I wanted to finish last night, but somewhere around midnight I realized that the scene I'd saved for last was far too important to write while half-sleep and drooling on my keyboard (it was a long weekend). So, this morning, I nearly jumped out of bed at 6am, and only stopped on my way to my laptop for my contacts and a cuppa coffee - technically, I went to my computer before either of those things to try my hand at getting Pottermore early access (I was successful), but that's besides the point.
My mind's been playing tricks on me for the last several days as I've been getting close to this moment. It feels like I've slowed down and everything else has sped up. I wanted desperately to get here and also desperately never to get here. I don't know what my life is going to be like without this story kicking around in my brain needing to be written.
I started world-building a very different Escaterra from the one it is now when I was 13 years old. In late June of 2003, I felt the breath-taking end of my childhood when I came home from babysitting to find my mother in tears after receiving a phone call that my grandmother, to whom I was utterly devoted, had passed away. I flew with mom to Seattle - something I was supposed to do by myself only a few short weeks later for my annual visit to my grandmother - to help her arrange the memorial service and pack up her apartment.
Depression came easily to me in the months that followed; it a condition that runs rampant in my father's family tree, and I was no beauty, often plagued by barbs and insults from classmates about my looks and teacher's pet nature. Creating my world of fantasy was an adventurous escape, and that's what I needed most: something to make me feel alive and excited again. I eventually received the first bit of help for my depression when I was 14 at a summer camp that I will forever credit with saving my life. But long before that July day when campers and camp counselors supported me through my worst, I created my own light at the end of the tunnel - something sufferers of depression must do, but too often fail at.
As I've grown in maturity of age and writing, Escaterra has changed, my characters have changed, but what it means to me never has. Never will. I can only hope and pray and fight for the chance that one day it will mean even a little something to someone else.
Today's post is not one for weekly stats or goals or summary. I just wanted to share a little of me with you. And I'll end with the Last Line of the scene I finished this morning: "Nico didn't hesitate."
From here on, neither will I.
Showing posts with label Quote of the Week. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Quote of the Week. Show all posts
Monday, August 1, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
Weeks Eight and Nine: Burn Out, Baby, and Break Through
OK, I'm back. I recognize the irony of posting an update about wanting to post more just before disappearing from posting for two weeks.
Toward the middle of Week Eight, I started to fail miserably in getting through my days. By the end of the week, I was completely burnt out. I finished Saturday with some pages, and on Monday of Week Nine I wrote about 3 pages. Then, Tuesday came. Even if I wanted to write I wouldn't have had a chance. It was a baby-day. And by that I mean, it was an "Auntie-Farrell-is-a-jungle-gym-day." And by that I mean, my close friends have one of the cutest babies ever, and I babysat him from 7 am to 5:30 pm on Tuesday. He's a 9 month old in the learning-to-stand phase. Lifting baby > lifting weights. It was a fabulous mini-vacation. I wrote again on Thursday. Once again, not very many pages. Then, Thursday night. Harry Potter.
Harry Potter has always been near and dear to my heart, and I know this is a writing blog that I have dedicated to my writing and not other people's, but that means I need to talk about Harry Potter. Watching Deathly Hallows Part 2 Thursday night/Friday morning (and again on Saturday morning) reminded me of everything I love about writing, and how I started in the first place. I celebrated the release (yes, celebrated) with my best friend since junior high, Chelsea Bailey, whom I met because we were both re-reading Harry Potter in anticipation for the next book release. I never wrote when I was young. I wrote for class, and I didn't hate it. But it wasn't until I was reading Harry Potter as a pre-teen that I ever considered writing. Like many pre-teen fans of the Harry Potter series, I began writing fanfiction, which was utterly, devestatingly terrible. But for the first time I considered the possbility that I could be a writer, and here we are a decade later, and oh hey, I'm writing a novel. Hanging out with Chelsea and re-entering the world that introduced me to the love of writing gave me a much needed boost this past weekend. So, I'm heading into my next week with renewed optimism for this novel.
I've reworked my calendar and I think I should still be able to get through everything in time. I have about 80 to 100 pages (I think) of scenes left. The next two weeks will be for writing; the two weeks after that will be for hard-copy editing.
Quote of the Week: Fight
It's been a struggle these past two weeks is all I'm trying to say. And there are plenty of fight scenes to choose from, but Bar room brawls are iconic.
"There were two kinds of nights at the Dyre Den. Nights when Ala’omond was there. And nights when Ala’omond wasn’t.
Nico had chosen the second: the patrons threw fists, spells, mugs, stools, and whole bodies across the tavern’s main room."
Toward the middle of Week Eight, I started to fail miserably in getting through my days. By the end of the week, I was completely burnt out. I finished Saturday with some pages, and on Monday of Week Nine I wrote about 3 pages. Then, Tuesday came. Even if I wanted to write I wouldn't have had a chance. It was a baby-day. And by that I mean, it was an "Auntie-Farrell-is-a-jungle-gym-day." And by that I mean, my close friends have one of the cutest babies ever, and I babysat him from 7 am to 5:30 pm on Tuesday. He's a 9 month old in the learning-to-stand phase. Lifting baby > lifting weights. It was a fabulous mini-vacation. I wrote again on Thursday. Once again, not very many pages. Then, Thursday night. Harry Potter.
Harry Potter has always been near and dear to my heart, and I know this is a writing blog that I have dedicated to my writing and not other people's, but that means I need to talk about Harry Potter. Watching Deathly Hallows Part 2 Thursday night/Friday morning (and again on Saturday morning) reminded me of everything I love about writing, and how I started in the first place. I celebrated the release (yes, celebrated) with my best friend since junior high, Chelsea Bailey, whom I met because we were both re-reading Harry Potter in anticipation for the next book release. I never wrote when I was young. I wrote for class, and I didn't hate it. But it wasn't until I was reading Harry Potter as a pre-teen that I ever considered writing. Like many pre-teen fans of the Harry Potter series, I began writing fanfiction, which was utterly, devestatingly terrible. But for the first time I considered the possbility that I could be a writer, and here we are a decade later, and oh hey, I'm writing a novel. Hanging out with Chelsea and re-entering the world that introduced me to the love of writing gave me a much needed boost this past weekend. So, I'm heading into my next week with renewed optimism for this novel.
I've reworked my calendar and I think I should still be able to get through everything in time. I have about 80 to 100 pages (I think) of scenes left. The next two weeks will be for writing; the two weeks after that will be for hard-copy editing.
Quote of the Week: Fight
It's been a struggle these past two weeks is all I'm trying to say. And there are plenty of fight scenes to choose from, but Bar room brawls are iconic.
"There were two kinds of nights at the Dyre Den. Nights when Ala’omond was there. And nights when Ala’omond wasn’t.
Nico had chosen the second: the patrons threw fists, spells, mugs, stools, and whole bodies across the tavern’s main room."
Monday, June 20, 2011
Week Five: Utter Failure
Just thinking about my weekly stats makes my head hurt. I was well under my 50 page goal. Granted, it's not really my fault when my head decides it wants to mimic the pain from a torture scene in 24, but I'm still bummed about it.
Still, I'm extraordinarily close to the halfway point in the novel. My projection for it is Wednesday the 22nd, and I plan on writing through the evening until I get there. After today I'll probably have about 30 more pages to write, based on the scenes I know need to happen and how long they tend to be.
Once I get to the halfway point, I'm going to start giving more information about the novel itself. I don't think I've given a summary since week one. I'm thinking about doing mid-week Character Spotlights; how does that sound to you? I've also been working on another related project that I plan to premiere in a sister blog by the end of the summer.
I'm still lacking in the Facebook area. It's awful. I feel so disconnected from my friends not in my immediate physical space. Also, I can't share this blog there, so I appreciate your efforts to do so!
Quote of the Week: Fail
I didn't write for two days, so there really wasn't much from which to choose. I know I said I'd try for two this week, but c'mon. Three days worth of material. Plus, this is a long quote.
This quote is actually of a win for the main character, Nico, but a fail for the one she's dealing with.
"“You think you can kill me?” Nico asked
“Did you happen to notice how many people were in the room out there?”
54 patrons: half Prienvian, quarter Dwarven, and the rest a mix of Elven, Human and Hakathan. Plus the Prienvian barkeep. Nico liked challenges. Kept fight in the blood. “Nope.”
“Over fifty. And they’re all waiting for me to give them a signal.” The petite criminal giggled again. “So, let’s not be silly and do something you’ll regret in your afterlife.”
“Oh, I never allow myself to do something I’ll regret.”"
PS. Sorry this is late getting up again this week. I woke up late and didn't want to start writing late.
PPS. Great start to this week, by the way. :-)
Still, I'm extraordinarily close to the halfway point in the novel. My projection for it is Wednesday the 22nd, and I plan on writing through the evening until I get there. After today I'll probably have about 30 more pages to write, based on the scenes I know need to happen and how long they tend to be.
Once I get to the halfway point, I'm going to start giving more information about the novel itself. I don't think I've given a summary since week one. I'm thinking about doing mid-week Character Spotlights; how does that sound to you? I've also been working on another related project that I plan to premiere in a sister blog by the end of the summer.
I'm still lacking in the Facebook area. It's awful. I feel so disconnected from my friends not in my immediate physical space. Also, I can't share this blog there, so I appreciate your efforts to do so!
Quote of the Week: Fail
I didn't write for two days, so there really wasn't much from which to choose. I know I said I'd try for two this week, but c'mon. Three days worth of material. Plus, this is a long quote.
This quote is actually of a win for the main character, Nico, but a fail for the one she's dealing with.
"“You think you can kill me?” Nico asked
“Did you happen to notice how many people were in the room out there?”
54 patrons: half Prienvian, quarter Dwarven, and the rest a mix of Elven, Human and Hakathan. Plus the Prienvian barkeep. Nico liked challenges. Kept fight in the blood. “Nope.”
“Over fifty. And they’re all waiting for me to give them a signal.” The petite criminal giggled again. “So, let’s not be silly and do something you’ll regret in your afterlife.”
“Oh, I never allow myself to do something I’ll regret.”"
PS. Sorry this is late getting up again this week. I woke up late and didn't want to start writing late.
PPS. Great start to this week, by the way. :-)
Monday, June 6, 2011
Week Three: Planning
One of these days I'll get better at planning when I'm going to write these blog posts. Until then, I'll be concentrating all my planning energy on the novel.
I am planner. I can schedule and plan things to death, but I tend to get caught up in the planning too much to actually execute the results. So, when I decided to write this summer, I vowed to do as little planning as possible and only write until I couldn't go anymore. As I've previously said, I've been planning this in my head for years, so despite my lack of planning in writing, I've known what I've wanted to write. However, for the past two weeks, I have been working with three characters all in different places in the world, doing different things. This week, I hit the time in the novel when their paths first cross. Now, instead of planning about what will happen five chapters from now, I'm having to work out the logistics of perspective and the characters' individual storylines intersecting.
This is what led to my "first manuscript draft," which I wrote about in the mid-week update. I combined all the scenes I've written over the past weeks in chronological order into one document. This has led me to develop an entirely new structure for the novel that I hadn't been planning on, and with a structure, I now have a much better idea of when and where certain characters need to be interacting and in whose perspective all the scenes should be, even though I don't have a list of all the scenes I'll be writing - just the absolutely necessary ones.
Since this is following a post with all my stats, etc, I don't have much to write this time around. The plan for the following week is to stay with one particular character the entire time. She took a turn for crazyville on Friday when a sub-sub-plot quickly became her main characterization/character motivation. I have no idea where this is going, which is exciting and, I guess, means I'm doing a good job at only planning what I absolutely have to.
Quote of the Week: Starting Point
As I've blogged before, this undertaking might be the most insane thing I've ever committed to. And now that I've begun a bit of planning, it seems both slightly more and slightly less of an ordeal. In this, a hunter, D'rina, has left her comfort zone to research a peculiar incident she witnessed while hunting. She is now utterly surrounded by research materials.
"D’rina had no idea where to start. The undertaking suddenly overwhelmed and crashed down on her. She should have kept to hunting what could be stalked.
She grabbed the scroll from the top of the closest stack to her. [...]
As she unrolled the scroll and began to read, D’rina hoped the librarian didn’t mind that she might be there for forever."
I am planner. I can schedule and plan things to death, but I tend to get caught up in the planning too much to actually execute the results. So, when I decided to write this summer, I vowed to do as little planning as possible and only write until I couldn't go anymore. As I've previously said, I've been planning this in my head for years, so despite my lack of planning in writing, I've known what I've wanted to write. However, for the past two weeks, I have been working with three characters all in different places in the world, doing different things. This week, I hit the time in the novel when their paths first cross. Now, instead of planning about what will happen five chapters from now, I'm having to work out the logistics of perspective and the characters' individual storylines intersecting.
This is what led to my "first manuscript draft," which I wrote about in the mid-week update. I combined all the scenes I've written over the past weeks in chronological order into one document. This has led me to develop an entirely new structure for the novel that I hadn't been planning on, and with a structure, I now have a much better idea of when and where certain characters need to be interacting and in whose perspective all the scenes should be, even though I don't have a list of all the scenes I'll be writing - just the absolutely necessary ones.
Since this is following a post with all my stats, etc, I don't have much to write this time around. The plan for the following week is to stay with one particular character the entire time. She took a turn for crazyville on Friday when a sub-sub-plot quickly became her main characterization/character motivation. I have no idea where this is going, which is exciting and, I guess, means I'm doing a good job at only planning what I absolutely have to.
Quote of the Week: Starting Point
As I've blogged before, this undertaking might be the most insane thing I've ever committed to. And now that I've begun a bit of planning, it seems both slightly more and slightly less of an ordeal. In this, a hunter, D'rina, has left her comfort zone to research a peculiar incident she witnessed while hunting. She is now utterly surrounded by research materials.
"D’rina had no idea where to start. The undertaking suddenly overwhelmed and crashed down on her. She should have kept to hunting what could be stalked.
She grabbed the scroll from the top of the closest stack to her. [...]
As she unrolled the scroll and began to read, D’rina hoped the librarian didn’t mind that she might be there for forever."
Monday, May 30, 2011
Week Two: Health and Wellness
This blog is coming out late today, as you can see. I wanted to spend some time on Saturday writing it; instead, I had an extra day of writing. With my Saturday session, I wrote 48 pages, 2 under my writing goal.
Now, I'm not beating myself up over 2 pages, but neither am I letting it slide. I know myself, shortcuts and slides will be my downfall. Let this blog and all those (2) of you who read it be my accountability.
The reason I fell short and needed an extra day of writing this week was that I took Thursday as a sick day. I slept off a migraine in the morning and went to the doctor in the afternoon. I wrote about two pages that day. I've been feeling sick the past couple weeks, and this is something that's happened to me a couple times before. It's like I'm in a car getting motion sick while sitting in my desk chair. Obviously, while writing, I do a lot of sitting in my desk chair and therefore a lot of getting sick. The doctor seems to have found the issue and I'm on yet more medication (I already have plenty for chronic migraines), and the meds are so far working.
Incidentally, illness is what cemented this project in my mind as a requirement for the summer. I'm not the healthiest person in the world. I have chronic migraines, get a cold at the slightest pressure or temperature change, and can injure myself in mind-blowingly astounding ways. But hospitals were never my thing. I had to go once for stitches when I was 8 and once for a panic attack and migraine when I was 19. In comparison to my brother who went to the hospital for a new injury sustained while doing something "daring" and stupid what seemed like every other week when we were kids, I was a pretty safe from hospital stays.
When I do get sick, I prefer not to go to see doctors. I know that a fever, nausea, and achiness are the flu and that I should take Tylenol, drink plenty of fluids, and sleep. I don't need to go to a doctor who will stick me with needles and tell me the exact same thing. Unless I need a note for missing classes. So, when I woke up one Tuesday morning in late April with the sudden urge to vomit up everything in my body, including my organs, and had a strangely high fever, I just assumed it was the flu - you know, one of those 24 hour stomach bugs that you used to feign having to get out of a test but still be able to go out on the weekend? I threw up and went back to bed, and my roommate went to classes, probably thinking my inferior gentile self couldn't handle the awesomeness that was our Seder food and especially wine from the night before.
But that night when she got home, she was a dutiful roommate and checked my temperature, it was 102.5. We went to the hospital. After a couple hours of waiting, some IV fluid, and a test or two, Rachel and I returned home with a diagnosed of flu and minor infection. Take Tylenol and a prescribed antibiotic. I spent the next day in bed, with my roommate and another friend dutifully watching over me, making sure I was taking the Tylenol that wasn't lowering my fever and drinking fluids that I was barely keeping down. I'd filled my hospital quota for the next decade; Rachel hadn't. After taking my temperature again that night (103.3), she dragged me out of bed - I could barely move my muscles were so sore - and got me back to the hospital. With explicit instructions from my mother for Rachel to glower at the hospital staff until I was given everything I could possibly need, I was treated like I was dying. As it turns out, I was. I spent the next few of days in the PCU and another couple in general care. At first I was too sick to really understand exactly how serious it all was. Then I was too doped.
I guess one of the morals of this story is to see a frikkin' doctor when you get sick, which I have taken to heart, as evidenced by my doctor's appointment on Thursday. But in terms of this project, I also learned another lesson from the experience:
On an intellectual level, at some point, I realized that this could have been it for me. It took a while for it to fully sink in. You know how people say that you should live life to its fullest because tomorrow you could get hit by a bus or something? When you actually get hit by that bus and survive, things come into a different perspective. I have 21 years of really fabulous test scores and GPAs. I wanted more. I get to live the rest of my life with the threat of a recurrence, but far more importantly, I get to live, and I am going to make my life worth that. Which means it's time to get serious about what actually matters to me.
That's what this summer, this project, is about.
Quote of the Week: Memory (Reminder: These are very rough drafts. Apologies.)
In this quote, the healer Contierra from last week's quote is reflecting on the fulfilling 500 year life of an important man she's treating and her own memory of him. This was written on May 27th:
"Contierra tried to imagine him as young Cazchdani man named Abner at about her age, but she couldn’t. She could, however, picture him quite clearly as a bumbling sideshow magician at her hometown’s annual Summer Festival, as he had once posed for some reason she had never learned. She wondered if anyone else could – it was doubtful. She knew that in his lifetime, he had forged many important relationships, but having known him in that way made her feel special. That was how she met him."
Now, I'm not beating myself up over 2 pages, but neither am I letting it slide. I know myself, shortcuts and slides will be my downfall. Let this blog and all those (2) of you who read it be my accountability.
The reason I fell short and needed an extra day of writing this week was that I took Thursday as a sick day. I slept off a migraine in the morning and went to the doctor in the afternoon. I wrote about two pages that day. I've been feeling sick the past couple weeks, and this is something that's happened to me a couple times before. It's like I'm in a car getting motion sick while sitting in my desk chair. Obviously, while writing, I do a lot of sitting in my desk chair and therefore a lot of getting sick. The doctor seems to have found the issue and I'm on yet more medication (I already have plenty for chronic migraines), and the meds are so far working.
Incidentally, illness is what cemented this project in my mind as a requirement for the summer. I'm not the healthiest person in the world. I have chronic migraines, get a cold at the slightest pressure or temperature change, and can injure myself in mind-blowingly astounding ways. But hospitals were never my thing. I had to go once for stitches when I was 8 and once for a panic attack and migraine when I was 19. In comparison to my brother who went to the hospital for a new injury sustained while doing something "daring" and stupid what seemed like every other week when we were kids, I was a pretty safe from hospital stays.
When I do get sick, I prefer not to go to see doctors. I know that a fever, nausea, and achiness are the flu and that I should take Tylenol, drink plenty of fluids, and sleep. I don't need to go to a doctor who will stick me with needles and tell me the exact same thing. Unless I need a note for missing classes. So, when I woke up one Tuesday morning in late April with the sudden urge to vomit up everything in my body, including my organs, and had a strangely high fever, I just assumed it was the flu - you know, one of those 24 hour stomach bugs that you used to feign having to get out of a test but still be able to go out on the weekend? I threw up and went back to bed, and my roommate went to classes, probably thinking my inferior gentile self couldn't handle the awesomeness that was our Seder food and especially wine from the night before.
But that night when she got home, she was a dutiful roommate and checked my temperature, it was 102.5. We went to the hospital. After a couple hours of waiting, some IV fluid, and a test or two, Rachel and I returned home with a diagnosed of flu and minor infection. Take Tylenol and a prescribed antibiotic. I spent the next day in bed, with my roommate and another friend dutifully watching over me, making sure I was taking the Tylenol that wasn't lowering my fever and drinking fluids that I was barely keeping down. I'd filled my hospital quota for the next decade; Rachel hadn't. After taking my temperature again that night (103.3), she dragged me out of bed - I could barely move my muscles were so sore - and got me back to the hospital. With explicit instructions from my mother for Rachel to glower at the hospital staff until I was given everything I could possibly need, I was treated like I was dying. As it turns out, I was. I spent the next few of days in the PCU and another couple in general care. At first I was too sick to really understand exactly how serious it all was. Then I was too doped.
I guess one of the morals of this story is to see a frikkin' doctor when you get sick, which I have taken to heart, as evidenced by my doctor's appointment on Thursday. But in terms of this project, I also learned another lesson from the experience:
On an intellectual level, at some point, I realized that this could have been it for me. It took a while for it to fully sink in. You know how people say that you should live life to its fullest because tomorrow you could get hit by a bus or something? When you actually get hit by that bus and survive, things come into a different perspective. I have 21 years of really fabulous test scores and GPAs. I wanted more. I get to live the rest of my life with the threat of a recurrence, but far more importantly, I get to live, and I am going to make my life worth that. Which means it's time to get serious about what actually matters to me.
That's what this summer, this project, is about.
Quote of the Week: Memory (Reminder: These are very rough drafts. Apologies.)
In this quote, the healer Contierra from last week's quote is reflecting on the fulfilling 500 year life of an important man she's treating and her own memory of him. This was written on May 27th:
"Contierra tried to imagine him as young Cazchdani man named Abner at about her age, but she couldn’t. She could, however, picture him quite clearly as a bumbling sideshow magician at her hometown’s annual Summer Festival, as he had once posed for some reason she had never learned. She wondered if anyone else could – it was doubtful. She knew that in his lifetime, he had forged many important relationships, but having known him in that way made her feel special. That was how she met him."
Monday, May 23, 2011
Week One: An Exercise in Will Power
Total: 35 hours. (The following are approximates)
Writing Warm Ups: 4 hours, 45 minutes
Daily After-Writing Edits: 2 hours, 25 minutes
Enthusiastically Novel-Writing: 24 hours, 28 minutes
Staring at a Blinking Cursor: 2 hours, 13 minutes
Drooling, Staring off into Space, and Imagining Myself Enthusiastically Novel-Writing: 1 hour, 9 minutes
Writing Warm-Ups produced two letters (one mailed, one not), two poems, five short story beginnings, and two diary entries.
However, the Escaterra Project is about writing a novel. 58 pages, 16,986 words.
I've been talking about writing this novel for a long time. Years. Obviously, talking isn't writing, and for years, I have always found excuses to not write and instead think and plan and world-build. This summer, I've decided, will change all of that. From 9am to 5pm, but a lunch break at noon, Monday through Friday, I am working on The Escaterra Project, an effort to write the entire novel in the twelve weeks I have between junior and senior years of college. I can spend 35 hours on the computer every week without a problem. I could be a professional internet time-waster, but for 7 hours everyday, my internet is turned off, and the only program open on my laptop is a fresh Word Document. When I started on Monday, I was slightly terrified about how well it would work, "best laid plans" and all that. I powered through and above are the results.
Going into this summer, I had no intention of blogging. I've tried to start blogs before, but never got so much as 1 post done. By Thursday, I had made so many Facebook status updates about it that I decided I might as well try. I'll be updating at least weekly, sometime between Friday evening after 5pm and Monday morning before 9am. I'm not sure yet exactly what I'll be writing about beyond the general premise of documenting my writing process over the summer. I'll write a little about me; I'll write a little about my novel.
Now, for the little about my novel...
The working title is Prophecy. Because, oh hey, it involves a prophecy, as fantasy novels often do. Clever, right? Escaterra is the name of the world in which it takes place.
The Gods must choose their champions to save the world from certain destruction. They could select anyone to save the world from the apocalypse. They could choose Ariy'Ala'omand, the warrior prince of Hakatha already dedicated to the cause. Or Ashalana, the queen's friend and confidant, whose envious and corrupt rivals in court have her sent on a far off mission. Or the nameless woman of the secret band of exiled politcal adversaries and criminals who plans to lead them from their wilderness hide-out to rebellion at the city gates. Even the crazy old woman outside the walls of Souzarzum or the much-despised, apathetic Sorcerer could become saviors. But the Gods instead will choose a pirate, an apothecary and a recluse. They just don't know it yet.
In the coming weeks, I'll be filling you in on more (as it actually gets written).
Quote of the Week: Will Save (Note: apologies, these will be very rough. I will choose them for the theme, not because they are magnificent examples of prose.)
For those who don't know, I'm a huge fan of tabletop games. For those of you who don't know much about tabletop games, here's a lesson for you: Will Saves "reflect your resistance to mental influence" (PHB 3.5, 136). Someone trying to intimidate you? Roll a Will Save.
This past week has just been one major Will Save for me against the intimidation of the project I was taking on. So, here is an example of a successful Will Save I wrote on May 18th:
"Even if Contierra had access to a weapon, she wouldn’t know how to use it against them; she was terrified of all manner of beast, and had she a choice, Contierra would live a much more luxurious life in which she was required to do none of her own work. But Contierra ci’Mublim sáh’Hailiphusahabiro imci’Niha had defied her father and lord, had successfully stared down a land pirate twice in her life, had lived through the worst attack in the living memory of Hakathans, and had just willingly hung off cliff for three hours – a simple man with a crossbow was not all that intimidating."
Writing Warm Ups: 4 hours, 45 minutes
Daily After-Writing Edits: 2 hours, 25 minutes
Enthusiastically Novel-Writing: 24 hours, 28 minutes
Staring at a Blinking Cursor: 2 hours, 13 minutes
Drooling, Staring off into Space, and Imagining Myself Enthusiastically Novel-Writing: 1 hour, 9 minutes
Writing Warm-Ups produced two letters (one mailed, one not), two poems, five short story beginnings, and two diary entries.
However, the Escaterra Project is about writing a novel. 58 pages, 16,986 words.
I've been talking about writing this novel for a long time. Years. Obviously, talking isn't writing, and for years, I have always found excuses to not write and instead think and plan and world-build. This summer, I've decided, will change all of that. From 9am to 5pm, but a lunch break at noon, Monday through Friday, I am working on The Escaterra Project, an effort to write the entire novel in the twelve weeks I have between junior and senior years of college. I can spend 35 hours on the computer every week without a problem. I could be a professional internet time-waster, but for 7 hours everyday, my internet is turned off, and the only program open on my laptop is a fresh Word Document. When I started on Monday, I was slightly terrified about how well it would work, "best laid plans" and all that. I powered through and above are the results.
Going into this summer, I had no intention of blogging. I've tried to start blogs before, but never got so much as 1 post done. By Thursday, I had made so many Facebook status updates about it that I decided I might as well try. I'll be updating at least weekly, sometime between Friday evening after 5pm and Monday morning before 9am. I'm not sure yet exactly what I'll be writing about beyond the general premise of documenting my writing process over the summer. I'll write a little about me; I'll write a little about my novel.
Now, for the little about my novel...
The working title is Prophecy. Because, oh hey, it involves a prophecy, as fantasy novels often do. Clever, right? Escaterra is the name of the world in which it takes place.
The Gods must choose their champions to save the world from certain destruction. They could select anyone to save the world from the apocalypse. They could choose Ariy'Ala'omand, the warrior prince of Hakatha already dedicated to the cause. Or Ashalana, the queen's friend and confidant, whose envious and corrupt rivals in court have her sent on a far off mission. Or the nameless woman of the secret band of exiled politcal adversaries and criminals who plans to lead them from their wilderness hide-out to rebellion at the city gates. Even the crazy old woman outside the walls of Souzarzum or the much-despised, apathetic Sorcerer could become saviors. But the Gods instead will choose a pirate, an apothecary and a recluse. They just don't know it yet.
In the coming weeks, I'll be filling you in on more (as it actually gets written).
Quote of the Week: Will Save (Note: apologies, these will be very rough. I will choose them for the theme, not because they are magnificent examples of prose.)
For those who don't know, I'm a huge fan of tabletop games. For those of you who don't know much about tabletop games, here's a lesson for you: Will Saves "reflect your resistance to mental influence" (PHB 3.5, 136). Someone trying to intimidate you? Roll a Will Save.
This past week has just been one major Will Save for me against the intimidation of the project I was taking on. So, here is an example of a successful Will Save I wrote on May 18th:
"Even if Contierra had access to a weapon, she wouldn’t know how to use it against them; she was terrified of all manner of beast, and had she a choice, Contierra would live a much more luxurious life in which she was required to do none of her own work. But Contierra ci’Mublim sáh’Hailiphusahabiro imci’Niha had defied her father and lord, had successfully stared down a land pirate twice in her life, had lived through the worst attack in the living memory of Hakathans, and had just willingly hung off cliff for three hours – a simple man with a crossbow was not all that intimidating."
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