Nom d plume

Revelations

2009-05-21T17:09:00.003+10:00

Things have been going well with the new series. For example, yesterday I realised that two storylines I thought belonged in different books - one about an abduction and one about a shipwreck - actually weaved together really well in the one book.

Some of the characters are still fluid; I can picture their purpose but not their personality. I originally thought one character - a young boy - could foretell the future, but at some I realised that I was actually thinking of another person entirely, and I discovered that the little boy was actually a healer.

Revelations like these take me by surprise because I don't know where they come from.

Sometimes I worry that there are too many people in these stories. There are really only a few main characters but then there are lots of minor characters and even more incidental ones. There are some characters who are only minor in themselves but who play important functions in terms of the plot. And there are some who are only mentioned in early stories but who become crucial later on.

It worries me because in Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series, there are quite a few characters introduced in the first novel - the main characters, their high school friends and families etc. Some of these fade from importance in the second book and aren't replaced until the third book, when the werewolves become prominent. And then suddenly halfway through the fourth book there are vampires, vampires everywhere! It's so difficult to remember who's who that Meyer lists the covens at the end of the book.

I don't want to put my readers in a situation where they read a name and can't put a face to it. I want them to know everybody. Which means I need to limit the numbers of characters as best I can and properly introduce all the necessary ones, so when they reappear somewhere, the readers don't say 'um, who's this?' but 'yay, so-and-so's back!'

the freedom of fiction

2009-03-21T16:04:00.010+10:00

Now that I've started talking about this new series, I can't seem to stop. Today I'm debating something that's been going around in my mind for weeks: Should I set my story in some kind of real historical or geographical basis or should I cut all ties with reality and set the story in my own world? I'm not talking about the difference between fiction and non-fiction; one of my characters can summon a wind at will, so obviously I can't be writing non-fiction! But should I do a Temeraire and set my fantasy in a historical reality?

Arguments for using reality:
Some things in my story, for example certain places, are directly based on locations that really exist. James Firth comes from Ireland; Duarte comes from Spain; the enemy is French, etc. If I say that James is Irish, then it's easier to explain that the 'English' mistrust him. And it won't confuse the reader so much if I use the real names of the countries; if I create names for these places, then the reader has to get their head around entirely made-up nationalities, cultures and histories. Even if those countries bear a resemblance to a country the reader's familiar with, rewembering all the names, politics and allegiances can still be tiresome.
And the whole storyline is set in the general context of the Napoleonic War, including the neutral ally (Spain) that becomes an enemy, the brief peace and return to war, etc. I could simply lay out at the beginning that the story takes place in that era, and save myself lots of contextualising.

Arguments against using reality:
Reality comes with constraints. I don't have to obey them, but knowing me, I would feel obliged to do so. I would have to research the war and fit my story into its timeline, research geography and stick with its distances, research historical attitudes and incorporate them. But if I ignore reality and set the story in my own world, then the war can last as long as I please, Spain and India can be neighbours, and it can be acceptable for a merchant's daughter to sail in a ship full of men.
And of course, it's not as though the ability to call a wind at will is realistic. I am writing fantasy, after all. It's not that reality has no place in fantasy or that fantasy has no place in reality, but ultimately, can't fantasy be my excuse for using my imaginary world? The world that I've transposed from the real one?

The winner:
It looks as though my future readers will have to get their heads around entirely made-up nationalities, cultures and histories. I'm leaving reality behind, baby!

the new series

2009-03-20T22:57:00.007+10:00

I suppose I should finally break my silence on my new project. Especially since it's not new anymore because I've been working on it for at least six months now, albeit with a fairly vague definition of 'working on it'.

I'm now up to the point where I've mapped out the main plot points of the first book and sketched out a very general outline for the following three. The fifth book is only one line long at the moment and may never get any longer. I'm not entirely happy with the preceding plots, either, but I'll work on them. Most of the important characters have been nailed down, although they won't all keep their current names.

Anyway. I discovered these two characters shortly before I went overseas. Goodness knows what made me think of them. It was probably a mix of things; my obsession with sea-going characters (Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin, Horatio Hornblower) and my growing excitment about my own upcoming adventure.

Whatever sparked their creation, those characters saved my sanity and my happiness as I travelled. I lived mostly in my head for those three months and those two adventurers went everywhere with me. We rode in palanquins in Edo Tokyo, took a monkey into Notre Dame in Paris, got kidnapped by pirates along Italy's Amalfi coast, were intimidated by a wealthy prince in Florence and got homesick for our little village in Wales.

I wrote a few brief scenes while I was travelling (the only writing I did that whole time) and when I got back I began to sift through all the adventures for the bones of the plot. I had always known it would be more than one story - or rather, that the one, over-arching story would consist of several chronological stories - so I needed to assemble that. And that's where I'm up to.

the premise

2008-08-02T19:09:00.004+10:00

What if Napoleon Bonaparte had successfully invaded England? Only it wasn't England, but a country more wild and beautiful and secretive. And what if Napoleon was no ordinary general, but a mage with powers to curse the land, manipulate the seasons and beguile the people?

His name was Lothaire, an immortal, and he came with darkness and blood to slaughter the Parliament of Mages. For centuries he drained the power and beauty from the mountains, the forests, the fields, even the people themselves. His redcoats ruled each town and village like small kingdoms, each regiment a tyrant, each peasant a victim. None could withstand him.

Until a peasant girl, a highwayman and a brooding hermit took shelter in a long-abandoned, cavernous castle called Broughton Keep.

what's in a name?

2008-08-02T18:01:00.014+10:00

Brand. Anglo-Saxon form of Old Norse Brandr, meaning 'sword'.
Brander. Perfect.

Edlyn. Anglo-Saxon, meaning 'noble maiden'.
Eirdlyn.
Airdlyn. Airdy. Perfect.

Broughton. Anglo-Saxon, meaning 'from a fortified town'.
Perfect.

Peregrine. Latin, meaning 'adventurer',
Perine. Latin, meaning 'wanderer'.
Perinor.
Yes. Perfect.

Cullen. Irish, Gaelic, meaning 'handsome'.
Cedrick. Old English, Welsh, possibly means 'war chief'.
Cadogan. English for Welsh Cadwgawn, meaning 'battle glory'.

Edmund. English, Old German or Irish, meaning 'rich protector'.
Edmund, Edmund. Wealthy guardian.
Edmund Broughton.
Yes. Perfect.

Napoleon. Old German, meaning 'son of mist'.
Lothaire. French for German Lothar, meaning 'people's warrior'.
Name of Kings and Emperors who invaded, betrayed and fell.
Lothaire. Perfect.

Dalin. Irish, meaning 'blind'.
Cadfarch. Welsh, meaning 'battle horse'.

Bane. Bane?

a byronic hero?

2008-07-30T17:24:00.000+10:00

The internet is a lovely, fluid thing. And tonight it led me to a surprising discovery about one of my characters.

It started when a 'painting' caught my eye on deviantart.com, a site a haunt not because I have any talent, but because others there do, and I frequently find pieces that spark my imagination. This piece was of a character in a book by Anne Rice. I've often come across her name and know she writes about vampires (I've seen the film version of Queen of the Damned, which apparently butchers the book) but this time I decided to investigate more closely. So I went to her website.

I skimmed into the study questions for Interview with the Vampire and found that Louis the vampire is considered a Byronic hero. I immediately googled 'Bryonic hero', because all I know about Lord Byron I learned from Tom Stoppard's play Arcadia, and that wasn't much.

Wikipedia lists these qualities as Byronic:

high level of intelligence and perception
cunning and ability to adapt
sophistication and education
self-criticism and introspection
mysteriousness, magnetism and charisma
struggle with integrity
power of seduction and sexual attraction
social and sexual dominance
emotional conflicts or moodiness - suffers from titanic passions
a distaste for social institutions and norms
being an exile, an outcast, or an outlaw
'dark' attributes not normally associated with a hero
disrespect of rank and privilege (though he may possess it)
a troubled past - a hidden curse or crime
cynicism
arrogance
self-destructive behaviour

And it occurred to me that my Brander might fit this list.

He doesn't quite, though. I'll go through it again.

high level of intelligence and perception √ Yes, although I'm not so sure he's terribly perceptive
cunning and ability to adapt √ He evades capture and lives in foreign countries
sophistication and education √ He's lived as a noble and spent centuries studying magery
self-criticism and introspection ? Hm, possibly
mysteriousness, magnetism and charisma √ Naturally!
struggle with integrity √ I suppose he feels torn between using Airdlyn and caring for her
power of seduction and sexual attraction √ Yes, I guess so, in gentle, subtle way
social and sexual dominance ? I'm not so sure... Airdlyn holds her ground well
emotional conflicts or moodiness - suffers from titanic passions x Brander isn't what I'd call passionate. Devoted is a better word
a distaste for social institutions and norms x He's striving to take his country back to its norms
being an exile, an outcast, or an outlaw √ Obviously
'dark' attributes not normally associated with a hero √ Mostly his dark past, I suppose, which isn't dark because of him... although I suppose he nurtures revenge
disrespect of rank and privilege (though he may possess it) x I think Brander feels all the weight of his rank and privilege and struggles to live up to it
a troubled past - a hidden curse or crime √ Obviously
cynicism √ Yes, but this fades after Airdlyn arrives
arrogance x No, although he is proud, but there's a difference
self-destructive behaviour x not unless you count fighting for what he believes in

Brander is 'beautiful but damned', as one article described the Byronic hero. And the main elements are there - the intelligence, the exile, the darkness, the magnetism. So I suppose he is a bit Byronic, at least to begin with. He grows out of it, of course, as Airdlyn heals him.

The one thing that saves Brander from being Byronic at all, really, is his kindness. Brand has a gentle, loving heart, and although he has suffered greatly, his sympathetic soul pervades his character.

In some ways I'm pleased to see that Brand follows in the vein of these other, powerful characters. But at the same time, I'm relieved that he doesn't entirely fit the description.

Most of all, I'm so thankful he finds purity and light and forgiveness at the end.

And that's not at all Byronic.

changing history

2008-06-14T13:54:00.000+10:00

All is changing.

I've decided to move my story forward in 'history'. Of course the history of the world I created for my characters is entirely up to me, so I could have made it anything I liked.

I first, instinctively, set it in a general, vague medieval era of my own imagining, so I didn't have to stick to the costumes, habits or customs of any particular century. And I made the Vangorns almost Romanesque, because it suited their brutual military, colonising society.

But now I'm shifting away from all that.

In part this is because I think it's too common for fantasy writers to set their novels in a pseudo-medieval world. And because I'm such a stickler for history, I get irrtated when authors don't do their research properly. Even Kate Forsyth, whose career I admire, puts her characters in velvet dresses while surrounding them in an era long before velvet was invented.

But I'm also moving away from medievalism because that's the way my mind's heading at the moment. Besides, a later era suits aspects of the story better. Perinor would look heart-stopping with pistols in his hands, like a true highwayman. Brand needs to wear a top hat. And Airdlyn should travel through the woods in a horse-drawn carriage.

So I'm moving it all forwards to the 18th century. Of course, parts of the story are necessarily set hundreds of years before this time, so I still have access to older times and thus get the best of both worlds. Victory!

the wrong audience

2008-06-14T12:41:00.000+10:00

I haven't worked on my novel for ever such a long time. Partly because I've been busy, but mostly because when I've thought about it of late I've just had this growing, almost intangible sense of despair.

But I've finally put my finger on the reason for this!

It's simply that I've been aiming to please an audience - in itself not a helpful thing - and what's more, I've been targeting the wrong audience.

The people I've been subconsciously writing the story for are not the people who'll eventually read it. The people I'm in immediate contact with barely read at all, and they would shrivel up with embarrassment at the suggestion that they try young adult fiction, particularly young adult fantasy.

So small wonder I keep thinking they'll hate it!

There are plenty of readers out there who will like it. And although I'm ultimately writing this story out of a desire to honour my characters, I'd be more than happy for other people to enjoy the characters too.

Enid Blyton (not that I'm trying to emulate her - not professionally or personally) used to say that critics over the age of 12 didn't count, because that was her target demographic. And I think there's something valid in that.

Critics who don't like young adult fantasy don't count.

I feel so much better now I've realised this!

having the last say

2008-06-06T23:15:00.000+10:00

One of the writing groups I'm on recently decided to compile a list of their favourite last lines in books. (Prompted by The Guardian doing the same thing.)

Some of the lines struck me as lovely or clever or intriguing, and I thought publishers should consider marketing books more on their last lines than on random, poorly constructed blurbs.

Here's a sample of other people's favourite last lines.

"When he comes, my Zaylo, be gentle with him. These Earthmen have big bodies, but inside them there are lost children". ~John Wyndham: A Time to Rest

"They had found universes in grains of sand." ~Greg Bear: Blood Music

"All letters of protest should be addressed to people not yet born." ~Greg Bear: The Machineries of Joy

"This afterlife shit is overrated." ~Richard Morgan: Broken Angels

"The long night had come again." ~Asimov: Nightfall

"Well, I'm back," he said. ~J.R.R. Tolkien: The Return of The King

"One by one, without any fuss, the stars were going out. ~Arthur C. Clarke: The Nine Billion Names of God

"And in the end, only the bards knew whether they were true or a legend." ~Lloyd Alexander: The High King.

(The person who contributed this wrote, "I bawl at the end of this series Every.Single. Time -which is why I'm a bit fuzzy on the wording - even though it is basically a happy ending, and usually want to shout at the author, But of *course* they were real!'" I remember this last line, too, even though I haven't read the book since I was 12 or younger. I had the same reaction.)

"There was a point to this story, but it has temporarily escaped the chronicler's mind." ~Douglas Adams: So Long, And Thanks For All The Fish

the owl service

2008-06-03T04:44:00.000+10:00

I stayed up til nearly 3:00am reading Alan Garner's The Owl Service. And I want to rewrite the last page.

It's an incredible novel. It's so slim it's almost a novelette, and I'm convinced it's literary fiction disguised as children's fantasy. It gave me the creeps.

The best way I can think to describe it is as a cross between Susan Cooper's The Grey King and Ian McEwan's Atonement. Like The Grey King, it's set in a Welsh valley surrounded by hills holding ancient, mostly evil magic. The famous Welsh myths force themselves into contemporary reality (well, contemporary meaning between the 50s and 70s) and the characters have to fight and defeat the old magic.

And like Atonement, it feels menacing and fatalistic from the start. Plus, both are set in a secluded stately home in the high heat of summer. And Gwyn, in The Owl Service, is - to my mind - so similar to Robbie from Atonement. He's the son of the household's cleaning lady, he doesn't know who his father is, and he's in love with the daughter of the household. And both in both novels, much of the story is told from Gwyn or Robbie's stream of consciousness.

aladdin's cave (going to boswell's)

2008-06-02T21:54:00.000+10:00

I love to read as I'm going to bed and often can't sleep until I've had a fiction hit. It's a weakness, but I figure my superpowers make up for it. But the other night I hit the crisis faced by all hungry readers - a bookshelf full of books already reread. I made the best of it by rereading Howl's Moving Castle (Diana Wynn Jones) and then Equal Rites (Terry Pratchett) but they couldn't dull the pain.

So on Saturday I took my housemate to Boswell's. I rave about the place so she was keen to come. Some people describe Boswell's as "the place with the mural". I always describe it as "Like Black Books - only clean". However you describe it, it's a booklover's paradise - rows upon rows of second-hand books, stretching all the way to the ceiling and all the way from the front window to the back door of a long, thin shop. There's always terrible music playing from a dodgy old cassette player, a digital screensaver showing natural disasters on the computer, and the books aren't always (read: almost never) arranged alphabetically. But it's all worth it.

I don't know what my housemate thought of it - I was too busy novel-hunting to ask. Because trying to find a particular book in Boswell's is like trying to find a particular jewel in Aladdin's cave; you can't help but be dazzled by all the sparkles. The fantasy section is almost too big to comprehend and far too daunting to tackle unless you have an idea of what you're looking for and how to spell the author's surname. The literary aisle is so crammed with obscure titles that you wonder if you should just gamble and chose one at random. And the children's section has been pulled apart by eager little hands and then shoved back in willy-nilly at an angry mother's command.

Of course, it didn't help that I was looking for books by Alexander Lloyd. I even asked the shop owner if she could help me. It was only when I went to write down the name so she could have a look for me in the boxes in her garage that I realised my mistake. I had the name the wrong way around! It's Lloyd Alexander, not Alexander Lloyd. So I dashed away from the counter again, followed by mild groans of impatience from my housemate. She followed me into my messy little corner, where I'd already collected a small pile of treasures, and queried politely, "Are you looking for children's books?" in the same way most people would query, "Are you looking for earwax?"

Because you see it had dawned on me - I have very, very slow dawns on my planet - that I like young adult or children's fantasy. Like so many things, this became blindingly obvious once I'd spotted it. I read so much of it when I was a child. There was a phase in primary school where I sped through books at a speed I've never equalled since. And if I ever reread books, they're almost always children's fantasy novels.

So, yes, I was looking for earwax - I mean, children's books. And I found some. I came away with Charmed Life, from Diana Wynn Jones' The Worlds of Chrestomanci series. I didn't know she'd written a series so I was delighted and I'll have to go back buy the others now. I also bought The Black Cauldron and The Castle of Llyr from Lloyd Alexander's The Prydain Chronicles. I actually ordered the whole series online in January but they still haven't appeared, although the rest of the books I ordered did. Unfortunately Boswell's didn't have The Book of Three, which is the first in the series, but I'll go back later and try again. And I got The Owl Service by Alan Garner, who also wrote The Weirdstone of Brisingamen, which I loved and still do.

In an attempt to disguise my appetite for children's literature, I also nabbed a copy of The Amber Spyglass, which is the third in Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy. I haven't read the seond one, though, so I might buy a new copy so I can read them in order. And lastly, I bought The Shadow of the Sun by A.S. Byatt. She wrote it in her early twenties, so it intrigues me in more than one way. In total I brought home six books, having paid only $36. Bargain!

I've finished Charmed Life. I loved it. And I love Chrestomanci, which worries me a little, given that he's married and has two children... and that he's a fictional character. I can see a resemblance to Howl - both are always so elegant and calm, so when they finally show emotion and vulnerability your heart just melts. I kept giving my housemate updates on exciting twists in the story. "Guess what just happened? A little boy set himself on fire and died. But don't worry, he has nine lives. ... And guess what; I'm nearly at the end and this boy's sister came back and she was prepared to let people cut his throat!" My poor housemate must have thought it was a horrible book.

And after all that, what did she think of Boswell's? Well, I still don't know, but when I told her I planned to go to bed and read, she cried, "No, this is why you shouldn't be allowed to buy books! I never get to see you!" Oh, but Chrestomanci wins my time and affection. He's an enchanter, after all, and who can resist him?

adverbial wisdom

2008-05-01T11:52:00.000+10:00

I read a terrifying article today, which was all about how 'ly' adverbs are a sign of weak writing. The critic quoted other editors and writing critics, who also said that reliance on 'ly' words made text heavy and clumsy. He even had a dig at J K Rowling for using them too often.

So if some of the best writers use 'ly' ending adverbs, what's the beef? The beef is - it's still not good writing. Also, you have to look through many pages to find these examples. If I see one 'ly' adverb in a 300-word exercise, I don't mention it. However, the people I single out for over-use of adverbs often have two, three, even six or seven of them in a 300-word exercise. I've even seen two or three in one paragraph. You won't see the pros doing that. Even bad editors don't let that pass in most cases. (Erick Emert)

I agree with what he says, so that's not where the problem lies. The problem lies in my own writing.

When I read the article, I had a suspicion my story - well, what's been written so far - would be sprinkled with 'ly' words. So I did what he suggested, which was to highlight the text and do 'control+f' (find) 'ly'. This took me through the first two chapters of my story one 'ly' word at a time. My heroine's name happened to have 'ly' in it, so it took a mite longer than it should have... But finally I had made every 'ly' adverb bold, so I could go through and manually count each one.

And the results were disheartening, to say the least.

7,229 words.
122 adverbs ending in 'ly'.
7,229 ÷ 122 = 59.25.

So I'm using an adverb every 60 words or so – or five adverbs every 300 words. How mortifying! I'm such a clumsy, lazy writer. I used the word 'suddenly' nine times, 'slowly' seven times, 'quickly' four times, and 'swiftly', 'softly' and 'eventually' three times each. What makes me even more ashamed is that they're such weak words!

I'm about to start working my way through the chapters, choosing stronger verbs to replace the 'weak verb + adverb' formula I've been relying on. And I have to admit, I'll be sad to say goodbye to some of these 'ly' adverbs. 'Furtively, morosely, stealthily...' they feel like such appropriate words! How will I ever make do without them?

writer, killer

2008-04-22T11:17:00.000+10:00

I walked into the kitchen crying and Neil said to me, 'What on earth is wrong?' And I said, 'I've just killed the person.' And he said, 'Well, don't do it then,' and I said, 'Well, it just doesn't work like that.' You're writing children's books, you need to be a ruthless killer. - J K Rowling

When I first read this quote, several years ago, I loved the thought that a writer could be so attached to a character that they would be moved to tears when the character dies. When I learned that the character, in this case, was Sirius Black, I completely sympathised with J K's pain.

When I thought about it more recently, it occurred to me that I've been crying over characters for years, even if I don't kill them off. I've been composing convoluted, dramatic stories in my mind since I was 12 or younger, and I've wept over the tragic lives of countless of these heros and heroines. Just the other night, when I couldn't sleep, I lay awake quietly crying over an argument between two of my characters. That fight won't even be part of the story - if it's ever written, that is.

And this afternoon I wrote my first death scene. Well, my first death scene apart from a story I wrote in Year One, entitled 'My Life', which ended with me walking through the woods and being attacked my wolves.

It's just occurred to me, actually, how appropriate that memory is tonight.

My teacher told the class she'd stick those stories up on the classroom door for everyone to read, but later that night when I was in bed, I thought back to the story and realised how devastating it truly was. I didn't want to die like that! In fact, like most six-year-olds, I didn't want to die at all. I became quite upset.

'Daddy, Vivien's crying,' my younger brother called from our shared bedroom. Daddy came in to investigate. When asked why I was sobbing beneath the sheets, I choked out some broken story about wolves and being eaten, and the worst of it all was that Mrs Bennett was going to stick it up on the door!

My pragmatic and loving father suggested that I should ask the teacher if I could rewrite the ending, and this soothed my despair. I have no idea if I rewrote it or not - most likely not - but the incident stayed with me. And apparently nothing's changed since then - I still write tragedy and then cry over it later.

So I'm a hopeless, weeping writer. Amen, so may it be.

But that memory is also appropriate because of the manner of the death. The character who died tonight wasn't eaten by wolves, but wolves were involved in his demise. And when I wrote it I was broken-hearted. The grief the main character feels, the grief that's in the writing - it's all mine.

It's a fantastic chapter, actually. They struggle through all kinds of hardships, building to this pulse-racing climax - I couldn't stop writing and I was hardly breathing - and then they reach safety. And you think it's all over and you relax. But then the main character realises that her beloved friend and rescuer has given his all and he's dying.

It's such a poignant, lonely death. And there's nothing she can do to save him, so he dies in her arms. Ah, now I'm crying again just thinking about it. He's a beautiful, generous, brave character. No-one could replace him.

As his breathing slowed and his good eye glazed, her tears fell in streams onto his face, and she crooned her love and gratitude for his great sacrifice.

amicus fidelis, protectio fortis

2008-03-16T05:06:00.000+10:00

(faithful friend, strong protector)

anput

in times long past was it your image carved in stone
your graven form on temples and urns protecting bones
your canine profile in sleek beauty dutifully deified?

did your wise eyes observe the dead slide between the realms
your head in watchful stillness
carved to guard the paths that to eternity once led?

oh I see how they could worship you, small goddess of my heart
not death you hold, not death -
your fragile breath
still proof to me of your everliving worth.

stars and wings

2008-03-04T12:14:00.000+10:00

I have fallen in love with my world!

This epiphany has happened as a result of three things - I bought a book of poetry, downloaded some songs and watched a DVD. They sound like ordinary things, but to me they're magical.

The book of poetry is count me the stars by kylie johnson. There are 73 poems (I think) and I haven't read them all yet, although some of them are only one line long ('maybe geography made us friends').

Some are written sideways, in circles, in all different font types and sizes. The paper is brown and speckled and the book itself is covered in cloth (my favourite type of cover).

It all makes for a tangible, tactile experience of words and meanings.

Each one of the poems is beautiful, each completely unique. I'm not sure I have a favourite. Anyway, none of them have names, so I couldn't tell you which it was.

This one makes me smile:

you carried an umbrella
because you thought it would rain

it didn't

but i love your optimism

There's just something lovely about it.

Or this one...

and next he said:

'how tiny it is we whispered
winter has gone beneath
the misty places of your shadow...

ships are my language
and light your storm'

I find them just enchanting.

The DVD I watched was of Cirque du Soleil's Varekai. I saw the show live at the end of 2006 and bought the film, but never watched it... until now.

I have to give credit to Varekai for being the spark for the novel I'm currently working on.

It was the image close to the beginning, the image of Icarus falling, his wings whirling as he tumbled through the air, that lit my imagination again.

And accordingly, that scene is the hinge of the novel.

It was so strange to watch it again. There's something about it that captivates me, sweeps my breath away, lifts my soul in wonder.

The songs I downloaded are Loreena McKennit ones - folk, roots music. I was selective and just chose a few (except I loved one so much I bought the album version and the 'live in Paris' acoustic version too).

I feel as though her songs tell stories, even the ones without lyrics. And they lift my mind to places that only exist in music and words and images.

They make me wish my novel could have a soundtrack, so people could read each scene listening to the music I heard as I wrote it.

The novel feels as though it's writing itself. It's a heady feeling.

There are elements I'm not yet satisfied with and it's still very fluid in form and structure and style, but every day it becomes clearer and more beautiful in my mind.

Hence the peace and delight in my current state.