I love the Internet. I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I LOVE IT TOO MUCH. It distracts, it taunts, it teases, it wants us to love it. And we do. I can easily spend hours browsing through Tudor-related Facebook Pages, watching clips on YouTube (though I am a firm non-believer in funny cat videos), and reading what’s Freshly Pressed.
But Facebook has such lovely pictures!
So it’s a wonder that I got anything done yesterday. And really, it’s sad, because it’s not even that much.
After mulling it over and arguing with myself, I’ve decided to upgrade from editing my manuscript to re-writing a large portion of it. As in, almost the thing.
Yeah. I know. It’s easier said than done. But there are a lot of things that need explaining, characters that are not needed (farewell, my beloved Master Locksley), and characters I want more of (hellooo, Will and Tomlee), as well as a general plot with gaping, unexplained problems.
Hence, I’m re-writing. The first step I took was outlining what I originally had. You ask: but didn’t you outline it before you began writing? Why, I’m glad you asked. You see, I did outline it — at least, chapters 13 to 31. Then the unthinkable happened. It went though the washing machine. I tried to save it, but it was too late.
So I spent yesterday speed-reading my manuscript and copying down the main points in each chapter on pieces of furniture ordering paper from the ’80s. I’m not 100% sure what it was doing in the house, but it was a nice substitute for recipe cards.
Then I took a bed sheet, tacked it to the wall in the hallway, and pinned the pieces of paper to it. It took a surprising amount of time for my clumsy fingers. Idea stems from here.
It also made me feel like Peter Jackson (or any other movie director) using a story board. The location is rather inconvenient, however. I’ve been sitting in the hallway, staring at it, and have essentially become a physical road block for anyone in the house who needs to use the bathroom.
My story board: take 1.
I plan on plotting out my new version on more pieces of ancient paper and pinning them below the original. This way I can directly compare: decide what to keep and throw away, and what needs adding. I have a sneaking suspicion that the highlighters in my desk will be used like they’ve never been used over the next week or so.
That’s my goal. Finish the new outline in a week or so. Do you think that’s reasonable enough, with the constant black hole (aka Internet) squirreling away my time, plus the two fantastic books I’m reading (Revelation by C.J. Sansom and The Song of the Sparrow by Lisa Ann Sandell), plus the two remaining episodes of The Tudors, Season 3 that I need finishing? Okay, The Tudors can wait. I think.
Are you always battling with the Internet? How do you organize your thoughts? Any interesting books you’ve come across lately?
PS: a short story I wrote for a friend’s birthday can be read here.
She had missed him for so long. She had missed him as the sun missed the moon. She hated her human pace, her tired muscles and aching joints, preventing her from being with him for one heartbeat longer. Months had separated them – would he look different? He’d be taller, surely, for he’d yet to have his growth spurt when she departed from Galisle. And he’d be older, as deaths in families often do to children.
Now shoving her way through gathered servants, courtiers, and citizens, Arden elbowed and kneed, not taking notice of who she might be bruising but instinctively doing her best to not knock anyone over. Warm skin of exposed forearms brushed against hers in the hurry to see her brother. Hands reached out to her, helping her along and perhaps just eager to touch the Lady Arden, their surely soon-to-be queen.
The crowd closer to the maw of the courtyard broke into claps and cheers. It seemed that anyone who was precious to Arden also became precious to them. If she hadn’t been so frantic, Arden would have been touched, or maybe angry, by this display of devotion.
(teensy excerpt from my manuscript ^)
Alas, it is not the time for me to be published at this time, with these publishers.
Let me alone while I run up the marble, spiral staircase to the top of the tower, lock myself in my bedroom, and wait for the dashing Prince of Publishing to come kiss me from my heartbroken lethargy.
Hahahaa, funny, right? Arden would have a fit in my head if that’s the sort of mindset I adopted. She’d unsheath her sword and start hacking away at the insides of my skull. Well, likely not, but she’d definitely give me tongue-lashing.
But I’m not that disappointed. This submission was a last-minute deal. I wrote a raw draft in two months and jumped on luck when I sent it. Jumping on luck is only half of writing. I had been lacking the time to properly go over the draft a second time, let alone a third. The odds of acceptance were as high of me receiving my Hogwarts letter or being chosen by a dragon egg to be its Rider. You might akin it to making a sword really quickly — and it turning out crooked — and handing it to a soldier while it’s still glowing hot. Do you want to be the soldier with a sword that’s bent and still pliable? No. You want a sword that’s straight and sturdy.
And I’m relieved my sword was rejected. Truly, it’s not ready. I need to go back to the forge, pound it straight (it has a lot of strange angles, now that I think about it), and let it cool. Then I’ll take it back, heat it up, and pound some more — until I get it right.
Of course, I don’t want to work on it too much. And so I won’t. There will a break between edits.
Besides, I have other characters battling for attention in my head, characters that belong to different times and worlds. Tristan and Hatter are arguing at full volume, while poor Detective Warham is just watching and wishing that he was brave enough to fight for my love.
All in all, being rejected wasn’t a bad thing. I’m glad I have the opportunity to take back the sword and smooth out the kinks. I can get to know the characters better, add some more action to the monotonous days (weeks?) spent at the castle. New goal: submit by August 31, 2012.
And, in a childish sort of way, being rejected makes me feel like more of a writer. I feel like I’ve been quietly inducted to the Rejection Hall of Writers Everywhere.
Have you been inducted to the Hall? Have you walked through its delicately balanced beauty? Have you seen the tentative dreams and ardent hopes?
If you’ve been a writer for more than…let’s say, a day, you’ve probably already read confusing articles about P.O.V. (point of view) or seen attempts at helpful charts, like the one above. Every writer who blogs has most likely blogged about P.O.V. Third person, second person, first person, and their perplexing variations – I never thought twice about my P.O.V. until I started reading about it. I simply wrote whatever perspective best fit the situation. No problem.
In my manuscript Arden, I have only one main character. Arden. Go figure. Anyway, writing in third person limited was easy with just Arden to work with. Tristan did make the occasional appearance in dominance, but that was only to clarify his unexplained actions and take over while Arden was unconscious or in a different location. Still a piece of cake.
However, as I’m planning my sequel (untitled), I’m faced with a large and head-scratching decision. I’m continuing with Arden as the main character, so about two-thirds of the novel will be from her perspective. But because so many of the characters from the first novel are in different locations carrying out different roles and tasks, I need to branch out a bit more.
Arden and her six companions, including Tristan, are completing their search for a girl important to their kingdom in the Mundirian town Enaeos. They travel to South Ferin…and that’s all I’m revealing.
Ilex is back at Naphiring, raising an army and dealing with the complicated politics that have risen in recent months.
And Pharecles and Phoebe are in Emperor’s City, where the siblings are trying to wake up the people of Mundir from decades of laziness. Inter-court relations are becoming a problem.
So, I have three, for a lack of a better word, narrators: Arden, Ilex, and Pharecles/Phoebe (I haven’t decided which one yet). Here is my dilemma:
Do I alternate their voices within each chapter, or does each chapter belong to one character alone?
In Arden, Tristan just jumped in and out for a couple of paragraphs or pages, quite suiting to his personality. Other examples of books like this are the Inheritance Cycle and the Wicked Lovely series. Or, the chapters could be set up something like: Arden, Ilex, Pharecles, Arden, Arden, Ilex, Arden, Pharecles.
When you’re reading a novel, what best suits your fancy?
If you’re completely and utterly confused about these funky-sounding characters, this post might help. Or maybe not.
Diane Tibert’s very helpful post, Writing a Back Cover Blurb, got me thinking…and curious. Could I write one? Just to try it? I might need one in the future…maybe I should practise. And besides, when I mention my manuscript (Arden: the Girl from the Mountains), you have no idea what sort of deal I’m talking about. Maybe it’ll do us all some good. Or maybe it’ll just give us all headaches.
Well, I have nothing to lose. Here I go.
Eight years ago, a stranger crept through the halls of North Ferin’s capital, torturing the king’s eldest daughter and brutally murdering the king, queen, and four of their six children. Seventeen-year-old Ilex took his father’s throne with reluctance and grief, and under his careful and unexceptional rule, North Ferin prospered. Nearing the age of six-and-twenty, Ilex’s council urges him to marry and procure an heir, and his cousin Tristan is sent out all over the country to find the woman who would be queen.
Arden Falconer, the headstrong and defiant falconer of Faeleigh Mountain, has no love for her king, far off in his palace, while she raises her brother Derrin and takes care of her elderly godfather Teddy. She is content to be invisible, just a part of the mountain, until she catches the eye of Tristan.
Suddenly Arden finds herself coerced into leaving everything she loves and coached into being the king’s queen-to-be. Thrown into the heart of the land’s politics and of the royal family, Arden grows into someone worthy of being queen, someone worthy of saving North Ferin from the ugly magic that stirs in the south.
Too long? I think so.
*Ah-hem* Take two. Marker, eeehnd, action!
Eight years after the brutal murders of the royal family, North Ferin is in need of an heir for their young King Ilex. The king’s troubled cousin Tristan is used as a queen-scout, and he travels the country searching for a woman suitable to be consort.
Arden Falconer is the last woman anyone thought worthy of being queen. She’s stubborn, headstrong, and cares for no one, save her brother, godfather, and the falcons she breathes life into. Coerced into accompanying Tristan back to the capital city, Naphiring, Arden finds herself thrown into a deceptively beautiful world of mad princesses, mysterious princes, personable kings, and mistrusting nobles.
The falconer realizes that, as she struggles for her heart in the midst of pending war, North Ferin would benefit from her marriage to Ilex. But is she willing to choose duty over love? With a dark magic stirring in the south, Arden might not have a choice.
Haha, this is harder than I thought. It’s difficult putting 330 pages into three paragraphs.
Okay. Take three. Marker, eeehnd, action!
North Ferin is queen-less and heirless. King Ilex is nigh on six-and-twenty, and of his two remaining relatives, his sister Tamsin is mad and his cousin Tristan is illegitimate and hated by the king’s council. He needs a wife and child, and soon. Tristan becomes responsible for scouting the country for the woman who would be queen and finds her, quite by accident.
Arden Falconer does not care for the domestic woes of the king. In fact, she is barely aware of them. Only returning to civilization once a year for the annual market in Galisle, the falconer lives in the isolation of Faeleigh Mountain with her brother and godfather — she lives and breathes for her family, her birds. After the deaths of her parents and infant sister, Arden’s guarded heart is destined to never love another again, until she is coerced into accompanying Tristan to the capital city.
Thrust into a colourful world of politics, mistrust, and education, Arden struggles to find herself and her place at court. She comes to understand the sacrifice Ilex and Tristan have made for their country — duty over love, good over evil, trust over betrayal. Will her inner strength be enough to prevent war and procure the king’s heir? Or will the kingdom crumble and fall for her decisions?
Well, that was fun. Sort of. I’m glad that was just as an exercise, and not for an actual back cover blurb! It’s quite taxing, trying to compress nearly 85 000 words into less than 300. It makes one think about the important, inner workings of the story. I wish I had done this before I wrote the manuscript, after I finished the outline (yeah, I’m an outline girl).
Maybe I’ll cook up a back blurb for the sequel (of which the outline is remaining stubbornly unfinished)… Or maybe not.
What do you think? Do you have a favourite of the three? Or a combination of them? Do I have a future destined in back cover blurbs, or should I send out an apology to everyone who suffered to read that?
I was fine. I sent off my manuscript, content and perfectly patient, just eager for my hot reunion with the Internet after a two month separation.
Well, things have cooled off a bit with poor ol’ Internet and I’m becoming anxious. I’ve begun doing math — AND I NEVER DO MATH.
June 15th is the golden date. That’s nine days. Three sets of three days. Two sets of four and a half days. 216 hours. 12 960 minutes.
Okay, I’m not that exact in my math.
The point is, the day is soon enough to start worrying about, but too far to be comforting. I basically plan to spend the next nine days twiddling my thumbs and running through all kinds of scenarios.
Will they like it? Enough to publish it? Will they want to publish it but want to change it? A lot? How much? How much is too much? And if they reject it (which I’m actually fine with. I just hate waiting) should I change something before sending it off again? Make the ending more definite and not a cliff-hanger? And what if *gasp* my characters are two-dimensional and my plot is flat? Did I drag out Arden’s time in Naphiring too long? Do I even have a climax? *bigger gasp* WHAT IS MY CLIMAX? I DON’T REMEMBER! And the more I think, the more I forget. *GASP* I SPELT CAVALRY WRONG! HOW DID I MANAGE THAT?! WHAT IF –
Jeez, Libby, what’s your problem? You’re normally so calm and collected.
CALM? HOW CAN I BE CALM? I SPELT CAVALRY WRONG!
Take a breath, woman. You’re fine. It’s not the end of the world.
BUT WHAT IF IT IS? WHAT IF SOUTH FERIN INVADES THE NORTH AND KILLS ILEX AND TAMSIN AND TRISTAN AND ARDEN AND EVERYONE?
Well, you have complete control over that, don’t you?
WHAT D’YOU — Oh, yeah, I guess you’re right. I do.
And besides, what is it that you’re always boasting about?
Let them grumble. That’s how it is going to be.
Exactly. So why do you care? They’re either going to accept it (you’ll get published) or reject it (send it to another publisher).
…I guess I don’t. I – I’m just being –
Dramatic?
Yes.
Well, it’s not your fault. Except for the fact that your story sucks.
We’ve all done it. Sit down with a good book, open it, and exclaimed, “Hey, I see what you did there!” at a double meaning in a character’s name. It’s a common practise, and it’s always fun for the reader to clue in to a hidden pun.
J.K. Rowling, author of the famous Harry Potter series, gives us plenty of ironic names, of which I will point out a few:
Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix - Guy Fawkes, famous for trying to assassinate James I and blow up the Parliament buildings in 1605 (the Gunpowder Plot; remember the rhyme Remember, remember the fifth of November?). Phoenixes are known for bursting into flames at the ends of their lives, only to be reborn in its own ashes.
Sirius Black – Sirius is the brightest star in the sky and part of the constellation Canis Major, or the Big Dog. Sirius Black is capable of turning into a massive black dog.
Remus Lupin - one of two children of the Roman myth Remus and Romulus, who were raised by wolves. ‘Lupin’ is also derived from the Latin word lupinus, meaning wolf. Remus Lupin is a werewolf.
The Black extended family - everyone in this elite, pure-blooded wizarding family is named after a star, constellation, or other galactical object. E.g. Bellatrix Lestrange, Draco and Scorpio Malfoy, Andromeda Tonks, Sirius Black…
Hunger Games author Suzanne Collins also gives some “Ooh, I see what you did there” moments:
Peeta Mellark - assumedly derived from ‘pita’ bread. Peeta is a baker in District 12.
Castor and Pollux - twin brothers of Greek mythology; when Castor is killed, Pollux shares his immortality with his twin, and they are transformed into the constellation of Gemini. In Mockingjay, their roles are reversed. Pollux has lost his tongue to the Capitol and works as an Avox in the utility pipes and passageways under the city; Castor eventually buys his freedom.
Now, these are some pretty large and obvious examples, but they still make me smile. The more you read — and the more time you spend on Think Baby Names.com — the more “I see what you did there” moments you’ll have. It’s fun.
As I was writing my manuscript, Arden: the Girl from the Mountains, I unknowingly used a few of those moments.
No joke. It was an accident.
Ilex is my large, down-to-earth, golden king of North Ferin. I googled ‘King Ilex’ just to make sure that a King Ilex has never existed before. And behold — a variety of holly called Ilex x altaclerensis, also known as ‘Golden King’
Golden King — of the garden and of North Ferin.
Tristan, the name of my temperamental, emotionally insecure prince who makes his rounds with the ladies, is a name that means ‘noisy’ (he and Arden often have shouting matches) and is thought to be derived from the French word for sad: triste. Also, a lover’s tryst, or secret meeting between lovers; Tristan often meets in secret with his mistress Clemma.
Princess Tamsin is the mentally unstable twin sister of King Ilex — and Tamsin means ‘twin.’
These were accidents. I had no idea of these meanings when I created these characters. When I found out, I burst into laughter. What are the odds?
…Then I had a couple purposeful “I see what you did there” moments.
Charles and Brandon, brothers who are employed in the king’s army, are a play on Charles Brandon, 1st Duke of Suffolk, brother-in-law and best friend to Henry VIII, athlete, ladies’ man, and knight. Originally I had planned on calling the brothers Thomas and Wyatt, after one of my favourite Tudor-era courtiers and poet, but I ended up with Charles and Brandon.
Yes, I know this is Henry Cavill PLAYING Charles Brandon, but I couldn’t help myself — isn’t he handsome?
King Filip and Queen Ismire is a bold, nearly polar-opposite play on King Ferdinand of Aragon and Queen Isabella of Castile, the Catholic Kings of Spain, and parents of Catherine of Aragon, wife of Henry VIII
Princess Joliet, the youngest daughter of Filip and Ismire, based loosely on Juliet Capulet from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.
Clemma, Tristan’s mistress, comes from the fruit ‘clementine.’ Clemma is extremely sweet and temptingly beautiful.
Custos Montem is a magician who is appointed to one be of Arden’s guides in her search for her missing ward. His name means ‘Guardian of the Mountain’ in Latin. (Or at least, according to Google Translate!)
Arden Falconer, the name of my protagonist, was also intended. Obviously, her last name represents her career — falconry, but I had to hunt a little deeper for her first name. At first it was Mina, but I began the quest for a different, more meaningful, and landed on Arden. Meaning ‘great forest,’ the Forest of Arden is also a beautifully magical place in Shakespeare’s As You Like It. Also derived from the word ‘ardent.’
It’s extremely and deviously enjoyable writing these meanings — like hiding Easter eggs for children and wondering in supsense if they’ll find them.
My question to you: do you enjoy finding these “I see what you did there” puns? Are there any others you’ve found in books over the years?
WordPress is formatting myblog oddly — please excuse this while I try to figure out if it’s me or them that’s causing the problem!
^^ My MIB gene condones Frank for his amazing singing, and for inspiring the title of this post.
Whew! After 86, 200 words in two and a half months, I have finished, edited, printed, and submitted my manuscript, titled Arden: the Girl from the Mountains. That was, to date, the most intense thing I’ve ever completed…and it’s not over yet.
While writing almost non-stop for 60-some days was often infuriating, just after one day without it I MISS IT ALREADY. I miss writing about stubborn, cool Arden, about temperamental Tristan, and charismatic Ilex. I miss the culture of the countries I’ve created, and I want to know what happens.
You see, I’ve left the window open. Actually, I left it wide open. They have yet to locate Amalie, a missing eight-year-old girl of royal importance, and Arden is faced with the freedom to refuse the empty position of King Ilex’s queen.
Shall I accept my own challenge, and write a sequel while the first is being considered for publication? Or shall I let my mind rest for a couple months, and meet some new characters?
Decisions, decisions.
In the meantime, I’ll let you know a bit about the writing process I’ve developed over the past two months. I tried, as best as I could, to write more than 1,000 words a day, and in the closing weeks I was wearing out my keyboard with a staggering average of 2,500 to 3,500 words. Normally, I would take a moment to let what I’ve written sink in — go back and read it, edit each chapter as it was written.
I had no such option here.
I wrote, and I wrote, and I wrote. I haven’t actually seen my family since mid-March, unless to ask for an opinion on names, situations, and plot weaknesses. I’m sure they’re all sick of Arden.
**wipe forehead**
My nails are nothing more than ugly stubs. Either worn down by the keyboard or shorn in anxiety, I’m not sure. The few times I conversed with my friends, they noted the frenzied look in my eye, and they knew that I was not really there.
And all were supportive. None criticised me — to my face, anyway! — on my bizarre mental state, and they were genuinely worried. I think they expected me to show up dressed in traditional Mundirian clothing and speaking their native language.
For an excerpt of my manuscript, see the bottom of this post.
~~
And to my Tudor followers! I profusely apologize for the lack of Tudor content, and that I missed some of the most anniversary-packed weeks. Some of the events I missed:
Death of Henry VII and ascension of Henry VIII – April 21, 1509
William Shakespeare’s [presumed] birth and death – April 23, 1564/1616
Interrogation of Mark Smeaton – April 30, 1536
Arrests of Anne Boleyn, Sir Henry Norris, and Viscount Rochford George Boleyn - May 2, 1536
Arrests of Sir Francis Weston, Sir William Brereton – May 4, 1536
And today, the arrests of Sir Thomas Wyatt and Sir Richard Page – May 5, 1536
May is a sad month for Tudor history fans. The fall of Anne Boleyn was extremely, breathtakingly fast. For a full timeline of Anne’s fall, visit the website for Claire Ridgway’s new book The Fall of Anne Boleyn: a Countdown.
~~
And a big congratulations to Zozie, who also finished her manuscript and submitted it to the same publisher as I did.
Having a writing friend has been invaluable. We bounce ideas off each other, walk through loopholes in our plots, dish on character gossip, and sit for hours in our own worlds — but we aren’t completely alone, because we have the semi-substantial figure of the other.
We jokingly call ourselves the next C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien — though it would be a long stretch if, combined, we accomplished a tenth of what they each did individually. The friendship of those two fantasy writers has been on our minds lately, and we’ve decided to co-author a blog to explore the lives and works of the famous friends. Behold: You are the Tolkien to my Lewis. Excuse us while we get things up and running, but within the next week some content will be posted!
~~
And now, for an excerpt of Arden: the Girl from the Mountains. (Background info: Arden Falconer lives on the remote Faleigh Mountain, where she, her godfather Teddy, and little brother Derrin breed and raise falcons. Every year they sell their beautiful birds in Galisle, the market village at the base of the mountain. This excerpt is from her time in Galisle.)
Greyfeather settled on Arden’s shoulder, his sharp talons disrupting her thoughts of home. She let him burrow into her skin, welcoming his soft warmth. The blanket of clouds from the day before had been blown away to uncover an overly blue sky, and the wind came from the north, bringing with it the coolness and freshness of the mountains. Arden breathed deeply, inhaling the cold scent that heightened her senses and raised her skin to goose-flesh.
“Nice cast.”
Arden quickly plastered a friendly smile on her face. “Thanks,” she said to the man. “Not many people know a group of falcons is called a cast.”
“My cousin used to own a falcon.” He shrugged. “You know, you’d probably sell a lot more if you didn’t train them to steal people’s hats.”
She realized with a start that it was the man from the Revel two nights ago. Without his hat and in daylight, he looked quite different. Little more than medium height, slight, almost lanky in build, cropped chestnut hair: he was not exceptionally handsome. His eyes, however, were large and brown as a cow’s and oddly appealing. Arden’s smile became more genuine.
“My falcons are trained with humour, Master; and only my elder ones are taught such tricks,” she replied. “Now, are you interested in this fine gyrfalcon to entertain your days? She’s a fantastic flyer, can hunt anything up to as big as a large goose; she’s very independent, but certainly not too much to handle.”
“I’m afraid I’m just window shopping for a friend,” said the man. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “But I’ll stop by again in a couple hours. She’s a beauty. Good day, Lady Falconer.”
We're all a little weird, and life's a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.
~Dr.Seuss
