Some Thoughts, and an Excerpt from TVOG

I haven't been avoiding this blog on purpose.  But when life has you by the neck, it's usually best to get out of the noose before browsing the internet.

That being said, I have almost zero to say; no updates, no pithy posts concerning writing, (alas) no extraordinarily eloquent exhortations.  Right now we're renovating the house in preparation for our move, and that pushes out pretty much everything else—including writing and blogging.

That doesn't include reading, thankfully.  A fellow missionary kid loaned me a omnibus of The Chronicles of Narnia a while ago, and I finished devouring it yesterday.  Ah!  Such goodness!

Aside from those random notes, I figured I'd give you something to chew on over Christmas break.  (More likely than not, this is the last time you'll hear from me in a while!)

*drumroll*

An excerpt from the Voice of God!

This scene takes place at the highest point of Myrkvar, at a building called the Seat of God.  Edon, the main character, is coming before the High Presbytery of Myrk for the first time.  (The Presbytery pretty much governs everyone in Myrk and rules from the Seat of God.)

And again, this is woefully unedited and rather choppy.  The description is a bit much and needs to be refined. ^_^  Thoughts on the whole would be appreciated!

--

A massive arch without doors guarded the front entrance, and into it were carved many symbols that Edon didn't recognize.  The tall walls of the hall fanned out from both sides, pocketed with designs and reliefs, so many of which that Edon didn't see half of them before they had reached the arch. 

On either side of the arch—which was wide enough for three men to pass without touching each other—stood two men. They wore simple white tunics and trousers, and wore a white cap on their heads. They both held smooth, bone-white staffs.

 “Welcome,” one said. “Sentinel Iorkus?”

The Sentinel knelt and touched his forehead to the stone floor before the arch. “I come in the name of God.”

The man inclined his head slightly, and enunciated his words carefully. “Welcome in the most holy Name of God. The Presbytery expects thee, and thy companions.”

“Thank ye.”

The man bowed and gestured inside. Sentinel Iorkus rose and unwound his shoes, motioning for the rest to do likewise. Edon pulled off the straps holding his shoe in place and kicked them off, following Iorkus, who walked reverently beneath the arch.

Edon found himself in what felt like an ancient temple built by supernatural hands. Massive, serrated columns of stone held up the straight curve of the ceiling, which didn't quite come to a point; three quarters of the way, the roof cut off and twilight shone through, a path of silver leading to the end of the hall.

The large stones of the floor were in a checkerboard pattern, alternating a glowing white and an obsidian black, and the pillars likewise alternated between black and white.

When Edon reached the end of this trail of silver, the hall billowed out into a perfect circle with no roof at all. The floor was completely white, with a solitary black star in the center, edged with gold. Around this massive circle there were walls painted with frescoes of the ages; battles and famines and centuries of peace. Some paintings were chipped in age, and some glowed as if they had been painted the day before. Directly in front of Edon, held up on a pedestal of white stone, was a larger-than-life replica of the Sacred Sword, plated in gold and beaten until it gleamed. Beneath it there was an empty throne of white stone draped in purple. The arms of the throne were carved as two roaring lions, and the pedestal holding the Sacred Sword composed the back.

On either side of the throne, smaller seats of a similar make curved symmetrically around the silver-lit circle of the hall. Counting the throne, there were forty-nine seats, seven sevens: twenty-four on either side of the great throne. Upon those seats sat forty-eight men robed in white.

And the eyes of every single man were fixed upon the newcomers.

--

Yeah, sometimes I go to town on the descriptions, at the cost of writing quality.  But hopefully the image of the silver-lit Seat of God is now as vivid in your mind as it was in mine.

What about you?  Have any awe-inspiring locations in your writings?

Tip: Beginning a Novel

Yesterday I began another novel.

Don't panic.  Hold your horses.  Yes, I'm still rewriting The Book of Shaldu--no worry there.  I'm not giving up.  I have a stubbornness disorder, remember?

My new novel is called 'Revolution', a highly allegorical tale about three brothers who attempt to spark a revolution to regain their father's throne.  But the allegory is a secret.  See if you can find it.

Now, the plan is this: for every one thousand (1,000) words I write in Revolution, I will rewrite five hundred (500) words in The Book of Shaldu.  I've already started: yesterday I wrote 1,200 words in Revolution, and went on to rewrite 600 words in TBOS.

In this way, I have an incentive to rewrite in TBOS.  Why?  'Cause I am utterly addicted to writing, and I'm not utterly addicted to REwriting.  Haha.   So far, the arrangement has been working in a fantastic manner.  I love writing again.

Now, to business.

What do you want to find in the beginning of a novel?  What do you need to do?  How should you write it?

You've probably heard before that you need to grip your reader for the first page.  I believe someone once said (for the life of me I cannot remember who it was) that you need to "grab your reader by the throat and never let go."

What does this look like?

Obviously, in thrillers and such, you grab them with a line like "Joey McBurphy was about to die--by train."   You want to interest them and make them ask questions.  Like Krawg said (in The Ale Boy's Feast by Jeffrey Overstreet), "Questions are the life of the story."  The more your reader questions, the more they will want to read.  Why was Joey about to die?  How does one even die by train?  Why does he have such a ridiculous name?

However, it is not only the plot that will grab a reader--it's the way you write the plot.  Someone once said (another guy I can't remember) "There are no boring subjects: only boring writers."  There can be books with a terrible plot, so cliche you could choke--and yet, the writing is captivating.  With such writers, you could read whatever you want by them in any subject--with such writers, you read whatever they right just to get another taste of that fantastic writing style.

This, more than a thriller hook, is what I aim for in my novels.  Take a look at the first paragraph of 'Revolution':

"The night sky yawned high above the earth, and the moon hid behind its shadow. The moon was new: there would be no light tonight."

By the way, random note: I've fallen in love with description.  I took an experiment in Revolution and discovered that I love writing creative description.  Haha.

While the writing is mysterious enough to provoke attention, I was taking the 'captivating writing, not captivating plot' approach.  This novel has an interesting and rather unique plot, yes, but instead of writing a thriller hook, I took a chance and wrote a descriptive hook.

Perhaps readers will like this, perhaps they won't.  But I've discovered that I enjoy taking my time to describe and unravel the plot.  This novel will never be a NaNoWriMo novel, for that reason, and I refuse to write it in that fashion.  I write slowly, but surely, in Revolution.

And perhaps they'll be captivated by the way I write.  I hope so.

In celebration of the start of a new novel (which is always a breathtaking experience, a flood, a deluge of new ideas and styles, aye?), I shall share a bit of my first chapter in 'Revolution': Conspiracy in the Dark.

The night sky yawned high above the earth, and the moon hid behind its shadow. The moon was new: there would be no light tonight.

Forest creatures burrowed deep into their various nests and sleeping places, and the owls glided across the dark sky every once in a while, restless. A second or two passed in silence, until the scurry of a mouse rustled the grass.

The stars shone coldly above the wild landscape of firs, oaks, and a motley band of other trees struggling for room. The creatures settled, and silence again covered the trees and the underbrush, free from the stirrings of beast and man. But not everything was silent. The woods spoke to one another beneath the black sky, whispering with their leaves and murmuring amongst themselves. A change, a shift in the sky spoke to them volumes, and the news made their twigs shift in astonishment. They shuddered, and the leaves stirred; whether in excitement or in fear, a mere mortal could not tell.

A loud rustle of leaves erupted from the forest, and the trees froze, as if taking a deep breath. A man's shape was seen, covered in a dark cloak of green, dwarfed by the giants of the forest.

No, it is not one man, but three, moving as one. All are cloaked in the same manner, hoods drawn loosely over their heads. The trees shifted in the wind, moving out of their way.

Up they climbed, atop an expansive hill that towered over the rest of the forest, rising above it like a dark mountain. They vanished into a thicket that stood there, a tangled array of vines and small trees. Weaving through the underbrush as if they had done so a thousand times, the three men halted in the center. There, the thicket opened up slightly and yawned upward, creating a natural chamber that hid the stars' gaze with a tangle of branches.

A glass lamp, holding a cupped, wavering flame, was lit. It shone into the darkness and sent the shadows of the trees dancing at every flicker. The men, hanging the lamp on a nearby tree limb, sat down on the grass and stared at one another for the longest time.

The curious trees bent over the light, and gazed seriously into the faces of the men, but the three were absorbed in silence. An owl lighted upon a nearby branch, and cocked his head.

The features of the three men, startlingly alike, were half-shadowed by the lamplight cast down upon their gathering.

At last, one of them spoke aloud, breaking the silence that was set upon the woodlands. "It has been a long time, my brothers."

--

(This or any portion from any of my works of writing may NOT be copied or reproduced in any manner.)

Critique it to your heart's delight, readers. I need some feedback. What did you like about it? What did you not like? What should I change?

Tell me what you think.

Tip; Going Someplace?

Sometimes the story wants to go someplace that you don't want it to go--or goes somewhere you didn't foresee. For example, consider the following sentences I recently wrote in my novel not an hour ago--yes, it is finally moving again.


A familiar cry sounded nearby. "Maston! Are ye deaf? Tell the men to unload, and do it sharpish!"

An incredulous thought crossed Aron's mind. Captain Jaskin?

The barrel-chested man stormed into view, a man in tow. "Sir," the man was saying, "I could not find a solitary man willing to--"

"Tis yer job!" the captain growled. "Do it right, or ye'll find yerself out of work. Permanently!"

The captain abruptly changed course and crashed into Aron. "Sir!" Aron said quickly, surprised.

Captain Jaskin raised a bushy eyebrow. "Aye? Why, if tisn't the Paladain lad 'imself! Are ye looking for work again?" His normally frowning face took on a slightly more pleasant hue. "What brings ye to this..." He glanced around. "This...place?"

Aron bowed slightly. "It is good to see you again, Captain. I...well, it's a long story, sir."
The large man clapped Aron on the back. "Then ye can tell it to me in my quarters. Come!" He said it with such force that Aron didn't dare disobey...


The thought of Aron, my character, going to Captain Jaskin's quarters didn't cross my mind until it popped up. Sometimes characters are just so forceful that they force the story to go somewhere else. You see, I needed Jaskin to take Aron somewhere on his ship--but Aron had to ask at one time or another. Instead of asking then and there, the natural thing to do would be to go somewhere comfortable to talk--his quarters. If you can manage to make your character do the 'natural' thing--that is one step closer to a better character.

Tolkien, in a letter to someone (I haven't the slightest idea who--I'll find out in a moment), once wrote this;

"I met a lot of things on the way that astonished me. Tom Bombadil I knew already; but I had never been to Bree. Strider sitting in the corner at the inn was a shock, and I had no more idea who he was than had Frodo. The Mines of Moria had been a mere name; and of Lothlórien no word had reached my mortal ears till I came there. Far away I knew there were Horse-lords on the confines of an ancient Kingdom of Men, but the Fangorn Forest was an unforeseen adventure. I had never heard of the House of Eorl nor of the Stewards of Gondor. Most disquieting of all, Saruman had never been revealed to me, and I was as mystified as Frodo at Gandalf's failure to appear on September 22."

-J. R. R. Tolkien, in a letter to W. H. Auden, 7 June 1955

In a fantasy novel, there are many more 'unknowns' than there are 'knowns'. If one pops up along the way, don't bother trying to revise it. Stuff that comes out naturally is usually good for your novel. It shouldn't effect the overall plot too much. If something pops up that you had not foreseen, then evaluate it. If it is good, keep it! If not, don't be afraid to cut it.

The Novel Chapter; The Leviathan

So I actually ended up reading the most of the series I was going to review (five books) in the last couple of days, and I found out that I don't really have time to write five reviews, or even a series review. So sorry, for those who wanted a review. :)

Which means that it's that time of day for me to post my novel excerpt; the chapter. This chapter is from about midway through the second book (I couldn't find a whole lot of exciting chapters in my first book that didn't have to do with a vital part of the plot).

I posted part of it on a comment on Wayne Thomas Batson's blog (which conveniently ended in a cliffhanger), so for those who read it there, you'll get the end of the chapter as well. So you'll find out the end of the cliffhanger. :D

I'd love to hear any comments or critique you may have, so feel free to comment.




~ Chapter 18 ~
The Leviathan


“How long do you think it'll last?” I yelled to Shad over the pouring sheets of rain. I could barely make out his dim form ahead of me through the heavy rain, swaying as waves smashed into the ship.

Lightning lit up the sky for a short second, and a crash of thunder obscured Shad's reply.

“What?” I shouted.

“I don't know!” I heard Shad this time.

Another peal of thunder sounded overhead, and I motioned in the general direction of King Ladar's cabin on the stern of the ship.

Shad followed me as we staggered around the heaving deck. Lightning flashed, and I saw some of the other ships in the fleet in a similar position, bucking like a giant sea beast in the tempest that raged around them. I focused on keeping my balance, gritting my teeth and doggedly tumbling in the direction of the cabin.

Shad and I smashed into the cabin door after a particularly rough wave, and scrabbled for the handle, dropping through the door. I slammed the door shut, and we stood there, dripping.

King Ladar sat at his desk, writing. The ship shuddered again, and he reached out, catching his lantern before it crashed to the floor of the cabin. He spotted us standing before the cabin door.

“The storm is bad, then?” he asked, as if the of crash of thunder and flashes of lightning all around him weren't enough to answer his question.

“'Bad' is an understatement.” I said, wringing my clothes.

His eyebrows raised. “I see.”

Shad collapsed suddenly in a nearby chair. “S-something's going to happen," he said, wiping the water running down his brow. I had never heard Shad stammer before.

“What?” King Ladar and I asked simultaneously.

Shad looked beyond us, out the window, as if he saw something we didn't. “Something terrible.”

He seemed to come out of a sort of trance. “The alarm bell!” he cried urgently.

Shad raced outside, the door slamming violently behind him. A few minutes later I heard the peal of the warning bell.

I began to wonder if Shad had been struck by the lightning from the storm around us. Sighing, I braced myself, and then hurtled out, barely making it through before the door smashed shut behind me.

I staggered slightly as the pelting rain hit me, and then made my way to the navigator cabin. As I made my way across the deck, I saw several other startled sailors coming up from below the decks at the ringing of the alarm bell.

I found Shad inside the navigator cabin, ringing the bell vigorously. The walls were covered with damp, half-torn maps, hence the name of the cabin.

Shad was calmer than before, and he stopped ringing the bell as I tumbled into the room.

He looked out the porthole, and then tore his eyes away from it and stared at me. “It's here.”

An unearthly roar came from outside, and the Waverunner shook violently.

“What in the world?!” I shouted, alarmed. The ship rocked back and forth again.

“It's a-” Shad began to yell, but a bellow from outside masked his words.

“What?” I shouted.

“It's a leviathan!”

My blood ran cold. Leviathans were mythical, at least, they used to be. Legend said they were the last of the huge creatures that roamed the earth when Aari had made it. Humans had driven them off in the Early Days, and they had slowly died out.

But now I wasn't so sure.

Shad grabbed a harpoon and smashed out of the cabin. I followed him, taking a harpoon as well. I didn't know what to expect, but nothing had prepared me for what I saw as I stared into the tempest raging around me.

I saw Shad standing still on the other side of the ship, but a roar riveted my attention from Shad. There, above him, was the most monstrous, hideous, and terrifying beast I had ever seen.

Its body, covered in gray-green scales stained by the lash of the sea, rippled with mighty muscles. It had giant spines running down its neck, where they disappeared into the sea. Its head loomed above the ship with luminous, blood red eyes and keen, stained teeth. It gave a keening scream, exposing rows of more teeth. A gust of choking, smelly breath hit me, and I staggered to the side of the ship and retched over the side.

Shad shouted to me, “Hit it in one of its eyes! That's the only place that's vulnerable!”

Shad had found more harpoons, and he hurled them, one after another, at the leviathan looming above the ship, but to no avail. All of the harpoons struck, but they glanced off the strong scales of the leviathan like twigs.

Shouts came from around me, and I saw other men coming from various places, clutching at harpoons themselves.

I remembered a poem that my mother had read to me when I was younger.

'Can you pull in the leviathan with a fishhook,
Or tie down his tongue with a rope?
Can you put a cord through his nose,
Or pierce his jaw with a hook?
Will he keep begging you for mercy?
Will he speak to you with gentle words?
If you lay a hand on him,
You will remember the struggle and never do it again!
Any hope of subduing him is false;
The mere sight of him is overpowering.'

Despair overwhelmed me for a second, but then I came to my senses, and ran toward the leviathan, harpoon high.

I threw it, heaving with all my strength and will.

It curved up into the dark sky, a solitary bullet in the black clouds above.

The harpoon struck deep into the glowing eye of the leviathan, a thorn in the body of the great crustacean.

It shook its head in pain and frustration, giving an earth-shaking, heart-stopping roar, glaring at Shad murderously with its one working eye.

Shad stood there, his hands on his last harpoon.

The leviathan screeched, and, jaws open wide, brought its mighty weight down on the ship, trying to get at Shad. I grabbed a rope, hanging on for my life as the deck tilted.

Shad scrabbled for the mast and managed to get his arms around it, still holding the harpoon.

The ship tilted almost vertically, and I saw Shad's hands slipping as I clung to the rope. My mind was blank with horror as I saw Shad slide a little, and then drop into the gaping maw of the leviathan.

“No!!” I cried in anguish.The Waverunner straightened, and the leviathan raised its head vertically, as if to swallow something. Instead, wheezing gasps came from its huge mouth.

It started thrashing wildly, making giant waves that almost overwhelmed the ship. I saw a glittering thing protruding slightly from the from the leviathan's neck, as if it were a tiny jewel.

It was metal, and I thought someone must have finally penetrated the leviathan's scales with a harpoon.

And then I suddenly realized the harpoon was pointing outward.

The leviathan gave a shrill, bone-chilling shriek, breaking all the windows that were still intact on the ship. It tumbled onto the Waverunner, its eyes already clouding over in death.

A figure crashed out the dead leviathan's throat, coughing.

“Shad!” I yelled, running toward him. He was alive!

He gave a nonchalant wave, as if nothing had happened, and then coughed again, hard.“Hey," he said. "I got in a tangle with the leviathan, but I managed to lodge the harpoon in its neck before it could eat me.”

I laughed.

"And it stunk like you wouldn't ever believe in there!”




THE END... of the chapter. :D

Tip for April 6, 2010; Description and Emotion

Sometimes, description heightens emotion in a reader.

Imagine, in this sample paragraph, that this is at the end of a novel;

As Jack glanced behind him, he saw the area had been badly burned. After a moment more, he and his companions strode on across the plain.

A terrible paragraph. It might be grammatically correct, but definitely not good for the ending of a book. As I said before, good description will add emotion. Here's a modified version of the paragraph;

As Jack glanced behind him, he saw the wide, blackened expanse where the forest had been. It had been completely incinerated. Finally, the black evil that had resided in this valley for centuries had been vanquished, not by a strike of lightning from the heavens, or by an army led by a king, but by a thirteen year old boy.

As all of this ran through Jack's mind, he marveled at the power and wisdom of the Maker. Truly, He used the weak to bring down the strong.

Better, yes? As you can see, the addition of description made the paragraph better and most likely would cause more emotion in a reader.

Tip for March 31, 2010; Fragmented Sentences

Do you think this post will be about correcting fragmented sentences? Wrong. This is all about using fragmented sentences.

Fragmented sentences can be used to add suspense into a novel. Say, if I say something like, "The man's behavior was very odd.", I can also put it like this; "The man's behavior was odd. [different paragraph] Very odd."

Although this was a terrible example, I hope you get was I was trying to say. I'm going to give a better example from my own novel in a moment, but I need to say something first; this part in my novel was shortly after the characters had found a secret message in a note from the King. If you don't know this, this excerpt won't make any sense.


The first night on the road is an exciting on for young adventurers, even if the stakes are high, and feelings are tense.

Aron thought that this was the cause of his sleeplessness that first night, but something was gnawing at his brain, something beyond recall, something about King Ladar's note. He couldn't quite remember, though.

Around midnight, Aron finally began to relax. His last thought before falling asleep was that the hidden message in the note was too obvious.

Far too obvious.

Do you get what I mean now?

One more thing before I wrap this post up. This way of adding suspense should be used VERY sparingly. This isn't a thing that I use every other chapter. It depends on the length of the novel, but at the most, you should only use it once.

Tip for March 17, 2010; Short Term Suspense

Suspense. A state of mental uncertainty, to use the dictionary answer. In writing, suspense is making the end of the book uncertain.

Short term suspense is making the end of a scene uncertain. Here's an example from my own writing;


Aron crouched, just outside the Satpaba camp. He shrugged his shoulders, feeling the unaccustomed weight of Satpaba armor on his shoulders, taken from a fallen enemy.

A low whistle rang out; Aless's all-is-ready signal.

Before Aron was a small pile of branches and kindling, and in his hands was a flint. In order for the plan to work, Aron had to light a fire.

"This better work." Aron muttered.

He gritted his teeth, and then struck the flint. It showered sparks on the kindling, but it didn't catch fire. It surprised Aron; he hadn't taken into account that the fire might not light. Come on, this wood must be the dryest in Aleorendos!

Whether it was just the dawn air or some spell of the evil place, the kindling wouldn't light. Aron struck the flint again, harder this time. One of the men nearby jerked up his head, hearing the sound.

"Come on..." Aron urged the kindling, blowing on it softly.

The man walked slowly toward Aron's hiding place, listening.

One of the sparks burned slowly, without flame. Aron blew on it, causing it to grow slightly.

The man walked closer...

The small spark winked out. "No!" Aron hissed. "Come on, Saar, help me! Light!"

Whoosh! The entire pile of kindling suddenly burst into hot flames. Aron scrambled backward to avoid the fire, and the man leaped backward with a curse, shouting to his comrades.



See what I mean, now? The kindling in the scene wouldn't light, and a man from the enemy camp was approaching. This is called (at least by me) short term suspense.

I was trying to make the reader think that the fire might not light. If I can successfully do that, I can probably pull it off with long term suspense.