Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Fight, Fight, Fight! Blogfest

This blogfest entry is brought to you by J.C. Martin at The Fighter Writer. You can view all participants through this link.

This entry stars my protagonist, Valence. Most returning fest-goers have met him. This scene occurs in the beginning of the story, when Valence steps in to save the king from an assassin.

If something bugs you or sticks out, please let me know. Thanks and enjoy!

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C'mon! Come Get Me!

Valence stepped forward, pretending the poison no longer contaminated his blood, and charged with his crescent blade. He yelled with a beast-like rancor and the assassin pulled two sabers from the sheaths on his back. Valence hacked away, missing a clean swipe at the assassin’s chest. The black-skinned man danced in at him, the blades flicking like snake tongues. The assassin knocked away another crushing blow and Valence backed off with the tip of his sword meeting the tip of a saber.

They circled carefully. “You’re Valence, am I right?”

Valence glared and he cocked his wrist up, positioning his tip higher than the saber. “How do you know my name?” His fingers fidgeted, coiled to strike, and his hand thrummed from their clash. As if sensing he would be a dangerous adversary, the assassin narrowed a glare on Valence that strove to pierce his guard. Valence refused to falter and confronted the look with his own discerning stare, probing his foe’s strengths—and weaknesses. For him, the face-off lasted forever. The assassin stunk of earth and sweat, and his skin had an unnatural sheen. He smelled death on the assassin’s blades. A thousand screams of defenseless victims lingered there.

“We all have names.” Their steps were matched in time. “Mine is Xixios.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Valence fought for his breaths, but Xixios did not appear broken like he.

“You’ve become quite popular. The Darkness wants you.”

Valence caught a lost breath. Mekuyo spoke the truth. He examined the assassin’s posture and studied his words a second time. “Not going to happen.”

The assassin curled his lip and tightened his hold on the sabers. “Nothing escapes it once claimed.”

The duel continued.

Valence had Xixios on the defensive, but with each swing, the assassin dodged. Their circular movements pressed on. He lunged and Xixios lurched away, leaving the crescent sword to slice tufts of shadow in his wake. He lifted his blade to his chest, ready to parry. Xixios coiled the shadows and vanished into the screen of darkness. The dueling ground tightened. Valence tempted a slice at the thickest part of the shadows and returned to guard with his left hand resting at the knife on his belt.

Valence stood alone, circling and eyes darting. The shadows broke open and Xixios jumped in, sabers held high, cutting toward him. Valence ducked and repelled the first saber. He tucked his sword low at his thigh and struck his elbow at Xixios’ abdomen.

The darkness surrounding them tore apart when Xixios tumbled to the floor. The afternoon sun teemed through the windows in pillars.

Xixios gathered his second wind and returned to his feet. As Valence watched him rise, the king stirred at his back. Valence stepped into the assassin’s view of the throne, sword pointed down.

“That was fun,” Xixios said as he picked up his sabers.

“That’s Lunata combat.” Valence’s answer was sharp and he kept his weapon ready.

“Impressive.”

Valence's breath rasped as he tried to keep his balance, but the poison brought him to his knees. He lacked the strength to hold his sword’s weight and his fingers tingled against the leather wrappings.

Xixios sneered, the reptilian slits scrutinizing Valence’s strength. “Did I get you?”

“Not this time.”

“Let’s see if I can fix that.”

Valence forced the poison to retreat and rose as Xixios rushed. The assassin spat obscenities as he hacked at Valence’s feinting form. Valence bellowed each time his weapon connected to the whistling sabers and pushed harder. Slice, dip, and lunge. Xixios lagged and Valence struck forward, grazing the assassin’s arm. He followed through and tangled his weapon between Xixios’, fighting to break his hold on the sabers. Their strengths matched and his opponent’s stink assaulted him the closer he stood. His sight fuzzed as sweat dripped into his eyes.

“You’re done,” Xixios said.

“Not yet,” Valence breathed. The words stung his throat. He tasted his own defeat, but refused to let Xixios hear it. His biceps screamed, the pain surging, but he pushed Xixios away.

Valence expected Xixios to reexamine him, but lashed again. He pushed his advance on Valence, his blade patterns all too similar to the Lunata fighting style. Valence stepped off Xixios’ explosive combat. The sabers whirred left and right, cross body and into an extended thrust. Xixios finished with a reverse-blade uppercut.

Valence tucked and rolled as Xixios landed shortly behind him from a leap. His saber crushed through the floor, showing no strain of having cut into solid marble. Valence spun and pressed into a lunge, but faltered as tendrils of poison swam down his sword-arm. Xixios parried and dropped his saber short into Valence’s vambrace.

Valence’s sword skittered across the floor. He witnessed the hatred in Xixios’ red eyes boil to black and watched defenselessly as the saber rose and hewed into his pauldron. It bit through the hide protection, the strike deep and just left of his collarbone. Valence yelped from the serrated sting of his flesh tearing open and was grabbed up from his knees. Xixios lifted him off the ground and flung him over his shoulder.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Woe is Me (Awkward Writing 5)

Welcome back for the 5th and final installment of my Awkward Writing series, where we will be discussing a more broad subject: breaking cliches.

As a reminder, anyone who comments on the series posts (previous or future) will be entered into a giveaway. The giveaway will be announced on the last series post. If you make multiple comments, you receive multiple entries. Max 5 entries via comments. But...

1) If you shout out the series (FB, Twitter, Blog, etc.), you get 1 entry. Please only 1 mention for the entire series. Please also supply the shout out link in your comment.

2) If you create a post linking back to my page, or one of the posts in the series, you receive 2 entries. Please supply the post link in your comment.


That is a total of 7 entries total you can have put in the pot. Don't forget to supply those links to your blogs or social media shout outs. You must supply them to be granted the point(s).

EPIC DRUMROLL SOUNDS!

So, it's been an interesting ride with all the comments made across the Awkward Writing series. Thanks to all who've participated. We have a good 20 plus commenters, each ranging with various entries. The series will officially conclude Friday, September 3rd at 5pm EST. The winner will be announced soon after. The prize will be a $10 Amazon voucher, sent via email. Be sure to get your last comments in!

What am I currently doing? Answer: blogging, watching Blue Harvest (the Family Guy Star Wars episode) and drinking Firefly.

* * *

So this is more of a broad subject to end the Awkward Writing series. We're going to discuss breaking cliches in writing. As natural as they feel to write, we each as growing writers try our damnedest to break cliches. All genres have their staple cliches in the various areas: character traits, world elements, plot elements. And the list can go on. The most popular cliches all in genre fiction. The search for magical artifacts, the rise of demon lords, the conquest over treasure bearing planets, et cetera.

So, as growing writers, we are challenged with breaking cliches. Those bestsellers who have come before us have set a standard which can be a "son of a beast." How in the world can you create something fresh? How is it possible to do what hasn't been done?

So I am leaving this topic way open for interpretation. Please share what you can about your journey through breaking the cliche.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Poverty, Abuse, and the Like (Awkward Writing 4)

Welcome back for the 4rd installment of my Awkward Writing series, where we will be discussing social issues in writing.

As a reminder, anyone who comments on the series posts (previous or future) will be entered into a giveaway. The giveaway will be announced on the last series post. If you make multiple comments, you receive multiple entries. Max 5 entries via comments. But...

1) If you shout out the series (FB, Twitter, Blog, etc.), you get 1 entry. Please only 1 mention for the entire series. Please also supply the shout out link in your comment.

2) If you create a post linking back to my page, or one of the posts in the series, you receive 2 entries. Please supply the post link in your comment.


That is a total of 7 entries total you can have put in the pot. Don't forget to supply those links to your blogs or social media shout outs. You must supply them to be granted the point(s).

What am I currently doing? Answer: blogging, beta edits, itching to finish my next chapter and enjoying my day off.

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I think at some point, most writers will debate including a graphic scene in their WiP that might make readers shy away. Have your characters just entered a poverty stricken village? Are they glancing over the destruction of war? Do they see a pair of children screaming for their mother? These are social issues, along with a myriad of others, that can be difficult to write. It takes will power and courage to be able to think of the scene blow-by-blow so your reader will cherish it.

As a disclaimer, I do not condone sexual or physical abuse in any form, no matter your position in life. That said, most social issues that I have seen in writing comes in the form of sexual or physical abuse. It's harrowing to think about, let alone put on paper for the general public to read, but you're not only telling a story. You're spreading a message. How often do you, the writer, learn something from the characters? Granted, they are your creations, but you may not have thought of a solution had it not been filtered through the actions of your character.

Abuse is never just a simple travesty. It has long standing effects on the world. War and poverty, hunger and famine, abuse and murder. All have their atrocious reasons for being committed, but it is through your writing that we can begin to understand it. If your character has just barged into a bedroom to prevent an innocent child from being raped, you've done well. You've decided that your character has heart and he does not revel in pain. You've created something that readers can look up to, and then say, "Would I do the same thing?"

The same circumstance applies for all the listed social issues above. Would any of us do the same thing? If you can learn through the actions of your characters, why not? It began with you as a dormant feeling, untapped and unexplored, but now that you've been able to force it out onto paper, the effect of it all takes on a new meaning.

As difficult as the task might be to write about social issues, you're not only using them to move the story and build character relations. Use them to send a message. Take the time to invest all you have creatively into that one scene so it becomes something worth reading. If you just glance over it and get it done with, you're just writing another part of the story. Good moments of saving someone from evil takes time. It takes heart and soul. It takes cunning.

Difficult yes, but never impossible. To write it properly and with strength would be to teach someone how to avoid it. It may sound far-fetched, but words have great power to inspire and change the heart of someone. Will you be one of those writers?

Question to the Cohorts: Have you experimented in writing social complications? How did you get through the challenge and did you feel accomplished in the end?

Peace and Writing Love!

JWP

Friday, August 20, 2010

Updates Galore!

Good afternoon all (morning for some of you)!

I'm still alive, no worries. This was a big weekend for me. I moved from New Jersey to Orlando, Florida and I am now working full time as a PhotoPass Photographer in Disney's Hollywood Studios. Yes sir, I work for him. The boss. The Mouse!

It's part of the Disney College Program, and since I applied in the semester before I graduated, I was accepted. I'll be here until January and hopefully later to extend my program. I need to be a good little worker, so I can eventually get an internship with the Imagineers.

Anyway, here's the updates around the blog:

The Awkward Writing series is still ongoing. I haven't posted in a while about it. The 4th installment will be posted tomorrow, the 21st. We currently have 17 participants in the giveaway contest, ranging from 1-4 points each. So don't forget to comment and do all the extra hullabaloo to rack up those points. Points=entries!

I've finally caught up with all the comments made on last weekend's Weather blogfest. Thanks for all who commented and assisted in the tiny edits here and there.

A new blogger, J.C. Martin (the fighter writer), is hosting a blogfest on Tuesday, August 31st. The theme is to post a fighting entry (under 1000 words for courtesy). Do sign up! She's new to the blogger universe and deserves to be noticed. She has some talent. Visit her blog HERE and rack up some points to win a $10 Amazon voucher.

Lastly, be on the lookout for the start of my Industry Leaders Interview Series, to begin mid-September. I'm still on the hunt for those wishing to offer me interviews. If you know anyone in the industry who might be willing, please share!

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Weather Blogfest

This blogfest is brought to you by Nick Fretz @ A Little Slice of Nothing. The link is provided to the fest page and list of participants.

This excerpt is from my manuscript and features a swiftly moving thunderstorm on my cast. Please don't butter up the comments. If there is something you do not like, point it out. Enjoy!

* * *

Oh Shit, Is That...

They approached the checkpoint at the tunnels.

A man in a cotton vest stood up from his chair and held out a walking stick to prevent them. His weather worn skin had a deep tan to it. Creases pulled at the corners of his eyes and mouth. “You heading up?”

“We are,” Valence said. “We have business in Huhrdek.”

“The Dwarves be having troubles up there. Best not to disturb them.”

“He said we have business in the city,” Gerad affirmed. “Do you need our papers, or will this be enough?” He flashed the sleeve of his doublet and the guard stepped aside.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Stick to the paths.” He pointed his stick over Valence’s shoulder. “Got a storm rolling in and you don’t want it sweeping you.” He eyed Melana and Kyona next.

“They’re coming with us,” Valence said.

“You sure about that?”

“I’m tougher than most of the men in this town,” Kyona said. “We’ve got it covered.”

“Whatever, I ain’t going to stop ya.”

Valence looked back to the rumbling clouds shifting toward the mountains. They were coming from the North. From Agress. He hoped that all was well in the kingdom they had left behind. They had left the king very near the grasp of Sevestra. The thick of clouds were moving frighteningly quick, if not by nature’s doing, then by something trying to impede their advance. The grays were shifting to black. Lightning illuminated the sky through the cloud cover and thunder followed on its heels.

Melana touched Valence’s shoulder and turned him around. Her lips quirked up at the corners with an earnest expression. “We should really move if we want to beat it.”

“Right,” Valence said. The sky lit up across the expanse of the land. Something did not feel right.

Valence led them up from the town, having been given a rope by the guard before leaving. Tying themselves together, the guard had said, would prove wise. Not long after reaching the top of the path, Valence secured their bodies together at the waist. The winds ripped at them, but the first Vessel lay in only one direction. Up.

One hour into the path, the clouds opened and revealed the brunt of the storm. Torrential rains pounded at them and made the walk more treacherous. Forks of lightning spread across the sky, thunder in its wake and shaking the very body of the mountain. Pebbles slipped down the side of the vicious steeps and crushed into the watery slide their path had become.

Valence paused. He wiped his face and ran his fingers over his eyes to clear his vision. He shielded a hand over his eyes and peered out across the plains. The wind churned and changed direction.

“We need cover,” Valence yelled over the rain. “This storm is not letting up anytime soon.” Unsure if his words had reached the group tied behind him, he shouted again.

Gerad looked out from behind Melana, his hand at his ear.

“We need cover! The storm—”

A massive growl hung over them and the rain pricked more like icicles on their skin. The resonating thunder drew near and lightning shot out from the clouds.

Valence glanced up, water stinging his eyes. Thick slabs of rock broke free from the mountain. Chunk after boulder cascaded down the slopes toward them and Valence yanked the rope.

“Run!”

They fought to run up the watery grave of the path, but to no avail. The slabs crashed down behind Kyona and missed her.

A second deadly bolt fired at the mountain. Chains leapt from cloud to cloud, idle in their charge, and struck down. The timeless attack of the storm, fed from nature and some devious means, had found them.

Water surged down the path. A harsh tug came at his waist and nearly pulled him from his feet, but Valence gripped to a rock. He stole a glance behind him. Melana had found something to hook into, her knees slowly giving away, but Gerad and Kyona were not as fortunate. They lay in the path behind Melana, being drowned by the mud and water.

A fierce charge of lightning snapped and freed an entire portion of the mountain onto them.

Gerad yelled back, waving his hand, but Valence could not hear the warning.

Melana screamed, her cheeks flushed.

The strain on Valence’s waist was released and he watched horrified as Gerad and Kyona slid down the path. Melana shrieked and reached out, but Valence snagged her arm and pulled her to his body. The slabs of rock crashed down short of them in thick bombardments and tumbled at their friends. Melana released one final scream, her voice scratched with agony, but their friends had vanished behind the torrent of water and rocks.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

L-O-V-E (Awkward Writing 3)

Welcome back for the 3rd installment of my Awkward Writing series, where we will be discussing love.

As a reminder, anyone who comments on the series posts (previous or future) will be entered into a giveaway. The giveaway will be announced on the last series post. If you make multiple comments, you receive multiple entries. Max 5 entries via comments. But...

1) If you shout out the series (FB, Twitter, Blog, etc.), you get 1 entry. Please only 1 mention for the entire series. Please also supply the shout out link in your comment.

2) If you create a post linking back to my page, or one of the posts in the series, you receive 2 entries. Please supply the post link in your comment.

That is a total of 7 entries total you can have put in the pot. Don't forget to supply those links to your blogs or social media shout outs. You must supply them to be granted the point(s).

What am I currently doing? Answer: blogging, laundry and debating my next Kindle download.

* * *

Nat King Cole's song, L-O-V-E, remains one of my favorite songs. It's sweet and has soul to it. As he says: "Take my heart and please don't break it/Love was made for me and you."

So let's discuss love in writing. Yes, it's sweet love that makes readers cherish the art of writing. It is raw, emotional love that makes us turn the page and want to know more about character relationships. It is the thing that makes us a bit lightheaded when it all works out for the hero or heroine. Do they find love and have they made amends with what has prevented them finding it in the past?

I don't personally think love is the most awkward topic to write in to your manuscript, but I'm sure we have our moments. Most recently, I wanted to add a sex scene into my manuscript (see Awkward Writing 1), but my faithful beta honestly told me that she did not think my MC and the female character had reached that level. I hadn't invested enough time in the plot arc to show they were in love, and thus, sex would have become a thing of lust in the writing rather than a moment of love. So, I ran with that comment and put something light in to implied the sex. From this, it showed that the characters did have something for each other. Perhaps it wasn't Nat's L-O-V-E, but it was something to keep them together and wanting.

For some, writing love in the proper context of your manuscript or WIP can be difficult. But, if you take the time to build a true character relationship, you can produce an unforgettable moment for your readers.

Question to the Cohorts: Are your characters lustful lovers or an emotional pair? What barriers have you run into when you didn't entirely believe what kind of love you have created?

Peace and Writing Love!

JWP

Saturday, August 7, 2010

High Drama Blogfest

This blogfest is brought to you by DL Hammons. The link to his blogfest page and participants is provided.

The excerpt for this fest, like all of my other fest entries, are excerpts from my manuscript. This scene falls on the discovery of a journey-changing item, and two of the characters have it about their motives. It's a short clip to stay under the 500 word mark.

Please do not butter up the comments. If there is something you do not like, please say so. Thanks and enjoy!

* * *

Who Do You Think You Are?

The center of the table, once streaking with the colors of the torch light, became mottled with ink spots of different shades. The spots spread as if on paper and bled into each other until a rectangular form was visible. Valence removed his hand from the medallion slot when a soft rumble emanated from the table. The four stood close together and watched as the ink spots solidified into a sliding window. The window slid open in both directions and from the center of the table rose a leather bound manuscript, reverse side up. Situated on turning racks, the manuscript flipped over to the front sleeve and revealed an embossed leather jacket with an ornate bone dagger penetrating the center.

Valence reached for the dagger, his fingers within inches, and the ancientness returned. The dagger? No, the book, or both, he thought. Wavelike swells spiraled around the handle of the dagger, and the closer he came to touching it, he only slightly saw it shake. It responded to proximity.

“Valence, your aura,” Melana pointed out, “mine as well.”

Valence looked away from the silver wisps smoking off his hand, and slid a glance over his shoulder. Melana’s emerald green was also dancing, less vibrant, but nevertheless reacting.

“What are you doing?” Melana stepped forward and pulled his hand back from the dagger. “You can’t touch that.”

“Why not?” Their auras intertwined for a moment, silver and emerald, swirling as their hands remained touching. “Our auras are reacting to the dagger, and likely the book, too. I want to see what’s in it.”

“I’m not feeling right about this book here.” Gerad moved a step back. “I’d prefer them leave it be, that’s all I’ll say,” he said, yielding his hands open.

Valence raised his head, but needn’t look back to the King to hear his thoughts clear. He probed and peeled through the rumble of a mess in the king’s head. Much of what he had been contemplating regarded Falistar. Who had been able to access the catacombs, best him in talent, and then to leave the body as if it had no value? But, a response to Gerad’s berated words lingered forward. His silver flared up a bit and caused Melana’s emerald to heighten as well.

“Let him open it,” King Pallanza said. “We need some sort of reassurance that Falistar died with cause.”

“You’re placing your hope on this book?” Disapproval crept into Gerad’s voice. “A strange chamber connected to Falistar’s quarters and deep secrets of the First Generation? Sounds like fun, yes it does, but some things need to be left alone, my Lord. There’s a great deal of evil left in this world and this book being here is just another absurdity that’ll lead to something we won’t like.”

“Much is absurd to you, isn’t it, Gerad?” Valence wheeled around and disconnected his silver from the emerald. His aura ignited into frenzied, uncontrolled spikes. Melana drew close to him and his silver lashed out at the emerald, holding off her intervention. “I would think now that you know what I’m capable of, you would be more inclined to let a few things slip by your reasoning, or lack there of, I should say.”

“Watch your tone, Valence,” Gerad said, his face flushing. “What you’re doing now doesn’t amend for your past!”

“Like you know about my past! Don’t bring up things you barely understand!” He pushed forward, hands clenched to fists and knuckles near as white as his hair.

“I don’t need to know anything,” the general answered, teeth gritted and fuming. “The Lunata have a reputation, remember?”

Monday, August 2, 2010

OH GOD, I Didn't Need to Know That! (Awkward Writing 2)

Welcome back for the 2nd installment of my Awkward Writing series, where we will be discussing writing horror and anything else graphic.

As a reminder, anyone who comments on the series posts (previous or future) will be entered into a giveaway. The giveaway will be announced on the last series post. If you make multiple comments, you receive multiple entries. Max 5 entries via comments. But...

1) If you shout out the series (FB, Twitter, Blog, etc.), you get 1 entry. Please only 1 mention for the entire series. Please also supply the shout out link in your comment.

2) If you create a post linking back to my page, or one of the posts in the series, you receive 2 entries. Please supply the post link in your comment.

That is a total of 7 entries total you can have put in the pot.

What am I currently doing? Answer: blogging, sketching and debating an all-night write.

* * *
Nom-Nom!

So I think there is a great deal of over-dramatic gore writing out there. Some of it can be pulled off well, but what is too much? Gore writing comes in many forms: evisceration, limb hacking, bodily torture, etc. I'll also invite the topics of writing rape/sexual abuse situations into your pieces, but please comment with discretion. If you think you might be starting a comment war, it might be best to avoid it.

So, I enjoy my forms of gore. I like to see the bad guys really get gritty and show the fires of war at their best. When vikings pillage and people are staked and crucified, I can appreciate what it might have taken to write such a scene. However, have you seen bad gore writing? Have you seen obscene and overly abstract metaphors applied to the scene so you "get the most out of it."

I have seen such writing and it made me queasy. I didn't need to know the stench of bodies haunting a young girl who watched her village burn. That got to me. I needed some moderation. I did not want to read about bodily innards being on display in ritualistic manners, but I have. If applied correctly, the visual could be graphically stunning and blow your setting out of the water. But when done incorrectly, you find yourself shying away or even just laughing at it. I have had an experience of laughing at gore.

It can be tough and agonizing to write horror and graphically because you're wondering why you're able to think of such dark things. Do you have something wrong with you because you can visualize death in that manner? OF COURSE YOU DO! But no, it's a part of the creative process to want to experiment in something. There's nothing wrong with painting the walls red, but do so in the right circumstance and with as little humor as possible.

Question to the Cohorts: Have you experimented in gore and graphic writing? What has been the hardest part of that challenge?

Share and comment. Bye for now!

JWP