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Wavewalker Princess

by | Apr 23, 2012 | Fearless, Persona 4 Fan Fiction, Short Stories, Uncategorized

My entry to the 200-word Flash Fiction Contest over at Joey Francisco’s Soul and Sweet Tea blog…which you should go and check out, because it’s chock-full of creative goodness! My only regret is that I’m only finding her site now, and so I have so much to catch up on!

I took my prompt from Ms. Francisco’s photograph of the watchtower at Fort Matanzas:

Fort Matanzas, photo by Joey Francisco

Fort Matanzas, photo by Joey Francisco. Used without permission.

Stone stairs and the blood of Landstanders foolish enough to raise arms against him disappear beneath Fin’s boots, as every step takes him closer to the top of this tall, windowed tower, and to the girl trapped within.

“Wavewalker!” a guard warns, but he’s silenced by metal tines already streaked red; it’s the same for his partner beside. And up Fin runs, never stopping.

His muscles ache, his lungs burn, but the door is just ahead, and suddenly he’s crying her name as his spear splinters the heavy wood:

“Cauda!”

He’s barely broken through when she rushes up, arms thrown around him. And though her eyes are wide and frightened, her voice drifts to him with such gentle love, like the dreamy sway of the coral among which they used to swim. “You came.”

Time is short – more Landstanders are surely already racing to reclaim their princess prize – but still he cups her face, so sea-pale and soft, and kisses her, for fear it will be the last thing he ever does.

He draws back at the taste of tears.

“There’s no way out,” she whispers.

The spear creaks in his fist. “There’s always a way.”

As per the instructions, I stayed within the 200-word limit (mine comes in at 198 words), and I didn’t think too much about plot or craft. I just wrote.

I don’t usually jump for contests. And, to be honest, it’s not really the contest that interested me, in this case. I’ve just been having such fun playing in the 100-Word Challenges for Grown-Ups over at Julia’s Place that, when this came up in my Twitter feed via @speechwriterguy, I had to see if I could write something a little bit different than what I’ve been doing with the 100-Word Challenges.

This fantasy conflict is actually one of the earliest plot ideas I had for what became Fearless, believe it or not. It never went further than a very basic and archetypal idea of princesses and warriors, of course, and the more realistic, personal love story between Ross and Amber won out for me, in the end. But it was quite a bit of fun to revisit, in a way, those original concepts, here. And, who knows? Maybe I will flesh out the conflict between the Wavewalkers and Landstanders, one day.

Size Matters?

by | Apr 21, 2012 | Fearless, Process

How many words should a story be? Or, to take it to a more manageable level for a novel: How many words should a chapter be?

…flip…flip…flip…

I have always been of the opinion that a chapter should be as long – or as short – as it needs to be, to make its point and to fulfill the theme or minor conflict presented therein. (I’m a big fan of themes.) Of course, sometimes you write yourself into a bit of a corner. When I was writing 1 More Chance!, I created an artificial parameter: that each chapter would cover what happened in any given day of my heroine’s life. That worked all right…for a while. But, as the story progressed into the later chapters, there was so much going on for her in a chosen day that my chapters were over 10,000 words long! (Occasionally, far over 10K words…!)

"Nothing at All" by bonusparts (me)

A drawing I did of my protagonists from 1 MORE CHANCE!.

Now, 1MC! was a fan fiction endeavour, so it was really just me playing around in another world. There was never any chance of it being published beyond the regular fan sites, and my readers were gobbling up the words regardless, so I didn’t have a problem with it.  But, once I started doing research for Fearless – a real novel, that I hoped to publish – I started rethinking my no-holds-barred approach to chapters.

One blogger mentioned that the average chapter (for a new, unproven writer, not a King or Crichton) should run between ten and fifteen pages. Any less, and you risk rushing things. Any more, and you risk losing your readers from boredom. I took this advice mostly to heart…except that pagecount is rather arbitrary.

Think about it: If I type at 10-point Times New Roman font, my wordcount for ten pages is going to be different from someone else who types at 12-point Courier font. (As a side note, use standard professional fonts when you type, especially if you’re going to submit your manuscript to anyone professional. Comic Sans is always a no-no.)

Unless you are a 10-year-old with your own homemade comic, NEVER use Comic Sans. Just…Never.

So, I started to think. What’s the best average length – in wordcount – for a chapter?

You’ll recall from a few paragraphs ago that my fan fiction story, 1 More Chance!, had chapters running into the teens and twenty-thousands of words. That is way, way too much. So, for Fearless, I started concentrating on the pagecount. I came to find that – in my style – I was comfortable with chapters running, on average, between 6,000 and 8,000 words each. I think that’s a respectable length. It gets the themes across to the reader, and it resolves the smaller conflicts that are part of the larger whole. So, if you’re reading the story as a book, you can put it down at the end of the chapter if you so choose…or you can keep reading to find out what’s going to happen next.

Maybe you think I’m writing this the wrong way. I don’t know. To be honest, though, I care more about the story than the mechanics of the format. I suppose that’s short-sighted of me, given that I do want to sell this book, and I do want to make it a good read for others. I know what I like, though; I know how I enjoy reading a book. Shouldn’t that count for something?

100-Word Challenge: Daddy and the Dragon

by | Apr 18, 2012 | Fearless, Persona 4 Fan Fiction, Short Stories

100 Word Challenge for Grown-UpsThis week’s prompt for the 100 Word Challenge for Grown-Ups was to write a sonnet, in recognition of arguably the most famous sonneteer in history, William Shakespeare. The specifics of the prompt are as follows:

Your mission, should you wish to take it up, is a BIG one. We are going to celebrate the Bard by writing sonnets! I can see some frowns! Don’t worry it will stretch your creativity.

  1. You MUST write 14 lines (this is the minimum)
  2. You can use 10 syllables per line (choice)
  3. You could use the following rhythm – a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g. (choice)

So, the least you have to do is write 14 lines. Limit is around 100 words. You may need to go over slightly if you choose to do 2 and 3. The topic is of your choice but of course if you fancy including George and that dragon he is supposed to have slayed then feel free!

Writing my Fearless protagonists, I’ve decided that I can’t turn down a challenge when it arises, either. So, here is my offering:

“Daddy and the Dragon”

St. George slays the dragon

Image courtesy of the Royal Society of St. George
http://www.royalsocietyofstgeorge.com/stgeorge.htm

Atop the sofa, clad in argent satin,
St. George and sword rise tall and full of might
To face the horrid, furious dragon,
And keep all tiny children safe at night.

One cheers, one gasps, as Mummy tells the tale
Of fabled times and ancient beasts most foul,
While Daddy swings the sword and clashes mail,
To play St. George and make the dragon howl.

But with a whoosh! and whack!, he seems to fall,
And both girls cry for his recovery.
So Mummy urges help, however small,
With clap and laughter, bringing victory.

Then kisses come; the toys are put away.
But George and beast will fight another day.

…So, a poet I’m not. 🙂 Still, this was a fun exercise.

It’s been ages since I’ve tried anything within such a confining structure as iambic pentameter. I did cheat a bit, as you can see, but I wanted to tell a story, rather than just writing a love sonnet. (Besides, no one will ever be as successful at the love sonnet as William Shakespeare. Or Kermit the Frog.)

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WT1p3KyaW-I&w=420&h=315]

As a lovestruck young woman, I tried to write poetry, of course, as most teenagers do. But it just wasn’t happening. The product of those candlelit writing sessions is the main reason why I long ago gave up on being a poet of any kind.

I went back and forth on what I wanted to write for this subject…but, as usually happens, my initial idea is the one that ended up working best. You may not agree (I didn’t say it was a great effort, just my personal best). But, no one can fault me for being a little bit fearless.

Be Your own One Person

by | Apr 14, 2012 | Fearless, From Hell (A Love Story), Process

I think Dave Sim is a bastard. An accomplished bastard, to be certain, but a bastard nevertheless.

During his 300-issue run on his independent (that’s self-published, to the literary crowd) comic book Cerebus, he used the titular character as an outlet to complain about many grievances he had about the world, most notably the role of women in it. Sim was not a happy guy when it came to women, during this time, and he made no secret about it. Of course, he was going through an ugly divorce from his wife, so it’s somewhat understandable. It doesn’t really excuse the way he took a dump on women in general in his book, but I suppose he had his reasons.

Still, despite his somewhat misogynistic words, I still find – even to this day – that I have to admire the guy. Why? Because he wrote what he wanted.

There’s a lesson in there, right? I mean, I may not agree with his perspective, but he wrote the story he wanted to write, and if readers didn’t like it, that was their fault. It reminds me of a response another writer (Rick Remender) gave to a fan, who’d written an opinion letter saying that Remender was not writing a beloved character the way that the fan thought he should be written. I’m going to paraphrase Remender’s response to this, but it was, essentially:

I am writing this story. Not you. So shut up.

Man, that response gives me wonderful chills every time I think of it. I’m going to write it again just for that reason.

I am writing this story. Not you. So shut up.

I read a lot of articles and blog posts and comments from, about, and to writers, many of whom seem to be slogging through the same drama I am: writing a novel, which we hope we can sell, of course, but that’s not all there is to it.

Many of us are in love with our stories. I know I am. But, like love for anything, there comes with it a deep sense of trepidation. Are we doing what’s best? Are we doing it right? Are we going to be hurt when we put this out there for everyone to see? The answers, of course, are yes, yes, and – sadly – yes. But I think that we can take a lesson from the bastards out there.

We should tell the stories we want to tell. We should tell these stories the way that we want to tell them. And if someone out there doesn’t like the story, that’s their problem.

Of course, there is value in writing for your audience. And we can’t all be Dave Sim or Rick Remender, able to write whatever in Hell we choose because people will buy the work regardless due to brand loyalty or whatever.

But, for pity’s sake, love your story. Have faith in your story. If you don’t love it first, if you don’t have faith in it first, who do you think is going to follow after you?

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Zzfdlxjx4Y]

The video above is of the Muppet performers singing “Just One Person”, from Snoopy! The Musical, at Jim Henson’s memorial service. If you can watch it and listen to those words without tearing up at least a little bit, I don’t think I want your support.

No matter what you create, you owe it to yourself to trust in your own vision. Be willing to take advice and criticism, and be willing to listen to other people who have the good of your story at heart, even if the words they have to say may be harsh to your ears. But always remember that this is your work. And if you don’t love it first…well, no one else will.

Leave the Line Open; or, The Boys of Stinky Joe’s

by | Apr 11, 2012 | From Hell (A Love Story), Short Stories, Uncategorized

This is what happens when I take a nap after brunch and a beer (scrambled eggs and bacon, and a Bear Republic Racer 5, for anyone interested):

Once upon a time, there were three boys – Devon, Kent, and Cleve – who worked the counter at Stinky Joe’s Pizza. (Actually, only two of them were working; the third was just hanging around because he had nothing better to do.)

Would you go to a place called "Stinky Joe's"?

Stinky Joe’s Pizza was never very busy. In fact, it almost never got any business at all. The three boys didn’t know why this was. All they knew was that the lack of business made them very bored. And very, very lonely.

One bright day, the telephone rang, and this made the boys quite excited. They’d never received a telephone call before-!

They fought over the handset for a minute, and then Devon – the bravest, the tallest, and the oldest – ventured, “Hullo…?”

“Hello.” The high, gentle voice on the other end sounded very friendly. And very pretty.

Devon smiled brightly at his mates, each of whom smiled back.

“Is this Older Forty-Four?” the voice went on.

Devon wilted. “Oh,” he said, and the other two boys wilted, too, by association. “No. This is Stinky Joe’s Pizza.”

“Oh,” the girl on the line repeated. She sounded just as disappointed as Devon felt. “I’m sorry. You see, I was looking to make reservations, at Older Forty-Four. I thought this was the number listed.”

“No,” Devon said again. Then he brightened once more. “But- why don’t you come here? We have plenty of food!”

The other two boys – Kent and Cleve – gave a chorus of excited cheers: “Yes, come here!” and “We’d be happy to serve you!”

The girl’s voice hummed. “I’m afraid I can’t, this evening,” she said, and then she gave a little sigh. Even that sounded nice, though, and pretty. Then she drew a breath, and Devon could hear in her voice a smile. “But,” she said, “why don’t you tell me your address, and maybe I can come by some other time?”

Devon grinned. “Yes, yes!” he said, and he snapped his fingers at his mates. “Our address… Our address is… um…!” Oh, no! He couldn’t remember the address!

The other two boys – Kent and Cleve – looked at each other, and then began to scramble around and about the counter, ducking beneath shelves and yanking open drawers, trying to find the address. They bumped into each other in their frantic search, falling to the floor in a tumble.

The girl’s voice hummed again in Devon’s ear. “Listen,” she said. “I really need to go. I have to make those reservations-”

“No, no! Don’t hang up!” Devon told her. What if she never rang again? “I’ve almost got it…!” he said, and he shuffled some papers about, trying to sound busy.

“Why don’t you just read it from the menu?” the girl asked of a sudden, giggling softly beneath her breath. Devon knew that she was likely giggling at him, but even that sounded kind.

He smiled again. The menu. Of course! He grabbed one from beside the telephone – how could he have missed it, there? – and scanned the front of the paper, with its drawing of Stinky Joe, and its orange-on-white lettering. Finally, he found it, and he read it aloud to her, word by word.

“Thanks,” the girl told him when he was done. She giggled again, high and sweet. “You have a pleasant evening, now.”

“You, too,” Devon said, smiling and a-flutter and full of joy. Then he hung up.

Kent and Cleve screamed.

“Her name!” Kent said.

“You didn’t get her name!” Cleve echoed.

Devon stared at the phone in his hand, horrified at what he’d done. That girl would never ring back. She sounded too sweet, too smart, too kind, to ring back to someplace called “Stinky Joe’s.”

Mustering his courage, he opened the line again. Maybe an operator could help him find her again. Maybe the police could help him find her again!

The telephone beeped as he pressed the button and brought it to his ear again. But there was no dial tone. Instead, there was quiet laughter.

“Don’t you want my name?”

Devon felt something inside of him soar at the sound of the girl’s voice, already familiar to his ears. “Devon,” he said through his grin. “I mean, my name’s Devon. What- What’s yours?”

The girl hummed a third time, charming him. “Tyne,” she said, and that was all he needed to hear.

Leave the line open

I honestly can’t say what possessed me, to write down the details of this dream. When I woke up, I found it funny – three rather dim, bumbling stoner kids fumbling over finding the address of the pizza place where they worked, just to keep a girl on the line because they’re bored. But, as I wrote, Devon, Kent, and Cleve (though mostly Devon) became more sympathetic to me. Almost sad. And Tyne became much more playful.

The Dude is my all-time favourite stoner character from film, but Brad Pitt's Floyd, from "True Romance", did come first.

I wrote this down in a rush, mostly just to get it down…though, again, I’m not entirely certain as to why. I guess it just felt nice to write freely and straight from the pen, without worrying over craft or thematic meaning.