The Sound of Battle...

I wrote this excerpt for a forum a little while ago and thought it might be a good idea to post here with some additions and editing. (Saves me from having to write a whole new one!)

On how to make large-scale fantasy battles interesting, especially how it relates to being told from one character's point of view:

"There are multiple factors to consider, many depending on the setting.

 The first thing to define is the ground. If there is any height involved, someone might have a good view of at least most of the battlefield (useful for getting a clear idea of what's going on). Ridges make good defensive locations, while valleys make for good ambushes. The rougher the ground, the harder it will be to root an enemy out. 

Perhaps next most important, what kind of technology is being used, and how will it effect the battle and the watcher's line of sight? Dragons, airplanes, gryphons or hot air balloons would get a literal bird's-eye view, thus helping troop movements on the ground below, while dragon's fire, cannons, muskets or explosions would create smoke dense enough to obscure everything. (Dust from the ground could also do this).

Technology directly effects how information is passed from man to man, and thus how the reader learns  what is going on. Aide-de-camps, radios, messenger pigeons, wig-wag signals, bugle calls, all are different methods for transmitting information quickly across large amounts of space. For mainstream fantasy, a tried and true method is to relay information by couriers, this wing calls for aid, this wing sends word it is advancing. This keeps the characters at the forefront, while maintaining a good overall picture of what is going on.
Tactics also play a major role: someone laying in ambush might only hear what is going on until his signal comes, an air strike would provide an excellent overview of what is happening, snipers would be in better positions to observe much of what is going on.
The last factor to consider is who your pov character is in relation to the battle. A general might be more aware of the battle as a whole, a simple foot soldier only of what's directly in front of him. A calvary/dragon rider would see more of the battle, but would be less in direct combat, whereas a archer/siege weapon worker might have more time to watch the battle as it progressed after their projectiles were exhausted or rendered useless by troop movements.
And finally, the most important thing to include is the feel of the battle. No matter how detailed the troop movements, the thoughts of the combatants or the originality of the tactics, it all comes down to what the reader comes away with afterward. Did they sense the chaos, smell the dust, see the price paid by those who gave their lives, hear the whine of arrows, the clash of swords, the roar of beasts? Did they cringe as the flights of arrows came whining down? Did they cheer with the embattled soldiers as the reinforcements came thundering in?

If they answer is a resounding "Yes!" from your readers, then you, the author, have succeeded.

A really good author for making large scale battles interesting is G.A. Henty. He wrote historical fiction during the late 1800's, retelling nearly all the great battles of history in over 120 novels. His method of choice was usually to tell the battles from a bird's eye view, detailing troop movements, then go back and tell what his main character saw of the battle and how it affected him. He was also a master strategist, (if you want any information on guerilla warfare throughout the ages, his books are the place to go). His battles, even told from a historian's pen, accurately convey the chaos, tactics, strategy, mistakes, heroism, and scale of many of history's greatest battles.

Now, I'm no expert in this field, and I haven't written a full-scale battle in some time, (so I'm not sure how my current writing style will affect the final product) but I hope my musings and experience gained from my own writing and reading help someone else.

Passing on what I have gained from others,

Farjag

Beautiful People

As I've made the rounds of a few fellow Christian writers' blogs, I discovered this little gem of an exercise in character development. I think it's a brilliant idea, and so I have decided to jump in headfirst (the way I normally do things), and challenge my self with this month's... challenge! At the same time, I thought four days away from November might be a good time to transition from Feather and Fang to Silver and Sable. Wouldn't you? :) So, for starters, Rogart, Fox-grey shall be the character whom I dig into first. In the end, I will probably have learned more about young Rogart (who, coincidentally, happens to be my oldest real character ever!) than you have! Enjoy!



What is his full name? Rogart, Fox-grey

Does his name have a special meaning? His title, 'grey', was given to him at birth because of his fur color

Does your character have a methodical or disorganized personality? Probably disorganized, he's pretty headstrong and brash, so he wouldn't have time to be methodical

Does he think inside himself more than he talks out loud to their friends? Well, he doesn't have any friends (See below), so I suppose he would talk to himself. I know I do. :P

Do they have friends? Not really. (leastwise not at the beginning of the story). His life is nomadic at best, so he never stays anywhere long enough to make friends.

Is there something he is afraid of? A cage. Being locked up to where he cannot decide for himself what he wants to do.

Does he write, dream, dance, sing, or photograph? He whittles, carving thumb-sized sculptures from bits of wood

Switching Dialogue

One of the things I find myself doing often in editing is switching lines of dialogue between characters. I write the conversation one way, come back a month later and add a few more lines, often greatly increasing the depth and reach. But when I've finished adding those poignant sentences, I find myself with one character replying to himself. And it won't be easy to add in a line for the other character without messing up the flow of thought. So I just switch the lines around. Redpaw says what Crestlen was saying, and vice versa. Of course, the way they talk has to change as well, Redpaw is more blunt and simple, Crestlen more refined and articulate. So I switch a few phrases around.
Then comes the sentiments. What if Redpaw doesn't agree with what Crestlen was saying earlier? But I have found that switching sentiments oftentimes helps in the end, as you dig deeper into what each believes and how each reacts to different things.
Now, this probably wouldn't work with an old geezer and a young upstart, but with two trained hunters, it works quite well. At the same time, as I've separated Redpaw and Crestlen's characters, making them two distinct individuals, it sometimes becomes necessary to give one's lines to the other. For instance, Redpaw is more willing to forgive and move on, while Crestlen tends to muse on things, and keep them in his mind for extended periods of time. So when I find a line by Crestlen which doesn't seem to fit his character anymore, sometimes the easiest thing to do is give it to Redpaw, and see how the rest of the conversation shapes up.

They surprise me sometimes with the direction they take things.

When Posts Appear...

To help all you readers, and me, I think I shall begin to post later in the day, probably after dinner when I'm doing my other writing, homework, etc. So to make things easier for you, when you check in the morning, there will a brand new post, all ready to read. So you'll basically be reading yesterday's post, but it'll be more like I got up really early in the morning and posted one I had written the night before (which is what I would be doing if I wanted to post the day of).
So, I'm posting this at 6:00 tonight, which means you probably won't read it until tomorrow morning. That night I will write my next post, which you will read the next morning. Make sense?

Hopefully it does, cause I ain't changing it! :P
Farjag

A Reason to Write

When I sent last year's novel to one of my dear writer friends for critiquing, this was part of his reply:

"With a future story, I would like to see a little more meaning. The reason I stopped writing [my last story] was because I saw that in light of eternity I was writing a book that neither challenged my view of the world and God or the reader’s worldview. For your next story, spend time in prayer asking God what he would have you focus on in your story."

He went on to give more specific likes and dislikes, all of them very helpful, but none so poignant and deep-cutting as the first. I thought long and hard about his encouragement, but couldn't quite wrap my mind around how to really accomplish this in the fantasy setting I had created. (Probably because I didn't take his advice and seriously pray for guidance).
However, recently I was freshly convicted of this lack in my writing through the musings of several other writer friends on their blogs. Each had different styles, genres and advice on how to write well, but all of them pointed back to God in a way that cut deep. I hadn't been seeking to include my Maker in my writing as much as I should have been.
Since that time, I have been thinking deeply about this problem, and praying, asking the Lord for the guidance I realized I needed. And he answered me, as he always will.
The main problem I was having in my current novel, Feather and Fang, was that neither of my main characters were the kind of men who would point to the Maker with their actions and words. And if tried to change one of them into such a man, it would render them unbelievable as a character (as far as how I had written them so far goes).
But I believe I have finally worked out a solution which will not only fix that problem, but add another layer to the story as a whole and the character development which had been lacking before (see previous posts on Redpaw and Crestlen).
Basically, I decided that while Crestlen is self-proclaimed atheist, Redpaw believes in the Maker. However, he struggles with matching his duty to this country and his wish to honor his Maker. He is sent to get rid of a dangerous assassin, but when does his enemy become his neighbor? When does killing a foe become the right thing to do? He knows what is right, but is often hard pressed to actually do it.
However, his actions catch Crestlen's eye, especially his courage against all odds, and refusal to despair. As the two mortal enemies are forced to work together to survive, Redpaw's moral dilemma comes to a head. How can he let an enemy of his country live? When does mercy replace justice?
Meanwhile, Crestlen is struggling with similar questions. How can you kill someone who has shown you mercy? How can any conscience, however seared, not be affected by slitting the throat of the man who fought at your back?
Halfway through their journey, they will meet someone who challenges both of their beliefs and mindsets.  The questions he asks will give them both fresh perspectives on each other, and what the Maker desires of them. Other themes I hope to thread throughout are the true meaning of honor, courage, and what makes a man a man. When they exit the Brightgorge, they will be changed men, and whatever trappings of old habits remain will speedily be burnt away in the fires that await them beyond. 

Dark and Light

If you haven't noticed yet, I tend to write a lot about the contrast of light and darkness. It shows up in many of my poems, in my stories, even in my movies. This particular poem highlights that ongoing battle I so often take up the pen to tell about. And here is also is the little quote I tell myself whenever things look black: "When Darkness begins to fall, soon, Light will rise."

Darkness Falling

Darkness is falling

Light is failing

Hope is dying

All seems lost

Despair is rising

Evil is stirring

Fires are burning

All seems lost

Storms are brewing

Lightning cracking

Thunder crashing

All seems lost

Rebellion boiling

Sparks igniting

Armies marching

All seems lost

War is advancing

Battle is approaching

Death is nearing

All seems lost

Shouts are crying

Weapons clashing

Men are dying

All seems lost

Victory is at hand!

Darkness has fallen

Crashing, burning

Light has risen again!

How to explain...

Errg. Has anyone ever had the problem of trying to explain what they are writing about and why you think it is better than the average dime novel out there? I know I do. And fantasy is one of the worst genres with this problem. A writer says they're writing historical fiction, and someone's ears will perk up. But fantasy... meh. So, I have to go into a rather long-winded explanation of what my writing is, but more importantly, what it isn't. Conversations usually go something like this:

Friend: What's that?

Me: A story I'm writing

Friend: What kind of story?

Me: Fantasy. Though I really try to be original and stay away from elves, dwarves, orcs and the like.

Friend: Oh, that's cool.

Me: At the same time, I don't like stories which have the Aethereia riding Bjollen and living in Hoplathera. I try to keep things realistic.

Friend: Interesting... so you write original, realistic fantasy. Like with only humans?

Me: Well, actually I have the freeborn or alterers. They're something like shapeshifters, but they only have one form besides their human form, and they're not actually humans who can turn into animals. It's as much a part of who they are as sneezing is to us. They are not one or the other, or even both, but a single entity with the ability to choose between two of his forms. I only use the words 'human' and 'animal' because I couldn't describe it any other way.

Friend: Oh, ok.

Me: And I don't use magic, though I've been trying to bend physics lately. I'm still working with that.

Friend: So, is this another world?

Me: Yes, but it's connected to ours. Not sure exactly how yet, whether its out there in space somewhere, or if it's on some other plane of existence. But that's why there are the 'animal' names for the freeborn, they originally came from our world.

Friend: That's pretty sweet. So, how far are you along?

Me: Well, I completed a novel last November, 50,000 words, and I'm getting ready to do it again this year.

Friend: Woah. That's pretty impressive

Me: Thanks.


So, as you can see, it takes a bit of time to get them to see the whole picture of what I'm writing, and why it's different. And there's always the question: "So, it's like Lord of the Rings/Eragon/Dungeons and Dragons/manga/some other fantasy I haven't read ?"

No, not really. It's... my own.

Let it Burn!

Here's a fairly short one I wrote as a song... maybe I'll finish it and write music to it someday.

Let it burn!

Let it burn, let it burn!

All around the flames will leap

I don't care, I just want to yearn

To find my courage, take the leap

Let it fall, let it fall

All around it crashes down

I don't care, I just want to call

Upon my savior, catch me now

Let it go, let it go

Drop it down to the ground

I don't care, I just want to throw

My sin down to the ground

Let it spark, let it spark

A light to shine to other men

I don't care, I just want to mark

My way different from all other men

The Battle

Battle

Battle lines drawn up

Upon a field painted green

Silent, unmoving lines of soldiers

Waiting for the bullet's scream

The commander astride his muscled horse

The captain with his golden sabre

The sergeant standing with his men

And the private next to his neighbor

Across the rolling ground

The enemy lines come into sight

The slow forward march

Towards the approaching fight

"Fix bayonets!"

The command rings out

The clatter of sharp metal

Accompanies the resounding shout

The bugle sounds!

The advance is underway!

Quickly the charge grows faster

The victor will be decided today

Raw-throated yells

Guns held to the ready

Lines draw closer together

Both still steady

The crash!

Two armies collide

A wheeling melée of bodies and steel

Now is the time to decide

Who has the upper hand?

Tis imposible to tell

While one wing is hard pressed

The other is gaining well

The two opposing flags

Circle each other like hawks

As all around their soldiers

In bloody battle are locked

The screams of the wounded

The silence of the dead

The shouting of the still alive

And whine of flying lead

Ah, at last, some movement!

As one side gives way

But who the victor?

Even I cannot say 

Broken Sword

Broken

Jagged and torn

Splintered

Battered and worn

Shattered

Stained with blood

Cracked

Splashed with mud

Forgotten

Hidden from all

Abandoned

None remember the fall

Alone

Deep in a vault

Dust-covered

Whose the fault?

Discovered

Light breaking through

Reclaimed

Taken up anew

Heated

Shaped with blows

Hammered

The iron red-hot glows

Reforged

Pieces joined together

Remade

Hilt re-bound in leather

Sharpened

Blade gleaming cold

Restored

Again the glory of old

Wielded

In battle strong

Victory!

Thus ends the song

Poetry

I was looking through my itouch's notes today, and found a great deal of poetry I had 'forgotten' about. Maybe misremembered would be a better word. Anyways... since I haven't had the time over the last few days to write anything new, I thought I'd just post a piece on here every day until I've written more prose, or I run out of poems, whichever comes first :P . Without further ado then, the first poem:

The Minstrel's Song

The night air was drifting

As I sat softly lifting

A song to the sky

As all around did fly

The music I was making

Voice lifted up in song

Notes drawn out long

Words coupled in rhyme

Foot tapping out the time

To the music I was making

Countless stars twinkled down

As firelight lit the background

In quiet streets, abandoned

My melody softly landed

The music I was making

Touched by the bow

Strings sounded low

Fingers catching notes

Like dancing little motes

For the music I was making

Softly ended the song

Silence following along

Fingers rested atop

As strings slowed to a stop

And ended the music I was making

But lo! A note in answer!

And following like a dancer

Came a trill sweet and high

Piping notes that did fly

Like the music I had been making

Soon there came in sight

Swiftly approaching the light

The piper, skipping along

Mirroring her merry song

The music she was making

Then, with a merry grin

I picked up my bow again

And touching bow to string

I began softly to sing

To the music we were making

Melodies intertwining

Harmonies slowly rising

Notes falling like rain

And bouncing back again

The music we were making

Then did the darkened street

Begin to resound with many feet

As folk began to gather round

And voices began to sound

A song raised to the sky

By many voices raised high

The music we were making!

An Old Grey Book

This, my friends, is where my writing career began. This humble, gray, cloth-bound notebook given to me by some dear friends of mine for my 14th birthday. I had just completed my first fictional story ever, On Grace Alone, and wanted to write again. So sometime in September of that year, on the way to a church camp-out, I pulled out my gray notebook and wrote these words on the first page: The Grey Warrior. 130 handwritten pages later, most of them fairly ineligible to anyone except me, I had written 11 chapters chock full of improbable occurrences, cliché situations, and no plot to speak of, as well as some dozen pages of notes, a prologue for the sequel, and one or two other random ideas.

Near the beginning... notice the neat handwriting?

Towards the end... not so much anymore :P

I had already begun to transfer most of this to the computer, and so work on The Grey Warrior truly began. Several years of intermittent writing, computer crashes, computer moves, rewriting, another 20 pages in my gray book, and I emerged with an incomplete story 27,790 words and 13 chapters long; which documented quite well how much I had improved from writing the title to the last never finished sentence. The Grey Warrior taught me how to write, specifically in the area of what NOT to do. :P
Several more years passed, with sporadic writing in other areas, two short stories and several false starts on other works. In 2009, I revisited my grey story, completely rewriting the first four chapters in a more realistic tone, and implementing something of a future plot-line. Unfortunately, there still was not enough of a solid arc to keep the story moving, and it too fell by the wayside. Then, in November of 2010, I discovered NaNoWriMo: The National Novel Writing Month. The goal: write 50,000 or more words in 30 days. I dove into the idea, digging among my dozen of unused ideas for one that I could keep running for that amount of time. I had already been toying with the idea of combining several of my worlds into one, but had discarded it (mainly because I had been using Terra, the Grey Warrior's land, for the jumping point, and it didn't have any room to add something more). The idea came back in full force, especially when I discovered that an outline I had named According to Power fit extremely well in my Feather and Fang world. A month of plot outlining and re-outlining followed, with only a few key ideas from the original concept ending up in Freeborn and Freegiven. Then came November, and I wrote furiously for 30 days until I wrote "The End" on the 30th. (Then discovered that I was just over a 100 words short... and had to find somewhere to add a few paragraphs :P) During that time, however, I frequently used my little gray notebook to continue writing when I didn't have access to my computer.
When that was done, I took a break from writing for a few months, then started again on Feather and Fang, the sequel. Now, November fast approaches again, and Silver and Sable is slated for full novel treatment. And my writing has come full circle. Once again will the gray notebook be filled with the hairbreadth escapes and daring adventures of Rogart and Dakar, this time in rugged land of Theorlen.

 And this time, with plot-line worth hanging on to!

Sharpening his pen,
Farjag

Thoughts... are like bubbles

I've figured it out!! As of last night (See below post), I was without a plot. But as of late last night, I had one! I had about an hour before my class got our turn with the professor, so I decided to see if I could visually work out my problems with my plot line. So I started bubbling, something I've actually never done before. I wrote out the main concepts I knew I wanted in the story, and then started to try to connect the dots... literally. Several concepts got broken down into smaller bubbles, many of the got moved around in the story arc, and a ton got added in. I even brought back one of my original ideas from my first draft! Some subplotting followed, and additional info along the margins, and, as I still had some room left, I finished off with listing some character weaknesses for each of my MC's. All in all, a very successful exercise.

Yea, it's pretty messy. And my handwriting isn't exactly what you would call neat. Who cares? No ones going to see it! Except... you. Oh, hmmm. Who cares? :P You could probably read it if you wanted to though, and discover what exactly is in store this November... Or you could just wait and be surprised! Your choice.

In Christ,
Farjag

Crumpled Papers

Sometimes you just can't figure out what to do. And that's where I am right now. I have, so far, gone through five iterations of the same story, with the same characters, three of them in the past two weeks. Uggh. I just can't figure out a plotline that connects all the dots and keeps the story moving at the same pace all the way through. Merging two different plotlines together only compounded the problem, so I'm back to square one. And changing things to fix early problems only makes problems later on even bigger. I think I'm going to have to write out all the different parts I know I want in bubbles, then arrange and rearrange as I think, deleting what doesn't help, adding what is necessary, and maybe getting a second set of eyes to help me see what I'm probably blinding myself to. And deciding what my main themes are might helpful as well... :) Oh, well, I've got till November 1st to work it out. Then, literary abandon!!

Until next time (Hopefully tomorrow),

Farjag

Thor

Well, I saw Thor Saturday night, so I thought it would a good idea to do one of those movie reviews I've promised to do. Be warned, it's long reading. I'm wordy :P

First off, I liked the movie. "Wait, what?" you say? "No keeping us in suspense as to your eventual verdict?" Nah. If I start with "I liked it" then you won't confuse my critiques for criticisms.

So I'll start with what I didn't like, and then balance that with what I did like, so you can see why as a whole I like the movie.

Cons
1. Character Development
This is one of the main areas I thought the movie lacked (though not devoid, as you will see later). Several of the main characters were fairly static and 'unchanging' throughout the movie. Odin, for example. While his character didn't need to go through a huge change, it would have been nice to see some more of the conflict in his mind that sent him into his sleep. I just felt unprepared for something like that from him. But more importantly, I felt Thor himself didn't change enough. Or rather, his change seemed too sudden. The way I saw it; he was proud, realized his weakness when he couldn't pull out his own hammer, and then suddenly was sacrificing himself for others. I just think that could have been played up a little more. (More on this in the Pros section)

Putting the Epic in the Mundane

Who likes outlines?!

Not me. Not in the slightest. Imagine... having to write out every little detail of what happens in boring bullet points which make it sound like a history book instead of an epic novel full of exciting stuff! *stop for breath* For example, my first outline for Freeborn and Freegiven:

- The four freeborn meet up in Farjag’s home, Paelglade; Farjag is reluctant, Ogel is angry, Flashel is sardonic, and Nitiren remains silent.

- Farjag leaves to think, and is set upon by a Containment troop, and is nearly killed before a dark shape barrels through and rescues him.

- His rescuer is a shieldsfell named Rogchaen, who tells Farjag that he is a part of a outlaw band. Thoer came to them seeking help, but all refused save him. Rogchaen convinces Farjag to seek for the Darkstone.

-The five set out, Rogchaen guiding them to the Hope-chamber, renamed Arcpeak, by the Titan-mage.

I don't know about you... but doesn't seem all that exciting to me. And notice how the entire middle half of the book (the whole journey there, in fact) is conveniently glossed over in about half a sentence? That's my problem with outlining, I tend to leave out anything besides main plot points, which of course, makes for a very boring and regimented story. There's no subplots, not character development, no sense of what the story will feel like... etc.

So, I came up with my very own way of beating the Outline blues: *drumroll* 

The Story Planner

A New Character

Well, I spent the afternoon setting up the introduction of a new character to Feather and Fang, one who will have a key role in the chapters to come. I had fun writing it, hope you enjoying reading it just as much!

The Blue Beard had the best ale for miles, or so it many patrons swore. Be that as it may, its warmly-lit windows and spacious common room looked especially inviting on a night such as this. The stranger strode up the wooden steps that led to the abandoned porch, knocking his boots against the railing to rid them of most of their mud. Then, pulling his wide-brimmed hat down closer over his eyes, he entered the building.

It was fairly quiet at the moment, only a few folk were out of their homes on a night like this. The stranger looked around carefully, taking stock of the room and its occupants before choosing a table in a corner next to the stone fireplace and sitting down with his back to the wall.

On the far side of the large room sat a low bar, with a portly man sitting behind it, polishing spoons. There was an entrance to the kitchen behind the bar as well, and even though no one could be seen through it, snatches of laughter could be heard from time to time. Tonight business appeared slow.

The Hawk-assassin

Following up Redpaw's character backstory is his arch-enemy's, Crestlen, Hawk-assassin

Crestlen:

Born in the cliffside town of Burndell, Flamehope in the Year 93 after the Blood-Invasion, Crestlen’s mother died at birth and his father five years later in a shieldsfell brawl. Seeing his father cut down while defending another innocent bystander left a deep impression on Crestlen, and gave him an intense hatred of all things unjust. His ancestors had been bound in their human forms during the Containment, so no one know what exactly his parents bore as their creature forms, but when the Containment was broken, Crestlen took Hawk-flare as his surname. During the years between his father’s death and the Breaking, he worked as a stablehand for a farmer. His gentle hand and respect won him the esteem of all horse-kind in later years. 

It was also during this time that he became fast friends with the somewhat older Flashel, Phoenix-bolt. Both of their families had been killed by the shieldsfell, so they bore a common hatred against the reptilian race, and promised each other to fight back against the invaders some day. After Flashel returned to Burndell as one of the Four Freeborn, he took Crestlen under his wing, training him in the ways of the warrior and curing him of the stutter he had been afflicted with since birth. His iron will and brilliant mind quickly grasped everything Flashel taught him, and his prowess was noticed by the Featherwen faction of Flamehope’s leader, Haelswoop, Owl-prince. Haelswoop convinced Crestlen to join his personal retinue as a bodyguard and loyal assassin as the need presented itself. Crestlen agreed, despite Flashel’s vehement arguments against it. Their friendship was broken as a result. Crestlen quickly became one of the most feared warriors of the Featherwen faction, and accomplished several assassinations with remarkable ease. Fearing for his own safety, the Fanglen faction of Flamehope’s leader, Darazar, Wolverine-baron, hired Redpaw to hunt the famed assassin down.

Crestlen tends to dress rather flashy, with clothing designed to make very clear his profession and skill. He bears some dozen throwing daggers at various points around his body, along with two longer knives for hand-to-hand combat.

Quote: “What did it look like, furbrain?”

From Flat to Round

Well, I'll say it again, Redpaw and Crestlen (the main characters from my current story) were pretty flat. And it took me a bit to see it. Before I continue, though, I should explain what I mean by flat. Flat characters are one-dimensional, they don't change or do anything besides the one thing they're meant to do. A storekeeper who the main characters buy stuff from several times would probably be a flat character. He has character, but it doesn't change, and you don't see a lot of it. Round characters, the opposite, are characters that have depth, and change. You see into their minds, how they react etc. And neither Redpaw or Crestlen were doing that for me.

So now, I'm doing everything in my power to fix it. Step 1 was coming up with I call "descriptory word runs." By which I mean, "A long string of unconnected which help define and describe the character and essence of a character". So I did that. Step 2, something I haven't done before, was to create a backstory. For many of my earlier writing attempts a backstory wasn't necessary, since I started off my characters quite young, in other words, they hadn't had much time to have a backstory. And what backstory they needed I created as I went along. For Freeborn and Freegiven I hadn't made backstories, but they came out anyways as I wrote (which I'm really glad happened). At one point I even made references to something bad happening in the past between two characters, but I personally had no idea what it was. Not until later did it actually come out. (See? Writers don't always know every last detail of what's going on! :P ) Anyways, for Feather and Fang, Redpaw and Crestlen kinda need backstories. For one, they're older than most other characters I've written, so much more has gone on before the story opens. And for another, they are very good at what they do. So there has to be an explanation of how they got that good.

As Ink flows...

A snippet of what I'm working on at the present, Feather and Fang. I won't explain anything, but hopefully the writing will speak for itself-

The morning had passed, and the sun was beginning its long westward trail when the jungle finally ended and red cliffs rose up sheer before them. But here a dark opening slashed across the otherwise unbroken rocky face. Between the edge of the jungle and the cliffs stretched a dusty plain at least a half-mile across, covered with bones. Redpaw drew quickly back into the shadow of the trees, sinking down into a crouch as he studied the forbidden sight before him.

It was as if life stopped on the line drawn by the shadow of the jungle. The ground beyond was cracked and dry, and littered with piles of bleached skeletons. A veritable graveyard lay before them, where countless had died and been left to the elements.

“Impossible at this distance to tell what they are,” Crestlen muttered.

Redpaw shook his head. “I doubt we could tell even if we were directly on top of them. Too many, and too jumbled.”

Crestlen shrugged, then squinted up at the tiny flecks of sun that made their way through the jungle canopy above them. “I don’t like it. Whatever caused this slaughter is probably waiting for us in there.”

Redpaw shook his head, frowning at the scattered skeletons. “No… the bodies are not pointed away from the entrance, as they would if something had come out of there and had caught them as they fled. No, if I am any judge, a battle was fought here, maybe several. See how the bodies lies scattered around, facing all different directions? And the number of detached skulls? Unless this monster you speak of carefully severed each head and then left the bodies alone without eating them…”

He turned back to look at Crestlen, a dry grin on his face. Crestlen snarled.

“Shall we risk it then?” the wolf-hunter asked.

Crestlen shrugged, then laughed. “We’ve beaten everything thrown at us so far! What could be more dangerous than the bladesfell?”

And so saying he adjusted his bound arm and ran boldly out from under the shadow of the jungle. Redpaw was right behind him, jogging along easily.

But even as they reached the first skeleton, Redpaw knew they had made a mistake. For above the shadow of the jungle rose dozens of smaller shadows, and a screaming that made his heart skip a beat.

Crestlen risked a look over his shoulder to see a horde of shapes coming after them, leaping from the trees like so many insects. But their pursuers were man-like, fur-covered, and gleaming with flanged armor. And unlike their previous enemies, these bore weapons, spears and clubs and blades beyond description.

Suddenly the yawning crack in the rock looked far less dangerous. Both hunters were sprinting now, no longer bothering to look back. Everything they had was put into getting to the safety of the cliff. The screaming was getting closer now, and their long shadows were reaching out for them like claws. Redpaw leaped to one side as a spear flew past his face, embedding in the ribcage of a skeleton a little further on.

A clammy hand grabbed at Crestlen’s bad shoulder, but a moment later its owner gave a bloodcurdling yell and let go, fingers bleeding from a lightning-quick strike by one of the hawk-assassin’s  many daggers.

When Characters start talking...

Well, yesterday I decided to hold a conference with a few of my main characters from across the years, ask them a few questions, and in turn let them ask me questions. Present were Redpaw, from Feather and Fang, Farjag, Freeborn and Freegiven, Rogart, Warrior in Grey, Timber, Where the Wolf Howls, Drelborn, The Disintegrator/When Darkness Falls, James Walker, Second Chance  and, last but certainly not least, my first ever character, Paul Cortez, from On Grace Alone. This is the transcript of that meeting:

Me: Well, I want to thank you all for coming today, this means a lot to me

Redpaw: *Snort*

Farjag: A honor, as always, sir *nods head in salute*

James: As say I

Paul: *sticking his makeshift boots on the table* Pshaw, I’m just glad to be here! I haven’t spoke with anyone for quite some time!

Rogart: And whose fault is that, Mr, Cortez?

Paul: *mumbles something about the scarcity of company on a caribbean island*

Me: Timber? You haven’t said anything.

Timber: Nothing needed to be said. *grins* They all said it already.

Redpaw: I didn’t say anything

Rogart: No, you snorted. Which counts.

Redpaw: You had better not start anything, young scamp, you’ve caused more trouble than the rest of us put together!

Rogart: That’s just cause my book’s longer than the rest of yorn put together!

Farjag: *cough* Your book, young sir, is only 29,000 words. Mine has 50,946, to be exact. 

Rogart: 29,800, tiger-claw! And Stephan’s spent two years at least on me, you only got one month!

Farjag: So? My book’s finished! Yours isn’t!

Timber: *cough* If we’re comparing books here, I have the shortest, and I’m doing just fine, so relax.

Paul: And if we’re comparing trouble caused, you guys are all saints. *grins* 

Me: All right, enough with the comparing, let’s begin, for starters… where’s Drelborn?

James: Oh, I forgot to mention, he said he’d be late. Busy filming his movie, he said.

Paul: Drelborn gets his own movie?!

James: Well his is the only story besides mine that could be filmed. And his got some serious cutbacks in the special effects department

Me: Yea, sorry about that, we couldn’t exactly have things blowing up or catching on fire

Paul: You could have done my story…

Redpaw: *snort* Yea, with all the wolf pups, and hawk, and monkey, and cougar…

Paul: Yea…. I’d forgot about those…

Me: Well, I guess we’ll start without Drelborn then. I’ll just ask two or three question, and you can each answer in turn, and then you all can have a turn asking me questions. First off, then, “What are some dislikes you all have about your stories?”

*silence*