No story ideas? Writer's block? I have a recommendation.
Today I played a great game called You've Been Sentenced. It comes in a pentgram-shaped box and is filled with pentagram-shaped cards. LOTS of cards. Each card has a word on each of the five sides.
Each player receives ten cards, and the race is on to construct coherent, grammatical sentences from the cards. Most have variations on a single word: flat, flatter, flatten, flattest flattening. Others contain names, nouns, or handy prepositions. There are also many wild cards. Each word is worth a certain point value.
Once a player has constructed a sentence, they may set the timer, and all players have to finish before it runs out. Then each sentence is judged on whether it is acceptably grammatical, and points are totalled. The real fun, of course, is reading the sentences people have cobbled together out of the random words.
As best I can remember, here are a few of the sentences we came up with during the game.
Harry S. Truman moodily kicked ducks in the end zone.
Powerful cats fantasize about Washington DC.
The river flamed and totally freaked out Dr. Martin Luther King.
Noise loves to slide around sharpened minds.
Her lips matched.
I wish I had taken notes during the game, because many of those forced sentences had a strange poetry about them, or at least the hint of a story lying behind them for the one who took the time to mull them over.
Looks like another no-rewriting weekend, as tomorrow I'm off to a cousin's wedding, and Sunday I promised to finish proofreading my brother's new role-playing game.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Slacking...
Didn't do any rewriting this weekend. Instead I read a book on digital coloring and used the info to good advantage in a Snape portrait. I have been looking at books on figure drawing and drawing hands, and since I discovered Don Seegmiller published a book on advanced painting techniques with Corel Painter (my digital art program of choice) I had to order it. There is nothing that motivates my artistic desire to draw, learn and improve than the knowledge that by doing so, I can procrastinate my writing...
Seriously, I always seem to get motivated to do something besides write. Gotta get my writing butt in gear.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Make a Scene
Someone once complimented my writing as being "economical prose that gets right to the action." In other words, I can't be bothered to describe anything. (Ha!)
Well, this week my co-worker Lois and I went to the Iola Car Show on behalf of the library. Krause Publishing, who host the car show, always have a huge blowout book clearance sale. Most of the books are on car and hobby subjects, and when all those $15-$30 dollar paperbacks are available for $5 each, it's a great way to get some fresh blood on the library shelves.
One of the books we picked up on our $300 shopping spree was a writing book called Make a Scene by Jordan Rosenfeld. I haven't actually read it (it's about planning and constructibg scenes in your book) but just the title made me think.
One of the things that got me into Harry Potter (especially in making fan art) was the unique, amazing visual aspect. There were things in every book that people wanted to imagine and draw, sometimes just even little touches.
There are no giants, werewolves, potted mandrakes and jugged grindylows in my book, but there are certainly things I could change to make the books more uniquely Castle Crabapple....for instance, the scene where the witches first arrive at the castle, and all the courtiers are dressed up in their finest, waiting to recieve them. Well, there's really only a handful of courtiers in tiny Crabapple Valley...I guess I will have to stick a few farmers in there. And their familes. And favorite sheepdogs. And possibly one prize pig. This could be fun. Must keep it tight, though....and I'm not sure if Ruffles M. should appear in the scene or make his grand entrance when originally written. Ruffles didn't exist yet when I first wrote this chapter.
Meanwhile, over on Livejournal, I have joined a new community for 'people passionate about reading, writing and illustrating.' Since the person starting it seemed to have some serious credentials, and since approval was required to join, I was hoping it might be a very serious sort of venue. So far people are posting their poetry and short stories and fan fics, and I'm having doubts. (Poetry always makes me suspicious.) I'm not about to post my Real Book there, or break off rewriting to dash off postable stuff. About the only other thing of note I have to post is my fan fiction novel, but not sure I want to add more frivolity to the blog.
Well, this week my co-worker Lois and I went to the Iola Car Show on behalf of the library. Krause Publishing, who host the car show, always have a huge blowout book clearance sale. Most of the books are on car and hobby subjects, and when all those $15-$30 dollar paperbacks are available for $5 each, it's a great way to get some fresh blood on the library shelves.
One of the books we picked up on our $300 shopping spree was a writing book called Make a Scene by Jordan Rosenfeld. I haven't actually read it (it's about planning and constructibg scenes in your book) but just the title made me think.
One of the things that got me into Harry Potter (especially in making fan art) was the unique, amazing visual aspect. There were things in every book that people wanted to imagine and draw, sometimes just even little touches.
There are no giants, werewolves, potted mandrakes and jugged grindylows in my book, but there are certainly things I could change to make the books more uniquely Castle Crabapple....for instance, the scene where the witches first arrive at the castle, and all the courtiers are dressed up in their finest, waiting to recieve them. Well, there's really only a handful of courtiers in tiny Crabapple Valley...I guess I will have to stick a few farmers in there. And their familes. And favorite sheepdogs. And possibly one prize pig. This could be fun. Must keep it tight, though....and I'm not sure if Ruffles M. should appear in the scene or make his grand entrance when originally written. Ruffles didn't exist yet when I first wrote this chapter.
Meanwhile, over on Livejournal, I have joined a new community for 'people passionate about reading, writing and illustrating.' Since the person starting it seemed to have some serious credentials, and since approval was required to join, I was hoping it might be a very serious sort of venue. So far people are posting their poetry and short stories and fan fics, and I'm having doubts. (Poetry always makes me suspicious.) I'm not about to post my Real Book there, or break off rewriting to dash off postable stuff. About the only other thing of note I have to post is my fan fiction novel, but not sure I want to add more frivolity to the blog.
Monday, July 6, 2009
A Fox for Dave
Testing the image posting here...I did this digital painting for my friend Dave (AKA Heck Fox) who is into the furry thing, and who kindly invited me to his home to blow off fireworks on the 4th of July.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Rewriting begun
The first surprise in my rewriting was seeing that the first draft was actually written in 2004. The first rewrite attempt was made in 2006. My how time flies.
The second surprise was the writing style. I remembered I wrote it in sort of a author-as-narrator tone, but it seems a super-charged, almost like a circus barker telling the story. I recall that some people said they really liked the voice, and others said they didn't.
Maybe I should tone it down? I hesitate to mess with it much, because there's a lot if wordplay and humor in it that I don't think I could match now.
I'm not sure I can write funny at all any more....did I lose my funny bone over the last few years, or am I just in a bad mood?
Anyway, I only tweaked a sentence here and there and added a prologue that introduces the main character, Miggin, early...since she doesn't appear in the book till Chapter 5 or something.
Maybe I'll post it here...preview time!
-------------------------------------
The girl stood in the bottom of the frozen pit. She was small but sturdy. Still, she looked as if she weighed less than the hammer she was wielding. All the long winter she had worked, chipping the grave from the solid, frozen mountainside. Now it was almost ready.
Pushing a strand of mouse-colored hair from her eyes, Miggin laid the chisel against the wall of the grave one last time. She raised the hammer and struck. The familiar sound of the hammer striking the chisel rang through the air, but instead of the ‘ker-chunk’ of the chisel chipping away the frozen ground, the chisel said, ‘splorch!’
Miggin looked up. The spring sun was shining down into the grave, thawing the earth at last. Life was completely unfair.
She climbed out, hauling the hammer and chisel up after her. At the foot of the grave, her grandmother sat on a boulder, leaning against a tree and smiling serenely. Miggin’s grandmother had worn that smile since the bitter end of November, when she had sat down for a little rest and never moved again.
Now, when they were about to be parted forever, tears seemed to stream down the old woman’s face. Miggin know it was only the ice melting, but her own tears flowed in response. “Goodbye, Grandmother,” she whispered softly, and kissed the frosty old cheek.
The slight pressure was enough to break the remaining ice holding the old woman to the tree, and the body dove headfirst into the grave.
Miggin stood silently for a few minutes, trying to think of something to say. Then she picked up a shovel and started putting the half-frozen chunks of earth back into the hole, singing the lullaby her Grandmother had taught her as she worked. It seemed the best farewell.
The firewood was almost gone, and little food remained in the cottage. Soon Miggin would have to forage for herself.
----------------------
There's a couple more paragraphs briefly introducing Druzilla, Miggin's foil, but I may cut those as unecessary. Druzilla appears in Chapter 2.
The second surprise was the writing style. I remembered I wrote it in sort of a author-as-narrator tone, but it seems a super-charged, almost like a circus barker telling the story. I recall that some people said they really liked the voice, and others said they didn't.
Maybe I should tone it down? I hesitate to mess with it much, because there's a lot if wordplay and humor in it that I don't think I could match now.
I'm not sure I can write funny at all any more....did I lose my funny bone over the last few years, or am I just in a bad mood?
Anyway, I only tweaked a sentence here and there and added a prologue that introduces the main character, Miggin, early...since she doesn't appear in the book till Chapter 5 or something.
Maybe I'll post it here...preview time!
-------------------------------------
The girl stood in the bottom of the frozen pit. She was small but sturdy. Still, she looked as if she weighed less than the hammer she was wielding. All the long winter she had worked, chipping the grave from the solid, frozen mountainside. Now it was almost ready.
Pushing a strand of mouse-colored hair from her eyes, Miggin laid the chisel against the wall of the grave one last time. She raised the hammer and struck. The familiar sound of the hammer striking the chisel rang through the air, but instead of the ‘ker-chunk’ of the chisel chipping away the frozen ground, the chisel said, ‘splorch!’
Miggin looked up. The spring sun was shining down into the grave, thawing the earth at last. Life was completely unfair.
She climbed out, hauling the hammer and chisel up after her. At the foot of the grave, her grandmother sat on a boulder, leaning against a tree and smiling serenely. Miggin’s grandmother had worn that smile since the bitter end of November, when she had sat down for a little rest and never moved again.
Now, when they were about to be parted forever, tears seemed to stream down the old woman’s face. Miggin know it was only the ice melting, but her own tears flowed in response. “Goodbye, Grandmother,” she whispered softly, and kissed the frosty old cheek.
The slight pressure was enough to break the remaining ice holding the old woman to the tree, and the body dove headfirst into the grave.
Miggin stood silently for a few minutes, trying to think of something to say. Then she picked up a shovel and started putting the half-frozen chunks of earth back into the hole, singing the lullaby her Grandmother had taught her as she worked. It seemed the best farewell.
The firewood was almost gone, and little food remained in the cottage. Soon Miggin would have to forage for herself.
----------------------
There's a couple more paragraphs briefly introducing Druzilla, Miggin's foil, but I may cut those as unecessary. Druzilla appears in Chapter 2.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Alone, alone...
Bwa ha ha, nobody's even reading this.
That means I can do whatever I want here.
I can transform into a wolf and chew the internet into soggy, saliva-soaked splinters.
I can post deep, dark secrets that I would never tell anyone else, never.
I can lounge around the blog stark nekkid!
Most excellent, indeed!
That means I can do whatever I want here.
I can transform into a wolf and chew the internet into soggy, saliva-soaked splinters.
I can post deep, dark secrets that I would never tell anyone else, never.
I can lounge around the blog stark nekkid!
Most excellent, indeed!
Rewriting sucks...
The thing that makes rewriting so much less fun than writing is that nobody is eagerly waiting for it. When I wrote Witches, I had my friend Madeline reading each chapter and offering advice. When I wrote my serial fan-fiction novel, I had a band of fans offering ego-boosting kudos and having kitten fits if I didn't provide the chapter of the week on time.
Nobody waits for rewrites. Nobody cares if I'm trying to make the main character a bit more of a doofus at the beginning. Nobody is interested in my inner debate over whether I should tone down the jokes about the wizard's bad cooking (because the few agents I submitted Version One to seemed grossed out) or just leave it and hope to find an agent with a more cartoony sense of humor, who didn't take things so darned realistically.
Poop.
Nobody waits for rewrites. Nobody cares if I'm trying to make the main character a bit more of a doofus at the beginning. Nobody is interested in my inner debate over whether I should tone down the jokes about the wizard's bad cooking (because the few agents I submitted Version One to seemed grossed out) or just leave it and hope to find an agent with a more cartoony sense of humor, who didn't take things so darned realistically.
Poop.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Another blog, another place to try to think of stuff ta post...
My Harry Potter friends are on Livejournal, my professional affiliations are on Blogspot, so I'm split. I guess I will declare this my Official Writer's Blog, and leave all the silly stuff about cats and anime and making AMVs and fan stuff over on Livejournal...
This weekend I am absolutely, positively going to get back to the Rewriting Project. The Witches of Castle Crabapple, the book I technically finished the first draft of two or three years ago, is going to get a final tweaking.
This weekend I am absolutely, positively going to get back to the Rewriting Project. The Witches of Castle Crabapple, the book I technically finished the first draft of two or three years ago, is going to get a final tweaking.
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