Biting The Bullet And Finishing That Novel...

Firstly, I'd like to congratulate one of my writer friends on finishing the first draft of their second novel.  It's such a great feeling when you actually come to the last page and get to finally type the words 'The End'.  You know you still have a huge journey ahead of you in the form of editing, but just finishing that first draft and having a full manuscript in front of you spreads a warm feeling inside caused by a mixture of emotions including pride and love.

You done it!  You finished it!  You've beaten all odds!

Not every aspiring writer reaches the end of their first novel.  A common problem that I've seen in many writers over the years is just getting past the first few chapters.  For those who know me, I've written a fair few novels in my time.  I'm a sucker for finishing what I started.  Editing is a different matter for me though and it's only been in recent years that I've started taking this just as seriously as writing. 

However, one topic of discussion we once had was 'how do you actually reach the end?' 

A lot of writers suddenly become obsessed with their opening chapter and the few chapters following, constantly going back editing things, changing things and tweaking things.  They just can't get out of this habit and thus they never break forth into the rest of the story.  My response to this was to just bite the bullet, forget about those first chapters and write.  Just write!  You know there may be things that need changing but do that later.  Write and then write some more.  Don't worry too much about spelling, grammar, or those little plot holes.  Write - and before you know it you've finished your book.  Yeah, it's only a first draft but it's finished; you've written those two words; and most importantly, you've beaten yourself and your habit.  You've climbed out of that rutt!  It's such an achievement that you never thought you'd reach before.  THEN you can go back an edit and change things.

My friend was in this position when I first met her.  She spent god knows how long stuck on the first few chapters of her first novel, and after having this conversation, she took what was said on board, went home and wrote.  Now, low and behold, she's just finished her second novel.  She's moved on so far since those days of struggling, and so deserves a HUGE congratulations and a 'good luck' for the rest of the editing ahead.

'Sins of the Father' is the second instalment of Susan Maylor's 'Nathan Turner series'.  The first thriller, Justice Served Cold, is available on amazon for Kindle and will also soon be available in print.

   

Wanted: Dead or Alive . . .

I've been duped! Duped big time stylie!!!

After finishing Son of Jack I wrote a series of short ghost stories and then decided that I could happily have a little break from writing - only for a week or so. I figured that now I didn't have any deadlines to contend with I could put my feet up for a bit. I started to draw, then that idea got a bit old; read some and then became a member of LoveFilm. I could stream and watch films instantly.

After watching god-knows how many films, I got back into the ye old faithful series of True Blood. Seeing as I'm not one to sit down religiously at a set time every week to watch a series on TV, I got the DVD, but I'm a skin-flint. I only had season one on DVD and thought I'd wait until the price dropped before buying the rest. So, after watching season one I had to get the second season. Now I've watched every episode I find myself in a rut. What am I to do now? I'm at a loss. I've ordered season three but it won't be here for at least a week. What am I going to do in between times???

Then I remembered that I'm actually a writer!!! How could I have forgotten? And then it dawned on me.

Yep, I've been duped. My muse enjoyed his little break and obviously doesn't want to come back without a fight. He's been quite happy sitting down, watching TV and becoming the stereotypical couch potato. Now I want to put him back to work, he's up'ed and made a run for it. I've tried, I've fought, and I managed to write the opening chapter of the vampire story that I had in mind, but then he got the upper hand of the fight. I'm not quite sure where he is now. He's hiding and could be anywhere. But I know he's still in the house. I hear him creeping around the shadows at night; I know he's playing games with me; I feel him peaking over my shoulder when I'm reading through previous work, and as soon as I put finger to keyboard he sniggers at me and runs off.

By allowing him this little break, I've been too soft on him and now he's running riot and doing as he pleases. I need to gain control of him! I need to put him back to work and that means discipline! He's not going to like it, but once he's under control again, everything should be fine and he'll see it's for his own good. You have to be cruel to be kind.

So, if anyone sees an unaccompanied muse wandering around, no doubt he's mine. He's Wanted: Dead or Alive. You know how to contact me if he's sighted and your cooperation is very much appreciated.

Thank you.

An Idea If You're Struggling To Name Your Characters . . .

Peggy Eddleman over at Will Write For Cookies (love that title) wrote an interesting post the other day about names and choosing the right name for your character. There were some good comments too.

The mind works differently for everyone. For some, names come easily, names that fit their character perfectly, but for others it isn't as easy. Characters may start off with a name but by the end may have gone through several different ones because the last just didn't fit.

So how do you find the perfect name for your character?

I fit in the catagory where names come easily to me. I've never changed half way through a WIP. Once I've created a character and given them a name, it's like I've created a living, breathing person. I can't change their name half way through. For me, that's like changing a kid's name when they reach six years old because you feel you prefer another. Once I've named a character, it sticks.

But I don't give my characters any old name. Just like the plot, it takes planning and tweaking. As many of you know, I'm always plotting and planning, and as I write my current WIP, I'm working out and tweaking the next. Along with this comes characterisation. Within this time I explore my character's personality and learn who they are. They grow and evolve, and more often than not they do this before your very eyes without you realising. All of a sudden your characters are real, and when they get to that stage they tell you their name.

But if it doesn't work like that for you, then it's down to you to play parent and choose.

One idea on how to choose is to look at your character's background. Who were the parents? We're they busy business people? Family orientated people? Or maybe even go-with-the-flow-laid-back people? Having a rough idea of the environment where your character grew up can help a huge amount. Someone who is brought up in an environment where society plays a big part, where trends are there to be followed, or someone surrounded by traditionalists will more than likely have been given a popular name.

If there is someone famous who influenced the family household, could they have been named after them? For example, years ago in the British soap, Eastenders, Alfie Moon played by Shane Ritchie, graced our screens. He was a huge hit and after that little Alfies started springing up left, right and centre.

Did your character grow up in an environment like that? Were they named after their mother's dream date?

Or were the parents gypsy travellers or people who refused to follow the paths that society expected? The names they choose would be unusual and uncommon; something that matches their surroundings.


However, if you like the uncommon name, it would be wise not to choose something too long or awkward to read. Remember, you have to type this name for an entire novel, and if a reader is faced with a name that can't be pronounced, it can be off-putting.

You don't need to go overboard when working out your character's history. You only need to touch the surface. And by doing this, you also get to learn a lot more about the person you intend to write about; you get to see what drives them, where their passions came from, their fears and their hatred. It gives them reason and this gives them depth and makes them feel more real to the reader.

Opening Sentences . . .

A friend of mine brought up a subject last night regarding opening sentences. He wanted, in our opinion, an example of a bad opening sentence. Of course, off the top of our heads we couldn't think of one - but a few good ones did come to mind.

The opening sentence is usually the hardest part to write for a writer, especially a noob who is sitting at their desk with a blank page, wanting to start something that'll make them their fortune (they'll find out the hard truth in their own time). They can envisage a whole story before their very eyes; they know their characters, know their setting, know their predicaments - but what words do they use to introduce them all? How do you write that all important first sentence?

There are many ways you can start a book off. This all depends on your story and how you want to tell it. For me, I like sentences that drop you in it. As soon as you open the first page, you're chin deep in action. With many action scenes, one of the best ways to keep the tension is by using short sentences, so my opening sentences are pretty short.

“Get those god-damn sails in!”

These are the very firsts words to my current WIP. It's an order so instantly you know you're smack bang in the middle of something. The use of the words 'god-damn' kind of indicate the speakers frustration, and the exclamation mark tells of the order's importance (at least that's what I hope it portrays).

For me, I like the shorter opening sentence, but lets look a random few from some randomly selected and successful authors:

1: A whispered name.

A ghostly whisper fit for James Herbert's novel 'Haunted'.

2: The trawler plunged into the angry swells of the dark, furious sea like an awkward animal trying desperately to break out of an impenetrable swamp.

Okay, it puts you in the middle of something ferocious, but the opening sentence to Robert Ludlow's 'The Bourne Identity' is a tad long for my preference. Fantastic read though.

3: The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.

A fantastic opening to one of my all-time favourite reads, 'The Dark Tower' by Stephen King.

4: I am the vampire Lestat.

Anne Rice's character introduces himself immediately in her novel 'The Vampire Lestat' - another good read.

5: Norma ran.

Instantly you're thrown into the action in Rod Rees's first novel 'The Demi-Monde: Winter (yet another good read. Go check his blog out).

6: There was a smattering of applause as Malcolm Fox entered the room.

Hmmm...what has Malcolm done to warrant this applaud. Ian Rankin's 'The Complaints'.

7: A killer stalked the shadows.

Is he? Who is he and will he succeed? Jon Sprunk's 'Shadow's Son'. Can't wait to finally read the sequel, 'Shadow's Lure'.

8: Once...Upon...A...death, when life for Thom Kindred was fading fast and his inner eyes, the eyes that focused from his soul, were already dazzled by the shining way ahead (was the brilliance approaching him, or was he approaching it? he wondered in a curiously detached way), when his twenty-seven years apparently were drawing to a close, something occurred that halted the untimely rush.

Hmm hmmm...never noticed this when I read James Herbert's 'Once'. Despite thoroughly enjoying the read way back when I read it, I never realised how long this opening sentence was.

James Herbert is a successful author of horror and well established in his field. The fact that opening sentences like these get published every day proves that I'm speaking of personal preference here. If you've started your novel with a gripping sentence that is as long as your arm, great - if it works. But I still prefer the shorter stuff...

Sentence Structure: Knowing When To Stop . . .

One of my biggest problems when writing back in the days of yore (god, I'm feeling old just by saying that) was my sentence structure. As they say, I could have waffled on until the cows come home.

When writing I didn't see the problem. When reading back, I didn't see the problem - but one sentence could last for an entire paragraph. Reading a piece full of long sentences like this can often leave you feeling out of breath, despite reading in your head. You can add as many commas as you like but that just makes for sloppy writing.

Commas are also a dangerous tool and if misused can turn a well needed piece of punctuation into something ugly. Some people opt to try and not use them at all but I like them in moderation. I've dramatically cut down my comma use over the years. They're like a drug, leaving you hungry for more. You just want to put one here and one there followed by another two words later - but there is a cure. It's called the fullstop. This is by far a more powerful writing tool and one that you should yield to.

Classic authors such as Bram Stoker and Jane Austen used such long sentences when they wrote, and even though they're works have gone down in history and aren't likely to be forgotten anytime soon, they make reading hard work because they loved their commas and their words, and the style of writing back then didn't give in that easily to the fullstop, instead replacing it with yet another beloved comma that made just one sentence, a sentence that could have been divided into six beautifully written lines to make reading flow so much smoother, last for an entire page, causing you to turn blue before you reach the end . . . (And BREEEEAAATH....)

Obviously the classic authors failed to have critique buddies. When mine so rightly pointed out how long my sentences were, I cringed. It was like a light had been switched on inside and I was suddenly very much aware. It made an awful read. Some one (I do believe it was Martin Willoughby) then said, merely in conversation, that if your sentence reaches the third line and looks like it's about to flow over to the forth, chances are it's too long. He probably doesn't remember saying this, but for someone who was eager to learn from their errors, it stuck like glue to my creative brain cells.

I always write to this rule now and I don't think I've had anymore problems with the length of my sentences. Occasionally I may get one or two drift over to a forth line, but these are few and far between, and a variety is good. Mix long sentences with short sentences - but yield to the almighty fullstop when you feel your sentence drifting. He is your friend.

This is my two pennies worth . . .

How 'NOT' To Name Your Characters . . .

A friend of mine posted a link to an article on Facebook yesterday which did make me laugh. It was all about names and how some unfortunate people were given embarrassing forenames to match their embarrassing surnames.

We all (or rather the people I know anyway) make jokes about names such as Ben Dover or Wayne King (sorry) or even the famous Pussy Galore from James Bond, but did you know these are real names?

It seems many of our ancestors often imposed these humorous names on their offspring. Two hundred years ago there was nothing funny about them, but as society evolved so did language and slang. As the years went by people began to see the horror of what their name sounded like and many changed it. Women often refused to marry to avoid gaining a ridiculous name (Seymour Bust) or vice-versa to rid themselves of one (Kitty Litter), and slowly but surely many names have gone into decline or disappeared altogether.

Even though in real life, having a name like Mike Rotch can make your existence a miserable one, in writing it can be a completely different story. One genre that can use humorous names to its advantage is Comedy. Just by naming one character something like Sue Age can give the story an added sparkle (or not as the character is aptly named) and be a theme for a running joke. However, by using such a name in a Tragedy just won't work.

Anyway, I've decided, for those who see the humour in humorous names, to list a few that was listed in this article. I hope they bring a smile to your face like it did with mine. But before you start laughing, crying, reaching for your tissues or falling off your chair and rolling around the floor, give a thought to the poor people who actually had to live with these names (Tssss hssss hsss hssss....)

Sue Age

Ben Dover

John Anonymous

Love A. Duck

Golden Balls

Elle Fant

Lettuce Bedlam

Sue Flay

Alfred Ming Belcher

Ebenezer Flirt

Benjamin Blister

Adolph Fuhrer

One Too Many Gouldstone

Rogers Boys

Anice Bottom

Dicky Hart

Seymour Bust

Adeline Louisa Maria Horsey De Horsey

Ann Inch

Violet Corpse

Levi Jeans

Sidney Kidney

Al Dente

Annette Kirton

Basil Leaf

Jim Slip

Kitty Litter

Mary Slutty

John Mental

Constance Smell

Posthumous Mince

Min Speiss

Horase Jealous Pratt

Amorous Swain

Fartamalus Purdger

Pleasant Titty

Sensitive Redhead

Doris Topless

Mike Rotch

Batty Treasure

Lotta Rump

Gusty Sandbag

Fanny Warmer

Samuel Squelch Shakespear

Isla White

Mary Winkle Shufflebotham

Elizabeth Experience Withall

R. Sitch

Mary Xmas

Writing Exercise . . .

This piece was written a while back as an exercise for our writers' group. I can't quite remember what the in's and out's of it were but I know it had to include the sentence:

' . . . As I watched the mountains began to fade away . . . '

This is what I churned out.

Enjoy!

Time travel. So many people had been warned of the consequences of messing with time, but of course the advise was never listened to and the price was always paid.

I had always considered myself as someone with their head firmly attached to their shoulders. I was smart and sensible. Time travel was something I would never mess with - but that was until I met the hand of temptation.

I stared at the photo - the one thing left I held close to my heart. To my relief it still looked the same. The family - my family - who stood in front of the log cabin looked happy and excited, and I remembered back to when the photo was taken.

We had inherited the log cabin two years ago, although to say two years ago now would be an error as the booking wouldn't take place for another hundred years - at least. The location had been my parents favorite, with the picturesque scenery and the mountainous backdrop, and it had been a holiday to remember.

It had been our last holiday to together.

"As long as the picture remains the same, you will be okay," had been the last advice given to me before I left. Now every second I got I was staring at the picture.

My actions in the deep past had not yet affected my present, and my heart slowed with relief in my chest. Whole families had been wiped off the planet because of simple careless actions and irresponsible decisions. I didn't want to be one of those, the cause of something like that happening.



Copyright Lea Roberta Michelle Weikert

 But it had happened, and it had happened fast - too fast for me to realise. Suddenly my spontaneous actions in response to what was happening was wrong. They were the kind of actions that would bring consequences to my family. I continued to run every event over and over in my head for some speck of hope that I might be saved, but I couldn't see anything. The only reassurance I had that my actions hadn't been disastrous was my photo - but as I looked it began to change before my eyes.

And as I watched, the mountains in the background began to fade away.

I wanted to cry but I felt numb. There was nothing I could do. Within minutes my family would be erased from existence . . . and I would fade with them.

Writers and Exercise . . .

People say that writing is a lonely game. I read many blogs about such things not so long ago. The fact is, it can be, but then it isn't. It depends on the writer. Shutting yourself away from the world so you can have some quality time creating your new one isn't everyone's idea of a good time - but for the writer, it might sound like heaven. And, let's face it. They won't be entirely on their own. Their characters will be with them.

I bring this up now because I have nothing else to blog about at the moment and I'm in danger of becoming a full time Hermit.

I like my own company. I'll quite happily sit at home, just me and the cat, and spend all that time creatively. And with a husband who is a lorry driver and away most of the week, I almost get my wish - but it's not healthy. Now I'm working from home, so I have no more travelling into the office everyday, no more interacting with people - it is literally just me...ALL DAY! Definitely not healthy.

So I've taken up going for walks in my lunch break or, like today, going for a bike ride. I used to bike all the time before we moved. I used to ride to and from work everyday and I loved it. It kept me fit and gave me the exercise that I wouldn't have otherwise got from working behind a desk all day. Then we moved away, then I got a driver's licence and now I get no exercise at all. (So you can imagine how I'm feeling today - exhausted, sore and reminded how unfit I am.)

However, despite deadlines and just that one more paragraph that needs writing, remember that getting out, socialising and getting some exercise is just as important. You'll be no good to anyone if your not healthy and in no state of mind to write that best selling novel. Once that's done, then you can shut yourself away.

Prioritise. Health or Novel.

And it was just bad luck for Stephen King to get hit by a car on one of his daily walks all those years ago.

Right, well I'm now off to sulk and nurse my aching muscles. Tomorrow is but another day . . .

Novel Update - Building Those Bridges. . .

I haven't given one of these for sometime but, to be honest, there's not a lot to report.

My new novel, 'Lady of the Seas', that was started beginning of February, is taking a break. (Here's a reminder of the opening chapter I posted for those who want a read) It started off so well then went on strike. I have a feeling that this strike won't be lasting too long, though. And I also know the reason for this strike.

I've come steaming full pelt to a river with no bridge, ending in a sudden stop. I need to build this bridge before my story can continue. It's a wee flaw in my plotting and planning. I need to write this section to enable the rest of the story to flow - all of which I know and is plotted. It's just this one little blank bit, and it's annoying me.

So far, 'Lady of the Seas' has reached 22k. I don't think is too bad. Again, just like my last one, 'Kiss of the Gypsy', I've given myself a deadline to get it finished, which is the end of the year. I can see that happening, even before time - if I can build this bridge. Even if it's just a temporary structure to help my characters across, and then I can come back to it at a later date and strengthen it.

Many people, if they stumble across a problem like this, will ignore this section and go on to the next, to keep writing, and then come back to it later. If that works for them then great. But it doesn't for me. I feel I'll loose the flow of the story, and it will also be on the back of my mind that I need to go back and write that section. This will affect any future work that I churn out. I'm a planner. I need to know where I'm going and how to get from point A to point B. And understanding how these points are connected, how they entwine with each other and how they feed off each other, strengthens the route. Every bridge has to be in place, no matter how rough and unsteady.

This missing bridge is the cause for my writer's block.

What about you? Do flaws in your planning create havoc for your writing, or are you happy to go with the flow and see where your words and characters take you?

Lessons In Punctuation . . .

I've always known, but it was confirmed last night that the school I went to all those moons ago wasn't all that. When it comes to writing, everything I know today is what I have picked up through reading, practice, and through critiquing sessions in our writer's circle. I don't remember them teaching us a lot about punctuation - let alone creative writing.

One member of our writers' circle is someone I've been friends with since those wonderful days, and she agrees. She finds punctuation hard to deal with, although I have to admit she is getting better. Using the correct punctuation is just as important as every other detail of the story you are trying to tell, from the characters, their world, their dialogue - everything.

However, choosing your punctuation is an art form. Some people use a bit of everything, throwing in a bit of this, a bit of that, and maybe one of those too, where others may just prefer to use the basic full-stops and commas. And is this wrong or right? It doesn't really matter. As long as they are used in the right context, it can help to aid your story along.

But your personal use of punctuation is much like your style of writing. It differs from the next writer.

We ran an experiment last night. I was hoping that it would prove useful to those who struggle with their full-stops. We wrote a short piece in our own writing style, how we usually would, but left out all the punctuation. Then we passed it to the next person to add in where they thought the punctuation should be. Despite us getting a large percentage of it right, the added punctuation changed the original flow of the story completely. There was punctuation added in places where I wouldn't have used it. And despite them not being wrong, it was surprising how much a extra comma or one less full-stop can change the style so much.

Anyway, this was the piece I wrote with the original punctuation in.

Purgatory

The door closed. Should I have gone through it? I didn't know.

I stood and stared at the giant doors before me. They reached so high the top was engulfed in the gloomy mist above. Relief sculptures climbed the paneling, each body entwining with the next, and each with a story of their own to tell.

I looked around me, confused and nervous. Had I missed my chance? What was I supposed to do now? This was new to me, as it was new to everyone else who stood before these doors. Purgatory wasn't a place often frequented by the living.

I continued to take in my surroundings; the shadows; the mist; the pillars. The room appeared round but was somehow shapeless, and it was spacious but felt small and oppressive. And there was a ceiling. I knew that, but I couldn't see it.

What was I supposed to do now? When I first entered the room, the great doors had opened, revealing a light that was warm and tempting, but fear had held me back. As I stood and watched, debating whether to walk through, the doors had closed. Would they reopen?

Movement caught my eye. I looked up and saw as figure on the door moved. He turned his body, untangling himself from another figure and then turned to face me. And he wasn't the only one. The whole door was now alive with squirming bodies, all turning to face me. There was no noise, but their mouths were open, calling me and reaching out their hands.

Fear engulfed me. I wanted to step back, to run, but their hands, even though too far away to reach me, seemed to pull. I couldn't fight the force and I began to move forward. I realised then what was happening. The doors had shut on my one chance to enter Heaven. I was stuck in purgatory, and those who entered before me were the figures on the door. As I was pulled closer, I knew my fate now lay with them for the rest of eternity.

Awards and Acceptance Speeches . . .

I discovered this morning that I've been awarded the Stylish Blogger Award by Amanda Borenstadt at A Fortnight of Mustard.

What can I say? I'm dead chuffed!!! And as I wipe a tear of happiness from one's eye and stand proudly on the stage holding my award close to my heart, I can't help but think how lucky I am. I feel (*sniff) so honoured to be here accepting this. I never dreamed this would happen, and I'm sooo happy (*Wipes at another tear). But I couldn't have done it without my wonderful followers, who's very presence has been a constant reminder that I need to keep my (*snivel) my blog looking stylish so as to appeal. So I thank you. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Thank you! THANK YOU . . . (*Squealing as one gets dragged off the stage).

Anyway, back to reality. Because this is the first 'award', I feel it's only right that I carry on the tradition that Amanda brought to my attention. I need to list 7 things about myself, and then award 7 other lucky bloggers.

7 Boring Facts About Myself:

1: Writing and drawing are my life, and have been since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. I also squeeze reading and movies in there from time to time too.

2: DRC are my maiden initials - Dawn Rose Cartwright - and I think it's great when I hand over my credit card, they see DR Cartwright and think I'm a Doctor.

3: I'm a big believer in the paranormal - but I'm also a sceptic. If I can't think of a rational explanation for something I put it down to those pesky ghosts, ghouls and goblins.

4: I love cats. I go all gooey over them - including my own persian fluff-ball.

5: I'm a major daydreamer. This is probably where I get most of my ideas.

6: I'm a blonde through and through (although starting to speckle with grey). I'm the sort of person who puts blindfolds on and then turns to a mirror to see what they look like wearing it (yes, I did this).

7: I love writing horror and reading horror, but I seldom watch horror films.

Now, those 7 lucky winners are:

1: Darke Conteur
2: Volataire
3: Ted Cross
4: From Sand to Glass
5: Boudica Marginalia

6: Flights of Fantasy

7: Maria Zannini

So there you. Here's your award. Hold it high with pride . . .

Creating Real Characters . . .

My thoughts on this topic:

I read a blog not so long ago about whether or not your protagonist should appear pleasing to the eye - ie, should they be the tall, dark handsome stranger that us women often fantasise about - or should they be rugged with flaws?

Well, there's no right or wrong answer. I believe it's down to the author. If you want your character to be the next Casanova, to be dashing and handsome and be able to sweep women off their feet with just a whisper, then so be it. But if you need your protagonist to be disfigured in someway that makes them feel ugly, then you should. It all boils down to the story you're creating and who needs to be involved.

In my opinion, a protagonist who's either disfigured or drop-dead gorgeous doesn't alter a good read.

But for characters to feel real, they do need flaws. A lot of writers with good-looking protagonists compensate by giving them 'psychological problems'. Maybe they're smug, knowing that they're good-looking, and they constantly look down their noses at others.

Or those who are disfigured, how would you have them be? Underneath their scars, could they be the nicest person in the world? Is that nice person trapped under all the resentment that they harbour over their looks, the main reason why people cross the street when they see them? Either way, these little things help give a character depth, making them feel real.

A couple of examples:

Phantom of the Opera: He hid his scarred face under a mask and lived under the opera house where no one could see him, then fell in love with Christine after hearing her sing. But Christine was able to see past the scars and his bitterness and fall for him, too (I'm guessing at the storyline here).

Quasimodo from the Hunchback of Notre Dame: Seriously disfigured and kept in the tower away from civilisation - until he falls for a gypsy woman.


THEN - something I watched the other night - V for Vendetta: Horribly disfigured and hides beneath the mask of Guy Fawkes. He's a monstrous terrorist who's killing everyone involved in what happened to him - but beneath he's a kind man who is reminded that he is capable of loving - and of being loved (rather touching).

But then, what about those in between? Those who aren't stereotypical, Hollywood hunks, but those who aren't disfigured. One man has caught my attention. Professor Brian Cox. He presents the TV Documentary, Wonders of the Universe, which explains about the big bang theory and supa-novas. He freaks me out. When he's quiet, he looks fine, but when he talks he has a constant, wide grin on his face, with those round, chubby, gleaming cheeks - and the way his whole mouth moves when he talks. It's probably just me, but there's something about him that makes me question his looks . . . do I like him or don't I? . . . or are these questions that I see one of my characters asking? Forget Hollywood Hunks (if that's possible). These are the real people that would inhabit worlds of fiction.

What do you think about this guy? I know I'm being vain - and I apologise if it sounds like I'm judging him on his looks alone.

Normal . . . I'm thinking, yeah, he looks ok . . .




Then there's the grin - and yes it is that wide when he speaks, too . . . lol

Doodles of a Writer . . .

Well, after my discovery on Friday of Jason Chan and his fantastic piece, I decided to go home and attempt my own piece.

As dipicted in my new novel, the King of the Seas is a legendary creature that lurks beneath the waves, consisting of the torso of a man and the tenticles of an octopus (thought I was being original...meh!). This was what my imagination saw.

Anyway, as stated in my profile I'm also a bit talented with the grahite pencil. After some time of consideration, I've decided to put to use the 'Pages' feature on blogger and create a page purly for my art.

Say Hi to the new page 'Doodles of a Writer' . . .

It's a work in progress at the moment, and I am in the process of loading pictures. Stay tuned.

I do have to warn some people though about the nudity. I love drawing the human body - what can I say . . .

Enjoy.

Pic of the Week . . . Jason Chan . . .

Look at what I found!!!

During my search through artists, I found this piece, and to my surprise it matches one of my legendary characters in my new novel. He won't be in the novel in person, but his story is well known throughout, and when I imagined him, this is what he would have looked like. Here's the paragraph from my first chapter where the King of the Sea's is first mentioned. (Click here to read the whole piece again).

'The anchor continued to drag and then came up against a large boulder that it hooked on. The boulder leered back, its shape resembling the form of the King of the Seas, with the torso of a man and the tendrils of an octopus. The anchor gripped firm, refusing to let go, and the boulder rocked with the pressure. As the Captain continued to struggle at the helm above, the boulder gave and toppled on its side. The seabed stirred, sending a cloud of sand rising up into the whirling tides, and from beneath the boulder something emerged that resembled a large bubble. It cut through the dust cloud, ascending through the stormy waters and up towards the Scarlet Sail. '

Just goes to show that you can never create something truly original...lol...

Love this art...

Enjoy.

Jason Chan

Exercise: I Suppose It Could Have Been Worse . . .

On Monday night we pulled out the ye-oh faithful word box. Inside is a collection of random sentences used to inspire. This is the consequence of the sentence I pulled out . . .

Exercise: I Suppose It Could Have Been Worse . . .

As the door to the partitioned gangway in front of the dungeon opened, the Duke of Dorset crawled from his dark, dank corner to see his visitor. "What happened? What went wrong?" he asked.

The man stumbled into caged gangway, helped by the forceful hand of the prison guard. "We tried, my Lord. The legions were in place. The attack went as planned, but there were just too many of them to fight."

"So you failed?" The Duke's words drowned in the sound of the barred door being slammed and locked in place behind his visitor.

The man cowered to the floor and dragged himself over to the bars. Clinging onto them, he pressed his regretful, grubby face through and searched for the Duke in the darkness. "It wasn't our fault. We were misinformed. The information provided by the Duke of Buckingham was wrong. We didn't expect there to be so many Yorks."

The Duke sighed with frustration and slumped back into the gloomy shadows. "So King Henry still reigns."

The man tightened his grip on the bars, pressing himself against them as if hoping that he could pass through. "But my lord, word has spread that King Henry is of ill health and that he won't be seeing the winter through."

"And what good is this news to me?" The Duke sprung from the shadows like a demon. The man in the gangway recoiled with fright as the Duke's hand reached out for him. "Your rescue attempt for me failed. Even if King Henry were to die of ill health, what good is that to me when I am still locked in here? What good?" The Duke's fingers gripped tighter around the bars, wishing they were the man's neck.

"Well," the man replied as he made himself comfortable on the gangway floor. "I suppose it could have been worse."

The Duke's face twisted with rage. "Really? Pray tell."

The man gave a shrug. "You're being beheaded tomorrow. At least with you gone I'll be released and free to live as I please without the fear of you."

The Duke raised a single eyebrow. . .

Pic of the Week . . . Christophe Vacher . . .

This week, continuing on with last week's theme of 'dreamscapes', comes a newly discovered artist to my gallery. Christophe Vacher . . .

Christophe Vacher is a French artist who's works remind me of something from dreams. He has also worked on backgrounds for animated films such as 'The Hunchback of Notre-Dame' and 'Fantazia 2000', and has been in talks with Director Shane Acker about the new up and coming film '9' - (as stated on his website).

The piece I've chosen for this week's Pic of the Week is titled 'The Gate'. Does it inspire you as much as it does me?

Ahh, the endless story possibilities . . .

'The Gate . . .' by Christophe Vacher

Creating 'Awesome' Characters . . .

One word and one word alone inspired today's post. That word?

Awesome!

Why? Okay, allow me to explain. Who out there has heard and ever watched the sitcom `How I Met Your Mother`? For those who don't know, this sitcom is based around a group of five friends in New York City. Each differ from the next and each have their own little habits and problems. One word they always use is AWESOME, and it fits their character's dialogue well.

However, I tried it the other day. I used that one word in a sentence when talking to a friend, and suddenly I felt very silly. The word just didn't have the same effect. It didn't sound right. It wasn't in my character to say such a thing, and I realised that I should never use that word in conversation again. But this made me think.

How well do you know your characters, and are you making them say things that are causing them to feel just damn-right silly?

Dialogue is an important tool when writing a story. It breaths life to your character and helps to show the sort of person they really are. It's also a great way to give them independence and individuality. There's nothing worse than reading a story where every single character appears the same.

Let me give you an example: Imagine that before you stands two little girls of approximately ten years old. Each share the same golden ringlets, the same blue eyes, the same pretty blue dress, and the same cheeky but innocent little grin. You realise then that you are either seeing double or they are identical twins. They are the same. How are you ever to tell them apart?

In writing, that's easy. You give them both a complete different voice. One could be an optimistic, the other could be a pessimistic. One could be very well spoken, the other could be full of slang and sarcasm. One could be normal, the other could have a slight stammer.

The idea is that if you took all the narrative away so that all remained was dialogue, you would still know who was talking. You would be able to pick out accents and little differences in speech. You would know that the little girl on the left said this, and the girl on the right said that.

This makes characters come alive. It gives them individuality and keeps them interesting for the reader. No one wants to read something where everyone is the same. That can be very boring and monotonous.

Likewise if you give someone something to say that is completely out of their character. You can't put a Medieval Knight upon a daring steed, readying to do battle with a blood-thirsty prince in order to save the throne and the beautiful princess in a situation like this. . .

"My liege," says the Medieval Knight as he steadys his excited steed. "The enemy is waiting upon the brow of the hill. Shall we ride to battle?" His eyes beneath his armour glint in the moonlight as they look upon the beauty of the princess.

The King gives a nod. "Indeed, brave Knight. Ride with the wind, and fight strong!"

The princess places her token, a handkerchief of the finest white silk, on the end of the Knight's staff. "And may a thousand of the lord's pure white doves fly above you and watch over you, and may they bring you swiftly from harm and back into my arms before the rising of the sun. For then you will be gallant and noble enough to win my hand in marriage."

Despite the threat of the battle looming on the horizon, and of the slim chances of him making it back unscathed, the Knight smiles. "Awesome!"


(Actually, in certain circumstances, that could work . . .)

Pic of the Week . . . Dreamscape . . .

I originally saw this picture on a blog that I follow, and I instantly fell in love with it. It's available to download as a wallpaper but I don't know the artist.

For me, it's a wonderful, relaxing dreamscape that harbours mysterious enchantment. It also breaths life to endless story possibilities, and this made me wonder.

For all you fantasy writers out there, how much dreamscape does your world have? Is it home to enchanting places like this? I feel that by adding enchantment adds history and depth to a world, bringing it more to life and making you feel like you'd rather live there than here. I love it, its possibilities, and its...well...entire dreaminess...

Opening Chapter . . .

Hi everyone.

As promised, here is the first draft of the opening chapter for my new novel. Feel free to leave feedback if you want (every little helps) but mostly...enjoy.

Lady of the Seas

Opening Chapter

“GET those god-damn sails in!”

The Captain’s yell struggled to be heard over the constant roar of the seas. He fought to keep his grip on the ship’s wheel, his hands trying to hold on to the wet wood. A force kept yanking at it, wanting to turn it to port and he put in all his strength to keep it from going.

Most of his crew were on deck, fighting and trying to prevent the ship from being turned by the wind. Men were climbing up the shrouds of the masts to help bring in the sails. Without them catching the wind, the pressure on the ship would be reduced but it was proving a difficult task. The storm was battering them. The Captain’s heart jolted each time he saw one of his men slip from their footings around the mast. They yelled orders and encouragement to each other as they gathered the material up, suffering the onslaught of rain and gales. They worked as a team, fighting the winds that wanted to turn them into the vicious waves. If that happened the Scarlet Sail would then become vulnerable to whatever the storm threw at them. They had to keep her straight.

The Captain groaned, baring his teeth as he pushed against the wheel, trying to keep it from going its own way. The deck around him was slippery, and as the ship veered over, his feet slid. He yelled as he fell, clinging on to the wheel for support. The wheel turned in the direction he didn’t want it to go. His legs scrambled, his feet searching for the grip he needed to push himself back up, and just as he found it, a torrent of water engulfed him.

He fell back down, his fingers just hooking the wheel. Catching his breath, he gave another yell.

The ship was turning.

As the wave subsided, the water draining back to where it came from, the Captain found his footing again and heaved himself up. His eyes stung and his throat throbbed with the amount of seawater he had swallowed, but he couldn’t care about that now. He had to get the ship back on course. Standing up against the wind and rain, he pushed himself against the wheel. It didn’t want to move. The force was too great for one man. The ship veered again, rolling with the giant waves, and he could see the ocean’s surface over the edge of the deck. The ship was leaning too much. He had to win her back.

His continuous yells were lost amid the crashing thunder. A streak of fork lightning illuminated the black seas, and the Captain’s eyes opened wide with horror at the sight of the surrounding waves. If he didn’t turn the wheel soon they would crush the Scarlet Sail as if she were made of paper. They would smash her apart, taking the lives of everyone on board.

“Turn, you bitch!” he screamed into the storm.

A second pair of hands joined his, gripping the slippery wood and heaving. The Captain looked at the Master’s Mate. His gaze spoke of his gratitude, and as both men pulled on the wheel, it began to turn. The Scarlet Sail struggled against the onslaught, twisting and groaning with the force of the storm, but despite everything, she obeyed. The Captain laughed with triumph as his control over the vessel came back. They weren’t beaten yet.

Another wave crashed over the deck, pounding down on both men, but they kept control. The ship leaned with another wave. A crew member screamed as he slipped across the deck to the other side. The Captain watched, powerless to help, but was glad to see him crash against the ballast railing instead of slipping overboard. Another member grabbed him, pulled him to his feet and slipped a rope around to secure him.

His crew were strong, but the storm was stronger. They were struggling and weakening quick. He didn’t know how much more they would be able to tolerate. They had been battling this storm for the best part for three days, but today was by far the worst. The winds had changed direction and the waves were now taller than the Scarlet Sail herself. Little sleep had been had and there was no time for eating. The galley fires had to be extinguished incase it spread, and no food was cooked.

A few injured men lay huddled below decks, unable to assist in the battle and unable to get comfortable with the constant movement. They had no choice but to look after themselves, to tend to their own wounds, and pray that the storm would soon subside.

Below them more yells echoed about the hull as men worked the bilge pumps, but as quick as they were removing the floodwaters, more was replacing it. It was a continuous battle that they couldn’t win. And about them, others scuttled around, repairing any damage that the Scarlet Sail sustained. It had to be done quick, make-shift, if necessary. If a split was left for too long at sea, it could rip the ship apart. It needed to be fixed as soon as it appeared.

The Captain could feel his crew’s pain. They were exhausted, but they couldn’t stop. If they did, they knew their lives would be handed to the seas. They refused to go without a fight, and they refused to let the ship give them up. She had been battered, broken, repaired, broken again, but still she sailed on, crashing against the waves, rolling with the winds and fighting her way through. The Scarlet Sail was as strong as the crew who sailed her, but even she had her weaknesses, and the Captain wept for her. He didn’t know how long she could fight, didn’t know how much strength she had left in her, but he had to hope that she had enough to see them through the storm. She had come too far to give up.

The cracking sound was one that the Captain had dreaded to hear. It was louder than the thunder that exploded overhead and louder than the crash of the surrounding waves. It was the sound of the Scarlet Sail breaking. Another flash of lightning illuminated the sight of the Foremast as it split half way down. His men screamed in panic and horror as the beam toppled forward, pulling sails and ropes with it. They scuttled out of its way as it crushed the deck where it landed. Screams of agony came from those who had been pulled down with it, along with those who hadn’t managed to run in time.

One voice in particular struck the Captain as he heard it fall overboard and be engulfed by the seas, lost forever. He wanted to mourn the loss but it spurred on his determination to survive this and to bring the Scarlet Sail and her crew to safety.

He gripped the wheel tighter as another wave pounded him.

Throughout the commotion of the breaking mast, the Captain refused to acknowledge how much damage it had caused at the bow. As he fought to keep control, he was unaware of the anchor stay being shattered and of the anchor falling from the ship. It plunged into the black waters, sinking deep, and pulling the anchor rope with it. The weight carried the anchor through the murky water straight to the seabed where it collided with the submerged rocks.

The storm forced the Scarlet Sail onwards, her anchor dragging. She lurched on the waves, one minute anchored, the next free. The Captain could feel the jerking movements on the wheel and applied more pressure in fighting to keep her steady, unaware of what was happening below the surface.

The anchor continued to drag and then came up against a large boulder that it hooked on. The boulder leered back, its shape resembling the form of the King of the Seas, with the torso of a man and the tendrils of an octopus. The anchor gripped firm, refusing to let go, and the boulder rocked with the pressure. As the Captain continued to struggle at the helm above, the boulder gave and toppled on its side. The seabed stirred, sending a cloud of sand rising up into the whirling tides, and from beneath the boulder something emerged that resembled a large bubble. It cut through the dust cloud, ascending through the stormy waters and up towards the Scarlet Sail.

The anchor stayed fast to the mysterious carved boulder, pulling the anchor rope taught, and no matter how much effort the Captain put into holding the wheel, he couldn’t stop the ship from turning.

Pic of the Week And My New Novel . . .

Last night I took the plunge. I sat down to a blank Word screen and I wrote just over 1,300 words to my brand new novel. The opening chapter is complete.

I finished my last novel, Kiss of the Gypsy, on New Years day. I've since then gone through with a first, brief edit. I've corrected any spelling and grammer, added things that I originally missed but later thought could be useful, and taken things out that weren't needed.

The thing is, when I write I write as if this is my final draft. Spelling and grammer is something that I try to correct as I go (Spell-Check in Word is a god-send). I write as if there can't be any edits after. Everything has to be spot on - or as close as I can get it - in the hope that when it's finally finished there isn't much to do. I'm dreaming, of course. There's always edits, but writing this way seems to help me.

Anyway, so I'm soon to send Kiss of the Gypsy out to the big wide world of critique, (I think she's ready) and anything that is brought up, I can then correct. But I can't go that long without writing, so I've planned and started my next novel.

'Lady of the Seas'

It's a cheesy title, could be a working title, but this is the name of the huge galleon ship that plays a vital role to the story. If the name should change at a later date, then so will the title. Until then, this is it.

I've had to do a lot of research on galleon ships so that I sound like I know what I'm talking about in the story. It has to sound real but not overpowering. You can't blind readers with your new-found knowledge, and I think that so far it's gone rather well.

Next week I'm going to do something that I've never done. I'm going to publish my first chapter on the blog. Feel free to leave feedback if you wish, but most of all I just wanted to finally share a piece of my actual writing with you.

Because I'm all about Galleon ships at the moment, I thought this weeks Pic of the Week should go with the tidal flow . . .

Enjoy!