for his men’s lives, that he breathed nightmares knowing his decisions could decide if they live or die. They did not know that whenever someone was flogged or hung from his army that Kanaray, stone faced and silent, counted every lash of the whip, that each blow coiled his muscles under his skin until he hardened every part of himself against it. It never worked. She had put her hand on his arm often enough to witness it, to feel how desperately he wanted to shrink away from the stares and the praise and the scorn.

They did not know how desperately the Commander, with all his strength and power, wished to be loved.

How he was utterly convinced, for years of his king telling him so, that he did not deserve it. That he was nothing.

A soft sigh escaped her, and she felt him shift when her breath tickled his skin.

“Doubt about what?” she asked, her hand trailing from his chest to his hand. He threaded his fingers through hers, and she shifted her head on his shoulder to peer up at him. He was not looking at her, his eyes focused across the room on a thought she could not see.

“You and I,” he plucked it from the air, and with the admittance his jade eyes swept down to meet hers.

Her brow furrowed at the question, and Kanaray, seeing her confusion, elaborated.

“Do you ever have any doubts about loving me?”

At that Finn shifted herself, moving from lying on her side, her cheek against his shoulder, to lying with her torso draped across the side of his, skin on skin. It would be pointless to ask where the thought came from, as Kanaray’s head had been honed with the ability to doubt since he was young. It was crafted from years of the world causing him to do nothing but doubt in order to survive. If he did not doubt everything and everyone then they would turn against him before he expected it.

She put her face close to his and parted her lips, her voice warm.

“Commander,” she addressed him, and a small smile curled one edge of his mouth upward. He often smiled when she addressed him by title, though, admittedly, it was usually in the heat of an argument that she used it. “Have I ever shown doubt?”

Kanaray paused, and Finn pressed a kiss to his chin.

“Do you think I’d be here if I had any?” she whispered softly.

Kanaray’s cheeks flooded with red, and she chuckled, pulling up her arms to lazily cross them over his chest, resting her chin on them.

“Kan,” she chased the laughter out of her voice. “It would be a lie to say I never had any doubts. For years I doubted us. For years I wondered if this was truly what I wanted, if you were worth waiting for, worth the effort I was pouring into us when you never wanted there to be an us in the first place.”

His eyes caught on hers, and she raised her head up as she continued.

“I had more doubt regarding loving you then one person ever needs in their lifetime,” she acknowledged. “I’d spend days agonizing over what I should do, how I could get through to you. I doubted if you truly loved me in return, if you could ever trust me enough to tell me. I was mocked for it, and on some days I mocked myself. But I stuck with you.”

His eyes watched her, drinking in the ease in which she spoke of her doubts as if they were fair weathered friends.

“It made me stronger,” she decided, tilting her head. “Every moment of doubting made me question why it was I loved you so much. It made me realize that I could not give up, no matter what you did to push me away. If I had not doubted as often as I did, I wouldn’t have known why it was so vital that I fight for you, that I fight for us. Instead of swooning over you at every moment like those other fools, I grounded my affection in something stronger, and every time I would doubt it, it would strengthen. It had too, else I would have never waited for you, would have never stood by you like I did.”

Still the halfblood said nothing, and Finn smiled.

“It was worth it, love,” she told him in a low voice. “I have no regrets.”

He cocked his head, black ears sweeping forward to catch her voice.

“None?” he asked, and Finn felt no surprise, felt no alarm that he should be doubting her assurance. Kanaray had no doubts in his own feelings, that much she knew, else they wouldn’t be where they were presently. He was swept up in the mindset that it was too good to be true, that this happiness and joy was to be snatched from him the second he let it sink in. She let the silence trail for a moment, let the moment hover over them both, and then she unfolded her arms. She skimmed her fingers up his chin and then placed her hands on either side of his face, pulling his head toward her as she leaned up to kiss him. Kanaray responded to her at once, and a small thrill tingled down her spine at the wiliness, something that was still new to her, coming from him. She was certain she would be tempted to place her lips over his often, just to experience his reaction. A reaction that did not involve unease or tension.

She pulled back only when she required air, her heart thundering like a wild herd of horses in her chest. She felt his speed up beneath her, and she smiled at it’s pace.

“None,” she breathed against his mouth, her eyes fluttering open to greet his warm gaze. “I love you, Kanaray Hohtay. Fangs, claws and all.”

Kan chuckled, and she wrinkled her nose when she felt the rumble bounce about in his chest.

“And I love you, Lady Finn,” he whispered back to her, his eyes sparking with a light only she was privy to. “Nobility, stubbornness and all.”

She smiled at him, tilting her head to kiss his cheek.

“Say it again,” she murmured, and Kanaray did not hesitate.

“I love you, Finn,” he said in her ear.

She trailed her lips across the corner of his mouth.

“Again,” she requested, and the corners of his lips curled upwards.

“I love you,” was his answer, and barely had he breathed the words then her lips were on his, her hands twining around his neck.

Yes, it had been worth it.

Every single moment.

Thoughts on violence.

Recently I picked up a copy of the writing magazine, Poets & Writers , because I've been staring at the writing magazines for ages at work (BN) and wanted to give one a go. This issue looked promising, and in it I found an article about violence and blood in novels. The article asked when it was appropriate to "show" violence, and when it was appropriate to "hide" it, and leave it to the reader's imagination. It gave examples of mystery, fiction and crime novelists, and how they effectively freak out the readers without going into gruesome detail about every drop of blood or every knife plunge.

And, as writing thoughts do, it got me thinking about what I consider effective in fiction, in books and in movies and shows alike.

As SoF is a series that is 75% fighting and war and 25% talking and scheming, I am familiar with the concept of choosing to display what and where and how. King Allan, my antagonist, murders his father and mother violently in order to ascend to the throne (or is that his reason at all? ;) ). He cuts his father's throat and drowns his mother in the palace fountain, all with his bare hands. I could have easily gone into great detail in some flashback about how it happened in disgusting detail, but instead I focus on how Allan, at that moment, felt to have power enough to kill his own parents. They are his first kills, which are important in the life of any antagonist, but I purpose to leave the gruesome details to the readers. It's their imaginations that are being provoked to see it, after all. If I had gone into pages and pages of detail of the struggle (Allan's father and mother were not soft shadow cats- they were warriors through and through) I would have taken away a huge portion of the raw feeling I wanted the scene to have.

This morning I considered two of my favorite shows, CSI (the original way back when) and Castle, and how they portray murders. I love CSI dearly, but most of the time, I'd say 90%, they show the murder happen, either in the end when the suspect is caught, or in the beginning. While there are plenty of episodes of CSI that freaked the willies out of me (people living in your attic and spying on you at night? Noooo thank you.), I find that the gut response to those murders are not nearly as strong as what I experience when I watch something like Castle. In Castle, when the show begins with murders, we see the murder scene and the body with the suspect gone and the victim just waiting to be discovered. Immediately (especially if it's incredibly bloody) I'm drawn in, and immediately I want to know how it happened, and who was responsible (and how badly Beckett will kick their skull in, but that's not the point) and why. The murders are never shown (at least to my memory), even during one episode where they have a recording of the murder happening. The screen pans out and we focus on the characters watching it, on their reactions, instead of the actual violence happening on screen.

To me, the descriptions the detectives and investigators give are far more effective than the scenes of the murders actually happening in CSI. If I told you there was a man holding a family hostage, and he was executing them one by one, but doing it by dragging them into the other room or across the street to the woods where you can't see, and all you hear are gun shots, what do you think of? The unknown, and your imagination runs wild with it. This murderer is taking the kids one by one, taking the parents, with no mercy, and the others have to listen and know he's coming for them next. If he shot them all "on screen" and I described a brutal killing with punctured chest wounds and skulls splitting open, it would invoke either numbness, or disgusted horror- not quite the emotions needed for the scene.

Thats not to say I believe EVERYTHING should happen off screen. There's a need to know when to show the violence, when to describe it, and when to imply it. I don't describe Allan's first murder in detail, or how Se'vre kills off characters. There's a scene I wrote where he is sitting across from a woman (she's not important) he fully intends to kill, but he's seducing her into relaxing in his presence. She does, to his delight, and he, as Se'vre does, toys with his food and victims in such a way that it seems for several moments that he's actually quite harmless. The scene ends with him, in a "round about" way, telling her he intends to murder her. When Se'vre appears again, he has blood on his face and makes a comment alluding to her murder- but I never write about how it happens, what he did to her, or how the blood got on his face. Se'vre is a messy killer, and he likes it that way.

My antagonists are created to be horrible, twisted and rotten people through and through, but they are also written to be people. I want to invoke emotions and reasons and moments where the reader believes, for a fraction of a second, that whatever is about to happen has a chance of not happening because they see that Allan and Se'vre and Avlon and Revelin are just, in the end, people doing horrible things. And that it's a choice.

In the same way, I wrote an entire (albeit short) chapter of a character being tortured. I needed to show the reader everything that happened in that period of this character being brutalized and tortured in every which way possible, because later, those same readers needed to connect and remember what happened as this character remembers. I needed that connection of sympathy and horror when the character reacts the way they do to situations, of understanding, because this torture is an experience kept between the character it happened to and the audience. The other characters are suddenly the ones who heard about it but did not see it, did not feel it, and it switches the stage around so that the readers have a behind the curtain look at a huge aspect of this character's development. It was a hard chapter to write because of the violence, but it was necessary, and I believe it made the story, the latter books, more effective in their telling because of it.

Of course, SoF is about war, and there are many deaths I am forced to describe. However, I have tried to be careful in how I describe them. Saying a blade was run across someone's throat verses going into great detail about how the tendons were cut and the blood gushed is a line that needs to be recognized. I've read writing before where brutalization, especially by the antagonist, is described in such great detail and so often that I became numb to it. It desensitized me in every way as I read about these deeds this character committed, and I became less interested in his crimes and how to stop them. There's a point you reach where you cannot take it to the next level, where you are stopping your reader from teetering into suspense and horror because you've started the violence at the highest level it can get in the first place. They will flinch at first, sit on the edges of their seats and immerse themselves, but the second they see this is the norm, that this is what will be happening at every plot twist and turn, it becomes ineffective. They become less invested in the characters and their own emotions and reactions.

If I described every swing of Lonlor's sword as he fought in war (he fights in many of them), every limb he cuts off or every person he kills, it would get not only tedious, but annoying. Instead I focus on what he feels, or if he even does. Does it numb him, fighting for hours upon hours, watching his comrades and friends fall by his side? Does the smell of blood and death become so normal to him that he can't remember what clean air is? Shadow cats are a race that delight in blood, and they tend to bleed out their victims in gruesome ways. I wanted to include a scene in SoF where this is shown, and I did describe it through Lonlor's eyes. But I don't describe every murder and every happening of violence in such detail that it numbs the reader. At least, I like to think I've learned enough to not do so. Naturally, if acts of violence happen and are so important to the plot they need to be described in great detail, then do it.

But remember we live in a world where murder happens every day, unfortunately, and most readers will be well familiar with the motion of slashing someone's throat or running them through or shooting them. "He put three in her chest" can provoke more emotion then "The bullets hit her once in her shoulder, her collarbone, her chest, and spurted blood across her shirt". Don't take your reader's imagination for granted, especially if you write fiction. Give it help, show it what you want to get across, but don't assume that they have never seen a crime show in their life or don't know what bullet wounds look like. Give them a taste of the scene, but don't shove it down their throats. They won't be able to enjoy it then, and savoring is important.

And for goodness sake, please don't slather your fiction with blood every page. There are people who enjoy that type of fiction, but you would be doing yourself, your future shrink and your readers a favor by limiting it to when it's necessary.

Find the balance and stick with it. Don't be afraid to show some violence, but be wary of showing far too much.

Draft 2 of Book 2...

...is done.

.....

.

.

.

.

:)

WHAT.

I'M SO BLOODY CLOSE.

I have to write in three or so chapters, edit three more, and then I AM DONE WITH THIS SUCKER.

AHHHHH!!!

SO EXCITED.

They keep surprising me, even so.

This is madness.

Making Sense.

Sometimes, as I go over old drafts and polish them up to my current writing style, I find gems such as this:

"He had sprung from his bed, grabbed his blade gone to where it had come form."

Where not only is the writing surrounding it terrible, but it in itself does not actually make any sense whatsoever. That was from book 2. Other jewels of horrible include:

"There was a brief silence before the wooden gates were heaved inward in much protest as they departed from one another. And that was all. "

And, my favorite because it is SO terrible, from Draft 1 of Book 1:

"A narrow yet used dusty street. "

Yeah. That's the complete sentence.

EDIT: Found another LOVELY one just now:

"He cut himself up and jerked his gaze to the Messenger."

My gosh, Lonlor, that sounds painful. Quick, hide the razor blades everyone, we've got a real emo on our hands.

EDIT 2 (4/20/2011):

"D'hiren watched in complete silence as Lonlor took a dew steps backwards until his back hit the oppisite wall."

I don't even...just...no. NO.

EDIT 3 (4/21/2011)

"Lonlor stood on a snow-covered hill that overlooked an untouched Anden spread out and huddled below him."

It is spread out... yet HUDDLED. Yes.

My gosh I'm just going to make this a log of all the mistakes I find. WOO.

Do you guys have anything remarkably close to this that you groan when you go over a while later? Better yet, can you come up with what you'd consider a terrible sentence?

Off to more editing, where I'm sure there will be more awkwardness aplenty. And yeah, I'm totally listening to Katy Perry as I trudge through this draft.

Don't judge me!

Mary Sues

I've taken a lot of "Mary Sue" tests for fun, just to see what on earth the general writing community considers a Mary Sue- or a Gary Sue, what have you. Usually, however, I really don't agree with how the questions are set up. They make it impossible to have a character who does not possess the traits they list, because if they didn't, they wouldn't be a fictional person. It's especially difficult to do with a fantasy like setting because "magic" is involved, and unfortunately a lot of stereotypical crap is lumped in with that. I took one over at KatFeet.net that I've taken before, and my results were thus:

"Lonlor is nothing like you. He isn't really very cool: he blends into crowds, he hangs out on the fringes at parties, and wearing shades after dark makes him run into things. He may have sometimes thought that he was special, or destined for greater things, but probably dismissed the idea as a fantasy. He's had more than his fair share of hard knocks, and probably spends more time than he ought moaning about it. And he's gotten no slack from you.

In general, you care deeply about Lonlor, but you're smart enough to let him stand on his own, without burdening him with your personal fantasies or propping him up with idealization and over-dramatization. Lonlor is a healthy character with a promising career ahead of him."

Which was pretty interesting to me, though I'm glad to hear he of all characters scored low on this particular Mary Sue test. Because as far as main characters goes, he has the teenager finds amulet has to go save the world and reluctant hero nonsense counting against him, because heaven knows THAT'S been done before.

And, granted, a lot of the questions on there were questions that held incredibly over used cards that authors tend to favor and readers tend to somehow eat up. Half breeds, outcasts, abuse, torture, tattoos, scars, etc. And I do agree that these things can be overdone, and in a lot of cases, they are. However, it caused me to question the definition of a Mary Sue outside of fan-fiction. What would qualify a character to be a Mary Sue? The first thought that comes to most recent reader's minds is Bella Swan from Twilight- at least, thats the first example that comes to my mind. But what makes her a Mary Sue? Is it over used cliches? There's nothing really extraordinary about her, if you think about it. She is apparently the cats meow (or the vampires bite, the dogs bark- yes, I think I'm hilarious) of Forks, as she attracts every male within miles. She also takes to the vampire mojo very quickly with disturbing ease, but beyond that, what is so Mary Sue about her?

Yeah, I drew a blank too. So then why, if she has these two big things that could have been written well, do I immediately jump to her when I define Mary Sue? There are people out there who are naturally great at many things. I bet you can bring to mind a few of them that you know or know of, and how it can be a little annoying that they are so naturally gifted. There are also women who men tend to think of as beautiful across the board and who always get the attention of the opposite gender. So what's the big deal when you combine these things? What makes a Mary Sue...sueish?

My answer is this: Execution.

No, not a massacre of Mary Sues (though I do support that), but how their writer's actually execute their characters. Stephanie Meyer could have pulled off Bella Swan. She could have bulked out the same character instead of letting shallow, bland facts define her. I'm never against the general story of Twilight- what has always been a chip on my shoulder was how it was written. How the tale was carried out, how the characters were fleshed out (well, they really weren't. They all have one general emotion to stick to- Jacob was usually aggression, Edward melancholy, Bella passiveness), and how the author chooses to portray them. Because you know what? I love mush. I love triangles of the mushy variety, and I love torment and conflict and meshed together feelings with a random mythical creature thrown in. I'm all for these things, but if executed poorly like they were written by a chicken with it's head cut off, they turn sour. It's like leaving a banana on the counter for three weeks. You don't want to consume it, you don't want to go near it, and you definitely don't want to touch it. You're not entirely impressed by who left it there, because they certainly did not pay enough attention to put it into the trash where it belongs.

I don't believe in "over used" cliches. I don't think that all because a thousand people execute the same idea poorly, that one person should be denied a shot at it. Because hey, I have a half blood in my story, and he's one of the main characters. And guess what, my main character was abused growing up, and yeah, it affects him whenever he interacts with women, because he has two categories for women in his life time. One, his foster parent who never hesitated to smack him around and use force to enforce her will, and two, his sister, who is the direct opposite and sweet, caring, kind and was the only thing keeping him sane during their childhoods. Then you toss in Naomi, who starts to file into the latter category for him, but then he realizes that hey, she's not his sister. She has no reason to act the same, yet she does, and it's different, so what does that make her?

The point is, my personal definition of Mary Sue characteristics is this: A Mary Sue is made up of seemingly randomly, unexplained pieces that are not at all sewn together properly. This doesn't mean you need to provide answers for everything. Reader's don't need pages of back story of why a character's hair is a certain shade, or why they like baloney instead of turkey in their sandwiches. It's a good idea to get a grasp of what is considered cliche, or over used, or Mary Sue-ish, and to check out how not to execute your personal character. But heck, if you want a love triangle, you go for it. If you want your character to be tatted up, if you want your main character to be blonde, if you want them to have unusual coloring, magical powers and fairy wings that bring all the boys to the yard, then go for it. Write and create your little heart out, but remember that when people look at your character, they will be able to see how much you've actually put into it. And what you put in is exactly what you will get out.

Just remember to connect those pieces, stamp your own mark across the creation, and to never be afraid to do something that has been done before. Because guess what? As true as it is that there is nothing new under the sun, it hasn't been done by you before, now has it? And that, in itself, is new.

Just don't go out and make it a Mary Sue.

Keep Moving Forward

I've been sprinkling different scenes into Descent to "spice it up", most that have to do with showing more of my villains. I'm trying to use chapters from other perspectives to "break up" the chapters totally focusing on Lonlor. I'm doing this for two reasons. 1) Following Lonlor exclusively can be incredibly frustrating for readers, as he is stubborn, hard headed, and at a transition stage right now where he's JUST getting the hang of what is going on. And it only took him 400 pages. WOO! (Character building pages that needed to happen, I swear) and 2) This story involves a lot of other characters that do really interesting stuff while Lonlor is doing something entirely different. I also feel it's a good way to give a breath of fresh air now and then, and give my bad guys a stronger presence. It helps when an audience sees glimpses of why the bad guys are threats that need to be faced.

However, only this morning I found myself plunging into one of those very breather chapters, and after a page I wrote, in all caps: "WHAT IS THE POINT OF THIS CONVERSATION. IT SHOULD MOVE THE PLOT FORWARD OR BE TAKEN OUT. DUH SELF."

And it helped me realize that if the chapter, conversation, event, etc doesn't move the plot or the character themselves forward in some way, then why on earth mention it? It's like retelling an event that has happened to you to a friend and mentioning the weather when the story you are telling took place inside and was totally unaffected by the outside.

I can tell pretty quickly when chapters start to go nowhere that they either need to be taken out, or given a purpose that actually ties in with the plot or shows something about the character that is important. It doesn't have to be life changing for them, but it should have an impact (such as factoring in to characters relationships with one another, giving new information, a new obstacle for the character to overcome, etc), otherwise you are forcing reader's to read irrelevant nonsense that does nothing but hold your story back.

Just something to think about, and definitely something I've been focusing on recently in rewriting book 2 of SoF. Has anyone else found something similar in their own writing? Do you notice when you do it, or does it have to be brought to your attention? Can you spot it when you are reading a published book?

Notes

In rewriting a manuscript, I've come across several differences that vary from writing one from scratch. In the first book of SoF I rewrote last fall/winter, I was faced with the task of taking something both hideously old and out of date and transforming it completely (plot, characters and style). With that, I was also heavily challenged to both change the development of the characters and factor in many ideas that had been completely missed and/or ignored, as well as trying to match it to the later two books. (There are four books in this series, all with finished 1st drafts). With book 1 it felt like less of a challenge because I had a lot of room to explore and reinvent the beginning of my tale.

I also had the first draft of the second book acting as a buffer, so while my goal was to still make the story smooth and flow into the other three books, it was not as if I had to immediately make it fit the same tone. I'm learning so much with the book 2 rewrite, and I'm astounded all the time by how I am relearning a lot as well. I feel like since I've been writing these books for 12 years I should know exactly what to do, what to write and where to write it, but most of this remains new to me as I go along. I feel seasoned and fresh to the scene all at once.

With book 2, the one I am currently writing, this is not the case. Book 2 is by far the most important book story wise because of it's content and how it ups the stakes of everything presented in book 1. Now, I take notes on my ideas as soon as they come to me, no matter where I am, because I know I'll forgot them if I don't. While this sounds handy, I often scribble them on obscure, odd pieces of paper located at work, at school, home, etc. I have a journal I take everywhere to keep all of these ideas in one place, but sometimes I forget it. So these ideas are pretty much scattered throughout a range of various places, and while I try to collect them all as I write, sometimes I miss things. And then we have situations like what happened this week, where I rewrite an entire series of events and forget to slip in a conversation that I was stoked about earlier but overlooked because I could not remember where the notes were. Turns out I scribbled them in my sketch book, which I never do.

And while I really liked this idea and conversation that I had scribbled about in my sketchbook, when I found my notes and skimmed them, I found out that what I had written and how the events had unfolded were ten times more accurate to the characters and the story than my "super cool" conversation idea had been. Basically it was going to be a discussion between the protagonist and the antagonist without the protagonist knowing he was speaking to the source of his misery and woe. That was going to be how I "introduced" my hero to my villain, and I thought at the time that it was clever and would give the scene an edge. It was going to be a cat and mouse game of the antagonist teasing whatever he wanted out of the poor main character Lonlor Swift, and Lonlor thinking he was in the company of a stranger that was on his side.

The major problem with this is that at the point where Allan (my bad guy) would approach Lonlor anonymously, said hero is feeling immensely betrayed and has so much conflict going on internally that Allan speaking to him would cause him to immediately jump to conclusions and mistrust (as he tends to do). The conversation would be very short, and Allan would be left looking like an utter fool. Which he is not.

If I had remembered where those notes were, the scene that is now unchangeable would have been written so much differently. I know I would have gone by my notes because this is a scene that got me "stuck" and wondering how to overcome it, and a simple fix like a few jotted sentences would have been very easy to enter. I didn't, and I think the story is better for it. I often find myself writing down ideas, thinking them utterly fitting for the story, and then being swept so far out to sea by the same story that I forget to insert them completely. I come back to them and say "Darn it, that was good" but then look back at my imperfect scene that just spewed from my fingertips in spurts, and realize "Well yes, it was, but this could be great. This is where it needs to be." Situations and characters change from what I originally plan.

Sometimes my story just needs me to get lost in it instead of it lost to me. Most of the time all I need to do is stop flouncing about trying to make every scene memorable, and to just write. I desperately want my story to be something that readers are immersed in, that they can barely tear themselves from, but what I want most of all is for me to be immersed. When I read books, I can tell when the author was in their world, with their characters, and when they were eyeing the entire story with a scrutinizing gaze and throwing in turns to spice it up.

Stories don't need flare, or edge, or added excitement and epic scenes at every corner. The scene I wrote instead of the one I planned was ten times better suited to the moment and situation, to the characters and story, and I think that gave it its own special place. I still keep all my notes and all of my discarded ideas, because maybe one day they will spark something different, or remind me of how I once went with the story instead of my head. I'll never downplay having and taking notes, or brainstorming ideas and using those, because I do it all the time.

But sometimes, it pays just to let the story breathe by itself without shoving an oxygen mask on it. Sometimes it pays just to lean forward and let it take on a life of its own.

I'm learning with this draft that when I do, when I stop worrying and concerning myself over details, magic happens.

And I like where it's taking me.

Swift

I just created an entire outfit based on the bird to the left, a whiskered tree swift. Beautiful birds, I cannot get enough of them! I love everything about their design and movements and voices.

What, you say, but something in the name of the bird seems familiar. Almost as if it's relatable to a character's surname in SoF! Even the colors seem to be in common!

Ah, says I. You'll just have to wait and see ;)

I encourage, as a writing or drawing exercise, to take a bird with multicolored plumage and see what you can make of it in regards to an outfit. Can you manage all of the colors while still getting the idea across? What about keeping certain, stronger characteristics?

Its a fun challenge!

Tricks

I've been coming up to little blocks in rewriting Descent.

I wouldn't call them writer blocks so much as tiny snags that keep tripping me up for a day or two (which sounds like a short time, but is incredibly frustrating to me and feels a lot longer as it happens) With that, I've been coming up with different, new ways to overcome them. Listening to favorite songs and taking a line of the lyrics, translating it into the story or my writing style, and working from there. I did that just now, and it pumped out two pages of thoughts I had not known my character even had.

Or picking a current mood or random theme to work into a scene or even a chapter. Googling "writing prompt ideas", reading one of the four writing books I have sitting on my shelf unloved because I've been more preoccupied with writing my book than reading any others. Or even posting on FB that I need help and sitting back and watching what creative friends come up with in regards to prompts and opening chapter line ideas. Sometimes its interesting and refreshing to stop staring at the screen waiting for your brain to come up with the brilliance, and let something else small or large spark the mood for you. It seems to give new perspectives and angles to an otherwise worn story. My story is so old to me that sometimes, I just want a breath of fresh air and a little nudge in the right direction that is not determined by me. Shuffle on iTunes often helps me with mood, or figuring out writing.

It's important, as a writer, to let trickles of outside influence in from time to time. I feel as writers and authors, we often are under the impression that any ideas and influences from the "outside" are bad. That everything has to come from us directly, as if we're reinventing the wheel. Authors and artists are obsessed with either two concepts- conforming to one "style" or genre of their craft, or being so obviously original that they have difficult times differentiating between the two. Balance is hard to find. In the Bible there is a verse that says "There is nothing new under the sun" and I often repeat it to myself as I write. It sounds so negative, but it's a helpful reminder that yes, people have written similar stories to what I am currently slaving over day and night. That yeah, fantasy is not a new concept, nor is a teenager trying to save the world, or a war that involves dragons. The difference is I'm the one who is telling it this time around, and I haven't before.

C.S. Lewis once said, “Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it.”

Definitely something to reflect on as I plow forward with this draft and meet plenty of snags along the way. I'm in no race to finish this bad boy, but it is immersing me so quickly that I cannot help but speed on ahead. I'm in love with this story.