Rani Divine's Blog, page 41
September 5, 2016
Freia
Last week was all about Coetir, in case you hadn’t noticed. Logically, that means this week is Cedwig-centric! And today, we’re starting with the most primary character of the book, my super sweet first-person narrator who still reminds me how to write beautiful women.
Everyone, meet Freia
I feel like I’m getting better at drawing… What do you think? her hair needs work, and I need to figure out how to draw a neck yet... but her face looks nice!
The scene I picked out for you today is a classic Freia scene, from before she really comes into her own in the story. It’s from the beginning, so there’s very little chance of spoilers. Don’t worry. And it's also one of the more interesting scenes in the story, because it's where things are starting to take shape and come together.
Excerpt from Cedwig: People in the Vines by Rani Divine ©Copyright RAD Writing, 2016
It was hard to believe what I was doing, and yet it all seemed like the most normal thing in the world. Eirian held my hand, and we ran through the trees. We hadn’t stopped except for him to help me over obstacles and tell me where we were going next. He’d shown me some of the animals, those that used to live in the field but had been moved when my people entered the picture. He’d told me the names of many of the trees we passed, and explained their relation to each other. They were all of his people—the trees. I didn’t entirely understand, but I wanted to know everything that I could about these people, about their world. No, it wasn’t a want in my mind anymore. I needed to know everything about this place. In my heart, I already called it home.
Eirian smiled as we ran across the river, his hand holding tightly to mine to keep me steady on my feet. I couldn’t help but laugh at the sensation of the water between my toes, rushing over my feet, soaking the hem of my dress. I didn’t even know why, only that I wanted to laugh. “What do you see?” Eirian asked when we reached the other side of the river and stared out into the night. He stepped behind me, his hand still holding to mine, so that there would be nothing between myself and the forest. Before me were thousands of trees, more than I had ever imagined. We stood atop a hill, looking down over the forest my people had so recently made their home. The trees practically glowed in the moonlight, swaying gracefully in the gentle breeze. But it was more than that. I wasn’t sure if it was my mind playing tricks on me or if I actually saw the people sitting in the treetops. Some of them spoke with each other, others stared up at the sky, still others ran through the trees, creating the illusion of the breezes, smiles bright on their faces. They all looked like Eirian: vines for hair, dark skin with black spots, they even had tails. “Beautiful,” I whispered under my breath as I took a step forward. “Careful,” Eirian said, tugging on my arm to pull me away from the brink. We stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a valley, if I wasn’t mistaken. The cliff itself disappeared into the forest around me, most of it covered by vines and moss. I moved back, and found myself leaning against my new friend. Never in my life had I been so close to a man who wasn’t of my family, and yet I felt no apprehension. Eirian was a friend—or maybe he was more than that, maybe he was like my family. One of his arms wrapped around my shoulders, and in his hold I felt safe. This new world was full of things my imagination could not have created, and it seemed to me that his arms would keep it all at bay, that they would allow me to take it all in at my own pace. They were not threatening to me, those arms. They were nothing more than a comfort, the touch of a father or a brother, and I did not want them to let go. “What do you see?” Eirian whispered in my ear. “Your people,” I replied. “We are called Cedwig,” he said. “We are of Dewin, created of the Vartes.” “What am I?” I laughed as I turned to look him in the eye. “You are called human.” He smiled. “Created of the Vartes, to be in unity with the people of the Dewin.” He ran his fingers through my hair, his eyes marveling once again at the texture of the strands. I supposed that he had never seen anything like it, aside from the fur of the animals. This was the first that any human had been in within the limits of the forest. My people had always stayed away before now, many believing the place to be haunted, I assumed, by the very creatures who now held a part of my heart. I did not see how such creatures could have been thought of as haunting, except perhaps in their beauty. Eirian was beautiful in every possible way. He had emotions, like us. He had feelings, fears, beliefs—just like a human. Not like the animals, not something to breed for labor or food. Eirian had a soul, one that belonged here in the forest. The way he looked at the trees, I knew this place was more than just his home. It was his life. The design of this place had him and his people in mind. His very life always tied to the forest, and vice versa.The way that the others interacted with the trees was exactly the same. This place was more to them than just a home, a place to live. It was their very existence. “Come,” Eirian said, gesturing to the horizon. “It will be dawn soon.” My heart sank. I didn’t want to go back to the clearing, to the people who had filled my life up to this point. I didn’t want to work alongside Carol, to wash clothes and cook dinners and take care of the men. I wanted to stay here, with Eirian. I wanted to learn about the Cedwig, about the Dewin and the Vartes. My mind spun with all my imaginings about these people, all the questions I held about them. I needed answers, and I knew that I wouldn’t get them when I went back to papa. If it were up to him and the others, I would never have left the clearing in the first place. But deep in my heart, I knew that it would be best to return. If I were to stay, my people would fear for my life. They would search the woods, and they would tear down everything in their paths in an effort to find me. I knew Jonas well enough to know that. If anyone went missing, even me, he would search the woods until he found them. I nodded, and Eirian released all but my hand. “Let me show you something,” he said. He helped me up onto his back, my arms grasping around his shoulders and my legs holding tight to his waist, and he ran. Just like I had seen the others do in the tops of the trees, Eirian ran. His feet landed lightly everywhere they found purchase, propelling him at a speed faster than humanly possible. Wind breezed through my hair, over my skin, the sensation like nothing I’d experienced prior. He climbed up into the highest branches at the same rate, his tail helping to balance us along the way. Even with me on his back, he was fully capable of traversing the whole of the woods at this pace, so that the cliff disappeared behind us at a nearly alarming rate. My eyes scanned over everything we passed, over the tops of the trees, the animals resting in the vines, the moonlight bouncing off the leaves and shimmering in the night sky—all of it a blur, and yet my eyes were able to pick out even minute details of the things we passed. We even moved close to another Cedwig, sitting at the top of a tree, staring up at the moonlight. The woman glanced at us and smiled, and Eirian said something to her in his language, words that I doubted I would ever understand. He’d only spoken it to me once before, and even then it had sounded impossible to decipher. Within moments, we stood in the trees just beyond the clearing my people now possessed. From where we stood I saw them, still sleeping in their circle. Even the guards were still unconscious, unaware of the fact that I’d left them during the night. The sky began to lighten. There was no point in hoping that my people would sleep through the first few hours of day. Jonas insisted that everyone be up at dawn and that they work until the light had faded from the sky. After all, it was the only way that we would have homes built before winter set in. No one knew how cold that time of year would be. “I should go,” I whispered under my breath, my arms still holding tight around Eirian’s shoulders. He nodded and slowly climbed down through the branches, dropping to his feet in what looked like the exact place he’d found me. I slid down off his back, and he turned to face me. “Thank you,” I breathed, smiling sadly up at him. My brow furrowed as his skin lightened in the ever-brightening light. Eirian reached up and pulled a flower from one of the vines. He wrapped the stem tightly around and around something else he’d found in the trees, and fastened the bracelet around my wrist. “I will return, young one,” he told me. “Remember.” He smiled. My eyes were fixed on the bracelet that now adorned my wrist. “It’s beautiful,” I said. He laughed lightly and ran his fingers through my hair. “Go back,” he said. “I will return.” I looked up at him and smiled brightly. “When?” My brows rose. “Soon,” he replied. “I will give you a sign.” He lifted my hand and played with his homemade jewelry, his eyes still staring straight into mine. “Go,” he breathed. I nodded slowly and stepped away from him, my heart tearing as I did so. The trees were more home to me than this clearing would ever be. They were safety, shelter, security. They were home. Even without Eirian, I had always felt at home within the trees, entrapped by the vines and tangles of branches. Nothing could reach me, when I was deep enough in the trees. Not even Jonas’s rules could find me when I was there. My feet deftly carried me back over the tops of my people, until I settled back in beside Carol. Almost as soon as I laid my head down and closed my eyes, the guards stirred. They wouldn’t tell Jonas they’d fallen asleep. I slipped Eirian’s bracelet from my wrist and placed it in the pocket of my dress. No one could know where I had been. I didn’t know what would happen if they found out, and I didn’t want to test it. For now, it was safer for everyone to think that I had been here, beside Carol, all night long. But in my heart, I knew where I was meant to be. The forest called to me from all around, begging me to return to its arms. “Soon,” I whispered under my breath.
Everyone, meet Freia
I feel like I’m getting better at drawing… What do you think? her hair needs work, and I need to figure out how to draw a neck yet... but her face looks nice!
The scene I picked out for you today is a classic Freia scene, from before she really comes into her own in the story. It’s from the beginning, so there’s very little chance of spoilers. Don’t worry. And it's also one of the more interesting scenes in the story, because it's where things are starting to take shape and come together.
Excerpt from Cedwig: People in the Vines by Rani Divine ©Copyright RAD Writing, 2016
It was hard to believe what I was doing, and yet it all seemed like the most normal thing in the world. Eirian held my hand, and we ran through the trees. We hadn’t stopped except for him to help me over obstacles and tell me where we were going next. He’d shown me some of the animals, those that used to live in the field but had been moved when my people entered the picture. He’d told me the names of many of the trees we passed, and explained their relation to each other. They were all of his people—the trees. I didn’t entirely understand, but I wanted to know everything that I could about these people, about their world. No, it wasn’t a want in my mind anymore. I needed to know everything about this place. In my heart, I already called it home.
Eirian smiled as we ran across the river, his hand holding tightly to mine to keep me steady on my feet. I couldn’t help but laugh at the sensation of the water between my toes, rushing over my feet, soaking the hem of my dress. I didn’t even know why, only that I wanted to laugh. “What do you see?” Eirian asked when we reached the other side of the river and stared out into the night. He stepped behind me, his hand still holding to mine, so that there would be nothing between myself and the forest. Before me were thousands of trees, more than I had ever imagined. We stood atop a hill, looking down over the forest my people had so recently made their home. The trees practically glowed in the moonlight, swaying gracefully in the gentle breeze. But it was more than that. I wasn’t sure if it was my mind playing tricks on me or if I actually saw the people sitting in the treetops. Some of them spoke with each other, others stared up at the sky, still others ran through the trees, creating the illusion of the breezes, smiles bright on their faces. They all looked like Eirian: vines for hair, dark skin with black spots, they even had tails. “Beautiful,” I whispered under my breath as I took a step forward. “Careful,” Eirian said, tugging on my arm to pull me away from the brink. We stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a valley, if I wasn’t mistaken. The cliff itself disappeared into the forest around me, most of it covered by vines and moss. I moved back, and found myself leaning against my new friend. Never in my life had I been so close to a man who wasn’t of my family, and yet I felt no apprehension. Eirian was a friend—or maybe he was more than that, maybe he was like my family. One of his arms wrapped around my shoulders, and in his hold I felt safe. This new world was full of things my imagination could not have created, and it seemed to me that his arms would keep it all at bay, that they would allow me to take it all in at my own pace. They were not threatening to me, those arms. They were nothing more than a comfort, the touch of a father or a brother, and I did not want them to let go. “What do you see?” Eirian whispered in my ear. “Your people,” I replied. “We are called Cedwig,” he said. “We are of Dewin, created of the Vartes.” “What am I?” I laughed as I turned to look him in the eye. “You are called human.” He smiled. “Created of the Vartes, to be in unity with the people of the Dewin.” He ran his fingers through my hair, his eyes marveling once again at the texture of the strands. I supposed that he had never seen anything like it, aside from the fur of the animals. This was the first that any human had been in within the limits of the forest. My people had always stayed away before now, many believing the place to be haunted, I assumed, by the very creatures who now held a part of my heart. I did not see how such creatures could have been thought of as haunting, except perhaps in their beauty. Eirian was beautiful in every possible way. He had emotions, like us. He had feelings, fears, beliefs—just like a human. Not like the animals, not something to breed for labor or food. Eirian had a soul, one that belonged here in the forest. The way he looked at the trees, I knew this place was more than just his home. It was his life. The design of this place had him and his people in mind. His very life always tied to the forest, and vice versa.The way that the others interacted with the trees was exactly the same. This place was more to them than just a home, a place to live. It was their very existence. “Come,” Eirian said, gesturing to the horizon. “It will be dawn soon.” My heart sank. I didn’t want to go back to the clearing, to the people who had filled my life up to this point. I didn’t want to work alongside Carol, to wash clothes and cook dinners and take care of the men. I wanted to stay here, with Eirian. I wanted to learn about the Cedwig, about the Dewin and the Vartes. My mind spun with all my imaginings about these people, all the questions I held about them. I needed answers, and I knew that I wouldn’t get them when I went back to papa. If it were up to him and the others, I would never have left the clearing in the first place. But deep in my heart, I knew that it would be best to return. If I were to stay, my people would fear for my life. They would search the woods, and they would tear down everything in their paths in an effort to find me. I knew Jonas well enough to know that. If anyone went missing, even me, he would search the woods until he found them. I nodded, and Eirian released all but my hand. “Let me show you something,” he said. He helped me up onto his back, my arms grasping around his shoulders and my legs holding tight to his waist, and he ran. Just like I had seen the others do in the tops of the trees, Eirian ran. His feet landed lightly everywhere they found purchase, propelling him at a speed faster than humanly possible. Wind breezed through my hair, over my skin, the sensation like nothing I’d experienced prior. He climbed up into the highest branches at the same rate, his tail helping to balance us along the way. Even with me on his back, he was fully capable of traversing the whole of the woods at this pace, so that the cliff disappeared behind us at a nearly alarming rate. My eyes scanned over everything we passed, over the tops of the trees, the animals resting in the vines, the moonlight bouncing off the leaves and shimmering in the night sky—all of it a blur, and yet my eyes were able to pick out even minute details of the things we passed. We even moved close to another Cedwig, sitting at the top of a tree, staring up at the moonlight. The woman glanced at us and smiled, and Eirian said something to her in his language, words that I doubted I would ever understand. He’d only spoken it to me once before, and even then it had sounded impossible to decipher. Within moments, we stood in the trees just beyond the clearing my people now possessed. From where we stood I saw them, still sleeping in their circle. Even the guards were still unconscious, unaware of the fact that I’d left them during the night. The sky began to lighten. There was no point in hoping that my people would sleep through the first few hours of day. Jonas insisted that everyone be up at dawn and that they work until the light had faded from the sky. After all, it was the only way that we would have homes built before winter set in. No one knew how cold that time of year would be. “I should go,” I whispered under my breath, my arms still holding tight around Eirian’s shoulders. He nodded and slowly climbed down through the branches, dropping to his feet in what looked like the exact place he’d found me. I slid down off his back, and he turned to face me. “Thank you,” I breathed, smiling sadly up at him. My brow furrowed as his skin lightened in the ever-brightening light. Eirian reached up and pulled a flower from one of the vines. He wrapped the stem tightly around and around something else he’d found in the trees, and fastened the bracelet around my wrist. “I will return, young one,” he told me. “Remember.” He smiled. My eyes were fixed on the bracelet that now adorned my wrist. “It’s beautiful,” I said. He laughed lightly and ran his fingers through my hair. “Go back,” he said. “I will return.” I looked up at him and smiled brightly. “When?” My brows rose. “Soon,” he replied. “I will give you a sign.” He lifted my hand and played with his homemade jewelry, his eyes still staring straight into mine. “Go,” he breathed. I nodded slowly and stepped away from him, my heart tearing as I did so. The trees were more home to me than this clearing would ever be. They were safety, shelter, security. They were home. Even without Eirian, I had always felt at home within the trees, entrapped by the vines and tangles of branches. Nothing could reach me, when I was deep enough in the trees. Not even Jonas’s rules could find me when I was there. My feet deftly carried me back over the tops of my people, until I settled back in beside Carol. Almost as soon as I laid my head down and closed my eyes, the guards stirred. They wouldn’t tell Jonas they’d fallen asleep. I slipped Eirian’s bracelet from my wrist and placed it in the pocket of my dress. No one could know where I had been. I didn’t know what would happen if they found out, and I didn’t want to test it. For now, it was safer for everyone to think that I had been here, beside Carol, all night long. But in my heart, I knew where I was meant to be. The forest called to me from all around, begging me to return to its arms. “Soon,” I whispered under my breath.
September 2, 2016
Raichel
Okay, so now you've officially met Fari and Ellya, and there's one more character from Coetir who I'd like you to meet.
The ever-so-lovely, Raichel
Yes, I was experimenting with necklines when I drew her. :-P
You'll know Raichel as the wife of Tomas, sister-in-law to Ellya, and all-around beauty who steals the heart of *ahem* no spoilers here. Nope. Nothing doing.
Now, I'll have you note that this is actually not the scene of Raichel's that I wanted to share with you. But the one that I wanted to share contained a huge spoiler to something that changes the rest of the book, and I thought it best to stay away from that one. Some of you may know what moment I'm referring to. If you've read the book. *wink*
So, here you have it. A shorter scene from Raichel, but a scene that deeply defines her relationship with another very pivotal character. And one that helped me to really get to know her as a person. She liked to keep everything from me. Very annoying. It was like pulling teeth with that one.
Excerpt #3 from Coetir: People of the Woods, by Rani Divine
© Copyright RAD Writing, 2015, All rights reserved
Raichel sat on the ground a few meters outside the village, cradling Lettie’s baby in her arms. He still hadn’t been named, but she’d been calling him Alexander. It was the name she’d always wanted for her own son.
Tears slid down her cheeks as she watched the baby boy sleeping in her arms. She couldn’t help it. All her life, she’d wanted to be a mother. It wasn’t until after she’d wed Tomas that she learned he was unable to bear children. There had been an accident when he was a lad, and his parents told him when he came of age that if he wanted children he would have to seek a couple to adopt from.
She hated him for not telling her until after their match.
The boy was so beautiful, sleeping in her arms. His light violet skin almost shimmered in the bright afternoon light, and he already had a head full of dark hair and deep green vines.
“Why are you crying, little elain?” Saeth said as he appeared beside her.
“Why do you call me that?” she asked, automatically reaching up to wipe the tears from her face. She ordinarily wouldn’t have let anyone see her like this, but there was nowhere to go.
Beyond that, Saeth seemed to be everywhere.
He smiled and sat beside her on the ground. He gently caressed the baby’s head, but his eyes remained fixed on Raichel’s. “It means fawn, in your tongue,” he replied. “It is my people’s equivalent to your name.”
She smiled slightly, more tears sliding down her face.
“Don’t cry, little one.” He reached up and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Walk with me,” he said. “I will help you.” He held out his hand toward her, and she took it.
She stood, being careful not to wake the baby in her arms.
“You’re holding an Eiriol child,” he said as he led her away from the village.
“He’s Lettie’s,” she whispered. She hoped he wouldn’t have a strange name for her too.
“The human?”
“Yeah.”
“And why has his care been left to you?” he asked. “Should that not be the duty of the mother?”
“She’s asleep,” she replied. “I wanted to hold him.”
“He makes you sad,” he observed.
“I want a baby,” she breathed. She didn’t know why she said it. She’d never been so candid with anyone in her life—not even Tomas. He bore the brunt of her anger because he couldn’t give her a child, and she never spoke to him like a normal human being. She’d shut everyone else out since she was a young child.
Why then did she trust Saeth so much?
“You do not have a mate.” He nodded slowly.
“I do,” she whispered. “But he can’t…” her voice trailed off.
“This was a poor choice of mate, if a child is your desire.” The clouds darkened the sky above them. She wondered what it was about Saeth that caused the reaction in the sky.
“That’s not how it works.” She shook her head.
“I see,” he whispered, his fingers tightening around hers.
“Why are you here? With me I mean,” she asked, turning to look him in the eye.
“Little elain.” He shook his head and smiled. “You are the reason I am here.”
“Me?” Her brow furrowed.
“In time,” he replied. “Come with me to the river.” He smiled slightly.
“Okay.”
She walked beside him through the trees, all the while cradling the baby boy in her arms.
Somehow, Saeth made her feel better. Her eyes no longer begged to release bitter tears, and her heart no longer ached so badly. All she felt now was simple curiosity as to where they were going and what Saeth wanted to show her.
As the sound of the river grew louder, he turned to her and lifted a finger to his lips, and she nodded. If silence was what he wanted, silence he would have.
He pointed beyond the water, and she saw a group of humans walking through the trees. One of them continually marked the trees that they passed, trying to keep track of where they had been. She’d heard of people doing that before, in the past, when the humans were allowed to enter the woods.
“The protectors are here,” Saeth whispered under his breath as he stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her and the baby.
They watched in silence as one by one the humans began to fall. She couldn’t see what was happening to them—it was all moving too quickly. All she knew was that something was happening to them, and they were falling before they even knew something had hit them.
She guessed that they’d been killed.
“We will keep you safe, little elain,” Saeth whispered in her ear. “Do you believe me?”
“I do,” she breathed.
The baby whimpered, and Saeth released her. “May I?”
She furrowed her brow as she turned toward him, but she couldn’t think of a reason why he shouldn’t be allowed to hold the child. He was Coetir, after all. He couldn’t do anything to harm one of the Eiriol. So he took the child from her arms, and the boy quieted almost instantly. Saeth cradled the boy against his chest, and he smiled down at him. “He is beautiful,” he whispered. “I can see why you enjoy being with him.”
“Everyone always told me I was a mother without a child,” she breathed.
“You will have a child,” he told her, lifting his eyes to look into hers.
“I can’t.” She shook her head. “Tomas…” She shook her head again, tears filling her eyes.
“Come,” he breathed, reaching out to cup the back of her neck with his hand. “We should return him to his mother, so that you may be alone.”
“Thank you,” she breathed.
“I will keep you safe, little elain.” He smiled down at her. “I promise you that.”
The ever-so-lovely, Raichel
Yes, I was experimenting with necklines when I drew her. :-P
You'll know Raichel as the wife of Tomas, sister-in-law to Ellya, and all-around beauty who steals the heart of *ahem* no spoilers here. Nope. Nothing doing.
Now, I'll have you note that this is actually not the scene of Raichel's that I wanted to share with you. But the one that I wanted to share contained a huge spoiler to something that changes the rest of the book, and I thought it best to stay away from that one. Some of you may know what moment I'm referring to. If you've read the book. *wink*
So, here you have it. A shorter scene from Raichel, but a scene that deeply defines her relationship with another very pivotal character. And one that helped me to really get to know her as a person. She liked to keep everything from me. Very annoying. It was like pulling teeth with that one.
Excerpt #3 from Coetir: People of the Woods, by Rani Divine
© Copyright RAD Writing, 2015, All rights reserved
Raichel sat on the ground a few meters outside the village, cradling Lettie’s baby in her arms. He still hadn’t been named, but she’d been calling him Alexander. It was the name she’d always wanted for her own son.
Tears slid down her cheeks as she watched the baby boy sleeping in her arms. She couldn’t help it. All her life, she’d wanted to be a mother. It wasn’t until after she’d wed Tomas that she learned he was unable to bear children. There had been an accident when he was a lad, and his parents told him when he came of age that if he wanted children he would have to seek a couple to adopt from.
She hated him for not telling her until after their match.
The boy was so beautiful, sleeping in her arms. His light violet skin almost shimmered in the bright afternoon light, and he already had a head full of dark hair and deep green vines.
“Why are you crying, little elain?” Saeth said as he appeared beside her.
“Why do you call me that?” she asked, automatically reaching up to wipe the tears from her face. She ordinarily wouldn’t have let anyone see her like this, but there was nowhere to go.
Beyond that, Saeth seemed to be everywhere.
He smiled and sat beside her on the ground. He gently caressed the baby’s head, but his eyes remained fixed on Raichel’s. “It means fawn, in your tongue,” he replied. “It is my people’s equivalent to your name.”
She smiled slightly, more tears sliding down her face.
“Don’t cry, little one.” He reached up and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Walk with me,” he said. “I will help you.” He held out his hand toward her, and she took it.
She stood, being careful not to wake the baby in her arms.
“You’re holding an Eiriol child,” he said as he led her away from the village.
“He’s Lettie’s,” she whispered. She hoped he wouldn’t have a strange name for her too.
“The human?”
“Yeah.”
“And why has his care been left to you?” he asked. “Should that not be the duty of the mother?”
“She’s asleep,” she replied. “I wanted to hold him.”
“He makes you sad,” he observed.
“I want a baby,” she breathed. She didn’t know why she said it. She’d never been so candid with anyone in her life—not even Tomas. He bore the brunt of her anger because he couldn’t give her a child, and she never spoke to him like a normal human being. She’d shut everyone else out since she was a young child.
Why then did she trust Saeth so much?
“You do not have a mate.” He nodded slowly.
“I do,” she whispered. “But he can’t…” her voice trailed off.
“This was a poor choice of mate, if a child is your desire.” The clouds darkened the sky above them. She wondered what it was about Saeth that caused the reaction in the sky.
“That’s not how it works.” She shook her head.
“I see,” he whispered, his fingers tightening around hers.
“Why are you here? With me I mean,” she asked, turning to look him in the eye.
“Little elain.” He shook his head and smiled. “You are the reason I am here.”
“Me?” Her brow furrowed.
“In time,” he replied. “Come with me to the river.” He smiled slightly.
“Okay.”
She walked beside him through the trees, all the while cradling the baby boy in her arms.
Somehow, Saeth made her feel better. Her eyes no longer begged to release bitter tears, and her heart no longer ached so badly. All she felt now was simple curiosity as to where they were going and what Saeth wanted to show her.
As the sound of the river grew louder, he turned to her and lifted a finger to his lips, and she nodded. If silence was what he wanted, silence he would have.
He pointed beyond the water, and she saw a group of humans walking through the trees. One of them continually marked the trees that they passed, trying to keep track of where they had been. She’d heard of people doing that before, in the past, when the humans were allowed to enter the woods.
“The protectors are here,” Saeth whispered under his breath as he stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her and the baby.
They watched in silence as one by one the humans began to fall. She couldn’t see what was happening to them—it was all moving too quickly. All she knew was that something was happening to them, and they were falling before they even knew something had hit them.
She guessed that they’d been killed.
“We will keep you safe, little elain,” Saeth whispered in her ear. “Do you believe me?”
“I do,” she breathed.
The baby whimpered, and Saeth released her. “May I?”
She furrowed her brow as she turned toward him, but she couldn’t think of a reason why he shouldn’t be allowed to hold the child. He was Coetir, after all. He couldn’t do anything to harm one of the Eiriol. So he took the child from her arms, and the boy quieted almost instantly. Saeth cradled the boy against his chest, and he smiled down at him. “He is beautiful,” he whispered. “I can see why you enjoy being with him.”
“Everyone always told me I was a mother without a child,” she breathed.
“You will have a child,” he told her, lifting his eyes to look into hers.
“I can’t.” She shook her head. “Tomas…” She shook her head again, tears filling her eyes.
“Come,” he breathed, reaching out to cup the back of her neck with his hand. “We should return him to his mother, so that you may be alone.”
“Thank you,” she breathed.
“I will keep you safe, little elain.” He smiled down at her. “I promise you that.”
August 31, 2016
Fari
What did you guys think of my drawing of Ellya? I know, I'm not amazing at this yet. But I did have a lot of fun drawing my characters for you to see!
Today, I'd like you to meet Fari (in human form, of course)
Judge me not by her curls. It was my first time drawing curls.
You'll also know Fari from Coetir: People of the Woods. She's the witch of the Coetir, the one who leads her people in all things. Oh, and she'll be making another appearance in a later Druid Novel, so it's best not to forget her. *wink*
Today, I want to share with you one of the first times we ever see Fari. At this point in the story, I didn't even know who she was yet. She'd only been in the book a short time, and this scene really helped me to discover who she is as a character, as a person.
Excerpt #2 from Coetir: People of the Woods, by Rani Divine © Copyright RAD Writing, 2015, All rights reserved
I gasped almost before I opened my eyes. The ground beneath my back was soft—it wasn’t the ground I’d fallen on. And when my eyes opened, the face I most wanted to see was not there before me. Instead, the face was round and feminine, and there were flowers in a halo around it.
She smiled with slightly pointed teeth and reached up to push the brambles of her hair behind pointed ears. My eyes widened and I raised myself up onto my elbows before I realized there was a corset preventing me from breathing. Her eyes narrowed with concern as I dropped back down to the ground.
“Where am I?” I heaved, placing a hand over my chest.
“You speak the language of the Vartes,” she whispered, her eyes widening once again.
“Who are you?”
Her face was marked with awe and wonder, but all I could think of was that I didn’t know where I was, and that I could hardly see.
“Where’s Elim?” I demanded.
She smiled down at me. “I am Fari,” she said, finally composing herself. “You are within the witch den, and Elim is waiting outside.”
“Witch den?” My brow furrowed.
“It is where we learn the ways of the Vartes,” Fari replied. “I have questions they have told me to ask.” She took my hand. “Would you like to stand?”
I nodded, and she practically pulled me to my feet. My corset constricted around my abdomen and prevented me from helping myself off the ground. But her arms were firm under me, and she brushed the dirt off my backside as soon as I was up.
“Thank you,” I whispered. I put my hands on my head and ran my fingers through the strands, pausing only momentarily at the pointedness of my ears. It was only after my hands were back in front of me that I realized something had changed, that something was very wrong. Instead of the lovely tanned skin I remembered having, my flesh was pale and lavender-violet. Instead of being covered in tiny hairs, I was covered in tiny scales, and the color changed almost imperceptibly as I stared down at my arms. Though the color wasn’t as pronounced as the light violet of Fari’s skin, my skin was unmistakably lavender.
I screamed. I held out my arms and pushed up my sleeves, and I screamed. The pointed ears had been one thing—they were somewhat fun and I could easily hide them from the people in the village—but this was completely different. It wasn’t as though I could hide the shade of my skin from my own mother—and what would Caleb and father think? I was sure this would go against Caleb’s views of what was best for the village.
But then again, so would crossing the boundary in the first place.
“Please,” Fari said, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Please,” she said again as my scream faded. “It will be explained.” Her hand found its way to mine. “Come with me: I will show you.”
My head nodded, but I was sure it was of its own accord. I could’ve sworn there was no part of me that wanted to go with her—but go with her I did.
Fari led me out the door, and I realized we were underground. I had been lying on nothing but earth. The reason it was so dim was that the torches were sparse, and inside the room there had been only candles.
“What is this place?” I whispered, staring up at the ceiling that seemed to extend for miles. I’d never even known a place this large could exist.
“It is the witch den,” she said. “Come.”
We climbed down a ladder made only of living vines, and when we reached the bottom I realized that Fari and I were not alone. A group of seven or eight older men—some of whom I recognized from the killing at the boundary—huddled together off to one side of the chamber. Dozens of women knelt in the very center of the room, and I could hear them murmuring in basic. And there, on the opposite side from where Fari and I stood, was Elim.
I smiled, finally seeing the one face that I’d been looking for since my eyes had opened in this unknown place. But before I could go to him, Fari took my hand and led me down another path, away from the main room. “Wait,” I whispered.
“You will see him soon,” Fari replied.
We continued on, and it wasn’t until it was only the sound of my breath and the crackling of fire from the sparse torches that she began to speak. “We are the Coetir of the Dewin, as I’m sure you are well aware,” she said. “We serve only the Vartes. There have been few to ever go against the creator, and those who have were removed of their essence.”
“The man at the boundary,” I whispered under my breath.
“Marike.” She nodded. “His essence was taken because of the death of our witch, Sarit. We do not generally approve of such removals, but there was no other option in his case.”
She was silent for a moment, and she led me into a small room off to the side of the tunnel. “You will need a change of clothes,” she said.
“Why?” At that point, I had every intention of returning home at the end of the day. There was no way to tell what Lionel and the others would believe if I never returned. Would they assume the Coetir had killed me at the perimeter, or would they believe someone in the village had taken me captive? I doubted they would believe that I had crossed the boundary and joined the people of the wood. It was the only thing in our village that was completely forbidden.
I wondered if I was about to find out why.
This place was far stranger than I’d imagined.
“I will explain.” She nodded as she sat on the ground inside the candlelit room. Her hand gestured for me to join her, but I knew that what went down would have great difficulty coming back up. It was why I’d always hated mother making me wear my corset to the perimeter. But my legs were strong from standing for such long periods of time.
“Please,” she urged.
I shook my head and placed my hand over my chest.
“If your dress is a problem, then why not accept the one that I offer?” She smiled, and I couldn’t deny her. If I was to return home and someone saw me I would be thrown in the cells and the fighting would begin. And if I did decide against staying, I was sure Fari wouldn’t be opposed to helping me redress.
She left the room, and when she returned she held a while silk dress. “Do you need help?”
“Please.” I unlaced the front of my gown and turned around for her to unlace the back.
“Why do you dress in such things?” she asked as my dress loosened around my bodice. “The Vartes does not require such things,” she added, her fingers working to loosen my corset.
“My mother helps me dress,” I said. “I’m still a part of her house, so she decides what I am to wear.” I gasped quietly when she removed my corset, sudden relief flooding to my lungs.
“Do you need help out of this?” She tugged at my slip.
“No,” I whispered, turning to face her.
She smiled and handed me the silken dress. “I’ll wait.” She turned and walked outside.
The fabric was unlike anything I’d felt before. My people usually made our cloth from cotton or hemp, and most of our fabric had been handed down through the years, making it old and decidedly less than soft. Most of my own clothes had once belonged to my mother, and her mother before her. But this cloth was fresh, as though it had never been worn before. It was soft and silken, and yet strong—I doubted that I would ever be able to tear it. The feel against my skin was more blissful than I’d imagined—I’d only truly touched the fabric before on Elim.
My gown matched Fari’s exactly. Purest white silk fell to my ankles, hugging at my chest and hips, and carried down my arms to my wrists, widening to bells at the ends of the sleeves. My throat was bared, the neckline covering my chest but allowing my collar to be visible. My hands smoothed the cloth down over my hips and backside before I called Fari to come back inside.
I wondered if my family would even recognize me. At this point, it seemed like almost nothing of me was the same.
“Please, sit,” Fari urged. “It will take time.”
I sighed, but I saw no better option. So I knelt on the soft earthen ground across the room from Fari, and I felt somewhat sad as the fabric of my gown touched the ground. I dipped my head toward her, urging her to continue—I would not speak again until she did.
“You know of the Vartes?” she asked.
My brows furrowed, but I nodded. Elim had spoken enough of the Vartes for me to know it was their deity.
“The Vartes is our creator,” she continued. “The Dewin were created to be one with the earth and all that is within her. We are the ones who ensure, with permission and blessing of the Vartes, that all of the earth continues in the original perfection. The Coetir have been given voice to speak to the wood, the wind, the earth.” Her eyes widened slightly. “Do you understand?”
“The Vartes created you to ensure perfection of the earth.” I nodded.
“The Vartes created your people as well—the untouchables,” she said.
“Why do you call us that?”
“You are no longer one of them,” she whispered, her eyes shifting to the ground. “It was what the witches have always called your people, in this place.” When she looked back into my eyes, she continued, “You know of the past between our peoples?”
“I know what my father told me.” I nodded slowly.
“Our peoples thrive together,” she replied. “But the untouchables did not agree with our ways. They fought against the earth and the ways of the Vartes, and we were forced to curse them. The curse was the precursor to the crossroads between our lands, and it is why we call them the untouchables. We cannot allow the two to blend together, as they attempted in the past. It would result in the loss of their essence.”
“As in, die?” My brow furrowed.
Fari nodded. “They would die.”
“Then why didn’t Elim die, when he touched me?”
Her eyes scanned up and down my body, and she smiled. “Do you not yet see?”
In that moment, everything stopped. I understood what Fari had implied, but I couldn’t believe it. There was no way it could be true. Both mother and father were human. I was human. The change to my skin and ears was a fluke. I couldn’t be one of the Coetir—it wasn’t possible.
“No,” I whispered. My body shook slightly, and I had no doubt that Fari could see it.
“Allow me to continue,” she said, dipping her head slightly.
I nodded, but it may have looked more like a violent tremble. I wasn’t sure.
“Marike, the man you saw the elders remove, attempted to destroy the Coetir way of life.” Her eyes pierced into mine. “Our people require a witch, a woman who is closer to the Vartes than she is to the earth. Since the beginning, our people have followed the witches of the same line.” She took a deep breath. “Marike took the essence of Sarit, our witch. She had no heir among our people.”
For a moment, we both paused. I could almost feel the sadness coming in waves off of Fari. She glanced all around the room, avoiding my eyes, looking more like she was searching for something.
It was during that pause that her words settled in even more. Fari was implying that I was Coetir—but I knew that couldn’t be possible.
She must have been mistaken.
“Elim heard the voice of the Vartes, concerning you, while the elders were praying for the new witch to be revealed,” she continued. “I have heard the words of the Vartes as well.”
“What did they say?”
“The creator wishes you to be trained in our ways; the ways of the Coetir.” Her eyes finally settled on mine, and they did not leave.
I felt like there was nothing I could possibly say. Elim hadn’t mentioned anything like this. Fari was implying that I would never return home, that I would remain here and train in the ways of the Coetir so that I could live out my life with them. But I wasn’t one of them. I was human. It didn’t matter that my skin had turned purple and developed scales, or that my ears were pointed, or, as I now realized, that my nails had narrowed and become more like claws. At heart, I was sure that I was still human.
Then again, even if I was still human, this was a chance to learn about the Coetir in their environment. This was the opportunity I’d always wanted—to see the world I’d dreamed about since I was a child.
A small smile pulled at the corners of my mouth, and a breeze blew around me.
“You see?” Fari smiled, her pointed teeth making me wonder if mine would soon morph to match hers. “The Vartes is already connected to you.” She got up onto her feet and reached out toward me.
I looked up at her, and I said nothing. I could see by the look on her face that she was ready for this conversation to be finished, but I wasn’t. There were still questions that needed answering.
“I do not know what to expect from you.” She laughed, and the sound was unlike anything I had ever heard before. It was like the song of a bird, mixed with the sound of the wind in the leaves, and the stream as it trickled through the village I called home. It was all of these sounds and none of them, and it was beautiful and captivating beyond any sound I’d heard before.
“The sound is the connection being expressed simultaneously,” she said. “The untouchables have been known to fear it.”
“I don’t know how,” I whispered under my breath. I couldn’t imagine anyone fearing something so beautiful.
“What would you like to have explained?” she asked as she sat down beside me, folding her long legs beneath her.
“Tell me about the Coetir,” I whispered.
“There is too much to tell,” she replied, taking my hand. “You must see.” Her smile was sincere and welcoming, and she squeezed my hand. “Elim would make a lovely guide—I cannot yet leave the den.”
“Elim?” I could almost feel my face lighting up at the prospect of seeing my friend.
“I’ll take you to him.”
Today, I'd like you to meet Fari (in human form, of course)
Judge me not by her curls. It was my first time drawing curls.
You'll also know Fari from Coetir: People of the Woods. She's the witch of the Coetir, the one who leads her people in all things. Oh, and she'll be making another appearance in a later Druid Novel, so it's best not to forget her. *wink*
Today, I want to share with you one of the first times we ever see Fari. At this point in the story, I didn't even know who she was yet. She'd only been in the book a short time, and this scene really helped me to discover who she is as a character, as a person.
Excerpt #2 from Coetir: People of the Woods, by Rani Divine © Copyright RAD Writing, 2015, All rights reserved
I gasped almost before I opened my eyes. The ground beneath my back was soft—it wasn’t the ground I’d fallen on. And when my eyes opened, the face I most wanted to see was not there before me. Instead, the face was round and feminine, and there were flowers in a halo around it.
She smiled with slightly pointed teeth and reached up to push the brambles of her hair behind pointed ears. My eyes widened and I raised myself up onto my elbows before I realized there was a corset preventing me from breathing. Her eyes narrowed with concern as I dropped back down to the ground.
“Where am I?” I heaved, placing a hand over my chest.
“You speak the language of the Vartes,” she whispered, her eyes widening once again.
“Who are you?”
Her face was marked with awe and wonder, but all I could think of was that I didn’t know where I was, and that I could hardly see.
“Where’s Elim?” I demanded.
She smiled down at me. “I am Fari,” she said, finally composing herself. “You are within the witch den, and Elim is waiting outside.”
“Witch den?” My brow furrowed.
“It is where we learn the ways of the Vartes,” Fari replied. “I have questions they have told me to ask.” She took my hand. “Would you like to stand?”
I nodded, and she practically pulled me to my feet. My corset constricted around my abdomen and prevented me from helping myself off the ground. But her arms were firm under me, and she brushed the dirt off my backside as soon as I was up.
“Thank you,” I whispered. I put my hands on my head and ran my fingers through the strands, pausing only momentarily at the pointedness of my ears. It was only after my hands were back in front of me that I realized something had changed, that something was very wrong. Instead of the lovely tanned skin I remembered having, my flesh was pale and lavender-violet. Instead of being covered in tiny hairs, I was covered in tiny scales, and the color changed almost imperceptibly as I stared down at my arms. Though the color wasn’t as pronounced as the light violet of Fari’s skin, my skin was unmistakably lavender.
I screamed. I held out my arms and pushed up my sleeves, and I screamed. The pointed ears had been one thing—they were somewhat fun and I could easily hide them from the people in the village—but this was completely different. It wasn’t as though I could hide the shade of my skin from my own mother—and what would Caleb and father think? I was sure this would go against Caleb’s views of what was best for the village.
But then again, so would crossing the boundary in the first place.
“Please,” Fari said, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Please,” she said again as my scream faded. “It will be explained.” Her hand found its way to mine. “Come with me: I will show you.”
My head nodded, but I was sure it was of its own accord. I could’ve sworn there was no part of me that wanted to go with her—but go with her I did.
Fari led me out the door, and I realized we were underground. I had been lying on nothing but earth. The reason it was so dim was that the torches were sparse, and inside the room there had been only candles.
“What is this place?” I whispered, staring up at the ceiling that seemed to extend for miles. I’d never even known a place this large could exist.
“It is the witch den,” she said. “Come.”
We climbed down a ladder made only of living vines, and when we reached the bottom I realized that Fari and I were not alone. A group of seven or eight older men—some of whom I recognized from the killing at the boundary—huddled together off to one side of the chamber. Dozens of women knelt in the very center of the room, and I could hear them murmuring in basic. And there, on the opposite side from where Fari and I stood, was Elim.
I smiled, finally seeing the one face that I’d been looking for since my eyes had opened in this unknown place. But before I could go to him, Fari took my hand and led me down another path, away from the main room. “Wait,” I whispered.
“You will see him soon,” Fari replied.
We continued on, and it wasn’t until it was only the sound of my breath and the crackling of fire from the sparse torches that she began to speak. “We are the Coetir of the Dewin, as I’m sure you are well aware,” she said. “We serve only the Vartes. There have been few to ever go against the creator, and those who have were removed of their essence.”
“The man at the boundary,” I whispered under my breath.
“Marike.” She nodded. “His essence was taken because of the death of our witch, Sarit. We do not generally approve of such removals, but there was no other option in his case.”
She was silent for a moment, and she led me into a small room off to the side of the tunnel. “You will need a change of clothes,” she said.
“Why?” At that point, I had every intention of returning home at the end of the day. There was no way to tell what Lionel and the others would believe if I never returned. Would they assume the Coetir had killed me at the perimeter, or would they believe someone in the village had taken me captive? I doubted they would believe that I had crossed the boundary and joined the people of the wood. It was the only thing in our village that was completely forbidden.
I wondered if I was about to find out why.
This place was far stranger than I’d imagined.
“I will explain.” She nodded as she sat on the ground inside the candlelit room. Her hand gestured for me to join her, but I knew that what went down would have great difficulty coming back up. It was why I’d always hated mother making me wear my corset to the perimeter. But my legs were strong from standing for such long periods of time.
“Please,” she urged.
I shook my head and placed my hand over my chest.
“If your dress is a problem, then why not accept the one that I offer?” She smiled, and I couldn’t deny her. If I was to return home and someone saw me I would be thrown in the cells and the fighting would begin. And if I did decide against staying, I was sure Fari wouldn’t be opposed to helping me redress.
She left the room, and when she returned she held a while silk dress. “Do you need help?”
“Please.” I unlaced the front of my gown and turned around for her to unlace the back.
“Why do you dress in such things?” she asked as my dress loosened around my bodice. “The Vartes does not require such things,” she added, her fingers working to loosen my corset.
“My mother helps me dress,” I said. “I’m still a part of her house, so she decides what I am to wear.” I gasped quietly when she removed my corset, sudden relief flooding to my lungs.
“Do you need help out of this?” She tugged at my slip.
“No,” I whispered, turning to face her.
She smiled and handed me the silken dress. “I’ll wait.” She turned and walked outside.
The fabric was unlike anything I’d felt before. My people usually made our cloth from cotton or hemp, and most of our fabric had been handed down through the years, making it old and decidedly less than soft. Most of my own clothes had once belonged to my mother, and her mother before her. But this cloth was fresh, as though it had never been worn before. It was soft and silken, and yet strong—I doubted that I would ever be able to tear it. The feel against my skin was more blissful than I’d imagined—I’d only truly touched the fabric before on Elim.
My gown matched Fari’s exactly. Purest white silk fell to my ankles, hugging at my chest and hips, and carried down my arms to my wrists, widening to bells at the ends of the sleeves. My throat was bared, the neckline covering my chest but allowing my collar to be visible. My hands smoothed the cloth down over my hips and backside before I called Fari to come back inside.
I wondered if my family would even recognize me. At this point, it seemed like almost nothing of me was the same.
“Please, sit,” Fari urged. “It will take time.”
I sighed, but I saw no better option. So I knelt on the soft earthen ground across the room from Fari, and I felt somewhat sad as the fabric of my gown touched the ground. I dipped my head toward her, urging her to continue—I would not speak again until she did.
“You know of the Vartes?” she asked.
My brows furrowed, but I nodded. Elim had spoken enough of the Vartes for me to know it was their deity.
“The Vartes is our creator,” she continued. “The Dewin were created to be one with the earth and all that is within her. We are the ones who ensure, with permission and blessing of the Vartes, that all of the earth continues in the original perfection. The Coetir have been given voice to speak to the wood, the wind, the earth.” Her eyes widened slightly. “Do you understand?”
“The Vartes created you to ensure perfection of the earth.” I nodded.
“The Vartes created your people as well—the untouchables,” she said.
“Why do you call us that?”
“You are no longer one of them,” she whispered, her eyes shifting to the ground. “It was what the witches have always called your people, in this place.” When she looked back into my eyes, she continued, “You know of the past between our peoples?”
“I know what my father told me.” I nodded slowly.
“Our peoples thrive together,” she replied. “But the untouchables did not agree with our ways. They fought against the earth and the ways of the Vartes, and we were forced to curse them. The curse was the precursor to the crossroads between our lands, and it is why we call them the untouchables. We cannot allow the two to blend together, as they attempted in the past. It would result in the loss of their essence.”
“As in, die?” My brow furrowed.
Fari nodded. “They would die.”
“Then why didn’t Elim die, when he touched me?”
Her eyes scanned up and down my body, and she smiled. “Do you not yet see?”
In that moment, everything stopped. I understood what Fari had implied, but I couldn’t believe it. There was no way it could be true. Both mother and father were human. I was human. The change to my skin and ears was a fluke. I couldn’t be one of the Coetir—it wasn’t possible.
“No,” I whispered. My body shook slightly, and I had no doubt that Fari could see it.
“Allow me to continue,” she said, dipping her head slightly.
I nodded, but it may have looked more like a violent tremble. I wasn’t sure.
“Marike, the man you saw the elders remove, attempted to destroy the Coetir way of life.” Her eyes pierced into mine. “Our people require a witch, a woman who is closer to the Vartes than she is to the earth. Since the beginning, our people have followed the witches of the same line.” She took a deep breath. “Marike took the essence of Sarit, our witch. She had no heir among our people.”
For a moment, we both paused. I could almost feel the sadness coming in waves off of Fari. She glanced all around the room, avoiding my eyes, looking more like she was searching for something.
It was during that pause that her words settled in even more. Fari was implying that I was Coetir—but I knew that couldn’t be possible.
She must have been mistaken.
“Elim heard the voice of the Vartes, concerning you, while the elders were praying for the new witch to be revealed,” she continued. “I have heard the words of the Vartes as well.”
“What did they say?”
“The creator wishes you to be trained in our ways; the ways of the Coetir.” Her eyes finally settled on mine, and they did not leave.
I felt like there was nothing I could possibly say. Elim hadn’t mentioned anything like this. Fari was implying that I would never return home, that I would remain here and train in the ways of the Coetir so that I could live out my life with them. But I wasn’t one of them. I was human. It didn’t matter that my skin had turned purple and developed scales, or that my ears were pointed, or, as I now realized, that my nails had narrowed and become more like claws. At heart, I was sure that I was still human.
Then again, even if I was still human, this was a chance to learn about the Coetir in their environment. This was the opportunity I’d always wanted—to see the world I’d dreamed about since I was a child.
A small smile pulled at the corners of my mouth, and a breeze blew around me.
“You see?” Fari smiled, her pointed teeth making me wonder if mine would soon morph to match hers. “The Vartes is already connected to you.” She got up onto her feet and reached out toward me.
I looked up at her, and I said nothing. I could see by the look on her face that she was ready for this conversation to be finished, but I wasn’t. There were still questions that needed answering.
“I do not know what to expect from you.” She laughed, and the sound was unlike anything I had ever heard before. It was like the song of a bird, mixed with the sound of the wind in the leaves, and the stream as it trickled through the village I called home. It was all of these sounds and none of them, and it was beautiful and captivating beyond any sound I’d heard before.
“The sound is the connection being expressed simultaneously,” she said. “The untouchables have been known to fear it.”
“I don’t know how,” I whispered under my breath. I couldn’t imagine anyone fearing something so beautiful.
“What would you like to have explained?” she asked as she sat down beside me, folding her long legs beneath her.
“Tell me about the Coetir,” I whispered.
“There is too much to tell,” she replied, taking my hand. “You must see.” Her smile was sincere and welcoming, and she squeezed my hand. “Elim would make a lovely guide—I cannot yet leave the den.”
“Elim?” I could almost feel my face lighting up at the prospect of seeing my friend.
“I’ll take you to him.”
August 29, 2016
Ellya
For the next three weeks, we're going to be doing something extra fun in Too Many Books to Count. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I'll be revealing preliminary sketches I've done of some of my characters, as well as posting short excerpts involving each of these characters! As some of you know, I've recently started teaching myself to draw. This will be the first that any of you get to see how far I've gotten in my art. Don't judge me. I'm still a newb.
Everyone, meet Ellya.
You know her from Coetir: People of the Woods.
That is, you know her as long as you've read it. She's my primary character, my first person narrator, and she's still one of the funnest voices I have running around inside my head.
So today I'm showing you one of my favorite excerpts from her, one of the first scenes where she really showed herself to me—a scene where I smiled very, very often.
Excerpt from Coetir: People of the Woods by Rani Divine © Copyright RAD Writing, 2015, All rights reserved
I woke with a start to the sound of mother’s fist pounding on my bedroom door.
My eyes glanced around the room, at all of the leaves that had come in through the window, the pile of blankets that covered my shivering form, and the druid man who sat on the trunk in the corner of the room.
I sat up, my eyes widening when I realized what I saw. “Elim?” I gasped.
“Ellya, open this door,” mother shouted, pounding on the door once again.
“Good morning.” Elim smiled. He was almost perched, squatting on top of my clothes trunk.
“Elim?” I gasped again. “What are you doing here?”
“I believe your mother would like to see you,” he replied calmly, his eyes shifting to the door.
“She can’t see you,” I said frantically as I rolled out of bed.
“I know.” He nodded.
“Hide!” I snapped, pointing to the bed before I pulled on the slide that had locked the door. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Elim stand off the trunk and move toward the bed just as mother pushed the door open.
“If you thought that you were going to leave this house without speaking to your father, you were wrong,” mother snapped as she barged inside.
My eyes widened in shock when I turned around and saw Elim standing in front of the window, smiling at me.
“Ma!” I squealed.
“No buts, Ellya,” she replied. Her eyes surveyed the floor and she walked to the window, apparently unnoticing of the druid who now stood beside it. She pulled back the curtains before she got to work on my bed, folding the blankets and placing them at the foot of the mattress. “Go on, girl,” she said, turning to point her hazel eyes straight into mine. “Clean your teeth and brush your hair. I’ll have your dress ready by the time you’re done.”
I nodded. I didn’t know what to say. My eyes shifted between Elim and mother, and my feet instinctively inched toward the door. It was my usual reaction: when I didn’t know what to do in any given situation, I left.
And this situation was unlike anything that I’d ever imagined.
I backed out of my bedroom and made my way to the washroom to clean my teeth, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Elim leaving my room behind me.
As quickly as I could, I cleaned my teeth and undid my braids, running my wooden brush through the tangles until a scream issued from my bedroom, and I froze in place.
“Noah!” mother’s voice echoed through the halls, calling for father.
I dropped the brush and ran back to my bedroom, getting there just behind my father.
Elim was nowhere in sight, and a small sigh seeped through my lips before I realized that if he wasn’t in my bedroom, he could be anywhere in the house—or anywhere in the village.
If anyone saw him, they would panic. Having a druid in the village could only mean that the treaty had been voided, and that war was about to begin.
“What is it?” father asked as he stepped into my room.
“There’s a snake under your daughter’s bed,” mother replied. She held her hand over her heart and she was breathing deeply, standing as far away from the bed as possible.
“I’ll handle it.” Father chuckled quietly. We both knew that I could’ve removed the snake on my own. I knew more about wildlife than mother did, having worked my post on the perimeter for so long. He turned toward me, green eyes almost identical to mine locking on my gaze. “Get dressed, Ellya,” he said quietly. “We’ll talk once I’ve handled this.”
I watched while he knelt beside my bed to look beneath the frame, until mother took hold of my hand and led me back to the washroom.
She helped me back into my green perimeter guard dress, and tightened my corset before lacing the front of my dress and smoothing it over my hips. “Finish your hair,” she said when she was done. “There’s bread on the table.”
Mother walked away then, leaving me with a brush in my hands.
For a while, time slowed. I didn’t care that Elim was in my house. All that mattered was that I was going to be forced into a match, and I cared little for the man mother had chosen. The only thing I could think of was that I was about to sit through a discussion with my father on how I was to behave from now on, and what my husband-to-be expected of me.
“Do you need help?” Elim asked as he stepped into the washroom.
I gasped, being pulled from my reverie, and dropped the brush in the water basin. “What are you doing here?” I whispered.
“The Vartes told me to come,” he replied. He reached into the basin and pulled out my brush, smiling as he handed it to me.
“Vartes.” I nodded slowly. “Why can’t mother see you?”
“Your kind sees what they expect to see when they set eyes upon the Coetir,” he replied. “Because you wanted to see my true nature, you see it,” he reached out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear, “and because your mother did not expect to see me in your bedroom, she saw nothing.” He smiled slightly, his fingers toying with my hair. “It’s soft,” he whispered.
“So, none of them will be able to see you?” I asked.
He shook his head. “They will see what they expect, and if I am with you, they will see the one they believe to be most often with you.”
“Adam,” I whispered under my breath.
“Ellya!” mother shouted from the dining room.
“Stay here,” I said. “I have to talk to father for a while, and then I’m going back to the boundary.”
“Boundary?” His brow furrowed, and he tilted his head to the side.
“The line between our land and yours,” I replied, nodding quickly.
“Crossroads.” He nodded, recognition lighting up his face. “I will do as you say.”
“Good.” I nodded again and smiled nervously up at him before I left the room, making my way down the short hall and into the dining space.
I sat beside father at the table, and mother cleared the rest of the house. No matter how much I wanted Adam to be with me, I was left only with my father and a druid who was hiding in my bedroom.
“Your mother’s made her choice,” father said.
This conversation was uncomfortable for both of us. Father had never been the type to force anything on me. All my life he’d been lenient, allowing me to make my own choices, even if those choices went against the ways of the village. Mother never understood it. To her, women were women and men were men, and father and I were upsetting the natural order of things.
“Caleb will have you, and you’ll behave in the way set forth by your match,” he continued, his eyes avoiding mine and instead staring at his own hands. “There’s nothing I can do to stop it, so don’t ask.”
We both knew I hadn’t considered asking. I wouldn’t put my father through that, not after the last time. It always broke his heart to hear those words from my lips.
“It’s not my duty to fight the ways of the village,” he said, “but I spoke to Lionel last night. It’s your mother’s decision.”
I nodded. I already understood. There was nothing that any man save Caleb could do to get me out of this situation.
“What have I been asked to do?” I whispered.
Father’s eyes closed, and he shook his head slowly. “You will cease your duties as perimeter guard within eight months, and you will use that time to learn your mother’s trade.” His eyes opened and looked straight into mine. “You will sit at his table every fifth night until your wedding, and the two of you will begin to settle your affairs together.” He sighed once again, and turned away from me. “If there were another way, you know that I would take it.” His voice was almost a whisper, but I could still understand his words. “You were my pride.”
“I need to go,” I whispered, taking father’s hand. “As soon as I can find a replacement, I’ll leave the guard.” It was what he needed to hear, and I was willing to say it. But I wasn’t about to lie down, and I wasn’t about to become what I was expected to be.
I would make my father proud again.
He nodded and I released his hand before running back to my bedroom. There was only one thing on my mind—how to get the druid out of the village without being seen by someone like me, someone who wanted to see him for what he was.
“Elim,” I whispered harshly as I stepped into my room.
He was standing in front of the window, curiously holding up a panel of my curtains to view them in the sunlight. “What is this made of?” he asked, turning to look me in the eye.
“Cotton.” I shrugged, shaking my head. “I have to go to the perimeter—how am I going to get you out of here?”
“They will see… Adam? When they see me,” he replied, his brow rising slightly.
It was only then that I realized he didn’t actually have eyebrows. His forehead had a semi-circle of five distinct lines coming from his hair to just above his eyes, but there was no hair there. I tilted my head to the side and reached out toward him, smiling slightly when I noticed the somehow bright quality to his black eyes. My hand stopped on his shoulder, and I felt his smooth scaly skin beneath my palm.
“What do you think about?” He cocked his head to the side, his eyes piercing into mine.
I smiled brightly, but I didn’t know how to answer. “Come on,” I said instead. “I have to get back to the boundary.”
By now I heard mother working in the kitchen, and I knew father would be long gone. The sounds of the house were quiet these days. Mother was the only one who worked here now—Adam and I were the only children she had left under her care, and soon it would only be the former.
“Stay here,” I whispered. “Count to ten, and then come out into the main room and we’ll leave.”
I waited until Elim nodded before I left the room, taking my water skin with me.
Everyone, meet Ellya.
You know her from Coetir: People of the Woods.
That is, you know her as long as you've read it. She's my primary character, my first person narrator, and she's still one of the funnest voices I have running around inside my head.
So today I'm showing you one of my favorite excerpts from her, one of the first scenes where she really showed herself to me—a scene where I smiled very, very often.
Excerpt from Coetir: People of the Woods by Rani Divine © Copyright RAD Writing, 2015, All rights reserved
I woke with a start to the sound of mother’s fist pounding on my bedroom door.
My eyes glanced around the room, at all of the leaves that had come in through the window, the pile of blankets that covered my shivering form, and the druid man who sat on the trunk in the corner of the room.
I sat up, my eyes widening when I realized what I saw. “Elim?” I gasped.
“Ellya, open this door,” mother shouted, pounding on the door once again.
“Good morning.” Elim smiled. He was almost perched, squatting on top of my clothes trunk.
“Elim?” I gasped again. “What are you doing here?”
“I believe your mother would like to see you,” he replied calmly, his eyes shifting to the door.
“She can’t see you,” I said frantically as I rolled out of bed.
“I know.” He nodded.
“Hide!” I snapped, pointing to the bed before I pulled on the slide that had locked the door. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Elim stand off the trunk and move toward the bed just as mother pushed the door open.
“If you thought that you were going to leave this house without speaking to your father, you were wrong,” mother snapped as she barged inside.
My eyes widened in shock when I turned around and saw Elim standing in front of the window, smiling at me.
“Ma!” I squealed.
“No buts, Ellya,” she replied. Her eyes surveyed the floor and she walked to the window, apparently unnoticing of the druid who now stood beside it. She pulled back the curtains before she got to work on my bed, folding the blankets and placing them at the foot of the mattress. “Go on, girl,” she said, turning to point her hazel eyes straight into mine. “Clean your teeth and brush your hair. I’ll have your dress ready by the time you’re done.”
I nodded. I didn’t know what to say. My eyes shifted between Elim and mother, and my feet instinctively inched toward the door. It was my usual reaction: when I didn’t know what to do in any given situation, I left.
And this situation was unlike anything that I’d ever imagined.
I backed out of my bedroom and made my way to the washroom to clean my teeth, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Elim leaving my room behind me.
As quickly as I could, I cleaned my teeth and undid my braids, running my wooden brush through the tangles until a scream issued from my bedroom, and I froze in place.
“Noah!” mother’s voice echoed through the halls, calling for father.
I dropped the brush and ran back to my bedroom, getting there just behind my father.
Elim was nowhere in sight, and a small sigh seeped through my lips before I realized that if he wasn’t in my bedroom, he could be anywhere in the house—or anywhere in the village.
If anyone saw him, they would panic. Having a druid in the village could only mean that the treaty had been voided, and that war was about to begin.
“What is it?” father asked as he stepped into my room.
“There’s a snake under your daughter’s bed,” mother replied. She held her hand over her heart and she was breathing deeply, standing as far away from the bed as possible.
“I’ll handle it.” Father chuckled quietly. We both knew that I could’ve removed the snake on my own. I knew more about wildlife than mother did, having worked my post on the perimeter for so long. He turned toward me, green eyes almost identical to mine locking on my gaze. “Get dressed, Ellya,” he said quietly. “We’ll talk once I’ve handled this.”
I watched while he knelt beside my bed to look beneath the frame, until mother took hold of my hand and led me back to the washroom.
She helped me back into my green perimeter guard dress, and tightened my corset before lacing the front of my dress and smoothing it over my hips. “Finish your hair,” she said when she was done. “There’s bread on the table.”
Mother walked away then, leaving me with a brush in my hands.
For a while, time slowed. I didn’t care that Elim was in my house. All that mattered was that I was going to be forced into a match, and I cared little for the man mother had chosen. The only thing I could think of was that I was about to sit through a discussion with my father on how I was to behave from now on, and what my husband-to-be expected of me.
“Do you need help?” Elim asked as he stepped into the washroom.
I gasped, being pulled from my reverie, and dropped the brush in the water basin. “What are you doing here?” I whispered.
“The Vartes told me to come,” he replied. He reached into the basin and pulled out my brush, smiling as he handed it to me.
“Vartes.” I nodded slowly. “Why can’t mother see you?”
“Your kind sees what they expect to see when they set eyes upon the Coetir,” he replied. “Because you wanted to see my true nature, you see it,” he reached out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear, “and because your mother did not expect to see me in your bedroom, she saw nothing.” He smiled slightly, his fingers toying with my hair. “It’s soft,” he whispered.
“So, none of them will be able to see you?” I asked.
He shook his head. “They will see what they expect, and if I am with you, they will see the one they believe to be most often with you.”
“Adam,” I whispered under my breath.
“Ellya!” mother shouted from the dining room.
“Stay here,” I said. “I have to talk to father for a while, and then I’m going back to the boundary.”
“Boundary?” His brow furrowed, and he tilted his head to the side.
“The line between our land and yours,” I replied, nodding quickly.
“Crossroads.” He nodded, recognition lighting up his face. “I will do as you say.”
“Good.” I nodded again and smiled nervously up at him before I left the room, making my way down the short hall and into the dining space.
I sat beside father at the table, and mother cleared the rest of the house. No matter how much I wanted Adam to be with me, I was left only with my father and a druid who was hiding in my bedroom.
“Your mother’s made her choice,” father said.
This conversation was uncomfortable for both of us. Father had never been the type to force anything on me. All my life he’d been lenient, allowing me to make my own choices, even if those choices went against the ways of the village. Mother never understood it. To her, women were women and men were men, and father and I were upsetting the natural order of things.
“Caleb will have you, and you’ll behave in the way set forth by your match,” he continued, his eyes avoiding mine and instead staring at his own hands. “There’s nothing I can do to stop it, so don’t ask.”
We both knew I hadn’t considered asking. I wouldn’t put my father through that, not after the last time. It always broke his heart to hear those words from my lips.
“It’s not my duty to fight the ways of the village,” he said, “but I spoke to Lionel last night. It’s your mother’s decision.”
I nodded. I already understood. There was nothing that any man save Caleb could do to get me out of this situation.
“What have I been asked to do?” I whispered.
Father’s eyes closed, and he shook his head slowly. “You will cease your duties as perimeter guard within eight months, and you will use that time to learn your mother’s trade.” His eyes opened and looked straight into mine. “You will sit at his table every fifth night until your wedding, and the two of you will begin to settle your affairs together.” He sighed once again, and turned away from me. “If there were another way, you know that I would take it.” His voice was almost a whisper, but I could still understand his words. “You were my pride.”
“I need to go,” I whispered, taking father’s hand. “As soon as I can find a replacement, I’ll leave the guard.” It was what he needed to hear, and I was willing to say it. But I wasn’t about to lie down, and I wasn’t about to become what I was expected to be.
I would make my father proud again.
He nodded and I released his hand before running back to my bedroom. There was only one thing on my mind—how to get the druid out of the village without being seen by someone like me, someone who wanted to see him for what he was.
“Elim,” I whispered harshly as I stepped into my room.
He was standing in front of the window, curiously holding up a panel of my curtains to view them in the sunlight. “What is this made of?” he asked, turning to look me in the eye.
“Cotton.” I shrugged, shaking my head. “I have to go to the perimeter—how am I going to get you out of here?”
“They will see… Adam? When they see me,” he replied, his brow rising slightly.
It was only then that I realized he didn’t actually have eyebrows. His forehead had a semi-circle of five distinct lines coming from his hair to just above his eyes, but there was no hair there. I tilted my head to the side and reached out toward him, smiling slightly when I noticed the somehow bright quality to his black eyes. My hand stopped on his shoulder, and I felt his smooth scaly skin beneath my palm.
“What do you think about?” He cocked his head to the side, his eyes piercing into mine.
I smiled brightly, but I didn’t know how to answer. “Come on,” I said instead. “I have to get back to the boundary.”
By now I heard mother working in the kitchen, and I knew father would be long gone. The sounds of the house were quiet these days. Mother was the only one who worked here now—Adam and I were the only children she had left under her care, and soon it would only be the former.
“Stay here,” I whispered. “Count to ten, and then come out into the main room and we’ll leave.”
I waited until Elim nodded before I left the room, taking my water skin with me.
August 26, 2016
The Fall (part 2)
Two weeks ago I posted a blog about falling in love, about how it’s too long a process to fit into a short story. Many of you disagreed with me, as I said you would. That’s fine. I fully expected it. And that’s why I planned this as the final to our almost-month-long series on short stories and novels.
While falling in love isn’t a suitable topic for short stories because of the time and detail that goes into the act, there’s yet another reason why it’s not a good topic for a novel.
Falling in Love
Again, I’m sure some of you will disagree with me on this. You romance novel fans, for example. But remember that I’m really only telling you things that I cannot do with a novel, things that for me are not possible to be the focus of an entire novel.
See, the thing is, falling in love can be a very lovely aspect of a story. It can be a beautiful centerpiece, for example, but it’s not very good at taking the full brunt of the novel. Books want more to them than that, more intrigue, twists and turns, what have you. They don’t want to be consumed by a single act, no matter how long that act might take.
So if I was to decide to write a love story, do you know what I would do?
I would write something as far as possible from a love story, and show how the characters finally fall for each other near the very end of the book. Some of you may have witnessed this before, in one of my prior books. Out of courtesy for those who haven’t yet read my work, I won’t mention any of them by name. Spoilers and all.
In short, it can be done. Perhaps it should be done. But I would not try to write a love story until I was sure of the way in which I wanted to do it. And I still don’t write true love stories. I write novels, wherein a few characters may or may not fall in love. Because to me, that’s what real life is like. Some people fall in love, others don’t. It’s a mystery, an experience, and that’s what I want to show my readers.
So what do you say? Better to write about love in a short story or a novel? I’m keen to hear your responses.
[love]
{RD}
p.s. Next week we start a series unlike anything I’ve ever done before!
August 24, 2016
Shortish
Remember a couple weeks ago, when we talked about backstories in short stories? Well today we’re taking that topic from the other angle, from the point of view of the novel. See, last time we talked about why you shouldn’t try to fit extravagant backstories into the few words allowed within a short story. So this time, I want to tell you what you shouldn’t do with backstories in a novel.
Small Backstories
Okay, so technically it’s fine to have smaller snippets of backstory within a novel, but that’s not what I mean here.
Within novels, what you’ll want to do is come up with the fullbackstories for your characters, so that bits and pieces can be revealed at a time. You’ll want to make something that's rich and real, something that shows how lifelike your characters are. What you will not want to do is start working on your novel with no idea who your characters are, and no notion of what their lives were like before the story started. That’s what I mean by small backstories. Try to get to know your characters before you start writing them into a story.
See, when people read novels, they’re looking for an elaborate story. They want characters with depth and detail, with histories that might be similar to ones we face in our everyday lives. So that’s what your characters need to have.
A lot of new writers forget this, when they first start writing. They focus on the story itself rather than on the characters, and the book ends up falling flat. We don’t want that. It’s the last thing we want.
My recommendation is to write shortish backstories for each of your characters before real work on the story begins. You don’t have to write a lot, just a bullet point list of maybe fifteen to twenty things that happened in their lives and things you should know about them, so that you’ll know how they might respond in any given situation. Without this information, without really knowing who your characters are, your readers will never even be given a chance.
Nobody wants that, either.
[love]
{Rani Divine}
August 22, 2016
One Day
Maybe I’m getting redundant at this point, but I can’t help but continue. There are certain things, certain small aspects of story, that cannot be pulled and stretched out into novel length. If you string them along and weave them together, they might make it. Otherwise, it’s a bad idea even to try. Don’t do it. Please. Novels need far more than just one focus. So today, what you shouldn't do is...
A Day in the Life
This too is something I’ve seen people stretch out into a full length novel. And this time, I have actually seen it succeed. So today, I’m saying not to try it until you’re extra-seasoned, until you know very well what you’ll need to do in order to make it work. If you’re not there yet, write your idea down and keep it on the back burner until you’re ready to work it out.
I’ll use Michael Crichton’s Preyas an example. The majority of the story (note: not all of the story) takes place within one day. But it’s not a normal day. There’s a lot that happens, and Crichton has to go into a great deal of detail with every few hours. If you don’t have enough going on to make that work, then maybe you need to rethink your idea entirely.
The trouble is, a lot of the time, novels cover a day in a chapter or less. There’s only so much that can happen within a single day, as you well know. There are only so many hours, only so many things we can do to stretch out a day from any given character’s point of view. If we tried to explain everything that happened in one single day, it'd be boring and fall flat.
That’s why I recommend that if you’re determined to try it, you wait until you have at least a couple other novels under your belt. Get to where you really know what you’re doing, to the point that you feel strong and wise enough to build a good story.
Until then, it’ll be easier on you and better for your readers if you stick with something simpler, like a regular full-length novel with multiple plot lines and many days.
[love]
{Rani D.}
August 19, 2016
Blank
Today we’re talking about something that I’ve actually seen stretched out into a novel. I didn’t like it. I actually didn’t finish it. So this time, perhaps more than some of the others, I hope you’ll take me very seriously.
Character gets a ____
Fill in the blank with whatever you wish. Fact of the matter is, it’s not enough to make a novel. It might make the good beginning of a novel, or even of a short story, but it doesn’t make a full novel. How could it?
Here’s the story:
Character goes to the store. Looks at shoes. Finds a pair of red ones. Imagines self wearing them at some particular event. Character buys shoes and goes home.
Tell me, how is that a novel? Really, I'm asking. I don't get it. I know people have tried it, and I know some feel they've succeeded with it, but no—I wouldn't say that's a novel. But it might make a jolly good short story, if I'm being honest.
Like I said, I’ve actually seen people try to lengthen this sort of story out into a novel. It ends up dragging, flailing, and grabbing onto anything it can in order to get the right number of words for it to be a full-length novel. It’s rough to read, because I can see exactly what struggles the writer went through to try to push it into a novel when it didn’t want to be. And I’ve been through it too. I’ve written stories that got a little too long, and I’ve tried to make them novel-worthy. They weren’t. They didn’t even want to be. And I struggle to go back and read them, much less read someone else’s.
Point being, I highly recommend avoiding writing this sort of novel. If you have an idea of this nature, make it a short story. It’s a length that can handle the smallness of your story, and do it proper justice.
A novel, on the other hand, will not.
Trust me.
[love]
{RD}
Character gets a ____
Fill in the blank with whatever you wish. Fact of the matter is, it’s not enough to make a novel. It might make the good beginning of a novel, or even of a short story, but it doesn’t make a full novel. How could it?
Here’s the story:
Character goes to the store. Looks at shoes. Finds a pair of red ones. Imagines self wearing them at some particular event. Character buys shoes and goes home.
Tell me, how is that a novel? Really, I'm asking. I don't get it. I know people have tried it, and I know some feel they've succeeded with it, but no—I wouldn't say that's a novel. But it might make a jolly good short story, if I'm being honest.
Like I said, I’ve actually seen people try to lengthen this sort of story out into a novel. It ends up dragging, flailing, and grabbing onto anything it can in order to get the right number of words for it to be a full-length novel. It’s rough to read, because I can see exactly what struggles the writer went through to try to push it into a novel when it didn’t want to be. And I’ve been through it too. I’ve written stories that got a little too long, and I’ve tried to make them novel-worthy. They weren’t. They didn’t even want to be. And I struggle to go back and read them, much less read someone else’s.
Point being, I highly recommend avoiding writing this sort of novel. If you have an idea of this nature, make it a short story. It’s a length that can handle the smallness of your story, and do it proper justice.
A novel, on the other hand, will not.
Trust me.
[love]
{RD}
August 17, 2016
Single
Similar to Monday's topic, today we’re covering a very broad subject. Why? Because it's the best way I could think of to explain what I mean. ;-)
Singular Events
What do I mean by that? I mean a single point in time. Say, a night at a party, a day at the beach, a trip out of town, a death, a birth. Those are all singular events, things that cannot be stretched out on their own to make a full novel.
However, they can be added to, in order to become a novel. Take a day at the beach, for example. Throw in a shark attack. Someone else is trapped off shore, and the tide is coming up. What happens there, and how everyone deals with those events, could possibly be made into a novel. That's actually not probable, and a slightly horrible example. Sorry. You’d have to push it, but it might work. But a simple story about a day at the beach, would not. It might make a good short story, but you’d never find enough words to make a novel.
The trouble with singular events is that they’re just that: singular. Novels like to have multiples. That’s the whole fun of them. We have a plethora of characters, many different plot lines to follow, various things going on at any given time. Short stories are for the singular, the few characters, the one plot line.
Essentially, what I’m here to tell you today is that if you only have one little idea, then it’s best you aim for a short story.
But if you have a mass of ideas in your head, and you’d like to see if you can fit them all together into one concise story, then you should aim for a novel.
That’s a big thing that a lot of writers forget about while they’re writing. They take a singular story and think it can stretch, and they force it to become a novel when it never wanted to be. And that’s one of the worst things you can do, because no one will ever want to read it.
My apologies for being so blunt. The editor in me is strong today!
[love and hugs]
{Rani}
August 15, 2016
The End
For the next two weeks, we’ll be talking about things that are too small to really stretch out into a novel. Unlike with short stories, novels have a massive number of words you can work with. Usually, they’ll at least stretch up to 100,000 words before anyone thinks it’s too long. And really, you can go a lot longer than that, too. Many of my books are closer to 200,000 words, if you were curious. That means I have a lot of space to work with when it comes to fleshing everything out. But there are things, as you might imagine, that are just too small to stretch out into a full-length novel. Today, we discuss the first.
Somebody’s Dying
Okay, so, people very frequently die in novels. I’ve had some backlash about that in a few of my books, though I never kill a character without reason. Ever
Thing is, that can’t be the whole point of your novel. The whole story can’t be focused on the death of a single character. It’s just too small an ordeal to pull 100,000 words out of, generally speaking. There’s not a lot that goes along with the death of a character, when you really think about it. They’re there on one page, and they’re not on the next. Done.
Yes, there can be a great deal that the other characters have to go through in order to get past that death, but in my opinion that’s more of a topic for a short story. Novels like multiple plot lines and varying structures, not singular notions of limited structure.
So my suggestion, if you want to write a story about the death of a character, is to make it a short one. Try to focus on that specific incident and what goes on with it, on the lives of the other characters who will be affected by it. But don’t stretch it out too long. Don’t try to write a downer novel that forces the story to stretch out into novel length.
Your readers won’t want to keep reading, especially if we know the whole time that there’s a character who has to die at the end.
That’s never easy to read.
[love]
{Rani D.}
