Wrote 700 words for Sun this morning. Very glad to slide back into building my habit.
Poor Sun said the wrong thing and got knocked out again. And yeah, things will get even worse from that - before they get better.
Also finished another batch of proofreading, cooked food, took a nap and played Valheim. Had a good conversation here on Mastodon. It's been a fine day.
#PennedPossibilities 329 — How is your SC typically seen by others? Does it ring true to who they really are?
The roommate SC in a previous story is seen by others as an imperious arrogant bully who is always correcting people and not at all friendly. To say her adoptive mother runs things is an understatement of epic dimensions. The SC, as a controlling person by nature, accepts and amplifies the sense of power her mother lends her. Since she is rarely, if ever, seen around her adoptive mother and then seems both cowed and agitated in her presence, many consider her a bossy blow hard. She's proven herself the smartest student in school and holds a TA position in practical magical arts.
Is this who she is inside?
Hardly.
She has the expected problems with self-esteem. Her mother is her mentor, but she's unable to demand attention despite needing it, and instead drinks (and will take drugs). She feels horribly lonely. Boys run away at their first opportunity, despite the status they could acquire befriending her. She even considers letting herself be used—not that anyone would have the temerity to try, which turns it into a fools quest.
The MC ends up in a situation where the SC offers her a bed when the MC loses her job (okay, quit the mob) along with her apartment (which becomes unsafe). A bed. Literally. The SC's.
The MC discovers her roommate only sleeps well when held.
FIYAH Lit Mag's subs open up June 1st with guest editor Kerine Wint themed: SPACEFARING AUNTIES.
Looking for a wide spectrum of women- queer, disabled, etc. – without feeding into the “Strong Black Woman ™” tropes that often dehumanize and stifle characters.
#WordWeavers 2405.29 — How would your MC handle finding a spider in their home?
Technically, Wintereyes lives and runs with wolves in the Fell Woods so she doesn't have a home. However, in the worst couple of months of winter, she puts up a lodgepole tent and invites the wolves to stay with her around her cook fire. That means fire wood. That means spiders. If I know her, that probably means blowing them from the wood and safely away.
For Riparia Dellbane, more than any other protagonist I’ve ever written, this is quite simple.
Step 1: Frantic, she runs in blind panic for an unknown distance while beating at real & imaginary spiders she’s certain are on her until dropping from exhaustion.
Step 2: Her sympathetic horse brings her arachnophobic self home.
Step 3: Doppla then restrains her to keep her from burning the house to the ground.
I just wrote a little gem that those of you who read East Roars will recognize. I'm also sitting here, quietly giggling to myself.
“No, wait, Zameesa. That makes sense. That’s how they name their mages. It’s for their power.”
How did she even know?
“It’s what those traders said when I was a guard at the Station. There was a woman among them who could heat water.”
East Roars, Winds of Destiny 3
Sun Burns, Pillars of the Empire 3
On Tuesdays, I meet a friend on Zoom at 6am. That's because timezones are just difficult to coordinate.
It killed my writing time. I'll be back at it tomorrow.
I did join BookFunnel promos for June, which is always a bit stressful for me. I hope I found good matches. In exciting news, I plan to set up one of my own tomorrow! (Shifters without Alphas).
Some Valheim, a nap and decent food. Not a bad day.
#WordWeavers 2405.28 — Did your MCs have comfort objects they carried as a child? Now?
I guess if you could run away from home and fear being dragged back again, you must be a child? Right? The day she ran away, she took only one thing that wasn't essential. It wasn't a doll. She was tutored on how to govern and had people (not dolls) to practice with everyday. It wasn't a remembrance of her parents. Their celebrity had made them shy away from photography, and then they died. Taking a vinyl record was a nonstarter; listening to it, if she could, would have made her cry. Not comforting. No, what she took was a very obscure book! I'll let her talk about it for you:
My books lay thrown on the counter, on top of the messenger bag, on top of my clothes. I felt a spike of anger. I looked from them to him.
He said, "Stop with the playacting. This—" He tapped a hand on my Marlin's Tertiary Primer for the New Age Thaumaturge."—is a month's basic for most!"
I shook my head. Over the last nine months, I'd learned the first edition was worth magnitudes more.
He pushed aside the book revealing the stained blue paper-backed journal. "And this: Thaumaturgical Review Letters. That's nobody's idea of light reading."
I snorted at how wrong he was. "I dumpster-dived that one. I hiked up to the university a few weeks ago. You'd be surprised what moneyed folk throw away!"
"I was saying—"
"My Marlin's is kind of like a plush bear for silly girls. And yes, I do sleep with it. Give it a sniff. It smells like silly me—"
#PennedPossibilities 328 — If you could meet your characters, what would you say to them?
I'm way too #shy to meet them, even the kind and beautiful one... a white wolf with a gold collar that reads HUMAN follows her around. These people live a life on a different level from someone like me. I'd need someone to introduce me, and then I'd probably lock up.