Saturday, July 28, 2012

Editing...Where Do I Start?


I’ve found myself in an interesting position.  I need to start polishing and editing two different stories.  Each is about 50,000-60,000 words each.  They are my NaNoWriMo novels from last November and this June.  It’s an interesting position because I’ve rarely ever finished a story before.

For example – the fantasy novel I’ve been posting bits and pieces of over the last several Write on Edge prompts is at like 75,000 words and nowhere near done yet.  I’d say I’ve probably got at least 25,000 words left to write to get to the end.  At least that one I know where the end is.  Usually I don’t have a clue.

My first impulse is to read each one and start making changes.  But I hesitate at doing so.  What if I start changing things and then part way through change my mind and go a different direction?  This makes me think I need to just read each one through all the way once and look for where there are issues.

I have given my one story to a beta reader (a.k.a my sister) and she’s given me feedback on that one.  I do like her way giving feedback.  She sent me a series of emails every 2-3 chapters with things from small typos I missed to inconsistencies in the story.

Maybe that’s the best way to go.  Read each story through with pen and notebook in hand.  Make notes on each chapter of what I need to work on or fix.  Then go back and actually start fixing.

How do you go about editing a novel length piece one you’ve finished it?  Any advice you can share?

Friday, July 27, 2012

Don't Panic Picture Prompt #4

I decided to keep trying this for a bit.  I'd like to see if I can get this prompt going as it helps me write and because I think it could be quite a bit of fun.  So, here's the next prompt.

This was from a storm outside my house about 3 years ago.



I'm going to put the word count at 350 this week.  Link up will happen on Wednesday.  Stop back and share what you came up with!

Words Left Unsaid

While we had 500 words to show a scene involving a hand written letter from Write On Edge this week, I found I didn't need it.  The scene I had pictured in my head once again comes from a significantly longer piece I'm working on.  but I found it didn't need that generous of a word count.  Other pieces can be found here, here and here.  Here it is - let me know what you think!


Tyrhan pulled out a folded piece of parchment from his belt pouch.  It was dirtier than when he’d first gotten it.  A bit more tattered around the edges too.

He caressed it for a while before opening it once more.  He didn’t really need to read it anymore to know what it said.  The words were etched not only into his memory but into his heart.  They’d become scars there.  Burning, aching with every beat.  Regrets washed through him hard on the heels of those piercing heartbeats.  There were so many things he should have said.

Drawing a deep breath, Tyrhan looked at the even, elegant script on the page.  Even now he could picture her sitting there in the dim campfire light penning each word with care.  The others had each gotten short notes from her, but his was by far the longest.

Her words tried to explain to him why things ended up the way they did.  Tyrhan found he didn’t care.  She was gone and that was what mattered.  That hurt the most.  Saylen’s belief Tyrhan had done all he could wasn’t something Tyrhan could share.  Afterall, what was the use of being a Guardian if he couldn’t keep the one thing he’d dedicated his entire life to safe?

He studied those words, just as he had a hundred times or more in the week since he’d gotten the letter.  Each time he hoped he could find some peace, some answer he’d missed before.  Tyrhan never did.

All he ever found was the same anguish and loss.  Those three words at the end were the most brutal of all.  They were a knife buried so deep in his heart it’d never come out.  That one sentence reminded him of everything that could have been.  Everything he’d wanted but was too afraid to go after.  And now it was too late.  She was gone.

And all he had left was a tear smudged letter and a crystallized rose pendant.


I am hoping (eventually) to have the entire finished work published on Smashwords.com.  I'll let ya'll know when it is.

Also, don't forget - you have until the end of the day today to link up with the Don't Panic Picture Prompt #3.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Don't Panic Picture Prompt #3 Link-up

Here was your picture for the week:



via Pinterest.com
I tried my hand at a flash fiction style piece - The Lantern.  What did you get from this with this picture?


The Lantern

Here's a flash fiction style piece based on the Don't Panic Picture Prompt #3.  I wanted to tell as complete of a story as possible in as few words as possible.  Let me know what you thought!



He stood at the rocky shore and set his lantern down, his wrinkled hand shaking.  He called for her, just as he had every night for years.  Ever since the last time he saw her.
I will return for you, she’d said.
His only answer was the waves washing the rocks in a steady, gentle murmur.  He waited, hoped, anyways.  His only companion in the inky darkness was the warm even glow of the lantern.
As the fog rolled in to dance around him and the first hints of sunrise pushed back the cloak of night he heard a splash out of rhythm with the water.  He strained to see what it was.  He was about to give up when he saw her.
She rose from the green blue depths toward him, holding out her hand.  Trembling, he took it and followed her.
All that remained was the golden twinkle of a lantern nestled among the rocks on the fogbound shore.

Friday, July 20, 2012

Don't Panic Picture Prompt #3

Well - we'll try this one more time.  If this format isn't working for you, please let me know what I can change to make this writing prompt more successful.  In the mean time, here's your next picture prompt:



via Pinterest.com


Let's set the word count at a shorter 250 words this time.

The Secret

I have to say I loved the Robert Frost poem from the Write on Edge prompt this week.  That being said, I struggled with this scene quite a bit.  I know what I'm trying to convey, but any concrit would be helpful.  I'm not sure yet this scene will actually  make it into the final draft of the fantasy piece I'm working on, but it's still an important scene for me to have cemented in my head.  Other pieces of this story can be found here and here.


Mesara glanced around as they rode into the foothills.  She thought Inshaya might suspect something.  The rest of them didn’t seem to sense her intention.  Certainly not Tyrhan.  Mesara felt bad for that.  But she knew if she told them what needed to happen, they would never let her do it.  And if she didn’t do what she needed to, Amnor would win and the world as they knew it would be forever changed.

The trouble was she didn’t want to finish what had been started anymore than they did.  It had taken her all of these long months to come to terms with who she was, what had happened to her, and, most important, her feelings for Tyrhan.  But she knew she had no choice.  She wouldn’t sacrifice everything and everyone she loved for her own fears and selfishness.

In camp that night, she sat off to the side.  One by one Meathar, Tyrhan and the others tried to engage her in their jokes and conversation.  But it didn’t feel right.  Mesara knew if she started to talk to them, the secret would come out.  She couldn’t risk that.  So she kept her distance.  Laris was her only comfort.

The cat caught her gaze.  His strength, encouragement and love flooded through her in wave after wave of images.  There was something in his message to her that reassured her more than her other companions could.  A sense of peace filled her just before Laris got up and wandered away.  Something in what he tried to tell her made her believe everything would be alright in the end.  She lay down to sleep, easy for the first time on that long ride north.


Mesara savored that last ride to their goal.  Meathar lead the way.  She did not doubt he was just as drawn to the end as she was.  She was saddened by his confidence in some ways.  This ending would destroy it just as much as it would destroy the threat to all of Mharakhan.  She hoped her father, Karik and Inshaya would help see her brother through the next few months.

Glancing over at Tyrhan, Mesara knew there was no such hope for the elf.  She’d known how he felt about her for quite a while now.  And she knew how deep his emotions ran despite what he let show.  There would be no such comfort for him.  It was that simple fact that she struggled with the most.  That one thing was almost enough to convince her to turn her horse south and flee her fate.

Almost.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Don't Panic Picture Prompt #2 Link-Up

Here was your picture for the week:


Fantasy

From never-ending-journey.tumblr.com via Pinterest.com

This became the setting for a scene from a longer piece I'm working on - Aftermath

What did you come up with?



Aftermath

This is the rough idea of where the fantasy story I posted on Sunday is headed.  While the story isn't finished yet, I've had the ending in my head for quite a while.  The Don't Panic Picture Prompt this week became a possible setting for this scene which, in the larger story, would play a significant role.  Let me know what you think!

Tyrhan stood on the old dock at Resan Lake, those last few days replaying in his head over and over.  The battle with Amnor was over.  His dark reign was crushed once more.  The Renashi were turned back.  But none of that mattered.

The foggy beauty of the lush trees surrounding the lake didn’t even register.  He’d failed.  Tyrhan promised Saylen he’d bring the man’s daughter home.  And she was gone.

Tyrhan understood Mesara’s task was dangerous.  It never crossed his mind that he’d lose her.  She’d become the Wildrose.  It had been his duty to protect and serve her as a Guardian.  And he failed.

Laris rubbed his head against Tyrhan’s hip.  Tyrhan absentmindedly scratched the cat’s ears.  After a few moments, Laris butted his leg several times.  Tyrhan knelt down to meet the thar’s gaze, tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, my friend.  She’s gone,” he whispered.

Images flashed through Tyrhan’s head.  He knew Laris was trying to tell him something but the scenes weren’t clear.  Sighing, Tyrhan got up to stare out at the lake again.  He heard footsteps on the dock behind him.

“Tyrhan.  This isn’t your fault.”

“How can you of all people say that?” bitterness welled up in Tyrhan’s voice.

“Because I’m her father I can.  I may have missed most of her life, but I knew the kind of person Mesara was.  This was her role, her duty.  She wouldn’t have shirked that.  Certainly not if it meant saving the lives of those she loved.”

That one word triggered the most crushing memory of that day.  Closing his eyes, Tyrhan could see her in the cave.  She’d glanced once at him, mouthed to him the words he’d longed for.

I love you.

Then she dropped her sword and let Amnor run her through.

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Crossing An Old Line

When I read the prompt about taboo from Write On Edge, I actually came up with two different scenes.  The first is the one I posted on Friday.  The second is a scene from a longer piece I'm still working on.  After thinking about it some, I decided I'd post the second one here since it would have blown the word count all to pieces and I couldn't figure out how to cut it down.

Here it is.  Please enjoy and let me know what you think!



 “We cannot allow you access to the Wildrose.  It is our most guarded treasure.  No stranger has looked upon it.  We cannot allow that to be violated,” decreed Lord Karna.

“Try and stop me,” Mesara spun on her heels and left the council chambers.

The guards at the door were too stunned at her behavior to even put up a token protest.  Tyrhan stood for a moment letting Mesara’s words sink in with the council.

“Lady, Lords.  I ask you to tread lightly here.  I am a Guardian.  I serve the Wildrose first.  I can verify what Lady Mesara has said.  The Wildrose has called her and given her instructions on a number of occasions already.  It would be unwise to attempt to bar Mesara from answering that call.”

“That is enough fairy tales and make believe, Lord Tyrhan!  As the chair of this council I am ordering you to follow this command.  You will bar that child from the Wildrose.  You will, under no circumstances, allow anyone not sanctioned by this council into that garden.  Am I clear?” presumption was thick in Lady Risa’s voice.

“As I said, Lady Risa, I serve the Wildrose first.  The first elven council decreed that when a council directive conflicts with the desires of the Wildrose, a Guardian must first serve the Wildrose.  Only once her wishes are met can a Guardian attempt to follow council directive.”

“She is a half-breed child.  She has no business with the Wildrose.  I don’t care what any prior council said.  You will follow my orders!” Lady Risa was almost shouting at this point.

Tyrhan stood, fists clenched, teeth gritted for several seconds before responding softly, “Lady Risa, it is unbecoming of the chair of this council to behave this way, particularly toward your own granddaughter.  As a Guardian, I speak for the Wildrose.  She has called your granddaughter.  I know part of why it was your granddaughter who was chosen.  Lady Mesara has the Earth Magick.  It is strong with her, stronger than anyone in living memory and, perhaps, stronger than any who have ever possessed it.  It is the Magick that has forged a connection between Mesara and the Wildrose.  There is nothing in all of Mharakhan that will stop the Wildrose from bringing Mesara to her.  Do not interfere.  I would hate to be forced to choose between my service to the Wildrose and my service to this council, for I know which one I would give up without another thought.”

He left the council chamber in a graceful, controlled, cold fury.  He couldn’t believe Lady Risa was still as blind now as she was with Kierana and Saylen.  He went to find Mesara to make sure she was alright.  He heard shouting behind him but that didn’t matter to him at that moment.  Tyrhan would live to regret not stopping to listen to what was being said.

He went directly to the Garden of the Wildrose but she wasn’t there.  Tyrhan went back to check her rooms.  There, a serving woman told him he just missed her and that she was headed toward the garden the last she saw.  As Tyrhan left the guest quarters, Laris sprinted by him.  Tyrhan followed the cat at a dead run as well, but, unlike the mountain thar, Tyrhan stopped short at the outer edge of the garden.  He could see several bodies wrapped tightly in the branches of the holly bushes that marked the border to the garden.  Droplets of blood splashed the grass near their feet.  Emerald green branches waived like feelers looking for bodies to grab.  Farther in, he saw Lady Risa and the serving woman, Darienne, caught fast by the grass which had grown to almost completely envelop them.  Mesara was kneeling next to the Wildrose while Laris settled in on her other side.  He could almost see the Magick swirling about her it was so strong.



One more reminder - the Don't Panic Picture Prompt #2 is up.  Check it out and stop back Wednesday to link up!

Friday, July 13, 2012

Don't Panic Picture Prompt #2

Here's your Don't Panic Picture Prompt for the week.  Let's put the word count at 300 words.  Come on back Wednesday to link up!



Fantasy

From never-ending-journey.tumblr.com via Pinterest.com

Forbidden

This week we were to write about taboos and the forbidden in 450 words for Write on Edge.  This scene popped into my mind after several of the other posts from Write on Edge.  It is very loosely based on a real life experience turned very fictionalized.  Please enjoy!



Her heart fluttered in her chest like a caged animal trying to break free.  Glancing down at her hands they reminded her of aspen leaves trembling in the slightest breeze.  She forced herself to look back up at her reflection, eyes wide.

The lavender fabric draped over her taut, curvaceous body.  Two thin ties held it closed just above her runaway heart.  It draped open below those tiny ties, exposing her flat stomach and long, lean legs, to brush her knees.  A tiny triangle scrap covered that point where her legs met her rounded hips.

She supposed the image staring back at her was attractive enough.  But it wasn’t her judgment that everything hinged on right now.  That decision lay just beyond the heavy oak door.  The handle drew her attention away from the mirror.  The brushed silver was cold, sterile.  So different from what she’d imagined this moment would be.

And the fantasy would be a reality.  All she had to do was twist that handle, cross that threshhold and take it.

So why did her perfectly pedicured feet refuse to move?  Why did the nerves close her throat better than any fist ever could?

With just one look, just a few words, every dream she had would become a glass house in an earthquake, shattering into a million slivers, forever broken.  Those slivers, she knew without a doubt, would dig at her, cut her to ribbons forever.

She had previous experience with that.  She still had the scars as real as that cold marble floor she stood on with nothing but a cheap terrycloth hotel rug to protect her.

Taking a deep, tremulous breath, she held it.  When the pressure was too much, she let it out, slow and even.  Repeating it several more times, she felt calmer.  One more peek in that unfeeling teller of truths showed her cinnamon hair coiled around her smooth shoulders and a face that was more relaxed than before.  There were no more reasons to delay.

Reaching out in slow motion, she opened the door.  Each step was a monumental effort in self control.  She wanted nothing more than to flee and cover herself in the thick hotel robe that hung just behind the door.  Raw determination surged.  She would see this through, regardless of the outcome.

Her heart stopped when she met his grey blue eyes.  He leaned down to kiss her, his lips hovering just above hers.  He was asking for permission in his hesitant touch rather than demanding.  Her heart surged at the desire, love and respect in his actions.  It may have been forbidden for them to be together but in that moment she didn’t care.



Don't forget to stop back sometime later today or tomorrow to check out the Don't Panic Picture Prompt!

Sunday, July 8, 2012

About The Don't Panic Picture Prompt

Well - the inaugural picture prompt doesn't seem to be working out so well.  One of the things I realized after setting it up was that it's following the exact same timeline as the Write On Edge prompts.  Therefore, I've decided to make a few changes before possibly scrapping the idea all together.

Change number 1 - The picture prompt will go up on Fridays instead.

Change number 2 - The link up will happen on Wednesdays.

I'm hoping with these two changes, it might work out better for people who are interested.  That way we're not competing quite as directly with Write On Edge.  The word count limit part and the read and comment on other peoples' links part will remain the same.

Let me know if these changes work better for ya'll!

Friday, July 6, 2012

The Run

Write On Edge gave us a great prompt in honor of the Fourth of July.   We were challenged to write about the idea of freedom in 400 words.  While not patriotic, here's my take.  I had to go back and visit Emma, James and Kris one more time.  Let me know what you think.


With no warning, Kris held his hand up.  Everyone stopped.  Growling under his breath, he stormed back to me like some wild predator. 

“What,”

James stopped me with a glare and a slight head shake.

Kris circled me as if I were prey.

“Too slow.  This’ll help.”

I wasn’t sure if Kris was talking to me or himself.  With James still watching me I didn’t dare ask either.

To my shock and embarrassment, he cupped my face, leaned in and kissed me.  Not just a quick peck but a serious, movie scene worthy kiss.  He released me before I had a chance to object – not to the kiss itself but for how he did it.  He turned and loped back to the front of the short line without another word.

I stood there, in the middle of the trail, stunned.  James touched my elbow.

“It was a gift,” James told me in a soft voice.

“What was?” my face wrinkling, shaking my head.

“Kris gave you the ability to keep up with us.  He wants to move faster.  Trust it.  Trust me.  You’ll keep up.”

“”Hunh?”

“Kris wants to run so he gave you a bit of his power.  He doesn’t want you to slow us down.  Stephan is too much of a risk.  Now, love, no more speaking.  Run.”

James flashed a quick grin at me before Kris signaled everyone to move again.  This time they ran.  James passed me.  I watched them for a moment as they faded into the forest faster than anyone should be able to run.

“Trust them,” I muttered.

Taking a deep breath I ran after them.  To my utter amazement, not only did I keep up with them, I caught up to Kris, passing everyone else in the process.  He glanced at me, smiled and pressed harder.  Sensing the challenge I lengthened my stride, finding myself able to match his pace.

The forest flashed by in streaked glimpses of browns and greens.  In the running, I started to feel a peace I hadn’t felt in years.  There was something about running with this man, this stranger, that lifted me.  It freed me from something I didn’t even realize I carried.  It didn’t take long before I ran with Kris for the sheer joy of being able to fly through the forest as free as the wildlife startling from the brush with our passage.


In case you've missed it, the rest of Emma's story can be found here.

Inaugural Picture Prompt Link-up

Alrighty, then.  Let's see if I can do this correctly!  It's time to link up your post based on the following picture. 

Picture courtesy of my trip to Washington DC July

I took the picture a little more literal, at least in some sense, with Reflections

Please be kind, read and comment on anyone who links up.

Reflections

Here's my take on the Don't Panic Picture prompt.  I went with the idea of reflections.  So, this is a short bit out of my Camp NaNoWriMo project I just finished.



By the time they were done with opening statements the judge decided it was time to recess for lunch.  Shawn followed Major Wade out.

“Aside from this court martial stress, how are you doing?” Major Wade asked as they walked toward the mess hall.

“About as well as can be expected.  They’re still trying to save my back and ribs.”

“What do you mean?”

“The docs are concerned the damage to my ribs and upper back was too extensive to repair all of it.  There’s the possibility that at best it’ll hurt for the rest of my life.”

“And at worst?”

Shawn studied Major Wade for a moment, “I’ll have significant nerve damage affecting sensation and muscle control from the shoulder blades down.”

Major Wade whistled, “Man.  He messed you up pretty good.  Don’t worry, though.  Black Ops takes care of their own.  You’ll be in good hands regardless of what happens.”

“I just don’t know if I want to live like that.  On the worst case end of it I wouldn’t even be able to walk without a cane or something.  At best I’d be in constant pain?  That’s a nasty way to live.”

Major Wade didn’t answer right away.  Shawn knew it was because there was no answer.  What did someone say to news like Shawn just gave the Major?  They ate lunch and talked of inconsequential random things.  Shawn didn’t want to venture back into territory related to his injuries or the possibility he’d never return to service.  From the looks of it Major Wade didn’t seem to want to contemplate that either.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Inaugural Don't Panic Picture Prompt

You've asked for it, folks, so here it is.  The inaugural Don't Panic Picture Prompt.

Here's the rules of the game:

1. Use the picture as inspiration for your prompt.
2. The picture will be posted sometime on Sunday.
3. You have all week to ruminate and write as link up won't happen until Friday.
4. Please be kind - read and comment on others who link up as well.
5. Please do the best you can to follow the word count limit.  I know they can be pesky but we don't want novels being linked.  Takes to long to get through them all.  But, if you do go over slightly, the word count police will NOT come arrest you.


And now for your first picture prompt.  Drumroll please...

Image courtesy of my trip to Washington DC in July 2009



Your word count limit for this one is 400 words.  Come on back Friday to show off what you came up with!