Category Archives: writing

He Looks Like What?!

So here I am, reading “Imminent Danger and How to Fly Straight into it” and having a grand old time. I like Eris a lot (maybe partly because she reminds me so much of me), and Michelle Proulx has managed to create a male… well, I don’t know what he is. He’s certainly antagonistic, but something tells me he’s not going to end up being the enemy, so… prantagonist. That’s what he is. Anyway, he might be even less likeable than mine, which pleases me greatly. Why go half-way, right?

The book is a YA sci-fi, which means lots and lots of ALIENS. Obviously an author isn’t going to spend pages describing every detail of every creature we run into; that would be boring, and to my mind unnecessary. If it’s not important to my understanding of the story, I like to be given a few details to sketch a character in my mind, and then be allowed to fill in the rest myself. Tell me a character is deadly attractive and give me a few details; let me decide the rest for myself.

This book is a good example of that approach, but it’s made me consider a question I’ve asked myself before: how do the characters in my mind match up with the ones in the author’s?

This goes for any book. It’s one of the reasons I get nervous when a favourite book is being turned into a movie or TV mini-series (hi there, Under the Dome!); there’s no way all of the actors will look like they do in my head, and it ruins it a bit for me.

I drew a sketch of one of the characters from Imminent Danger, Miguri. He’s described as humanoid, 3 feet tall, brown-skinned, with massive blue eyes and a mop of white hair, plus a huge white, furry tail. He wears a brown, knee-length, belted tunic. Also, Eris thinks he looks like a cross between a monkey and a garden gnome, which kind of tickled me. And this is what came to mind:

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I didn’t say it was a GOOD sketch 😉

It’s a great description, isn’t it? But I’d be willing to bet money that Michelle Proulx’s mental image of Miguri is nothing like mine. There were still blanks to be filled in, weren’t there? Ear shape, for one. My mind made them big and pointy, I don’t know why. Face shape is another; I guess what I see in my mind came from the monkey thing. Even the shape of the milky-white gem on his belt and the way that it’s hanging are probably off; I picture a smooth, round gem, but in the author’s mind it could be cut and polished.

I like that. It’s like a collaboration between writer and reader, and something new is created every time a different person reads a story.

I also wonder what people think my characters look like, the ones I’ve created. I tend to lean toward less description; Rowan has auburn hair and grey eyes, fact. I know exactly what she looks like in my mind, but does it really matter if someone else pictures her differently? Not so much. Aren gets a bit more description as Rowan notices things about him, but again the details are up to the reader to fill in. Does it affect the story if I think Rowan has a few freckles? Not unless Aren notices them when it’s his turn to speak. Then it matters… but he generally has other things on his mind.

Likewise for creatures. I don’t have a plethora of aliens to describe, but I have critters and creatures. My horses are rather unusual, so they get a few extra lines of description, but when a dog appears and I say “brown shaggy mutt,” you guys can feel free to give him floppy ears or straight as you see fit. Heck, give him white socks and a black patch over one eye. Have fun with it.

Stephen King says a little about this in On Writing, and if you haven’t read that one, I highly recommend it. He’s an author who tends to give very little physical description of characters unless it’s important to the story (or his POV character is observing it), but I’ve never had trouble picturing his characters in my mind.

One other note, while we’re on the topic: do you guys remember when they revealed the casting for the Hunger Games movie, and there were people who were outraged that Rue was being played by a black girl? Oh, the horror. -_-  How dare they use this beloved character to promote some kind of… Well, I don’t even remember what the arguments were, I tuned them out, they all sounded like assholes. Basically, people thought it was political, and were for some reason upset about racial diversity.

Guess what?

“She has bright, dark eyes and satiny brown skin…”

The Hunger Games, chapter 7, page 98 in my edition. Quoted.

It doesn’t matter how you describe your characters, people are going to see what they want to see in their minds. If I pictured Miguri as a fluffy, pink-haired, horse-faced, 7-foot-tall thing with nifty shoes… that would be really weird, but I doubt the author would lose any sleep over it.

What do you guys think? When you’re reading, do you see characters clearly in your mind? Do you prefer more description, or less? When (and if) you’re writing, how badly do you want your readers to understand your vision of your characters, human or otherwise?


WIPpet Wednesday the 27th, in Which Chapter 1 Kicks My Ass

So, the twenty-seventh, is it? If chapter 20 would have been too spoiler-loaded, you can imagine why I won’t be sharing anything from chapter 27 today. Boo. I like that one.

But Chapter 1 has, quite frankly, been kicking my ass lately. I’ve laid awake at night for hours, trying to figure out how to properly introduce Rowan. Aren already got his creepy little moment in the prologue (yes, I’ve decided, it’s staying in the story), so chapter one has to pick up from there. Different character, different mood (though not as different as she’d probably like to think), different voice. Going from magic and bad-guy-ness to a far more mundane place and a girl who thinks the only thing unusual about her is the fact that she doesn’t want the perfect life that’s coming to her.

Pfft. Teenagers.

I loved the previous version of this scene, but it lacked excitement, and we all know that stories aren’t allowed a slow build these days. No, I’m not bitter. And this does bring a major plot point to our attention in a much more interesting way. It’s just these first paragraphs that sit there and laugh at me.

Stupid words.

So here’s where we are now, a WIP in the truest sense of the term, though I’m happier with this now than I’ve been in a long time. It’s an unusual start, maybe, but I like it. This picks up right after the prologue ends; I guess that’s all you need to know.

27 lines (according to Scrivener) for the 27th. Enjoy.


(Chapter 1- Rowan)

Another day done.

Another shift at the library, with the smells of the old paper and new ink, with adventure and romance and tragedy. Another volume of fairy tales sneaked out of the restricted section and hidden deep in my bag; another morning of pretending not to listen to Mr Woorswith reminiscing to his cronies about the wonders and horrors he’d seen when he traveled past the mountains when he was a young man.

Another day of pain.

Another day closer to the next phase of my life, to everything I was supposed to be longing for, to the part where my odd little life would finally begin to line up with what it was supposed to be from the start. Still no closer to figuring out why all of those good things sometimes felt so wrong, though.

My boots scuffed over the cobblestoned street, kicking up dust that swirled in the breeze and settled into a thin layer on the bottom of my skirt. My mother would tell me to lift my face to the world, to take pride in myself, and for goodness sakes just smile a little, but she wasn’t there to bother me, and I could hardly be bothered on my own. A bright ray of sunlight broke through the clouds overhead, and the dull headache that had been building all day pressed harder at the back of my skull. The world swam in front of me, and I paused to take a few deep breaths. You’ll be home soon, I told myself. Just get home, make some heartleaf tea, go to bed, everything will be fine. This thing hasn’t killed you yet, it’s not going to happen now.

From somewhere far away, a clattering noise interrupted my thoughts. Hoofbeats on stone, faster than they should have been. I opened my eyes, but the pain made everything slow; by the time I lifted my head and struggled to understand exactly what was happening, they were almost on top of me: four horses with uniformed riders wearing the king’s colours, armed but not armored. What’s the rush, boys? One of them yelled; I tried to step back against the building behind me, but something wasn’t working. Nothing connected. I closed my eyes again.

A hand grabbed my arm and yanked me away, spinning me out of the road as the horses thundered past. It hurt my shoulder, but that hardly mattered when the pain in my head was screaming louder than it had been before, the dull ache roaring to life, growing sharper when my head snapped sideways on my neck. I pressed my hands to my eyes and leaned into my rescuer. My brother. Who else would have bothered?

When I opened my eyes a few seconds later, Ashe was looking down the street where the riders had disappeared. “Didn’t even look back,” he observed.

“Must have been late for something.” I sat on one of the crates that were stacked outside of the grocer’s store.

“Too late to do any good, that’s for sure.” Ashe scratched at the arm of his blue messenger’s uniform and bent to pick up the papers he’d dropped when he pulled me out of the road. “You OK, Ro?”

“Same old thing,” I said, and tried to smile. “Just need to get home to bed.”

He frowned. “I’ll walk with you.” I started to object, but he held up a hand to stop me. “No, I know. It’s not my fault you’re incompetent, but I’d feel sort of bad about it if something happened to you. I just have to post these on the way.” I stuck my tongue out at him. He laughed, then offered me a hand to help me up. “Come on.”

Hmm, where are those soldiers going? Nothing a nice girl would want to get mixed up in, that’s for sure.

As always, thanks to KL Schwengel for hosting WIPpet Wednesday. If you want to join in, or to check out everyone else’s offerings for this very awkward date, head over here for the links.

Thanks for reading!

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And hey, look what I found at Walmart. 🙂


To Self-Publish, or Not To Self-Publish?

It’s a serious question. Increasingly so, in fact. A few years ago you heard of the odd success story (and even that one was discovered “by chance” and then traditionally published), but that’s just what they were: odd. Self-publishing was the road you took when your book wasn’t good enough to be accepted by a traditional publisher– at least, that was the perception. Still is for most people I know.

And now? Well, now there are people publishing their own work to e-readers and/or print-on-demand companies like CreateSpace and selling hundreds of thousands of copies. Hardly what you’d expect from a book that’s “not good enough,” is it? People are turning down offers from “real” publishers because the benefits of going it alone are very real.

For some people.

This is a tough topic, and I’m working out the questions for myself in this post. Please offer advice in the comments, thoughts, anecdotes, whatever. And to make it all easier to stomach, I’m gonna throw in some pictures of cats. Because I’m nice like that.

I can't work under these conditions.

I can’t work under these conditions.

I always assumed that I’d do things the traditional way. Agent, publisher, edits, publication, see my book on the shelf in Chapters, cry, party. Obviously that’s greatly simplified; I understand the obstacles and the potential (even unavoidable) frustrations.

But as I sit here attempting to polish my quivering blob of a query letter into something more closely resembling a diamond (a feat of alchemy that I’m quite aware may be impossible)**, I wonder whether this is really the way I want to go. Not only is self-publishing becoming a more attractive deal in many ways, but traditional publishing is pulling back, offering less to unproven writers (and even to established writers), and screwing them over, sometimes in epic and permanent ways. So many questions…

  • Do I want to spend the next X number of months begging agents to take a few minutes of their time to look over my work, then waiting for them to attempt to find an editor who likes it, then waiting two frigging years to see my story in print? Because that’s how it goes these days.
  • Do I want to give up control of everything? Am I willing to risk my book going to a publisher who probably won’t put much effort into cover design or promotion, thereby dooming my book to the dreaded midlist for all eternity? It happens.
  • Do I want to face the possibility of being forced to change my book to be a “stand-alone with series potential?” Because that’s all you hear when you read about pitching a book: series potential=awesome, but don’t get ahead of yourself, honey. Nobody wants to hear about a three or 4 book series from an unpublished author when you can’t prove the first one will make good.

You know what? I’m telling a long story. Yes, each book has its own story and character arcs, its own themes, its own beginning, middle, climax and resolution, but they’re all tied together, and the story only gets bigger as it grows. Think more “Hunger Games” than “Nancy Drew.” Do I want to let go of that vision?

Not particularly.

Stop blabbing and pet me. Right meow.

“Stop blabbing and pet me. Right meow.”

But there are problems with going the other way, too. There’s still a stigma attached to self-publishing; people still think it’s second-best, that it’s what you do if you’re not good enough to make it the “real” way. Do I care what people think? If I’m being honest, yes. I do. I shouldn’t, but I do. This is huge for me, this feeling that I need to prove myself this way, but I can’t let it outweigh other considerations.

There’s the fact that I’m not an outgoing, glad-handing, look-at-me, self-promoting entrepreneur. And as anyone who has self-published or indie-published will tell you, promotion is an absolute necessity. People will not find you on their own. You’ve got to make yourself known.

…but again, I’m a new author, unproven, and these days a publisher is probably going to tell me to market my own work, anyway. So that sucks.

There’s also that little issue of me knowing nothing about formatting or cover design, the issue of me not having any friends who are professional editors to barter with for their services, and me not having money to pay for any of these things. Call it being professional, call it investing in yourself and your work… I just don’t have the cash.

It’s enough to make you want to close the computer and use it to gently bash your own brain in.

"Who cares about publishing? I'm an adorable sea otter! Yay!"

“Who cares about publishing? I’m an adorable sea otter! Yay!”

What would this look like if we laid out the benefits of each path? Please feel free to add to either column in the comments:

TRADITIONAL PUBLISHING:

*Someone else takes care of cover design and marketing; professional editing is part of the package.

*A chance to see my book on store shelves. Not as important as it once was from a sales standpoint, but it’s a dream of mine. It’s part of the validation thing, of knowing that my work is good enough to be there, playing with the big kids. Stupid? Probably. But it means something to me.

*Working with an agent means working with someone who knows the business, who knows about foreign rights, etc., who has contacts, dammit!

*E-readers are gaining ground, but most people I know still do their book shopping by browsing in stores. So maybe that point above isn’t so stupid, after all.

*Sales potential- but really only if the publisher decides that my story is the shit and promotes the hell out of it. Otherwise, as far as I can tell, I’m still mostly on my own.

*Might be more likely to get reviews… I’d have to look into that, but most book reviews I read are for traditionally published books. So there’s that.

SELF-PUBLISHING:

*I can still hold a real, paper copy of my book in my hand if I go through CreateSpace, and they’ll help with e-publishing, too… to a point. I don’t think they publish to kobo, but they do Amazon and a few others.

*Potentially being in bookstores means less and less. (But as the author of that piece points out, people aren’t likely to stumble upon you while browsing on Amazon, either)

*Creative control. I still get to tell the story I want to tell (if I can dig up the cash for a good editor), I can make sure the cover kicks ass (if I can dig up the cash for a good designer), I can make sure it’s available everywhere I want it to be (if I can dig up the… you get the picture)

*Greater percentage of profits. Instead of paying an agent 10% and getting a small fraction of every book’s sales because the rest goes to the publisher, the money that comes in would be mine (minus Amazon or whoever’s cut, which is significantly smaller).

*Control over prices. If I want to sell the e-book for $4.99, I can do that. If I want to do a 99-cent promotion, I can do that, too. If a traditional publisher wants to price an ebook at $9.99 where few people will ever consider it, that’s not my call.

*It’s faster. Call me impatient, but I’ve been working on one book for two years; I don’t know whether I want to wait two more (minimum) to see anything happen with it. I could publish on my own schedule, get the next books out when they’re ready and not when a publisher demands them, get short stories into the mix.

*Rights. I’d keep them. All of them.

Seriously?!

Seriously?!

There are people with convincing arguments who are firmly positioned on both sides of the debate. This does not help me at all.

Side A: “Self-publishing is less than the best you can aspire to, and it’s killing the publishing industry. A traditional publisher will find the best work and take care of it. If you’re not good enough to make it the real way (and why else would you resort to self-publishing, you ogre-faced noob?), best to keep your work in a drawer. If you are good enough, why wouldn’t you want to have the power, reach, and experience of a real publishing house behind you?”

Side B: “Side A is full of shit. Traditional publishers don’t care about new authors unless they prove themselves through their own efforts, anyway; all others can fall by the wayside. These days they’re just throwing (insert substance here) at the wall and seeing what sticks. Self-publishing lets you avoid those assholes and reap so many nifty benefits… if you do it right. Oh, and they find the best work? Please. They ‘take care of’ poorly-written-but-popular crap like 50 Shades of Grey, and publish knock-offs of whatever else is selling. They’re not going to take a chance on something different.”

Side C: “Um… hi, what about smaller publishers? Sure, with many of us you might never see your book in print, but we’ll take care of the editing and cover and stuff, and for an e-book-only edition, turnaround time is about a gazillion times quicker than going with a big publisher. Just watch out for anyone trying to give you the worst of both worlds.***”

Thanks, guys.

That helped a lot.

*bashes head in with computer*

** Someone recently said that an author writing a query letter to an agent/editor is like a ballerina being asked to prove her skills with a lap dance. Whole different skill set, and that’s not the only reason the comparison works.

***Footnote to that: Yes, those guys are fixing it. That doesn’t mean someone else won’t try it.


50? Really?!

Wow. My phone binged at me while I was in the shower; it just couldn’t wait to tell me that my little blog now has 50 WordPress followers- as in, 50 people who receive notifications from here because they actually want to.

This was unexpected.

I know, 50 isn’t many to a lot of you. But I started this thing back in October thinking it would just be a bit of fun for me, a place to do my random little thing, goof off a bit, and write stuff that was a bit longer than a Facebook status update.

I didn’t think anyone would actually read it.

They say a blog should have a cohesive theme… This one has no such thing. Well, there’s writing, but there’s a whole lot of other stuff here that has no business being on a proper writing blog. Engrish, pictures of a depressed dog, stuff I see on my walks, links to things that make me laugh. Nonsensical babbling from my pained brain, and posts sharing the wonders of Newfoundland (or the funny bits– we have a lot of those!). In short, I’m doing it all wrong. It’s too disorganized, too cluttered, too personal.

Too much like my brain, really.

Thank you for being here. I don’t know what brought you my way or why you’ve stayed, but I assume it’s something like hanging out at the local zoo’s monkey house: fun, sort of unpredictable, and you never know who you’re going to catch scratching their butts. Whatever the reason, I’m happy to have you, and I hope you’re having as much fun as I am.

So… What shall we do next? Choose as many as you like!

Now, let’s have another party? Who brought cupcakes?


Coming Soon (run for the hills!)

Yep, I’ve got all of next week’s posts ready to go. I’m tempting fate again. Mua-ha-ha.

Here’s what you have to look forward to and/or run screaming from as you see fit, plus a little something extra at the bottom (because why would I just post a table of contents for the week? That would be crazy! Unless you do this, in which case it’s awesome.)

MONDAY: My new toy– I got an e-reader! And BOOKS!

TUESDAY: Trying to untangle the benefits of self-publishing vs. pursuing a traditional publishing contract. It’s enough to make you start shedding like a nervous cat.

WEDNESDAY: WIPpet Wednesday, and one which I hope will make fewer people call me a big old meanie than last week’s did. EDIT: I previewed the wrong one for you, shame on me! This week is a bit from chapter one.

THURSDAY: The weird little question of what writers’ characters look like in readers’ brains, with a little help from one of Michelle Proulx‘s creations.

FRIDAY: Why I might not be around so much in April…

OK, I promised you something, didn’t I? Here’s an interesting blog I just found this morning, via Shannon Thompson:

Rejection Love Letters: or How to Lose Agents and Alienate Publishers (isn’t that the best title?) is brought to us by an author with a book, a dream, and an amazing willingness to not only share the rejection letters he receives, but to turn things around and look at them in terms of rejections in the dating world. It’s funny, it’s honest, and it’s far braver than I am.

Also, he shares stuff like this:

Good times, go check it out. 🙂

And have a great weekend!

EDIT: OK, one more thing that made me LOL (literally) today. NOT THE PUFFINS!!!


Other People’s Books: Born In Flames by C. Knoebel

I haven’t read this one yet, but it looks interesting. And hey, 99 cents, amirite? I’d be upset that I bought it for full price yesterday, except that a) I wouldn’t have bought it if I didn’t think it would be worth what I paid for it, and b) the sale is only on Amazon. So it’s all good. 😉


WIPpet Wednesday – the twentieth

Happy Spring! In name, if not in weather… No, nothing spring-themed to post today; everything I’ve got is autumn/early winter.

I’d have liked to post something from chapter 20 for you, what with it being the 20th and all; it’s a particular favourite of mine. But spoilers (serious ones) are abundant, so just in case anyone ever wants to read the whole thing…

Here’s twenty lines (in my word program, anyway) from chapter eight. Yay!

Context: Rowan doesn’t know much about magic or the creatures that exist within its influence, and her curiousity tends to bite her in the ass… so she wandered into a dragon cave she thought was abandoned, and of course it wasn’t. Aren (him again, though most of the book is told by Rowan) went after her, and now they’re kind of stuck- she can’t get out, he can’t help her, and the heat in there’s making everything weird. The dragon’s name is Ruby… This scene still needs work, but here’s a bit for you, anyway.

Rowan sighed. “I told you not to come in.” If she was afraid, she was hiding it well. “Are you going to kill me?” she asked the dragon.

“Yes. You’re not much, but I’m hungry. My young are hungry.” I hadn’t noticed the pool of still water between the massive creature’s forelegs. Beneath the dark surface I could just make out the shapes of a trio of dragonlings, still too young and soft to survive the air their mother’s heat made so dry. That explained why the path appeared unused; mother dragons guard their eggs and young more carefully than any other creature, forgoing food and exercise in order to protect them. Having young in the nest also makes them more dangerous, less predictable. “Your story has entertained me, and I thank you,” the dragon continued. “But I have no reason to spare you. Or him.” She leaned her head in closer to Rowan. “But I’ll let you choose flames or claws. By way of thanks.”

The sounds of the dragon’s breath and her tail stroking across the cave’s stone floor were drowned out by my heartbeat as Rowan stood, slowly and unsteadily. Her legs shook as she reached out and placed a hand on the glowing red snout. “I think you should let us go.”

It was a lucky thing that Ruby didn’t snort in surprise; it might have cooked Rowan where she stood. “Why ever would I do that?”

Rowan swallowed hard. Come on, I thought. She’d have to use magic again. I didn’t know what she could do, but we were both going to be eaten if she didn’t come up with something. “Because…” she began, then hesitated. “Because

Oops, that’s all we have space for! Wheeeee!

*evil laugh*

Make sure you check out the rest of the bloggers participating in WIPpet Wednesday, hosted by K.L Schwengel at My Random Muse!


What’s In a Name? Everything.

…or sometimes nothing.

A few blogs I follow have posted on naming characters recently, and I keep wanting to comment, but I don’t think I should write an essay under some poor, unsuspecting person’s post. I’ve been meaning to break this topic out for a while (really- it’s on my list between “Look, MOAR NEW NOTEBOOK!” and “My cats, let me show you them”). Now seems like as good a time as any to share my experiences and a few thoughts on where to find the perfect name.

I’ll tell you right now: I suck at naming things. I don’t care whether it’s a character, a kid, a cat or a fictional country, I’m terrible at it. If I didn’t have my husband around to help, my kids would be named “Pending” and “Give me another minute to think.” I’m indecisive, and the more important the name is to me, the harder it gets; therefore it was easy to name my goldfish I had in college (Fluffy and Spike, may they float in peace), but it’s really hard for me to name fictional characters….Or to leave their names alone once I’ve picked them.

If I’d written this post two weeks ago, I would have told you that there’s only one significant character in Bound who hasn’t had a name change. I can’t say that anymore; now it’s all of them. Seems none of my beta readers were familiar with a YA series in which two protagonists are named Cassia and Kai… which are the names of a brother and sister in my books.

Huh.

Well, Kai’s keeping his name, so I guess Cassia’s getting a slight identity alteration. Bugger.

It’s not like it’s the first time it’s happened; like I said, they’ve all changed. I’d have loved to name my female main character after my favourite girl in my favourite book, but you can’t let someone in a story with magic go around with the name Abra (bonus points if you now know what my favourite book is). Abra… Cadabra. Not so much. I tried so many names on her, and absolutely nothing worked. It was enough to make me cry. I don’t want to give away the reason I finally settled on Rowan, but she is named after a tree (shrub?), and it suits her character. Good enough.

Aren was worse- he doesn’t make anything easy. Never has. Some of my friends were kind enough to let me bounce name ideas off of them, but nothing ever seemed to fit (and these sessions generally devolved into a laugh-fest of ridiculous suggestions, anyway). He had different names in two drafts of the book that were completely wrong; finally I just took out the list of potentials, started picking sounds I liked and smooshed them together in different combinations until something sounded right.

It’s a highly technical process, I won’t go into details.

Strange thing was, when I plugged my mish-mash into a baby names website, it came up as a Scandinavian name that nearly made me spit my drink all over the computer when I read the meaning listed for it. It was perfect, so much so that no one would ever believe that I got the name before the meaning.

That wasn’t the first strange coincidence to smack me in the face while I was writing this one, or the last. It was a really good one, though.

Other names came easier. Once Rowan had her name, her brother Ashe and sister Willow fell into theirs quite naturally; their parents are like that, I guess, with the coordinating names. I’m not judging. My dragon got her sort-of-name from her colour, certain water-dwelling folk drifted naturally toward aqua-centric names. Others were more difficult; bad guys need bad guy names, countries need… country names.

At least animals were easy.

So where did I find all of these fantastic names for my characters?

Everywhere.

Baby names websites are a good resource. Some, like babynames.com, will let you search by meaning, by origin, by gender, by first letter, or any combination of those. Handy, no? Great if you name characters by meaning. I usually don’t, becauseI think it can spoil surprises for readers, but it can work. Also, you learn some interesting things, like the fact that the name “Benjamin” means “Son of my right hand.” Very nice name, but seems like a piss-poor way to conceive a child.

*ahem* Moving on…

Geography: My big bad, Severn, shares his name with a river in the UK. Also a town in Ontario, but I prefer the river. It has an appropriately bloody history, apparently beginning with the drowning of a nymph, and the name is kind of scary. I didn’t learn about the body count until after I’d picked the name, but again, works for me.

Botany: Already covered this, see Rowan’s family (above).

Meaning: Obviously the aforementioned water-dwellers. Also, Rowan’s cousin Felicia. She’s a happy lass… for now. Wait for book 2.

Associations: No offense to anyone with names I’m going to mention here, OK? No hard feelings? Good. But some names just bring certain associations to mind, at least for me. Callum Langley comes from a good family. His father Dorset was just knighted. Can you imagine the same of Englebert Dingleberry and his father, Sheldon? No, neither can I. Sometimes I just picked names that sounded right.

Minor jokes: This one probably won’t survive final edits, but it amuses me greatly for now (small things, etcetera). There’s a guy whose sole purpose in the story is to die. He deserves it, but he doesn’t get a lot of dialogue before it happens. His name’s Mort. I like it, but I suspect it’s too punny for most readers. But hey, if something like that works for your story, I say run with it!

Zoology: I haven’t done it yet, but if a character had animal-like qualities, I’d check out the Latin names for a species to see if there’s anything there.

Mythology: J.K. Rowling uses this brilliantly in the Harry Potter books- now THERE’S someone who can work with names! Remus Lupin… should be obvious exactly what he is based on name alone, but it works. They all do. Best names ever.

Literature: Obviously this didn’t work out so well for me, but why not think over your favourite books and characters? Just be mindful of the associations thing I mentioned above. Naming a character Scarlett will give readers a very different feeling from naming her Martha.

Diseases: No, not really. But come on, admit it: Chlamydia sounds like the name of a Nymph or something, doesn’t it? Damn right it does. This is why it pays to at least check on the meaning of the brilliant name you’ve come up with.

Just keep your eyes open. Write down names you like, even when you’re not working on that aspect of a project. They’ll come in handy some day.

Oh, and one caution that a friend reminded me of during this process: If your reader doesn’t know how to pronounce the name, it’s going to be a distraction. Saorise and Siobhan are gorgeous names; many people will at best completely butcher them in their minds and at worst give up completely.*

Kwar’snix!blarg7f9att is not a gorgeous name, and no one should ever use it. Same principle applies.

Wow, this post is a lot longer than I meant it to be. Clearly I have a lot of issues to work out with this one. I’m traumatized, guys. My final recommendation if you find yourself in my position (ie being a complete moron about names): just pick a frigging name and plug it in there. “Find and replace” works, you can change it later. Yes, names will probably impact how you perceive your characters, but a placeholder name will get you a lot farther in your story than nothing.

So, where do you find names for your cats, characters, children, goldfish, etc?

*I’m not saying to never use these names, or others that aren’t pronounced the way they’re spelled, or that are confusing. But if you can slip in someone learning how to pronounce the name, it’s really helpful (see J.K. Rowling again, using a student from another school to clarify the pronunciation of Hermione’s name in The Goblet of Fire, and Jacqueline Carey using the same trick in Kushiel’s Dart). Very helpful for those of us who hear words in our heads when we’re reading and get frustrated when that trips us up.


WIPpet Wednesday? Don’t Mind If I Do!

Yeah, I’m subjecting you all to my blathering twice in one day. Again. But a blog I just started following posted her WIPpet wednesday excerpt, and I went to have a look at other people’s… it’s just way too much fun! Parties all over the place today- works in progress AND it’s Jae at Lit and Scribbles’ blogiversary. Aww!

So here’s how it goes: you post a short bit from a current work in progress that somehow relates to the day’s date. So today being the 13th, you get an itty bitty sample of chapter 13… which hasn’t been hit by final revisions yet, but this part probably won’t change much.

Background: This chapter is told by Aren, who is… well, to know him is to be confused by him. He and Rowan just escaped from a hairy situation that might have helped her trust him a little more, but the fact that he’s manipulating people’s minds is probably still too much for her, the poor lamb. 😉

(not the beginning or end of the scene, not even the beginning of that first paragraph… because of all the reasons. Just trust me.)

**

I didn’t like hiding, especially in a spot that would have been so difficult to escape from, but it hadn’t been all bad. It was cramped and uncomfortable, and being there left us too vulnerable, but that hadn’t kept me from enjoying having her body pressed against mine for a few minutes.

“Did you really give those people memories that weren’t real?” she whispered after the groom left to collect our things, pulling me out of thoughts that I shouldn’t have been having.

“In a way.”

“And you made that other guy kill his brother?” She looked like she was afraid to hear my answer, but I wasn’t going to lie to her about it.

“Yes.”

“What were you just doing to that man who just left?”

“What I had to. Nothing that will hurt him, so don’t worry about it.”

She stepped away from me and rubbed the horse’s nose. “It seems wrong, though.”

“I didn’t see you jumping in to distract him,” I whispered back as the groom returned with food and clean bedrolls. “You’re benefiting from this at least as much as I am. If you don’t like it, find your own cure.” She held my gaze for a moment, then looked away and turned to saddle her horse. I knew I wasn’t being nice; she was probably confused about everything that was happening, but I was exhausted and in no mood to feel like a villain for trying to help her.

She was silent as we rode away from the inn, through the still-quiet village and past a faded sign that advised us to “Come again soon!” Not bloody likely, I thought. I’d be lucky to survive the next week if I couldn’t stop being distracted or falling into deep sleep. Keeping us safe was turning out to more challenging than I’d anticipated.

Rowan seemed to be turning things over in her mind for the next while, which was fine with me. It was well into the morning before she spoke again. She didn’t turn toward me, but watched out of the corner of her eye. “Have you done that to me at all?”

I’d wondered how long it would take her to ask. “No. Not once.”

“How can I be sure of that? You could be making me think that I was making my own decisions but really you’ve been doing it for me, and making me not notice that what I was doing was strange, or-”

Even though I was feeling frustrated and nearly too tired to think, it was hard not to laugh at her. “Rowan?”

“What?”

“You’re not worth that much trouble.”

**

So there you go, my lovely readers. Out of context, short, probably confusing, but that’s a bit of chapter 13 for you. If you would like to see what others have posted today, the links are here, all conveniently conglomerated for your convenient consumption*. Thank you to K.L. Schwengel for hosting the whole shebang. Enjoy!

*No, I have not been watching “V for Vendetta.” But now I want to.


Hey, Look Up There!

See that, up there? Yeah, on the bar… thing. There’s a new whatchamacallit called About My Book! Long story short, it’s questions and answers about Bound for anyone who’s wondering what the hell I’m babbling about in all of these posts (I’ll add more posts later). No spoilers, just some fun information based on the questions from the “Next Big Thing” blog hop (since one of my new favourite bloggers mentioned it, and I liked the idea).

Why not, right? Here’s the link for anyone who doesn’t come to the blog. You’re so very welcome. 🙂


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