Wow,
we're into the middle of November, and I realized I haven't been
updating much. So here's what's going on: I'm planning the next big
revision of
For the Wildings, book 6 of
Daughter of the Wildings.
I do this revision to fix major issues that have come up since the
first big revision, either things pointed out by the test readers or
things that have changed over the course of the series, or just mistakes
I missed the last time around. After this comes a few rounds of fixing
up, fine-tuning, and editing before the book is ready to go. Still can't
say when
For the Wildings will be ready for release; sometime
in February, as a rough guess. It's longer than the other books, and
with the holidays coming up I won't be able to put as many hours in.
I've
also been reading a lot, and sometime soon I'll be putting up a monster
Reading Roundup post. Tons of great books to recommend!
Finally, being November, it's
National Novel Writing Month.
I've done it and "won" it (I actually prefer to think of it as
completing the challenge, since everyone who validates 50,000 words
written in November is a winner) every year since 2009, and this year
looks like it'll be no exception. I'm writing
The Healing Tree (working title), an old unfinished novel set in the same world as
Chosen of Azara,
that I decided to take another run at since the characters wouldn't
leave me alone and I love the idea of it. I used this awesome outling
guide,
Take Off Your Pants
by Libbie Hawker (pants - writing term, for writing without an outline
or "by the seat of your pants") to plan it all the way through, and so
far it's going pretty well. As of today, I'm at 28,165 words, out of a
target of 50,000. The actual novel is probably going to be much longer.
The
main problem I've run into with it is that Davreos, the male main
character, is a very complicated character. I made some adjustments to
him from how he was in the original version, but he keeps wanting to
revert back to that instead of going with my changes. If I've learned
one thing in 26 years of writing, it's that the characters are almost
always right, so I've finally decided to just go with it.
Anyway,
to give you a little taste of this new project (which will eventually
be released for sale), here's the first scene. It's unedited, straight
from my brain to my fingers, but I think it came out ok:
The wizard's screams died away in Davreos's ears. How could he still
have the strength to scream so loudly? Davreos wondered. Or to even
still be alive. Most of the enemies of the Empire or other subjects
brought to Maikarsk's cavern for interrogation were dead by this point
in their questioning. But somehow, that old man, nothing more than skin
and bones and thin, ropy muscles even when he had first been brought to
Maikarsk, had managed to survive this long and remain conscious enough
to scream.
"Stubborn," the Inquisitress said, only a faint note
of frustration and displeasure coloring her impassive voice. Davreos
glanced at her, waiting for her next instructions. Her black robe,
covering her from head to toe, hid all signs of femininity, all signs of
individual identity, but her height, slenderness, and voice were
unmistakeable. The Inquisitress's veiled face remained turned and bowed
slightly towards the wizard where he was strapped to the table a little
longer. Though her face was always veiled while she was acting in her
duties, Davreos knew what she looked like behind the veil, and he could
imagine the dark, tilted eyes narrowed in disapproval, the full lips
frowning. "Useless," she said. "Finish him."
"Yes, my lady," Davreos said.
"And," the Inquistress went on, "be sure to remove his Source-token before you dispose of his body. It might be useful."
"Yes, my lady," Davreos said again.
The
Inquisitress left the cavern. Davreos turned back to the wizard and
prepared to lower the blade that would give the killing blow. Suddenly,
the wizard's hand, which should have been bound with unbreakable chains
to the table, seized the opening of Davreos's ragged tunic and pulled
him down so that their faces nearly touched. Fear clenched Davreos's
belly; how had the wizard's hand gotten loose? Had the bonds been
insufficient? The Inquisitress would punish him if the wizard somehow
got loose and escaped...
"I pity you," the wizard breathed
against his face, his voice a nearly soundless tatter after all his
screaming. "You could be so much more, so much better than this..."
Davreos
froze. His heart nearly stopped. How did the wizard know of his most
secret thoughts? Desires and ambitions that would see him tortured and
killed this same way if the High Priest or the Inquisitress or, worst of
all, Maikarsk itself became aware of them. He was a slave; that was his
ordained role in life, and to hope for anything more was utterly
impossible and forbidden.
"Silence," he said to the wizard, and pulled himself out of the old man's grip.
The
wizard seized him again, this time grabbing his arm. He placed
Davreos's hand on the small carved wooden pendant that hung from a chain
around his neck, and folded Davreos's fingers around it. "Take this,"
he whispered.
Davreos had been ordered to take the Source-token
anyway, which would contain power from whatever Source the wizard drew
his power from, to sustain his magic while he was away from that Source.
He pulled on it, intending to snap the chain, but instead, at his touch
on the wooden pendant, power shocked up into him through his arm, warm
and bright, with a golden-green glow that was more a feeling than a
color. It filled him, the warmth and light almost unbearable in
comparison to the power of Maikarsk he bore within him. It filled him
until he thought he would burst; his jaw ached as his teeth gritted
against the agony of it, biting back his own cries. He didn't dare make a
sound; if he was weak against the subjects, he would be deemed useless
and sent back to the worst jobs at the temple of Maikarsk. Finally the
power seemed to gather itself and bury itself deep within him until it
was no more than a faint glimmer.
He opened his eyes, which he
had squeezed shut against the pain, and unclenched his hand from around
the Source-token. Nothing but dust filled his hand. A cold bolt of
horror pierced his chest; the Inquisitress had commanded him to take the
token. But she was gone; perhaps he could tell her that the wizard had
destroyed it himself.
Time to finish the job. He placed his hand
on the blade again, then looked at the wizard. The old man's cloudy eyes
stared sightlessly upward into the shadowy heights of the cavern, and
his gnarled hand had fallen to lie limply at his side. He was dead,
almost as though he had given up his life of his own volition. Davreos
looked at the broken chain that had held the wizard's hand bound to the
table. The wizard had had enough strength to break that chain and to
hold on to his life until he chose to give it up. Why had he allowed
himself to be taken prisoner at all, if he was that strong? Why had he
surrendered his life instead of escaping? What had he hoped to
accomplish with the useless sacrifice?
Stupid, he thought. The man had allowed himself to be defeated. Stupid and weak. Anyone that weak was worthy only of death.
Time for a look at where I've been and where I'm going. For NaNoWriMo in November, I wrote nearly 54,000 words of Heir of Tanaris (the book formerly knows as The Healing Tree;
I love it when I finally think of a decent title!). It still isn't
finished; I'm guessing the first draft is going to end up around 80,000
words, by far the longest novel I've written in a while. The characters
and plot continue to grow and change on me; the synopsis I've posted is
already obsolete. I like to plan and outline my books and develop my
characters ahead of time, but once I'm immersed in the story and my
subconscious takes over, things can go in very different directions. I'm
plugging along with finished the draft at a thousand words a day
(usually more; that's my minimum). I'm hoping to finish it by the end of
December, but with Christmas bearing down quickly, that might not
happen.
