Thursday (23 May) - The Big Slam
I attended my first meeting of the Go Be Write! (GBR) writer's group on Thursday night. The meeting was held at an eclectic bookstore called the Upstart Crow at the Seaport Village in San Diego.
Traffic was not as bad as I expected, so I arrived early. I hadn't been to the Seaport Village is awhile. It is mostly a tourist trap, but the beautiful view of San Diego Bay, the pleasant weather, excellent walking paths, and good restaurants make it worth a visit. I did some strolling before checking out the bookstore.
The Upstart Crow is a coffee house bookstore. It's a cozy nook of a place on two floors crowded with books, a coffee lounge, and numerous small tables for reading and relaxing. I liked it. Judi loves journals - the kind with decorative hard covers and fine, lined paper inside. The bookstore was well stocked with writing paraphernalia, so I got Judi a nice journal with a bird theme. No, I didn't find any featuring cats. Which seemed appropriate for a bookstore named the Upstart Crow.
It was obvious that a couple of patrons already settled in were part of the group. It was just as obvious that the young couple playing checkers on a three foot square checkerboard with coaster sized checkers were not part of the group. The couple found themselves later participating with the group whether they wanted to or not.
The organizer for the event, Sally, arrived shortly after I'd made my journal purchase and had found a place to sit. She must have a good memory for faces as she recognized me immediately from the photo on her website. Sally is energetic, fast talking, and operates at a kind of controlled frenetic pace. I had signed up for the event first, and Sally declared that meant I would be the first person to give a reading.
Oh, I just realized I hadn't described what the event was about. The "Thursday Night First Paragraph Slam" gives writer's an opportunity to read aloud a portion of their work. In the case of this particular event, we were to read the first paragraph and one of our stories. We would all vote on who had the best opening paragraph. There were no other rules, other than that the paragraph had to be relatively short. The two best entries would receive a copy of one of Sally's books.
We were about a half hour late getting started as many members had not shown up yet for the 6:30pm start. Those late arrivals got pleasant but pointed reminders to be on time. Her threat to disallow their votes was just that, threat only, and everyone got to vote, even random people who just happened to be in the store enjoying a latte during the reading. Sally eventually began checking off those who were here and those still missing. The first of the missing was declared to have been "killed in a car accident," and subsequent no shows joined the growing list of "presumed dead." All in the vein of graveyard humor, with an undercurrent of "you'd better be here and on time if you are serious about your craft."
I did get to do my reading - twice. I was the first to read, and I was asked to stand at the front of the narrow area. The folks at the back, however, could not hear me the first time, so I was asked to move to the center of the area and read it again. About twenty had signed up for the event, but there were only twelve who did readings, three men and nine women. Romance, young adult fiction, and memoirs were the main themes. I was the only writer of sci-fi/fantasy. In fact, Sally told a story of when she met the award winning sci-fi author Phillip K. Dick, and I was the only other person in the room who knew who he was. Ok, if you don't know the name, perhaps you'll know the movie. The movie "Blade Runner" was based on his novel, "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep."
I didn't win the contest, but I had a good time and met some nice people. The winner was a published author working on numerous projects. His first paragraph entry was good, but the selling point was really the back story he told before giving the reading. The story was based on a real person who spent 15 years in prison for the crimes detailed in the book.
I talked with Sally after the event. Many new members, like me, wanted to set up our own, smaller groups so that we could help each other. We made a list of those interested and broke it down by locality to make it easier to meet up. Sally said she would send out an email with further information on how to get started.
All in all it was a great first meeting for me.
Friday, May 24, 2013
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
The Majik of Spark, Chapter One Excerpt
The Majik of Spark, Chapter One Excerpt
Innkeeper Jaundice was thinking about her contented life and the many friends she had. She hummed a tune that helped her gain calm and clarity as she went about her work, but her thoughts strayed often to the coming evening and the heart rending changes she was facing. She concentrated on her work and her inn. She was proud of her establishment. There were many who laughed when she named her inn the Sodden Pit, and pitied her taste in decor that ran to small dark alcoves, darker corners, and hidden levels. The bright people of the Norgen that populated the Shining City would never come to such a place, they told her. They were right. The Sodden Pit never did catch on with the Norgen. She was not after the upper crust Norgen as customers, though. There was an underside to the City that was nearly as vibrant as the glittering metropolis itself, filled with Skelly travelers from Ridgeland and the even more exotic Thumps from distant Savagevista. Norgen who fell short of Norgen high expectations also found solace and company at the Sodden Pit. The Inn was her home and her life, and she feared leaving it. Not everyone could be rich and beautiful, two conditions that all Norgen aspired to, whether by birth or assistance by majik. The Norgen as a whole acted as if the world of Spark was a Norgen invention, and that everyone and everything else was created for their own use and amusement. At least that was how Jaundice saw things, and she was Norgen herself. Her family had provided for her, sending her off with a modest stake and high expectations for their bright, industrious daughter. They were less pleased at her decision to buy the inn, but like most Norgen parents they followed tradition. Jaundice had reached adulthood and, therefore, was on her own. As for her skeptical friends, Jaundice simply smiled and kept working on her dream. Jaundice still gets the occasional groups who thought it fun to go slumming at her establishment. Admittedly, Jaundice corrected herself mentally, as she scrubbed a stubborn stain splashed across the wall of a corner table, she did not have a lot of experience with the world outside the lands of the Norgen. She loved listening to the stories of her customers, though.
The Shining City encompassed both the city and much of the land around it. The great City itself had been carved out of the Northern Heights, a cracked landscape of sharp rock and sheer precipices. Interspersed in that unforgiving terrain, life still flourished in bubbling springs and ponds, many of which did not freeze even in the harshest of winters. Spread out to the south was the Glades with it's vast resources of fertile land and forest covering a third of the continent. Outside the direct influence of the Shining City, the land to the south grew more rural. It was a gradual transition from the higher elevations and rockier ground surrounding the bustling Shining City. There was no official boundary line, but the land gently transformed into rolling hills and pleasant valleys dotted with farms, horse land, and tamed forest. Townships small and large dotted the land as well.
The Norgen prospered, raised families, built roads, and settled communities. The Council of Fathers provided a light hand of governance. The real power lay with the Order of Shopkeepers, which controlled commerce. There was a City Guard to uphold the law in the Shining City, and each major township in the Glades maintained a local militia. Jaundice grew up with her parents in Split Rail Township not ten miles from the City gates, a slow day's travel north along the People's Road. She longed to see more of the world, but her inn was satisfaction enough.
Beyond the Glades was the south/southeast border with Ridgeland. Ridgeland was blessed with verdant valleys and strong rivers flowing from a series of mountain ranges which hacked the country into four long chunks. Ridgeland is the home of the Skellys. The Seven Cauldrons of Skellys are an ancient people with ancient majiks. The valley Skellys are more open to trade and more accepting of strangers. Skelly travelers to the Shining City are universally valley skellys. The mountain Skellys largely remain insular, mistrusting of strangers even among their neighboring Skelly cauldrons. Past the eastern border of Ridgeland lay Savagevista, home of the Thumps. Thump warrior caste soldiers and Skelly Sworn often warred back and forth across that border, despite the fact that much of the land on both sides of the border were barely habitable. And of course, made even less habitable by the wars. The Shining City and the Glades, Ridgeland, and Savagevista made up the continent of the Wilderness Shelf. There was a fourth piece, one mostly avoided and rarely mentioned: The Drain. The Drain was an almost landlocked chunk of land bordered by all three countries. The name seemed to be a misnomer, since The Drain occupied the highest elevation of the mountainous shelf system and boasted the tallest, sheerest mountains on the continent. The region earned the name of The Drain because that is where the dregs of life went when there was no where else for them to go. Only one people of note called that place home or wanted any part of it, and they were most often called renegades.
Despite Jaundice's lack of travel, she felt more worldly than most of the Norgen she knew. Jaundice's clientele did include some of the lower classes of Norgen, those who worked and scraped for a living like Jaundice did. They were a proud lower class, though, and non-Norgen found it difficult - but not impossible - to live here, if not prosper. Many of the visitors to her inn came from the lands of Ridgeland and Savagevista. Some had business here, and chose her inn for it's privacy, simple but ample fare, and the best beer in the City (in Jaundice's opinion). Some came to her inn just to avoid the uppity Norgen. It was a place where deals could be made, too. It was a place most newcomers wound up at eventually, hopefully with enough in their pocket to pay for room and board for whatever period was needed. For those others who came - those whose money had run out, or had become entangled in something worse than empty pockets, Jaundice did what she could for them.
Jaundice finished her sweeping and cleaning, setting her cleaning supplies and tools into their accustomed corner. She dusted off her frock with her hands, and pushed stray strands of auburn hair back under her cap. Her clothing ran to the reserved, which her clientele seemed to appreciate. She was plain looking and at five foot eight, short for a Norgen, but still had the fair skin, slender build, expressive eyes, button ears, and unconscious grace common to all Norgen. Her one vanity had been her lustrous hair, which had rivaled that of the most beautiful of the Norgen. Two years ago a company of Skelly performers had taken residence in her inn for a few nights. One in particular had been entranced by Jaundice's hair. The Skelly people are thin to the point of starvation, grayish skin stretched tight across bones strong as steel arrow shafts. Skelly hair was also thin and near colorless. The long strands were pliable, however, and skelly hairdos were as many and as unique as the imagination and dyes could make them.
One of the skelly performers, Phegga, was also a majik. Most skellys learned at least some majiks, but this one had been trained in the arts. She told Jaundice she could illuminate her tresses beyond even it's current beauty. Jaundice, secretly pleased by the attention of a majik, said no, but the skelly persisted. Day after day the skelly made her offer. Jaundice, wary of free gifts from strangers, but privately drawn to the idea, demanded to know what the skelly majik wanted in return. Phegga’s answer was to ask for a single strand of Jaundice's hair, taken at the root, which the skelly could use for her majik craft to make fine wigs the skelly would sell. The skelly even offered to give Jaundice a percentage of the sales. On the last day of their stay, Jaundice, fearing that this was her last chance, agreed to the deal.
Jaundice heard the door chime. She glanced toward the entrance and saw Fat Deet coming in to take her work shift. Jaundice gave a pleasant nod at Deet's "Mornin' Maam. " Deet had been Jaundice’s anchor very nearly since the day Jaundice opened the inn. Deet ruled the rest of the inn’s staff and capably handled the day-to-day management. She was a typical Norgen of six feet. Her nickname, “Fat Deet” was a fond endearment of Jaundice’s that the household staff would never use (at least to her face). Deet had twelve children, and seemed to have spent most of her life pregnant. All of Deet’s children, except the two youngest at three and five, worked at the inn. Deet had worn out four husbands, although she claimed that each new one was her last. So far there was no fifth, although jaundice had her suspicions about that.
Deet saw through Jaundice, though, recognizing the inward look of the flashback that sometimes overtook her. "I've got it," Deet told her, taking command of the counter. "But could you check on the hops? I'm not sure we have enough on hand for the brewing I've got planned." Jaundice gave Deet a nod of thanks and fled behind the counter. She turned and slipped through the door concealed behind a false wall.
Jaundice took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She stepped further into her small apartment and on toward the back, passing through the one room living room-dining room-kitchen and into her tidy little bedroom. In the even smaller washroom tucked into the bedroom, Jaundice stood in front of a brilliantly shined mirror over her sink. There was not a speck of dust on the mirror, which shone with an inner light despite the dim interior. Even so, Jaundice took a soft cloth and brushed the mirror clean of imaginary imperfections. Jaundice reached up and slowly removed her cap. The cap was evenly round and fit perfectly on her scalp, leaving her ears free and exposed. She held the cap at her breast, clenched in both hands. The fine auburn hair peeking out from under her cap- that customer's saw- was all that was left of her true silken threads. Her pride and vanity was gone. The few auburn strands were just that - mere strands. The rest of her hair was a horror. No head of hair could have looked more tortured. Blackened ends, corked and spiked, twisted into painful knots, as colorful as dark vomit, it gleamed wetly and ... twitched. Even worse was the low, ugly sounds that each slobbery twitch caused.
Deet knew that someone had done something horrible to Jaundice's tresses. She knew the loss of Jaundice's beloved hair had left a trauma she still suffered from. Not even Deet, though, had ever seen Jaundice without her cap since. And no one would, Jaundice promised herself fiercely. She placed the cap carefully back on her head, and whispered the simple majik that kept it there. After the skelly majik had stolen her hair - for that is what had been done to her - Deet had gotten her to a reputable majik in the City. The local majik knew without needing to see what had been done to Jaundice, and sadly, told her there was no majik she knew that could undo what had been done. All the local majik could do was help her hide her shame. Jaundice's mirror was also a thing of majik. Before the skelly majik encounter, Jaundice had spent a half-year's profit to get it, to better appreciate her natural gift. She refused to remove the mirror, leaving it in place as a permanent reminder of her stupidity and folly. Jaundice, her cap firmly in place, patted her cheeks to add some life to her pallid appearance. She slipped past the counter and left to make her rounds.
Innkeeper Jaundice was thinking about her contented life and the many friends she had. She hummed a tune that helped her gain calm and clarity as she went about her work, but her thoughts strayed often to the coming evening and the heart rending changes she was facing. She concentrated on her work and her inn. She was proud of her establishment. There were many who laughed when she named her inn the Sodden Pit, and pitied her taste in decor that ran to small dark alcoves, darker corners, and hidden levels. The bright people of the Norgen that populated the Shining City would never come to such a place, they told her. They were right. The Sodden Pit never did catch on with the Norgen. She was not after the upper crust Norgen as customers, though. There was an underside to the City that was nearly as vibrant as the glittering metropolis itself, filled with Skelly travelers from Ridgeland and the even more exotic Thumps from distant Savagevista. Norgen who fell short of Norgen high expectations also found solace and company at the Sodden Pit. The Inn was her home and her life, and she feared leaving it. Not everyone could be rich and beautiful, two conditions that all Norgen aspired to, whether by birth or assistance by majik. The Norgen as a whole acted as if the world of Spark was a Norgen invention, and that everyone and everything else was created for their own use and amusement. At least that was how Jaundice saw things, and she was Norgen herself. Her family had provided for her, sending her off with a modest stake and high expectations for their bright, industrious daughter. They were less pleased at her decision to buy the inn, but like most Norgen parents they followed tradition. Jaundice had reached adulthood and, therefore, was on her own. As for her skeptical friends, Jaundice simply smiled and kept working on her dream. Jaundice still gets the occasional groups who thought it fun to go slumming at her establishment. Admittedly, Jaundice corrected herself mentally, as she scrubbed a stubborn stain splashed across the wall of a corner table, she did not have a lot of experience with the world outside the lands of the Norgen. She loved listening to the stories of her customers, though.
The Shining City encompassed both the city and much of the land around it. The great City itself had been carved out of the Northern Heights, a cracked landscape of sharp rock and sheer precipices. Interspersed in that unforgiving terrain, life still flourished in bubbling springs and ponds, many of which did not freeze even in the harshest of winters. Spread out to the south was the Glades with it's vast resources of fertile land and forest covering a third of the continent. Outside the direct influence of the Shining City, the land to the south grew more rural. It was a gradual transition from the higher elevations and rockier ground surrounding the bustling Shining City. There was no official boundary line, but the land gently transformed into rolling hills and pleasant valleys dotted with farms, horse land, and tamed forest. Townships small and large dotted the land as well.
The Norgen prospered, raised families, built roads, and settled communities. The Council of Fathers provided a light hand of governance. The real power lay with the Order of Shopkeepers, which controlled commerce. There was a City Guard to uphold the law in the Shining City, and each major township in the Glades maintained a local militia. Jaundice grew up with her parents in Split Rail Township not ten miles from the City gates, a slow day's travel north along the People's Road. She longed to see more of the world, but her inn was satisfaction enough.
Beyond the Glades was the south/southeast border with Ridgeland. Ridgeland was blessed with verdant valleys and strong rivers flowing from a series of mountain ranges which hacked the country into four long chunks. Ridgeland is the home of the Skellys. The Seven Cauldrons of Skellys are an ancient people with ancient majiks. The valley Skellys are more open to trade and more accepting of strangers. Skelly travelers to the Shining City are universally valley skellys. The mountain Skellys largely remain insular, mistrusting of strangers even among their neighboring Skelly cauldrons. Past the eastern border of Ridgeland lay Savagevista, home of the Thumps. Thump warrior caste soldiers and Skelly Sworn often warred back and forth across that border, despite the fact that much of the land on both sides of the border were barely habitable. And of course, made even less habitable by the wars. The Shining City and the Glades, Ridgeland, and Savagevista made up the continent of the Wilderness Shelf. There was a fourth piece, one mostly avoided and rarely mentioned: The Drain. The Drain was an almost landlocked chunk of land bordered by all three countries. The name seemed to be a misnomer, since The Drain occupied the highest elevation of the mountainous shelf system and boasted the tallest, sheerest mountains on the continent. The region earned the name of The Drain because that is where the dregs of life went when there was no where else for them to go. Only one people of note called that place home or wanted any part of it, and they were most often called renegades.
Despite Jaundice's lack of travel, she felt more worldly than most of the Norgen she knew. Jaundice's clientele did include some of the lower classes of Norgen, those who worked and scraped for a living like Jaundice did. They were a proud lower class, though, and non-Norgen found it difficult - but not impossible - to live here, if not prosper. Many of the visitors to her inn came from the lands of Ridgeland and Savagevista. Some had business here, and chose her inn for it's privacy, simple but ample fare, and the best beer in the City (in Jaundice's opinion). Some came to her inn just to avoid the uppity Norgen. It was a place where deals could be made, too. It was a place most newcomers wound up at eventually, hopefully with enough in their pocket to pay for room and board for whatever period was needed. For those others who came - those whose money had run out, or had become entangled in something worse than empty pockets, Jaundice did what she could for them.
Jaundice finished her sweeping and cleaning, setting her cleaning supplies and tools into their accustomed corner. She dusted off her frock with her hands, and pushed stray strands of auburn hair back under her cap. Her clothing ran to the reserved, which her clientele seemed to appreciate. She was plain looking and at five foot eight, short for a Norgen, but still had the fair skin, slender build, expressive eyes, button ears, and unconscious grace common to all Norgen. Her one vanity had been her lustrous hair, which had rivaled that of the most beautiful of the Norgen. Two years ago a company of Skelly performers had taken residence in her inn for a few nights. One in particular had been entranced by Jaundice's hair. The Skelly people are thin to the point of starvation, grayish skin stretched tight across bones strong as steel arrow shafts. Skelly hair was also thin and near colorless. The long strands were pliable, however, and skelly hairdos were as many and as unique as the imagination and dyes could make them.
One of the skelly performers, Phegga, was also a majik. Most skellys learned at least some majiks, but this one had been trained in the arts. She told Jaundice she could illuminate her tresses beyond even it's current beauty. Jaundice, secretly pleased by the attention of a majik, said no, but the skelly persisted. Day after day the skelly made her offer. Jaundice, wary of free gifts from strangers, but privately drawn to the idea, demanded to know what the skelly majik wanted in return. Phegga’s answer was to ask for a single strand of Jaundice's hair, taken at the root, which the skelly could use for her majik craft to make fine wigs the skelly would sell. The skelly even offered to give Jaundice a percentage of the sales. On the last day of their stay, Jaundice, fearing that this was her last chance, agreed to the deal.
Jaundice heard the door chime. She glanced toward the entrance and saw Fat Deet coming in to take her work shift. Jaundice gave a pleasant nod at Deet's "Mornin' Maam. " Deet had been Jaundice’s anchor very nearly since the day Jaundice opened the inn. Deet ruled the rest of the inn’s staff and capably handled the day-to-day management. She was a typical Norgen of six feet. Her nickname, “Fat Deet” was a fond endearment of Jaundice’s that the household staff would never use (at least to her face). Deet had twelve children, and seemed to have spent most of her life pregnant. All of Deet’s children, except the two youngest at three and five, worked at the inn. Deet had worn out four husbands, although she claimed that each new one was her last. So far there was no fifth, although jaundice had her suspicions about that.
Deet saw through Jaundice, though, recognizing the inward look of the flashback that sometimes overtook her. "I've got it," Deet told her, taking command of the counter. "But could you check on the hops? I'm not sure we have enough on hand for the brewing I've got planned." Jaundice gave Deet a nod of thanks and fled behind the counter. She turned and slipped through the door concealed behind a false wall.
Jaundice took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She stepped further into her small apartment and on toward the back, passing through the one room living room-dining room-kitchen and into her tidy little bedroom. In the even smaller washroom tucked into the bedroom, Jaundice stood in front of a brilliantly shined mirror over her sink. There was not a speck of dust on the mirror, which shone with an inner light despite the dim interior. Even so, Jaundice took a soft cloth and brushed the mirror clean of imaginary imperfections. Jaundice reached up and slowly removed her cap. The cap was evenly round and fit perfectly on her scalp, leaving her ears free and exposed. She held the cap at her breast, clenched in both hands. The fine auburn hair peeking out from under her cap- that customer's saw- was all that was left of her true silken threads. Her pride and vanity was gone. The few auburn strands were just that - mere strands. The rest of her hair was a horror. No head of hair could have looked more tortured. Blackened ends, corked and spiked, twisted into painful knots, as colorful as dark vomit, it gleamed wetly and ... twitched. Even worse was the low, ugly sounds that each slobbery twitch caused.
Deet knew that someone had done something horrible to Jaundice's tresses. She knew the loss of Jaundice's beloved hair had left a trauma she still suffered from. Not even Deet, though, had ever seen Jaundice without her cap since. And no one would, Jaundice promised herself fiercely. She placed the cap carefully back on her head, and whispered the simple majik that kept it there. After the skelly majik had stolen her hair - for that is what had been done to her - Deet had gotten her to a reputable majik in the City. The local majik knew without needing to see what had been done to Jaundice, and sadly, told her there was no majik she knew that could undo what had been done. All the local majik could do was help her hide her shame. Jaundice's mirror was also a thing of majik. Before the skelly majik encounter, Jaundice had spent a half-year's profit to get it, to better appreciate her natural gift. She refused to remove the mirror, leaving it in place as a permanent reminder of her stupidity and folly. Jaundice, her cap firmly in place, patted her cheeks to add some life to her pallid appearance. She slipped past the counter and left to make her rounds.
Monday, May 13, 2013
First Draft of Novel Complete
First Draft of Novel Complete
Well, I can now say that I've written a novel. I even did a self-edit to catch any glaring discrepancies. I found surprisingly few, which probably means I missed a lot of things. The actual date I finished was on 9 May, 2013. After abandoning the first effort and discarding it's 25,000 words, I made my second start on New year's eve, 2012. Four months and a week later it was done.
As I begin to look at what happens after that, the actual writing starts to look easy by comparison. The novel will need to be critiqued, edited, and polished. That process will become a bit more formal when I attend the First Paragraph Slam on 23 May, where I will do a reading of the first paragraph of the novel. Twelve other writers have signed up for the event so far. After that get together, GBW will focus on writing groups, where I should start to see some help improving on the first draft and learning about agents, publishers, etc.
I'm currently obsessing over the query letter. Sooner than later I hope to be actually promoting the book and submitting it to agents and publishers. The query letter is a single page cover letter generally divided into the Hook, a short synopsis of the book, and an author biography. It sounds simple enough, but a lot rides on the query letter. I've been writing and re-writing it for a week now and I still don't think it's as good as it needs to be.
For practice and comment, I am providing my current, working version. It should be intriguing enough to get the publisher/agent interested enough to ask for more. They get thousands of query letters, and if you don't hook'em quickly it'll go quickly from the slush pile (the stack of stuff waiting to be read) to the garbage pile.
The Hook:
When Innkeeper Jaundice discovers a renegade goddess in the basement of her inn claiming to be from the mythical world of Chord, the twin sister to her own world of Spark, she must choose between a life lived vicariously through the tales of her customers or to believe the fantastic story spun by the proclaimed goddess Mela-nnee.
The Synopsis:
Jaundice has serious doubts, but what she could not explain away is the sentient mandolin named Flea that Mela-nnee declared carried the Song of the Worlds. Mela-nnee admitted to stealing Flea, but claimed it was done to right ancient wrongs. Jaundice wants to believe the myths. That Chord held a power called Song which used music as the bedrock of their culture. That Chord used Song as the ultimate weapon to betray and isolate Spark from Chord. That the betrayal led to the rise and fall of the majik wielding wizard's who warred amongst themselves and turned Spark into a world both bereft of the Song and decaying from within.
Jaundice has a thirst to explore beyond the walls of the Shining City and the counter of her inn, and a need to find answers to past horrors she kept hidden. At Mela-nnee's urging, Jaundice assembles a troupe of young peers, among them three Norgen, like Jaundice, looking to make their own mark. A Thump warrior estranged from his home country of Savagevista also joins the troupe. Eighteen year old Philly is the last to join, an orphaned Skelly with wild majik talents she can hardly control.
Mela-nnee's arrival with Flea creates ripples across their world. The great wizard Taint rises from the ruins of the wizard fortress, Kracckndoom. The ancient rivalry between the Norgen and Skelly people races toward war. Strange beasts and once-men are belched out of The Drain in an Outflow not seen in generations.
Into and through that chaos Jaundice and her troupe set forth on a journey to find the Custodian Keys lost during the Wizard Wars, uncover the location of the Vessels of Blood, and connect it all into a weapon capable of breaking the Seal that isolates Spark and brings the Song of the Worlds back to them. And on Chord, the ancient powers of that world turn to Spark. Chord will have Flea back, even if it means the final destruction of Spark.
The Biography:
The Majik of Spark is my first novel. It's the first of a planned trilogy set in the twin worlds of Spark and Chord.
I published science fiction and horror short stories in numerous small press magazines during the 1990's. In 2011 I consolidated my previously published stories as well as new work into an eBook collection called "Raised by the Fox." I write under the pseudonym J Walker Bell.
Thank you for your time and consideration, and I look forward to hearing from you. The beginning paragraphs of The Majik of Spark are available on my website, jwalkerbell.com.
Well, I can now say that I've written a novel. I even did a self-edit to catch any glaring discrepancies. I found surprisingly few, which probably means I missed a lot of things. The actual date I finished was on 9 May, 2013. After abandoning the first effort and discarding it's 25,000 words, I made my second start on New year's eve, 2012. Four months and a week later it was done.
As I begin to look at what happens after that, the actual writing starts to look easy by comparison. The novel will need to be critiqued, edited, and polished. That process will become a bit more formal when I attend the First Paragraph Slam on 23 May, where I will do a reading of the first paragraph of the novel. Twelve other writers have signed up for the event so far. After that get together, GBW will focus on writing groups, where I should start to see some help improving on the first draft and learning about agents, publishers, etc.
I'm currently obsessing over the query letter. Sooner than later I hope to be actually promoting the book and submitting it to agents and publishers. The query letter is a single page cover letter generally divided into the Hook, a short synopsis of the book, and an author biography. It sounds simple enough, but a lot rides on the query letter. I've been writing and re-writing it for a week now and I still don't think it's as good as it needs to be.
For practice and comment, I am providing my current, working version. It should be intriguing enough to get the publisher/agent interested enough to ask for more. They get thousands of query letters, and if you don't hook'em quickly it'll go quickly from the slush pile (the stack of stuff waiting to be read) to the garbage pile.
The Hook:
When Innkeeper Jaundice discovers a renegade goddess in the basement of her inn claiming to be from the mythical world of Chord, the twin sister to her own world of Spark, she must choose between a life lived vicariously through the tales of her customers or to believe the fantastic story spun by the proclaimed goddess Mela-nnee.
The Synopsis:
Jaundice has serious doubts, but what she could not explain away is the sentient mandolin named Flea that Mela-nnee declared carried the Song of the Worlds. Mela-nnee admitted to stealing Flea, but claimed it was done to right ancient wrongs. Jaundice wants to believe the myths. That Chord held a power called Song which used music as the bedrock of their culture. That Chord used Song as the ultimate weapon to betray and isolate Spark from Chord. That the betrayal led to the rise and fall of the majik wielding wizard's who warred amongst themselves and turned Spark into a world both bereft of the Song and decaying from within.
Jaundice has a thirst to explore beyond the walls of the Shining City and the counter of her inn, and a need to find answers to past horrors she kept hidden. At Mela-nnee's urging, Jaundice assembles a troupe of young peers, among them three Norgen, like Jaundice, looking to make their own mark. A Thump warrior estranged from his home country of Savagevista also joins the troupe. Eighteen year old Philly is the last to join, an orphaned Skelly with wild majik talents she can hardly control.
Mela-nnee's arrival with Flea creates ripples across their world. The great wizard Taint rises from the ruins of the wizard fortress, Kracckndoom. The ancient rivalry between the Norgen and Skelly people races toward war. Strange beasts and once-men are belched out of The Drain in an Outflow not seen in generations.
Into and through that chaos Jaundice and her troupe set forth on a journey to find the Custodian Keys lost during the Wizard Wars, uncover the location of the Vessels of Blood, and connect it all into a weapon capable of breaking the Seal that isolates Spark and brings the Song of the Worlds back to them. And on Chord, the ancient powers of that world turn to Spark. Chord will have Flea back, even if it means the final destruction of Spark.
The Biography:
The Majik of Spark is my first novel. It's the first of a planned trilogy set in the twin worlds of Spark and Chord.
I published science fiction and horror short stories in numerous small press magazines during the 1990's. In 2011 I consolidated my previously published stories as well as new work into an eBook collection called "Raised by the Fox." I write under the pseudonym J Walker Bell.
Thank you for your time and consideration, and I look forward to hearing from you. The beginning paragraphs of The Majik of Spark are available on my website, jwalkerbell.com.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
The May Events
The May Events
The group leader of Go, Be, Write! (GBW), Sally, definitely believes in her "tough love" approach. She admitted early on that she was dealing with some deadlines and could not be as active as she liked until those deadlines were met. Now that she has freed up some time she has done an amazing job of getting the word out to members about a whole list of activities for writers that are coming up in the month of May alone.
I was a little overwhelmed by the sudden influx of opportunities and needed to take some time to get them sorted out into what I really wanted to attend and what I could attend if I wanted to travel - as far as Los Angeles, for example. I am also in the throes of trying to pin down the final chapter of my novel, which is like having a kid on a roller coaster who doesn't want to ever get off.
The one event I have signed up for is called the "Thursday Night First Paragraph Slam." It's being held at a local bookstore on May 23rd. About ten members have signed up for it so far. In addition to getting know other writers in the group, we have the opportunity to read the first paragraph of one of our works. I will be reading the first paragraph of my almost finished novel, The Majik of Spark. We will all vote on who wrote the best paragraph and the winner will get a prize.
I've also decided to go to the anniversary of a local bookstore called the Mysterious Galaxy. That will be an all day affair (depending how long I decide to stay) with a list of published authors available to talk to and meet with. That is on May 11th, but I won't get to meet Sally there, as she has a competing meeting that day up in the LA area. I think I'll keep things at just those two for now.
Having announced all those upcoming events, Sally put the word out that she isn't happy with the turn out so far. I like her approach. Paraphrasing her, she said that if you are not writing you should be attending these events and getting better at your craft. If writing is what is keeping you from attending, then you should at least come to the paragraph slam event so you can show off your work.
When I sent out Chapter 12 of the novel to my writing buddies, I suggested that it was time to put "The End" on the novel. It's the first book of a proposed trilogy, and I've discovered that ending "Book One, The Majik of Spark" is a significant challenge for me. While still thinking about how to close things out properly, I wrote two-thirds of Chapter 13. It's not that I don't want to end the book. I am actually anxious to start Book Two, for which I already have a lot of background prepared.
So, what's my problem? Honestly, I think I'm trying to make a perfect ending, one that will satisfy readers, set up the next book, and leave readers in enough suspense to want to read that next book. Here's the conundrum I have to consider. As the book stands, I can end it with a kiss, both figuratively and in reality. I kind of like that. The reader knows where things stand with their group of adventurers, and know that their next challenge awaits them.
What I haven't done a good enough job of, though, I think, is keeping the reader informed of the broader picture. I have armies on the move, and a major falling out of the two most powerful players. My first thought is that during my first full edit of the first draft I would insert more insight into that broader picture, so that the book could end where it currently sits.
Another option that I am considering, is to get the reader up to speed on all the other moving pieces in an epilogue that would become the bridge to the second book. I like that idea, because I like writing prologues and epilogues. I'm just not sure that is the right path, though.
The third option is to continue for another 1-3 chapters, whatever it would take to point out all those broader actions, and then wrap things up that way. Too much more advancement of the story in the first book will almost certainly create tangles with the approach I've laid out for the second book.
I believe my approach is going to be to set a tentative end at the completed Chapter 12. I will do my first full edit, and see if that clears up any remaining reservations I have. If I'm happy with the ending, then I can decide whether an epilogue is appropriate, or if I should just write a teaser about what to look forward in the next book. I know my writing buddies have to be wondering what "broader actions" I'm talking about that they still don't know about after 12 chapters. It reminds me of one of the writing tips Kurt Vonnegut applies to his work, which is to always tell the reader everything. Don't stick "gotchas" into the story, or throw new things in there without preparing the reader for them. I do think I've violated that to some extent that has to be fixed.
Maybe I'll be inspired by the events I am going to and I'll come up with an even better idea.
The group leader of Go, Be, Write! (GBW), Sally, definitely believes in her "tough love" approach. She admitted early on that she was dealing with some deadlines and could not be as active as she liked until those deadlines were met. Now that she has freed up some time she has done an amazing job of getting the word out to members about a whole list of activities for writers that are coming up in the month of May alone.
I was a little overwhelmed by the sudden influx of opportunities and needed to take some time to get them sorted out into what I really wanted to attend and what I could attend if I wanted to travel - as far as Los Angeles, for example. I am also in the throes of trying to pin down the final chapter of my novel, which is like having a kid on a roller coaster who doesn't want to ever get off.
The one event I have signed up for is called the "Thursday Night First Paragraph Slam." It's being held at a local bookstore on May 23rd. About ten members have signed up for it so far. In addition to getting know other writers in the group, we have the opportunity to read the first paragraph of one of our works. I will be reading the first paragraph of my almost finished novel, The Majik of Spark. We will all vote on who wrote the best paragraph and the winner will get a prize.
I've also decided to go to the anniversary of a local bookstore called the Mysterious Galaxy. That will be an all day affair (depending how long I decide to stay) with a list of published authors available to talk to and meet with. That is on May 11th, but I won't get to meet Sally there, as she has a competing meeting that day up in the LA area. I think I'll keep things at just those two for now.
Having announced all those upcoming events, Sally put the word out that she isn't happy with the turn out so far. I like her approach. Paraphrasing her, she said that if you are not writing you should be attending these events and getting better at your craft. If writing is what is keeping you from attending, then you should at least come to the paragraph slam event so you can show off your work.
When I sent out Chapter 12 of the novel to my writing buddies, I suggested that it was time to put "The End" on the novel. It's the first book of a proposed trilogy, and I've discovered that ending "Book One, The Majik of Spark" is a significant challenge for me. While still thinking about how to close things out properly, I wrote two-thirds of Chapter 13. It's not that I don't want to end the book. I am actually anxious to start Book Two, for which I already have a lot of background prepared.
So, what's my problem? Honestly, I think I'm trying to make a perfect ending, one that will satisfy readers, set up the next book, and leave readers in enough suspense to want to read that next book. Here's the conundrum I have to consider. As the book stands, I can end it with a kiss, both figuratively and in reality. I kind of like that. The reader knows where things stand with their group of adventurers, and know that their next challenge awaits them.
What I haven't done a good enough job of, though, I think, is keeping the reader informed of the broader picture. I have armies on the move, and a major falling out of the two most powerful players. My first thought is that during my first full edit of the first draft I would insert more insight into that broader picture, so that the book could end where it currently sits.
Another option that I am considering, is to get the reader up to speed on all the other moving pieces in an epilogue that would become the bridge to the second book. I like that idea, because I like writing prologues and epilogues. I'm just not sure that is the right path, though.
The third option is to continue for another 1-3 chapters, whatever it would take to point out all those broader actions, and then wrap things up that way. Too much more advancement of the story in the first book will almost certainly create tangles with the approach I've laid out for the second book.
I believe my approach is going to be to set a tentative end at the completed Chapter 12. I will do my first full edit, and see if that clears up any remaining reservations I have. If I'm happy with the ending, then I can decide whether an epilogue is appropriate, or if I should just write a teaser about what to look forward in the next book. I know my writing buddies have to be wondering what "broader actions" I'm talking about that they still don't know about after 12 chapters. It reminds me of one of the writing tips Kurt Vonnegut applies to his work, which is to always tell the reader everything. Don't stick "gotchas" into the story, or throw new things in there without preparing the reader for them. I do think I've violated that to some extent that has to be fixed.
Maybe I'll be inspired by the events I am going to and I'll come up with an even better idea.
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