R.M. Archer's Blog, page 51

I: The Influence of Writing On Life

When you become a writer, when you devote yourself to all the work it takes to produce a book (or quite a few books), your occupation and the rest of your life become inextricably linked. They feed into each other constantly, and there’s not really any way to stop it, nor do I think you necessarily should stop it. In this post, I’ll outline just a few ways being a writer can influence your “normal” life.

EVERYTHING is a story idea

Y’all writers know what I’m talking about. That little piece of dialogue you overheard while someone was talking on the phone, a vacation site, a line from a movie, even tiny plot points from existing movies (like the fact that King Artaxerxes’ guards wanted to kill him).

Nothing that’s even of mild interest slips your notice, and you’re constantly cramming new ideas into notebooks and journals.

You have notebooks everywhere

By your bed, for those late-night bursts of inspiration; by your computer, for when you see an awesome writing prompt; in your purse, in case inspiration strikes on the go. You take your current notebook on vacation, to sleepovers, to events…. anywhere an idea could appear (and we know that’s ANYWHERE), you take a notebook.

You think of everything in story terms

This one can be helpful or detrimental, depending on the situation. You see people as characters, you sort them into Hogwarts houses just like you would with your characters, you make notes of their flaws and strengths for future character development. You describe your first trip to the beach as if you’re a character in a book so that you can accurately describe the ocean if you need to (true story). You decide who would or wouldn’t survive in your books if they were characters. (And often you know the only reason you’d survive is because you know the story.) You might even narrate your life at times. To you, everything in life is part of a story.

You’re constantly examining the stories of others

Picking apart books (not literally. Please do not dismember books) to find out what makes them work, figuring out where bad books went wrong, pointing out plot holes in TV shows (a personal favorite), making fun of tropey fantasy movies, figuring out why you love the characters you love. Your brain is constantly in critic mode when consuming a story, and sometimes you wish you could turn it off once in a while and enjoy a story just for entertainment’s sake for once. On the bright side, it helps you develop your writing skills to an extent.

You’re also constantly examining your own stories

That one plot point you can’t get right, that one character whose flaw you can’t find, that aspect of your world that doesn’t quite work with the rest of the story… You’re constantly thinking about ways to improve whatever you’re working on, whatever stage it’s in.

You’re often off in dreamland (a.k.a. your storyworld)

Due to constantly thinking about writing (as Eugene Ionesco said, “For a writer, life consists of either writing or thinking about writing.”), your mind is often off in another world, working out plot kinks, developing characters, etc. Side effects include suddenly jumping up to write something down, or blurting out something totally random that actually has to do with what you were just thinking about, and thus startling anyone who may be nearby.

People don’t always realize you’re working

I don’t have to deal with this one too much, but lately my younger siblings have been calling me lazy for being on my computer all day when I’m actually working on a blog post or editing. I just tell them, “You have no idea,” and keep working, but it’s incredibly annoying. It can be easy for people to see you working on your computer and think you’re not actually doing anything, which has the potential to throw you off completely if you’ve really gotten into the zone.

These are the main things I can think of. How does being a writer affect your life? Which of these is the best/worst? I’d love to hear from you in the comments. :)

Wildlife in Worldbuilding

Fun fact: I used to HATE developing wildlife for worldbuilding. It fact, I loathed it so much that I just altogether avoided it. Until I found this post by Hannah at Ink Blots and Coffee Stains and realized it didn’t have to be as hard as I was making it. I didn’t have to make everything up from scratch. Now I really enjoy developing new creatures. Plants are a bit trickier and I generally don’t develop those unless I have a very specific purpose in mind for them (for instance, they produce a certain color of dye), but creatures I can do. (You should check out Hannah’s post for more info on plants, because she actually gives them a whole section rather than a measly single point like I did.) So here are some things to consider when developing fictional wildlife.

You can base it on something else

This is the biggest thing I didn’t get before reading Hannah’s post. Reading it was kind of a “Duh” moment, but I totally didn’t get it prior to that post. You can base your creatures on other creatures, be they real or fictional, or you can adapt an existing creature to fit your needs (or interests).

For instance: the Shahr from The Heart of the Baenor are based on panthers, the Caeceus from my Kersir novellas are based on Tauntauns, and I plan to have red-purple phoenixes in Kersir due to an interest in Tyrian purple and everything that goes with that (which I’ll be writing about on Our Mind Palace next Wednesday if you want more information).

You can use existing animals

This sounds really boring, but it can actually be a ton of fun, particularly if you’re writing a story set in a very different climate from what you’re used to. With Kersir, for instance, I was able to look up animals from the Arabian desert and similar places and find all sorts of new animals I’d never heard of before (as well as some that are just cool).

For instance: sand cats are the most adorable things on the planet, and there’s a thing called a siaga antelope that looks like a cross between an anteater, a koala, an elephant, and an antelope (look it up. It’s really crazy). I didn’t use the siaga antelope for Kersir, but if I hadn’t been looking up another variety of antelope I never would have found it. God is super creative, so you find a lot of cool stuff just by looking up animals that already exist.

Develop them by need

What purpose does this animal serve? What gap do you need filled? Does your character have a pet but you don’t know what kind? Do you want to use some sort of cool mount but you don’t know what? Does your world’s cuisine need some new kind of meat? Is there some sort of material you don’t know the origin of? Develop a creature by beginning with that need. That material is thick and durable? The creature’s going to have thick, durable hide which will affect how easy it is to kill (that would probably also make the material harder to come by). Your character needs a pet? Then that animal needs to be fairly docile or you need to start by figuring out how it’s tamed. If you need a mount, you’ll need to figure out how much bigger it is than the thing riding it. How fast does it travel? Does it have two legs, four legs, eight legs, a million legs? How does that affect its gait? Start with the need and spiral out.

Also think about how it survives in whatever environment it’s in. For a desert-dwelling animal, figure out how often it needs water and where it gets it. For a mountain dweller, make sure it has thick fur or some other way to ward off the cold. The environment may also determine whether it travels alone or with a pack or herd. A lot of the details of an animal will come from its environment.

Don’t ignore the little guys

It’s easy to just think of mammals, reptiles, sea animals, and birds while we’re developing animal life because they’re the big things we see all the time. But what about insects and amphibians and such? Purple dye was original made from a snail called a murex (which is related to the red-purple phoenix in Kersir and will be talked about in the post I mentioned). Bees pollinate flowers. Spiders (creepy as they are) eat pesky flies and mosquitos. The big animals have obvious purposes and perhaps affect the population of your story most directly, but small things you overlook can be just as important.

Concerning plant life

Like I said at the beginning of this post, I don’t tend to do a whole lot with the flora of a world, but that doesn’t mean I think it’s unimportant. Interesting, well-developed flora – even if it’s not shown much – can add an element of depth to your world, and most of the above points apply to flora as well as fauna, and looking up existing plants can be almost as interesting as existing fauna. (If you want proof, go look up a dragonfruit tree. It’s like a small willow with aloe instead of fronds.)

What is the most interesting existing animal or plant you’ve seen? What’s the most interesting you’ve developed for your story? Let me know in the comments!

H: The Heart of the Baenor Tavern Scene

The Heart of the Baenor (as it is currently called. It really needs a new title.) is my Camp NaNoWriMo project. I’m editing it and finishing it, because I stopped last July and it’s now about ten chapters short but the writing is a mess and I need to remind myself what’s happening, so I’m editing it up to that point and then I’ll finish it and edit that. So far it’s actually been pretty fun to edit (editing is a lot nicer when you don’t have to rewrite the whole thing from scratch. ;D) and I’m looking forward to making it as good as I can. Here’s a scene that introduces one of the two main characters. Enjoy!

Catessa stopped on top of one of the tallest buildings in the city and looked over her shoulder one last time for anyone who might have followed her. There was still no one. She made her way to the gutter, sliding down to land on a pile of trash and mud in the alleyway, the familiar sound of laughter and talking muffled through the building’s walls.

She walked around to the front of the tavern and stepped inside, savoring the raucous atmosphere and the sickly sweet smell of alcohol. This place was almost like home.

She made her way immediately to the counter and saw that someone was already in her usual seat. His face was turned away from her, but the light from the nearby fireplace gave his hair a familiar reddish tint.

“You’re in my seat,” Catessa said.

“I know,” he returned, spinning to face her with a smirk, resting his elbows on the counter behind him.

“Scoot over.”

The young man moved to the next stool over and Catessa took her seat, now warm. “How long did you wait?” Catessa waved down the barmaid.

“A while.”

The barmaid came over.

“I’ll have my usual,” Catessa said, the barmaid left again.

Catessa slid the man’s mug down the bar to him and he caught it, lifting it to his lips and taking a drink.

“What’d you get?” the young man asked.

“I got what I went for. Why do you care? It was my job, not yours.”

He shrugged. “Just curious.”

The barmaid set a mug in front of Catessa and left again. Catessa took a sip of her ale before setting the mug back down and turning toward the young man. “Roth, you know I’m not going to tell you anything I don’t want to, so why are you still here?”

“Maybe I’d like to see if I can make you want to.” He leaned closer to her and she smirked, turning to face the main room.

She watched him out the corner of her eye. “Nice try.”

Roth shrugged. “It was worth a try.”

“Go on home.”

“Why? Do you have some secret business to deal with? A dead body you need help hiding?”

Catessa chuckled. “No.”

Roth drained his mug and set it on the counter along with a couple of copper coins. “I’ll see you back at the temple.”

Catessa nodded and watched him walk out of the tavern. He shot her a wink as he reached the door and she rolled her eyes in return. Once he was gone, she turned back toward the counter and flagged down the barmaid.

“Refill?” the girl asked.

“No, just a question. Is-”

The barmaid shook her head. “No, she’s still gone. Sorry.”

Catessa nodded, lips pursed. “Mm. Thanks. Do you have any idea when she’ll be back?”

The barmaid shook her head. “Your best bet is to just keep checking. She’s rather unpredictable. I’ll tell her you were looking whenever she gets back.”

“Thanks.”

Catessa absently sipped at her ale and turned toward the bard stage. There was usually an interesting story being told up there, but today it was the tale of Rosyn Celebar – one she’d heard a million times. The bard was one she’d seen only a few times, but that wasn’t enough to keep her interest.

Catessa turned her attention to the tavern’s patrons, looking for anyone she hadn’t seen before. That was a short list, considering how often she came, but there were a few, most of them younger faces likely just come of age. Half of them were slobbering drunk and the other half were staring at their mugs as if they’d be kicked out if they even took a sip. She smirked a bit, amused.

She turned the other direction, toward the fireplace, where the more interesting patrons tended to gather. Adventurers, bards, and anyone else with a story to tell would speak in hushed tones of long-ago wars and almost-wars, reminiscing of the old days and embellishing their own tales of adventure. Tonight, however, everyone’s attention was turned to the old bard telling Rosyn’s Ballad.

Catessa turned back to the old bard up front and he met her gaze with light gray eyes that seemed to stare straight through to her soul. She turned hastily back to the bar and took another swig of ale. Her soul was too dark to be seen.

The old bard completed his tale and his words took an altogether different tone. “Now, I have need of someone to go on a quest for me.”

Catessa felt his eyes on her, but refused to return his gaze.

“You there, at the bar, come here please.”

Catessa looked down the bar. There was no one else sitting there. “If you want to talk to me about a job,” she said, “we can talk business privately here at the bar.”

The bard came over and sat next to her. “Very well.”

Catessa set one elbow on the bar, facing the old man. His eyes still seemed to see deeper than she’d like as she met his gaze. “Why me?”

“Because I can tell you’re perfect for the position I need filled.”

“And how would you know?”

“You’re wearing nine daggers right now, you’ve already drawn a tenth in case my mission turns out to be a scam, and you know how to properly talk business.”

She considered his words a moment before speaking. “I’ll need to know particulars.”

“Of course. I’ll meet you here in the morning to discuss things.”

“Why not now? It seems better to tell me what all this entails and let me sleep on it than to wait unnecessarily and potentially lose my interest.”

The bard’s eyes glittered. “Let’s see if I lose your interest, then, shall we? Anytime before noon tomorrow I’ll be here.” He rose and headed up the stairs to the inn above.

Catessa drained her mug before heading out into the dark streets to head home. All was still in the city since it was past midnight, and only a few sporadic street lamps lit the street, most of them threatening to sputter out by now.

She started down the street, her feet making very little noise on the stone, instinctively moving from shadow to shadow.

 

G: Grantech Opening Scene

Here’s another opening scene of a story I’m not ready to write. I think this is my favorite yet, and the character relationships gained a wholly different dynamic than I’d expected. I also love my POV character, having written her. She’s a lot of fun. Enjoy. :)

By the way, this world and organization just so happen to be heavily featured in two of the four stories in my Short Story Collection Vol. 1, so you should totally go check that out if you’re interested in this universe.

When Ash came to get me, I was already expecting it. He knocked more to alert me of his entry than anything else before opening the door in his usual crisp Grantech guard uniform and telling me what I already knew.

“Your powers have failed to manifest and you’re to be cut from the program.” Killed. I was going to be killed.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” I brushed a stray bit of hair behind my ear – one of those annoying bits that never fits in the ponytail but still constantly falls in your face – without looking up from my game of pyramid solitaire.

“We’re going now.”

I looked up at the tall guard – six one, if I remembered correctly, thus half a foot taller than me, and yet no longer intimidating after all these years – and pursed my lips. “Not until I finish this game.” I turned back to my cards.

I could tell Ash was trying not to roll his eyes. “We have to go. Ms. Class won’t be happy if I deliver you late.”

I sighed and scooped up the cards, tucking them back into their box and sticking the box in my pocket as I stood up and walked out the door of my “quarters.” My room was nice and all, but I wasn’t so naive as to mistake it for anything other than a cell. I headed toward the labs and it only took Ash a couple long strides to catch up and grip my arm to escort me like a loyal Grantech guard.

When we reached Lab Zeta – the only lab that was strictly off-limits to all but top-level personnel – Ash stopped and we stood around waiting for Miss Erdiana Class or one of her minions to arrive and let me into the room where I’d die.

After five minutes spent twiddling our thumbs, one of the scientists finally arrived and swiped their ID chip. The door buzzed and the three of us stepped into the room, Ash closing the door behind us.

“Please have a seat.” The scientist – who I noticed had a bulbous nose – gestured to a padded chair in the center of the room and I sat, tapping my booted feet on the air. If Ash let them go through with this, those lovely combat boots would end up with some other oh-so-fortunate test subject. I hoped they’d appreciate them.

As the scientist prepared a syringe of poison, I glanced over at Ash, standing straight and still next to the door. He spared me a glance just long enough to wink.

F: The Faerie-Elves Duel Scene

Okay, this one was a ton of fun to write. This is a set of characters I know really well, plus it employs a lot of the information I’ve been working on redesigning for the Aleruus Star System (a vast universe I’ve had since I was seven), so I got to employ both the new and the old. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

Sarabrina, Sphene, and Chevon stepped into the amphitheater and saw Julen standing in the center of the grassy floor, hands folded in front of him. He smiled as they entered, as if he’d been waiting for them.

“Welcome back, Sarabrina,” he said. He turned his attention to Sphene and something seemed to soften in his eyes for a moment. “And Sphene. I didn’t expect to ever see you again.”

Sphene shrugged. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Julen’s attention shifted to Chevon. “And who’s the boy?”

“Why would I tell you?” Sarabrina asked.

Julen sighed and another man stepped into the amphitheater from a side entrance, harsh ice blue eyes giving him away immediately as Cordier.

“Father.” Sphene nearly spat the title, a ferocious glare focused entirely on him.

“Hello, Sphene. I thought you were dead.”

“What a way to greet your long-lost daughter.”

“Please. I melted your ring long ago.”

“Enough of the family reunion,” Julen said, rolling his eyes. “What do you want? ‘Hi, sis, I’ve missed you’? Let’s just get on with this.”

“And what exactly is ‘this’?” Chevon asked. “How did you know we’d be here?”

“Sphene was bound to need an anchor at some point. Since this place holds so many memories for her it seemed only fitting.” Cordier grinned.

Sphene muttered to herself lower than Sarabrina could hear.

“So, dearest, what do you say we have one last dance? Like old times?”

Sphene looked up at Cordier and Sarabrina saw deep hurt in eyes that matched Cordier’s.

Cordier stepped over to Sphene and rested his hands on her shoulders. Sarabrina stepped to the side, closer to Chevon.

“Dearest Sphene,” Cordier said, “won’t you dance with your father just once more? I may be cruel, but I’m still your father.”

“You haven’t been my father in years.” Sphene’s voice was strangled.

Cordier flinched as if slapped. “Fine. You want a fight, then? I’ll give you one.” He turned and walked back to where he’d stood, gesturing toward the ampitheater seats without taking his eyes from Sphene. “Have a seat, Julen.”

Sarabrina and Chevon both walked over to the opposite seats, sensing this wasn’t something they wanted to be close to.

Cordier flourished his hands and soil from beneath him swirled into a ball between his hands. “Careful, dearest. We wouldn’t want these roses to wither under the heat of that blue fire of yours.”

“Since when do you care about roses? You disregard life as if it were dust.”

“And it is. Dust that will be blown away in due time… Or perhaps undue time.” He grinned. “Now, won’t you call up that fire of yours? I don’t want to fire before you’re armed.”

Sphene swirled one hand and a blue flame hovered over it. “Let’s get this over with.”

Cordier threw his ball of soil, keeping it on a trajectory straight for her face, and Sphene threw her fire into a protective shield, the soil turning to motes of dust under its heat. A mix of grass and leaves met the same fate.

“You won’t beat me with your earth manipulation,” Sphene said.

“But I can keep you busy.”

Sphene raised an eyebrow and released her shield. It remained in place as she summoned another bulb of fire in her hand and threw it at him. He darted to the side and threw a ball of soil at her from his new side angle. The shield at her front slid to intercept it and she sent five more bolts of fire in close succession. He was too slow to evade the last two and they struck him, but the burns melted away in seconds. Sphene’s eyes widened and Sarabrina wondered how familiar the two of them were with each others’ powers in reality.

“Ah, didn’t know I had that trick, did you?”

Cordier grinned and tossed another ball of soil her way. It was as easily deflected as all the others and Sphene retaliated with a heavy stream of fire. Cordier planted himself and Sarabrina watched as he was garishly burned, turning away after a moment at the sight. When Sphene’s fire ceased, however, everything that had been burned was rebuilt.

“It won’t be that easy, dearest. You won’t make me vulnerable.” He raised his arms and bits of stone cracked from the ampitheater, urged toward Sphene from the front and sides with his will.

As the stone came crashing toward her, Sphene increased the power of her fire and heavily backpedaled, barely avoiding being struck. Cordier laughed and pulled apart more of the building, this time bringing stone from all sides. Sphene curled into a ball on the ground, throwing up the strongest flames she could around her in an already-futile attempt to protect herself.

Julen leaped from his place in the stands and lunged for Cordier. “Father, no! You’ll bring down the ampitheater on top of us!”

“Whatever it takes to get rid of this foul Dywen.”

“You’ll kill all of us!” Sarabrina was surprised to see genuine fear in Julen’s eyes as he looked at the quickly-crumbling ampitheater. He looked back at his father. “Would Mother have wanted this place to fall?”

Cordier turned to Julen. “Your mother is dead. The dead mean nothing.”

Julen stood stock still for only a moment before seizing his father’s arm and wrenching it toward him. Stones flew toward the far wall at the sudden change, crashing and shattering upon impact, blowing a hole in the wall and causing a section of it to fall. As it struck the front seats, Sarabrina was almost surprised to find that she was glad Julen was no longer sitting there.

Chevon grasped Sarabrina’s arm and she looked over at him, eyes wide. “We need to get out of here,” he said. He tugged her toward the nearest exit, but she resisted.

“No. What about Sphene and Julen?”

“It’s too late, Sarabrina! They’re gone.”

Sarabrina wrenched her arm away and Chevon screamed after her as she ran toward the crumbling walls and the three people in the middle of it all. She felt like someone else’s voice was yelling as she told Sphene to let down her shield and collided with Julen, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward an exit.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Saving you.” Sarabrina risked a glance over her shoulder and saw Sphene running after them. Chevon was just disappearing through an outer door, and the ampitheater was beginning to crumble from its very foundations as Cordier, mad with rage, threw the stones he still had control over in all directions and struck the supports. She looked back at where she was going just before she would have been smashed by a piece of falling debris and pulled Julen through a door out into the forest beyond. She kept running for several feet before turning back and looking to see where Sphene was.

As Sphene appeared in the doorway, the ampitheater crumbled, leaving her pinned underneath. Sarabrina’s breath stopped and she shrieked, still gripping Julen’s arm.

E: The Elementals Opening Scene

I had no idea what to do with this scene at first, because I hadn’t looked at this story in more than two years prior to this post, and reading it to refresh my memory can be fairly well summed up in this pin:

Also, that moment when you can tell something you mentioned is super important but it’s been so long that you have NO IDEA where you were going with it… #writerproblems

I decided to give it up after a couple hundred words and work on figuring out the world instead and after that it went much better. I’m still not a huge fan of the writing itself, but at least I know where the story’s supposed to begin at this point. Enjoy. :)

I stepped into the dorm room where I’d be staying and looked around. There was a bed against each of the side walls and a wide window let in plenty of natural light that turned the room orange due to the color of the curtains. I was observing a red flame sculpture when a deep voice sounded behind me.

“You must be my new roommate.”

I wheeled to face the tallest, most muscular elf I’d ever seen, with a shock of white-blond hair and piercing gold eyes. I couldn’t keep my voice from shaking ever so slightly as I nodded and held out a hand. “Skandain.”

He shook my hand and I felt certain he could have pulled my arm from its socket if he’d wanted to. “Brant.” He smiled.

“Nice to meet you.” I let go of his hand and fiddled with the rock in my pocket.

“You too. Liking the school so far?”

“I haven’t really seen much…” I glanced around the room. “Is there a clock in here somewhere?”

“No. Shale makes sure we’re all up bright and early in the morning and there’s a loud bell for classes – can’t miss it – so clocks aren’t really necessary.”

“Ah. I was going to see how long I have before… initiation? Is that what Shale called it?”

“Just a few minutes. If you want to be really on time we can leave now.”

“You haven’t been initiated either?”

“Oh, no. I’ve been here for three years. I’m a fire elemental. But I can show you where the building is, and older students tend to watch too.”

“Oh. Right.” I continued twirling the rock between my fingers in my pocket.

Brant gestured for me to follow him and led me out of the dorms onto the packed wood paths that linked all the buildings in Elferion Academy. As we passed I noticed again, as I had on the way in with Shale, that all of the buildings bore the school insignia: It was like a squiggly tic-tac-toe board with a flame in the center box and a diamond in the upper right corner. The same emblem that was carved into the rock I was playing with. We walked all the way across the school to where the administrative buildings were and entered a short building with windows all the way across the front. Apparently this place loved natural light.

The room we entered was filled with benches from the halfway point to the back. The front had a row of four desks with a chair in front of all of them facing out toward the benches.

“That’s where you sit for them to determine what element you are.” Brant pointed to the lone chair. “The desks are for element studies later on.”

I nodded and Brant directed me to a bench near the front. A moment after we sat the door opened and four adults walked in, two men and two women. All of them were elves. They moved to sit behind the four desks and began talking in hushed tones.

“That’s Caelum the headmaster, Arianthe, Baara, and Galen.” Brant pointed to each one in turn and I nodded. “Air, earth, fire, and water. There’s never an unbalanced number of any one here at the school.”

“Why not?”

“That causes… a lot of issues. Caelum figured that out pretty early on.”

“Issues like what?”

“Let’s hope you never get to find out.”

D: Dark Queen Rising

This is the opening scene for a novel I’m planning temporarily called Dark Queen Rising. (While I love the title, it gives away spoilers. XP) Enjoy. :)

Roran paced the library, stiff black boots sinking into the maroon carpet with every step. He rubbed the back of his neck, focused on his steps and the speech he was muttering. He prayed the words wouldn’t escape him once he got out there.

When the door opened two minutes later, Roran jumped and his brown-eyed gaze shot to the newcomer. It was just a member of the guard, crisp uniform as polished as everything else in this place.

“It’s almost time,” the guard said. “Follow me.”

Roran did as he was told, trying hard not to pull at his collar. He momentarily wondered why he was even doing this, but quickly dismissed the thought. The people of this province needed a good leader. He wasn’t at all certain that he could be that leader, but he had to try.

The guard led Roran into a well-lit dining hall, where two others already stood, looking far more comfortable than he did. One was a tall woman in a sleek red dress and dramatic makeup, both in contrast with her pale skin and dark curls. She wore several rings on her fingers, all gold. The other was a man probably in his mid-twenties, only a few years older than Roran, with dark hair and blue eyes. He wore a starched black suit similar to Roran’s own.

“You must be Roran Brance,” the woman said, her lips curling upward. She walked over, sleek as a cat, and extended a hand. “I’m Clissa Hiara.”

Roran shook her hand, heart rate speeding up. This was one of the Hiaras? “Pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m sure the pleasure is all mine.” Her smile widened, showing perfect white teeth in contrast with her dark lipstick.

The other walked over and extended a hand in turn. “Caiden Berkeley.” The man looked Roran over, sizing him up, as they shook hands. “You don’t look much like a politician.”

Roran chuckled, nerves getting the better of him.

Christian stepped back and looked out an open set of French doors to the terrace beyond. The current prime minister, Trell Paust, was in the midst of giving an introductory speech to the hundreds of people gathered outside his manor, and Roran turned his attention to Paust’s words.

“…People of the Trell Province, I do hope that you’ll reelect me and allow me the privilege of being your prime minister for two more years. Thank you.” He stepped away from the podium and turned toward those in the dining room with a broad smile.

Caiden leaned over and muttered to Clissa. “He shouldn’t have ended the speech with a request.”

Roran’s throat constricted. He’d been planning on ending with a request. Should he not?

“Now,” Paust said, “allow me to introduce the other three candidates in this election. First, Miss Clissa Hiara.”

There were cheers and applause as Clissa smiled and stepped gracefully onto the terrace, standing in front of a chair set up for her.

“Second, Caiden Berkely.” More applause as he moved to stand beside Clissa.

“And lastly, Roran Brance.”

There was deafening silence as Roran stepped onto the terrace to stand next to Caiden. He tried to smile, but his nerves were frayed and he knew he looked just as terrified as he felt. What a way to start a political campaign.

“The first to speak will be Clissa Hiara. Please give her your full attention.” Paust smiled again and took a seat across from Caiden and Roran.

As Clissa stepped up to the podium, Roran tried to focus on her.

“Good morning, dear people of the Trell Province. I am, as has been announced, Clissa Hiara. It is a great honor for me to stand before you now, running for prime minister. I have lived here in Trell since before that was its name, I have come to love the people and the places…”

Roran zoned out. Clissa’s words faded into the background as he looked around at the crowd. There were so many people, so many eyes that would soon all be focused on him. It was petrifying to think about. He turned his attention instead to those who weren’t paying attention. Men and women yawning, having only come out of a sense of duty, and children whose parents had brought them along either out of necessity or to acquaint their children with the political early. One little girl was looking right at him, and when he met her gaze she waved at him with a smile. He smiled back.

The remainder of Clissa’s speech and Caiden’s were a blur of fear for Roran. He couldn’t focus, which simply perpetuated his fear. I can’t do this. I can’t focus. I can’t speak…

Too soon, Trell Paust was announcing his name.

Roran swallowed hard and stood, walking over to the podium, trepidation weighing on him like a yoke. He put his hands on the side of the podium and swallowed again, looking down at the blank wood of the stand and then out at the ocean of faces. His mouth was dry. His brain worked, but his mouth did nothing. He watched, feeling helpless, as people began to mutter to one another.

Finally his words came, squeaky though they were. “Dear-” He cut himself off to swallow again in an attempt to wet his mouth. “Dear p-p-p-people of Trell.” His brain stopped. He had nothing beyond that. His heart was racing. “I have live-lived here since I was born. I’ve gotten t-to know th-th-the people here.” He strained to pick out a familiar face in the crowd. His parents, perhaps, or his sister. “I know th-th-the struggles and t-t-t-trials you face.” He thought he heard people laughing in the audience and felt his words catch in his throat. “I’m a member of your community. I’ve been among you. I work on a farm with my p-p-par-parents. I know what it’s like t-t-to…” What was he even supposed to say? He’d had a whole speech prepared, but now? He swallowed past a lump in his throat.

Roran heard harsh whispers right before a little girl climbed through the terrace fence and took his hand. It was the same little girl who’d smiled at him earlier. He smiled down at her.

“You’re doing wonderful. Keep going.”

Roran looked back out at the crowd. “I… I don’t know how t-to do th-this. I just know I want to help. I had a sp-p-speech, but I… I don’t know what happened. I just want to help the people of T-trell. We don’t need another shady p-politician. We need someone real.” Roran stepped back from the podium, the girl keeping her grip on his hand. He looked down at her. “Why’d you do that?”

“You looked scared. Holding someone’s hand helps me when I’m scared and I wanted to help.”

As Paust stepped back up to the podium, there were a few scattered claps for Roran’s speech, but nothing consequential.

Roran smiled at the little girl. “Thank you. What’s your name?”

“Faith.”

“You should get back to your family, shouldn’t you?”

All the light drained from her face, but she nodded, released his hand, and headed back through the terrace fence into the crowd.

Character Interview: Coraline Seralen

Coraline is the main character of The King’s Paladin, book three of The Dark War Trilogy and the one I talk about least (because it’s the one I know the least…). She’s a terrified mess for a lot of the book, thrust into a job she doesn’t think she’s ready for, but she has the most tender heart ever and loves helping and healing people. Enjoy her interview. :)

Coraline: *comes in and sits across from the interviewer, fiddling with her linen skirt* Hello.

Interviewer: Hello. *smiles* How are you today?

Coraline: Fine, I suppose. *offers a timid smile, kaleidoscopic hazel eyes tumultuous*

Interviewer: Shall we begin?

Coraline: *nods, brushing chestnut hair behind her ear*

Interviewer: What is your name?

Coraline: Coraline Alessia Seralen.

Interviewer: How old are you?

Coraline: Seventeen.

Interviewer: Do you have any siblings?

Coraline: Not officially, but I grew up with five others around my age. Gabel Tyrell, Toril Valda, Wisterin Larn, Orlan Resdin, and Dorian Frallin.

Interviewer: Why were you raised together? What was that like?

Coraline: We were all born orphans one way or another, and Eliot Dashire took us all in to train us in the castle so one of us could become his apprentice. *swallows* Gabel and I were always his favorite, and I think the others resented us for it. I know Orlan did. We all trained together until I turned fifteen and he chose one of us to take over. We didn’t all have the best relationships, but we could only dislike each other but so much, living together and training together every day. We still all live in the castle, but now we barely interact, aside from Gabel and me.

Interviewer: Do you miss them?

Coraline: *shrugs* I think I miss the dynamic we had. Gabel and I were rather shunned by the other four, we never really fit in with them, but I miss training with them and the jokes they made even if they were usually at our expense. I didn’t like being insulted, of course, but it’s disappointing that I’ll never be that close to them again.

Interviewer: Do you have a job in the castle?

Coraline: I’m the healer’s assistant, mostly. I like helping people. *smiles softly*

Interviewer: Do you have a favorite food?

Coraline: Freshly-baked bread.

Interviewer: A favorite color?

Coraline: Pale blue, like a clear winter sky.

Interviewer: What’s your favorite book?

Coraline: Anything Gabel and I read together. We learned to read together, and ever since we could we’ve read a book together every year. *smiles, eyes sparkling*

Interviewer: So is Gabel like an… older brother?

Coraline: *nods slowly* In a way. He’s a year older than me and we’re as close as siblings.

Interviewer: What is your favorite animal?

Coraline: Horses. They’re beautiful, graceful, powerful… I almost wish I could be one myself. *chuckles*

Interviewer: What are your hobbies?

Coraline: Reading, running, horseback riding, and working in the apothecary.

Interviewer: Which of these is most important to you: Kindness, intelligence, or bravery?

Coraline: Kindness.

Interviewer: And honesty or selflessness?

Coraline: Selflessness.

Interviewer: What is something you can’t leave home without?

Coraline: A book and my herb kit.

Interviewer: Thank you for your time. *smiles*

Coraline: You’re welcome. *returns the smile and leaves*

C: Critique Etiquette

Another letter without a book title (and another I was fairly surprised at). Since I talked last month about whether or not to share first drafts and how to do so effectively, I thought it would be a good idea to look at the other side of the coin and give some tips on how best to help someone who has asked you to look at their work.

Do What They Asked For

If they just asked you to read their story as a reader and give your thoughts on the story, don’t comment heavily on their grammar. If they asked you to be critical of the grammar and didn’t ask for story feedback, don’t comment heavily on the story. If they have a lot of issues with something they didn’t ask you to help with, politely suggest that they find someone to work on those areas, but don’t go crazy commenting on individual errors. It could be that they already have someone else working on those things, or maybe they didn’t know it was a problem and you pointing it out will be helpful. Either way, the best way to act in that situation is to give a polite suggestion that they look into the trouble area.

Be Honest, Not Harsh

Critique is a balancing act. You want to point out their flaws, but in such a way that it’s helpful instead of harmful. When you give critique, it’s ideal to point out the good at the beginning and end of your comment and the bad in between. If that’s not possible (I’ve read some really bad books that I couldn’t find one good thing to say about), just try to be as gentle as possible about your feedback without keeping back something that it would be helpful for the author to know.

Throughout your critique, try to point out both the good and the bad (this doesn’t apply so much for line-/copy-editing). There’s a scene or line or character you just adore? Comment on it so the author knows. (I’m actually really bad at this, not because I don’t see things that I like but because when I edit I’m in a critical mindset and don’t think to point out what I really like. It’s something I’m working on.)

When you point out an error or something that could be improved, don’t just comment “This is wrong!” Let the author know what’s wrong with it and suggest possible ways to fix it. They’re not guaranteed to use your exact fix – it’s their story, after all, not yours – but they’ll appreciate the help.

Remember Who’s In Charge

This is another piece of the balancing act. You want to help them identify the problems and give them guidance on how to fix it… But remember it’s their story. Critiquing requires humility. Your idea is not necessarily the best and ultimately it’s their decision whether or not the thing is even changed, much less if they use your exact method to change it.

If there’s something you feel strongly is an error and the author doesn’t want to fix it, try talking civilly about it with the author. Define why you think they’re in error and let them explain why they didn’t change it. Try to understand it from the author’s point of view and see the story through their eyes. You may be able to show them what you see or you may not, they may change it or they may not. Be respectful and defer to their expertise on the story through the process.

The Benefits of Fanfiction

When I just hear the word “fanfiction,” I think of smutty romances and fan theories that make no sense. That’s really sad (and I sincerely apologize to any fanfiction writers here). However, when I’m thinking about fanfiction, and thinking about writing fanfiction, I remember I started with fanfiction. I think instead of creativity and development and inexperienced (but still admirable) writing.

Before we get into the actual benefits, I’m going to tell you a story. My “first good novel,” The Half-Elves (if you’ve been here a while there’s no way you haven’t heard of this before), started out as a fanfiction of The Legend of Zelda, or more accurately its spin-off game Link’s Crossbow Training. With Link’s Crossbow Training you don’t see any of the characters except Link, you just see the world. The world is really interesting, so seven-year-old me decided it would be cool to write a story set there. Link, of course, played a crucial role, and I looked up who Zelda was to see how she’d fit in as well. Anyway, a 17k novella (which I thought was a novel, at the time) was born. Every one of the characters was original aside from Link and Zelda until I finally got Twilight Princess for my birthday one year and ended up inserting other game characters, and the world was vague enough (I stink at description) and the characters were different enough that it became easy – once I realized that you can’t, in fact, publish fanfiction like a normal novel – to simply change names and make it original fiction. Even before that, I’d been writing “novels” (younger me really did not grasp the concept of a novel; my earliest “novels” were something like five pages long each, with big handwriting) heavily based on the Magic Kingdom of Landover books by Terry Brooks. Now, nine years later, I’m rebuilding that whole universe so that I can make it even better, rewrite those novels (so that they’re actually novels this time), and eventually publish them. Fanfiction can become much more.

Okay, long-winded story finished. Now let’s get into actual concrete benefits.

An Established World Lets You Practice Character Development

Characters are my favorite thing to work on, and I wonder now if that’s thanks in part to having used established worlds for so much of my early career. When you’re working in an established world, you can turn your attention to the characters (and plot, but since I have trouble writing about plot I’m not going to cover that) and make deep, well-rounded characters. I’m not saying you’ll become an expert on your first try (the majority of my characters when I was writing fanfiction were little more than names and faces), but if you practice with characters you’ll get better at characters, and it’s easier to focus on one aspect of writing when others are already taken care of and you don’t have to divide your attention.

Copying the Greats Helps You Learn What Works

When you write in someone else’s world or about someone else’s characters it’s like borrowing their expertise. You borrow what they know about writing deep worlds and well-rounded characters by writing about those they’ve already created and developed. You learn how details and flaws and everything works in practical terms and affects the story and whatnot, even if you don’t know that’s what you’re doing.

If You Decide You Want to Do Something More With It, It Poses a Fun Challenge

If you decide you want to publish the fanfiction you’ve written, but you want to make it original instead of fanfiction, you’re given an intriguing challenge to make everything your own. When I was eleven and wanted to make The Half-Elves original, all I did was change the names (I still haven’t settled on a new name I like for Link); now as I try to make it even better and use all I’ve learned in my nine years of writing to make the world deeper and the characters more intricate, I’m rebuilding an entire universe from bare bones. Two planets, nine countries, quite a few stories… all of these will need to be rewritten. Some shifts require more work than others, but it’s a really fun (if tedious) challenge.

Have you ever written fanfiction? Was it writing practice or just for fun? Have you ever considered turning it into something new? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. :)