Monday, April 2, 2012

Randomness on And It Was Love

Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.
- picture put together by the talented Jessica just to make me cry... but what could any story about love be, without some reference made to the 'this' of which greater love no man hath?  
Strange how And It Was Love should be the working title of the story I began to write the year the word I picked to learn and live happened to be Love. Or perhaps not strange... when my imagination runs away with me, what should it do but take my heart and its desires with it? 

Love - for country, for brother, for father, for mother and sister and aunts, love for her people's enemies, love that hurts and scars and aches and kills... I had not realized when I began all that love could do. 

But I think I am discovering, along with my character, that none of that love can truly matter. It does, it must, yet... in the end it is none of those that makes the final difference. It is scarcely even love for God - rather is the love of God alone that can bring healing and joy in the midst of tragedy, peace in the heat of battle, and light in the darkest blackness. He is Love.




What is your current word count?
43,343 words (I started this a long time ago... there are now 111,388 words in it... but I'm going to leave the answers I had before. :D )


What would you consider is best about your novel: plot, dialog, characters, or description?
It was the main character that made me want to write her story... and then a sudden desire to show a brother-sister relationship became the starting place for the plot. Another country, another people, and the rest of the plot forced their way in when a disgusting pig of a king (the MC's words, not mine) forced his obnoxious opinion on queens, female ambassadors, and women in general into a random paragraph. That paragraph became part of the story, and then that king's son entered the picture... It's a character driven story, and characters are why I write. :)

Which of the above would you consider your weakest point?
 Oh... description can be painfully sparse I know, though I have perhaps seen the surroundings in this novel more clearly than most I write - I know the layout of the houses, I know the look of the land, and I know the colors and patterns of her dresses. I think it is due to the vibrancy of her personality - oranges, purples, scarlets, turquoise or teal, she dresses to match her mood, and I must perforce catch a little of it myself. She has gotten me to like orange I think, a color that was once my least favorite in probably all the world.
But that does not make up for my lack of description. :P

Of all your characters who do you like the best?
Ooooh... that's a horrible question... perhaps two days ago I would have said the king's son mentioned above who forced his way into the story. He frightens me and breaks my heart, but somehow I understand his pain and want so badly for him to win the fight that has become his life...
But now he may have passed the point of no return, for he lost in the last chapter, lost horribly, and the strength of the MC's reaction to his fall raised her higher in my eyes.

What was the inspiration for your novel?
Another book I wrote. :D And then something from a random TV series I saw on Youtube. And then lots of music. And... yeah. lol



What other writing projects have you completed or are in the process of writing?
The Starpacker (Western/historical fiction ~ completed, as in whole draft written and edited about 9 times or so. :D I think somewhere around 11-12 people have read it, too, which is quite a bit more than usually have been allowed to read my stories! lol)
Some Trust in Chariots (Western/historical fiction, sequel to above ~ completed rough draft)
The Jeweled Dagger (Biblical fiction ~ completed rough draft, beginning editing)
Hope Sprang Up (Speculative fiction, more specifically, Historical Fantasy - i.e. made up world with its own cultures, continents, and histories, but no traditionally fantastical elements, like dragons, elves, etc. ~ completed rough draft)
Faith Through Flames (Same genre as above ~ begun, part of trilogy - Faith Through Flames, Hope Sprang up, And it Was Love)
Will Arrington (Historical fiction with a bit of a Western thrown in perhaps, connected to Some Trust in Chariots through the titular character ~ probably half-completed)
Tam Lyn (*sigh* I'm thinking another Historical Fantasy, unless I end up making it just a fictional story set in our world, placing it somewhere in Europe about the time of one of the crusades. :P Historical Fantasy is way easier. LOL ~ begun)
The Dragon Riders (Okay, this would probably have to be classified as a full-fledged fantasy. :D It wasn't meant to be... but it's surprising how random things can get when you first allow dragons in your stories... :P I love my dragons though - they're gigantic flying reptiles, with something of the regality of lions and horses about them, perhaps slightly more intelligent than either horses or dogs... they don't talk.)

What would you consider the funniest line in your novel?
Bother... I have a hard time writing funny... but "Whatever, your highness." is probably one of the funniest - and that only because it so perfectly captures a certain character's respect/lack thereof for his prince. 

Go to the 11th page of your novel and paste the last paragraph here. 
Gah... that's always a dangerous thing... and it will make no sense whatsoever, but...  
But Taiah had died so soon after her return from Brynhaven… there was so much more River could have learned from her, if only she had lived. She could hear the woman’s sweet voice in her head even now, whispering softly It is the ambassador who heals whose heart will be to prevent a war. My gift is to heal people… yours, Tyrielle, is to heal nations. They are not so different, and, though I was a poor ambassador, if I teach you what I know, you are wise enough to be able to use it someday. 

What time period is your novel set in?
Between 1097 and 1102 - their time period, not ours. Though I'd guess their world is roughly similar to ours in those same years. 


Please paste here the paragraph you consider the best.
Over 200 pages and you want me to pick the best paragraph? Haha. Nah... I'll post a couple excerpts at the end of this though. :) 

What are you planning to do when your novel is all written and edited? Writing wise, that is.
Writing wise... Write the prequel? Which I have already started? :D I am totally writing backwards, and I really hope it ends with the 3rd one... which it should, since I've already got Hope done, and once I finish Love, all I will have is Faith. :) Which I already know will probably be one of the hardest books ever to write... And it was Love is definitely the hardest book I've ever written, and the prequel looks much worse. But that just makes it more interesting, right?! :) Right... ;) 




and the excerpts... and because it seems to be the thing to say, please don't steal my story. :P 




-Definitely one of the more light-hearted moments in the book... 





“Do you ever wish you were part of a different royal family?”
“Eh, what?” Tarian looked up from where he was lying on a thick rug before the fire burning on the hearth, absentmindedly stroking Mávro, the youngest of the panther cubs residing in the palace at the moment.
She shook her head at the teasing in his voice. “No, I’m serious. That you lived in a country where… you would be king.”
“And I’d be stuck learning all the stupid little rules that Temira spends her life on? Of course! And you would be a useless second daughter, good for nothing except maybe, perhaps, if you grow up very beautiful, ratification of a treaty by marriage to a very foreign prince from very far away. Oh, I wish for that every day.”
She reached out and whacked him on the head with her scroll. “Thank you delightedly. If you haven’t noticed, I am already grown up, and therefore that is something less than a compliment. Besides the fact that you just wished me away to the end of the earth.”
He glanced at her carelessly. “You grew up? When did that happen? I hadn’t noticed.”
She squealed, whacking him again, and he rolled out of her reach, shaking his head. Mávro lashed his tail, leaping playfully over Tarian to bat the scroll. Tarian laughed, relaxing back again the rug and raising his eyebrows at River. 
“I hadn’t heard Ilmataran princesses grew into little piglets… Blue skies above, I wonder what Ilmataran princes turn into?”
“Oh-ho, believe me, you don’t want to know!” River giggled, reaching down to pick up Mávro and burying her face in his soft black fur. 





- And another random part... River, now a thrall in a foreign kingdom, has been given the job of caring for a wounded Vastaavatkarhun soldier, and at the moment happens to be finishing up telling him one of her favorite stories. He was bored and asking her about her country. :) 



“At last she refused to bear any longer the torment of seeing while yet being unable to speak or touch the one she had tried to give her life for. She did not care what the gods had done or what they might yet do; she would be with her beloved. So, determined that nothing should hold her back, she threw herself from the heavens in one final attempt to reach him. Her second rejection of their greatest gift and the flagrant rebellion in her action infuriated the gods, and she was doomed to be forever returned to her place in the sky, only to perish in fire and flame over and over again, time without end.
“Yet… so great was her love… they say if ever a night goes by that you do not see a falling star, that night, by the strength of that love, she has reached the earth, and while the darkness lasts, she may remain with her beloved.”
The darkness was filled with the sorrow in her voice, and when she ceased speaking, there was only silence.

“That was horrible.
River straightened in her seat, suddenly realizing that they had been sitting in the dark for several minutes, not even moving.
“It’s sad,” she said, somewhat defensively.
“Sad? It’s twisted and depressing. What would possess someone to make up a story about that?”
“It’s about how nothing can defeat love, not even the will of the gods. What is twisted and depressing about something so beautiful as Ariae’s love for the peasant, a love so great that even now it continues on?” She swished up out of her chair, moving carefully in the dark until she found and lit a candle.
The light flared up briefly, and she could see Jayde’s green eyes fixed on her accusingly.
“You like it!” he cried softly, the only half-teasing disbelief in his voice almost making her blush. “It doesn’t even make sense! Who made the prophecy about his sight – wouldn’t they have done better to tell him to stay away from the princess so he could live a normal life? And how is he still alive? Did he get immortality too? Or how about what I really want to know: what did he do to deserve all that? He didn’t reject any gifts.”
“It’s just a story!” she exclaimed, snatching up one of the fallen pillows from the floor and throwing it at his face. Jayde blocked it with his arm, catching it before it could fall again. He shook his head at her over the top of it, and she threw up her hands in exasperation.
“It’s not supposed to make sense. You’re just supposed to listen to it.”
“Do you believe it?” he asked then, curiosity taking the place of teasing. “That that’s what a falling star is?”
“No-o…” she answered slowly. “Like I said, it’s a story. A falling star is… just that, I imagine.”
“What about the gods? Are they so cruel, their rewards so hard?”
She shrugged. “They could be I suppose – but there is only one true God, Elohim, One with his Son Christos and the Spirit He sends to guide us. His rewards are not hard, for He is Goodness, Mercy, and Love.” 
She looked at him, wondering how closely he held to the gods of Vastaavatkarhu, whoever they were. Probably something to do with bears. 
But he was staring at her. “Ha,” he said suddenly.
Immediately she felt herself bristle. “What? You think that is as much a legend as the other?”
“No!” he answered quickly, shaking his head emphatically. “It’s just… now I understand why you helped me – why you are the way you are.”
“What way?” she asked, only partially appeased by his words.
“Kind,” he said. For a moment he was silent, then he raised his hand to touch the wood of the windowsill, his eyes going to the blackness outside. 







remember... I write for comments... I love you if you comment... :) 

1 thoughts shared:

Jessica said...

<<<<<<<<<<<3333333333333333 This!!!! *goes off to cry*

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