Episode 006: The Fruitful Heist and Renewal of Spirit— As ever, I’m not an expert, my intention is to be positive and helpful, and my opinions do not reflect the authors’ worth as people or as writers. Please ensure adequate sodium intake with this podcast.
I (and one of my Nano friends!) got featured on a podcast! This lovely lady, Sage Gordon Davis, is accepting first paragraphs, sentences, or the first line of stories from anyone willing to submit. She dissects them with a reader’s eye, telling what caught her fancy or what wasn’t her cup of tea.
Her podcast is great, take a look!
Showing posts with label RoS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label RoS. Show all posts
Sunday, April 26, 2020
Friday, January 31, 2020
Never Have I Ever Tag
It looks like fun, I finally have a day off, and the miscellany posts I have in drafts require too much linking. (A rant review of a Netflix series, an update on RoS, a book review, a couple re-blogs...)
I don't have time to answer all of the questions, unfortunately; I'm going to pick and choose. All questions will be listed at the bottom, though. So. Here we go, the Never Have I Ever Tag!
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| Click to head to Nicole's blog! |
The Rules:
- Link and thank the blogger who tagged you. Thanks for letting me steal this, Elizabeth!
- Include the graphic somewhere in the post (or make your own!) *points above*
- Answer the questions truthfully and honestly. But what if I don't? You'll never know... 😆
- Tag 3 bloggers. Hmm, I tag anyone who's done one of three things in the last 24 hours: read a book in one day/sitting, practiced a skill they've been wanting to learn for years, or been kind to a retail worker.
Never Have I Ever...
...changed my protagonist's names halfway through a draft.
I don't think that's happened with a protagonist yet, but I discovered that the main antagonist in RoS, Aranka, had a name change. It used to be Aleka, a diminutive of Alexandra, Greek in origin (because Greek was one of the cultures that's part of the Miltiades, plus she's an important figure, just like Alexandra was). Somewhere along the way her name became Aranka, which means "gold", and is Hungarian in origin. No one will notice, right?
I'm not entirely sure when or why it changed. The name just sounded more...witch-y, I guess.
...yelled in all caps at myself in the middle of my novel.
In rough drafts, yes, most definitely. I started using both Fighter's Block and 4 the Words. Each of these has a time limit or challenge, and I would sometimes start typing things like this so I wouldn't fall behind:
[CRUUUUD I FORGOT WHERE I WAS GOING WITH THIS BUT IT WAS COOL.]
[GAH YOU'RE ANNOYING ME SO MUCH RIGHT NOW, MC]
[DOUBLE CHECK NOTES CUZ I'M PRETTY SURE I GOOFED HERE]
...killed a character that was based on someone I know in real life.
Not yet. But I have been tempted. XD
If I did, though, the character wouldn't be a tried and true copy; it would be a character, who makes their own stupid decisions (which may or may not mirror those of IRL person), and ends up sleeping in their own ruddy mess (also may or may not mirror those of IRL person). 😇
...created maps of my fictional worlds.
YES. I have one for Jarnis, the main continent of Bookland. The shape of the continent is based off the silhouette of a lavender/mint bush growing on the side of our house. I didn't include it in Trouble in Bookland, because it's super rough, not to scale at all, and generally unfit for publication.
Fun fact: all of the continents of Bookland are named after important figures in their history, and based off of silhouettes of random things around my house.
I have a map for RoS, which is developed enough I want to include it in publication. It's going to be epic, and showcase some nitty-gritty worldbuilding that I've had trouble explaining in-story.
...drank an entire pot of coffee while writing.
Not yet, no. I have downed a couple Boba Fett mugs' worth, though (the thing is huge, pretty sure it's the equivalent of two cups). Decaf, all the way; caffeine gives me the jitters.
I've gotten into the habit of mixing hot chocolate with it.
...written down dreams to use in potential novels.
Absolutely. I have several notebooks. It's pretty cool to see how my dreams have changed over the years, and how much more detail--like clothing, plot, or magic systems--is retained after doing it for awhile.
One dream I've been sitting on for years involves an apocalyptic-esque world with satyrs, humans, mermaids, sentient robots, dwarfs, and a huge event where everyone competes to become their nation's representative. The games are camp-like events; swimming competitions, races, etc. And the few hunting games they have involve hunting the Dark Isle's myriad twisted lifeforms, not each other.
I have two of the cultures almost fully fleshed out (satyrs and dwarfs), various character relationships drawn up, and loosely developed main side characters. And a Pinterest board.
...published an unedited story on the internet/blog/Wattpad.
Nein! Nyet! NEVER. Never will I ever publish an unedited anything. Unless it's some sort of bonus, like sharing deleted/partially edited scenes in a newsletter or at the end of the book or something...
...forgotten to save my work/draft.
I have Scrivener, which saves after every two seconds of inactivity. So nope! I don't think I've ever forgotten to save when I used Word, either...
A few scares have happened in regards to backing up my drafts, because the computer I love to edit on has a horrid mouse and likes to drag-and-drop things in the wrong places. 😭
...finished a novel.
Yes! Trouble in Bookland, which you can check out on the "Published" page. The original plan had been to publish three parts (cuz trilogies are a staple of Fantasy), then combine and streamline them into one book. What ended up happening was I published two parts, nixed the third partway through due to worldbuilding issues, then combined and expanded parts 1 and 2.
...researched something shady for a novel.
I have, I have. For whatever reason, I have yet to utilize my numerous pins and research on poisons, wounds, weapons, diseases, psychological disorders, hiding bodies, and random things about gangs of the past and the history of murder.
Okay, that's a lie. I use them.
I use them in stories I haven't published. 😝
All of those half-or-quarter-finished drafts that repose in my notebooks, my computer, that may never see the light of day because I'm trying to keep my writing under this pen-name PG-13.
I do have stories in the works that will better utilize these things: Reality of Devotion (this story includes the most developed cultures I have written to date), that camp story I mentioned above (it has yet to be named), and a story currently titled Calling (it's going to be great and deal semi-allegorically with spiritual development in the Christian life, grief, joy, pestilence, demons, and other fun things).
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Here are all the questions in a list format to anyone who wants to copy/paste!
...started a novel that I didn't finish.
...written a story completely by hand.
...changed tenses midway through a story.
...not researched anything before starting a story.
...changed my protagonist's names halfway through a draft.
...written a story in a month or less.
...fallen asleep while writing.
...corrected someone's grammar IRL/online.
...yelled in all caps at myself in the middle of my novel.
...used "I'm writing" as an excuse.
...killed a character that was based on someone I know in real life.
...used pop culture references in a story.
...written between the hours of 1 a.m. and 6 a.m.
...drank an entire pot of coffee while writing.
...written down dreams to use in potential novels.
...published an unedited story on the internet/blog/Wattpad.
...procrastinated homework because I wanted to write.
...typed so long that my wrists hurt.
...spilled a drink on my laptop while writing.
...forgotten to save my work/draft.
...finished a novel.
...laughed like an evil villain while writing a scene.
...cried while writing a scene.
...created maps of my fictional worlds.
...researched something shady for a novel.
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What's the weirdest thing you've researched for a story? The funniest thing you've written that no one else seemed to get? Let me know below!
Sunday, November 10, 2019
Know the Novel: Renewal of Spirit
THE QUESTIONS
1. How’s the writing going overall?
Better than I expected. Not as well as I would like (I had 2 days of writing zilch), but better than expected.
2. What’s been the most fun aspect about writing this novel so far?
Editing/making my scenes readable. The initial writing is torture, essentially vomiting words out so that Karen (who is currently level 28) doesn't die. But, if I didn't have Not-A-Block to motivate me this time around, I would probably still be tweaking plot/structure things rather than getting any actual writing done.
3. What do you think of your characters at this point? Who’s your favorite to write about?
They've all come a long ways from draft 1, for certes.
Notah's POV scenes are fun, because I get to channel my inner grump. Plus, I enjoy having my little brother be a part of the process (he's gotten into grandiloquent words lately, and quite frankly he can recall words/definitions off the top of his head faster than I do.)
4. Has your novel surprised you in any way?
Mmm...kind of? There have been a few realizations ("oh she's not really like that, she's more like she was in this earlier draft"), but no big surprises. *hastily adds* SO FAR. I see y'all convening over there. Git! Back to your scenes!
5. Have you come across any problem areas?
Corinna. For whatever reason, her motives and theme have been hard to nail down.
I thought I had all of her stuff nailed down to the bone. Then I talked with a writing mentor, who asked, "So what does she want? Like, really want? Outside of the plot?"
I had no answer, I'm ashamed to say.
Now I do (autonomy), but it still needs some tweaking before it's solid enough to guide her.
6. What’s been your biggest victory with writing this novel at this point?
To get colloquial: I ain't counting my chicks/dragons before they hatch. The fact that I'm doing actual writing is enough of a victory for me right now.
Probably...uh, Notah, to be honest. :P
Nope! I'd totally be the selfish, story-obsessed hermit that he is. Because I would be him, and I wouldn't be me in his body. If I were me in his body, on the other hand, yes, I most certainly would make different choices. Because I would be me, and would have less fear of bodily harm because of all of his abilities. Getting out and doing crazy things would also be easier since I would be wearing someone else's face. Plus, I would be operating under the most likely misguided notion that even if I die, I would be fine, because I still have my own body to return to. Sorry, Notah.
7. If you were transported into your novel and became any one of the characters, which one do you think you’d be? Would you take any different actions than they have?
Probably...uh, Notah, to be honest. :P
Nope! I'd totally be the selfish, story-obsessed hermit that he is. Because I would be him, and I wouldn't be me in his body. If I were me in his body, on the other hand, yes, I most certainly would make different choices. Because I would be me, and would have less fear of bodily harm because of all of his abilities. Getting out and doing crazy things would also be easier since I would be wearing someone else's face. Plus, I would be operating under the most likely misguided notion that even if I die, I would be fine, because I still have my own body to return to. Sorry, Notah.
8. Give us the first sentence or paragraph then 2 (or 3!) more favorite snippets!
I've shared the entire opening already, so instead here's the beginning to some backstory/possible prequel. Or something in the second chapter, depending on whether or not I rearrange it; I have tremendous trouble in getting stories from start to finish without altering something in the structure.
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From her vantage point on the thatch roof, Corinna looked at the town that twined through the striated mountain slopes. Men, women, and children wandered among the mostly uniform houses—daub, thatch, some with wooden beams. The houses went down to the base of the valley.
The walls that bordered each section of the town, tall though they were, wouldn’t last long against the beasts. Sabotaged from within, the notes that pulled solid stone from the earth had been mixed with notes of clay and sand by those within the pay of the Witch Aranka. These walls would be easy for the elephants to break down. Even easier for the bandersnatches to break through, to tear up the mountain in their ascent to Music Hall at the peak.
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I don't know why I like this description so much. Maybe it's because it's contrasted by the stone behind it (slate grays/blacks)?
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Grass sodden with dew despite the noon heat bent beneath her steps. Honeysuckle, lavender, mandrake, and Lady’s Mantle bent closer towards the path she hadn’t even realized she’d been following. The air above her shimmered.
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I just like the vibe of this paragraph.
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“If you say so.” He turned to see how the finches were doing. Two of them were tangled in a messy braid. The other three had gone off further into the room, chirping in the dark. Trying not to laugh, he stood and began untangling the two from his hair. “You’re obviously no help here, little devils, so go find me someone who believes that riches will fill the tombs of their hearts, want a spouse that was never meant to be theirs, or…” He paused. “…or a plant from a Witch’s garden.”
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From her vantage point on the thatch roof, Corinna looked at the town that twined through the striated mountain slopes. Men, women, and children wandered among the mostly uniform houses—daub, thatch, some with wooden beams. The houses went down to the base of the valley.
The walls that bordered each section of the town, tall though they were, wouldn’t last long against the beasts. Sabotaged from within, the notes that pulled solid stone from the earth had been mixed with notes of clay and sand by those within the pay of the Witch Aranka. These walls would be easy for the elephants to break down. Even easier for the bandersnatches to break through, to tear up the mountain in their ascent to Music Hall at the peak.
----
I don't know why I like this description so much. Maybe it's because it's contrasted by the stone behind it (slate grays/blacks)?
----
Grass sodden with dew despite the noon heat bent beneath her steps. Honeysuckle, lavender, mandrake, and Lady’s Mantle bent closer towards the path she hadn’t even realized she’d been following. The air above her shimmered.
----
I just like the vibe of this paragraph.
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“If you say so.” He turned to see how the finches were doing. Two of them were tangled in a messy braid. The other three had gone off further into the room, chirping in the dark. Trying not to laugh, he stood and began untangling the two from his hair. “You’re obviously no help here, little devils, so go find me someone who believes that riches will fill the tombs of their hearts, want a spouse that was never meant to be theirs, or…” He paused. “…or a plant from a Witch’s garden.”
Fingering his hair, he watched the finches flit away. His hair shimmered. Voices that belonged to faces he’d never seen echoed in his head.
9. Share an interesting tidbit about the writing process so far! (For example: Have you made any hilarious typos? Derailed from your outline? Killed off a character? Changed projects entirely? Anything you want to share!)
Uh, for one or three days I procrastinated and drew up a world map. It's a small world, with only one continent (so far) a smidgen bigger than Australia. But, it goes through every latitude, so it has everything from desert to jungle.
One thing that surprised me in the making of it: there are no mountains. A volcano or two, plus a small collection of hills, but no mountains. The way I arranged the plates made it so that there's one ginormous canyon that splits the continent nearly in two, and a fault line near the bottom.
I've never written a fantasy setting without mountains before, and will have to alter some description because of this odd discovery.
10. Take us on a tour of what a normal writing day for this novel looks like. Where do you write? What time of day? Alone or with others? Is a lot of coffee (or some other drink) consumed? Do you light candles? Play music? Get distracted by social media (*cough, cough*)? Tell all!
Wake up. Eat. Work. Return home. Pound out as many words as I can (I've found it's easier to write 200-600 words at a time, rather than 1K+ all at once.) Sleep. Repeat.
On my days off, I wrote sporadically throughout the day: while I have my breakfast shake, after lunch, after chores, etc.
When I'm reluctant to write a scene, Fighter's Block helps keep me from being distracted and perusing Pinterest or trying to design an aesthetic/find that *one* bit of scenery that would totally fit this current location.
I have two types of music that I listen to: lyrical, and instrumental. Lyrical is primarily for editing, instrumental is for writing. Check out the Music for the Muse tab above!
Also, apologies for the funky fonts, I'm trying to figure out why Blogger is doing this...
Sunday, October 6, 2019
The Language of Worlds: Renewal of Spirit
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| Click to head to Liv's blog! |
The Questions
1. How long have you been writing this story?
Over a year, I believe. It was originally intended as an entry to Kendra Ardnek's Golden Braids Arista Challenge. However, I missed the deadline. Since I was no longer under a time constraint, I decided to expand what was intended to be a short story into a novel/novella. I'm not sure which it'll be yet; it's between 5 and 10K right now. My current goal is novella length, around 30K words.
2. Who’s your favorite character? Why?
Braxton. Because he's a rambunctious side character, and I love rambunctious side characters. Plus, he's a part of this world's equivalent of Aussie culture. Do I need more reasons? XD
3. Which character do you consider the “goodest of the good”?
Corinna, even though she sees herself as a despicable being for using the Taide outside of its appointed time and for serving Aranka. She knows what's right, what's wrong, and does her best to minimize Aranka's damage.
4. Which character is the “baddest of the bad”?
The Witch Aranka. She's manipulative and vitriolic. She also knows that what she's doing is wrong (enslaving others, using the Taide--which is what this world's "magic" is called--for selfish purposes, etc.), but doesn't care. Some part of her does want to be stopped, though, so I'll give her that.
5. If you were to have tea (or coffee!) with one character, which one would you pick? Why?
If I was in the mood for a chat/being chatted at, and didn't mind having to bring along a dictionary, probably Notah. He loves stories/legends/history, doesn't get out much, and would be delighted to have someone to listen to him.
If I wanted quiet, then the Witch Kamille. So long as you don't harangue her, try to kidnap Notah, or comment on the food she likes to eat, she's pretty chill. For a Witch.
6. Describe your storyworld.
At the risk of getting into too much detail, here we go!
For starters, all of its inhabitants are elementals. Even the animals, to some extent, have control of certain elements. If they didn't, they wouldn't be able to survive the Turning, which is the storyworld's rough equivalent of a year.
The races are the Haize (aye-say), the wind elementals; Clann Smàlaidh (smuh-lade or smay-lite), fire elementals; and finally the Miltaides (mil-ti-ah-des), earth elementals. There are also water elementals, but I haven't come up with a race name for them yet, since they don't play an active role in RoS. Plus there's a bit of lore about water and ice elementals that I'm still working out. Also, yes, I find myself misspelling things quite often. XD
But, I think it's worth it.
Each elemental group is split into sub-groups, with each group taking on a different role during the Turning (Breakers, Planters, Incinerators, etc.). With their variety and expansive talents, the Miltaides make up a majority of the population, with the most sub-groups: earth, gems, and plants, each of which can be split down further!
Oh, the races have their own name themes (and by extension, culture), as well. Here are the current combos: Italian/Basque/Native American; Celtic/Danish/Greek/Medieval English; Germanic/Scottish/Australian.
The Turning is an event which all sentient beings partake in--the destruction and remaking of the world. The state of the new world is dependent on the application of the Taide throughout the year. For example, if there were more Witches than usual during that year, the new world is darker, more dangerous, and harder to live in. Witches also are more powerful, and can summon beasts from the depths that normally wouldn't bother those living above-ground. Usually, the Smàlaidh guard these beasts and prevent them from leaving their underground homes, but if a Witch summons them, those beasts are making it past the guards one way or the other.
7. You’ve fallen into your book! Which place would you be happiest at?
The world is completely remade every Turning, so anyplace with pretty forests/lakes/rivers, interesting rock formations, and Smàlaidh (their application of the Taide is unmatched cooking skills). Though, the Smàlaidh tend to live underground/in the center of the earth, since they remain in their elemental forms unless they take a long and grueling journey to the surface, so I probably wouldn't have much luck in finding them above-ground...
8. Which place would you like to avoid at all costs? (Or, explore to know its secrets a little bit better?)
I'd definitely avoid wherever Aranka ends up. She's the most powerful Enslaver (a type of Witch) around, and so the land around wherever she ends up settling is rank with poisoned life (monsters, poisonous/semi sentient plants, vitriolic land a-la Faerie).
9. Share an aesthetic!
Urgh...so I couldn't figure out a way to use images from my Pinterest board, and the way this is arranged makes it look like a romance, which it originally was, but now it's not. Everything else I tried to add made it look like a love triangle or a hodgepodge of who-knows-what.
You'll have to be satisfied with this. :P
The top half is Notah and his current environment, the bottom Corinna and hers.
Edit: I managed to find a couple quotes I pinned that don't appear to be copyrighted, so I added them to the aesthetic in the hopes that it wouldn't be so depressing (because the story isn't that depressing, really.) I don't think it worked. XD
10. Share a snippet!
The six Numerals bathed everything in a crisp orange light that cut through most shadows. Every so often, beneath vibrant green canopies or among crimson canyons, she passed travelers. They treated her much as the villages did—they either ignored her, or chased her off.
Her tired steps led her to a dull brown canyon, the colors subdued despite the energetic Season’s light. The shale-like walls contrasted with the solid grey of the boulders that scattered the canyon floor.
Corinna sucked in a breath. The sound echoed and rebounded, amplified tenfold. Another sound, a voice not her own, came back with it. She dug her fingers into her cheeks to keep herself from making any further sound. Who knew what kind of beasts lurked in this place?
A wheat-red fox dashed out, nearly eliciting a scream from her.
Cautiously, she continued forward. The canyon walls changed appearance: instead of being as jagged as a piece of broken wood, they looked like a piece of cloth, with wrinkles and folds and crevices. One of the crevices seemed to be a window. Corinna glimpsed something the color of the sun within.
She entered the mountain’s shadow and shivered. The song was louder, echoing among the folds of stone. “Hello?”
Sunday, September 22, 2019
The Language of Worlds: Renewal of Spirit
I was wondering why this linkup looked so familiar, then realized that not only have I read other participant's links before, but I had tried to join the linkup for the last segment, and didn't get around to finishing it. *headdesk* It's almost finished, though, and it focuses on worldbuilding (which I worked so hard on), so I might post it anyways at some point...
For this set of questions, I've chosen the character Notah, because he's been cagey and annoying me. Since he doesn't trust me to summarize things properly, he'll be responding in dialogue. XP
Enjoy!
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| Click to head to Liv's blog! |
The Questions
1. Your character is in crisis! Who is the first person they turn to?
"My life is a crisis. Save for the exiguously exciting embrace of stories, I have no one."
*RAWK!*
"The acerbic avian that was, without my consent, given a ridiculously childish name doesn't count. It can't really do more than bring me the aforementioned stories."
*JUJU, JUJU!*
"Yes. That name. I hate it."
2. Who has their unconditional loyalty?
"No one. People are stupid. Though admittedly, they are fun to watch. A few heroes have my admiration and respect, but most of them are dead."
*flap of wings* *Your fault!*
"ONCE. And I apologized."
Wait, what?
"An episode of my life you needn't concern yourself about at the moment, scribe. Moving on, please."
3. What cause do they believe in? Why?
"Oh. That's...a question I'm not sure I can answer. Living one's life alone with no means of escape may leave one with plenty of time for soul-searching, but not much by way of material to muse over."
4. Are they easy to get along with?
"I'm locked in a tower, and have been for most of my life. So probably not."
*Agree!*
"No one asked you, bird."
*JUJU GOOD NAME. CALL ME JUJU!*
*wings striking against someone* *muffled exclamations* *irascible caws*
"If you value this--ech! ow!--interview, scribe, help me!"
*after scrambling about in the darkness, crisis averted*
5. Are they a night owl or morning dove? (Or “weird daytime pigeon”?)
"A question about birds when we've just expelled one. Wonderful. What does that even mean?"
To rephrase the question: how much do you value your sleep?
"Any who disturb my slumber are begging to be beshrewed."
You mean cursed? I thought you hated curses and Stagnation.
"I would be willing to make an exception."
6. What do they consider most vital to their health? Are they right?
"Tales of heroism, wit, and strange encounters are the only things keeping me from despair. Tell me, am I right in saying that they're vital to keeping me alive?"
Er, yes, in that your race--the Haize--are intrinsically linked to stories, and are meant to either weave--
"Don't strain yourself in an attempt to be poetic."
--or find and relate them. No, in that you won't die if stories are long in coming. You'll just get cranky. Not that you're not already a crank, and yes I'm ignoring your comment.
"Yet you answered it, first by acknowledging its existence, then by stating your reaction to it. If you had just been quiet--"
Moving on.
7. What was their childhood fear?
"Being kidnapped by a Witch. Oh, wait, that's what happened to me. You are conveying my sarcasm, yes? I fear nothing."
Except for contact with others.
"I don't fear it; I'm understandably trepidacious."
Is that why you sang a...whatever this is, into the room?
"Are you really so dense? It's darkness. Easy enough to pull together, especially with the Witch's Stagnation lingering outside. I've no wish for you to see my face."
Why? Are you hideous?
"Maybe."
8. What do they have nightmares about?
"Nightmares? Hmm, being reunited with my people, I suppose. Those are the only dreams that move me to tears. That's what nightmares do, isn't it? Or are they supposed to leave you trembling, short of breath, perhaps angered? In which case, my life is a nightmare. Now go away. Two more questions? Bah, proceed."
9. What sights/sounds/smells remind them of home?
"My home lies in a realm separated from the physical world. And yet, everything tugs at my senses: calling me to hear a song that isn't there, to sense a presence that I cannot reach, to become part of a dance that my body is no longer capable of. Flesh and blood are repugnant and restrictive, I don't know how anyone can define such a...a tethered existence as 'normal.' As an aside, the scribe keeps misspelling words such as "existence" and "embarrassed," despite owning a device that tells her how to spell correctly. There, now they know a tidbit about you that's somewhat personal. Last question."
At least I can spell. And read.
"I refuse to examine the pressed and mutilated bodies of dead Planters. Last question, before I change my mind."
10. What do they love most about themselves?
"What sort of banal question is this?! What does it matter what I so much as think about myself, let alone love about myself? What if anything worthy of love is nowhere to be found?"
I take it you loathe this question the way I loathe the question "how are you doing?"
"Oh?"
Yup. Don't ask, then I don't have to think about it.
"Just so."
Now, how am I supposed to leave? Stumble around until I fall out the window?
"You're the one with the power to shape worlds. Do you not have the power to leave whenever you wish? Hmm, I wouldn't object to your suggestion. If you would like a fast exit, I could defenestrate you."
Friday, July 19, 2019
Renewal of Spirit: Progress Update!
I think I've finally gotten enough brainstorming and worldbuilding done to launch into an honest-to-goodness overhaul of this thing.
So, today I have for you a mock cover that I made to inspire myself a little while ago, the last version of the opening, and the reworked opening.
The previous version of the opening was drastically different. There was a prologue, told in a more omniscient/fairy-tale style POV (which is why it's in italics), and then the opening chapter was from the POV of the male MC.
The reworked opening jumps straight into the story, shows a bit of the worldbuilding that got me excited about this story in the first place, and starts from the POV of the female MC!
Enjoy!
Opening 1:
There once was a Wind Child who coveted nearly everything she set her eyes on. From seed to blossom, if it belonged to another, Loredanna wished it for herself.
Her husband Lando had long since learned that absolutely no one could talk her out of something. So it was when she wished for tea made from the leaves of a Witch’s laburnum tree, and refused to give him any peace, that her husband snuck into the Witch’s garden. Carefully, he pinched off the glimmering ocher flowers and placed them in his pocket.
Three nights in a row he did this. Three nights in a row he brewed tea for his lovely Loredana. On the fourth, he came face to face with the resident Witch—Kamille.
The crooked woman glowered at him with her crooked face. She demanded to know what he was doing.
Knowing he had no excuse for the theft other than his own weakness towards his wife, he dropped to his knees and pleaded for mercy.
The Witch agreed, provided he allow her one thing: to be godmother to his child.
Having no child at the time, he confusedly agreed. In time, his wife had a child. She named him Notah, and bestowed many blessings upon him in the hopes that he would be able to ward off any attempts the Witch made to claim him.
The blessings did little to prevent the Witch from taking him. They did, however, give him some degree of power over the Witch. And so, she was unable to use him as she had originally wished: as a source of power to augment her own magic.
In an effort to weaken his blessings, she forced him to use them constantly. If anything, her efforts seemed to embolden him. He accomplished each task she set to him, from planting magic seeds to slaying monstrous, seven-headed Beasts.
Finally, she decided to send him to the abode of another Witch.
“Bring me a casket from my sister in the Valley of Scions,” she told him.
“I shall fetch the sandapile most festinately,” he jauntily replied. “So festinately shall I fetch it, your cebocephalic head will ache.”
With a flurry of angry notes from her flute, Kamille sent him on his way.
Opening 2:
Staccato drumbeats laced through the darkness. They cut through the groan of settling earth, called forth the beasts that slumbered beneath the surface.
In the midst of the music, Corinna ran. The darkness of the Settling was the best time to escape. When the broken earth reformed and healed, when the Witch Aranka busied herself with renewing her stronghold and corralling the monsters that were attracted to her corrupted Taide.
A hideous moan rumbled through the beat of the drums. The first of the monsters clawed upwards.
Corinna couldn’t see it, but she could feel it; close, not even a body’s length away, with dank breath and claws that scraped against the earth like iron against iron.
She kept running. She had to make it, before—
The music that had called up the monster caught her. The curse twined through her.
Swiping away her tears, she pulled against it. Her bones ached. The further she went, the worse it became: a scar wound down her arm; her leg bent; her arm shriveled.
Unable to continue, she collapsed. The curse pulled her back as surely as a chain about her neck.
From the darkness, Aranka’s fingers curled against her cheek. Her voice flat, she said, “How did you expect to leave without a means to fight me?”
A square box that Corinna had come to know well was pressed against her chest. Her kalimba. Her tuneless kalimba, for her rhythmless fingers.
She had thought that leaving it behind would finally give her the opportunity she needed; that leaving it would give Aranka one less thing to tie her curse to.
Corinna settled into the darkness and awaited the dawn, to see what new horrors Aranka would be harboring for the new world.
So, today I have for you a mock cover that I made to inspire myself a little while ago, the last version of the opening, and the reworked opening.
The previous version of the opening was drastically different. There was a prologue, told in a more omniscient/fairy-tale style POV (which is why it's in italics), and then the opening chapter was from the POV of the male MC.
The reworked opening jumps straight into the story, shows a bit of the worldbuilding that got me excited about this story in the first place, and starts from the POV of the female MC!
Enjoy!
Opening 1:
There once was a Wind Child who coveted nearly everything she set her eyes on. From seed to blossom, if it belonged to another, Loredanna wished it for herself.
Her husband Lando had long since learned that absolutely no one could talk her out of something. So it was when she wished for tea made from the leaves of a Witch’s laburnum tree, and refused to give him any peace, that her husband snuck into the Witch’s garden. Carefully, he pinched off the glimmering ocher flowers and placed them in his pocket.
Three nights in a row he did this. Three nights in a row he brewed tea for his lovely Loredana. On the fourth, he came face to face with the resident Witch—Kamille.
The crooked woman glowered at him with her crooked face. She demanded to know what he was doing.
Knowing he had no excuse for the theft other than his own weakness towards his wife, he dropped to his knees and pleaded for mercy.
The Witch agreed, provided he allow her one thing: to be godmother to his child.
Having no child at the time, he confusedly agreed. In time, his wife had a child. She named him Notah, and bestowed many blessings upon him in the hopes that he would be able to ward off any attempts the Witch made to claim him.
The blessings did little to prevent the Witch from taking him. They did, however, give him some degree of power over the Witch. And so, she was unable to use him as she had originally wished: as a source of power to augment her own magic.
In an effort to weaken his blessings, she forced him to use them constantly. If anything, her efforts seemed to embolden him. He accomplished each task she set to him, from planting magic seeds to slaying monstrous, seven-headed Beasts.
Finally, she decided to send him to the abode of another Witch.
“Bring me a casket from my sister in the Valley of Scions,” she told him.
“I shall fetch the sandapile most festinately,” he jauntily replied. “So festinately shall I fetch it, your cebocephalic head will ache.”
With a flurry of angry notes from her flute, Kamille sent him on his way.
Opening 2:
Staccato drumbeats laced through the darkness. They cut through the groan of settling earth, called forth the beasts that slumbered beneath the surface.
In the midst of the music, Corinna ran. The darkness of the Settling was the best time to escape. When the broken earth reformed and healed, when the Witch Aranka busied herself with renewing her stronghold and corralling the monsters that were attracted to her corrupted Taide.
A hideous moan rumbled through the beat of the drums. The first of the monsters clawed upwards.
Corinna couldn’t see it, but she could feel it; close, not even a body’s length away, with dank breath and claws that scraped against the earth like iron against iron.
She kept running. She had to make it, before—
The music that had called up the monster caught her. The curse twined through her.
Swiping away her tears, she pulled against it. Her bones ached. The further she went, the worse it became: a scar wound down her arm; her leg bent; her arm shriveled.
Unable to continue, she collapsed. The curse pulled her back as surely as a chain about her neck.
From the darkness, Aranka’s fingers curled against her cheek. Her voice flat, she said, “How did you expect to leave without a means to fight me?”
A square box that Corinna had come to know well was pressed against her chest. Her kalimba. Her tuneless kalimba, for her rhythmless fingers.
She had thought that leaving it behind would finally give her the opportunity she needed; that leaving it would give Aranka one less thing to tie her curse to.
Corinna settled into the darkness and awaited the dawn, to see what new horrors Aranka would be harboring for the new world.
Sunday, March 10, 2019
Rapunzel Retelling: Renewal of Spirit
Just a quick update on the status of this story:
Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get it done in time for the Arista Challenge. February was way busier than I thought it would be.
Thankfully, I’m almost done now. I’m still planning on publishing it, and I’d like to try out a GiraffeCraft critique, but I’ll probably wait to submit it until Kendra’s a little less busy. Don’t want to overwhelm her, what with her likely being in the middle of arranging things for said Arista Challenge. 💗
The story has gone through a couple of drafts plot-wise (and organization-wise), but I’m still not happy with it prose-wise. I wanted to focus more on describing the music, and the effects it has in this world (it’s basically the way magic works). However, I’m having a hard time deciding where to put these descriptions in (sometimes it’s obvious, and I’ve put that in). So I’m going to leave it somewhat bare, and ask my betas where they think it should go/would like a little more description.
Currently, I’m working on the last quarter-ish of the story. Progress is slightly stalled, as some changes I made in the last few scenes wrecked my plans for this section. I think I have them worked out; here’s hoping I can sit down at the computer tomorrow and hammer them out. :D
Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get it done in time for the Arista Challenge. February was way busier than I thought it would be.
Thankfully, I’m almost done now. I’m still planning on publishing it, and I’d like to try out a GiraffeCraft critique, but I’ll probably wait to submit it until Kendra’s a little less busy. Don’t want to overwhelm her, what with her likely being in the middle of arranging things for said Arista Challenge. 💗
The story has gone through a couple of drafts plot-wise (and organization-wise), but I’m still not happy with it prose-wise. I wanted to focus more on describing the music, and the effects it has in this world (it’s basically the way magic works). However, I’m having a hard time deciding where to put these descriptions in (sometimes it’s obvious, and I’ve put that in). So I’m going to leave it somewhat bare, and ask my betas where they think it should go/would like a little more description.
Currently, I’m working on the last quarter-ish of the story. Progress is slightly stalled, as some changes I made in the last few scenes wrecked my plans for this section. I think I have them worked out; here’s hoping I can sit down at the computer tomorrow and hammer them out. :D
Sunday, December 9, 2018
Rapunzel Retelling: Renewal of Spirit!
I've reworked my Rapunzel retelling for the Arista Challenge several times. Something just didn't feel right, but I think it's fixed now. Here are the first thousand-ish words! Let me know what you think. :D
Also, the Loki/Thor x Reader (along with all my other misc. projects) is going to be on hold. The deadline for this and my Tales of a Modern Bard entry are rapidly approaching. So these take priority. Here's hoping I can get them both done in time... 😓
---
Loredana tilted her head back, eyeing the laden boughs above her head. very day, since they’d settled in this new land, the laden boughs of the fruit trees taunted her. They seemed to call, Can’t reach us! Just try!
Every day she passed by, the thought of how delicious and juicy the fruit would be played in her mind.
“If it were any closer to the Turning,” she growled to the ripe fruit, “I would shake you from your tree right now.”
Her husband Lando came up the path and toyed with her pale hair. “If it were any closer to Turning, you would be playing the zephyr and not caring for fruit.”
Loredana huffed and pulled away. “I will taste those plums, you’ll see.”
Lando sighed. He wondered what scheme his wife would devise to get what she wanted. “I hope she finds something else,” he muttered to himself. “With my luck, her plan would involve me getting it for her.”
“Oh! My love, look!” Loredana’s feet beat against the ground excitedly, as if she were standing in place. “Will you get this for me?”
Eyebrows drawn in a long-suffering frown, Lando continued up the path and rounded the bend. “What is—” He stopped short, breath taken away by what he saw.
The first thing he noticed was a large, golden tree. Its pale leaves and ocher flowers hung down to the ground on thin, wavering branches. Though there was no wind, the willow fluttered as if being toyed with. The very air around it seemed to sparkle.
The second thing Lando noticed was the fence. It was odd, to find any sort of boundary or border; the only people who did so were the enchanters.
“Darling,” he whispered. He wanted to say, “we should leave,” but he glanced down at her before he did so. A familiar glint was in her light gray eyes. His sentence turned into a stutter, then a sigh. “Why do you want it so badly?”
“I simply must have it!” She clutched at the lapels of his earthen-colored jacket. Her gray-cast face was drawn in longing. “Please.”
Feeling annoyed that the expression was almost the same as the one she’d met him with on their wedding night, Lando frowned. “But…it’s an enchanter’s garden!”
Loredana whirled away in a huff. Her dark red skirt flared out in an enticing spin. She crossed her arms and refused to say another word. She didn’t even say anything when the village gossip—a close friend of hers—tried to engage her in conversation.
The day passed by with the usual village activities; gathering flowers and plants for dyes, tending the wild gardens, working at the tannery. Loredana’s silence hung heavy on Lando, until they turned in to their cottage for the night.
When he was about to fall asleep, she laid her head on his neck. In a pained whisper, she said, “I will simply die if I can’t have it.”
Lando cursed himself for a fool. A sleepy fool, but a fool nonetheless. “Then I will simply have to get it for you,” he replied.
Lando stole along the path, wondering why he’d gotten up before dawn to do this. Weren’t enchanter’s powers stronger at night? Weren’t they more protective of their property?
He shivered and tucked his black undershirt into his loose breeches. “Why didn’t I change?” he asked himself. The memory of his wife’s desperate, nagging pleading played in his mind. “Still…”
The tree looked even more magnificent in the moonlight than it had during the day. Its petals and leaves glowed softly, still swaying. Still glittering as if thousands of stars had come to rest on them.
Holding his breath in fear and anticipation, he clambered over the dark wooden fence. His blond hair fell over his eyes in an untidy mop. Sputtering and trying to catch his breath—he wasn’t a very athletic man—Lando waited a few moments.
There was no alarm. No shouts. No flashes of magic. No yowling of hounds. He was safe.
Quietly, he side-stepped into the soft glow of the willow. With an expert hand, he pinched and twisted off a few blossoms. Carefully, and trying not to be overwhelmed by the wonderful scent, he tucked the blossoms and leaves into a pouch at his side.
That night, he escaped safely. He brewed a tea for his Loredana, hoping it would ease her longing. To his dismay, the next night, she declared that her longing had grown threefold!
He went back to the garden once, twice. The third time, he came face to face with the witch Kamille.
A beautiful outfit with many folds and waves, dyed purple and black, could not make the hunched, one-eyed figure pretty. The witch’s lank gray hair formed a weak curtain over the crooked hazel eye on the left side of her face. Her back was bent nearly double, her head coming to Lando’s stomach.
She glared up at him. “What are you doing with my laburnum?” Her voice matched her face; old, tired, and terribly cranky.
Lando fell to his knees. “Please, forgive me! My wife…” He trailed off, knowing he should have been more firm with her. “Please, forgive me. I have no excuse,” he said softly.
The witch was silent a while. When she spoke, her voice was flat. “I will forgive you your theft, provided you give me something in return.”
“Yes!” Lando kept his head down, awaiting the witch’s demand.
“I will be the godmother of your child.”
Lando glanced up in surprise. “But…we have no children! We were told…well…” He trailed off again.
“You will,” Kamille said with a twisted grin. “You will.”
Also, the Loki/Thor x Reader (along with all my other misc. projects) is going to be on hold. The deadline for this and my Tales of a Modern Bard entry are rapidly approaching. So these take priority. Here's hoping I can get them both done in time... 😓
---
Loredana tilted her head back, eyeing the laden boughs above her head. very day, since they’d settled in this new land, the laden boughs of the fruit trees taunted her. They seemed to call, Can’t reach us! Just try!
Every day she passed by, the thought of how delicious and juicy the fruit would be played in her mind.
“If it were any closer to the Turning,” she growled to the ripe fruit, “I would shake you from your tree right now.”
Her husband Lando came up the path and toyed with her pale hair. “If it were any closer to Turning, you would be playing the zephyr and not caring for fruit.”
Loredana huffed and pulled away. “I will taste those plums, you’ll see.”
Lando sighed. He wondered what scheme his wife would devise to get what she wanted. “I hope she finds something else,” he muttered to himself. “With my luck, her plan would involve me getting it for her.”
“Oh! My love, look!” Loredana’s feet beat against the ground excitedly, as if she were standing in place. “Will you get this for me?”
Eyebrows drawn in a long-suffering frown, Lando continued up the path and rounded the bend. “What is—” He stopped short, breath taken away by what he saw.
The first thing he noticed was a large, golden tree. Its pale leaves and ocher flowers hung down to the ground on thin, wavering branches. Though there was no wind, the willow fluttered as if being toyed with. The very air around it seemed to sparkle.
The second thing Lando noticed was the fence. It was odd, to find any sort of boundary or border; the only people who did so were the enchanters.
“Darling,” he whispered. He wanted to say, “we should leave,” but he glanced down at her before he did so. A familiar glint was in her light gray eyes. His sentence turned into a stutter, then a sigh. “Why do you want it so badly?”
“I simply must have it!” She clutched at the lapels of his earthen-colored jacket. Her gray-cast face was drawn in longing. “Please.”
Feeling annoyed that the expression was almost the same as the one she’d met him with on their wedding night, Lando frowned. “But…it’s an enchanter’s garden!”
Loredana whirled away in a huff. Her dark red skirt flared out in an enticing spin. She crossed her arms and refused to say another word. She didn’t even say anything when the village gossip—a close friend of hers—tried to engage her in conversation.
The day passed by with the usual village activities; gathering flowers and plants for dyes, tending the wild gardens, working at the tannery. Loredana’s silence hung heavy on Lando, until they turned in to their cottage for the night.
When he was about to fall asleep, she laid her head on his neck. In a pained whisper, she said, “I will simply die if I can’t have it.”
Lando cursed himself for a fool. A sleepy fool, but a fool nonetheless. “Then I will simply have to get it for you,” he replied.
Lando stole along the path, wondering why he’d gotten up before dawn to do this. Weren’t enchanter’s powers stronger at night? Weren’t they more protective of their property?
He shivered and tucked his black undershirt into his loose breeches. “Why didn’t I change?” he asked himself. The memory of his wife’s desperate, nagging pleading played in his mind. “Still…”
The tree looked even more magnificent in the moonlight than it had during the day. Its petals and leaves glowed softly, still swaying. Still glittering as if thousands of stars had come to rest on them.
Holding his breath in fear and anticipation, he clambered over the dark wooden fence. His blond hair fell over his eyes in an untidy mop. Sputtering and trying to catch his breath—he wasn’t a very athletic man—Lando waited a few moments.
There was no alarm. No shouts. No flashes of magic. No yowling of hounds. He was safe.
Quietly, he side-stepped into the soft glow of the willow. With an expert hand, he pinched and twisted off a few blossoms. Carefully, and trying not to be overwhelmed by the wonderful scent, he tucked the blossoms and leaves into a pouch at his side.
That night, he escaped safely. He brewed a tea for his Loredana, hoping it would ease her longing. To his dismay, the next night, she declared that her longing had grown threefold!
He went back to the garden once, twice. The third time, he came face to face with the witch Kamille.
A beautiful outfit with many folds and waves, dyed purple and black, could not make the hunched, one-eyed figure pretty. The witch’s lank gray hair formed a weak curtain over the crooked hazel eye on the left side of her face. Her back was bent nearly double, her head coming to Lando’s stomach.
She glared up at him. “What are you doing with my laburnum?” Her voice matched her face; old, tired, and terribly cranky.
Lando fell to his knees. “Please, forgive me! My wife…” He trailed off, knowing he should have been more firm with her. “Please, forgive me. I have no excuse,” he said softly.
The witch was silent a while. When she spoke, her voice was flat. “I will forgive you your theft, provided you give me something in return.”
“Yes!” Lando kept his head down, awaiting the witch’s demand.
“I will be the godmother of your child.”
Lando glanced up in surprise. “But…we have no children! We were told…well…” He trailed off again.
“You will,” Kamille said with a twisted grin. “You will.”
Thursday, October 4, 2018
Writing Updates
In preparation for Nano, my CampNano cabin-mates and I are going through Tim Clare's Couch to 80K Writing Boot Camp. It's been fun! There are some exercises that, although I know the principles, were surprisingly hard.
Plus I've somehow outlined half of a plot for a new story just from Tim's waffling. :P Unfortunately, there is a bit of cussing in some of the later podcasts. So I've missed some of the waffling. :(
I have a synopsis for my project, the characters more or less figured out, and the major building blocks of the world are in place. However, I have no plot (other than a vague "maybe this'll happen" list). But that's going to be part of the fun!
I'm still working on Renewal of Spirit--my Rapunzel retelling--but I'm lacking a bit of...something. Once I figure it out, I'll post more. For now, here's a bit on my Nano project.
Project: Reality of Devotion
Synopsis:
Michelakos Blago is a man with a sea captain’s mettle and a poet’s heart. He’ll face the world to provide for his loved ones, but lately he’s been feeling as if the world wants him to let go. It's certainly doing its best to tear his estates from him. He’s currently a respected member of the community and a candidate for the Council of Limta—a rigorous event where the city-states’ laws are decided—but after a witch in training ravages the countryside, things change.
Kallias is shrewd. He's always doing his best to protect his childhood companion, Delara—and asking her to procure valuable items from her mother, the witch Lilith. He wants to undermine the regime that made him a eunuch and drove his mother mad, but that’s hard to do when your only allies are a half-mad woman and a rich sea captain content to meddle only in home affairs. Matters become more complicated when his employer and distant cousin, Michelakos, buys a new slave--a slave who knows Kallias' secrets.
Word goal: I'm going to start with the standard 50K, but I'm hoping to get enough written where I can up the goal partway through.
In other news, I heard this song for the first time. And have been listening to it..."NON-STOP"! XD
Plus I've somehow outlined half of a plot for a new story just from Tim's waffling. :P Unfortunately, there is a bit of cussing in some of the later podcasts. So I've missed some of the waffling. :(
I have a synopsis for my project, the characters more or less figured out, and the major building blocks of the world are in place. However, I have no plot (other than a vague "maybe this'll happen" list). But that's going to be part of the fun!
I'm still working on Renewal of Spirit--my Rapunzel retelling--but I'm lacking a bit of...something. Once I figure it out, I'll post more. For now, here's a bit on my Nano project.
Project: Reality of Devotion
Synopsis:
Michelakos Blago is a man with a sea captain’s mettle and a poet’s heart. He’ll face the world to provide for his loved ones, but lately he’s been feeling as if the world wants him to let go. It's certainly doing its best to tear his estates from him. He’s currently a respected member of the community and a candidate for the Council of Limta—a rigorous event where the city-states’ laws are decided—but after a witch in training ravages the countryside, things change.
Kallias is shrewd. He's always doing his best to protect his childhood companion, Delara—and asking her to procure valuable items from her mother, the witch Lilith. He wants to undermine the regime that made him a eunuch and drove his mother mad, but that’s hard to do when your only allies are a half-mad woman and a rich sea captain content to meddle only in home affairs. Matters become more complicated when his employer and distant cousin, Michelakos, buys a new slave--a slave who knows Kallias' secrets.
Word goal: I'm going to start with the standard 50K, but I'm hoping to get enough written where I can up the goal partway through.
In other news, I heard this song for the first time. And have been listening to it..."NON-STOP"! XD
Saturday, April 21, 2018
Rebel!
So, it’s week three of Camp Nanowrimo. A plot bunny latched onto me while I was at work, and stayed with me throughout the day. It didn’t even have anything to do with my task at hand (frying chicken). I was just thinking about dryads, then I thought about Rapunzel, and then I thought about the Arista Challenge.
A purpose to rebellion! :D
I’m trying so very hard not to let this rebellion take over my other projects, doing a smidgen of words here, half a scene there...but, my planned MC for Dead in Sleep has fallen silent, and my endeavors of writing Convoluted Chronicles stories are increasingly frustrating... :P
Here’s a bit about this rebellion project, tentatively titled Renewal of Spirit. Characters first, because characters are awesome. I’ll do another post within the month (or early next month) about the world it’s set in.
Corinna—the “prince” figure. An Earth Child. Is a bit of a loner, due to her crippled right arm (an encounter with a forest beast). Everyone except her family began ignoring her once it was clear her arm wouldn’t be healing. Who wants to watch a one-armed girl when they're busy hunting and preparing for the Turning?
Daughter of a disinherited princess, she just wants…well, she isn’t sure, but she knows she'll have to brave the Turning eventually. One can't grow cooped up in a castle, after all.
Laburnum Notah—the “Rapunzel” figure. A Wind Child. He’s been stuck in a mountain his whole life, and educated by a hag named Kamilla. He would love to have someone other than her to talk to, but Kamilla has convinced him (through proper education, of course) that he has no place in the outside world. He’s too reclusive for his boisterous people, and too rowdy for any others. So, he stays in the mountain, cooking, cleaning, and secretly resenting his name of “Laburnum.” Has the habit of singing when he’s lonely.
Kamilla—the witch figure. An Earth Child. She was outcast so long ago that even she doesn’t remember why. In her old age, sometimes slips into dementia. Always wanted to have a child, but was barren. Surprisingly proficient with a kitchen knife, oddly deficient in magic. She does things like make little lights and bind people in curses with ease, but ask her to enchant something to be sturdy, and it might just end up turning into a toad.
Notah’s Parents (currently unnamed)—the parental figures. Children of the Wind. The father’s a weaver, the mother’s a dye maker. Notah was her first son, and while she learned not to covet, she is currently learning not to brag, especially about something as important as being able to weave flying carpets from grass. The father's learned that trying to keep his wife out of trouble is pointless, so he's settled for trying to get her out of trouble. Which may also be pointless.
 |
| Hosted by Kendra Ardnek over at Giraffe Crafts. |
A purpose to rebellion! :D
I’m trying so very hard not to let this rebellion take over my other projects, doing a smidgen of words here, half a scene there...but, my planned MC for Dead in Sleep has fallen silent, and my endeavors of writing Convoluted Chronicles stories are increasingly frustrating... :P
Here’s a bit about this rebellion project, tentatively titled Renewal of Spirit. Characters first, because characters are awesome. I’ll do another post within the month (or early next month) about the world it’s set in.
Corinna—the “prince” figure. An Earth Child. Is a bit of a loner, due to her crippled right arm (an encounter with a forest beast). Everyone except her family began ignoring her once it was clear her arm wouldn’t be healing. Who wants to watch a one-armed girl when they're busy hunting and preparing for the Turning?
Daughter of a disinherited princess, she just wants…well, she isn’t sure, but she knows she'll have to brave the Turning eventually. One can't grow cooped up in a castle, after all.
Laburnum Notah—the “Rapunzel” figure. A Wind Child. He’s been stuck in a mountain his whole life, and educated by a hag named Kamilla. He would love to have someone other than her to talk to, but Kamilla has convinced him (through proper education, of course) that he has no place in the outside world. He’s too reclusive for his boisterous people, and too rowdy for any others. So, he stays in the mountain, cooking, cleaning, and secretly resenting his name of “Laburnum.” Has the habit of singing when he’s lonely.
Kamilla—the witch figure. An Earth Child. She was outcast so long ago that even she doesn’t remember why. In her old age, sometimes slips into dementia. Always wanted to have a child, but was barren. Surprisingly proficient with a kitchen knife, oddly deficient in magic. She does things like make little lights and bind people in curses with ease, but ask her to enchant something to be sturdy, and it might just end up turning into a toad.
Notah’s Parents (currently unnamed)—the parental figures. Children of the Wind. The father’s a weaver, the mother’s a dye maker. Notah was her first son, and while she learned not to covet, she is currently learning not to brag, especially about something as important as being able to weave flying carpets from grass. The father's learned that trying to keep his wife out of trouble is pointless, so he's settled for trying to get her out of trouble. Which may also be pointless.
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