And welcome back for Round 2 of this here writer’s link-up, folks! This merry month of November, I’m going to show you around the behind-the-scenes work on Iveswood! (So buckle up, friends. It’s not all hot coffee and butterflies.)
1. How’s the writing going overall?
*cowers behind an armchair*
Aheh…Is this a trick question?
I’ve been pseudo-revising and rewriting Iveswood Vol.1…as well as drafting new stuff for the Prequel, and Volumes 2 and 3 in sporadic bursts. I don’t feel guilty about ping-ponging per se, since this past week, I wrote more than 3,000 words’ worth of future scenes I’m fairly happy with…but I’m longing to focus on a single project again, which might not be possible till January of 2024.
Now, before the single-minded-goal police come after me, let me say the first 3 volumes were originally supposed to be one book, so it’s hard to tinker with only one part at a time.
(I’m also still figuring out changes in my work outside of writing, so my regular routine is still in a state of limbo, and some of my answers here might draw more from the way things were going previously.)
2. What’s been the most fun aspect about writing this novel so far?
Despite any serious, heartfelt, or gut-wrenching parts of this project (this may shock you)…there is a lot of humor in this series. Some is of the witty, grim, or sarcastic variety…but then there are moments that are just plain funny. I can’t really take credit for these because the situations that make me laugh usually come as a surprise to me, too, from who knows where.
By far the funnest thing for me is getting in the zone, then being stunned by something the characters end up doing, if it happens to be in-character.
One instance of this: When Storm is at a tavern called ‘The Creaky Roots,’ he tries to avoid trouble by pretending to be a dangerous, notorious criminal. And then he tries to intimidate the bartender. And utterly flubs it.
“What’ll you drink?” he growled.
Vol.1, Chapter 6, Scene 2: At the Creaky Roots
I considered him. Considered what sort of precedent I’d set back at that woman’s table. I had to keep up the act.
I’m the Shadow, I’m the Shadow…
I glared at him, and said dramatically, “The blood of my enemies.”
He squinted.
“You want what?”
I grimaced. That was a mistake…
3. What do you think of your characters at this point? Who’s your favorite to write about?
Oh no. I’m being asked to judge? And play favorites?
Is this a trap? Because it feels like a trap. I’ll tell you right now I love all ten people in the Group, (heck, even Lord Adelric is growing on me), and they’re all knuckleheads sometimes, but they’re my knuckleheads, okay?
With that in mind, as I’ve been revising, I realized Clara undergoes some real growth on the page, but Storm hasn’t shown enough of his development on the outside, yet.
Revealing change in a strong-willed character, who avoids personal questions like the plague, and is purposely trying to conceal what’s going through his mind, can be difficult to pull off in a way that feels authentic. But I’m currently revising a conversation between him, and a beggar he’s friends with named Nedius, and enjoying how deeply he cares about people he sees being ignored by most of society, while this same quality is leading him to be bitter towards those he assumes are too well-off to care. Neddie tries to nudge him toward recognizing everyone has their personal struggles, and potential to do good—but Storm isn’t at the right point in his life to appreciate what he means.
In Vol.1, Storm and Clara eventually end up forming a duo, like in a buddy-movie, so I might cheat and say the two of them together is my favorite to write about.
But then, if I’m cheating anyway, I might add Lord Adelric has become my favorite antagonist I’ve ever written, and might get more page-time in this new draft. He doesn’t get a lot in Vol.1, but guys, everyone in Fort Exalder looks up to him as this war-hero with humble origins, a veritable pillar of justice who will stop at nothing to protect Skylia…and he IS.
And yet, he’s also convinced Storm is a monster pretending to be a pitiable kid—and he has wounded him so severely (and killed a beloved mentor-figure before the story started), so Storm is both enraged by and terrified of him. And vice-versa, since Adelric isn’t getting much sleep with the risk of a dragon tearing his city apart. And, I can’t say more without spoilers, but I cannot express how excited I am to reveal further depth of their conflict in Volume 2.
Let’s move on before I start rambling about the others, shall we?
4. Has your novel surprised you in any way?
I guess I’m rather surprised Vol.1 didn’t need any major editing changes. (Well, after the first book was reworked into three, that is). Like, no gaping plot holes, no cast-members to be cut, not a ton of telling where there should be showing. The setup is being redrafted, but I think after all my research on how to edit, I was prepared for this draft to be way worse. Could owe to the fact this story underwent a long steeping period, or my method of adjusting the plot as I went, but Vol.1 should be pretty finished come Draft 4. (Aw yeah.)
5. Have you come across any problem areas?
…Is this a trick question?
*awkward chuckle* Uh-huh, uh, yeahhh. When I think of ‘problem areas,’ my brain immediately jumps to what was once Chapter 11: Follow the Path.
This is the ‘Alice in Wonderland’ chapter.
I say “is” because I have not fixed it yet.
Some of the ‘Wonderland’-ishness comes from the fact I thought, “Hey, I love the Etheryn as this huge monster-infested onion of a forest, where anything could happen since the normal rules of the world don’t always apply here, and I’d love to make comics out of the side-adventures that don’t fit in the main book…why not use this chapter to showcase some of this crazy phenomena, and have it force Storm and Clara to work as a team?”
Well, the cartoonish quality of this chapter needs to be reined in now, and I’m not sure yet how to get Storm and Clara swept off course for the duration of a single scene…without a crazy flood that tosses their raft off a waterfall, the fall from which doesn’t severely injure them.
This chapter is a question mark in my revision notes, (though I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually).
6. What’s been your biggest victory with writing this novel at this point?
Finishing a novel.
I seriously doubted I could, at least within the next decade or two. Yours truly deals with an ADHD brain that rarely feels motivated to work on long projects, especially without immediate, external motivation. I’d say joining a small in-person writing group, where I was able to share each new scene as I wrote them, and get some first-impression feedback, is what got me to finish the first complete draft of Vol.1. It was slow-going, but it was regular enough to keep me accountable, and have a goal to work towards twice a month: finish the next piece to bring.
I’m working on finding that level of accountability again, but I think I will once things have settled into routine once more.
7. If you were transported into your novel and became any one of the characters, which one do you think you’d be? Would you take any different actions than they have?
Well, again, I am torn between Storm and Clara, because they are the ones who have absorbed more of the traits or experiences I identify with than the others.
I relate to Storm because…well, even though his life is obviously quite different, I based a lot of the way he thinks and approaches problems on what feels instinctive to me. He’s a strategic thinker, determined to be capable and handle things on his own, even when that’s not advisable. And he’s trying to figure things out, and do the right thing, even when he feels like he’s going against the grain. I have noticed the darker side of his rebelliousness and independence leads him to “risk the dragon getting loose,” before he would humble himself and ask for outside assistance…and I’m pretty sure in his shoes, I would’ve joined forces with the other characters a lot quicker. But then again, I can’t say—there are reasons why he does what he does.
While I definitely lack the boldness that enables Clara to investigate things, even at the risk of disregarding people’s wishes, or to set off on terrifying quests with questionable companions, I relate far more to her life, in terms of being an older sibling, helping out her family often, being passionate about a given field, and being plagued with doubt as to whether she’s really cut out for that field or not. While more up-beat and spontaneous than Storm, Clara isn’t content to just “survive”—she’s driven by a desire to do something that gives her purpose, and makes a difference in the world.
But, yeah…that time Storm caught her snooping in his bag, and told her to quit it? There is no way I would try that again—let alone repeatedly.
8. Give us the first sentence or paragraph, then 2 more favorite snippets!
They call me a shadow.
Vol.1, Chapter 1, Opening Scene: The Bakery and the Beggar
I don’t blame them, considering what I am…but truth is seldom known without missing pieces.
Call me Storm.
The wind stirred my gray cloak as I scanned the street, leaning on a timber beam. Petals and downy seeds whisked past on a breeze oddly musty-smelling for the beginning of spring. I rubbed my fingers, blew on them, stuck them under my arms, but nothing worked, so I was left gazing down the street with freezing, tingling hands, and a stomach that felt like it would digest itself.
I was waiting.
I haven’t gotten too far revising yet, but here’s a snippet of Storm and Clara discussing what to do about an impending monster-invasion, while Storm is a prisoner of some villagers, and they aren’t friends yet. I like to call this phase in their dynamic “annoyance at first sight”:
Clara gazed down at the arrangement. Queasiness welled in her throat.
Vol.1, Chapter 10, Scene 1: It’s Not Too Late
The host of beasts from her nightmare filled her mind. And the footprints in the clearing. Monsters, walking in Skylia again…the oldest tales come back to life. The thought was almost too horrifying to believe.
And yet, she did.
Storm looked up sternly. “Even if Kennfirth is full of stubborn, thick-headed villagers, I won’t let them get slaughtered by monsters.”
Clara stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, since it is late for all the people to evacuate to a safe distance, we must convince them to prevent the Leckrians from rampaging throughout all of Kennfirth. By which I mean you, as you seem convinced the high-and-mighty Peace-Keeper won’t hear me.”
Several seconds passed as the words sank in.
She shot him a cautious glance. “Are you saying you have a plan?”
“I have an idea,” he replied, then added reluctantly, “but I’ll need your help.”
A spark of hope bloomed inside her.
Despite this, Clara put her hands on her hips and tilted her chin up. “Oh, really? I thought you said you found us village-folk too slow and stubborn.”
“Well—that doesn’t mean I want to see them get murdered. I’m not heartless,” he said, scooping up the pebbles and twigs into a pouch on his belt.
“Hmph. Us, you mean.”
“What?”
“To see us murdered. I am one of those insufferable villagers, you know.”
He paused for a fraction of a second, then stood, tying the pouch shut. “Well, in any case. It’s true I’d rather not have the effort of last night wasted, either.”
And lastly, I have a brand new snippet I wrote for what will eventually be the Prequel (and possibly technically Vol.5?), Raised in Shadow. I don’t intend to draft the whole thing for a while yet, but I’m planning to finish a few chapters from the middle of it, and gift them to everyone on the newsletter list.
You see, I also dearly love Fentimus “Phantom,” the master thief who accidentally adopted Storm. He’s not perfect of course, but he fights to keep this little boy out of the clutches of his gang, the Erratican, who want to use the “abilities” that come from his dragon-affliction to further their own ends.
Here, Phantom starts arguing with a guy he previously considered an old friend, con-artist Thorntun Lewes, about Storm’s fate.
“Phantom,”
Vol.5 / Prequel: Raised in Shadow
“Leave me, Lewes.”
“Fentimus. I saw what your apprentice did out there.”
Phantom paused his slow pacing just long enough to turn, and see Thorntun’s significant look. Then he rubbed his face, and shuffled toward the window.
“That boy is not ordinary. Not human. There’s not a chance in Tarsk he could have guessed that gold was there. He knew it, without hearing or spotting a damn thing.”
“You think I don’t know this?” Phantom snapped, rounding on him. “I know it’s not human. It’s dangerous.”
“But think what he could gain us!”
“Dangerous for him! Drop those bright eyes before I smack them out of your head, so help me—”
Thorntun’s gleaming excitement blew out like a candle. He stared at Phantom as if he thought he’d gone mad…then he chuckled, shaking his head.
“Aha, I suspected you’d gone soft. But, surely, you’ve realized you cannot hide him from Vorgan. A gift like that…and they’ve never eased the watch on you since Bamburrow. Not unless you split the gang, and use the whelp’s abilities for your own. I’d stick with you.”
“No one, is using, my boy,” Phantom said through grit teeth.
Thorntun laughed, pitying now, and spread his arms. “Come and greet your fate, Fentimus! The richest way for you to ‘protect’ him! Otherwise, the Erratican is going to chew him up, and spit him out on the cobblestone.”
“This is not me! I was weak! Addled! Nobody warned me who Vorgan was! Do you think my apprentice another selfish clodpole who can be molded into whatever you want?”
Thorntun shrugged.
He started back when Phantom grabbed him by the collar.
“You know what he is. If Storm was weak, we would all be charred or broiled by now. But if you breathe a word about him to Vorgan, I’ll silence you so, even the Faceless will not hear you.”
9. Share an interesting tidbit about the writing process so far! (Anything you want to share!)
Does world-building count?
I got an idea the other day I’m intruiged by, that I want to use for the Arboris (plant-people); and I ran up against a technical detail that needs clarifying.
See, small numbers of Arboris frequently travel to Skylian (human) towns and cities, for what they vaguely call “business reasons,” even though there’s some lingering ill-will between the humans and tree-people. Among Skylians, the Arboris wear green, hooded robes called ‘praevellum,’ and these odd, special masks that conceal their entire faces, so many Skylians don’t really know what Arboris look like.
Now they claim (and it’s generally understood by Skylians) that they wear this garb because they find humans rather dirty and gross, and want an added barrier between them, when they do venture forth from the Etheryn. However, this is a lie spread by a portion of Arboris who want to keep the Skylians at arm’s length, when the truth is, Arboris breathe in the gases (like carbon dioxide) that humans breathe out, and when they stay in a human town or city for a time, the surrounding air rejuvenates and energizes them. And those strange masks actually work rather like funnels.
Unfortunately, Arboran politics regarding the Skylians is fraught with tension right now, so this fact is being kept secret from many of their own, even though a relationship could be symbiotically beneficial to both peoples.
I gotta draw these special masks and robes one of these days…
Anyway, as for the unrelated technical detail to fix, I had to figure out how much weight a humanoid who is roughly 30 feet tall, could reasonably carry over the course of several hours. For “writing reasons.”
I had to know why my giantess character, Mog, doesn’t just carry the rest of the Group to where they are going, even though they’re in a bit of a hurry. That would have stopped important events from happening along the way—and obviously we can’t have that.
Plant-people ventilators and Giant-statistics. Good times, man.
10. Take us on a tour of what a normal writing day for this novel looks like. (Where do you write? What time of day? Etc.)
Wait, some people have routines?? Habits!?? Wait, no…I did have a writing habit, once… *wistful sigh*
I’ve never been a morning person, and I’ve discovered that if I let myself stay up late to write, I stay up VERY late, and feel great about my progress right until I have to get up the next morning. So before or after dinner is usually when it happens.
I generally grab a mocha (or hot-chocolate if it’s evening), lock my bedroom door, may or may not bother to hang up my sign that says “Novel in Progress,” and then I alternate between sitting in my armchair drafting (or at least starting) things by hand, in a notebook I work in till every last page is stuffed—and then typing what I’ve got into my PC, at my desk. (Which I once did with Word instead of Scrivener. Those were dark days because Scrivener is fantastic).
This system is slow, but I have better ideas and don’t get stuck the same way writing longhand that I do while drafting directly onto the computer; as I write, I often change the direction I’m going in for a scene, or the word choices, and I can see my tweaks mid-drafting in pen, but don’t have to commit to a direction until I iron it out on the keyboard.
I cannot concentrate around other people, or catchy music with lyrics, so I normally write in silence, or listen to classical music on headphones to help set the mood of the scene I’m on.
A new practice I’ve added is taking a moment before I start to thank God for the fact creativity even exists, and to reflect on why I’m taking the time to write or revise things, and on the meaning and joy I hope my words might bring somebody else, someday. Because writing is only half of this process, after all: the other half is a reader comprehending the thoughts you’ve distilled into a written form, and expounding upon them in their own mind. Right?
And that’s that, folks! Here is Part One in case you missed it, and tune in next month to see if this ship still floats in time for Know the Novel: Part Three! (December Update: it kinda does!)
Once again, thank you to Christine Smith for hosting this event! You can find other writers’ responses to these questions through the links at the bottom of the original post here. Until next time!