Wednesday Wanderings

I've had my fingers in a lot of fictional pies over the past few weeks, between trying to finish up the novella, query letter for Who Wants To Be A Hero?, a new flash fiction story, and some editing - both preparing my submissions queue and looking ahead to Sword & Sorceress submissions (hopefully) in the spring.  Today, I thought I would just share a handful of first lines as they stand:


The drizzle and evening fog lulled Marina, as did her companion’s eager recitation of sports statistics from before Superstorm Valerie; she almost missed the pulsing light of the motion detectors. --- Undertaking Chances




“Most people would be glad of the distinct lack of bodies in the street, not to mention common thugs breaking into houses,” my companion said. -- Untitled (still ... got to do that before I can submit it ...)

Ioweyn stood in the Waiting Chamber of the Gods and tried not to fidget.  -- Who Wants To Be A Hero?


As she had done every sunrise and sunset since arriving at the royal estate five months ago, Elinet Plin stood in her tower window and stared across the newborn lake of Cascolem.   -- Soul Medley


“With that kind of entrance,” Cailys Andiara addressed her visitor, flashing an apologetic look to me from the workshop door, “I’m wondering if you think I killed someone.” -- Unnatural Causes


(I am still unhappy with this final opening line; it's the opening of my finished but unedited novel.  The first version was perfect, but implied a thunderous arrival for the other character that didn't make sense with his reasons for visiting.  This is my murder victim, and I was trying to foreshadow her death ... such is a writer's life.)

Hope you enjoyed this glimpse into my opening lines.  And here's the opening to Flow:


On bad days, the world around Kit vibrated in sympathy.

Wednesday Wanderings

My life is a complex balance of order and chaos.  Some areas are casual, spontaneous, driven by inspiration or impulse; other areas are measured, organized, sometimes overly indexed.  To use a term that has become heavily cliche, but was a huge part of my childhood:  my world is equally right-brained and left-brained.  I have always joked that with everything going on in my head at all times, if I didn't have some structure, I would go crazy.  Maybe it's not a joke ...

I'm a writer, harp performer, pastry chef / chef - do I even need to explain how creative chaos dances through my life?  (Though I, personally, cannot dance.  I am a giant clutz.)  I am always puttering around with something; last night, before I fell asleep, I was plotting ingredient combinations for dinner meals.

Much of the structure and routine I impose is a matter of pragmatism.  I use to-do lists on my computer because with the six different directions I'm going in at any one time, I could easily forget something if it isn't written down.  Conversely, lists also combat my workaholic tendencies.  When I was in school, I used my to-do lists to tell me when to stop:  just these chapters, just this quiz today; others assigned for tomorrow.  Otherwise, I would keep reading and doing assignments until late at night, leaving myself no time to relax.

It creates efficiency, too:  when I'm not devoting braincells to, for instance, how to file my documents, those braincells can go off and do other things.  And believe me, they have plenty to do.  On the other hand, I can't deny that in some cases, I just feel more comfortable with structure.

Still, there are times to throw the self-imposed rulebook out the window, and ultimately, as rigid as my plans look, I change them when I feel something else would serve me better.  But I always have calculated reasons for doing so ... though they may be based on nebulous feelings ...

Oh, whatever.

GoodReads Review: Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury


(As with previous classics, I've withheld a star rating.)

This book exploded into my consciousness. Perhaps the reading of it was perfectly timed; perhaps it was a message I needed to hear about the world and the important of independent thought - even if, or perhaps especially if, it disturbs you. Bradbury responded vehemently to claims that the book was about censorship, and I would agree that it is only a small fraction of the subject matter. Rather than government censorship, Fahrenheit 451 looks at censorship from the roots up: tyranny of the minority, the fear of giving offense. It's a subject that it is terrifyingly topical nowadays, when everyone seems to be offended by something, when students insist that their professors not teach material that distresses or challenges them.

But even more prescient and immediate is Bradbury's assessment of the world of constant information, where there is too much of everything for people to be knowledgeable ... so the summary, the television show, the shortened attention span until it is hardly more than a blip. What could be a better description of the Internet Age? In these bland synopses there is nothing to trouble the individual, and society goes to lengths to keep people from thinking too much ... all in the name of making them happier.

I'm sure Bradbury didn't have homeschooling in mind when he wrote this book - during that time, I don't know that it was even a movement yet - but the text is also a compelling argument for homeschooling. Clarisse McClellan? I've known homeschooled kids like that. Arguably, I was a kid like that. There's a line when the Fire Chief is explaining how the book-burning came to be where he states that the government made the school age younger and younger to help prevent the risk of too much thinking. Hmm ...

Bradbury's lyricism and tempo of writing are unique. He writes in music - pace, pitch, rhythm are almost as important as what is being communicated. The beauty of his prose at first seemed inappropriate to the story to me, a jarring contrast. As the novel continued, I realized it was fitting precisely because it stands in opposition to Montag's dry, shallow world.

For me, I thought that the book ended rather abruptly: it had just started, I wanted to see Montag's growth in his new world, and then ... bam. (Literally.) Part of this may have been the fact that this edition has a lot more non-book text than I expected, so as I was reading, I could see more unread pages in my right hand ... but it did feel slightly incomplete.

A quick word about the other materials contained within this edition: the context, writing and Bradbury's own reflections on the novel are invaluable. I drew so much from understanding where Fahrenheit 451 came from, particularly his inclusion of elements from a previous tale, The Pedestrian. The rest of the materials, on the other hand, consist of various introductions and brief critiques for the novel, and I honestly couldn't see why they would interest anyone but a diehard Bradbury scholar ... your mileage may vary.

View all my reviews

Wednesday Wanderings

A lot of fiction markets make much of the requirement that the protagonist have a driving goal.  The main character must be proactive, not reactive.  Some even require this motivation to show up in the first page or two.

To a certain extent, this makes sense.  I think it's one of the most common mistakes newbie writers make:  they create a main character who is solely reactive, fighting against misfortune without agency of their own.  Giving the main character motivation forces a writer to think about who the character was before the opening lines.  In the fantasy field, I'm sure the popularity of the Chosen One trope is partly due to the ease of it.  The main character doesn't even have to do anything:  the villain is after them because the prophecy says so, and of course, then it becomes self-fulfilling.

But for me, I think this strong motivation isn't always necessary.  I enjoy characters who are finding themselves, who don't yet quite know what they want - characters for whom this very uncertainty is their prime motivation.  I find there's something very powerful in a character blossoming to discover purpose, or even just the hope of it ... which, of course, fits very nicely into the open-ended, "yes but ..." kind of story conclusion I like to write.

Certainly, I'm not saying that characters can be aimless.  Smaller goals, or an immediate situation to react, can lead into the real problem:  characters wondering where they should go, who they are.  I find that discovery makes for a uniquely satisfying conclusion ... because can't we all empathize with that feeling, that uncertainty?  And is there anything better to live vicariously than that discovery of purpose?

So while I understand the editorial concern here, I wish they'd relax this standard a bit.  Sometimes, there's a wonderful story in the question mark.

Wednesday Wanderings

A few weeks ago, I discussed the fact that my three fish-out-of-water main characters from Flow - Kit, Chailyn and Hadrian - were all characters from roleplaying games that, for one reason or another, hadn't got enough play in their original homes.  I introduced them to each other, they hit it off (... sort of), and the book was born.

I've always enjoyed roleplaying games, and I often use them as writing aids.  For instance, the sourcebooks for GURPS (Generic Universal RolePlaying System) are often surprisingly great starting points for research or brainstorming.  GURPS Religion contains as thorough a checklist for creating fictional religions as any book specifically geared to fantasy writers.

Then, of course, there's character generation.  Every RPG system has its own method to create characters, sometimes starting from a point that a writer would normally never choose.  I find this really useful for thinking about characters in a different fashion ... and being able to quantify abilities, relative strength, etc, between characters can be helpful, even though (obviously!) the numbers never show on the page.  Of course, the flip side of this is that once you enter the writing phase, nothing on the character sheet is a rule.  It's more like a guideline ...

Miayde, the eponymous protagonist of Butterfly's Poison, originally started out as a character in a short-lived Exalted game.  (Exalted is an eastern-inspired fantasy game centered around exceptional martial arts feats ... all of which disappeared by the time Miayde became a part of the world of Seventeen Seas.)  In a moment of full-circle poetry, I designed a roleplaying storyline in the same setting, different system, that was never played out - but it may some day become a new novel in the same world.

Of course, I would be painting myself in too marvelous a light if I claimed I've always used roleplaying games appropriately.  I'll confess to writing a long-since (and permanently) shelved epic where I actually used the system and its random rolls (... mostly ... sometimes I'd change my mind) to resolve action scenes.  On the other hand, sometimes this would send the story off in a direction I hadn't intended, and I found it was better for the diversion.

When I set out to write Who Wants To Be A Hero? I wanted to simulate some of the randomness and unpredictable turns of ... well ... reality.  I felt that having the spontaneity in the writing process was important for making the final book feel right.  So I ended up giving my characters very simple stats - basically just a handful of numbers indicating broad areas of competence, such as Magic or Diplomacy.

For each round, I picked an appropriate stat(s) that would apply to the heroic task at hand.  Sometimes, there would be the "option" to use another, less appropriate stat, at a penalty.  Each character got a random roll plus their stat to determine how they did.

At this point, I took randomness back out of the equation somewhat:  any of the top three were eligible to win; any of the bottom three might go home.  I'd write the action and the first phases of judging, then assess how events had fallen out.

Of course, I had executive control, but I had an understanding with myself:  think about standing back and watching what happens ...

That's really what appeals to me about using roleplaying systems as a supplement, ultimately:  it makes you look at things in a new light, whether it's filling in part of a character sheet that has nothing to do with your story or dealing with a "weird" random roll.  But as always, the numbers can't tell the whole story:  that's up to the author.  

Wednesday Wanderings

I know I've mentioned before that I'm a big fan of the "yes, but ..." ending:  the main character succeeds in their goal, but the getting of it creates new complications, and the reader is left with the feeling that life goes on.  Just as invisible past events lead into the story, invisible future ones flow out of it.

The pat, tidy ending where everything resolves is not a favorite of mine - sometimes in very short stories, but in those tales, there's often not room to introduce extraneous elements in the first place.  The demon-summoning sorcerer may be in love with his childhood sweetheart or have gambling debts, but it's not relevant to the plot, so the reader never learns it.

I enjoy creating loose ends in fiction - it makes the end result feel more organic.  As long as the main story question is answered, other, supporting questions can sometimes be left dangling ... or have a negative answer, rescuing the story from tooth-ache levels of sweetness.

And these other threads don't even necessarily need an arc.  It may be a static element - even something inherent to the world that the character clashes against, but it's not a problem that they can solve.  If they tried, well ... that's a whole book in itself, if not a series.  (Maybe the NEXT book ... hmm ...)

I think these loose ends contribute to the iceberg effect, the feeling a reader gets that there is a lot more to this world and these people than ever shows up on the page.  And maybe - just maybe - it makes the real victory, the struggle the story was, after all, about, that much more satisfying:  even if everything else is uncertain, THIS went right.  THIS is my success.

Wednesday Wanderings

Have I mentioned that Flow makes an awesome Christmas present, or other denominational holiday of your choice?

I'm sure I've told this story before, but here's a glimpse into how the novel came about, and it all started with character.  To be specific, three short-lived characters in online roleplaying games.  I didn't get a chance to play them to my satisfaction for one reason or another, so I decided to give them a new life in a different setting.

Kit initially never got beyond the "application" phase - where the character is created for pitching to the staff of the game.  At the time, I was planning on a fantasy game that mixed a few themes, including mythological divinities, with a race of evil beings that hunted them and ate their energy.  Kit was designed as an estranged member of this race, but right about as I finished the application ... staff decided to close neutral or good members of this race, as apparently they were getting a flood of them.  Curses.

I retooled her for the "beta" phase of another game where I was part of the staff.  Besides removing that backstory, I had to tweak the effects of her powers somewhat to fit in with the rules system ... and because I was also brand-new to aforesaid system, the character was haplessly unplayable in action sequences.  She never made it out of beta; she did, however, make a brief re-appearance as a demon-borne antagonist from a mirror-realm.

So Kit before I started to work on the novel idea was a collection of bits and bobs, various origins that contradicted each other, and personality traits in potential, but never fully realized.  I actually started with her origin story and designed much of the supernatural world history around what I wanted her to be.  That world, however, needed another aspect, and I had already found it in the character of ...

And here's Chailyn, water-witch, fish out of water, raised in a world that was never intended for children and plopped into ours.  Again, she started as a game character; in this case, she was retired because the game shut down.  In her first incarnation, that globe of light she wields in chapter one was actually a fully fleshed character, her "sidekick" - it allowed me to make snarky, biting remarks that were out of character for Chailyn herself.  Obviously, with Kit (and Hadrian) around, I didn't need another outlet for quips and banter.  I couldn't resist keeping around a hint, though.

Finally, Hadrian was also a character from a game that crashed and burned, this time after I had played no more than a few scenes.  The game's story gave me an easy origin for his powers, and he had some more bizarre applications - he could sense people's weak spots and incapacitate / sicken them by touch - that didn't seem appropriate for the setting I was building.  Hadrian's origins, as rewritten for Flow, have a hint of mad science to them I haven't really explored in the setting just yet ... they do fit the overall narrative of the world (of course!), but suggest possibilities not yet touched upon.

Wednesday Wanderings

I've never been much caught up in the consumer desire for the newest, latest, and greatest.  (I did stop and think about whether to use the Oxford comma there.)  When shopping or choosing what to listen to / read / watch, my only interaction with release date is availability ... which means that if I actually had Netflix, I probably would be buried in five year old television.

I've never understood the lure of the movie theater in terms of seeing something as soon as it is available.  (I was rather irritated by Agents of Shield playing off the Captain America movie on the apparent presumption that anyone following the series would see the movie in the first week.)  Grant that part of it is because I really dislike movie theaters - crammed in the dark with other people, can't kibitz to your neighbors, can't sprawl back in comfort, have to keep your shoes on, no bathroom breaks - and will generally only patronize them as a social exercise or if the movie is visually spectacular in a way that would benefit from theater viewing.  What's the big deal with waiting 3-4 months until it comes out in video or On Demand?

When it comes to books, I know that I should follow the list of new releases to keep a finger on what's hot now, but I somehow can never do it.  For one thing, I hate reading a book that ends with a cliffhanger if I can't immediately pick up the next volume.  I don't do well with enforced waiting, and I am likely to completely forget about aforesaid cliffhanger as a defense mechanism.  For about a decade, I think, my policy was not to read a book in a series unless the entire series was complete (or it was a loose series, wherein the books aren't necessarily directly dependent on each other).

I eventually relaxed my stance on this, but I still simply don't buy hardcovers unless I'm absolutely wild about the author and series.  The last one I purchased, I think, was one of Jasper Fforde's Thursday Next series.  As with the movies, I don't understand what's so terrible about saving one's pennies and waiting a few months until it reaches paperbacks.  The idea of basing the success of a book on its sales in the first few weeks, to me, makes slightly less sense than reading entrails.

So I spend a lot of time at Half Price Books, picking up whatever looks interesting.  I trawl the backlog of authors I've read in anthologies (or occasionally met in person).  My fiction purchases have very little to do with timeline, with the exception of the fact that when I go to read an author who writes a series, I try to find the oldest book - in the chronology of their world, not the intended read order.  I'm a rebel (and probably a pain) like that.

Similar deal with music, only ... well ... worse.  I've never liked listening to radio, where you have no control over what music you listen to and you're likely to hear the same song ad nauseum.  (It was on at work one day, and I swear I heard "Exes and Ohs" four times. While I actually liked the song, I was bloody sick of it by then.)  So I find new artists by chance encounter, recommendations by friends, Amazon heuristics ("People who bought X also bought ..."), and Pandora.  I listen to snippets, take a chance, buy a CD.

This means I'm often late to the party with an artist, but it's my party, and I'll sing if I want to.

This probably hampers me from a marketing standpoint.  So Flow has been out a few years now and is no longer a new release ... so what?  That doesn't make it less excellent as a novel.  (That goes also for my other releases - shameless plug!  But that's not the point of this post, so I digress.)  The idea of pre-ordering something is foreign to me; I've only done it once, and that was specifically to support a friend's Kickstarter.  So it feels a trifle odd to ask people to do something I wouldn't ...

But doing things in my own time has been a theme of my life (see:  starting harp in my late teens; going to college in my early thirties), and I don't think it's likely to change.  So I will continue to drift through, blissfully unaware of anyone else's timing.  When you're absorbed in something, the only time that matters is now.

Wednesday Wanderings

In working on edits for a short story of mine, I've realized there is another difference between forms - short stories versus novels - besides length and complexity.  That difference is time.  With the exception of NaNoWriMo novels or those written by prolific full-time writers, the average novel takes months to complete.  Even for those swiftly scribed, add in the time for rewriting, revising, copyediting, submission ...

And in that time, the writer changes, is no longer the same person she was when the idea was first born, when the first words were written.  Life happens; the world happens.  In the last six months, I graduated from culinary school and settled into a new routine with my job.  And we've certainly all had more eventful periods of time.

We change; we edit.  We change again; we edit more.  But our previous outlooks, perspectives, and personas aren't completely erased with revisions, which makes a novel a garment of human layers, an unconscious history of the writer.  Maybe that's part of what makes them so compelling ... and part of why we react so violently when favorite writers turn out to be bigoted, racist or abusive.  We've had intimate contact with the development of their lives.

Unnatural Causes deals in part with truth and deception, with the right to privacy versus dangerous secrets.  A (short) story I've been finishing lately, Based On A True Story, touches upon similar themes ... and the eyes that will go back to edit both have been forever changed by recent global events.

Of course, short stories often have similar, even longer, time lapses between original write and editing - and sometimes even beginning to finish.  It's a matter of degree - just like length and complexity, really.  A short story is a photograph; a novel is a video.

My Heart Is Sad

I didn't know exactly what had happened in Paris at first, only that it was something terrible.

I was sick and exhausted that day.  I needed all my energy just to recover from grocery shopping enough to make it to work.

Waiting in the hall for the bridal party to enter the reception, we folded black napkins and talked about the end of the world.  Terror attacks in Paris.  A natural disaster in Japan.

Later, I found out the details and learned about the other attacks.  An outpouring of reactions on social media.  Hands reaching out to help.

My heart is sad, a pervasive chill.  My heart is sad for the lives lost; for victims who were simply enjoying life, celebrating it at a concert or along busy streets.  My heart is sad for those who have lost family or friends, and those still waiting to learn their fates ... and both thinking the other camp is lucky.  Is it better to still have hope or better to know?

My heart is sad because for some, the response was to push their political agenda, while others delighted in pointing out their pettiness, somehow feeling that was morally superior.  My heart is sad because there are people for whom the triumph of their viewpoint is so important they genuinely believe tragedy is lessened if it becomes a call to action.

My heart is sad because everyone believes they are right.

The life of a homeschooled child:  I overslept the morning of the 9/11 attacks.  When my mother awakened me to explain what had happened, I at first thought she was telling me a macabre joke.

That morning, we all left an era where such stories could never be true.

My heart is sad because Leonard's Bernstein's words have become a rallying cry for artists:  “This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before.”

My heart is sad because it feels as if my music has fallen quiet.

My heart is sad because I feel I should be shattered, I should be in tears.  I am not.  My heart is sad because it seems my reaction is a shadow of what should be.

My heart is sad because I am surrounded by the best moments in people's lives:  their weddings, birthdays, anniversaries, parties.  My heart is sad because I have built up a tolerance to their happiness.  My heart is sad because I react to the presence of a toddler in a wedding procession with annoyance; my mind ticks off the minutes of wedding speeches so I can do my job.

A newlywed couple last night had their young daughter (I am assuming from a previous marriage, but there are other possible stories) sing Sara Bareilles' "I Choose You."  I stood at the carving station teary-eyed.

It is a privilege to be a part - however small - of so many happy moments, a piece in a blissful puzzle.  And maybe that is my response and my role:  to perfect the business of happiness so no one has to worry about the details, merely relax into the rhythm of their best day.

My heart is sad for the moments that will never be, but dear world:  we will never stop making more of them.

Wednesday Wanderings

Many years ago, I took an advanced writing course through UCLA Online.  (I was the only fantasy writer, but I don't recall having trouble with genre.  I do recall being sort of bored with some of the other writers' plots.  Come on, where are the sword fights and dragons?  This needs more dragons.)  The book I was working on at the time, Fey's Call, was an ensemble tale, but focused on reluctant heroine Tillian.  Her first scene, she's about to meet up with her brother, who works for a group of rebels, and she's excited to see him again.  This leads to his disappearance and then death, which sets her on a collision course with both his rebel allies and the authorities.

I was pretty floored when one of the other students said that the relationship sounded incestuous.  It had never even crossed my mind that anyone would read it that way.  I went back and studied the scenes, and maybe - maybe - could see it, but it was a stretch.  I talked with someone outside the course about this, and they thought that perhaps it was reader bias - they were predisposed to such interpretations.

But I've always written about and been fascinated with family interactions, particularly siblings - despite, or perhaps because of, being an only child.  I'm drawn to fictional families who are tightly knit and deeply loyal.  What happens when a family member betrays you?  If they commit a terrible deed?  On the flip side of it, I love to write villains / antagonists who are nonetheless protective of their families and draw the line at anything that might hurt them.  It's a dichotomy that intrigues me so much that I'll confess, when it comes to roleplaying games, I've just avoided making it a personal cliche.

You can have similar dynamics with friends or lovers, but this doesn't draw me as strongly.  Shades of predestination, perhaps:  you don't choose your family.  Then there's also the societal aspects.  Society has its own expectations of when a person should cut ties with a family member, and it doesn't always line up with personal experience.  Then there's guilt by association.  How do you deal with a family member dragging you down by nothing more than their chosen existence?

Or fame by association ... how do you step out of the shadow of a prominent sibling?  One of the stories from the old Marion Zimmer Bradley's Fantasy Magazine that always stood out to me was about sorcerous siblings, one of whom believed she was created - that she only existed - to protect her sister, that she wasn't important on her own.  That thought struck me to the core.  It haunted me.  I ended up writing a short story series (long before I was trying to get short stories published; it became more of a serial) about a girl who tries to pave her way out from under a famous sister ... and fails utterly.

And where in the world do you go from there?