Writing Prompts

I belong to a local writing group and our meetings usually start with a writing prompt.

The fascinating thing about these prompts are how many truly different stories can arise from a single prompt. Since our group has horror, sf and fantasy authors; all three types of stories may well be represented.

If you gave the same writing prompt to 100 different writers, you would get 100 different stories. It's quite likely that some would be similar, but you have a few people who took the prompt in a completely different way. You would have a few people who managed to create a twist for the ending. Some of the stories would be short, others would be much longer.

A couple of the flash fiction stories I have posted on my web site started as a group writing prompt. They needed a bit of work, and usually a proper ending, before they could be posted. They were quite different from stories by our other members though.

Finishing stories - can be harder than it sounds

As of now, I have about a dozen short stories in various stages of being written. A couple of them are just started, most are toward the middle of the tale in question.

Short stories need to have a good tale, well told, with just enough detail to allow the reader to see what you see. But given that you are asked for 3000 to 8000 words, if you want to submit it for publication, you have to keep verbosity to a minimum.

So, I tend to go off on a tangent, then start a new story rather than finish and fix the one I'm working on. This is a bad habit.

At least with novels, I do have a better habit of attempting to finish one before starting the next. Of the various novels I am working on, only one still doesn't have any sort of end. The others, generally need more work on both the first chapters and the final one, but they do reach some reasonable end point.

Reflections

It's worth always double checking urls and online submissions before you submit. (I tend to start an email and work on it for days checking and double checking things before it's sent.)

So far in 2017, one of the book publishers I listed in my google spreadsheet has decided to close their doors. Today, I found that Australian Literary Management - has a base wordpress site instead of content. I had noted that ALM wasn't keen on representing Spec Fic - they had three fantasy/horror titles and the most recent was from 2006. The wordpress thing may be temporary or they may have just changed hosts but it could be that they've abandoned the site.

So, since my manuscript has been to the one agency in Australia currently accepting fantasy, it's time to send it overseas.

Too Many Options

In a way, I think there are too many options for self-publishing these days.

What brought that thought on was my first visit to Patreon.com. Interesting platform and if you have the social media in place to build a following, it could be a great option. I even found two traditionally published fantasy writers who are now using Patreon to generate a steady income.

The main Patreon site isn't particularly friendly toward discovering writers though. It took a couple of tries to start finding fantasy writers - which is why I believe that you need good social media contacts. It covers all sorts of creative endeavours, and is far better than kickstarter for regular revenue streams.

Other platforms include Smashwords, Amazon has kindle direct and CreateSpace, and many more options. Of course, there are still vanity/scam publishers out there so you must be careful.

As November comes to a close

I have won NaNoWriMo 2016. Not by a lot of words, though I can add a bit to my count by the end of the day.

It's an interesting process, trying to make yourself write 50,000 words in 30 days. I usually have a few really good days where progress is easy and a few really bad ones where each word is a struggle. The average day has good and bad moments.

I may or may not participate in 2017. At this point, I have 6 novels written. Only one of them is truly publisher ready. So my real goal for 2017 is to get at least two more novels to the point where I can let others read them.

I may also start a search for an agent. While I have a list of publishers who

1. Accept fantasy novels
2. Take unsolicited manuscripts
3. Have an entirely online process for them

It would be nice to have an agent. Granted, they take a cut but they should be able to find markets for manuscripts.

Why I want to use a traditional publisher

When I first started writing and looking into publishing, a couple of decades ago, you either went with a traditional publisher or you went to a vanity publisher. Vanity publishers had a bad reputation and if you were serious about your work, you just didn't consider it.

That was some years ago and these days, self publishing is much more respectable. There's many places to go as well; Amazon has CreateSpace, there's Smashwords, and much much more.

But I would still like to go with a traditional publisher. Why?

Mostly, so I can work on writing and let someone else worry about

1. Covers
2. Layout
3. Editing
4. Distribution
5. Promotion

I'm certainly willing to do my share when it comes to editing and book promotion. I'd like input in the cover art however good covers are for graphic artists/designers. But I just don't really have the network in place to self-promote effectively. Nor do I have the confidence required to promote.

There are downsides to traditional publishing. It's simply going to take longer for the book to be available. I will see rejection letters on a regular basis. 

I may seek an agent, just because they are professionals that know the publishing market. They get a share which they will have earned.

It is a long road though. No matter what, I will try.

Download the magazine

The Rebirth issue of ArtGaze magazine is now available via GumRoad.

It is worth noting that I know 2 of the other 3 authors with short stories in this issue. Also that they have set this issue to pay as you like. So you can download it for free, or throw in a few dollars to keep the magazine going.

The last story in the issue is mine - The Gladiator. If you haven't gotten around to reading it before, now might be a good time.

More NaNo thoughts

One of the things that I consider important for my NaNo success is my NaNo writing buddy - Cami.

We both use Skype and send each other quick texts throughout the NaNo season.

We encourage each other, try to shame each other, and generally motivate each other to write enough words to stay on track. We've done word wars against each other. We ask each other random questions about plots.

We also complain about characters going off on tangents, how much we don't want to write today, why on earth do we do this to ourselves every year.

None of this may sound like much but it is part of my NaNoWriMo process and part of the reason that I've actually succeeded every year. The novels are never completed in that month, and they'll certainly need much editing at some point but they are 50,000 + words along by the end of the month.

November approaches

So does the annual event National Novel Writing Month.

It turns out that I'm addicted to this challenge. You would think have several novels that need editing would be enough for me. But no, I can't resist the call of NaNoWriMo.

Some years, I do little prep at all. I go into the challenge with one or more main characters in my head. A basic idea of what the story should be but little more than that.

In 2012, I had a story line that I'd been posting to tumblr that I decided was part of a much bigger story. So that year, I had some of the world worked out and a clearer picture of the main character than usual.

This year is similar. Earlier in the year, I wrote a short story "The Gladiator". A couple of people remarked that they were interested in what happens next. Expanding this to a novel gives me the opportunity to better develop the back stories of the characters and then send them off to change the world. So, I have characters and I know how the first part of the story goes.

This story is proving tricky

It's based on a dream. By the time I woke up, all that I could recall of the dream was a magic cauldron producing thousands of maggots, melting symbols off the cauldron which also caused the sorceress who was using it to be sealed into a golden helmet.

It makes for an interesting story premise and I'm sure I'll sort it out at some point. But so far, I'm on the second attempt at writing it and I'm not happy with the result yet. So I will probably finish this version and then try again.

Weird for me, usually by this point, I should have at least some story that I can work with. Not this time.

My new endeavour - Inkshares

I've been thinking about how to promote some of my novels that aren't likely to be accepted by a traditional publisher.

Then one of our local writing group started talking about inkshares.com. Think of a kickstarter for novels. If your novel can gain enough interest, Inkshares will act as a traditional publisher.

For my first Inkshares project, I decided to put up the first of my NaNoWriMo novels, currently titled "The Weather Maker".

When I first was thinking about the story I wanted to write, I was thinking along the lines of the classic fairy tale "East of the Sun, West of the Moon" in which the heroine has to travel to the four corners of the globe. By the time that I had written the first part of the story, it had transformed into something different.

Check out "The Weather Maker" on inkshares. Please follow the novel or follow my profile if all my writing interests you.

Writing is easy

But editing is hard.

Well, that's how it seems at the moment. Editing a novel takes far longer for me than the first draft did. I should really concentrate on making the critical changes and then ship one novel off to a publisher. Just so I don't have to see it.

Been trying to write a short story but it needs polish before publish.

Creativity is hard work

An essay

It’s really something that you want to do for yourself. Or sometimes, it something that you need to do for yourself.

I’ve gotten a bit behind in the sketch-a-day project. The last date is 1 March and that was after a couple of days of catching up with 4 sketches in one day instead of a sketch a day. But it is hard for me to come up with a subject to do each day. I’ll try to do some today though and start catching up.

Writing is also hard work. I’m currently editing The Fallen. I still intend to submit it to a publisher by the end of the year. It needs to be a bit longer - 100,000 words for a first fantasy book seems to be expected.

While working on this, I’ve realised that I can’t worry about if anyone will ever publish it. I can’t worry if anyone else will ever read it (though some people have read first draft versions, unlike ALL the rest of my novels). 

I need to write this novel (and all the others) to the best of my ability. I need to tell this story as best as I can. I need to be able to take pride in my own work, because there’s never any guarantee that others will appreciate it.

Time - A short story

“Once upon a time.” Doesn’t that sound like a typical and safe story start?

Of course, if you think that, then you don’t understand time. Time hates to be called into account. He hates to be mentioned in any form.

He also has a long memory and a taste for revenge. Beware of beginning any tale as “Once upon a time”.

You don’t believe me? You think time is merely a concept? A construction? Have you not heard the tale of Manuel the Bard? Nor that of Cassandra the Storyteller?

Sit and listen as I tell you more…

—

Manuel the Bard was the most amazing performer. He could sing and play on his guitar all the best known songs without flaw and wrote his own music on a regular basis.

He decided to compose a new piece celebrating the life and love of the Lady Feinal. Her beauty was still much discussed, even though she and her husband Prince Aekyn had lived and died more than 200 years before.

Unfortunately for Manuel, he began his ballad with “Once upon a time”.

Time took offence and then upon a revenge.

Manuel grew older and older. His sight was weak, his hearing gone, his fingers too curled to play an instrument. Still he lived. All his friends died and still he lived. In fact, he still lives though he wishes he did not.

—

Then there was Cassandra the Storyteller. She always held her audiences spellbound with her tales. She knew the old folk tales, tales of the gods, and tales of the travellers that had returned from seeing the world. All this and she had yet to reach her twentieth year.

Everyone in her town loved Cassandra. She was welcome in every home, and would be offered food and a bed during her visits. In exchange, she would entertain the household for the night.

There was a fateful evening where Cassandra started her story with “Once upon a time…”

Time struck back.

For Cassandra, the days suddenly began to fly by. By the end of a year, she had aged ten. Five years for the rest of the town was fifty years for Cassandra. During the sixth year after uttering the phrase, she had passed of old age. She looked to be eighty even though her real age was 26.

Never begin a story with “Once upon a time…” Time does not like that.

The Student and the Magician

(This story was based on this prompt from Seventh Sanctum. "This is a tale of personal transformation. The story is about a smooth magician. It takes place in a keep in a university town. The story climaxes with someone getting lost. A magical accident plays an important role.")

“Yo, Bailey, you going to the show tonight?”

“What show? I’ve been so deep in my coursework that if it’s not in one of my books, I haven’t noticed it.”

“Campus art gallery has a magician doing a show tonight. It’s 20 bucks to get in, part to pay for his appearance and part to pay for some renovations,” Ollie replied. “His show is supposed to be pretty good.” Ollie slapped at the book on the table. “And you really need a break, mate.”

“I must have been out of the dorms at least once today,” Bailey huffed.

“I might believe you’ve been out once this week. But not today or yesterday.” Ollie tapped Bailey on the head. “Your brain is going to be mush. Nothing but mush. Tell you what, I’ll shout the first drinks.”

“It’s in the gallery, Ollie. There may not be drinks,” Bailey protested. He tried to concentrate on the book in front of him.

“Of course there will be drinks. Where do you think the REAL money for the renovations is coming from? Overpriced beer, but you can get slapped with penalties if they catch you sneaking some in.” Ollie reached over and closed the book. “Come on, it will be fun.”

“Are you going to take no for an answer?”

Ollie gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’d rather you said yes, but I’m not going to drag you there. So, I guess I’ll have to find some hottie to buy a drink for.”

Bailey stood up and stretched. “Well, if you are going to twist my arm,” he said as he held out one arm. Ollie lightly grabbed the wrist and gave it a tiny twitch. “OUCH! All right, all right, I’m going,” Bailey laughed.

“The show starts in 2 hours. Time for you to change your clothes and we can grab a burger before heading for the gallery.”

“Change my clothes?”

“I swear you have been wearing the same shirt all week. Go on, get changed and we can take off.”

---

They arrived at the campus gallery half an hour before the show was due to start. As Ollie predicted, there were drinks available. The choices were overpriced beer or overpriced wine by the glass.

“I love the high class,” said Bailey as he grabbed the plastic cup.

“Don’t bitch about it. After all, this one is on me. When you buy a round, then you can complain about the plastic.” Ollie took a gulp of beer. “Besides, can you blame them? I’m sure they will have plenty to clean up as it is. They don’t need broken glass everywhere.”

“Dude, check out this sculpture. I swear, we should be art students. My baby sister could do better than this.” Bailey was staring at the twisted form on the pedestal. It was composed of ‘found’ objects, namely trash collected from around campus.

“You know why we aren’t art students. The odds of being successful at it are too low. I know I don’t want to spend four years just to flip burgers because I can’t find a job.”

“Not every business student finds a job,” protested Bailey.

Ollie shook his head. “Our odds are still way better. Especially if we do well at one of the special subjects in the last year.”

They wandered around, looking at the other art while waiting for the show to start. A couple of beers later and the art was looking much more interesting. Much of it was for sale, but neither of them had the inclination or cash to think about buying anything.

---

The magician was Malthos the magnificent. The show itself was pretty decent given that it was a small stage in an art gallery. Bailey was certain Malthos could do more, if he had a more elaborate place to set up. As it was, the magician had made a lot of things appear and disappear. His pretty assistant had been through the crowd a few times, much to the delight of the guys.

“Now for my next trick, I would like a volunteer from the audience.”

“Here’s where they grab a plant, wonder who it will be?” said Ollie in an undertone to Bailey.

Malthos scanned the audience a few times. Several people raised their hands but his eyes barely paused as he looked around. He pointed directly at Bailey. “You, sir. Would you kindly approach the stage?”

Bailey looked around but everyone was already applauding and the assistant had a firm grasp on his arm. “Right this way, if you don’t mind.”

“But I do mind. Take someone else.”

His protests fell on deaf ears. He gave up and let himself be led up on the stage.

“Now, kind sir, your name please.”

“Bailey.”

“And have we met before, Bailey?”

Bailey shook his head. “We definitely have not.”

“Now, all I need you to do is step into the magic cabinet, right over here. Will you do that for me, Bailey? Don’t worry about anything, just step inside.”

Bailey nodded and stepped into the box. He heard Malthos talking to the audience as he shut the door. He began to worry about his next exams. They were soon and Bailey wasn’t as prepared as he wanted to be. “There are times when I wish I were somewhere that exams didn’t matter. Grades didn’t matter. For that matter, somewhere that universities don’t even exist.”

Time passed and Bailey grew tired of standing. “Ready or not, here I come,” he said as he pushed open the door.

He was in a lush green forest. He looked back but the cabinet was gone. “Where am I? How do I get home?”

The Lights - a short story

Henry came home after work. He went into the kitchen to get the daily newspaper and then walked over to the living room light switch. When he flicked the switch, there was a brief flash and a pop as the light burnt out.


"Martha, could you get me a light bulb. This one in the living room just went out."


"I'm sorry, dear, but there aren't any left in the house. I had four extras but this is the fifth light bulb to go out this week. I should have bought some more at the store but I thought that after four bulbs in one week, we wouldn't need any more for a while."


Henry grumbled as he looked around for another place to read the paper. He finally settled in the dining room. Just as he settled down to read, there was another pop. One of the lights in the chandelier had died. Fortunately for Henry's temper, there was still enough light to read by.


The next day at work, Henry found the light in his office had gone out. He called the maintenance department, who promised to come right over and replace the bulb. It took two hours for maintenence to come and the office was too dark during that time for Henry to read any of the reports on his desk. Finally, there was a knock on his door, and a voice said, "Maintenance."


"What took you so long? I called your office three times, trying to find out where you were, and all I was told was that you were on your way." "Well sir, we had go out and buy lights, and we've spent the rest of the morning trying to catch up on replacing them. I don't know why but we never just have one light go out. It's always a lot of lights, and we never seem to keep enough extra bulbs in stock."


Henry thought about the coincidence of lights burning out, but soon he forgot about it. At lunchtime, down in the cafeteria, he run into Thomas Chambers, one of the company's best research and development men. He decided to pull Thomas's leg a little.


"Hey, Tom, I have a little problem for you to work on. Why is it that light bulbs always burn out in clusters?"


Tom chuckled, "Is this one of this new cosmic problems caused by the invasion of earth? Henry, you're going to have to do better then that if you want me to believe you. Next thing, you'll be telling me about a guy in a red suit, and a bunny that delivers eggs." They talked about other things while they finished their lunch and both of them forgot about light bulbs.


Tom's lab was working on an automatically fastening seatbelt. The work had just progressed to the final testing stage when the lab was hit by a plague of lights burning out during critical moments. First, there was the light over his desk, then the one one over the scaled down model of their new belt, then the light right over the full scale seat belt fastener just as they were trying to test it.


"Henry may have been just joking around last week but he may just have a point." Tom did a few quick calculations on his computer. “Definitely, the odds against a coincidence are almost astronomical."


Tom set up an experiment in his lab which had a series of ten lights automatically turned on and off, four times every hour. There were five cameras set up to film the lights. The cameras took a picture once every minute.


After a week, Tom developed the film. At first, the only thing he noticed about the lights was when one of them would burn out, another would go out within two more on/off cycles. Then he noticed an odd blur on one picture just before a light burned out. That blurry spot was far too small to be human and there were no animals allowed in the lab.


Tom replaced one of the cameras with a high speed movie film. This was set up to take pictures just before the light was due to come on. On this film, Tom got an image of a small creature that appeared just before the light burnt out. He spent the afternoon making a still picture from the film. He rang Henry on the office telephone. "Met me at the pub on the corner, after work. I've got something to show you."


Tom had been served a drink by the time Henry arrived at the bar. "Drink up," said Tom, "I think you'll need one before I show you what I brought." Henry ordered his drink and waited until he was half through before he spoke.


"Well, what's this about? I can't spend long here, Martha hates it when I'm late."


"Remember the problem about lights you talked about a couple of weeks ago?"


"Are you trying to get even for that simple joke?" "No, I found the answer. There is a reason why lights always burn out in groups." He handed Henry the picture he had developed that afternoon.


Henry stared at the picture. There was a small furry beast, standing on the ceiling of a room, doing something to a light. It had large hands and eyes. "Good fake. How did you do it, put a light on the floor done up like the ceiling?"


"It's real, I swear. Hard to believe but true."


"What is it? I've never seen anything like that before."


"You remember in world war II when a plane went wrong, they would blame gremlins? As far as I can tell, that's what this is. My theory is that they consume power, and after the war, they decided to go after the most common appliance they could find."


The men stared glumly at the picture. "What hurts is that I don't ever dare tell anyone about this. I'd never be believed again. But I've put traps around all the lights in the lab. Maybe, someday...when I've caught a specimen to show people."


"Yeh, but if they were easy to catch, wouldn't someone have done it by now."

Learning the best writing sprint length

I am an excellent procrastinator - truly first class. Add this to the fact that there is always a fascinating array of things that suck up your time on the internet and it makes trying to complete the NaNoWriMo challenge hard.

So I've been trying out a few things this year.
A friend was doing rewards after getting so many words out. I so totally cheated this system that it was worthless.

Next I tried the timed writing sprints. My first few were 15 minutes and I found that I could write a lot in 15 minutes if I knew that I had a break coming after.

The next day I tried 25 minutes. This was a little too long. I felt like my brain was going to try to leap out of my skull and flee.

So now I'm on 20. This is the right length for my writing. I'm just starting to flag a little but not badly.

NaNoWriMo is still tracking on schedule. If I push out a few extra 20 minutes sprints, I should finish a day or two ahead of the due date - 30 November.

Random Story

There were two weeks left to go. How could there only be two weeks? Was I ready? 

I opened the door leading to my domain. The first thing I heard was the scurrying feet of the rats.

Thank the gods, the rats were obviously breeding well. It’s one of the first things that the judges would look for. 

That was always one of the problems, starting a new dungeon. It wasn’t too hard to get it to the proper degree of mould and mildew. As long as the dungeon was below ground level, as long as there were cracks in the floors and walls, you’d get the mildew.

Vermin counts were always important for a dungeon. Not only rats, but roaches and spiders had to be plentiful if you wanted to win. I had no problem with getting a good roach population. Like the rats, as long as the guards threw scraps in the corners, the roaches would come.

Spiders though, I’ve been having problems with the spiders. I was hopeful that today’s shipment would make it much less obvious that there was only one spider actually living in my dungeon. That one was a jumping spider so it didn’t produce webs. Damn the gods.

I decided to inspect the equipment next. The rack had been a problem. It was so difficult to make it look well used and old when it had been installed new a mere six months ago. I had finally started making serious progress on ageing the rack by a combination of chicken blood and water. The vermin chewed at the leather bits, the water began damaging the iron. 

I was about to start my final inspection of the day when a guard entered the dungeon. “Master Flay? Your delivery is here.” The guard barely got out the words and then fled to the main part of the castle.

I went to get my delivery. It was half a dozen crates. They were very light, but they were meant to be so.

“I need you to sign here,” the delivery man handed me his clipboard.

“You must be joking. I won’t sign until I can inspect the goods and I’m not about to do that out here.” I looked around. Where was my useless assistant. “Boy!” I bellowed. “Come!”

It was a few moments later before I heard the footsteps. Damn. “I wanted Bobby,” I snarled as I turned around. 

“Sorry, Master. It’s Betty today.”

I hope Bobby will be there when the dungeon is judged. Betty goes for curls and bows, not at all the look of a dungeon assistant.

Mind you, Betty is far more blood thirsty, if we are doing some business.

“Right, Betty, I want you to help me carry the crates inside. We’ll open them up in the main chamber.”

“I’m not supposed to let this shipment go out of my sight,” protested the delivery man.

I grinned at him. “You are welcome to come with them. Betty and I won’t mind a bit.”

The dude backed off a few paces. “You promise to sign if the shipment is satisfactory?”

“I will.” I had to or the supplier may never fill my orders again. It’s so hard to find dungeon supplies these days.

Betty and I carried the crates inside. We opened one to find that the crate was nearly filled with fine webbing. A few of the spiders escaped, but that’s why I wanted to open the boxes inside, not out.

“You start putting the webs in the corners. I’ll go sign for the shipment and help.”

I went back out and signed for the crates. The webs would make the dungeon as close to perfect as I was going to have it this year.

The only other factor that is considered is the prisoners. We still only had two. The scruffy revolutionary, by now impossible to recognise under the tangled matt of hair. Half starved, scarred and he spent his days chattering to himself. The other was the witch. The rags left to her after five months no longer disguised the fact that she was middle aged. She had been in decent shape when she first arrived but now she just cackled madly.

In other words, my prisoners were everything I could hope for. It’s just that there are so few.

I envy Master Drawn. His dungeon is over 100 years old. Every cell has at least three prisoners and all the equipment has been repaired many many times. It’s so hard to compete against that sort of tradition.

Who knows, he has won every year for 10 years. Maybe the judges will look for something new.

At least now I have my spiders.

Having a moment

Reading along and thinking "I wonder what's next?"

Only to remember that it's your own book and you have to WRITE the next bit before you can read it.

How to be better at writing or drawing than 95% of the population

Very simple

Do NOT say I can't.

Just do it. At this point, you are already better than the vast majority because they *believe* they can't and so they won't even try.

Do it again. You are improving. Trust me, it may not be obvious at first. But it's true, every time you work on a skill, it does improve.

Keep at it and know that you are a creator.

That's it.