Tag: characters

Wednesday Works: Caught Up in Research

Antique Firearms

The antique pistol let out a sad, soggy click, but would not fire. The main character looked down at the gun with a sigh.

“Not again!” She shouted in frustration. She smacked the butt of the gun with her soaking hands, hoping to dislodge some of the water. “Man, is the author going to be pissed.”

The villain dropped his aim. “Gun problems again, MC?”

“Yes!” She heaved a sigh. “Shouldn’t it be common sense that gunpowder doesn’t fire when it gets wet?”

The villain took a few water logged steps forward. “I’m sure I can help you with your soaking clothes instead.” He waggled his eyebrows.

The main character curled her face in disgust. “I’m sure we’re definitely not following the plot now, but—“

Space Swords

All around them the beach and the waves disappeared.

“What?” The main character asked, looking around as the scene disappeared. “Oh no! The author is messing with us again!” She looked down, instead of her pirate clothes, a space suit appeared instead. “I liked the pirate arc!”

The villain twirled his glowing light sword. “I dunno,” he said. “I’ve always been partial to space myself. Less rules to get caught up in. Like—“ He paused. “What happens when you fire a laser off into space, where does it stop and how many alien species could there be?” He laughed his evil laugh. “Much less rules to get caught in up here.”

The main character groaned. “But what about the principle of a pirate romance?”

The villain waggled his eyebrows again. “There can definitely be piracy in space. I would love to plunder your—“

“ENOUGH!” The main character shouted. “You and I aren’t supposed to be romantic until the last third of the book. Keep it to yourself for now until after the duel and when we can frustrate the writer the most.”

The villain winked then. “Yes, my Goody Two Shoes. I’ll be on my best worst behavior.”

Wednesday Works: The Magic Of Trees and Strangers

After hiking the usual area for weeks and weeks, he found himself surprised when a new tree, fully grown just showed up.

Right in the middle of the path, a full grown tree had appeared, as if overnight. The leaves were full and bright and beautiful, flowing blossoms along the branches, huge apples, glossy and appetizing along the low hanging branches. He reached out and grabbed one, then promptly dropped it.

“EXCUSE YOU!” A voice seemed to come from within the tree. “Those apples are mine!”

He wondered if he was suffering from heat stroke. Trees didn’t talk.

“Hello?” He said, looking around. Someone was obviously playing a joke on him. “Is someone there?”

“I don’t know why I should even bother talking to you, Apple Stealer!” The same voice came from the tree. “I’m not sure what you can do for me!”

The tree definitely was talking. He was definitely suffering from heat stroke or something more serious.

“How are you talking right now?” He asked next. “Why is a tree talking to me?” Maybe he was simply dreaming.

The tree groaned. “I am not a tree!” It screeched. “Don’t you know a lady when you see one?”

He tried not to laugh, he really did. But the laugh came out anyway. “A lady?” He asked. “You’re a tree!”

She scoffed. “I wasn’t always a tree!” She said. “I was a lady yesterday!”

He almost couldn’t believe it.

“So what happened?”

The tree sighed and her leaves shuddered as if blown by a hard breeze. “I am never ever going on a night hike under the full moon again!” Her branches seemed to move like she was pointing a finger at him. “Never. Ever. Make a deal. With a good looking hiker.” Her branch struck him hard. “He will turn you into a tree with no way of returning!” Her leaves and branches shuddered once more then froze.

It wasn’t every day he met a woman in the form of a tree on the path. “Well how did you piss him off?” He asked. “That sounds like a faerie, and they only interfere like this when you piss them off.”

The tree groaned once more. “He asked me for my name,” she said next. “And I called him a creep and told him to leave me the hell alone.” She huffed and puffed. “Next thing I know, I’m a tree.”

He couldn’t help but laugh then. “Well, then you were asking for it.”

That only made the tree more furious, her leave shaking, her apples falling and rolling down the path.

“You are impossible!” She groaned at him. “How was I supposed to know?!”

He couldn’t stop laughing, but then he felt bad. “I suppose you wouldn’t.” He couldn’t help but wonder what she had looked like as a human.

She would probably just ignore him, like every other girl he had hoped would be remotely interested in him.

“Did he give you a riddle of how to reverse it?” He asked next. It was the least he could do to help her reverse it.

“No,” She said. “And if he did, I wasn’t paying attention once I was a tree.”

“Well,” he said, “Maybe it’s a good thing you’re a tree.”

At first she was offended.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, you have nice apples, but I’m sure your face is just atrocious, like a total dog.”

Still, she was offended.

“And don’t get me started on your love handles.” He had a hunch, but he needed to make her laugh. “If your lower branches are any indication. Curvy tree there. Probably at least 250 if not more.” She was silent and he figured that was a bad thing. “You don’t have any human responsibilities anymore, no bills, no trashy Stacy stealing your man.”

The tree scoffed. “That bitch doesn’t deserve my man and if I could, I would chuck my apples so hard at her.”

He couldn’t stop laughing at her. Eventually, her rage quelled and she started laughing too. The more she laughed, the more her leaves shook, the more her apples fell down to the path, the more her laughter started to sound more human with every chuckle.

When the last leaf fell, in front of him stood a very human girl, her smile lighting up her whole face.

“Well,” he said as she stood before him. “Would you look at that? Not a dog at all.”

She moved her very human hands down her torso and then looked at her own human hands. “I’m me again!”

In the rush of excitement, she tackled him with a hug. Then she realized what she had done.

“Does this me have a name?” He asked next.

“Oh no!” She answered after that, the smile still on her face. “I’m not falling for that one again.”

Wednesday Works: The Morning After

The morning after she wakes up with a headache. Throbbing in the center of her forehead making the lights too bright, sounds too harsh, everything too painful. The night before was a dream, but the morning after is a nightmare of blurs and raucous noises that burn her brain from the inside out.

The night before, a masquerade took place where the most eligible bachelor in all of New England had begun looking for a wife. She had only intended to stay for a few hours, masquerades and rich pretty boys weren’t exactly her scene.

It wasn’t like the so called Prince of the East Coast would be interested in an artist who could barely rub two pennies together. He had more money than he knew what to do with, and she was lucky to pay her bills on time and in full.

Her friend had secured the invitation and brought her along, to enjoy a night on the rich folks dime, if nothing else.

Something else had definitely happened. By pure chance, the prince himself, or a very clever look-alike, had asked her to dance. It had started as one dance, but that bled into many dances and so many more drinks, until she couldn’t remember how she got back to her apartment.

The rest of the night had become a blur, until she woke up with the pounding headache and a mouth as parched as the Sahara.

Her first thought: The biggest glass of water in her kitchen, and—

“Coffeeee,” A voice mumbles next to her, a rustling under the thick fluffy comforter.

She hadn’t remembered going to bed with anyone, considering she lived in a one bedroom apartment, alone. She pulls the comforter away to reveal—

“The Prince of the East Coast!” She shrieks. All logical thought leaves her.

“Hello,” He says, with a smile that was much more intimate than any of the other versions of him plastered all over the tabloids. “I’m Anthony.”

What I Learned Writing a Prequel

Prequels are a sticky subject. Some people enjoy them, some people can’t stand them. For the first time, I wrote one, and finished it.

Here’s what I’ve learned.

Prequels Vary:

For some prequels, the main characters are the same as in the rest of the books in a series. For this prequel, I decided to go further back, and only keep a few of the characters, mainly the villains, to explore their backstories. I could have kept the same characters, but it was fun to explore the villains.

Prequels Reveal A Lot:

In this prequel, it was fun to explore the villains before they became the villains, and the main characters that were not in the series for one reason or another. For a while, I wasn’t sure what the motivation for the villains were, but writing them out I found the perfect motivations for them, which will make every other book in the series stronger.

Prequels Can Be Complicated:

Several characters had to meet and change for the series to take place. There were certain instances where it felt like pulling teeth trying to get two characters together or even to get them to meet.

Prequels Can Be Calming:

Writing a book series can vary in ease. As a writer that enjoys writing from start to finish in a novel, it was wonderful to know where I was going and what needed to happen at the end. It was amazing to explore the twists and turns of characters and determining how they get to the end.

All said and done, it was a wonderful experience to write a prequel and see what I could do with characters I hadn’t explored yet.

Tuesday How To: Every Story Needs Conflict

We’ve all read stories where it seems like nothing is happening. Stories that are boring, or slow, or maybe the characters just aren’t working for us as readers. I find that most of the time when stories bore me, it’s because the conflict doesn’t resonate with me, or that there doesn’t seem to be a conflict, or high enough stakes for me to have an interest in the results. 

Every story needs to have some sort of conflict. 

Whether it’s the fact that your character can’t find the right shoes for their prom dress or the character has to diffuse a bomb before the timer goes off and he can’t tell what color word to cut because he’s colorblind. Your story needs a conflict, something to resolve for the story to feel complete. 

If you don’t have a conflict for your characters, it might as well be a story where everyone is happy and nothing bad ever happens. Even short stories need conflicts, something to move the plot forward and engage the reader and make them care about the characters and what happens to them. Even the simplest of things can become conflicts. 

The easiest way to come up with a conflict is to think of the word thing that could happen to your character and make it happen, but we will talk more about that next week.