Tracy St. John's Blog, page 216

Six Sentence Sunday – Netherworld: Drop Dead Sexy

Self-defense?  Involuntary manslaughter?  Had to be.“You’re not a murderer.”  My firm tone buoyed me.“Actually I am.” 
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History of Kalquor, Part 3

(Part 1)
(Part 2)
Beginning of an Empire
Following the Cataclysmic Era, Kalquorians gathered in small groups under territorial chieftains.  These groups often clashed over resources such as water, food, and technology.  Because such a small amount of time had elapsed between the fall of the great cities and the Kalquorians’ re-emergence, there were still records and stories of the engineering feats of the first Kalquorians.  Claiming control over the machines that made survival and even flourishing easier to maintain was uppermost in the chieftains’ plots to retain control and gain more power.  Most of these machines were underwater or destroyed, but a few remnants were discovered here and there.  Water purification systems, sewers, farming equipment, and manufacturing devices were either put back to work or their remains studied and re-fabricated.  
Weaponry of the ancestors was also coveted.  Better arms meant more resources and more power for the leaders of the various groups.  It started small with the chieftains setting on their neighbors.  The losers of these struggles would be absorbed into the populations of the victors.  Larger and larger areas became the fiefdoms of kings.  Intermittent wars were fought over thousands of years, as happens on so many planets as their populations experience the growing pangs of civilization.  Thousands of kingdoms became hundreds, hundreds became dozens, until at last Kalquor was split between two opposing countries.
There were long stretches of uneasy peace between the two, interrupted by devastating conflicts from time to time.  At last the final great war was fought until the whole of the planet was placed under one ruler.  Insurgencies would rise for the next two centuries as the conquered lands tried to regain their independence, but rebellions were put down.  At long last the planet’s population settled into one government ruled by a single emperor and the advisory council elected by the people of Kalquor.  The empire was born.
The War of the Breeds
Because Dramoks were recognized leaders, it was always a member of this breed that sat on Kalquor’s throne unless a crown princess was born before a Dramok heir.  That meant that even if the emperor had several Nobek and Imdiko sons, none would inherit the throne.  Upon the emperor’s death or inability to rule, the eldest Dramok or Matara relation deemed capable by the council would assume the crown.  
Eight thousand years ago, Emperor Odmal died.  His elder son Nobek Chigrit was passed over in favor of younger sibling Dramok Nakew for rulership despite Chigrit’s amazing defense of Kalquorian space against a much larger force of invading Bi’isils.  Nakew becoming emperor was not unexpected, but the new ruler added insult to injury when he made his personal bodyguard and lover Nobek Fepnin the high commander of Kalquor’s military, stripping the decorated Chigrit of his rank.  The soldiers who saw Chigrit almost as a god were incensed by this.  Many openly vowed that if the prince rebelled against his brother, they would take up arms in support of his cause.  The council begged Nakew to reconsider the appointment, but the new emperor, known for a large dose of his own megalomania, refused to be swayed.
Nakew had made a terrible mistake against a man who was already teetering on the verge of violence.  History tells us that Chigrit had chafed most of his life under the belief that Nobeks were being marginalized by the Dramok breed.  He had publicly railed against the unfairness of Nobek youngsters ripped from their families and treated like animals in the training camps.  It should be noted that Chigrit had attended a training camp that was later closed down for excessive brutality against its students.  Many of its administrators and instructors were convicted of abuse, but in the Nobek prince’s case, the damage had been done.  He remained convinced that the Nobeks were victims of prejudice and tyranny, even though many of those who had harmed him and others were Nobeks themselves.
After his demotion, Chigrit became ominously quiet.  What young Emperor Nakew didn’t realize was that his older brother was quietly gathering his loyal Nobek troops to his side and plotting the overthrow of the crown.  He was a charismatic speaker, able to make similarly disenfranchised Nobeks accept his arguments that their breed was regarded as no more than watchdogs by the Dramoks.  Young Nobeks in particular fell prey to his rhetoric, looking to ensure themselves status and accolades.
Two years after Nakew’s coronation, Chigrit struck.  The Nobek-dominated military turned on the emperor and the council, which was made up of Dramoks.  Nakew barely escaped with his life, due mostly by the quick actions of his lover Fepnin.  He was forced to go into hiding.
Chigrit might have received some measure of sympathy had his atrocities against those he captured not been so heinous.  Once he claimed the throne for himself and declared the council disbanded, he declared war on all Dramoks.   The gutted bodies of Dramoks, particularly those who had occupied high office, decorated the outer walls of the Royal House.
Seeing the bloody carnage, the Imdikos declared themselves aligned with the Dramoks.  The two breeds gathered not under the banner of the deposed Nakew, but that of his uncle Prince Rogiz, a respected elder Dramok of the Imperial Family.  Rogiz called the two breeds to fight against Chigrit, and the War of the Breeds commenced.
What followed were three terrible years of death and brutality.  For the first two and a half years, the Nobek army scored victory after victory, savaging not just unknown opponents, but also Dramok and Imdiko fathers, brothers, and sons.  Some Mataras joined in the fight, their loyalty often determined by the most important men in their lives.  Chigrit’s daughter Hamu was often found on the front lines, cutting down her father’s enemies with the same bloodlust of any enraged Nobek until she was killed during battle.
Chigrit himself was not content to hide behind his lines.  He was often the first on the battlefield and the last off.  His huge size and propensity for stomping on the dead and dying bodies of his enemies, grinding their flesh and bones under his feet, earned him the moniker The Big Boot.
A Surprising End
The tide began to turn against Chigrit when an Imdiko medical technician, working on a way to non-invasively immobilize critically wounded patients for transport to surgeries, stumbled on the shockwave device.  Those in the shockwave’s path were instantly knocked unconscious.  Upon regaining their senses, the victims’ overwhelmed nervous systems meant hours of incredible pain, during which time they found it difficult to attack others or defend themselves.
Prince Rogiz recognized the importance of this device almost immediately and ordered it weaponized.   During a ground battle near the Imperial capital city, two dozen shuttles overflew the fight and aimed their shockwaves at the opposing army.  The Nobeks went down, almost to a man.
Chigrit was on another continent, fighting at the front there when word reached him of the Dramok and Imdikos’ new weapon.  He immediately sent a team of infiltrators and spies to capture one of the shockwave devices, but Rogiz kept his new toys well hidden.
Rogiz’s forces, their numbers cut by the many months of fighting a superior enemy, were now winning all ground battles.  Shockwave attacks left Nobek airbases with no one to guard their fighters and destroyers, setting up complete destruction of Chigrit’s air and space power.  Three weeks after the first combat use of the shockwave, Rogiz called for the Nobeks to surrender.
Chigrit refused.  “We will fight until every last Nobek lies dead, with as many Dramoks and Imdikos as we can take with us,” he vowed.  
Rogiz’s response was no less vicious.  He ordered that all Nobek soldiers felled by the shockwave be killed rather than taken prisoner.   “If the entire breed is destroyed, so be it,” he said.
The war might have dragged on but for the shocking actions of Chigrit’s two wives, Budelon and Pevir.  Unbeknownst to their mate, they had plotted behind his back, sickened by the war and his madness.  They had both lost all the males of their immediate blood families to the war, with the exception of their two youngest sons.  The eldest of the Mataras, Budelon, had set up a secret network to important female leaders of the major cities.  One of her contacts was Prince Rogiz’s wife Princess Gamrec.  Hours after Rogiz’s pronouncement of death for all Nobeks captured, a frantic Gamrec called Budelon, insisting they had to act immediately.  Gamrec’s father and two of her brothers were Nobeks, men she loved despite being on opposing sides of the fight.
Chigrit’s wives had their own reasons to panic.  Pevir’s son had just been categorized as a Dramok, and Budelon’s showed all the characteristics of being an Imdiko.   They feared in his madness, Chigrit would kill the boys.  
Pevir is credited as being the main architect of what came to be known as the Matara Ruse.  The plan had been known for months to those in charge of implementing it.   Two days after Rogiz’s death sentence on the Nobeks, Pevir gave the signal.
As most the men waged war against each other, the women climbed aboard space cruisers, taking their children and elders with them.  They left Kalquor in a mass exodus, taking a six-day journey to a small outpost moon where Pevir had quietly overseen the building of a refugee camp.  Budelon had also arranged for a communications satellite that scrambled the location of its transmissions.  
Approximately three-quarters of Kalquor’s Mataras had left.  The sight of so many transports departing the planet had gotten the immediate attention of the warmongers.  Fighting ceased as the men scrambled to discover what had happened.   Even Chigrit was distracted by the unforeseen abandonment.  He failed to mount any attacks on Rogiz’s confused forces as he searched for clues as to where his wives and children had gone.
Nine days after their disappearance, Budelon and Gamrec sent communications to their husbands, demanding a truce be declared between the breeds.  “Enough blood has been spilled.  Enough of our people have died.  This ends now,” Budelon told her mate.  “If it does not, we refuse to return.”
Chigrit screamed his denial, declaring he would destroy his enemies or be destroyed.  One of his generals in attendance, said by many to be the father of Princess Gamrec, cut Chigrit's throat on the spot.  “It is ended,” he told Budelon.  “Let the lifebringers come home.”
As simply as that, the War of the Breeds was over.  The Mataras did not return to Kalquor right away, insisting both sides come together to reform a new government.  It is apparent Budelon and Pevir had apparently not just put their minds to ending the war; they had also expended a great deal of thought on post-war Kalquor.  It was their recommendations that led to the re-installation of not only the Dramok emperor and his council, but also the advisory positions of the Imperial Family’s highest ranking Imdiko, Nobek, and Matara.  In the case of an Empress taking the throne, a Dramok advisor would be included in the Imperial Trust, as it came to be called.  While the Emperor or Empress would lead, the opinions and recommendations of the entire Trust would be on public record.  Should all the members of the Trust along with the majority of the council disagree with the ruler on a law or policy, his or her decision would be overturned.
Another condition of the Mataras’ return was crowning Rogiz as emperor instead of the irresponsible Nakew.  Though it was agreed Chigrit might have fallen into madness without his brother’s insult, it was undoubtedly Nakew’s actions that set the war in motion.  In retaliation for losing the crown, he and his Nobek lover, who had remained at his side during the war, tried to assassinate Rogiz.  They were publicly executed for treason.
The final ingredient for peace was the unilateral pardon of all Nobeks who fought for Chigrit, with exception of those responsible for the worst atrocities.  This allowed many men to return to their homes and families and take up their lives where they'd left off.  This atmosphere of forgiveness allowed Kalquor to make a fresh start and leave the ravages of war behind.  There has not been civil war among the Kalquorians since the War of the Breeds.

First Five Friday – Unholy Union

Chapter 13
            Elaine’s gasps were loud to her own ears as she hurried down the stairs from her apartment in her stocking feet.  She strained to hear Ash’s pursuit as she rushed for the outer door.  She’d taken the opportunity to escape once he was in the shower.            The stairs, twenty in all, seemed to stretch forever.  It was like all the nightmares she’d ever had of running from danger, where her feet seemed caught in a quagmire, making her slow. 
Available from Amazon Kindle, Nook, Smashwords, and NCP

Where the Books Are - May 2012

Alien Interludes:  Clans of Kalquor Short StoriesAmazon Kindle, Amazon UK,  Nook, Smashwords

Alien Slave (Clans of Kalquor 5)Amazon Kindle, Amazon UK, Smashwords, New Concepts Publishing

Alien Salvation (Clans of Kalquor 4)Amazon Kindle, Amazon UK, Nook, Smashwords, Kobo, New Concepts Publishing

Alien Conquest (Clans of Kalquor 3)Amazon Kindle, Amazon UK, Nook, Smashwords, Kobo, New Concepts Publishing

Alien Rule (Clans of Kalquor 2)Amazon Kindle, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble Nook, Smashwords, Kobo, New Concepts Publishing

Alien Embrace (Clans of Kalquor 1)Amazon Kindle, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble Nook, Smashwords, Kobo, New ConceptsPublishing

Netherworld:  Drop Dead SexyAmazon Kindle, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble Nook, Smashwords, New ConceptsPublishing

Unholy UnionAmazon Kindle, Amazon UK, Nook, Smashwords, Kobo, New Concepts Publishing

WIP Wednesday – Netherworld III: Once Bitten Twice Dead

How would you like to be in the middle of this contest?
Tristan grinned, his eyes dark with evil promise.  “How about a little friendly competition, Dan?”Dan’s eyes narrowed as he finally looked up at Tristan.  “What kind of competition?”“Two fifteen-minute rounds for each of us to see who can make Brandilynn come the most.  We start together to get her warmed up first, and then take turns.”Oh.  Oh.  Oh my goodness.  Did I hear that right?A grin to match Tristan’s for wickedness spread over Dan’s face.  “It doesn’t sound like there are any real losers in this contest.”“That’s the beauty of it.  The winner has bragging rights, and everyone has fun.  What do you say?”Dan rose from his seat and held out his hand.  “May the best man win.”They shook on it.  To say I was thrilled with the idea might be understating the situation.  Tristan said, “There’s only one rule.  No vibrators.  Otherwise, all other toys and bondage instruments that she hasn’t placed limits on are fine.  Brandilynn, flip a coin to determine who gets the first round.”  He dug a quarter out of his pocket.I stood and tossed it into the air.  “Call it, Dan.”“Heads.” Heads it was.  I was already wet in anticipation.“Naked, Brandilynn.”“Yes Sir.”I stood in front of them, quivering in excitement.  This promised to be so much fun.Tristan smirked at me wiggling in anticipation.  “You understand what’s going to happen here?  No requesting permission to come.  You get off as fast and as much as you want.”And it wasn’t even my birthday.  “Yes Sir!” 

Tutorial Tuesday = Ready, Set, Action!

The mechanics of writing action in fiction seem pretty straightforward, at least on the surface. The characters do something which results in something else happening. Action begets reaction, and like a row of falling dominoes, the story keeps rolling forward until the writer calls a halt to it at the end.
But more than simply giving characters something to do, action propels the story and keeps the reader hanging on to see what comes next. Effective action writing doesn't simply mean using active versus passive verbs. It also includes pacing and choosing the right words to keep us strapped in and riding the rollercoaster of your story.

To Stay Active Or Not?

One of the first 'rules' I encountered when it came to writing was the dictate to use active instead of passive verbs. Passive verbs include the words is, are, was, etc. The consensus is that a sentence like 'She was excited' is a boring, snooze-inducing way to lose a reader. Indeed, if you can use something more engaging like 'Her heart thundered with excitement', you should. Throw some descriptors in there, and it's even better. 'Her heart thundered like a racehorse being whipped by a frantic jockey on Derby Day.' Now there's an image to make your readers feel they're right there.

That's not to say the passive voice can't offer good reading too. Used in moderation and in the right circumstances, passive verbs can set the tone for a relaxed or even exhausted mood. In the following passage I want to make you feel the excessive effort it takes for the tired character to walk across a floor. Passive verbs slow the action here, dragging it out to better demonstrate the effort required. Try this on for size:

She was tired; bone-weary, head-drooping tired. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so exhausted. Her whole body was heavy with fatigue, and her feet dragged the floor, unable to lift as she shuffled forward. 

Did you feel that? I hope so.

And Speaking of Sharing Your Feelings...
 
Don't.

I am one of the worst when it comes to 'feeling' in my writing. As in, 'She felt his hand move up her thigh' or 'He felt the world beneath him tilt.' If there is anything as sluggish and passive as 'feeling' in writing, I'm not aware of it. And I, like many others, do it ALL THE TIME. I spend a ridiculous amount of effort during the editing of my work cleaning every character's 'feelings' out of my stories.

Of course the characters are feeling what happens to them. It goes without saying. So don't say it. 'His hand moved up her thigh.' 'The world beneath him tilted.' These two statements work fine with no flab to weigh them down.

Pacing 

Varying your sentence lengths in a scene can make or break the action. Short sentences give us quickness and immediacy. Longer sentences drag the action out, imparting information and anticipation. In a typical scene where characters are simply living their lives, I'll alternate the two. Here's an example from Alien Salvation:

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Aaron frowned, putting down his binoculars too. The past two years had been harsh to him. He was in his mid-fifties, but living in hiding and then seeing most of Earth demolished in cataclysmic explosions had aged him badly. His eyes were sunken, his face almost skull-like. It broke Lindsey's heart to see him look so old. 

Here's the pattern for the above passage: Short, medium, short, long, medium, short. The varying beats give us a rhythm that flows. Contrast that with what it would have sounded like had I used only short sentences:

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Aaron frowned. He put his binoculars down. The past two years had been harsh to him. He was in his mid-fifties. However, he'd been aged badly from living in hiding and see most of Earth demolished. His eyes were sunken. His face was almost skull-like. It broke Lindsey's heart to see him look so old.
 
Chop-chop-chop. It doesn't get much choppier than that, does it? It doesn't work here, but such scene structure does have its place. I like predominantly short sentences in extreme action sequences, where effort and danger are immediate. Like this passage from the same book in which the Kalquorians are preparing for a battle they cannot possibly win:

     "I'm ready too." Bacoj patted his own blade, slung on his belt. It too was utilitarian, not showy with a plain black handle and sharp edge. It would do the job nicely.
     Now that Vax's worst fears had been addressed, he and Bacoj looked steady. Resolute. Ready to die killing mortal enemies. Japohn felt a rush of pride for his clanmates.
     It was a good way to go out. 

Next, let's get a look at the first example again using just mid- to long-length sentences:

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Aaron said with a frown as he put his binoculars down too. The past two years had been harsh to him, because even though he was only in his mid-fifties, living in hiding and then seeing most of Earth demolished in cataclysmic explosions had aged him badly. His eyes were sunken, his face almost skull-like, and it broke Lindsey's heart to see him look so old. 

I don't know about you, but I had to read this over twice before I could take all the information in. There were no easily digestible, bite-sized chunks there. It made for very laborious reading. I'm not sure there are any times you want to pile long sentence after long sentence on your reader. When the action is slow, perhaps during more more descriptive passages, you'll certainly find more involved sentences. But give your audience a break here and there by mixing up sentence length. They'll like your stories a lot more.

Finding the Right Words
 
One of my favorite writers Stephen King is on record as saying, "Any word you have to hunt for in a thesaurus is the wrong word. There are no exceptions to this rule." Mr. King never had to deal with Asperger's Syndrome apparently. Like many Aspies I will fixate on a single word or phrase, and without my thesaurus I will repeat it over and over on the same page, sometimes two or three times within a single paragraph. Just ask my proofreaders.

I'm willing to invite Mr. King's ire by using my thesaurus because getting the right word onto the page is vital. Some words simply work better than others, so do whatever it takes to get the correct ones. Rely on adjectives and adverbs only as a last result. 'Forcefully landing a rock hard blow' isn't as succinct as 'potholing his face in with my fist'. When possible, you want that one perfect action word that will leave no doubt in the reader's mind as to what you meant. Choose carefully.

As another example, think about the variations on the word push. What comes to your mind when you read, "He pushed her into the car" as opposed to "He propelled her into the car" or "He muscled her into the car" or "He jammed her into the car"? Each example gives a whole different picture to the same forceful action, doesn't it? So you need to carefully consider what feeling you're trying to impart to your readers and choose your words accordingly. And if you have to use the diabolical crutch of a thesaurus, so be it. Sorry, Stephen.

So that's my take on writing action. It's all about making the reader feel the passion, the struggles and the triumphs while keeping the story rolling on to the end, whether bitter or happy.

Monday Man Time

This hottie Benais Begovic interrupted last week's Boys of Summer blog.  I think it's pretty obvious this gorgeous fitness model deserved a Monday Man spread all his own.





Would you beg for Begovic?  ;)

Six Sentence Sunday – Alien Salvation (Clans of Kalquor 4)

Lindsey felt a rush of warmth seeing the resolute strength on Bacoj’s dark face as he left.  For heaven’s sake, was she going to melt into a puddle of goo every time the aliens displayed assertiveness?  Just seeing the forceful expressions the men sometimes wore was enough to make her feel shaky inside.            I am such a freak.            She glanced at Vax and flushed to see the calculating look he gave her despite his sweet smile.  In some ways she thought he might be as dangerous as Japohn. 
Available from Amazon Kindle, Smashwords, and New Concepts Publishing

Oops - Sorry About That

I have belatedly realized that today's post (Interview with Levi Ward) was the same thing I posted last week.  Did anyone get a feeling of deja vu? 

My son is in the hospital after suffering complications with strep throat.  I am severely sleep deprived dealing with this, which is why I screwed up.  I apologize, all.  Hopefully, I can get back on track tomorrow.  Thanks for your patience.

Interview with Levi ‘Bane’ Ward of Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9

The second of the Netherworld series is scheduled for release June 8.  In this installment, we meet a Beast … that is, an enforcer for Fulton Falls’ Beasts Motorcycle Club.  His name is Bane, and this werewolf isn’t quite what he seems.
Q:  So … my sources tell me you aren’t exactly the criminal element that supposedly makes up the Beasts’ membership.
A:  I have every intention of tracking your sources down and finding out how much they know about me.
Q:  Down, boy.  I have no intention of blowing your, er, um – cover.  I like law enforcement.  So you’re an ATF agent, right?
A:  That’s right.  I’m undercover with the Beasts to bust them for suspected misdeeds.
Q:  So you get to ride motorcycles, drink, and look cool…
A:  …and bust skulls, collect protection money, sell drugs, and beat the shit out of anyone who screws with the club.
Q:  Yikes.  Wait, you’re a cop and you do that stuff?
A:  Like I said, I’m undercover.  I have to play along to get the evidence we need to take these lowlifes down.
Q:  Sounds dangerous.
A:  It is.  They’d kill me in an instant if they found out.
Q:  This is getting a little grim.  Let’s change the subject.  You’re a werewolf and I must say, that translates into a much nicer looking shifter than the weregators and werehogs.   Even those furry, pointy ears are kind of cute.
A:  Most people are disgustedt by us manimals.
Q:  Not me.  I particularly like the golden eyes and fangs.
A:  The better to eat you with, my dear.
Q:  Oh!  You know, that could be taken the wrong way, Bane.
A:  Call me Levi.  And if you’re referring to me tearing you into a bloody mess, then yes, you’re taking it the wrong way.
Q:  Well, I think we should move on…
A:  I have a nice long tongue too just like a wolf.  Want to see me lick my eyebrows?
Q:  No, that’s okay.
A:   Well there are better things to lick.  Let me show you.
Q:  Whoa!  Heel, Bane!  Okay, now ankle … keep moving up … good boy.  Until June, everyone…