Showing posts with label the fate machine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the fate machine. Show all posts

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Before and After (And A Sneak Peek)

Hello all!
As most of you know, I have been editing the book I wrote for NaNo2014. Today I want to give you a general outline of my process so far, and the first ever look at the book I've been blogging about for months!

My first step came immediately after finished the book in November. With a heavy sigh, I prepared myself to reread my manuscript.

If there is anything that is the definition of "discouraging", it's re-reading an unedited manuscript. 
It wasn't pretty.

As I re-read, I was entering the chapters into a magical program called Scriptito. (You will be hearing me sing its praises much more often). It's pretty much Scrivener for free. Which is awesome.
As I put in my manuscript, I read my chapters and I used the Note tool on Scriptito (which is a gift from Heaven above) and made a note of what I thought needed changing in the first round of edits.

What I am focusing on this go-round is mostly continuity. My story got all jumbled up near the end because I decided this was going to be a series, and I had put too large of an obstacle in the first half of my book to have a proper build in all the rest of the books in the series. This put me moving that to the back of the book and everything that came after got positively scrambled. So far I'm only about ten chapters into editing, so in the chapters that are in their proper order I'm doing some basic edits. I'm trying to enrich the scenes and fix character arcs to fit the plot. It's actually a lot more work than I expected.

Honestly, it's really discouraging. You go back and look at the things you spent so much time on, and they're just bad. You see everything you did wrong and it starts to look like it's a better idea just to forget it. It is a brutal process, because you feel like you're undoing everything you've built. It is humbling, to say the least, but in the end I know my book will be better for it. Thus, I struggle on.

How do you do it?

Good question. There's a lot of pulling my hair, hiding my face in pillows, and desiring to throw my computer across the room.
In seriousness, I take the chapter I'm working on, refer to my notes, and rework.

This is Chapter Four/Five of my story (I deleted the scene before it, so I'm really not sure what number it is). It's been my go-to chapter when people want to see what my story is about, because it is really where the story kicks into action. Remember, this is the unedited version.
~~~
Kate knocked briskly on Timothy's door. There was no reply, so she stood on the stoop and waited. The house was small, but nicer than some she had seen in the poorer sections of Haddon. The paint on the door was chipped and peeling. The walls were brick, and looked to be in decent shape.
She knocked again, and this time the door opened.
Timothy stood there, looking even worse than he had the previous day.
"Hi." Kate smiled, despite the worry she felt for her friend.
He attempted to return the gesture. "Hullo, love."
"I gotcha somethin'." She pulled out the gloves from behind her back and presented them to him.
He looked at them, almost alarmed, before he looked back up at her. "How on earth did you afford these?"
"I'm friends with a shopkeeper."
"Kate, I can't accept this gift. It was kind of you, and I really do appreciate it, but I just... can't."
"Timothy, I want you to. You need gloves an' you know it, so stop fightin' about it and just keep 'em."
He paused, before relenting. "Alright. Can't win an argument with you, anyways."
She laughed and crossed her arms. "Well, aren't you gonna invite me in?"
"Oh! Yes, sorry. Please, come in, if you want." He stepped to the side and she entered his house.
She looked around and smiled. "Boy, you really should think about hiring a 'ousekeeper."
He blushed slightly. "Sorry, I know it's a mess..." He walked across the room and began attempting to clear off some of the pieces of machinery on the couch.
Kate joined him.
"Sorry, I'm just... too busy to clean, most of the time."
"I understand." She picked up something that looked to be from a bicycle.
He took an armload of junk. "Be right back, gonna put this upstairs."
"A'right." She watched him disappear up the stairs before continuing to browse the items in his parlor.
A small sphere lying on the hardwood floor caught Kate's eye. It was made of some sort of clear, smooth material, like glass. She could see gears and cogs on the inside. The thing clicked steadily.
"Well, what's this?"
She gently picked it up and turned it around in her hands. It was heavy.
A hatch on the glass opened and a set of binocular-like eyes emerged. The thing whirred and clicked rapidly. The eyes blinked at her.
Kate yelped in surprise, nearly dropping the ball.
Timothy came bounding down the stairs. "Kate! Is everything alright?" He stopped when he saw the ball she was holding. "Ah."
"Ah? What even is this thing? It won't stop looking at me!"
The ball blinked curiously.
Timothy took it from her, caressing it. "This is Blinker."
"It's... it's an automaton."
"Of sorts, yeah."
"Weren't those outlawed...?"
"He's safe if no one says anything about him being here."
"I won't tell if you won't."
Timothy smiled at her and put the little ball down. It was still blinking.
"Why does it do that?"
"What?"
"The..."
"Oh, the blinking?"
"Yeah."
"Let's show 'er, then."
The little ball retracted its 'eyes' and  rolled back and forth in every direction, gaining speed with each turn.
Kate opened her mouth to ask what it was doing, but Timothy silenced her.
As suddenly as it began, the machine stopped. Its' eyes came back out, and just behind them a piece of paper stuck out.
Timothy bent down and removed the paper, offering it to Kate.
She laughed when she saw the picture. Apparently it had been taken the first moment she picked up Blinker. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open in shock.
"He certainly does 'ave an odd sense of 'umor." Timothy nudged the bot with his foot. "'e's a good companion, anyways. Been working on 'im for years."
"Is he why you keep all the old parts?"
"Part of the reason, yeah. It's hard to find little pieces like I need, and I sure can't buy them."
"You know what would happen if you got caught with 'im, don't you?"
He looked down. "Yeah. But it's worth it, honestly."
"I think so too."
Kate sat down on the part of the couch they had cleared off.
"So, Timothy, what is it you wanted to talk about?"
Timothy's face immediately fell.
"Look, I don't mean to upset you or anythin'. I just need to know what's goin' on. Honestly, you're scarin' me, an I really don't like it."
"I am...?"
"You look awful. 'ow much sleep have you 'ad lately, anyways?"
He ran his hand through his unruly hair. "Not enough."
"Well then." Kate motioned to the empty seat next to her on the dirty, faded couch. "Just tell me what's happened to you."
He sat down, somewhat cautiously, as if unsure about sitting so close to her.
She subtly leaned closer to him. "Timothy, if you don't tell me I can't help."
"It's not somethin' you can help, love." There was pain in his cloudy green eyes. "I'm afraid... I'm afraid we're gonna die."
"What?" Kate pulled back in surprise.
"I'm sorry, Kate. I'm so sorry."
"How on earth do you know this?"
"I don't... I'm not sure."
"You're not making any sense, mate."
"I know, I'm sorry. But you've gotta believe me."
"Gotta?"
He put his hands on her shoulders and stared her in the eyes. "I can promise you on everythin' I own, everythin' I am, that soon we're going to die."
She gently pushed his hands away, worried. "Ah... Timothy, I'm really not sure if you're quite well."
"I'm fine, Kate."
She looked down and pushed her short hair back from her face. "Listen, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me the truth. Tell me exactly what you're trying to say."
"I have."
"Just, one more time. I'm pretty clever when it comes to picking out a liar."
He took a deep breath, and she looked up.
"Okay."
"We are going to die. I don't know how, I just know that it will be soon. I know that we have to die. I've known for a few days now, but I was too scared to tell you; I didn't want you to think I was crazy. Every day it's only gotten worse, only gotten stronger." He was wide open, honest and pure. All his emotions were written on his face.
There was no way he was lying.
Still, Kate doubted. Perhaps he had been working too hard, not getting enough sleep. Regardless, he truly believed the things he said.
Maybe he was right.
The thought settled in the pit of her stomach, sending a thrill of fear through her entire body. She tried to keep her expression from changing.
"Well. You know we're going to die, right?"
"Yes."
"Then we'll just have to stop that from 'appening, now won't we?"
"What?"
"We'll just have to find a way around it."
"Kate, no!" He stood up and began to pace, like he always did when he was under stress. "We can't."
For some reason, his statement angered her. "Well why not? You said you knew what was gonna happen, why shouldn't we avoid it?"
"Because it has to 'appen. That's the way it's meant to be, love."
"Meant to be?"
He sighed, still pacing. "We're dying for a reason, so something greater can 'appen. So that things will get better for a whole lot of people. We've got to die so others can live."
Kate laughed cynically. "Well, that explains everything. We die as martyrs for a cause we don't even know about."
"Please believe me, love..."
"Timothy, look. I'm givin' you the benefit of the doubt about this whole 'premonition' thing, but if someone tells me that I'm gonna be dead in a few days, I'm gonna do every stinkin' thing I can to make sure that doesn't 'appen. For the better of others or no, I'm not ready to go just yet."
"Kate, you don't understand."
"I'm pretty sure I do."
Timothy honestly looked distraught. "Kate, please. Try and see this my way."
"You want to lay down and die? You do that. I refuse to." She stood up, a mix of panic and anger flooding her mind.
"Kate, love, please don't go."
"We can talk about this later." The words came out much sharper than she intended, and in her friend's eyes she could see that he had felt the cut.
She stalked towards the door and flung it open. To her shock, there was a man standing there. He wore the blue and silver uniform of the royal guard.
Her heart cried out in fear. They've found me. She attempted to keep her composure and waited for him to speak.
"Kate Thompson?"
"Yes." Her voice quivered slightly.
He reached out and roughly grabbed her arm, pinning it behind her.
"Timothy!" she screamed. "Timothy, get out!"
A moment later, he came running from the parlor.
She gritted her teeth in frustration. Fool boy.
The head guard shoved her forward and to the side, kicking the back of her knees, forcing her to kneel on the floor.
Three men rushed forward to apprehend Timothy; he was no match for them.
After a few moments of struggle, he also was kneeling on the floor.
"What's all this about?" His voice was surprisingly hard, harder than Kate had ever heard from him. "You've no right to arrest this woman."
Something in her heart pulled at the realization that he would never plead for himself, only for her.
The head guard, or so Kate guessed he was, cleared his throat. He had red hair and a short, copper beard.
"I think you'll find we have every right."
"We've done nothing!" Kate struggled against the man holding her hands behind her, but he was strong.
"You have been arrested for crimes against the Crown."
"What crimes?"
"Undisclosed."
Timothy's eyes lit up with rage. "You can't do this. Arrest us and then don't tell us why?"
"Orders from the captain."
"You can say that all you want, it's not right for you to do this."
The smart remark earned Kate a slap from one of the troops nearby.
"Leave her alone!" Timothy never yelled.
The leader seemed uncomfortable. "I am... sorry. I wish I could tell your crime, but I cannot."
"Sure," Kate muttered, her face still stinging from the blow.
"We are to take them back to the prison now. You..." He paused, almost regretfully. "You are to be executed at the setting of the sun."
Kate couldn't keep the fear from choking out all rational thought in her mind. Timothy's voice echoed in her mind. We're gonna die.
Next to her, he hung his head. "I'm so sorry." His voice broke, too heavy with emotion to stay strong. "I didn't know it would be today. I'm so sorry."
They were both roughly shoved to their feet and made to walk forward, out into the sunlit street. Kate was silent, and kept her eyes down. Timothy walked next to her, still muttering apologies.
I can't believe he was right.
~~~
It's not a total disaster, right? I mean, it's rough in some places, but it's not the worst work I've ever done. However, I aim to make it the best.
Here's the notes I made on it.
Yes, my first character cut. As much as I dearly love Blinker, the little fella added nothing to the story. After the first 10,000 words, he pretty much disappears. I take that as a sign the story doesn't need him right now, but I'm keeping him in mind for the other books in the series.
Cutting all mention of him dropped 500 words from this chapter. I didn't realize how hard it would be seeing the word count I worked so hard for go down. Honestly, that's been the hardest part. As I previously mentioned, I deleted another scene (nearly 700 words) that added to my disappointment.
Sadly, to build anything up it seems one must first tear things down.
This is the second draft of the scene, with Blinker removed. The biggest thing I did was check Kate's emotion, as she is a much harder person than I originally expected. 
~~~
Kate knocked briskly on Timothy's door. There was no reply, so she stood on the stoop and waited. The house was small, but nicer than some she had seen in the poorer sections of Haddon. The paint on the door was chipped and peeling, but the brick walls looked to be in decent shape.

She knocked again, and this time the door opened.

Timothy stood there, the circles under his eyes even darker and his shoulders drooping even more, is if he were carrying the entire world on them.

"Hi." Kate smiled, despite the worry that so suddenly descended upon her heart.

He turned the corners of his mouth upward, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Hullo, love."

"I gotcha somethin'." She pulled out the gloves from behind her back and presented them to him.

He looked at them, almost alarmed, before he looked back up at her. There was confusion in his emerald eyes. "How on earth did you afford these?"

"I'm friends with a shopkeeper."

"Kate, I can't accept this gift. It was kind of you, and I really do appreciate it, but I just... can't."

"Timothy, I want you to. You need gloves an' you know it, so stop fightin' about it and just keep 'em."

He paused, before relenting. "Alright. Can't win an argument with you, anyways." He took the gloves and held them carefully, as if he feared he might damage them.

She laughed and crossed her arms. "Well, aren't you gonna invite me in?"

"Oh! Yes, sorry. Please, come in, if you want." He stepped to the side and she entered his house, his cheeks tinged with pink.

She looked around and shook her head. "Boy, you really should think about hiring a 'ousekeeper."

He blushed even harder. "Sorry, I know it's a mess..." He walked across the room and began attempting to clear off some of the pieces of machinery on the faded couch.

Kate joined him.

"Sorry, I'm just... too busy to clean, most of the time."

She playfully bumped his shoulder as she picked up something that looked to be from an old bicycle. "You know I understand."

He took an armload of junk. "Be right back, gonna put this upstairs."

"A'right." She watched him disappear up the stairs before continuing to browse the items in his parlor. He had collected all sorts of things, some that would go for good money if he were to sell them. Timothy loved to build. His hands were large, but gentle, used to handling delicate machines that could easily shatter if one was not careful. As Kate picked up some of pieces herself, she could imagine the way he would run his fingers across them, gently discovering their secrets and fixing what was broken. Something inside of her flared up, a feeling that alarmed and disturbed her. She couldn't place feeling it before. Was it tenderness? Affection? If it was affection, it was a strange breed that she had not known before.

She wasn't sure if she was very fond of it.

Timothy came down the stars, still holding the gloves. "Sorry it took a while, 'ad to find someplace to put the stuff." He looked around and sighed. "One of these days I'll clear this place out."

"Don't worry 'bout it." Kate sat down on the part of the couch they had cleared off. "So, Timothy, what is it you wanted to talk about?"

Timothy's face immediately fell.

"Look, I don't mean to upset you or anythin'. I just need to know what's goin' on. Honestly, you're scarin' me, an I really don't like it."

"I am...?"

"You look awful. 'ow much sleep have you 'ad lately, anyways?"

He ran his hand through his unruly hair. "Not enough."

"Well then." Kate motioned to the empty seat next to her on the dirty, faded couch. "Just tell me what's happened to you."

He sat down, somewhat cautiously, as if unsure about sitting so close to her.

She leaned towards him, searching his face with her eyes. "Timothy, if you don't tell me I can't help."

"It's not somethin' you can help, love." When he looked up, there was a storm in his eyes. Fear and concern and confusion all mixed together. "I'm afraid... I'm afraid we're gonna die."

"What?" Kate pulled back in surprise, her mind reeling with the new information.

"I'm sorry, Kate. I'm so sorry." His voice cracked.

"How on earth do you know this?"

"I don't... I'm not sure."

"You're not making any sense, mate." Kate's heart was beating faster than normal. There is no way he's serious. We're going to die? How on earth does he know?

"I know, I'm sorry. But you've gotta believe me."

"Gotta?"

He put his hands on her shoulders and stared her in the eyes, more forward than she could ever remember him being. The serious expression on his face scared her. "I can promise you on everythin' I own, everythin' I am, that soon we're going to die."

She gently pushed his hands away. "Ah... Timothy, I'm really not sure if you're quite well."

"I'm fine, Kate."

She looked down and pushed her short hair back from her face. "Listen, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me the truth. Tell me exactly what you're trying to say."

"I have."

"Just, one more time. I'm pretty clever when it comes to picking out a liar."

He took a deep breath, and she looked up, studying his face again. "Go."

"We are going to die. I don't know how, I just know that it will be soon. I know that we have to die. I've known for a few days now, but I was too scared to tell you; I didn't want you to think I was crazy. Every day it's only gotten worse, only gotten stronger." He was wide open, honest and pure. All his emotions were written on his face.

There was no way he was lying, but it was equally impossible that he was telling the truth. He had been working too hard, not getting enough sleep. Just because he believes it, doesn't mean it's true.

"I'm not crazy."

"No, no. I don't think you're crazy." She chose her words carefully, not wanting to offend Timothy.

"I don't... I don't know why all this 'appening." He looked truly broken, his face downcast and his voice heavy.

"Well. You know we're going to die, right?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll just have to stop that from 'appening, now won't we?"

"What?"

"We'll just have to find a way around it."

"Kate, no!" He stood up and began to pace, like he always did when he was under stress. "We can't."

For some reason, his statement angered her. Fire rose in her heart. "Well why not? You said you knew what was gonna happen, why shouldn't we avoid it?"

"Because it has to 'appen. That's the way it's meant to be, love."

"Meant to be?"

He sighed, still pacing. "We're dying for a reason, so something greater can 'appen. So that things will get better for a whole lot of people. We've got to die so others can live."

Kate laughed cynically. "Well, that explains everything. We die as martyrs for a cause we don't even know about."

"Please believe me, love..."

"Timothy, look. I'm givin' you the benefit of the doubt about this whole 'premonition' thing, but if someone tells me that I'm gonna be dead in a few days, I'm gonna do every stinkin' thing I can to make sure that doesn't 'appen. For the better of others or no, I'm not ready to go just yet."

"Kate, you don't understand."

"I'm pretty sure I do," she snapped.

Timothy honestly looked distraught. "Kate, please. Try and see this my way."

"You want to lay down and die? You do that. I refuse." She stood up from the couch and stepped back.

"Kate, love, please don't go."

"We can talk about this later." The words came out much sharper than she intended, and in her friend's eyes she could see that he had felt the cut. In that moment, she didn't care. She was angry and she was afraid, and no one could give her any straight answers.

She stalked towards the door and flung it open. To her shock, there was a man standing there. He wore the blue and silver uniform of the royal guard.

Her heart cried out in fear. They've found me. She attempted to keep her composure and waited for him to speak.

"Kate Thompson?"

"Yes." Her voice quivered slightly.

He reached out and roughly grabbed her arm, pinning it behind her.

"Timothy!" she screamed. "Timothy, get out!"

A moment later, he came running from the parlor, his green eyes wide.

She gritted her teeth in frustration. Fool boy.

The guard shoved her forward and to the side, kicking the back of her knees, forcing her to kneel on the floor.

Three men rushed forward to apprehend Timothy; he was no match for them.

After a few moments of struggle, he also was kneeling on the floor.

"What's all this about?" His voice was surprisingly hard, harder than Kate had ever heard from him. "You've no right to arrest this woman."

Something in her heart pulled at the realization that he would never plead for himself, only for her.

The head guard, or so Kate guessed he was, cleared his throat. He had red hair and a short, copper beard.

"I think you'll find we have every right."

"We've done nothing!" Kate struggled against the man holding her hands behind her, but he was strong.

"You have been arrested for crimes against the Crown."

"What crimes?"

"Undisclosed."

Timothy's eyes lit up with rage. "You can't do this. Arrest us and then don't tell us why?"

"Orders from the captain."

"You can say that all you like, it's not right for you to do this," Kate insisted.

The smart remark earned Kate a slap from one of the troops nearby.

"Leave her alone!"

Timothy never yelled.

The leader seemed uncomfortable. "I am... sorry. I wish I could tell your crime, but I cannot."

"Sure," Kate muttered, her face still stinging from the blow.

"We are to take them back to the prison now. You..." He paused, almost regretfully. "You are to be executed at the setting of the sun."

Kate couldn't keep the fear from choking out all rational thought in her mind. Timothy's voice echoed in her mind. We're gonna die.

Next to her, he hung his head. "I'm so sorry." His voice broke, too heavy with emotion to stay strong. "I didn't know it would be today. I'm so sorry."

They were both roughly shoved to their feet and made to walk forward, out into the sunlit street. Kate was silent, and kept her eyes down. Timothy walked next to her, still muttering apologies.

He was right.

I can't believe he was actually right.
~~~~
In my opinion, this version is much better than the first one. I still think it has a ways to go before it's where it should be, but this isn't really a bad start.

Sorry for the long post everyone! I hope the insight I've been able to give from my limited experience editing has somehow helped you, and I hope you like the sneak peek of the book. I'd love to hear from you; just comment below!

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Conquérir (Surviving NaNoWriMo #5)

I won NaNoWriMo.
Not only did I win, but I finished my novel about two days after I actually hit 50k.
The first draft of The Fate Machine clocks in at nearly 57k, which is small for a novel but really good given my track record.
I shall document my experience in .gifs.

When I first heard about NaNoWriMo, my initial reaction was along the lines of, "no stinking way."

"50k words in a month? You're crazy."

However, this period in my life didn't last. As I looked at the breakdown and figured logically, suddenly this task sounded doable. I began to think "There is a chance I can do this!"
So I, brave soul I am, clicked the fateful "sign up" button.
Thus began the madness.

I had to finish my current first draft, along with outlining a brand new one.
The good thing was that I did have a story. I had characters and some semblance of a plot and a goal and main idea. I had all the basic ingredients. I just needed to put them in order.
I am not an organized person. One look at my room will tell you that.
I don't like outlining because it forces me to slow down and put things in order; it constrains my creativity. But it must be done, and so I did it.

I never did complete that outline, but I did come to a point where I felt it was 'good enough'.
I still had a few days until NaNoWriMo, which were spent reading, blogging, and worrying.

When November first rolled around, I was ready.
I was prepared to write and I understood that 1,667 words were a lot, but I really enjoyed myself.

I would get up at 6:15, take a fifteen minute shower, and then write until 8:00. Normally I would also eat breakfast at that time or talk to my daddy, whom I don't see much, so I could get anywhere from 500 to 1000 words at a session like that. I also wrote throughout the day; normally at college or just in my bedroom.

Honestly, NaNoWriMo wasn't that hard.

Yes; I know. It really should have been difficult. I mean, 50k in a month?
But, for me, it wasn't. I never really struggled. I just wrote, I exceeded my goal every single day and hit the goal over a week early. I suppose it's just because I have a lot of free time, but NaNoWriMo never gained an impossible feel to it. I wrote and I wrote everyday. I wrote a lot everyday.
So I beat it. So I won.

A few days later, I finished my entire rough draft. It stopped at an odd point, thanks to the fact that the beginning of my book needs to happen at the end, so the end was really somewhere in the middle... anyway.
The book is, as a rough draft, completed.

Because I was so pumped from NaNo, because I felt like I could do anything, I decided I would straightaway begin editing.

To sum up:
I finished my second rough draft of a book
I won NaNoWriMo
I now embark on the wonderful journey of editing this book and making it worth reading. Expect more posts on my editing process in the days to come.

This officially concludes the "Surviving NaNoWriMo" series, as I am not adding any new words to my book at this point. Look for the "Aftermath" series on book editing to come next!

How has your NaNoWriMo experience been/are you planning on participating next year? Tell me in the comments!







Thursday, November 13, 2014

Hello, I'm Your New Character (Surviving NaNoWriMo #3)

Hello all!
I hit 40k today. It seems blogging when I hit a milestone has become a tradition. Today I want to talk about something that, if you're not a writer, will probably make you think I am completely, 100% out of my mind.
This post is all about how I meet characters.

Meeting Characters?

That's an interesting way to phrase it, isn't it? Authors create characters, right?
Well, yes. At least at first.
Or at least that's how it went for me. At first I would think and create a character, who would gradually evolve into something more amazing and more lifelike than I first imagined. Think Transformers. Yup, you've got the visual.

Now, when I meet a character, it's more like this.
I have no idea where they come from. One day, they just show up. Perhaps I'm watching television, reading a book, watching a movie, or just thinking about one of my friends. Then all of the sudden there's a new character in my mind. Now, think transporter from Star Trek. There you go!
Out of nowhere there's a new character. Normally all I know is gender and impression, maybe a bit of backstory.
This happened a few days ago thanks to two things. One was NaNoWriMo, and the other was my recent Les Miserables kick.
I was thinking about my NaNo story and just chilling out. I was thinking about my favorite character from Les Mis (Enjolras, in case you didn't know) and about what made him so amazing; why I liked him so much.
Hello, awesome.

I came to some interesting conclusions. I was simply minding my own business; enjoying a productive session of thought-time.
That was when I heard a 'knock at the door'.
There's no better way to describe it. I can tell a new character is about to enter my imagination.
"Don't!" I always chide myself. "Don't do it, you don't need another character. He'll want his own story and you have enough already. Do not open that door!"
Here is where Alice speaks to me on a personal level.
Of course I was going to open the door for that poor, lost character in need of someone to breathe life into them. How could I say no?
I opened the door and there stood a young man. He didn't look to be any more than 24 years of age. He had a group of friends. He was a rebel, but for a good cause. He was leader.
"Hello," he said. "I'm your missing piece."

And that he was. It was as if a wizard had marked my door to send him along at just the right time.
Of course, I knew very little about him. He wasn't one of the easy characters who willingly spills there entire life story for me the moment the door is opened.
He came in quietly. And he intrigued me.
Over the next several days, I tried several times to get him to disclose some more information about himself. He refused.
I wrote him into my outline; although he was still nameless. He would often tease me, as if he were just about to reveal something more about himself, but then change his mind.
It was infuriating.

One afternoon, I was fed up. I sat down with a piece of paper, and I interviewed him.
I would write what I said, and then his response.
All of the sudden, he was willing to speak to me.
Finally, he seemed to say. Finally you're curious enough.
And so we talked.

Ah. Yes. I understand. That does sound odd. But if it works, it works.

I carried on interviewing him. I learned many new things, such as his hair and eye color (black hair, brown eyes) and some of the things he stood for. Every moment I found myself falling more and more in love with him.
Still, I worried. Sometimes when a character is inspired by another character, there is the worry of the two characters becoming more similar. I found myself trying to force him to be different from Enjolras, which he really didn't appreciate it. So, I mentioned it to him.
He was not worried. "Was he a good leader?" he asked.
"The best."
"Perhaps I, too, am a good leader. Perhaps we are similar because we have that in common."
Yes, fictional character. Thank you again for dropping massively profound thoughts on me out of nowhere.
Our conversation continued, but another thing began to bother me.
"I don't know your name."
"I know. I haven't told you."
Thus began a guessing game, which I failed horribly at. He gave me a hint. The letter J.
I couldn't seem to come up with a name.
Therefore, I took desperate measures.

I annoyed him.

He and I had a recurring joke where I would simply insist he looked like George Blagden. Somehow it was stuck in my mind that it simply had to be him. He would hear nothing of it.
My questions is why he was so upset.
I mean, come on.
George Blagden.
I insisted. I even called him George.
He became more and more irritated until he commanded I stop, or he would cease speaking to me.
My response?
"Sure. Whatever, Jacob."
It was as if a light had come on.
Jacob.

The mysterious character had a name.

I continued to talk with him and learned more and more about him. He only became more and more interesting by the moment.

Eventually I decided I had learned enough to put the paper away for a while. It was an amazing experience, and I learned much about my new character.

This was several days ago. Since then, I have been thinking about and looking into his character more and more. Today was the day I introduced him into my story, and as I wrote this blog post I realized I did not yet have a picture of him. I browsed my "New Characters" board on Pinterest and found a picture that at least resembled him.
Meet Jacob Lawrence.

Thanks for reading this post! I'd love to know how all of you end up discovering your characters, and if you think I'm completely and utterly mad yet.






Monday, November 3, 2014

So Far, So... (Surviving NaNo #1)

Hello all!
It's been a little while since I last blogged, but what with NaNoWriMo finally starting up, I've been pretty busy trying to not only meet the goal, but exceed it because I know some days I won't have so much self discipline.

This post it just a little update about how things are going so far. If you look at that neat litte gadget on the side of my blog, over here --> you can see my current wordcount. I hit my personal 10,000 word goal today, which meant writing 5,000 words just today. It puts me well ahead of the recommended schedule, which makes me very happy. 1/5 of the way there! Here's some more little facts about the journey so far.

1) My outline remains unfinished

Yes, that pesky outline. I've got almost 30 scenes plotted out, so there's no real sense of urgency. I have been following it, but rather loosely. It has proven itself invaluable time and time again. I don't think I will ever attempt a story without one at this point.


2) No characters have died... yet.

Yes, it is true. There has been no death as of this moment.
However, a certain character doesn't have much longer to go.


3) This venture has involved me getting up earlier in the mornings

The time change certainly aided this. I am now waking up at 6:30, versus 7:00 as my normal wake up time.
I can't say I'm enjoying it.

4) I've listened to the Les Miserables soundtrack more times than any sane human should.


What? It's good music.
By the way, I blame my friend for getting me addicted to it.


5) I've met some amazing people on the NaNoWriMo forums.

Writers are awesome. We're all just as crazy as all get out, and it's always a good time when a bunch of us get together. Shoutout to the people of the Christian Teens Together! thread. And members of the AWSTOCC (Authors Who Ship Their Own Characters Club). Yes, it's a real thing.


6) Every day so far I've exceeded the daily count and hit the one for the next day or even several days ahead.

Yes, I'm rather proud of myself for this.


7) My story is actually going very well.

So far, no major roadblocks. I've used a sprinting strategy where I set a timer for fifteen minutes and write like I'm on fire. I average about 500 words in fifteen minutes. So far, that strategy has yet to fail me. Let's pray it continues going this way.

So, there's my summary so far of Day Three for NaNoWriMo! I'd love to hear how your novels are going, as well. Feel free to comment your questions or responses in the boxes below. :) Bonne nuit!







Friday, October 31, 2014

Map For A Journey (NaNoWriMo Prep #6)

Let me go ahead and clear this up: there are two types of writers.
You have planners and you have pantsers.
Let's define, shall we?

  • Planners- planners will be your outliners. They may not even make a very detailed outline, but they will start a story with several different pieces of information. Most planners will know their characters and some of their scenes. Extreme planners (take J.K. Rowling) might know absolutely everything about their story before they even dare to pick up a pencil. Planners are people who prefer to have direction and organized ideas before they begin.
  • Pantsers- as the name implies, Pansters live to fly by the seat of their pants. A true panster will sit down with an idea and just go. Pansters, most of them at least, prefer to have no plan at all. Maybe they know how it might end. Maybe they know their characters. Pantsers trust their instincts and go for it.
So, which am I?
I tried to be a pantser for a long time, and the result was many unfinished and abandoned stories.
Now I am a planner, this novel more so than my last one. I had a sparse outline last time, and ended up with only 32,000 words. For NaNo, I need almost double that. 
Bring in the detailed outline!

So, to begin, I used Google Sheets and made a spreadsheet. I gave several columns, in hopes of making a better developed scene.

  • Scene Number - well, that's self explanatory. It's the number of the scene.
  • Name of Scene - this is for my personal organization. I need to name scenes to keep from getting them confused.
  • Characters Involved- mega helpful to keep track of what characters are where, doing what.
  • Point of View - My story is always in a third person limited point of view, and with a limited point of view I am allowed to choose which character I want to focus on. Think like in a first person shooter game, when you're behind the gun you normally have the option to zoom out and view the back of your character. I find it a better vantage point than actual first person, both in gaming and in writing. They're similar, but with third I find it easier to switch between character views.
  • Main Action- this is to give me a guideline for how I want the action to play out in the scene. It serves as my summary.
  • Reason for Scene - if this blank can't be filled, then there's no need at all for this scene to be in my book.
  • Emotional Response - how I want my characters and readers to react to the scene.
  • How It Leads Into the Next Scene - I tend to lose direction at the ends of scenes. This helps me keep my mind on track.
  • Conflict in Scene - because every single scene needs conflict, be it physical or emotional.
  • Resolution of Conflict - again, to help me pull the scene together at the end and carry on.
I hate writing outlines. They bore me.
Creativity is the childish side of your mind. It just wants to play and have fun. Trying to organize creativity is like trying to get a three year old to sit down and pay attention.
Nearly impossible.
Needless to say, some interesting things happen when I make attempts to outline stories.
I am so ready for NaNoWriMo. 
WRITING AGAIN FINALLY!

One Day More (NaNoWriMo Prep Post #5)




"One more day until the storm..."

Yes.
Admittedly, all day I have randomly been singing One Day More. And I sent a very lengthy email to a dear friend of mine filled with .gifs from the selfsame song.
She had no idea what was going on.
By now, you might have guessed.

One Day Until NaNoWriMo

Yes, I chose the quote 'one more day until the storm' for a very specific reason.
One day more until we begin the mad storm of words that is National Novel Writing Month.
Yes. Thank you, Joly, for summing up
my feelings exactly.
All the prep, all the trouble, all the worrying, it was all just a dress rehearsal. Tomorrow the real struggle begins. The struggle to write the correct amount of words every single day, to push past even the hardest moments in the story and to continue on.
I am of two minds about this realization. Some moments my reaction is more like:
While other moments my reaction is better described as this:

Overall, I would say I am thrilled to begin this venture. I'll be making another post this afternoon with a little bit of insight into what my outline currently looks like.

Well, the NaNo prep series is almost over, so next we will begin the "Surviving NaNoWriMo" series.


Writing a whole 50,000 word first draft inside a month.