Category Archives: Writing

So on general updateyness and a story-hopping muse...

I'm learning to roll with the punches. I'm just as bad at changing stories due to reading something as I've ever been, and I'm nothing like Dean Wesley Smith: I read my own work. A lot. That's why I wrote it.

What this means? I'm currently quite anxious to write some more Niko & Collie (read genderswap Black Widow and Hawkeye from Avengers) fanfic, finish up the story of the Thorn Rebellion I thought I'd never touch, and add new chapters to my various WIP while also finishing out whichever fics I think I can wrap up and off my plate.

Can you tell what I've been reading? My own work. And it's inspiring me. The only problem is I have a voracious readerly appetite and by the time I've read enough to get full, I'm inspired in waaaaaaay too many directions.

How's your reading or writing going?

:goes back to scribbling:

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Writing from the Inside Out

I have never wanted to write outsider fiction. Generally, fantasy and science fiction has taken the perspective of an outsider or someone coming of age. It makes it easier to explain things to the reader who is also an outsider. Though I read and enjoy a great deal of stories which use this device, I have never been drawn to write it myself. In fact, I have been frequently repelled or stymied by the very idea—because my outsiders don't understand what's at stake.

Immersive fiction (and fanfiction) tends to come from the inside out, a character who is already immersed in this fictional world and understands it, is part of it, whose challenges and personality completely arise from within that world. That's the kind of fiction I write and prefer to write, fiction that digs into someone whose worldview and understanding are radically different from the modern-day real world, who belongs to the world of my creation.

Naturally, this writing of the insider poses difficulties. Reading from the inside out may be more difficult, but for me, the payoff has always been worth it. M. C. A. Hogarth writes from the insider, dipping us wholly into vastly different and immersive worlds. Beneath Ceaseless Skies, my personal favorite fantasy periodical publishes such short stories. Rabia Gale does it, and it deepens her worldbuilding because of it. LeGuin does it by times in some of my favorite pieces of her short fiction.

I'm talking about stories where the character carrying the focus or perspective is not displaced from his or her home ground, where they are sitting on the territory or in the life they've staked out for themselves, where the story is not about the upending of one's environment, merely one's world. I'm talking about stories that write about the bridge between two perspectives and don't bother to immerse us in the side we already understand but in the other, leaping the chasm between and dropping us unceremoniously into that otherness. These are stories that don't explain themselves, but reveal themselves.

Does that mean they cannot "tell" necessary background details? No. It means that they written from the inside out instead of the outside in, training the reader in a new language and set of expectations without necessarily referencing or comparing to the set of expectations said reader walked in with.

But of course, that's just the big picture stuff. The raw, in-my-face reason I write from insiders is because I need someone who really has something and knows what is at stake. I write from those inside the foreign worlds I have built, or those who are becoming insiders, those who are inextricably bound up into all the threads and dynamics I can weave into a single tale. And that requires an insider.

Do you prefer to write outsiders or insiders? Any preferences on which you prefer to read?

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Keeping the Head Above Water

This entry is part 36 of 52 in the series 365 Challenge

It's been a while since I started the 365 Challenge, wherein I write a piece of fiction or poetry for each day of the year. You will note on the challenge page that longer works of fiction/poetry count as multiple pieces. This was to preserve my sanity and keep life realistic.

Then I got a job. At first that was too hectic and crazy to write at all. Then there was the story from inferno, a short that went long and is now threatening book status. The muse and I are in negotiations. Then there were seven or so finished stories that I marked "unfinished" because I wasn't happy with them yet. And needless to say, the story count does not reflect the number of days that have passed.

But on the bright note, I foresee catching up. If I write 2 count every workday, I'll be caught up by the end of the year and can even keep my weekends free. In a manner of speaking. I tend to write more than I can post during the week, so on weekends, I tend to post all the stories hanging around waiting.

And I'm writing a novel. An AU novel. An experimental novel. One I shouldn't be touching with a ten-foot pole. The muse and I are still negotiating.

Have a snippet:

Teaching autumn gave way at last to winter and blew me with a snowy gale back into my favorite coffee shop where ice melt dripped from coats thrown over the backs of wooden chairs onto the coffee-brown matte floor. Three weeks ago from those crisp autumn days and slowly but surely, my open books on the lower counter gradually shifted to thick, already damp rags on the upper bar.

The day you stepped inside the glass was fogged and bitter cold. Black coffee burbled in the makers on the back wall, and girls’ laughter tumbled about with the rich aroma of roasting grounds.

I wiped down the long counter, wet with coffee drips and damp jackets, as I watched your group of young men gather around table five. You lay down your netbook computers, notebooks, and pencils with a small, talkative clatter, filled the chairs with your presence, the shop with the friendly ambience of your laughter.

You were the blonde one, clearly a brother in arms or fact to the dark-haired one at the head of the table. A few glances around at the others, your friends—questions, answers—and then you came up to the counter and leaned against it, tall enough to bring you closer to me than I liked.

“What can I get for you?” I asked, keeping my voice pleasant and laying aside the rag.

Most people would have smiled, but you didn’t. Something intense burned behind your eyes but all you said was, “You’re the barista?”

Coffee beans became rich, black beverage behind me where the other girls poured out cups of espresso, macchiato, latte; yet, you asked. Crazy you, I raised an eyebrow at the question.

Then you smiled, dimpling on one side and not the other. You rattled off a list of eight drinks and then said, “And one for me. Got any suggestions?”

How about you? Any illicit projects thrown in by the muse?

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Brain is Musty...: Ficlet O'Clock Truth or Dare

This entry is part 34 of 52 in the series 365 Challenge

The current prompts are leaving me dull and uninspired. Seeking creative procrastination: ask me any question about how something works in a storyworld, a why that's been pestering you, or any backstory you just really want to know, and I'll commentfic it.

If that doesn't inspire you, how about a character (original or fandom) and something crazy you would dare them to do.

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Writing into the Abyss, Part II

I did know what froze me up on writing my chaptered fanfics after a while, and it's weird to admit this, but here it is: they were too long.

When I realized it was going to take more than 100 chapters to wrap up some of those stories, my brain and muse froze up and it suddenly became very, very hard to keep writing. It was easier when I didn't realize that and could just scribble into the abyss, not knowing, not caring how many words it would take me to reach the end. I cannot tell you how liberating it is to not know.

And you know what? I think that's what happened to the Story from Inferno as well. I realized how much work and words were involved and almost got over it before my brain went too much, too much, too much—I'm scared.

Some writers write scared. It drives them, keeps them writing. I don't. Never have. Never have been able. Scared freezes up my brainpower and even if I know exactly what should come next, I don't write it. If I don't know what comes next, that suddenly becomes an ultra-handy excuse to let it go and hack away at something else while nibbling every now and then on the overwhelming, too long story. And I wonder why I've only ever finished one satisfactory novel. :shakes head ruefully at self:

There is no commitment to the abyss. It is like life, only visible one step at a time, and with infinite possibilities for continuing or coming to a satisfactory end. We live by moving forward. There is commitment once a story rears itself out of the abyss and shows its overall shape. Suddenly, I feel obliged to make the story fit that shape, reach that end satisfactorily. There's pressure.

I've been thinking about how to take that pressure back off. Cross your fingers for me or share your tips if you have any. It's time to throw a few stories back into the abyss.

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First Lines Meme, Revised

So there's a couple of memes that I decided to edit into this: I'm going to post the first lines of all my WIP that have a complete draft but not a revision I like yet. Now to just get some edited!

Seven Days. Waiting to Wake

"You have seven days. Live them."

Breath. [ Jaguar's story ]

Jaguar kneels over the small sleeping form of her young brother.

Breath. [ Ivallyn's story ]

The Collector, Mavren, looked up from the counter when the tiny brass bell tinkled over his opening door.

Breath. The Great Cat and His Soul

Here in the land of the five cities, long before the king and the princes, the queen and the princesses, there was an emperor and empress and a little empressina.

Breath. Artisan's Breath

Alya carefully creased speckless cream linen over the perfect white parchment of her letter—the way her mother taught her.

Kingdoms and Thorn. Dowse and Bleed

Rachelle waited until the restless aches dancing through her upper body were outright pain before she finally forced herself to quit making endless cups of coffee and fished a mottled green star out of the embossed pink tin she kept on the granite kitchen countertop.

Vardin. Lifetaker

Kirana pressed her hand tightly to the young boy's chest, her own chest feeling squeezed as life wrung out from between her fingers and into his body.

Kingdoms and Thorn. [ Teller's Story ]

Word came at dawn of the newly outfitted military station in Westerfields, that vast uninhabited territory between Glaston and Edyll, both kingdoms cities.

Faeology. Edge of Salvation, Edge of Fear (expanded)

Markus and Shellayne hated each other, but as the only arcana-keeper interns available, they were stuck closing the Library of All Knowledge.

Got any first lines to share?

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Writing into the Abyss

So following along with Dean Wesley's Smith ghost novel was enlightening, but not entirely surprising. He wrote a 70,000 word book in 10 days.

I've written 4–6K fanfic chapters and short stories in 2–3 hrs, so I know it's possible, but there's that head of steam factor. I have it just as easy as he does when I write into the abyss. I'm not.

There are worlds I know so well inside and out that I can scribble off a piece of them in very little time at all. And some I know so well that I can't just keep on writing past the point I slid out of character voice. That I can't just plow ahead and change history when other stories in the canon have already established the point. That I can't just call a story done when it isn't because it's really just the first level of info I yanked out of a character's head but the details to make it make sense to someone else aren't there yet.

When I'm writing Vardin, Kingdoms and Thorn, Breath even, I'm not writing into an abyss. I'm writing into a world so full I sometimes bump up against the scenery. Nevertheless, that does not make me unproductive.

Within the last three weeks, while I was sick as all get out (and I say this not lightly, y'all; I was sick), I worked on three larger pieces: Dowse and Bleed, the prose version of "History Lesson on the Night Train," and what's shaping up to a novelette/novella size Vardin piece called "By Blood and by Land" about Llereya and Cayden and the whole history surrounding "Hunt the Mists." I've written more than 10,000 words while sick and in less than forty-five minutes a day. I don't feel bad about that.

It's easier when I'm not locked in though. Writing into the abyss is easy. You can make up any decisions on the fly and not worry about the consequences. Which is how I got the first mess of "Dowse and Bleed." That story flew out of my fingers.

The only problem is I was completely unfamiliar with writing mysteries of any kind (mysterious being a different case altogether), and so I hadn't a clue where I was going and let an awesome setup go anticlimactic with the tension draining out as I moved forward. The new version is better to me. It satisfies me because it's truer to the characters, but I  had to take a whole break to get the case on straight in my head. (Thank you, in_the_blue!)

"The Alchemist" flew out of my fingers, written in less than three hours, took minimal edits, and it's my bar none bestseller that everybody likes. I like writing into the abyss. I just can't do it often because once that story's down, it tends to grow into a world in my all too fertile imagination.

Ah, well.

Thanks all for your patience as I recovered. See you soon with more stories.

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Digging into the Mess

I've been doing a lot of thinkiness in and around battling to keep my baby website afloat (long story; we'll talk about it later) and reading poetry and scribbling in the gaps of work and life and blizzards and emergencies and taxes (let's just not talk about that), and I've been thinking a lot about creating stories.

The story from inferno stalled out on me a while back, almost entirely due to fear that froze up my insides and outsides and made me second guess everything I was doing. But I like Rachelle's story better than Ashen's because even if it's harder, it's cleaner. Rachelle is not pragmatic about killing. It's something she knows how to do, but it's not something she doesn't care about, doesn't feel. Ashen is on a completely different level and her stories feel grayer to me. I'm not sure what to do about that yet, but I'm beginning to understand at a different level why Justus and Red were friends in their before life and now do. not. get. along. At all.

Anyways, I got my okayness on again about the story and figured I could write it now, right? Apparently not. Total stall. I'm only now starting to figure out that where I left off is too clean cut, no trailing lead in to what comes next and that I don't know enough about one aspect of my world. Hmph.

And then there's writing drabbles. They're not in my blood right now like they used to be and I keep looking for shorter ficlets to cram in the holes around my schedule and most of the prompts I got belong to stories that are hitting the sprawl state. Let's just say :headdesk: and leave it at that.

Then there's the mess of fanfiction. I reread my profile and realized afresh how easy it would be for me to dig back in. I have worlds upon worlds that are good and I never finished them. But. My heart is in Vardin and the teams and so. Not a lot of fanfic going on.

Finally, I'm discovering that I'm still an immersion writer. Doesn't seem to matter what I do, I do it in spurts. I find myself writing only two storyworlds at a time for a swath of fic and poetry, then shifting which two, but no more than that. The ideas proliferate crazily while I'm doing it and I have to make notes for stories I'm not really ready to get into. In short, I get full up on a world and it crowds out most of the others. Right now, I seem to be in Vardin and Seven Days or Kingdoms and Thorn. Breath and Faeology beckon, but I keep telling them to wait their turn.

Do storyworlds or types get in your blood and out again? Any thoughts on scribbling ficlets when the muse keeps churning out story ideas you don't have time to work on?

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A Writing Challenge! Come on Over

So my wonderful, amazingly fabulous beta, in_the_blue is hosting a writing challenge about a memory from one of your characters. To enter, visit http://in-the-blue.livejournal.com/869821.html. Rules below:

Rules:

Fandom: any fandom, including (encouraging) original.
Word count: Let's do a minimum of 500 words.
Main theme: A memory from your chosen character.
Ratings: No restrictions.
Duration: Challenge opens now (March 29) and runs for two weeks. Closes at the end of day Friday, April 12.

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The Slog

I keep telling people that if they want to become professional writers, most of them are going to end up with the daily-slog system (that is, you write a page or two every day, rain or shine, feel like it or not). Oh, there are a few folks who are burst writers – who can set everything up in their heads in advance and then disappear for a month of 12 to 16-hour days, reappearing only when the book is finished. And there are cyclical writers, who do nothing for a week, then splurt out a 30-page chapter in two days, then do nothing, lather, rinse, repeat.

— "Twitchy, Twitchy" by Patricia C. Wrede

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