Tag: fiction

To Write, You Must Read

To write, you must read. Simple right? Like any skill, it requires building those muscles, learning from example, immersion in a new concept, but as I started to brainstorm a new novel project, my tank was empty. I had concepts, settings, character types, but the world building through dialogue and metaphor…it was pretty bland. Not what I expected!

When I began work on Udal Cuain in the summer of 2016, the story poured out of my mind. I had to carry a notebook around, for the small pieces of plot, personality, and setting I found welling up throughout my day. Names were easy to determine, as well as the dramatic conflicts. Why does it feel so different? Well, I remembered something when I picked up Six Crimson Cranes by Elizabeth Lim – to be a good writer, you must read other stories. In 2016, I wasn’t sewing, knitting, or gardening; I was reading in my spare time. I was still watching movies and TV shows regularly, instead of how I spend my time now watching far too many YouTube videos.

Although I have read a lot of books, it’s past tense. I have not been a consistent reader for years now. Honestly, since 2021, my reading has dropped off. We moved from a town with an incredible library to a borough with a library that is so underwhelming, and on the verge of losing its funding, that I have not been reading new things, nor have I discovered new authors. I have a few books on my TBR list, books that I have bought with the intention of reading, but instead have become bookshelf decor. It’s disappointing.

I used to have a Kindle, where I would buy books on sale for $2.99, sometimes splurging on a full-price one if it was intriguing enough. I would borrow a book a month, and browse the free section for something fun to pass the time. A book I remember finding on a sale that became an absolute favorite of mine was ‘The Shadowy Horses’ by Susanna Kearsley. I found this book initially in high school, reading it before work and during breaks at my summer job. I found Susanna Kearsley again, books upon books of her work at my local library in Meadville. They had a fantastic selection, with a monthly rotation of featured books and new authors. This is how I found Elizabeth Lim – her debut novel, ‘Spin the Dawn’, was a featured YA selection with a stunning cover that drew me in.

I miss the rotation of books and the lack of consumerism. The books were picked by the librarians, books that I could borrow and return with the option of buying. Now, if I want to find something new, the best affordable option is Thrift Books, but it lacks the in-person ambience of a library. Kindle helped me find some great twisty thrillers during the time that the mid-2010s. Remember when Gone Girl, Girl on the Train, The Wife Between Us, and An Anonymous Girl? I used to love these twisty books. There was a fantastic emergence of fantasy around this time, too. I remember finding endless YA fantasy series on my library shelves – I miss that time in my life, diving from adventure to the next. A good story connects us, inspires us. I forgot how important it is to be immersed in stories to be a good storyteller.

So I have picked up reading again. I am forcing myself to put down my projects, and the Animal Crossing, which I didn’t play before when I was reading often, and to read again. It’s going okay. The moments I give myself to sit and read are magical, like I remember, and I think I’ve already had better ideas since reading again. I wish I had kept a list of the books I read in the 2010s; it’s a bit of a blur. Maybe, with a little research, I can find them again and share my favorites with you?

I hope you are enjoying your summer (or winter if you live in the southern hemisphere) and that you have a good story to escape into today. Thanks for checking out my corner of the internet today. I hope to see you again. ❤

My Super Nova Girl

Daily writing prompt
When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?
View all responses

Okay, so technically the math of this doesn’t quite work, because Zenon: Girl of the 21st Century came out when I was six, but I believe the Magic School Bus Gets Lost in Space was released before this, so I’m counting it. My first dream life plan, before fashion design became my dream, was to become an astronaut and live in a space station like Zenon. Her space station was in orbit above the Earth, so easily accessible that they were a shuttle flight away. The space station was a cool futuristic community with hologram teachers, neon and metallic clothing, interesting interior design, a cafeteria with windows that displayed the glory of outer space, and a view of the Earth below. They had zap pads that were a precursor to our modern-day smartphones. Zenon was resourceful, dumpster diving and DIY-ing jewelry, clothing, and art. It was so inspiring!

This dream was quickly brought to reality in 2003 when I watched the Columbia space shuttle explode. Space was not the perfect playground I imagined as a kid; it was dangerous, not glamorous, and certainly not as simple as a plane ride upwards. The Magic School Bus originally sparked this interest in space. Ms. Frizzle’s adventure across the galaxy made it seem easy! The bus transformed into a space shuttle and quickly travelled from the Earth through the inner planets of Venus and Mercury, passing the sun and moving beyond to the Moon, Mars, Saturn, Jupiter, Neptune, Uranus, and don’t fight me, Pluto. I will not comply. Pluto should be a planet. They easily landed on planets with ready-to-go pressurized air packs for exploration. How fun would that be? All in one day of school, it was the length of a field trip, not a 100+ years of travel. Wild.

It was not the scary vacuum of Gravity nor the challenge of Apollo 13. It seemed like a safe and wonderful place to exist. But as the star burns up in an explosion, so does the dream of life as a Super Nova girl at Protazoa’s concert in space. Before Aespa’s Supernova, this song was my only y2k-inspired Supernova jam. I hope you enjoy it. Have you ever watched Zenon: Girl of the 21st Century?

Character Design: Mabel Mora and Her Sweaters

Going into the show, Only Murders in the Building, I knew the concept of the show was intriguing. It’s set in New York City, in a classic building, where whodunnit murders take place which the trio solve through their of the time true-crime podcast. The age difference between Selena Gomez and the other two leads Martin Short and Steve Martin gave the story layers from the trailer alone. I was pleasantly surprised by the character design and the costuming which layered depth to each character’s story, like a real person would express through the clothing items they choose.

The most relatable to my taste is Mabel Mora because she not only “knits” as a plot device for “Bloody Mabel” but also wears clothing that looks like someone who knits. Her knitwear throughout season one looks like pieces made by someone who enjoys knitting. They are not your typical off-the-rack sweaters and appear to be knit by hand instead of machine. What makes it feel real to me is the weight of the yarn compared to the knitting needles shown in her apartment. The needle she says would be her self-defense weapon of choice is a thicker needle, for bulky weight yarn. My guess would be somewhere between a size 11 and size 13 needle which is appropriate for bulkier projects.

The wooden knitting bowls, the needles, and the unusual designs of the sweaters featured in this scene speak to the craftsmanship of a hand-knit sweater and place Mabel’s knitting needle in her world. They appear to be knitting which is not always the case in TV shows or movies that feature acts of knitting, the best example of this being Gromit from the Wallace and Gromit series.

Although we don’t see this craft as often in Mabel’s scenes as we see her paint or sketch, the evidence of this hobby is peppered throughout the show from her infamous dream, her carrying the needle in her bag when she jumps tie-dye guy or what lands her the moniker “Bloody Mabel” in season two. Movies and TV shows of the last five years have fallen into a telling not showing manner of character development. For example, in the 2022 remake of Persuasion, Anne Elliot breaks the fourth wall to tell views that she and Frederick Wentworth are “exes” instead of developing the story through interactions, long drawn-out glances as we see in Emma (2020), or Pride and Prejudice (2005 & 1995).

Only Murders in the Building did not take the bait, and instead showed what a 20-something knitter would wear in New York City winter – her handmade sweaters made with yarn colors that look like you could buy them from your local yarn shop. It was a clever character hobby to give Mabel as knitting was growing in popularity with people my age and beyond in the last decade, truly exploding in popularity with the rise of crochet in the 2020s. Every sweater she wears in seasons one and two looks like something you could find a pattern for on the site Ravelry.

It was such a great way to add nuance to Mabel’s character, because how many characters in TV shows knit that aren’t older? She’s a girl with a troubled and complex history, you would expect her to be a party girl or have a dark streak, like the characters of Effie Stonem, Serena Van Der Woodsen, or Jenny Humphrey, but instead, she paints, she knits, she is relatable in a plot that can be quite over the top compared to reality. Mabel is a character I can relate to, which pulled me in from the start to a show that doesn’t feel like it is a modern TV show because of how thoughtful the writing is. It never feels like a cash grab and that has given me hope that maybe this time of reboots and CGI reliance will go out of fashion for stories that once again feel handmade, like a good hand-knit sweater.

Have you watched Only Murders in the Building? Did you like it?

Editing My Manuscript from 2017

Yes, I finally did it. I found the manuscript and shifted through the 250+ pages to wrangle this story of years past down to a neat 187 single-spaced. It was a mental challenge to revive these characters I knew so well and remember who they were and why they were important to me. More important to me than I think I gave them credit in years past. Saoirse, Kinvara, and Biorn were characters I felt connected to because they were just as lost as I was. They had life toss them about, treading water for meaning in the dramatic family civil war they found themselves in. It mirrored life. It foreshadowed the losses I knew were to come and helped me sort out the mysteries of my own life in an imagined Viking Age Ireland full of shifting alliances and invaders.

After all this time, why now? I have two other novel ideas I want to explore yet I felt unable to write again until Udal Cuain was laid to rest. The leviathan of the past which helped me forward when I was stuck. I believe I needed creative closure. It was a manuscript without an ending. I revised and revised the story in 2018, taking it into darker waters. It became too dark for me to continue as my life was moving from darkness towards the light once again, there were things from history and Irish Celtic culture, as well as Norse culture I was unwilling to interact with anymore.

When I was first working on this project, I was steeped in historical research from my independent study about Early Medieval Ireland and fresh from watching the television show Vikings. It was a time when I was hiding behind a shell, numb from unresolved trauma that I was a shell of myself. Hidden away from my true self, masking and unhealthy. The violence of this show and the research on Irish pagan rituals were something I ignored, even though I cannot think of them without shuttering now. These were things, details I needed to remove from my own writing to find my own peace. Not to censor it but instead to be authentic to who I am. If you want to learn more, this novel will just be a stepping stone for more research because I cannot in good conscience tell a story with such evil and bring that evil to you the reader.

The bulk of my revisions were just that, removing things I no longer felt comfortable with to have the story reflect who I am now.

Being in the present, and seeing through the time how I have found peace in my personal life since writing Udal Cuain in 2017, allowed me to give it an ending. I didn’t know where to leave my characters when I was walking through a season of confusion. I see now that I had to read more of my own story before I could write their story.

Why am I sharing this novel on my blog instead of shopping it around to publish or publishing it as an E-book? I don’t know if this novel is something at this time that I am pleased with as a representation of who I am as a writer. It was a story that I needed to write for myself but not something I felt like it was a story I wanted to have out there for people to rip apart. I don’t feel ready to put it to market so I am sharing it on this blog for you the reader to read if you would like to do so.

Analyzing how I wrote the story and talking through the novel planning process has been more rewarding than seeing it as a published book. It was a process that gave me meaning then and still rewards me now for the things I learned through trying something new. When I started jotting down ideas for Udal Cuain I was a non-fiction writer, preferring essays and historical research as a medium to write, as well as a creative expression like poetry. World building? Not a thing I thought I could do, nor did I think that creating characters and crafting dialogue would be as fun as I thought. If you have an idea, go for it! You will surprise yourself by what the discipline of writing and creating will do for your mind. It’s challenging, confidence-building, and relaxing to escape into a world of your imagination. I believe you can do it!

Thank you, reader, for supporting me and viewing those Udal Cuain novel writing posts. It gave me the encouragement to go back and finish what I started many years ago.

The Curse of Rusty Twill

Like a slinking shadow, the smell crawled through the air, around corners, through doorways into my senses. A stench. Burnt, rotten, the stank of a memory I wanted to forget. Alive in the darkness, its origin story, a wasteland of fashion monsters of dye. But what was it that was haunting me? Is its origin or its nightmare of an olfactory bouquet?

It began one innocent day, the day I met the monster of rust and cotton. On an innocent bolt it dared to rest its head, in the middle of the broad day, have it no decency? It was a fabric unlike any other. It called to me. Upon its skin was a color shift, a creasing of sorts that changed it from a monotone to a cacophony of lighter wrinkles depending on its movement. Oh, little fool you were then, innocent, blind. Dreaming dreams of Japanese raw denim and its way of embossing life on its fiber with wear and time. This was no Japanese denim. This cotton twill, was its foil, a disappointment wrapped in the innocence of Hobby Lobby’s fabric aisle. A devil creeping.

But our devil wasn’t creeping, it was clever. It hid its true form, pretending to be normal, a kind soul of twill and natural fiber. A fabric you can count on for pants, jackets, a workhorse, a staple. These were my dreams before the nightmare began.

Maybe it achieved consciousness? An impatient menace, you waited in my fabric cabinet as we packed up and slumbered in our storage unit as time passed by. Did you act out because you thought you were forgotten?

How could I forget how we met? It was one golden summer day, a day full of promise. A new life began in 2×4 frame and carpeted meadows that roam my floor. A washer and a new dryer. As I invited you out of your slumbering resting place, your weave was rough, and a little stuffy, but I thought nothing of it.

That was your warning sign, a marker of what you are. We walked together. I carried you down the steps. I wanted to keep you safe. Gently I washed you with my hypo-allergenic laundry soap. There were no corners cut. I welcomed you into the fabric family but this was no ordinary wash. Something changed about you in that water. You became a monster. Swampy. A whiff smacked me across the face.

In horror, I smelled the washer. A stench emanated from the room. What could it be? My mind raced – did something crawl into the washer and die? Shaking off the fear, I placed you into the dryer which was a deal with Winifred Sanderson. A cauldron of heat and dry air transformed you into a thing of scent not even a dog could love.

With the dryer’s final squeal, I plucked you from your transformation machine. A stink with strength. Fortitude and funk. Your form was different. Your threads were softer, malleable, and even toned. But your evil had spread, and with fear, I pulled towels from the dryer. They became one of your covens, in a soft amber tone. The smell, it was pungent, accosting.

Lost in thought I carried you upstairs and contemplated my fate. Was it the washer or perhaps the dryer? That old, squeaky dryer. What kind of mayhem did the dryer succumb to in its former life? Was it contagious? I shook the thoughts from my mind and tossed the towels back in the hamper, encrusted in a stench that made me question whether they were washed with soap or copper pennies.

But you, the problem, the evil in rust and twill, you, I placated with Febreze and time. I brought you back to my sewing studio and waited. Instead of getting to know the Febreze and fresh air, you woke me up to the stench of your fibers wafting from the room. You evangelized your rancid agenda and spread it throughout my room. A beast of smell, there you sat proudly, smirking at the work of your hands.

You were an enemy beyond my wildest dreams. A creature lurking in the depths of the nose. An odor I could taste, it lingered, it languished in my mind into paranoia. And that was what it was living with you after your second wash, you monster.

I tried to live with you, accept you for your true form but the stench of your dye was a war cry of all that comes from you. You lead the charge of fashion’s destruction of our peace. Rust is your form. Toxic, destructive, you had to go.

I thought you were going to win. Even with you out of my room, your smell lingered. A nightmare with no end. Burnt, acrid, copper pennies, a smell that dries out the senses like the desert of Fury Road. Why must you torment me?

You gaslit me. A smell that lived on. The towels held on to your evil. Third wash, a scream at the growing wall of your fortress. A sinister scent crept, it jumped from the towels to anything washed them with. An evil baked in. Will this nightmare end? What do you want from me? An enemy without logic but hungry for conquest.

The stench was set into the fiber of your being and I played right into your trap for revenge. Foolishly I gave you more to feed on, as I looked in sadness at the towels helplessly smelly lying on the floor. Could they be saved? How far would your campaign of olfactory pain carry on?!

Your rusty threads were a root system taking hold of me. I could feel them choking me in my dreams. A smell that could not be forgotten. A creature unwilling to die. An assassin of fiber. Mutated from fast fashion’s evil realm.

One day, when io began to lose all hope, a bright light, like a sword dropping from the heavens came to me. A plan. I hurried before you could imprison me forever in your devilish arms, running towards the light. I had to dispose of you and your ground zero stank.

With all my might, I held back your reach, your scaly hands from taking the towels with you. A splash of white vinegar. A bottle of vinegar. I drowned your sinister stench, I killed it in the name of all that is good and pleasing, fresh air rejoiced for the freedom to exist again.

Although you are dead and buried somewhere far away, I worry you’ll come back with your creeping stench. Rusty twill of my nightmares…I think you might be alive.

To Rest and Not Wonder

Toss and turn.

Crash and hiss.

Waves break upon my mind’s own sigh.

I see distortion, of water in senseless motion.

I want to find an oasis,

the peace of pillow and sheets.

To rest and not wander.

Wondering whether I meant anything to you?

It’s rising in my mind.

Will I find a break in the tide?

Pondering my queue of regret, does 1:30’s Captain sail forward or back?

History wakes so I can’t sleep. Missing you.

The idea of you,

seems bigger than my eye shut.

But I’m a princess when you’re a pirate.

My sword, my cuts, sink our hope of steady winds.

Will I find a break from this tide?

I see distortion when words don’t take motion.

It’s bigger than the wind in the sails.

Hair in my eyes, hiding my hunger, my hunger to cut lines.

1:30’s Captain by the water of senseless fortune

I want an oasis!

The peace of pillow and sheets.

I miss you.

Novel Timelines Are My Achilles Heel

I mentioned in My NanoWrimo 2023 that I am working on a new fiction idea, a novel to be exact. I’ve been pushing myself to write and not worry about being perfect, to let the ideas flow and take life on the page. The polish can be applied later. It’s been a good strategy so far. I have my intro into the world, a general idea of the setting and the characters. I’m meeting them and their world. I have a clear idea of what I want this story to say and where it is going to end. What I am struggling with is the timeline. I have the ending, but the beginning is getting a bit fuzzy.

Story Structure

In my previous project Udal Cuain, I decided to join the story after the damage had been done so to speak. There was an in-media res structure to the timeline with flashbacks and characters processing the aftermath of an exile. It was a definite form of the story. The plot was handcuffed to certain storytelling devices to make it work. I don’t want to do that again. I don’t want my writing to be one note. This is where I am at a crossroads, do I start at the beginning? Do I start in the beginning-ish middle? How many flashbacks do I plan for?

The other thing I am uncertain of is whether I tell the story in first person and then how many perspectives should I include? In Udal Cuain there was an ensemble of main characters, do I narrow it down to one perspective for this one? It’s a lot to consider.

My Plan

My plan at the moment, to keep writing but not get ahead of myself has been to write notes above and below what I have written in my first draft to build out the story beforehand and afterward the chapters I have. I’ve denoted things I want in separate chapters. I’ve started pausing when the ideas are getting ahead of my mind and leaving a note to add more detail where I’d like to come back and elaborate further.

I’ve started planning out character names, and settings cues. This is the first time I’ve jumped in and sketched out the characters after. I had two whole chapters written before I had to commit to placeholder names for the sake of clarity.

With this in place, I’m planning to pause my writing to sketch out a summary from beginning to end that I can use to orient myself within the story and decide where to start. This intimidates me a bit because I’ve never sketched out a timeline from start to finish before. With Udal Cuain I was uncertain where the story was going in the end and it showed. This one has a definite ending.

Writing Music

I’m excited to have a writing playlist taking shape! Music is such a big inspiration for me. The music pulls ideas out of me and without good, expressive music my writing can be a bit flat. Currently, my favorite writing albums to pull from are Tomorrow X Together’s minisode 1: Blue Hour, The Name Chapter: Temptation, minisode 2: Thursday’s Child, Aespa’s Drama, Stray Kids’ Rockstar, Five Star, and No Easy.

How much TXT is on the list surprises me because I’m not a MOA or an avid listener more of a fringe TXT fan. There is something about the melodic nature of their songwriting that has made me happy and focused. SKZ is obvious, 3RACHA just gets me. Their creativity overflows from the music. Drama by Aespa is a sleeper. I didn’t like the new album upon release but it’s good for getting my creative juices flowing.

Goals by the End of 2023

  • Create a working timeline, with a clear start and finish.
  • Determine character names
  • Write a few more chapters, don’t lose momentum.
  • Be a diligent note-taker to keep the ideas flowing.
  • Determine the setting.
  • Have fun while doing it.

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