#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 has reasons to like the guy, besides him liking a woman as shy and strange as she is. He has a cat, and then this (hot off the press, as it were):
The siamese mewed and pawed the air, looking at the dropped photo.
"You can show me were his secret pictures are?" I asked.
The cat zipped off, tail an S shape in the air.
"Wait!" Caramello said as I swiftly followed the beast. Past the grotto bath. Past the metal door that might have once been a large closet but was now a darkroom. Past an inset library barely big enough for the square desk and an easy chair, considering the spiral stair. A clear dome and mirrors directed orangy sunset sun down the stack. Three stories of hardback volumes and a few silvery grimoires made me pause, but Flash meowed. I pushed open an oaken door as Caramello reached for my shoulder, but not touching, giving one last dispirited, "Wait!"
His bedroom...
The guy has his qualities. Cats and books are a good sign? Right?
#WritersCoffeeClub Ch 9 Nbr 09 — What's the minimum time you can work on your writing? Do you need a long, clear period?
This isn't something I've ever measured, though I can recall having an idea of something to add and, because of the ease of bringing up my writing on any platform, spending a few furious minutes writing. Left to my druthers, I will spend hours. Once I spent 15 hours straight, but that was because of a deadline (Clarion critique the next morning) and a story (fantasy romance) where the characters demanded I live their story. 2 to 4 hours is average.
Were I to need to clear a long period to write, I'd never write.
More to the point for me, I really need to clear my mind. Anxiety tries to creep in. To the extent I push that aside and quiet the monkey voice in my head long enough to let the words fill the blank page, time simply does not matter.
As an #sf, #sciencefiction, or #military#fiction#writer, you need the gif image of Tonga exploding in an eruption that can be found in this article. The article is interesting, too.
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 MC is employed by her main antagonist, who is an absolute ruler. Theoretically, the MC is second in command, but reality begs to differ. One of the reasons the MC accepted the troubleshooter job is that the MA informed her that her supposedly dead father is actually a political prisoner in a nearby country. In the back of her mind, the MC wonders whether she can use some of the MA's power to pay certain miscreant warlords a nasty visit...
This is a possible sequel I've set up in the current story by having the MC befriend a very talented up and coming military officer.
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.
#WritersCoffeeClub Ch 9 Nbr 08 — When writing technical or scientific detail, how much is plausible versus imagined?
Everything in a story must come across as plausible, full stop. It doesn't matter whether it is imagined or factual. This is as true for writing technical or scientific detail as it is for writing about social interactions. Here's my secret sauce recipe:
If I don't or can't understand the details necessary for the story, I don't write it. I won't write a story about a convenience store clerk because I don't know what that is like, nor am I willing to commit the brain cells to learn. This is one of the reasons I write fantasy and not mainstream or historical stories.
If I understand in layman's terms, I rely on subject matter expert characters to relate what's necessary. For example, I wouldn't explain in a story how the combustion engine works any more than I would explain how the star drive works. I rely on my mechanic, who at the most technical says I replaced a part and here's the bill.
If I am making up the details—which can be how the magic works or the social details for a society that exists only in my head—I rely on consistency and limits to build plausibility.
If something minor occurs that I can't explain, I lampshade it—I hide the bare electric bulb with pretty fabric enough so that the characters in the story believe what happened is plausible. Generally, readers will accept this. See item 6.
If I end up researching something for the story, as I did to write a story about prizefighter, I present only the technical details I know and use items 2 and 4 otherwise. Yes, I learned how to punch a speed bag and train as a fighter, but I'm not one. Since the story involved "mixed magical martial arts," I made s**t up, also, which is item 3.
Most importantly, I work to not stretch the reader's credulity and base everything I can in the common reality the reader shares with me. This promotes plausibility.
#WritersCoffeeClub Ch 9 Nbr 07 — Do you add a copyright statement to your work? How comprehensive is it?
When I submit to a publisher in the US, I do not include a copyright notice. Publishers understand that copyright law automatically protects authors whether or not they include the notice. Typing one on your manuscript shows you don't understand the basics. It's simply not professional.
When I publish online, for example on Mastodon, and I own the copyright AND care to have others understand that, I include the copyright notice below. The copyright is still automatic by law.
What I use is the word "copyright" followed by "(c)" or the symbol, no space, the year, and my name or pen name. This is what I understand as all that's necessary, but I am unqualified to give legal advice.
I include the copyright online to ensure:
non-US entities understand my ownership
if the content is scraped (e.g. by someone training an AI), the text will include an unambiguous copyright notice that this text is NOT public domain.
#Writer#story fuel: Think about these two paragraphs, read the article, then write a story. Or read Jean M Auel's The Mammoth Hunters.
Neanderthals disappeared roughly 40,000 years ago. But before they died out, some of them mated with early humans—which is why modern humans of non-African ancestry have between 1 and 4 percent Neanderthal DNA. The reconstruction of Shanidar Z makes it “perhaps easier to see how interbreeding occurred between our species,” says Emma Pomeroy, a palaeoanthropologist at the University of Cambridge who helped discover Shanidar Z, in a statement.
“The skulls of Neanderthals and humans look very different,” she says. “Neanderthal skulls have huge brow ridges and lack chins, with a projecting midface that results in more prominent noses. But the recreated face suggests those differences were not so stark in life.”
#WordWeavers 2405.04 — How does your SC deal with failure?
Try different ways to get what she wants until frustration sets in, followed by anger, followed by doing something stupid.
When all the hauling companies in her home prefecture blacklisted her not simply for being female, but for being female while being persistent, she may or may not have thrown a brick through some windows and turned over some vehicles. She ran from the constables. She got tricked in another city into thinking she could earn quick money hauling questionable things to start her own company. She got blackmailed into the mob. She's still saving, for that day she might escape.
#PennedPossibilities 305 — Are there any characters of yours that you wound up HATING once you were finished with a story or WIP?
Taking a cue from @floofpaldi on how to answer this one, I have characters that are HATEFUL but none that I hate. I'm not to a Conan Doyle level that I can hate a character so much that I want to kill off my Sherlock Holmes.
Occasional hateful characters are great fun to write and pit against my MC. She ticks off one misogynist prizefighter during a press interview where her trainer presents her as a contender. An off-handed remark. He becomes her boogeyman, but he's stupidly angry, obviously uses steroids, blurts racist epithets, and gets used by others as muscle. The time he attacks her on a crowded public street, she manages to get him to trip into traffic where he breaks his legs. She walks off with her "Starbucks" she'd put down on a newspaper rack to deal with him.
Another time he ambushes her in a quiet neighborhood midday when nobody is around. His first punch to the head renders her unable to use magic part of her martial art and leaves her stumbling. He fights only with brawn. He wants to kill her. How could you hate a character on character setup like that?
She defeats him with a child's wooden pull toy. Anymore would be spoilers.
4 May 1694: d. Victoria Cary who married in 1640, Sir William Uvedale, father of her deceased fiancé, also William. Victoria was daughter of Henry Falkland Lord Deputy of #Ireland & Elizabeth Cary Tanfield #writer (NPG/EH) Her brother Patrick, ex-Benedictine m. Uvedale's niece.
Silence has a
tremor to it
a tremble like
a quiet cold. I
wish I could move
fast like that
all the time or
make myself
gigantic with
massive
goosebumps.
But super speed or
growth are for
cool kids and I
get a preview while
freezing in the quiet,
cupped hand, ear.