Chapter One?

I'd like to start by talking about first drafts. They're never that easy and, when trying to rewrite poor novels, they're actually harder than when I'm free writing.

When free-writing on an idea that I have, even if I have no plot, I can generally get by enough that I can write large amounts. I am nothing if not verbose. I can write fifteen words where a normal person will only manage three. It means I can rack up enormous word counts and feel productive. But I'm trying a new tack with this experiment. I'm trying to get as much done in as few words as possible. This makes characterisation a little more challenging. Trying to communicate setting, atmosphere and character interaction all at once is harder than it looks. Especially when my characters unexpectedly hi-jack conversation.

Take tonight as an example. I wanted to have a conversation to show Anastasia's relationship with her parents (not good) and with her flatmate (cardboard cut-out character necessary to prove that Anastasia is at University). That was it. Then I would skip to a night out where romantic male lead would be introduced and we could focus on that for a while (maintaining a stalker sub-plot for a bit). This would be short.

Then Suzy, she got a name, decided that she and Anastasia would get along rather too well. And that she would be a Christian. And that this would be a thing.

In short, I have characters. But I hate them. I feel like a proper writer and everything.

As usual, I plugged the whole thing into the wonderful 750words.com because they are awesome and why aren't you doing the same?


Rating: PG-13 (Sexual content[?] and violence [no clue])

Feeling mostly Upset, and concerned mostly about Religion[?].

Mindset: Introvert - Negative - Uncertain - Feeling

Time: The Past; Primary Sense: Hearing; Us and Them: You

46 minutes at 31 words per minute.

Prologuing part the second

So, it's been unforgivably long since I posted here. I'm still trying to survive the awfulness by re-writing. I can't say it's any good, but even in the first draft state that I'm posting here I think I can argue that it's better than what I'm reading. Don't get me wrong, that's not me blowing my own trumpet (what I have is very unpolished and verbose), it's just a reflection.

In this entry we meet, and I use the term loosely, our protagonist for the tale: Anastasia Cable (or, in Finnish, Kaisla Kuura apparently) and, hopefully, get some tension. However, it's too damn' long and the sentences are a bit rambley. It's a first draft, yes, but that's no real excuse.

On to the stats! Good old 750words.com!


Rating: PG-13 (Swearing [bloody], sexual content[?] and violence [possibly due to a cornish pasty])

Feeling mostly Upset, and concerned mostly about Religion[?].

Mindset: Extrovert - Negative - Uncertain - Feeling

Time: The Past; Primary Sense: Touch; Us and Them: You

50 minutes at 36 words per minute.

So NSFW it's untrue

I recommend that you don't read this at all if you are in a place that would track your internet usage. I haven't written for a while, work stuff, and I wanted to get back into the swing of things. I also wanted to get back to St Avril and, obviously, that didn't happen. Since when do I write what I actually set out to write? Instead I ended up thinking of the Prehistoric setting and trying again to get into the head of my female protagonist. I think I have Moon Dancer now and I think I know how he works and what I would like to do with his part of the story, at least insofar as I understand what the story is.

No, with the females I am less convinced. So... I wrote my very first sex scene. Well, no, not quite. I wrote one at the age of 16, when on exchange in Germany, and as angsty teen it was was unrealistic and ended in a murder. The woman kills the man, just because. I never did work out why, it was brutal and angsty and... well, I was a teen. Anyway, it turns out to be really difficult to write feelings in sex in actual words. I did my best.

Rating: R (sexual content, violence[?] and swearing[?]) The first I get, the rest I don't.

Feeling mostly upset(?) in a dead heat with happy, and concerned mostly about religion

Mindset: Extrovert - Positive - Uncertain - Thinking

Time: The Past; Primary Sense: Touch; Us and Them: Them

37 minutes at 44 words per minute

Shadow of the Stag

So, apparently I am attacked once again by the Prehistoric thing. And tonight I was shown how a boy becomes a man. I was also shown a little bit of the nomenclature that I had been so missing. Up until tonight I had no concept of the naming of people. I now have some knowledge of naming and how it is going to go, some idea of how the society works and, apparently, two ways in which the males of this setting can be aligned. It follows on from this post.

There is a poetry in this section, I hope, certainly I felt it as I wrote. I was writing mainly to the tune of Victoria Lucas by Moby, and that may show through too. For at work today I had a moment alone with no one else around and I danced in a way that I haven't for a good few years. It felt good to dance. It felt good and probably looked terrible. But it felt good. That may have influenced what I wrote tonight.

Analysis, as ever, from 750words.com who are brilliant. If sometimes a little strange in their analysis.

Rating: PG-13 for swearing, sexual content and violence (I'm going to go ahead and say here that I see none of that in what I wrote).

Feeling mostly self expressive (with upset as a side-order) and concerned mostly with religion (with leisure as a side order)

Mindset: Extrovert - Positive - Certain - Thinking

Time: The Past; Primary Sense: Hearing; Us and Them: You (with a side order of them)

36 minutes at 43 words per minute.

Prehistoric: Stalked

Another night another dream but always this. He is stalked. Still no names, still no plot.

Analysis:

Feeling mostly affectionate and concerned mostly with eating and drinking

Mindset: Introvert - Negative - Uncertain - Thinking

Time: The Past; Primary Sense: Touch; Us and Them: Them

29 minutes at 54 words per minute

Prehistoric: Coming of Age

It appears as though this particular vein is continuing. Tonight I write a scene in which something actually happens. My main character is coming of age.

No, I don't know how it relates to the previous two sections yet, only that I need to know how this all works. It's not finished, he's just about to start his quest but I don't want to force it. The style of this work and the way it's moving are completely, I think, different to my normal style. They may even be different to what I did for NaNo.

Anyway, again the analysis (thank you 750words.com):

Rating: PG-13 (sexual content and swearing[!]) - really not sure where there is swearing.

Feeling mostly affectionate and concerned mostly with religion

Mindset: Extrovert - Positive - Certain - Thinking

Time Orientation: the Past (with a dash of the future)
Primary Sense: Touch
Us and Them: Them (well, it is third person)

42 minutes (37 actually typing) at 38 words per minute

Prehistoric stuff part 2

I still don't have a title for any of this, much less an idea where it is going. I think that someone has to die and then we have a murder mystery style plot going on, but I really have no idea. Also, I don't really want him to be the main character if I can help it. Him going off and doing a murder mystery plot would be... well, a bit patriarchal, no?

Again some stats for you, courtesy of 750words.com:

Rating: PG-13 - sexual content and violence (still not seeing the violence)

Feeling mostly affectionate and concerned mostly about religion (but only just)

Mindset: Extrovert - Positive - Certain - Feeling

Time: Past; Primary Sense: Touch; Us and them: Them

Prehistoric Detective Novel?

I have long toyed with the idea of setting a story in Prehistory, but I am no Jean Auel and I have never even read the series. Equally, my knowledge of Prehistory is small and slim. That doesn't diminish my urge to do it, just make it harder as I lack the time to research and the inclination to really go for it. As I haven't touched my NaNo project since February (and then didn't really do much of use having left it since December) I figured I'd try something that had nothing attached to it.

What follows, then, is a quick exercise to try and get going. Before I share it I shall place the analysis (courtesy of 750words.com, where you should also be going) and then a line break so that it doesn't clutter up the blog any.

Rating: PG-13 for sexual content and violence (not sure about violence)

Feeling mostly affectionate and concerned mostly about religion

Mindset: Extrovert (75%) - Positive - Certain - Thinking

Time Orientation: the Past; Primary Sense: Touch; Us and Them: Them

Time: 28 minutes at 46 words per minute

First paragraph...

Well, having pushed out 3,504 words so far I thought I would post my first scene as it stands.  I have no names though, no names, and only codes to go with.  FF = Father Figure; MC = Main Character; MF = Mother Figure.  My main character refuses point blank to give me his name and so I have no clue what nationality to make the other names.  Bit worried about what this says about me as a person, this scene, but it's NaNo, so I guess that sort of happens.

Scene 1

It was unnatural, the silence that followed the screaming of seconds before, and FF was certain that it was not a good sign.  Pacing, such a good idea before, now seemed out of place and over anxious, like he was trespassing in his own domain.  His hands clasped behind his back strained for some other action, which is why he kept them clamped there with a tremendous force of will.  Unusually he could feel his moustache tickling his top lip and his nostrils.  He wanted to sneeze.  He wanted it all to be over.

       The balding man before him coughed again, slightly and with some tremor. “We… ah…”

       Snapping his eyes to meet those of the small man, FF frowned.  “Yes?”

       “A decision, sir, we need a decision.”

       The silence lingered.  It wasn’t natural.  It wasn’t right.  “A decision.”

       “Well, more- that is- we need your decision.”

       “Quite right,” FF puffed his chest out to emphasise his point, “Quite right.  Very well.  Yes.”

       “Sir?”

       “I consent.  Pull the bastard out.”

       “Yes sir.”  The little balding man scurried away, almost ratlike FF reflected, and then closed the door.  There was a little commotion from beyond that door, sounds like people talking quietly.  A groan escaped FF’s wife.

       When the screaming resumed it was loud, lusty and long.  But, reflected FF, at least it was right.  Pacing resumed for a short while, and then his hands stopped straining, the screaming continued as he turned on his heel, took a seat and pulled out his hip flask.  A swift slug of whiskey warmed his insides, the fire of Dutch courage as his father would have said, God rest his soul, and FF felt more like himself.  He inspected the artwork on the walls, some of it the traditional style and some of it the more modern stuff coming out of Spain and Italy.  He didn’t really know what to make of it all – lines and splotches and colours intermingling.  All a lot of rot, of course, the true masters of the art were all gone now.  No one seemed to have time to study the classics properly and no one seemed to have learned anything from the history books.  He harrumphed and sat back more heavily in the chair to wait.

       Presently the screaming stopped.  FF stood, dusted himself down from any dirt, imaginary or otherwise, and walked briskly to the door.  There was a new sound, mewling and pathetic, and that announced the entry into the world of the little bastard who must now meet his father.  He hoped that everyone would be decent.  Door thrust open with a little more force than was strictly necessary, FF entered the room.  Ignoring the woman on the bed whom fate had made his wife, her legs strapped down to the iron frame to allow better access and covered with the aftermath of delivery by forceps, and nodding to the surgeon with his paper mask FF turned to face the two nurses hastily wrapping the mewling bundle.

       “Is that it?”

       One of the nurses made to curtsey, but stopped when she realised no one else was doing so.  Out in the provinces old habits died hard and FF felt a flash of recognition at the gesture.  The old ways were dying out.  “Yes, sir, it’s a boy.”

       “Hmm.”  It came out as an admonishment.  “I know.  Is it healthy?”

       “Yes, sir.”

       “Good.”  Squinting he could almost see a face in amongst the bundle and blood.  “Shouldn’t it be louder than that?”  He waved irritably at the first nurse to open her mouth.  “Never mind, the bastard will do, I suppose.”  As if noticing the woman on the bed for the first time he started a little.  “Clean her up and get her decent, she’ll be home by the evening,” then to the woman herself, “I think we’ll have steak tonight.  I shall be back in the evening.”  His hands went back to their old position above his rear.  “Doctor, thank you, it must have been a difficult one.  I hope the bastard didn’t give you too much trouble, sir.”

       “No more than one would expect,” the Doctor answered with a tired smile.

       FF clapped him on the shoulder, once, then walked to the door.  “I think this calls for a little celebration.”  And then he was gone.

       “Can- Can I hold him?” whimpered the woman on the bed, her legs were still immobile, her face still drawn from the pain and a sheen of sweat still glistened from the travails.  “I want- I want to hold him.”

       “No, dearie, you just rest yourself,” replied a nurse in a businesslike fashion, “Doctor here’s got to stitch up that nasty tear before you’ll be up to moving much.  We’ll see the boy is well looked after, don’t you worry yourself.  Get you home and rested in no time.”  She fluffed a pillow and thrust it under the woman’s head brusquely, but not unkindly.  “Steak’ll help you feel right soon enough.”  A thin smile of comfort.

 

            “His name…” gasped the woman, almost sleeping from the strain now, “His name is MC.”

Random Ideas

One idea that constantly occurs to me, after I've got past the world building of most of my novel plans and the like, is the idea of having a main character who is not the character through which we view the story.  I don't just mean by having the story in third person omniscient either, I mean by having the standard third person view but multiple POV characters who all interact with the character about whom the story and plot is.

Put another way, it would be like reading Bernard Cornwell's Sharpe books but from the points of view of Harris, Harper, Wellington etc rather than centring on Sharpe himself.  So you'd have the story of Sharpe's Rifles told by various members of his regiment, with Sharpe appearing at various points, then a gap until he appears to rescue Harper and the rest from the ambush and so on and so forth.  It would be very difficult to write but it would be really interesting.  Mainly to see if I could actually create that many realistic characters who would be 'real' enough to follow.  Each one would have their vignette and, slowly, it would become apparent that the plot was following someone else, someone who featured in all of the other stories.

I'd have to actually write it, though, and the lack of posting here would seem to suggest that this would be difficult.  However, the point of this blog is to spur my typing and I seem to get a groove on every year.  When it happens this year I just have a place to put it all.