by Sarah | Mar 8, 2012 | Changing Tracks, General, writing tips
Putting down a manuscript and stepping away is one of the hardest things I ever have to do. I’m so excited by the story, so in love with the characters, so driven to get it out there that I never just leave it alone. At least not long enough to make a difference.
I did this with my first novel. I couldn’t understand why agents didn’t love it as much as I did. What the editor that gave me comments was talking about. It was too close, too soon, too real. Such a part of my heart I could not attain that distance.
Just recently I looked back at that first manuscript, let myself have a little chuckle and put it back in it’s safe place. I still love the story, but now I see all the error. The glaring, horrific errors. In truth, my muse (overbearing bitch that she is) – well she’s already planning alterations to the story. A way to bring it new life in the future. To gut out the heart of the story and rework into something actually usable. That is a long way off. The story needs major overhaul and I may never touch it again – or it may be another few years if I do. Distance gave me one hell of a perspective.
I did that with Changing Tracks too. While the structure is infinitely better, it still needed work. I thought that baby was shimmering when I sent it out into the world. In my eyes, it totally was. Until two months later when I got notes from an editor on the partial. That was when the nagging voice of the muse started to creep up with thoughts on how to change it.
I ignored the voice. Told the muse to shove it. I had partials and fulls out and I was not touching it. Period.
I moved on. Wrote another book or two. The full manuscript was out in the WWW. I was not going to touch it.
Well, as I said before the muse can be a demanding bitch. After a year of hearing me say “no touchy” I got screamed at in a variety of languages to shut up and listen. The notes we’d received, and our own personal reflection showed us not only weak chapters, but weak characters and plot holes.
A major character without a spine was not going to get me anywhere. A scene with the main character weak and out of it when she’s supposed to be a strong, smart and capable woman would never fly. One minor character was in the entire wrong profession and personality.
Minor changes turned into overhauls. Great lines remain, great scenes are untouched. New chapters have appeared, and characters have evolved.
Unlike my first novel, this ms has hope. It’s strong, and getting stronger every day.
Now if I can just leave it alone (again) once I’m done with these edits (or find the cash to obtain an editor’s eye) to make sure I don’t jump the gun again.
by Sarah | Jan 31, 2012 | Challenge, The Tribe, Trifecta, Writing
There it was.
No. There he was. The product of her labors, if not her labor. Created out of very little. Grown by technology and not her womb.
Yet he was the image of her own natural born son. The image of her husband. The differences were below the surface, DNA, invisible to the naked eye. All of it made him –
“Perfect.” The Raven dipped his head in a respectful bow. As he did she could see how many of his jet black feathers were now white. His body was fading and soon it would be time to complete the transfer.
The transfer was something she had no control over. It would all be up to the large Avian creature before her. Her part of the task was complete. “Thank you. Will you be the same?”
“No need to worry, young one. This will change everything. The memories will be blurry, the personality will change.”
“You think. You don’t know.” Velli’s brow furrowed, “This has never been done before. You don’t even know if it will work, do you?”
“Why are you asking questions you know the answer to? Is there a purpose in delaying the inevitable?” The bird hopped off his perch. Talons clicked along the metal and glass, until he paused over the head of the young man inside.
Right before her eyes several more feathers turned white. All she could do was look away. It was too difficult to watch.
“I thought you didn’t fear death. Besides, you don’t like me much as I recall.”
“Sue me. I have a weak spot for jackasses.” Velli smiled despite her concern, “Be done with it before you run out of power.”
“Farewell, Nirvelli.” That was the only warning before a flash of light filled the room. The buzz of magic was strong enough to rattle her teeth.
Then silence.
With a click the unit opened. “Hello, Mother.”
Velli moved forward, touching his cheeks as life filled them with color. “Hello.”
“Tam.”
“Son.”
*~*~*~*
Another Trifecta Writing Challenge !! As soon as I saw the word and coinciding definition for the week I knew what to write. This is an excerpt from The Raven…my current WIP that is book 4 in a series. I was pleased to have this little flash in the pan come out to exactly 333 words 😀 I am OCD in my challenges – I like them to be exact like that 😉
The Word is IMAGE
The meaning:
a : exact likeness : semblance <God created man in his own image — Genesis 1:27 (Revised Standard Version)>
b : a person strikingly like another person <she is the image of her mother>
*~*~*~*~*~*
Picture Source
by Sarah | Jan 3, 2012 | Changing Tracks, The Tribe, Writing, writing tips
2011 was fairly productive for me.
In total 300,000 words were written. First drafts of the 1st 3 Tribe books were completed. Changing Tracks was rewritten & edited.
I was a featured writer on Band Back Together, with plans to write more for them.
There were ups & downs with the writing challenges I participated in, but I stretched my writing and wrote things that surprised even me.
I got ideas for stories that I never thought I would. I feared I only had one story in me, one genre. Instead I’ve reached beyond that.
My good friend Mary finally wrote and finished her first novel, and I got the pleasure of being her Alpha.
I’ve had agents take closer looks at my novel, some going all the way to asking for the full. Had a publisher give me notes and ask to see it again after a tougher-look edit.
So what’s in store for 2012? What goals am I setting for myself?
- To polish The Tribe until it shines, get that sucker out into the query world.
- To take another look at Changing Tracks. After time away I can narrow down a few flaws.
- Write something that isn’t a full length novel. A short, a flash, another article & see it published.
- To get down storyline ideas for at least one stand alone novel, & start it if possible. My penchant for series is not helping my publishing goals.
- To write. Every day that I possibly can.
- To blog. This blog gets so very neglected, and therefore so does my writing network.
- To be more disciplined. Get on a schedule & stick with it. This extends beyond writing, but includes writing.
- Write. Every day. (Yes. That does require repeating)
That’s it. I don’t call them resolutions – because I suck at those. I’m not awesome at the whole “goal” thing either, but I still have dreams and in order to get there I have to write down the path ahead of me.
Here’s to a fruitful, creative, and accomplished 2012 for all of us!
*~*~*
Picture Source
by Sarah | Nov 27, 2011 | Challenge, Escaping Humanity, Writing
The Saga Continues. Since we alternate every week, you start here with Chapter 11, then it’s off to Mary’s site with Chapter 12 of “Escaping Humanity”!!!
For those that have missed this from the beginning, you can find the complete story description and chapter listing HERE.
*~*~*~*
“I’ve been able to see it for miles. It’s lit up like a Christmas tree. I hope the military never obtains a mutant like me.” Chantalle held onto the reins, staring toward what looked like a small farming community. A handful of houses, a small plane and some planted fields.
From any angle but the one they currently stood at she wouldn’t be able to see anything but trees. Right where she was there was a break in the trees where vehicles could enter, other than that it was silent.
“God help us if thye ever do,” Neil said quietly. The tension in his voice tingled with excitement and nervousness. “We’re already being watched. We’ll have to take care. If we do anything wrong we will be attacked first, questioned later.
She didn’t need to be told they were being watched. Despite their extreme care and quiet, she could see the auras of the men in the trees. Native Americans from what she could tell, their ties to the land were so strong. “I’ll be careful. I can see them. Hopefully they’ll recognize you before they attack.”
“I don’t exactly look like I did. I wouldn’t hang my hopes on that.” Weeks ago it would have worried her, his comment would have been so laced with self-loathing and fear. Now there was a bit of humor mixed in. She wasn’t sure if it was her months of influence or just being close to home that did it.
With a deep bracing breath she moved forward, “You said I’m to ask for Night Hawk, right? James.”
“Yes.”
“And he’s Charlotte’s brother. He will recognize you if the others don’t.”
“Exactly.”
If it wasn’t for the fact that they could be in danger, she might have found it amusing. For every step she took closer to the compound, the closer the auras in the trees came. Then, out of nowhere they stopped. She gasped in surprise, her eyes darting through the trees as the men retreated. “They’re retreating. Why are they retreating?”
“I’m not sure. That is not standard procedure. I heard no signal.”
“No. You didn’t. It was telepathic,” she whispered. “There’s a telepath heading our way.”
“Lucas.”
Another brother of Charlotte’s an indirect twin of James, at least that’s how she’d come to refer to the two men’s association. It made her a little more relaxed, and she moved closer even as she felt the brush of Lucas’ mind.
You have nothing to fear from me.
“I know. You mean me absolutely no harm. Thank you for calling off the SWAT team. I really didn’t want them to shoot first and ask questions later.”
“At least you’re more likely to live with a well placed arrow as opposed to a bullet,” Lucas chuckled as they got close enough. He looked up at the horse, his eyes softening at the sight of the man on it. “Neil. Thank the Spirits. We thought for sure you were dead. Only Charlotte was convinced you weren’t.”
“I thought I might be for a while,” Neil said quietly. His voice caught and he cleared his throat, “Charlotte. She didn’t think I was dead? Really?”
“Really. Everyone will be thrilled that you are in fact alive.” Lucas held up a hand, clasping it with Neil’s as he got off the horse. “On top of our renewed hope for Mom and Dad, this has been a good day.”
“Renewed hope? But how?” Neil grasped Lucas’ shoulder, “James saw them die. How can there be renewed hope?”
“We think Mom sent a message to Aunt Abigail. Come, we’ll go into the tunnels so you can see Charlotte. The rest of the news can wait.” Lucas smiled at Chantalle, “One of the men will take your horse to the stables. The Chief will want to meet you in person. I’ve alerted him to your arrival.”
Chantalle nodded, “I look forward to meeting him. Neil has told me so much about all of you. Should I wait up here so you can take Neil to his wife if that’s better.”
“No. You’re welcome down in the tunnels. Ravenhawk will be waiting for you down there.” Lucas set Neil’s hand on his arm, guiding him toward the nearest house.
For a while they were all quiet. The only sound came from Lucas’ occasional warning of how many steps down they were taking. By the time they got to the tunnel, Chance was waiting for them.
Chance moved forward, “Neil. Thank the Spirits.” He embraced him before pulling back. “We haven’t told Charlotte. Lucas said you were coming, but we didn’t want to get her hopes up. Do you need medical care first?”
“No. These wounds are old and healed physically.” Neil smiled, “Chantalle has made sure our trip went smoother than I would have thought. We ran into no one. The few times there were any troops within a few miles she got us some place safe to hide.”
“Chantalle?” Chance turned his attention to her. For a moment Chantalle had to force her way through the shield of defensiveness in his aura. Underneath it she could see his genuine gratitude, but getting to that was tough. “Thank you. For bringing him back to us safe. I’m Chance.”
It was almost enough to put her on the defensive, but she wasn’t that sort of person. She was a people person, and had cracked tougher walls than this just by being herself. Chantalle shook his hand with a warm smile. With a bit of effort she focused on the warmth she found lingering under the grays and blacks of his mistrust and pain, “Nice to meet you. Lucas, why don’t you go ahead and take Neil to his wife? I think I’ll be all right in your Chief’s capable hands.”
Lucas smiled, “I will. Thank you, Chantalle.”
Chance waited until they’d made their way down the tunnels before gesturing into the tunnels. “Right this way. I don’t know how much Neil has told you about us.”
“We’ve had a few months together so I know quite a bit.” Chantalle shrugged, “I’m a people person I can’t be quiet. Plus he was so depressed and scared. I had to keep him moving forward. Thank you for letting me enter without any trouble.”
“Lucas says you’re very open for him, and that we have no reason to mistrust you. I take his word on it. So thank you for bringing Neil back to us.” After that his walls eased a little bit, but he still tried to keep guarded. He probably didn’t realize nothing was protected from her mutation.
“He saved my life once. It only seemed right that I help him get home to his wife.” Chantalle kept her focus on the tunnel walls for a moment. It was a welcome distraction from the dichotomy of who he was. Not to mention the fact that she couldn’t avoid how attractive she found him. It was an honest enough thought, but it had been so long since she’d been with anyone that she had to put those thoughts away before she attacked the poor guy without warning. “He was so talented, I hate to see him lose his ability to perform surgery. So much tragedy came out of this.”
“Too much. Here, let’s get you something to eat.” Chance led her into a small kitchen. Several crock pots lined the counter, “We try to keep a steady stream of hot food ready. Many people come in and out throughout the day. Not everyone bothers to put a kitchen in their unit down here, it’s easier to have some community food at the ready.”
“With a community food mentality, shouldn’t you have a bigger kitchen than this?” Her cheeks grew warm, “Sorry. It just seems a bit cramped.”
“It is. We plan a larger cafeteria sort of room in our new wing. It’s not slated for completion for another month, though. We take our lessons as they come.” Chance helped himself to some chili before holding out a chair for her. Once he sat, he studied her for a moment. “Lucas says you are from New York City.”
“I came from there after the war, yes. I’m from England originally.” She spun her spoon in her chili. If he asked her about her family she just might fall into a place she didn’t like going. A place she hadn’t been since she’d stumbled on Neil and got a traveling companion to distract her from her own worries.
“So you were on Broadway when the attack started?”
“Literally.” Chantalle rubbed her arms as the memory shivered through her. “I was on stage, in the middle of a show. We didn’t hear the sirens, but the stage manager halted the performance. Said the military was attacking mutants, and the mutants were fighting back. It was an all out war across the island. By the time the first concussion of a blast shook the theater the screams were deafening.”
Chance’s hand rested on her arm, pulling her out of the depths of her own intense study of her chili. For the first time since she’d met him his guard was down. Concern and warmth poured toward her in soothing and peaceful waves. “I remember the battle. It was the first and the worst.”
Somehow the colors of his aura melted into a watercolor of confusion. It was then that she realized she was crying. “It’s horrible to watch people die,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“No. You don’t.” She wiped at her tears, focusing back on the chili. Counting beans to distract herself. “You see them die. Their shells, their surface. I see it all. Their pain, their fear, their entire life dim and fade into black.”
Beyond the screams that day she’d had to watch so many deaths. Good friends trapped under the rubble. Sudden deaths, long and lingering death. It was now at the point where she was sure she could see the grim reaper coming long before it happened.
She cleared her throat, “Sorry. Can we talk about something else? I haven’t been around people in so long the last thing I want to do is blubber like a baby in front of all of them.”
“Of course. How about we get you a unit to stay in? You can have a hot shower, even listen to some music or watch some TV.”
“Music?” That made her straighten up, “What sort of music?”
Chance smiled, “I’m sure if it’s not in our database it won’t take any time to find whatever you want. We have the world’s best computer geek here.”
“A hot shower and music. I think if you proposed right now I’d say yes just for offering me those two things. Throw in some dance shoes and there’d be no doubt.”
He quirked a brow, “I’m afraid we don’t have any of those. But I’ll keep that in mind.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Indie Ink Challenge has asked us to no longer include our story in their weekly challenge for many reasons. For just as many reasons we’ll no longer participate in Indie Ink Challenge at all. We will probably continue the story, but it will take some time to work out a new posting schedule and format. From now on you can follow the story through the twitter hashtag of #EscapingHumanity. Thank for those of you who have been reading, we h0pe you continue to return for it.
Putting down a manuscript and stepping away is one of the hardest things I ever have to do. I’m so excited by the story, so in love with the characters, so driven to get it out there that I never just leave it alone. At least not long enough to make a difference.
