Fresh Eyes

(Note: Polish reader, if I email you some Polish dialogue translated by Google Translate, will you tell me if it makes any sense to you in Polish? It would also help if you could give me the corrections.)

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Yesterday I discovered the marvel that is looking at a Work in Progress with fresh eyes.

After work, Richard and I spent time at the local corporate coffeehouse to play with ideas for NaNo. The neutral walls are plastered with glossy posters of their wares and perky, pithy sayings in vinyl decals made at the home office. I prefer independent coffeehouses with their quirky rustic walls and hand-chalked menus paying homage to local institutions, but the nearest one is 45 miles away.

This story starts with the fact that I have two computers, and one of them is more likely to travel with me. I discovered I couldn’t get access to Whose Hearts are Mountains because it was open in Scrivener at home, a feature to prevent conflicted copies on two different computers.

So, as not to waste valuable coffee time, I pulled up the document I set aside to start a new novel for NaNo. That novel is Prodigies, and I was almost halfway done when I shelved it. Plotwise, that was the easier half, although I think my protagonists spend too much time running and I may have to go back and fix it.

When looking at it with fresh eyes, however, the questions began rushing through my head: “What if the mind control was a distraction? What if the little girl had her father’s healing talent and could use it in reverse? What is the implication of doing this to a young girl?” This could raise the stakes of the plot — who could you kill at the UN General Assembly meeting that would reduce the world to an exploitable chaos?

I also found two resources I hadn’t been able to find before — the floor for the UN Assembly Building and the UN Assembly schedule, which will make writing this story much easier.

I may have learned a valuable lesson here — sometimes putting something away for a while works better than beating your head against it. Lesson two — work on more than one idea at a time.

Short post — Moulage and External Validation

I may not be writing as much this week, because this is my big week for performing moulage. If I haven’t mentioned it, moulage is casualty simulation for emergency workers. This week I do two events — a small one this morning where I help out with the high school’s annual docudrama where they hammer home the consequences of drinking/texting while driving. Richard and I will moulage seven high schoolers.

This Friday-Sunday is the big event, Missouri Hope. The biggest of the Hope exercises held by Consortium for Humanitarian Service and Education, we will moulage about 200 people by the time we’re done. I will have a bigger crew, perhaps 8 per day, and I will provide hands-on training while we create victims — all simulated injuries of course — of a major tornado so that emergency personnel and students can use their skills in a realistic scenario.

I have developed a reputation for this among the CHSE exercises, which makes me happy. I know I can do better, and I always try to do better. In that way, it’s like writing, but I feel more secure about it because I have external validation. And external validation is one of the biggest motivators there is.

My colleagues call me the Queen of Gore. What better external validation is that?

PS: Light and dark

You believe you know me because we have laughed together on a golden afternoon, as the first of autumn’s leaves turn gold and tumble lazily.

You do not know me until you have walked with me through sodden leaves on a night where the wind whips sleet in your face and white-hot forks of lightning bleed into your vision. Here, I am a witch, the child of the storm; I stand on a hill singing to the maelstrom.

You’ve only seen me laugh. I laugh because I’ve screamed; I smile because I’ve raged; I champion the wounded because I’ve been beaten. I rejoice because I have survived.

You cannot honor my light without accepting my darkness.

These are a few of my favorite words …

I learned to read at age three. I did not go charging out the gate reading at an adult level — in fact,
I’m told I spent a couple refusing to read anything that didn’t have pictures on one side of the page. Still, I was ahead of my classmates once I reached kindergarten — “The Little Engine that Could? I read that LAST year.” My poor teacher didn’t know whether to yell or laugh.

By the time I was seven, I could read the front page of the paper and Readers’ Digest. In other words, I read at a sixth-grade level. I did not always comprehend at a sixth-grade level. The sentence “Drop for drop, a bee’s venom is more venomous than that of a cobra” sent me screaming to my mom with, “The bees are going to kill us!” It took my mom some time to explain that “drop for drop” to my satisfaction.

The case I’m trying to make is that I’ve had a lot of time to accumulate words — big words, small words, words in other languages, archaic words. I’d like to share a few of my favorite words here:

Flabbergasted — astonishment with a sense of speechlessness and probably some discomfort. My sister once asked my mother why I used the word ‘flabbergasted’ when surprised was a perfectly good word. Mom came to my rescue, “I’m surprised when someone gives me a present. I’m flabbergasted when someone drops their drawers in front of me.”

Eke — to support oneself with difficulty or to allocate scarce supplies. An old word, “eked” is elegant in its simplicity — “He eked out a living in the desert.”

Defenestrate — to throw out a window. Too specific? The official definition suggests that a person is the proper object of defenestration, but I have threatened to defenestrate my computer at various times.

Palaver — prolonged and idle discussion; also the name of a type of African sauce made from pulverized greens and spices and served over rice, fufu, or dumplings. I have encountered both definitions; the latter makes for tasty food.

Vitriol — I hated Stephen Donaldson’s Thomas Covenant series. My father did as well — he suggested killing off the main character in the first chapter and saving us all some annoyance. But the few pages I read introduced me to a perfectly good word — vitriol, which means cruel and bitter criticism. I think Donaldson used it for every little rant, however, so I’m not sure he used it correctly. He loved the word, though.

Caterwaul — the shrill wailing a cat makes. You can hear the noise when you read the word, can’t you?

Mystique — I love the sound, I love the look, I love the idea of the word, which means the air of mystery someone or something carries. I, myself, have no mystique, being an open book with the words “Ask Me Anything” across the spine.

I’m looking for more words. Drop me a response with one of your favorite words (English or not) with definitions!

Open Questions and Characters Again: Conflict

My character sheets — the ones from Scrivener — have two categories on them that I’m not happy with: Character’s internal conflicts, and Character’s external conflicts. I fill them with short, telegraphic statements:

William’s conflicts: Internally — because he deserted his lover, who was killed 18 years later; Externally — With his employer, Free White State; with Jude, who he feels is hiding something.

Jude’s conflicts: Internally — For not fitting in with other Archetypes/Folk; Externally: With his Archetype parents, for deserting him; With the Commune, for sheltering humans and Nephilim; With Free White State, for moving slowly with their plan.

One of these is a flawed good guy; the other is a sympathetic bad guy. How can you tell?

Conflicts can cause anger, fear, fury, hopelessness; sadness; and many other emotions. Can you tell what emotions come up with each conflict? You can assume, and you might be wrong, even if they’re your characters.

Conflicts can stir up desires for reconciliation, revenge, murder, wallowing in self-pity, petty bickering and passive-aggressive snapping — and more. Do any of the segments above give this impression? No!

I want to feel my characters — their loves, their dislikes, their conflicts — so I’m about to take another approach: Open-ended questions.

*****

Me: Jude, tell me about your conflict with your parents.

Jude: I understand that in InterSpace, engendered children seldom have contact with their parents after engendering. But they’re quickly apprised of their purpose — or were, until the Council of the Oldest gave the humans their cultural memories back. Archetypes engendered Earthside — that is, from the renegades — have contact with their parents and other Archetypes, at least occasionally. I was left in a privy, the abandoned result of unauthorized intercourse between two Archetypes. There I was, a freak who served no purpose and who was born fully adult. I would kill my father if he hadn’t already died saving the humans. I don’t know why they deserved more than I did.

Now, for a similar situation with William:

Me: Tell me about your conflict with your parents.

William: My situation was interesting. Six thousand years ago. the Archetypes calling themselves the Triumvirate staged the Garden of Eden in order to control society’s women, and thus the entire society, through religion. The Triumvirate engendered a male Archetype called Adam and a female Nephilim — half-human — called Eve. You may know the story. What you probably don’t know is that a couple Archetypes — Su and her apprentice Luke — engendered a female Archetype named after an older legend than Adam and Eve, called Lilith. Adam chose Lilith, not Eve, as his consort, and the Triumvirate tried to get Lilith, but not Adam, killed. Adam and Lilith went into hiding Earthside.

At that point, my parents, the female Norwegian Archetype and the male Bering Strait Archetype, decided to subtly go rogue, vowing to stand against the Triumvirate just as Luke and Su had. They had me in defiance, and placed me among the Aleut. What I discovered was that parentage among Archetypes was as nothing, the humans held parentage in great esteem. Not only did I not know my parents, but I couldn’t speak of them because Archetypes were not open to the humans.

Someday I will demand an explanation from my parents.

****

So different, huh? It’s a lot of work, but I’m getting a good idea of the characters, their conflicts, and how they intend to deal with things. I may not do this for all the characters, but the main ones: Anna, Daniel, Jude (listed above), MariJo, and William. Especially Daniel, because all he is right now is aLove Interest. (Although it would be a nice way to counter all those useless female love interests endemic in fantasy, comics, and damn near everything else written, I will not put Daniel into that spot.)

I have my work cut out for me today, and what I really need is to hole up in a coffee shop and start talking to my characters.

Empathy in an Age of Hatred

Last year in November, I participated in NaNoWriMo — until the presidential election. To a nation’s horror, 45 — many of us do not say his name — won the election, and the concept of empathy toward those not white, male, and Christian seemed to die overnight. Hate speech immediately blossomed like black, fetid flowers; Latino/as, Moslems, women, immigrants, liberals and anyone with empathy were targeted with jeers and threats, and sometimes by physical violence.

I did not win NaNo last year; I couldn’t write after that day. The world I fought for — where each person’s uniqueness was valued — seemed to have died overnight. I felt my life was imminently in danger, because once I had been targeted for violence for being different. Many people — those who hadn’t answered their traumas with aggressive hatreds — kept on keeping on in those days while cowering within themselves. Those with aggressive hatreds rejoiced. Others ignored the Nazi flags and assumed that since the world would be alright for them, everyone would be fine.

Many writers, it turned out, have had trouble writing in the aftermath of the last presidential election. In the internet article Writing Fiction after Trump (2016), written in the aftermath of the election, the author interviewed several literary writers about writing post-election. Many, like me, struggled, with one author, James Scott, expressing that he couldn’t pull up the empathy to do so.

I eventually got back to writing, after I quit cowering under my bed — figuratively, not literally. I talked myself out from under my bed because the white supremacists and the pussy-grabbers and the so-called rebels wanting to take the country back to slavery needed someone to stand against them. I write, and have always written, to oppose hatred of those who are not like us.

To show empathy, with the best of my words, with the best of my skill, with the best of my humility, is why I write.

Tuch, B. (2016). Writing fiction after Trump. Available: http://www.thereviewreview.net/publishing-tips/writing-fiction-after-trump-how-do-writers-d [October 7, 2017].

Elevator Pitches

This morning, I worked on what are known as elevator pitches. These are short hooks that should encapsulate the book and interest the agent or publisher to reach further. They’re so named because one could describe their book to an agent trapped in an elevator with them between the first and second floor.

I don’t trap agents in elevators often — actually, not at all. I use elevator pitches in a semi-annual event called #PitchMad on Twitter. When IS the next #PitchMad?

Some people use the “Bambi Meets Godzilla” format, but I’m not inclined to do that — I don’t think “Tolkien meets Mad Max” is really a good hook for my stuff. (Yes, the current work in progress could conceivably be described as such.)

Some people use the phrase “In a world in which…” which turns agents off because it sounds like it should be read aloud in Radio Announcer voice.

So these are my pitches (any agents reading, take note:)

Voyageurs: The past holds a secret that could change the future.

Gaia’s Hands: Gaia called them to be her Hands.

Mythos: In the wrong hands, a myth could kill.

Apocalypse: The battle for Earth, no weapons allowed.

Reclaiming the Balance: In a post-racial world, half-humans are the new blacks.

Hearts are Mountains: After the Collapse, a woman travels toward discovery and danger.

Prodigies: To be Talented is to be an exploited commodity.

Notes: Hearts are Mountains is the book I’m starting during NaNo; Prodigies is the book I put aside while I work on the NaNo book.

Let me know what you think!!!

PS:

The troublesome mole is benign. It’s still raining outside, and I could use a nap. Not happening; I have a full day today.

Extrapolating the Near Future

If I wrote my books to take place in the 25th Century, extrapolating the future would be easy — I could make ships fly, fill them with artificial gravity, and use technobabble —

“the core elementals are based on FTL nanoprocessor units arranged into twenty-five bilateral kelilactals with twenty of those units being slaved to the central heisenfram terminal …”

Star Trek: Next Generation, “Rascals”.

To be fair, this passage segment was written purposely as technobabble. Let’s try this:

“No, sir. My brother’s positronic brain has a Type L phase discriminating amplifier. Mine is a type R.”

Star Trek: Next Generation, “Time’s Arrow, Part 1”

I write about the near future. Most of my books take place between 2020 and 2065. I’m told I need to describe these better by my new editor — actually what he said was “You’re too f’n smart”. It’s true, because I feel no need to explain “TEM” (tunneling electron microscope) and the like. Bad me.

To write the technology for my stories, I need to do the following:

Think about what technology is needed in the story
Research the current state of technology in that area
Think about how much that technology might have progressed or regressed since now, given the increase in climate change, the eventual collapse of the United States (yes, that’s part of my future scenario) and the scarcity of some materials and plants.

For example, in 2025, we see the beginnings of food scarcity and economy collapse, and the technology will evolve toward low-tech growing techniques such as permaculture and low use of pesticides, and house building methods such as earthbags — building walls of earth-filled bags, and cob (mud and straw hammered into compact units.)

In the year 2035, the US has collapsed due to some of the forces we see in play now — domestic terrorist groups allowed to proliferate as the foreign terrorist threat was trumped up (see what I did there?) Materials are often scavenged or created in small amounts in low-tech settings. The commune has adopted low-tech techniques from earlier days. They started early — 2020 — and laid down underground dens with above ground greenhouse domes and moisture-reclamation systems. All their technology is currently available or in development. They garden low-water vegetables and keep desert goats. If something breaks, they try to fix it themselves, do without, or materialize the part in InterSpace, but only if they’ve encountered the item before and understand it thoroughly. This is the last resort for these Archetypes, because they’re considered renegades from their own habitat, which is why they’re Earthside. If they get caught, they may be arrested and sent to NoSpace, the sensory deprivation chamber, for many years.

It is necessary to devolve as well as evolve technology. In 2065, the world has fallen into complete disrepair as there is not enough food for anyone. Many have died; the cities have turned to city-states; the rich hoard most of the resources and live in underground bunkers. Most of the cities have been bombed in skirmishes between the desperate and the cops, with the cops having the bulk of the power. There are buses, and electricity and electric burners, but little other technology.

To develop this understanding of the technology, I have to do a lot of research before I write. Over the last couple of days, my search terms have included: high desert, desert farming, desert goat breeds, jatropha biodiesel (did you know you can make biodiesel from an easy-to-grow tropical nut?), edible jatropha, jatropha meal cakes for animals, atmospheric water generator, DIY shade paint, limestone mining Idaho, limestone to calcium chloride, how to make slaked lime, Navajo-Churro sheep, growing catfish with aquaponics, and underground desert living units. This is why I couldn’t write this book 30 years ago, because I couldn’t get hold of this research easily

Now, according to my editor, all I have to do is actually describe it to other people in my writing.

Rain.

Rain reminds us that we don’t have perfect control of life.

We make our plans — baseball games, picnics, outdoor weddings — and then it rains, forcing us to scramble and come up with a Plan B. The lawn doesn’t get mowed, we walk to other buildings hefting umbrellas and wearing raincoats or even garbage bag ponchos. We curse life’s uncertainties.

I feel most alive during uncertainties. Uncertainties bring change — sometimes good, sometimes bad. Uncertainties call out my best self. They call for my bravery, my need to connect with my friends for support, my ingenuity, my speaking truth to power.

I have always faced uncertainty head-on. I call myself a child of the storm, because I take my righteous anger, my ethics and morals, my frustration, and fashion them into an arrow to shoot into the eye of the storm. This is part of the reason I write — my stories are arrows to shoot with the hope that they will hit their targets — the banal evils of our world.

Rain, gentle rain, is a reminder that the storm doesn’t always come with its thunder and lightning and high winds, or as an assurance that the maelstrom has passed.

Rain reminds us that we don’t have perfect control of life.

*************

On Monday, I had a suspicious mole removed from my arm. This isn’t unusual — as I have more than fifty moles on my body, I am at higher risk for melanoma than most people. This is the fourth mole, however, and the other three were benign, so chances are this one is also. But it is uncertainty right now. Don’t worry; I handle uncertainty well. I am, after all, a child of the storm.