Word Count: 47,172
Page Count: 104
Plot Progression: Something wicked this way comes . . .
Wow. I've come a long way since the lethargy of my last update. A bit of plot tweaking, the unexpected early appearance of a secondary character, and an incident in the cellar that gave my narrator heart palpitations have really kicked the plot into a new gear.
I'm hoping to hit the Big 50 some time tomorrow, but I don't think I'll be abandoning the story as quickly as I supposed I would last week. New developments are coming in from all sides, and I'm starting to think the climax could be bigger and better (if slightly different) to anything I expected before.
The narrative style is starting to calm down nicely, and I've finally nudged my narrator into a position where the main part of the "chase" segment of the story can take place, as well as all the development and revelations that will result in for everyone else. For all the story's wonky, I'm very proud of these characters; they were more complex than many of my past ones before I even started, but just working with them has brought out whole new dynamics I never knew about before.
I seriously need to work on accents, though. I can't work out whose is whose. That, or they've all suddenly developed a huge talent for ventriloquism.
Never mind. I'll work it out once I'm done with the lynch mobs, large-scale conspiracies and my narrator trying to declassify the Art of Talking To People.
~ Charley R
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Thursday, 22 November 2012
Saturday, 17 March 2012
Liar, Liar...
Heyoo everyone!
Saturday is my favourite day of the week (how original!). Seriously, not only do I only have one lesson - English, which happens to be my favourite, but, for the first time in five days, I actually have time to do something other than scribble furiously on horrible school essays!
Like scribble furiously at my own stories, bahaha!
Anyway, what I chose to work on today was one of the stories from my 2011 NaNoWriMo project, the Thirteenth Line, and the lead character for this particular tale, The Choice, is Vidal, whom you may remember from this post and whose backstory is explained in Stormlord's Song, as it is called in later years by his people. His story's a complicated one - not in the least because he's probably rather a lot brighter than I am, and a lot more apathetic with it. But, on the whole, he's really quite good fun to write - not in the least because he can say pretty much whatever the heck he wants, and get away with it because everybody's too scared of him to try anything else!
Unfortunately, Vidal does have one little chink in his armour - he lies. And I don't just mean pointing the finger at someone else when the cookies mysteriously vanish from out of the jar, I mean whopping great monstrosities that could probably take up most of the rooms in an oil tanker and sink it like a stone. His lies are his shield against his true vulnerability, and he's made sure they're convincing enough to convince everyone.
Almost everyone.
Enter Falladan Greysong, one of the most powerful family patriarchs in Tanelorn. Cunning, opportunistic and politically invincible, he's not the type to let an illegitimate half-breed get above his station. Especially when Falladan himself put him in that station.
Needless to say, events took a nasty turn for Vidal...
“You’ve underestimated every one of them, and if they so much as get a sniff of what you’ve been doing then your powerbase will collapse and we’ll be food for the crows before the week is out. You’ve made a mistake, Falladan Greysong. A very bad mistake.”
Falladan looked at Vidal in silence for a few moments, then he let out a great sigh and banged loudly on the top of the table three times. Too late, Vidal recognised a signal, and before he had a chance to bolt for the door, three of the King’s Guard had burst in through the door behind the throne. Vidal reached for his knives, but before he could draw one he was seized from all sides and dragged, hissing and shrieking in fury, to Falladan’s feet. All trace of discomfort was gone from the Regent’s face, replaced with an icy smile.
“On the contrary,” said Falladan, “It is you who has made the mistake here, crossblood. I honestly thought you knew me better than that.” He looked to the guards, “Hold him down.”
“What are you doing? Get your hands off me!” Vidal struggled like a mad thing, but the combined might of the Guards was more than he could hope to overcome, and a swift, sharp blow to his abdomen knocked all the wind out of him. As he struggled for air, he felt the hard edge of the table digging into the small of his back as his arms were spread wide and pinned beneath the painful grip of gauntleted hands. Vidal tried to kick them, but the touch of something cold and sharp against his neck soon dissuaded him from that idea.
Falladan chuckled, “You’re not half as cunning as you’d like to think, are you Bastard? If you’re blind enough to come storming in here and make accusations that I have, of all things, made a mistake, then you clearly haven’t been paying enough attention of late. You tell me I have been a fool in starting a war. Well, let me tell you this – just because you didn’t know about it doesn’t mean I wasn’t planning it. You’re not the only knife I have in my belt, Vidal. And you’re certainly not the sharpest.”
Vidal’s eyes widened, “You actually want the city to tear itself apart?”
“Give me more credit than that,” Falladan laughed, and the knife edge trembled worryingly against Vidal’s neck. “The Rhydel will be gone before the week is out. If you had been here when I wanted you, you would have known that. Where were you all those days, Vidal? I had word you’d left the city, and I couldn’t help but make a few … presumptions.” The knife slid lazily across Vidal’s throat, and Falladan pressed the point to the throbbing vein beneath his jaw. “I would be most appreciative if you would care to tell me of your escapades.”
“For your information, I was busy covering your tracks. If I’m not your sharpest knife, I dread to think what opinion you hold of my cognitive abilities. At least I have the sense to hide the bodies.”
Falladan snarled, and a little hiss broke through Vidal’s gritted teeth as the knife dug worryingly into his skin, “Don’t be clever with me. In case you hadn’t noticed, your life isn’t exactly in the steadiest of hands at the moment. I’m not as young as I was, and I might be prone to a few unfortunate slips if you upset me.”
Vidal glared vengefully at Falladan. “I’m not here to kiss your arse, Greysong. You’ve got the rest of your pet worms for that. Ah!” A flash of pain and wetness ran down the side of Vidal’s neck as Falladan’s knife tore through the skin.
“Keep that filthy tongue of yours under control, or so help me I will cut it out and choke you with it. You’ve rather a high opinion of yourself if you think I give a sniff for your worthless existence. I think it’s time you learnt that.” Falladan shifted his knife and pressed it gradually over the thin flesh of Vidal’s white-furred ear. “Let’s start here.”
Saturday is my favourite day of the week (how original!). Seriously, not only do I only have one lesson - English, which happens to be my favourite, but, for the first time in five days, I actually have time to do something other than scribble furiously on horrible school essays!
Like scribble furiously at my own stories, bahaha!
Anyway, what I chose to work on today was one of the stories from my 2011 NaNoWriMo project, the Thirteenth Line, and the lead character for this particular tale, The Choice, is Vidal, whom you may remember from this post and whose backstory is explained in Stormlord's Song, as it is called in later years by his people. His story's a complicated one - not in the least because he's probably rather a lot brighter than I am, and a lot more apathetic with it. But, on the whole, he's really quite good fun to write - not in the least because he can say pretty much whatever the heck he wants, and get away with it because everybody's too scared of him to try anything else!
Unfortunately, Vidal does have one little chink in his armour - he lies. And I don't just mean pointing the finger at someone else when the cookies mysteriously vanish from out of the jar, I mean whopping great monstrosities that could probably take up most of the rooms in an oil tanker and sink it like a stone. His lies are his shield against his true vulnerability, and he's made sure they're convincing enough to convince everyone.
Almost everyone.
Enter Falladan Greysong, one of the most powerful family patriarchs in Tanelorn. Cunning, opportunistic and politically invincible, he's not the type to let an illegitimate half-breed get above his station. Especially when Falladan himself put him in that station.
Needless to say, events took a nasty turn for Vidal...
“You’ve underestimated every one of them, and if they so much as get a sniff of what you’ve been doing then your powerbase will collapse and we’ll be food for the crows before the week is out. You’ve made a mistake, Falladan Greysong. A very bad mistake.”
Falladan looked at Vidal in silence for a few moments, then he let out a great sigh and banged loudly on the top of the table three times. Too late, Vidal recognised a signal, and before he had a chance to bolt for the door, three of the King’s Guard had burst in through the door behind the throne. Vidal reached for his knives, but before he could draw one he was seized from all sides and dragged, hissing and shrieking in fury, to Falladan’s feet. All trace of discomfort was gone from the Regent’s face, replaced with an icy smile.
“On the contrary,” said Falladan, “It is you who has made the mistake here, crossblood. I honestly thought you knew me better than that.” He looked to the guards, “Hold him down.”
“What are you doing? Get your hands off me!” Vidal struggled like a mad thing, but the combined might of the Guards was more than he could hope to overcome, and a swift, sharp blow to his abdomen knocked all the wind out of him. As he struggled for air, he felt the hard edge of the table digging into the small of his back as his arms were spread wide and pinned beneath the painful grip of gauntleted hands. Vidal tried to kick them, but the touch of something cold and sharp against his neck soon dissuaded him from that idea.
Falladan chuckled, “You’re not half as cunning as you’d like to think, are you Bastard? If you’re blind enough to come storming in here and make accusations that I have, of all things, made a mistake, then you clearly haven’t been paying enough attention of late. You tell me I have been a fool in starting a war. Well, let me tell you this – just because you didn’t know about it doesn’t mean I wasn’t planning it. You’re not the only knife I have in my belt, Vidal. And you’re certainly not the sharpest.”
Vidal’s eyes widened, “You actually want the city to tear itself apart?”
“Give me more credit than that,” Falladan laughed, and the knife edge trembled worryingly against Vidal’s neck. “The Rhydel will be gone before the week is out. If you had been here when I wanted you, you would have known that. Where were you all those days, Vidal? I had word you’d left the city, and I couldn’t help but make a few … presumptions.” The knife slid lazily across Vidal’s throat, and Falladan pressed the point to the throbbing vein beneath his jaw. “I would be most appreciative if you would care to tell me of your escapades.”
“For your information, I was busy covering your tracks. If I’m not your sharpest knife, I dread to think what opinion you hold of my cognitive abilities. At least I have the sense to hide the bodies.”
Falladan snarled, and a little hiss broke through Vidal’s gritted teeth as the knife dug worryingly into his skin, “Don’t be clever with me. In case you hadn’t noticed, your life isn’t exactly in the steadiest of hands at the moment. I’m not as young as I was, and I might be prone to a few unfortunate slips if you upset me.”
Vidal glared vengefully at Falladan. “I’m not here to kiss your arse, Greysong. You’ve got the rest of your pet worms for that. Ah!” A flash of pain and wetness ran down the side of Vidal’s neck as Falladan’s knife tore through the skin.
“Keep that filthy tongue of yours under control, or so help me I will cut it out and choke you with it. You’ve rather a high opinion of yourself if you think I give a sniff for your worthless existence. I think it’s time you learnt that.” Falladan shifted his knife and pressed it gradually over the thin flesh of Vidal’s white-furred ear. “Let’s start here.”
Watch your tongue, dear readers. You never know where it might land you...
Monday, 11 April 2011
Oh, How I do Love a Good Plot!
Yes, you guessed it, I am plotting again! It's marvellous, it's fantastic, it's so utterly amazing that just hearing mention of it will make jelly beans squirt out your ears and choirs of angels will burst into epic guitar solos over your head while lip-synching Bohemian Rhapsody!
But enough about my plans for World Domination.
I'm here to tell you about the newest story I've begun to plot!
Now, as many of you know, these past two years of my life have been taken up by the adventures of a rather chaos-prone ginger bloke and his friends (and enemies xD), but recently, as I begin to wade into writing up the third and final book of the trilogy, I have begun to realise that I will, one day, need a new project to love, cherish and despise almost simultaneously.
So, you wanna hear my new idea?
No?
Tough, 'cause I'm telling you anyway.
Deladier (pronounced: del-ah-dee-ay) is the last son of a very old and very rich family. However, having spent most of his life in a sheltered upbringing in his family's ancestral home in the country, he is unprepared when his father suffers a fatal heart attack and he must suddenly travel to the great city of Tesselen to take over the huge trading empire that has brought his family his wealth. However, unused to the treacherous intrigue, gossip and danger of the city, Deladier is all at sea as to how he is supposed to cope. His grouchy manservant Jeremy- who utterly resents being sent from his master's side to keep watch on his son - is no help, and the staff in the house - including the batty old Mrs Minch and the one-eyed, man-mountain Cook - do little more than frustrate his every effort to appear respectable to his contemporaries (not that he was doing a very good job in the first place). It looks as if Deladier is about to bring the family name crashing down in ruins.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, appear a motley crew of individuals the likes of which Deladier has never seen. Rembrandt, the charming young actor-come-wordsmith; Emerald the bright-eyed cross-breed circus performer and Andallas, the low-born clerk whose sole ambition in life is to impress the baker's daughter. They take an instant liking to Deladier, and before long he is the talk of the town and his family's business is booming.
However, there is more to Deladier's new friends than meets the eye. Dark things lurk in their pasts, secrets and felonious deeds that have nearly torn them apart in the past. And now, it seems, they threaten not only the future of Deladier and his companions, but all of Tesselen itself ...
It's only a very rough idea at the moment, but if all goes right then I could be in for a lot of fun. After all, everybody loves eccentric characters, and they don't get much more eccentric than this lot ...
Anyway, if you'll excuse me, I have a trilogy to finish *grins*
- Spook
But enough about my plans for World Domination.
I'm here to tell you about the newest story I've begun to plot!
Now, as many of you know, these past two years of my life have been taken up by the adventures of a rather chaos-prone ginger bloke and his friends (and enemies xD), but recently, as I begin to wade into writing up the third and final book of the trilogy, I have begun to realise that I will, one day, need a new project to love, cherish and despise almost simultaneously.
So, you wanna hear my new idea?
No?
Tough, 'cause I'm telling you anyway.
Deladier (pronounced: del-ah-dee-ay) is the last son of a very old and very rich family. However, having spent most of his life in a sheltered upbringing in his family's ancestral home in the country, he is unprepared when his father suffers a fatal heart attack and he must suddenly travel to the great city of Tesselen to take over the huge trading empire that has brought his family his wealth. However, unused to the treacherous intrigue, gossip and danger of the city, Deladier is all at sea as to how he is supposed to cope. His grouchy manservant Jeremy- who utterly resents being sent from his master's side to keep watch on his son - is no help, and the staff in the house - including the batty old Mrs Minch and the one-eyed, man-mountain Cook - do little more than frustrate his every effort to appear respectable to his contemporaries (not that he was doing a very good job in the first place). It looks as if Deladier is about to bring the family name crashing down in ruins.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, appear a motley crew of individuals the likes of which Deladier has never seen. Rembrandt, the charming young actor-come-wordsmith; Emerald the bright-eyed cross-breed circus performer and Andallas, the low-born clerk whose sole ambition in life is to impress the baker's daughter. They take an instant liking to Deladier, and before long he is the talk of the town and his family's business is booming.
However, there is more to Deladier's new friends than meets the eye. Dark things lurk in their pasts, secrets and felonious deeds that have nearly torn them apart in the past. And now, it seems, they threaten not only the future of Deladier and his companions, but all of Tesselen itself ...
It's only a very rough idea at the moment, but if all goes right then I could be in for a lot of fun. After all, everybody loves eccentric characters, and they don't get much more eccentric than this lot ...
Anyway, if you'll excuse me, I have a trilogy to finish *grins*
- Spook
Wednesday, 17 November 2010
Wednesday Randomness
I don't think I have ever felt quite so happy for a long time. Here I am, in the middle of my GCSE mocks ... and I have no exams today! That means I might actually have a chance to do some proper revision! (and perhaps get my NaNovel up to 50k, or at least a bit closer ... come on, you can't expect me to concentrate all day!)
Oh, and on that note, thanks to some mad "Write Or Die - ing" last night, my novel is now passed 46k! I'm on the home straight! Whoo!
I've even managed to get into "Phase Two" of the plot ... and there's going to be a surprise twist at the end, which I hope future readers will like *wink*
This will sound really cliche and silly, but I think I might actually try and get it published. After extensive editing of course, it's a load of twisted evil mumbo jumbo right now - but I think it might actually work. It's a fairly original idea and (thanks to advance warning from Del) is a lot less like a rip-off Shade's Children than I feared it might be. It's also a lot darker and freakier than I thought it would be, but I blame the characters for that one (as I do for everything).
But that's a long way off now, and at the moment I have more important things to focus on. Such as setting the causes of the First World War to a catchy jingle in preparation for my second exam on Friday ... anyone know any words that rhyme with "Belgium"?
- Spook
Oh, and on that note, thanks to some mad "Write Or Die - ing" last night, my novel is now passed 46k! I'm on the home straight! Whoo!
I've even managed to get into "Phase Two" of the plot ... and there's going to be a surprise twist at the end, which I hope future readers will like *wink*
This will sound really cliche and silly, but I think I might actually try and get it published. After extensive editing of course, it's a load of twisted evil mumbo jumbo right now - but I think it might actually work. It's a fairly original idea and (thanks to advance warning from Del) is a lot less like a rip-off Shade's Children than I feared it might be. It's also a lot darker and freakier than I thought it would be, but I blame the characters for that one (as I do for everything).
But that's a long way off now, and at the moment I have more important things to focus on. Such as setting the causes of the First World War to a catchy jingle in preparation for my second exam on Friday ... anyone know any words that rhyme with "Belgium"?
- Spook
Sunday, 31 October 2010
It's NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Sorry, I couldn't resist that title (I think I may have heard that Christmas song one too many times)
However, joking aside, NaNoWriMo is indeed upon us. I like to think I'm ready for it - with all my little bios and fiddly bits to help me try and keep the plot continuous and fend off those irritating little inconsistencies that keep cropping up in Warrior (*cough*Kairin'seyes*cough*).
I have a plot, I have characters, I have a setting, I think I know what I'm doing... it's gonna be fine, right?
Wish me luck! I'll try to post up some little updates as I go, but with everything else that's going to be happening this November (mocks, scholarship, CCF, Xmas party, Secret Santa, House competitions etc etc) I don't know how successful I will be. Something tells me my social life will suffer nastily. If I can't get enough done during the week, I fear my former free time at the weekend will be taken over.
I haven't even started, and NaNo is already going to kill me. Not a good sign.
For anyone intersted in joining, here's a link to the NaNoWriMo site!
http://www.nanowrimo.org/
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and pack. Funny how November 1st is the day I go back to school as well as the day NaNo starts.... I sense doom impending.
However, joking aside, NaNoWriMo is indeed upon us. I like to think I'm ready for it - with all my little bios and fiddly bits to help me try and keep the plot continuous and fend off those irritating little inconsistencies that keep cropping up in Warrior (*cough*Kairin'seyes*cough*).
I have a plot, I have characters, I have a setting, I think I know what I'm doing... it's gonna be fine, right?
Wish me luck! I'll try to post up some little updates as I go, but with everything else that's going to be happening this November (mocks, scholarship, CCF, Xmas party, Secret Santa, House competitions etc etc) I don't know how successful I will be. Something tells me my social life will suffer nastily. If I can't get enough done during the week, I fear my former free time at the weekend will be taken over.
I haven't even started, and NaNo is already going to kill me. Not a good sign.
For anyone intersted in joining, here's a link to the NaNoWriMo site!
http://www.nanowrimo.org/
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and pack. Funny how November 1st is the day I go back to school as well as the day NaNo starts.... I sense doom impending.
Sunday, 10 October 2010
A New Project!
Aaah, the weekend at last! Finally, a chance to finish of my pesky homework and get down to some proper scribbling! Today has been a good day and at last I have started on a new project! My new "friends" have seized my brain cells and are shaking them until they get what they want - and I'm loving it! I'm making maps, character descriptions, setting details, hierarchies and all sorts of fun things. I've even tapped out a beginning for the story - although I doubt I'll go much further with that till I've settled everything else.
Here's a little extract for you:
The birds were at it again. Myvanwy snarled and shoved a pillow over her ears, wishing that, for once, the creatures would shut up and leave her in peace. Stupid feathery pests, she thought, why can’t they go and chirp through someone else’s window? It’s too bloody early for this!
However, the birds only seemed to sing louder. Myvanwy swore, snatched up a glass from her bedside table and hurled it towards the window. Her aim was off, and instead the fragile crystal slammed into the wall and shattered, the tiny pieces turning into a shimmering rainbow as they clattered to the floor. Great, now not only had the birds woken her up, but she’d have to clean up that glass before the Matre saw it or she’d be in real trouble. Myvanwy had scarcely been awake five minutes and already the day was turning into a disaster.
This is, of course, from the very beginning of the story. Myvanwy here is my MC (my first female MC for quite a while actually!) and she's brilliant fun to write. Wish me luck!
-Spook
Here's a little extract for you:
The birds were at it again. Myvanwy snarled and shoved a pillow over her ears, wishing that, for once, the creatures would shut up and leave her in peace. Stupid feathery pests, she thought, why can’t they go and chirp through someone else’s window? It’s too bloody early for this!
However, the birds only seemed to sing louder. Myvanwy swore, snatched up a glass from her bedside table and hurled it towards the window. Her aim was off, and instead the fragile crystal slammed into the wall and shattered, the tiny pieces turning into a shimmering rainbow as they clattered to the floor. Great, now not only had the birds woken her up, but she’d have to clean up that glass before the Matre saw it or she’d be in real trouble. Myvanwy had scarcely been awake five minutes and already the day was turning into a disaster.
This is, of course, from the very beginning of the story. Myvanwy here is my MC (my first female MC for quite a while actually!) and she's brilliant fun to write. Wish me luck!
-Spook
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