It’s December everybody! Christmas is coming, and we (maybe?) have just enough time for one last episode of Know the Novel this year, wherein we’ll dive into 10 questions exploring a work-in-progress, and try not to panic over the many festive things yet to be done.

While technically I finished drafting Iveswood Vol.1 back in February of 2022, (gosh, it doesn’t feel that long ago…) and the revision is on hold at the moment due to outside forces, the triumph of reaching The End is still fresh in my mind. So, let’s pretend it wasn’t nigh on two winters past, and talk of things rather as they once were, shall we?

1. How did writing this novel go all around?

I’ve wondered how this experience differs among those who write much faster and more neatly than I do. For me, this novel took so many years, included so many stretches of pausing, getting stuck, being inspired by some new influence, it felt much like a journey itself to return to, time and again. It was anything but neat and tidy, and yet, I gladly accept the periods of confusion and back-tracking, since the process itself was neccessary to grow.
(Plus I’m one of those weirdos who likes to hear people ramble about how something was made, heh).

2. Did it turn out as you expected or completely different? How do you feel about the outcome?

That…almost feels like trying to explain whether life has been turning out how I expected. Which is to say, I didn’t know what to expect. Or, my expectations on the book evolved along with the narrative. Hmm.

Well, ok—I expected it to be long. And wow, did it meet that prediction.

As to the outcome, if I start skimming bits of the printed manuscript, I’ve gotten distracted by it and continue reading past the point I meant to move on to something else, even when I know the whole story, and that is something I’m guilty of doing with other books, so…for all my list of improvements to make, I’d say that seems like a good sign.

I can’t shake the desire to really, really make sure there’s enough depth to this story for people to sink their teeth into, y’know? And I have yet to tell if the revised draft will accomplish that or not, but I hope so.

3. What aspect of the story did you love writing about the most? (Characters, plot, setting, prose, etc.)

The characters, since they are what kept pulling me back to work on the story every time I’d get stuck and put it aside. Though, I can think of moments when working on each of these elements felt great.

I distinctly remember being excited by music I was hearing on the radio while driving once, because it evoked this mysterious, dramatic setting, Darkthorne (also known as Twyllir Akanthium), and my characters having no choice but to infiltrate it. And I got chills, reading aloud the revised verses from the Wrythenmere, when Prince Thaelian is showing them to the rest of the Group, a sense of dread descending upon them as they all recognize the poem’s significance.

4. What was your least favorite part?

Back in 2020, during the first lockdowns, I was unable to go work and both worried and bored like millions of others, so, I came to rely on writing this story as something I could still do at home. But then, something about the plot and/or the characters’ arcs was going wrong, and I had no idea what the problem was or how to fix it…and after months of research and bumping my head against the wall—that was when I realized the book was too long.

I was trying to cram three-book’s worth of stuff happening into one, and once I finally came to accept that, then I realized this major event I had been setting up to happen in the middle of everything, (middle of Vol.2 now) needed to be cut, and replaced with something totally different, and actually central to the major character arcs and all.

The frustration of having no idea how to fix my fatally-flawed project, at that particular point in time, was running high. Abandoning it didn’t seem possible after the years of toil I’d already spent crafting it, and with characters that felt so real, and so determined not to leave me alone till it was done.

Anyway, eventually there were some breakthroughs, I spent all of 2021 redrafting Vol.1, and now here we are.

5. What do you feel needs the most work?

The first four chapters. Ironically, those were the ones I rewrote in 2021 in snippets, and I think that threw the pacing off. The scenes worked separately, by themselves, but as a setup, the pacing is pretty fast, and there’s a lot mentioned in passing that is hard to keep track of, so I’m revising it to focus on fewer points and to smooth the pace.

6. How do you feel about your characters now? Who’s your favorite? Least favorite? Anyone surprise you? Give us all the details!

As my attitude regarding the POV characters hasn’t changed since last I answered this, I’m going to call someone else to the witness stand: Mog the giantess.

Mog (short for Mogatha) is not the sort of person you might picture when you hear the word “giantess.” She is very much human in proportions, simply scaled up to about 30 feet tall, she speaks quite fluently in her native tongue of Moethunn, and, despite the terrible hardship of being a giantess in a world where most of the giant-folk were felled by hubris, warring, and the march of time, she manages to retain the kindest disposition toward smaller folk.

Mog was not so remarkable in the early stages of Iveswood’s formulation—though she always had her utter delight for humans because, to her, they are akin to chipmunks or sparrows, and even the so-called “bad guys” are all so small and helpless compared to her that she can’t bring herself to harm any of them. Which is all rather tragic, since most Skylians are too alarmed by the sight of a giant to coexist peacefully with one, so Mog must limit her enjoyment of small-folk company to the rare few she meets as she wanders through the Etheryn.

It was not until the latest draft of Vol.1 that I wove the giant-folk into Skylia’s history, and got an idea of how important Mog could become to the larger story. As much as I love quirky side-characters, I’ve decided now that any who don’t serve a larger purpose ought to be cut. And I am relieved to say that Mog passed this test.

7. What’s your next plan of action with this novel?

Ah, ‘plan of action,’ that phrase sounds so snappy and promising. While I’m taking December off writing to make presents and appreciate the season of advent, the general plan for the new year involves releasing a few key chapters from the prequel, finishing the revision of Vol.1 (hopefully sometime in April of 2024), and, once I collect feedback from beta-readers, finishing the illustrations, and giving it a final polish. (Also continuing to draft Vol.2, ha ha, at last…)

And then…well…I’m hesitant to say yet if I will take it to a developmental editor, or if I can. As the first of a series, with many side-stories/comics planned to exist someday, I want to make certain this book starts the right trajectory for the rest to come. But, logistics and such as they are… To be determined.
(I also have ideas for a bigger, collaborative-type project, if I happen to meet fellow creatives who would be interested in it, but that is still ‘What if’ territory).

8. If you could have your greatest dream realized for this novel, what would it be?

Not gonna lie, I’ve always had big dreams for this puppy. Oh, not in a self-serving, or at-all certain sort of way, just in a…“you know what would be cool to do with this someday?” sort of way.

It started out as something I wrote as a kid, not for public comsumption…but the older I became, the more I felt, well, almost angry at the lack of rich, meaningful, imaginative things I could enjoy both as an adult, and with my younger siblings. Like, why is it so hard to find something with weight to it, that adults can have discussions about, and friends pick apart together, AND older children and teenagers read, and not be exposed to wildly unneccesary content? I know these sorts of books, shows, movies, and what-have-you exist, but there seems so little of it compared to the vast quantity of material being made for only one or the other, and lacking in some of these core qualities. I don’t know—maybe I’m picky, maybe I haven’t looked hard enough—but the drive to make Iveswood exist to have at least one more thing in this world that feels like that, is what fuels it now.

All that ranting to say…I’m trying to make Iveswood more than a series. Someday, just maybe, I hope to give it a world, a style, an instance where someone says to their brother, sister, or bored teenager in their life, “Hey, try this. I loved it when I was your age, and I still do.”

9. Share some of your favorite snippets!

(Aight, but I haven’t reached these two parts in the revision yet, so the wording is subject to change).

This is from a part when Storm is trying to track down the Prince of Skylia, who is in hiding somewhere, and meets these three fellows who claim to have information on his whereabouts:

Feeling like a fool, I squeezed between the bench and the long table, and found myself sitting across from Torr, Halloran, and a lone figure hidden within the hooded praevellum of an Arbori. Only the tree people wore them, when they had to travel through human establishments—which wasn’t often, since they liked to keep to themselves and their woods. To see only one of them, in a company of humans, was unusual.
Thanks to Torr’s girth, the table’s edge was fifteen inches away from the Arbori and Halloran, and digging into my ribs. I grit my teeth, hoping this wasn’t all for nothing.
At last, Halloran said, “This is Master Arum. He was one of the prince’s tutors, and a trusted ally of his.”
“Was?” I raised an eyebrow.
The Arbori spoke. The youth in his voice surprised me, until I remembered tree-people aged half as quickly as humans. He could have been fifty years old and still sounded barely older than me.
“We are all friends of his. Now, unfortunately, he is in a dangerous predicament. I cannot say more until we know if you are trustworthy.”
Halloran’s mouth twisted, and he tapped Arum on the shoulder, and whispered plenty loud enough for me to hear him, “Uh, Master Arum, don’t you know who this is?”
I swirled the brew in my cup and pretended not to notice.
“Why, yes, is he not the fellow from those wanted posters? The Shadow, as they call him?” he said evenly.
“Ah, he is. And, doesn’t that prove he is definitely not trustworthy, sir?”
“Not necessarily, Master Halloran. You of all people ought to recognize these are strange times, with many good souls being hunted by ruffians and vagabonds as though the law had been turned upside-down. I have a hunch this one is different.”

Vol.1, Chapter 6, Scene 3: The Strangers

And this one is taken from the center of Vol.1, in which Storm has just decided to set off for the Heart of the Etheryn, a very dangerous part of the wood, and Clara, who knows nothing of Storm’s shape-shifting problem, makes a decision that will change everything:

I got to my feet and managed a lopsided grin. “Thank you. For everything. I can’t thank you enough. Sorry me and my horse trampled your weeds. And for snapping at you.”
The Old Forester chuckled again, like a tree limb shaking in the wind.
“Oh, dear boy, I thrive to mend people. It was my pleasure to help. And before I show you the way on that map of yours, I have one more thing to give you. If I can remember where I put it…” he trailed off, stumping back through the doorway.
An awkward silence stretched while the sounds of him sifting through the clutter on the table drifted in. Clara tucked a rebellious lock of coppery hair behind her ear. She had returned to avoiding my eyes.
When the nothingness became unbearable, I said, “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you introduced me to the Old Forester. He is as remarkable as the Etheryn. In a selfless, not dangerous, still-rather-unpredictable sense.”
Clara pursed her lips as if fighting a smile. “Indeed, he is. He makes an interesting teacher.”
“But a good one?”
“Of course!”
I nodded.
I guess he’s not the reason she quit.
Reluctantly, I said, “You know, if those Leckrians are connected to the rise of this Silent One, there will probably be more of them. More attacks on the village.”
I felt guilty when a look of dread crossed her face.
“More? Oh, no…I hadn’t even considered more. …What will we do then?”
She leaned against the wall, lost in disparaging thought.
Feeling somehow responsible, I struggled to think of something bracing to say, then gave up.
“Well, you and the villagers probably won’t want to hear this, but…you might have to evacuate after all. Abandon Kennfirth, find a secure town to shelter in, till it calms down. It could be the only way.”
Clara scrunched her eyebrows. “The only way…come with me…it’s the only way…”
“Huh?”
Suddenly, her thoughtful expression hardened into certainty. She slowly raised her head, standing bolt upright, and looked me in the eye.
She said matter-of-factly, “All right, that settles it. I’m coming with you.”
I froze.
“Wait…what?”

Vol.1, Chapter 11, Scene 2: The Old Forester

10. Did you glean any new writing and/or life lessons from writing this novel?

I think trying to improve my writing in general has led me to notice things about people, or perhaps, to give more thought to what I notice, than I might have without prompting. The sort of details that stick in your brain, you know? What makes human beings so fascinating.

Then, I’d say working on such a massive behemoth of a project taught me that every little bit really does make a difference. And I don’t just mean adding to a word count; a lot of people tell me they wish they could write well, or draw, and that anything they make is disappointing, and instantly, my pounds of writing that are too cringe-worthy to be salvageable, and years’ worth of drawings that kids half my age would laugh at, scroll through my mind. It makes me want to grab them by the shoulders and say, “Perfection is a lie! Talent is a construct! Don’t do this because you expect it to be good—do it because you love the act of doing it!”

Sooo…yeah. It’s helped me think through too many things to name, and I’m already in great danger of sounding sappy, but there you have it, my friends. Write down what’s burning in you.

Thanks for joining me on a trip into this work-in-progress, and the joys and frustrations of writing! And as before, a big thank you to Christine Smith for hosting! In case you missed them, here is Part One and Part Two.
(And, y’know, if glimpsing the unruly making of Iveswood piqued your interest, I’ll be looking for beta-readers for the shiny new version via the newsletter, in the coming months…;) )
I enjoyed taking part in Know the Novel, and look forward to reading the responses from my fellow writers via their links at the bottom of the original post here. I hope to do this event again with a new project next year.

And you, dear reader: what are your thoughts? Are you participating in an act of creativity too? (Or are you tempted to work on a project you find intimidating?) If so, I’d love to hear about it in the comments!