Working on a story. Don't wanna Jar-Jar Binks it.
So for those of you new to this blog, you haven't heard me mention my upcoming novel, Necromantica, it's about time I told you that I'm working on the third draft of a novel, conveniently entitled Necromantica. Here's a look at the cover design by the lovely, beautiful, and talented Christina Irwin:
Just for a little background, this story pretty much started as a text message. Then it got a little long, so I turned it into an email. But after writing for several hours, I decided I had best just make it a short story. And then it became a novella. And now it's right around fifty thousand words. And I've been editing the thing for something like a year now. Probably longer. I can tell you all, it's one of my most favorite stories. It's a caper. It's a tale of revenge. It's an espionage story, an action packed, brutal love story, and a philosophical play on morality that's just plain old fun. I seriously can't wait to share it with the world, but at the same time, I keep on playing with it and editing it because there's a part of me that doesn't want to finish. Every time I read it, I find some new direction to go or thread to pull on. It's a favorite place of mine to visit so calling it done is proving difficult.
The narrative is pretty well set in stone. It has a third person introduction and epilogue (the epilogue taking place two thousand years after the climax). A bulk of the story takes place at the beginning and end of a decade, bouncing back and forth in time. And if that doesn't sound confusing enough, it's told in a blending of first and second person.
It actually works a lot better than you'd think.
So as I've been developing the story and editing away, I keep coming up with all of these little side stories. Because of time frame and limited perspective of the story, there's a lot I have to leave out or it would turn into a disaster. So as I'm editing Necromantica, I've also started developing a series of short stories that go along with the novel. Or rather, tease around the events of the novel. Like I said, the bulk of the story occurs over a decade. There's a lot of space in the middle to explore and have fun with. I've finished one and am hoping to publish it soon. I'm midway through another, and have just begun outlining a new one, which is what we're discussing tonight.
As a rule, as a writer, always have your main project, but never stop coming up with side projects. Have a set time for the main project, and do the side stuff whenever you find an opening. The idea is that you never let yourself stop creating. Even when you're editing and refining, always make time to come up with new stuff.
That said, I've been pitching this latest side story to people for a week now and am always met with quizzical looks. Expressions that say, "You're writing what?"
Here's my pitch:
"Okay, so an entire kingdom has been butchered off in an orc invasion. One city after another fell, and all communication and trade from this kingdom has stopped. On other continents, other kingdoms and lands are starting to ask what happened. 'Is the king alive?' 'Is the war even over?' It all happened so fast, there was no time to send for help. There was no evacuation plan. All anybody knows is that orcs invaded, followed by silence. So on the northern continent, a queen decides to have an exploratory expedition to find out what happened. She doesn't want to send in the army, or even put her people at risk, but she decides that she needs to send in the best she has to find out what happened. So she recruits her mightiest warrior, an immortal ferret."
And as soon as I say ferret, the reaction is, "Huh?"
Here's my reasoning. I've had this story planned for a good eight months, but finding the right protagonist has been a bit of a challenge. I mean, I could write any old ranger, dwarf, or elf. The hardened warrior who's maybe seen a bit too much in his day, suddenly walking through a kingdom the day after the apocalypse. And of course, what he finds there is even worse than he could've imagined (but it's also really, really awesome! Promise!). But that's boring. That's typical. It's one thing to have anybody walk through a destroyed kingdom. It's something entirely different to have a happy, little fuzz ball playfully venturing forth in this strange new land of death with an attitude of, "Ooh! Fun!" As a writer, it's a lot more challenging to pull off, which of course makes it all the more appealing.
So my basic character is what I thought I would cleverly call a Ferrelf (Ferret/elf. Get it! Har har!) which I thought I was really clever in coming up with until I did a Google search on the word. Turns out, the Internet's already got 'em. Although I've only seen them described online as pets that elves enjoy because of the shared immortality and they're probably pleasant to snuggle. For mine, I wanted to create something of a warrior/monk. Still do the warrior that's seen everything and faced death countless times, but is totally at peace and gives off those happy vibes playful pets often do.
At this point, the story is still in an experimental phase. I'm not convinced I can pull the character off. The story itself will be written in the third person, but I'm trying to find this ferret's voice. How does he talk? What makes him interesting? I want to slave away on a character for a couple of months that I think is fun, adorable, and somebody that everybody would like to read more of, only to discover I inadvertently created something awful and annoying. Like young Anakin Skywalker. So to test the character out, for myself to find his voice, his attitude, and overall perspective, I decided to have him write a little letter to his queen about his voyage. To be honest, I'm not sure if he's even readable. For inspiration I watched clips of John From Cincinatti and a particular episode of Fringe with the alternate Astrid, basically just looking for a rhythm to his voice. Something artful, fun, and unique. I hope it paid off. But before I continue with the story, I want to gain a consensus on the character's tone. So if you enjoy this little letter I've written, if you're curious for more, just give a little comment below, on Faceboook, or Twitter. Also let me know if it's garbage. That's most helpful as well.
That said, here's Moete:
To Queen of People, Lilth Kuromorrik,
I write you with a quill of the last carrier pigeon. I was right to save the plumpest for last, the meatiest for the finale. Fear not. Your tales of a southerly continent were true. Or perhaps I have made may way around to North. In one truth I am the most southerly ferrelf there’s ever been. In another, the most northerly. In either truth, I found land and my murder found me. So I am not without messengers. I will dispatch crows most troubled without roosts for future correspondence. From the ocean encounter of my last letter, I confirm the woes shared to me from the fleet. As the refugees and traders warned I might, the place you call the Pure Kingdom is a place I have to myself. Orcs brought bows. Bows brought arrows. Arrows were chased by swords. I have seen brown stains that smell like old red puddles. I have seen things that used to be people, marked by weapons both inside and out. I have seen things that used to be orcs be more rotted than orcs, run amuck with holes unlike orcs. It’s funny how holes keep us from being whole. They make us waterfalls and then they make us earth. We water the ground we become, the things that holes make us. But holes are made from nothing, like the black sky people say they return to when they die. They say they become the sky. I see them become the earth and I say people have holes in them.The southern continent makes me think on holes a lot. It has lots of things that used to be people and used to be orcs and all of them are filled with holes.Rats are fatter in cities and I’ve no doubt eaten meat forged by both sides of battle. I have eaten well because rats have eaten better. I apologize for the pigeon. I know it was meant to carry words but I made it carry me instead. I’d eaten the meat of war for days and wondered if I forgot the taste of peace. I hadn’t and it was leaner than war but more savory. I’d have offered some to my crows but a murder wouldn’t know the difference. Crows are funny for not being picky. My journey through Fortia has been silent. But silence gives adventure to the mind and mine is entertaining. Yesterday I saw blue flowers that weren’t hydrangeas and easier to pluck apart. I saw floating petals and thought the earth told me it felt like sheets of music blowing from their stand. The earth tells me and my murder things I know how to feel but not how to draw in people tongue. But the things with holes enjoyed my breath and the earth enjoyed my feet.Land is better for me than oceans, and when I left the merchants they left me and I spent an afternoon feeling sand in my toes. I ran. I rolled. I found the driest spots and enjoyed the dusk while digging. Sand is funny because it fills its own holes. No matter how much I changed it, it always fills itself full. It’s not alive so it doesn’t become a waterfall, and only the tides can ask it to change. I could play in sand forever and never again make holes. I am eager to bound through it again on my return journey. Fear not, Queen of People. I will bring you a satchel. I could never carry enough to for digging you may always admire the way that it is sand. I have left tokens behind in your honor. Should this message find you, dispatch men to the land that I assume is Fortia. Thus far there are no dangers. Only things with holes. And your men will find a forked tree with a deserted rabbit hole in its fifth root. There I have stashed an ivory dagger with three turquoise stones that match your eldest son’s eyes. Also a plush cat no longer needed from a thing that used to be a little girl but now is becoming earth marked by holes and arrows. Once cleaned, it would be a fitting plaything for the infant prince and my short blooded cousins. Two days march from there, I have placed a nine spoons in holes in a stone wall. My murder was most excited about their reflections in the spoons and I promised them to their roost. If we do not collect them on the return journey, please suggest the men you dispatch retrieve them for me. Also two days travel along a river I encountered things with scale skin that tried to eat me. They thought me a snack, and I thought them ambitious. Their pelts now dry on rocks and would make for a handsome outfit for either you or the king. Two days journey north, I found clams in a lake and fought them for pearls. There were none, but I left the shells disguised under a pile of seaweed. Four days journey northwest, I followed a road with a sign that says I’m approaching Dromn. I will post the pigeon’s head atop the sign should a messenger wish to collect it for proper burial. I’d leave more but I asked the pigeon to carry me. Then I felt sorry it would never carry words so I found its quill and waterfall puddle. I write you now so the pigeon can be words before the puddle dries. And now I am happy and the pigeon is words and carries me so I may make more words. Soon I will arrive at Dromn, the holy city of the Pure Kingdom. If the war between people and orcs continues, I will join the people and save their city. If the fighting is over I will ask the victor for a further account before returning north. Unless the victor is orcs. Then I will make many holes.
Your faithful servant, Moete
Just for a little background, this story pretty much started as a text message. Then it got a little long, so I turned it into an email. But after writing for several hours, I decided I had best just make it a short story. And then it became a novella. And now it's right around fifty thousand words. And I've been editing the thing for something like a year now. Probably longer. I can tell you all, it's one of my most favorite stories. It's a caper. It's a tale of revenge. It's an espionage story, an action packed, brutal love story, and a philosophical play on morality that's just plain old fun. I seriously can't wait to share it with the world, but at the same time, I keep on playing with it and editing it because there's a part of me that doesn't want to finish. Every time I read it, I find some new direction to go or thread to pull on. It's a favorite place of mine to visit so calling it done is proving difficult.
The narrative is pretty well set in stone. It has a third person introduction and epilogue (the epilogue taking place two thousand years after the climax). A bulk of the story takes place at the beginning and end of a decade, bouncing back and forth in time. And if that doesn't sound confusing enough, it's told in a blending of first and second person.
It actually works a lot better than you'd think.
So as I've been developing the story and editing away, I keep coming up with all of these little side stories. Because of time frame and limited perspective of the story, there's a lot I have to leave out or it would turn into a disaster. So as I'm editing Necromantica, I've also started developing a series of short stories that go along with the novel. Or rather, tease around the events of the novel. Like I said, the bulk of the story occurs over a decade. There's a lot of space in the middle to explore and have fun with. I've finished one and am hoping to publish it soon. I'm midway through another, and have just begun outlining a new one, which is what we're discussing tonight.
As a rule, as a writer, always have your main project, but never stop coming up with side projects. Have a set time for the main project, and do the side stuff whenever you find an opening. The idea is that you never let yourself stop creating. Even when you're editing and refining, always make time to come up with new stuff.
That said, I've been pitching this latest side story to people for a week now and am always met with quizzical looks. Expressions that say, "You're writing what?"
Here's my pitch:
"Okay, so an entire kingdom has been butchered off in an orc invasion. One city after another fell, and all communication and trade from this kingdom has stopped. On other continents, other kingdoms and lands are starting to ask what happened. 'Is the king alive?' 'Is the war even over?' It all happened so fast, there was no time to send for help. There was no evacuation plan. All anybody knows is that orcs invaded, followed by silence. So on the northern continent, a queen decides to have an exploratory expedition to find out what happened. She doesn't want to send in the army, or even put her people at risk, but she decides that she needs to send in the best she has to find out what happened. So she recruits her mightiest warrior, an immortal ferret."
And as soon as I say ferret, the reaction is, "Huh?"
Here's my reasoning. I've had this story planned for a good eight months, but finding the right protagonist has been a bit of a challenge. I mean, I could write any old ranger, dwarf, or elf. The hardened warrior who's maybe seen a bit too much in his day, suddenly walking through a kingdom the day after the apocalypse. And of course, what he finds there is even worse than he could've imagined (but it's also really, really awesome! Promise!). But that's boring. That's typical. It's one thing to have anybody walk through a destroyed kingdom. It's something entirely different to have a happy, little fuzz ball playfully venturing forth in this strange new land of death with an attitude of, "Ooh! Fun!" As a writer, it's a lot more challenging to pull off, which of course makes it all the more appealing.
So my basic character is what I thought I would cleverly call a Ferrelf (Ferret/elf. Get it! Har har!) which I thought I was really clever in coming up with until I did a Google search on the word. Turns out, the Internet's already got 'em. Although I've only seen them described online as pets that elves enjoy because of the shared immortality and they're probably pleasant to snuggle. For mine, I wanted to create something of a warrior/monk. Still do the warrior that's seen everything and faced death countless times, but is totally at peace and gives off those happy vibes playful pets often do.
At this point, the story is still in an experimental phase. I'm not convinced I can pull the character off. The story itself will be written in the third person, but I'm trying to find this ferret's voice. How does he talk? What makes him interesting? I want to slave away on a character for a couple of months that I think is fun, adorable, and somebody that everybody would like to read more of, only to discover I inadvertently created something awful and annoying. Like young Anakin Skywalker. So to test the character out, for myself to find his voice, his attitude, and overall perspective, I decided to have him write a little letter to his queen about his voyage. To be honest, I'm not sure if he's even readable. For inspiration I watched clips of John From Cincinatti and a particular episode of Fringe with the alternate Astrid, basically just looking for a rhythm to his voice. Something artful, fun, and unique. I hope it paid off. But before I continue with the story, I want to gain a consensus on the character's tone. So if you enjoy this little letter I've written, if you're curious for more, just give a little comment below, on Faceboook, or Twitter. Also let me know if it's garbage. That's most helpful as well.
That said, here's Moete:
To Queen of People, Lilth Kuromorrik,
I write you with a quill of the last carrier pigeon. I was right to save the plumpest for last, the meatiest for the finale. Fear not. Your tales of a southerly continent were true. Or perhaps I have made may way around to North. In one truth I am the most southerly ferrelf there’s ever been. In another, the most northerly. In either truth, I found land and my murder found me. So I am not without messengers. I will dispatch crows most troubled without roosts for future correspondence. From the ocean encounter of my last letter, I confirm the woes shared to me from the fleet. As the refugees and traders warned I might, the place you call the Pure Kingdom is a place I have to myself. Orcs brought bows. Bows brought arrows. Arrows were chased by swords. I have seen brown stains that smell like old red puddles. I have seen things that used to be people, marked by weapons both inside and out. I have seen things that used to be orcs be more rotted than orcs, run amuck with holes unlike orcs. It’s funny how holes keep us from being whole. They make us waterfalls and then they make us earth. We water the ground we become, the things that holes make us. But holes are made from nothing, like the black sky people say they return to when they die. They say they become the sky. I see them become the earth and I say people have holes in them.The southern continent makes me think on holes a lot. It has lots of things that used to be people and used to be orcs and all of them are filled with holes.Rats are fatter in cities and I’ve no doubt eaten meat forged by both sides of battle. I have eaten well because rats have eaten better. I apologize for the pigeon. I know it was meant to carry words but I made it carry me instead. I’d eaten the meat of war for days and wondered if I forgot the taste of peace. I hadn’t and it was leaner than war but more savory. I’d have offered some to my crows but a murder wouldn’t know the difference. Crows are funny for not being picky. My journey through Fortia has been silent. But silence gives adventure to the mind and mine is entertaining. Yesterday I saw blue flowers that weren’t hydrangeas and easier to pluck apart. I saw floating petals and thought the earth told me it felt like sheets of music blowing from their stand. The earth tells me and my murder things I know how to feel but not how to draw in people tongue. But the things with holes enjoyed my breath and the earth enjoyed my feet.Land is better for me than oceans, and when I left the merchants they left me and I spent an afternoon feeling sand in my toes. I ran. I rolled. I found the driest spots and enjoyed the dusk while digging. Sand is funny because it fills its own holes. No matter how much I changed it, it always fills itself full. It’s not alive so it doesn’t become a waterfall, and only the tides can ask it to change. I could play in sand forever and never again make holes. I am eager to bound through it again on my return journey. Fear not, Queen of People. I will bring you a satchel. I could never carry enough to for digging you may always admire the way that it is sand. I have left tokens behind in your honor. Should this message find you, dispatch men to the land that I assume is Fortia. Thus far there are no dangers. Only things with holes. And your men will find a forked tree with a deserted rabbit hole in its fifth root. There I have stashed an ivory dagger with three turquoise stones that match your eldest son’s eyes. Also a plush cat no longer needed from a thing that used to be a little girl but now is becoming earth marked by holes and arrows. Once cleaned, it would be a fitting plaything for the infant prince and my short blooded cousins. Two days march from there, I have placed a nine spoons in holes in a stone wall. My murder was most excited about their reflections in the spoons and I promised them to their roost. If we do not collect them on the return journey, please suggest the men you dispatch retrieve them for me. Also two days travel along a river I encountered things with scale skin that tried to eat me. They thought me a snack, and I thought them ambitious. Their pelts now dry on rocks and would make for a handsome outfit for either you or the king. Two days journey north, I found clams in a lake and fought them for pearls. There were none, but I left the shells disguised under a pile of seaweed. Four days journey northwest, I followed a road with a sign that says I’m approaching Dromn. I will post the pigeon’s head atop the sign should a messenger wish to collect it for proper burial. I’d leave more but I asked the pigeon to carry me. Then I felt sorry it would never carry words so I found its quill and waterfall puddle. I write you now so the pigeon can be words before the puddle dries. And now I am happy and the pigeon is words and carries me so I may make more words. Soon I will arrive at Dromn, the holy city of the Pure Kingdom. If the war between people and orcs continues, I will join the people and save their city. If the fighting is over I will ask the victor for a further account before returning north. Unless the victor is orcs. Then I will make many holes.
Your faithful servant, Moete
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