It just occurred to me that this particular plotline amounts to industrial espionage.
Well, it’s the Industrial Age; it fits. It just makes an odd little mirror to the Walsingham-style intrigue of Midnight Never Come.
Okay, brain; a few more paragraphs of revision on this scene, and then we can go to bed.
I totally have to surrender my Latin geek card in shame, but attempting to figure out this phrase is stalling my forward progress in the scene, so I’m just going to toss it out to the LJ mind and get on with what Dead Rick is doing.
How would you say “Two worlds joined as one” in Latin?
Remember back at the beginning of May, when I was stuck on the 15K treadmill? I had to replace some of Eliza’s scenes, so I would put in a full day’s work of writing, then paste it into place and discover my wordcount had essentially not changed.
Second verse, same as the first, a little bit louder, a little bit worse.
Dead Rick also needed a lot of scene replacements. (This is apparently my New Method of novel-writing. I want my Old Method back.) I could’t really afford to stop dead on forward progress, so my plan lately has been to hit the book from both ends, writing substitute material for him, while also adding new material for Eliza. But for a while there every scene I swapped in turned out to be a few hundred words shorter than what had been there before, so despite doing a thousand or eleven hundred or twelve hundred words of forward progress, my total wordcount was only inching along. Yesterday I wrote three thousand words for a gain of about five hundred. It’s felt a lot like running up the down escalator: a hell of effort for slower-than-average progress.
Which is why it feels like such a victory that I finally have fifty thousand words of book. And I’m almost done with the replacements; just one more thing needs swapping out, and then there’s one new scene I’m going to write for Part One. Okay, I just lied through my teeth: I still have to go back and redo that pair of scenes for Eliza, that I’ve been meaning to do ever since I got back from London. But I’ve got those clear enough in my head that I’ve been able to write her side of Part Two just fine without having backtracked first, so there’s less pressure there. (As opposed to Dead Rick, whose plot had gone so badly astray that I’m only just now starting to see what he’ll be doing in Part Two.)
I’m just hoping I don’t have to keep doing this scene-replacement thing, because man, as writing processes go, this one kind of sucks. But as long as it turns out a good book in the end, I’ll live.
Word count: 50,640
LBR quota: Tonight’s Dead Rick work was mostly blood. Louisa got some love, though.
Authorial sadism: The Goodemeades are good at subtly applying guilt trips.
I know why I’m stalling on tonight’s scene. It’s because the thing Eliza’s about to do is very, very stupid. And it’s not that she thinks about it and decides she’s got to do it anyway, for one reason or another; she doesn’t think about it at all. She just snaps and does it, for no better reason than because her temper gets the better of her.
Which is so profoundly not me, I’d probably find easier to get into the headspace of an alien. I keep trying to figure out how to make the necessary moment happen — but my thoughts keep going in the direction of finding a rational reason for it, something that she hopes to gain, when that isn’t what this scene is about at all. Then when I try to hit it from another angle, figuring out what makes her snap, I come up blank, because my subconscious can’t imagine anything that would make me do the same. My temper can get the better of me, yes, but not to the extent of doing something this ill-advised.
And yet, I know people like this exist. What I want to write isn’t unreasonable; it’s only going to seem unreasonable if I fail to represent it right. Which means I need to figure out the inside of her head, what mixture of emotions produces this explosion, and what its precipitating factor is.
But like I said, an alien might be easier for me to figure out.
The good news is, I don’t think I’ll have to completely replace every Dead Rick scene from Part One.
Just a bit more than half of them.
Seriously, I feel like a book or two ago, somebody sneaked in and replaced my writing process with another author’s. I used to write relatively clean first drafts; now I flounder through writing wrong scenes left and right, inventing Spanish nymphs that may not even show up in the final draft, and generally failing to figure out what one of the villains is doing. Some concerted effort on my part has at least begun to sort that last bit out, which is why my pessimistic guess of “all Dead Rick scenes” has been revised downward to “five of the nine, with revision on the rest,” but it’s still disheartening. (Oh yeah, and I’ll probably need to write at least one entirely new scene, aside from replacing half of those already there.)
I’m glad I noticed the growing pattern from Ashes and Star, and gave myself extra time for this book. Otherwise I’d be screeeeeeeeewed.
I’m also very glad that I figured out most of Eliza’s PII while in London, as it gives me something to do while I figure out where I went wrong on the Dead Rick end. If I can manage to do his scene replacements while moving forward on her part, I’ll be in good shape. But first I need to finish sorting out him and Nadrett — and figure out if La Madura’s staying in the book or not — so I know what to replace those scenes with.
Proof I have gotten way too pale: I managed to pick up a bit of a tan in freaking London.
Anyway, onto actual news, of the writing-related sort. Various bits and pieces accumulated while I was gone, so in no particular order . . .
1) I’ve sold an audio reprint of “Kingspeaker” to Podcastle.
2) Go here for another chance to win an ARC of A Star Shall Fall (scroll down for details). Author Stephanie Burgis is, with permission, re-gifting the copy I sent her.
3) Clockwork Phoenix 3 has gotten a starred review from Publishers Weekly, with this to say about my own contribution: “Marie Brennan sets the bar high with ‘The Gospel of Nachash,’ a fine reinterpretation of the Adam and Eve legend from a fresh perspective.” Also, finalized cover art.
4) An interesting post about “Remembering Light” and Driftwood more generally. I remain faintly boggled by how strongly people react to the setting — boggled, and flattered. I really do need to get more Driftwood stories written.
5) My remaining bit of news will get its own post in a bit, so instead I’ll use this spot to mention that I’m still seeking a title for the Victorian book. For those not aware or in need of a refresher, my requirements are here and here; you can leave suggestions on one of those posts, in the comments to this post, or send them to my e-mail (marie dot brennan at gmail dot com).
I didn’t write while in London, nor did I revise. The first was expected, but the second wasn’t; unfortunately, the cold drained me of too much energy to be useful on that front.
So I haven’t technically written since May 27th, which is a remarkably long break for me while noveling. I think it was a good idea, though. The latest iteration of my much-revised timetable for this book focuses not on words per day, but on larger units than that: the book is in three parts, I have six months to write it, therefore I need to write one part every two months. I can technically take off as many days as I like, so long as I complete Part Two by the end of July. Since it’s supposed to be about forty-five thousand words, and there are sixty-one days in June and July, that’s eminently doable, even with a long break.
Mind you, I also need to revise. And Part One, as mentioned in my last status update, needs a lot of work, especially on the Dead Rick side. The good news is that one of my semi-sleepless nights in London brought with it an outline for something like 75% of Eliza’s PII scenes, so I can cruise along writing those while I figure out where I went wrong with Dead Rick, and where I’m going next. It might be a little <sarcasm>fun-tastic</sarcasm> from here to the end of June, while I pull double-duty on revision and writing, but I think I’ll survive.
Anyway, 1393 words today, because I wanted to clear the 40K mark I should have hit back in May. I’d revise a bit, too, but Jet Lag Brain utterly scotched my attempts to think about Dead Rick earlier, so I think I’ll take what I’ve got and get to bed. Time enough for the rest of it tomorrow.
Word count: 40, 026
LBR quota: Blood; Mrs. Kittering’s on the warpath.
Authorial sadism: Sorry, Ann. I have to make good on the claim that servants in that house get treated like shit.
Well, that was unexpected.
Approximately two minutes before I started typing on tonight’s work, I decided the scene in question was going to be about a disturbance in the Onyx Hall. (Prior to that, I had no freaking clue what I was going to write.) Now I have 2,071 new words, and I’m going to say Part One is done.
It isn’t really done. For starters, Dead Rick needs another scene before the one I just wrote — only I’m not sure what it is, which is how I ended up writing this one instead — and even once I take care of that, Part One will still be running a few thousand words short of what I intended. But the reason we’re in this position is that I’m pretty sure I need to replace a few of Eliza’s scenes (AGAIN), and I’m hoping that will help me figure out just where I’ve gone wrong with Dead Rick’s plotline, and (more importantly) what I need to do to fix it.
So why say Part One is finished? Because the goal was to be done with it before I left for London, and then to poke at revising it while I’m away, so that I come back (theoretically) bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to start Part Two. And this weekend is going to be moderately busy on several fronts. So making this declaration allows me to say, okay; for the next three days I should do what revision I can, but I don’t have to make progress toward the end of Part One, because I’m already there. If I spend tomorrow afternoon replacing an Eliza scene, that does not in any way set me back from my goal. And if I need to spend more time chewing on Dead Rick’s problems before I find their solution, that’s okay, because that’s “revision work” — even if I’m adding an entirely new scene to the story.
In other words, it’s semantics. But it gets the job done.
Word count: 38,372
LBR quota: Dead Rick stepped on somebody who was trampled by a crowd, so it’s definitely blood.
Authorial sadism: This is what you get for being the one decent guy in the Goblin Market, hon.
Many years ago, I remember hearing an incredibly vague story about some fanfic writer who sued a professional author for writing a book they claimed was too similar to a pre-existing fanfic.
I suspect that was the product of this story going through a game of Telephone, with details being dropped at every turn. Jim Hines, Hero of the Revolution, has dug through the dustbin of the Internets to try and ascertain the actual facts of an incident in the early 90’s, involving Marion Zimmer Bradley and the fanfic writer Jean Lamb. Why? Because when arguments come up concerning fanfic, sooner or later somebody ends up trotting out this particular tale, often in moderately warped form (though rarely as warped as the version I heard). So it’s worth taking a step back and asking, what actually happened there?
We’ll never know for sure — particularly since, as Opusculus points out in one of the posts Jim links to, the incident almost certainly involved one of MZB’s ghostwriters, and none of the likely candidates has given a detailed account of the events. (Neither has Lamb, possibly — as suggested somewhere in the comment threads — on advise of counsel.) But if you’re interested in the boundary between fanfic and profic, and what kinds of legal issues can arise when something wanders across that boundary, definitely read Jim’s post, and follow the links if you have the time. At the very least, the story is not quite what folklore has made it out to be, and so the lessons to be taken away from it are not necessarily what you think.
Or at least what I thought, since I was operating from a very warped version of the facts. So I owe thanks to Jim for the breakdown.
This book is a bit dated, having been written in the early 1950s, but it’s one of only two I could conveniently get that addressed the early years of policing in London. As far as readability goes, it’s on the dull side of the middle of the road; not too much of a slog, but not a shining example of nonfiction entertainment, either. (Which is a pity, because I expect this history would bear a much livelier retelling.)
Its virtue, though, is that it begins by summarizing the systems that preceded the Metropolitan Police — and not just the Bow Street Runners. Chapter 1 covers 1050 to 1600, talking about sheriffs, Justices of the Peace, watchmen, constables, etc. Then there’s a chapter about corruption among magistrates, that led to the Fieldings and Bow Street, then some very useful information about the Runners if (like me) you’re thinking about writing a short story in that period; then it dives into the politics of founding and developing a police force in London.
It still isn’t what I really need, which is a book that will give me details about how the Special Irish Branch went about dealing with Fenian conspirators in the 1880s. But I’ve e-mailed the Metropolitan Police Archives to see if I can get help there, and in the meantime, this at least gives me some background to work from.
Got today’s writing done early, largely by dint of putting back in a half-finished scene I’d cut at the beginning of the month. Had to redo various bits of it, of course, but at least half of today’s wordage only required polishing, not invention from scratch. And this means I can run game tonight with a clear conscience, and not have to drag my brain to London after the session is done.
Word count: 30,006
LBR quota: We’re back to the Fenians, so it’s definitely rhetoric, with a forecast of blood.
Authorial sadism: No, Eliza, you still don’t get to talk to Miss Kittering.
I don’t suppose anyone reading this journal speaks Castilian Spanish? (i.e. the Spanish of Spain, not Latin America.) I could use some help with incidental words of a casual variety, like endearments and insults, that probably vary from culture to culture (and therefore shouldn’t just be pulled from a dictionary).
For those who have been following the Adventure of the Book I’m Totally Not Working On, I Swear, here is the present list of knightly names:
I may end up tweaking it, but for now, that’s the set.
Now I’m off to see if I can convince myself to do my Victorian writing now, making my evening simpler, and also leaving me time to play with this . . . .
My brain is blurring out from staring at lists of Latin nouns, so I’m going to throw this a bit wider open and see what the commentariat can suggest.
In this totally hypothetical story that I’m totally not working on, there is a group of female knights under holy orders, in a secondary-world setting modeled on medieval Europe, serving the Queen of a place that will probably look like France. I want their names to form a list of the virtues they are supposed to uphold. (There is room for irony here, as they will not always live up to those names.)
What virtues would you expect to see on that list?
I need a total of twelve; suggest as many as you like. Bonus points if you can provide me with Latin nouns matching your suggestions, ending in either -tas or -ia — I’m trying to see if I can get a satisfactory set without having to rejigger any of the Latin. (I can put together twelve on either pattern, but not without leaving out some concepts I think I’d like to include.)
Imagine you are reading a story wherein members of a particular group are all named with Latin nouns for virtues or good qualities. (This is not simply a meta trick on the author’s part; the meaning of those names is acknowledged in-story. The setting is, however, a secondary world, wherein Latin is being used to fulfill a role more or less like it does in reality.) Most of the names are genuine third-declension nouns following the -tas, -tatis model — e.g. Pietas, Honestas — but a few are clearly adapted from first declension nouns so as to make for a consistent pattern — e.g. Justitas from justitia. The rest of the Latin in the story is grammatically correct.
Feel free to elaborate on your perspective in comments.
Dear Brain,
No. No, no, no, no, NO.
There are many things we need right now — an answer to the question the stranger just asked Dead Rick, a precise outline for how Eliza and Miss Kittering are going to achieve a state of conflict-balance, some sense of what’s going on with the Society — but NONE of them are the premise for a random secondary-world YA fantasy series.
Even if it involves an order of holy lady knights who run around spying for the Queen they’re sworn to protect.
You know perfectly well what this is. We’ve entered into the Stage of Oooh Shiny, where everything looks enticing except the book we’re supposed to be writing. Put the shiny down, and get back to Victorian England.
(After all, I’ve already written half a page of notes for the YA-knights idea. Maybe we can do more later tonight.)
Er, I mean, NO! No new shiny. Work on old shiny instead. I promise, there’s plenty of fun to be had there.
Not nearly as cross as she should be,
Your Writer
On the bright side? I’m saving my editor a lot of work. Because I’m pointing out to myself things like “it would be better to actually show Miss Kittering sooner than the 25K mark” and “if you don’t get Ailis in here somehow, she’ll come out of nowhere in Part Two” long before this manuscript comes anywhere near him.
Mind you, it leaves me in fear that this is going to be the most recursively-written novel I’ve ever produced — but since the recursion is at present adding to my wordcount rather than subtracting or replacing, I’m okay with that.
Back to the last hundred words. Then I get to sack out and watch TV.
For those who enjoyed my story “The Twa Corbies” (audio here), you’ll be pleased to know it’s going to be included in Patrick Swenson’s upcoming Best of Talebones anthology. I’ll announce the full ToC when he sends it out; given the great fiction the magazine published in its fourteen-year run, I expect there will be a lot of awesome names included.
Not counting a one-shot LARP, I’ve run two games in my life: Memento and the Scion game currently in progress.
The year I ran Memento was the year I did not write a novel.
If there’s a causal relation there, it goes in the direction of “no novel, ergo free time for a game.” I was in negotiations with my editor for what I would write next, and reluctant to commit to a spec project just to fill time, when odds were good that I’d have to drop it halfway through in order to do something contracted instead. The causality was not that running a game ate the energy which would have otherwise gone into a novel.
(And the negotiations ended up settling on Midnight Never Come anyway, which grew directly out of Memento. So.)
But it is true that I did not write a novel while running that game. This year is the first time I’ve tried to do both at once, and the result is . . . interesting.
I’ve been thinking for a while that I need to find a way to build some downtime into my noveling process. The usual way of things is that I work virtually every day for three or four months straight, and at the end of it I have a book. But that’s exhausting, and after two months or so I start getting really bitter about not having weekends or days off.
One idea I’ve toyed with is giving myself a break on Thursdays. That’s the day I run the game, and it turns out to be singularly difficult to get anything done then — especially since I have physical therapy appointments Thursday afternoons, too. So I spend part of my afternoon at PT, and the rest of it prepping for game; since I am not a morning writer, that leaves me with only the time after the session ends to do any work. Which requires a rather massive change of gears in my head: game and book may be only about nine years apart temporally speaking — 1875 and 1884, respectively — but one’s in the Western frontier and the other’s in London, and their vibes are VERY different. Last week I managed 733 words after game because I knew where the scene was going, but last night I did jack, because the scene needed chewing and my brain already had its mouth full.
I’ve built in enough margin of safety that I could afford to take Thursdays off and still finish the book on time. But it does eat a large portion of that margin of safety: if the book runs long, or I miss days for reasons of backtracking or being sick or whatever, I’ll still end up with some crunch time — though hopefully not as bad as it was for Ashes and Star. On the other hand, once PT is done, odds go up substantially that I’ll be able to do at least some writing during the day, so I can then give my brain over to Scion with a clear conscience. So I think what I’ll do is this.
Until PT is done, I have permission not to write on Thursdays. I should, however, try to make up that lost ground in subsequent days, if I can do so without too much trouble. After PT is done, I’ll try to write something every Thursday before game, even if it’s not the full quota; if I manage that, I’m not required to play catch-up afterward. Put that together with the more complicated background math (involving certain things that add to the word total of the book, but don’t get counted toward quota, etc), and this should work out.
But yeah. Unsurprisingly, running a game eats many of the same processing cycles in my brain that book-writing does. (Moreso than if I’m just playing in a game, by quite a bit.) I do believe I can do both — I will certainly try — but this is going to require some awareness and planning on my part.
Dropping the name “the Honourable Mr. Twisleton-Wykeham-Fiennes” into the book.
What? I needed a baron’s son of the appropriate age, and he was the first one I found.
