Southern Research, Part Uno

By "Southern," I do not mean the Southern United States. I mean Southern Utah.

I love the desert. I don't know what it is. The landscape. The smells. The sky. The emptiness that's not really empty. It's gorgeous. I knew I wanted to set my story there, but I've never been to the Southern Utahn deserts, so I didn't feel comfortable writing them.

Well, Jake and Camille and I took a trip down to Arches National Park and Goblin Valley, and holy crap was it awesome! I saw some of the prettiest scenery this side of the Atlantic Ocean and even had a few good ideas while I was hiking around. And I took pictures! Loads and loads of pictures.

And here they are!

That is Crystal Geyser just outside of Green River, UT. It's a rare cold water geyser, so you can put your hand in the water and not have it melt off!

Stay tuned for Part Deux!

Research

Research is fun!

Part of 13th House is set in the Utah State Capitol, and since I'd never been there before, I went on a field trip this morning. It was funnnnn!

I'm sooo excited to totally bastardize the Capitol! :D

Rewriting Makes My Soul Shrivel

I am a pantser.

Also called a "gardener," but I hate that term. Pantser is much better, because I get the mental image of someone doing this:

And that makes me smile.

Anyway, a pantser as opposed to a planner. A planner outlines.

YUCK!

Outlining is for nerds.

I like just sitting down and writing without a plan, because then I get to surprise myself. "OH MY GOD so-and-so just died. Did not see that one coming." It makes writing more exciting! I rhymed!

But rewriting is like being a planner. I already know what's happening. Yawn.

I'm redoing about 7 chapters. Condensing. Cutting confusing stuff. Ya know. And it's killing me. I got so bored, I actually started another story. I'm like a crazy cat lady, only with WsIP instead of cats. At least my stories aren't smelly and can't turn me into a zombie.

I Writed Another Poem

Another Poem by Engeler. He's becoming way more of a serious character than I intended. Isn't that fun? When your characters make their own goddamn decisions? Little bastards.

Well this one is more of a prophetic poem than the other one. Oh Engeler. You silly goose.

The Stone

The stone--
the one unscarred--
marks the end.
Before, the world is
barren,
poisoned,
white.
But beyond--
untouched and free,
with life and mind
and power--
the world
is green.

Paladin Armor?!

I might have found it!

I have total crap visual imagination. I can imagine kinda what something looks like, but not very well.

Well I found something AWESOME. Imagination? Pffttt not when I have Google!

Ignore this guy's head. Neck down, people.

I love it!! Seriously! I'd change the colors a little bit, but it's really working for me. I can totally imagine Ghyslain stomping around in something like that, swinging his hammer into people. Freakin' excellent.

I Writed A Poem

Okay, first of all, I didn't want to. But my creative writing teacher made me. Something about a grade. What?! You can't force me to write a poem! I'm pretty sure this is against the Geneva Conventions!!

It's not? Did you check? You did. Just now? Shit.

Fine, I'll write a stupid poem. Just slap some words together, pretend to be artsy, blah blah. It's not like I have to even rhyme nowadays, right?

What do you mean, it has to be a form poem?

Does a haiku count?

No.

Can it be about dinosaurs?

No.

Well... GAH I can't write a poem!!!!!!!!

I was wrong. I can write a poem, and I even wrote it from the POV of one of my Paladins in 13th House. Engeler, the Twelfth Paladin. Here's what I turned in to my teacher:


The character is Engeler, a member of the cursed 13th House. He wrote poems and songs lamenting the unfortunate fate of the Paladins, members of the 13th House who are captured by the Faith of the Hand and tortured into willing slavery. This poem was written as he sat besieged in his home, soldiers of the Hand outside and beating down his doors to take him away to be turned into a Paladin.

The Paladin’s Appeal

The Paladin’s appeal is brief,
So hearken, listen to the thief
Of souls, his plea now must begin—
The dire and sinful Paladin.

For sins undone in waking life
The men come, palming rev’rent knife,
To purify by ghoulish grin
The dire and sinful Paladin.

They come for him from cities far
With love that hates, and fingers scar.
The sacred text has words which thin
The dire and sinful Paladin.

Away, the south, the endless gorge,
Holds men who seek to maim and scourge
The spirit that he keeps within
The wretched angel Paladin. 


I got it back, graded, on Monday. 74 out of 75. He didn't get the line "With love that hates, and fingers scar." I think it's just because he doesn't understand the weirdness ongoing in my brain. That's okay. I'll take a 74/75 for a poem I wrote in, literally, ten minutes. I changed a couple of things at the suggestion of some more poetry-minded friends, but not much. And I got a poem for my novel. Weeehooo! Not a wasted word.

Another Nifty Writing Video

So I already posted that link to the Brandon Sanderson videos, and now I've found another one.

WARNING: It's pretty long. 45 minutes or thereabouts. However, it's completely worth it to watch the entire thing.

This guy explains why the Hunger Games is such a captivating story, and outlines what you can do to make your characters and plot as engaging.

Now, even if you don't particularly care for the Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins did do a lot of stuff right. There's a lot of great advice for creating a great character, riveting suspense, and more fun stuff. So check it out! You'll be glad you did.

Don't Bother Me When I'm Killing People

I got up this morning with the urge to kill.

One of my characters.

And a couple of the neighbor kids, but I didn't actually kill them. I did actually kill one of my characters, and it was sad.

Husband didn't work today. We had plans to go see Prometheus at 1:50. Around 12:30, I was still parked in front of the computer with no pants on, typing feverishly and listening to sad music.

Husband said, "Hey, are you going to be ready to go in like an hour?"

I said, "Mmrrhhmm."

Half an hour later, he said, "Hey, thirty minutes."

I said, "Uh-huh."

Twenty minutes later, he said, "Have you brushed your teeth yet?"

And I said, "Honey I'm in the middle of killing someone this is a very emotional time for me I just have to finish, and he has to die, and then we can go, OKAY?!"


He said, "Oooooookaaaaay."

I finished killing my character. Poor guy. He never saw it coming. But that's okay. Protagonist learned something, and the plot marches on. Like it always does.

Synopsis!

I got asked for a synopsis today.

Spent the last few hours writing one.

It's rubbish. Rubbish, I say! But that's what revisions are for. I never thought I'd be in such anguish over such a small collection of words. It's not even a thousand.

Sigh.

Tomorrow.

Pixar Is Awesome

Someone posted a link to the Pixar Blog on Scrib.

This particular post is the 22 Rules to Writing a Story.

I agree wholeheartedly, and since I have nothing to add, I won't restate them here. Just read it. You'll be glad you did.

The Coolest Feeling Ever

So, I just experienced the coolest thing a couple days ago.

I sent my novel to family and friends about a month ago (scroll down if you want to read my agonizingly stupid post about it), and anxiously awaited their feedback and opinions.

My mom and dad think it's gross. Score.

My brother liked it.

One of my mom's friends liked it but thought the ending was too rushed.

And so on.

I was talking to someone (who shall remain anonymous to protect his or her identity, unless someone bribes me with cake), and I brought up my novel (because that's what writers do, bring up their writing), and to my immense and pants-wetting surprise, this someone began to talk about my characters (Connor in particular) like they were actual people.

And the only thought I could manage to think, over and over again, was, "Sweet Jesus. My imaginary friends are real."

The Final Countdown

I just realized I didn't post here about... something...

Well, I engage in a kind of superstitious belief that if something cool might happen, I tell as few people as possible until said cool thing does happen. It feels like the more people I tell, the less likely the cool thing is to happen.

So anyway, yeah, a cool thing may or may not happen here in the next couple of weeks. I was given an approximate date to expect some kind of thing, and that date approacheth.

Sorry for the vagueness. I even kind of feel like just saying there is a cool thing in the works might jinx it. AAHHHH!

It's Just Like Math

So there are always threads on Scribophile that look a little like this:

I'm a new writer working on my first novel, and I really want to do an epic military fantasy drama that covers six different characters: a colonel from Team Blue, the colonel's wife, a deserter from Team Blue, a grunt from Team Red, the grunt's girlfriend, and the girlfriend's cat as a kind of stream-of-consciousness thing. I want to do half in 1st person and half in 3rd person, and I want the tenses to change from past to present, and the cat will only narrate in future tense. How would you suggest I go about doing this?

To which I reply, "No. Don't. This is already an abomination."

And then I get yelled at for being negative and not supportive.

But the fact is, folks, writing isn't something you can just do. You wouldn't expect someone with no mathematical abilities to be able to pick up a Linear Algebra book and be like, "Oh totally, makes perfect sense." Maybe some kind of genius could do that, but he also probably lives in his mother's basement and has named his shoes.

My point is, you need to learn to crawl before you can soar with the eagles *cue patriotic, uplifting music*. You have to learn to count before you can add, then multiply, then perform complex differential equations. You can't skip around, or the stuff at the end will be shitty and incomplete.

Just. Like. Writing.

I don't care how great your grasp of language is. You can be the most Englishy person ever, but that still doesn't mean you know jack about developing a character over the course of 50k+ words. You can spell great? Neat. How are you at not writing passive sentences? Can you create an interesting plot with captivating characters and lots of drama? Awesome! But you can't put two words together properly, and your prose makes me want to stab out my own frontal lobe.

Writing a novel isn't just about slapping some words onto paper and calling it a day. It's about becoming your characters, living their problems, shouldering their burdens, and being able to let your reader do the same thing. And that's not easy to do. You don't just do that. You have to practice, hone the craft.

People who think they can just write their first novel and have it be a masterpiece on the first go around make me want to punch a baby dolphin in the face. It's pretty insulting, really. I've spent years - dear God, years - of my life trying to improve as a writer. I sit at my computer for hours. I've lost weight because I forget to eat. If my bills weren't all automatic, I'd probably be in a lot of trouble with collections agencies right now. I spend hours reading books, scouring the Internet, trying to learn all I can about writing a truly great story.

And then some ass clown waltzes up to me and says, "lol I could right a really grate novel rite now, ur such a nerd, when was the last time you took a shower?"

And I say, "Shut up, ass clown." And punch a baby dolphin in the face.

The Most Ridiculous Erotica Ever

Someone on Scribophile posted this masterpiece. Read it. Do it now. You'll thank me when you're done.




Are you all finished?

Are you laughing your ass off?

If not, there's no hope for you. Just give up on life right now.

If so, congratulations! You are a normal person!

Now get ready to cry. This excerpt was not actually from the book. It's a spoof on it. However, the real writing is just as bad. I went through and critiqued this piece how I crit for others on Scribophile, and seriously had to give up halfway through because I couldn't stomach the prose anymore.

Then I found out this book is apparently a bestseller.

A WHAT?!

A New York Times Best Seller. Hayzooz Kreesto!

Between this abomination and 50 Shades of Grey, it's becoming clear to me that all you need to be successful is the ability to write copious amounts of smutty smut smut smut. So I've come up with a ridiculous erotica novel that I will write... someday!

It will be the tale of Ali, a totally ripped, sexy fireman who is actually a magical djinni from 7th Century Arabia, who is hanging on to life so he can get revenge on the evil sorcerer who murdered his true love all those centuries ago. Then, he meets Stella, a beautiful, nubile, virginal young art dealer who is the daughter of the evil sorcerer!

Dun dun dunnnn!

Ali is going to fall madly in love with Stella, and he torn over whether to complete his mission of revenge, or just bone Stella all night long.

Spoiler alert: he chooses boning.

See ya on the NYT Best Seller list, suckas!!

Hallelujah, Interweb!

We have Internet in the new place! Hooray!

I was having to drive to the college and borrow theirs. And by borrow, I mean steal shamelessly.

But it's okay because now I have my own Internet. I can surf the Web sans pants once more!

Moving Sucks

A lot.

But it's almost over now!

I think we left stuff in the dishwasher in the old house, and I need to clean up a little bit. I think I'm going to do that when I'm done at school today. Although maybe I should go study EMT stuff, instead. I don't have class in the morning tomorrow, so I'll have all day to clean if I just do it all tomorrow...

Okay, now I'm just thinking out loud in type.

Bollocks, I Has Them

How hard is it to click a mouse button?

Not hard.

Except when the cursor is hovering over the send button of your e-mail, and the particular e-mail you just composed says this:

Okay y'all, you're on this list because you expressed at some point interest in reading my novel. If you've changed your mind since, no problem, just toss it in the trash and carry on. I know people are busy, so I'm not expecting you to drop everything and read it RIGHT NOW. So take your time, blah blah blah.

I'm not looking for anything in particular, just honesty. If you like it, say so. If you don't, say that, too. You won't make me cry. Much. ;)

Thanks in advance!

And in the address line are your mother, your father, your younger sister, some sluts who are going to love all the sex, one of your most faithful readers to date, and a couple other people who a) know good writing when they see it and b) aren't afraid to tell you if you suck.

So now I wait for feedback. And I'm scared, guys. Real scared. I didn't even edit out any of the "fucks" I counted yesterday. Oy. I need a drink.

Anxiety Attax!

Okay, not a real anxiety attack. I haven't had one of those in years.

So, a few months ago, I was bitching about discussing Twilight with Husband. And he got tired of the... discussion, and says, "Well if you hate it so much, write something better."

And I said, "Fine."

So I did.

Well, maybe not better. But I wrote my very own vampire romance. And there's no angsty teenagers, or sparkling, or stupid hairdos, or vampires, or romance.

Wait, what?

That's right, folks. I got about 20 words into a real vampire romance and my fingers started rebelling against me. "We won't write this drivel!" they seemed to say as they stuttered over my keyboard. "We demand robots and FTL drives!"

I placated them with a story about vampire-esque things called Vorator, that are really more like just plain old monsters than actual vampires. They don't suck blood. They eat flesh. They're not afraid of sunlight, garlic, or religion. And they most certainly do not sparkle.

There are some romantic undertones, but it's definitely not a romance in the traditional sense. I call it my vampire romance, but I guess technically it would be classified as a supernatural thriller.

So about that anxiety attack...

I hooted and hollered about writing this thing, and when I finally finished it, I realized people had actually been paying attention to my hootings and hollerings. I posted on Facebook, "OMG finished with my stupid novel LOLOLOLOLOL" and all of a sudden, a dozen people were like, "Can I read it? Here's my e-mail!"

Lola Pro-Tip #1: Never tell a writer you'll read their novel unless you really mean it. Because they will give it to you, and a short story they wrote, and an outline they've been mulling over, and their grocery list just please for the love of God, read my stuff, I just want someone besides me to read my writing and tell me that I'm not the most horriblest writer they've ever encountered.

Ahem.

So now I have a list of people who want to read my novel, which is awesome, don't get me wrong. Any artist wants people to see their art, and more importantly, like their art. Maybe that's why I'm having such a freak attack about it.

I counted how many times I typed the word "fuck" or one of its conjugations.

54 times. I use "fuck" 54 times in 61,575 words.

I also include not one, not two, but three explicit sex scenes. There are multiple instances of extreme violence (not coinciding with the sex scenes; it's not one of those novels), and did I mention I swear a lot?

Well, I don't swear a lot. Connor and Brian swear a lot. Those little potty mouths. But I guess they can. They're adults, after all.

My mother wants to read this.

And my dad.

And... others. Who would probably never pick up a book like this if they were in the bookstore. I know they're only going to read it (or pretend they read it) because I wrote it and they want to support me. Which is freakin' awesome! But still scary. Next time I Skype with my mom, is she going to be like, "So I got to page 56. You're a sick fuck, you know that? Where did I go wrong!? You better not be teaching Chameleon any of this stuff!"

I should have sent this thing a couple of weeks ago, but I'm scared. I am. Total chickenshit. How am I supposed to submit this to publishers if I can't send it to my own mom?

Oh wait, because publishers don't say stuff like, "Hey did you get those old home videos I sent you? Of you and your sister dressed up like princesses and singing Christmas carols?"

Yeah.

Development Shmevelopment

So someone made a good point in a critique of the very first chapter of the 13th House. They said, "Your protagonist is very put together and cool. I wonder how she's going to develop over the course of the story."

And I thought, "SHIT! She's not!"

Well, I guess she could turn into some super awesome mega-cool person, but I don't think I want that.

So now I need to come up with a way to make her flawed without taking too much away. I don't want to make her a coward, or a bitch, or something like that, not right off the bat. That would be weaksauce.

I think I've got a solution, but it IS late, and I AM functioning mostly on cookies right now. I think I'm going to go to bed and let this marinate, then come back tomorrow and see if it still sounds good.

1
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Sleep!

Maybe the Best Thing Ever

Just kidding. Chocolate is the best thing ever. Duh.

But this might be the best writing-related thing ever.

Writing Class with Brandon Sanderson

I've watched this thing about a million times. It's awesome! I definitely recommend it to anyone who writes, even if it's not fantasy or SF like he does. There are some really great things to consider regardless of genre. So check it out!

The Postest with the Mostest

The first post is the best, isn't it? So much to say, so much promise to be had, so much... stuff. To be stuffed.

This is the beginning of something new and spifftastic. I've just completed my final semester of chemical engineering. No, not because I graduated with a degree in chemical engineering, but because I realized I would not like being a chemical engineer.

What would I like to be, you ask?

Thanks for asking, Internet.

I've always wanted to be a writer, and now I think I have the guts to pursue it for reals. But I'm kind of a wimp and I get hurt feelings easily (which then leads to discouragement), so it's going to be a helluva ride.

I just finished my first novel (wahooo!), which was really, utterly, and completely not my style or genre. I'll get into that in another post. I don't want to go wasting all my good ideas in one post!