Unicorn Droppings - Absolute Write Blog Chain

The theme for this month's Absolute Write Blog Chain is Unicorn Droppings. Don't know what else to say about that, so on with the writing. Be sure to check out the links to the other posts at the end.

Noble Quest

Trongen hacked at a branch that barred his path. It snapped and fell away. He stepped forward to find a dozen more snags across his route. With a grunt crossed with a growl he attacked them with vigor.

"Have you vanquished the evil philodenron, oh mighty warrior?"

Trongen stopped mid swing and closed his eyes. He very deliberately lowered his sword before turning. The little man before him had a grin that covered half his face, his head cocked at an insulting angle. "If you have a better plan to get us to the plains, Lucian, please elaborate." He turned back and resumed his hacking. "Otherwise shut up and get us dinner."

"It's too dark to hunt. Why don't we go back to the castle?"

Trongen gave up and turned again. "Because the King ordered us here. We are his humble servants and are happy to oblige his every whim." He gritted his teeth for that last part. He hated to be at anyone's whim. He wiped the sweat from his brow, not coincidentally drawing his naked blade across the air between them.

"That's not exactly true, now is it?" Lucian was in his court finery and looked fresh as rain.

Trongen thought the angle of Lucian's head had turned condescending. He didn't know how the man could express so many emotions through his neck, but all of them annoyed him. "Close enough. Family of royalty is still royalty. So we keep going."

Trongen returned to work and a couple more strokes brought them to a small clearing. The late day sun couldn't penetrate the canopy and it was hard to see, but Tongren's senses were honed from years of avoiding ambushes and chasing orcs down dark tunnels. The grass here had been trampled. A deeper shadow across the way might be a trail. A trail for something large.

"See," Trongen gloated with a look over his shoulder. "We're getting close." He took a step forward and felt something squish under his foot.

"A little too close, by the smell of it." Lucian chuckled.

Tongren raised his foot and tried to shake off the sticky brown scat that clung to his good boots. He grunted and held in a scream. "Come on." He took another step and there was another squish. He let out the scream this time, the entire forest stirring at his anger.

"Now it knows we're coming." Lucian still sounded amused.

"I don't care. I'm going to find the beast and you're going to ride it back to the castle. If the little princess wants a unicorn pony for her birthday, then that's damn well what she's going to get."

*

And here are the other links in the chain. Please check them out:
ishtar'sgate - http://chickenscratchbc.blogspot.ca/ (link to post)
orion_mk3 - http://nonexistentbooks.wordpress.com (link to post)
sweetwheat - http://gomezkarla.blogspot.com/ (link to post)
skunkmelons - http://www.jenniferponce.com/skunkblog (link to post)
julzperri - http://fishandfrivolity.blogspot.com.au (link to post)
Sudo_One - http://sudoone.wordpress.com/ (link to post)

Critiquing, part 3: Fact vs. Opinion

In Part 1 on critiquing I talked about how to give a critique. Part 2 was on how to take a critique. Now I want to talk a little more about an important distinction that applies to both sides of the coin: fact vs. opinion. Knowing what they are and how to separate the two is essential for getting the most out of the critiquing process.

So what's a fact? A fact is something that is true regardless of belief. It seems like facts should be easy to spot, but that's not always the case. For instance, 'the sky is blue' is often accepted as a fact. But that depends on what your definition of blue is. In truth, the 'sky' is an atmosphere of mixed gases that refracts sunlight. The color of the sun is the wavelength of its blackbody radiation and the color of the sky is determined by Rayleigh scattering. Those are facts. Blue is a convenient summation that different people interpret differently.

Similarly with critique, some things that one person assumes are definite and unarguable, others will debate. But there are some things that are fact and when pointed out they need to be changed. Typos/misspellings are the easy ones. Grammar can be fact (it can also be opinion). If a character is tall in one scene and then described as short in the next - those are things that simply need to be corrected.

'Mistakes' that are opinion can be a little trickier to sort out. Critiques like 'the character is too sarcastic' or 'the pacing is too slow' are opinion. Just because one person believes it doesn't mean that everyone else will. This can also apply to things like sentence structure, use of passive voice, accents written in dialogue. Many things are not black and write in the world of writing, so we must learn to handle all the shades of grey.

So lots of things are opinion. Some things are fact. How do we use this difference? Good question. The first thing as a critiquer is to understand what feedback you are giving. If it truly is fact, the fact will speak for itself. Point out the missing apostrophe and move on. Don't embellish or justify, say what's wrong and leave it at that. It saves everyone a lot of time and makes your life simpler.

But when you know you are giving an opinion you normally come prepared to back it up. Do the same in your criticism. When you say the character is too sarcastic, point out why. When you ask for faster pacing, let the author know what type of pacing you like. You want to defend your opinion - not to argue with the author but so they can understand where you are coming from and weigh it properly. If someone says that the Dodgers are the best baseball team, most people not from L.A. will argue with them. If you say the Dodgers are the best because of the depth of their rotation, their ability to get production out of bottom of their lineup, and their record verses quality opponents, it becomes harder to argue with it.

The reverse applies to receiving opinion based criticism. Don't try to defend your work. Try to listen to their reasoning and understand why they have that opinion. You might still disagree, but you'll probably see a way to improve what you have even if it isn't exactly what they want - compromise can be a beautiful thing.

And always take into account the number of people who are giving you that same opinion. If one person believes something it may not be true. If enough people believe something it passes for truth is this world.

I recently joined a writers group that meets in person to give and receive feedback. This can be much more helpful since discussions often lead to more insight than electronic statements. But it makes distinguishing fact from opinion that much more important - time can be wasted all too easily on debating facts or arguing over opinions. Understanding how to give and take each of them allows the group to be productive and accomplish a lot more. After all, we all just want to get better, right?

Lions, Tigers, and Bears, Oh My! - Absolute Write Blog Chain

Time for this month's Absolute Write Blog Chain. Please be sure to check out the other great blogs in the chain below and check in on Absolute Write for one of the best writing forums on the web.

This month's prompt is Lions, Tigers, and Bears, Oh My! Normally I would put together something new for the blog, but I'm really busy doing revisions on my current WIP. And while revising away, I came across a passage that fits into the theme rather nicely. So I thought I'd share a little of my current work.

Synthesis

     Now Alexander looks at me. His golden eye glitters in the light of the ceiling lamp. Knowing who he is, he doesn’t look as sinister but definitely more intimidating. “Emily, he is not what he appears. I am not the enemy. Achilles won’t be able to protect you from what’s coming. He is a brute who fights for the pure joy of killing. He fights for the underdog because it’s a challenge. He does not care for you or your mother. I ask you to come with me.” He looks almost human as he says it. “I will reunite you with your mother. We will keep you safe.”

     For a second I don’t understand. He’s asking me to come with him? Why would I do that? But if he’s asking, it suggests he knows he can’t force me.

     “Why on earth would I trust you? You’re the only thing that I need to be kept safe from. If you’re my friend, why don’t you just let my mom go and we can forget all this ever happened. How does that sound?”

     Alexander dismisses my questions by looking back at Achilles. “You are a fool, you Hetairos halfwit. A mistake of the past. This time you will finally lose.” All humanity is gone.

     “You have never beaten me, Alexander." Achilles is no longer smiling. "Not in Babylon, not at Thermopyle, not at Agincourt. You will never defeat me.” His whole persona has transformed. As frightened as I have been of Alexander, I am terrified by Achilles. The look on his face, the entire set of his body, is of a wild animal ready to strike. He radiates power and strength in a way that no one should. Sitting between these two men I feel like a fawn walking between a tiger and a lion. If there is a fight, I will be slaughtered without notice long before a victor is decided.

     Alexander's hand shoots out like lightning and grabs the wine glass. Both Holden and I knock over our chairs jumping back from the table. Achilles doesn’t move an inch. Alexander raises the glass slightly to acknowledge his host. He drinks it in one gulp and gently sets it back on the table.

     “I won’t be the one who beats you,” he says with a smile. He stands and quickly walks back out the front door, closing it behind him with a solid thud. The quiet he leaves behind is deafening.

*

I have to say that I'm really excited to be finishing up these revisions. My novel is a Young Adult Science Fiction story and I've already had a couple beta readers and done a couple rounds of revisions. I think it's just about ready to go out and I'll be looking for some more beta readers in the next few weeks. So if you like what you read and want to get the full story, shoot me an email or let me know in the comments.

And here are the other links in the chain:
orion_mk3 - http://nonexistentbooks.wordpress.com (link to post)
Ralph Pines - http://ralfast.wordpress.com/ (link to post)
ishtar'sgate - http://chickenscratchbc.blogspot.ca/ (link to post)
skunkmelon - http://www.jenniferponce.com/skunkblog (link to post)
pyrosama - http://matrix-hole.blogspot.com/ (link to post)
julzperri - http://www.fishandfrivolity.blogspot.com/ (link to post)
dclary - http://hardhobbittobreak.com (link to post)
Sweetwheat - http://gomezkarla.blogspot.com/ (link to post)
MsLaylaCakes - http://www.taraquan.com/ (link to post)
Angyl78 - http://jelyzabeth.wordpress.com/ (link to post)

Steampunk - Absolute Write Blog Chain

As I'm just getting back to this blog after a long absence I thought the Absolute Write Blog Chain would be a great way to force me to write something. It's also a nice way to reconnect with the writing community. Anyway, this month's theme is Steampunk, something I'm not very familiar with. I think that makes it a perfect exercise - learn about something new and give it a try. So here goes.

Below are the links to the others participating this month. If you like steampunk, or just a good assortment of blogs, please click on through.

Neverland 

     The dugout canoe swung out into the faster current of the main river and Dr. Bartholomew gripped the edge a little tighter. He looked over at the canoe next to his to make sure the native boy was handling his cargo. The thing under the oilskin was too heavy to allow an adult to pole the boat so the ablest kid in the village was conscripted into service. He had spent the last of the Queen's gold to hire the pair of boats and guides to take him further into the jungle, to a place that no white man had ever seen.
     As they ferried to the other side the doctor could see the large crocodiles sunning themselves on the muddy bank. A closer inspection of the water's surface revealed small protrusions that marked the locations of the ancient reptiles in the water. So when something broke the surface between the two boats the doctor naturally feared an animal attack and shrieked in pure terror. His guides maintained enough composure to balance the canoes as the wake from the disruption sent them sliding apart.
     But the object that emerged from the depths was no living creature. It was long and cylindrical, larger than any Crocodylus Niloticus and covered in steel plate. As the doctor recognized it for a man-made object his fear turned from terror to dread. Only one man could have built such a contraption and followed Bartholomew this far into Africa. A hatch on the very top sprung open and a round-faced man in a faded greatcoat with crossed yellow sashes and red and gold epaulets. A green softcap with red brim shaded his face.
     "Zdrasvstvujte, Dr. Bartholomew," the man said with a thin smile and heavy accent. "You have done well to make this far."
     "Dr. Zhukov," Bartholomew acknowledged. "You'll never find the ruins in that thing."
     "Da," said Zhukov. He smiled and rubbed his hand over the shiny metal. "But will help win war. You will find me ruins."
     "What if I say no?"
     Zhukov pulled a pistol from his pocket and held it at his waist, pointing at Bartholomew. "Pozalujsta, Doctor. We are men of learning. Do not make me use violence."
     The tense stand off between the two men was broken by a cry from the boy in the canoe. They both turned to see a large tail swat the dugout, rocking wildly in the chaotic water churned up by the offending beast. Bartholomew took advantage of the distraction to dive into the water. A muted echo of the report of Zhukov's gun informed him of the raining bullets but he couldn't make out anything in the cloudy water. He swam with his arms in front of him until he ran into the solid metal of Zhukov's underwater dirigible. He followed it down, thanking his days in the natatorium at Cambridge for providing him with capable lungs. He resurfaced on the opposite side as quietly as possible.
     Zhukov cursed at the two dark skinned natives who were poling towards shore. The angry Russian then yelled into his vessel and it started to move towards the canoe with the cargo. Bartholomew tried to grab on but the slick metal provided no purchase. But before the boat had completely passed he spied the fins on the narrow tail that must allow for steerage while under water. He caught hold as it went by and hung on for his life.
     The metal barge came alongside the wooden canoe and Zhukov threw a rope to the boy who had given up his attempted escape. Once the dugout was secure Zhukov walked down the steps placed in the side of his craft and stepped into the canoe. His added weight made the little boat rock precariously and Bartholomew took that moment to spring up from underneath and haul on the side, spilling Zhukov and the boy into the water.
     Bartholomew pulled himself into the boat and unhooked it from captor, using the boy's pole to push off. He noticed Zhukov sputtering in the water, his greatcoat pulling him down, while the kid swam strongly towards shore. Bartholomew was no better off - the canoe had taken on water and was slowly sinking. It went from bad to worse as a soldier popped up through the opening of the metal ship and pointed a pistol in his direction. But Zhukov's screams for help distracted the man and Bartholomew yanked off the oilskin to reveal his cargo, a gleaming metal apparatus with a small seat on the front. He released a series of latches on the top and pulled the lever on the side. The machine started with a loud whoosh and he quickly strapped himself into the seat.
     A pole extended out the top of device and at its end a large balloon began to inflate. At the same time a rotor blade unfolded and began to spin just below the canvas ball. Bartholomew could only wait until he had enough propulsion to lift him from the sinking canoe. He looked up to see Zhukov had reached his boat and was standing on the bottom step. He took the pistol from his soldier and aimed in at Bartholomew. It was too late.
     "Do svidaniya, Doctor." 
     Zhukov aimed the pistol but before he could pull the trigger a gigantic head full of spear-like teeth broke the surface and chomped down on his outstretched hand. Bartholomew could see the bloody stump that was left behind as the crocodile disappeared into the depths. He felt the lift of his aero-rotor and quickly left the screaming Russian below. He turned and looked towards the snow-capped mountain in the distance, hoping his fuel would be sufficient.

*

Participants and posts:
orion_mk3 - http://nonexistentbooks.wordpress.com (link to post)
Ralph Pines - http://ralfast.wordpress.com (link to post)
Angyl78 - http://jelyzabeth.wordpress.com/ 
ishtar'sgate - http://chickenscratchbc.blogspot.ca/ 
asnys - http://atomic-skies.blogspot.com/ 
SJNew - http://thelanguageofimagination.blogspot.co.uk/ 
pyrosama - http://matrix-hole.blogspot.com/ 
meowzbark - http://www.lizzylessard.com/ 

The importance of writing

I've been away from this blog for a while now. Events and circumstances in my life required me to prioritize and make tough choices on what I wanted to spend my time doing. I have been writing (though not as much as I'd like) but I haven't been blogging here. I have missed it and I'm looking forward to getting back to it on a regular basis.

This time off has made me think a lot about the importance of writing. You hear the advice out there: write every day - no matter what!; writing has to be the most important thing in your life if you're going to succeed; writers live and die with their writing. I'm afraid I just don't buy it.

Writing is important to me but it's not everything. I can certainly see how prioritizing writing (or any activity) above everything else can help lead to success. But success doesn't equal happiness. My goal is to be happy, to have a fulfilling life. I think writing will always be a necessary part of that. But my relationships are more important. The people in my life have a greater impact on my happiness, and ultimately my interactions with others have a greater impact on the world than my writing.

So I have taken a break and I've accomplished things outside of writing that have transformed my life and brought me to an entirely new position from which to write again. I'm hopeful that I will be a better writer for it and I dive back in with renewed enthusiasm and vigor. I hope you'll accompany me on the journey.