Editing (Oh how I hate it)

Yes.

You guessed it.

It's editing season. Dreadful, hated, editing season. Well--I correct myself. For the members of the One Year Adventure Novel forums who wish to enter the end-of-year novel contest, it is editing season. I am a member of OYAN, therefore I am in the middle of editing season. And I hate it.

I am currently sitting at the table of one of my dearest friends, typing up a blog post on how much I hate editing while she is plowing her way through my novel, declaring it exciting.

To me, it is an atrocity that should never again see the light of day, but apparently she and several other people have, well, different opinions.

I honestly don't know what makes me think my writing is so terrible. If I look at it subjectively, just as another piece of writing, then it's not so bad after all. The writing is good, decent even.

If I look at it as the author, I hang my head in despair and slam my head against the nearest hard surface. It's awful. My characters are bland, dry, two-dimensional. I hate my novel.

Now, I suppose that at some point I will retract my words of pure hatred and decide I love my novel again; however, that moment is far in my future. So what, you ask, was the point of this blog post? I was merely ranting out my insecurities as an author and offering encouragement to those who are also stuck in the throes of rewriting--you are not alone.

~Mercia Dragonslayer

Forgiven, Love, Revenge

How did you get your novel idea?

This isn't just for all your stories, this is for your NOVEL. THE novel. The one that was inspired by a song or a dream and the one that you obsess over.

This question was posted on the OYAN forums and I answered it with a history of the Fallor/Jeline trilogy.


I have several books I'm in LOVE with. First and foremost (at the moment, mind) is Revenge. But I can't really start with that. Honestly, I can't. I really have to start with Fallor, the hero, because the story has changed so many times that it really just focuses around him.

I first 'came up' with Fallor five years ago, only he wasn't Fallor--he was Robin Hood. I wrote little dabbles of him and his daughter Brinian. They fought magicians, teamed up with sorcerers, went to the Renaissance Festival (twice!), and had various other adventures. Some of them involved Samii's characters, some of them didn't. I actually have a few of those stories lying about... I should find them.


Samii and I then started a story about an elf named Jeline and a thief named Kahil. At some point in the story, Kahil was stumped by Jeline's problem with the EOR and took her to see his cousin... guess who? Robin Hood! Of course, instantaneous romance ensued between Robin and Jeline, and they defeated the EOR and got married at the end. (What can I say? I was 11 at the time!)


I left him alone for a while and moved on to Belerion, Viggo, Mercia, and others. Of course, he was still inside my head and frequently appeared in conversations between Samii and me, and eventually sparked an idea. How in the world did he become an outlaw in the first place? I thought about the traditional Robin Hood, and talked to Samii about it. She yelled at me and told me that he needed a better "outlaw" name. I kept his first name, but changed his Great and Terrible Outlaw Name to the Fox.


THEN I set about writing down Robin's past. His name was Robert Huntingdon the Tenth, a prince of Hareem. His father let him do archery, and he was older than Kahil. Fallor's brother was named Corin, and he had an unmentioned sister... Rayon came with his son Scarlett at one point, and taught Fallor more archery. Then Corin killed their father for no reason, blamed Robin, and Robin ended up in jail. He escaped and robbed people. When he finally met Jeline, they actually threatened each other.


So that was an interesting little short story, and Samii and I continued to write about Robin and Jeline, and their daughter Brinian, in a huge project we called The Brie Saga. I still have all of it lying around on my computer and in notebooks... It's awful, but maybe I'll type it up sometime and read it just for laughs.


Then two summers ago, Samii and I decided to rewrite the initial Robin/Jeline story (originally titled The Adventures of Robin Hood: The Untold Saga). I changed Robin's name to Fallor and we took off, finishing Love in a mere week. I loved it and poured over it with much love. I loved it so much that I ended up writing Fallor's full backstory for NaNoWriMo '09. Surprisingly, it didn't deviate too much from the short story. I changed names, of course, and added a few random things. So that's how Forgiven and Love came about.


Revenge was born right after we finished Love. We had a full page of random notes and we started writing, but only got to about Chapter 7 before we stopped. I picked it up a couple months ago, applied the Snowflake method to it, and came out with the fourth novel I've ever written.


I feel like the ideals and themes in Revenge are ones the whole world needs to hear--revenge never pays. Forgiveness gives freedom. Great love has no man than this--that he lays down his life for his friends. Forgiveness is something I've struggled with forever, and I feel like God is teaching me lessons even as I write and rewrite these novels. They are very special to me and I want to use them to change the world.

~Mercia Dragonslayer 

Song Fiction

Have any of you ever written a 'song story'? I define it as a story that is either based off a song or written in sync with a song, so that what you read fits in with the song as you read it.

Well, I've written one. Several, actually; however, this one goes hand-in-hand with my novel Revenge. Think of this as a deleted scene of sorts from the novel. Don't worry, this isn't how the actual scene works out! This particular part didn't work after I revised my outline, so now it's just a random, useless, depressing short story.

Warning: if you don't like angst, don't read.

For some reason, I'm really, really good at writing angst.

Here is the song that inspired me (Everything by Lifehouse):

He sat in the crotch of his favorite tree, the one where she always sat. The one where she lay now, neither living nor dying. Just waiting. What could he do?

“All of those years… I wish I’d never found her that day,” Fallor muttered. His mind wandered back to the day that he met Jeline—an ambush on a lonely stretch of road. How absurd that he thought her a man, when she could hardly be mistaken for anything other than a girl of nineteen.

What were his first words to her? “I’m so glad you passed by today. We’re sorely in need of winter clothing and I’ve picked you to donate to our treasury for the cause.” Certainly nothing noble, not by any standards.

Then when she’d touched his cheek. She said he looked so much like his cousin. The cousin who died sacrificing himself for them to have a life together someday.

Her beautiful voice clouded his mind. The way she sang, the way she spoke, the way she looked at him when she laughed filled his heart with longing to hear her again. Oh, what he would give for that!

“Jeline, I’ve lost sight of the light,” he whispered. “I’ve fallen into darkness. I can’t take care of you or—or Brie. I’ve failed you as a husband. And as a father.”

You need to save Brie. You haven’t failed her until you let her go. But in order to save her, you have to let Jeline go.

“I can’t!” Fallor kicked at the porch railing and sent one of the spindles flying. “I love Jeline!”

I know you love her. That is why you must save Brinian.

“Will this bring me peace?” Fallor leaned on the railing and rested his head in his hands.

It depends on your definition of peace. Will having the daughter instead of the wife satisfy you? Will you be able to live with the fact that you left your wife to die and went gallavanting off to save a life not worth saving to you? Is it worth the risk of Brinian not surviving the rescue attempt?

“No!” Fallor screamed. The voice mocked him and everything he stood for—his undying love for Jeline, his devotion to her.

He plunged his knife into the wood of the tree supporting his hut. “I won’t leave her! She is too precious to me!”

Precious is relative. No one even knows Jeline is still alive. Your men have all but forgotten her, and some of them don’t even know she exists. But they all know Brie, and they love her. Is it not a better thing to preserve one life for the good of all than to preserve one life for your own selfish purposes?

It wasn’t for selfish reasons, Fallor cried silently. He kept her alive, praying, hanging onto that thread of hope, that he could keep her alive, that his love for her would someday wake her back up.

But she kept him alive. Without her, he had nothing else worth living for.

She was everything.

He remembered the rain pouring down, the way he swept her off her feet and carried her through the downpour. Their special dance, just for them, symbolic of their secret relationship. She thought him so noble then, so big and strong, able to bear her through everything.

What would she think of him now?

And what if she did wake up? How could he stand before her like this, knowing he’d wasted his life away because of her? She would hate him. Any decent human being would.

No, she wouldn’t. She would be disappointed, yes, but she would just gather him into her arms and let him cry out his sorrows to her. She’d understand.

He had let her down. If only he’d been able to protect her, to warn her, to take her with him that day. When he carried her back in his arms, wavering on the brink of death, he couldn’t catch her.

You must save Brie.

She’d always stolen his breath, and now he took hers.

“Jeline…” Fallor collapsed on the porch deck and sobbed into the wooden floorboards. “I can’t believe I let you down… Disappointed… Hurt…”

His hand reached up and yanked his dagger out of the tree. “Maybe it would end if I didn’t live,” he murmured. “Maybe it would be best for everyone.”

You must save Brie.

“No! Jeline…”

Fallor tried to sit up. “Why?” he roared. “Why did this happen to me?”

His cynical, mocking voice remained silent, for once. Maybe it abandoned him same as everyone else did.

Then he knew. He knew what he had to do—he knew what he wanted most.

Fallor flung the dagger across the porch and swung off the platform onto a rope. A light rain fell as he ducked into the stables. His horse nickered to him. With sweat and rainwater trickling down his brow, Fallor dropped the saddle on and fastened the straps. The bridle came next, then he was back out in the pouring rain.

Only one thought ran through his mind when he emerged into the now torrential downpour: Must save Brie.

“Hiyah!” Fallor slammed his heels into the horse’s side. It reared and plunged forward into the dark night.

If he was going to abandon Jeline, might as well make it worthwhile.