Chris Sarantopoulos's Blog, page 17

Excerpt from The Darkening

The following is a deleted scene from my novel, The Darkening. I figured it would be nice to share something related to the novel in order to let you know of the mood I’m trying to create in the story. This post will be longer than most of my earlier ones.

There are a number of reasons this scene got deleted. First, it didn’t move the story forward, nor did it show anything new about the main character (his name is John Piscus). Second, it turned out gorier than I want the story to be. Though the Darkening is a post-apocalyptic horror story, I didn’t want the horror element to be gore-related. There are bits in the story where some splatter is essential (after all, I am dealing with a world where the shadows each person casts comes to life and kills its owner), BUT it’s minimal, and usually described indirectly (or at least, that’s what I think, lol).

Despite what you may think about dreams in fiction (a lot, if not everyone, claim that dream sequences for backstory are a no-no), the dream the main character sees is only one, broken up in bits and it’s the only memory he (John Piscus) has of his life. Everything else is wiped clean. It’s also the main reason why he blaims himself for what has happened to his family, and probably the reason he considers himself mad. It’s up to the reader to decide if he’s mad. Which brings me to the third reason this scene got the chop, since it wasn’t related to the single dream/memory John Piscus has.

A bit about the story. John is one of the few survivors from The Darkening, an event that brought each person’s shadow into life and eradicated the majority of the human race.�� He has lost all memories save his family’s death, for which he considers himself responsible.�� In near isolation, in fear of any light source, he hears a pair of voices; one that accuses him for everyone’s death and one that tells him to be the man who used to be. Robert is a neighbour, who lives a couple of hours away from his refuge with his family.

BE WARNED! What follows could be seen by some as graphic and disturbing. I mentioned earlier that it veered away from my intended implied horror element. If you don’t like horror or you can’t stand the post-apocalyptic element or anything related to it, please don’t continue. Some of you will read it, arch your brow at me and this statement, and think I’m exaggerating. I know. Still, I have to respect those who don’t like such things. And lets face it; this is not your usual Sunday morning read. You have been warned. ALSO, please note that it has only undergone through the first editing process, and although adverbs, adjectives, dependent clauses with hidden important action in them, and filter words have been dealt with as much as I could, it hasn’t been read by beta readers. Which means wordiness and other mistakes (partly due to language barrier) are probably still there. Feel free to comment about them. Your comments may prove invaluable to me for the rest of the story.

————————-

The wet kiss on his cheek and the playful shriek next to his ear bid him open his eyes in a blinding haze. His heart came to a stop. Before him, a merry-go-round spun a younger Pauline.

���Look Daddy. I go lound and lound,��� the ���r��� giving trouble to his baby girl.

John gawked at everything around him; this was not a memory but a real dream. When was the last time he saw a real dream?

Something white crept to the edges of his dream and distracted him. It vanished the moment he focused at it. His stomach twisted. I���ve never seen this thing before.

He directed his attention to his daughter, his beautiful girl, who waved a pudgy hand at him and turned her head left and right to keep him in her field of view, while she went round and round.

���Look Daddy,��� she said between joyful shrieks. Deep down, John envied her; not out of spite but because he yearned to be as carefree as she was.

���Children are happy all the time, because they are free of sin and malevolence,��� Robert once told him. ���The torment we experience is what we���ve made for ourselves.���

���And yet they died all the same,��� John had snapped at him. There was no hope for the world, for humans. Robert was a fool to think otherwise.

The white entity crept at the edge of his dream again, but when he turned to look at it, it was gone.

The world whispered, ���Righteous retribution.��� Someone had said the words in the past ��� not Robert ��� but John had no recollection who.

A pained shriek startled him and shattered the merriment around him, like a ball through a window. He whipped his head to the merry-go-round. Pauline lay on the ground, her hair a tangled mask on her face from sweat and tears. Not again. Please, not again.

He ran to her, his movements unsynchronised like moving through a viscous fluid. She clutched her right knee, now marred with grit and dirt, where a drop of crimson made its way to the surface.

Ear-splitting cries burrowed in his head, and he had to shield them with his hands. He took his eyes off her to the hazy world beyond, and there he saw them. Two white-clad figures stood rigid in the distance. This is new. What���s happening?

The white duo gradually took human shape, and the figures of a man and a woman formed. Flame-red hair adorned the woman���s head, tied in a ponytail. He couldn���t see any other feature. The man remained obscured, mist-made, like a dream within his dream.

Pauline howled once more. He lowered his eyes to her, but she was no longer there. In his hands he held her shoe, not empty but not attached to her either. The howl continued, distorted and distant, seemingly from the end of a tunnel. ���Help me Daddy. Help me.���

His stomach churned and his heart screamed with the pain his baby girl felt. He clutched her shoe and searched left and right for her.

The light changed to purple then blue. The merry-go-round dripped blood and from underneath it, hidden in its shadow, a voice spoke. ���Righteous retribution.���

He took a step back. The dreamworld changed, invaded by maroon hues as if two fluids mixed. The red haze spread like a virus, covered everything, distorted life itself. Screams and pleas rose and died, only to have new voices take their place. All save Pauline���s pleas for help. ���Save me Daddy, help������ And the white-dressed duo; they still regarded him with eyeless expressions, and waited for his next move. Who are they? What do they want in my dream?

He turned to leave, Pauline���s name on his lips, when he realised he sloshed in a pool of blood coming out of her shoe.

Righteous retribution. The world whispered the words on and on, until the words synchronised with his heart���s rhythm.

The pool of crimson ended in a small trail, leading in the distance. ���Daddy, please help me.��� John followed the crimson trail, his movement sluggish, slower than his mind wanted it to be. The world whirled. Smells of blood and decaying flesh emanated from the ground around him.

The red mist changed to black, his sight rendered useless the darker it got. Every voice died out except Pauline���s. More than once he lost the trail in the darkness, but her voice led him closer to her, and the closer he got, the steeper the ground turned, until his thighs and sheens burned and the air grew staler.

The two figures dressed in white entered the edges of his view, but he refused to waste time on them. You don���t belong here.

���Please help. It hurts Daddy.���

John clutched her shoe.

���Righteous retribution,��� the world whispered.

By the time he climbed what he thought was a mountain, blackness had swallowed him. The smell of rotten flesh permeated the air. How long had he run for? Moments? Minutes? Hours? His heart hammered his chest. He went down to his knees, panting.

���Daddy.��� A few more strides and he would reach her, help her.

���I���m here, baby,��� he gasped and dragged his body in a coppery-smelling mud, until he touched concrete.

He fumbled in the darkness, and found a door. ���Please. Daddy. Don���t leave me.��� Pauline���s voice came from behind it, but no more than a whisper now.

He pushed himself up, and when he found the handle, a howl shook the ground he stood on, and Pauline���s voice stopped.

���No,��� he cried and clawed at the door. He banged, kicked and slammed it as hard as possible. Will it never end? He battered the door, put all his weight into it, but it didn���t budge. ���Let her go, you monsters.���

���Righteous retribution,��� resonated, until the howling stopped. Tears welled up and in the blurriness they created, the white shapes appeared again, at the edges of his perception. ���Get away from her,��� he bellowed and flailed his arms at them, his voice thick with tears and anger.

A hubbub of whispers swept over the darkened dream, louder than anything John had ever heard. The door opened and the whispers ceased. He crawled through it, and his hands plunged into warm liquid. The smell of clotted blood lingered in the air.

���Baby?��� he said through sobs and tears. ���Daddy���s here, baby. Talk to me.���

Oh God, please. Must I always live this?

No answer.

The white-clad pair stepped on the edges of his vision, each on either side. John���s hands curled into fists. What did they want with Pauline? The pair shrunk to the size of a bead, and slid on the surface of the pool until they came close to each other.

John blinked.

When he opened his eyes, a pair of milky eyes stared back at him.

���Righteous retribution.���

He screamed and jumped back. Behind him, more sets of eyes opened and what he thought was an ordinary mountain turned into a mountain of bodies, all staring at him with white eyes.

Bangs full of anger and impatience came from somewhere far; one, then another. The make-believe world around him collapsed, the ground shook, and something dragged him out of the dream. ���No, let me be with her,��� he cried. ���Leave her and take me.���

Righteous retribution.

The words survived the onslaught, repeated themselves in his head, and rose in strength and volume, until they were louder than the clamour around him.

———-

There you have it. Obviously nowhere near perfection (if such a thing exists), and with probable flow issues (if you spot them, let me know), but better than the draft.

Filed under: Excerpts Tagged: deleted scene, dream, edited, editing, excerpt, novel, The Darkening, writing

Inspirational prompt 7

It’s time for another prompt to help your creative side shine. The following image kind of stuck with me for some time and after searching the web for a while (I didn’t save it when I first saw it, DOH!), I managed to find it and pin it on Pinterest for everyone to see. Though I prefer fantasy settings (as any of you can see if you visit either my tumblr blog or my pinterest board), there are some images that “say” so many things when one looks at them. That, or they simply inspire.

What do you think? Do you see a setting somewhere there or an interesting character? How about writing a children’s story, this time from the cat’s POV? That would be fun, no?

Filed under: Inspirational Prompts Tagged: inspirational prompts, pinterest, short story, story, storytelling, writing

Staying focused while editing

I suck at multitasking. I mean, REALLY suck at it. Sometimes I envy people who at the same time can be on the phone dealing with an important client, signing and inspecting documents, whilst thinking about a problem at home or about the kids, and at the same time (!!) arranging things for an office happening. I wish I had a fraction of that ability. How do you people do that? Seriously, HOW?

When I have to do something, I have to focus every bit of me to make sure it works the way I want it to work. It’s the same thing with my writing. I find it impossible to write and edit other material I have queued for the same day. I think I’m programmed to finish one thing first, as best as possible (my perfectionist side doesn’t always kick in, thank God), and then move on to the next task. What this means is that, now that I’m editing my book, I find it very hard (if not impossible) to write. It’s not that I don’t have ideas. It’s that I feel that by doing one, I rob the other from the time and effort I should be putting into it. Why edit for 4 hours when I can edit for 6? Why write for 3 hours and edit for 2 more, when I can write for 5? Why is it that although I know how important editing is I feel that I should be writing instead? That I’m falling behind? I think my mind is weird or just messed up :P

Last week I told you about my editing process. I think we can all agree that such a process is time consuming. I finished the first draft in 5 months (I wrote half of it on my cell phone, which is why it took me that much), but I don’t think I’ll have it edited in a year. Two is probably more like it. And in that time? Will I get no writing done? At all? That’s scary.

What about you? Do you write your WIP, edit another work, then read or do you only focus on one thing, no matter how long it takes you? Are you like me or am I the only one?

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: editing, multitasking, novel, stories, story, writing

Inspirational prompt 6

Lets try something a bit different today. I understand that some people don’t get inspired by visual stimuli. Some find inspiration in sounds, others in previously written work, etc.

So today, I’m going to give you a written prompt. Ready?

Come nightfall, the opposite riverbank echoed with the moans of those they left behind.

Ok? Let’s see if this helps you get going. Let me know if it did :)

Filed under: Inspirational Prompts Tagged: creative writing, inspirational prompts, novel, story, writing

From getting an agent to getting published

I don’t know about you, but I have (or had, until recently) little knowledge of what happens AFTER an agent says yes to a manuscript, and before said manuscript gets published. I’ve never been published before, none of my friends has been traditionally published (except short stories and electronic magazines), so that area was rather vague and hidden behind a misty veil. Have you ever wondered what happens once an agent agrees to work with a writer? A few days ago, I stumbled upon the following article and I thought it’d be nice to share, even if you prefer to self-publish.�� If nothing else, it will give you an insight as to what follows the oh-so-desperately-sought-after agent deal.

The article was found at http://writershelpingwriters.net/2015/01/10-editorial-steps-agent-call-published-book/ and it was written by Martina Boon. If you’re aiming for traditional publishing like myself, have a look at it. There’s a lot more happening after the agent says yes than you may have thought. Can you guess what it is?

If your answer was “more editing, Chris?” then the answer is a resounding YES! Because there’s never enough editing for a manuscript. Never! Seriously, folks, read the article.

Filed under: Advice Tagged: after agent, agent, editing, getting published, manuscript, novel, writing

Inspirational prompt 5

Some images speak by themselves, their stories hidden, waiting for someone to share them and bring them to life. I think this one is the same. Already I have two in mind just by watching it. I’m confident it will stir things inside your head as well :)

Filed under: Inspirational Prompts Tagged: ideas, inspirational prompts, novel, short story, stories, writing

The art of writing, is editing

For the past few weeks I’ve been editing my novel and three short stories. Though in the past I’ve always edited my short stories, only now that the stakes are high enough do I see how important, I mean REALLY important, editing is. In my mind there’s no doubt about it: writing is all about editing.

My editing process is somewhat… strange. Perhaps it’s because English isn’t my native language. Perhaps it’s just because my first drafts are in worst shape than the ones the well-known writers produce (yeah, I know I shouldn’t compare myself with them, but I can’t help it. I want to be traditionally published and to make it happen, I feel I have to be better than them. This is what I meant earlier when I said “the stakes are high”).

The first thing I do, is to restructure each sentence and each paragraph. I’m never satisfied with the way I write my sentences, even after several edits (language barrier and related linguistic insecurities apply here).

Once that’s done, I activate my macros. Yes, I use macros for specific mistakes I know I make, and yes, they’re more than one. I have one for filter words (which somehow still seem to make their way to my drafts) and another one for useless words (like “very”, “that”, “just”, “even”, “There was”, “there was”, “there were”, “There were”, “actually”, “practically”, “literally”, “suddenly”, “really”, “again”, “Again”).

The third step deals with how I use the word “as” in a sentence. That’s a tricky one to deal with. I often use it in a sentence when I shouldn’t. The following example is from http://blog.janicehardy.com/2010/04/re-write-wednesday-dont-tell-me-why.html (Bob ran for the cabin as the zombie swung at his head.) In this example the AS implies that both actions happen at the same time. The problem is that’s not the case. The second part of the sentence is the reason why the first part happens. The zombie attacks Bob and because of that, Bob runs away. Using AS here is wrong (though “wrong” sounds so strange when it comes to a creative art like writing, no?). Still, I not only overuse that word, I flood my MS with it. Hence, the need for yet another macro to evaluate each occurrence of that word.

The last editing step (for the first round of edits, mind you) is the worst of all; my incomplete macro for adverbs. I consider it an incomplete macro for two reasons: 1. some adverbs don’t have the -ly ending (https://www.englishclub.com/vocabulary/adverbs-manner.htm), 2. That last step should include adjectives as well, but given the nature of the words (they don’t have a special ending), I can’t include them in a macro. Which means I have to go over the entire passage and highlight every single word that’s an adjective. Why is that bad? I’m a perfectionist when it comes to doing something that I love. What’s wrong with that, you ask? Humans make mistakes! I often miss them because I either fail to identify them (oh, language barrier, if only you had a face I could punch…) or because my brain has turned into mush and I fail to notice them.

Once these steps are done, and I’m ok-ish with the results (I tried using the word “satisfied” instead of “ok-ish”, but alas I couldn’t! Not even for this post!), then I turn to beta readers and critiquers (if such a word as critiquers exists). And then a new round of editing starts, which includes the above but also their suggestions. Grand total of edits? As I mentioned in a previous post, between 9-12 up to this point.

What happens after that to my MS? Well, then and only then can I say it’s no longer in its first draft status.

Is it ready, you ask? A few weeks ago I would have said yes. But these past few weeks I’ve been reading Self-Editing For Fiction Writers by Renni Browne and Dave King (http://www.bookdepository.com/Self-Editing-for-Fiction-Writers-Second-Edition-Renni-Browne/9780060545697�� or if you prefer Amazon,�� http://www.amazon.com/Self-Editing-Fiction-Writers-Second-Yourself/dp/0060545690/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1421593167&sr=8-1&keywords=Self-Editing+For+Fiction+Writers

Now I cry every time I finish the steps I mentioned earlier, because I realise there’s SOOOO much more that I have missed.

I was about to send my cyberpunk short story out to a well-respected, VERY well-paying, professional magazine. Who was it that said that manuscripts are never perfect but simply abandoned, meaning the writer refuses to work on it any more and considers it ready for publication? Yeah, I’m not ready for that yet.

Back for another round of editing. Yay!

P.S. See how I knew I’d fail point #1 from this post? Will there ever be a time I won’t have to compare myself to those better than me?!

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: beta readers, critique, editing, editors, literary magazine, manuscript, novel, revisions, short stories, short story, writing, writing problems

Inspirational prompt 4

I don’t know about you, but I’m still living in the festive period. Perhaps some of you decided to take some time off writing and story-crafting, so this week’s prompt is related to that.

You can come up with a story about these two kids staring at their Christmas tree or you can write about a memory you have from your childhood. If you’re a parent, perhaps you can write something that happened in your household. Fiction or not, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you get back to writing again. And if you didn’t stop writing during the holidays… well, another story won’t hurt, will it? :)

Filed under: Inspirational Prompts Tagged: children, Christmas, christmas tree, creativity, festive period, story, writing, writing prompts

2014 – A recounting of events

First of all I hope you all had wonderful Christmas and a nice New Year. Christmas was brilliant for me and I got to spend it with the people who have stood by me the most, my family. Christmas is also my nameday (in Greece we celebrate namedays as well as birthdays, though I only follow namedays), so a lot of friends called to give me their wishes. It all added to a very nice day with a lot of great memories. I’m not a big fan of New Year as a holiday nor do I participate in any kind of celebration, as I don’t see the reason for it, but I understand others see it differently than me, so to all of you out there who do, I wish you a HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

2014 was for me a very successful and productive year and I hope 2015 will be, if not more productive then at least, as productive as 2014.

For starters I got to finish the outline of my pet project. I posted a small excerpt earlier this year from my fantasy serialised novel and wrote almost half of the first draft. Currently, it’s sitting and waiting for me to get back to it, but that won’t happen for a long while, not until I evolve as storyteller and improve my writing skills.

Following that I outlined and finished the first draft of the Darkening, my post-apocalyptic horror novel. That’s right; I finished a novel, my first ever, in 2014. It took me 5 months to write it, 3 months of which were spent writing on my 5-inch cellphone, since the heat in my study with my computer on was hellish. It was supposed to take me 3 months and be around 120k words but ended up being 149k words and 2 months overdue. Who cares? Bottom line is I finished my first novel! Yes, I’m still jubilant about this. I’m entitled to it, no? I’ll have plenty of time to feel miserable and doubt my worth once the first couple of tens of agent rejections arrive.

2014 also offered me my first publication EVER. I was honoured to have a short story published in Beyond Imagination, Issue 4, titled You Die When I Die. I still remember how high I jumped when I read their acceptance email. I also remember how many times I had to read the message over and over again, to make sure I read it right and that I was indeed going to get published (six times, if you’re wondering how many times I read it).

2 more magazines honoured me in 2014 by publishing my stories. Eternal Haunted Summer published When Hades Felt and Voluted Tales published the short story The Darkening (my novel The Darkening is based on that short story).

In 2014 I participated in my first writing competition ever for 2014 South African HorrorFest Bloody Parchment short story competition and on 31st December, a couple of hours before the New Year knocked on Greece’s door, I got an email from them saying that my story had been selected for their longlist that would go through for judging early 2015. This is also a first for me and even though I’ve no idea if being longlisted is even worth mentioning in public (if anyone has previous experience with writing competitions, please let me know), I see it as an accomplishment, since, as I said, this is a first for me. I dreaded participating in any kind of competition, thinking my writing was sub par to the standards they’d have. The email they sent me though, lifted my spirits and boosted my self confidence. I don’t have high hopes in getting published there, since there are soooooo many far better writers out there than me, with English being their native language (I hereby declare my hatred towards language barrier and all the problems it causes me), but one can hope, right?

Between the middle of November and the middle of December I manage to write 3 more short stories, a feat I had never tackled before but that month proved the most productive ever.

Finally, 2014 was the year I started this blog. Since April 2014 when I published my first post here, more than 120 of you have honoured me by following me and my rumblings, allowed me to write my thoughts and fears in my flawed English. Together we embarked on a trip – my trip – with many highs and even more lows. You were with me when I decided to write my novel, you were there when I finished it, when I published my short stories. You were there when I felt I was drowning while struggling with The Darkening and you supported me.

To everyone who followed or visited this blog, all 127 followers and 550 visitors, I have one thing to say:

THANK YOU!

Filed under: Getting to know each other, Uncategorized Tagged: beyond imagination, New year, novel, short stories, short story, The Darkening, When Hades Felt, writing, You die when I die

Inspirational prompt 3

Hello all. Given the festive season most of us are in and the fact my name day is on Christmas day, I’ve decided to take some time off from blogging. At least writing stuff for the blog. Since I don’t like leaving you high and dry, I decided to give you another inspirational prompt.

P. S. I’m trying posting this using the email service, so I’m not sure if this will actually work.


Filed under: Uncategorized