Purring Tigers and Gloating Writers

I'm still savoring my victory from yesterday, though I must say that I started out with one character, who promptly decided that they had a spouse and children.

Actually, having a family makes the character a nicer fit for where I want to put them in this current tale. I went back and pulled up my main characters fact sheet and began knitting her history and the new characters history together. As I was doing that this morning, I realized that because of the age difference, it would make more sense for the character to have a connection with the main character’s father, not her. This really was a cool surprise and something I desperately needed as well. I wanted her father to have some old pals from his rather wild days but because I am working on getting the plot down and the bones down I didn’t bother to give him any. Poor man, no one liked him before the current time in story.

So, her father now has an old.. . well let’s just call them a buddy for now, who will later help out his daughter when she needs it the most. This trick isn’t anything new; in fact it’s probably one of the most used writing devices when constructing a quest storyline. The younger protagonist needs a more experienced mentor to come along and help shape them into the necessary hero and viola’ somewhere along the way they meet an old friend of their fathers’ or mothers’ or someone that is a friend of the family and willing to help them along for the sake of their parents.

Lemony Snickets’ A Series of Unfortunate Events uses this concept well, where the friends of their parents are both help and hindrance to the final revelation.

Inkspell and Inkheart by Cornelia Funke are also masterful examples of a friend of a parent helping the protagonist out.

Right, well that’s the thought for now, I’m going to go and write some more seeing as I’m laid up for today.

Back in the cage, you paper tigers!

*Cracks whip while brandishing chair* Back in there I say!

Anyone else have this happen? You are working on a story and it's clicking along, sometimes feels like you're pushing boulders up hills and sometimes it feels like you are running along atop as they cruse down the other side but things are working. People that have looked at your rough -rough-rough proofs are interested enough to keep you working, plot points click together, you uncover some hidden depth in a character and go hey that really neat and in character and then OUT OF THE INK come new characters, or lands, or cool weapons or creatures or something and suddenly you just HAVE to write about them INSTEAD.

Like the gleaming new toy that still has that ''fresh fun'' scent you are drawn to play with the new characters instead of your older creations that might have some of the paint worn off but they are practically real because of the imagination, time, and self you've invested in them.

I hate that.

And today, today I have had a victory because you see today I didn't go play with the shiny new paper tigers, though I wanted to. Man, did I want to. They had that new character smell. . .which is so much better than the new car smell.. . but I resisted! I did however take time to briefly outline them-vital statistics and all-but that's it. Hey, I might need them later in this story or in another one. But for now, they stay in their cage.

In The Beginning

One of the writers I admire posted something today on their blog that both exhorted and somewhat encouraged me. But underneath I could feel the old fear of ''If you fail, if you don't do more with your writing, if you hide your talent in the ground like the worthless servant, you'll just prove what a disappointment you are to Christ."

Now, last month I would have nodded my head and bowed it. I would have felt worthless and that little voice would have stabbed that thought deep into the area I am most vulnerable. It would have immobilized me. But, thanks to Christ and a discovery I made in Exodus roughly a month ago it didn't, and this is why. In the book of Exodus, chapter 31:1-6 the scripture reads as follows:

“Then the LORD said to Moses, “Look, I have specifically chosen Bezalel son of Uri, grandson of Hur, of the tribe of Judah. I have filled him with the Spirit of God, giving him great wisdom, ability, and expertise in all types of crafts. He is a master craftsman, expert in working with gold, silver, and bronze. He is skilled in engraving and mounting gemstones and in carving wood. He is a master at every craft! And I have personally appointed Oholiab son of Ahisamach, of the tribe of Dan, to be his assistant. Moreover I have given special skill to craftsmen so they can make all the things I have commanded you to make.” TLB

Now, I realize that they were given these gifts to build the Tabernacle, the very dwelling place of the Most High, but God does not change, and if He gave the craftsmen the gifts to build and create what was needed, then He will do the same thing with me should I ask Him. I want to write to build up the body of Christ, to introduce people who don’t know Him to Him, and I want to tell stories to glorify His name. And that I know comes under the catagory of building a dwelling place for Him, just one not fashioned out of cold stones, but rather out of living ones.

Ooooh the DarkSide

Her Rhuness does not approve of the switch from Xanga to here. Which, contrarywise, works to make me dig in my heels all the harder and hunt up the "Caution Writer at Work" sign to really settle in and make this place home.

Rhu that's not funny

Hey, rhuness I am not abandoning Xanga, uh, I abandoned it months ago? And if I can maintain a Xanga account to post on your blog then turn about is fair play. In other words, get thee to a nunnery. Or to Blogger.

Now that I have finished that lovely public rant to a private tarb who needles me relentlessly about blogging ''blah blah blah your life is not boring blah blah blah I want to know more about the story blah blah blah when can I read it blah blah blah" and other things I believe I will make this some sort of random thingie (it is so a word) about what in the world I am doing with this story that won't leave me alone.

But not tonight. Tonight, I will dodge the whole issue and let Mr. Lewis speak instead.

"Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it."

C. S. Lewis

"Gill, I said, goodmorning Gill."