Katherine Frances's Blog, page 29
August 5, 2018
Kim Shimmers and the Deathly Hallows
A Harry Potter fanfic by me (and the 5th, final installment in the Kim Shimmers series)
She was like Voldemort in at least one way. They were both of the same make now. Dead,
alive, the two of them were some cross between. Perhaps he had even felt it in
her.
This Harry Potter fan fiction (as long as all goes according to plan) will be posted by the beginning of every week. The pictures above are not mine, though I edited some.
Chapter 1
Dead
She couldn’t be certain when, but at some point, Kim ended up in a green, lush field speckled with trees. She couldn’t be certain of anything, really, nor did she try to be. She simply stood in the field, taking in the expanse around her without truly seeing it. She didn’t feel the wind on her skin, though she knew it must be there. There was no smell in the air, though it should’ve been fresh and onion sweet like the smell of grass. Is this a dream? the thought occurred to her.
“No,” answered a melodic voice. It sounded as though many voices had answered her at once, each one speaking softly, almost a whisper, but together forming an echoing, yet solid sound. Kim looked around, turning, trying to discern the source of the voice, though it seemed to come from all around her. As she twisted to see behind her, a beautiful girl came into view.
She was probably Kim’s age, it seemed. She had crimson hair the likes of which Kim had never seen. It was warm and rich, flowing long, wavy and wild, all the way to her hips. Her skin was golden, and her eyes were just the same, and not flecked with gold as a human’s eyes might be, but brilliantly golden from core to brim.
“Who are you?” Kim asked.
The girl smiled. “A friend. But that doesn’t matter just now.”
“Why not?” Kim asked after a moment. Her mind was working a bit slow. Perhaps it was because she was fighting against the idea that she knew this girl from somewhere. But that was impossible. Then again, so was everything it seemed.
“Because we have somewhere to be,” she answered. Though her lips moved her voice still seemed to bounce from all directions. She walked past Kim, progressing father into the field that they seemed to be in the center of. Though that was impossible to tell, Kim realized, because it appeared to go on forever. She frowned.
“If this isn’t a dream, then where are we?”
The girl, who was barefoot and with long golden legs, slender and perfect, didn’t acknowledge that Kim had said anything. Instead she stooped to the base of a tree, frowning at it lightly as if she were expecting something to be there other than bark. She wore a simple white shirt dress, like a night gown almost, that came to her upper thigh.
“How should I know,” the girl finally said, after standing again. She disappeared behind the tree. Kim marched the distance between them to see what she was doing on the other side.
“Well you’re here, aren’t you?” she pressed. “Shouldn’t you know?”
“You’re here too. You don’t know,” the girl reasoned, still looking intently at the tree. “Ah,” she said, reaching up to clutch a branch. She was acting as if she’d found what she was looking for, and once her hand had clasped around the branch, it became clear she had. The branch peeled back to reveal a very skinny door in the tree, one that was too thin for any human to fit through, though it was tall enough.
“You seem to know an awful lot about this place for someone who doesn’t know where they are,” Kim said, eyeing the door suspiciously. At this the girl turned to face Kim intently.
“I don’t know anything about this place. This is your place. You just have to realize it. We don’t have time to waist, either.”
Kim frowned. My place, she thought, peering around at the open fields. It was a nice place, and she supposed she wouldn’t mind if it was hers. But then, there was something unsettling in the back of her mind, and she couldn’t quite figure out what.
“You need to remember. It takes a while, usually. But as I said, we don’t have a while. You need to remember now.”
Kim’s brow furrowed deeper. It was lonely here in this field. She had this golden girl, and Kim liked her well enough. Actually, Kim felt she liked her very much, but just didn’t know how or why yet. But still there were things missing. Her friends. Why was this place so empty, if it was her place? Why was it so lonely?
And then, with a faint look of shock, she remembered.
“I’m dead,” she breathed.
The girl smiled. “Very good. I always knew you were a clever one. Now, follow me.”
How it feels to be stabbed
Getting stabbed is an experience that no one in their right mind would want to have. But, what if you do get stabbed? What would that feel like?
It usually feels like you’re being punched.The description of being punched really hard comes up a lot when people describe the experience. One woman said she didn’t even realize she was being stabbed, she just thought her attacker was punching her as hard as he could. Many people don’t feel the actual puncturing, just the force of the knife hitting them.
You might feel nothing at all.This wasn’t as common as the feeling of being hit, but some people said they literally felt nothing. One person said they felt nothing, but their brain started racing and their fight or flight kicked in. Another didn’t realize someone stabbed them until they saw that they were bleeding profusely.
Occasionally, it feels like you got shocked.A few stab wound survivors described it as a very quick, but powerful, electric shock. One person described it as static electricity, while another said it was like lightening hitting them. The pain of the initial shock goes away as quickly as it occurred.
Eventually, over time, it’s probably going to hurt.Of course the location of the stab wound effects how much it would hurt. Getting stabbed in the arm isn’t going to hurt as badly as a stab that punctured a lung. But after a while, you will most likely feel some pain. If the person wiggles the knife while it’s still in you, the pain may be more intense.
Reblogging for future reference. Most Rychillan weapons are daggers or bows/crossbows.
August 4, 2018
maruthor:
writingsofateenageshadowhunter:
imaginesjoker:
mod2a...
writingsofateenageshadowhunter:
to everyone who’s ever said something kind about my work: you help me get through the day. thank you.
This is 110% me each time
This is so true
Responses are what every writer, or any artist, need to brighten their day
brynwrites:
I am a True Believer in outlining before you write.(At least, so long as an outline...
I am a True Believer in outlining before you write.
(At least, so long as an outline doesn’t debilitate your writing.)But I think some people don’t understand what that means to me.
To me, an outline means that I know:
Where the story is going.
What beats it’ll take getting there.
The major content I know I want to write.
How that content can be reasonably connected.
Where character development decisions should take place.
What the climax will entail.
What choices the characters will be forced to make during the climax to fulfill or deny their developmental arc.It also means that along the way I might…
Randomly move multiple scenes to a completely new settings.
Rearrange scenes to make for better pacing.
Throw in conversations I never imagined the characters would have.
Completely change one of my main character’s voices in the third chapter.
Have a random side character mysteriously foreshadow grudges certain characters are holding.
Realize certain characters have legitimately been holding said grudges.
Add in new character arcs for said characters to get them to work through their grudges.
Watch as the main ship progresses way faster than intended.
(Cry over the main ship.)
Let the protagonist chose to go by an alias because he’s more insecure than I thought.
Watch as his brother ruins his alias attempts four chapters later.
Create an entire new arc that revolves primarily around the protagonist wanting to sleep in a proper bed after camping for three weeks. (And do a lot of last minute plot adjusting to make the pacing still work for this bed-related arc.)
Forget one of my main characters exists for five chapters.
Suddenly add her into an arc she wasn’t supposed to be in, to make up for it.
Be bamboozled as the love interest refuses to sit still long enough to let their leg heal and ends up with a permanent injury.
Flat out re-outline entire chapters because the new idea worked better with the character development or pacing.
Realize that the symbolism I had for a certain thing has actually meant something different all along.
Add in a motto I didn’t realize was a huge part of two of the main character’s lives in the previous book.
Take about ten thousand notes on what needs to be adjusted in the next draft.
Cry because I think the novel will be too long.
Cry because I think the novel will be too short.
Cry because I love it too much.
Cry because it’s definitely the worst thing ever written.So, when I say I’m a True Believer in outlining, I don’t mean that I’m a believer in never letting your story’s surprise you, or never making last minutes adjustments, or never throwing out huge parts of your outline for something better.
I mean that I’m a true believer in letting your story have a foundation before you write it, because any large or complex story built on a weak foundation, like a castle built in the sand, will need to be re-built later.
But the stronger a foundation you build for it, the easier it is to make changes without your entire structure falling apart.#This is not saying that some writers don’t do better just rebuilding the castle later or that all stories are complex enough to warrant outlines. #Please do not take my post about what outlining means to me and attempt to writer’splain to me how some writers can’t use outlines. #I literally put that disclaimer right below the title. #Read and think before you reply.
Kim Shimmers and the Deathly Hallows
A Harry Potter fanfic by me (and the 5th, final installment in the Kim Shimmers series)
She was like Voldemort in at least one way. They were both of the same make now.
Dead,
alive, the two of them were some cross between. Perhaps he had even felt it in
her.
This Harry Potter fan fiction (as long as all goes according to plan) will be posted by the beginning of every week. The pictures above are not mine, though I edited some.
Chapter 1
Dead
She couldn’t be certain when, but at some point, Kim ended up in a green, lush field speckled with trees. She couldn’t be certain of anything, really, nor did she try to be. She simply stood in the field, taking in the expanse around her without truly seeing it. She didn’t feel the wind on her skin, though she knew it must be there. There was no smell in the air, though it should’ve been fresh and onion sweet like the smell of grass. Is this a dream? the thought occurred to her.
“No,” answered a melodic voice. It sounded as though many voices had answered her at once, each one speaking softly, almost a whisper, but together forming an echoing, yet solid sound. Kim looked around, turning, trying to discern the source of the voice, though it seemed to come from all around her. As she twisted to see behind her, a beautiful girl came into view.
She was probably Kim’s age, it seemed. She had crimson hair the likes of which Kim had never seen. It was warm and rich, flowing long, wavy and wild, all the way to her hips. Her skin was golden, and her eyes were just the same, and not flecked with gold as a human’s eyes might be, but brilliantly golden from core to brim.
“Who are you?” Kim asked.
The girl smiled. “A friend. But that doesn’t matter just now.”
“Why not?” Kim asked after a moment. Her mind was working a bit slow. Perhaps it was because she was fighting against the idea that she knew this girl from somewhere. But that was impossible. Then again, so was everything it seemed.
“Because we have somewhere to be,” she answered. Though her lips moved her voice still seemed to bounce from all directions. She walked past Kim, progressing father into the field that they seemed to be in the center of. Though that was impossible to tell, Kim realized, because it appeared to go on forever. She frowned.
“If this isn’t a dream, then where are we?”
The girl, who was barefoot and with long golden legs, slender and perfect, didn’t acknowledge that Kim had said anything. Instead she stooped to the base of a tree, frowning at it lightly as if she were expecting something to be there other than bark. She wore a simple white shirt dress, like a night gown almost, that came to her upper thigh.
“How should I know,” the girl finally said, after standing again. She disappeared behind the tree. Kim marched the distance between them to see what she was doing on the other side.
“Well you’re here, aren’t you?” she pressed. “Shouldn’t you know?”
“You’re here too. You don’t know,” the girl reasoned, still looking intently at the tree. “Ah,” she said, reaching up to clutch a branch. She was acting as if she’d found what she was looking for, and once her hand had clasped around the branch, it became clear she had. The branch peeled back to reveal a very skinny door in the tree, one that was too thin for any human to fit through, though it was tall enough.
“You seem to know an awful lot about this place for someone who doesn’t know where they are,” Kim said, eyeing the door suspiciously. At this the girl turned to face Kim intently.
“I don’t know anything about this place. This is your place. You just have to realize it. We don’t have time to waist, either.”
Kim frowned. My place, she thought, peering around at the open fields. It was a nice place, and she supposed she wouldn’t mind if it was hers. But then, there was something unsettling in the back of her mind, and she couldn’t quite figure out what.
“You need to remember. It takes a while, usually. But as I said, we don’t have a while. You need to remember now.”
Kim’s brow furrowed deeper. It was lonely here in this field. She had this golden girl, and Kim liked her well enough. Actually, Kim felt she liked her very much, but just didn’t know how or why yet. But still there were things missing. Her friends. Why was this place so empty, if it was her place? Why was it so lonely?
And then, with a faint look of shock, she remembered.
“I’m dead,” she breathed.
The girl smiled. “Very good. I always knew you were a clever one. Now, follow me.”
brynwrites:
When the characters change something partway through the rough draft but it makes the...
When the characters change something partway through the rough draft but it makes the climax you’ve planned all the more emotional and impactful:
