Olga Godim's Blog, page 11

A to Z Challenge – Letter C

For the letter C, I offer you a sci-fi YA book cover. The CLOCKS are ticking.

Do you think these clocks measure her remaining hours? Until what? Her death? Her exam? Her scheduled hairdresser?

A to Z Challenge – Letter B

The letter B corresponds in my mind to the word BEAR. I have two book covers for fantasy books with a bear foremost in the image. Here are both.

This one is with a sorceress.

And this one is with a warrior.

Have you ever travel bear-back?

A to Z Challenge – Letter A

Here is my offer to the letter A – APPRENTICE. There are several fantasy novels with a magician apprentice as the protagonist. Obviously, apprenticeship is a time-honored way to acquire magical knowledge.  

What kind of secret does this young apprentice want to keep quiet about?

A to Z Challenge – Theme Reveal 2021

In 2021, for the first time ever, I decided to participate in the A t0 Z challenge. Better late than never, I think. For my main theme I chose to go with images.

Some of you may already know that I create all the badges for the WEP blog hop. But I do more than that. Although I do not consider myself an artist – I’m a writer first – I like dabbling in digital imagery. In the past few years, I’ve been making pre-made book covers. Or you might consider them digital pictures in the book cover format.

Although no writer ever requested any of my covers yet, I enjoy tinkering with imagery and combining stock images (sometimes up to a dozen stock elements for one resulting picture) to create something new and different. I only use FREE stock from a few source websites, mainly https://pixabay.com/ and https://www.deviantart.com/ There are many wonderful artists on both sites, and they are generous with their art.   

All my covers in this year’s challenge will have a pretend title corresponding to the letter of the day and a placeholder for the author’s name.

Her blond hair

It’s the first Wednesday of the month again, time for a post for the Insecure Writer’s Support Group.
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I decided to forgo this month’s optional question, because I’ve already talked about my reading preferences in several previous posts. Instead, I want to concentrate on character descriptions.

Many writers describe their characters in exhaustive details. Some put a character in front of a mirror. Others make those descriptions from the omniscient author’s POV. The best, especially in romance novels, use another person and describe the heroine as seen through his eyes. But is any of it necessary?

Let’s talk about the mirror scene. How often do you stand in front of the mirror to brush your hair and think: my blond hair is curly and my blue eyes twinkle? I would guess the answer is never. Well, maybe once, before your prom dance.

Besides, what does it matter? How does your blond hair affect your life? It doesn’t, except for one possible scenario: when you’re an actress, going for an audition, and the role demands a blonde. But even then, you could use a wig, right?

Other writers, not just me, care about this aspect of fiction writing. In their joined blog, two bestselling authors, Jennifer Crusie and Bob Mayer, touched on this topic very convincingly a few months ago.

Bob: One thing I have a hard time with is character descriptions. It’s not like we’re writing a personal ad. I like to keep any physical description to one line at most. Beyond that, I prefer to let the reader come up with their own mental image from what the character says and does.
Unless there’s something specific and different about the character I don’t care what they look like. Which is interesting, because if you think about a movie, casting is everything.

Jenny: I don’t care about physical descriptions at all, and I’m skeptical that readers do, since they tend to design the characters in their minds as they read. I wrote a character with a mustache once, and I got letters that said, “In my version of this book, Jake does not have a mustache.” Won’t make that mistake again.
…
Jenny: Eye color has had exactly zero impact on my life. Why do I need to know what color my protagonist’s eyes are?

The need to describe a character only arises when the outer parameters of a character affect the story. In the latest T. Kingfisher’s fantasy novel, Paladin’s Strength, the heroine is a big and strong woman, and her size makes a difference to the story. Some of her actions would’ve been impossible if she were a dainty waif, so the description makes sense. And to answer the inevitable question,  the author described her through the second protagonist’s eyes. No mirrors.

Lately, I’ve stopped describing my characters, unless it is somehow related to the story. In my short story included in the upcoming IWSG anthology, Dark Matter: Artificial, I didn’t describe my protagonist because her eye color or hair length have “zero impact” on my story, just as Cruise said.

Do you describe your characters? What method do you use? Why is it important to you? Tell me in the comments.

Happy 65 with books

I turn 65 today, on Feb 20, 2021. To celebrate my birthday, I made myself a birthday card.

The reading woman doesn’t look exactly like me, but that’s how you could more often than not find me – with a good book and my head in the air with stories.

Happy birthday, Olga. Good reading to you for years to come.

WEP Feb 2021 – The Kiss

A new year – a new series for WEP. By now, it has become a personal challenge for me to write interlinked flash stories for every prompt of the year. This year, I came up with a sci-fi series about a young cadet of the Fleet Academy, Neville Ranen. He has one year of the Academy left before graduating and becoming a full-fledged officer of the Federation Space Fleet, when an unexpected calamity turned his world upside down. And all because of a kiss. This story is my answer to the Feb 2021 challenge.

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Cadet Neville Ranen stared at the wall behind the admiral’s left shoulder. His bruises ached. One of his eyes wouldn’t open to more than a slit, and his cut lip stung. His only consolation was that his adversary, Peterson, looked worse.

“Well,” the admiral drawled. “I have already heard two different versions of the events, by Cadets Peterson and Grant. What is yours, Cadet Ranen?”

“Sir?” Surprised, Neville glanced at the admiral’s spacer-pale face, creased with wrinkles. He didn’t expect the question. He had attacked his classmate Peterson when he noticed the cad pawing one of the freshmen girls, Grace Grant, in a deserted corridor. Grace had been resisting, trying to extricate herself from the unwanted kisses, pummeling Peterson with her small fists, but Peterson was bigger, stronger, better trained, and obviously set on conquest. So Neville had waded in. Now he steeled himself to pay the price. Peterson was a Fleet brat, a son of a highly decorated Fleet captain. Neville was a son of a farmer from a distant colony. He didn’t think anyone would be interested in his explanations.

But the old admiral, the Academy Superintendent, looked amused, his sharp eyes twinkling. Easy for you to be amused, old goat, Neville thought angrily. His whole life was on the line. If the Academy expelled him, what would he do? He didn’t want to go back to his father’s farm. Perhaps he could find a job here, on the station? His three years of the Academy training must count for something. But first, he would try to save his position at the Academy. He didn’t like ratting out another cadet, even a swine like Peterson, but he didn’t have a choice.

“I saw Cadet Peterson assaulting Cadet Grant,” he said woodenly. “She obviously didn’t want his amorous attentions, she was struggling, sir. Trying to call for help, but he covered her mouth … with his. I interfered.”

“Successfully, I take it. You broke his collarbone and his wrist,” the admiral pointed out.

“He wouldn’t stop fighting,” Neville said. “I had to finish the fight as speedily as possible.”

“You’ve had a number of disciplinary infractions over the years, Cadet, but as far as I understand, all of them were pranks, until now,” the admiral said.

Neville didn’t respond. There was nothing to say.

The admiral sighed. “Cadet Grant’s version was identical to yours, Ranen. She was properly grateful. I don’t approve of cadets brawling, but a sexual assault against another cadet is a violation of the Fleet code. Because of that, Cadet Peterson has been expelled. You, on the other hand, represent a quandary. I can’t leave you unpunished. I’m suspending your Academy training for one year. You have a choice. During the suspension year, you can go home or find a job on the civilian side of the station. Or I can assign you to a ship – not as an officer, as you’re not yet qualified for any officer’s posting, but perhaps as an enlisted. To do whatever the captain says. What is your preference?”

“A ship,” Neville said without hesitation. He wanted to stay in the Fleet, even if he had to clean latrines for the next year.

“A ship it is.” The admiral nodded. “The Mariposa. She is in dock eight. Report to Captain Moss by tonight. I’m transferring your file now. Dismissed.”

Neville saluted and left, his heart thumping. The last thing he saw as he turned was the old admiral grinning evilly. The Mariposa captain must not be a forgiving fellow, but Neville would endure his year of suspension. And then he would come back to the Academy and finish his training. He would be a Fleet officer one day.

Two hours later, he stood in front of the Mariposa captain and thought he might have made a mistake after all by choosing the ship duty. His brief research of the Fleet database had identified Captain Anna Moss as the commander of the deep space resupply vessel Mariposa. A huge cargo ship, Mariposa carried armaments and machinery wherever the Fleet needed. But not for the next while.

“We have been detailed to help with the evacuation of Tarius Destra,” Moss said. She sprawled in her office chair and regarded Neville with the eyes that didn’t miss much. “You know what happened there?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Neville said. “Some kind of astrographic disaster. Everyone who survived has to be transported somewhere else.”

The captain nodded. “Every colony in the galaxy offered a quota of refugees they’re willing to accept. The Mariposa will carry people to Simel, as many trips as needed. We have ample space for the passengers, several thousands per trip, but a very small crew: the bridge team, the two engineers, and a medic aka cook. You’re going to be a big help, Cadet. I’m assigning you to be my deputy, my liaison with the passengers.”

“A deputy? You mean like … a policeman?”

“Exactly. You’ll patrol the cargo holds with the refugees and see what needs to be done. If a group of teenagers gets antsy, make up an occupation for them. I don’t know, a sporting competition. If a toddler gets lost, find him. If some adults stir trouble, try to keep it from escalating. Talk to people. Reassure them. And report to me.”

Neville gulped. Him a peacemaker? “I don’t think I’m qualified, ma’am,” he said faintly. “At the Academy, I was a troublemaker.”

“I know. Your file is extensive. Unfortunately, I can’t spare anyone else. The bridge officers are irreplaceable. You can’t perform their duties; you’re not qualified either. The medic will do her job: among thousands of refugees, someone is bound to get ill. And the engineers are already working overtime. We have to upgrade our air recycling system from handling a small crew of fifteen to several thousand people aboard. I’m not even talking about the toilet recycling.” She winced.

Neville felt entrapped. “Nobody will listen to me. They’d say: ‘That silly boy.’”

“No. You’ll be in uniform. We’ll all be in uniform, instantly recognizable for as long as we carry passengers.” She looked down at her dark green, totally un-regulation T-short with a golden dragon print and snorted. “More is the pity. But unavoidable in this case. And you’ll have a sidearm – a stunner. Use it if you have to. I’ll back you, Cadet. Publicly. I might rake you privately later, of course.” Her lips twitched. “But as long as you don’t kill anyone, I’ll back you. Remember: these people are hurting, traumatized. They’ve lost everything. They are going into the unknown. Be kind … if you can.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Neville croaked. Nothing else he could say. But him a policeman? It sounded surreal. He had never been so terrified in his life. It would’ve been so much easier to clean latrines. Even for several thousand people. He grimaced at the thought.

“Do your best, Cadet. For now, until the passengers board, familiarize yourself with the ship. Dismissed.”   

 

My friends from WEP

It’s the first Wednesday of the month again, time for a post for the Insecure Writer’s Support Group.
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FEBRUARY QUESTION: Blogging is often more than just sharing stories. It’s often the start of special friendships and relationships. Have you made any friends through the blogosphere?

MY ANSWER: Yes. I consider the admin team of the WEP blog hop my online friends. I started writing for WEP in 2015. Next year, I joined the admin team of the site as their ‘art director’, the one who has been making all their badges since. And I kept writing for WEP. Both my flash fiction writing for the site and my badge-making experience have been an exciting online adventure and a steep learning curve for me. In the process, the ladies of the team – Denise Covey, Yolanda Renee, Laura Keltner, and Nilanjana Bose – have become my friends.

You all know the saying: A friend in need is a friend indeed. Recently, I was very sick, and all of them, my internet friends, were very concerned for me. They inundated me with good wishes, maybe even a few prayers, and even sent me a gift through PayPal. And I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to them here.

  Thank you, my friends! 

All five of us are different women: by our cultural heritages, our ages and family situations, our home countries, and our writing preferences. We might never meet in person, but the internet brought us close. In fact, the only true difference I see between me and my friends from WEP is that they all four use Blogspot as their blogging platform, while I use WordPress. Otherwise, we are all writers, women, and citizens of the world.

What about you? Has one particular internet site or blog hop become a vehicle for your friendships? Tell me in the comments.

I must like the protagonist

It’s the first Wednesday of the month again, time for a post for the Insecure Writer’s Support Group.

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JANUARY QUESTION: Being a writer, when you’re reading someone else’s work, what stops you from finishing a book/throws you out of the story/frustrates you the most about other people’s books?

MY ANSWER: the crucial aspect of fiction for me is the characters. If I dislike the protagonist in a story I read, I rarely finish that story. One of the human traits that most often throws me out of a story is stupidity. I can’t abide stupid behavior (which for some reason frequently happens in romance novels). I also dislike alcoholics and drug addicts. I don’t want anything to do with them in real life and I don’t want to read about them in fiction. Otherwise, it is case by case.

Sometimes, a writer is wonderful, and I enjoy some of their books, but can’t read others because the leading character repulses me.

Writing textbooks and writing teachers all give the same advice: make your protagonist flawed. And young writers usually comply. They invent flaws for their protagonists. Such an approach to writing turns me off. I never do that in my own fiction. If my protagonists are flawed, their flaws grow organically. They are never invented or applied arbitrary. Truth to tell, I try to write my heroes as perfect as I can, totally likable, although they never come out that way. There is always something problematic in their psyche or their decision-making.

Most often, to achieve their goals, my heroes lie. Their lies don’t hurt anyone except the bad guys, but many people consider the ability (and sometimes inclination) to lie as a character flaw. I wonder if my predilection to solve my fictional problems with lies says something about me as an author and a person? Caveat: I don’t usually lie in my real life.

What about you? What character flaws creep up in your fiction repeatedly?

Happy New Year 2021

Happy New Year to all my friends. Let your 2021 be better than 2020. Stay healthy. Find your balance. Keep writing. Smile often. I want to thank you for all the support you’ve shown me during 2020 and I want to see your smiles, so I made a card for you.

To continue with the reindeer theme of this post, here is another media to tickle your humorous bone, especially you, my friends from Oz. Sung by The Drifters. Cartoon by Joshua Held. Aren’t these caroling reindeer fun to watch?

Olga