The MC's journey to self-knowledge

MAY IS HOSTED BY Hand in Hand, DONALD MAASS'  TWEETS ON CREATING THE PERFECT NOVEL ;)  and SECTIONS INSPIRED BY THESE:

M.K. Jemisin

DONALD MASS WRITE TIP #75 ¾

 What are five stages on your MC’s journey to self-knowledge?  Build one external event to strongly provoke or dramatize each.

"Kella!" Ronague whispered. His lips shaped my name against my ear. His fingers dug into my shoulders. “Treaty, be damned! I can’t let you go. I will stop you."

I froze. I had to go – my life was forsworn. First, I had to find a way to diffuse the boiling mass of loneliness, pent up anger, self-loathing that had only ever been held back by a thin new love. Now, he was desperate.  In less than a heartbeat, he would be unreachable. This moment was all I had. No weapon, or knot, would hold him back if he turned his strength on me - if he lost control. But, how many times had he saved my life? How many ways had he shown how much he loved me? I wrapped my arms around him… rested my cheek over his heart. Every organ inside me burned. How could I drag myself from him when all I wanted to do was stay?

The five stages of self-knowledge:

pre-contemplation

contemplation

preparation

action

maintenance

WHERE IS YOUR MC ON THE JOURNEY TO SELF-KNOWLEDGE?

I would like to say thank you to everyone who read my May posts - there have a been a lot of you. Thank you to all those who commented too - that was very encouraging. The small sections took a lot of preparation and work to get them written, edited and posted. This month has tied in with my writing goal of experimenting with characterisation. For the next few months, at least, I will be returning to my normal schedule so I will be posting three times a week.

THE WORST MISTAKE AN MC CAN MAKE

MAY IS HOSTED BY Hand in Hand, DONALD MAASS'  TWEETS ON CREATING THE PERFECT NOVEL ;)  and SECTIONS INSPIRED BY THESE:

Joe Haldeman

 DONALD MASS WRITE TIP #74

What’s your MC’s worst mistake? The worst consequence? Work backwards: earlier your MC swears *never* to make this mistake.

I was thinking about the first time I saw you," Deann said. "I watched girls dance at the foot of the wall you’d climbed. They walk backwards into the road so they could keep you in view. They couldn’t take their eyes off you. I swore I’d never let myself be that dazzled – not by anyone. When I persuaded Booker to let me be the one to follow you, and to make the first approach, I said it was because no one else could be trusted around you. Even back then, when the fact that you were straddling the razor wire and the broken glass should have been uppermost in my mind, I noticed how you clung to Fyern. To keep her safe... I thought. Poor, weak and needy Fyern. Why would she put herself in that much danger to share reckless thrills with you? But, then, when you seemed to wobble. I pushed out until my power supported Fyern. She was the one who gripped you. I saved you. She helped you get your balance. I intervened... before you became one of us. That haunted me. It was a shadow on my soul. Why? I was never the kind of girl who sees Stupid and then does it. And, I’d seen many attractive boys – wrapped in dark auras and black leather – I felt nothing. For me, they were burnt out cinders...no smoulder. I said I didn’t want you, I just needed to secure your skills for The Brudd.”

Strang grinned. After all our training, his dark power found enough energy in the half-light to radiate across the space between us. “You secured me.”

WHAT WAS YOUR MCs WORST MISTAKE?

A WEIGHTLESS MOMENT OF CHANGE?

MAY IS HOSTED BY Hand in Hand, DONALD MAASS'  TWEETS ON CREATING THE PERFECT NOVEL ;)  and SECTIONS INSPIRED BY THESE:

Kirsten Imani Kasai

DONALD MAASS WRITE TIP #101

What’s a moment when everything could change? Pause. Explore. What does it feel like to be weightless? Add it

I stared dry-eyed at the spitting rain that threw itself at the window before clustering for comfort and sliding out of view.  I was less substantial than a raindrop. I didn't have it in me to cry. Besides, crying would  be pointless. I was a support network of one – more of a strand really. Hell, if I cried I’d even have to go and find the tissues for myself.

He came. He saw. He concubined.

I killed him.

I loved him, that hadn’t been pretend. I felt substantially changed. Even now, he was in me. Cellular. To the ends of fingertips, he was grafted into the keratin. Wrapped around my heart – like cling film – he'd nurtured like plastic wrap.

I gave him all that I could be. And, he made me weak.

Sickening.

My physical body knew what my mind refused to see. With him in my life, I made a passable blanket. Or, more accurately, a better rug.

I almost let the light in me go out – just to keep him. Now, he was gone. My cheeks heated at the thought of how far from goodly I'd slipped; so far from me. I banished him to where the Numbered ought to be. In that moment, in my room, despair became a tangible thing. Greater than any misery I had allowed myself to feel.

I could welcome despair. We’d be a good fit. Bleak. Blind. Unforgiving.

I shivered. And I shut my eyes.

Behind my eyelids, there was a glow.

The light? Or the will to live? Or hope?

It was the germ of a feeling. 
A  lonely tear began to run down my cheek.  I drew in a deep, desperate breath.  
Revelation. 
I was alive. It was possible to live without him. I could grow again.

HAVE YOU CREATED A MOMENT OF CHANGE WHERE ANYTHING WAS POSSIBLE?

IS YOUR MC SO SURE ABOUT SOMETHING IT JUST HAS TO BE WRONG?

MAY IS HOSTED BY Hand in Hand, DONALD MAASS'  TWEETS ON CREATING THE PERFECT NOVEL ;)  and SECTIONS INSPIRED BY THESE:

ROBERT V. S. REDICK

DONALD MAASS WRITE TIP #100

About what is your MC utterly right? Pull the rug. Prove her utterly wrong. Force her to rebuild.

The Wyrd Wielder gripped the door. In the neon lights, Elleree could see that the veins stood out as if the flow of his blood was damned there.

“This is your last chance to walk away,” he said desperately. “Elleree! If you go now…I know I could let you leave and not go looking for you later.” The words gritted out between his teeth when he begged. “Don’t leave it until it’s too late. I want to get this right.”

“Kayl, I know you aren’t bad. You're a good person. You told me to leave you. Don’t you see? You proved you have goodness inside.”

“Any one is capable of one good act – if it sneaks up on them and the let it slide because they have other things to occupy them. When you go I won’t feel good about it.”

“That’s because you’ll miss me.” Elleree reached out for him but he shrank back behind the protection of the door, and her fingers hardly disturbed the fabric of his robe.

He shuddered. “That’s one way to describe it.”

Elleree ignored Kayl’s frown. She tried again. “But…We love each other.

“That one I can’t deny. I recognise the way my body feels.”

“Let me stay. I’ve kept up the stupid boundaries you demanded I use for too long. I want to hold you and help you find the good in you. Every day, I want to tell you that you are good – that you deserve to be loved.”

“No. You need to go. You have to go,” he said as soon as she’d finished. “There’s only so much light in here and it’s fading…fast.

She stared around at the neons he'd installed on every surface of his room. She shook her head. “You weren’t born dark inside. No one is born that way,” Elleree said desperately. “If you think about it, it was the things that happened to you after you were born that messed you up. But you know what they did to you –it was awful – but you know… so we can work through it.”

“I can’t keep saying this much longer – Elleree, you have to go.”

“Please, no. You might have more temptation – more of an inclination to the bad – but, it’s the way you live your life that defines you.”

Kayl made a strangled noise. He was laughing and crying at the same time. “No. No”

“Poor, poor Kayl. Don’t be sad. Everyone knows what it’s like to want to do something bad.” Her voice tightened. “Sometimes they even do it… that doesn’t make them bad. I’m not perfect, you know.”

“Poor Kayl,” he said and his voice dripped with sarcasm. He smiled. “I know what I am. I accept my nature – I relish it.” There was no humour softening his face; his teeth and eyes were unnaturally bright and sharp.

Elleree stumbled, shivering hot then cold,  as she edged away from him. The opening was narrow, the corridor dark. Even safely on the other side of the door, her heart raced.

“So…You let your self-control go sometimes, Elleree?” The Wielder tilted his head towards  his shoulder, and narrowed his eyes as he studied her. “I would like to see that.”

She shook her head. From the soft light of the corridor, she could see him: cloaked in his power, he looked impervious -- far from human. “Oh, Kayl,” she whispered.

“As I see it, I am all that really matters. And I am so very good at being really and truly bad,” Kayl said with absolute clarity.

IS YOUR MC SO SURE ABOUT SOMETHING IT JUST HAS TO BE WRONG? 

AT YOUR MOST FEARLESS, WHAT WOULD YOU WRITE?

MAY IS HOSTED BY Hand in Hand, DONALD MAASS'  TWEETS ON CREATING THE PERFECT NOVEL ;)  and SECTIONS INSPIRED BY THESE:

SCOTT EAGLE

DONALD MAASS WRITE TIP #98

Imagine that a more fearless writer than you creates an event for your story. What is it? Use it.

With delicate movements of both hands, Leeah drew the binding circle and with little more than a thought she pulled it taut. A step in any direction sent her rebounding back, arcing up before falling into the centre again. As she learned the strength of the structure she’d woven, she reinforced its integrity. She judged her movements with care. The balance between carefree and reckless was essential if he was to be drawn into the sphere without activating his innate sense of self-preservation. On the other side of the room, Apol laughed out loud.

Leeah ran towards the wall. This time she was able to race a few steps higher before the power she’d incorporated threw her spiralling up and over. She wondered what else she could do to draw him in.

But he moved fast, blurred into invisibility. The force of his arrival knocked her backward, and they sank slowly together towards the chalky dust she’d sprinkled over the floor. The success of her plan rested on the fact that he would not realise the danger before she was ready. Some of his strength must be bound in earth if she was to rid the world of the parasite. To make sure he remained ignorant, Leeah gripped his shoulder and threw all her weight to one side. He grinned up at her. Let her move them so when they landed she straddled him.

Apol reached out and ran his finger through the energy-absorbing powdered rock. He turned his head to confirm what his body must have already told him. It was only then that, eyebrows drawn together, he looked at the gold blade that had already pierced through clothes and skin. Guided by his rib bones, it had cut through to the muscle that cradled his life force long after rhythm ceased to rock it. “Hey, friend.”

“We’re not friends,” said Claire as she leaned a little harder on the dagger. “How could we ever be anything as uncomplicated as friends?”

 “This is a bit permanent… for a break up. Think about this for a minute–”

“I have thought… who said love’s got anything to do with thinking – In my head, I always knew I shouldn’t love you. I hate what you make me feel. Do you think I liked knowing what you did for a living?”

“You make me sound like a banker.”

“You are soo much worse.”

Keeping still, Apol stared warily at the blade that was sinking into his body. “You’re not really going to kill me.”

“You aren’t really alive.”

“I’m hurting plenty for a dead man.”

“You really shouldn’t remind me about you and dead men.” Leeah leaned and pushed the blade a little deeper.

“What are you doing? You can’t do this!” Cracks showed beneath the surface of his skin. “Leeah, don’t you care?”

She closed her eyes unable to see the hurt she could hear painted thick in his voice. “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “I do care.”

In her mind she pictured the thread the dagger point must become, she drew the thread to his heart and bound it. Fine, fine filaments of golden thread bound his heart. It would draw away the power it found there.

“But, I love you,” he gasped, faintly.

She couldn’t stop the tears from falling. “You loved tapping me for my life force”

“I enjoyed tapping you for a lot of reasons.”

“I hate this! I hate that I find killing you so hard.”

“And me,” said Apol as the thread began its final revolution. He was silent. Flakes drifted across her skin like a caress as they rose from him and drifted towards the whirling vortex that had opened inside the dome. “Could we get it over with… the suspense is killing me?”

Raising her head so she could see his eyes, Leeah gasped. “I thought you’d gone!”

 “Sorry for my long slow fade… only I was a quip short of my quota.” Apol whispered before he fragmented and so much stolen energy streamed away from him that it rebalanced the depleted life force circulating through the universe.

I THINK A MORE FEARLESS WRITER WOULD ALLOW THE MC TO KILL THE PERSON THEY HAD GROWN TO LOVE.

AT YOUR MOST FEARLESS, WHAT WOULD YOU WRITE?

WARRIORS, ROMANCE, AND JEALOUSY PERFECT FOR 8 SENTENCE SUNDAY

If you are interested in follow this link: WWW

As I'm only a weekend writer of Romance, Darrah is still having trouble with Sark Hale Tarla. In a time long past in our history, a Sarkisian ship is stranded on Earth. Assimilation is at an early stage but it has not proven to be an easy option for either people. Now, Hale has been assigned to Darrah and her arm of men. His role is to smooth over any diplomatic - or worse - problems that might arise in the Outlands, where the Sarkisians were allowed to settle, when they are sent to find the missing human heir to the Thorn Throne, Erishdren. Rogue Sarkisians are thought to have been behind the abduction.

“Why didn’t you tell Rylo what happened between us?” Hale asked from his position on boulder at the edge of the camp.

“You have no right to use his proper name,” Darrah snapped.

“He is your lover?”

He observed how Darrah’s back became stiff, registered the increase in her heart rate, and how her pupils dilated.

“He is Second of this arm – anything beyond that designation is none of your business.”

Hale calculated the possibility that Darrah might have had a deeper relationship with Rylo before he shook his head and relaxed his shoulders. “All truths that could be related to the disappearance of your future king are my business.”

DONALD MAASS WRITE TIP #99

Blah scene? What changes here? Exactly when? How would an outside observer know? Add that. 

WHAT CHANGE TAKES PLACE IN YOUR WWW 8?

WHO WOULD BE IMPOSSIBLE TO LOVE?

MAY IS HOSTED BY Hand in Hand, DONALD MAASS'  TWEETS ON CREATING THE PERFECT NOVEL ;)  and SECTIONS INSPIRED BY THESE:

Gregory Norman Bossert

DONALD MAASS WRITE TIP #97

In your story what love is forbidden? Make it more impossible in 3 ways. Then make it happen.

“So you say Immortal," Deena said. “I say Undead.”

“That’s…. way different!” Constantine said, and he nodded.

"You snack from the pumping-iron end of the juice bar.”

“Hah! That makes you safe. With your craving for lettuce, what have you got that I could sink my teeth into?”

Wrapping her arms, along with her cardigan, around her stomach, Deena nodded, much too slowly, "OK."

"I crave platelets with my plasma.” Constantine waved his hand in her direction.

Deena moved her mouth until it formed a crooked kind of smile. Anything else would take too much effort. “As long as we – both - know.”

Constantine blinked and stared at her as if she was suddenly unrecognisable. "What did I say?"

"You don’t like like me, of course," she explained trying to keep her voice from breaking. "I’m such an idiot. Subtlety is the worst form of defence. You should have just said." She aimed for sophisticated but crashed somewhere just above pathetic, and then settled for that. Deena knew her cheeks were a riot of colour that no BB cream was going to tone down but she was more worried about the clenching in her stomach that went with the need to be violently sick.

Stumbling over the tuftless carpet, Constantine moved closer. "You’re sad? No! I just... Hell. Not that. I... See, Deena, you’re like porcelain.”

"I'm porcelain?" Deena said looking down at her sizeable curves.

“Too me– Yes. You’re delicate… fragile."

"Underneath all this padding, I’m all hard bone and sharp angles. You're the delicate one. Scream! Argh! No… not the sunlight! You’re all desperate, and craving, and skulking about in the dark.”

He froze. “You think I’m a cross between a tick and a rodent?”

“No. Oh, Great and Immortal Being… Come on, you know how you look."

"How do you think I look?" He sounded relieved. Smiling, he held his hands so his fingers hovered over her arms as if something there already reached him.

She sighed. "As monsters go, you’re fairly passable."

“No--You think I’m hot.”

Deena tried to keep her lips resolutely closed. Hot just did not do him justice. "Cold. And not human either." Perfectly so. It was undeadly unfair. 

"No?" he asked, but he was smiling so wide his teeth glinted in glow of the downlighter.

"You did that deliberately didn’t you?"

He shook his head.

"You’re a freak," Deena said uncrossing her arms.

“Yeah,” he said, “but, you love me anyway.”

IS THERE A DEFECT THAT WOULD MAKE A CHARACTER IMPOSSIBLE TO LOVE?