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.

Camp Nano Wrimo, July

Alright, on to another Camp Nano session!

Since I've been slack on "Renewal of Spirit" rewrites, that's going to be my main focus. My other focus: a Western/Drama/possible Horror version either of or simply featuring some characters from "Trouble in Bookland."

Why? Because I was messing with some random generators one day, and came across a plot/blurb generator. It basically ripped off the opening paragraph of "The Hobbit," but it gave me some ideas. Plus, I want to try writing in a genre I don't normally write in. I'm hoping that working on "Renewal of Spirit" at the same time will curb the urge to make this new project a Fantasy endeavor. Though, I am going to try and work dragons into it somehow. Dragons must invade all genres. They're too wondrous not to.

Here's the blurb, with its horrid misuse of my lackadaisical adjectives:

----
In a house there lived a Fresh, icy Dragon named Linda S. Not a Fantastic Friendly, Devastating house, filled with Stones and a Rueful smell, nor yet an Illustrious, Mysterious, Reluctant house with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a Dragon-house, and that means housing.
One day, after a troubling visit from the Goblin Ethan Miles, Linda leaves her house and sets out in search of three Sylvan scrolls. A quest undertaken in the company of Elves, Bobcats and crumpled Humans.
In the search for the Goblin-guarded scrolls, Linda S surprises even herself with her Friendliness and skill as a Writer.
During her travels, Linda rescues a Pen, an heirloom belonging to Ethan. But when Ethan refuses to try Receiving, their friendship is over.
However, Ethan is wounded at the Battle of Five Armies and the two reconcile just before Linda engages in some serious Receiving.
Linda accepts one of the three Sylvan scrolls and returns home to her house a very wealthy Dragon.
----

I don't know why I chuckled about "crumpled humans" for more than five minutes, but I did. I don't know whether or not I'm going to try and make it a full-length novel story, or several short stories. Also, a vampire hobo may or may not make an appearance. He's been glowering at me for weeks, I'm just not sure how to fit him in.

So...onward, to a month of pantsing!

What are you working on this Nano? Editing/revising, writing a new story? I'd love to chat about your project!

Reblog- Dreams and Dragons: Camp NaNoWriMo Encouragement

Dreams and Dragons: Camp NaNoWriMo Encouragement: Hello, friends! In case you haven't noticed, the month of March is almost over, and April is almost here. And that means . . . you know ...

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.

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.

Camp Nanowrimo

I'm participating in Camp Nanowrimo!

I've done it before (love it!), but not while I had a blog. Okay, I had a blog but never got around to posting...

My projects this session:

---

Dead in Sleep:The two factions—Human and Imp—have always fought. The Humans, with their magic and knack for invention, have always had the upper hand. But their magic has been growing weaker to the point of vanishing altogether. The Imps with their vampire mounts have gained the upper hand, and it doesn’t help matters that their automaton have begun to turn on them. The Human cities are close to falling. Where has their magic gone?
Fayte Hargreave and her two friends--Eldon Rattlebag and Shania Darknoll--do their best to survive the downfall of their city and gain a lead on what is happening to their magic.
Goal: 3K-ish, counting attempts of prose for a scrapbook version

I'd Kill for a Bath:Pearl does her best to aid her friend, Snow--an overworked secretary of Castle Hematite--in winning the right to be queen for a day. In the process, Pearl tries to sort out her life--a life that her supposed father reveals to be a sham.
Set in Convoluted Chronicles.
Although, now I want to try my hand at literary fiction; so I may be exploring just Pearl's relationship to her uncle and father, and having the fantastic elements of fantasy as background props instead of spotlight items...
In which case a title change is imminent. Probably something along the lines of: You did What?!, Who are you?, or So my Father's a Dragon.

Goal: 5K-ish

---

Here are small excerpts from each. The excerpt from Dead in Sleep isn't from the main POV; it's the start of a dare (Writer's Truth or Dare is so much more fun than regular T/D), because I read over my starting scene and...well, there are a few unique qualities in this world that I'm having difficulty showing in character.

Dead in Sleep:

Eldon couldn’t wait to visit the Inner ring of the city—there were so many hoity-toities to have fun with.

“The fact that they manufacture the guns you use to keep Imps out means nothing?”

Eldon glared at Fayte, a female soldier who seemed to be favored by the CO. “The mind meld is over. Why are you loitering in my head?”

Fayte shrugged. She adjusted her goggles so that the eye beams dimmed. “Sorry.”

“Upstart little…” Muttering derogatory comments, Eldon leapt aboard a departing tram. He glanced back at Fayte, flicked his goggles so that the eye-beams flashed. When she looked up, he did his best snarling grin. That’s what makes things interesting, pet.

Guns always made things interesting.

I'd Kill for a Bath:

Pearl took solace in the last few moments spent in her organized office. Notepads stacked on the edge of the desk; sparkling filing cabinets (their contents alphabetized and categorized by urgency); the trash can emptied. She took a picture in her mind, sucked a deep breath, and stepped out.

Luckily for her, her office was adjacent the castle’s lobby, so she didn’t have to wade through several levels of bureaucrats. A poster on the notice pillar outside caught her attention. The laminated, purple and orange and black poster reflected the moonlight garishly.

Contest: Queen for a Day.

The modern equivalent of a coliseum. She sneered in disgust, glad she wouldn’t be participating.

“Oh, Pearl!” A girl with the figure and looks of a vampire queen rushed over, her high heels clicking frantically against the concrete.

“Snow. What is it?”

The distraught secretary babbled incoherently. Frantic gestures, bleeding mascara…

Pearl looked at the poster again, took note of the date, and sighed. “You decided to participate?”

Snow latched onto Pearl’s arm, sobbing. “I’ve been stalked, threatened, work piled on my desk…” She paused, swiped at her face with her elbow. Black eyeliner stained the white sleeves. “They even laced my latte!”

Pearl led Snow to the curb. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to get involved. Especially not after an extended weekend.”

“It’s okay.” Snow sniffed. “It’s not like…like…oh, I just can’t be sarcastic! Pearl, I’m not alright and I need help!”