a post about that which I am writing

for the past 6 months (because i'm not counting nanowrimo because i did nothing during nano except for my nano) i have been working on a lovely little book (do you mean: a pain in the neck with a hero that wont tell me his secrets and an antagonist i keep falling for?) titled the 100 year queen.

roughly, i would say its about a 100 year old queen.

but thats roughly.

and roughly should be left to those who do roughly.

it is about a puppet queen who is not all she seems to be. controlled by her lord, manipulated and humiliated each time she makes a move of her own, she is little more than a queen chess piece of a game her Queen's Lord  (aka: Taj, aka: the antagonist: aka: the one i keep falling for) is obviously winning at.
it is about a young man who has grown up with a darkness in his heart that defies all love.  a young man who has history with Taj Roku, and wishes to wash memories away. a young man who believes himself more creature and animal than human and perhaps he is right. a young man who plays his hand for a blood sacrifice to cleanse his soul and finds a love and comforting home instead.
it is about a Queen's Lord who rules his queen with a tight fist and a kiss on the lips. but who is a troubled young person who questions himself and is lost without his guidance. a young man who will do anything and everything to win at his game, but only if he can keep from falling apart first.
it is about a young woman married to a man far beyond her years, a wife shushed into silence and making a sacrifice for the man she truly loves. a young woman who, despite her fear for herself and her loved ones, still moves with what she believes in and stands by those who need love the most even if they do not deserve it.
it is about a fishermen in love with a lady, a young man who never gives up on his sweetheart even is she is beyond his grasp and with another.  a man who stands with his feet planted firm and no wave can ever wash him away and yet is the most sweetest and gentlest of them all.


as far as novel writing goes, this ones been a bit easier. which is slightly troubling but then i remember there were weeks on end i could not get a squeak out of Keir even when it was undisputedly  his turn to have a bit in his pov.

and Taj, who kept stealing more hearts than just mine and made me question if I even knew how to write a convincing villain. but I stopped calling him 'villain' and switched to 'antagonist' and the stealing of hearts was made alright. 

i suppose the true villain type would be Ciran Roku, Taj's father. it was, after all, his fault that Taj and Keir turned out and turned against each other the way they do. 

and of course, there was that time i decided to humor myself by reading the almost 50k (and not even halfway finished) fledgling novel I was writing. 

oh ho ho. nope. what was i thinking. that wasn't humoring. that was mortifying. 

that was when i made my new writing rule 'never read anything written over three weeks ago because there is an 80% chance you will hate it. no rereading until editing'. 

with that rule in place, i'm sure i am giving cause of headache to a future me while she is editing this novel that present me found charming but future me will find horribly poorly written. 

but my goal for draft one is to merely finish a novel. to achieve that lofty goal that I have never held on my own.  I am hoping that the joy of actually finishing something as well as my fierce love for my babies will carry me through the editing process. 

that and the constant reminder that I spent nine months (my goal for this novel is to finish in/before march) carrying this novel child and I refuse to let that be a vain suffering. 

naturally I will not remind myself that it was not suffering but most of the time was great lark. 

if by chance I fail and decide to give up on creating draft two, I will call upon my betas and they will keep me working by the threat of death. 

such lovely girls my betas are. I could do a whole post singing their praises. 

I suppose after having this long long ramble that told you nothing about my book (I shamefacedly admit I have no blurb or synopsis put together. I need to work on that) I should humor you with some snippets. 

Please, no closer. I don't want to kill you. 

As if reading his thoughts, the boy stopped, and slowly moved to a crouching position so he was more or less then same height as his crouched chicken killer. 

"Hey buddy" 

The Boy laid his hand on the dusty ground, and shifted his weight, The Fox's eyes taking in every movement. 

"Hey, I won't hurt you, calm down" The words were spoken in the same soothing tone others might use on a dog caught thrashing in a sharp wire fence when they wanted to calm him down enough to free him. 

The Boy sat down completely, his legs drawn up in a crossed manner, a hole in his pant's knees stretching. 

"I'm Cody, do you have a name?"

The Fox dropped the dead chicken to the ground, and eyed him warily.  He sat back in a more human like fashion, and remained silent. 

I do not have a name, only a title. 

-chapter twelve

Looking at her own reflection, the vibrant lips, the dark hair that shone with sleek glamor, the eyes, the well structure nose, it was all such a familiar face; and yet, not her own and foreign in an untouchable way. 
Tilting her head, she gazed at the scars that addressed themselves so very faintly under the pink powder on her face, even paler pink lines that marred her otherwise perfect face. 
They were hers; they belonged solely to her. 
She moved towards her desk, towards the hidden place where she had stashed the book in which she had hoped to record her thoughts, because she feared speaking them aloud. 
Nothing had been written in it since her attack at the execution, she had been too confident in her thoughts to merely express them on paper. 
But Taj had beaten her down back into her former place of hesitance and uncertainty; her confidence had been trampled and lost. 
The words she had once had the rising courage to speak with her own voice were trapped inside her soul, fluttering about like butterflies that had been clamped into a sealed glass and denied freedom.
Violet cracked the stiff binding open and dipped her pen into the ink, and poised above the paper. 
There were a swirl of words and thoughts in her head, and yet one reached towards her, an image, a sole memory of the man who had tried to kill her and had instead given her a mark of individuality. 
Her pen came down across the smooth cream colored paper, and she wrote one line. 

"I remember his eyes and how they burned so blue"
-chapter fourteen

Slithering, constantly moving, tense, and yet relaxed.  Poised to kill even while sleeping.  Eyes that could still its prey just by settling a gaze upon the trembling soul.  A creature that advanced only its own position in life, not being held back by watching eggs, or young.

The snake slid from Taj’s arm  to the floor, where it’s powerful body crossed over the wood flooring to the bed, where it climbed upwards on the canopy’s poles, looping it’s powerful body around the wood.

“Come, my pretty, why do you run from me?” Taj stood, and gently stroked the python’s green head, her tongue flickering in and out, regarding him with eyes that only saw prey and potential prey.

It was a wonderful thing, to have in your possession a creature that could kill you before you could even summon aid, and yet, didn’t.

-chapter five

Harriet traced the scarring on the table top, the places where patrons’ knives had been forced into the wood; short little scars that went nowhere. 
“Foxy has never concerned himself with our duty.  He knows we protect him, but he could care less about helping our movement.  He only helps himself, Yuusa, he only does what might benefit himself” Even as she said it, she remembered those two children sleeping upstairs, and her conscience prodded her.  Either she did not know that young man half as well as she liked to pride her own self on knowing him, or he had an unknown motive for bringing them to her. 
And she knew that the first option was the one more destined to be the truth.
Yuusa shrugged, and tugged her hood back over her head, but did not bring it to cover her face, only to shadow it.  “Maybe he was tired of her, just as we are all tired of her”
“Perhaps” Harriet nodded, and her fingers continued to trace the mars in the wood.
This question had been bothering her for a time; this matter of The Fox and The Queen.
Jesmene had a point in saying he only killed those who annoyed him, he was not one to spill innocent human blood without due cause.
The Fox was not a soul to be devoted to justice in the world of wrongs and rights.  He was like a cat curled up on a hearth; should you leave him alone, he would generally continue to sleep no matter what misdeed to others went on around him.
And so Harriet refused to believe Yuusa, and the public’s growing opinion, if drunkard’s talk was to be trusted, that he had suddenly taken to becoming a fighter and attacked the monarch.
The people wanted a dramatic rebellious figure to follow.  They wanted him to attack her. Brooding emotions were being whispered in cautious voices throughout Omio city.  In a matter of days, Harriet could feel the opinions regarding The Fox change.  People wanted him to return and be their vigilante leader.
He wouldn’t though.

-chapter fourteen

and there it is, my one hundred year queen, her Queen's lord Taj, and the Fox Keir. as well as Tasmania, Taj's pet snake baby.   i really need to be speaking more of my writing, because it is such a huge part of me, and yeah.
wow i ran out of pretty words.
i guess that means i need to end this post since obviously how to word has escaped me.

sayonara