I'm bad at backstories.
Notoriously so.
I've come to realize that there are two parts to any character, their history, and their personality. Both have a massive influence on who they are, how they act and dress, what drives them, what their goals and dreams are. But I seem to be far better at pinning down a particular look, feel and persona for a character than what happened to them in their past to get them where they are now.
I can imagine up countless details of their costume, hairstyle, eye color, the way they walk, what weapons they carry, how they talk, and on and on. But ask me where they were born? What defined their childhood? What their job was before this? I have no earthly idea. And coming up with a complicated or even just layered backstory when I create the character in my mind is seemingly beyond me.
That's not to say my characters are all history-less personas with no past whatsoever, I simply tend to create backstory as I go, filling in events and past meetings as needed for the plot. A character needs to sympathize with another? Add in some past shared experience. The protagonist needs a good-talking to learn a lesson? Boom. Side character had a father who told stories, and she proceeds to give him one.
I'm pretty sure this isn't the best way to go about this, for a number of reasons. Continuity... Oh, of course these two characters have met before! Wait... they can't recognize each other later... Never mind. Progression of character arcs, clear ideas of goals and dreams, knowing how a character would respond to a given situation... the list goes on.
So I don't know which way is better. And I doubt I'll get any better without actually doing it, which I seem unable to do, so I don't know if the problem will ever solve itself.
Who knows? Maybe someday, but for now, I'll stick to what I do best. Picking out hairstyles and trench coats.
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
July 10, 2014
June 24, 2014
Of Versions and Trying Again
I had the wonderful opportunity to return home this weekend to join my fellow homeschooler friends in a performance of Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing.
Which was awesome enough in itself, but I also got two 2.5 hour trips there and back, which passed surprisingly quickly this go around, mainly due to the fact that I spent the hours brainstorming, plot hashing, troubleshooting, and generally working through stories.
Now, all this work is cerebral, not actual pen-to-paper, but its definitely worth doing. (Especially when there's not much else to do). I ended up working through several different stories all told, but the one I spent the most time on was the umpteenth version of a story I now call Hoprerise. (To differentiate it from the dozens of other versions).
But to explain what Hoperise is, I have to go back to 2012, to a little story attempt called Deep Red. What started off as a novel, morphed into a Lego stop-motion, transitioned quickly to a Lego comic book and then sat on a shelf for a year, until late 2013, when I decided to try to write a script off the idea.
Substituting walking for planet-hopping, and shotguns for plasma rifles proved a unique challenge, but also provided a place to develop a particularly gritty, almost western-style of sci-fi I found immensely enjoyable to create.
Retitled Hopefall, and fresh off the success of filming Shadowland, I set out to film my new script with conscripted college buddies, locations in and around my tiny apartment, and costume and props gathered from my parent's old stash of military gear.
I actually got one day of filming in before the project flopped. Mainly due to scheduling issues, but there were also problems with the script and my innate tendency to try to do everything myself. After that, it sat on the shelf again until I returned to college in the fall of 2013.
Over the summer, I had written and shot with far more success a short film called Minefield, set in the same world I had created for Hopefall. Armed with that experience, and a shiny new version of the script with most of the bugs worked out, I set out to try again.
One week out from commencing filming, things fell apart once more. Scheduling a film in between multiple college student's classes and other commitments proved to be too difficult a task. After that, I set Hopefall back on the shelf, I thought for good.
However, in my recent forays back into writing, the elements and ideas I had begun working with in those multiple previous versions kept coming back, and I decided to give it another shot, starting completely from scratch instead of trying to retrofit the previous version to fit a new set of criteria.
One of my good friends, after reading many of the earlier versions, had given me his opinion that a story dealing with the Bible as an outlawed, drug-like substance in a dystopian society warranted a far more serious story than I had been giving it. My tendency as a writer is to epicfy things, in the process missing the true point of the tale.
Taking this into consideration has been key as I have re-explored the different pieces that make up Hoperise. And mulling through it over and over again in the car has made me see things I never saw before, as well as realize just how intense the story can be, without adding in action for action's sake.
It's still going to take a lot of work before it'll be ready to do anything with, but I certainly have a better grasp of what needs to be done than I ever had before. I've also realized that setting myself on one outcome will only end in disappointment. So whether the story ends up as a novel, comic-book, film, play or puppet show, or nothing at all, it shouldn't matter to me. My job is simply to tell the tale in any way I can.
Which was awesome enough in itself, but I also got two 2.5 hour trips there and back, which passed surprisingly quickly this go around, mainly due to the fact that I spent the hours brainstorming, plot hashing, troubleshooting, and generally working through stories.
Now, all this work is cerebral, not actual pen-to-paper, but its definitely worth doing. (Especially when there's not much else to do). I ended up working through several different stories all told, but the one I spent the most time on was the umpteenth version of a story I now call Hoprerise. (To differentiate it from the dozens of other versions).
But to explain what Hoperise is, I have to go back to 2012, to a little story attempt called Deep Red. What started off as a novel, morphed into a Lego stop-motion, transitioned quickly to a Lego comic book and then sat on a shelf for a year, until late 2013, when I decided to try to write a script off the idea.
Substituting walking for planet-hopping, and shotguns for plasma rifles proved a unique challenge, but also provided a place to develop a particularly gritty, almost western-style of sci-fi I found immensely enjoyable to create.
Retitled Hopefall, and fresh off the success of filming Shadowland, I set out to film my new script with conscripted college buddies, locations in and around my tiny apartment, and costume and props gathered from my parent's old stash of military gear.
I actually got one day of filming in before the project flopped. Mainly due to scheduling issues, but there were also problems with the script and my innate tendency to try to do everything myself. After that, it sat on the shelf again until I returned to college in the fall of 2013.
Over the summer, I had written and shot with far more success a short film called Minefield, set in the same world I had created for Hopefall. Armed with that experience, and a shiny new version of the script with most of the bugs worked out, I set out to try again.
One week out from commencing filming, things fell apart once more. Scheduling a film in between multiple college student's classes and other commitments proved to be too difficult a task. After that, I set Hopefall back on the shelf, I thought for good.
However, in my recent forays back into writing, the elements and ideas I had begun working with in those multiple previous versions kept coming back, and I decided to give it another shot, starting completely from scratch instead of trying to retrofit the previous version to fit a new set of criteria.
One of my good friends, after reading many of the earlier versions, had given me his opinion that a story dealing with the Bible as an outlawed, drug-like substance in a dystopian society warranted a far more serious story than I had been giving it. My tendency as a writer is to epicfy things, in the process missing the true point of the tale.
Taking this into consideration has been key as I have re-explored the different pieces that make up Hoperise. And mulling through it over and over again in the car has made me see things I never saw before, as well as realize just how intense the story can be, without adding in action for action's sake.
It's still going to take a lot of work before it'll be ready to do anything with, but I certainly have a better grasp of what needs to be done than I ever had before. I've also realized that setting myself on one outcome will only end in disappointment. So whether the story ends up as a novel, comic-book, film, play or puppet show, or nothing at all, it shouldn't matter to me. My job is simply to tell the tale in any way I can.
June 12, 2014
Surety
I sound so sure of myself in blogposts. Perhaps it is because I tend to speak and think in absolutes and generalizations, and that flows through strongly into my writing. In other words, don't trust what I write... I tend to be wrong. Especially about goals and dreams.
In other words, things did not go as expected. They never do, I'm beginning to realize that now. For one thing, architecture school tends to get more intense as one progresses through it. Which means more time spent drawing and modeling in studio, and less time writing.
Despite that, my writing has continued, in tiny spurts and minuscule bounds, less of the slow and steady march I promised myself last January, and more of a spastic energy bunny who is slowly running out of energy.
Last month I had the great honor and privilege to be a part of a feature film production of The Scarlet Letter, turning my architectural skills to set design in what was possibly the most fun I've ever had. And considering The Scarlet Letter is a rather dark and depressing story by its very nature, that's saying something.
But the important thing as far as my writing is concerned was the three day trip up and back. Long hours in the car meant time for writing and reading, things I hadn't had time for in a long while. Christmas, to be exact.
Jumping back into three jobs while prepping for grad school has made writing difficult, but I continue to do so while I have time. And even if I'm not actually setting pen to paper, (or keyboard to document), I am constantly working through bits of story in my head, fixing problems, having lightbulb moments, and generally making sure I keep my imagination active.
All that being said, blogging is one more thing on top of all that, and I doubt I shall be able to continue with any sense of regularity, but sometimes it is good to simply sit down and verbalize the thoughts that have been running through my head, even if they are only read by me six months down the road.
In other words, things did not go as expected. They never do, I'm beginning to realize that now. For one thing, architecture school tends to get more intense as one progresses through it. Which means more time spent drawing and modeling in studio, and less time writing.
Despite that, my writing has continued, in tiny spurts and minuscule bounds, less of the slow and steady march I promised myself last January, and more of a spastic energy bunny who is slowly running out of energy.
Last month I had the great honor and privilege to be a part of a feature film production of The Scarlet Letter, turning my architectural skills to set design in what was possibly the most fun I've ever had. And considering The Scarlet Letter is a rather dark and depressing story by its very nature, that's saying something.
But the important thing as far as my writing is concerned was the three day trip up and back. Long hours in the car meant time for writing and reading, things I hadn't had time for in a long while. Christmas, to be exact.
Jumping back into three jobs while prepping for grad school has made writing difficult, but I continue to do so while I have time. And even if I'm not actually setting pen to paper, (or keyboard to document), I am constantly working through bits of story in my head, fixing problems, having lightbulb moments, and generally making sure I keep my imagination active.
All that being said, blogging is one more thing on top of all that, and I doubt I shall be able to continue with any sense of regularity, but sometimes it is good to simply sit down and verbalize the thoughts that have been running through my head, even if they are only read by me six months down the road.
January 6, 2014
Resolutions
Another year, another adventure. A fresh slate, with no mistakes in it. Not yet, anyways.
Another college semester started today, and soon I'll be full swing into regular schedule nicely full of classes and projects. But rather than let something like that get in the way of my writing, I intend to use it to help push me into writing a little bit every day.
So a New Year's resolution, if you will, to write more and dawdle less.
Not a lot of writing, mind you, perhaps no more than a paragraph a day. But writing non-the-less. I don't think I will be able to keep it up for long, but I shall take it as far as I can. And who knows? Maybe some good will come out of it.
I recently started reading again, after a rather longish hiatus from anything good, and that coupled with dozens of writerly friends back home over Christmas break has given me plenty of impetus to actually begin and possibly finish something after all.
The road goes ever on and on,
Down from the door where it began
Now I must follow if I can
Pursuing it with eager feet
Until it with some larger way meet...
And wither then? I cannot say.
Another college semester started today, and soon I'll be full swing into regular schedule nicely full of classes and projects. But rather than let something like that get in the way of my writing, I intend to use it to help push me into writing a little bit every day.
So a New Year's resolution, if you will, to write more and dawdle less.
Not a lot of writing, mind you, perhaps no more than a paragraph a day. But writing non-the-less. I don't think I will be able to keep it up for long, but I shall take it as far as I can. And who knows? Maybe some good will come out of it.
I recently started reading again, after a rather longish hiatus from anything good, and that coupled with dozens of writerly friends back home over Christmas break has given me plenty of impetus to actually begin and possibly finish something after all.
The road goes ever on and on,
Down from the door where it began
Now I must follow if I can
Pursuing it with eager feet
Until it with some larger way meet...
And wither then? I cannot say.
December 13, 2013
Litters
So I was going along, minding my own post-Nano business, finishing off architecture finals, when I noticed something.
There was a tiny bunny following me. Now, this bunny was of the rare Ploteus Bunnius species, the kind that won't stop following you till you turn and give them attention.
So I did. I stopped, filled half a page with scrawled notes on the interesting creature, and moved on. However, much to my surprise, I soon found another, possibly related to the first, following me as well.
Accordingly, I filled up the rest of the page with illegible scrawlings on the exact nature of this one, and moved on once more.
Imagine my surprise, when a third bunny hopped out of the bushes and joined the gathering crowd. At this point, I realized that not only had my brief foray into writing reawakened normal writing tendencies, it had only produced a litter of plot bunnies.
And bunnies tend to breed with surprising rapidity.
I shall have to fill up my wall with these if they continue to come.
There was a tiny bunny following me. Now, this bunny was of the rare Ploteus Bunnius species, the kind that won't stop following you till you turn and give them attention.
So I did. I stopped, filled half a page with scrawled notes on the interesting creature, and moved on. However, much to my surprise, I soon found another, possibly related to the first, following me as well.
Accordingly, I filled up the rest of the page with illegible scrawlings on the exact nature of this one, and moved on once more.
Imagine my surprise, when a third bunny hopped out of the bushes and joined the gathering crowd. At this point, I realized that not only had my brief foray into writing reawakened normal writing tendencies, it had only produced a litter of plot bunnies.
And bunnies tend to breed with surprising rapidity.
I shall have to fill up my wall with these if they continue to come.
October 28, 2013
The Iceman Cometh
And with him November, that dreaded, longed for month. Sometime within the next 36 hours I shall sit down before the white wilderness of the blank page and begin to build, carving line after line of black letters until the wilderness has been civilized and a story has begun.
Time will tell how fast or far my attempt will go, but I hope to reach the other side of the month having built at least a 50,000 strong army of words who tell a story worth remembering. But if I fall midway, to battle or busyness, at least I will have attempted the journey.
I hope to see you on the other side, if my mixed metaphors don't get to me first :)
Forth, and fear no darkness!
Time will tell how fast or far my attempt will go, but I hope to reach the other side of the month having built at least a 50,000 strong army of words who tell a story worth remembering. But if I fall midway, to battle or busyness, at least I will have attempted the journey.
I hope to see you on the other side, if my mixed metaphors don't get to me first :)
Forth, and fear no darkness!
October 10, 2013
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.
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.
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.
September 23, 2013
Once More Into The Fray
Once again, dear readers (the few, the proud), I'm back. Probably not for long, but definitely for the duration of November and NaNoWriMo, and possibly after that! If it does continue, the theme of the blog will likely shift to represent my more current interest of screenwriting and architecture, but in the end it will still be all the same story I am telling.
So expect the next month to be filled with a smattering of ideas, brainstorming, dead ends, restarts, random plot threads and the like, while the following month of November will be filled with excerpts, rants on plot, more brainstorming, more dead ends, probably at least one reboot and quite a few cringe-worthy grumblings at my own ineptness. After that? Hopefully some cohesiveness as I seek to organize the brain-frenzied creative outpourings of the month previous into a coherent whole.
Until very soon,
Farjag
So expect the next month to be filled with a smattering of ideas, brainstorming, dead ends, restarts, random plot threads and the like, while the following month of November will be filled with excerpts, rants on plot, more brainstorming, more dead ends, probably at least one reboot and quite a few cringe-worthy grumblings at my own ineptness. After that? Hopefully some cohesiveness as I seek to organize the brain-frenzied creative outpourings of the month previous into a coherent whole.
Until very soon,
Farjag
- The Road goes ever on and on
- Down from the door where it began.
- Now far ahead the Road has gone,
- And I must follow, if I can,
- Pursuing it with eager feet,
- Until it joins some larger way
- Where many paths and errands meet.
- And whither then? I cannot say.
February 9, 2013
Shadowland
Once upon a time, last August to be precise, I wrote a poem based on a concept borrowed from C.S. Lewis. The idea of earth as a Shadowland of heaven. Well, after writing the poem, I went on to do a series of lithographs inspired by the same idea. That was in the middle of last semester. And the idea still wouldn't stop knocking around in my head.
About a month ago I began to ask my college friends if anyone was interested in making a movie. I got enough interest to warrant me writing a script, but didn't have any solid ideas. Until late one night, after several hours of sleepless tossing and turning, God gave me the nudge to start writing. So after scrounging out my old glasses I sat in front of my laptop in the dark of a room lit only by its screen; and began to write. Two hours later I had finished a seven page script across which were scattered the verses of the poem I had written months earlier. A few days and helpful critiques (thanks, Director!) later I had a finalized script.
And we filmed it, less than a week later. And now, exactly one week after filming day, I present you the finished product: Shadowland.
December 25, 2012
The Tale worth Telling
Two-thousand years ago, on a quiet night in a small country town, with the lights of the big city shining in the distance, several homeless men sat silently around a tiny fire, content to let alone and leave alone the world around them.
That was before the sky above them ripped open as a window into another dimension split across the starry skywall. And framed in the glorious light spilling from the crack stood a powerful being the likes of which they had never seen. Fear clutched at their hearts and terror shot through their knees. But the words this being spoke calmed them as easily as oil calms a turbid wave.
"Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger."
And no sooner had he finished than the entire sky disappeared behind a sheet of blinding light as an army thousands upon thousands sprang in existence and began to chant with a noise like rushing waters:
"Glory to God in the highest! And on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!"
That was before the sky above them ripped open as a window into another dimension split across the starry skywall. And framed in the glorious light spilling from the crack stood a powerful being the likes of which they had never seen. Fear clutched at their hearts and terror shot through their knees. But the words this being spoke calmed them as easily as oil calms a turbid wave.
"Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger."
And no sooner had he finished than the entire sky disappeared behind a sheet of blinding light as an army thousands upon thousands sprang in existence and began to chant with a noise like rushing waters:
"Glory to God in the highest! And on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!"
With that they were gone, and the darkness of the night settled slowly back over the hills, leaving those awestruck men in silence. It only took a hurried conversation for them to decide what they must do. And leaving behind all that was familiar to them, they set out to find what had been told of.
And they found it, several miles away, in a tiny cave tucked into a rocky hillside. A donkey and a few sheep huddled in the back, their stalls taken over by an exhausted couple and their feeding trough by a newborn baby.
The humblest of beginnings for the greatest of all kings.
The smallest of abodes for the most powerful of all rulers.
The lowest among men witnessed the birth of the Highest.
God rest ye merry, gentlemen! (and ladies)!
October 24, 2012
Meet Ash Skarslard
When an accident on the main track sends the Tyrus Bros circus train on a five hour detour, they are forced to stop in Arskone to refill their coal. But the train will never leave. As the train slows to a stop at the sleepy station, hell itself erupts around them, swallowing performers and animals alike. And the creatures of darkness have plans for all of them.
Twisted and warped into his own greatest fear, Ash became one of them, no longer alive, not quite dead, eaten and hollowed out by his terror and anger. Terror at what he had become, anger at the ones who had done it to him. Terror at their retaliation, anger at the ones who had caused it all in the first place; those praying folk across the tracks.
Light fades, sundown comes; the time to strike is now
Slip across the battlelines; assassin on the prowl
Darkness will reign, chaos clutches deep
The price for life is steep
October 16, 2012
November? Ah!!
NaNoWriMo? Ah, yes, that lovely part of the year where I write like a maniac. I love November! And...
IT'S ONLY TWO WEEKS AWAY!! AIEE, I'M NOT READY!!
AHH!
*frantic running around my 10x10 room, hopping over the bed every three steps*
Wait...
I do have something...
Combine:
Just-for-fun 3d model of anachronistic town....
Doodling-in-class character sketch...
Selected parts of a never-completed short story...
Potential Halloween costume...
That normal NaNo craziness...
And Viola!
I give you Railway*; my pretty much totally unplanned, steampunk/fantasy adventure I shall embark on a little over a fortnight.
We shall see how it goes. :) Some time ago I would have frowned at myself for doing something this crazy... but I'm in college now.
Just kidding.
See, the first time I did NaNo, I had a pretty good plan, and stuck fairly well to it. The next year I whipped up a magnificent plan that was even better than the last... and scrapped it three days in for a insistent idea involving an abandoned circus, a talking tiger, fighting robots, a bunch of 'gifted' ex-convicts who battled those fighting robots in death matches every night, and a completely normal young man called Alen.
The story that came out was one of the best I had ever written.
So I've since come to discard many of my beliefs in doing things 'by the book' (pun very much intended) when it comes to writing. In many cases, letting the book write itself (especially in those cases where you're not allowing yourself to forget about it) is the best possible option. At least for me :).
So there's my two bits of wisdom tacked on to a unorthodox NaNo 'announcement'. Hope it makes you smile. Or at least quirk an eyebrow.
Anyways, if you're looking for "mo' info", head over to my NaNo page and check out whatever I happen to have up! And while you're there, buddy up with me! I enjoy seeing how good my friends are doing! (or bad >:) he he)
Now then.... to make up some sort of cover without photoshop....
*If you've been around a while, you might have seen the title Railway pop up elsewhere here; it was a placeholder for that short story I mentioned above. I really liked the title, but didn't have a story it fit with. Now I do. :)
IT'S ONLY TWO WEEKS AWAY!! AIEE, I'M NOT READY!!
AHH!
*frantic running around my 10x10 room, hopping over the bed every three steps*
Wait...
I do have something...
Combine:
Just-for-fun 3d model of anachronistic town....
Doodling-in-class character sketch...
Selected parts of a never-completed short story...
Potential Halloween costume...
That normal NaNo craziness...
And Viola!
I give you Railway*; my pretty much totally unplanned, steampunk/fantasy adventure I shall embark on a little over a fortnight.
We shall see how it goes. :) Some time ago I would have frowned at myself for doing something this crazy... but I'm in college now.
Just kidding.
See, the first time I did NaNo, I had a pretty good plan, and stuck fairly well to it. The next year I whipped up a magnificent plan that was even better than the last... and scrapped it three days in for a insistent idea involving an abandoned circus, a talking tiger, fighting robots, a bunch of 'gifted' ex-convicts who battled those fighting robots in death matches every night, and a completely normal young man called Alen.
The story that came out was one of the best I had ever written.
So I've since come to discard many of my beliefs in doing things 'by the book' (pun very much intended) when it comes to writing. In many cases, letting the book write itself (especially in those cases where you're not allowing yourself to forget about it) is the best possible option. At least for me :).
So there's my two bits of wisdom tacked on to a unorthodox NaNo 'announcement'. Hope it makes you smile. Or at least quirk an eyebrow.
Anyways, if you're looking for "mo' info", head over to my NaNo page and check out whatever I happen to have up! And while you're there, buddy up with me! I enjoy seeing how good my friends are doing! (or bad >:) he he)
Now then.... to make up some sort of cover without photoshop....
*If you've been around a while, you might have seen the title Railway pop up elsewhere here; it was a placeholder for that short story I mentioned above. I really liked the title, but didn't have a story it fit with. Now I do. :)
July 20, 2012
To Rewrite that which is Written
'Tis a strange feeling, completely rewriting the sentences that I've been reading every time I've opened up Freeborn for the past three years.
Before:
The captain of a solitary sea-post on the northern shore of Whitefall looked out across the bay, the dark water lit only by the rays of both moons. It was a quiet night, so still that the captain could hear the waves slapping against the ice crust at the base of the stone tower.
The smooth stone of the solitary sea-post on the northern shore of Whitefall glimmered cold under the rays of both moons. The captain who stood atop its walls looked across the dark bay, peering out to where the water met the night sky. It was a quiet night, so still the captain could hear the waves slapping against the ice crust at the base of the tower.
Before:
The captain of a solitary sea-post on the northern shore of Whitefall looked out across the bay, the dark water lit only by the rays of both moons. It was a quiet night, so still that the captain could hear the waves slapping against the ice crust at the base of the stone tower.
After:
The smooth stone of the solitary sea-post on the northern shore of Whitefall glimmered cold under the rays of both moons. The captain who stood atop its walls looked across the dark bay, peering out to where the water met the night sky. It was a quiet night, so still the captain could hear the waves slapping against the ice crust at the base of the tower.
This particular portion, and the small snippet directly after, I had actually written well in advance of November 2010, though I edited them to fit the world I had created. Still, they had remained mainly intact until last Monday, when I began the challenge I had set myself.
Maybe they're better for the change, maybe they're worse, but they definitely needed a change, if only to help me break still more the antiquated 'matter-of-fact' voice that still sometimes creeps in whenever I'm having trouble writing.
Most of it comes of from the extreme amount of description I was trying to put into my first stories; I had to tell what the walls were made of, what color they were, and how they felt when the hero brushed his hand against them. Then do the same with the door, and the room beyond, and the courtyard beyond.... etc, ad nauseum.
Now that I've arrived at the pinnacle of writing, of course, such things no longer trouble me. :)
No, every sentence is a fight. A fight to shape black marks on white paper into the multi-colored, 3D landscape, characters, and stories that fill my head. A fight to make the rhythm of each sentence and the sound of each word match the song that is the story. A fight to sing poetry into prose, day into night, and text into images so sharp and clear they will stay with you forever.
If I can touch your imagination just a little, and give you the necessary ingredients, then you can conjure a spell of your own that will take you far away to the little world called Quartorlen, where the colors are deeper, the folk are simpler, and there is always a song or tale to be heard.
And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.
Philippians 4:7-9 (ESV)
July 16, 2012
A Challenge
Well, it's time to face the music.
I haven't been writing.
And this is a writing blog.
So... no blogging has happened. (Revelation!)
But what has happened is in the past. And all I can do is decide what to do with the time given me.
There will be a day when I give up, a day of unfinished stories, blotted ink, and deleted files, when the work of years comes crashing down. But it is not this day!
This day, I write!
Here's the idea: I'm going to go back to the beginning. Back to November 2010, when my writing changed from the standard 'masterpiece-of-an-amateur-writer-that-he's-been-working-on-forever' to something... different. I fell in love with writing all over again. I actually wrote something worth reading. And my writing has never been the same since.
So that's where I'll go, to Freeborn and Freegiven, and give it the edit it deserves. Now, the plan is to continue on to the next book I wrote, and so on until I've caught up with myself, but of course there'll be a break for this year's NaNoWriMo, and some other plot bunny will catch my attention... But that's the plan.
But even the most well-thought out plan can fail without a drive to complete it. And so many resolutions and goals have failed because there was nothing pushing from behind. So, here's the clinch.
Every week I must edit/write at least one full chapter, and have to show proof here. That's where you all come in. Your job is to keep me accountable; keep pushing me onward.
Sound clear enough? Good. Now let's see if I can do this. :)
I haven't been writing.
And this is a writing blog.
So... no blogging has happened. (Revelation!)
But what has happened is in the past. And all I can do is decide what to do with the time given me.
There will be a day when I give up, a day of unfinished stories, blotted ink, and deleted files, when the work of years comes crashing down. But it is not this day!
This day, I write!
Here's the idea: I'm going to go back to the beginning. Back to November 2010, when my writing changed from the standard 'masterpiece-of-an-amateur-writer-that-he's-been-working-on-forever' to something... different. I fell in love with writing all over again. I actually wrote something worth reading. And my writing has never been the same since.
So that's where I'll go, to Freeborn and Freegiven, and give it the edit it deserves. Now, the plan is to continue on to the next book I wrote, and so on until I've caught up with myself, but of course there'll be a break for this year's NaNoWriMo, and some other plot bunny will catch my attention... But that's the plan.
But even the most well-thought out plan can fail without a drive to complete it. And so many resolutions and goals have failed because there was nothing pushing from behind. So, here's the clinch.
Every week I must edit/write at least one full chapter, and have to show proof here. That's where you all come in. Your job is to keep me accountable; keep pushing me onward.
Sound clear enough? Good. Now let's see if I can do this. :)
May 9, 2012
Not Mine
Well, this is a shameless plug for my new "About the Author" page located here *points up*
Why? Well, a while back I was reading one of those "Top Ten Blogging Tips" posts somewhere, and they mentioned the importance of putting a face to the writer. So there's my mug. But it's not me that's important, and that's the real reason for this post.
See, I started writing, and what came out wasn't another one of those "All About Me 'Cause I'm Awesome" pages. It was what any introduction to myself should be, a whole-hearted re-direct to the Most Awesome God I serve.
And as just as it so happens, the last poem I wrote was exactly on the subject. May it further explain what I'm trying to say.
Not Mine
What words flow from my mind
What lines seep from my pen
What haunting melodies do flit
On the ether around my head?
Whence come these bits of prose
These errant poems and songs
From where comes this feeling
Of words unspoken too long
These wisps are not truly mine
I cannot claim them as my own
My mind could not conjure such things
Nor my pen to write them alone
Yet still they come, fountaining on
Bubbling up in a rapid stream
I cannot stop up this steady flow
No more than a sleeper can stop his dream
But my life is not my own
I've been bought with a price
And no more are my words mine
Than is my purchased life
So may these words I've been given
Never stop their flowing
May my pen continue to spill
Out praises to my holy King
May every poem, story and song
All sing together of the One
May every sentence and every rhyme
Glorify the Father and His Son
Why? Well, a while back I was reading one of those "Top Ten Blogging Tips" posts somewhere, and they mentioned the importance of putting a face to the writer. So there's my mug. But it's not me that's important, and that's the real reason for this post.
See, I started writing, and what came out wasn't another one of those "All About Me 'Cause I'm Awesome" pages. It was what any introduction to myself should be, a whole-hearted re-direct to the Most Awesome God I serve.
And as just as it so happens, the last poem I wrote was exactly on the subject. May it further explain what I'm trying to say.
Not Mine
What words flow from my mind
What lines seep from my pen
What haunting melodies do flit
On the ether around my head?
Whence come these bits of prose
These errant poems and songs
From where comes this feeling
Of words unspoken too long
These wisps are not truly mine
I cannot claim them as my own
My mind could not conjure such things
Nor my pen to write them alone
Yet still they come, fountaining on
Bubbling up in a rapid stream
I cannot stop up this steady flow
No more than a sleeper can stop his dream
But my life is not my own
I've been bought with a price
And no more are my words mine
Than is my purchased life
So may these words I've been given
Never stop their flowing
May my pen continue to spill
Out praises to my holy King
May every poem, story and song
All sing together of the One
May every sentence and every rhyme
Glorify the Father and His Son
May 4, 2012
What now?
So... now that finals are over... and summer is here... I must decide...
What should I work on for writing?
And this is where I need your help, dear readers. Since I have multiple novels/stories underway (all in various stages of completion), I am at a loss as to which project to focus my attentions on. My options are thus:
Freeborn and Freegiven: Deep in the land of shieldsfell-ruled Quartorlen, the last of the freeborn must conquer their fears and journey into the heart of enemy territory to break the invader's hold on both their country and their countryfolk once and for all.
Stats: NaNo 2010 Novel
Genre: Fantasy
Word Count: 51,342
Project: Rewrite
Feather and Fang: Twenty-two years after the events of Freeborn and Freegiven, the freeborn of Quartorlen have split into factions, each vying for supremacy in the vacuum of power left when the shieldsfell withdrew their forces. When an assassin from one faction and a bounty hunter from the other are trapped together in the deadliest place in Quartorlen, they must work together or perish. And if they make it out alive, they will bring information that could change the face of the war.
Stats: Sequel to Freeborn
Genre: Fantasy
Word Count: 18,319
Project: Finish
The Truth/Trust Hole: In the heartland of a country much like ours, there is an arena. An arena where criminals with special abilities work out their life sentences fighting robots for public sport. These Games attract citizens of all ages, races, and walks of life, all come to see their favorite fighters cheat death again and again against a pitiless enemy. But when a young boy named Alen is thrown into the Hole, by chance, it would seem, everything begins to change.
Stats: NaNo 2011 Novel
Genre: Sci-Fi
Word Count: 52,973
Project: Rewrite
Deep Red/Crimson Streak: Somewhere in the Cluster an out-of-work headhunter sets out on a mission to find the greatest commodity in the markets of the Core: something he has heard is called 'Hope'. But when he enlists the help of a young boy who can apparently see the past and future, things go in a direction he wasn't planning.
Stats: Short Story
Genre: Sci-Fi
Word Count: 3,272
Project: Finish
What do you think? All of them have a lot of potential as far as ease of completion goes (unlike the other dozen or so which I could have listed), all of them get me excited when I think about them... so I'm in a pickle!
Help me out, and give me your opinions! And rest assured, one day I'll get to all of them, I just need to know which one to work on first.
Thanks in advance!
Farjag
What should I work on for writing?
And this is where I need your help, dear readers. Since I have multiple novels/stories underway (all in various stages of completion), I am at a loss as to which project to focus my attentions on. My options are thus:
Freeborn and Freegiven: Deep in the land of shieldsfell-ruled Quartorlen, the last of the freeborn must conquer their fears and journey into the heart of enemy territory to break the invader's hold on both their country and their countryfolk once and for all.
Stats: NaNo 2010 Novel
Genre: Fantasy
Word Count: 51,342
Project: Rewrite
Feather and Fang: Twenty-two years after the events of Freeborn and Freegiven, the freeborn of Quartorlen have split into factions, each vying for supremacy in the vacuum of power left when the shieldsfell withdrew their forces. When an assassin from one faction and a bounty hunter from the other are trapped together in the deadliest place in Quartorlen, they must work together or perish. And if they make it out alive, they will bring information that could change the face of the war.
Stats: Sequel to Freeborn
Genre: Fantasy
Word Count: 18,319
Project: Finish
The Truth/Trust Hole: In the heartland of a country much like ours, there is an arena. An arena where criminals with special abilities work out their life sentences fighting robots for public sport. These Games attract citizens of all ages, races, and walks of life, all come to see their favorite fighters cheat death again and again against a pitiless enemy. But when a young boy named Alen is thrown into the Hole, by chance, it would seem, everything begins to change.
Stats: NaNo 2011 Novel
Genre: Sci-Fi
Word Count: 52,973
Project: Rewrite
Deep Red/Crimson Streak: Somewhere in the Cluster an out-of-work headhunter sets out on a mission to find the greatest commodity in the markets of the Core: something he has heard is called 'Hope'. But when he enlists the help of a young boy who can apparently see the past and future, things go in a direction he wasn't planning.
Stats: Short Story
Genre: Sci-Fi
Word Count: 3,272
Project: Finish
What do you think? All of them have a lot of potential as far as ease of completion goes (unlike the other dozen or so which I could have listed), all of them get me excited when I think about them... so I'm in a pickle!
Help me out, and give me your opinions! And rest assured, one day I'll get to all of them, I just need to know which one to work on first.
Thanks in advance!
Farjag
April 23, 2012
Fullscreen Writing and other
Well, I guess this post needs no explanation; the title says it all: I have (re)discovered fullscreen writing. I had dabbled with this amazing idea back during NaNoWriMo 2010, but hadn't really been hooked.
Then, last week, while forcing myself to write, I remembered. A few google searches and disappointing tries later, I found one that worked.
And let me tell you; getting your desktop to disappear is amazing. When it's just you and the words, they come SO much easier. I started writing, and before I knew it, I had written a thousand.
This is a really lame post, if you hadn't noticed. Oh well. Maybe a beautiful picture of a far-away, imaginary place will help with the lameness.
Maybe not. My brain's fried right now. Finals are next week, I just got back from a visit to the college I'm transferring to in the fall, and I've got a fair bit of homework to do.
Oi.
Until my brains become Un-fried,
Farjag
Then, last week, while forcing myself to write, I remembered. A few google searches and disappointing tries later, I found one that worked.
And let me tell you; getting your desktop to disappear is amazing. When it's just you and the words, they come SO much easier. I started writing, and before I knew it, I had written a thousand.
This is a really lame post, if you hadn't noticed. Oh well. Maybe a beautiful picture of a far-away, imaginary place will help with the lameness.
Maybe not. My brain's fried right now. Finals are next week, I just got back from a visit to the college I'm transferring to in the fall, and I've got a fair bit of homework to do.
Oi.
Until my brains become Un-fried,
Farjag
April 18, 2012
Why Can't I Write Screenplays?
Oh, mine readers, alack and alay!
I cannae write meself a screenplay!
Bogged down afore three pages are writ,
Caught up in th' format, lines, an' bloomin' script,
Th' images be in me own expandin' head,
But I cannae write them if I be dead,
Kilt by Courier font, a true an' deadly beast,
O' all my problems, the plot is th' least.
Arrg. Tis true. I have had at least five screenplay ideas over the past two weeks, all of them fully filmable* with the resources I and my fellow filming friends** have . But I can't write a single one of them down to save my life! The dialogue and characters are floating around in my head, shiny and resplendent mallorn leaves falling softly to the ground, but when I try to put them down on paper, all that comes out are a faded handful of crumbled remains.
It's disheartening to say the least.
Perhaps I'll just have to try writing only the dialogue out, back and forth banter, with minimal action descriptions in between. If that doesn't work, I don't know what I'll do.
I mean, I write entire novels easily! Why can't I write a short little screenplay? Annoying. Anyone have any ideas to help me in my sad state***?
*I really got to stop using alliteration so much.
** See what I mean?
*** Oi.
March 19, 2012
Comparisons
So I spent several hours editing Feather and Fang last night, getting the first parts written on par with the last parts as far as style, continuity, and all-around quality is concerned. By doing this, I am able to reconnect with the story, add where it needs adding, and take away what needs taking away.
For example, my descriptions of several years ago were quite wordy and rather bland. I left little to the reader's imagination, tended to more boring than helpful, and usually made references to the real world (something I am trying to avoid). Consider the following:
But where the hawk had been a man was just rising from the ground, as if he had been kneeling. But as the wolf and the man he had turned into were alike, so were the hawk and his new form. His hair was composed of large, flat locks like feathers that flared out as they reached the back of his neck, giving him a low-lying crest. His garments were much the same as the other’s, but his shirt bore a fringe under the arms, also like feathers. His high boots had spurs like those of a rooster on the heel, and his face had strange marking along the jawbone, tattoos that resembled the black markings of a red hawk.
And as the wolf and the man he had turned into were alike, so were the hawk and his new form. While his garments were much the same as the wolf’s, they were decorated with strips of colorful cloth, bright threads, and pendants of stone and metal. He wore his hair in flat locks like feathers in which were intertwined bits of shell and bone, and his face bore strange tattoos like small wisps along his jawbone. He had bone spurs on his boots and a fringe of leather ran along the arms of his shirt.
For example, my descriptions of several years ago were quite wordy and rather bland. I left little to the reader's imagination, tended to more boring than helpful, and usually made references to the real world (something I am trying to avoid). Consider the following:
But where the hawk had been a man was just rising from the ground, as if he had been kneeling. But as the wolf and the man he had turned into were alike, so were the hawk and his new form. His hair was composed of large, flat locks like feathers that flared out as they reached the back of his neck, giving him a low-lying crest. His garments were much the same as the other’s, but his shirt bore a fringe under the arms, also like feathers. His high boots had spurs like those of a rooster on the heel, and his face had strange marking along the jawbone, tattoos that resembled the black markings of a red hawk.
Not bad, but definitely not good either. So I did some reworking; and this is what it turned into:
Much better. Not only do I accurately describe Crestlen's appearance (now that I know what he actually looks like), but gone are the clumsy references to real hawks and roosters. And it actually flows now, as opposed to the rather disjointed pattern of the former iteration.
That's the taking away part; now for the adding. This mostly comes in play during dialogue, which I've gotten a great deal better since writing this first chapter (this is my oldest piece of work still in current use, predating even Freeborn and Freegiven). For example:
He chuckled. “Indeed, our paths have finally crossed.”
The other snorted. “As well they might, twould be difficult for two assassins to seek each other without ever meeting.”
“Ah! So that is why you seemed not overeager to cover your tracks. I had begun to fear they were a false lead, so obvious were they.”
The first snarled again. “Yes, tis not often that Redpaw, chief of the hunters in Burndell is careless enough to let his tracks go uncovered.”
“Aye, but even if they had been covered, Redpaw Wolf-hunter, not often is Crestlen, Hawk-assassin of Embervale hard pressed to find the trail, however hidden.”
Redpaw nodded scornfully. “Indeed? Know this, Crestlen, Hawk-assassin; if I were to hide my trail with all my skill and cunning, even the keenest hound-scout would be at a loss.”
It was Crestlen’s turn to toss his head in scorn. “Ah, that stumble-footed, keen-nosed kind! Yes, but I am no hound-scout. I track not by smell, but by sight, and I warn you, I can spot a hare-runner from three bowshots off.”
Now, my imagining of this has been forever tainted by an ill-fated attempt I made at a radio theater, in which I did all the voices. And my attempt to make Crestlen sound like a sneering, cold assassin, just made him sound like he had a cold. So now I hear that in my head whenever I read these lines. So... I needed to change them, obviously. Hopefully, the rework is better:
“What sort of civilized talk can there be between us, Redpaw?”
The former wolf, Redpaw, chuckled. “Well, you could at least thank me for waiting here for you. When I learned you had heard of me, I decided it would be far easier to wait for you to come to me than to chase you across all four provinces.”
“Is that so?” replied the other, Crestlen, a sarcastic edge creeping into his voice. “No wonder you left your tracks so plain! They were so obvious I had begun to fear they were a false lead!”
Redpaw’s easy grin faded. “Watch what you say, Hawk-assassin! Not often do I let down my guard without good reason! Him named chief of the bounty-hunters in Fanglen faction is never at a loss to cover his tracks!”
Crestlen snorted in derision. “Even if they had, Wolf-hunter, not often am I hard pressed to find the trail, however hidden.”
Redpaw nodded scornfully. “Indeed? Know this, Crestlen, Hawk-assassin; if I were to hide my trail with all my skill and cunning, even the keenest hound-blood would be at a loss.”
It was Crestlen’s turn to toss his head in scorn. “A pox on that stumble-footed, keen-nosed kind! I am no hound-blood. They may track by smell, but I hunt by sight, and I tell you, I can spot a my prey from near on three bowshots off.”
Not only did I fix most of the Yoda-esque style of speaking, but Redpaw's speech actually fits his character, and all the "Ah!"'s and "Aye!'"s have been deleted. I mean, who starts every sentence with "Ah!"?
Well, that's where I be, sitting in the shadows of a cave deep in Flamehope, watching two master hunters face off in a fight to the death. Call me if you need me. :)
March 13, 2012
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:
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... :)
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... :)
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