Writing: A Letter To My Second Protagonist

So, in a bid to make me blog that little bit more, here is a letter I wrote for Aran (around the same times I wrote one for Lauryn)

If this fantasy quadrilogy I’m planning goes the way I think it is, I’ll have five protagonists all in all, and I can already imagine the apology letters I’m gonna have to send to them at one point or another.

So, let us begin.

Dear Aran Rill

I’ll be honest and say I don’t know how you happened. You just did. There was a part of you that already existed in my mind, but you weren’t this whole person that you are now. Despite that, you didn’t let go, and you became an anchor in the world of monsters, ghosts, serpents and Gods. You became so much more than the boy I was going to bring in way later.

You were never meant to exist until the third book.

Your companions were never thought of before you.

Ryan and Bryn were never meant to be part of the deal, but somehow, they weaved themselves in, just like you did.

But, beleive it or not, you are the one I believe in the most, you are the one I think can do this. You have no idea who you are, the pieces are there, you just have to put it together. You are much more than just an orphan from the King’s city Aran.

I know I took a lot from you already, I took away things I never thought had to go, and I’m truly sorry for that. I really am. I literally cried over what I did to you, even if in the grand scheme of things, it’s a minute detail – it had to happen – you don’t realise that yet, but you will.

To make up for what I did, I’m gonna give you more, for a time, and then I’m going to take it away again. You just have to stay yourself throughout it all, because I think you can get through anything you put your mind too. Your friends, the ones I hadn’t planned will always be the strongest, the ones that will make you laugh when you want to cry and live when you want to die.

Everything happens for a reason Aran, you happened for a reason. Your the one who made the first manuscript way over the word count I wanted it to be. You were – are – worth it though. Thank you for coming in to this story when you did. Thank you for being you, thank you for everything, and don’t ever change.

Even when they want you to.

Love,

Jade x

When The Bad Guy Has A Point

You know, lately, I’ve been experiencing some experiences in which the bad guy… have a point… a very valid point… and then, you have normal people, like you and me, fighting against said good point for the love of friends, family: all the things that make us human… and, maybe, it just proves that humanity is going to destroy itself.

And, thats what makes a bad guy so great. A bad guy needs to believe that they are doing the right thing, not because of a troubled past, or a revenge plot or a hunger-for-power or psychopathic tendencies, they need to convince you that they believe in what they do.

Their points must be valid, they must be so intune with their vision, with their belief that they are helping others that you have to stop yourself, just once, to think about it. To think, to ask yourself; are they right?

Your favourite characters may die, your protagonists may lay to waste but, in the end, if the bad guy succeeds, will humanity be better off? Will it save itself instead destroy itself?

Majority over minority?

Minority over majority?

In the end of ends, is it worth it?

If only humanity can destroy itself? Should it really have a place in the world anyway?

Think about that when you develop that bad guy in your story… To suceed, they need a drive just as big as your protagonist, perhaps even greater…

And, maybe, just consider it all anyway…

Until next time though,

Just keep writing,

Jade x

Day 3: When a Kings Knight Met a Red Nosed Reindeer (12DaysOfBlogmas)

Today’s post was inspired by today’s Promptmas post! And, I attempted to do a flash fiction.

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That day, Ryan had decided to go on a small hunting trip in Pembrey forest to pass the time a tad. Everyone else was sat around at the manor, writing letters to Kings, reading books, carving wooden rabbits, picking flowers or welding swords. All of which he had no interest in.

Not to mention, he liked to be alone sometimes. The silence of the forest made him feel better, made him feel sane when the rest of the world were losing their minds. Here, it wasn’t that bad, the people here weren’t as crazy as they were in the fields of Cryers – despite claims against the old Lord.

So far, he’d caught a couple rabbits, scared off a pheasant or two by accident, but he hadn’t spotted any boars or deer yet. Although, he wasn’t really sure he wanted too. He hadn’t brought Bezel with him this time, knowing the horse would most likely bolt at the sound of a rustle after what happened last week.

Really speaking, Ryan shouldn’t have been out there by himself, but, if he peered through the thicket long enough – and in just the right place – be could see the manor, which would be his excuse when he got back.

The trees around him were already thick with snow, the ground covered in undisturbed white that broke apart under his boots.

He hated that as much as Aran did, ruining the snow after all its hard work to fall.

The feeling of eyes on the back of his head made him stop. He could hear something as well, a rustle here, the crunch of snow there. He turned his head, his hand steady on his bow to pull it to the front of him, but then he saw it.

He had no idea what it was at first. He thought someone had been holding a torch from far away, but it wasn’t fire, it was like an orb. Like a ball of glowy red.

And it was attached to a stags nose.

Its antlers were small, it told him it was was a young thing, but it had fluffy chest hair, almost like a white beard.

It was tentatively walking towards him. Ryan kept his position, wondering whether the thing was going to attack, but it didn’t. It stopped about three feet away from him and strained it’s neck towards him, it’s red nose twitching.

Everything about it, except the fluffy neck line and the bulbous red, glowy thing on the end of it’s nose, told Ryan it was a stag, but the nose looked as if it was changing color every so often, that it would dull and then brighten up again as it twitched, getting closer and closer to him.

It was like something out of one of Telfawds books, like one of those mythical creatures that wasn’t really mythical. He considered it for a moment; the look of the thing, maybe it was an infection or something, a tumor perhaps, and then, the distance from here to the manor, which he realised he couldn’t see anymore, even if he did peer.

The stag touched his hand with it’s nose and he jerked it back out of habit, but it had felt like a dogs, rough and wet and he almost thought that it was going to crouch down and wag it’s tail like one, but it just tilted it’s head instead. Ryan swore it grinned at him, but then he shook his head and rubbed his eyes and face, wondering if the thing really was real.

If it hadn’t looked at him so placid like, he may have just shot it straight away, but, instead, a comical chase between the two ensued. Dashing here and there so that Ryan could get a bit of noose around it’s neck to guide it back to the manor, at least just for Telfawd to see it and tell him why it’s nose was red, bulbous and glowing. He didn’t know if they would believe his words. And, the more he looked at it, the more he saw something else in it.

And, it wasn’t a monster or anything, so Aran couldn’t say that he was the one that brought the end of the world. That would still be on him.

Anyhow, after another dash and a chase, Ryan stopped and put his hands on his hips, taking a deep breath and looking up towards the sky, he thought about how dark it had got, which meant he’d probably been chasing this deer around for far too long already. It also meant that he might get lost, and then, maybe eaten by a redcap or a shellycoat, both of which he hoped to avoid.

After a few more moments, Ryan sighed, turned and pulled his bow from his back.

The poor thing had no idea what was happening, and Ryan shot it in the head, the arrow sliced through the stag’s skull, almost splitting it in two!

Ryan chucked the dead red nosed stag over his shoulder and took it back to the Lord.

But, by the time, he got back, the red glow was gone and it was just a regular old stag again. No one believed him, but still, they sat around the table with their venison and cheered to his catch!


I don’t know why I always jump to Ryan for these short stories. I wonder sometimes if there’s a reason for that though, like something underlining that perhaps I don’t know about just yet.

I know he has this gentle side to him, but, he’s also willing to do what needs to be done, and, really, is like the anchor to sanity that I think Aran is gonna need as these books go on. He’s definitely one of those characters to watch, unless he suddenly shows up dead if he goes looking for some more red nosed stags with fluffy neck lines.

I know the grammar is a bit all over the place, but I guess that’s what you get when you do one of these flash fictions things, and it’s a good exercise to get to know your own characters a bit too much!

Anyway! Thank you for reading!

And, remember, just keep writing!

Jade x

Mel and Al Word Vomit The Zombie Apocalypse!

Do you think that would be a good title for a book? I think I’d have to add ‘And they whine a lot’ as a slogan, but, yeah!

So, I am currently at 19,062 words!!!

I’m well on track, and I have no idea how! Like, I have literally just word vomited the lot! But, it’s the sort of book that gives itself to that. It revolves around a twelve year old’s diary in the zombie apocalypse, so add in puberty, PMS, loneliness and zombie killing, and you got one poor little kid who has no idea what she’s supposed to do, and all these thoughts and feelings and once-in-a-life-time experiences are happening to her, and the only way she can make sense of it, is by writing the words down on paper (Which is then found by a forty-something-year-old man!)

I’m also in the mind-set that I have to write everyday, and that I can’t edit, which I think is just a feat in itself! If you can get them down, NaNo will be a breeze! You’ll get to 50k or whatever goal your wanting easily!

I’ll be honest though, this ‘book’ might turn in to a novella or even a short story when I edit it (maybe not a short story, but you get the jist), but at least I wrote my word count goal in 30 days, so, yeah! Like NaNo tells us. Quantity gives you Quality!

And, if you love the story enough, if your passionate about it, once all the words are down, you’ll be able to create something beautiful with (or without) them!

I gace had a few set backs, a couple days where not that much was written (in retrospect to the other days), and I’ve made a few changes with the story I’m writing, changes I didn’t think I’d need to do, but, none-the-less, even though my main character goes from third to first to third and to first perspective every time he talks and thinks something, at least I don’t have to worry about it until editing comes along!

Editing might kill you, but at least you can say that you wrote a book!

This first person, it’s so weird to write in! I’m getting the hang of it though, and I think I’ve distinguished between the two voices, but whether it stays first or third in the next draft, we won’t know until it happens!

Anyway, I need to get back to writing said story, so,

Just Keep Writing

And don’t edit nothing till you write ‘The End’ on November 30th!

Jade

My Characters Don’t Know What They’re Doing Half The Time

These last few weeks, as I been going through my manuscript, I’ve been thinking a lot about the personal journeys all my characters are going through. Some have nice cushy lives until some unexpected guests turn up, and some have been thrown in to the wilderness to survive and hope for the best… Half the time, they have no idea what their doing, even experienced Knights have no idea what their doing. I do, I know what their doing and what they need to do, but I hope with this indecisiveness, that somehow, I’ve been able to make my characters feel more real!

For me (and most people, whether your young or old), I still don’t have any idea what I want with my life, not truly. I obviously want to publish books and all that, but there’s a large chunk of my life that I don’t know where its going… Just like my poor characters!

In most of the books that I’ve read, the characters, I don’t think, have enough indecisiveness in their lives and I think it’s really important that they do. I think more characters need to not have a clue what they want, they may have something their given, or are heir too. Say a prince or a princess. But, I want my characters to question these things, to say. ‘Perhaps I don’t want to be one… Perhaps I do… Maybe… Well… I don’t know’

I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with character knowing what they want, perhaps they know it straight away, and that’s fine. My main antagonist knows what he wants, he knows – just about – how to get it and he’s determined to do it. His reasoning may not be the best, especially for some of the things he does, but, at the end of the day, he does have his reasons, and to him, their true.

In my WIP, my characters are all changed by the end of it, some for the very worse, some for the better, but, for a good chunk of it, their not sure what their supposed to do. They don’t know who to trust, or who to follow, or even if they trust themselves. Some get really depressed, and some contemplate killing themselves. Some just walk in to a forest full of monsters and never come back (this happened, and I cried, because I didn’t realise it needed to happen until I edited it, the scene still makes me feel sad now, and it’s been a few months).

So, I guess, it’s a trait of many people in real life that doesn’t always seem to cross over to books, or stories so much. I know it can be a bit frustrating the character not knowing what they want to do, or be, or where they want to go; even when it’s really obvious to the reader, but, the whole point of a book is making this world you created some-what believable, and I think it’s a great way off adding this realistic part to it…

At the end of the day, you know what you want your characters to do, even if they don’t, and your job is to put them through all their trials and tribulations and learn with them; learn what they like, what they fear, how they deal with different things. It’s okay if they changed their mind half way through, perhaps they won’t be that hero you wanted them to be, or they won’t be that sort of villain that you planned, but that’s just the joys of writing a book isn’t it?

You can plan the whole thing, and have a completely different plot by the time you type the end…

What traits do your characters have that make them that little bit more realistic? I’d loved to hear them!

Happy hump day guys

And,

Just Keep Writing!

Jade

To Fly… Would It Not Be Wonderful

Short story inspired by writing.prompt.s


So, in our world, half of the people born in a year can fly, and the other half can’t. It’s as simple as that.

And, the only way you can find out; is if you jump from a height that will surely kill you!

It sounds a bit macabre, I know, but my people know what their doing. They know if your that half that can fly. I promise.

My father can fly; my mother, maybe she can, but she never tried; my older sister can fly too, but my younger brother has no interest in it, not yet anyway. He likes having his two feet on the ground at all times, whilst I… I love to be in the air.

Whether I’m sitting on a plane, jumping in to a pool or doing the high jump in school, I just love the air brushing against me.

I’m sixteen years old now, the youngest you can be to find out your fait in this world; and about to jump off the white cliff of Dolin. It’s the cliff both my father and my sister jumped off, the one they glided from, unwilling from that day on to keep their feet on the ground.

I’ve never wanted to keep my feet on the ground. The wind has always given me a thrill, the feeling of it in my hair and brushing past my finger tips have always excited me. I knew from the day I jumped in to a diving pool that the air was built for me, to glide and fly…

I remember I sky dived once… The closest I’d come to flying before my time. I felt myself float, just as my father said he did. It had felt amazing. I can still remember the wind blowing in my face. I’d stretched my arms out and screamed in to the air in delight. I’d felt the air pick me up.

I’d begged the man behind me not to pull the chute, to let us glide down on to the ground, but such things are not allowed. The man had laughed, and in my ear, he’d said ‘Not today’.

The parachute would open as planned and we would fall to the ground slowly. I was mesmerised by that which surrounded us, by the endless land that some witnessed every day.

That moment is what I will imagine now as I step over the cliff.

My father is at the bottom, cheering for me to jump. My mother is stood behind him.

She won’t look at me, refusing until my feet have touched the ground, but I have already decided that she would never never see me again, because from this moment on, my feet will never touch solid ground.

I will fly to dinner, I will fly to school, I will keep myself in the air where I am meant to be. It is what I am made for…

I close my eyes, take a deep breath in as my father taught me, open my arms out to the world and jump. I feel the wind instantly, pushing in to me, easing it’s way through my splayed fingers, my lungs breathing in the purest of airs, filling my chest with the urges to glide, to do as my father does.

My father is still cheering, I can hear him in the wind, I think my mother has joined him. I smile, perhaps I am gliding already.

My eyes flicker, but the wind keeps them shut. There’s no worry. My father said this would happen, that I had to breath and picture myself in the air, to picture myself flying.

The moment I feel like an open parachute, for the moment I will begin to glide, to fly…

But the moment does not come…

My mothers not cheering…

She’s screaming…


This was fun to write, I hope it’s fun to read too! It seems the poor sixteen year old will fly, but not the way she expected!

Prompts can be a writers most important resource, and get you out of the writing slumps you find yourself in!

It helps you develop different types of writing styles, helps you try out different tenses and even lets you explore genres you perhaps wouldn’t think of writing in.

It also inspires you. It can lead to a paragraph, a short story, a chapter or even a full-blown novel! You can make a prompt your own. You could have a hero, a villain or a by-stander as your star, it doesn’t matter, as long as you write it the way you want to…

Just Keep Writing guys 🙂

Finding Inspiration in Ibiza

Sun, sea and steps in to the depths! This is the inspiration you can find in Ibiza!

I found so much inspiration in Ibiza and I had to share it!

Whether it’s for a current work in progress, a new novel or a short story, I think a photo can inspire a scene, which in turn can inspire a whole book.

A photo is just a snapshot in time, but if you didn’t take it, there’s a whole host of things that could have led up to it. This means that a simple photo of a lighthouse on an island, in the middle of the sea, could belong to an old hermit called Genny Bee, who deliberately crashes ships in to the rocks so he can kill the crew and steal the oranges!

Someone once said, a photo can say a thousand words!

This time last year, I was getting ready to go and tick a couple things off my bucket list! Ibiza and paragliding! It’s one of the most beautiful and inspirational places I’ve ever been, and if you ever have the chance to go, I definitely recommend it.

Hopefully, all the photos I took will help inspire you in some way!

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This is the first photo I took whilst on the coach to the hotel. For most of the holiday, we stayed near the bay, but we did go in to Ibiza’s old town for a day trip. It was full of culture and Spanishness. Beautiful in every way possible!

Here are some of the beautiful sunsets we witnessed!

The following is some photo’s I took whilst on a sunset cruise! Sadly though, just as the sun started to set, the clouds rolled in. It probably would have been beautiful.

On the sunset cruise, I saw the following. I think it could inspire a story all on its own. An old staircase in to the deepest depths of the ocean!

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The following is just some more photos, some taken from the balcony and others taken on San-Antonio Bay as me and my friends explored.

Here are some Panaromic photo’s I took on the hotels beach.

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The lady, who gave us a tour around Ibiza Old Town, told us that there was something about Ibiza that kept pulling her back, and after going there and experiencing it, I’m not surprised. It’s somewhere I would go back to every time if I could, there’s just something about it that you can’t explain!

I hope you liked this little inspirational post, and can find some motivation in the photo’s I’ve shared!