A Change of Pace

With the transitions outlined in my last post, it became apparent that my novel needed both a change of title, as well as a slightly different direction to aim for. So, unless I find a more aptly suited name in the future, the title is now Fair too Far. We'll see how long that sticks.

And as for the change in direction, perhaps a change of theme would be a more accurate description. I try to let everything I write have a purpose. I.e. I try not to write something simply for the heck of it, or simply because its awesome or hilarious. I write because there's a story that needs telling, and hopefully a truth that can be investigated or made clear.

One of my ultimate goals in writing is to create a vacuum of space where I can make a darkness so deep that when it cracks, the light shines through with stunning brilliance. That's why I love writing, because I can create awful scenarios, horrendously dark moments, and put my characters through more than they rightly deserve, so that the reader sees the truth with the same clarity that my characters do.

Sometimes that truth is simple. Or straightforward. Other times it is not. Sometimes it is very clear before I begin writing what the end goal will be. Other times it is not. This time is one of the not so clear times. But at the story gains more strength in my mind, and as words add to words, it will become more and more clear to me what exactly I need to bring to light in this particular tale. Perhaps hope. Or justice. Or patience. Most likely something more complex than that.

I am reminded of Jules Verne's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. There is a deep message in that book, behind all the wonderful action and science, but it is sometimes hard to put in words that will not make the story seem cheap and fake. The best way to understand what I am talking about is of course to read the book itself.

Hopefully that is what Fair too Far will end up being like.

Gaining courage,
Farjag

On Existential Crises and Ninjas

So after the good start on day one, day two found me suffering from an existential crisis.

I had no idea where my story was going to go. Which is bad. Because I thought I knew that already.

It turns out, the plot I had outlined prior to November 1st didn't have enough forward impetus to be properly labeled a plot. It had character development by the buckets, danger and mystery by the tons, but nothing to dictate what happened next, no forward catalyzation.

Which evidently isn't a word.

Anyways, that was the main problem, but there was a second problem hiding behind it. And that was a lack of setting. I had characters, but nowhere particular for them to inhabit. Which quickly caused the story, already lagging from a lack of forward motion, to stagnate in a undecided place somewhere between Transylvania and the southern half of Virginia.

I.e. nowhere particular.

So all this is running through my head on day two and into day three. The setting was a relatively fix, and helped me push through the existential crisis of wether or not I should even continue Nano.

And then, late on day four, I remembered the old Nano adage: "If your story stalls, add ninjas!" Or something similar. While ninjas aren't exactly suitable to my story, it definitely started me thinking on what I could inject in the plot to completely create a new story. I realized that the plot I had was very thematically similar to 2011's Nano novel, The Trust Hole. I.e. A young, innocent character enters a dark place, meets colorful characters with dark secrets, and turns the place around, learning in the process their place in the world.

So while by day four I was really warming to the characters and setting, I realized the plot had to go.

So I added ninjas.

Or more properly an armada of death-dealing dirigibles breaking out of a cloud-filled sky to the sounds of hundreds of gatling guns.

I'm pretty sure this is going in a far more interesting direction than previously. :)

On Arson

Now, some of the very astute readers here will notice that the name "Arson" has been used once before here on the blog. Back in March of this year (so long ago!) I waxed lyrical about a plot bunny that momentarily distracted me from my other current literary projects.

That trail went nowhere particular in the end, I wrote about another half page before the trail dead-ended. The reason was very clear, I had no plot. I had two very distinct characters, without a true trail for them to follow. So they were forgotten.

But I very much liked the name, and so I resurrected it from the grave of unfinished tales, dusted it off and set it back to work. And while female protagonist's name stayed buried, the character itself soon found its way into my pre-Nano scribblings and plot prep.

So, in a way the story is finding new life. I took characters with no plot and placed them in a plot that had no characters, and hopefully I shall find a happy marriage between the two before the end of November!

Writing on,
Farjag

Off To A Good Start

Well, today went well. Not only was I able to turn in my architectural homework on time, but I also happened to finish off my first 1,700 words just now. Which means I have time tonight to relax and write a blog post!

What's that? Getting ahead while I have time? Pssh!

We shall see. I enjoy stopping writing at particularly chewy points of the story, much like commercial breaks for a tv show. It gives me an impetus to finish the next part the next time I sit down to write, sort of like a self-propelling kick in the rear. All that to say I stopped at a particularly delicious point, more on the comedic than suspense side, but still very much a kicker. To illustrate my point:

Arson grumbled. “Your head’s a little big for your shoulders, Alice.”

“Exactly what will get me a job someday. Or today, for that matter. Tell you what, I’ll make you a deal. If I impress your boss, Mr. What’s-what’s-face with what I can do, I get to stay. If he won’t hire me, than I’ll be off back home and you can keep on your merry, solitary way.”

Arson frowned in thought before extending a hand to his sister. “Deal.”

A half hour later Arson found himself setting Alice up in a bunk next to the juggler twins. Apparently her sleight-of-hand magic had duly impressed Mr. Kash.

Mwuah-ha-ha!

Let the Games Begin!

NaNoWriMo has officially entered pre-production! That is to say, I logged into my account... and set up my novel. :D

But that did require some thought, as I had to synthesize all the dozens of different ideas bouncing around inside my mind into a single, semi-coherent train of thought that could be further synthesized into a synopsis.

In addition there was that pesky thing called a title... my novel had been going by the unassuming name: NaNoWriMo Novel. That was going to fly any further, so additional thought was necessary on that front.

And to complete the trifecta of unknowns, I had not named any of my characters yet. They had been simply going by Protagonist and the Sister. So that had to change too.

So after much soul-searching and brain-wracking, I worked the bits and pieces of a story in single whole, filled in the missing pieces and came out the other side with something resembling the skeleton of a novel. It definitely isn't much, but it's enough to go on.

The Imaginarium

When Arson Folkert ran away to join M. Kardanian's Traveling Imaginarium, he didn't realize he would never see his parents again. Now his younger sister Alice, an orphan with nowhere to go, comes looking for him, but Arson has no intention of leaving. And the Imaginarium hides a dark secret; the small troupe who run it are far more than they seem. The deadly road that Arson has started on will take both him and Alice into the darkest places of their soul, and it will take a strength they don't have to escape.

Plot Bunny!

I know every aspiring author's had one. That cute little rascal of a plot rabbit that slips out of the game bag of your mind and just starts running. Well, one escaped last Tuesday, started running, disappeared behind a bush, and reappeared this morning. And I think I'm going to have to chase him down... which is unfortunate, considering the three or four more mature rabbits I am currently trying to grow with large helpings of caffeine cabbage and creative carrots. But he's just too interesting to let go!

So I started out on his trail this morning, and pretty soon found signs enough to begin tracking him down. This is what I found:

My name is Arson. But only a few folk call me that. To most, I am simply the Stallion-burn. And though this tale is not about me as much as it is about another, it began with me, and I was there when it ended. The place was the Levelcourt, the time late summer. My trial before the Conclave had just begun.

“Arson, sometime called the Stallion-burn, you are brought before the Conclave today, on the third of Summerfall, to answer charges brought against you by the people of Cloudford. These include arson of public and private buildings, thievery of private goods, destruction of private and public property, and the assault of three freeborn. Have you anything to say for yourself?”

The court erupted in angry shouts and cries.

“Say for himself? The criminal can say nothing for himself!”

“He does not deserve the right to speak at all!”

“He is guilty, there is proof enough!”

“Silence!” thundered the judge, bringing his gauntleted fist down with a crash on his podium. “Let the accused speak!”

I said nothing. There was nothing to be said. I was guilty.

“As the accused has nothing to say, I hereby charge him guilty, and sentence him to twenty-nine lashes in the public square.”

A muttering filled the open-air court. Evidently most folk thought my sentence far too light.

“Your honor, if I may speak?”

The clear voice cut through the low murmurs in a way that could not be denied.

“Name, master freeborn?”

“Marcel, Fox-brave.”

I made no movement to see the face of the speaker, but the voice was young.

“As is written on the walls of the Hope-Chamber, it is the right of any freeborn to take the punishment of a criminal on himself. I now exercise that right, and ask that the twenty-nine lashes be placed on my back instead.”

The crowd gasped, and any attempt at remaining stoic on my part fled as I whirled around to face the speaker. It was a young girl.

Coincidentally, this is the first time I've ever used first person. Well, at least since my very first story... which I try to forget usually... :)