Tag Archives: writing

The Start of Great Beginnings


Long time no blog entry. Now the title of this blog might be a little grand for something that I wrote in only a few minutes with no editing. Yes it is straight from the word document, nothing done to it (so be gentle!) I do, however, think this is the start to a great new story. Enjoy!

Darkness. It is everywhere, within everything. No stars lit the sky, the room was not lit by any light of candle or orb. It was just black. Even the coldest darkest night had more light. A woman’s chest fell and rose heavily as her back was pressed against the cool damp stones that formed the wall. She fought to control her breathing, her heart racing in her chest. It was a game of cat and mouse and this time she feared she was not the cat. The woman brushed the nearly white hair out of her face and tried to push it back into the braid she had started out with. She felt her hands on her daggers on her thighs and the bastard sword digging between her shoulder blades. She had more weapons than she knew what to do with on her and yet she still felt under dressed. Tight leather clung to her skin as sweat made her skin glisten. If there had been light she would have been afraid her position would have been lost. She inched her way around the corner seeing the first glimpse of torch light in the distance. A knife met her throat, she felt a drop of blood moisten the blade.

           “Lost again Cerena.” She was forced up against the wall, muscular arms pushing her back until the sounds of metal echoed through the hall. The blade retracted and she used her opportunity. A kick was sent in the air and a male groan audible. A swift kick behind the knee brought her assailant to his knees and one of her own daggers to his throat.

           “You should have killed me when you had the chance.”

            “Ah well Cerena, I can’t kill you now can I?” His voice broken with the threat of the dagger against his throat. His hair was plaited back behind is his head in multiple strands reaching down to one long braid down his back. His armor was leather, not the kind he normally wore. It still shone like it was new but it was beyond broken in. New leather is tight and will get you killed.

            “Let me up.” he tapped out on the wrist holding the dagger. Normally her dagger would not have hesitated to draw blood from him but then again, it was practice after all.

           “Can’t kill my brother now can I, Fionan?”

            “Nah, I suppose not sister. You still lost.”

            “You still dropped your guard.”

            “You breath as heavy as a horse in heat.” A smack echoed off the walls followed by a muffled laugh.

          “You little.”

           “Yes my beautiful?” Cerena mocked back putting in a small bow with it.. His hair was the same color as hers, nearing white.

          “Cerena, Fionan. Your mother would like to speak with you.” The masculine voice had always sent shivers down her spine.

               “We will meet her right away, won’t we sister?” He pulled at her arm as she fought the urge to look up into his eyes. Judgement was the form of all punishment throughout the kingdom and there in front of her he stood.

            “Yes, of course Judgement.” She finally looked up into his eyes, fighting the urge to show fear. Something of her young years had taught her is you never showed emotion on your face. Fionan had a huge smile on his face like everything was a joke. She looked up and put a smile on her face, making it reach all the way to her eyes until they glistened with life and joy. It was the way of the court, it was made you survive. Any emotion could be torn out of you and used to someone else’s advantage. There were reasons why they trained so hard to survive.

Love to hear what you think!


The Daunting Task of World Building


This past month I have been overwhelmed with the idea that for NaNoWriMo I am going to build a complete other world and flush it out so that after it is done I will have the complete back story and information I need to write a completely new series. It is daunting to say the very least. 

I am the first to say that I am not an expert on it. I have done it before, once before, when I was a teenager. But I didn’t really do it the “proper” way. I wrote things down as they came up and created political systems and history of the world on a whim. Did it work for the story? Completely. Was the story a mature, full thought out, ready to publish manuscript. Hell no. And no, a simple no would not have worked in that scenario. It was really rough, but looking back on how I wrote it, the history of the world was getting more and more flushed out each day I wrote it. 

So this is my dilemma. I know I really should spend all of NaNoWriMo writing out the history and back story to the world and the characters because it is a very in depth story plot and lots of little details of the characters past will come out to change the plot and help shape the world they are living in. However, I know that I am a gardener style writer. I know that I write best and get the most motivated to write when I can take my time (even if writing 2000 words a day or more, which I also want to state I haven’t done in a while) and develop the characters and the story as they tell me how their story is suppose to go. I love discovering their history as I write and if I have to go back and edit the crap out of it later because of small details that come up mid way or at the end then I love doing that. I love developing them how they want to be developed and look into their world instead of me telling them how their world is going to be. Again, but I know I wouldn’t have to edit as much and the story would be more complete the first time around if I wrote up all the back story first. 

I know it is one of those things that I need to learn to adapt to and it will help me develop as a writer. The thought of it is daunting, creating an entire world before diving into the characters and I like the idea of creating lots of different characters and back stories before jumping into the main characters I want to write about. Writing about different peoples and land masses and countries and political systems. The list goes on and on and I am exciting to do it but when I look at the huge list in front of me of all I need to accomplish before I can write my characters I get overwhelmed and defeated feeling before it even starts. 

I know I need to just start it and work on one item at a time and I will get through it in no time. The hard skills to master of writing in depth story plots. Lots of back work to do first before you can get to the “good stuff.”

My writing thoughts for today. Now I should get back to work and start trying to make some progress. 

A Little Taste of What is to Come


So this is a background information for the novel I have just finished. “The Girl Who Cried Fae.” It isn’t part of the story and yet I feel like it should be so I am sharing it with you. The book is written in 1st person with Cel (or as she calls herself Kathryn) as the person living through the events.

But this is Jacque, the man she desperately tries to save. This is a part of his story and I think it turned out quite well. It is rough form so don’t judge it too heavily 🙂 Enjoy.

Alone in a blackened room with nothing but a pinhole of light coming from the crack in the lock as company was a man. It was only when that company of light disappeared and the room went completely dark that he knew his torture was about to begin. He hung by his wrists in metal shackles made of iron. If he had been anything but a pure-blooded Sidhe his wrists would have burned clean off by now. However, he was a pure-blooded Sidhe so the shackles burned into his skin and they did not heal but they did not rot either. His shoulders slumped out of place long ago and he did not even bother moving his fingers to stimulate circulation of his blood. Now it just caused more pain to his numb arms than relief.

“Cel, oh Cel what have I done.”

“Hello? Whose there.” A voice returned to him. A voice, he must have broken. They must have finally won. Maybe under it all he would give into them, maybe he knew the answer they sought. Maybe this was another trick.

“If you are who I just called than you know who I am.”

“Hearing voices again, Kat, pull yourself together. The voice doesn’t exist.”

“I exist, but do you?”

“See! My mind is even agreeing with us. We are crazy.”

“Cel?” Emotion vibrated off his voice. How could it be her? She has been dead for more than a thousand years. He witnessed her death. He saw her agony as he held her in his arms. Memories flashed in his mind. Memories he had long wished to forget. Her hair cascading down his body when they were in war, her naked body against his as the only thing protecting them from the cold inside their humble tent was the furs upon the ground and their body heat. Hot breath against skin, passion overriding all sense. The scene changed in his mind to one of them riding side by side the next day on battle, her armor of silver as her long, almost white hair came out in a long strand in the back of her helmet, her hands holding onto the reins of her horse as her two double swords rested in their sheaths on her back. She was stunning, beyond stunning the way he remembered her. Then another memory ripped through his mind. This time it was pain, agony. It was a different woman. No it was the same woman, a different face, different body. She still had the same eyes. She wasn’t fae, not entirely. A group of men surrounded her. Fear ripped through his mind from hers, as they ripped off her clothes and teeth ripped into her skin. He screamed against them, enraged to what they were doing. Hatred for them poured out of his veins, out of his soul. They had smelled what she was, she was fae and they wanted to eat her alive.

He head soft sobs filling his mind. “Jacque.” She whispered. It was like a candle in the dark, the eternal flame that kept him alive.
“Oh my sweet Celyn. I am here.” He felt a warmness surround him, he felt her arms wrap around his body. They were closer than blood. He let him mentally hold her back and he felt her sigh against his chest. He closed his eyes and he saw her in a tiny apartment. She was so young, so brand new. She still had the stitches on her arm from the attack.

“Jaque, I have missed you so much. Why did you leave me?”

“Oh Cel. I never left, we just got a little lost is all.” He felt heat soak back into him. Part of him that died was coming back to life. He was going to escape and be with her no matter what it took.

“Where are you?”

“I am someplace you should never come, my sweet one.” he kissed her forehead with the gentlest of touches and she looked up right into his eyes and he felt her press her lips to his. With centuries of being alone his body roared to life. Even if it was just a thought in his head, her magic and his together were making the sensations real. This was a worse torture than anything had been done to him. Now he craved her flesh underneath his hands, her lips pressed against hers, to see her smile in person and the beautiful blue eyes he would never forget.

She pulled away. “I am sorry. I am crazy. I am kissing a spirit. I am kissing my imagination. This can’t be real.”

“Please, don’t stop.’ He pulled her face back into his and kissed her, harder. He knew she closed her eyes because the picture got clearer, the sensations more intense. He tasted the salt of her teas upon his lips, over his tongue.

“You cut your hair.” Her fingers played with the brown rags left upon his head. He tried to change the appearance of himself in front of her. At least he wasn’t covered in bruises and his body didn’t look in ruins to her. All of a sudden his view of her was different. It was the old Cel, not her new body, her new form.

“You were beautiful just the way you were. Why do you change your appearance to me?”

“I am not nearly as beautiful as her. I don’t want you seeing me like this.”

“I don’t want you seeing me like this either.”

“You look like a god, and trust me I have met a few of them to know.”

“I do not look like a god.” A laugh filled his mind.

“Oh Jaque. What happened to the cocky guy that knew he was hot shit?”

“Hot shit? I do not think I was a pile of dung.” She shook her head in his mind’s eye as her eyes sparkled with laughter.

“It means, the best, the most attractive, the most wanted.”

“Oh. Yes there was a time I felt that way.”

“Jaque. Nothing they could have done to you would have made you any less than beautiful.”

“What do you know about what I have been through?”

“They blamed you for my death didn’t they?” Silence.

“Where are you Jaque?”

“I am not at liberty to discuss that with you.” Suddenly his eyes were open, he was looking around the room but it wasn’t him. What the hell kind of powers did she gain during these lifetimes.

“Jaque. What are they doing to you?” Silence filled the empty space. Silence he had gotten used to and now it just seemed dead, like heaviness was pressing against him.

“Jaque, please don’t ignore me.”

“They aren’t doing anything.” It wasn’t a lie. They weren’t doing anything this moment, later they probably would be but now they were not touching him.

“That is too close to a lie, even for you.”

“They aren’t. I give you my word.”

“What have they done to you?” A harder question to answer without directly lying.

“Nothing I cannot handle my sweet Cel.”

“I will find a way to get you out of there, Jaque.”

“What happened to the Ice Queen who would never go back for a fallen man.”

“I am not her. I will save you Jaque.” And with those final words before the light went dark he had hope. He blocked her out from his mind, completely and fully. He didn’t want her to feel the pain he was about to experience, the torture he endured for her. The new Ice Queen would want to know that she was alive, and he feared for Cel’s life when she did.

Do I Dare?


So this question all starts when I had someone close to me tell me this wondrous dream that sparked so much creativity into me that I felt like I was about to burst. It is a story that would be a post apocalyptic world where science looks to new ways to try to save the dying earth by unconventional methods, magic. At least to me this sounds like an amazing story and one that I could have a lot of fun pushing myself to write since it is unlike my normal story style. And because of this I have been really itching to start it. However then I fear that my current project I have been so diligently working on will get left in the dust and become yet another story that I have never finished. Which I will be honest; it is a pretty lengthy list. I don’t want to be one of those people that constantly start writing projects but then abandon them due to another story. I have wanted to actually complete the whole process, from start to finish again instead pushing stories aside for different things.

This is my dilemma of do I dare? I love the currently story I am working on. It has so much potential, so much greatness and real character development and I feel the first real strong piece I have written so far. Or at least that is what I believe, but the problem is so do most of the stories I write. I always tell myself oh I just writing my ideas out and I will come back to that original story I was working on but never seem to do. It isn’t that I really truly don’t mean to go back to them, because from the bottom of my heart I do. I have this more than one project in mind when I say that too. And maybe someday I will. However, I haven’t yet. And that is now the biggest problem I have.

So now bringing us back to the original question that I asked: Do I dare? Do I dare start another project? At least writing some scenes down as they pop into my head and work my very hardest to stay on target to my current project. And to be clear the current project I am working on is more than half way finished at this point. Or do I just have the idea in my little notebook I carry around with me where ever I go and hope to goodness sake that I don’t forget all the wonderful ideas that pop into my head and when I finish my current project begin diving into the story that awaits me?

I know the correct answer. I really do but it is one of those stages where I am afraid of not completing yet another thing that I am prepared to do something drastic. This is my problem and this is my question. Do I dare?

What Words Count?


What words really count when you are counting? I have been thinking a lot about this exactly question lately. I hear some people include their blog in their daily word count goals and others think that a blog is something extra and not to be counted in what you have “written” for the day. I personally find that it can go both ways. So what one is wrong and what one is right?
Until  today I will admit, I was leaning to the side that you shouldn’t count what you have written for your blog as part of your daily writing. It should be included in something completely different. It is like an additional project that really isn’t considered “writing” but rather a way to express yourself and something to get your name known. You have daily writing goals to help make your current project keeps running, to make sure that it continues and so you don’t write useless words down just to make the word count but rather to increase the story value. Your daily word goals should be to get your projects finished. To get them to the end goal of being finished and then some day hopefully published rather than adding other projects to your plate. Your goals should be specific and include only your current pending projects instead of including that of side projects like a blog, or journal. I see no fault in this logic but as of late, especially today, I have been leaning in the other direction.
I have been leaning towards the thought process that writing a blog is helping actually your writing and so it  should count towards your daily word count goal (as long as that goal is not for a specific project like write 250 words towards this project). And to be honest, I have written this exact same blog so many different times (honestly it feels like hundreds by now) but  pushing the blogs are not writing and never publishing them. Why? I honestly don’t know.  Maybe it was because part of me, the deeper part of me found that I was not being honest with myself. However then it suddenly clicked. This thought process that it really was helping your writing.  When you write a blog you are making yourself think. Your creative muse is hard at work trying to come up with something to write that will connect you more with your viewers, your readers. The people you want to convince to be your fan, to cheer for you along the way (and hopefully not just family members and close friends). Once they are your fan, it will help you in the long run. Once you have finally published a book (or have done so already,) it will help you to sell said book and make your fans tell everyone about your amazing new creation.  It is a great way to get your work public and your showing off to everyone what a great writer you are but not just that. It also shows your fans that you are a real person with tangibility. I honestly think that is what helps most famous authors today. They are starting to seem more like real people and so people want to hear more from them, to see more from them.

But it isn’t just about your fans. Blogging is a way to keep your writing mind keep working even when you have to have a  little break from the hard sticky spot in your current work in progress. It is a way to let your mind reboot in a sense while still making progress with your ultimate goal. Just keep writing. It is a way to take a step back and see your writing almost from an outside perspective or to see your life in a way that could help out your story, your own writings.

As writers, I believe our ultimate goal is to spark creativity into a person who is reading our work. Our art. The thing we have been slaving over for so long until our foreheads bled onto paper (says a fellow writer/twitter/blogger, Mike Whitacre – find more about him on his blog http://mikewhitacre.blogspot.com/) and those thoughts became reality. We have slaved over our work. What better way to get our work out there than some one on one personalized blogging to let our readers know exactly who we are. I think it is important to blog and more so than ever because of this reason but also because it gives your mind that much needed break from writing the same thing day in and day out. Your mind gets tired and sometimes it needs little vacations to as I said before, reboot.

One reason why I honestly think part of me didn’t blog as much (not like one blog post fixes it) is because I saw it as another task to do instead of it  completing the harmony from the book I am currently writing and the process from when it becomes finished. Instead of it taking away from writing other things such as my project it is allowing me to get into the frame of mind to continue to work on it. To refresh my mind from the long days and roadblocks I have been facing on the computer trying to continue my beloved story and making it just that, beloved again to me. I also think writing a blog should be to strengthen my skills as a writer and to put thought to paper instead of being as another chore to do. Any writing as long as you are purposefully trying to better yourself should count as reaching a writing goal. Or at least that is my thoughts on this issue.

So now, at the end of the day, I think writing part of your blog should be counted towards your daily writing goal of overall writing (but not like I said above towards a different project goal). But I would love to hear what you think. Am I thinking logically or just bat-shit crazy?

Have a wonderful day everyone. Until the next time. 🙂

Valentine’s Day Love


Today I read a great blog by L.K. Hamilton and I loved every minute it. It was about Real Love (and that is what it was titled too). If you haven’t read it I suggest you do. I for one am not going to go in depth about what it says but its ideas got me thinking. 

Now this is partially based of real life and partially on writing. Love isn’t something that you can make perfect. Look at all the real love stories, fairy tales based on love, and just real life. Real love can hurt. It can sometimes feels like getting stabbed in the gut and it being twisted around and around until you just can’t take the pain anymore. Granted that is usually the most painful part of love and if that is your entire love you need help and ASAP. (and so does your character if it is in writing!) Love isn’t all flowers and chocolates like Valentines Day would usually like us to believe. It has painful parts too. Granted, one can hope that those painful parts aren’t the majority of your love, because again see above about ASAP. 

Real Love is about the ups and downs, the roller coaster ride of everything in between. And I think in a lot of circumstances books and real people forget that. So many people, especially with the new age dating sites, have this ideal of love as the shining knight riding in on his horse and being everything in your dreams. I am to tell you that would be darn boring. And honestly it makes a story boring. I have read books where the romance in it has been picture perfect and I am left with a dry taste in my mouth. Real life, real love is not a perfect story. My hint, (to myself as well) is to remember the way real love is. It is the fights, it is the making up, it is the boring silences, being in two different rooms doing two different things, but it is also about snuggling up with them at night before bed and knowing you are safe and loved. It is about eating dinner together, even if it is burnt and blah. Love is everything life is. It is all the unexpected moments. It is aggravation about not getting your way, the guilt when you realize you are wrong about a fight. The awkward apology. It is about the flowers someone surprises you with. It is about the hug and kiss you give them when they get home. 

Love, at least in my experience with it, is amazing. It is magical. It surpasses everything else you have ever felt. However, it doesn’t always. Sometimes it is just every day life, with content feelings. Remember this. I need to remember this when I write. You don’t want your story, especially if it has love in it, to seem cliche, to see story board. You want it to seem real. So remember the moments you have felt love. Remember it and savor it and write it. 

Happy Valentines Everyone and may your life and stories be filled with love. 

Synopsis – My Own Progress


First off I will admit I am horrible at synopsis. I tend to try to way over simplify them for some reason and cause them to be a boring blah of words strung together. Not going to get too many readers wanting to read my book huh? Nope, not a chance. So today I decided to try again at re-writing the synopsis for my newest book that I am writing this year for NaNoWriMo. So I am going to show you exactly how I progressed today.


First Attempt

Soifra Eileen is a girl who finds herself stuck in a past she is trying to fun away from. Lord Benson is trying to find her again and claim her again for himself and if he does the empire around Soifra will be forced to continue to be a world of where the poor starve and the nobility gets more powerful.

Second Attempt

Soifra Eileen, a girl barely over her seventeeth birthday finds herself in the abusive hands of the one person who was suppose to protect her. She is left with no other choice but to flee his death tight grasp and try to make a new life for herself away from the houses of the nobles. However when Soifra does escape she finds that it is a noble life she must be destined for. She has to make the empire around her more in the image of what the goddess who spoke to her wants, of peace instead of how the power-hungry nobles that now run it, for power and wealth.

Together with Ryaen, a war criminal who has stayed out the grasps of the nobles for long strive to change the empire into something they both believe in. Together they will race against the clock and the seasons to make sure that the empire in indeed an image of hope instead of despair.

Third Attempt

Soifra Eileen, a Sivene Princess from the land of the North, was taken into protected custody when she was a small child however when she approached her seventeenth birthday she finds that the one who was bound to protect her was the one who was the one who was the most damaging. After her protectors true nature was shown Soifra fled hoping to leave the life of abuse behind her with that of the noble houses. However when she comes across Aduialhach, the city of Evening Flame, she realized that no matter where she ran the abuse was everywhere and she had to do something to stop it.

Ryaen of Lovingworth was a war criminal trying to find his way into the future and fix the one that he sees in front of him. When he comes across a woman alone in the forest, appearing to be running from her past as well he pledges to himself to help her. When he finds out that she is actually a member of a rare race of magical beings called the Sivene he knows fate has finally came in and handed him a winning hand.

Together they try to overcome the corrupted noble houses of the city of Aduialhach and free the people of the city from the unnecessary starvation and living conditions and branch out to have the kind hand of the Sivene people of their history to step back into place not just over this city but over all of the Elonn. Together, Ryaen and Soifra wish to help the people of Elonn be free from tyranny and back into a realm of peace.

So far I have only done three attempts but I think each time they have clearly improved. Of course I am not nearly done but what I found helped was to actually do this step and write first attempt, second, ect so that I could see where exactly I was going wrong and how I could add more details to the story with still leaving the reader wanting to find out what happens and pick up the book.
I would love to hear your thoughts on my progress so far! Always have room to improve!
Until next time have a wonderful time! (and good luck fellow NaNoWriMo-ers)