Flash Fiction: All the King’s Horsemen

Tim Pacciso entered the office of John Verum slowly; even the tap of his cane against the marble floor and the gentle clap of the door reuniting with its frame seemed to invite displeasure from the arched walls and vaulted ceiling.  Instead of warming the room, the sunlight filtering in through the high windows served only to reflect at odd angles from the flecked walls, casting varying shades of noncommittal illumination across the floor.  John beckoned him closer, his smile as faded as some of the shadows on the wall and his tone distorted by the echoes and emptiness.  “Tim, please have a seat.  How’s the leg?”

“We still have our disagreements, mostly about stairs and the like.” The wrinkles around his grin strained to pull his lips back from his teeth.  “Any word from Vladimir?”

“The Minister of Mercy will not be joining us today I’m afraid,” he said with the loose interpretation of a frown upon his features.

“Must we be so formal with each other?” The austerity of the room’s ornate fixtures seemed to demand it.

“Well we must keep up appearances and all that.  For the good of the public, you know.”

“Of course. ‘We are what is needed.’”  Interjected Tim with the first line of their Oath.  “Speaking of appearances, where is Felicia? It’s not like her to be late.”

“She isn’t. I asked you here to speak on that matter.”

“You mean Felicia?  Or as you would say, the Minister of Regret?” The tension in his grin seemed to have found its outlet, manifesting itself in the tone just beneath his words.

“Indeed,” said John, his eyes acknowledging Tim’s intended message.  “I fear she may have misinterpreted where her duties end and mine begin.  I had hoped you could speak with her about it.”

“Why not ask her when she arrives?”

“You know how she can be.  I would rather avoid being accused of manipulation.”  John descended into the chair behind his desk with a sigh in tune with that of its upholstery.

“She believes the people have the power to avoid repeating the past,” replied Tim.

“The past is her concern, however the people are mine.”  John abandoned his chair in favor of the view offered by the nearest window. His dark suit was thrown into sharp relief by the weak light from without.  Tim bared the courtesy of a smile to John’s back before responding.

“The people know you as the Minister of Truth; and Truth should hold no agenda.”

“And they know you as Peace, but your leg and I know you’ve seen your share of other things.”  The pretense of posturing was interrupted by the intercom on John’s desk crackling to life and jarring the surrounding air into vibration that seemed to upset the architecture as much as its occupants.  “Minister Desderie is here to see you, sir.”  He asked for Felicia to be sent up.  Her delicate entrance was more readily tolerated by the surroundings, though her gentle attire clashed more harshly with the gargoyles roosting above. Confusion lit upon her features like the shadow of a butterfly flitting across a blanket of snow.

“I thought I was early, I hope I haven’t missed anything.” The warmth of John’s half smile was eclipsed Tim’s broad grin.

“Not at all, John was about to give us his report on the incident in the south.”  Her smile strained the subdued boundaries of her surroundings as she acknowledged John before taking her seat.

“The unrest is worse than anticipated,” he began. “There is a real threat of violent uprising from the loyalists who refuse to recognize our authority.  The presence of troops was not well received.”  The reminder of the past had brought a sour taste to their collective palates. Time had not bettered, nor tempered this draught.

“Are you surprised by this?” asked Felicia. “In the old days that region only held personal loyalty to the King.  We advisors were treated with tolerance at best.  Now that he’s gone they feel that bond has been broken.” The words seemed to crack something within her.  For a moment the dam let forth a single tear. It was quickly wiped away and the dam repaired once more.  “We cannot send Vladimir while troops are still deployed.”

“The locals will feel they are being strong armed into peace talks,” Tim agreed. “But I’m not sure my troops can be withdrawn safely at this point.” The silence protested to being broken by the tap of John’s finger upon his desk.

“For now have your men hold their positions. Vladimir will speak with the neighboring regional leaders.”

“You cannot send Vlad to incite civil unrest!” Felicia’s outburst overwhelmed the constraints of the room’s sense of propriety. “The other leaders will not stand for it, and an occupation will be viewed by our people as an act of imperialism.”

“A prolonged occupation is not a solution.”  Tim’s voice showed the first hint of conviction since he had entered the office, as if it had been shaken loose by Felicia’s statement.  “The influences of Peace and Mercy must not overlap. You know that, John.”

“Vladimir is already on his way,” he said before turning toward Felicia. “And I will relay the message to the people.”  He seemed to falter under her gaze. “I will not lie to them.  The truth is we are taking necessary measures to diffuse a volatile situation.”

“If there is nothing further, I must return to my men.”  The mask where Tim’s face once resided was fixed, showing signs of all too frequent wear. It bore Felicia’s looks in silence as the man stood with his cane and left the office.  A whirlwind of an assistant nearly unbalanced him at the base of the spiraling staircase, circling upwards and into John’s office.  Before the door closed he was replaced by Felicia, descending and stirring the air with her displeasure before it had a chance to settle. Tim did not attempt to soothe the storm as it passed, bearing its force without meeting its eye. The oak doors shut letting forth a fanfare as if she too were bound for a battle.

Tim composed himself and followed in her path when the assistant burst forth from John’s office, whirling like the back end of a hurricane as he descended.  When he was within hailing range Tim flagged him down, waiting for the winds to die down. “What’s the matter son?”

“I’m afraid this matter is classified,” he stuttered shuffling his papers to better prepare them to be disturbed again.

“Even to the Minister of Peace?” His cane raised the boy’s chin until their gazes met and the boy’s proved the weaker.

“My apologies Mr. Pacciso, I didn’t realize it was you…”

“What is this about?”

“It’s the Minister of Mercy, he’s dead!”

“What? How did this happen?”

“His caravan was attacked. I’m not sure where he was going.” Tim’s frame shook with a moment of rage before deflating.

“As you were.”  The boy nodded, relieved the messenger wasn’t to be shot this time.

“Damn you John.”  He lit his pipe and took a puff as the smoke replaced the doubts and suspicions crowning his head.  “I suppose those devils in the south won’t refer to us as the Four Horseman anymore.”

“What was that sir?”

“The words of a man who shouldn’t exist, uttered from the mouth of the man he should be.”

Don’t Look Back…You Might Trip

I’m coming up on a year since being signed to write my first novel, and nearing the end of said novel (at least the first draft…editing doesn’t count here). Writing can be daunting, demanding and draining (yay alliteration!). The more you talk about what goes into it, the more people wonder “Well why would any sane person subject themselves to that?” The easy answer is that we’re not sane! Honestly, sometimes it is easy to get overwhelmed with the negative, taxing aspects. So I thought I’d take this week to be one part nostalgic and one part optimist.

The best kind of optimist to be

This one goes out to all of the struggling, aspiring, and questioning writers out there. What follows are some of the things that keep me plugging away when it would be easier to just walk away from the keyboard.

Anyone who writes will tell you the muse can be a fickle mistress. She is many things, but consistent is not one of them. I often find myself reading over a first draft, wondering how I can make sense of a scene or make a conversation (my dialogue is usually a train wreck the first time I write it down). Or sometimes I’ll realize I’ve written myself into a corner, or glossed over a fairly substantial plot hole. (Those will kill your alignment if you drive over too many). Then my muse will see fit to allow me a flash of inspiration. It might be while I’m running, in the shower, cooking or whatever else. In that moment an idea forms that makes it work. It shows me something I hadn’t thought of or shows me the way out of a mess of my making. It’s unpredictable and almost illogical, but there is magic in those moments, and that flash always sends me scrambling for a pen and pad.

As writers, most of us are at least occasionally plagued by some self-doubt. We wonder if our story is any good, if anyone will read it, or if there’s still a slice of pizza left in the fridge. (There never is). When those questions pile up, it can make us question why we’re writing in the first place. As if in answer, there are nights where the story just seems to flow with a life of its own. I’ll sit down to the keyboard, and my world of words is at my fingertips. The characters speak to me and scenes flow together naturally. It’s almost as if the story exists already, and I’m just the conduit bringing it onto paper. It’s a world only I can tap into, but it comes together so seamlessly that it has to be real. If I wasn’t meant to be a writer, I wouldn’t be able to do that. In my mind it is proof that I was meant to tell this story, and that knowledge helps calm my fears and loosen my death grip on what’s “supposed” to happen next.

The last thing isn’t technically part of the writing itself, but it has been integral to my experience. I was signed by a budding publishing house (I was the third author to join on) and saw it grow to several dozen authors and staff members. All of us were working towards sharing our stories with the people, and that lent a synergy to our interactions and individual efforts. I wasn’t doing this alone. Others were in the trenches too, and we became a family that praised, supported, and celebrated the large and small victories together. The experience spoke to me. It said “You’re not that weird…well you kind of are, but you’re not the only one!” Writing is a solitary endeavor, but you don’t have to travel alone. Having others around me doing the same thing inspired me and reaffirms the beauty and importance of our craft. You don’t need anyone else, but it definitely makes the trek more enjoyable.

I could keep rambling on, but in the interest of not boring you I’ll wrap this up.

All wrapped up!

Objectively writing can seem like a lot of pain for very little gain. For every J K Rowling or Stephen King in the world, there are countless others who will never make a fortune or even a living spilling their souls onto the page. It takes a special kind of person to do it anyway. And that’s why we do it. Maybe we’re not special, but it’s who we are. You can dress that up in as many fancy words as you want, but that’s the essence of it. It feels right to follow your calling. Even if you don’t know where it’s taking you, I strongly urge you to follow it.

Or do this

Sunshine Blogger Award

I was presented with the Sunshine Blogger award by Victoria (you can read the post in question here). This award is to recognize any blogger whose content has shed a ray of sunshine into your day, even if only for a moment. Below are Victoria’s questions and my responses!

1. If you dress up for Halloween, cosplay, or other less commonly accepted occasions, describe your last two costumes.

Last Halloween I updated an assassin outfit I’d been adding to over the years. I added leather bracers and pauldrons as well as several hand-carved knives to the latest iteration. Before that I cosplayed as Zero, the Assassin from Borderlands 2 at a convention a few years back. Took me almost 6 months to pull that costume together, but toooootally worth it!

2. What movie or tv show would you consider a guilty pleasure?

Kung Pow: Enter the Fist. It is probably the dumbest movie I own, and I still find it hilarious every time I watch it.

3. If you could live in any fictional world (whether it’s yours or someone else’s creation), where would you live and why?

The world of Avatar (The Last Airbender/Legend of Korra), hands down. It speaks to my love of real world martial arts as well as my fantasy loving side. I’d love to help rebuild the air nation, see the world, and help connect the human world with the spirit world.

4. You’ve been imprisoned for high treason and have been sentenced to death and there is no chance that the governor is going to call. Describe in detail your last meal.

Crispy, homemade fried chicken, macaroni and cheese using my family’s recipe, biscuits and gravy…and now I’m hungry.

5. Answer one of these or both: Name your favorite Doctor on Doctor Who. Name your favorite James Bond.

Well I’ve never watched Dr. Who *prepares to dodge stones and bricks being hurled*, but I gotta go with Sean Connery.

6. If you could choose any piece of music or song to be your theme song, what would it be?

After nearly an hour of going through my music library, I’ll go with “This is War” by 30 Seconds to Mars (that answer will probably change every few weeks).

7. Concerning sleep, do you consider it a wondrous thing that you just can’t get enough of, or are you one of those “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” people?

I have a complicated relationship with sleep. I sleep with a mask attached to my face to keep my airway from collapsing while I sleep (insert joke about airway being too lazy to carry its own weight), so I’m more concerned with the quality of sleep than the amount.

8. Has any character that you’ve created ever done anything that took you by surprise?

Yes, two examples come to mind. To give details would be spoilers, but one has shown more plucky determination (earning a larger part than I originally intended) and the other followed his/her convictions to extremes that I thought were “over the line” for the character.

9. Describe something from a movie, book or tv where you would have written it better.

I’m actually drawing a blank on this one. There are a few things I can think that I would maybe change or write differently, but that’s due to my personal preference rather than it being “better” per say. (Cop out? Maybe, but I’m tired)

10. Are you a shipper? If so, name some of the ships that you love. (For example, if you watch the Flash and you think Barry and Caitlyn should get together, that means you are shipper for SnowBarry.)

Not really, but I’m not heavily into romantic plots/pairings in my genres of choice (harder sci-fi/fantasy). I feel that most of them tend to be a distraction at best, and forced at worst.

11. Sentence fragments. Love them or hate them?

I love them, because people don’t think in full sentences. (Although I’m biased since I’m writing in the first person). But I feel like well paced fragments can convey a frantic, interrupted or urgent tone very nicely.

And now I’m supposed to come up with 11 random questions myself.

1. If you were challenged to a duel to the death tomorrow, what would your weapon of choice be? (That you actually have and could bring with you, sorry, no lightsabers unless you’ve invented one and not shared it with the world)
2. What’s the most memorable compliment you’ve ever gotten?
3. Do you have any funny nicknames? If so, what’s the story behind it?
4. If you could have any super power, what would you pick?
5. If you had the above power, what would your hero/villain name be?
6. If you could be famous for one thing, what would you want to be known for?
7. What’s the last book/tv series (or season) that you finished?
8. If you could take a week away from life and money was no object, where would you go?
9. Do you have any tattoos? Or want to get any?
10. In the last week has there been a song stuck in your head?
11. Early bird or night owl?

And now I am forwarding this award to my fellow bloggers below:

Paula Simons of Beyond the Blue Coat

Katrina June over here

A. B. Penner over yonder

Phoebe Darqueling at For Whom the Gear Turns

J. K. Harrison at The Alchemy of Words

(You’re supposed to tag 11 other bloggers, but most of mine were stolen by Victoria)

Flash Fiction: Super Stacy

I shook my head, trying to clear my vision and my thoughts. Motes of dust danced through the shafts of light to mingle with debris from the roof above. The roof I had just crashed through. Thank goodness the building was abandoned. Lots of dust, but no innocent people. Except for me, the one who just came through the roof. I made a mental note to cut my hair as I checked my arms and legs for abrasions. My top and jeans were pretty torn up, but no cuts or scrapes. So my theory was right! If I concentrated I could control it! I could-

The sound of helicopter blades pulsed through the air, keeping time with my racing heart. Despite my best efforts, which included jumping here from nearly a block away, they were still on my tail. Whoever “they” were. The trip home from work was like any other. In the months since my abilities awakened I had progressed from knocking things off of shelves to lifting things using only my focused energy. But I hadn’t used them today. No intercepted muggers or foiled car-jackings today, but they still found me. It was almost as if they-

Right, the chopper. I should get moving.

I hauled myself to my feet, scanning for an exit. Through a window I caught a glimpse of silhouettes descending from the chopper, laden with body armor and guns. They were coming for me. I froze, anxiety surging through my gut. My eyes roamed the interior, clawing for any means of escape. Men with guns were coming to take me. But you’re not helpless anymore. They came to rest on a door that led away from the men in black. I slipped outside and darted down the street. It was a rough neighborhood. Rough enough that nobody complained about half of the streetlights being out, and nobody would bother to report a few stray gunshots this late at night. I wove around the pools of light cast on the pavement, stealing a glance over my shoulder.

The men were already streaming out of the building, hot on my heels. Okay girl, time to be smart about this. I tried to summon up enough power to jump again, but it just wasn’t there. I managed to hover a few feet between strides, but the effort weighed my body down further. I needed to recharge. No time to stop and rest, need another option…there!

I ducked into an alley way and the welcoming shadows within. Darkness just deep enough to hide the brick wall at the rear of the alley. A dead end. I put my back to the wall and closed my eyes, drawing a breath deep into my lungs. Stay calm. Find your center and focus your energy around it.

“There she is!” came from the mouth of the alley. “Surrender and you won’t be harmed.”

“Somehow I’m not convinced.”

“Final warning, or we will open fire.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” A shiver crept its way up my neck. There was something viscerally unnerving about having a gun pointed at you. The first time I had freaked out and almost killed someone. This time I was prepared. A safety clicked off and the point man opened fire. Muzzle flashes displaced the darkness of the alley and the sound felt loud enough to rattle the teeth in my jaw.

The bullets stopped just short of my skin, straining against the passive field that enveloped my body. Each impact sent a wave across that field, lending me ripples of energy as they clattered harmlessly to the ground. In that second, the barrage gave me all the kinetic energy I needed to revitalize my field. I sent my will coursing into the air around me, whipping the air into a frenzy.

“Shit, what should we do?” yelled one of the men. Several gazes shifted from me to their now useless weapons. My turn.

I sent almost all of the gathered energy outward, using the walls of the alley to funnel the blast towards my attackers. The unseen wave of force threw them all into the air, scattering them like bowling pins. Strike.

I waded through them, stepping over groaning bodies casually. After all that build up it was almost too easy. Experience taught me to keep my energy in a loose orbit around my body, ready to focus or harden over any point of attack. Experience served me well. One guy who decided he hadn’t had enough rushed me from behind, bringing the butt of his rifle down on the back of my head.

The blow glanced off with just enough force to push me off balance. And just enough to piss me off. He crossed over from brave into stupid territory when he came at me again. This time I turned to face him and stopped the strike with one hand. The butt of his gun struck my palm, sending a tingling wave of energy up my arm and into my ever growing cloud.

“How the?” He sputtered. “What the hell are you?”

“Someone you shouldn’t have fucked with.” I let out just enough force to throw him into the building without killing him. He crumpled and slid to the pavement with a satisfying thud.

“Anyone else want some?” There didn’t seem to be any takers among the bodies on the ground. Then a hollow, staccato sound made its way into my ear. Then another, and another. Someone clapping.

“Bravo. A bit sloppy, maybe some anger issues, but well done.” It was some punk kid in a leather jacket with spiked hair.

“Wasn’t for your benefit,” I said, eying him warily.

“Actually it was.”

“You sent those goons after me?”

“We didn’t send them, but we did lead them to you. I didn’t think they’d send a chopper, but after seeing you in action maybe they should have sent two.” I covered the distance between us in a heartbeat. I focused most of the energy into my right arm, giving me the strength to lift him by the collar of his jacket.

“Alright, you better start talking and hope I like what I hear.”

“Easy now,” he said, raising both hands in surrender. He was frustratingly calm about the whole thing. “We’re on the same side here.”

“And why would I believe that?” At that his eye lit up. Literally, with a freaky blue glow. I felt an energy unlike my own for a moment, then a bolt of lightning leapt from his hand to the nearest street lamp. Sparks erupted and the bulb shattered above us. Reflexively I shifted my field upwards, deflecting the glass shards away from us.

“Because you’re a Super, like me.” I lowered him to the ground. “You got a name?”

“It’s Stacy.”

“Well, Super Stacy, the others are impressed. They’d like you to join us. What do you say?”

Finding Your Voice(s)

What makes someone fall in love with an author’s work? Maybe it’s the world they’ve created, the characters, or the stories. Or it could be the words they’ve chosen. And I’m not talking about vocabulary (although that helps). It’s more than the individual words, more than the sentences and even more than the passages. It permeates every level of the work. You could say it is their signature style. That is what we call an author’s voice. It is what makes each of us unique. If you gave three authors the same plot to write out, their voices would be what sets them apart.

So you’re probably thinking “This voice thing sounds pretty important. How do I find mine?” To which I say “If you’ve lost your voice, tea with honey and lemon is a soothing remedy” (Yep, good life choice not going into stand up comedy) I wish I could say there’s some magic process that will lead you straight to your voice, but the key ingredient is volume.

Not that kind of volume

You need to write. A lot. Just write and let the words flow out of you. Don’t even worry if they’re the right words the first time around. After you write, let it sit for awhile. That may mean stepping away for an hour, a day, or even a week until you can look at it with fresh eyes. Then come back to it and see what speaks to you. What sounds right and what doesn’t. Do some editing and see what it looks like afterwards. As you rinse and repeat until you’ll start to see a pattern of what “feels right” in your writing. That’s your natural story-telling style speaking to you. At first you might only see it on one page or even one line here and there. But that’s it. That’s your voice.

When you’re relatively new (like myself, less than a year in as a professional) you may find that your voice is not quite solidified at the beginning. *insert all of the writing suggested above* By the time it’s well formed you’ll have a decent chunk of writing to show for it. As you look back over your work it’s natural to see the evolution of your voice, especially comparing the very beginning to your writing at the end.

Ahhhh, Chapter One

That’s okay. You can go back and fine tune whatever doesn’t fit with your voice. And sometimes reading your early work can help you rediscover your voice when you feel you’ve lost sight of it. Just recently I felt my writing was becoming a bit dull. Going back to the early chapters I was able to see all of the energy and life from when I first launched into my WIP.

As with all things a balance must be struck. You should stay true to your voice, but you don’t want to become stagnant for lack of growth either. To combat this I suggest interacting with other creators, seeking advice or feedback from non-writers and reading. And more reading. And then read some more (noticing a theme here?)  All of those things can feed new voices to breath life into your own, but don’t let them shout over yours. This applies more to getting feedback from people (books are less prone to shouting at you). You can listen to any comments with an open mind, but you are in no way obligated to make the changes they suggest. It is your voice and your words that matter. So go out there and write until you can hear your voice in the pages! And be sure not to trade it away to a sea-witch for legs or anything silly like that.

It’s not worth it. You’re better than that.

 

I’ve got your Back(story)

In real life and fiction, everyone has a backstory. And just like in real life, you don’t automatically learn someone’s backstory after a casual meeting or chance encounter. Think about it. When’s the last time you dug down and spilled details going back to your childhood to anyone you just met? That level of trust and comfort has to be built up before those disclosures feel natural. So the question becomes “How do you convey this to the reader?”

I can’t speak for all writers, but when I first started I had to know basically everything a character had done prior to the beginning of the story, and the reader needed to know that too. How else were they going to understand this character’s complex motivations and deep-seeded biases? Oh, and my story had a cast of twenty plus heroes from various planets and factions. It got cluttered pretty fast. So in the spirit of learning from my mistake, I would advise you to avoid info dumping backstory on the reader. In some cases it can be done, but too often it kills the pacing of the moment. Picture this: the hero has just hacked through a horde of mooks. The only one left standing against him is another swordsman; the hero’s childhood rival! They both grip their swords, eyes locked on one another. The wind goes still. Then the hero recounts their twelve year history together. All that tension you just built is out the window.

Now let’s assume you’ve found the perfect place to drop some backstory for a character. Next you need to decide what to share. Unless you’ve set up a situation where it wold be natural for someone to give their life story (such as a public address or a self-centered monologue) you’ll have to pick and choose. So what makes the cut? I’ll answer that with another question; what does the reader need to know? Firstly, what do they need to know so that the plot makes sense on a material level? Next is what that backstory can do for your world-building purposes. Finally there are things that are not instrumental to the plot, but help establish a character’s details, some kind of tension, or the ground work for later drama.

Think back over your life story. Odds are you’re picturing school, family, some important relationships and milestone events. Maybe not all the times you sat at the table eating cereal. Give your characters the same treatment. Anything you share should serve some purpose (such as the three I mentioned above). If I’m not sure whether to keep a detail in the story or not I run it through several questions. Does it serve one of the above purposes? If I remove it, how will it impact the scene and the story? Is there a different time or method to share this information more effectively?

Did I mention I never liked peas?

Even if a revelation is perfectly valid, the timing needs to be right. If you establish your gunslinger is also a fencing champion then it makes sense that they would dive for a sword during the final battle. If you don’t reveal that fact until the sword is in his hand, it starts to feel like deus ex machina. It’s a little too convenient that this wasn’t revealed until this exact moment. Note that if you have foreshadowed this (by mentioning an old trophy or a piece of gear lying around for example) without explicitly saying they are a swordsman, it can still work.

The last major factor in how and how much backstory is revealed is point of view (POV). In a third person omniscient POV the narrator could be privy to all of the details at any time. There is a bit more freedom regarding what “naturally” fits into a scene. At the other extreme, if you have first POV, the narrator knows only what they have experienced or been told. That knowledge is also more likely to be incomplete or biased. The important thing to note here is that the backstory is being told through someone else. Imagine if you had to tell someone else’s life story. How much detail would there be? For a character, the details they remember and the way they share them (using judgmental labels or jumping to conclusions about motivations) can be just as telling regarding their own personality. In first POV it might be more common for backstory to be shared in a context specific way. If your narrator gets into a fight with someone, it would probably be natural to mention the other person was a professional boxer.

Just like the rest of writing, there are those who love to plan out details in advance and those who love to wing it. Winging bits of a backstory can put you at risk of a deus ex machina moment. I have found myself guilty of this a few times and had to go back and make additions to set up a scene later. And honestly, that’s okay. Your characters are probably going to surprise you. You just created them, it’s not like you control them (all the sarcasm). As long as the backstory fits the character in the present, the details can be settled later. As humans we can’t change out past. As writers, we can do whatever we want.

 

Open the door, let the Write People In

While editors, agents and publishers do their part, the actual writing of a book is basically a one man show. That can be both liberating and terrifying. I know my response was equal parts “Yay, I’m free to do what I want!” and “Oh God, I need an adult!” (The fact that I am actually an adult is irrelevant) But fear not, you are not truly alone! Though writing may be a solitary effort, you may surround yourself with those who may ease the journey if not the actual work. So why did I scare you with that one man band talk? Because I’m evil. Just kidding…mostly. I say that because sometimes yes, you will need help. Other times help is the last thing you need.

In his book On Writing, Stephen King advises authors to “Write the first draft with the door closed, and the second with the door open.” (Booby traps and claymore mines are optional) I would like to expand on that idea and share my thoughts on this using the metaphor of the writer as a band.

I like to think this is how that band looks

When writing the first draft the idea is the idea. Just get it down on paper and don’t worry about how it looks. It will be messy, ugly, rough and full of stuff that makes you cringe. It’s like the band rehearsing while they’re still writing the song and getting ready to record. This is not the time to show it to anyone. You don’t know the story well enough yet and it’s really not mature enough to go wandering about on its own. It probably still giggles at fart noises. This is where you figure out what story you want to tell.

The first draft probably looks more like this

Once the first (or second) draft is written, it may be time to open the door just a smidgen and let a handful of people through. These would be your beta readers (or technically alpha readers if the work is not finished yet). By now you know what story you want to tell, but maybe you’re still working out how to tell it. It’s like pitching a demo to a record label. The whole album may not be ready, but you have a taste of your sound that is ready to share. (At this point the band-author metaphor might get kinda shaky, but I’m committed so bear with me).

Now when you’re hip deep in the editing process you may need another opinion. I liken this to a band’s agent, who helps them get their sound onto an album and into a concert (I have no idea how it works, but that sounds right). By this point your book is basically done, with only edits on minor points left to be done. It’s still in the beta reading phase, but you’re looking for more focused critiques. The story is set, but the details are still workable. At this point the door is open. The work can stand up for itself and not be crippled by another opinion. And, perhaps more importantly, you are confident enough in your story to let it speak for itself in the face of criticism or suggestions to make changes that you know will not work for the story.

Eventually your work will be finished (I have faith in you). It’s been edited and you’re ready to share it with the world. Then there is no longer a door involved. At that point you’re on stage performing a concert. It doesn’t matter if you’ve sold one ticket or one thousand, you can’t change anything once it’s out there.

The biggest advantage to the door being closed is that it’s just you and your thoughts. Nothing to distract or lead you away from your own vision. With the door open you’ll get a lot more attention (some of it useful). But most importantly you’ll get perspectives you couldn’t get on your own simply for being too close to the work and having all of the background knowledge that you do. Something that seems perfectly obvious and logical to you might mystify someone else. In my case I’ve had people ask me about patterns or possible origin themes I didn’t intentionally write in. Whether I use them or not, I now know one way people might interpret my story and I can use that to my advantage. If you’re aiming for a certain reaction from your target audience, this can help you see how close to the mark you are.  As for me, I like to leave the door mostly closed. I put a sign up to tell people I’m working, but I leave it cracked so my dog can still come in and say hi whenever he wants. This isn’t adding to the metaphor anymore, but I wanted an excuse to show off my furry writing buddy.

What do you mean, personal space?

Artistic License, Author’s Division

As a creator, I am a card-carrying artist; that is to say I have an artistic license. As an author it gives me the authority to make up words legitimately (an argument my girlfriend may or may not accept as legitimate), but it also gives me the freedom to play fast and loose with some of the rules, some of the time.

“Well gee, thanks for clearing that up!”

“I’m getting to the details in a second!”

That hypothetical audience member is getting sassy! By way of general definition, artistic license lets authors distort or shift things (within reason) for the sake of the story. It is a commonly accepted defense against knit pickers who would tear a story apart for small inaccuracies. It ties heavily into the willing suspension of disbelief since it refers to how far readers will let you push facts before they object (and everyone draws the line differently) as well as the rule of cool (we all know giant robots are impractical, but they’re cool so we accept their existence for the sake of the story, for example). Whenever an author effectively says “I know this isn’t how it really works, but I’m changing it a bit so it fits my story” they are exercising their artistic license.

There are a few reasons this is important to have. First off the reader may have expectations that don’t match reality. For example I know that no sound waves can travel through the vacuum of space, so there would be no explosions in a starship battle, but readers probably expect there to be (look at Star Wars), so I would write them in. I know it’s inaccurate and the reader might know that too, but there is an unspoken agreement that it’s okay. Secondly, it’s important because writers should not have to be scientists. I’m not against a healthy dose of research, but when it comes to matters that require great technical skill or training to understand, I think it’s okay to let some of the little details slide. (For my part, I am more accepting of those who know how it should be and alter something intentionally as opposed to those who do what fits out of ignorance with no attempt to find out first)

The biggest up side to this is it gives the author a bit more freedom to tell the story, which is really what it’s all about. The biggest drawback is that it opens the door to those who would use it as an excuse to not do any research on their subject material. And sometimes it may be an excuse for some lazy writing (for the sake of convenience rather than serving the story). There has to be a balance, and that balance will vary by genre and by style. As a sci-fi writer, I lean towards the hard sci-fi end of the spectrum, so I have a bit less wiggle room, but that’s due to a personal preference. I like to delve into why my creations can do what they do, rather than saying “look it’s super strong and can fly because science!” I’m sure some people will appreciate the approach and others will think I use too much techno babble. But it’s not about pleasing everyone. It’s about what serves your purpose. After that if you can just stay consistent, you’re good to go. And above all, always be sure to have your artistic license handy.

I keep mine in my wallet right next to my license to kill and my license to thrill…I’m a highly qualified individual.

 

 

 

Fanfiction: Power to the People?

Whether you’re a writer or not, no doubt you’ve come across the term fanfiction. Regardless of if you’ve written or read any of it yourself, some ideas and images are probably associated with the concept (from thoughtful contributions to pairings that make you question humanity). Even if you don’t have a strong opinion, you can bet the internet does (good old internet, ready to provide a scathing zealot in any comment section). The topic came up the other day in a writing group that I am part of, so I am going to attempt to stand between the warring extremes with a white flag and map out the battleground of fanfiction for you.

I’m coming out now, please hold your fiction!

There are a few common types of fanfiction to touch on. Note that many pieces will have combinations of these types as they are not mutually exclusive (or exhaustive).

• Storyline – Some take the storyline of the original work and tweak it a bit. Perhaps a character lives who died (or dies who lived) or the story ended differently.
• Romances – Perhaps the most infamous are those that pair characters (romantically or sexually) that had no such relationship in the source material.
• Additions – Some writers of fanfiction prefer to insert characters into the existing storyline (usually an original character (OC) of their design). They may also substitute their character for one that was present in the original work.
• Crossovers – Combinations of characters and settings from more than one work are a staple of the fanfic multiverse. Many other forms of media including video games, tv shows and comics do this regularly.
• Playground – This type applies when fanfiction takes place in the world of an established work, but is not tied directly or closely to the original storyline. I refer to this as a playground because someone else built it, now you get to run wild in it.

Now for my personal disclosure; I have only read fanfiction a handful of times. Just a quick skim when I was bored. I have only had two experiences of “writing” fanfiction myself (I’ll explain the quotes in a minute). In one case I planned a massive crossover universe drawing characters and settings from all of my favorite comics, movies, tv shows and video games. It was a chance for my inner geek to run wild, putting together dream teams of badasses, monsters and machines; Gundams vs Godzilla, Batman vs a Sith Lord, Snake Eyes vs the Shredder! It was a lot of fun to think about, even if very little got written. My second encounter was role-playing in an established world (I believe it was a tv show, though I can’t remember the specifics). I wasn’t technically “writing”, but I was creating in an already established world so it counted in my head.

So what are my thoughts on fanfiction? From my limited experiences they can be extremely fun even if they never get written down, turned into a coherent story or shared with the world/internet. Some say it “doesn’t count” as being creative since you are building on someone else’s work and to them I say “So what?” As long as you’re not trying to pass the work off as your own or make money from it, there is no reason to be upset over fanfiction. The original work was meant to be shared and enjoyed, and this is how some people choose to enjoy it. It is true, you get a break in the world-building department, but that can let you focus on character building (especially if it’s an original character or a new interpretation of an existing one). This makes it a useful practice tool for anyone who wants to work on their characterization.

In writing circles the question often comes up “How would you feel about someone writing fanfiction about your work?” I think I would be a bit flattered that someone thought that highly of the world I had built, but I probably wouldn’t read it. Not out of some high-and-mighty creator’s ego, but fanfiction really isn’t my cup of tea. But that’s a personal preference and not a slam against fanfiction as a whole. If you enjoy it, go for it. If you want to share it, more power to you! And if you don’t like it…then that’s the end of the conversation. It can’t “damage” or “ruin” the original work any more than my attempt at football harms the NFL (and I have virtually no game to speak of). But that is my opinion. If you don’t like it, go out and make your own! …and I may have just invited the trolls in.

Not those! Although it is fun to play with their hair.

 

There are no dumb questions, some of them turn into books

As a writer of fiction, I make up things professionally. I peddle  lies, spinning them into fantasy to shock and awe, to comfort and amaze. And I write some of them down. That’s the real work of it (writing as a writer, who knew?) but that’s not where the magic is. For me the real magic is when the idea first sparks that light bulb above your head. And much like the writing process itself, that spark is different for everyone. Some draw from personal experience, some fantasize about what this world can’t offer, and some see things in ways most do not. For me, it’s questions. Almost every plot, theme and character is born from a question.

“What question is that?”

Well I’m glad you asked, convenient bystander! And there are many answers to that because those questions come from all over the place. Anything I experience, say, hear or see could fuel a question. Usually that question takes the form of “what would it be like if…” When I see a piece of technology in its early stages of development I wonder what a world would be like where it was available to everyone. I look at a movie and wonder how the plot would change if one element were taken out or added. My current WIP is basically my answer to the question “what would the world look like if countries developed living weapons in place of nukes?”

Characters, or more often character sketches, can be born from wondering what a person would be like if “blank”. That blank may be a certain worldview, a role they occupy, a personal experience or some combination of these things. I will use my character Dr. Loretta Anders to demonstrate. Once I had created the basic outline of this world I wanted to create I looked to populate the organization around my main character with people. I asked “what kind of person would be responsible for the technology that created my main character’s enhancements?” which lead to two lead researchers; one specializing in nanotechnology and a cellular biologist focused on the regenerative cell cycle (the aforementioned Dr. Anders).

Then came the question that would define her character arc; how would someone with her background and ideas handle being in this position? As a doctor trying to develop a breakthrough to save lives, working on a living weapon raises some hairy questions (and I haven’t given her a razor). And that leads to questions that spawned those Weapons themselves.

As a sci-fi writer with a science background I lean towards harder science fiction a bit. I try to have a semi-plausible explanation for the things my Weapons are capable of. But I also ask myself what those abilities would cost each of them. “How would someone handle information the brain wasn’t designed to process?” is the question I feel separates my work from the more traditional super hero tropes. A creature bred, augmented or straight up designed for fighting and killing probably comes up short in other aspects of life. What does that look like when they’re off the battlefield?

For most of the above questions, the character or story I create is my attempt at an answer. That means I don’t have a response ready when I start writing. I aim to discover it as I get to know the character. And those characters answer some of the bigger questions as they explore the world I’ve unleashed them upon. I ask a question and see where it leads me.

I like to think this is what it looks like

Now they don’t always lead to fantastic, exciting destinations. Sometimes the answer is rather uninteresting to me, or it doesn’t lend itself to deeper exploration. I’ve started bits of flash fiction that wind up feeling flat and I’ve written side pieces that could go way farther than I intended. It’s a haphazard, unpredictable way to build a world, but it makes it an adventure for me. In fact I find the farther I get into a story, the less control I actually have. It reaches a point where the characters are steering the bus and I’m along for the ride, occasionally shouting out directions, pretending to know where I’m going (a backseat writer, you might say). We make pit stops as the plot allows to sit and enjoy the scenery. Maybe have a picnic. So to those who have asked “where do your ideas come from?” now you know. And knowing is half the battle!

G.I. JOOOOOOOOE!