Proof of Life: March Snippets

pinterest: wordcrafter

I can't actually write to music, for the most part, even though most folks I know have a hard time writing without music in the background to drive them on.  I think maybe the music fills up too much of my brain, especially when there are lyrics to distract me.  Still, that doesn't mean I'm not often inspired to write after hearing a particular piece of music.  Then I put on headphones and listen to the song on YouTube every now and then while writing in between.  Not the most efficient means of getting words down, but reminding myself of the piece of music helps keep a mood.

All that to say that I just got my brother two "Of Monsters and Men" albums for his birthday, and after hearing a couple of their newer songs, I've been playing them on YouTube and wanting to write.  (No, I didn't keep the CDs: they did get to their destination.)  I should be studying the American Revolution or Latin vocab, but the song "Human" obliged me to pull up Wordcrafter for a few minutes.  It's getting along in fits and starts: 110,000 words in now.  And heaven help me, I don't know how long the thing's going to be in the end.

I throw up my hands in despair.

march snippets

We sat in silence, the wind sighing around us like the tide on the shore, the flames crackling and snapping hungrily among the branches. Copper’s veil fluttered; the light shot through it and I saw her lips parted in something like yearning. Ethan had his arm on my shoulder still and as the shofar-call slipped away his fingers dug at my collarbone, the blood thudding urgently in their tips, dragging me along with him into the heady expectation: the ale seemed to have mounted, to swirl around and around and around inside my dizzy skull…

//

The water from the faucet shut off; the shower was still running. He returned to the threshold, and as I raised my eyes unwillingly from the figurine it struck me, almost comically, that with his razor in his hand he looked like Death come to claim a few souls for the dance.

//

“So,” he said. “I wondered what the Hound found to like in you. Now I see you’ve got a fire in your belly after all. I suppose I should have known.”

//

The Jackal had not yet come with our horses, and while we waited for him, our backs to the light and our shadows thrown out long in front of us, Ethan spoke again.  “While we are talking of saving lives,” he said, in a voice that was mellow like his father’s, “and while my lady insists on walking alone, I would that she carried this.” He fiddled with a buckle at the inside of his right thigh and the strap of the dagger sheath swung loose, the hilt falling heavy into his palm; it was plain dull metal, a match to the one he had loaned me, and it gleamed blandly in the moonlight as he offered it to our companion. “Granted, it’s not as fashionable as a pair of pistols, but it will do you more good should you find yourself in a tight corner.”

//

A bonfire blazed in the clearing, the flames ducking and leaping like native dancers as the breeze whirled the sparks away, and in its lurid light the standing Horsemen looked like martyrs waiting to be burned.

//

He poured me a cup and handed it over, warm and dripping, and glanced at [her] from under his brows. “Care for one?” 

She watched him like a suspicious cat, her fingers tightening in the folds of the blanket, her mental tail lashing. “I’d love it,” she said sharply, “but I’m rather afraid you might poison it.” 

His mouth jerked.  “Poison isn’t my weapon of choice,” he said. “But the sentiment is there.”

//

His face was a thundercloud, and flushed as with too much wine; he was dark from dancing so near the fire and the smell of singed flesh hung over him. When I gripped his arm in mute acknowledgement I felt the muscles jumping frantically under my hand. 

“My lord dances as though he will kill himself,” [she] remarked, almost reproachfully.

Lionheart

pinterest: tempus regina

I'm not a feminist.

Most of you are probably already aware of that; I kind of gave myself away with my post on Female Stereotypes back in October.  Apart from that, I think you will find my stance on the relationship of Man and Woman sprinkled through the romance in each of my novels - from The Soldier's Cross (which, in the main character's case, has little more than an undercurrent of romance), to Wordcrafter (where the quite modern main character struggles with the conservatism of Tera), to the Sea Fever novels (where Tip quite obviously takes the role of guardian to Marta). 

I have no patience with the flimsy cardboard women of old romantic literature, but neither have I the slightest interest in passing the time of day with such do-it-alls as inspired October's post.  I like happy mediums, and the romances in my novels thus far have reflected that.  Not by plan, certainly: to me as the writer, these relationships developed almost coincidentally.  "I can't take any credit for them," as Lucy Muir would say: "they just...happened!"  But develop that way they did.

Not so with Tempus Regina.  In so many ways this book has launched me out of my comfort zone, has, I hope, forced me to expand and expand some more.  I made a list several months ago of the things that are particularly tricky about it: the female main character, the span of time and research, the traveling the characters do.  One thing I did not write down was "romance."  At that time the romance between Regina and, well, Some Fellow was but the kernel of an idea, one I was fond of and longed to develop, but which had not yet come to life.

I've come quite a ways in the story since then: we seem to have gone to one end of the earth and are now headed for the other.  The chapter I am currently writing contains a scene I've been longing to write almost since Day One - you probably all know that feeling! - but the beginning has been slow, and so I've been thinking on this romance and wondering a little at it.  On the surface, these characters - and therefore this relationship - seem to depart so vastly from anything I have written to date.

Regina herself is a tough cookie.  She's not a steel magnolia - she's really just steel.  Having lived in London of 1849 for years, she has had some of its smoke, some of its colorlessness, some of its mercilessness ground into her.  Now she is the time queen, with a power and a persona that inspire fear.  Her strength and her dominance make her romance, not hard to write, but new.  Because if she is the power-figure, and if she terrifies those with whom she comes into contact, her romance could hardly be of the beaten-path variety.  She demands a man who can, in his own way, match her and surpass her in strength.

[because I'm pretty sure Tip would be thoroughly freaked out by her.]

That has been the joy of writing the romance of Tempus Regina.  At first blush, I suppose readers might think Regina is the dominant figure, that she is the one with all the brains and the chutzpah.  And at first blush, she is.  But down at the heart of the matter, in the things that count, the hero of Tempus Regina is more powerful still.  They're like Sophie and Howl, like Katherina and Petruchio.  They're a pair.

Yesterday I discovered the song King and Lionheart.  I had seen some of the lyrics elsewhere and liked them, and then when I listened to the song, I thought - naturally - of these two characters.

and when the world comes to an end

I'll be there to hold your hand

'cause you're my king and I'm your lionheart

But then I realized that matters are different in Tempus Regina.  Because Regina is a queen, but the man who stands beside her is her lionheart.  And for me, that's where the thrill and the joy of this story lie.

Sparks

pinterest: tempus regina

Jenny just wrote a post on the elements that have inspired, and continue to inspire, her novel Gingerune.  We both did something like this for our participation in the "next big thing" blog hop back in January, but that was only one question amid several and there was little room for detail; it seemed a good idea to take more space to elaborate.

Since January I have written some 20 or 30k words and I find myself late in the story, staring at what I believe is the descent - ascent, I suppose, but it feels like a descent - to the climactic chapters.  It's altogether mind-boggling.  But at any rate, I am at that thickest of thick parts where just about everything I come across reminds me of the story to a greater or lesser degree.

books

Tempus Regina involves and will involve a great deal of research, since it covers so much time.  One of the earliest to get the story off the ground was, not surprisingly, The Lantern Bearers by Rosemary Sutcliff.  It invoked images of one world I wished to create, giving me the first glimmers of light as I ventured into the writing process, and I would thank Sutcliff for it if I could.  At the other end of the spectrum, Dickens' Bleak House helped sketch the underworld of Victorian London in my mind; I do manage to thank him by letting him make a cameo appearance, albeit not a very flattering one.  And then more recently, and for no particular reason, I found in Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew a kindred spirit.

poetry

I don't read a great deal of poetry, but there are a few snatches of verse that fit Tempus Regina: mostly Tennyson, but also Eiluned Lewis' The Birthright and the classic final line from Lord Byron's When We Two Parted:

if I should meet thee

after long years

how should I greet thee?

with silence and tears.

There is also a particular line from Tennyson's Morte D'Arthur that I keep pinned to my corkboard and refer to from time to time:

...the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge,

clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walk'd,

larger than human on the frozen hills.

songs

Everywhere I turn, there seems to be a song that fits one part of Tempus Regina or another.  I think in many cases it is wholly my own bias.  The first ever to be connected with the story was Escala's Requiem for a Tower, and then Street of Dreams by Blackmore's Night.  The march style of Sarabande, also by Escala, is appropriate as well.  Andrew Peterson's lovely Carry the Fire makes a wonderful theme for the story as a whole, and several relationships within it in particular; Maire Brennan's Hear My Prayer fits nicely with Regina.  They make sense enough, but other songs are rather crazier - like Can You Feel the Love Tonight, Falcon in the Dive (Chauvelin swears), and Adele's Set Fire to the Rain and Skyfall.  

It's all about the bias, I tell you.

The Sound of the Soul

pinterest: tempus regina

Welcome to 2013, folks!  It currently doesn't feel much different from 2012, but ho hum, that's the way it goes...

It is my intention and expectation that Tempus Regina, barring any unforeseen developments, will be featuring most prominently on Scribbles during the year.  I have continued writing, at a less breakneck speed than NaNo forced upon me; at 75,000 words, I still feel as though I'm wading through the beginning.  This doesn't bode well.  However, I shrug up my shoulders and keep going, learning bits and pieces about the characters as I go and hoping this confounded thing doesn't end up being too long.

In order to introduce a portion of the cast a little more thoroughly, I thought I would pull out and dust off an exercise I did way back in 2011 - finding music that associates itself with each character.  While I can't usually write while music is playing, I do tend to mentally pull together songs that fit the story or characters (lots of Owl City for the Sea Fever books); I think one mark of a story being ready for me to write it is that all songs start to be twisted into having an application for the novel.  It's the only explanation for "I'm Coming after You" linking itself to Tempus Regina.

At any rate, though this is not the entire cast, I tried to pick the most important people and pull the songs that capture them best.  Note that for many of these, the songs are the only ones I have heard from that singer or band.  Don't take them as unqualified recommendations!  And now, without further ado...

regina winters

I can think of a number of songs that fit in with either Regina's character or aspects of her life, instrumental and not, some for their tunes and others for the lyrics.  Some, like "Eurydice" by Sleepthief, have absolutely nothing to do with the story; "Street of Dreams" by Blackmore's Night, on the other hand, is quite linked with the plot.  Another song I've mentioned several times is "Memories" by Within Temptation, the one most closely linked with her, but it has already featured.   A fourth that I associate with her (apparently Tempus Regina is more music-driven than my other novels!) is Nina Gordon's "Tonight and the Rest of My Life," which seems to capture Regina's voice.  The thrill of the music and lyrics is perfect, and I like the way it portrays a snapshot of emotion.

gleaming in the dark sea, 

I'm as light as air 

floating there breathlessly - 

when the dream dissolves 

I open up my eyes 

I realize that everything is shoreless sea 

weightlessness is passing over me...

kay winters

Kay is a bit tricky, both because he is so childish and because he has at once a critical place in the story, and very little place at all.  I chose an instrumental song for him, one that is sad and whimsical, and thus probably applies more to how Regina sees Kay than to how Kay sees himself: Aston's classical cover of Adele's "Someone Like You."

the assassin

The Assassin is such fun - he really is.  Honestly, I could probably come up with as many songs for him as for Regina; many of Regina's songs involve him, after all, since the plot needs them both.  And Owl City's "I'm Coming after You" really does apply.  Don't laugh - it's true.  However, the song that brings him to mind most vividly and paints him in the fullest colors is "Lions!" by LIGHTS, for both tune and lyrics fit him.  It is a little grim, certainly purposeful, but I always picture a bit of a lopsided smile in the music.  Though I'm not sure what to think of the fact that his song is sung by a woman...

show me to the shipwreck

show me how the bones shake

and when I'm at the edge of sorrow's blade

show me how the heart breaks

be steady on your feet
no matter the trouble you meet...

lions make you brave

giants give you faith

death is a charade

you don't have to feel safe to feel unafraid.

morgaine & the fisherman

Such an odd pair, these two, and I don't intend to talk much about them - that would be no fun, and leave no room for guesswork on your part.  As with Regina and the Assassin, there are a number of songs that fit each of them; mostly instrumental, however, like "Intro" by the XX (whatever that means) or even "Doomsday" from the Doctor Who soundtrack.  But the song I like best, though oddly more associated with the Fisherman, is "Locked within the Crystal Ball" by Blackmore's Night.  It has just the right currents of power and magic.

I feel the waves begin to rise

Far across the ocean deep within your eyes

Silently watching as they fall

I can see the future locked within the crystal ball

 the time king

He hasn't shown his face at all, but you can hardly have a time queen without a time king.  As Sherlock Holmes so profoundly observed, "If there are bivalves, presumably there are monovalves."  Simple logic.  Like Morgaine and the Fisherman, I can't really say much about this fellow.  But as he is of a rather tired, jaded turn of mind, the best song I could think of was Shearwater's "Animal Life" - which doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but oh well, what can you do?

no rush of light, no sun or belonging

no joy in building, love in the finishing

chasing down an anodyne

and half-reflected radiance

to hide below the ancient barricade

in chambers like the rooms a swallow made

for an animal life

the white demon

I like this fellow, though he only appeared properly last chapter.  Steadfast, grim as the Time King, and, in the Assassin's opinion, thoroughly disturbing.  I fancy he won't appear much in Tempus Regina, but he is something of a background force.  A lot of characters are...  At any rate, I chose for him Andrew Peterson's "Carry the Fire."  The song is really applicable to the whole novel (the tune thrills me every time I listen to it), and to Regina herself, but I think it best suits the White Demon.  

I will hold your hand, love

as long as I can, love

though the powers rise against us

though your fears assail you

and your body may fail you

there's a fire that burns within us...

Love and Thunder

pinterest

The inspiration for The White Sail's Shaking, especially the title, began rather with a poem than a song.  It's a fairly well-known poem and I've posted it before, so most of you have probably read it before.

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, 

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, 

And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,

 And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking. 

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide 

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; 

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, 

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying. 

 I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, 

To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife; 

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover, 

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

- sea fever, john masefield

It is not, however, the only poem or song that inspires The White Sail's Shaking; I have a whole heap of those.  Although I have a hard time actually writing while listening to music, there are still many songs that, when I hear them, make my fingers itch to continue writing.  (Especially helpful for times like these, since I would be utterly uninspired otherwise.)  Here are a few on my list.

to the sky (owl city)

There is a great deal of Owl City in this collection; for some reason, perhaps only because I started listening to it early on in the writing of White Sail's, the two are connected in the odd recesses of my brain.  To the Sky was the very first one I heard.  It is Charlie Bent's song, really, but it doubles as inspiration for the first half of the novel - it's too lighthearted and jolly for the second half, unfortunately.  (Happiness?  Goodness, we mustn't have any of that!)

on the heels of war and wonder

there's a dreamy world up there

you can't whisper above the thunder

but you can fly anywhere.

undying love & infinite legends (two steps from hell)

I consider this a terrible name for a band, but they do have beautiful instrumental music - excellent stuff for battle scenes.  That is, in my mind it's excellent stuff, but then when I try to write with the music on my output rapidly decreases...

I'm still here (treasure planet soundtrack)

This song works as a theme for Tip and Charlie both, but I think primarily of Tip.  It suits his attitude (of which he has plenty) at the beginning of the story, and summarizes some of his motives.  Besides, it makes me think of "space" ships and Robert Louis Stevenson.  Both epic.

and you see the things they never see
all you wanted, I could be
now you know me, and I'm not afraid
and I wanna tell you who I am
can you help me be a man?

storm (fernando ortega)

This is the song I chose for Marta ages back when I assigned a piece to each of my characters, but I've found it works for Marta and Tip's relationship as a whole.  It is not a typical love song; but then, theirs is not, I suppose, a typical love story.  The feeling of rest in the lyrics is especially suitable.

it takes the rain between the lines

to know what sorrow finds

the way a cloud divides sometimes

the clearing and the blue
...I love you.

vanilla twilight (owl city)

This is Darkwood's theme; he has a great deal more backstory than is given to him in the book itself, and this song sums it up.  (Except that I'm pretty sure they did not have postcards in 1803.)

and I'll forget the world that I knew
but I swear I won't forget you
oh, if my voice could reach back through the past
I'd whisper in your ear:
"oh darling, I wish you were here." 

if my heart was a house (owl city)

I would just like to point out that, grammatically speaking, it should be "were".  Were a house.  But I'll admit that "was" sounds better in the song, and I suppose songwriters are allowed to take, er, license with the English language.  At any rate, this is another for Tip and Marta - mainly its chorus:

circle me and the needle moves gracefully
back and forth, if my heart was a compass you'd be North
risk it all cause I'll catch you if you fall
wherever you go, if my heart was a house you'd be home.

What about you?  Do you write to music, and are there particular songs that inspire you?

Things That Inspire

On You Haven't Got an Appointment! Yaasha asked about the things that inspire me most. I've done posts before on the things that have particularly inspired my novels Wordcrafter and The White Sail's Shaking, but I thought I would do a post just on the little things that inspire me in general. So, in no particular order, here goes!

1. books

How could I write without books to inspire me? There's so much beauty and power in the written word - so many emotions they invoke, pictures they paint. I just love books.

2. teaching

The teaching of the elders at my church frequently convicts me and doesn't always give me a warm and fuzzy feeling - I should be alarmed if it did - but it does inspire me as much as anything else. It is such a wonderful thing to see some of God's Word come alive and to understand something a little better, even if only a very little bit better. After all, Christ is the supreme Word through Whom the world was made and by whom all things are held together. It would be rather silly not to be inspired by the revelation of the Word of God.

You and me we use so very many clumsy words.
The noise of what we often say is not worth being heard.
When the Father's Wisdom wanted to communicate His love,
He spoke it in one final perfect Word.

- The Final Word, Michael Card

3. music

Especially dramatic, thrilling music. I don't always write while listening to songs, but I do find them invigorating and sometimes I'll find one particular style that seems to fit a story. For instance, the music from Escala always turns my thoughts to Tempus Regina.

4. autumn

I do believe I write best and most in the fall, whether or not I do NaNo. The cool weather just gets my blood flowing and inspires me to actually sit down and write after the heat and lethargy of summer. It's my favorite month, hands down.

5. history

Sometimes crazy and funny, sometimes not so much. Certain periods I find especially thrilling: the Age of Sail (in case you couldn't tell) but also eras like Roman Britain and the Plantagenet dynasty, to choose two random ones. Currently I have a couple ideas of stories that have almost nothing but a setting, but which will hopefully percolate into worthwhile novels.

6. the random

Or you might say "miscellaneous." Sometimes I can't pinpoint any particular inspiration; I might suddenly have an image in my head of a girl with a cross (The Soldier's Cross), or a man injured in a wolf-hunt (Wordcrafter), and a story may or may not build from there. I'm sure there must have been something to bring about those ideas, but I couldn't tell you what it was and so I take the easy way out and label all such thoughts "random."

7. family

I love my family. I love the Saturday evenings we spend together, the joking and the serious conversations. I love just being with them all. We're not the sort of family that novels are made of, I suppose, and yet I find inspiration and encouragement in our kinship.

and that, dear readers, is a peek into the things that inspire me.

art from flickr

Small Enterprises and a Book Trailer

Last week my friend Megan posted her "Soundtrack to Minor Endeavours," a writing exercise. The rules are:

1. Take a Technological Purveyor of Music (such as an iPod) and set it to shuffle.

2. As soon as the first song starts playing, start writing. Don't put too much thought into the process, and don't bother trying to force the writing to the song -- just let the music carry your pen along.

3. When the song stops playing, stop writing. Don't edit anything.

But I cheated (as usual). I picked out the songs I wanted, set the song on repeat instead of stopping at the end, and edited. I can't stand not editing. But anyhow, despite those rather wide departures from the rules of the game, the result was three blurbs from three separate stories inspired by three different songs. The first is for my work in progress, The White Sail's Shaking. The second is for my story Sunshine and Gossamer, still in the percolating stage. The third is for my nebulous idea Ginger, a Victorian tale that is simmering (if that) on the back-back-back burner.

So with that, let me introduce my small enterprises.

Vanilla Twilight - Owl City (The White Sail's Shaking)

The ocean was sobbing tonight. He sat on the brig’s side with one leg thrown over it, black boot dangling over the depths below, his hand clenched around the ratline. Deep blue sea met lighter blue sky on the horizon, but around the ship it turned violet and rushed like voices. One soft voice in particular. The night smelled of jasmine in summer, and his chest ached with the sweetness; he breathed it in, trying to grasp it and hold it forever, but it was grasping at a dream. He moved his hand over the rope fibres, whistling a breath out through his nose as he thought of how often that motion had felt another hand instead. He missed it more tonight than he ever had before, for he knew he would never touch her hand again. He would never smell the jasmine in her hair. He would never see that strangely adoring look in her eyes turned to his...

“Darkwood?”

He drew a breath and glanced sideways at the familiar white figure. “Yes, Bent?” he asked back, a little sharply.

“Sorry. Were you thinking of someone?”

Darkwood laughed softly, dropping his gaze to the violet sea once more. “Always,” he replied. “Always.”


Children - Escala (Sunshine and Gossamer)

The green expanse rolled heavenward, the grass and the spattering of flowers dancing in the breeze. At first Sunshine tried to avoid stepping on the blossoms; she walked carefully, higher and higher, with Gossamer whisking along at her side like a lithe black shadow detached from its owner. But the wind grew as she went on through the pasture. The trees at the hilltop were dipping and rising in it, the grass was rippling in softer greys. It caught at Sunshine’s hair and blew it back from her face; it ruffled the black tuft that was Gossamer’s tail. A bird skimmed by, a flash of blue on the landscape. Sunshine’s heart began to rise and she lifted her gaze from her feet to the skyline, which had begun to burn with white fire as the dawn approached. Her pace quickened—she was running, Gossamer ever at her side; a cloud of yellow butterflies burst up before them and scattered into the blue. The wind rushed on by her or she by it, and she threw up her arms to skim the air as the bird had done. On and on, ever quickening, racing the sunrise to the top.

In a moment she gained the summit and crested the hill just as the sun, yellow like the butterflies, shot over the horizon and flooded the Welsh countryside in light. Sunshine’s heart pounded with exhilaration, arms still outstretched, drinking in the dawn with her whole body. “Oh, Gossamer!” she cried, half-sobbing, “what beauty! Oh, what beauty!”

Chi Mai - Escala (Ginger)

She would have to lead the dance, she and Mr. Ransom. Inside her new white dress she was all a-flutter, and she was blushing for no other reason than the newness of being at the centre of such an event. She had just a few more minutes to stand here out of the way before the waltz would play—the waltz she had picked out herself—and Mr Ransom would take her hand, and they would step to the floor together. No! Not even a minute; there he was. Her heart gave a leap like a frightened deer and heat washed over her skin.

“You’re blushing,” he said as he held out one gloved hand to her, and she put hers in it. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” Ginger managed, answering his smile with a quivering one of her own.

“Why? This is your favourite; you’ve danced to it before.”

“Yes. But never in front of all these people.”

“Then pretend they aren’t here. Just you and the music, Ginger: just you and the music, like it always is.”

Yes: just her and the music. It was beginning now, the soft, slow rhythm she loved so well. It was like a dream; Ransom was putting his arm around her and she rested one hand on his shoulder, the other still in his, her white dress swishing over his black boots. His eyes smiled down at her, and they and the music became all the world to Ginger as the waltz began. He was steady, completely unselfconscious, and slowly she grew less agitated as well.

Around, back, stepping lightly on the flats of her shoes—tip, tap... Like a heartbeat the melody went on. Now it was more than a dream. Everything was real, beautifully real. This was her night and no one else’s. She closed her eyes and breathed. It was just her and the music; her and the music.

-

And in addition to those, I have a larger endeavor: a book trailer for The Soldier's Cross. Credit: Iardacil-stock at deviantART (for the woman); dead-brushes at deviantART (for the cliffs); night-fate-stock at deviantART (for tree and landscape); and Kevin MacLeod (for music). Enjoy!