Five Stages of a First Draft

I am currently working on a new project for Wet Ink Games. Its early days so I don’t want to say much about it, but this process has given me reason to think about the creative process and specifically about the many stages of work a creator has to go through to make any particular idea a reality. There are lots of creators who have covered this before, but I want to put my own little spin on it. I think of my process from an idea to a first draft as happening over five broad stages.

Stage One - Filling the Blank Page: The the first step of any new piece of writing is to start with a blank page. I have heard many people say the blank page is the most intimidating because there is nothing to work from; the page is blank. I don’t see it that way, because when starting a new project I first set down a lot of ideas about what I want to do. There is often no method or reason to this step, it’s just a way to get all the possibly relevant ideas if not on the actual page, then at least up to the front of your mind so you can work with them. I will sketch scenes, propose characters or even just names, write down bits of dreams I’ve had, list possible plot events and make a list of scenes is movies or comics which I want to use as inspiration. This step is like brainstorming, but it seems more directed than that to me. I am usually not trying to find an idea at this stage, but looking for what will help me build up an idea I already have. This is the most free stage because there is nothing else set down yet so there can be no conflicts or missteps at this stage. All competing details are still possible and exist together in limbo. Once you have put everything you think might be helpful in front of you, you are ready to begin the work in earnest.

Stage Two - Finding the Edges: Once you have your working central ideas you need to know the full extent of the project. You need to know how big this particular project is and where it ends. All the threads of history and inspiration you’ve pulled into this particular project need to break off somewhere. This roughing out of the whole shape of the work sometimes leads you see it as possibly part of the larger series of works, but at some point you have to decide this is the part I am working on now and set that off as a individual project in your mind and on your page. This is the stage of outlining a whole project or maybe writing a one or two line description of each chapter for a novel. I have done a list of what needs to happen in each chapter for several of the NaNoWriMos I have worked on over the years. In the case of writing a RPG book, a list of all the things you want in the game and how many of each is part of what you make at this stage. For example, we need 20 new animal types and five or six new airplanes for the next Wild Skies book. We know that going in. This stage is not limited to outlining. Sometimes you have to start the writing to find out what you need to know about characters and backgrounds. There are still no wrong answers in this stage. You are filling out the shape of how big and how long you think the work is going to be. It may still change in the making. This stage generally doesn’t take that long, but it is my favorite part of the creative process. I love the combination of direction set in this first stage with this stage’s freedom.

Stage Three - Painting in the Floor: I may be mixing architectural metaphors here, but I like to think of this step as filling the work out to the edges set in the previous step. It could also be called “painting in the canvas.” This is the longest step in the process. After the direction is set and you know about where you want to go, you have to actually go there. In stage two you can simply write, “the characters discuss their emotional history,” but in stage three you have to figure out want that history is and how you are going to reveal it to best effect and what words your characters are actually going to say. If you set yourself the task of creating a dozen character profiles or six new airplanes which all need statistics to make them unique then you have to write up all those details. It can be a slog to get through this stage as it’s not a time for a lot of new ideas. It’s slow and steady crafting. It’s the “cruising altitude” portion of the flight, to mix in yet another metaphor. About 80 to 90 percent of a project gets written in this stage.

Stage Four – Finishing the Corners: This is the stage where you have to go back and deal with whatever you skipped in the previous step. This has been less common in the novels I’ve written because I’ve only finished longer fiction like that all in one go during November. It is a more common problem for me in RPG writing where there is often many different types of writing within one project. Maybe you left a detailed time line for last because the alternate history section wasn’t written yet. Or maybe you skipped the details of a weapon’s game numbers because you wanted to get on to describing the attributes of your fantasy creatures. This stage also includes all the details you didn’t plan for from the start. You may not know you need a chapter exploring the motivations of the queen mother until you get to the climax of the story and she’s there when her son is murdered. Whatever the reason you skipped something or left it out, in stage four you have to go back and get those things done. This is the hardest step for me, usually. There is often a reason I left the tricky bits for the end and they are still tricky to get right. I find the work of this stage is motivated not by what I am interested in writing or thinking about, but by the needs of the story. It is often work I just have to push myself to get through.

Stage Five – Polishing all the Details: Fifth and lastly the work as a whole must be harmonized in terms of format and details. Did you change a character’s name in chapter three? You have to make sure it’s corrected in the first chapters. Did you create place-holder information while someone else was working on the real details? That has to be swapped out. Were you inconsistent in story details like descriptions of a place or in format elements like use of quotation marks? You have to bring all that into line. You should also fix spelling errors you missed in your initial haste. This is the final pass through whatever you’ve written to get everything “right” as much as you can before the first draft is done and other people get to look at it. It is a clean up stage and doesn't usually involve too much mental power so while it can be tedious, it is not hard.

There you have it, my breakdown of work. I’m off to paint in some more floors. Expect more news in the new year!

A Winner Again

I am somewhat remiss in not posting earlier that I did, in fact, win NaNoWriMo this year. I reached 50,204 words on 29 November. It was nice to not have to worry about writing on the last day of the month. It was happy to take it off. I didn’t set out certain I was going to win this year, but I am glad I did. It’s really a small and insignificant accomplishment; one more draft for a short novel has been put into the world. I don’t have that much pride in the novel even though I think it may be the best of the four I have written so far. It certainly has the most potential to rise to the ranks of decent writing. That feels good too. In any case, another NaNoWriMo is done.

I don’t want to spoil the actual climax of my story, but I am happy with the scene which sets up the murder. Here is the scene with all the characters together right before the murder takes place.

They emerged at last into a room ten cubits square. The light came from two lamps on a bench covered with an assortment of glistening tools and strangely-shaped vessels. Beside this bench were tow seated statues of jackal-headed Anubis. The gold outlines around the narrow jackal eyes stood out against black paint of the god’s head. They seemed to be studying Thutmose as he entered the room. In the middle of the chamber on a thin table or bench a little more than waist high lay a lean dessicated body. Thutmose blinked in the sudden light compared to the darkness of the corridor then stared at the body. After a moment he recognized it. It was his father’s body, looking hardly more dead then the last time he had seen the old man.
Thutmose approached the body reverently. He looked at Jetamesh who was still standing in the doorway of the room and wringing his hands. “Where are the priests to help preform the ceremony?” Jetamesh shook he head and shrugged his shoulders. He seemed barely able to keep himself composed. Something was odd. He walked to Jetamesh and took him by the arm roughly. Thutmose tried to look his friend in the eyes, but Jetamesh refused to look at him.
The sound of a group of people approaching began to echo down the hallway. There was a sinister purpose in the quickness of their steps. Thutmose released Jetamesh. This was a part of the palace Thutmose did not know and he had no idea if the corridor they had come by led somewhere else or if he was trapped in this room. Thutmose looked around the walls of the room and saw no other doors. He took a deep breath and decided to trust in fate. He pictured the calm face of the sphinx he had seen every day for weeks on end. This was the face which had led him on this course. All he could do no was trust in the promise he had received in his dream. Thutmose slowly walked back to the table where Pharaoh’s body lay. He stood beside the head of the corpse and faced whomever was approaching. He assumed an attitude which asserted his right to be here and perform the proper rites upon his father.
In just a few more moments Thutmose saw the thin face and dark robe draped body of his brother Amenmehat, high priest of Amun enter the room. His face pinched in confusion beneath this tall headdress as he saw Thutmose in the room, but he did not break his stride and walked purposefully along the wall of the chamber. Behind him came two of the palace guards. They did not acknowledge Thutmose at all, but took up positions beside the doorway of the room. Next, in clothing as pressed and clean and his own, Amenhotep, Son of Horus, heir apparent of all Kemet. When he saw Thutmose already standing beside their father’s body he stopped short. Thutmose had a glimpse of more palace guards and a priestess behind Amenhotep before his brother commanded all his attention.
“I told you,” the prince pointed at Thutmose savagely with a finger heavy with rings, “never to return to my presence.”
“Nay, brother,” Thutmose shot back, “you said I should not return until the task of uncovering the sphinx was complete. The work is finished.”
Amenhotep was as red as coals. He advanced toward Thutmose, gesturing wildly. “Do not lie to me. That was a fool’s errand.” He smiled savagely, “Fit for a fool like you.”
Thutmose could not remember being openly insulted ever in his life. He flared his nostrils and he felt his body preparing to act. “I have been granted success by my god. Now it is time to take my place as Pharaoh, as Khepri foretold.” He looked his brother in the eye. They were of similar height and seemed evenly matched in that moment.
Amenhotep smiled. “Amenmehat, you have heard the lies and the blasphemy of this traitor.” He continued to fix his glare on Thutmose. “Guards, place this treasonous slave in prison. Pharaoh has spoken!” Thutmose glanced around the room at the four guards. Two were still by the door, but the other two were advancing slowly toward him. He could use some of what he practiced as exercises as fighting methods instead, but he knew he didn’t likely stand a chance again four trained soldiers. He decided he would not resist and again committed himself to let his fate deliver.
The priestess whom he had seen earlier was now inside the room as well. It was hard to be sure since he had only met her once, but he thought she might be the same woman who had attended the opening of the digging at the sphinx. As Thutmose watched the soldiers advance and considered why a priestess of Isis was attending an Anubis ritual, she suddenly shouted. “Strike the bear. The bear must die!”

Right now my word count is 50,204 words.
By now I should have 50,000 words.

The Lion or the Bear?

I don’t have a lot of words right now (since all my words are being used elsewhere). I had a bumper day today and did two days worth of work. I’m pretty happy with this part.

The two adherents left the military training ground behind and passed through a purely industrial quarter. They were surrounded by the smoke from kilns and the noise of draft animals. As they passed a large clay vessel factory and came alongside a open air flax-weaving operation Amenmehat asked, “You saw the beginning of the excavation work at Gizeh. What do you make of my brother Thutmose?”
“His eyes are like the desert lion. I saw one caged when I was a girl,” she added to prove she knew what she was talking about. Then she realized she may have spoken too freely. She made an apologetic noise, “Ahh...”
Amenmehat was simply looking down at the road in front of them as they walked. His expression was grave. Ahtinamun did not know what else to say so she remained silent. Then the priest spoke. “Thank you for speaking the truth about what you have seen.” They were both silent for the length of a few more buildings. Very softly Amenmehat asked, “Did you know Pharaoh has died?” Even though she knew well the theoretical progress of individual Pharaohs through the ages; each new one becoming the living Horus as each former became Osiris in an unending chain, she was still gripped with a sudden fear. No pharaoh? It had never happened in her lifetime and she felt unmoored. As the idea sunk into her mind she recalled there was a definite process.
“How long until my Lord is buried?”
“Two months yet. Then the Son of Horus will rise to be The Living Image of Horus.” He sounded very sad about this prospect.
Ahtinamun realized she was being invited once again to peer behind another veil. “Will the royal family have need of a priestess of Isis?” Even in asking she was other priestesses who outranked her could not be bypasses for this unique opportunity. Amenmehat was looking at her meaningfully. “If not, perhaps I can serve you in some other capacity.”
The priest nodded his acceptance. “Let us speak again of hypotheticals,” he said loudly with a wave of his right hand. “Let us suppose a wild desert lion, like the one you mentioned earlier.” He looked at her and she nodded her understanding. “Now suppose also a bear raised in captivity which had grown to hate the bear-baiters and the bars which were a necessary part of its life.” Ahtinamun was beginning to understand the shape of this argument. “If these two were taken from their cages and left to roam, which would be the more dangerous creature?”
“Are these beasts well-fed or starved?”
Amenmehat suddenly laughed, lifting his head back and expressing his mirth in a short exclamation. The suddenness and force of the priest’s odd laughter caught Ahtinamun by surprise. With a smile he said, “let us say they are fed but neither starved for fattened.”
Ahtinamun knew little enough about animals, especially savage beasts. She had seen a bear as well as a lion. She compared the two. She knew her mentor was not really asking her about animals. She left she had to answer very carefully. “In your example the bear would seem the safer choice, its life of captivity would have made it more docile than a wild bear, certainly.”
“Certainly.”
“However, that familiarity could be a trap. It would be a mistake to treat such a bear as tame. It could strike out when violence was least expected.” The priest nodded. “While the lion could never be mistaken for tame and no one would treat it so. Given a chance the lion would be more likely to return to the desert where it had known true freedom rather than staying in the city at all.”
“I think you are correct in all points.”
Emboldened Ahtinamun pushed forward with another point. “Of course, the question then becomes, that is the purpose of the animal? Is it a guide to be followed? If so, what use is running into the desert for most of us? If this theoretical animal is simply a symbol of power, why tolerate a symbol which returns adoration with contempt?”
“You see the dilemma very clearly, indeed.”
“And it is your place to decided between these beasts?”
Amenmehat was very grave and returned to studying the ground. “It is not my place by right or by obligation. Yet the choice is before me.”
“If we are all part of a cosmic priesthood, who better to make a choice for order than the High Priest of Amun?”
They had reached the plaza where they must part. Her to the sacred precinct and he. No doubt to the palace where the bear rattled its cage even now. “Goodbye for now, Father. I am most grateful to you for these discussions. I feel I am learning much.” Ahtinamun bowed low to the priest.
He returned the bow, but more shallowly, respecting his greater stature. “I am glad you find our time together beneficial.” Without another word the highest ranking priest in the city turned on his heel and crossed the plaza.
Ahtinamun watched him go. His black cloak cut such a grave silhouette against the white stone he was easy to follow until her view was blocked by a public building across the plaza. He was like a shadow, dark as a smear of charred resin, which moved on its own from one forgotten corner of the universe to another. She was very certain what they had been talking about. She would choose the lion. She stood at the edge of plaza for some time watching the mundane business of the city being conducted at its edges. What could she do to help bring about the rise of the lion and the fall of the bear? Perhaps the answer was only known in the lost corners of the universe where shadows roam free.

Right now my word count is 32,027 words.
By now I should have 30,006 words.

A Call for Dialogue

I have worked out how the novel will end. As I’ve written some themes have emerged which I did not except. This was always a novel about political turmoil, but it has certainly been influenced by the political outcomes of this week. Other themes are just part of the normal process of sitting down to craft a story. I did not plan on exactly how Thutmose would relate to his siblings or how Ahtinanum would be brought into the plot to make Thutmose pharaoh. I also did not expect my priestess to be the one who was cynical about religion. Perhaps it is cliché and maybe I am bringing impacted a bit by The Last Days of Pompeii. Whatever the case, I’ve written it so she is now. There’s no time to go backwards in NaNoWriMo.

Eloy, my friend and the head honcho over at Third Eye Games, has taken up the November challenge for the first time this year. He’s writing a screen play. He mentioned the other day that a screen play is so much more about dialogue then other writing. That has been in my mind, and I have noticed I don’t put a lot of dialogue into my NaNoWriMos. I like description of places, actions and feelings but I rarely make my characters interact. I guess that’s a blind spot for me an introvert, or it’s just weakness as writer I need to work on. Anyway, I wrote some dialogue I’m pretty happy with today. Here you go.

Thutmose sat on the low wall of the courtyard where he had just completed his vigorous morning routine. He had run the length of the yard several times, lifted the stones, pushed his body up from the ground by his arms and several other exercises he had learned. He had worked himself until he could not work any more and now he sat on the wall exhausted. He relished this quiet moment. As he sat in the morning sun feeling the sweat on his back dry and skin of his face begin to finally cool he had no thoughts. He had outrun everything. He was not thinking about the clouds he had left behind nor was he thinking about the monumental project which lay before him. He was thinking about nothing for a few silent, quiet moments.

Then the world he could never outrun for long caught up to him and he heard the rustle of fabric and the hiss of a sandal on sand. He did not look up. Let this fragment of the world outside his resting mind speak first. In the darkness behind his closed eyelids Thutmose could not miss the sounds of someone sitting beside him. An older person who eased down onto the wall with a grunt of old age exertion. The one to intrude on his space did not speak. Thutmose could almost feel the shape and face of the person in his mind’s eye, but identity of the figure still escaped him. Still they both waited.

“Thutmose, my son...” It was Shamenkmet. “Tell me what troubles you.”

“Do you not know?” Thutmose’s voice was almost a whisper.

“I know many troubling things,” the wise old man admitted. “You must be the one to speak it.”

“My father...”

“You haven’t seen your father in years. Your relationship never had gave you life. His imminent death does not trouble you now.”

“I do not know if I will be able to uncover the body of the sphinx.”

“Closer. You are worried about your project. Speak the truth of it.”

Thutmose sat up straight and looked into the face of his teacher, healer and guide. The man’s face was serene, as always. His thin lips curved into a subtle smile and his eyes flashed and danced like fish rising to the surface of the pond of his face. His clean-shaven head was covered by a hood made of part of the long wrap of cloth he wore as his only outer garment. He had pulled his feet up under himself. He looked almost like a chunk of rock broken in a odd way and laying at an odd angle such as one could find below cliff faces in the southern desert. Old and darkened by the desert patina in places and bright white along the newly broken edges. Shamenkmet’s fish eyes kept roiling in his patina face and kept begging Thutmose for an answer. He knew he could not keep a secret from this man.

Thutmose leaned closer to this teacher and he felt small and helpless like a child caught filtching honey from the family supply. “I did not speak with honesty upon the matter of Khepri’s statue.”

“You lied?” There was no value judgement in the words. It was simply an observation.

“I lied.”

Shamenkmet nodded with satisfaction. He snaked a thin arm tipped with long fingers out of his wrappings and gripped Thutmose’s bowed head. He pulled the younger man forward forcefully and Thutmose let his head be dragged. Shamenkmet held their foreheads together and looked awkwardly up and forward into Thutmose’s eyes. “Remember, my son, commitment to truth is the highest ideal.” His voice hissed, “The highest!” Thutmose winced and the disgust in his master’s voice. Shamenkmet returned to a whisper. “Maat will weigh your heart someday. Do not weigh it down.” He released the younger man from his grip and caressed the the side of his student’s face as his hand slid away.

Thutmose felt emotion pull at him like carrion birds picked at a corpse. He had been slain with simple words. He pushed the image from his mind. Part of him knew it would not change what his teacher had said but he mumbled, “I acted on an opportunity to serve Khepri.”

“You choose the easy path.”

“I did. How else could I have achieved my commission so quickly?”

“Legacies are not built quickly of inferior products. Do you want to erect a house of dry reeds or a temple of stone?”

Thutmose could not answer. Each of Shamenkmet’s statements came quickly like a series of blows in a melee. He knew where to strike and he delivered crushing damage. Thutmose again saw himself as a corpse being feasted upon by vultures. This time he rested with the image for a moment. His sick father, the false hope he had given him, the chance arrival at the same time as his two brothers. It has seemed like a perfect conjunction of events. If he was Khepri, the light of the morning sun, as he felt and as Amenemhat had said, he should have acted more carefully and more precisely. The dawn came at the perfect time, but its influence was soft and gentle. It was full of promise but not yet full of power. He had done wrong and acted against the request of the god who had spoken to him.

Thutmose looked back into Shamenkmet’s face and he was there, as serene as ever watching his pupil work out the impacts of his actions for himself. Thutmose reached out and said, “Father, please forgive...”

Shamenkmet cut him off with an upraised hand. “Do not ask my forgiveness. You are yet a pupil. You are to err and I am to correct you. You must ask forgiveness of those you have offended. Pharaoh and the god who asked you for protection.”

Thutmose nodded. Then questions came to him. “How do you know I saw a god in a dream? How did you know I lied?”

“I attend upon The Living Image of Horus from time to time. I was there when you spoke with your father and I could read on your face your lie.” Thutmose said nothing, he looked across the court yard. For a moment he did not see the white limestone walls and the palace the and flag stones of the court. He saw again the desert. The desolate landscape. His teacher’s voice reached him through the emptiness like a voice on the wind. “Even if you had not retold the dream yourself, I saw it in your face when you first entered the room. You have seen a god. That vision is part of you now. It has changed you.”

Right now my word count is 19,129 words.
By now I should have 18,337 words.

The Dream

First off:
Remember, remember the fifth of November...

I haven’t done my writing yet for today, but I wanted to put up some of what I wrote yesterday. The writing is going well. I have named my engineer Pentawer and my priestess Ahtinanum. Maybe not great names, and “Ahtinamun” is not attested from Egypt so far as I know, but they are serviceable for a writing blitz. Without more ado, here it is; my version of Thutmose’s dream from the stele. Enjoy.

He made an apology to the elder priest and stepped out of the funerary complex. It was now noon and Ra was at his zenith. He had to get out into the open, away from the incense, but Thutmose wanted a place to sit down and rest. Across from the temple he had left was a huge stone head resting right on the desert sand. The overhang of the chin created a shadowed cleft. It would be the perfect spot to rest and recover himself. He quickly strode across the desert until he was right below the mammoth face. It was crowned with the nemes, the headdress of royalty. It was the face of a pharaoh. The Horus of his day, an Osiris for all time. It was a wide face with full cheeks. So unlike the ruling family of his own day. So unlike his own face. Thutmose touched his cheek impulsively. He knew well that even in the old days temples and statues were erected freely wherever there was available space. This monument might not be directly associated with the funerary temple behind him or the pyramids away on his left. Yet somehow he knew it was. This was the face of the man who had been so important there were still people worshipping his revered memory, if not quite his hallowed name, all these ages hence. Again he felt insignificant in the face of ancient days. He was nothing compared even to the memory of this man. How could he hope to make anything of himself worth remembering?
Thutmose was barely aware his companions had finally missed him and come across the sands to find him. Maatkure touched his arm. “Prince, let us go back to our chariots and return to the river. We can spend the heat of the day in the cool of the date palms.”
Thutmose pulled his arm roughly out of his friend’s grasp. “No, I will rest right here in the shadow of my ancestors.” He walked forward again and came to the edge of the huge head. He stooped below it and walked to the middle of the cleft below the statue. The shade was cool enough and being out of the direct light of Ra was a relief. Thutmose sat and crossed his legs one over the other. His companions joined him shortly. The three talked quietly about their hunting and they resolved between them the trip was over now they were in sight of the river again. They would wait until the heat of the day passed then head back to Men-Nefer. Thutmose’s plan to make they stay in the area of tombs for the night was forgotten as the childish and petty vengeance it was. Their conversation drifted off to nothing. Thutmose felt his eyes drooping. In his sadness he choose not to resist and soon his head fell to his chest and the price, the son of Horus, slept.

He started awake to find darkness had fallen. Shadow covered him but beyond moonlight bathed the desert in shimmering blues beyond the river the black body of Nut was studded with shimmering stars. Feeling he had forgotten something important he looked around for the others. They were gone. He was alone. He did not feel alone. He felt watched. He looked around to search the edge of the shadow again for anything he had not noticed at first but now he saw the shadow had disappeared. He was not sitting on the sand as he had been he was standing looking west into the Land of Death. He tried to remember what he had left behind, he tried to call to whomever had been with him, but his mind felt like a shallow stream and his voice was soundless in the oppressive night.
A wind struck him from the west and the abrasive sand struck him. He lifted his arm to shield his eyes and he felt the old weakness slowing his movements. A thumping filled his years over the roar of the wind. He carefully looked into the west and saw a shape moving against the horizon. It walked on four legs and it’s movements were sleek like a lion. He found he bow suddenly in his hands and he drew back an arrow as the creature in the night moved closer. Each footfall of the beast’s approach was a distant rumble of thunder. He lowered his useless bow as the beast looked higher. Higher than the pyramids he had seen earlier that day. A world-filling power. He stood helpless and mute as it closed the distance from the edge of the night to him in a few simple leaps. As it came closer he could see more than just and outline. Then suddenly, the whole massive creature was revealed to him in the sliver moonlight. He stared up from the massive lion paws to the thick limbs to the human head which rode above the animal body. He mouth gaped. A living sphinx! The largest he could imagine.
The sphinx looked down at him and he felt in looking into him. He felt it read in him every failing, all the weakness, all the resentment, everything. It began to speak and he assumed he would die, blown apart by the force of a god’s whim. Instead the voice was gentle. He heard it as if he were a sleepy child being comforted by a loving father. “Look at me, my beloved son. I am Khepri, Effective for Horus, Disperser of Chaos. I have seen your dreams and read your desires. So I shall make you the king of all the earth. You have a brow fit for the crowns of many kingdoms.” The huge beast knelt and he felt it exhale with pain. Hot breath with the smell of fresh kills passed by him. The beast put it paws before it in the classic guarding pose he had seen repeated hundreds of times before the doors of temples. Leaned forward, looming just above him, the sphinx spoke again, but now its voice was strained. “Look at my face, Thutmose. We have the same face. We share the same heart. You can feel it.” He did. He felt his heart within him straining at his chest. His ka was reaching out to the beast. He felt something was wrong and he wanted to help. They were looking at each other eye to eye. “You are my protector. I need you. The desert has come close upon me and cut off my limbs.” The wind was blowing again. He seemed to be looking down on the sphinx now. It was small and he towered over it’s helpless body. The sand was covering it, burring it as it spoke to him. Gusts blew stinging sand into his own eyes as well. He tried to act, he tried to reach out and comfort the mighty creature but his own body was being buried as well. He could only stare at the sphinx as the sands covered it to its neck. “Come to me, my son,” it begged. “Do what I desire. You are my protector.” Desperation was in its voice and he felt the same desperation as the sand reached his own neck. “Trust. I will lead you.” Then the sphinx was gone, swallowed by the desert and the gusts soon covered him in sand as well.

Right now my word count it 7,104 words.
By now I should have 8,335 words.

NaNoWriMo Begins Again

First, let me announce the manuscript for Wild Skies: Europa Tempest has been completed. We are working to burnish it a bit before we send it on for layout. About 80% of the art has been completed. The comic has been in the bank for a while. Our KickStarter closed one year ago yesterday, so we missed our original target of delivery within one year. That smarts a little, but we rolling forward. I can hardly believe it has been a year already. Writing a whole role playing game from the ground up is hard, let me tell you. Whew! Considering my last major RPG projects all kicked around for multiple years, Wild Skies is proceeding in record time. Always find the latest on our updates page!

What I am really here to talk about is National Novel Writing Month. It’s November and that means it’s time to lay down 50,000 words in 30 days. This is the tenth year I have participated with three victories under my belt. I managed to win last year despite beginning work on Wild Skies and a multi-day trip to see family for Thanksgiving. This year with the editing and layout work to do, I really don’t know if I will have the time for NaNoWriMo. Having said that, one of my victories was achieved in 2013 when there was so much on my plate I needed my novel just to survive. I make no promises. This year I am taking things one day and 1,667 words at a time.

For now, my working title for this year’s novel is The Dream Stele. It is a riff on the actual Dream Stele which sits between the paws of the great sphinx at Giza. The ancient stele tells the story of young Thutmose IV who slept beneath the sphinx on a hunting trip one day. The sphinx was covered in sand. In a dream the sphinx told him he would become pharaoh if he uncovered it. Some version of these events presumably did happen because Thutmose had the story written down on the stele after he did become pharaoh. Assuming the events told on the stele are accurate, I am writing the story of the dream and Thutmose’s subsequent rise to power.

I plan to alternate between three characters. First is young prince Thutmose himself. He’s ambitious and the driver of the events in my story. The scanty scholarship I’ve done on the matter suggests Thutmose may have been epileptic in some form which contributed to his religious convictions. I plan to write him as more manic-depressive. Not in a clinical way, I’ll admit I don’t plan to do much, if any, mental health research. I want to portray him as something of a force of nature. He makes things happen, but no one knows why.

My “real” characters will be the people surrounding Thutmose. Most important will be the engineer tasked with actually moving the sand from around the sphinx. I liked the aquarius hero in Harris’ Pompeii and I have something of a soft spot for Belzoni’s workmanlike engineering so my engineer, as yet unnamed, will likely be a combination of them. I know he wouldn’t think of himself as Sisyphus, but I think he sees himself but in a similar position.

My least realized character so far will be a priestess of Isis. Her story will involve the political and religious side of Thutmose’s rise to power. He wasn’t supposed to be king. Yet he became king. What played out in the halls of power which aided that transition? Whatever story that is will be told from her eyes. I like Jeanne of Arc and I might recast her as my priestess; a character caught up in events “beyond” her because of a clear religious vision. On the other hand, if Thutmose is the religious one and the engineer is the practical one, maybe the priestess plays a role like Valentine Wiggin in Card’s Ender’s Game. She could be the social force which enables what Thutmose is doing to be appreciated. I’ll figure it out as I go along. That’s what writing with abandon is all about.

Right now my word count it 1,721 words.
By now I should have 1,667 words.

NaNoWriMo Victory!

For the third time in the nine years I've attempted it, I have won National Novel Writing Month. With the health set backs I had early in the month I wasn't sure I was going to make it but I managed 2,000 words a day or more for almost two weeks right I the middle of the month. That but me back on track. I traveled out of town for the Thanksgiving holiday, but unlike other years, this time I had a laptop so I managed to get some work done every day of the trip. Another big help. So, I did it! I said I felt like a had a win in me and I did. Good news!

But is the draft I've slipshod smashed together any good? Maybe. I must admit when I was writing the end I wasn't happy. The diary format limits my ability to actually describe the climax of the story. I was never convinced by the stupidly long letters and diary entries which give all the details in Stoker's Dracula so I wanted to keep my pretended entries shorter. I decided, perhaps wrongly, to make the final events occur after the last entry. Rasmus talks about what he thinks will happen when signs off never to make a follow-up report. That got me to the end of my word count, but it left me with a bad taste in my mouth. If I return to this in February or so to revise it, that will have to revisited. There are some other problems with the plot. I'm not sure I like the direction I ended up taking with more and more people getting involved in Rasmus' project. He becomes the administrator and star surgeon of a hospital. Would he really go from quiet, private academic to that kind of leader? Maybe, but I would have to develop that more in revision. Lastly, I read about one paragraph of background information so to have things accurate to 1640s Prague will take a lot of work.

Is there nothing good about it? Well... I still like the idea. I could try another project with the same format. I think I am most proud of the character of Penemue, the fallen angel. In a way this is that being's diary as well and most of the things it tells Rasmus about sitting before The Throne in the days before the rebellion and watching the first human civilizations and how the exiled angels built a city inside the chasm they were thrown in can be assumed to be true. Though it is using these stories to corrupt Rasmus they are really how this particular angel feels. It joined the rebellion and ended cast out of Heaven, but it still remembers its days of glory fondly and truthfully talks about how bad Lucifer is. I have, in Penemue's parts of the diary, sketched out mechanics of heaven, the progress of the rebellion of Lucifer, the conditions of the thrown-down angels' imprisonment. All of this can be improved upon and turned into another found document it its own right or used as the basis for some other project involving angels.

Here's a section written by Penemue:

Simply stated, yes, that high angel to the depths fallen you have named was the leader of the defeated forces. I mention not that name lest the one to whom it belongs visit some vengeance on me even now. Little all your human wisdom has drawn so far from the aether about that contest. It happened not before the world was made as you suppose. It happened afterwards when humanity had already begun to fill the earth and make names and kingdoms for themselves. That was when certain of my kind first mingled among you. Wives they took to them after the fashion of the tribal rulers they emulated. At first those great men who were born of those unsanctioned unions were famous and their tales were long and filled with great glory, great woe and, above all, great deeds. Little remnant of those tales remains, if any, even in the learning of the very wise for it was long ago. So this is what provoked the war. The faction named later the rebels wished to continue the relations between man and angel as they had been. To shape further the fledgling kingdoms after the full potential of the human minds and limbs they had found, always driving those simple kingdoms on to new greatness. Even as I told you about Eden so it happened in those early civilizations. Though founded upon the original principles of Creation, such strong pushing by the angels and such rapid advancement by the men was not the design of the Enthroned and a ban was issued which in turn provoked the rebellion. On both sides it was for mankind we fought. Any history you read which does not run in this manner is not founded upon the events of those days, but upon later speculation and guesses.

Thus to your next theme. Indeed is the Almighty named rightly. Indeed that loyal host was victorious. So why sit I here confined instead of in my former place before the Throne? I have often wondered this myself, be assured. I know not an answer and I have but few thoughts as consolation. Since my rescue could surely be affected that it is not must also be a part of that sacred will which is not revealed even to the angels. Maybe I am here to work upon this epo I have here composed. Maybe when it conveys all that was done and felt in that lost contest I will be welcomed home to deliver my labor and hear it read before the captains of those days as I intend it to be heard. Maybe I am here to learn something of confinement the better to be sent on a future mission by my master. This last it perhaps slight comfort to you who are of different nature than I, but it is possible I am no longer needed or even considered by the one who made me. I was made to serve and if I am no longer of use what obligation has the maker to the useless tool? Every right there might be to set me aside. I know not the state of heaven since I marched forth. This I can accept. Your question shakes me not.

My final, verified count was 50,161 words.

NaNoWriMo Update

I mentioned before I felt like a had a win in me this year. That has been seriously challenged this past week. I had a surprise medical issue appear which kept me in the hospital for two entire days. I feebly wrote about 100 words in that time. Since then I've been a little slow to get back into the writing routine, and blogging on top of that has been impossible. In the last three days, though, I have recovered my creative momentum to some extent. I have managed close to or over 2,000 words a day for three days in a row. I'm still very much behind over all, but I'm catching up. There was one day this week I was 8,000 words behind! That's when I doubted. Things are looking much better going into weekend two so I can again say, I think I'm going to win this year.

I big chunk of the story I've written involves the angel-being giving Rasmus formulas for various scientific breakthroughs which weren't really (so far as I know) part of the Seventeenth Century. The problem is I don't know much, if anything, about chemistry myself let alone what type of substances would have been common to an alchemy bench in that period. I could do the research right now, but that kind of detail is somewhat against the spirit of NaNoWriMo. Don't make sure it's right, just make sure it progresses. So to that end I have avoiding details and I've tried not to worry about chemical names. I've just thrown stuff together: Merchant's gall, silver tincture and Carpathian red are names I have used for chemicals. What at these supposed to be, really? It doesn't matter! Keep writing.

I didn't have a clear plot when I began, but one keeps emerging as I progress. Rasmus has cured a plague with his new angel science which I never intended for him to even confront. That story arc is almost over though, so I'll need to introduce something else soon. Progress! Keep writing! Right now my word count is 18378 words.
By now I should have 21671 words.

Off to a Good Start

First of all, I want to point out the Kickstarter we've been running has ended with great success! We ended with 139% of our goal raised. Thank you to all our backers! This is a great showing for a first-time company. We'll have the comic, custom dice, two bonus adventures and forty different animals because of the stretch goals we reached. I'll be posting about this project here throughout the year as Brandon and I get everything written and tested and ready to go, but you can follow along on the updates page as well.

The timing has worked out great. Just as the Kickstarted ended on 31 October, NaNoWriMo began on 1 November. I am very happy with the progress so far. Having a good idea has been a great help. I've chugged along to a little over the minimum word count each day so far. I'm not over my count for the day yet today, but the day is far from over. I say I had a plan, but that isn't really true. I had no idea what the plot of the story was going to be beyond the vaguest rise and fall of the action. The only think I was clear on was the journal format. That has been going well. I've always loved the books where part of the story was in the “extra” information on the page. Information hidden in the footnotes or encoded in the dates of diary entries has always appealed to me. I am getting to do that here. Somehow it's great fun to skip three days in the dates and come back in with my protagonist making an oblique reference to what else he has been up to. That is where my plot is slowly building up. It's like Shakespeare, a little, where all the action happens off stage and you just have the characters talking about how they feel about the action in soliloquy.

Not that I'm writing Shakespeare, but I am tying to affect an “old-timey” style. My story is supposed to take place in 1648. I don't know if I have an accurate “old-timey” vocabulary for that year. In fact, I would say I don't. My word choice is much more Nineteenth Century, I'm sure. I can't actually think of anything I have read from the Seventeenth Century other than the King James Version of the Bible. The great thing about NaNoWriMo, though, is that getting it “right” doesn't much matter on the first pass. If it sounds old, it'll read as “old.” I can always go back and fix it to the right kind of old if I develop the novel beyond the writing of it this month!

Here's a taste:

I have re-read again the passage from Goloksh. So convenient to have it written out so near at had. Again, I am drawn to de Chapallon's straight-forward amateur's method of simply asking the crystal whence its power derives. The practiced magus often shies away from direct confrontations with power because he has come to know their hazards. I suspect the first small text I transcribed under its influence is the same text he records. With Goloksh I pine for the proof of this theory by the actual page itself! On what misapplied hearth did that great artifact go up in the halls of Savoy? Alas. As I say, I believe I have begun as he did and this text we both produced is the answer to the question he posed. In short it is the proper appellation of the power to which the medium of this black stone opens the way.

Right now my word count is 6700 words.
By now I should have 6668 words.

Planning NaNoWriMo 2015

It's almost time for National Novel Writing Month! For those who don't know, the goal is to write at least 50,000 words during November. That's an average of 1,667 words a day for 30 consecutive days. It's not exactly easy to do. Last year I was very busy and really only participated to be able to say I was making the attempt. This year will be my ninth year, and I feel like I have a win in me this time. I don't have any looming projects on the horizon so I should be able to commit the time needed for the writing. Plus since about February, I have been doing a lot of writing and I feel like I have a good routine of sitting down and writing almost every day. This should all be good for my NaNoWriMo attempt.

It's also great to have a good idea. Some time ago, I watched this video about the life of John Dee. He was court astrologer to Queen Elizabeth I. I also heard about him in this episode of Shakespeare's Restless World by Neil MacGregor. The idea Dee contacted angels via scrying is pretty incredible. For the purposes of this novel, it doesn't much matter what he did or didn't actually hear or do. In a fantasy and horror setting, I can take the story at face value and accept he did talk to angels. This starting point opens many great storytelling options.

Instead of making Dee himself my protagonist and thus be bound by his actual biography, I've created a rough analog named Dr. Nicholas Rasmus. I'm going to write Rasmus' diary as he uses a chunk of crystal to talk to angels. I've got other ideas in the mix too. Rasmus will use Edger Cayce-style “automatic writing” to channel the angel's descriptions of the place where they live and the science they know which he hopes will benefit mankind. Yet, not is all as it seems. Inspired, as Dee himself was, by the Book of Enoch, the “angel” Rasmus is contacting as actually a fallen angel. He channels this description of the glorious city the angels live it, but the angel doesn't tell him its built in a prison in the pit of fire where the fallen angels are locked. I'm thinking of Edward Bulwer-Lytton's underground city in The Coming Race. A fabulous city full of wonders, but there's a sinister undercurrent Rasmus will eventually uncover. I am also borrowing a little bit from The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis. I haven't read it, but I know it is written as a demon's letter to Lucifer asking how to corrupt humans more. I think I'll throw in just a touch of the “found document” angle used by Poe in The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket, Lovecraft in The Call of Cthulhu and Potocki in The Manuscript Found in Saragossa.

In preparation for the project I've read the Book of Enoch. My main impression is, there's a very good reason it didn't make “the cut” and get included in the Biblical canon (at least not in 99% of Bibles). It's very repetitive, doesn't say much in the first place and is mostly concerned with material things. Enoch has a list of angel names, descriptions of the valley of fire where the angels are thrown, “secrets” of the yearly progression of the sun from one solstice to the other and a record of Noah's birth (he was glowing and filled the room with light!). This is all like Old Testament fan fiction. There's very little about actual Divine interaction with individuals which is the mainstay of Genesis, Judges, Samuel and the later Gospels. That said, the details of Enoch are perfect for turning into my own Old Testament fan fiction. I've picked an ex-angel from the list to be the one Rasmus is talking to. The general impression of “ooo this is all secret knowledge passed on just to you” also fits the tone I have in mind of Rasmus' diary.

During this run-up to November, I happened upon the fact long-time fantasy and science fiction artist Wayne Barlowe has also done a bunch of paintings of hell. I've spent some time looking at his hell art since. I've always liked Barlowe's style and I love the way he's worked out an economy for and the metaphysics of his fallen angels. My story won't deal with hell, I don't think, but I think Barlowe's ideas about what a fallen angel looks like will influence me. In my mind's eye as well are the Daemonix from Rifts Coalition Wars 2: Coalition Overkill and the mass-production Evas from The End of Evangelion. I will also keep in mind the Biblical descriptions of powerful angels with multiple beast-like heads and wings covered in eyes.

Right now my word count is 0 words.
By now I should have 0 words.

A Brief History of Recent Times

I have been a busy, busy guy in the last few months. I don't feel there has been time to post. I have no idea how I had time to post almost daily during NaNoWriMo and still get my stuff done. No idea.

You may remember I mentioned other projects in the background during my November posts. Let me give a rundown of what I have been up to. I submitted a manuscript to Third Eye Games in August for the game Part-Time Gods. It's a role-playing game where everyone plays the role of modern-day gods trying to balance their divine duties with the human side of their lives. They are only part-time gods. The power that is over at Third Eye Games liked it well enough to ask me to write more in the same game line. I submitted the first draft for that on 7 November. Then for a couple weeks I just focused on my NaNoWriMo.

However, I had also been working on a very long term project with another guy for Palladium Books. He declared (and I agreed) after four years of working on it on and off, 2013 was the year to finish. I realized along about 22 November there was no way I could wait until 1 December to get back to the Palladium project. At about the same time the edits came back for my Third Eye Games draft. That's three projects that needed work ASAP!

I worked on The Valley of Insects as a warm-up or cool-down activity but I considered finishing my Palladium manuscript my first priority. I was still working on my NaNoWriMo on 30 November, putting in a little bit more here and a little bit more there. I got just over the mark. I'm a NaNoWriMo winner! There was no stopping, though, I finishing my writing for the Palladium project on 4 December. Next I re-read the whole manuscript, both my sections and the sections my co-author had written. It was very helpful to see the whole project at once for the first time. It's the book we wanted to write (good thing, right?). There was a little bit of adjusting we needed to get the tone consistent throughout. My co-author and I met throughout the second half of December to hash out how to clean up problem issues and who was going to tackle what. I am very happy to say we completed all our work on 31 December at 14:00 or so. We were not freaking out at 23:55 that night. It was great to put that project to bed, go home and go to bed early myself.

I took the first week of January off from writing, but it wasn't off completely because my wife and I always host a big end-of-the-holidays party. There was a lot of work needed to get ready for that. It was not until 6 January that I first looked at the feedback I had on the Third Eye Games manuscript. It needed a lot of work. I assumed I could finish it up in a couple weeks, but I had submitted such a poor first draft (at least in my opinion) it all needed to be significantly reworked. It took me most of January and February to get that done. In Part-Time God, characters ally themselves with various Theologies (not the same thing as religions) and for me the hardest part was developing the special ability which makes each Theology unique. Making each ability simple, unique and thematic was a tough balancing act. Almost as hard was crafting the characters which exemplify each Theology. They had to fit in the game world, into their Theology and into the real world, at least as I understand it. I think it all came out pretty well, but I guess I won't know until I get the next round of feedback.

Of course, I am not just sitting on my hands while I wait. I have taken the time in the last few weeks to clean up my NaNoWriMo just enough to send it out to some early readers. I hope they can tell me if it has potential. If they like it, I will consider expanding it and possibly sending it around to see if I can get it published. I also have a few other projects in mind for Palladium Books. One has already begun!There will be updates about all of these projects as there are developments to report.

Peace.

Gravel and Sand for the Win!

I feel like yesterday I was filling in the holes in my novel with gravel. I added four or five whole paragraphs. Today it was sand. I was looking for any paragraph where I could stuff in an extra sentence and then for any sentences where I could stuff in extra words. I guess that is the downside of finishing the story before the word count. Anyway you cut it I did it, and that’s what matters with NaNoWriMo. Thanks to everyone who encouraged me over the month and congratulations to all the other winners! Now, I gotta go work on those other projects I have to finish this month.

This the last day to get reach the goal of 50,000 words.

My novel was validated with 50,097 words.

More Bits

Today I put more finishing touches on the novel in four different places. It is really easy to go back and lay in hints and details about he story that coming, now that I have it written. I wish every project could be written backward from the finishing touches.

The benchmark word count for today is: 48343

My total word count so far is: 48845

Filling Holes

With my story at the end I have to go back and plug some holes to get up to the 50k. That is what I worked on today. Because I know that winning a NaNoWriMo means (at best) that you have finished a first draft, I have kept chapter- by-chapter notes throughout the month about what kinds of changes the novel may need when (or if) it is revised. Today I just looked for a chapter that was a little short on the ideal length, checked my notes about what needed to be done and wrote that. Hole filled! I’ll do another one tomorrow. I am so thankful to be almost done with this.

The benchmark word count for today is: 46675

My total word count so far is: 47115

The Home Stretch

I have finished my story. I have known for a while that the cathartic ending between my two main characters would be hard to write. Plus a twist ending. I can not resist a twist ending. I wrote all that today. It came out better than I expected. They have a fight. Triangle wins. Cue the accordion music.

I still have a few words left to write so I will have a go back and work them in throughout the novel. I am not looking forward to that. I want to be done with this project. I have enjoyed having this as my side project, but I need to get back to all the things I have going on in my “real” life. Not far to go now…

The benchmark word count for today is: 45009

My total word count so far is: 46247

Write What You Know?

Yesterday I wrote another terrible chapter. Apparently, I have not experienced enough breakups to be able to write about one. Especially, not breakups with giant insect women.

Now, that doesn’t quite follow because I’ve never charged into a hive of giant insects with my sword either, yet that’s what I wrote about today and I am pretty happy with it. Humm...

The benchmark word count for today is: 43342

My total word count so far is: 44529

1800 Terrible Words

It was been a busy weekend here. It always is, right? I spent all my working time this morning on the other project I mentioned last post. When all the deadlines come at once, there is less and less time for each individual thing. I had to really squeeze in today’s writing between other things, and it shows. It’s not my best work. I ended up writing about dreams again and this one took on a new element. That is kind of cool, I can work with that, but Julian is whining and mopey at this point in the story and I don’t know how to say much about that. I wrote whatever, no good, going to be thrown out in revision thing I could. I suppose that is the point of NaNoWriMo, after all. Write something! Anything! Well I did.

The benchmark word count for today is: 40008

My total word count so far is: 40670

In the Background

So, all this month I have had 2.5 projects on in the background. It is better to say that NaNoWriMo is in the background of those other projects. Those are writing projects in the gaming industry. They will see print and I will write about them when appropriate. One of these projects finished up this week, so that’s off my plate. There are still the other 1.5 projects. I spent much of yesterday and today working with my co-author on the biggest one. There are some parts of a project that work better when the two authors can sit together and play off each other’s ideas in real time and write everything down right then. We sat in the local coffee shop and worked together. Actually, he did most of the work. What we produced turned out well. He is a coffee shop writer. I am not, except when I meet with him.

Then, as it happened, I had two hours to kill tonight and as I had not yet worked on NaNoWriMo for the day I went to coffee shop and wrote. It was a different location of the same local chain. That’s the first time I have gone to a coffee place to write just for my own project. Even on a Friday night, there were plenty of other people in there working. It wasn’t a bad time. I can see the appeal. There is just enough chatter and low key music and bean grinding noise to turn into a nice white noise. I’m not sure I will ever become a regular, but I would be willing to try it again.

In the story the Genji made it all the way to the hive tonight. I expected him to meet with warriors and fight his way in. Instead he was met with a group of chanting insects who lined the path for him like an honor guard. I didn’t expect that. I imagine they are some kind of apocalypse cult within the hive which knows what is about to go down. In editing, I’ll have to develop that idea some more and drop in some hints.

The benchmark word count for today is: 36674

My total word count so far is: 36958

The Shape of My Story

I have not yet talked about my story. Now that I am starting to wind things up, I guess it’s time to talk about it. I have four characters in two story lines. One story focuses on an old warrior dedicated to destroying the Locust Folk and the current Queen of one of the hives. She is wrapped in the routine of running the hive and I have laid in some political unrest as well. The warrior – the Genji – is a solitary figure trooping through the desert landscape trying to reach the hive. He has tried to track the insects back to their home for years for years. This time he is giving it his all. He is old and tired of a lifetime of fighting and wants to end this struggle one way or another.

Interwoven with this story is a story about a young homesteader and young potential insect queen. Xilva is supposed to go out and mate with as many humans as possible. Instead she “falls for” Julian and helps him set up his farm. It’s a doomed cross-species romance. She will eventually leave him to return to her people. I am really happy with how this part of the novel is going. I feel like I have nailed both their internal monologues and set up them each realizing this is one of those starcrossed things.

I am pleased with the way the two stories relate and interrelate. The novel contrasts interaction through war and interaction through love. These are two paths the humans and insects could take. I am still not 100% certain how everything will wrap up. I have one of two endings planned, but both seem a little anti-climatic. How I feel in about six days when I write the last chapter will affect things, I am certain. Stay tuned!

The benchmark word count for today is: 33340

My total word count so far is: 34596

A Corner Turned

Don’t have much to say today. I managed to get my count in today despite having a lot of the other stuff I needed to be about. Yesterday and today I did not write a great chapter. Gotta move on, though. Things are really coming down to the climax of the story at this point. I’ve set all the balls in motion, I hope I have, and now we just have to see where they go…

The benchmark word count for today is: 31673

My total word count so far is: 32254