#WordWeavers 2405.18 — What kind of dragon (behavior or looks) would your MC be?
In one WiP, this question makes as much sense as asking a typical Irish person what kind of Tahitian they would be (body type). In the other, dragons also exist but seem to be (it's not totally defined) the result of some kind of contagious magic. We've already seen a wyvern, wbo is a monstrous fire breathing bat, and will soon realize there is a monitor lizard version (a wyrm?), but by this token there could also be a cat dragon. Thus, this question makes no sense in the other WiP, either.
#WordWeavers 2405.15 — Who are your most and least gullible characters?
Of the MC's in the two current WiPs, it's exactly the opposite of what you might think.
The devil-girl had been very successful in most all her endeavors, but she'd never gotten to where she was if she wasn't used by someone every... single... time. Mind you, it doesn't always end well for those who gulled her!
Wintereyes comes across as an ingénue and innocent enough that you'll fear she'll get used like a tissue and thrown away dirtied. Not the case. She mediated between a dragon and a farmer whose silo got burnt down. The dragon apologized! (So did the farmer.) She's observant, quiet. Around people she's shy, but says what she sees and sets misunderstandings straight. Kind and helpful, everyone—humans, dragons, wolves, even cats—ends up doing what she sees is best for them and they like it, despite plans they might have had for her. Because she understands what she doesn't know, her skepticism and guilelessness plays havoc on those trying to use her.
#PennedPossibilities 316 — Does your MC or SC have a hard time connecting with others?
Both MCs in the current two WiPs have a hard time connecting with others for different reasons. They could be summed up for one they're people and for the other they're not animals.
If you've followed my posts, you're welcome to guess which is which.
#PennedPossibilities 315 — What smells remind your MC of their childhood? CW: Food, gross.
Two stories, two MCs, two very different answers...
Devil-girl:
She was not ever particularly copasetic with her elevation from middle class to atmospheric. When she found herself having mistreated a servant, threatening their livelihood, her autistic construction of empathy as in /I'm living in her shoes and this is fear/ kicked in. She worked hard from that moment on to /be/ with anyone humbly, and the servants kept her secret of visiting in their quarters or at the homes safe. (Actually, not entirely as the servant-mistake was one of her guardian's "lessons," but let's ignore that.) What she came to adore was a peasant bread that represented in her head getting away from all her responsibilities. Buttery, cinnamony, yeasty, with lots of honey and chopped up pumpkin. Passing by an open bakery door will often remind her of simpler times.
Wintereyes:
She doesn't remember a lot before her gift manifested at age 7. The going theory is that it broke something in her head. Farm smells, flowers, even fields of corn, elicit nothing, though she visits her birth parents' land claim regularly when the Blue Feather's pack hunting grounds shift to that part of the Fell Woods. Her mother's cooking in her kitchen, usually fresh venison or rabbit Wintereyes caught, is simply human food. How she survived going off with a wolf pack at that young age is a tale I should pursue at some point. The fact is that she did. Survive. And well. The smells of a fresh kill, laced with steaming iron scent, does make her remember becoming wild and first running free. It also reminds her of the other smells associated with recent death, some quite noisome. There's a thrill there, even if in the beginning she was barely surviving on too rich organ meat her teeth could chew, or when the alpha wasn't kind, meat Mother Wolf chewed for her. That was a special smell she remembers fondly. Her brother—a hunter that the wolves soon tolerated so long as he didn't visit often—taught her to make fire and to cook meat. The half-burned smell of meat dropped into a wood fire still makes her mouth water, even as it dredges up memories of reaching into a fire and burns, and of ashes and charcoaled fat, which ground in her teeth like soft sand. She became a much more skillful campfire cook out of necessity.
Oh, one other smell: Wet wolf (which is identical to wet dog), because while a wolf could keep themself "clean" with their tongue, the result of a human attending a kill, skin caked with ground-in dirt, sweat, and later ash, was more than the sensitive noses of her pack could stand. They often chased her into streams. She splashed them back, of course!
#PennedPossibilities 314 — Has your MC ever felt as though they were reborn in the mental / emotional sense?
In the current story, she experiences a mental breakdown when events crush her worldview completely. [Spoilers, so you'll have to take my word on this.] Her understanding of what was evil, wrong. Her understanding of the trustworthiness of people, wrong. The goals she set to fix the magic that she saw as ruining others' lives... evil.
She's doesn't quite accept the latter. However, she finds it very weird to face the people around her without a deep down feeling that they will someday betray her.
#PennedPossibilities 312 — Is your MC or SC a leader, a follower, or something in between?
Wintereyes is not a leader, nor is she a follower. She knows her mind and will state it when needed to help someone, or protect to herself. She's human, but also a member of the Blue Feathers wolf pack—and she's bitten its leader when he's abused pack mates. She's not omega, not low status; wolves respect her knives in the hunt. She knows when to help, and when to stay back. She's a mediator, as she's demonstrated between a dragon and people. It's that she truly cares to do her best for others. Those that know her know this; they listen; they protect her.
#WordWeavers 2405.10 — Antagonist POV: What do you like the most about yourself?
[A short tootfic. Likely canon. Her Highness speaking. From /Inklings:/]
My jaw almost dropped at the shear gall of the question, but the Midlands plenipotentiary was, if anything, expert at being jovial. His smile was disarming. He was a diplomat. I didn't gape, but put the tea cup down carefully.
"You're referring to the dragon incident, aren't you?"
He nodded. He plunked a couple lumps of brown sugar in his tea, stirring. It accounted for his corpulence, something rare amongst his gaunt brethren who spent much of their day running on forest paths. He'd made it from the Midlands in just weeks, on horseback I guessed. Poor horse. "It's on everyone's tongue. You'd mobilized the militia. Detailed reports hit the Forest Ridge High Tower as if carried by a thunderstorm."
He was making sure I knew "people" kept him well informed, and that my military wasn't what interested him. Much, anyway. I sighed, crossing my legs as I sat back.
I'd mobilized the best and most radiant of my magic users. None could best me, but we expected to face a wyvern the size of my in-town mansion. It had burnt up part of the Fell Woods. A good thing, thinking about that unassailable haven for monsters and wild beasts. Then it attacked a farm.
"The attack on the farm was an accident," I said off-handedly, steepling my fingers.
He paused. Blue eyes speared me. I'd never announced the details of what happened because if I made them official rather than rumor, the public might panic. Nobody died.
The Midlands ought know, I decided then and there. It'd be to my advantage. I'd let him decide the implications. "The grain silo had a moisture problem. It had started to ferment. Who would have thought a dragon might like beer?"
He chuckled, then, "You're serious? You know this? /How?"/ He put down his tea cup with a loud clink, spilling some of the reddish liquor.
I'd rode in with an elite company of my army, through a wood arch that proclaimed "Cornfeld," into a farm yard. I'd been ready to use my radiance to repel fire; dragons of all shapes breathed fire. My troops had the best spears, but it had been centuries since anyone had needed weapons against dragon scale. Would newiron even work? Drowning the beast by swirling airborne the farm's pond was almost our best offense, if the magical beast decided to fight. I knew they disliked fighting. I hoped that I had that much correct. If I had to resort to radiant kinesis to heave rock from a stone fence, it might decide to retaliate against my Townships—if I failed.
What I found was a half-naked girl, barely a woman though very tall, mollifying a distraught farmer and mediating with a red dragon who looked to be hanging on her every word. I could tell this, even though the dragon had the form of a giant bat.
Apparently, with her mediation, both parties were apologizing to each other!
Worse, though covered with mud and ash, visibly scarred, the young woman was devastatingly beautiful. The type of beautiful that made a seasoned and well worn woman like me think of a different kind of bedmate. I wasn't a man...
Wintereyes was her name. She had befriended a dragon.
Innocent and kind.
And immeasurably dangerous.
The ingénue now attended my magic university, despite being uncomfortable around people and wearing clothing. Learning to be human. One of mine.
I said, "What I like about myself is that I know when to fight and when to make friends."
Wintereyes (the MC) is great with beasts, magical, monstrous, and mundane. She /befriends/ them, which without revealing spoilers means they get along very well with her. Being friends with animals she may well eat does make for an interesting personal philosophy.
Caramello (the SC) has never had to get along with animals, but he does have some familiarity with dolphins as a sailor and birds as a Crab Islander. However, him wanting Wintereyes as a girlfriend, he is learning to tolerate them more than he would have ever imagined. Not only is she worth the effort, it may save his life.
#WordWeavers 2405.06 — Who is your most fun character?
Wintereyes.
She's a free spirit unlike any of my previous characters, but she's always kind. Despite being shy, she's incredibly courageous but doesn't understand how impressive that is. Having lived amongst wolves (she's human), she doesn't understand what it means to live amongst people, but is learning. She's sticking to her "friendly" principles when challenged with unerring innocence, integrity, and passion. It does make her more-than-occasionally NSFW, however...
The main antagonist. This is the person she once considered as the person who ruined her life. She once worked for someone whose stated goal was assassinating her, and didn't care if they succeeded. For the last few months, the MC lived in a roommate situation that made them neighbors. Her roommate was being trained by the main antagonist, but also had a bad relationship with her. Their proximity was always a background tension in the story. In the current story, the MC is now working for the main antagonist and understands the MA's "evil" reasons better, but still dislikes her. The MC could ask for her own suite, free of charge, in the same building but is planning on taking her new salary to live elsewhere.
#WordWeavers 2405.02 — What are your MC’s living conditions like? Are they better or worse than average?
Wow, this question! A bit of background: I wrote the original novella, then wrote a prequel novel based on the history in the first story, then retconned the novella, worsened the situation and followed it with new events to make it a novel, /then/ wrote the sequel. It's her life story, now.
In this last story, the answer to this question is the running joke. The new work takes place over three days. She starts having been living with a fellow student, an ever-seeking-male-companionship elite who months ago offered her a free roommate situation—so long as the MC slept with her in the same bed (and her new roommate only sleeps well being held). The next day it's the couch after the MC is reunited with a former coworker (bodyguard) whom she introduces to her elite roommate. They hit it off. Noisily. All night long! The next night, not wanting a repeat performance, she connives to spend a (satisfying) night with her new boyfriend in "palatial" digs in the Residency where the main antagonist lives, but is currently out on a military adventure. Having reconciled with a childhood friend, the subsequent night she ends up on his bed, in a Residency guest suite, sleeping with him and a pile of thaumaturgy books they nerded out over. She regrets not having had more fun with him, but he's too sweet and obviously not ready for that. The next day, she's fighting for her life in a hospital.
Her living conditions are way above average, arguably superior.
Previous Living Conditions
Born in a nice house in an obscure village
Raised in a newly built mansion for a newly titled elite (her)
Homeless for months, having run away, living in encampments and wandering the east coast
Big city hostel for over a year
Gangland trainer's nice apartment with separate beds
Boarding house with aspects of a brothel, where she must defend herself
Leased a one room dance studio where she sleeps on a mat between a wall of open windows and a wall of mirrors, having no need of further furniture
A series of high line hotel and mansion rooms owned the Doña she works for
As for the homelessness, she was moving around without money while hiding her identity, and rarely stayed long. The worst was trying to sleep under eaves in the city during storms; she didn't always have a tent. Regardless, it qualifies as below average living conditions for a total of about a year. It did focus her like of asceticism.
#PennedPossibilities 302 — What is the one thing your SC desires most in the world?
Caramello, aka Caramel-eyes, né [unpronounceable polysyllabic tropical islander name], is the last son of the Chieftain. He is the last in the succession. He's been "exiled" to the Endless Island (the mainland) to avoid his siblings after his father is murdered. What he desires most is to be forgotten. No scratch that. What he desires the most is that his mother, the Chieftain's second wife, survive what he fears is going on right now...
#WordWeavers 2405.01 — Introduce your setting as if it’s a character in your story.
[/Well, I decided to jump ahead in the WiP and write what might be the start of the next chapter. The title may be named:You Have Mail. Pardon the Dickensian texture; this is a first draft. —RS/]
I never expected a human habitation to feel as protective as my dorm room did. Sure, my lodgepole tent protected me through the blizzardy winters in the Fell Wood, as it did the wolf pack that had adopted me. I provided the tent, though. I repaired it, stored it, and raised it year after year. I maintained the cooking fire for all the wolves and cubs. It was I who was being protective, not it—or so it felt.
My dorm room wanted me to know that for the next few years, at least, it existed solely to protect /me,/ to comfort /me./ Increasingly, it did so as I added memories. Mother Wolf and I used one of the two small beds, the left one, piled with fuzzy brown blankets as needed or clothed with luxurious white cotton sheets that felt cool against cheek or jowl. Since I was tasked with the cleaning instead of the dorm servants, my room smelled of us, faintly of yeast, sweat, and a wolf that occasionally hunted rabbits but favored the cafeteria's pasture-beast stew.
The little red iron stove kept us warm through winter; the room's wood panel walls kept us shaded from the hot summer sun. It lovingly provided a rare enclosure—almost like walking within the orange and white rock walls of the slot canyons of the south woods—creating a remarkable silence in a land of noisy humans and huffing machines. This and its soft radiant cloud-light ceiling made me feel... what? Swaddled? Like being /home,/ as my parents would have used the word back on the farm when I was a child. My spirit books, fashion magazines, and papers cluttered the worn ink-stained blond pine desk. I ran my bare feet over the oval tapestry rug letting the patterns of wands and dryad trees caress my toes. My skin stuck to the cushy tan leather chair as I stood, but I knew that was it hugging me.
Situated to the rear of the building on the first floor, the casement window at the end of the rectangular space opened to the clay roof of a shed. Crisp autumn breezes fluttered the gauzy drapes as I looked out at the barrier forest beyond the stables, lit by the setting sun. The window conveniently allowed Mother Wolf to jump up, as she did right now, and clatter into the room as she pleased. She greeted me with an ever-wet red tongue on my face and backside. (A white wolf opening the front door of the women's dorm, with a key in her mouth, and walking in always frightened at least one student or professor. People called me their Wild Woman, but still never got used to the implications of the name.)
Best of all, as the special guest of Her Highness, nobody dared inspect my room. Everyone knocked, no exceptions. Wolf inside, right? Framed pictures of my boyfriend hung suspended by single powder blue silk ribbons, and they were /very/ inappropriate. Looking at him warmed me deeply, reminding me of being /us,/ together—so I didn't care that my foolish "civilized" human brethren might think. People existed to enjoy themselves, regardless of what nosy people might say. This room supported me as I lived here, trapped in the Townships because circumstance required me to learn to be "more human" as Her Highness was fond of saying. My little supportive enclave encouraged me to be me, and allowed me to dress or not dress as I pleased behind its closed oaken door.
When the House Mother knocked, I simply threw on a dressing gown. I turned the pictures around before answering—to be respectful. It tickled me that she never asked why I always smiled when I opened the door.
#WordWeavers 2404.30 — Does your MC have any pets? If so, what are they?
/Pets/ is a bad word for Wintereyes. It's the word the very irritating Thaumaturgy Dean uses whenever one of her wolf family makes themself seen on campus, as in, "They're frightening the other students!" She's human, but doesn't understand the term (upbringing). To her they're beasts that humans keep around that are neither food nor work for them, which makes them subject to unpredictable human whim. She "befriends" beasts, but that's a totally different thing...
Wintereyes has little experience beyond the most basic of basics, though she's fairly expert with footwear, having built her own. She really wants to get it right so she can ensure she can fade into the background and not be noticed—but failed big time her first day in the Townships. She's shy. Being shy doesn't mean she doesn't want to communicate; it doesn't help that she fears babbling in this aspect of human language. There's so much to learn! In her drawing class, she's concentrating on fashion though it seems like an advanced language course at the moment!
#WordWeavers 2404.29 — Who's feeling shame in your story? Is it justified?
/It's'a [#brainfog#fibromyalgia day, but I'm gonna write this to get something out. Hoping it's coherent. —RS/]
This question made me think hard for quite awhile until I—like an artist or a photographer deciphering how shadow defines volume and dimension—saw /negative space/ in a story... where something wasn't. Emptiness.
Wintereyes /doesn't/ feel #shame, and I'm realizing this is an #emotion with which I can make a #feminist point in my story. Whilst shame is IMHO used more often to control women than it is men, it is both incidious and /learned./ Shame is a combination of built-in emotions programmed into a person to make a person self-punish for "wrong" behavior even if it's secret; it's related to, but not the same as guilt.
Wintereyes was raised by wolves, but not until she was 7 when her "gift" caused her to seek a second set of parents. Her early childhood will require investigation in another story, but I'm pretty sure her human parents didn't teach her the emotion; it's not that she forgot. Forced to live again amongst humans over a decade later, to become more human, people's behavior baffles her. Late in the story, when she's asked to disrobe by stylist at a modeling shoot, and does without a thought, the stylist observes, "You don't feel shame, do you?" This is where Wintereyes will go off like a firecracker, and it should be very interesting.
The stylist may actually feel ashamed...
The author is [#actuallyautistic and retains copyright (c)2024 R..S.]
#WritersCoffeeClub Ch 8 Nbr 26— Do you write stand-alone stories, series or both? Which do you prefer?
In the beginning, I thought I'd write only standalone stories. I considered sequels lazy, though for purposes of this discussion trilogies are just one big book. More recently, I've become a fan of episodic storytelling. Exploring the same worlds through different adventures with the same character or a cast of characters that trade off being MC. It's been fun writing prequels and sequels, and even writing multiple novellas into one novel. My current two works are designed as serials. In one, I've written stories with the intended MC and with her supposedly evil antagonist as the MC in different stories. I'm liking the possibilities.
Whether readers will like it remain to be learned...
One was a prizefighter and later a bodyguard before she clobbered the greatest thaumaturge of all time. The devil-girl is capital F Fit, and because she works at it, you can tell.
The other MC hunts with a pack of wolves. She's supple, fast, and dangerous though never quick enough to make the kill. She's also well fed, and unreasonably beautiful, which hides how fit she is.
#WordWeavers 2404.23 — How much of an age range do you have with your MCs?
I tend to write coming of age sagas. Mid-teens to mid-twenties? I did recently write a number of stories where the MC looked 24 years old, but was substantially over a 1,000. Immortals make good tragic characters.
#WordWeavers 2404.22 — What two senses are the most natural for you to include in your description?
The POVs see and hear most things, and I'm not sure seeing comes first as hearing precedes looking. Most of my descriptions are visual. That said, the POVs in both WiPs have been doing a lot of sniffing of the SCs recently. One MC's "gift" does make her sense of smell better, but that doesn't explain why the other finds certain scents pleasant.
#WordWeavers 2404.25 — Do your MCs have any luck in love?
I'm LMAO with this question. The women in both my WiPs, rather uncharacteristic of my earlier stories that don't delve into the details, are definitely getting what they want from the men in their lives. That goes doubly for the one who discovers she has two boyfriends not one (and it's way too complex and spoilery to explain right here). I will say she's pleased by the discovery...
Wintereyes isn't someone you'd offhandedly call passionate; tenacious about what's she's decided to do, perhaps. But actions demonstrate otherwise. She has a gift that may well be a curse; to use it is agonizing. Yet, she suffers it when the opportunity presents itself. It lets her communicate with beasts by making her be more like them, and them more like her. She has to. She's just too curious. Still, who needs smarter cats? Cats may well be a curse, but they are a stepping stone toward leopards and lions.
I haven't decided if she's evil, yet. She's already befriended a very nice wyvern. She's prohibited from using her gift on humans, but sometimes they're more inscrutable than beasts and the temptation is there as her passions grow...
[Wintereyes] Her Highness told me that for me to be her friend that I had to attend her university. I had to become "more human," whatever that meant. I /am/ human. I was /born/ human. Because I live amongst wolves doesn't make less human than a shepherd who lives with their flock. Yet, somehow, she convinced me—frightened me into complying, and I don't understand how. She's always been nice, jovial, even hospitable.
More frightening, Her Highness told me that if I use my talent on any human, she could /no longer/ be my friend. I've made friends with beasts small and large, from mice and wolves, up to including the red dragon who was very /very/ sorry about nearly burning down the Fell Woods where my pack lives. The wyvern had a fever. I've even started making friends with people at school.
Why is her friendship important? Why does she scare me so?
#WritersCoffeeClub Ch 8 Nbr 21 — Do you agree with Rose Tremain, who says you shouldn't plan a book's ending; it must be earned?
These two quotes of hers go together:
Respect the way characters may change once they’ve got 50 pages of life in them. Revisit your plan at this stage and see whether certain things have to be altered to take account of these changes.
In the planning stage of a book, don’t plan the ending. It has to be earned by all that will go before it.
In the planning stage of a book, I gather:
Knowledge about the character, especially their problem and their desires.
Detail of what eventually needs to happen so I know when the story ends. It allows me to know what I am writing toward.
As such, I don't agree with her statement about not planning the ending. I do agree with the sentiment that a writer should respect how the character has changed as you write the story. Character development can change the ending. For that reason, sometimes it's good to nip certain changes in the bud and get the story back on track. Usually, I don't change the ending I've planned; however, in the current WiP, the story metamorphosed from a one act story to a three act story. Based on story events, it got a new ending. Twice.
Note, however, "new ending." Composing a story never ends well (pun intended) when I don't know /an/ ending for the story I am writing.