Excerpt

This week has been up and down writing-wise. Packing and finishing up my last year of college apparently tends to make me less motivated to work on the things I really want to get done. Like finishing up the rework of Savior so I can start querying again. Oh, well. Life is silly like that.

To make up for the fact that I don't have much to say today, I present you with a bit of a story that may or may not go anywhere. I began this tale for my senior project and re-imagined it a bit to fit into the "Tarot Stories" series. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this snippet of a dragon story.

Scales hissed across the stone floor. Initaveske strode slowly, deliberately, toward the mouth of her cave, her long, white tail dragging on the ground behind her. Her milky eyes fixed on the oval of sunlight that was the entrance to her little home, despite the fact that she had not seen in hundreds of years. Even by dracenian standards, she was old. Ancient, even.

And this would be her last day.

She reached the tepid warmth of the mountain sunlight and turned instinctively to the right. Just outside the cave entrance perched a small ledge, only large enough for a clutch of three dracenian eggs. All three were as snow-white as the old dracen beside them, each one shuddering at its own pace as the hatchling inside struggled to free itself.

Initaveske pressed her warm, scaly nose to the nearest of the eggs, feeling her offspring’s heartbeat through her nostrils. This one would be strong. Good. Her last clutch would not fail her. She puffed a breath of hot air onto the egg and moved onto the next one, gently rolling it over to feel the heartbeat of this second hatchling. A quick, hard thrumming. Another leader.

She had to crane her neck over the makeshift nest to reach the last of the eggs. Her nose gently turned it over and over, searching for a sign of life. Finally, she felt it: a soft, fluttering heartbeat, irregular and gentle. She snorted in surprise, jerking her head back. The great wings on her back twitched, shedding a few snowy feathers down into the canyon. In all her fifty broods, she had never encountered a hatchling with a heartbeat like that. Irregular hatchlings existed, of course, but her bloodline had never produced anything except the strongest. Those with weaker hearts in the egg generally became a traitor, an exile, a disgrace. Very few managed to remain within the clan.

She could end it now, before it hatched, and save her line the humiliation. Push the egg out of the nest; let it plummet to the canyon floor as so many others had done. It would be the honorable thing to do. But the rhythm had been so fragile, so delicate. In her heart, she knew fragility was not a thing any dracen could possess if he wished to live, but she had grown sentimental in her own age. Delicacy was so rare that it was beautiful. 

Whoops

A little late this week. Sorry! I got distracted by all sorts of craziness for the last few days--building a set for the show I'm currently rehearsing, finishing up the creative part of my senior project, and possibly starting a new co-authored project with one of the other ladies in my critique group. On top of the typical, life things that always get in the way, like sleeping and eating.

And, yes, you read that right. I've finished the story writing piece of my project. Which leaves me with a semi-academic paper explaining my process, my inspirations and what I gained from writing these shorts (yuck), and my big presentation at the end of the year. I'm tempted to polish up these stories, throw a few old ones in with them, print them out a few times, bind them together into some sort of book and sell them for five bucks a pop. I'm pretty sure no one's going to buy it at a senior project presentation, though. Oh, well. Guess that just means I need to polish them up and send them out to magazines an anthologies instead. That was part of the project goal, after all: a final product that I could potentially look into publishing. Don't worry, the first news of that endeavor will be posted here.

In other news: I didn't win one of the query critiques from Write On Con, but I spent a good hour and a half at Barnes and Noble on Friday, reading through The Writer's Digest Guide to Query Letters, and I have a few more ideas on how to fix up my query before I send it off again. Of course, I need to finish reworking the beginning of Savior before I do so. Motivation! I choose you!

Off to the grindstone! Oljiru kovy.

Description

I am a very dialogue-heavy writer. Always have been. I prefer my stories to be character-driven instead of plot-driven (though I can make an exception for some epic fantasies), and, as such, I write that way. Of course, this occasionally means that I skimp on the description. It's something I've been working on for a while now. I always feel that a few sentences of description is enough and anything more will fall into the realm of "info dumping," which drastically slows the flow of the story. Once or twice is fine, especially at when creating a fantastical world, but any more than that makes me want to skip ahead a few pages and get back to the characters' problem.

In light of this rather unfortunate quirk of mine, one of my professors has challenged me to write a series of vignettes that are purely descriptive. This is much harder than it sounds. Initially, she asked that I simply set a scene, create an atmosphere, and leave it at that. No characters, no conflict. I had absolutely no idea what to do. When I went to ask for clarification, she suggested writing a type of riddle, where something occurred just before the scene I'm setting, or something will happen right afterwards. This makes a lot more sense, doesn't it? I still get to put characters in, I just don't have the time to develop personalities or conflict. But at least I have something to focus the story on, instead of purely writing setting. I'm sure there are plenty of people out there who have no problem churning out page after page of description (I've read a few, haven't you?), but I'm certainly not one of them. So far, I have two and a half pieces, at about a hundred words, and I'm pleased with. This, after almost a week of working on them!

So to wrap this little ramble up, here's the first successful flash fiction-y, descriptive piece. Any thoughts from whoever happens to be reading this?

Golden light filtered through the large, half-circle window, gilding the planes of his face with a warm, beatific glow. Tiny specs of dust floated lazily through the sunbeams, dancing gently back and forth. The remainder of last night’s rain clung to the windowpane; the water very slowly evaporating in the morning’s warmth.

His stomach gently rose and fell with his soft breaths. The purring cat on his chest carefully kneaded at the thin blanket between them, her claws catching on the coarse cloth. Serenity painted the apartment a soft shade of sunglow yellow.

A soft, sleepy sigh escaped his lips and he stirred.

Waiting and the Tarot

The worst part about where I'm at right now is waiting. Waiting to get feedback on my senior project; waiting to hear back from the University of Iowa, where I've applied for graduate school; waiting to hear back from the agent I most recently queried (which may or may not ever actually happen, since it's a bigger agency). I'm normally pretty good at patience, but sometimes I just want to know what's going to happen. Especially with things like Iowa, which are going to determine what I'm doing next year--more school trying to find a job. I'm really, really hoping for the former.

Now, onto the writing portion of this week's post. Last time, I mentioned that I have been working on a collection of flash fiction-esque stories inspired by the major arcana of the tarot. I say flash fiction-esque because most of these stories took more than a few minutes to write, and several of them are much longer than a typical flash fiction piece. Anyway, I finished the series earlier in the week. The entire piece totals at roughly 12,000 words. A little long for a short story, but much, much shorter than what I'm used to writing.   Overall, I consider the experiment a success, though several of the pieces were rushed and I'm not entirely sure if I pulled off all the little challenges I incorporated. My favorite is a second-person piece (aka, written using "you" instead of "he/she" or "I"), inspired by the Devil card. Unfortunately, it's a bit long to share here, so I'm giving you "The Fool," instead.

This story is different from what I normally write, both because of the semi-ambiguous ending, and the use of present tense narration. So, basically, I present a slice of what I completed last week. I certainly hope you enjoy it, whoever actually reads this.

0-The Fool

Infinite possibilities stretch before him. They expand like a map, flowing away from him as far as he can see. Different paths, different futures, all mingling at the point where he stands, all rippling out from under the souls of his feet. Which path will he choose? Which story will he write?

He turns to the left, toward the path that leads down a series of ever-darkening tunnels, toward a distant, barely visible light, and crouches down. His fingers are steady as he takes hold of the path and lifts it up, into himself, pressing the entire story into his chest. For a moment, he is frozen as he absorbs this knowledge, an entire lifetime of journeys.

The other possibilities slither away, back into their red-checked bag.

He turns to the shadowy figure that holds the sack, opens his mouth to speak, and falls. The newly gained knowledge is stripped away from him as he drops. Down, down, away from everything he has known. A sudden jolt ends his descent.

A baby boy cries as it is born.

Senior Project Rambles

Alaska Pacific is an interesting school. Instead of a capstone course or a thesis, an undergraduate has to complete a senior project. This can be almost anything you can think of, as long as it pertains to your major and can bring together various aspects of your education for however many years you've been here. 

For me, the plan was originally to write an historical fantasy novel with two, interconnecting plots: one set in early Christian Ireland (around 500AD), and one in modern day (or forward a year, to 2012 and the supposed end of the world). The writing of it would include all sorts of other challenges to myself as a writer, and it was going to be wonderful. The only problem is that, when I set out to do my research for the historical plot line, I got another idea for something every other page. So I contacted my project board and asked if I could tweak the project so that I was writing a collection of short historical stories instead of the long, intricate novel. Bear in mind that I've always had horrible luck writing shorts--I tend toward fantasy naturally, so the ideas for my stories are so big and so long that trying to smash them into 10,000 words or less doesn't really work. 

Whether it was that or the fact that I've never written a historical piece in my life (school papers exempt), I found myself struggling to get past a single page on anything I started. With that in mind and the beginning of the semester looming, I decided to make another change: this time I was just going to be writing a series of short stories that all involved some sort of writing challenge to myself, e.g., a single historical piece, something in first person, a comedy piece, a contemporary fiction piece, things out of my comfort zone of male protagonists and high fantasy. 

For the last few days, I've been plugging away at what was supposed to be only part of this, but may wind up being most, if not all, of this project: a series of flash fiction/super short stories inspired by the major arcana of the tarot deck. Each story is one of the different challenges I wanted to attempt and they're all tied together in a minor way, so that each tale--no longer than three pages, at the maximum--fits into what was supposed to be a single short story. It's looking more like a novella, at this rate. Regardless, the whole piece is an experiment in itself. As far as I'm aware, the only piece that uses the tarot in a way similar to this is Neil Gaiman's "Fifteen Painted Cards from a Vampire Tarot," and even that isn't exactly what I'm doing. I'm just hoping it turns out decently.

I'm also tossing around the idea of gathering a few other shorts together with it, polishing it all up, and submitting it to Createspace or something of the ilk. Of course, that would mostly be for my ego, more than anything; vanity presses like that don't generally go over well with agents or publishers, from what I've heard, so I would generally just leave it off any query letters. But it would be an interesting experience and, potentially, a good aspect to add to the project. I guess we'll see how that goes. 

And, though I'm not really anticipating anyone actually answering this question, I'm going to pose it anyway: anyone interested in reading bits and pieces of the tarot stories?