R. Lee Smith's Blog, page 27

A is for Architecture

Welcome to NaNoWriMo! For those of you who don’t know, November is National Novel Writer’s Month, in which aspiring authors are challenged (during the holiday season!) to write a novel in one month, or at least to put 50,000 words on one project, which for me is more like a short story, amiright? Ha!

Anyhoo, in addition to the project’s website at nanowrimo.org, there are a ton of smaller groups of writers who informally participate and encourage each other, and I was asked by one of these if I would share a few thoughts on the subject of writing (and by ‘a few,’ they meant one a day for the month of November) and I reluctantly said okay.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love the idea behind Nanowrimo and I’ve participated for as long as I knew it existed. But I have real trouble thinking of myself as a writer with something new to say on the subject of writing. After all, I’ve only got nine books out there and they’re all indies. I make my living this way and I pay all my bills, but I’m still not sure if that qualifies me to call myself a professional author. “That’s okay,” they told me. “We’re not the real Nanowrimo group. Just have fun with it. Whatever you think you do well, just talk about it.”

Yeah, right. Just talk about it. For thirty days. Oh, and keep it PG-rated, which, considering my preferred genre, is a hell of a restriction. But okay, there is one thing that I think I do pretty well. So during the month of November, in addition to my usual Hooks, Sneak Peeks, and HD Thomson’s Hot Autumn Nights blog hop, I will be presenting the ABCs of Worldbuilding, with emphasis on sci-fi, fantasy or other essentially alien settings. Bear in mind that these are just my personal thoughts, not the One True Way to build your book’s world.

If you are interested in learning more about National Novel Writer’s Month, please go here and check them out. You can register with them, find a local group, or even start your own with friends and family (I did that last year with my sisters and my father. All of us made 50,000 words and earlier this year, my father completed his first novel—from an idea he’s had for forty years!). The idea is not to write a perfect novel, but merely to break through the fear of starting and just get the words on paper. In the meantime, check back daily for new content during the month of November.

 

* * *

A is for Architecture

 

Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness, giving her tantalizing glimpses of a stone kingdom of phenomenal beauty and majesty.  The floor was not rough-cut stone as it had seemed on her first steps, but had been shaped in intricate whorls and ridges, no doubt to make it easier for naga to traverse.  There were archways here and there, opening into caverns of impossible height and depth, where spires of swirling stone melted upwards to meet bejeweled stalactites, and lacy-railed bridges crossed pools that had never known a sun’s warmth.  Glowing stones as thick as stars illuminated an endless palace that she saw in glances from one archway or another, but the only things that moved were right here—just him, just her, just the hideous thing lurking in the darkness behind them.  Light glowed golden or eldritch blue from a dozen vaulted windows, but she saw no one in the chambers beyond. – The Army of Mab

 

After an eternity of climbing down in a black spiral, she finally caught a glimmer of light at the bottom. It grew as she approached, enough to make out an open doorway, covered in layers of hanging curtains. They waved in the grip of a cold breeze, spilling out slivers of tantalizing light with each lazy billow of crimson, black, and gold. – The Scholomance

 * * *

It’s the establishing shot of virtually every sci-fi movie: a vibrant skyscape full of unusual color, perhaps with extra moons or a ringed planet floating behind a cluster of pointy towers and floating roads. It’s the silent voice that introduces your characters; one glance at the jagged black towers of Mordor tells you everything you need to know about the creatures who dwell there. I realize these are visual examples, but set design is as important for books as it is for films—more so, maybe, especially when it comes to writing about a world that does not exist outside of the author’s imagination.

But a house is a house, right? Well, no. There are so many building styles here on boring old Earth, all with their own distinct aesthetic and traditions. Even caves and hollow trees would present their own unique challenges to those who reside within. So explore them!

Now I’m not saying you need to take a course in architectural design theory or tour some Roman ruins before you start writing. Broad strokes and simple language can convey as much as paragraphs crammed full of “poststructuralistic influences” and “flying buttresses”. Having said that, there are a few things I try to keep in mind when designing the look of my world.

Form follows function. The phrase may have been coined in the 19th century, but this is a concept that goes back as long as folks have been stacking bricks together or tying hides to mammoth tusks. Simply put, it means to think about how your space needs to be used before you pretty it up. This is of special importance when it comes to non-humans with particularly non-human characteristics. Flying races, for example, inspire images of graceful towers and majestic aeries, but are unlikely to even think of stairs, which may present quite a problem to visitors.

Know the language. As I said, overly-specific words and phrases can distract your readers rather than immerse them, but a general understanding of the subject matter is always a good thing for a writer to have. There are lots of great resources out there, but my favorite is this one at http://www.aviewoncities.com (link to http://www.aviewoncities.com/architecturalterms.htm) It contains a short list of common architectural terms, with pictures so I can clearly see what it’s describing. And of course, there’s always wikipedia’s Glossary of Architecture, if you feel like spending the day link-hopping. Just remember to watch out for words that are too specific to one region or culture when writing for an alien or fantasy race; describe the ornate tops of your elfin columns, but don’t call them Corinthian.

Get inspired. If you want to write about a subterranean alien city, get as close to one as you can with ‘mood movies,’ video game concept art, or good old-fashioned internet crawling. Find the images that resonate with you and you may find it easier to make your words resonate with someone else.

And of course, the cardinal rule: Show, don’t tell. Descriptive passages should flow naturally within the story. Those little details are what gives your setting depth and dimension, but beware of bringing your story to a complete halt while you wax rhapsodic about the cornices. (And yes, I’m reminding myself as much as anyone else.) On the other hand, if it’s your character’s first time in a demon-lord’s throne room, he’s allowed to gawp at the hellish elegance and so allow the reader to see it through his eyes.

Above all things, remember that world-building is about enhancing a story, not writing a travel-guide. Like the establishing shots of any good movie, your alien architecture should help to set a mood and embellish a scene, but even the best set design is no substitute for a plot. Paint a vivid picture, but hang it in the background.

Hump Day Hook 10/30

Hump Day Hook is a weekly blog hop where writers are invited to hook readers with just a few paragraphs from a work in progress or published work. Visit their site by clicking on the button below for a list of other participating writers and share the love! Today’s hook comes from my newest work-in-progress, Pool. I’m still fairly close to the beginning, when the heroine and her friends have just arrived in the abandoned mining camp she has inherited. She and her boyfriend are sharing a quiet moment…

 

He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice as though they stood together in a crowded room and not an abandoned hotel at the edge of nowhere, murmuring, “Want to go upstairs and stake out a room with me?”

Norah’s smile froze to her lips. “Together?”

“Sure, why not?”

“With Hayley and Kyson?”

His eyebrows climbed. “Uh, that’s a little more participation than I was planning on, but…”

“They’ll be right in the next room,” Norah said hurriedly. “I’m not sure I’m ready for them to, you know, know. I mean, I know they’ll know, I just don’t want them to…to…”

“Hear,” he said, smiling again. “Gotcha.”

“I have every intention of making love with you this week!” Norah blurted, and felt her cheeks flame at the stilted, fussy way that came out. Every intention…as though it were an item on some written itinerary, sandwiched between cleaning out the fridge and checking the oil in her car. “Spontaneously!” Lord, that was even worse.

John had always been an understanding man. He kissed her again and released her. “Let’s go pick out our own rooms, then,” he suggested. “It’s more fun to sneak in and out of them anyway.”

Sunday Sneak Peek 10/27

Sneak Peek Sunday is a weekly blog hop in which writers are challenged to post six paragraphs, no more and no less, from a published work or work in progress and then invite other writers, readers and random bloggers to read, critique and comment. Visit their site by clicking on the button below for a list of other participating writers and share the love! Today’s Sneak Peek is from Pool, my current work-in-progress. To set the scene, my heroine and her friends have just arrived at the abandoned mining camp she has inherited and she finally has a few moments alone with her boyfriend, who is not exactly pleased about having other people around…

He shrugged, his arms still locked around her, trapping her in his searching gaze. “Maybe you wanted the moral support of a girlfriend around you. You know, someone you could gang up on me with if I turned all caveman on you.”

“Caveman, huh?”

“John want sex, ooga-booga. Beat chest, stab mammoth.” He leaned in with a smile and kissed her. He was good at that, scarily good, and always had been. His mouth eased hers open right away, and she let him even though she’d always thought of frenching as vaguely gross. The fluttery sipping touches of his tongue never failed to bring on a little shiver. His arms tightened when he felt it, letting his hand drop to cup her bottom boldly through her jeans. That was too fast for her; she resisted weakly, but he pulled her up against him anyway, using kneading motions to make her rock slightly against his groin so that she couldn’t help but feel him. “Drag woman to cave by hair,” he murmured, now nibbling at the sensitive, sugary patch just below her ear. “Use mighty hunter’s spear.”

She giggled even as she squirmed to try to break free. “Mighty hunter is going to need his strength for cleaning the cave first. But after that, maybe we’ll find us a quiet corner and finger-paint fertility symbols on each other. Well, maybe not too fertile. I’m all for having an adventure here, but motherhood is a little more than I had in mind.” She smiled back at him and managed to hold it steady despite the constant leaping of her nerves. “But finger-paints could be fun.”

“If only I’d thought to bring some. We may have to settle for scribbling on each other with the ketchup and mustard I brought for the hot dogs.”

“Just like the cavemen did,” she teased.

Weekend Writer Warrior 10/26

Well, I’m back home again after that unexpected diversion to New York, just in time for WeWriWa! The Weekend Writing Warriors blog hop is a weekly event in which writers
are invited to share eight sentences from one of their works for other writers, readers and random bloggers to read, critique and comment on. Visit their site by clicking on the button below for a list of other participating writers and share the love! Today’s 8 comes from Pool, my current work-in-progress (I have got to update my WIP bar one of these days). I didn’t get as much writing done on the trip as I would have liked, owing to all the driving, but what I did do, I have to share! We join our story as the heroine and her friends are exploring the first of the buildings in the abandoned mining camp she has inherited…

 

“Anything wet they all took with ‘em a hundred years ago,” Kyson replied, pulling up some of the bottles one by one to read the labels, “but some of this shit is pretty wild all on its own. We got…Satan’s Spit…El Cuerno des Diablo…and a little Liver-Eating Brew. I thought it was just the cartoons that gave ‘em names like that.”

“People’ll pay for even the empties if they’re cool. Hey, check this out.” Hayley reached into the crate and came out with a tarnished lump of metal in a peculiar almost-familiar shape.

“What’s that?” Kyson asked, taking it from her.

“Someone’s fake teeth,” Hayley replied, and Kyson hurriedly put it down and wiped his hand several times on his shirt-front.

Hump Day Hook 10/23

Hump Day Hook is a weekly blog hop where writers are invited to hook readers with just a few paragraphs from a work in progress or published work. Visit their site by clicking on the button below for a list of other participating writers and share the love!

 

Hi all! I’m on the road again and away from my computer. I forgot to preset this post for publication, so now I have nothing from Pool to post today. In it’s place, please enjoy this poem I wrote.

* * *

This cup could have once held anything

But someone picked it up

And filled it full of coffee

So it became a coffee cup.

The coffee cup then came to me

And naturally I drank it.

It never once occurred to me that

I should ever thank it

For holding what I couldn’t touch

With my pink and fragile hands

And providing me with sustenance

As I travel ‘cross this land.

No, once that I had drunk my fill,

In an thoughtless act quite rash,

I tossed this cup into the street

Where it became a piece of trash.

And there it lay for many weeks,

Beaten down by wind and rain

And ‘tho it was most sore abused

It never once complained.

At last a prison crew appeared

To clean the cup away.

They sent it to a landfill

Where it remains to this day.

For all its fortitude and drive

When its little time was up

The world moved on and I quite forgot

My morning coffee’s cup.

So if there is a lesson

To this cautionary tale

It’s that no one will remember you

So go ahead and fail!

* * *

I’m really very sorry for that. I’ll have more from Pool next week, I promise. Please enjoy the rest of the hop, where real writers have real snippets. And by the way, I would never actually throw my trash in the street.

Sunday Sneak Peek 10/20

Sneak Peek Sunday is a weekly blog hop in which writers are challenged to post six paragraphs, no more and no less, from a published work or work in progress and then invite other writers, readers and random bloggers to read, critique and comment. Visit their site by clicking on the button below for a list of other participating writers and share the love! Today’s Sneak Peek is from Pool (working title and subject to change), which is a long way from written, but getting closer every day! In this scene, the heroine and her friends arrive at the place where the rest of the book is set.

It wasn’t long after that the first signs of human habitation began to appear. They began as long flat patches—man-made ledges cut into the sloping side of the mountain off the main road, some with tumbles of debris marking the place where tents or crude shanties once stood. The remains of a rickety wooden stair led from these directly up to the mine, discernable from below only by its unnaturally flat edge. Norah wasn’t sure how much time the stairs cut off the miners’ commute—and seeing as how whole risers had fallen away here and there, she wouldn’t be making any experimental climbs—but it was another hour in the truck before they rounded the last steeply-sloping hairpin turn and rolled into camp.

‘Camp’ was something of a misnomer. At first glance, Norah thought she’d inherited a whole town.

Of course, there was the mine, easily identified by the two-story derrick built over its main shaft. It stood alone in a clearing at the end of the road. Lining that road, however, were several structures and, unlike the miners’ settlement below, they had been built to last. One hundred years of ravaging Time had not taken any of these dinosaurs down; in the past three days, Norah had passed through a number of towns where not only could this small strip of buildings blended right in, but it wouldn’t even be considered the bad part of town.

Hayley brought the SUV to a stop in front of the largest of them, letting out an admiring whistle as she eyed the deeply-carved sign hanging from the covered boardwalk. “The Split-Tail,” she read, and looked hard at the enormous and buxom mermaid carved into the wall. As described, she had been split up the middle and held one half of her curved tail in each upraised hand. She had been painted once and rare flecks of color remained, dotting her bare breasts like syphilis and giving her pursed lips an evil leer.

“Not very subtle,” Norah said.

“When you’re a two-day hike from the next nearest pussy, subtlety is wasted. This guy Hodel may have been a miserly crook and a bastard, but he was no fool.”

Weekend Writer Warrior 10/20

The Weekend Writing Warriors blog hop is a weekly event in which writers are invited to share eight sentences from one of their works for other writers, readers and random bloggers to read, critique and comment on. Visit their site by clicking on the button below for a list of other participating writers and share the love! Today’s 8 comes from Pool (working title and subject to change), shortly after the heroine and her friends arrive in town and just before they make the last drive up to see the land she’s inherited. They hae stopped in a small store and are met by some ‘northern hospitality’. Hope you enjoy! Also, I am on the road again, so if I’m not good at answering comments, it’s not because I don’t love you, just because I’m not there.

“Something wrong with the place?” asked Kyson calmly.

The man’s answer was a disgusted sidelong glance and then he turned away and walked back into his office. After a moment, the woman followed him. The little girl started sweeping again.

“Great,” said John, “it’s haunted. We’ll probably be up there with the ghost of Gold Dust Dan or some damn thing, dodging pickaxes and runaway carts full of rock, listening for drums, drums in the deep.”

Norah hushed him worriedly, since that was definitely the sort of thing which qualified as humming the banjo theme from Deliverance at people. She wasn’t afraid of ghosts.

 

Hump Day Hook 10/16 and Special Guest, Ava Kallan

Hump Day Hook is a weekly blog hop where writers are invited to hook readers with just a few paragraphs from a work in progress or published work. Visit their site by clicking on the button below for a list of other participating writers and share the love! Today’s Hook comes from my latest project, Pool, still in the early, early stages of writing. In it, I go back to my B-Movie horror roots as I write about a group of isolated young people being slowly terrorized by monsters. In fact, let’s meet the monster now!

Pool crouched in the rain, slapping himself where the fat drops fell until it registered that this was water, only water. It fell sometimes in other places. Now it was falling here, where it had never fallen before, and there was light above him, which had never shown light before, and these were things that needed thinking about.

The corpse earned none of his attention. Bloated and blackened by early rot, it had been at once identified and disregarded. Not as a dead man, but as a dead something—spoiled meat unfit for eating. Something that would need to be dealt with, in other words, but not a man. It was too different for Pool’s eyes to see as a person, so it was just a thing, not-same.

Looking at the two together, the forty-day corpse and the living man, it was not immediately clear which looked the most human. Their shapes shared enough—two arms, two legs, five fingers to each hand, two eyes that looked curiously out from a thinking mind—but no one would have ever believed they were looking at a man if they had glimpsed Pool at a distance in the dark. Uncounted eons breeding in the deep tunnels under the earth had worked its changes, seen and unseen.

Although he could and sometimes did go upon two legs, he was more apt to prowl about on his belly, his powerful fingers and grasping toes made to pull him through narrow channels and over uneven stone as swiftly as a snake. The body that perched now, guardedly, just beyond the shine of daylight had been carved for this life, bred for it in the blind treachery of the hollow earth; he was small, more than a head shorter than Big Bill had been in life and half the old man’s weight, but every sinewy muscle held a terrible reserve of strength. His skin, pale as pearl and entirely hairless, stretched tight over this deceptively small, powerful frame, showing clearly each coiling muscle as he picked his way across the newly-fallen debris, pausing at every new hand-hold and foot-step to sniff at a shard of rotted wood or rifle barrel. The rain slicked over his naked flesh, but he felt little of it, little of the high mountain cold. Nature had compensated for his kind’s scarcity of body fat with thick skin and a circulatory system that could keep him quite comfortable at temperatures near freezing, although the Hodel mine rarely saw such a need. So the impression overall was perhaps cadaverous, but still essentially human. It was only when one looked at the creature’s face that one realized how widely his kind had diverged.

It was not an evil face, but neither was it, even at an idle glance, at all human. His brow was round and somewhat backwards-slanted into his high, domed skull, proportionately overlarge to human eyes. Likewise, the front of his face seemed to bulge, as with too many teeth, although this slight snout was more to accommodate his millions of smell receptors and the spongy mass just above his mostly-defunct eyes which caught the soundwaves bouncing back from any exploratory clicks he might send out. But he did have more teeth than a human, and with the exception of four molars, they were all long, sharp, carnivore’s teeth. When he showed them, it was not a smile. His eyes were huge, sunken sockets that gave him an oddly fetal, imploring appearance as he looked around, but these looks were as deceptive as his wiry frame. What might be seen as plaintive and helpless was in fact an expression of hostile intent: I see you, those wide-open eyes meant to say, as the slightly-pursed and trembling lips were actually a warning, proof that he was primed for a nasty bite.

But no one was here to see his fierceness, and soon his strange features relaxed.

It is my privilege to share the spotlight today with Ava Kallan, another indie author with whom I’ve had the pleasure of corresponding, and I’d like to include a snippet from her upcoming book Venus in today’s blog-post! Ava Kallan describes herself as a Polish-American writer and an avid hunter of mystery and truth. Her stories reconcile mythic and contemporary themes with the aim to push the edges of common sense reality. As a storyteller, blog and fiction writer, personal trainer and dance instructor, Ava marvels at the power that emerges when movement, imagination and free expression intersect. A free thinker and world traveler, Ava came to the United States at the age of seventeen. She holds B.A. degree in Mass Communications, which she earned with highest honors. She currently resides in Mountain View, California where she weaves stories that blend the contemporary with the fantastical. “Venus” is her first published title, a sample of which she was gracious enough to provide!

* * *
Cover blurb: Little does Anna Krol, an eighteen-year-old immigrant living in the US on a student visa and pocket change, know that the bald man in Armani suit she just met at a friend’s full moon party will end up changing her life. Stefan Cummings is cunning, or is he? He tries to recruit Anna for his newest project – a year long reality show/sensual party inside a remote, camera-wired Palace with ninety-nine other participants. The promise of cash and legal status for her and the mother are enough to lure her to sign on the dotted line. Anna becomes Shira and thus begins her adventure in a place where nothing is off limits; sensuality is encouraged and lustful behaviors rewarded. As wildness begins to eclipse her innocence and her frugal ways give into reckless extravagance, Anna begins to question everything she believed about the meaning of trust, love and happiness.

IRREVERSIBLE

 

October 1998

 

I know they are watching. A veil of serenity shrouds my emotions, the remaining vestige of my lost privacy. I squeeze my fists to release tension while taking in the unparalleled view unfolding in front of me like a magic carpet made of woven silks and high-priced jewels. I pinch myself just to make sure what I see is real. I feel the self-inflicted pain. I shake my palms and scan for the lenses that must spy my every move from every angle like the glowing eyes of night creatures. Can cameras steal souls? Silly thoughts.

The candelabras and flower bouquets seduce my senses and all my thoughts vanish like a puff of smoke. Lush vegetation climbs over arching walls, torches burn and candles flicker. The building’s stucco walls form a backdrop to overlapping shadows that tremble in the light cast by orange flames. I walk on, inhaling the humid air of tropical spring that slows down my movements and makes each second become more syrupy.

I take another step and hear a thumping grow louder until it vibrates my ears from the inside. I look around only to realize that it is my own heart. It is harder to walk now; my throat is constricting and a drop of sweat trickles down my back. I inhale more air to fight the dizziness that eclipses my eyes and softens my legs. I sense that once I see them beyond the archway, something will happen, something irreversible.

I glance around but can’t spot any lenses.

My pulse quickens.

“I can do this,” I say to myself and holding my breath, cross the threshold.

* * *

Intrigued? Click the button below to find a sneak peek of the first chapter and watch for Venus, by Ava Kallan, coming soon!

 

Sneak Peek Sunday 10/13

Sneak Peek Sunday is a weekly blog hop in which writers are challenged to post six paragraphs, no more and no less, from a published work or work in progress and then invite other writers, readers and random bloggers to read, critique and comment. Visit their site by clicking on the button below for a list of other participating writers and share the love! Today’s Sneak Peek is from Pool (working title and subject to change), which is a long way from written, but getting closer every day! This snippet, close to the beginning of the book, lays the framework upon which the characters will be developed. I’ll probably keep that up for a while, at least until all the players are introduced and established, but future snippets will come from wherever I happen to be writing that week (and I don’t write linear-style).

Hayley’s smile turned lopsided and her next teasing glance was mingled with genuine concern. “I gotta admit, I’m surprised you asked him along. Manual labor ain’t exactly John’s thing.”

“I thought it would be romantic,” Norah said, still blushing just as hotly.

“Yeah?” Skeptical. Norah’s continuing virginity had been a long-standing source of amusement and annoyance for her friend ever since she’d lost her own at the erudite age of fifteen. “You better mean it this time. You make the man drive to Alaska and then make him sleep on a couch, he gonna see that as a deal-breaker, I gar-un-tee.”

“I know.”

“Not that that’s any great loss, mind.”

Norah watched the trees for a while, wishing she could say something to that. She didn’t think John was any worse than most available guys out there and he was a prince compared to the ones her mom had dated. God knew Norah wasn’t any prize, so just why Hayley should be so dismissive of him had always been a mystery. Most times she defended him, but long drives had a way of turning disagreements, even familiar ones, into explosions, so instead she said nothing.

Weekend Writer Warrior 10/12

The Weekend Writing Warriors blog hop is a weekly event in which writers are invited to share eight sentences from one of their works for other writers, readers and random bloggers to read, critique and comment on. Visit their site by clicking on the button below for a list of other participating writers and share the love! Today’s 8 comes from Pool (working title and subject to change), which is still in the early, early stages, so don’t even ask when it’s coming out.

Norah said nothing, but her heart was pounding. Anything could be in that hotel. “We haven’t sent anyone up in person,” the lawyer had said, “but we took some satellite images to verify the property does exist. Mr. Hodel indicated he hadn’t made the trip himself, but his father may have. Or may not have. For all anyone knows, the property might not have been touched since your great-great grandfather left it.” And he’d looked at her, almost smiling in the way of professional people who think they’re giving good news. “For all anyone knows, the mine could still be there, all ready to go again.”

* * *

Yes, boys and girls, I’m getting back to my B-Movie horror roots with a good old-fashioned “isolated young people terrorized by monsters” book, with kind of a fun twist since the book reads the same way from the monster’s point of view, too! Norah and her friends are soon to be stranded in the Kuluzo Mountains, right at the end of the road in Alaska. There will be action and adventure and blood and guts and quite possibly the strangest romance I’ve ever written (spoiler alert: it’s very one-sided). I’m still in the fun stage of early writing, so it could be a year or more before you see it. In the meantime, please enjoy these intermittent snippets from wherever I happen to be writing that week!