Still banging away at the now huge manuscript. Getting all my thoughts onto the page, into the plot before I get to weeding to let the truly good ideas grow in more fertile fields.
Organisationally, I think I'm a few chapters off "done" with the first draft.
#WednesdayWIPs #RookeryWriting
A graphic of a white text field on a purple background. Decorative text at the top reads "Moonlight in Her Eyes" on the left, and "Chapter Fifteen The Serifex" on the right. A crescent moon frames the text to the right, while the bluesky handle @katerookery.bsky.social is beneath the text on the left in white. The body text reads: “So you’re Kynweyrdi.” A sheet of scrap paper on the book between them sketched the relationships between several kingdoms in Oana’s hand—a crude map of words and squiggled rough borders. Ittaura rested one finger on the line of text indicating Kynwer’s name near the bottom of the page. “Which means you had to cross half a continent, an ocean, and then three more kingdoms to get here.” “Well. Technially, yes. Prince Atto recruited me from one of the Eastern Towers when I was seeking a new position, so I really only crossed Vallare, a sliver of Alamanre, and Elyani at the time.” Oana pointed the more or less straight line west she travelled across the continent, and Ittaura withdrew her own hand. “I haven’t been to Kynweyr in nearly fifteen years, now.” “Is it true that Kynweyrdi midwives are all witches? I heard that Queen Elmrea—” “Ittaura, I’ve told you more times than I can count that there is no such thing as a witch.” Oana looked at the younger woman, torn between bemusement and frustration. More often than not, these conversations veered into the same topic, and she couldn’t tell if Ittaura was forgetting, or simply determined to believe in witches.
Day 11: #FantasyIndiesSpooktober
Snippet Saturday! A little more of Oana and Ittaura for today.
#WIP #RookeryWriting
A graphic of a white text field on a purple background. Decorative text at the top reads "Moonlight in Her Eyes" on the left, and "Chapter Twelve The Boy" on the right. A crescent moon frames the text to the right, while the bluesky handle @katerookery.bsky.social is beneath the text on the left in white, while #WIPSnips #Trap is on the right. The body text reads (with the word 'trap' highlighted in light purple): "Safe, huh. So why do you people sleep in boxes of all things? Damnedest habit.” Tii Galean suddenly handed the boy his boots while he appraised the shut-bed as if he hadn’t properly looked one over before. He seemed to be examining the ventilation openings at the top, the plank walls, the hinged doors and all. The boy hugged his boots to his chest, realising he had to answer the man’s query before he could ask his own. “Because of the cold. And I guess mostly the dream bears—” “See, the cold I can understand, it gets nice and snug inside at night, but what’s a dream bear? That what you people call nightmares or something?” “No, it’s like—um.” The boy frowned. His cheeks felt hot and he thought the man must be once again judging him and his people for being so ‘weird’ and ‘superstitious’. He wasn’t sure what the latter word meant, exactly, but it was somehow bad, and backwards, and dangerous. Neither of the Southerners liked the Superstitious North. “They’re beor’salnja. Dream bears. They’re like monsters that trap you in your sleep and eat your dreams until you die. They can’t get inside a shut-bed for some reason. I dunno.” “Huh, that so. I’m amazed you can sleep at all, with something like that put in your head so young.” The man shifted his gaze from examining the shut-bed to looking pityingly at the boy. “C’mon, then. Hurry up.”
Day 6: #FantasyIndiesSpooktober
The are many monsters in the WIP.
As per Oana: vampires are real, ghosts are harmless, werewolves are misunderstood, dragons are dead, and witches don't exist.
There's also a bit of folklore in the North about creatures called dream bears ...
#WIP #RookeryWriting
A graphic of a white text field on a purple background. Decorative text at the top reads "Moonlight in Her Eyes" on the left, and "Chapter One The Priestess" on the right. A crescent moon frames the text to the right, while the bluesky handle @katerookery.bsky.social is beneath the text on the left in white, while #WIPSnips #Adventure is on the right. The body text reads (with 'standing' highlighted in light purple): “Lost our way, like. Lost our nag. Fell flat on its ugly face two days ago mid-pull and ain’t no one been by since. ‘Til you.” The standing man was too loud by half—his voice would have reached her at more than twice the distance with ease. Every word snapped out as if he were too impatient to speak to give each sound its due. By contrast, the crouching man stayed silent, his gaze not on her but the solid mare following obediently at her shoulder. He left his more garrulous companion to do the talking while his flat stare ran over the muscular animal from poll to tail. As soon as the black-swathed figure had dismounted, the shorter man’s hand eased away from the sword hilt, and a slimy sort of smile spread across his unshaven, ruddy face. “We’d be obliged if you’d sell us yours. Pay a fortune. Get you to the nearest city before we continue on our way, too.”
Day 4: #FantasyIndiesSpooktober
Resharing a previous #WIPSnips snippet because it's my birthday and I'm choosing to be lazy today. Happy Birthday, self!
This is from the scene where the Priestess first encounters the Southern "Merchants" and their apprentice.
#RookeryWriting #WIP
A graphic of a white text field on a blue-grey background. Decorative text at the top reads "Untitled Work in Progress" on the left, and "Chapter One The Shepherd" on the right. A crescent moon frames the text to the right, while the bluesky handle @katerookery.bsky.social is beneath the text on the left in white. The body text reads: The climb from the road was the steepest grade he’d yet encountered, but the shepherd held his seat admirably for a novice. The grey sometimes paused to gather his haunches beneath him to overcome dips and sharp inclines in the track, and during those moments, the man clung to his mane with gritted teeth as Predjyr’s head groom had instructed him to do. Compared to the time spent on the Queen’s Highway, his journey out of the valley and into the trees was short. Before he knew it, he was blinking into the bright open air of a wide clearing, and the sturdy gelding came to a gentle stop. Some part of him, a very large part of him, wanted to turn around on the spot and go home. He could claim she refused to come, or that she turned him away without caring. He could say she wasn’t even in residence when he arrived, and nobody would be the wiser! He swallowed his fear as best he could, and swung his leg over the horse’s back to dismount. As soon as his feet touched the ground, his knees and ankles buckled like sacks of wet grain, weakened by their unaccustomed use in the saddle. He clung to the horse’s neck and one stirrup, and despite his trembling, the animal stood patiently. He didn’t stir even a hoof in protest while the ragged shepherd recovered the use of his wits and his limbs. “All right. We’re all right.” The man pressed his forehead into the grey neck, eyes closed and heart hammering. He stood there a while longer, his cold, wet face mashed into hot, damp horsehair. “Just a little dizzy. Just the heat. Nothing to do with … with where we are. Just the heat.”
Day 27: #FantasyIndiesSeptember
Another snippet from the untitled prequel this time, because I'm mulling over some changes in the larger WIP structure.
Our poor shepherd is beyond terrified of the person he's meant to be ask for help.
#WIP #RookeryWriting
(Reposting because used the wrong draft)
Day 11: #FantasyIndiesSeptember
Yes! It's set six years prior and elaborates on some of the relationships between the people of Fairpass (where most of the current WIP takes place). I shared the opening of the first chapter as it stands for a different WIP discussion last week.
#WIP #RookeryWriting
I've done a lot of snippets recently of the more-developed novel I'm working on, but this opening for the first chapter of the prequel really caught the attention of two of my test readers last month.
#WednesdayWIPs #WIP #RookeryWriting #AmWriting
A graphic of a white text field on a purple background. Decorative text at the top reads "Moonlight in Her Eyes" on the left, and "Chapter Four The Boy" on the right. A crescent moon frames the text to the right, while the bluesky handle @katerookery.bsky.social is beneath the text on the left in white The body text reads: "I was gonna call you Brownie, but I’m gonna to call you Tii Velvet instead.” One morning the boy confessed his decision to the horse in a tiny voice that only the animal could hear. He knew the gelding understood about as much Quithsali as he did whatever bleating language his captors spoke together, but he thought maybe the horse grasped his tone. His da had said animals can hear your intentions towards them and always spoke to the horses he was shoeing in a deep murmur. The boy couldn’t mimic his da’s far more mature and resonant tones, so he kept his voice light and cheerful for the old animal instead, as if the horse was the one who spent each night crying in his sleep. “Da says velvet’s a fancy fabric, and it feels like horse lips, and rich people make their party clothes from it. That’s funny, isn’t it? Making clothes that feel like horse lips on purpose.” The boy rubbed his hand against the gelding’s bewhiskered muzzle gently, and quite suddenly realised how much he missed his da and mam and all his siblings in Vangaven. He blinked back his tears and hugged the horse’s face more tightly. The gelding was always tolerant of the boy’s clinging, and seemed to relish any kindness he received. He huffed gently through his nose against the boy’s chest a few times.
Day 30: #FantasyIndiesAugust
Got a little behind with recent events, so here's my final #WIP #snippet for the month. The boy is fond of animals as a rule, but the ancient gelding the men use to pull their sled becomes a source of particular comfort for him.
#RookeryWriting
Describe your OC/MC as if they were a co-worker:
She's the office cryptid. Nobody really knows for sure what she does, but she's sometimes spotted in the break room staring into a corner like she can see through the fabric of space-time. She always brings donuts on Friday.
#WIP #RookeryWriting
Galean talks a big game, but he hasn't done even half the things he claims. His partner Mardus on the other hand, has committed some real atrocities and doesn't regret a one. However, he only brags about the small, petty cruelties he commits, because he finds those funny.
#WIP #RookeryWriting
Today's #WIPSnips entry for #Stand is from very near the beginning of the tale, when the Priestess first encounters two rough-shod men and their new 'apprentice' on the road.
#WIP #RookeryWriting
For #WIPSnips #Same, the Priestess goes out to check on the livery's staff during the ongoing blizzard in Fairpass. Tying into today's #FantasyIndiesAugust a bit, by choosing a passage with quite a few Quithsali names in it.
#WIP #RookeryWriting
A graphic of a white text field on a purple background. Decorative text at the top reads "Moonlight in Her Eyes" on the left, and "Chapter Eleven The Serifex" on the right. A crescent moon frames the text to the right, while the bluesky handle @katerookery.bsky.social is beneath the text on the left. The body text reads: The other woman tried to feign that she was reading quite deeply and unable to hear Ittaura, her lips moving with the words and her brow lined with furrows of exquisite concentration. Ittaura leaned slightly to the side and mock-whispered to Oana: “Did you know, Lady Luccia received that very prayer book from Prince Atto last summer solstice, and hasn’t let leave her side since? She must be quite smitten, don’t you think?” “Ittaura!” Oana had never heard someone hiss a name without a single sibilant syllable before, but Luccia came close to managing it. She snapped the book shut and turned her head to the window in a sulk, pink to the very tips of her ears with embarrassment. “Of course, His Royal Highness gave matching prayer books to all his mother’s Ladies of Service—I have one myself, though I don’t keep it in my pockets. It’s on the shelf in my quarters.” Gleeful mischief glittered in Ittaura’s huge grey eyes as she dug into one of her pockets to demonstrate. “Ahh—and look at that. I did forget my manners, but what’s this instead?” She produced from her pocket, instead of a gilt-edged prayer book, a pale blue kerchief embroidered with pink flowers. She had wrapped it into a bulging bundle from which she now carefully unfolded one dainty corner at a time. As Luccia and Oana watched in astonishment, Ittaura revealed a double fistful of fresh, buttery shortbreads and offered them forth with a victorious giggle.
Day 23: #FantasyIndiesAugust
I've posted a lot of snippets with the boy up North from my current WIP because his is the most formative perspective in my opinion, but ... the serifex and her entourage deserve a little look-in now and then.
#WIP #RookeryWriting
#Shout for today's #WIPSnips:
Mardus doesn't have a lot of patience at the best of times, but especially when he's stuck indoors for extended periods.
#WIP #RookeryWriting
Today's #WIPSnips for #Trap ties into today's #FantasyIndiesAugust discussion of superstitions as well, so that's rather tidy. Galean doesn't consider himself superstitious or religious, but I wonder if he'll regret that later?
#WIP #RookeryWriting
Reposting for typo'd tags, whoops.
The Priestess comes from a [redacted] family and originally wanted to be a painter. After being disowned, she entered a seminary school, partially in penance and partially in relief.
#WIP #RookeryWriting
#WIPSnips for August 18th is #bow, and oh boy, do they ever.
#WIP #RookeryWriting
A graphic of a white text field on a purple background. Decorative text at the top reads "Moonlight in Her Eyes" on the left, and "Chapter Four The Boy" on the right. A crescent moon frames the text to the right, while the bluesky handle @katerookery.bsky.social is beneath the text on the left. The body text split into two columns reads: Now, good-bye summer, with thy soft breeze, In comes the autumn with gales that shake, And drives the gels to quiver and quake. My love has hid ‘neath the apple trees, And down there waits for my lips to take. Now, good-bye summer, with thy soft breeze, In comes the autumn with gales that shake. And there my love dreams soft and at ease, With a smile that does cause me heartbreak, For another man kissed her awake. Now, good-bye summer, with thy soft breeze, In comes the autumn with gales that shake, That other man has garter’d her knees, And betwixt them a child they will make, But the thought makes my very heart ache. Now, good-bye summer, with thy soft breeze, In comes the autumn with gales that shake, And drive the gels to quiver and quake.
Day 17: #FantasyIndiesAugust #WIP #RookeryWriting
Related to yesterday, this is a poem/song I wrote years ago (it's not lai form, despite the title) which Galean accidentally rips off via cryptomnesia.
It doesn't entirely match the in-world version (the song Mardus cites has a very gory ending).
A graphic of a white text field on a purple background. Decorative text at the top reads "Moonlight in Her Eyes" on the left, and "Chapter Four The Boy" on the right. A crescent moon frames the text to the right, while the bluesky handle @katerookery.bsky.social is beneath the text on the left. The body text reads: "Ooh?” Something in Tii Mardus’ tone drew the boy’s attention, and he turned a cautious eye on the brutish man. He still hadn’t lit his pipe, but something glittered in the depths of his hooded gaze that the boy hadn’t seen before—some expression of mischief or cruelty. “Inspiration struck by that manky old orchard we passed this morning, like. I think it’s pretty good.” “Well, let’s hear it then, Ean.” Tii Mardus chewed the stem of his pipe like an old dog with a new bone. He was up to something, and whatever it was made Tii Galean flinch. “Oh—y’know—I ain’t got a kannelian or a lute or—” “Ain’t we got some flutes in one of the boxes?” Tii Galean sneered at his partner, the ludicrous suggestion banishing whatever anxiety had draped across his face and replacing it with snobbish disdain. “Can’t sing through a flute, Mardus.”
Day 16: #FantasyIndiesAugust #WIP #RookeryWriting
Snippet day!
Galean and Mardus never stop bickering. This particular sequence was inspired by a writing prompt in a group about innocuous hobbies your characters might have. I showcased both Galean's (song-writing) and Mardus' (picking on Galean).
A graphic of a white text field on a purple background. Decorative text at the top reads "Moonlight in Her Eyes" on the left, and "Chapter Three The Serifex" on the right. A crescent moon frames the text to the right, while the bluesky handle @katerookery.bsky.social is beneath the text on the left. The body text reads: The door to the Conservatory was open, after all. The double doors to her personal sanctum only closed when she slept or bathed or needed to meet privately with the Prince about her work, and two guards always flanked the entry for her safety and security. But that didn’t mean she was captive. Did it? No. “I’m going for a walk in the garden. It’s too cloying in here today. I can’t think clearly.” Both Ekke and Luccia turned to face her with distressed expressions, but they stepped obediently into their places behind Oana as she marched for the doors. Neither protested her decision, nor attempted to convince her to do otherwise. They simply followed, their faces writ with obvious discomfort. See? Of course she could leave. Her little entourage of four would simply go with her and be miserable about it.
Day 9: #FantasyIndiesAugust #WIP #rookerywriting
Snippet time again!
Day 4: #FantasyIndiesAugust #WIP #rookerywriting
Favourite line in the WIP:
“A sack of skin and bones is still a lot of heavy-ass bones, Mardus.”
I have a lot of lines I really like, but most of them are really weird out of the context of the surrounding prose. haha
A graphic of a white text field on a purple background. Decorative text at the top reads "Moonlight in Her Eyes" on the left, and "Chapter Two The Boy" on the right. A crescent moon frames the text to the right, while the bluesky handle @katerookery.bsky.social is beneath the text on the left. The body text reads: The boy was only eight, but he knew that he knew a lot of things about the world. At five, he knew how to avoid the death drops beneath the shaking pines in winter—deep enough to swallow a full-grown man. At six, he knew how to trim a hoof and shape a shoe—though he wasn’t yet strong or skilled enough to do either. At seven, he knew how to start a fire in the dead of a snowbound night—even with green branches. Eight is old enough to have learned quite a bit from brothers, sisters, neighbours, and parents. And at eight, he knew Tii Galean and Tii Mardus just weren’t very smart.
Day 2: #FantasyIndiesAugust #rookerywriting #wip
Playing catch-up, with a snippet from the second chapter of my current WIP. The boy doesn't think much of his new guardians.
STOP 🛑 🖐️ This is a WIP checkpoint
QRP with your current WIP!
#WIP #rookerywriting
