NaNoWriMo

It's nearly that time again! What time? Why NaNoWriMo time, my friend! http://www.nanowrimo.org/ Go here for more info!

In a nutshell, NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) is a crazy fun, self-paced race to write 50k in just 30 days. The basis is, if you can just get the story down on paper (regardless of quality) then you've already won half the writing battle ("And knowing is half the battle!"). Most writers it seems, myself included, have a problem with just finishing the initial draft of the story. But if you can just get it all out there, then you've jumped the first hurdle. After that, you're free to edit to your heart's content.

I first attempted (and won) NaNo back in 2006. My story was called Measure of a Mortal. It's the second full length story I've ever finished in my life.

Yeah, the story sucked. I mean, it was pretty awful. But it was great fun to challenge myself and keep writing even when I thought I'd wrung my imagination dry.

I didn't get to NaNo it out in 2007 due to military obligations, but this year my calendar is (mostly) free and I'm going to go for the gold!

What do you win? Nothing but satisfaction...well...and your name on a long list of winners, but trust me, the satisfaction is a great prize.

And in 2006 Lulu Self-Publishing was offering one free copy of the winner's completed NaNo novel.

Yeah, even if Measure of a Mortal is a crazy bit of purple prose, it sits proudly upon my shelf with my name emblazoned across the cover.

That, is quite seriously, always the best feeling in the world to see my name on a book.

It really helps on those days that I'm just down in the dumps. That and the fact that the story makes me laugh every time I read it.



Anyway! This year I'm going to writing Pearl Shade. In NaNo you're allowed an outline and some notes ahead of time, but the very first sentence of your novel gets written at midnight on Nov 1st...Oct 31st kinda. 0001 if you're military.

NaNoWriMo = Writing Happiness

Blackthorn

EDIT: GAAAAAH! Screw proper spacing. Blogger hates me. Alright. Sorry, ya'll have to look at an annoying giant block of text. I tried. Sorry.

EDIT AGAIN: I feel it might be important to stress that Ana ISN'T a necrophiliac. Okay? Yeah.


So in effort to understand the Mage Wars and some of my characters I have realized I need to revamp the timeline somewhat. I originally had the Mage Wars lasting for over fifty years or so before Z sealed the wraiths and Keleo disappeared. However, the timeline is going to shrink a bit.

So now, I have Keleo making the stones about 50 (52-ish) odd some years before Ana arrives in Mycp. About. I need to redo the timeline.

Anyway, this is going to be the story of the downfall of the Mages basically. Told most from Gavin's POV. Ana's real parents are in it, as well as her first set of adopted parents.

Yes, Gavin is much MUCH older than Ana. Heck, he's only three years younger than her first adopted father. However, before you tell me how creepy and weird I am, although Gavin is chronologically about 48 when Ana first meets him, due to what Keleo does to him, the poor boy is really only between 25 and 28. It's a little hard to age when you're dead. Opps, I can't give everything away yet!

To further add to the creepiness, Gavin will likely be meeting a baby Ana. Cause I'm a loon like that!

Anyway! I'm doing this to mostly understand what happens before Ana gets there. And I really need to figure out who Gavin was before Keleo brainwashed him. It might make it easier to write him.

For further "in case you were curious and even if you're not" information:

Gavin's father is half Arnog, half mage. Gavin's mother is just a mage. Because of the Arnog blood, Gavin's magick is less diluted than most mages, making him more powerful. Gavin's family is one of three families with this purer blood. And as a hint I'll tell you that Ana's birth parents come from one of the other families.

Okay, so here is the short first chater of Blackthorn

I

Dear Gavin,
It has been far too long. I must insist that you quit your ridiculous studies and come home this instant. In your absence, mother has decided that I shall be married by the end of the year just as soon as I make my official debut in Calgary. The new king shall be there and mother is convinced that once he sees me, the king will fall hopelessly in love with me. I hate to tell her that I have absolutely no aim to become queen, but mother would never listen.

You must come home. I am overcome by scores of giggling servants and an equally absurd mother. Per usual, father rarely comes out of his study and would likely never involve himself in the affairs of mere women. I miss your quick wit and more importantly I long for your rational conversation.

I beg you, if you love me at all, you must abandon your studies and come rescue me from my fate of lace, hairpins, and simpering fools.

All My Love,
Yelane

Eighteen year old Gavin smiled fondly at his younger sister's note. He knew for all her complaints Yelane did not hate her fate overly much. She had been given the choice to attend the practicum with him and had refused. Yelane took too much after their mother and her magickal abilities were limited to mere illusions and—if she concentrated enough—some shield spells.

Besides, Yelane had to represent the family name at the social functions. His father never went out and barely left his study and their mother was simply too weak since her last bout with the fevers.

It was the curse of carrying the Blackthorn name.

Gavin had tasted only a bit of the curse during his studies. His professors expected him to be as gifted as his father. Gavin was indeed gifted and had been hailed by many as a genius in the field of Alchemy. But then, he supposed it came with the blood of being part Arnog and part Mage. His magick was less diluted than most. Unfortunately, alchemy was less flashy than his father's destructive magick.

Gavin sighed. He simply could not please everyone. And today, his own sister had to suffer the consequences of his rigorous study. Gavin just did not have the time to return home for a quick visit.

Fumbling through a pile of ink-stained sheets of parchment, Gavin found a mostly clean piece and began writing.

Yelane Blackthorn scowled at her reflection in the looking glass. The dress was a confection of silk, lace, and pearls in shades of pale blue and gray. She supposed the dress complimented her pale complexion and golden hair, but thoughts of the stuffy ball pushed any pleasure a pretty dress might conjure straight from her mind. “Oh my darling! You look enchanting! The King will not be able to take his eyes from you!”

And that settled the matter in Yelane's mind. The dress was a spawn straight from the Dark Gates and later she would burn it. “Thank you, mother.” Yelane replied dully.

Lady Blackthorn had likely been very beautiful in her youth and she still retained her exotic pale blonde hair and violet eyes, but the look was dulled by a distinct weariness. She had fought against the fevers for nearly ten years now and each episode took a toll on her. She coughed daintily into he lacy handkerchief and smiled at her daughter.

To most, the Lady Blackthorn appeared to be a happy—albeit tired—oblivious sort of woman who was better suited as arm candy than as a conversationalist, but that had not always been. Lady Blackthorn was careful and calculating, even if the fevers had taken the worst of her disposition from her. She was dead set on having her only daughter become the next queen. It was her dying wish one could say. But Yelane was too much like her father and brother, even if she lacked their genius.

“Lord Mayborne will be arriving to pick you up soon.” Lady Blackthorn reminded her daughter.

Yelane's pretty face twisted in disgust, but she did not vocalize her displeasure. “You do not like him, darling?” her mother asked sweetly.

“He is...” Yelane paused to choose her words. “Self-absorbed. I can only take him listing his virtues for so long.”

Lady Blackthorn offered her daughter a practiced vapid smile. “But darling, it is hardly bragging when one is speaking the truth. Were the king not available, I would have you marry Lord Mayborne. He is such a nice boy after all.”

If Yelane noticed her mother's duplicity she did not give anything away. Instead she offered her mother an unladylike shrug of her silken shoulders and settled back to scowling at her reflection.