Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Writing Wednesday: Pinspiration

This Week's Theme: Meet the Dragons of Printhia
Printhian dragons have two forms, one like a normal dragon, and one that is humanoid.
Lina (Christoffer's mom?)
Depending on the region, they will range in shape and features, but will always have a shade of black or brown hair, with next to no exceptions.
There are currently Four dragon kingdoms.
The Southern Dragons
Wintermark Costumes and patterns
The Middle Kingdom
The Northern Kingdom
Last but not least, the Dark Kingdom

Keep on Writing!

God Bless

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Editing, where to start?

Something that is very simple can be extremely hard to obtain.
A character that you've worked on for a year, more or less, may be lovable to you.
You might care for that character a lot.
You might have cried with that character during the dark moments.
You might have cheered for that character during the triumphant moments.
You might have felt satisfied for that character during the denouement.
But that doesn't mean that your reader, who knows nothing at the start of your story, will want to see your character through the events in your story.
That was one of the points given to me from a couple people who critiqued some of my first chapter before I started to edit it was that they didn't care.
What genre was it?
Contemporary Adventure?
They were confused about certain events.
This was, to say the least, painful for me to realize.
Like any other first writer completing her first novel, I didn't want to be shown the wrongs.
Yet I am starting to like these questions.
It is from those questions that I started to edit.

Story writing 101: 
Your reader should care about your character in some form.

Whether it is what your character is doing, or who your character is, your reader should care.
I had the problem with people not caring about my characters.
At all.
So, I worked on showing Kallie, MC, as a more likable human being.
Well, from some feedback, I have succeeded to a point.
Let's just say that I have a long way to go. . . 

Story Writing 101:
Make your genre obvious.

In my first draft, all I showed that it might be Science Fiction ish, was the hover cars and electric shock gloves.
It was not very believable, as well. 
I worked hard to include my genre, science fiction, in a believable and natural way. 
The house and appliances are something that can naturally show science fiction that I had originally over looked.

To say the least, it has improved.
I've been told that Kallie is more likable, and that they would like to read more.
What I would rather not look at is how it still needs improvement.
Evidently her parents now need more character development.
I need to rationalize why Kallie describes the blond woman as she does.
I need to work on describing more and slowing down a bit more at parts.
I love it.
But when it comes to writing a first draft, I tell instead of describing. 

Well, that's what happened.
I hope it helps others in some way.

Keep on Writing!

God Bless

Friday, March 21, 2014

Long Promised Part TWO

So I didn't get to this the last few days.
I really need to figure out a better way for doing this.
Here's Chapter One Part TWO!
 I turn abruptly and start running down the road.


I come into view of the house again to see a strange huver with tinted windows parked in front of the house; four people dressed in black, two dark haired, one blond, and one white, are standing in front. Both of the dark haired persons is holding dad to his knees, and the white haired one is holding mom.

The Blondie turns around as I come into sight. Blondie is a woman with a slight build, and that smile on her face isn't very welcoming.

“NO! KALLIE GO! RUN!” Mom screams, her voice already wearing out.

“Mom!” I hessitate.

“Kallie. Go.” Dad slowly turns his head towards me as he barks out his words. The side of his face that had been turned away from me is covered in a giant bruise, his lip is cut, and his eye is starting to swell. I take a step forward.

“KALLIE!” Mom's face is pleading with me. “GO!”

My mind reals as I start to slowly back peddle, my gaze still locked on dad's face.

Blondie shakes her head and hits dad across the face; he spits out blood at her.

Before I even realize what I've decided, I'm running towards them.

“STOP!” My throat screams in pain at the harsh vibrations emmonating from it.

The woman's mouth stretches into a malicious grin as she watches me come closer to her.

She reaches towards me and I stumble backwards, tripping over a fire hydrant. She jerks forwards and also stumbles, her hand touching some wet grass from a drip in the hydrant. I hear an electric sizzle; shock gloves. I've only heard of them before.

The woman stands up and yanks off her glove.

“Kallie! Go!” Dad yells; his jaw is clenched, and he is breathing in gasps of pain.

“Shut up.” The woman in front of me said, “I already said we want the girl, and have her we will.” She eyes me suspiciously, the wheels in her mind almost visibly turning.

My eyes narrow as I try to gather together my thoughts.

She lunges again and I roll to the side; my bag digs into my side.

Grasping at an idea I reach in and pull out the first thing I come to; my camera. I wince. I throw it at the nearest person; the one holding mom. The person, lady, holding mom turns mom around and the camera hits mom. I wince.

I somersault to a standing possition, trying to remember all the fighting information that I had looked up years ago. I'm an idiot.

I reach in my bag and this time I end up grabbing a pen. I click it open and get into what I think is a frightening stance.

“That won't work.” A harsh feminine voice I have yet to hear says.

I look up in surprise only to lock gazes with the white/blond woman holding mom. Half of her face is covered in some kind of black paint or seamless mask, making it hard to decipher what exactly she looks like other than her sharp blue-green eyes. Her eyes are laughing at me.

I growl in my throat and get ready to pounce. A hand grazes my arm as I jump. The hairs up and down my arm stand on end.

The black masked woman easily rolls out of the way.

The worst surge of panic I have ever felt rose in my chest.

“Kallie!” My mom cries out.

I turn around to find myself a foot away from blondie; she's completely lost her cool look and is now glaring at me.

I back away from the woman as a splitting pain for a slight second rips through my whole body. Crazy blondie is now looking at me with pure hatred.

Blue fabric suddenly envelopes me from the shoulders down. I struggle until I'm free.

Blondie lunges for me.

I scream and try to jump. My brain is foggy. I'm high in the air over Blondie, and I'm staying up.

Blondie takes out a gun-type device and points it at mom.

I scream. She fires. Mom falls silently. Dad screams and pulls like he's gone mad.

I lunge at the woman without thinking, barely noticing the bird shaped shadow below me.

A bolt of white lightning hits me hard, bringing me back down to earth. I lie on the ground gasping for breath.

A white owl has hit me. It changes into the masked woman who had been holding mom.

NO!” Dad roars and struggles madly against the two men holding him. I've never seen him like this.

Blondie walks over to dad. She raises the gun in her hand, aims it at him, and fires.

I scream. I struggle against the woman on top of me and I scream.

The woman on top of me doesn't even flinch. I tear at her with my bare hands, but it doesn't help at all.

For a second the woman's grip loosens, and I free one arm. I almost touch mom's limp, outstretched arm.

Everything goes dark.

Again, it's only a second draft.
Comments are very much appreciated!

Keep on Writing

God Bless

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

As Long Promised. . .

I am a very stubborn girl.
As such, I have become frozen at the idea of sharing an actual story that I've completed.
I have, though, promised to share my novel Shadow Wings as I edit it.
I shall keep my promise.
I hope to blog later on what I was concentrating on when I was working on editing it.

Without further ado
Ladies and Gentlemen,
I give to you Shadow Wings, Chapter one, part one.

Chapter One

The sun streams in over my pillow as the curtains slowly rise.

“Time to get up.” The electronic alarm says by my head from its place on the bedside table. I groan and turn my head as I shield my eyes with my arm.

“Time to get up.” It repeats. Eight loud beeps sound by my ear, and I fling my pillow at it as I sit up. It stops. 
I groan and crumble back down, curling under my blankets.

“Time to get up.” It sounds again. I sit up and glare at it. The holographic image of an alarm clock with a cheerful face grins at me.

“Good to see your face,” It says before returning to its normal function of showing the time.

“Good to see yours too,” I snidly snap back.

I scoot off the bed and feel around with my feet for the slippers mom had bought for me last night. Finding them and slipping them on, I plod towards the bathroom that was across the hall.

I look into the mirror and groan. I look like a black haired Medusa. I angrily grab my hairbrush from the counter and attacked my hair with a vengence, ignoring the horrible sounds it is making. I need to look decent. I glare back at my image.

After completing my hygene, I return to my room and change into a pair of loose jeans and an old, faded blue t shirt.

I pause for a second outside of mom and dad's door; I can hear their uninteligible voices inside, arguing. Again.

I continue to the kitchen. What would they be fighting over this time? Staying here? Do they need to buy another car part? What could possibly be wrong again?

I open the fridge, the cool air brushing my face and sending shivers up and down my back. I grab a bowl of oatmeal that mom and I had made last night and put it on a warming plater. A touch pad pops up and I type in 'oatmeal, left over'. The pad slides down to its resting place and a glass shield, shaped like half a sphere, slides over. After a minute it rolls off revealing my oatmeal, all nice and piping hot.

Using some pot holders that were hanging by the stove, I pick up my oatmeal and place it on the table.

The muffled voices raise for a moment; I strain to hear them as I poor some milk into my bowl. They lower again, and I return to my food.

It doesn't take me long to finish eating. Standing up fast with my bowl and the carton of milk, I tip over the awkward kitchen chair. Mom's head peaks in seconds later as I try to juggle my dishes and pick up the metal chair with my foot. Her stormy eyes are giving away her excitement, even though her face is strait.

“You okay, honey?” Mom asks, obvieously hiding something behind the wall.

I nod and smile at her, all the while trying to not be obvious while glancing oddly at her.

“Okay. Can you please wash what's in the sink as well as your breakfast dishes?”

I nod again.

“Sure, Mom.”

She turns back around and walks back down the hall. Moments later the sound of arguing once again continues.

I turn to the sink; it's full of last night's dishes; we had chinese takeout.

It takes me a moment to figure out how to use the shiny high tech sink, but I have perfect warm and sudsy water soaking the dishes pretty quickly.

I splash the washcloth down into the water.

The cool autumn sun streams through the kitchen window, gleaming off of the dishwater. Voices rise again and I rub my forehead with my sudsy right hand. Why won't they ever stop?

They stop suddenly and I hear footsteps. I hurriedly scrub at the dishes in the sink.


I turn and face Dad.

“Yes Dad?”

“I- Well, we are-” Dad rubs his charcoal hair; it's becoming flecked with silver.

“We've decided to give you an early birthday present.” Mom calls out from their room, saving dad from anymore stuttering.

“Wait, what?” I turn completely around, feeling with my right hand for the towel.

Well,” Dad scratchs his neck, “ We decided to give you an early birthday present.”

This doesn't sound right. As in, what?

“What?” I stare at him with my mouth still slightly open. Mom's head pops around the corner and she takes a picture of me before coming all the way into view.

“You heard him.” She said, looking at me accusingly. “Here.” She hands me the camera that she had just used.

It's a 2014 Cannon Digital, classic black and silver. It's a bit smudged, but that's to be expected from an antique.

“Thanks.” I stare at it then back up to mom and dad, my mouth unable to close all the way.

Well, don't just stand there holding it. Go take some pictures!” Mom's grin is finally stretching from ear to ear as she takes away the towel that I have in my hand and pushes me back to my room.

I finally grin back before I run to my room. There, I sat down on my bed and scroll through the different settings, shutter speeds, filters, on and on. I spend a blissful half an hour in blessed solitude.

An ear splitting sound, something between a classic horn honk and an angry goose, comes in through the walls. I look out the window to see a neighbor pulling into his house next door in a brand new, super shiny huver car. I groan and turn away. Why oh why did we have to leave that house in Crawford, Minnesota?
The sunlight filters in through the light, summer curtains. I stare at it as it plays patterns on the rich, plain brown rug. I look outside again and grin.

The bus stop.

Yesterday, when we'd first arived, I'd noticed that by the bus stop was a small area full of trees with a little pond and one park bench. It seemed very out of place after seeing all of the tall city buildings, but it was still very quaint, even appearing beautiful, with the changing colors of the leaves. Basically a hidden park.

After digging around for a few minutes, I find my creativity bag with my creative journal and coloring pencils and pastels. Pausing for a minute by my semi-unpacked suit case, I quickly unbury one of my favorite sweaters and hurry down the hall.

I peer into the open door of my parents room, but it's empty. The bed nicely made, and everything. After a few minutes of searching, I find mom on the porch swing fiddling with a book.


She looked up, her brow furrowing.


“I'm going down to the bus stop to take some pictures.” I grin excitedly.

Mom tries to smile, but her eyes aren't in it.

“Well, um-” For once, mom isn't giving a straight answer. She looks over my shoulder as I feel the weight of a hand on my shoulder.

“We'd like it better if you stayed within sight.”

Dad's breath makes the loose whisps of my hair move. I turn and grin at him.

“I'm always careful, dad. Besides, I have the spray.” I open the flap of my bag to reveal a can of hornet spray. “I'm prepared.”

I turn and head down the porch steps.

“Be safe.” Mom says.

I turn and shake my head as I walk backwards.

“I'm prepared, Mom!” I wave and turn around, breathing in the sharp clean air.

Oh, the beauty of Autumn! The air, the colors, the crunching leaves. I stop my musing suddenly when I almost ran into a light post. Taking out my new camera, I started to capture the beautiful mixes of golds, browns, and greens of the trees changing colors.

NO!” Mom's scream pierces the air like a knife.
The entire chapter is ten pages long, and I only posted five.
I'll post the second half tomorrow!
Comments are gladly accepted!

Keep on Writing!

God Bless

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Writing Wednesday: Pinspiration

This week's theme: Discover the Earth Elves of Printhia



~Mainly found in the lower forests and meadows of mountains~



this little piggy.

~A greater majority of them are farmers or traders~

raggedy mauve

~Their clothes are colored with plant dyes~

~Headscarves and dangle jewelry are typical for an Earth Elf woman to own~

Henna Tattooing, a earth elf tradition.

~Henna tattoos are a common practice~

gypsy vanner

~The horses that they use I'm basing after Gypsy Vanners and other draft horse breeds~



Keep on Writing!

God Bless,

Monday, March 3, 2014

A Long Time Coming

I'm still a pretty new writer.
I've only spent about two years now seriously writing with the hopes of one day being published.
But, just like any other writer, I'm scared to share my work.

So, today I'm sharing. 

The following is a little over two pages long.
It's a scene I wrote over the weekend to explore one of my allies for my WIP, and it took a life of its own.
I'm now super curious about this guy (whose name is Jedrek, by the way).
Maybe after I finish my WIP I'll write his story.


 Creeping along, I'm staying as close to the shadows as I can. Stemps bumps loudly into me and I wince. Closing my eyes I count slowly. Reaching twenty and hearing no new sounds, we move on. This was going to be a long night.
We reach the road shortly before the distant sound of bells calling Midle Nacht sounds. We hadn't missed it. Motioning to the others behind me to find their places as fast as they can. After all was ready, I sank down to my own spot. We wait.
At half past, the lights appear. Soon we can hear the thundering sound. Thumpen thump. Thumpen thump. Thumpen thump. The sound almost makes me smile, anticipating the food it would bring. Almost.
The coach finally comes fully in sight.
Standing up so as I was almost doubled over with my ragged cloak wrapped tightly around me, I limp my way onto the road while reaching down and throwing dust and dirt on my face. The coach slows to a stop.
"Good Brother of Mork, I command you to move." The driver calls down.
I shake my head and moan. Muttering about something to do with distress and the sky.
"Brother, if you do not move, I will force you to move or be run over."
A sharp exclamation resounds from inside the coach and moments later a brunette sticks her head out of the window.
"Don't you dare, sir! I might be not from here, but I know propriety."
Moments later the door opens and a young woman, dressed in the rich undyed cottons from Calset comes out. Around her neck is a pendant that I can't quite make out, but it is large.
"Good Brother, we need to make port before Soon Rechst. Please, let us pass." She slowly starts walking towards me.
"My Lady, yeh don't know the ways of this place! Get bach in here!" A heavy Divont accent clouds the voice of an older heavyset woman who comes out, anxiously tugging at her sleeves and elbows.
"Cassyl, it's just a Brother."
"Lady, it might look like a brother, but don't let that fool you." The driver barks. "There are Mullocks in these parts. Get back NOW."
The young woman glares up at the coachman and walked over too me.
"I'm protected by Curstall's Light, and it warns me when a Mullock is near by. This is no Mullock. This is a Brother!" Purposefully she reachs down and yank my hood.
With no other choice left, I stand up and grab her as my men pour down from their different locations.
"I warned you Lady!" Barks the coachman as he struggles with a beefy lad, Crooks, for the reigns.
"Yes, you did good sir!" I answer as I hold my dagger to her throat. "Now, if you would like to make the port by Soon Rechst, I will be needing the goods."
The plump older woman, Cassyl, looks around with her eyes wide. "Lady! It's happened! The Prophetess said it would! Lady!"
The young woman audibly groans. "Of course it did Cassyl! Now just shut up and get back into the coach. I'm pretty sure the driver and I can handle this."
I bite my cheek as I try to not groan with her. Of all kinds of coaches to stop this time. Stemps comes into view, a beautiful big bruise blooming on his face.
“Deh ol' miss is armt!”
Sure enough, Cassyl comes into view a few seconds later with a big old lute.
“I don' care what yah do wi' me! Jus' leev deh gurl alun!”
I keep my eyes closely on the woman, trying to keep my mask of calmness in place.
“Don't do anything rash, marm.” I call out.
A thud comes from the coach. I turn my head to catch sight of the coach driver on the ground, big ol' Fronse stands nearby with a big bolder.
“I said no deaths tonight!” I holler at the ox of the lot.
I turn back to the nervous old woman as Stemps walks over to the driver.
“He's not de'd.” Stemps hollers a second later.
The old woman looks ready to faint.
“Yeh don' knur what yah doin'!” She starts to holler at me. “If she goes, we alls goes! If she dies, we alls dies! Yeh have tah let 'er go!”
I shake my head slowly.
“The way your acting, marm, I cannot do that.” The young lady starts to shift slowly and I tighten my grip, sliding the dagger farther up her neck. “Not now, marm.” I whisper in her ear. She glares at me.
“You know, sir, she is right. If they reach the harbor without me, we're counted as dead. All of us. They'd be killed if I don't go with them.”
I look down into her eyes, trying to decipher her own expressionless face.
“I don't want hostages. I want the money.”
She glares up at me. “Cassyl, go give him what he wants.” She calls out in a bland voice.
Cassyl slowly totters over to the coach and comes back minutes later, carrying a small pouch that loudly clinks with her every step.
I nod at Crooks, who gallantly strolls over to her with his hand held out. She throws the bag at him. Hard. The thud sounds very painful.
“Yeh ceen hav' it fer all I care! Jus' let her go!”
I look up to see her face has turned a shade of purple. I looked down again at the young woman.
Undyed Calsetian cotton, highest craftsmanship that I've seen yet, with faint, very worn white embroidery on the edge of the neckline and hem. A pattern resembling the protective symbols that I've seen in Curstallian temples, if my memory is correct. But that was ages ago. The pendant. Of fine craftsmanship as well, and from the faint light, it's made of the Dalian Red Gold. A rim of dark glassy stones, what look both red and black, create a pattern around the edge. A design of fine silver strands and what looks like pearls are intertwined within it. I know where she's from, and she's not going back. Not now that she's seen my face.
“I'm sorry for what I've said before, marm, but I can't let her go now.” I start to back into the shadows with her.
“NO!” Cassyl totters forward a few steps before collapsing on the ground. She tries to stand but her legs are shaking too hard and her arms are as limp as willow branches.
The young woman throws her head back hard, I barely get out of the way in time to keep her from banging my chin.
“Cassyl! Tell Ferdy! Tell him-”
I clamp my hand over her mouth. A sudden shiver of cold trickles down my face. I'd started to sweat back there.
“Fall back to camp!” I holler.
Seconds later my Shadow appears. He'd been gone this whole time.
“Have you finally found a lass, Shadow?” I ask snidely.
The tall man stares blankly at me.
“Well either way, I've found one that needs watching. Don't let her speak, don't harm her, and bring her to camp.”
He nods once, sharply. For the first time I notice the Katzbalger, covered with blood, in his hand. He has it sheathed in a seconds, but the sight lingers.
He'd found a battle, somewhere. Or he'd just went hunting. Which sounds more logical, he hadn't cleaned the blade yet. I'll go with hunting.
I move my blade away from her neck. Within seconds he has her gagged and over his shoulder, completely ignoring the flailing legs.
I finally turn towards home. Who knows how much we have this trip. A possible source of ransom that I know I can't give up. Two witnesses that I told them to not kill. Plus at least one more headache coming from that bloody sword.

A long night indeed.


Another thing, if you have any questions or comments, please leave them below.
I'll gladly answer the questions, and treasure the comments.


Keep on Writing

God Bless