Author: Jessica

On Writing as a Team

On Writing as a Team

I was going to write about SF clichés next, but it occurred to me that since Ruth and I write as a team, and that’s the exception rather than the rule, it might be worth musing a bit on what team writing is like.

When I was little I wanted to be a writer (well, also a ballerina, and a car mechanic, and the President, but that’s a different story) so I got books from the library about how to write.  This was before the existence of advice on the Internet.  Most of the Internet advice for writers that I’ve come across pretty much amounts to the same thing as those books anyway—write, and keep writing, and read stuff by good writers, and revise, revise, revise.  But the one thing that always got me down from those books was the assurance that writing was a lonely craft.  “You must sit at your desk alone, and work.  You must do this every day, alone.  Did we mention ALONE?  No one can help you.”  This advice made me a little sad—because of course I believed it, it was written in a book—but since I was a solitary sort of person anyway and I really wanted to be a writer, I didn’t let it stop me. Continue reading “On Writing as a Team”

In Defense of the Good Characters

In Defense of the Good Characters

Ruth and I are always talking about stories, our own and other people’s–what we like, what bothers us, what could be done better, what we wish we saw more often.  I thought I’d transform some of these conversations into blog posts, to get them clear in my own mind and to share them too.  The first thing I’ve chosen to do is be a bit of an apologist for the good characters in stories.

I’m not thinking good as in the silly Dungeons and Dragons alignment system, which I’ve never liked.  Even though I’ve run a bunch of games in that system, it still gets on my nerves.  I mean, the concept that worshipping something blatantly labeled as EVIL would ever be a valid religious choice in a functioning society . . .

But that’s a topic for another day.  I’m not even really talking about good characters versus evil characters here, because rarely does a truly evil-intentioned character end up as the main focus of a story, and if he does, it’s liable to be a wild, brief, tragic ride.  Not that it can’t be fun to watch a villainous protagonist go—Light from Death Note comes to mind.  But you just can’t get attached to them.

I’m thinking more of the contrast between the shady anti-hero with a checkered past and the virtuous hero who has always tried to do the right thing.  Anti-heros are fun.  I’ve been known to write one, from time to time.  But they tend to get all the praise and the limelight.  Girls like the bad boy.  And where does this leave our poor hero?  How can he compete with his darker-toned rival?  A strong moral compass, a selfless streak, and a sometimes plodding determination just aren’t as badass as casually shooting the hostage, joining the bad guys only to betray them later, and walking away from explosions without ever looking back. Continue reading “In Defense of the Good Characters”

Castle and Country

Castle and Country

David led his horse up the mountain pass, the jagged peaks of the Shandorian border towering high above him, tinged with gold in the morning light.  The path had finally grown too steep for riding, and the air was thin enough here among the last twisted, wind-blown trees that David had to pause to catch his breath.  He didn’t mind; he used the rest to admire his surroundings.  Mountains.  He had forgotten, living so long in Logansburg, how expansive, how simultaneously empty and alive they were.

The breeze blew bright and cool, but the sun was warm on the top of David’s head, on his shoulders.  He drank from his waterskin, and turned to look back over the path he’d been riding, winding back down into foothills and pine forest.  No sign of any habitation; he’d left the last Arienish village behind yesterday, and camped last night under the summer constellations in all their glory.  The weather had held clear, thank the One.  He knew his delight would dampen along with the weather if he had to camp in the rain without a tent.  It had been years since he’d been on a hunting trip, and he was sure his ability to build a shelter or light a cook-fire had gone rusty. Continue reading “Castle and Country”

Shandor, Year 676, David Lindmer

Shandor, Year 676, David Lindmer

David LindmerDavid trudged back from University through the narrow streets and alleyways of the Dockside Quarter of Logansburg, capital city of Arien.  His scholar’s robe was carefully rolled and stowed in his pack, and he always changed from his good blue coat to the old brown one with the patched sleeves before he headed back to the flat.  No point standing out more than he already did.  He’d almost managed to shed his Shandorian accent; his friends at University told him he only sounded like a peasant from the provinces, now.  It was perfectly acceptable, in Dockside, to sound like a peasant.  A foreigner, however, or someone stupid enough to put on airs by attending University . . . Continue reading “Shandor, Year 676, David Lindmer”

People of Madrahar

People of Madrahar

Tiiro

Tiiro shrugged. “I didn’t care for fishing. I liked the port at Shiahan. There was a tea shop, and then there was the mage school. I had some money in my pocket that day, so I enrolled. It’s easier to travel on the wake sometimes. You can lay back and watch the clouds, and see where you drift. I mostly just do that.”


Neharu

“Ho, long jaws! Women and children are small eating. Face me!” Neharu threw the river stone hard at one of the beasts who was chasing the boy. The stone smacked the side of its head and it stumbled. Both the Coatau nipping at the boy and the three from the base of the tree swung their snouts round to sniff at Neharu. They all began to growl. Neharu smiled at the very surprised people he had rescued, and almost waved. Then he saw that the angry looking Coatau had indeed decided to face him, all at once together.

Neharu considered, as the first one lunged at his throat and caught his upraised arm instead, that maybe he should have found a weapon of some kind before announcing his arrival. He punched it hard in the face with his free arm and kicked another of them in the ribs before it bit at his leg. If I am torn limb from limb by monsters, that would be stupid of me, Neharu thought, as he was buried under snarling Coatau.


Setobi Harakai

Kai gritted his teeth and ignored Lynx. Just give me your strength and shut the hell up.

The creature slammed into him and he was crushed against the wall, his skin burning away beneath its touch. At the same time, an entirely different sort of burning engulfed him, the rush of power that his beast spirit only gave him at times like this. He felt intensely alive. He felt intensely in pain and he didn’t care. His knife hand plunged into the creature’s chest, just beside its heart. The acid ate away at both knife and hand, but before he lost all feeling in his fingers he found something that was neither muscle nor heart nor bone, and forced his hand to close around it. Then he yanked it out.