Tag Archives: books

Atlanta Nights

Posted by Piscis on

I suddenly realized that I haven’t talked about this book, yet.  An unfortunate oversight that I must now rectify, as it is something every aspiring author should read:

 

Atlanta Nights Cover

 

The story behind Atlanta Nights is classic.  About ten years ago, a group of thirty-some science fiction and fantasy authors, led by James D. Macdonald, set out to expose PublishAmerica as a non-discriminating vanity press against their claims of being a selective, traditional publisher (partially in response to the firm’s derogatory public statements about the sci-fi/fantasy genres and their writers).  The plan was simple – to create the most magically awful novel ever written, and get PublishAmerica to bite.

Each author, skillfully penning his or her most deliberately atrocious narrative, wrote a single section based on a vague outline, without cross-collaboration.   The result was a glorious disasterpiece.  Chapters repeat or are missing (one is even generated by a computer), the same events recur in different ways, characters change motivation, appearance, and sex, and the plot is wildly incoherent.  When finished, they submitted the compiled manuscript to PublishAmerica under the pseudonym “Travis Tea” (ha-ha) to see if they would accept it.

They did.

A couple months later, the group revealed the hoax to the public.  Conveniently, the very next day, PublishAmerica retracted their offer to publish the book, stating that upon further review, it did not quite meet their standards.  Gee.  (>^-‘)>

Fortunately, the group turned around and published the book on Lulu for the rest of the world to see.  And see it you should.  It’s hilarious.  Each chapter plays up some common mistake, bad writing habit, or other.  It’s effectively a negative blueprint for good storytelling.  A perfect example of everything not to do.  What makes it especially great is that it straddles a line where you can almost take it seriously – we’ve all seen bad but well-intentioned writing – and that gives its absurdities just the right punch.  As they say, “It’s funny ’cause it’s true.”

But I’ve barely scratched the surface of everything that’s so fantastically wrong with this book.  Just do yourself a favor and check it out – your mind may burst, but you might end up a more judicious writer for it.  (>^-‘)>

The paperback is available in the usual places, and they offer the manuscript PDF for free download.

 

“The world is full of bad books written by amateurs. But why settle for the merely regrettable? Atlanta Nights is a bad book written by experts.”

— Teresa Nielsen Hayden

 

Bene scribete.

Font Squirrel

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Squirrely

 

I’m not the biggest fan of squirrels, but…but I do like fonts.

Fonts are important in graphic design work, because writing text by hand is obnoxious and imprecise if you’re not a talented calligrapher.  If you are, then…well…good for you.  For the rest of us, looking for an appropriate typeface can sometimes be a tricky endeavor.

Font Squirrel makes it a little less tricky.  There are a lot of “free” font collection websites out there, but you have to be careful with most of them – a lot of the time what they’ll really indicate is “free for personal use”, which means go ahead and download and tinker around with them, but don’t get caught using them on anything in a professional capacity.  Font Squirrel, however, makes sure to stock only those typefaces which permit commercial usage for free, so you can browse their entire collection without worrying about licensing restrictions.

Fonts are organized by category, and each font has its own page with pertinent stuff, like its character set, example sentences, and even a tryout section to see how your own text looks in it before committing to the download.  For the handful of fonts that aren’t allowed to be re-hosted, a link to the font owner’s website is provided.

Anyway, it’s a handy resource for the budget-minded who get/want/need to design their own covers and promotional materials, and are looking (rightfully so) for a little more flair than the basic operating system defaults provide.  But, please, if you’re also handling the typesetting – for your readers’ sake, don’t get fancy with the interior font.  (>^-‘)>

 

Bene scribete.

Watch a Writer Write

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My good friend Matt Price alerted me to this interesting item the other day:

 

 

It’s a screen-capture video Brandon Sanderson (or Branderson, as I like to call him) posted of himself writing his next book in real-time.  You may know Branderson as the famed author of the Mistborn series and finisher of The Wheel of Time.  Although I have yet to read one of his books, I’ve been greatly impressed by the vast amount of well-received work he’s able to put out.

That’s why this video surprises me.  Seeing him in the writing process, it would appear that he is nearly as obsessive, indecisive, and back-and-forth as I am.  This is honestly painful for me to watch, because it’s too much like seeing myself write (complete with cursor-twitching, shunting stuff below, and pre-chapter notes).  I actually had to stop myself from grabbing at the keyboard and mouse to try and make edits to what he was doing.  With his level of output, I expected him to be a draft-blaster who’d zip through and edit later, but now I’m even more amazed with his productivity.  I suppose he did do 400 words in twenty minutes, though, which if a consistent pace would be nothing to scoff at.

Anyway, if you want to see how one prolific author goes about whipping up a draft (or how I do, for that matter), give it a watch.

As a side note, I am pleased to see that he still double-spaces sentences.  Even if he forgot how to spell ‘oar’.

 

Bene scribete.

Synopses

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While putting the finishing touches on The Amber Ring these last couple weeks, I figured I’d also better throw together a full synopsis for it.

Synopses are kind of a drag.

Not because they’re hard to write – I’ve had more than my fair share of practice summarizing.  It’s because they’re not always easy to keep exciting.  Maintaining something of the flavor and tone of your work while drying it up to its basic elements can be a frustrating task.  I’m certain there are numerous others who can give better advice on the subject than I can, but since I’m here, and so, ostensibly, are you, I’ll go over some of the things I like to keep in mind.

There’s no real easy, short-cut way to approach the whole process, but here are a few points to ponder:

 

Tip of a fish

Synopsis Considerations

 

  • A synopsis is typically a two-to-eight page summary of the entire work – the big twists, the ending, everything (important).
  • The editor or agent you’re submitting to might have a specific requirement as to what constitutes a page, but if not, double-spaced 12-point Courier New with one inch margins is a good place to start.
  • The first paragraph is often best utilized in setting up the chief protagonist – who she is, and how she got to where she is when the story begins.  If you already have a pitch line, it might fit nicely in here.  The remaining paragraphs will then recount the events that constitute the story in the order in which they are presented.
  • At least to start with, only include details essential to understanding the main plot; subplots can be added in order of precedence if there is room left in your alloted space and it would make the summary stronger on the whole.
  • The manuscript to synopsis event space ratio can be wildly inconsistent.  Some scenes may take half a sentence, some half a page, depending on how much plot-essential material they contain.  Some scenes can be omitted altogether.
  • Use strong, descriptive, succinct language (because it’s that easy, right?  (>^-‘)> ).  Word economy is paramount.
  • It’s O.K. to be a little conversational; it can help to engage the reader.
  • If you need some ideas on summarizing, look up recaps for TV episodes, or pull up your favorite films on Wikipedia and read the plot sections.  These usually constitute what amounts to synopsis copy.
  • If you’re really stuck on a blank page, you can try zero-drafting (or better yet, dictating if you have speech-to-text software) your initial go by describing the story, stream-of-conscious, from start to finish as you would a good book or movie to a friend.  You can always edit the result up or down as needed, or scrap it and try again.
  • Cheat.  If page format isn’t directly specified, and you’re aiming for a certain length, tweak the margins and line spacing (but preferably not the font) to your advantage.
  • It doesn’t hurt to conclude the synopsis with a poetic statement that encapsulates some important thematic element from the story’s ending.
  • Have someone who has not read your work take a look at the finished synopsis, and ask them if the story when presented thus is easily followable, makes sense, and is free from superfluous material.

 

Ultimately, a synopsis just serves as a quick overview of a story’s plot to ensure that it’s coherent, original, and interesting.  It doesn’t have to be as brilliantly executed as the manuscript, but anything you can do within its limits to show off the promise of your work will surely be a point in your favor.

 

Bene scribete.

Letter Palettes

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A while back, I talked a bit about what you might consider when naming characters, and today I thought I would follow up by expounding specifically on the topic of pulling words out of your—well, making them up.

Letter Palette

Uh…

 

When concocting names for characters, places, or objects, we tend to favor certain sounds.  Where we gravitate is mostly informed by the language(s) we speak, and what we’ve come to associate with pre-established words and names.  Certain phonemes build specific impressions in our minds, and we rely on this context to put together fitting verbal symbols for whatever we’re assigning them to.  Whether or not this is typically done on a conscious level, identifying and mapping out your preferences (both general and circumstantial) can be a useful endeavor.

For instance, my general letter palette would look like this:

 

+

\

–
A C D E I K L M N R S T J O Q V X Y Z B F G H P U W

 

The first column represents what I feel are the most benign letters, and I use them fairly indiscriminately.  The second contains letters that I like at certain times, but aren’t as ubiquitously usable.  The third holds the letters that I tend to avoid.  When my intent is to give a name a rough or unpleasant edge, however, these preferences easily operate in reverse.  The initial and terminal letters of the word will be particularly prone to these guidelines.

Now, this chart is pretty simplistic, containing only letters from the English Roman alphabet and not taking digraphs into account, but you get the idea.  I’m calling it a letter palette (as opposed to a simply phonetic one) because visual aesthetics are also a consideration – sounds can often be written a number of ways, and their appeal can be tweaked as such.

Making a general purpose palette for yourself can be an enlightening exercise, but they become particularly handy when tailored for specific sets.  If, for your story, you need to create a distinct culture with its associated terminology and members’ names, planning out a letter palette for it can help you quicken the process while maintaining a consistent feel.

 

So, do you find yourself with particular letter preferences?  Could you define your own general palette?

 

Bene scribete.

I Hate You, The Slog

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The slog hates you

I hate you, the slog.

 

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

 

You are not very nice
and now I’ve said it twenty-twice.

 

Bene scribete.

Novella Excerpt

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The first draft of The Amber Ring is completed, and at 98 pages, I find myself with an intended short story that became a novelette that’s now closer to a novella.

It keeps getting bigger.

Oops?

 

As I work on putting together a presentable second draft for test reading, I thought I would share a short little scene to give a brief glimpse at its protagonist, twelve-year-old Maya Corona.

 

       As Maya half-attentively filled out the answers to her math test, she found her eyes drifting toward the clock above Ms. Patch’s desk, subconsciously counting down the minutes, as she often did, until the tedium of the school day was over.
       Her wandering eyes also noticed Braden Thomas, who sat at the desk to her right, surreptitiously sneaking a glance at her paper in regular intervals. She contemplated calling him out, or even writing down the wrong answers on purpose, but then decided to just let him cheat. If he could get through school without bothering to learn anything for himself, he would be one less person to pose any real competition for an eventual job, which people were always saying was hard to get these days.
       As she shifted to give him a better view of her exam, she felt something grind against her leg. It was Sofia’s ring; she had left it in her pocket.
       Her mind went unwillingly to the previous night. It had been strange to see Cam again. To think of him without Sofia. His charismatic pluck replaced with that crestfallen timidity. Maya wanted to leave the Fairwoods behind her, and had expected them not to not think twice about returning the favor. Her involvement had been limited to the occasional tag-along with her sister, and she had never done anything of importance there. She had been clear on where she stood, though, hadn’t she? Would they leave her alone, now?
       “Two minutes,” Ms. Patch droned.
       At the edge of her vision Maya saw Braden gripping his pencil tightly, throwing nervous glances her way. Quickly, to his obvious relief, she scribbled down the remaining answers to the test.

 

Bene scribete.

The Amber Ring

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Gold Amber Ring

At the age of ten, Sofia Corona saved the Fairwoods from the malevolent grasp of the Cedar Witch and her goblin army.

Two years later, she drowned unceremoniously in the lake behind her Oregon home.

In the months following the Heroine’s death, when the Fairwoods face a resurgence of goblin attacks, they are forced to turn to Sofia’s cynical twin sister, Maya, for help. But despite an earnest plea from her sister’s faithful gryphon companion, Maya wants nothing more to do with the enchanted land. The request continues to plague her mind, however, and she can’t help but wonder if doing this one last favor will give her the closure she needs to accept her sister’s death and move on with her life.


 

Such is the premise to my side-project novelette, The Amber Ring, a sort of semi-satirical dark fairytale. I’m just about done with the first draft, and was curious if the concept would appeal to anyone reading this. So – interest piqued? Let me know!

 

Bene scribete.

Names

Posted by Piscis on

Naming characters is an important, sometimes fun, sometimes tricky part of the fiction-writing process, and is something I alternately love and dread.  A name is a symbol that represents someone, both offering identity to those it is attached to, and in turn adopting it from them.

I find that there are generally three ways (or a mix thereof) to come up with and decide upon those monikers:

  • Namesakes.  One simple way to name a character is to do so (in part or in whole) after someone else – someone you know, someone from history, or even another character from some other work.  Such a name will probably already have strong connotations for you, and those might just be appropriate for who you’re writing.
  • Meaning.  The advantage writers have over parents in the naming department is the foreknowledge of who this person or creature they’re creating will be, and can choose a name that is symbolically fitting (or ironically incongruous).  This can be in the form of a name that’s also a word in the operative language (Will, Victor, Dawn, Amber, etc.), a word from another language, or something suitable trolled from babynames.com.  (>^-‘)>
  • Aesthetics.  Often, just focusing on how a name sounds and looks is all you need to do.  I tend to lean mostly in this direction, relying heavily on phonetics when working out what to call characters.  Sounds used together in specific ways can evoke qualities of roughness, delicacy, power, playfulness, and a number of other feelings to subconsciously color the impression of the named.  Spelling should also be a consideration; the visual appeal of different letter arrangements can have the same sort of impact.  All of this goes for whether you’re picking a common name or making up a new one (though I could probably do a whole separate post on the latter!).

 

However you end up choosing your names, there is one thing I always recommend.

 

Tip of a fishName Your Characters As Soon As Possible.

The less you’ve decided about a character, the easier it is to settle on a name.  At least that’s always been the case for me.  Sometimes, the name will even help slightly with further direction!

The more important a character is, the more true this becomes.  If you have a strong image of the character in mind by the time you start thinking seriously about what to call them, picking a name that feels right can be a daunting task.  It means you have all the more context and nuance to map to that all-important referential symbol.  It’ll seem like you have to find a name that already represents all facets of the character, rather than letting the name come to do so naturally as the character develops.

 

But what about you?  Do you agonize over the subtleties of your characters’ names?  How do you like to go about choosing them?

 

Bene scribete.

Chapter 1-4

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This week, I’m sharing out the current drafts of the prologue and first chapter of The Book with a little bit of commentary.  Click here if you’d like to to start from the beginning!

 

O.K., last one for now!  In the final scene of the first chapter, we switch back to Lennais for a closer look at his place in the world.  The concept of the caledoran (animal-people) is introduced, we get the first glimpse of the princess, Elysa (a later focal character), and we meet the pompous Sir Gammond. An older version of this scene was how I had originally handled Lennais’s introduction, but the prior sequence ended up feeling like a much better starting point.

 

Dummy Cover
 

(C1-4)

 
“I’d heard it was dragons as did it,” Sir Dennen Farr was saying, a younger knight of the First Order, clean shaven with a shock of sand colored curls.  “Can’t say I fought one of them just quite yet, but I’d wager a taste of steel would send ‘em running back to that queen o’ theirs.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” countered Sir Norris Blackwood, chewing on a leg of roast turkey.  “They spit fire and lightning and any other manner of nastiness if tales be true; why would they fear a sword?”  He was an older knight, with a short beard and peppered black hair, his right cheek bearing a scar from the slash that took most of his ear.

“Not the sword, Norris, but the man who wields it.”  Sir Dennen made a flourish with his knife.  “Lastern’s finest.  Isn’t that right, Commander?”

Lennais looked up from his stew, the last of which he was mopping up with a chunk of soft golden bread.  “No greater knights could His Majesty find.”  He took a bite of the bread, watching the men beam from the endorsement.  “And a great knight should remember to demonstrate the virtue of humility as an example for our brothers-in-arms.”  Dennen shrugged affably, but bowed his head in acknowledgement.  “No one can tell us exactly what is happening outside our walls at the moment,” Lennais continued, “but we shall find the truth soon enough, and if swords are needed, I shall be the first to raise mine.  Until then, let us not play part in the spreading of this troubling gossip.”  The others nodded their understanding as he rose, gathering his empty cup into his bowl.

The knight commander made his way through the crowded dining hall toward the adjoining kitchen.  As he passed the high table, he spotted the king’s eldest living child, Elysa, sitting alone.  She was a girl of sixteen, draped in a laced white gown, long dark auburn hair tied back and calm hazel eyes pondering a colorful arrangement of fruit before her.

“Sir Lennais,” she said softly as he passed.

He faced her and rendered a bow.  “Good evening, Your Highness.  Not dining with your father, today?”

The princess picked up a thin slice of green melon.  “I had not much of an appetite, earlier.  Though I suppose it has not improved as much as I would have liked.  In truth, I may have simply wished for an excuse to be amidst the others who share the castle without the distraction of familial obligations.”  She set the melon back down, then turned her eyes to the knight.  “I hear from my uncle that you have settled the matter of the counterfeits?”

“For the anes, at least.”

“Was the coin of Avenic origin?”

“I fear thus.  Nevertheless, the supplier has been named, and can expect to be turned away at the harbor.”

Elysa nodded slowly, looking back to her melon slice as she turned it over in her hand again.  “I am often convinced we should be better off to readopt the Indolic Standard.”

“May that it would be, though I am certain it is no matter with which you need worry yourself so.”

“There I must disagree with you, Commander.  So many concerns have few enough who bother to consider them.”  She offered a small smile, a succinct and cordial expression crafted perfectly by her upbringing to mask the distance in her eyes.  “Good evening, Lennais.”

“Your Highness.”  He bowed and continued onward, stepping into the kitchen, then set his dishes amidst the piles of others waiting to be cleaned.

“Did you enjoy your supper, Commander?” a cheerful voice rang beside him.

“Delightful, as always, Liria,” Lennais regarded the young lessiporan warmly as she ladled stew into another row of bowls for the castle’s hungry staff and attendants.  Lessip oran translated to something in the manner of ‘rabbit folk’ from the old fay tongue, which was a simple if not fittingly concise way to describe the race.  Liria’s size and body were of roughly human proportion, but her features were otherwise leporine.  Like other varieties of caledoran, she had the head and tail of the animal, as well as the feet, although they lacked the pads and digitigrade structure of the more commonly seen carnivorous mammals.  Her hands still seemed half-paw, but that did not appear to inhibit her aptitude in the kitchen.

“Good, good,” Liria said, rubbing her brow.  “That’s what I like to hear.”  She was covered in a coat of soft grey-wheat fur, with a light cream encircling her eyes, down her chin and chest, and on her underarms and toes.  Her long ears, while naturally upright, were pulled down and back while she worked, as a woman might hold her hair.  Despite the fur, she wore a loose-fitting tunic and breeches over her ungracefully thin frame, slotted to hold a variety of cooking utensils.

“There was something new about the stew, I think.  A different seasoning, perhaps?” Lennais asked, gesturing toward the pot she held.

“You noticed?” she grinned, setting the pot down and picking up a basket of fresh-baked rolls, placing one by each bowl.  “Our stocks are out of the black pepper I use as custom, so I tried a bit of turmeric in its place.  A suitable change, then?”

“Certainly.  It seemed to bring out a livelier flavor.”  Lennais was not entirely sure what turmeric was, but he did like what it did to the dish; Liria’s experimentation produced highly palatable results more often than not.  “Serve it that way from now and hence, and I should not count it a shame.”

The lessiporan bowed courteously.  “I am happy to please you, sir.”  She turned away and set to chopping a pile of long purple carrots for another batch.  “I haven’t seen Father this evening.  I hope you will see that he comes for his supper?  You know how cross he can be when he hasn’t eaten.”  She twitched her nose playfully at him.

“I hardly think that will be necessary,” scoffed Sir Gammond Hornswell, stepping up to the serving counter.  The captain’s son was a few years junior to Lennais, and had the same lean build.  Locks as dark as pitch fell from his scalp in loose curls, framing a handsome face which was rarely seen without either a self-satisfied smirk or a sneer of distaste.

It was the latter he wore today.  “Commander,” he greeted flatly, eyes flickering toward Lennais before disdainfully surveying his meal options.  In skill, no one could deny that he was Galfrey’s son; his swordsmanship had earned him a place in the First Order, though it was clear enough he believed himself entitled to something more.

“Hello, Gammond,” Liria smiled nervously.  “I—I hope—”

“Sir Gammond,” the knight corrected, folding his arms.  “You will address me properly, Liria.  Your animal mind is not too simple to understand your place, is it?”

She bowed her head respectfully.  “No, sir.”

“Then see that you heed it.”  He called up his smirk.  “And don’t let me catch you spouting any more of this ‘Father’ talk.”

Lennais offered the other knight a cold look, but said nothing.  It was not his place to involve himself in a family affair, which was, oddly enough, exactly what this was.  Ten years prior, Sir Galfrey had caught Liria stealing from the food supply stores, and chose to put the eight-year-old orphan in the kitchens to work off her debt.  There, she soon displayed a culinary creativity which caught the interest of the other staff, and eventually rose from scullion to head cook when King Malcolm had learned she was behind several of his new favorite dishes.

Galfrey, who had lost his wife during the stillbirth of his own daughter, had grown fond of the girl, and despite murmurings of protest, gave her the honor of naming her part of the Hornswell household.  It was a small token of conciliation to those who felt it an affront to work under a caledoran orphan, but enough that it would be untoward for most to speak against her standing.

Gammond picked up a bowl of stew and sniffed at it, wrinkling his nose.  “I had best not find any rabbit hair in this.  I should hate for you to tarnish our food as you do the Hornswell name.”  He turned to depart, and Lennais met Liria’s eyes with something between apology and sympathy before following.

“The whole damned court is up in arms over this Densbury business,” Gammond complained to him as they made their way back through the dining hall, glancing around the room.

“It represents a threat to Lasterene ground and Lasterene people,” Lennais reminded him.  “Do you believe it is not a matter to be taken seriously?”

“As seriously as it needs to be.  I see no cause for getting spooked over it.”  He shook his head.  “What force in all of Candaela Minor can stand against the organized might of Lastern?  Whoever sacked the colony will soon enough be rooted out and crushed.”

“An optimistic view of the long term,” Lennais admitted, “but for the time being, those who have not the fortune to live within stone walls may yet have something to fear.”

“A distraction which can only dilute our efforts to resolve the matter quickly,” Gammond snorted, taking a seat at the First Order’s table.  “The serfs must learn to have confidence in His Majesty’s knights.  We ought to send out a peacekeeping force to calm the streets now before rumors get any more out of hand.”

“Mayhap we shall.”  Lennais put a hand on Gammond’s shoulder.  “And I believe I know the perfect man to lead it.”

Gammond looked questioningly up at his commander, his face darkening as realization set in.  Lennais offered a small smile and a curt nod, then turned to exit the hall.  Gammond protested, “Surely you can’t—any knight of the court would—”

“—do well enough, I imagine,” Lennais finished.  “Although the captain would wish that such a delicate matter employ the expertise of a knight of the highest caliber, would you not agree?”  He looked back over his shoulder, no trace of mirth remaining in his features.  “I should hate to tarnish the Hornswell name by offering any less.”

 

Bene scribete.