Rebecca Roland's Blog, page 17
July 15, 2012
Live Free or Die
Breaking Bad's fifth and final season premiered tonight with the episode "Live Free or Die."
*SPOILER ALERT*
The episode opened with a flashforward. Apparently, it was Walt's 52nd birthday, and he was buying guns. Big guns. And he had to take some pills. Perhaps things will come full circle and he'll end up with a return of the cancer that started his journey from mild-mannered chemistry teacher to drug kingpin.
I think fans know things will end badly for Walt. How could they not? But the real question is, how will they end? And who will have a hand in his demise? Maybe he'll slip away slowly from the cancer, just as broke as he was when he started treatment. All those struggles and deaths for nothing. No, I don't think that's how he'll ultimately go.
Or perhaps Jesse will find out just how much Walt has screwed up Jesse's life and decide to take him out. Or Skyler, who is becoming quite the criminal mastermind in her own right, could decide that the world would be better off without Walt. Or Hank could finally track down Heisenberg.
However the show ends, I'm sure it will involve a large body count and plenty of blood.
*SPOILER ALERT*
The episode opened with a flashforward. Apparently, it was Walt's 52nd birthday, and he was buying guns. Big guns. And he had to take some pills. Perhaps things will come full circle and he'll end up with a return of the cancer that started his journey from mild-mannered chemistry teacher to drug kingpin.
I think fans know things will end badly for Walt. How could they not? But the real question is, how will they end? And who will have a hand in his demise? Maybe he'll slip away slowly from the cancer, just as broke as he was when he started treatment. All those struggles and deaths for nothing. No, I don't think that's how he'll ultimately go.
Or perhaps Jesse will find out just how much Walt has screwed up Jesse's life and decide to take him out. Or Skyler, who is becoming quite the criminal mastermind in her own right, could decide that the world would be better off without Walt. Or Hank could finally track down Heisenberg.
However the show ends, I'm sure it will involve a large body count and plenty of blood.
July 9, 2012
Braaaaains!!!
I've really enjoyed Diana Rowland's Demon Summoner series, so I picked up My Life as A White Trash Zombie and read it over the weekend.
Angel Crawford, a high school dropout and drug addict, wakes up after a car crash and finds herself with a sudden craving for brains. Using wry humor, Rowland addresses both the mystery of Angel's transformation into a zombie and how she deals with trying to turn her life around. As in her Demon Summoner series, the dialogue is witty, and beneath the humor, the subject matter is quite serious. Angel is a strong, engaging character. I'd follow her anywhere. Well, maybe not to the buffet....
Angel Crawford, a high school dropout and drug addict, wakes up after a car crash and finds herself with a sudden craving for brains. Using wry humor, Rowland addresses both the mystery of Angel's transformation into a zombie and how she deals with trying to turn her life around. As in her Demon Summoner series, the dialogue is witty, and beneath the humor, the subject matter is quite serious. Angel is a strong, engaging character. I'd follow her anywhere. Well, maybe not to the buffet....
July 6, 2012
World Building in Fantasy
Part of writing fantasy is creating a world for your characters to live in. Plenty of questions come to mind. What's the weather like? Terrain? Economy? Religion? How do people mourn or celebrate? Does this take place on Earth or an Earth-like planet, or does the story take place elsewhere? There are many questions to ask oneself, and SFWA has an extensive list to get you going.
Sometimes writers draw inspiration from real-life locations. According to some articles I've read, George R. R. Martin drew inspiration for the massive ice wall in The Song of Ice and Fire series from a real wall that he visited.
The valley in which Shards of History takes place is loosely based on the Valles Caldera, which is a volcanic caldera in New Mexico. The flora and fauna in the story are similar to what you'd find in the Valles Caldera, but the valley in Shards of History is much bigger. Still, the real valley is awe-inspiring. Gently rolling, pine-covered hills give way to a grassy plain, a narrow stream snaking its way down the center. There are only a handful of buildings, some horses, and very few people. It's easy to imagine a small western town nestled in the valley, or in my case, a Taakwa village. And the fact that it's part of a volcano adds a feeling of immense power to the entire place.
Tuvin's Falls were inspired by Multnomah Falls. I remember standing at the bottom of the falls and looking waaaay up and thinking it would be the perfect place to find Jeguduns, the winged creatures in the novel.
I'll leave you with some real world places that could provide a little inspiration.
Sometimes writers draw inspiration from real-life locations. According to some articles I've read, George R. R. Martin drew inspiration for the massive ice wall in The Song of Ice and Fire series from a real wall that he visited.
The valley in which Shards of History takes place is loosely based on the Valles Caldera, which is a volcanic caldera in New Mexico. The flora and fauna in the story are similar to what you'd find in the Valles Caldera, but the valley in Shards of History is much bigger. Still, the real valley is awe-inspiring. Gently rolling, pine-covered hills give way to a grassy plain, a narrow stream snaking its way down the center. There are only a handful of buildings, some horses, and very few people. It's easy to imagine a small western town nestled in the valley, or in my case, a Taakwa village. And the fact that it's part of a volcano adds a feeling of immense power to the entire place.
Tuvin's Falls were inspired by Multnomah Falls. I remember standing at the bottom of the falls and looking waaaay up and thinking it would be the perfect place to find Jeguduns, the winged creatures in the novel.
I'll leave you with some real world places that could provide a little inspiration.
July 5, 2012
Excited
Reposted from my guest blogger appearance on WWP from today:
There are a handful of exciting moments in life that you just want to revel in. Graduation, marriage, the birth of a child, winning an Oscar (okay, I’ve never done that, but I imagine it’s pretty darn awesome), and publishing a first novel.The anticipation builds every day that we get closer to the publication date. The butterflies in my stomach get a little wilder. I drive my loved ones a little crazier. I eat more chocolate and drink more coffee. I do my best to refrain from bouncing up and down while I’m in line at the grocery store or running up to complete strangers to say, “Hey, my book is coming out soon!” If I could do a cartwheel without ending up in the emergency department, I’d throw in a few of those.Shards of History is not the first novel I wrote, but it’s the first I’ve wanted to share with people. I am beyond excited to see all my hard work pay off and to bring this novel into the world. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed working on it.
There are a handful of exciting moments in life that you just want to revel in. Graduation, marriage, the birth of a child, winning an Oscar (okay, I’ve never done that, but I imagine it’s pretty darn awesome), and publishing a first novel.The anticipation builds every day that we get closer to the publication date. The butterflies in my stomach get a little wilder. I drive my loved ones a little crazier. I eat more chocolate and drink more coffee. I do my best to refrain from bouncing up and down while I’m in line at the grocery store or running up to complete strangers to say, “Hey, my book is coming out soon!” If I could do a cartwheel without ending up in the emergency department, I’d throw in a few of those.Shards of History is not the first novel I wrote, but it’s the first I’ve wanted to share with people. I am beyond excited to see all my hard work pay off and to bring this novel into the world. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed working on it.
July 2, 2012
Shards of History coming August 21st!
June 23, 2012
Let's Do the Time Warp
Wow, it's been a month since my last post. I've been busy with lots of stuff. At the day job I switched from prn (working on an 'as needed' basis for those not in the know when it comes to medical jargon) to a salaried position. This means I have steady income (yay) and my own case load of patients (double yay) and a predictable schedule (triple venti yay). The downside, as always, is the increase in paperwork. Boo!
I finished an extremely rough draft of a YA urban fantasy novel. It's a short one, coming in at roughly 50K, but I tend to leave out a lot of details the first time through. I also need to flesh out a couple of subplots. By the time I'm done, it'll probably be closer to 70K. I really prefer revising and rewriting to that initial draft. First drafts are such ugly pieces of dog crud (at least mine are). I like making them shiny and weaving in theme and symbolism and all that cool stuff on the second and third (and sometimes fourth and fifth) pass.
Speaking of revisions, I'm working on revisions for my forthcoming novel Shards of History. I still get little thrills when reading it. That's got to be a good sign, right? I can't wait for it to make its way into the world. I hope readers enjoy the heck out of it.
And as always, my 2 year old keeps me busy, busy, busy. I'm thankful every day for the caffeine that keeps me going.
I finished an extremely rough draft of a YA urban fantasy novel. It's a short one, coming in at roughly 50K, but I tend to leave out a lot of details the first time through. I also need to flesh out a couple of subplots. By the time I'm done, it'll probably be closer to 70K. I really prefer revising and rewriting to that initial draft. First drafts are such ugly pieces of dog crud (at least mine are). I like making them shiny and weaving in theme and symbolism and all that cool stuff on the second and third (and sometimes fourth and fifth) pass.
Speaking of revisions, I'm working on revisions for my forthcoming novel Shards of History. I still get little thrills when reading it. That's got to be a good sign, right? I can't wait for it to make its way into the world. I hope readers enjoy the heck out of it.
And as always, my 2 year old keeps me busy, busy, busy. I'm thankful every day for the caffeine that keeps me going.
May 23, 2012
Cluck Like a Chicken, Bark Like a Dog
A few months ago I had the privilege of taking an online writing course taught by Bruce Holland Rogers. He's a fantastic instructor, by the way, so if you ever have the opportunity to pick his brain or take one of his classes, do it. After the course was over, I found myself wanting more, so I picked up a copy of Word Work. I think it's geared more towards the beginning writer rather than towards someone who's been at it for a while, but I found some gems in the book, and it certainly got me thinking.
Anyhow, one of the chapters is on rituals. What do you do to ease yourself into writing for the day? Most of us lead busy lives and have a finite time for writing. I, for example, write during my son's naps and sometimes at night (but only if my brain isn't fried or if I have a deadline and have no choice), so I don't have the luxury of taking an hour-long walk or surfing the Internet or any number of other things to ease slowly into that mindset. I need to sit at the desk and GO. And I accidentally discovered how to make that nearly instantaneous switch while I was pregnant.
My husband and I took a hypnosis birthing class. When I mention hypnosis, some people instantly think of stage tricks or that scene in Office Space where the main character is hypnotized and then remains in that state when the hypnotist has a heart attack in the middle of the session. Hypnosis is not like that, by the way. Anyway, I'm an anxious person, and I wanted--and needed--something non-medicinal to help me keep calm during pregnancy and the birth. As part of the homework for the class, I had to practice my hypnosis trigger at least three times a day. One of those times happened to be just before I sat down to write. I'd spend maybe three to five minutes in a hypnotic state, then come out of it and start writing, and after a while, I discovered that instead of needing fifteen or thirty or so minutes to get into the groove (which used to be the norm for me), I was slipping right into the mental place I needed to be. My productivity went way up, which was great, because I was trying to finish a novel before my son was born. Talk about a deadline!
At this point I sometimes still practice hypnosis before writing, but it's not necessary anymore. I did it so often that I suppose I trained myself to be ready to write the moment I open the laptop.
I'd love to hear about the rituals that others have, whether it's a pre-writing ritual or another kind.
Anyhow, one of the chapters is on rituals. What do you do to ease yourself into writing for the day? Most of us lead busy lives and have a finite time for writing. I, for example, write during my son's naps and sometimes at night (but only if my brain isn't fried or if I have a deadline and have no choice), so I don't have the luxury of taking an hour-long walk or surfing the Internet or any number of other things to ease slowly into that mindset. I need to sit at the desk and GO. And I accidentally discovered how to make that nearly instantaneous switch while I was pregnant.
My husband and I took a hypnosis birthing class. When I mention hypnosis, some people instantly think of stage tricks or that scene in Office Space where the main character is hypnotized and then remains in that state when the hypnotist has a heart attack in the middle of the session. Hypnosis is not like that, by the way. Anyway, I'm an anxious person, and I wanted--and needed--something non-medicinal to help me keep calm during pregnancy and the birth. As part of the homework for the class, I had to practice my hypnosis trigger at least three times a day. One of those times happened to be just before I sat down to write. I'd spend maybe three to five minutes in a hypnotic state, then come out of it and start writing, and after a while, I discovered that instead of needing fifteen or thirty or so minutes to get into the groove (which used to be the norm for me), I was slipping right into the mental place I needed to be. My productivity went way up, which was great, because I was trying to finish a novel before my son was born. Talk about a deadline!
At this point I sometimes still practice hypnosis before writing, but it's not necessary anymore. I did it so often that I suppose I trained myself to be ready to write the moment I open the laptop.
I'd love to hear about the rituals that others have, whether it's a pre-writing ritual or another kind.
May 11, 2012
Movie Firsts
As you can tell by my less-than-inspiring title, I'm continuing my series on firsts, and more specifically, about movies that left impressions on me for whatever reason.
I got to thinking about the first movie that blew me away. That's a hard one to pin down. I remember seeing the original Tron at the theater with my brother, and the special effects were like nothing I'd ever seen before. People were actually in a video game! How cool was that?! I would have been about 8 years old at the time. Of course, I look at that movie now and the effects are cheesier than my sixth grade class photo. Heck, special effects have already moved beyond what the Matrix did. Movies are visually amazing now. But still, nothing can take away the awe I felt as a kid watching Tron.
What about the first time a movie truly scared me? That would be Aliens, hands down. I was at a really small birthday party/get-together for a friend who was turning 12, and her parents had rented Aliens for us. It was like a terrifying train wreck. I couldn't turn away as those creepy aliens came out of everywhere, and I couldn't wrap my head around Newt/Rebecca (oh my God, and she had my name, that made it scarier somehow) surviving alone all that time in the colony. Did she know that she'd be rescued? My heart rate sped along like a bullet train through the entire movie. Then afterwards, my friend's parents dropped me off at home. At night. In the dark. Did I mention how my driveway was about a hundred yards long and lined with tall, bushy trees that could have hidden about fifty of those acid-bleeding aliens? I called my mom to let her know I was on my way and told her, VERY SPECIFICALLY, to wait at the street for me with a flashlight. But did she? Nooooo! I whimpered when I got out of the car and my friend's parents drove off into the night, leaving me alone with the wind whispering through the palm trees and my mother waaaay down at the other end of the driveway. I hauled ass to the house, all the while expecting sharp claws to rip into my back and drag me away so an alien could lay an egg in me that would then burst out of my chest. And people say I was a melodramatic kid.
Interestingly enough, Aliens was one of the first movies to feature a strong female lead. Ripley was smart and tough and maternal, and her maternal instinct, as she cared for Newt, made her both vulnerable and stronger. She became that mama bear that would have ripped off an alien's head with her bare hands if need be in order to protect Newt.
Okay, one more mind-blowing movie. The Princess Bride. I can't remember how old I was the first time I saw it, only that I watched it on TV, and that scene in the beginning where Wesley and Buttercup say their good-byes? Yeah, that made me cry. That was, what, ten minutes into the movie? And I was already crying! That movie made me feel just about every emotion possible, and it remains my favorite to this day.
I could go on and on about movies, but I see your eyes glazing over. You want me to wrap this up.
As you wish.
I got to thinking about the first movie that blew me away. That's a hard one to pin down. I remember seeing the original Tron at the theater with my brother, and the special effects were like nothing I'd ever seen before. People were actually in a video game! How cool was that?! I would have been about 8 years old at the time. Of course, I look at that movie now and the effects are cheesier than my sixth grade class photo. Heck, special effects have already moved beyond what the Matrix did. Movies are visually amazing now. But still, nothing can take away the awe I felt as a kid watching Tron.
What about the first time a movie truly scared me? That would be Aliens, hands down. I was at a really small birthday party/get-together for a friend who was turning 12, and her parents had rented Aliens for us. It was like a terrifying train wreck. I couldn't turn away as those creepy aliens came out of everywhere, and I couldn't wrap my head around Newt/Rebecca (oh my God, and she had my name, that made it scarier somehow) surviving alone all that time in the colony. Did she know that she'd be rescued? My heart rate sped along like a bullet train through the entire movie. Then afterwards, my friend's parents dropped me off at home. At night. In the dark. Did I mention how my driveway was about a hundred yards long and lined with tall, bushy trees that could have hidden about fifty of those acid-bleeding aliens? I called my mom to let her know I was on my way and told her, VERY SPECIFICALLY, to wait at the street for me with a flashlight. But did she? Nooooo! I whimpered when I got out of the car and my friend's parents drove off into the night, leaving me alone with the wind whispering through the palm trees and my mother waaaay down at the other end of the driveway. I hauled ass to the house, all the while expecting sharp claws to rip into my back and drag me away so an alien could lay an egg in me that would then burst out of my chest. And people say I was a melodramatic kid.
Interestingly enough, Aliens was one of the first movies to feature a strong female lead. Ripley was smart and tough and maternal, and her maternal instinct, as she cared for Newt, made her both vulnerable and stronger. She became that mama bear that would have ripped off an alien's head with her bare hands if need be in order to protect Newt.
Okay, one more mind-blowing movie. The Princess Bride. I can't remember how old I was the first time I saw it, only that I watched it on TV, and that scene in the beginning where Wesley and Buttercup say their good-byes? Yeah, that made me cry. That was, what, ten minutes into the movie? And I was already crying! That movie made me feel just about every emotion possible, and it remains my favorite to this day.
I could go on and on about movies, but I see your eyes glazing over. You want me to wrap this up.
As you wish.
May 6, 2012
Juvenilia
I was a guest on a recent blog post about my first vampire, which got me to thinking about other firsts, like the first thing I ever wrote. Back when I was 12 years old or so, I read Hound of the Baskervilles for an assignment. I decided to write a knock-off called Hound of the Beckervilles, in which Joe Elliot of Def Leppard rescued me from the fiendish hounds. I'm not sure if that booklet still exists, but one thing that does is a novelette called The Poison. Yeah, I've never been that great with titles.
During one of my trips back to the Mother Land (aka Texas), I was rummaging through a box when I found the aforementioned novelette. It's 36 single spaced pages long, written on a typewriter, and filled with red marks because at some point I must've gone back and edited the thing. It's a murder mystery told in first person, the narrator being a teenager. There's a teensy prologue and even an epilogue. I actually got the ball rolling on part of the mystery pretty quick. The narrator is already suspicious of her ne'er-do-well boyfriend at the bottom of page one. When does the dead body turn up? Not until page 13. Ah, well, rookie mistake. But… dun, dun, dun, dun! It's the narrator's boyfriend--ex-boyfriend, that is--and guess who suspect numero uno is? That's right, our intrepid narrator is in a whole heap of trouble from page 13 on. Muahaha!
On a more serious note, I actually gave this thing to my mother to read. I shudder now to think of her reading that story, but she dutifully did so as I impatiently waited--okay, lurked--nearby, watching her eyes scan the page then flip to the next, lather, rinse, repeat. Then the inevitable question when she finished. "What did you think?" And that wonderful woman said, "It's good." Insert huge sigh of relief here. It wasn't just the verdict I was waiting for, I was also paying attention to the way she read it, giving it the same considerable attention that she gave novels (she's always been a voracious reader).
It's so easy to crush a child's dreams with a few careless words. It's one of the things I think about often now that I'm a mother. I think carefully of the words I use around my son. I don't think I could ever forgive myself if I said something to crush him.
Well, now, there I go, straying from the topic a bit. So I found this interesting tidbit that talks about how different authors view their juvenilia. Some look upon it with disdain and horror. Some destroyed their early work. Others look at it a bit tongue-in-cheek. I guess that's more of my approach. I mean, this stuff is far from brilliant, but considering where I was in my life, it's not that bad. And it's not like anybody is going to judge my current work by what I did over two decades ago when I was an obnoxious teenager. Anyhow, it's a bit fun to look back at what I considered important, and it's a good feeling to know I've grown considerably since then.
During one of my trips back to the Mother Land (aka Texas), I was rummaging through a box when I found the aforementioned novelette. It's 36 single spaced pages long, written on a typewriter, and filled with red marks because at some point I must've gone back and edited the thing. It's a murder mystery told in first person, the narrator being a teenager. There's a teensy prologue and even an epilogue. I actually got the ball rolling on part of the mystery pretty quick. The narrator is already suspicious of her ne'er-do-well boyfriend at the bottom of page one. When does the dead body turn up? Not until page 13. Ah, well, rookie mistake. But… dun, dun, dun, dun! It's the narrator's boyfriend--ex-boyfriend, that is--and guess who suspect numero uno is? That's right, our intrepid narrator is in a whole heap of trouble from page 13 on. Muahaha!
On a more serious note, I actually gave this thing to my mother to read. I shudder now to think of her reading that story, but she dutifully did so as I impatiently waited--okay, lurked--nearby, watching her eyes scan the page then flip to the next, lather, rinse, repeat. Then the inevitable question when she finished. "What did you think?" And that wonderful woman said, "It's good." Insert huge sigh of relief here. It wasn't just the verdict I was waiting for, I was also paying attention to the way she read it, giving it the same considerable attention that she gave novels (she's always been a voracious reader).
It's so easy to crush a child's dreams with a few careless words. It's one of the things I think about often now that I'm a mother. I think carefully of the words I use around my son. I don't think I could ever forgive myself if I said something to crush him.
Well, now, there I go, straying from the topic a bit. So I found this interesting tidbit that talks about how different authors view their juvenilia. Some look upon it with disdain and horror. Some destroyed their early work. Others look at it a bit tongue-in-cheek. I guess that's more of my approach. I mean, this stuff is far from brilliant, but considering where I was in my life, it's not that bad. And it's not like anybody is going to judge my current work by what I did over two decades ago when I was an obnoxious teenager. Anyhow, it's a bit fun to look back at what I considered important, and it's a good feeling to know I've grown considerably since then.
April 25, 2012
The Story Behind the Story
So I got my contributor's copy of Uncle John's Flush Fiction today. I do enjoy seeing my stories in print even though I've bought only one physical book in the past year or so (I really love my e-reader). I can't wait to read the other stories in the collection! So I got to thinking about my story and how it came about.
WARNING! SPOILERS AHEAD!
I belong to an online writing community called Codex. One of the great things they do is run contests several times a year. It's how I generate some of my short stories and how I've generated one novel (the one in progress). One of the contests is called Weekend Warrior. Prompts go up at the beginning of the weekend, and the idea is to write and turn in a 750 word (or less) story by the end of the weekend. Phew! A few years ago I read through the prompts but couldn't think of a story that weekend. So the prompt kicked around in the back of my head for a few weeks, and then the idea for a story sprang out at me one day like some sort of ninja assassin. I ended up writing a story that, on the surface, looks like a story about helpful gnomes (trust me, we all need and deserve gnomes like these), but what I was thinking about as I wrote was the secrets people keep from one another, and how sometimes even when we suspect (or outright know) another person's truth, we pretend we don't. I guess I was thinking about those people you see on the news who act shocked that their husband or wife or kids or co-workers or neighbors did something horrible, something that went on for years and is now coming to light.
END OF SPOILERS
On a completely unrelated note, the herb garden and strawberries are doing great, but absolutely nothing came up in the vegetable garden. I used the same soil in all three areas. What gives, Mother Nature? So I replanted the vegetable garden today.
WARNING! SPOILERS AHEAD!
I belong to an online writing community called Codex. One of the great things they do is run contests several times a year. It's how I generate some of my short stories and how I've generated one novel (the one in progress). One of the contests is called Weekend Warrior. Prompts go up at the beginning of the weekend, and the idea is to write and turn in a 750 word (or less) story by the end of the weekend. Phew! A few years ago I read through the prompts but couldn't think of a story that weekend. So the prompt kicked around in the back of my head for a few weeks, and then the idea for a story sprang out at me one day like some sort of ninja assassin. I ended up writing a story that, on the surface, looks like a story about helpful gnomes (trust me, we all need and deserve gnomes like these), but what I was thinking about as I wrote was the secrets people keep from one another, and how sometimes even when we suspect (or outright know) another person's truth, we pretend we don't. I guess I was thinking about those people you see on the news who act shocked that their husband or wife or kids or co-workers or neighbors did something horrible, something that went on for years and is now coming to light.
END OF SPOILERS
On a completely unrelated note, the herb garden and strawberries are doing great, but absolutely nothing came up in the vegetable garden. I used the same soil in all three areas. What gives, Mother Nature? So I replanted the vegetable garden today.
