I figured a few things out over the weekend, with several plot problems finally resolved. Woo! I’m excited.
Of course, there were several issues that immediately arose, but research is my happy place. Here are a few of today’s searches:
Late 1800s geographic & soil composition maps of New Hampshire
Famous computer scientists from NH (search results were…interesting. Google, are you okay?)
Abandoned mines New Hampshire
Effects of sunlight deprivation
Buffalo chicken dip recipes
The last one might not be relevant to Paladin’s Legacy. Who could say?
Oh, and I finally got around to naming the buildings. Paladin University is using its recent expansion for some growth.
And please. Let’s not talk about the map of Lost Creek itself just yet. There might still be a lot of empty space to fill besides the campus, a graveyard, June’s apartment, and her beloved Athena diner.
Current campus map, made by a geographically-challenged author. June’s office is on the second floor of the Hale Building, directly over the end of the word “lower.”
This is the part where most people back quietly away, eyes twitching while their feet seek the nearest exit at speed. Meanwhile, I’m rubbing my hands together with glee. Writers search the best and weirdest topics, often all in a slew of odd searches, one after the other as tangents spark ideas down the rabbit hole.
For instance:
Are magnolias poisonous? (No, or at least insufficiently that plot idea was out.)
What do magnolias smell like? (Different depending on the type and time of year.)
Washers at the ford legend (Check out these death omen song lyrics.)
What do ghouls eat? (Disputed, but…do you really want to know?)
That doesn’t mean the story that spits itself out of my head via the keyboard will be technically accurate in all details. I’m writing fiction here, after all. Too much reality is boring. Plus, half the time the story’s about a creature that a) does not exist and b) has at least fifteen different versions of the story.
Case in point: Halima found comfort in cinnamon sticks in The Fire Crown, because some phoenix legends say their nests are built from warming spices.
But I do want to know where I go wrong, and try to make a deliberate and conscious choice.
So yes. I am aware that ghouls are very, very different from zombies. Bite transmission is not a thing.
But Grave Girl needed “you’re my girl” to become “you’re my ghoul” for the play on words to work, so I took some liberties.
I do, however, offer my sincere apologies to any ghouls reading this.
There’s been a ridiculous amount of things going on, so I ran off with the bison herd for a while. Ever had a buffalo try to stick her head in your car?
What I’m Writing:
I’m working on several things, including book two of Peter and June’s story, Paladin’s Legacy.
I’m hopping through time with these two, as I’m also writing the story of their wedding. Spoiler: Bridezilla is not the creature to fear.
And, of course, Summer Solstice Shenanigans is live! Obviously I’m biased, but I haven’t found a tale I didn’t enjoy yet. If you haven’t yet, check out my short story in the Professor Porter universe, The Fire Crown.
I did, however, accidentally skip the writing prompt last week, because I forgot what day it was. Will the brain provide a twofer? We’ll find out soon.
What I’m Reading:
I’m reviewing/editing a friend’s very cool story about Alice’s granddaughter…yes, that Alice, with the grinning cat! It’s a highly creative and entertaining take on a familiar world with a number of twists. I can’t wait for her to publish it, and I’ll keep you posted.
Summer Solstice Seduction. This is the paranormal romance sister to the urban fantasy anthology I’m in and linked to above. Can you shiver and steam at the same time? Because you definitely will.
What I’m talking about: It’s a plethora of podcasts!
I swear I’m not drunk – I had to travel for work and was exhausted. I only realized after a lot of sleep just how incoherent I had been…but hey, it’s probably funny, right? So entertain yourself and check this interview out. Thanks to Jamie Davis for the invite. He did a fantastic job keeping my rambling on track and making me sound less like a weirdo. Which I am, obviously.
You can do a comparison with my articulation skills just a day later in another interview here, this time with the military scifi author and veteran JR Handley. Thanks, JR!
Imagine what I’d sound like after even more sleep! …but who needs sleep?
What I’m making:
What the heck do you do with 25 pounds of peaches? Among everything you can think of and a whole lot more, you make peach streusel muffins. A delicious sweet counterpoint to dark, bitter coffee.
We interrupt this prompt for a brief story about lessons learned, irony, and writers who should know better than to tempt fate. You all know exactly where this is going, and you are not wrong.
I submitted a story for an anthology a while back. Didn’t expect to get in, and procrastinated on book two of the Professor Porter series, because I didn’t really have a deadline. So what did it matter that I submitted a short story that takes place after book two?
And now, onto my prompt from nother Mike. This’ll be short, because apparently I need to type a whole lot of words. At exceptionally rapid speed. With a large, awkward bandage on one finger. But this prompt fits nicely with a story I played with a while ago and needed more tempering before it turned into a real story. One of these days, In Defense of Dragons will be written in full. (It will not be today.)
***
Miranda walked down the stone hallway toward the ballroom, adjusting her tiara with one claw. The movements were simultaneously automatic and uncomfortable, just as every half-forgotten scent teased her with suppressed sneezes and memories alike. Greystone followed her on silent padding paws, near-invisible in the shadow of the crimson dragon.
She paused for a tiny silver rhino to barrel his way past, his double horns shining in the torchlight. The toddler’s mouth gaped permanently open in a wordless yell. Each miniature foot thudded heavily against the polished granite.
The boy’s coordination was still in development, which became evident with a distinct crash and splinter as a wooden table holding flowers shattered with a spectacular shower of colorful blooms.
An enormous sigh came from above Miranda’s head. She hadn’t realized she’d become a blockade until she saw the mother rhinoceros making her way cautiously down the stairs. From the look of her, she was due with another young one in the near future.
The adult rhino nodded an apology without looking up from the level of Miranda’s feet. “So sorry, milady. He’s young.”
The boy wobbled back to his feet and pranced among the debris. “I am rhino-mite! Rhiiiiino-miiiite!”
“Well, he did lumber from side to side,” Greystone murmured from behind her.
Miranda shot him a look and shushed the cat. “We’re not at home.”
His spots flushed, and even his footfalls sounded apologetic as he followed her toward the debris. “I apologize. Diplomacy is indeed called for.”
The pregnant rhinoceros looked up this time as she swept up the pieces of wreckage with one foot and corralled her son with the other. Miranda hadn’t realized rhinos could change color until the woman began to resemble bleached linen.
“Your highness!” The rhino extended an awkward leg into a shaking bow. She nudged her son into some semblance of the same pose.
“Goodwife Rhino,” Miranda acknowledged the woman with a precise nod trained into her from birth. “I bid you good luck. I expect you have extraordinarily full days.” She looked down at the boy. “And you will make an excellent charger in my father’s army when you grow just a bit larger, won’t you?”
He puffed with pride, and nudged a squashed pink rose toward her.
She picked it up in a hand and held it to her nose. Longing pulled at her throat abruptly, and only a lifetime of training held her sudden emotion in check. Her eyes burned with the effort. No matter that the cultured, stuffy flowers of the castle were a far cry from the orchard with its crystal gardens where she’d spent most of the past ten years. It was enough to reinforce that she no longer belonged here, in the castle she’d once called home.
No, Miranda did not want to be here. Nor would she let her father down when he needed her most.
***
My prompt went to AC Young, about biohacking and the tropes of television that teach us (very occasional) wisdom. Check out the comments of Odd Prompts for more!
I’ve been dragging on a few items, for a number of reasons. Plot problems that I finally got unstuck on. Unmotivated after long days. Distracted by the garbage disposal leaking black sludge everywhere. That really good series I just discovered on KU. You know – life.
But I’ve got a couple anthologies that I want to put in for (and one I was accepted into, yay!), and some short deadlines. That puts a whomping push on book two, which is giving me more fits than book three, or the short story that comes in between them.
Or the other short stories that won’t let my brain go.
And if I’m not accepted, the external pressure’s off, but I’ll still work on the stories to release at a later date.
It’s not a bad thing, to have goals. We’ll see how far I can get. If nothing else, this should up my daily wordcount and rebuild the habit of writing. I’ve gotten sloppy. Even modest goals can help.
Long story, but in talking about chainmail on the book of faces, I wound up doing a podcast. Kind of a rushed and surprised thing, definitely something new. I talked up More Odds Than Ends, too. I’ll post the podcast link when it’s done.
I also burrowed until I found the first Peter and June story, blew the dust off, and expanded it a touch. Definitely still a short story, but thought it’d go well together.
Plus, I got to play around with covers (thanks for the feedback, Becky and Jennie and Nik!). I don’t think I’ll ever be fantastic at them, but I was happy with this one.
Look, Ma, I made a cover!
Blurb for now: Professor June Porter is worried. Her daughter Medina has shown no signs of magic, leaving her defenseless and isolated among magicians. Unless, of course, everyone’s about to discover just how special Medina is.
WordPress tells me that I started this website a year ago today, which deserves a retrospective of some sort. Lessons learned, if nothing else. Around the same time, I found nother Mike’s suggestion for a “here’s how I do it” post, so I’m combining the two.
First up: Stage fright. Part of why I jumped on Cedar’s More Odds Than Ends challenge was because I was writing again, but wasn’t comfortable with it. The day job required less and less technical writing or editing (at the time) and I was getting twitchy. Writing is, apparently, something I need to do.
But I’d suppressed creative instincts in favor of improving technical writing for nearly two decades. Was I any good? Did it matter, if I was having fun? Was it terrifying to put things out there? Yes. Am I still terrified? Yes, but less so. Did I delay publishing the book for at least two weeks for this reason? Absolutely. Do I get excited every time I have a comment? Ask my husband, who may or may not hear about it. And the big question, would it make me worse at my day job? Turns out, no!
Which leads to: Creativity helps in unexpected ways. Studying craft has helped me articulate ways to train folks in the day job, from editing techniques to writing to poking holes in logic. I’m apparently known as one of the creative ones, who can think outside the box and see connections. So creativity might make me the quirky one at work, but it’s helped far more than I anticipated.
Similarly: Practice helps. Obviously. I’m faster with posts than I used to be. I’ve learned website stuff. Am I good at coming up with different ways to say essentially the same thing over and over again? No. I’m also not good at social media, which I rejoined, or marketing. I’m extremely introverted, and one of those serious types. I have to warn people that when I get excited, I will probably get extremely intense (unless there’s too much coffee involved, in which case I start resembling a hyperactive, bouncing squirrel). But I stress less about being perfect at it, because there’s progress.
That said: More accountability would be good. Even just for myself. The day job pays the bills, and I like it. But I also want to get book two out, and have too many ideas half-plotted to let them go. So it’s a balance between making sure I keep doing well at the day job and pondering whether this writing thing could be a real gig someday. I’m okay if this is prep for a retirement job, but must admit there’s excitement at the idea of writing creatively as a career.
And that said…I need to get more writing done, but if I’m drained enough that the words aren’t flowing, I’m not going to push myself into burnout. Again, balance. Slow and steady. So one of my goals for the next year is to increase the amount I tie in prompts to the universes I’m already working in. Which means I need to have the plots more solidified than they are now, along with less nebulous worldbuilding and character development. I tend to rebel against scheduling my hobbies, so habits are what will save me here.
Finally: There’s so much left to learn.
So with that, onto how I go through prompts. I was hoping to have inspiration hit before I got to this part. C’mon, brain!
Prompt: A plumbing fixture suddenly stops working. On inspection, it turns out the cutoff valve has been turned off, but everyone denies having done so.
I tend not to put the prompt up front in the post anymore because it can give away a twist.
I don’t know anything about plumbing. I’m honestly not sure research will help me here. But I do know how to weld. Maybe I can work that in?
This suggests some sort of mystery or even sabotage.
Magical sabotage? (Why?)
Can I work this into Peter and June book three? (I was having issues with book two, so I started on three to get the words flowing.) There’s a magically induced blizzard, and the power’s gone out. They’re good, but the emergency radio reports people are missing, and they know it’s not a normal storm. They need more information.
So let’s say that June and Peter volunteer to help with the search, even though they’re not natives of New Hampshire and have never done it before.
Would they even be allowed to assist? Need to research that. Maybe ask some of the search and rescue folks I know locally, or text some relatives.
June and Peter come back from trying to help with the search. They are confused and unhappy. Several people are dead, and at least one child is missing.
What’s going after the people?
What can they do to make it stop, and preferably go away?
Did the creature(s) bring the storm? (Yes.)
How do they get more info to figure all of this out before more people are killed?
At this low emotional point, uncertain how to help, the water goes out…and that’s when they realize that something is in the house.
Cue dramatic music.
I’m pretty sure it’ll change along the way, but that’s the bones of it.
Interesting things that happened during this process:
I got over my fear of “writing out loud.” The More Odds Than Ends writing prompt group has been fantastic for this. I don’t always have time to get the prompt done, or done well. It usually got done anyway.
I broadened. MOTE, again, opened my horizons here. I didn’t always like my prompts, and sometimes found them quite challenging. They certainly were not things that my brain would have conceived – and that’s fantastic.
I learned things. Not just craft, what works and what doesn’t, but also how to run a website.
I got it done. Do I think June’s story is good enough to share with the world? Sure. It won’t be to everyone’s taste. That’s okay. Neither am I. Won’t try to claim I won’t get upset over my first one star review, but it’s not the end of the world, either.
Other things became a matter of expediency.
I tried covers. I really, really, really tried. You do not want to see these. I do not wish to share them. I spent nearly two months seeking a photo of a woman holding a sword who was also wearing actual clothes. So finally, I asked for help. Trust me, everyone is better off for this.
I didn’t bother with ISBNs. I can always republish a new edition later. I’m taking the long view.
Did I achieve everything I set out to do? No, and it took too long from when I posted about public accountability.
I have so far to go, and so many more things to learn.
But the ultimate goal of publication was achieved, and I’ll celebrate that milestone for all it’s worth.
It’s 2020, after all. Small wins matter.
Do you need a magical professor in your life? Of course you do. Paladin’s Sword is just the book you didn’t know you were looking for as a holiday gift. Right?
Dr. June Porter is headed for New Hampshire as a professor, brand-new PhD in hand. The last thing she wants in her new life is more magic, so of course that’s exactly what she finds. Magic, and a mysterious Irishmand with emerald eyes. But there’s little time for dalliance when historical artifacts begin taking a life of their own and threaten the campus. Can June reclaim her magic, protect her students – and keep her job?
Oh, I know the steps I intellectually need to take, and know that it’s only fear holding me back. I can figure all of this out.
Beta readers, covers, wrapping up stories, ISBNs, copyright. I can take each bit separately, one piece at a time.
But I let the taxes hold me back, because that’s the point where it feels overwhelming.
So in the meantime, I trick my brain into continuing to make progress. Fine, fine, brain. You don’t want to figure out taxes yet? Well, it’s almost the end of the calendar year anyway. If you wrap up these stories and work on the rest of it, it’ll all be there in CY21. There’s plenty of time to talk to a tax professional. Start off fresh in the new year. You’ll have everything ready to go.
At some point, I know I’ll grow impatient. My brain is apparently comfortable with self-deception, even as I’m fully aware it’s ongoing.
Humans are weird.
Writing Cat has little patience for her human’s bizarre antics, but acknowledges limited impact upon food delivery.
