Overdone Uniqueness

You know those ideas you think are fantastic so you start work right away and get halfway through a manuscript before realizing that it's already been done a zillion times? An idea like "A young girl doesn't realize she's a lost princess/demigoddess/leader/powerful sorceress/chosen one until so-and-so comes along, recognizes her and takes her on a grand adventure, and they fall in love along the way."

Yeah, I got one of those last night right before bed. Still trying to work out how to make it unique and interesting versus just another "lost princess" tale. For those of you who have rewritten popular plots (fairy tales and the like), how did you manage to make yours different from everyone else's? Was it a spontaneous difference or did you have to work at it?

Point of View Problems

You know that time when you wonder if you've really chosen the right point of view for your masterpiece? Yeah, I hit that. Last night, my critique group pointed out that I have a decided lack of internalization from my protagonist, which makes it hard to feel really connected with him or the world. I suppose that's one of the risks you run when you decide to write in third person; all I know is that I'm deathly afraid of info dumping or getting far too into a character's head and getting rambly.

So I write in third person and struggle through the omniscient/limited fight. I'm working on finding a way to add more character thoughts without seeming too forced, but I'm also wondering if I shouldn't have written this book in first person. I really, really hate writing in first person (probably because I don't read it much) but it would likely help to immediately get in the character's head. And I've always been curious to try writing an alternating point of view story.

Has anyone else struggled with point of view like this? Which PoV do you like writing in the most and why?


P.S. If anyone has any job openings they know about, would you please let me know?

NaNo Check-In

Liiiiiiiiiiifeeee! Mwahahahaha!

Ahem. Sorry about that. I'm just so excited to have an excuse to do something besides writing or work. I mean, I'm writing here, but it's not on my NaNovel or even a piece of fiction, and that's refreshing. Week two of NaNoWriMo, 20,000 words in, and I'm dying.

My motivation has gone and disappeared, even though the story itself has reached the brilliant plot overload that I generally reach in the middle of a really good first draft. It starts with "I have no plot!" and evolves into "Oh, writing gods, what have I done? There are far too many subplots to even know what the main plot is!" Eventually, after several rewrites, that gets boiled down into a single main plot and, maybe, a handful of subplots. I did it with Savior; I do it with every good piece I write. So I suppose it's a good thing that it's happening here.

But it's so frustrating! Dang you, characters! Why must you have lives of your own?! *Shakes angry fist*

Anyone else participating in NaNo and having the Week Two Blues? Or anyone else have major plot disorders in anything they write?

Quite Possibly the Maddest Thing I've Ever Done

Almost exactly a month ago, I started a new piece. It's super duper different from Savior, as I'm attempting to make it an adult epic fantasy, for the hell of it. I wrote a bit about my inspiration for it over here. The original idea was to write the minstrel character from the song I linked to, going to war and all that fun stuff. Then I added magic and craziness, to make it an actual fantasy piece (and because I love magic). I had a vague idea of the cause for this epic war, but nothing solid.

Then I came home from the conference last Sunday with this desire to add two more point of view characters, just to play with it. I've been wanting to attempt a story with multiple points of view for a while now, why  not try it with this one? So I did. Neither of them are as developed as the main PoV character at the moment, because I just started them, but they've already given me the cause for the war, the main antagonist, and an insight into the initially 'evil' country that started the war.

Only problem is now this story is going to be huge. And it no longer follows the inspirational song basically at all. That makes me a little sad, but oh well. The story's got plot now! That's kind of important. And I've always wanted to write something that included both sides of a conflict as 'good guys.'

So let's hope this experiment works! Anyone else had a story veer sharply from the original intent after a single decision like this? Or is that a pantser thing?

Fish Out of Water

Today I have an excerpt for you! It's from a piece I began--that may or may not go anywhere--in which I was attempting to re-imagine faeries. It sort of warped into a Fish Out of Water, Man Out of Time story as I went along, and I'm not at all sure where it's going now. But here's the beginning. I hope you enjoy it.

Itoro stood on the hill, long, dry grasses waving about his knees with the gentle breeze. His clothes were worn and patched, both leather and cloth. An unkempt beard graced his square chin, hiding the grim set of his jaw. His eyes, a soft but determined gray set deep above a long, crooked nose, surveyed the valley below him, lingering on the small collection of brightly-colored tents huddled against the base of the mountains. 

The thin chestnut horse beside him snorted softly and nudged his shoulder with her dirt-encrusted nose. 

He nodded gently as if she had spoken aloud, and gently took hold of the tattered leather reins. Finally turning his eyes down to the uneven ground beneath his feet, he carefully began to pick his way into the valley. A strange sense of foreboding knotted his stomach as he walked, though he did his best to brush it away. 

The mare limped beside him, doing her utmost to put as little pressure on her rear left leg as possible. The blood had finally crusted around her wound, leaving her haunch stained with a deep, rust-colored streak. But, like her companion, she kept her big, brown eyes fixed on the tents on the other side of the valley, only occasionally tossing her head in complaint. 

By the time they stood on the valley floor, the tents had disappeared from view, leaving the two weary travelers alone in a sea of dancing brown grass, the mountain peaks before them their only guidance. Very slowly, the strains of music appeared in the distance, beckoning and welcoming the weather-beaten strangers. Drums and rattles grew louder, more distinct, with every step. Eventually, voices joined the energetic mash of rhythm and deep, breathy flutes, chanting and singing in a light, lyrical language. 

He found himself humming along, though he could not remember the words. It had been far too long since he had come across a Faeling clan. He couldn’t help but wonder if he would recognize any of them. Or if any of them would recognize him. 

The Real World

This week has been another slow writing week. This working in the real world and trying to carve out a niche for myself in the company has been rather a blow to my motivation. Which, of course, is hard to accept, since I'm so dang close to finishing the rewrite so I can start querying again. I want to go back to school and be able to justify sitting at home all day and working. And I've only been out of school for a little over a month now.

The good news? I have yet another project idea. This one playing with a faery tale. I know the faery tale retelling idea has been done over and over again, but that's not going to stop me from writing this, for fun if nothing else. I'm planning on tying it in with the history and myth of my world, which should hopefully make it a bit more unique than just another faery tale retold. Let's all keep our fingers cross for that one, shall we?

Oljiru kovy.

Writing on Shadows

As of right now, I think I'm going to tweak this blog just a little bit to include excerpts of what I've written every week. Unless I have something really, really interesting to say (like, for instance, the last query event of April at WriteOnCon is on Monday, wish me luck!), or some other insight into the writing business. When it get closer to time for the conferences I'll be attending this year, I'll likely be writing a lot about those; but for the moment, things are slow enough to simply post bits and pieces of my work, thanks to graduation and moving and all that fun stuff.

So, a bit of what I've been working on. Last week, I went on a school trip to the Anchorage zoo, and we attended a seminar about wolves after our little tour. It got me really inspired to write something wolfish, but I wanted to steer clear of werewolves and simply writing from the wolf's perspective. So, I dug out the old idea I used for my National Novel Writing Month novel: inspired by Jungian psychology, every person in this world has a Shadow, an animal companion that is irrevocably tied to them. Similar to the concept in the His Dark Materials trilogy, except that the Shadows have a single shape from birth, and they don't speak a language their partners (called Sources) understand. Hopefully, I've made it different enough from Pullman, while still sticking to the Jungian concept of the shadow and the anima/animus.

Anyway, this story has no overarching plot yet, but here's a taste of the beginning:

A howl cut through the night like butter. Ketina’s round, furry ears perked as she raised her head and turned it in the direction of the sound. She sniffed at the cold night air, searching for anything at all to tell her how far away the pack was. She had known the moment they entered this wood that there was a wild pack here, but her Source just wouldn’t listen to her protests. After a moment, she lowered her head again  and nudged at the sleeping man beside her with her soft, gray muzzle. 

Emris swatted at her and rolled over. “Not morning yet. Go back to sleep.” 

She growled softly, deep in her throat, and nipped at the back of his neck. Another howl pierced the night and Ketina felt her thick fur bristle. If her Source wouldn’t wake on his own, she would drag him like a pup, if she had to. Her survival depended on his. And, even if she was a Shadow, she was a wolf, through and through. And she was rather fond of living. 

“Sleep,” Emris grumbled, jabbing his elbow into the wolf’s side. “Remember sleep?”

Ketina growled again and locked her jaws around the young man’s neck, refusing to let him fall back into slumber. She shook him gently, not afraid to let him feel the point on her teeth, even though the sensation of her own canines in the scruff of her neck was a little unnerving. She brushed it off as best she could, knowing it was a side effect of the bond between Shadow and Source. All that mattered now was getting out of this forest before the pack of wild wolves found them. If she was any other creature, there would not be such haste. But a single she-wolf encroaching on the territory of a pack could spell disaster.