Nanowrimo... coming soon!

So... I've decided to make another attempt at nanowrimo, only because I actually have a story.
And by that, I mean that I have characters (five of them so far) and I have a story arch, and I have a beginning, and I have an ending (I think. It might change as it goes), and I have something of a muddly idea of a middle. So that, I hope, is going to make it just that little bit more easier to keep going after last year's fiasco.

To be fair, I had a great idea last year. I actually was on target up to about somewhere in the second week. And then it happened. I realised that I just didn't know enough of about what I was trying to write about. I just couldn't continue writing after that. Sigh. Don't worry though, that story is still in the pipeline... I will get back to it when I feel that I know enough! (Also, when I have time to go and research).

This year's story... will not face that problem because I am writing what I love to read the most. Fantasy. I don't think it's going to be quite under the epic category (I'm not sure what fits there) but it's gonna be an exciting adventurous story and if I get stuck... I'll just re-read a favourite for inspiration! The thing that is going to be a challenge though is this whole world-building thing. I suck at it. I suck at making decisions as to why this should happen and why it should not. What kind of magical structure it should be? Mysterious or rule-based? Inherent or learnt? (I'm leaning towards inherent)
Argh, and this whole plotting thing? Sigh. I'm so seriously a panster. Then again, who knows? I might find that it's easier to write with all this background and structure in place. We'll see.



At any rate, Sommer Leigh is inviting YOU to be a NaNoWriMo champion. 

What does that mean? 
It means even if you aren't going to join in the fun, you'll be standing by the sidelines and cheering us on.
How do I do that?
Simple. See that linky list down there? Take a few minutes of your time to visit each of those blogs and leave and encouraging comment - ESPECIALLY on posts that sound something like this: "MY NOVEL SUCKS SO MUCH I'M GOING TO GIVE UP!"
What if I'm taking part?
If you're taking part, add your name and link to the list! And don't forget to pop by at your fellow wrimos blogs and leave sparkly writer dust! Add them to your buddy list so that their wordcounts can cheer you on! (I'm natanna at the site) Most of all, have fun. Write fast. Write with abandon. You have the rest of the year to edit. Just get those words out.
(Also, check back here on Nov 1 for a special post...)

#REN3: Coach Thief (part 4)

Read:
Part one
Part two
Part three


Prompt: There is a new arrival in town
Wordcount: 590

---

“Look, Cousin Randall. We can easily explain ourselves,” Jean started.

“Why do we need to explain anything to him?” Jane interrupted, pulling away from him. “You’ve already told him enough as it is.”

“I barely said anything!”

“Oh,” she lowered her voice, “telling him we’re engaged isn’t enough, is it? Next you’ll be telling him my family name.”

Randall cleared his throat.

Jean glanced at him. “Come on, Jane. Be reasonable.”

“Reasonable! About what?”

“About the gun in his hand?”

“He won’t shoot. Will you, Randall?” she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

“Well. Now. Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?” Randall said, lowering his gun.

“We just got engaged a week ago,” Jean said, ignoring Jane’s glares. “And Bill’s a new hire.”

Randall tugged at his collar. “Well, congratulations again then, but how could Bill not know? Population about Roundeli is probably much less than our three hundred and thirty three in Renaissance and I’m sure an engagement in the Johnson family would be a pretty big do…”

“Ah, that’s because, we didn’t exactly…”

“Look, Cousin Randall, let’s be reasonable,” Jane glared at Jean. “I made a mistake. Jean here has cleared it up. Can’t we leave it at that?”

“We could, I suppose,” he said slowly. “But there seems to be a lot of confusion about here.”

“Oh, no one’s confused,” she said brightly. “The coach belongs to Jean, and I didn’t recognise his new coachman. Jean here, and the coachman, of course, will follow you back to your place, where I’m sure they will have a wonderful stay in all the comforts of Renaissance. I will have to be heading back to Assart. Have to return the horse, you know. Is that all settled?”

Jean shrugged.

“As settled as can be,” Randall finally said, throwing Jean a look that clearly meant ‘you had better tell me all about it when she is gone’.

“Wonderful. I’ll be on my way then.” Jane made her way to her horse, Jean trailing after her.

“Stay out of trouble,” Jean said wryly, as he gave her a peck on the cheek.

“You better keep your mouth shut,” Jane warned him as she mounted the horse.

“Will you be in Assart when I head back to Roundeli?” he asked.

“I don’t know yet. We will have to see the situation then. I will try to write to you as soon as I can settle things.”

The four of them turned as the pounding of hooves carried over the wind.

Randall squinted in the hot sun. He could make out two riders coming in with speed.

“Plenty of visitors to Renaissance today,” he commented.

Jane leaned forward, her mouth tight. “Time to run for it,” she hissed even as she spurred her horse and galloped away.

Jean watched as one of the riders peeled away, turning to follow Jane’s tracks.

The other rider rode up to the post office.

“What was Jane Heriot doing here?” he asked roughly.

“That wasn’t Jane Heriot. I think you were mistaken,” Jean said. He gripped the railing tightly to keep his hands from shaking.

“Don’t lie to me, boy. I can recognise that redhead from more than a hundred paces. Is her pa here?”

“Nope, no one called Heriot in this town, right Randall?”

Randall nodded. “Those kind stay over in Heriot’s Pass where they belong.”

The man rumbled with laughter. “Outlaws never stay where they belong, mister.”

Randall stared at Jean speculatively. The young man had a lot of explaining to do.

---

And we are done!

#bookreview: Character Development from the Inside Out

Character Development from the Inside Out by Scott Morgan

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


If what you’re looking for is a book that pulls out from your own subconscious the basic building blocks of how to create compelling characters, then Scott Morgan’s Character Development from the Inside Out is a great resource.

Character Development is a well-structured resource book that leads you a step at a time through subjects like the necessity of creating believable and relevant characters, how characters and their reactions really drive the story (even if it’s a plot-driven novel), getting to know your characters, types of characters and, of course, how to actually build your character. He relates the process with how an artist draws a figure model - from the bare bones outwards.

Morgan also drills down into three main genres - defined as heroic, commercial and literary fiction - to discuss typical heroes and villains that are often found and gives keys to understanding how they were created and how it can be applied in developing your own characters.

Following his points is not difficult - Morgan relates his key points to everyday life observations and our own natural reactions to the people around us. To further drive it home, he then links these to characters in different novels which makes you sit up and go “hey - I kind of knew that. Why didn’t I realise it before?”

This is one resource I will probably be reading again for refreshers.


View all my reviews

Note: I received this a review copy of this book from Scott Morgan.

#Fridayflash: Waiting

She sighed, watching as pink and orange fingers stretched across the sky above her. The smell of synbatec* wafted over the salty breeze; like old newspapers, she had once told him. He sank onto the mat next to her. Propping up her head with her left hand, she seemed to align herself to him, her eyes devouring that forbidden mystery cloaked in softening half-shadows. Engines roared to life in the distance - work would be starting in an hour or so, but she was wastopaneer** now. Free.

The minutes ticked by and she watched him breathing, wondering when he would say something. If he would say something. She shifted her body again and again. Finally pulling up the edge of the rattan mat, she brushed at the sand until she found an offending stone. She walked to the edge of the water. A flick of her wrist and the stone skipped out into the horizon, finally sinking in a slow wave. Dusting the grit off her hands, she sat back down on the mat wondering what would happen next.

He was moving now, sniffing at the air. She sniffed tentatively with him, wrinkling her nose when she caught it too. The look on his face now was similar to the one he had when he had told the waiter off for spilling the coffee yesterday.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise…” she blurted, her hands reaching towards him in supplication, waiting for the cutting words, bitter sneers.

Instead, he caught her hands, pulling her tight against him, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Tacise***,” he whispered. It doesn’t matter.

She caught her breath as he leaned in; her eyes widening.

His first kiss was the sweetest thing she had ever tasted.

---

Wordcount: 289  

* a synthetic perfume
** someone who has just been retrenched
*** Don't worry.


---
From Rachael Harrie's Third Campaigner Challenge:

Write a blog post in 300 words or less, excluding the title. The post can be in any format, whether flash fiction, non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc. The blog post should show:

• that it’s morning, 

• that a man or a woman (or both) is at the beach

• that the MC (main character) is bored

• that something stinks behind where he/she is sitting

• that something surprising happens.

Just for fun, see if you can involve all five senses AND include these random words: "synbatec," "wastopaneer," and "tacise."   (NB. these words are completely made up and are not intended to have any meaning other than the one you give them).

I know the title is rather unimaginative. I suck at titles.

Edit: I knew I forgot something. I'm #78 on Rachael's linky if you feel the urge to vote for me. :)

A to Z, Intense Debate, Character Development and a Launch Party!

A to Z
The A to Z Challenge now has its own blog here: Blogging from A to Z April Challenge. Click join to become a Friend of the Alphabet!

IntenseDebate
I don't know if you've noticed, but I've recently installed IntenseDebate as my new commenting system. I saw it from over at J.L. Campbell's blog and thought oh hey, that looks snazzy! And it solves the reply-to-comment problem I was having. So I hope it works =]
I noticed that it seemed to revert to the old commenting system sometime during the day. It could be because the new Blogger interface is not supported (the how-to guides were based on the old one) so I've switched back. Tweet/e-mail me if you have problems commenting so I can figure out whether to stay with it or not.
Edit: I figured out at least one thing wrong... IntenseDebate does not show up if you use IE. BOO, IE!! It apparently shows up fine on Safari and Firefox so far. 

Character Development from the Inside Out
I don't know what took me so long to get onto goodreads but I'm seriously loving it! I've just received a pdf promo copy of Scott Morgan's book, Character Development from the Inside Out for review purposes as part of the WriteHook-A-Palooza event. It's good stuff - the review should be up probably by Saturday. (I'd say Friday, but I've got the Third Campaigner's Challenge scheduled then).

Open Minds Virtual Launch Party
I'm taking part in Susan Kaye Quinn's upcoming virtual book launch on November 1st. I "met" Susan recently via our triberr group, Writer Warriors, and am looking forward to reading her novel!
The party involves:

• posts on #keepingOPENMINDS
• reviews of Open Minds
• guest posts by Susan! 

You can sign up here if you want to join in the fun (the guest post option is now closed, though). I'll be posting my review on 1st Nov itself so remember to check back here AND at her site on 1/11/11 to party with us. :)
She's hosting an ARC giveaway right now so hop on over to enter. Two paper ARCs are up for grabs!

Here's the blurb to keep you entertained:

When everyone reads minds, 
    a secret is a dangerous thing to keep.

Sixteen-year-old Kira Moore is a zero, someone who can’t read thoughts or be read by others. Zeros are outcasts who can’t be trusted, leaving her no chance with Raf, a regular mindreader and the best friend she secretly loves. When she accidentally controls Raf’s mind and nearly kills him, Kira tries to hide her frightening new ability from her family and an increasingly suspicious Raf. But lies tangle around her, and she’s dragged deep into a hidden world of mindjackers, where having to mind control everyone she loves is just the beginning of the deadly choices before her.

#REN3: Coach Thief (part 3)

Read part one and part two.

Prompt: Relationships unravel or strengthen, a long-kept secret is revealed
Wordcount: 574

---

“Did I? I don’t seem to recall.”
“So you be a liar and a thief.”
“How dare you accuse me…”
“You don’t have problems accusing everyone else.”
“Let go of me, you… you…”
The verbal volley made Jean’s head spin. He was just glad no guns were making their appearance just yet, though he could see the man’s trigger finger twitching involuntarily.
“Hold on a minute here,” he interjected, stepping in between them. “What are you doing here, Jane? Were you following me?”
“Oh Jean, I saw someone drive off with the coach and I couldn’t find you, so I came after him.”
“Then why did you say it was yours?” the man growled. “Who are you? And I don’t like being lied to, woman.”
“I…”
“She’s my fiancee,” Jean said quickly, shooting a look at her.
“And who might you be?”
“I’m Jean Johnson. I’m here to visit with my cousin Randall.”
“That the truth now,” he replied, rubbing at his stubble. Jean wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, so he just nodded.
“Well, then. This is a pickle.”
“What is?”
“I always thought Cousin Jean was a girl.”
Jean laughed. “My mother was French.”
“And that makes it alright?”
“No, that makes it normal - in some faraway places, like the Roundeli Mountains.” Jean had a sneaky suspicion that this would turn out to be his cousin. The man looked less tense now, starting to smile genially at Jane. “And you are…”
“Cousin Randall.”
“Ah. Glad to have finally met you, Cousin.”
“Likewise.”
The two men shook hands.
“Done with your letter writing, Bill? You’ll have to take the coach round to Cousin Randall’s place,” Jean addressed his coachman.
“All done, sir.” Bill purchased a couple of stamps and left the letter with the postmaster.

Noticing Jane’s pinched face, Jean hung back as Randall and Bill headed toward the door.
“Cousin Randall, you two go on ahead. I just need to have a talk with Jane for a little while.”
Not waiting for a reply, Jean turned on his fiancee. “What’s wrong now?” he hissed.
“I thought you didn’t want to announce our engagement just yet!” she said frantically. “Did you forget?”
“Forget? No - he looked like the family-man type and I didn’t know who he was. And it’s the truth anyway. You are going to be my wife, aren’t you?”
She smiled coyly angling her face up for a kiss. He kissed her on the nose.
“What if your mother finds out?” she whispered.
He put his arms around her waist. “We’ll steal the letter before it reaches her. Don’t worry, Jane. We’ll sort it out somehow. Practically though, what do we do now?”
“I’ve got to get back to Assart before Bob throws a fit.”
Jean looked out the window. “You had better leave soon if you want to make it before sundown.”
“Yes. But I’ll miss you.”
“You can ride up any day you want, missy.”
She giggled. Hand in hand, they headed out the door.

Randall was leaning against the coach inspecting his gun, the brim of his hat pulled low over his eyes.
“I do have a question, Cousin Jean.”
“What’s that, Cousin Randall?”
“If this here woman’s your fiancee,” he tilted the barrel carelessly at Jane. “How come this here coachman of yours doesn’t know that you’re engaged? And why would she not know your own coachman?”
Jean held her close, protectively.

---

Tune in next Wednesday/Thursday for the grand finale! :)

Edit: Read part four here.

Three exciting things

After the release of Letters to my ten year old self, I received an e-mail saying that I won a book in a Goodreads giveaway:

Isn't that exciting! I've never read any of Sandra Brown's stuff, but I'm looking forward to it. It should be arriving in about 4 - 6 weeks, according to the site.
Here's an excerpt of the blurb, taken off the goodreads page:
 

Hammond Cross wants to be the district attorney, and for years he has proven himself to be a man of high principles and irreproachable character. When his investigations turn up evidence of the corruption of local tycoon Lute Pettijohn, Hammond has no doubt about what is the right thing to do--even when his own father is under suspicion. However, this simple debate becomes complicated when Pettijohn is murdered and Hammond's alibi is a night of forbidden passion with the suspected murderess, Dr. Alex Ladd.

Also, this is a little late in the posting, but Weng Onn, a friend of mine, is (was?) the composer for the latest Malaysian musical: The Secret Life of Nora.

The write up was in the Star here and I'd initially missed reading it (I don't read the news much) but my mom went "hey, your friend was interviewed."
Back in 2004 we were in the same cell group at SIB KL and we worked together in the first season of Drunk Before Dawn. (Chehwah, sounds so pro... he was one of the composers, I was a lowly chorus member. Haha)
I don't really know why I'm excited for him, since I haven't actually spoken to him since I left KL in 2006-ish and he went off to New York for his Masters, but hey I'm happy for his success!

I've also got my novel synopsis up at on my NaNoWriMo profile! I'm excited that I actually have a plot and something akin to a story line even before November and I think I could really do a lot with this one. It's also something I've been wanting to write for a while now - something which fits the profile of most of the books I read: it has magic and fighting. I'm a little sucky on the world-building thing (which is why I'm glad I have the idea now so I can fiddle with it before the writing spree comes) but there's no better place to start and try than now, is there?
I admit I was also very excited about last year's story, but I hit a glitch called "I have no clue what I'm writing about" which derailed me midway. I'm still researching into that one on a bit of an on-and-off basis because I really do like the story, but it really needs more research, which I don't really have the time to do on a consistent basis. Sigh. If anyone wants to be my political/sociological advisor with a spin on a uniquely Malaysian setup, please feel free to volunteer. I'm also trying to steer off the deep undercurrent of blatant racist blaming that happens so often, so that's a challenge.

Okay. So that's the three exciting things for today.
I'll just add one more for good measure. Alex and Donna Carrick at Carrick Publishing are having a Daily E-book Give-away, so mosey over here to pick up the free coupon codes for smashwords. I've already read Donna's Sept-iles and Other Places, which was a really good read (my review here) so I'm looking forward to reading the rest of them.

Some shameless self promotion

I'm excited to announce that my previous friday flash "Dear ten year old self" has been published in a collection of stories here: Letters to My Ten Year Old Self!
It started off as a writing prompt by Nina Pelletier, full-time writer who lives in Ontario, Canada, and has been compiled by Nina and Drew Nicholson on smashwords via their the soon-to-be-online publishing house Scriptorum Tantillum.
If you liked my entry, I'm sure you'll thoroughly enjoy the book!
Get it here!
[Edit: I realise I didn't say something I should have - the book is currently free on Smashwords. So go download your copy now!]

#REN3: Coach Thief (part 2)

Read part one.




Prompt: A character lies to another on an important matter, One of the characters is revealed to be not who she is
Wordcount: 549
---

Jane glared at the man, pulling her hand away from his grip. She turned on her heel and stalked up and down the porch, shooting furious thoughts at him. As his words filtered through her brain, she stopped mid-step.

“I’m sorry, but uh, actually,” she stammered.

“What is it?” His eyes flickered irritably in her direction.

“Are… are you Cousin Randall?”

She could feel the blush starting from the base of her neck, the warmth blossoming up to her high cheekbones, as he nodded.

“You be Cousin Jean?” he asked wryly.

“I… yes. Sorry.”

“So this here unknown man,” he nodded at the door, “stole this here fancy coach from you from somewhere in Assart?”

She nodded back at him, wondering if she would have enough time to pull this off, even if her face hadn’t already given her away. He was rubbing at his chin now, deep in thought. She watched as his hand started caressing the butt of his gun.

“Where did you get it?”

“Sorry? Get what?”

“The coach. Not something you would regularly be driving round about here, would it? I’d imagine that’s why this here man was trying to get his fingers on it.”

“It’s just painted - not even gilded,” she said in a rush, trying to calm her wobbly voice. She was sure he suspected something the way he was staring hard-eyed. “The old pa did it up with a crest and everything - reminder of the past generations. Said he wanted to ride in style. I told him it wasn’t worth the expense and the effort.”

“Well then, let’s go find this thief to dispense some justice.”

Jane watched as he strode toward the door, arms slightly akimbo, his right hand brushing the holster on his hip. She took a step backward, waiting for him to enter the post office, when he turned again.

“Coming along?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” She shrugged and followed him into the sunlit room.

The man behind the counter looked up at them then gave Jane a nod.

“Morning, ma’am. Howdy, Randall. That your cousin?”

Randall nodded. “Yep. And by her account your customer here seems to have stolen her coach.”

The sound of scratching stopped as the coachman looked up from the letter he was writing.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” the postmaster asked.

“The coach belongs to my boss,” he said calmly, resuming his writing.

Randall rubbed at his stubble again before speaking slowly. “You say the lady lies?”

“Didn’t say that. She could be mistaken.”

With Randall’s concentration fixed on the coachman, Jane slowly backed towards the door. As the tips of her fingers brushed against the door, it suddenly swung open sending her sprawling on the ground.

“Bill, I see you got the coach here in one piece. Oh dear, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to knock you over,” a familiar voice said. “Why, Jane! What are you doing in Renaissance?” The young man reached down, hand outstretched to help her up.

“Oh, hello, Jean. Just passing through. I think I have to go now,” she blurted in a spurt, scrambling to her feet.

“Hold on a moment!” Randall strode across the room, grabbing her arm. “Didn’t you say you were Cousin Jean?”

She broke out in cold sweat.

---
Read part three.

#REN3: Coach Thief

Prompt: There is an argument.
Wordcount: 434
Setting: Western (late 1900s)

Randall squinted in the hot sun. He could make out dust clouds in the distance and hoped that it was the herald of Cousin Jean’s arrival. He rubbed at his prickly chin, wondering if he should have taken the time to shave that morning, seeing that the coach was late anyway. Well, it was too late for that now. She would have to take him as he was.

The black and gold coach stopped outside the post office.

“Howdy, stranger,” Randall greeted the coachman. “Welcome to Renaissance. You be carrying Cousin Jean?”

The man looked him up and down. “No,” he replied gruffly, turning away, his eyes stripping the small outpost town.

“Ah, well. Come in through Targe, did you?”

“No.” He threw the reins down to Randall who caught them deftly.

“Kris or Villein then?”

“What’s it to you?”

Randall shrugged. “See any other travellers coming out your way?”

The coachman ignored him and entered the building. Randall tied the reins to a nearby post and went back to surveying the horizon.

The new dust cloud that appeared fifteen minutes later didn’t look big enough to be another coach. Randall shaded his eyes with his hand, trying to get a better look. The woman who came galloping in at full speed was furious - Randall could tell by the set of her mouth, the lines of her eyebrows. He was fairly sure the shade of her face was more to do with the blistering heat and dust than her current state of emotions.

“Why the hell did you steal my coach?” she yelled as she dismounted.

Randall looked around. “I…”

“Don’t deny it! And you dare stand here, waiting for me to catch up with you? What the hell is wrong with you?” She had him pressed against the wall of the post office, pounding his chest with each word.

“But Ma’am, twasn’t me! The man, he…”

“It was you, Mr. Fuzzy Face! Now own up. I had to borrow this lousy horse that I have to take all the way back to Assart!”

“Look here, woman, you can’t simply go around accusing people you don’t know of stealing your coach.” He could feel the heat rising to his ears.

“Don’t woman me. I recognise your shoddy face and dusty clothes. Stupid country men!”

He caught her hand mid-punch, making her wince.

“I’ll woman you if I want to!” he growled. “The man from off the coach just walked into this here building. Now why don’t you go in and yell at him, then? Now leave me alone. I’m waiting for my cousin.”

---
Read part two.
Read part three.

Post camp post: being true to myself, a writer.

We had this session during iBridge camp about discernment, i.e. knowing the will of God. I don't have all the notes (I stopped jotting when they said they would get the slides to us, but I haven't seen them yet) but there was one thing that really struck me that day.

One of the guiding principles of discernment is to stay true and truthful to who and whose you are in Christ. 

There's a lot of stuff floating around about knowing yourself, being true to yourself, standing up for who you really are, and not all of it is Christian. In fact, most of it is rather post-modernistic, individualistic, let-me-do-what-the-heck-I-want-so-get-out-of-my-face-God (or maybe I'm getting the wrong kind of vibes here). But more often in the Christian circles, there's a lot of thing about finding God's will, focusing only on God and ignoring ourselves (we are nothing, we are nothing, we are nothing - kind of Buddhist, no?). True, Christ must increase, and we must decrease, but does that mean we ignore everything that our passions and inclinations drive us towards?

What does it mean to stay true and truthful to who you are? (Let's ignore the other bits for a moment.) Who you are matters, because God made you that way. If you are an engineer, you worship God through your engineering skills and making that no one gets killed by a bridge falling down or a phone blowing up or... something like that (I get a little fuzzy on details because there are so many kinds of engineers). If you are a doctor, you worship God by helping people get well, or at least by easing their pain until it's time to go. If you are a lawyer, you worship God by helping innocent people get their lives back and assist in disseminating justice where it's needed (though it may seem rather arbitrary at times). If you are an accountant or an auditor, you help ensure that the companies don't cheat money off their investors and the employees don't defraud their employers (to what little extent you can). But if you are an artist, or a writer, or a dancer, or anything to do with music and creative arts, it suddenly seems that you can't and aren't doing anything productive or useful unless you are leading worship in church, or decorating the church, or doing an Easter or Christmas production.

WHAT GIVES?

Why is every other profession more important to the body of Christ than the very professions that have the most impact on our daily lives?
And this is where I get into the rant mode, sorry.
I'm tired of people acting like it's SO easy to get a good story down on paper/screen, and to edit it. Like it can be done in a day. Yes, you can get 50,000 words out for NaNoWriMo in a month but that doesn't mean the story is good enough. It doesn't mean the writing is tight enough. It doesn't mean that you're done with it yet. And all this takes time, people. Time I do not have working a 8.30AM to whenever job.
I'm tired of people thinking it's SO easy to put a good play or *gasp* musical together. Like it can be put together in a week. Yes, you can have once a week practices for a month and do a decent play. But if it's anything longer than 5 minutes and you're working with a bunch of amateurs, or people who are just acting for the sake of it or because there is no one else, then it's not good enough. I'm sorry if I'm sounding condescending - I'm not the best of actors or directors OR playwrights - but it takes time to put stuff together that will be worth watching, and frankly half the stuff that comes out on church stages are not. Time I do not have working a 5-day, but in reality 6-day week.
I'm tired of the slipshod way we approach worship in church, like a two-hour anything-goes practice session is good enough to pull together a team that only plays together once in three weeks, and then expect God to DO SOMETHING WONDERFUL. Yes, He can, and DOES. But at the same time, is this what you really want to offer Him week after week? Because it is an offering, isn't it? It's not just "leading people to worship" it's also an act of worship in itself.

Where does this take us again? Well, it takes me back to the core question - who am i? 
What drives me? What makes me tick? What makes me stay up all night? Pulling aside all that I do and try to do, what motivates me?
This. Writing this. (It's 12.32AM now, despite the fact that you'll only see this on Sunday, 9AM because of the power of blog scheduling muahahahah and I have to get up at 6AM tomorrow to catch a plane.) Writing Friday Flashes. Receiving good and not-so-good comments. Trying to figure out which WIP to start editing, because I can't always sit on them until they grow stale and annoying.

And if this who I am is rooted in whose I am, doesn't that really mean that I'm a writer plugged in to the greatest Creator the world has ever seen? If I stay true to who I am and whose I am, doesn't that mean that I've already found my purpose and direction in life? Doesn't it mean that I don't have to keep asking the question, But God, what do you really want me to do?, as if I'm sure He's going to ask me to do something I cannot do or go somewhere I really hate just because I can't believe that He made me love writing so that I can write?

How does this translate into real life? 
I don't know yet. The two-year plan was to wait it out until David graduates and then see what happens. My mum insists it's a maximum one year break, to study some course or other in creative writing and/or creative arts. That may be part of the plan. I don't know. It's the first step I am looking at, just to redefine where I am.
Then again, it may be shorter. I don't know, there's this restlessness. There's this itch. There's this perpetual question (eh, so when are you going to resign? What, you're still at the same firm? Me: YAH, I know I'm loyal!)
But I'm ready, here and now.

#fridayflash: Imago dei

Sheril glared at her reflection: short, dumpy, too-dark skin, flat hair, eyes just a little too far apart.

“Hah! Who looks like god? Not me, certainly,” she grumbled aloud, certain that the comforting words the preacher had said this morning in church was just another miasma of religious pretension. “You can’t fill this lacuna with your empty words. Empty is empty and empty fills nothing.”

Mama would think her crazy to be talking to her reflection, but sometimes she thought Mama was crazy to believe in a god who would leave her in this hellhole with a missing Papa who could not even spell Cheryl right, stupid Latino.

“I certainly do not want to look like you either,” a voice said, startling her. “No, do not oscitate. I understand there has been a glitch in the spacetime continuum that has brought me here right at this moment, which has proven to be quite synchronistic, don’t you think?

Sheril stared at the bearded man reflected behind her left shoulder.

“Ah, all sorted out now,” he said, smiling.

“Who are you and what do you do in my room?” Sheril asked, turning to look behind her.

There was no one there.

---

Prompt: the second campaigner challenge.

Write a blog post in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, whether flash fiction, non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc. The blog post should:

• include the word "imago" in the title [check]
• include the following 4 random words: "miasma," "lacuna," "oscitate," "synchronicity," [check]

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional and included in the word count), make reference to a mirror in your post. [check]

For those who want an even greater challenge (optional), make your post 200 words EXACTLY! [check]

The 200 words was hard, this time. It kept getting either too long or too short. Like my post on rachael's blog (see link above) if you like it! It's number 167. :)

#bookreview: The White Road by Lynn Flewelling (goodreads crosspost)

The White Road by Lynn Flewelling
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Saddled with Sebrahn, a magical creature who can heal, kill and raise the dead, Seregil and Alec set off on a journey back to Plenimar, where an alchemist had created Sebrahn out of Alec’s blood, to find a way to prevent it from ever happening again. For exactly the same reason, they are hunted by Alec’s long-lost kin, intent on capturing him and Sebrahn before anymore tayan’gils are created out of Alec’s blood. Also hot on their tail is Seregil’s old nemesis who desires Sebrahn for his healing power.

I only picked up The White Road because it was on 50% discount and it had a Legolas-looking persona on the cover (not that I like Legolas, but I like elves and elvish stuff in general). I had browsed the blurb and found it to be about two heroes searching for “the truth about this living homunculus - a journey that can only lead to danger… or death”. I mean, what could go wrong with a fantasy with elves (she calls them faie, but anyone with a decent background in reading fantasy would know the words are interchangeable) and magic and dangerous adventure? I did take the precaution of reading the list of “also by Lynn Flewelling” to find out if it was part of a series, but didn’t find any indication. No “So and so series” with list of books or “book #XX of the something-or-other chronicles!”

Boy, was I wrong. After the first chapter, I started thinking that there was too much back story to the book for it to be a stand alone. Then again, The White Road was written as a complete novel in itself - whilst I wondered if there were prior books (maybe one of the also-bys) to the series, I didn’t find it difficult to follow the story. A quick google search later informed me that this was book 5 of the Nightrunner series.

It was altogether a tantalising read, one of those books that just don’t let you put it down. I mean, it took altogether about 5 hours, on a working night, up until 2AM to for me to release that final sigh of relief, so go figure.

Note:
I went back to the bookshop a few days later but couldn’t find any of the other books. I suppose Flewelling’s not popular enough to be high on the list of imports. On the other hand, I’ve only ever found the Ender series (Orson Scott Card) during warehouse sales, and you hardly see any Eddings on the shelves anymore, so maybe it’s the poor reception of fantasy books in Malaysia that’s causing the problem. A third deterrent could be the fact that the two main protagonists are in a homosexual relationship. Um, yeah, way to go, censorship board.

View all my reviews

#Fridayflash: An uneasy love

This is a short story I started working on for the Writer's Digest short story competition. As usual, I bit off a little more than I could chew in my choice of topic... so I may or may not finish it, depending on whether I figure out where they're going (or rather, whether they figure out who they really are and define the relationship [the one thing I ever learnt from Boundless was DTR, not that I ever had a chance to use it], if that makes sense). More notes after the story, because you may or may not agree with where I'm coming from. Don't read it if you're a bigot.
---

pre post camp post,

if that even makes sense.
I wanted to do a long post about camp. But I've been terribly busy at work trying to clear the backlog, and then I spent forever writing up (or rather editing) a travel advisory for the GCF delegates coming for the planning meeting for EAGC 2013 and my eyes can't stay open a moment longer. [Evangel asked me, don't you ever sleep? You sent me this at 2 AM and I see you online now (that was about 10AM on Tuesday morning).]
But I'll just leave you with a thought I've been mulling over since the session on discernment: what would you do different if you were to really know who and whose you were?

The other thing I have been mulling over would be to come up with some kind of blogging and/or writing schedule.
This would generally look something like this (with reference my past blogging trends):
Sundays (or sometimes Monday nights) - some deep reflective post and/or rant involving church, worship, cell group and God.
Fridays (or sometimes Saturday mornings) - #fridayflash
I should probably add in a day for updates on writing progress (hah! What progress?) which could possibly on Wednesdays, just to even it up.
We'll see how it goes. (This normally means that nothing will happen because I get too busy and/or lazy)

#Fridayflash: Now was forever

The door swung open; the aisle stretched endlessly before her. She smiled blankly, instinctively. The music swelling in her ears was overshadowed by the pounding of her heart. The first day of the rest of her life, and she stood there, like a fool, with an empty stomach. At least there was nothing to throw up.

How did I get here? The pink roses trembled, the baby buds she had asked for suddenly seeming alien in her freshly manicured hands. A steady arm held her, a familiar voice whispered in her ear, “Ready, my little princess?” Twenty-six years of being the baby of the family would be changed in the next hour; had in reality been changed yesterday at the Registrar’s office by the signatures of five people. What have I done?

It had seemed so simple, so magical, a year ago. He had asked, she had answered. And now, now was forever. Now was…

She was aware of the smiling face bobbing by the altar, so comforting and yet so unreal. She took the first step toward him, almost tripping on her dress and in her wobbly heels.

Her wedding train trailed behind her; the door swung shut.

---

Prompt: The first campaigner challenge!

Write a short story/flash fiction story in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, including a poem. Begin the story with the words, “The door swung open” These four words will be included in the word count.[check]

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional), use the same beginning words and end with the words: "the door swung shut." (also included in the word count)[check]

For those who want an even greater challenge, make your story 200 words EXACTLY![check - according to Scrivener, at least]

This was quite fun. Also, rather inspired by my cousin's wedding and the recent spate of engagements. People, can you stop getting engaged and married already? Or at least find me one so I can join in the fun! Haha.
On writing matters, I find that I'm using commas a lot. Please let me know if it feels too disjointed or truncated. I'm not sure if it really works. 

How He Loves Us.

Awesomest.

And yet, so forgettable, in the midst of the hustle and bustle and the rush and the buzz. But at the core, oh, how he loves us.

Haggai 1:7-9

Thus says the Lord of hosts, "Consider your ways! Go up to the mountains, bring wood and rebuild the temple, that I may be pleased with it and be glorified," says the Lord. "You look for much, but behold, it comes to little; when you bring it home, I blow it away. Why?" declares the Lord of hosts, "Because of My house which lies desolate, while each of you runs to his own house."

When things seem pointless, a timely point to consider.

Working on my weekend worship set now. :)

Piracy: The complex Malaysian Christian stand

So I was talking with this guy, Caleb, at my cousin's wedding dinner on Sunday night and we somehow got from music into books and into piracy (the copy-your-content-and-sell-it-cheap kind, not the Captain-Jack-Sparrow kind) and online file sharing.
And you know the thing about piracy is, it's not good. It's not nice and it's not Christian. To put it harshly, it's stealing. Sort of.

I mean, I write. I post stuff online. Right now, all of it is free, because most of the stuff I do is blog. Or write articles for people. But I would really like to write a publishable novel, and I might go the e-book route through Smashwords or Amazon. And if I do that, I would really like all the money for those sales to come to me. Like, if each person were to buy an e-book and the royalty comes to me, rather than say if A buys it and then passes a copy to B who passes a copy to C.
Then comes the other thought - what's so different between that happening with an actual print book and that happening with an e-book? I mean, I often borrow books off other people (which is, in fact, A buying the book then passing it on to B and passing it on to C). The difference is - there is only ONE actual print book, as compared to THREE different copies of the digital version.
And how about buying second hand books? I buy A LOT of second-hand books. The money still doesn't go back to the original writer/publisher, does it? It's all very complex. Why is the re-selling of second-hand books legal, but the re-selling (or sharing) of a digital version not? The argument goes back to the number of copies of the book available, doesn't it? There will only always be one ORIGINAL copy of the print book (let's not talk about making photocopies) whereas, there could be many, many copies of the digital version by now.

I also sing and act non-professionally. I know the amount of time and trouble it takes to get things right. Writing a song is a work of art, crafting everything together and getting the arrangements in shape is not only time-consuming, it's expensive if you're going to hire out. It's not good enough to say that oh, but the singers/actors/production houses are so rich anyway it's not going to make any difference to them. The reason they are able to get rich is because they sell A LOT of albums/shows. If you're a new artiste, fresh off the racks, in all probability you're not going to make enough to break even. If you pirate every album or movie you come across, there will be NO industry left because they won't be able to cover any of the costs! Yes, burning a copy of the album is super cheap. But the technology and the time and the effort it takes to come up with the original product is not insignificant.
A music album would need at minimum the band and the singer(s), the graphic designer (to come up with album art or at least the little logo thingy if you buy it off itunes), the composers/song writers (assuming that these songs are not written by the band/singers themselves), the guy who does the musical arrangement (may or may not be a separate person) and the sound engineer (or whatever you call the person who mixes the sound together) - I'm probably missing out a lot of other people (marketing, maybe) and don't forget that while they're doing all this stuff, they need money to keep themselves alive. Then there's the equipment - piano/keyboards, guitars, drums, whatever other instruments are being played, sound desk and all the recording devices, microphones, amps, mixing software...
True, you could probably do without a lot of these and record everything off your laptop, but the sound isn't the same, is it?
A movie? There's the director, producer, actors, cameramen, gaffers, video editors, computer graphic-y/animation people, costume designer, music director... if you've ever stayed to read the credits THAT'S A LOT OF PEOPLE INVOLVED. Let's not start on equipment.

And yet, the thing is, I don't think many Malaysians realise this. It's just a movie to watch, or an album to listen to and if you can get a perfectly good copy for RM4 where the whole family can watch together, why bother going to the cinema at RM8 - RM10 per person (imagine if you have a family of 5) or an original VCD/DVD which may be between RM30 - RM50?
I admit, I do hunt for bargain VCD/DVDs (often priced between RM12.90 to RM19.90). Nothing wrong with that - it's still the original. I don't know how the royalties/payments work that way, but I'm still buying the original product. (I suspect the distributing shop takes the hit, but these are usually obsolete/old/overrun/written off stocks anyway).
Actually, scratch the "Malaysian". I don't think most of society realises this anymore. The concept of paying for value has kind of gotten thrown out the window in recent years. There's so much free stuff around that people feel entitled to having other stuff free, and get outraged when they're asked to pay for it. What's so hard about doing all this artsy stuff anyway? is the kind of reaction you get, as if writing a book can be done in a day. Or writing a song is just a hobby. It may be a hobby for you, but it's a livelihood to others. And if they don't get paid, they can't continue giving you the content you want.



The problem for me, as a Malaysian, is that it's pretty much a way of life, a culture almost. Music and movies are often overpriced for the average person (especially if you're a student) and I admit to having copied music/e-books from friends before. And sometimes there are some great stuff that doesn't come here officially/legally and the only way you can get hold of it is through online file sharing (or the local pirates).

And there's that saying that if your stuff gets pirated and sold on Batu Feringghi, that's when you know you've made it as an artist...

So I don't know. It's wrong. It's plain confusing.
It's a stand I suppose one has to make and I'm trying to. It's difficult.

Review: A to Z Stories of Life and Death (goodreads crosspost)

A to Z Stories of Life and Death by D. Biswas

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Birthed out of a month-long blogfest, D. Biswas’ A to Z Stories of Life and Death presents 26 short stories organised according to the letters in the alphabet. Beginning with the innocence and wonder of a child finding snails in her Aquarium and ending with a fiery funeral pyre in Zone, the stories run the gamut from love, murder, sex, abuse, addiction, myth, sickness and mourning - all revolving around the issues of life and death. 



Majority of the stories are very poignant vignettes focusing on slices of life, with several longer flash fiction in between. Reading them makes you feel as if you are collecting memories from various sources and trying them on for size. Each story has its own personal twist - the endings are never quite what you expect - and most would leave you with a tear in your eye.



What I like about Biswas’ writing is the descriptive way she writes, which helps put you right in the middle of the scene. She is very good at invoking emotions and making you feel the story without a sense of detachment.





View all my reviews

A blogger game!

Got this off Kimberly's blog:

Here's how it works. I'll post 10 random things about myself. If you're interested in playing along, post 10 things about yourself on your blog. If the user account you post with doesn't link over to your blog, be sure to leave your blog url so I can check out your 10 random things. :)

Okay, so here goes:

1. I'm typing this off my iPad whilst chilling at my cousin's house (this is also for you to excuse my poor editing skills while on the iPad because I normally edit everything once I'm home on my comp, but I'm not going home until Monday so that's not about to happen.)

2. The first dish I learnt how to cook was Maggi Mee (instant noodles) at about age seven, using the microwave.

3. I haven't much advanced from there since then. If i need to cook anything, it's bound to be something microwaveable.

4. I'm friendlier online than offline (apparently). I think it's something to do with the way I look like I'm frowning if I think too much. Or possibly the book I usually carry around in case I end up alone.

5. I love singing! Especially in harmonies!

6. Unfortunately, I usually pretty much hate karaoke.

7. I wrote, acted and directed a musical once. (a friend wrote the music and songs, I did the script). I still wince whenever watching the video. Which I avoid watching like the plague.
8. I love describing myself as a bean counter (though I'm not exactly one) so I can watch the puzzled looks on people's faces while they try to figure out what that means.

9. I once had this German word craze for a few months in high school which made a friend buy me a German-English dictionary for my birthday. I hardly used it so it's almost brand new. Anyone wants it?

10. I do most of my writing between 11pm to 2am, even if I start off by sitting in front of my computer since 9pm. I don't really know why.


So that's it from me! Looking forward to yours :) Have a happy campaign, people!

P/s I know I said I'm away til monday. But I got bored and couldn't resist