clarentine: (Canum)
1961 new words yesterday, which will sbustitute for the scene I'm cutting (sap--ew) and then some. The subconscious remembered what plot was. Hallelujah!

Best news yet: I found a way to incorporate a ponor. The scenery grows all around me. The Sapree canyons came alive as I wrote them, and the hills of central Vellutira are becoming more real with every word. One of these days, given the chance, I want to see this landscape I'm paraphrasing. (Did you know there's a grant to allow (SFF?) authors to do just that? I think it was [ profile] fjm who mentioned it on her blog recently. Now there's a grant I want to win!)

Research in the last couple of days was mostly looking for photos of the karst landscapes of the Balkan peninsula. I found some lovely images of Dubrovnik, which, while that city doesn't quite match up to Clarent, will still enrich my descriptions of the Vellutiran capital and ensure it resembles neither Guaymarien nor the Sapree cities. I'm still using a gorgeous image of a flooded ponor and the hills and trees around it as a visual mnemonic when I'm on my laptop at home; you can bet that little fold in the hills will appear somewhere in Break.
clarentine: (Canum)
It's been a while since I had appreciable progress to report, but I finally got through the scene that had been blocking me, to the tune of about 2200 new words, most of them coming late last night. I may actually have gotten through the worst of the scenes that needed to be added, too.

There's still a chunk of time unaccounted for coming up that I hope I can get over in some fashion other than "and they basically did nothing new for two weeks while the clock ticked." I dislike those sorts of entries. I'm holding out for a further flash of creativity to bridge the gap instead. *g*


There's a karst formation on the coast of Scotland--Geodha Smoo--which will be making a simulacrum appearance in Break. Fascinating stuff, this karst geology. Underground rivers turn out to be great places to disappear a body, unless they turn up at the bottom of the waterfall where the river cascades down to the coast. (/tongue in cheek)

Take a gander. This place is fascinating:
clarentine: (Canum)
Last night's word count was something like 1952, which is excellent for me. Took two sittings to accomplish, but the scene just would not quit talking to me, and in the end I was pleased that I'd persevered.

I'm on the ledge about using "my voice scraping my throat like teeth on a bone," but for the moment it's staying.

Thus far today I have 556 new words for the transition into the next chapter. Dunno if there will be more.


Courtesy of the Henrico County Public Library system, I have access to a number of databases of primarily scholarly journals and magazines. I've been using that access today to research karst landscapes. I'm going to have fun with this one; setting is very important to me, and this particular imagined setting is coming clearer in my mind's eye with every photo I see of dolines, ponors, poljes, and karren.

If, when you read this book, you feel like you're in one of these poljes and are checking underfoot for ponors, I've done my job. *g*
clarentine: (Canum)
1425 last night after much thrashing around to set up this next scene. I've been heavily into avoidance activities while my subconscious worked out what had to happen on the screen--this week, I'm making throw pillows for the couch. I've made phone calls I've been putting off, I ran errands, I got my eyes checked. Took the dog to the park. Limed, fertilized, and re-seeded the little lawn in the back yard. And then I decided I needed to just write the damned scene and get it over with. Perfection isn't necessary; it has to be on the screen/page before it can be polished.

I swear, I have to rediscover this truth at least three times a year.


Somewhere, in the notebooks containing the early, handwritten versions of the Canum stories, there's a list of the names of a certain group of people. I could really use that list right about now. Maybe it's time to relocate all of those notebooks down here to the workroom.

No, that's more displacement. Argh!


After I got my words last night, I let myself do some of the research I'd pushed aside in order to get them written. Cave systems in karst is a topic I'm very interested in at the moment. I stopped by a library earlier in the week to see what sort of info I could find, but the reference librarian was unable to offer much assistance. It's not so much the geology and hydrology of karst that interests me; what I really want to understand is the effect that geology and hydrology has on the landscape and environment it's set within--not so much the caves themselves, then. Because I'm finding it hard to put into words the particular thing I need to know about, I can't blame the librarian for being unable to help me.

Maybe what I need is to locate a geologist/hydrologist who understands karst and pick their brain. *g*


I'm currently involved with an online class on the Age of Sail--not displacement this time but rather research for Satisfaction, whenever I finally pick it back up. (On the other hand, spending hours working on the optional homework assignment is, uh, avoidance. Um.) I forget sometimes how much fun it is to read about sailing and imagine the movement of beautiful boats through the sea.


I'm also currently working my way through Maass's Writing the Breakout Novel, not as a bible or blueprint but more as a check of what these past years of exposure to high-octane writers' brains has taught me. I have some very bright friends, I'm happy and proud to say. I haven't read anything thus far in the Maass book that hasn't been said in some variation by someone I know rather better than Maass.


See? I've been busy. That's why I haven't gotten many words lately. Look at all the stuff I've been doing....


Back to work.


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