Dandelyon's Worlds

Elizabeth Barrette is writing poetry to prompts today: https://ysabetwordsmith.dreamwidth.org/14861900.html The topic is cozy coping skills, which is certainly something we all could use more of these days!

#poetry #scifi #fantasy #poetryfishbowl #superheros and more

New people are very welcome. If she gets a new sponsor or a new prompter, she publishes an extra free poem. And the conversations in the comments are often interesting.

YsabetWordsmith is doing poetry to prompts on her blog, here: ysabetwordsmith.dreamwidth.org/14359166.html Her topic for today is "Screw this, I'm out of here!" New people are welcome to stop by and leave prompts.

Today is the YsabetWordsmith's Poetry Fishbowl on the theme "Quiet Revolutions". It is a particularly apt topic, given current events. I'm really looking forward to reading the poems from today's suggestions.

A couple of days ago, I was going to post one of my monster sketches from last weekend, but Live Journal wouldn't let me post. Hopefully that won't be a problem tonight, be cause Elizabeth wrote a poem about the creature in one of my sketches!

So, here is the current sketch of the Unicorn Jelly:


And here is the link to the poem:  http://ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com/2836864.html

Finally, we would welcome some new prompts, whether related to Sea Monsters or not.  Of course, you're welcome to come peek in on us as we create or even join us.  http://torn-world.livejournal.com/151363.html

The other day I followed someone's squib on facebook to a set of pictures. They had some comment about the power of nature or somesuch, but I was struck by the beauty in the pictures. I thought, I should set a story or two in places like this. Then I wrote a poem. A day later I tweaked it a bit and sent it out into the world.

And it was accepted!

The preliminary word is that it will appear in Everyday Poets sometime in June.

Sometimes things just work
The inspiration is clear
And the story flows

I've been doing this writing thing long enough now to know that the words that flow like a gift or a blessing aren't magic. They always follow on times when I worked and worked on my craft, pushing past my limits, often without a particularly good result. If they are a gift, they are a gift I gave myself, a reward for persevering when the going gets rough, proof that I've learned something I didn't know before and am ready to move on to something harder.

I don't know what "harder thing" is next yet, though...

A friend of mine wrote a Samhain poem that I really like. It's over here:

http://animaltofriends.livejournal.com/6998.html

That's what stories are, right? Shared hallucinations?

If you do them right, anyway, you suck the reader in so for a while, the protagonists problems loom larger in the reader's mind than their own, and the beautiful forest or dreary dungeon or wherever that the story is set is more real than the kitchen or bedroom or "throne room" that the reader is actually sitting in.

All the techniques of writing--point of view, plot, characterization, even grammar--all of that is just the foundation--the scales and vocal warmups, the finger exercises, if you will.

What matters to the reader is being sucked into the hallucination. They only care about the grammar or point of view if it jars them out of the illusion of being there.

So here's to creating the best possible hallucinations out of imagination and pixels!

H is also for Haiku, and it is poetry month, after all:

The blank screen awaits
I could write anything here
But first, I must start

When I was a kid, I found people frustrating. They were all so different, and so unpredictable. I liked working with things--scissors, paper, pens, pencils, paints, needle and thread, and so on. With things, getting the results I wanted might be possible or impossible, but the reason was simple--either I hadn't figured out how to make it work or those materials just wouldn't do what I wanted to do.

People, on the other hand--people could do just about anything for just about any reason!

I was really rather astonished when I realized that was exactly the reason that I loved anthropology classes in college--people do the most amazing things, and one person's reason for doing a thing is often quite different from another person's reason for doing the same thing. Once you get past the basic universal needs (things like food, clothing, shelter, companionship, love, and respect), people are much more different than I imagined when I was little.

That's what makes them interesting, and that is why I think characters are the center of every story.

What makes a "strong character"? In my opinion, it's showing enough of the universals that many readers can empathize with that character while also showing the important things that make that person unique.

One of the ways I celebrate the fascinating and delightful (and sometimes - still - frustrating) diversity I see in the people of this world is to write about a variety of characters in my fiction.

I love comments so I'll leave you with a question: What are some of your favorite examples of diversity in my fiction and in the works of other writers?

P.S. C is also for counting and making sure you're counted. I was voter #77 in my ward and #101 in our 2-ward polling place.

P.P.S. ysabetwordsmith, who created some of my favorite characters, has not yet closed her Poetry Fishbowl. You could stop by and leave her some prompts, if you hurry: http://ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com/2253447.html  Go ahead and hop over.  You can visit her and then come back here to share your favorite characters with me later.  I'll wait.

I opened the Muse Fusion last night, did some writing, slept a Loooooong Time (which felt wonderful) and did some more writing.

Here's the snippets I've posted so far:


Ripples

The tall, handsome man in the dress smiled at Othan and then walked on, talking with the small Asataarla woman.

The boy turned to watch him walk. The silk was beautiful, and rippled with the man’s long stride. Othan watched as the two turned into an expensive restaurant. After an obvious double-take, the greeter led them to a table with obvious respect.

Othan dug into his pocket to count his cash. Three basic tokens and one precious coin. Not enough for a dress, even in the second-hand store. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it, the pale dress against the man’s very dark skin. He couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to have silk legs swishing around his legs like that—though his skin color, with its olive tones, would go better with a different color.

He put his tokens back in his pocket and headed in to the store, not really sure what he would do there, but the lure of the dresses had caught him, and he couldn’t resist.
...


Young Love

The young couple got off of the train, two tall, thin forms with carrot-bright hair, slender fingers twined together. The contrast of the Mayaloi-dark skin of the woman and the Irfai-pale skin of the other was striking. They looked around with wide eyes, and Jakei couldn’t tell if they were pulling together out of nervousness or love. She smiled, and thought, probably both.

“I didn’t think Mayaloi came with red hair.” Murruni murmured.

“They don’t. She must have other blood, unless that’s a dye job.”

“Can they get that color with dye?

Jakei shrugged, and tossed her long, golden hair, letting the metallic painted highlights flash in the moonlight. “Beats me. My hairdresser might know.” The Mayaloi woman’s eyes were drawn to the bright peacock-feather patterns painted in Jakei’s hair, and she leaned to her companion, whispering into her companion’s ear.

Beside Jakei, Murruni ran his hand over his bald, tattooed head, stretching to let his gently-sculpted muscles ripple. Like Jakei, he was painted, but his metallic paints were applied to his body, accenting the tattoos that scrolled around his body. “Care for a wager?”

“You really think they’ll have eyes for anyone but each other?”

“They’ll be disappointed if we don’t at least try.”

Smiling, they stepped forward to greet the young lovers. “Welcome to Affanumuur.”
...


Bead by Trelgon

They returned to the summer gather late; the sun was low over the hills and everyone was asleep. Dulsa and Trelgon quickly unloaded the baskets of fish from Fidget, then started draping them over the waiting poles in the smokehouse. Dulsa yawned hugely and repeatedly until Trelgon laughed. “You’re really tired,” he said. “Go on to bed. I’ll see you later.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Dulsa’s hand went to the carved fish in the center of her necklace. She felt very self-conscious about it—they’d been adults only a few months, and she hadn’t had very many beads there yet, but also she knew her younger sister, Freijali, had a crush on Trelgon. How would Freijali take seeing a bead carved in Trelgon’s distinctive style on her sister’s neck?

It was only a month—there was no serious romance between her and Telgon—but a month could seem like forever when you were almost adult and couldn’t court the object of your attraction yourself. Dulsa reached the large tent she shared with her age-set and her sister’s, still yawning. What was wrong with her? The day hadn’t been that strenuous!

She looked around and, to her relief, didn’t see Freijali. The house looked different too. It took Dulsa a minute to realize why—most of the people in the house were sleeping tandem. As she walked over to where her own furs were rolled, one of the few singletons rolled over, looked up, and hastily stood. It was Reivani. “Dulsa—you missed it!” His eyes were shining, though his voice was low.

“Missed what?”

“Our final test—and we passed!” Reivani stepped closer in the dimness of the tent, and he raised one hand toward her, cupped upward. “Would you—” his eyes dropped to her neck, and he stopped. “Oh. Um.”
...

I've got 1100 words into Bead By Trelgon so far. It's at a point where I could call it good or I could call it the end of the first act.  So sponsoring it will get the unapproved draft posted immediately.  The others aren't as close to finished, but I'll give priority to working on whatever gets sponsored first!

Want to read more? I'll work on whichever fragment(s) you tip me to work on, at a rate of at least 90 words per dollar or 1000 per $10 (by which I mean I reserve the right to write more than you pay for). You can tip me in Torn World Credits or use my tip hat at www.wyld-dandelyon.com. Just be sure to let me know which piece you're paying for.ring

I'll be posting more snippets this weekend, over at torn_world in the Muse Fusion post.  Sometime tomorrow or next week I'll also be sending private copies of each entire work in progress (as far as I've gotten, anyway) to the people who prompted them.  More prompts would be very welcome, and would get you a peek at the rough draft of anything your prompt inspires! 

I hope to see you there!

Now I'm off to write some more.

Ysabet is taking prompts again, and writing poetry all day: http://ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com/2034492.html

If you like food or poetry, you should stop by and leave a prompt, or at least check out her journal as the day progresses and read the free poem (which is about chocolate) and any other poems that are sponsored. Please note--if she gets at least one new prompter, there will be a second free poem, in addition to the ones that are sponsored.