Day Thirty - This is it

Well folks, today is the last day of the RAoA contest I started this blog for. I have somehow managed to write this blog almost every single day of the month! 

The goal I was trying to meet was to write fiction every day for 30 days. I realized pretty early on that this is a very difficult goal to meet. Some days there is just not the time, and some days I really need a break from it. 

In short, while I didn't make fiction writing a daily habit, I still believe that the attempt has improved the amount of writing I do per day. Perhaps it was the fact that the blog made me accountable, but regardless, I've had a better routine for writing this month than I had the entire time I'd been doing this beforehand.

Will I continue this blog? I'm not sure. I don't think anyone except close friends and family are going to be interested in reading a blog about a book they've never read. However, I will be starting my official website soon, now that I'm getting pretty close to finishing the first draft of the novel. I hope to blog and post tidbits on the upcoming website.

And now, I bid you farewell, as I am off to continue working on the book!

Day Twenty Nine - "I am so overwhelmed..."

The blog contest is almost over! I've somehow managed to blog almost every single day, except for that one day that I was just too darn busy. I must say, I'm pleased with the results. 

Today I started working early to beat the heat. However, it's in the mid 80's out now, and I'm still outside. I'll miss this when it's too hot to do my writing outside. I've managed to get a decent amount of a long scene in the novel written. It's still not as much as I'd like to have done, but 1000 words is better than none. 

I still can't get my new idea out of my head though. It's pervasive in my thoughts. When I brush my teeth, a snippet of dialogue will come to me. It's hard to go write that stuff down when your mouth is full of toothpaste. All I can do, I suppose, is keep working on my current project and keep the momentum going, and then I can write this new thing sooner rather than later...

This beautiful song has been in my head all day, and it seems to fit with the new idea I'm thinking about...

"Please don't go just yet....
Can we stay a moment, please?
We can dance together.
We can dance forever

Under your stars tonight.
And I am so overwhelmed
By a thousand broken wings."

Flyleaf, "Broken Wings"

Day Twenty Eight - Ahhh!

I am having the worst trouble concentrating. I'm also so obsessed with this new idea I have that I'm not able to come up with anything for the novel. My brain is a total wacked out mess today.

I've decided to just go with the flow. I'm typing out ideas for the new obsession. Once it passes I'll have something solid to work off of when I finally get around to writing this new thing. Right now it's just a love story and character development. I have plenty of time to come up with a plot, as I still have the four Greenstone novels to complete!

Perhaps I'm just really ADD after having such a long weekend. Maybe tomorrow I will be more disciplined.

Days Twenty Six and Twenty Seven

As I predicted, I didn't get much of any fiction writing done this weekend. Yesterday was incredibly hectic. I spent the morning and afternoon cleaning, prepping food, and getting the house ready and the evening with my husband and in-laws. It was a wonderful time and totally worth all the work. (Also, having company over gives me the much needed excuse to get all the deep cleaning done that I normally brush off.) I didn't have any time to write.

Today has been much more low key and relaxing, but once again I didn't write. I very recently came up with the idea for a new novel, however. Whenever this happens, I become moderately obsessed with the new idea for awhile. That's what's going on now. I've been jotting down a lot of ideas and even some dialogue. Once I get over the obsession, I hope to have some ground work laid in place for when I'm finished with my current project and have time to devote to it.

Hopefully tomorrow I will be able to get back into the current novel. I've been making more progress this past month than I have in some of the last several months. 

Day Twenty Five - Holiday Weekend

I don't anticipate much or any writing getting done this weekend. My in-laws are coming tomorrow for dinner, so most of my time is going to be taken getting things ready for that. Monday I hope to devote solely to a time of enjoyment with my husband. However, if I happen to wake up early enough, I may be able to get something written down.

Day Twenty Four - Other Characters

Today has been a rainy Friday, and coupled with the fact that my husband is off work today, makes for a very unmotivational day. I really don't feel like writing, but maybe I'll manage a few words. I don't much feel like writing the blog either, but hey I said I would do this thing for 30 days, and I'm going to complete it gosh darn it!

So I'm going to do my final post regarding my characters. I have far more characters than I am listing here on the blog, as I am only putting down the major players in Book 1. These characters I will talk about below are the questionable ones: those of dubious loyalty and side changers.

The other Aru's: Osack and Derrel

"You're ashamed of what you've done
Crying 'cause your father's wrong
Trying to be something new
You feel that you have something to prove"
-Flyleaf, "Fire Fire"

Derrel

Derrel is the "spare heir". He suffers from stereotypical "middle child syndrome" - his older brother is the darling of both parents, being both the first child and the heir. His younger sister is also beloved by their mother, by virtue of being female, even though Iris does very little to inspire maternal affection. As such, Derrel has never had the chance to discover his abilities as a natural leader because he’s been in Osack’s shadow. It's always been easier to follow him than to fight him, and he feels the need to prove himself. He has been raised as a younger son aristocrat, leaving him with the possibility of little inheritance and career choices include politics (not his thing), joining the Dictator’s Army, and other “gentlemanly” pursuits. Of course, these future pursuits are put on hold until after the war is over. He manages to fall in love with Robin, even though she's technically a country nobody, and time will see if he will continue in this passion or not.

Osack

As the first child and male heir to his father's estate of Lynden, he has been given everything since birth, and it’s made him arrogant. He is Alpha Male, competitive, and rebellious. He is a rebel without a cause, therefore easy fodder for the Yalu. Because of his aristocratic background and promise of inheriting whatever he wants, he supports the Dictator and his politics. He looks down on everyone not of aristocratic background which does not garner him much friendship or support from the refugee community. This leads him to keeping Derrel with him all the time as his one friend. Osack has never made a secret of his support for the Yalu. He abhors his father's decision to flee their lands rather than turn to the Yalu for help, and it's to this sinister group he turns when his father is taken prisoner.

Lavinia

It's hard to say much about Lavinia here without giving away a bunch of spoilers. We shall suffice to say that she is beautiful and deadly. She is Shank's instrument, posing as a refugee in Mennington and preying on Osack for information and ultimately to convert him to her cause. In some ways she serves as a foil to Robin. Where Robin communicates with Derrel with friendship, openness, and honestly, Lavinia uses Osack with seduction, hidden meanings, and false promises. Her origins remain a mystery for now, and it's left to see if she has any redeeming qualities.

Tym

Most of what we see of him is in his appearances in the town defense classes. He is both the foil for and personal nemesis of Iris. Like Lavinia, he is an undercover operative of the Yalu, searching out information and looking for strong young people to subvert. His roll in Book 1 is relatively small, but he will figure largely later in the series. 

  

Day Twenty Three - The Antagonist

I got a late start today but have still managed to put in some quality writing. I'm still plowing ahead on Part II. (16 pages in!) I finally got to a good stopping point where I can leave the reader on a cliffhanger as the three main characters run into some major trouble on their journey and return to those left behind in the town and the excitement that is to come there.

Today I'm going to introduce the antagonist. In the novel I have only just introduced him in Part I. He does not make his big appearance until the end of the book. If you remember, I am writing a four book series. The antagonist spends most of the time in the first two books working behind the scenes in the shadows. He will not be showing his head much until book 3, and then it will be in a big way. But I'm going to go ahead and tell you a little about him now and will try not to spoil anything.

The Antagonist

Shank

"Never gave a thought to an honorable living. 
Always had sense enough to lie."
-Yeasayer, "Madder Red" 

Shank is, for all intents and purposes, the leader of the Yalu.  The Yalu is the big group of bad guys that ultimately threaten the livelihood of the protagonists. They pretty much serve the purpose of doing the Leader's dirty work - the things he doesn't want generally known and things he can't trust his own guards to do.

He is related to some prominent people of the aristocracy. He possesses many of the traits to make him a good villain: overconfidence, stubbornness, arrogance, greed. He was taught from an early age to use his charisma to lure young men of fortune to gaming hells where they would eventually be tempted to gamble away all their money. 

Shank does have characteristics that make him more of a stock bad guy. I won't get into it too much right now, because it would give too much away. Suffice to say, he has a particular interest in finding a healer for the Yalu, and once he discovers one, he will stop at nothing to procure her services.

Day Twenty Two - A quick break

Today I'm taking a break from talking about my characters because I don't have the time. I may be able to continue tomorrow.

I've been very busy all day today. I did manage to do some work on the scene in Part II I've been working on this past week, but that's been about it. Tomorrow hopefully I will have more time, since I don't have to run errands or entertain friends, but then again, the trip to the dentist will probably throw a damper on things as well.

Day Twenty One - Allies

Today is one of those days. My cat has had an ongoing problem with her eyes, and the vet bills are mounting up. My anxiety about money is increasing. Even though there is no guarantee that there will be an income when I publish my novel, it will most likely be more than none at all. There's just the fact that before I publish there will be the out of pocket cost of an editor and cover artist. Anyone know anybody who could do those for cheap? ;)

So I am continuing my mad dash through Part II. It really is pages and pages of word vomit and will require a lot of revision. I'm actually not looking forward to revising it at all. Sometimes it's enough of a struggle to just get the initial words onto the page.

Now, to continue what I started yesterday:

The Protagonist's Allies

Rory Mestah

He is the stronger of the twins. When their parents left to fight in the war, his primary job became to protect his sister. He also had to take on other tasks, such as village carpentry and some of the hunting. He sympathizes much more with the Rebellion’s cause than his sister (she doesn’t have a particularly strong opinion about the politics of it), and aside from protecting Robin his main goal is to protect his town. He’s also a natural leader and has a commanding presence, yet is still likeable. People in the town follow him because of this, and also because his parents were well respected.

He’s very good looking and strong from all the work he does. Plenty of the girls in town have set their caps at him, and he's a shameless flirt, something his sister admonishes him for and Iris teases him about. He hasn’t yet formed a lasting attachment, but that may change when he rescues a certain Princess.

Iris Aru

Daughter of a Viscount, Iris and her family are now war refugees living in Mennington. She takes little pleasure in her aristocratic background and would rather seek adventure than wear pretty dresses and be a proper lady. Her first brush with adventure, which ended up being a catalyst for her family fleeing their estate, did not frighten her off. Now that she is removed from the confines of aristocratic society, she is free to explore her more adventurous side.

Her biggest goal since coming to the town has been to learn everything about fighting and defense. She loves physical activity and is very proficient. Her brother Derrel teaches her how to shoot a bow and also teaches her a little bit of swordplay. She starts going to the town’s self defense lessons (started up when the war started) and learns a type of martial arts and staff fighting.

As opposed to Derrel, who sees himself as an outsider, Iris sees herself as extremely ordinary. She is not beautiful and exotic like Anya, and she isn’t gifted like the twins. She doesn’t have a melancholy nature though, and so she strives to become more extraordinary (not realizing that she already is).

Anya, Princess of House Rhyna 

(Spoiler alert!) She first meets the other main characters when she is rescued. She came to Arainia by a strange set of circumstances: whilst out for a priestess ritual she was caught in a freak storm and deposited on the shore of Arainia, the only survivor of her boat. She manages to use her powers of water to steer safely to shore, and happens to land away from her would-be kidnappers. Once rescued by Robin, Rory, and Iris, the kidnappers have to rethink their plot.

Anya is extraordinarily beautiful. She has dark hair which she usually keeps pulled back, and the aqua eyes of the House of Rhyna. She prefers to wear her own exotic clothing which she managed to save in the storm, even though it makes her stand out in the woods. She is a water elemental and is in training to become a Naiad, or Water Priestess. Her position as a Princess who also holds a place in the Priesthood makes her a special target for the Reyan coup. Although she is not fully trained, she is the only person Robin encounters who can help her understand her powers of Earth, as well as her healing powers. Eventually she has to take Robin to Rhyna to help her learn to control these powers without killing herself.

Anya has a past that has colored her reputation with her own people and forced her into the priesthood. Therefore she is happy to stay in Arainia for the time being, and only takes her new friends to Rhyna under the most extreme circumstances.

 
 

Day Twenty - The Protagonist

I can't believe I've been blogging for twenty days. This blogging thing is new to me, but I have to say that I'm enjoying it. I also feel that, even though I haven't succeeded in writing fiction every single day of the week, I have upped the amount that I have been writing in general this month. I hope to continue with this habit!

I decided to go ahead and start introducing my characters. Each major character will be introduced by a quote of some kind, followed by a bit of a character sketch on them. Perhaps now you will have more of an idea of what I'm writing about.
First I will introduce The Protagonist.

Robin Mestah

"It had not taken Derrel long upon his arrival to realize that Robin was a general favorite among the inhabitants. It was not because of any particular beauty on her part, although she was generally thought to be quite pretty, but because of a sweetness of disposition, gentleness, and generosity. Although he could tell that she was shy and reserved, she was good natured and always had a ready smile and kind word for those around her that sprang not from a desire to make herself pleasing but from a goodness of heart."

Sixteen year old Robin Mestah, along with her twin brother Rory have been left in the relative safety of their treetop town Mennington, deep in the eastern Great Forest, while both their parents are fighting in the Rebellion in the west. While they are gone, Robin has taken over her mother's apothecary shop, where she makes medicine for the people in the town.

Robin thinks she is merely good at doing the job her mother taught her to do. In reality, Robin is a Greenwitch, one who understands herblore and the brewing of potions and tonics and has an innate bond with the earth. She also does not know yet that she is an earth spirit, one who has such a strong bond with the element that they are able to draw power from it. 

Before her mother left, she gave Robin a special necklace with a green stone, telling her it is a special talisman she must keep safe. Not long after her parents left, Robin began to have prophetic dreams of the future. Perhaps because of an innate intuition on her part, she can physically feel when these premonitions come true, especially ones she has not tried to prevent.

However, she lacks confidence. It is not confidence in her work - she knows her job inside and out - it is confidence in herself. If she is going to learn to become a healer like her mother and to fully come in to her powers, she will have to learn to believe in herself.

 

 

 

Day Nineteen - Sunday Bumday

Once again, here is my obligatory Sunday blog post where I say that I may or may not be reaching my daily fiction writing goal. However, as daily writing goes, writing this blog counts, right? ;)

The good news is that yesterday I got a surprising amount of writing done, ~850 words. That's pretty darn good for a weekend day. The funny thing is that I wrote a scene where my characters, out in the wilderness on their journey to rescue the Princess, get caught in a severe summer storm and end up exhausted and soaked to the skin. Then I proceeded to spend the rest of the day outside getting rained on. Go figure.

Today may end up being one of those days where I start getting random ideas while I sit outside or read a book and then jot them down. It's not necessarily the most productive thing, but it's better than nothing, and I do really think that sometimes my brain needs a break!

I'll be back tomorrow with more interesting updates!

Day Eighteen - It's coming together!

I am going to be gone for most of the day, so I don't have much time to get writing done.

That being said, it's a very nice feeling to see my novel finally taking shape, not just in my head, or on all my random pieces of notepaper, but typed out on a document on the computer. There's still a long way to go, but the progress I've been making recently has made the process seem less daunting.

My father in law is a published writer (of nonfiction). The way he put it, "The first book you write is the one you give birth to." Not only that, it's like raising your first child, I think - at least from the descriptions my mom has given me. I am new to this entire process. I've written plenty of stuff before - childish "books", papers, short stories, even a little poetry - but this is a brand new experience. I just love creating the story and bringing the characters to life!

I've been thinking for awhile of doing posts to introduce my characters. I may do it sometime soon. There's a balance to maintain of talking about what I'm doing and not giving away major spoilers to those who are going to want to read the finished product!

Now time to forge ahead on my draft for a bit before I leave!

Day Seventeen - Dialogue

I am getting a bit of late start today, thanks to sleeping in (was up late seeing the new Star Trek movie), working out, and getting in much needed grocery shopping trip done. I haven't yet figured out if I prefer to write in the morning or afternoon. Ideally, I would be doing both, clomping away on the keyboard eight hours a day and churning out hundreds of pages. In real life, writing doesn't work like that for me. I think that some people do it, and I have no idea how. I am a little bit ADD and a tad dyslexic, and I don't generally do well forcing myself to perform a task for a long period of time. I'm more productive working in shorter spurts. The amazing 4.5k word count of a couple days ago was a really out-of-the-norm experience. I hope it repeats itself, but in general I am not usually that productive in a day.

I have to say that some days I just have no clue what to write on this blog. How do you convey to other people, who are not writers and have never read anything you've written, what it's like to form a writing habit without being blah and boring? "Today I wrote 350 words." I'm not really into word count. What matters is how the story has progressed and what I've written to advance the plot and story. (For those who don't know the difference, plot is the Action, story is the Emotional Journey the protagonist takes.)

So I think I'll blather on about another element of writing I enjoy, which is dialogue. I had a college professor once tell me that I am very good at dialogue. I love writing dialogue because it can serve so many functions in a story. Obviously, it is the characters communicating with each other, but within that communication can be many messages. You can use dialogue to show truth or falsehoods - such as a character saying one thing and meaning another. (One of my favorite writers, Sherwood Smith, uses this in her novel Crown Duel in which the courtiers use dialogue - and fans - to convey hidden meanings.) Dialogue can also distinguish between characters' backgrounds by the choice of words. For example, the Aru family tends to speak with more of a Regency England word choice. When you read their words, they should sound like they might be stepping out of a Jane Austen novel. Robin and Rory use some, but not all of their language, in my attempt to show that the people of the eastern towns originated from the west, but over the generations some word choices have been changed due to their isolation.

Finally, my favorite use of dialogue is to show action, rather than to flatly describe it. Of course, sometimes there is no substitute for a good action scene, but I do like to switch things up every now and then. I'll paste an excerpt here of my favorite scene doing this. Rory has been summoned to a house where Robin was assisting in a childbirth, and now she is unconscious.

“It was on account of Miss Jayne going into labor.” In came another woman: not Lucilla, but a lady wearing an apron and exuding an air of experience. “You’re Rory, her brother?” He nodded. “I’m Estelle. I help Hattie here with childbirth.”

            “What happened to my sister?”

            “We had Robin fetched here because Miss Jayne was having a very difficult time and was in a lot of pain. There weren’t enough hands to go around, and Robin had expressed to me before an interest in helping out. Also, we needed her to bring something for the pain,” Estelle added.

            Hattie the Midwife rocked back and forth in her chair and nodded. “Poor girl looked more frightened than Miss as she was pushing, but she soon proved pluck enough! She got Miss to swallow that medicine of hers all right and nice, and that’s saying something, ‘cause Miss was hollering something fierce! It sure seemed to help that poor girl.”

            “What Hattie means is that Jayne was having a difficult time of it. The baby was breech.” At Rory’s blank expression, she answered, “The baby was coming out feet first, and the cord was wrapped around its neck.” She paused, glancing out the small window. “When the baby was born it was blue and not breathing. We thought it would die. Poor Jayne kept asking us what was happening, and we kept working on that baby, getting the cord off its neck and trying to get it to breath. I think Jayne realized what was happening; she began screaming and crying hysterically.”

            Hattie nodded and muttered “Hmph” as she rocked back and forth. “And do you know what happened then?” Rory shook his head at her, wide eyed, as she pointed a gnarled finger at him. “That girl there, your sister, swift as anything, grabs that baby and presses it to her chest. She holds it and starts rocking it ever so slightly…” she seemed to pause for dramatic effect. “The baby starts to get back its color and next thing we know starts bawling! She then hands me back the baby, the dreamiest look on her face, and says, ‘He’ll be just fine now,’ smiles, sweet as anything, and then collapsed right there on the floor!”

            In utter shock at this recital, Rory barely noticed the midwife muttering to herself, “Girl’s a Greenwitch all right.”

            Estelle ignored this and continued the narrative. “We were unable to revive her, and with all the commotion right then we thought it best to move her. Lucilla and I brought Robin in here so Hattie could help Jayne with the baby. Hattie’s not as young as she used to be though, so I sent Lucilla to get you so I could take Hattie’s place with Jayne.”

            Rory’s head was in a whirl at all that seemed to have taken place, but a fierce protective desire had risen in him since that first knock on his front door. “Well I thank you ladies for watching over her, but I think my sister will be more comfortable in her own bed.”

            “I think it would be best to leave her here for the time being,” Estelle began, but Hattie interrupted. “Now, now, the girl woke up once. She’ll be all right. Better let her brother take care of her. We still have plenty to do here.”

            Estelle nodded, and Rory gently lifted Robin into his arms, light as a feather. She led him back down the stairs, and as she held the front door open for him, inquired if she might call at his house later to check on the invalid. Rory nodded and thanked her.

Day Sixteen - Forging Ahead

I got started writing early this morning because today it is HOT. I got almost an hour's work done before the heat forced me inside to continue there. I definitely prefer to do my writing outside, but my window of opportunity for that tends to be pretty limited, so I do what I can.

There's not much to say about the writing today. I'm still forging ahead into Part II. This is the part of the book where the protagonists finally set out on a journey to rescue the Princess, Osack begins to try to convince Derrel to join the Yalu who can possibly help rescue their father, and the Yalu begins to show its ugly face.

I ended Part I on a somber note, and I am attempting to keep the same mood at the beginning of Part II. Robin and Derrel's spring idyll has come to an abrupt end. The weather is overcast and damp, and everyone's spirits are down. The stakes have been upped. It's time for the real action to begin. 

I am still not completely sure how Part II will play out yet. The entirety of it consisted of a single chapter in my original manuscript. This part of the story will be a challenge to write, as I will be exploring techniques in writing a journey as well as scenes of violence.

I'll just drop here an excerpt of the scene I just finished writing. First draft word vomit, but here it is!

Iris sank wearily into the seat she had vacated only a little while before. “My whole family is in an uproar. Luckily Mama fell asleep not long after I got back. I don’t think I can take much more of it.”

“Then perhaps it’s a good time for us to attempt to rescue the girl I’ve been dreaming about.”

“You’re still on about that?” Rory asked.

“Yes, and I will be until we do it,” she retorted.

“I agree with Robin,” Iris said. “Besides, apparently this Princess is extremely beautiful.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Oh don’t pretend,” Iris said. “Everyone knows you’re a horrid flirt. I’ve seen you around town with that goren shepherdess, what is her name, Moralya?”

“Isn’t she one of the fan club?”

“Fan club?”

Iris giggled. “Yes, Robin. She must have sunk her claws into him when he was repairing her father’s goren pen.”

Robin burst out laughing. It felt good to be on a different subject.

“Dash it Iris, my sister doesn’t need to know all of my business!” Rory shouted indignantly, causing both girls to laugh harder.

“So tell me, Rory,” Iris said, leaning forward, “Are you and the shepherdess a couple?”

“No – maybe – I don’t know – dash it Iris! Fine,” he growled at their reproachful looks. “I don’t know what she wants except to kiss whenever there’s nobody around to see!” He glowered at them and crossed his arms.

“So what you’re saying is, she won’t miss you when we go, except for your lips?” Robin asked.

Rory growled, and Iris laughed out loud.

Day Fifteen - Upping the Stakes

I am quite proud of myself. I've gotten quite a bit of writing done today. Most of it are the pivotal scenes that end Part I of the novel. 

An important part of writing any story is creating rising action. In this rising action, you must be continually upping the stakes. At this point in the book, we've been introduced to most of the main characters. We know pretty much who the villains are, but as of yet, they still remain in the shadows - but we know they are going to emerge at any moment. We also know that both sides in the war, both the Leader's army and the Rebellion, are guilty of atrocities. We are left on the edge of a cliff - we don't know if the budding romance will be fulfilled, if the Aru family will be alright, and there's still a Princess who needs rescuing.

I've typed about 4000 words today. One of my most productive days yet. Word count doesn't always matter in my opinion; after all, half the time you're spitting out word vomit that might just need to be removed later. Yet, today's work is so pivotal that I don't think I'll have to eliminate much at all. 

There are still a few more scenes I need to write to finish out Part I, but for now I'm forging ahead into Part II while the flow continues!

Day Fourteen - Creating the other fantasy world

Today is a super fun day.

My project today is to create Rhyna, one of the important countries in the world I'm developing for my novel. I've already introduced Arainia, which consists of two parts. the western side - which has the capitol, where all the aristocracy live in style - that evokes a Regency England feel, and the eastern side - which consists of the Great Forest, where rustic peoples eke out an existence in tree towns above the ground - which is much more of a fantasy type area. Separating the two parts is the vast Arainian countryside that consists mostly of farmland, inhabited by peasants who work for the pleasure of those of higher stations. To the south, across an ocean, lies Rhyna (which will evoke a Mediterranean/Arabian feel). This is where my character Anya, the girl Robin has been dreaming of in Part I, hails from.

In my original novel, written back in high school during my sci fi days, Rhyna was actually another planet, and Robin and co. traveled there through the use of a mirror. For the grown-up version that I'm writing now, I've completely taken out the element of mirror travel (but it may appear in another form in a different story in the future). Rhyna exists on the same world, but unlike Arainia, it maintains a neutral policy and refuses to involve itself with other country's affairs.

I've spent a couple hours looking up everything from decor to landscapes, and I officially need a break before I can get to the writing part!

Day Thirteen - Getting started on scenes

I'm starting to think that attempting a daily fiction writing habit is too difficult. I don't think it will ultimately be productive to my work: sometimes I function better when I put the project down for a day or two and then come back to it with a fresh perspective. After the 30 day challenge is over I will probably just try for a regular daily writing habit and supplement my fiction with blog or journal entries.

Today I'm still feeling pretty tired, and it doesn't help that I'm researching lucid dreaming for my novel. When you constantly read the words "dream" and "sleep", it really makes you want to hit the hay. 

The good news is that I've discovered a helpful way to write scenes that I don't really know exactly what I'm going to say. (That is, I know X is going to happen, but I don't exactly know yet how or what the dialogue is.) What I'll do is brainstorm a little by writing at the top in parentheses what is going to happen. For example, here is some of my brainstorming for something I'm writing today:

(Scene where Robin tries lucid dreaming for the first time. She dreams, then wakes and writes down what she dreamed about, then goes back to sleep. At this point she is not cohesive with the dream girl. That happens later. Here she just sees a few tidbits. In the morning she tells Rory what happened, trying to prove to him how important it is. He complains that he doesn’t want to go after some girl who may or may not exist and says that if it happens again he’ll consider it.)

I know, it's super interesting. Usually once I have this down I know the direction I'll be moving in. The rest will generally come together as I'm writing. This brainstorming that I pasted above has now resulted in two scenes (and binding them to another scene that I had already written previously). 

It's nice to see Part I finally coming together! 

Day Twelve - FAIL

I am writing my obligatory blog post to say that I am failing at my daily writing today.

I'm not sure at this point if it will ever be feasible for me to write fiction every single day of the week. A blog I could probably keep up with, but some days I just don't have the mental energy to be creative.

Today is one of those days. Got in late last night after being at a birthday party, went to bed excruciatingly late, slept badly, and woke up early to take care of the pets. I've had quite a headache all day, and sitting at a screen typing is just not my thing.

I suppose the fact that I even came on to blog about it shows my determination to try and write something, even if it's not fiction. But right now I just want to go lay outside with my husband and not have to think about anything.

Tomorrow will be more productive!

Day Eleven - Editing during writing = BAD

There is one golden rule of writing: you do not go back and edit while writing your first draft. You sit down and write a certain word count every day. You don't go back and edit until you finish your draft.

I break this rule on a regular basis. If I have an idea for how I want to change something in the draft, be it a big thing like changing the flow, or a small thing such as wording, I do it immediately. If I go to start writing, sometimes I'll have no idea what I'm going to do, so I go back and read a bit of what I've written before. Sometimes it helps me figure out what to do next, and usually I'll end up picking some of it apart as I do it.

I'm perilously close to finishing Part I of the novel, and yes it does need a lot of work and revision. The problem is that I don't have much idea of what happens in Part II. Part II is where the three protagonists set out on their journey to rescue the Princess. Meanwhile, back at home, the Yalu have started wreaking havoc in the town. I have ideas for a few specific scenes, and I've written a couple, but otherwise I'm at a loss. I suppose I'll be referring back to my post yesterday about just sitting down and getting started and letting the story come to me as I write.

This morning I got on the laptop bring and early with no idea what to write. Most of what I did this morning was spot editing, but I did write a few blurbs. Perhaps tomorrow will be more productive.

Day Ten - The Creative Flow

It's a beautiful day!

What does it mean for my writing when the weather is nice? It means I've taken the laptop outside onto my deck. It's a fabulous writing spot. We have a canopy over the deck, so it's nice and shady. The neighborhood is pretty quiet during the afternoon (at least, for a few more weeks, until the kids are out of school), and I can listen to the birds. It's very restful. Also, after I've gone to all the trouble of lugging the laptop and whatever else I need (water, phone, Blistex...) I feel that I HAVE to spend a minimum amount of time writing to make it worth it.

I've learned a big lesson about writing recently. When I was younger, I always used to think that writing was about getting brilliant flashes of inspiration, like lightning from Thor's hammer Mjolnir, and then sitting down and typing away furiously until a masterpiece was produced. In reality it's nothing like that. (Nor do I want the Thunder God to magically appear in front of me. I'm a Cap' girl, myself.) Rather, the story tends to write itself. You have to guide it, though. You have to have an idea of what you're going to write before you start. Otherwise you end up just staring at the screen, or the piece of paper, and then you give up and log onto Reddit. 

The last few days of writing have been all about the flow that happens once you start writing. One of the great things is that, in writing a scene, I'll suddenly come up with a way to link it to a scene I've written previously. I tend to write in this really boring way where I have a bunch of individual scenes that are not always quite in order and don't quite fit together. But now, being able to join a scene to something I'm currently writing makes the story flow much better. It's more cohesive. 

Today's scene is showing a bit of Derrel's home life. It's particularly interesting for me, especially after writing "Fire Child". The short story is the "before", this is the "after". In "Fire Child" we see the Aru family in a setting that's pseudo-Regency England. Now, in the novel, we see them a year later, refugees in an eastern forest town. Things have changed a lot.

Derrel makes an interesting observation here:


"In a sense, it was almost enough to make him laugh: his mother on one side of the room, firmly holding onto her traditions and dignity in her elegant morning dress, hair pinned up, and teacup in hand, and on the other side, his father, slouching in despair and drinking with abandon."

After this, his father, the fallen Viscount, will try to start an argument with him, and Derrel will storm out. He will end up running off into the forest to the waterfall he likes to go to. There he will overhear a secret conversation between two men (later we find out that they're part of the Yalu) and will encounter Robin there. 

The linking of scenes occurs somewhere in the beginning of it. I linked in an old scene where Derrel remembers the first time he bought goods from Robin. It was a random reflection of his that was just floating around on the Word document. Now it has a good place. We'll see if it holds up during the editing process.

All in all, the daily writing is going pretty well! We'll see how this weekend goes though! 

 

Day Nine - Creating a Fantasy World

In yesterday's post I joked about my lack of research into fight scenes. That sort of thing, which is usually kept short and sweet, doesn't always need an incredible amount of detail to be believable. However, there are some things in fantasy novels that DO require detail in order to be believable. The biggest one is the general world in which the characters dwell.

Most of the first book is set in the tree-top town in which the protagonist has spent her entire life. There are complications to having a setting like this that do not occur in other fantasy worlds, such as Lord of the Rings or The Sword of Shannara. While the focus of the story is not exactly on survival, it is still an issue that looms in the characters' backgrounds. How do people get by living in a place like this? Where do they get their food from? How do they make clothing? There are a lot of things that are limited by the sheer fact that these people do not farm.

I didn't get far in the story before running into these issues. What I did on my outline was create a list of questions that needed answers before I could continue. Here are a few:

Why were forest towns formed? 

Were the settlements sanctioned by the Leader?

How do people feed themselves?
 How do they clothe themselves?

Are they able to trade with the western farms during wartime?

I've spent quite a bit of time looking up information to answer some of these questions. First of all, I had to find out what kinds of animals are native to forests, and what animals could be domesticated in a forest environment. There were many answers to the first question, and few for the second. As I threw my hands up in despair, a friend asked, "Why don't you just make up something? It's your world, after all."

DING DING DING! I created a creature native to the Great Forest that is similar to a goat, but is claw-footed. It is able to climb the enormous trees and lives off a diet of mostly bark and leaves. It grows thick wooly fur in the winter months that can be shorn and made into yarn and cloth, and the females produce a slightly sour milk that can be drank or used to make cheese. That solved that problem.

Essentially, when creating a fantasy world, even though it is make believe, it still has to be believable to the reader. (Nobody is going to believe that the people living in the forest wander around wearing silk clothing unless a trade route has been established and mentioned.) So, in this kind of setting, it is sometimes useful to do a bit of background checking before writing. This being a fantasy novel, however, gives me a bit of extra leeway. When in doubt: make it up!

Day eight - Fight Scenes!

Everyone loves to watch the fight scenes in action movies. ("EXPLOSIONS! CAR CHASES!" Yes, I'm looking at you, Michael Bay.) We love to read them in books. Especially when justice is being dispensed, fist into face.

We get disappointed when there isn't action in our movies/books. Obviously, the producers of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part II didn't think viewers would show up to the theaters unless they added in more fighting than was in the book, hence a lot of the stuff that was changed in the movie that I didn't like. Here's another one: the extended fight scenes in the Lord of the Rings movies. They are really badass, but they aren't always what was word for word in the novels. Point being, people like fight scenes.

Today I'm continuing yesterday's work with other characters. I'm writing a fight scene for Iris. Most fight scenes that I'm going to write in these books are going to feature her, because hey, she's the fighter. Just like, most elemental magic we see will be Robin or Anya. The one I'm writing today is one of the first in the book, when she starts going to a town defense class. Here she meets Tym, one of the villains of the series. This scene is actually loosely based on a very similar one I did in my earliest form of "The Greenstone". One of my original plot elements was having a villain who took instant exception to Iris. Whatever his reasons for disliking her (she's a girl, she consorts with Rebels, she's a "traitor"), he becomes her Nemesis. This scene is their first interaction, when they practice sword fighting together, and they weigh each others skills. Their mutual dislike will only increase each time they meet.

Writing a sword fighting scene for me is like writing about driving a manual: I know the theory behind it, and once I even got behind the wheel and managed to inch around a parking lot in first gear. Yeah, I was in fencing club for... a day. (Hey, they didn't give me any padding, and those tips HURT.) I've watched Lord of the Rings and The Princess Bride and Clash of the Titans (dude, the original). So that makes me an expert, right? No, but hey, this is my fantasy world, and I do what I want. Yet, a writer has to make things believable enough to keep suspension of disbelief in place.

I'd like to brag say that I sat on YouTube all day and watched videos of people sword fighting and went to the library and did oodles of research. I could then say that I learned all the fancy names for all the moves and am now qualified to choreograph the lightsaber duel in the next Star Wars movie. But I didn't. Because really, ain't nobody got time for that.

So how do I write a fight scene? I wing it. Yup, I'm pretty sure that's the secret. It's the writers secret code - just make it up and people will believe you. (This is true not even in just the fiction genre...)

Soooo yeah I'm not linking any samples of my fight scene today. The first draft is just word vomit and needs to be rewritten once or twice before it's digestible. Perhaps in a later post I will regale you all with my super awesome believable sword fights!

Day Seven - Other Characters

I've been so focused on developing the love story between Robin and Derrel (which is central to the overall plot) that I've been leaving out the protagonist's two crucial allies, Rory and Iris. Iris, as you know from previous blog posts, is the protagonist of "Fire Child", the prequel I'm writing. Rory is Robin's twin brother. In a way, both of these characters act as foils for the protagonist. Iris is exuberant as Robin is calm. Rory is clear-headed as Robin is emotional. Both of these characters are introduced in the beginning of the novel at the hook, but after that they don't get much love until Part II. I need to get readers invested in them, because they are crucial to the plot.

So today I've been working on a scene featuring the two of them. I want to do a few back to back scenes that occur simultaneously featuring these two characters, to break away from Robin's story. Here is a snippet from the draft:

            “You don’t need to remind me of that.” She reached down to scratch her knee. The days were getting hotter as summer approached, and she had begun cutting some of her pants short. “Goren fur, the itchiest material there is!” she declared. “And I declare, I’ve never had anything quite so delightful as goren milk and goren cheese in my life!”

            Rory reached down and tweaked her miniscule nose. “Yes, rub it in some more how you grew up eating the finest food in the land!”

            “I must admit, I prefer cow milk over goren milk any day! Goren milk is so sour!”

            “You should be used to it by now.”

            “Well I’m not, but I’d rather live here and drink milk from those smelly gorens than be shut up in a schoolroom all day.” She darted away from him, arms open wide. “La, this is the life for me!” She had come to a corner where the walkway wrapped around the bole of a giant tree. Thick vines grew up its length and twined in the branches above. A few smaller vines, thick as ropes, hung loosely from above. She reached over the railing and grabbed one, tugging on it to test its strength and durability. “You use these vines for tying things together, right?”

            “Yes. And if you get enough of them, you can make rope bridges. A lot of people aren’t comfortable with those though, which is why we stick to wood.”

            Iris tugged harder on the vine. “I daresay you could climb up and down these if you wanted, instead of using the stairs.”

            Rory looked down at her sternly. “I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t think it’s a good idea. If that thing breaks while you’re on it…”

            Iris had already climbed up onto the railing. She had the vine in her hands and stepped off.

            Rory felt his heart drop into his stomach as her weight caused the vine to swing away from the bridge, carrying her with it. He had a brief mental image of her plummeting to her death, and he screwed his eyes closed. The saw clattered to the floor.

            Iris’s howls of glee brought him back to his senses, and he opened his eyes. She was swinging, clinging to the vine, through the air like a wild woman.

            “Dash it, Iris, get back here! You’re going to get yourself killed!” he yelled at her.

            “Laaaaaaa!” was the only response he got from her as she sailed away on the wind. He watched her, increasingly frustrated, until the vine finally stopped swaying. Then she called out a farewell to him and began climbing down it, hand under hand.

            “May as well admire her spunk,” he muttered as he picked up his fallen saw. Recalling the look on her face as she swung freely through the air, he chuckled and continued on his way.

Day Six - Conveying emotion

Because I'm writing a novel for a young adult audience, I am obviously concerned with showing issues that young adults can relate to. One of these is being in touch with your emotions and handling them. 

I have, what people two hundred years ago would have called it, an "excess of sensibility". What that basically means is that I'm a very emotional person. Looking back to my teenage years, I had a lot of mixed feelings about pretty much everything, and I had no idea how to express them. I got made fun of a lot for being a crier. I think young adults are just coming into a lot of these emotions and are learning the societal expectations of how to express them properly. Also, there are a lot of new feelings developing along with all of those pubescent hormones, and these all affect the decision-making process.

Emotion is important for today's writing. In my first draft of "The Greenwitch" I had two scenes back to back. First, a scene from Derrel's POV where he and Robin meet up at the waterfall. She asks him about his life before the war, and he tells her a bit about growing up on his father's estate, Lynden. They get on the topic of balls and parties, and this leads to Derrel teaching her the "scandalous" waltz. The scene after this shows Robin, back at home, reflecting on this and how she feels about it and discovering that she may be developing feelings for him.

I really wasn't happy with the way I wrote these scenes, because I wanted to show the emotional breakthrough at the time it happens from Robin's POV. So now I'm revising it, and I'm having a bit of trouble changing the conversation around. It's not just changing the "he said" "she said", it's also changing the tone. I try to write each character's scene with a reflection of their personality in the tone. This means that I have to reword essentially everything except the dialogue, and even that is getting an overhaul. 

For example, First Draft:

            “It can’t all have been as bad as you make it sound. Surely you must’ve had fun dancing!”

            “I daresay I would have been fonder of dancing had I had an agreeable partner,” he murmured.

            Oblivious to the innuendo, she continued on. “What kind of dances did you do? We only really know country dances here.”

            “Country dances are still in vogue at the Metropolis as well. There is also the Four Seasons which involves four couples dancing intricate steps in a circle. It’s quite a complex dance, and only those who are able to hire dancing masters truly master it, so it’s more for the show-offs. The newest rage last year was the waltz, but it isn’t danced by many because it is so scandalous.”

            “Scandalous!” Robin exclaimed. “How could a dance be so?”

            “Because,” he said with a glimmer of mischief in his eye, “it is danced solely as a couple, and the gentleman and lady dance very closely to each other.” He stood up quickly. “Here, I’ll show you,” and he took her hands and pulled her to her feet.

            She started to stammer an inarticulate refusal, but he silenced her by pulling her close. “The lady puts her hand on the gentleman’s shoulder like this,” he raised her left hand and placed it on his shoulder, “and the gentleman puts his arm about the lady like this,” and he gently placed his right hand on her waist. Taking her other hand in his, he began to lead. She instantly tread on his foot. “Oh, I beg your pardon! I’m a terrible dancer!” she apologized, then abruptly giggled.

            Derrel burst out laughing. “Goose! I haven’t even begun to teach you the steps. You’re bound to step on me a few times!”

            She giggled again nervously. “I’m so sorry, but ugh, I have the most hideous laugh. I hate the sound of it. Don’t mind me at all.”

            He smiled down into her bright eyes. “I don’t mind! You have an adorable giggle!” He then regretted this forwardness as she instantly glanced away uncomfortably. “Here, let me teach you the steps. When I lead like this,” he began, demonstrating, “you follow like this.” In this manner he easily led her in a circle. Despite his earlier pronouncement, she only stepped on his foot one more time, disproving her earlier remark that she was a terrible dancer.

            Derrel could only guess, but judging from the way she refused to meet his eyes and the blush on her cheeks, Robin was very unused to being held so close to a man. He decided not to continue, in case she was afraid to tell him she was uncomfortable, and brought them to a halt.

            When they came to a stop, Robin finally had the courage to look back up into his eyes and said, “If other people learn this, we could introduce it at the Midsummer Festival.”

            He gently released his hold on her. “That’s the big holiday you celebrate, is that right?”

            “Yes, and the whole village gets together on the common ground and holds a party. I think introducing a new dance may make it more interesting. We’ve been dancing the same country dances for years.”

            “We need not dance it again if you aren’t comfortable with it.”

            “No, I’m not uncomfortable with it. Just not used to it.” She looked up into his eyes shyly. “I enjoyed it quite a bit, actually.”

Second Draft:

            “It can’t all have been as bad as you make it sound. Surely you must’ve had fun dancing!” Robin exclaimed.

            “I daresay I would have been fonder of dancing had I had an agreeable partner,” he murmured.

            Ignoring this innuendo, she continued, “What kind of dances did you do? We only really know country dances here.”

            “Country dances are still in vogue at the Metropolis as well. There is also the Four Seasons which involves four couples dancing intricate steps in a circle. It’s quite a complex dance, and only those who are able to hire dancing masters truly master it, so it’s more for the show-offs. The newest rage last year was the waltz, but it isn’t danced by many because it is so scandalous.”

            “Scandalous!” Robin exclaimed. “How could a dance be so?”

            “Because,” he said with a glimmer of mischief in his eye, “it is danced solely as a couple, and the gentleman and lady dance very closely to each other.” He stood up quickly. “Here, I’ll show you,” and he took her hands and pulled her to her feet.

            She started to stammer an inarticulate refusal but was silenced when he pulled her close. “The lady puts her hand on the gentleman’s shoulder like this,” he raised her left hand and placed it on his shoulder, “and the gentleman puts his arm about the lady like this,” and he gently placed his right hand on her waist. Taking her other hand in his, he began to lead. She instantly tread on his foot. “Oh, I beg your pardon! I’m a terrible dancer!” she apologized, then abruptly giggled.

            Derrel burst out laughing. “Goose! I haven’t even begun to teach you the steps. You’re bound to step on me a few times!”

            She giggled again nervously. “I’m so sorry, but ugh, I have the most hideous laugh. I hate the sound of it. Don’t mind me at all.”

            He smiled down at her. “I don’t mind! You have an adorable giggle!” She instantly glanced away shyly, so he said, “Here, let me teach you the steps. When I lead like this,” he began, demonstrating, “you follow like this.” In this manner he easily led her in a circle.

            Robin found herself blushing at being held so closely by a man. She had hugged men before – her father and brother – but this was different. She suddenly understood why this dance was considered scandalous: the intimacy of his hand on her waist, the way he gently held her hand with his own calloused one, none of it would be considered proper in the prudish western society. Embarrassed at her own shyness, she couldn’t bring herself to look up at him. Instead she looked straight across at his chest and consequently his well-formed collarbone showing through the open folds of his shirt. She realized this wouldn't help and tried to concentrate on following his lead.

            After a few moments of this she felt she had the feel of the dance, and he brought them to a halt. Robin felt both relieved and disappointed when he removed his hand from hers. Trying to hide her mixed emotions, she said, “If other people learn this, we could introduce it at the Midsummer Festival.”

            “That’s the big holiday you celebrate, is that right?” he asked

            “Yes, and the whole village gets together on the common ground and holds a party. I think introducing a new dance may make it more interesting. We’ve been dancing the same country dances for years.”

            “We need not dance it again if you aren’t comfortable with it.”

            She considered this for a moment, but secretly decided that she enjoyed dancing with him like this. “No, I’m not uncomfortable, just not used to it.” She looked up into his eyes shyly. “I enjoyed it quite a bit, actually.”

Day Five - Ordinary life, and a not so ordinary story

Today is Sunday Bum Day.

Despite the fact that Sunday is one of the two days of the weekend, I always spend the day feeling bummed out. The fact that it's Sunday means life returns to normal tomorrow. For me, it's not so bad anymore, now that I'm not working an office job. But tomorrow, being Monday, means my hubby is going back to work, and that's a total downer. Also, Sunday is laundry day.

While I was considering what to blog about today I came to the realization that I talk much more about mundane details of life than about writing fiction. So I thought, why is that? After all, nobody really cares that it's laundry day or that I'm not in the mood to write, or that it's difficult to concentrate when there's a cat begging to be let in this room so she can destroy everything.

I think the answer is, it's the ordinary mundane things that affect the written word. I don't think much writing gets done when people go out to some beautiful house on a lake and get lots of lovely brilliant flashes of inspiration. I certainly don't get those very often at all. It's the flash of inspiration that may help me come up with the idea for a story or for a major plot point, but most of what I write is the result of just sitting down and plugging through. And hey, you need ordinary details in the story to make it more believable. Sometimes, a character needs a glass of water. Sometimes someone's foot falls asleep. It's these mundane things that make a work jump out at a reader and help immerse them in the story.

I want to share a tidbit of the beginning of "Fire Child". I'm still not quite in love with the beginning, but incidentally, the desire to post a bit of it is causing me to clean it up some!

FIRE CHILD

           

            When everyone else is downstairs having a good time at a party, and I’m stuck alone upstairs in the schoolroom, I indulge myself and play with fire. I watch the red and orange flames lick the grate and reach in to try to grasp them. Usually the flames elude me: they joyously twine around my fingers and then when I think I’ve grasped one, they instantly leap away.

            But this time I’ve caught one. It’s a tall flame, the tip as yellow as my hair. Maybe this time the fire feels sorry for me, so it let me catch it. It’s comforting to feel the tickling sensation of the fire licking my fingers.

“Trying to burn yourself to a crisp again, little one?”

I snatch my hand out of the grate and turn around. My brother Derrel is lounging against the door frame in the entrance of the schoolroom, smugly gloating at having caught me in the act. “You know I never burn myself!” I exclaim.

Derrel walks in. “If you sit by this fire all night, you’ll be covered in soot! I know you don’t want our mother to ring a peal over you,” he says with a wink.

Acknowledging this, I stand and attempt to dust off my dress. It’s already too late for his warning. Two blackened spots stand out like bruised eyes on my muslin skirt, evidence of my kneeling in front of the grate. “Dash it!” I swear unbecomingly. “Oh well, perhaps Jenica can get it out.” I raise my head and take a good look at my brother, who must have just completed getting dressed for the ball. I survey him from head to foot. “La, you look fine as a fivepence!”

“Coming from you, that is praise indeed!” Derrel says. He’s wearing a well-fitting jacket, procured from one of the finest tailors in the Metropolis earlier in the Season, over a waistcoat as modest as it well-made. I’m sure he spent plenty of time arranging his neckcloth into whatever ridiculous form is in vogue this week (they all have absurd names like “The Waterfall” and “The Philosophical”). I don’t bother to ask which one it is but instead exclaim that I can see my reflection in his boots.

“Yes, my valet does know what he’s about. Now I must be off! Mother will have my head if I’m not down in time to help her magnanimously greet the first guests. Don’t bore yourself to death while the party is going on – and don’t burn yourself to death either!”

“Oh, I shan’t! Once their backs are all turned down there, I’m going out for a ride.”

Derrel affects a scandalized look, which I feel is a bit rich, considering he’s the one who’s taught me everything I know about sneaking out. He says haughtily, “Young lady, I should presume to lecture you on the impropriety of leaving the house on your own at this time of night—”

I playfully lunge at him, catching my firsts in his neckcloth and threatening what may have been an hour’s hard work. “Oi, you would not dare lecture me!” I cry.

Derrel laughs and grabs my wrists. Unfortunately for me, I’m as short as he is tall, and it’s easy for him to subdue me, even though I consider myself rather strong for a girl my age. “Rogue! Unhand my neckcloth!” I do as he bids. “If you insist on going out after dark, at least oblige me by taking my short bow. In case of brigands.”

“Pooh! Everyone knows there aren’t brigands around here!”

“Still,” he says, adjusting his neckcloth in the mirror, “take it anyway, to please me! You can never be too cautious, what with these rumors coming out of town and all.”

“Fine,” I acquiesce, “but you must know, if I take it, I daresay I’ll shoot it!”

He shrugs. “At least try to bring back most of the arrows. Now, will you at least sit down and pretend to study, in case our mother should check in on you before the guests arrive?”

Sulking, I throw myself into a seat and pull a book onto my lap. Derrel leans down and swiftly kisses my cheek before withdrawing.