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Starting Sparks // Rewritten

Tracey Dyck 19 Comments
Ahem, so this is all a little slapdash, but today I am once again joining the Starting Sparks linkup hosted by the ever-fabulous Emily @ Ink, Inc. and Ashley @ [insert title here].
This month’s prompt instantly jumped out at me as something I had to try. I’m not sure what exactly this is, but it’s kind of a parody/satire thingie, kind of metafiction, kind of breaking the fourth wall . . . I don’t even know. It was fun, regardless!
Le prompt is as follows:

Pretty great, right? Here’s the thingamabob I threw together today. Enjoy!

Rewritten

I sit up with a start, blinking in the light shining over my desk. Had I
fallen asleep? I rub my eyes and look around my bedroom. Everything looks the
same as it always has. The clock shows 1:47 p.m. in glaring red letters.

“Hello there, Tracey.” The voice, female, emanates from everywhere
and nowhere. Somehow it fills the room without being loud. “Nice to finally
meet you.”

I whirl around in my chair. “Who are you? Where are you?”

“I’m Author.”

“Excuse me?” I stand and begin poking around, first looking under the bed,
then opening the closet. I am alone.

“This is the first day of your existence. It’s very exciting, isn’t it?
Your story has been percolating inside my brain for months, and I’ve finally
discovered my main character. You.”

I scan the ceiling for some wispy ghost floating above me, but there is
nothing. A disembodied voice in my room? I must be dreaming. “I’m sorry, can we
start at the beginning, please? This is not the first day of my existence. I’m
twenty years old, thank you very much. I think you have me confused with
someone else.”

“Take a look at your journal.”

Cautiously, I retrieve the notebook from its shelf and flip it open. But
instead of the scribbles pouring out my thoughts, the pages are blank. Well,
not quite. Blurry smudges of blue ink are smeared across the pages, like fresh
writing soaked in a rainstorm. “Where did my journal entries go?”

“They never were.”

My furrowed brow and darting eyes must have shown my confusion.

“You have a history, but I haven’t exactly . . . written it yet. Hence
the mostly blank journal.”

I point to the page. “But I remember writing this! I remember what I
wrote! August eleventh, twenty-sixteen, four-something p.m. . . . I wrote down
a verse from Proverbs 18, and then some thoughts on—”

“That’s good to know about you. I’ll jot that down. But listen to me,
Tracey. You do have a vague history, the one I came up with. It feels real to
you, but in real life it never happened. I haven’t written it, see? Only what I
write exists. Today I just started writing about you.” The voice gets
excited. “The story starts on a typical day to show the reader your life
situation. You have a day off work, so you’re writing . . .”

“Hold up.” I toss the journal onto my bed. “This is crazy. My life never
happened? I have crystal clear memories of that life! It’s a peaceful one. I
have a family—”

“Oh, thanks for reminding me. They died.”

The world shifts. My stomach lurches as if I just staggered off a spinning
carnival ride. It’s like the colors of the room change, and yet they don’t.
It’s like the furniture rearranges itself, but it doesn’t. My cheeks are wet—I’m
crying? Something has shattered inside me. I can feel the jagged shards of it
scattered throughout my bloodstream.

“What—” My voice catches. “What do you mean? They’re just upstairs, my
parents . . .”

“Died in the same explosion that killed your siblings.”

It doesn’t sound right, but as the girl—Author—speaks, images flash in my
memory. A man at the door, grim-faced, bearing the news. Footage on TV of the
hotel exploding in fire and smoke and debris. It’s not right, because I
remember what it used to be: my family, intact and happy. But now I also
remember the tragedy of one year ago. Which is true?

“Your backstory was too boring. I decided you needed a disaster to spur
you on and give you emotional depth.”

“You killed my family?” I whisper.

“No, the terrorists did. Oh, but they’re actually dragonriders. You just
don’t know that yet.”

“You killed my family!” I scream. “What is this? You rewrote my life?”

“Hmm. I’ve been thinking maybe your brother survived the blast, though.
You’ll discover him at the end of the book, and it will look like a
happy reunion—until you find out he joined the evil dragonriders.”

I shout a word I’d never used on anybody. It tastes dirty on my tongue.

“Goodness, Tracey, that’s not in keeping with your character.”

“You don’t know me! I don’t know how you’re doing this, changing my history,
but I demand you change it back!”

“Calm down. I can’t get this story written if you insist on being
obstinate. Your grief means you have nothing to lose, so when the dragonslayers
rope you into their plan to send the riders packing—the dragons are all evil
monsters, by the way—there’s nothing to keep you from joining their cause.”

I pinch my lips together and swipe the tears from my eyes. This has to be a
sick joke. “If you know me so well, you know I’m a writer too.”

“Yes, that’s a particularly fun aspect of your character. It’s kind of
like a slice of me walking around in the story.” Author giggles. “And
when you encounter dragons and otherworldly fighters, you’re enraptured because
it’s just like the books you write. And read. I wonder which way the back cover
blurb should go? ‘When dragons flame into Tracey’s life, just like the books
she’s always lost herself in . . .’ Or ‘When dragons flame into Tracey’s life,
just like the tales she pens . . .’ I can’t decide.”

“Shut up! I was going to say that as a writer, I can tell you that
making your main character an orphan is the most clichéd tool in the box.
Likewise with the just-like-the-books trope.” I cross my arms, sorrow quickly
hardening into rage.

The Author prattles on, apparently heedless of my words. “You know, I
wonder if maybe you killed your family and you just don’t know it yet. Yes,
what a great idea! You used to be part of the riders, and you did something
that enabled them to blow up the hotel. Then you left. I don’t know why yet,
but I’ll figure it out. Oh, and they wiped your memory before you left them.
Ha! This is fabulous!”

The whole time she’s talking, the room does that spinning, shifting thing
again, and my insides heave. I double over. My head pounds as memories are
created and erased and pieced together—rewritten. “I hate you,” I gasp out.

“I’ve been told that before. I’m such an evil authoress, aren’t I? You know what they say. Drive your character up a tree and throw rocks at them.”

I can’t believe she sounds delighted. I almost expect her to break out in a
villainous mwahaha, but she doesn’t. I rub my temples, trying my utmost
to suspend my disbelief over this horrible turn of events. If I were Author,
wouldn’t I be gleefully torturing my main character too? Of course I would. The
thought sickens me, but it’s the truth. Maybe a more reasonable approach is best.

“It sounds like you have a cool story going, Author.”

A blatant lie. It sounds awful.

“But I’m not an interesting enough person to be your Main Character. I’ve
always thought I’d be a better Sidekick. Or even a Background Character.”

They had easier lives. The whole universe wasn’t conspiring against them.

Author seems to consider this. “No, I like you. I want you to be the
Main. But you may be right about being uninteresting.”

I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes.

“I know! You have dormant superpowers that you don’t know about yet!
Dragon telepathy, perhaps? That way you can discover your gift and help defeat
the dragons by convincing them to go away.”

Once again, the nauseating shift. I grab my head. “No, no, you’ve got it
all wrong! I don’t want superpowers, I don’t want amnesia. I just want to be
normal. Give all those things to someone else. Let me be a supporting character
instead. Please.” I gaze up at the ceiling, not sure where exactly Author was.
“They have far better mortality rates.”

“Not true. Sidekicks frequently die, and their deaths have the double
benefit of being a disadvantage to the Hero, while also driving their quest
forward at the same time. Mains seldom die, and when they do, they can often be
resurrected. Besides, you’re saving the world!”

“But life is an awful lot harder for Mains. I don’t think I can take that.”

Author laughs. “That’s what they all say until I prove them wrong. Just
wait till you reach your happy ending. Wait till your story becomes a
bestseller! Then you’ll thank me.”

I open my mouth to protest, but Author continues.

“I’ve also been thinking of adding a love interest. Gotta have a little
romance in this thing. I think he’ll be a dark, brooding dragonslayer. But he’s
a double agent, also working for the evil riders—who, by the way, are trying to
take over the world with brute force and flaming beasts.”

How does one girl manage to stuff this many clichés into one story? I grit
my teeth through another round of my world being rewritten at the whims of a
psychopath. As I do, I glance in the mirror, not at all shocked to see the
pallor of my skin. Having one’s life torn down and rebuilt within minutes would
have that affect.

The voice seems to hover over my shoulder. “You know, we’re going to
have to do something about that hair. It’s the wrong color.”

“What’s the matter with dirty blonde?”

“It sounds gross. Let’s make you simply blonde.”

My hair brightens a few shades, turning golden.

“Are you serious? Do you want me to have blue eyes too? There are too many
Barbie dolls in fiction.”

“You’re right. Black hair.”

Glossy black spreads from the roots to the tips. “I look like a vampire.”

“Now that’s an idea—”

“Wait, forget I said anything! Black is fine.”

“You need to be shorter. Petite. So it’s more adorable when your big,
buff love interest sweeps you away from danger.”

My bones grind painfully as I shrink several inches.

“What am I forgetting? Oh! A mysterious scar.”

A thin pink mark draws itself down my jawline, then vanishes only to
reappear on my forearm.

“There. That’s better. Facial scars are so overdone.”

I grab two fistfuls of hair. “Enough! Go bother someone else! Stop meddling
in my life. I’m no longer me anymore. You’ve changed my appearance, you’ve
given me superpowers, you’ve erased memories and added others, you killed my
family . . .”

The lights dim. “Well . . . You have a point, I guess. You’re no longer
the girl who first popped into my head.”

This time the room seems to flip upside down. I fall to the floor—or is it
the ceiling? When everything finally stills and my stomach stops doing
somersaults, I sit up and look around. In the mirror, my reflection is back to
normal. I think back on my life. No tragedy, no explosion.

Upstairs, footsteps creak and muffled, familiar voices are talking. My
family is back.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe Author decided to abandon her story, or at
least to scrap my character and find someone else. I settle back into my desk
chair. My laptop is open, my work-in-progress novel staring back at me.
Suddenly I’m not in the mood to write. Just as I close my laptop, Author’s
voice returns.

“Okay, okay, but we’re keeping the telepathy. That part was awesome.”

My enraged shout is loud enough to rattle the window.

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Subplots and Storylines – July 2016

Tracey Dyck 23 Comments

July hummed and whirred with activity, a month sandwiched between the freshness of June and the heat of August. This midsummer season was brimming with all things alive . . . Watching Canda Day fireworks while slapping mosquitos, savoring the sweetness of just-picked raspberries, shelling peas until my fingers turn green, turning off the lights to better see the lightning forking across the sky, biking to the gas station where my brother works and getting blueberry swirl ice cream. This is full-blown summer, you guys.

Some notable threads weaving throughout July . . .

My sisters did two weeks of dog-sitting again, and I joined them a few times to play with little Mocha, a Pomeranian-Yorkie mix who’s always beside herself with excitement every time we show up.

My mom and sisters and I spent a day shopping in the city, during which time I let myself splurge a little on some clearance sweaters (fall is coming, unfortunately, and I won’t say no to new college clothes), a Ranger’s Apprentice book, some odds and ends, and two soundtracks (How to Train Your Dragon and Battle of the Five Armies EDIT: I meant to say An Unexpected Journey).

Work was full, and I opened and closed by myself several times. Opening is my favorite.

Our family garden’s pea season began late, and the bean season started early, so the two collided and we had to pick both on the same day several times. The beans have been especially prolific this summer.

I got to spend a great day with a friend who’ll be leaving soon for her second year of university several provinces away.

An aunt and uncle visited from the States, which was quite fun.

Last weekend, I felt a bit like a kid again. A watergun fight with the siblings, ridiculous jokes, parks, bike rides, and a library trip will do that to ya!

Read

Raising Dragons Graphic Novel by James Art Ville and Bryan Davis

After the monstrous length of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, I needed something breezy. This seemed like a great choice. Being one of the Kickstarter supporters back when they were raising funds for this project, it was super cool and nostalgic to see the fruit of Mr. Ville’s labor. He did a great job reimagining Raising Dragons! I’m especially pleased with how Bonnie turned out. The story felt abbreviated, of course, because a 300+ page book needed to be shrunk down to 150 pages of pictures and dialogue bubbles, but it retained much of the heart of this beloved story. (And now I want James Ville to illustrate the rest of the books!)

The Shadow Lamp by Stephen R. Lawhead

OH MY TEA. THIS BOOK. I’ve been loving the Bright Empires series, and this, the fourth instalment, really really really raised the stakes. I’m talking “the universe will be in big, bad trouble if you don’t do something” stakes. As one of the characters said, “Cataclysm does not seem a large enough word to describe it.”

The book started a little slow, with quite a bit of recapping–which wasn’t all bad, since it’s been about a year since I read book 3–but once the crew gets together . . . things happen. Chapter 19 in particular marked the place where the plot started blowing my mind. One thing I love about this series is how Lawhead takes things from real life–science, theories, ancient history, geographical landmarks, etc.–and blends it almost seamlessly with the story. You’re not always sure where fact ends and fiction begins, and I love that.

Also I’m very much shipping two particular characters.

And I need book 5, The Fatal Tree, right this minute.

Scarlet by Marissa Meyer

Just like Cinder, I often caught myself composing a list of fangirly comments in my head the way I do when I beta read my friends’ stories . . . and then remembering, “Oh wait, this is published and I don’t actually know the author.” There must be something about the hilarious and feelsy character interactions that reminds me of my writer friends.

Anyway, I liked the first book more, and prefer Cinder and Kai’s romance over Scarlet and Wolf’s. I’m just not an insta-love sort of person. Scarlet goes from pointing a gun at his head with the purpose to kill, to kissing him and trusting him with everything–in one day. Just one day. She is hotheaded and brash, I get that, but come on. This guy should not be trusted so quickly. That being said, Wolf has some adorable ticks like scratching behind his ear, and his fascination with tomatoes is also cute.

I guess I just identify more with Cinder, who’s more practical and logical. (I do feel deeply, but I have more restraint than Scarlet, and almost never throw myself headfirst into something without thinking it through first.) So I loved the parts with her and Thorne (THORNNNNE!). And Kai just needs a hug right now.

Beta Reading

Perhaps one reason my reading levels were down again this month is because I devoted more time to reading and responding to the chapters my friends have sent me. Knowing my inbox is swollen with beta stuff but not knowing exactly how much, I sat down to actually count them at the beginning of the month.

Seventy-plus chapters, guys.

Some are from months and months ago. WHAT. It has been decided that I need to catch up before college, and after that beta reading will be have to be rather infrequent for a while, I’m sad to say.

But! I devoured 22 beta chapters this month, including a novella retelling of Sleeping Beauty (yes, one of the entrants from last year’s Rooglewood contest), a couple short stories, miscellaneous bits of novels, and a chunk of another friend’s Beauty and the Beast novel. Lots of awesome story-ness all around!

Watched



The Return of the King

My brother and I absolutely loved it! And I cried again, more than once. I’m sitting here now, trying to come up with words to describe my reaction to this movie, and I’m almost at a loss. I must have used up all my words in my last post. TRotK was epic in every sense of the word, and seeing everything culminate in that huge, amazing ending was incredible. (With a goodly dose of bittersweetness as well, as the ship leaves for the Undying Lands and takes certain characters with it.) Oh, and Eowyn is now one of my favorite heroines!

Once Upon a Time (part of Season 4)

My sisters and I are about halfway through the season now, and we’re really enjoying it. I’ve decided the Frozen elements do integrate well (and Anna is the sweetest person); I strongly dislike the Snow Queen but loved the climax of her part in the story; and the Charming family is my favorite thing ever.

The Flash (first three episodes of Season 1)

So I started watching this with my brother, and it’s pretty great! I love Barry/Flash–his character is so earnest and warmhearted and down-to-earth. His relationship with his father is so good to see. A number of secondary characters are worming their way into my heart as well, and the motley villains are intriguing. I think this’ll be a fun ride.

Wrote

I finished the workbook stuff from session 8 of The Creative Way (the writing course by Ted Dekker that I’m taking) and also did session 9. Progress is sporadic, obviously, but still happening.

Another sort-of-writing-related thing was the Silmarillion Awards that took place this month! Narnia really stole the show this year, didn’t it? I had loads of fun hosting the Riddling and Poetry award, which culminated recently with Bilbo presenting the Silmaril to the Sorting Hat, and later on, me gushing about Tolkien and how much the books mean to me. Many thanks to Jenelle Schmidt and DJ Edwardson for coming up with this marvellous idea, and for inviting me to join them!

What I did on my actual WIP, The Prophet’s Key–that willful child made of rough edges and elusive magic, which I’m trying to capture–is write 11,399 words. A great month for me, considering work and whatnot! I finished drafting the Scotland scenes (sniffle . . . goodbye, Highlands–see you in editing. . .) and have just split up the crew, sending one half gallivanting to Australia and the other to Moscow, Russia. Hooray for writing about places I’ve never been to! And for tiring of research and then proceeding to write without gathering facts first! I will have plenty to shape up during editing, and that’s putting it kindly.

But I’m getting a teensy tiny bit better at loosening up and just focusing on getting the story out. Details can be fixed later. That’s the beauty of revisions. (#messyfirstdraft) I’m also happily suffering from bouts of wanderlust when I do research places. I honestly thought I’d never want to visit Russia. My mind has changed.

Also on the writing front, I’ve been reconsidering publishing tactics this month. But until I’ve sorted it out for myself (aka spent half a dozen pages journaling about it), I won’t say much more here. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be cruelly mysterious! Just wanted to record the fact that these thoughts arrived in July 2016. Once they take a firmer shape, I’ll explain myself more clearly. Promise.

That was July!

Full of green, growing things; a celebration of fantasy and Tolkien; books; and learning to write more freely. And I’m breathing a great sigh of relief, because I’m taking almost a week off now to kick back and unwind! I hope to get in some bigger writing days, catch up on more beta reading, and enjoy a more fluid schedule that allows time for little things like journaling or sketching or coloring or falling into a book for a few hours.

Keep a watchful eye on Adventure Awaits during August, as I have a couple of special things planned! One is something I’ve never done before, and the other involves another blogger. (Aren’t I such a tease?)

So how was your July? (Can you believe it’s August already? August. How in the world . . .) Did you enjoy the Silmarillion Awards? What’s one of the best books you’ve read this summer? Have a glass of lemonade and share the summery stuff going on in your world!

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Subplots and Storylines – June 2016

Tracey Dyck 27 Comments

I’m pretty sure I just wrote one of these S&S posts last week, yet here I am writing another one. I’m really not sure where June went. Presumably to that land shrouded in mist and starlight, that land to which all days and weeks and months must travel eventually . . . a land from which there is no return. The Land of Yesterdays.

*cue eerie music*

But before June slipped away to that scary place, it offered a joyful fruit salad of summer happiness. (Fruit salad? I have no idea what I’m talking about. I shouldn’t write things when I’m overtired.)

June was a month of  little family get-togethers, ice cream, barbecues, bike rides, and sun tanning. Rain made a regular appearance in between warm, muggy afternoons. One day we went to the local fair type thing . . . I went on only two rides: one I loved and one which my stomach regretted afterwards.

A bit of romance appeared in the form of a cousin’s bridal shower and a friend’s wedding (the friend for whom I helped fold origami flowers, if you recall).

I helped chaperone my siblings’ youth event, an Amazing Race-style game across town. It made me feel old, I tell ya, having all these kiddos yammering in the backseat of my vehicle. The event was pretty fun, though, and I was sorely tempted to compete with the youth in our last stop, the shoot-three-balloons-with-a-pellet-gun stage.

I took a first aid class (required for my new position at work). I hope I never have to use these skills, but it’s good to know them just in case.

My brother graduated high school, so of course we threw a party for him. He MC’d it himself–needless to say, I laughed till I cried. He’s now working at his first job, and I’m so proud of him.

Earlier in the month–I know I’m all over the place here, but bear with me–he and I had our college interviews . . . and we both got accepted! I don’t think I’ve mentioned much about my fall plans, have I? Here’s the scoop. We’ll be taking a leadership/Bible program together. It offers a really practical, hands-on approach with lots of getting involved in church ministries. The Bible school aspect of it goes side by side with learning leadership: people skills, management, personal growth, building and leading a team, working on projects, etc. I’m going to have a very busy schedule during those nine months, especially since I plan to keep a couple shifts a week at my job, but I have a feeling it will fly by. And honestly, I’m so excited for it!

You can see the paint can picture behind us. 🙂
Another June happening was my friend Kianna’s art gala. (I interviewed her a while back.) It was amazing to see an entire wall of her work displayed at the art center for public enjoyment. Some of the pieces were new ones I hadn’t seen yet. One of my favorite paintings depicted a bunch of paint cans, with girls made of paint leaping out in joyous splashes.

Movies & TV

My sisters and I began Once Upon a Time season 4–we’ve seen the first five episodes so far. I wasn’t too sure about the Frozen elements at first, but I’m getting used to it, and there are plenty of other awesome (or terrible, depending on how you look at it) things happening too. And a certain new character’s charm/lack of manners/apparent lack of intelligence is providing amusement.

The only other thing I watched this month was Zootopia, and I. LOVED. IT. It’s always great when you can appreciate a story on almost every level–the storytelling, the plot, the characters, the music, the humor, etc. This was one of those. The only downsides were a smattering of mild language, a naturalists club in which the animals run around in natural form (as in without clothing–it was kinda funny, but might be bothersome for some viewers), and you could interpret the movie’s message as one of tolerance/just-embrace-everything-because-it’s-okay. I choose to see the positive spin of the message, so all in all, I really enjoyed the movie. And I loved how Judy Hopps was voiced by Ginnifer Goodwin. I could totally picture Once Upon a Time’s Snow White saying some of her lines. Oh oh, and Nick Wilde was the BEST and totally reminded me of the fox version of Robin Hood. If you haven’t watched Zootopia yet, go see it.


Books

Skeleton Key by Anthony Horowitz // Book 3 in the Alex Rider series.

Even Alex admits in this book that he’s like a fourteen-year-old James Bond, and that’s a pretty accurate description of this series so far. (I haven’t watched James Bond, but hush.) MI6 keeps forcing Alex into dangerous missions, he gets a new set of gadgets with each book (like chewing gum that expands so you can use it to bust a lock, or a GameBoy that’s really a bomb), and he performs outlandish stunts at every turn. It’s like one of those summer flicks that you just watch for fun, not expecting much depth or realism. That being said, this book was a definite improvement over the first two, and seemed to break away a bit from the previous plot formulas.

Fresh strawberries and ice cream paired with the final chapters of a
beloved book. ALL THE HAPPY.
Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke // an amazing book of epic, 1,006-page proportions.

This took me three weeks to read, and I finished last night, reading the final chapters as fast as I could to see how it would all end. It’s obviously a very long book, but like one of the reviews printed at the beginning of it said, it doesn’t feel long. Somehow, almost every scene manages to be interesting and engaging. The character development is seriously top-notch, and I looked up halfway through the book to realize that I love a number of characters, but all of them are very flawed and not immediately likable. Norrell and Strange are both arrogant, but Norrell is fearful while Strange is reckless. I’d list some secondary characters too, but it’s best you discover them for yourselves.

The novel takes place in 1800’s England, during the Napoleonic Wars. Magic is long dead, reduced to the arguments of theoretical magicians who do nothing but study magical texts. And then Mr. Norrell comes along with ambitions of reviving true, practical English magic. Throw in some advisors who are about as useful as a broken foot, a new pupil in the form of Mr. Strange, and the story is well on its merry way.

Things take a much darker turn around part two as Faerie elements weave their way in. Let me tell you, the villain is someone you will desperately want to throttle. And magic, as the magicians discover, is far more dangerous than they ever knew.

That’s all I shall say on the plot front, folks. Can’t have any spoilers! I still don’t know how I feel about the ending, though . . . It was good. It was bittersweet. It was probably the best ending JS&MN could’ve had, and it fit the overall tone of the book. (I sound like I don’t like it, which is untrue. I’m just processing everything. When it takes you this long to recover from a book, you know it left an impact.)

Oh, before I move on: CHILDERMASS IS AWESOME. If you’ve read the book, you probably know why I like him.

Thanks to Sarah for speaking so highly of this book that I picked it up at a secondhand book faire, and to Deborah for flailing with me about it as I read it!

Writing & Blogging

It’s been a productive month, thanks to the 100-for-100 challenge held by Go Teen Writers. I’m in such a research-heavy portion of The Prophet’s Key that if it weren’t for the daily goal of putting in at least 100 words, I would probably have fallen into the quagmire of procrastination and slow progress commonly associated (at least for me!) with research. I set an alarm on my phone to go off at 8 pm every day as a reminder to write those words. Most days I hadn’t written anything yet when the alarm went off. Some nights found me in my PJ’s, spending five minutes pumping out a couple new paragraphs just to meet the goal before bed. But so far I haven’t missed a day (except for a couple of grace days–I’m allowed one per week.)

So. I wrote 12,085 words this month. Yay! On top of that, I researched British Columbia, Beaver planes, transatlantic flights, and Scotland. I’m by no means done with any of those topics, but I’ve acquired enough knowledge to actually be able to write this part of the first draft and feel like I have a slight inkling of what’s going on. Come editing time, I’ll be researching all over again to verify facts and flesh things out.

I was able to speak to a pilot friend of ours to get some tips on what could go wrong with a Beaver plane (yayyy for putting obstacles in front of your characters!). And I’m currently going back and forth with the lovely writer/blogger Emily about Scotland. She lives there, and was very willing to help me out with researching her beautiful country. (Thanks again, Em!)

I also made the decision to cut a character. Completely. It was a hard choice, especially since this guy has been around since the original draft from four years ago. But I’ve been struggling to juggle the larger-than-I’m-used-to cast, and it’s just going to get bigger as the story goes on. I realized that my pilot Rex Nelson, whom I have never introduced to you guys, was not truly necessary, so I’ll be assimilating the important parts of him into other people. Mr. Hawkins will get a pilot’s license and outdoorsman skills. An injury that happens to Mr. Hawkins will now actually happen to Aileen. A potential romantic thread I’d been planning for Rex will be given to a different side character from book 1. Rex’s epic character arc will be integrated into that of the aforementioned side character. Etc.

That last bit about the character arc . . . Well, I had finally made up my mind to cut Rex, and then in a flash I remembered what I had planned for him in future books. “Oh no. Now what?? I have all these solid reasons why it’s a good idea to get rid of Rex, but there’s THAT big, important thing that’s supposed to happen to him.” After a fevered brainstorming session, I got it sorted out by adjusting another character’s development, and voila. Problem solved.

A month or two ago, I also decided to cut out two of Josiah’s three siblings. I don’t think I’ve mentioned them much on here either, so this probably isn’t a big deal to you, but Tiffany and Zach are being taken out. His littlest sister Karilee is staying. I realized that Tiff and Zach served little to no purpose besides giving Josiah another sister and a brother for him to interact with. And I think I originally wanted to have a family of six to mimic my own family, but that’s not a good enough reason to keep extra fluff in a story. Especially when, again, a large cast is becoming a problem. So . . . bye, Tiff. Bye, Zach. I hope you two and Rex will recycle yourselves into some other story one day.

Mind you, all these changes are just in my head. I haven’t mapped everything out on paper at this point. And I’m even charging ahead with my current draft without stopping to write Rex, Tiff, and Zach out of the story. I’ll fix it in edits. This charge ahead approach is something the old me would definitely not have done.

In the midst of all that, I somehow neglected to do much on my writing course, The Creative Way. I listened to one audio session, but still haven’t done all the workbook questions for it. Oops. Thankfully this is something I can take at my own pace; there are no time constraints or deadlines. Still, I’d like to be more involved with it next month.

On the blogging side of things, the biggest thing is the Silmarillion Awards! Nominations are still open today and tomorrow (I told you wrong in my last post when I said that June 30th was the last day–ignore that), and soon afterwards the voting period will begin. So if you haven’t yet made the rounds to all ten blogs yet, better hustle before July 1st ends! The best fantasy characters and items need your support to make it to the next round. I myself am planning to make one last pass through all the posts, just in case I’ve forgotten anything.

And that was my June fruit salad.

It was all strawberries of summertime, raspberries of other people’s romance, apples of fun events, bananas of books, and orange slices of writing. (. . . don’t even ask because I don’t even know . . .) Art and magicians and characters getting the axe and anthropomorphic animals and fantasy awards, oh my! Anyway, ’twas a yummy mix, though I’m developing a hankering for a week of holiday-ish nothing so I can relax.

Tell me now, how was your month? And because I seem fixated on fruit today, what’s your favorite? Have you ever had to cut characters out of your story? Have you seen Zootopia? Read Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell? Been on an amusement park ride that didn’t sit well with you? TELL ME ALL.

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Is Our Writing Needed? (a response post)

Tracey Dyck 23 Comments

I’ve never written a response post before, so today will be a first. The lovely, spitfire authoress Jenny Freitag (who penned Plenilune, a book I want to read one day) over at The Penslayer wrote a post the other day called Why NOT Being a Prolific Writer is a Godsend. Now, I agree with/am inspired by a number of Jenny’s posts, but something she said in this one burrowed under my skin and stuck there. So I’m pondering it in the form of a blog post.

The Lord doesn’t need you + you don’t know what you’re talking about. If you possibly think you know enough to “write” for the Lord, you know nothing of the smallness of man nor the immensity of God. Do as Job did, and put your hand over your mouth. Be humble. God has left his written witness. My fiction – your fiction – none of it is necessary.

I confess, I blinked at my screen and did a double take at that first phrase: the Lord doesn’t need you. I won’t presume to know all the thoughts and intentions behind Jenny’s statement, but I’m bothered enough to want to unpackage and sift this for myself. Cool?

God is infinite. Infinitely complete, infinitely self-sufficient. So of course He doesn’t need me. Need is felt only by finite beings. He has and is everything. The creation of the world and of mankind was not done out of a vacancy of God’s. It was not because He was somehow lacking. No, He spoke creation into being because He wanted to. It was what He desired, and it brought Him pleasure.

But the Lord I’m spending my life getting to know does want me. After all, He brought me into existence. And every page of the Bible is evidence that He wants to love me, wants me to love Him back, and basically wants to have every piece of myself. And He shows me the way to live a life that builds His Kingdom. One way I can do that is through my writing.

If you possibly think you know enough to “write” for the Lord, you know nothing of the smallness of man nor the immensity of God.

Maybe this is just arguing semantics, but by “writing for the Lord” do you mean “writing in service of the Lord” or “writing because He can’t speak loud enough on His own?”

“For the Lord” in the sense of a lesser being serving a higher one–or in the sense of fulfilling someone’s lack? I can bake muffins for you because I like you and want to give you something that will bring you pleasure, or I can bake muffins for you because you can’t/are too busy/don’t know how/don’t want to.

All it takes is for me to look up at the stars on a dark night to recognize the smallness of man and the immensity of God–only a scrap of it, you understand, because my finite mind cannot truly comprehend the infinite. But if I say that I write for the Lord, I don’t say so under any delusion that He somehow needs me to. As if His plan would fall apart if I didn’t.

And yet! And yet . . . one of the greatest mysteries of all is how a God so indescribably powerful would choose to give such a measure of authority to earthen vessels, human beings. How He would choose to do His work not with a bang and a flash of lightning and an instantaneous solution, but through the slow, painful process of moving in and through mankind. Through flawed, limited people. Yes, through me.

Does He need me? Isn’t He capable of accomplishing whatever He wants no matter what I do? Yes. And also no.

This mystery confounds me. It’s like prayer. He doesn’t need us to tell Him what we’re thinking and what we need, because He already knows. But for the purpose of relationship and the maturing of our faith, He wants us to pray. There’s a big difference between needing and wanting. I don’t think we realize the full extent of our prayers’ impact. Prayer is needed.

None of it is necessary.

 I see where you’re coming from–you’re speaking to those of us whose heads have gotten too big, those of us who pressure ourselves to write, write, write, because there are SOULS TO SAVE. Those of us who stagger under the unrealistic pressure we’ve heaped upon our own shoulders. I get that.

But every mile of road has two miles of ditch. The opposite swing of the pendulum is one which causes us to throw up our hands and weigh our writing too lightly. If my writing is not necessary, then why do it? It’s too much work and pain and bloodshed to press on if it doesn’t matter anyway. (But there’s the rub–maybe it really is unnecessary, and yet it still matters. Maybe it’s something I don’t have to do, but when I do it, it makes a difference. Or maybe it is necessary. I’m not 100% sure.)

This post is all over the place . . . But that’s the shape of my pondering, so I won’t apologize.

I think this has become more of a spinoff than a response post, because Jenny’s aim was one thing and my thoughts have veered off on another that’s rather tangential. She was speaking to relieve the pressure we place on ourselves to produce copious amounts of story, and here I am talking about the necessity-or-not of writing and whether God needs it or wants it of us. (Sorry, Jenny.)

For me, writing falls under the umbrella of living well, of making use of everything God has given me. For me, writing is one means of discovering Him and in the process, sharing His light with those who may read my words. Do I feel worthy of such a task? Not at all. But God seems to have a penchant for using the unworthy. If I can be an instrument in His hands, that’s incredibly humbling and brings me such joy. If He can shine through the chinks in my stories, then I will keep penning those tales.

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