Miss Alexandrina

The thinking-space of a not-quite novelist


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Ready. Set. Write! Update 11/8

Ready. Set. WRITE! is a summer writing intensive that encourages goal-setting and accountability, and provides an opportunity for us to cheer each other on wherever we’re at in our writing—planning, drafting, revising, or polishing. This year, RSW hosts are Alison MillerJaime MorrowErin Funk, and Katy Upperman.

I’m back on track after my holiday, and have lots to natter about, yay!

How I did on my goals last [two] week:

1. I’d like to write another 10K for ‘H’, even though CampWriMo finishes this week. Finished Horology at 73K. I’d aimed for 80K, but I suspect I’m missing some necessary description and I’ll have to deal with the pacing, perhaps. I might add a bit about the antagonist creating a code for Cathy to crack before she finds her kidnapped fiancé. At the moment, it seems a bit “oh, it’s probably there”.

2. Dubai holiday. Catch up on reading. Yes! Finished Stardust by Neil Gaiman. Ha, bet you didn’t know I was reading that. Actually, nor did I – I started when I first bought the book about a year ago, but abandoned it for books of which I didn’t already know the plot. But I was moving stuff about as I readied to go on holiday, and I realised I had the urge to read on.

Also finished reading The Iron Wyrm Affair, and that’s some fine storytelling and voice. I’d use a similar voice for my third person works if I didn’t know a début author would struggle to get an agent with such untight prose*.

On Saturday, I finished Soulless by Gail Carriger. In fact, I read about 20% of it (according to Kindle) in 2-and-a-bit hours. Though now I feel kind of copy-cat with the fact that Horology has its final show-down in a laboratory, with, you know, operating tables, instruments and everything else. I didn’t copy, promise!

Look – I even have Tweet proof of my first thought after finishing. xD

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So true. I have a bit of a [surprising] weakness for innuendos and *ahem* naughty scenes. ;)

My goals for this week:

1. Edit Of Jackets and Phones, in particular chapters thirteen and fourteen because they’re a little messy. *hmmph*

2. Polish and send chapter seven of OJAP to CP.

3. Start writing out my fantasy-horror crow short story. Plan accompanying scarecrow short?

4. Write more of NA uni romance (that I said I wasn’t going to write in the summer anyway :P)?

5. Send out another query for WTCB? I’ve sent four already for August, along with the three I sent in the middle of July, but I don’t know how many more to do without feedback. I jump between believing in my first three chapters and then going “why is this not awesome!” :(

Favourite recent paragraph from my WIP:

This is from what will be the first or second scene in my NA uni romance. Inspired by the atmosphere of my first year at university, it looks at Jess’ experiences with being away from home, as well as dealing with a difficult affection**. But I don’t want to start with the MC drinking, because that’s kind of cliché, so this might be the first scene instead.

“Why did you let me drink so much?”

Swiping them in an arc from her bed, her knuckles brushed a foreign shape on the bedside table. Plastic. Bumped. Heavy enough that it was full… Feel by feel, Jess’s mind came online. A bottle of water. Good. She snapped it up.

“You’re telling me.”

Megan sounded as if she’d swallowed a glass rather than drunk from one.

The biggest challenge I faced this week:

Writing this is a slow start at the moment because I’m having trouble adjusting back to contemporary after spending just over a month on alt-history fantasy. It doesn’t help that I keep calling Jess ‘Cathy’, Horology’s MC. I mean, I want to write it, I’m still excited about the concept – and indeed, I did a good 1000 words yesterday, in the midst of bowling! – but I start actually writing and go mehhh. I don’t know, sometimes I just can’t be bothered, both in writing and life in general.

Something I love about my WIP:

On the other hand, I’m editing OJAP and it’s going well. I was trying to raise the wordcount by about 2K and my additions are well on the way there, despite how much telling I’m deleting. The great thing about a murder mystery is that adding the wordcount is easy – from tying every line of thought together to slipping in distractions and subtle clues.

I’m also reading a biographical book about Agatha Christie, so that’s helping me build a better sense of mystery and red herrings, despite the fact that book1 of the trilogy is not the archetypal Christie whodunnit (that’s book2. Book3 is more of a thriller).

Found this on Pinterest. I love it :D

Found this on Pinterest. I love it :D

 

*My own aside: This highlights the main issue I have with writing Steampunk: the problem of voice versus tight writing, because, as you might know, a lot of 19th Century voices use adjectives and elaborate, unnecessary sentences and syntax. In Horology’s first draft, I have 37 instances of ‘quite’, though a fair number of those are in dialogue as my MC expressing restrained agreement:

…she’d quite forgotten she had an access through the night-twisted asterism…

Her scream fell a second after her, quite the Penny Dreadful comic sound.

**I never use the word ‘crush’. I find it demeaning of emotions.


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Experiences With a New Phone

Hello. Your Wednesday post comes via YouTube in the form of my latest vlog, where I spend seven minutes talking about the ups and downs of my new phone, the HTC Windows phone 8S. Don’t ask me about specific classifications; I don’t know. I’m not here to be a modern technologist, but to provide some insight into the life of a working writer and fan of the archaic rather than the modern. I didn’t mention the phone’s size in the vlog, but mobiles are so massive now that they worry me. We don’t need to widen our screens and still not fit all the ‘app’s on. We simply need to remember a mobile is a phone, pure and simple.

Plus, you get to hear what a paragraph of my new short Cavendish Mechanics sounds like when it’s narrated by the robot of a notepad app. For this, I suspect this has been my favourite vlog so far to record/edit. The amount of voices I put on is something of encouragement for future projects.


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Ready. Set. Write! {Goals}

I’m jumping in to the Ready. Set. Write! writing intensive that starts this week*, hosted by Katy Upperman, Alison MillerJaime Morrow, and Erin Funk. Whilst I’ll be dropping in and out due to commitments and NaNo, RSW allows me to quickly create and update goals for my writing this summer.

*You may have noticed that the updates are on Mondays, so Tuesday will become my new Photo of the Week day until RSW is completed.

 

My Overarching Goals

1. Complete and submit my short story/novella <Unnamed Steampunk>. Also, come up with a neat name for it.

2. Finish reading over the summer at least three of the books I’ve started reading this year.

3. Complete another round of tightening of NA Fantasy Romance When the Clock Broke and try to make the first three chapters more appealing. Post to Absolute Write for critiquers of world building and the like.

4. Make progress rewriting YA contemporary mystery, Of Jackets and Phones, to make it Beta/CP-ready.

5. Complete July’s CampNaNo with the first draft of ‘H’ and at least start NA contemporary uni romance, Under the Carrington. These two are itching to be written right now.

 

I am way too ambitious, judging by the overarching goals, but I’m hoping that the weekly goals will help me cut my ideas and into sizeable chunks. And that I can still maintain regular blog posts (and a hint of a social life…) in the meanwhile.

My main goal for this week is to finish the first draft of <Unnamed Steampunk> and begin editing.

 

If you want to join me, just pop over to one of the host blogs, grab a button, and leave your link and you’re go to go! The headers for the goals next week are:

1. How I did on last week’s goal(s).
2. My goal(s) for this week.
3.  A favourite line from my project OR a word/phrase that sums up what I wrote/revised.
4. The biggest challenge I faced this week.
5. Something I love about my WIP. 


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New Adult: Weak Women are Awesome, I Trust Plebeian Wisdom, and Lizzy Bennett Matches My MC

In between my panicking that my MS isn’t actually the genre I say it is, and vlogging about such things too, I stumbled upon the Wikipedia page for New Adult fiction (turns out that Wikipedia lists it as ‘New-Adult’ with the hyphen), which I had been looking for at the beginning of my foray into understanding the genre.

Now, I don’t trust Wikipedia, but, for the same reason that it takes the knowledge of everyone across the world, I appreciate its simple opinion influenced by the readers more than the writers. Plebeian wisdom, one might remark.

One paragraph under the ‘themes and issues’ section of the page remarks that, whilst there is an overlap with YA themes such as bullying in NA (I’m looking at you, page one of manuscript), there are NA themes that are entirely separate from YA:

“Some common examples of issues include: first jobs, starting college, wedding engagements and marriage, starting new families, friendships post-high school, military enlistment, financial independence, living away from home for the first time, empowerment, loss of innocence, fear of failure.”

Wedding engagement and starting new families is at the core and stakes of my novel. I asked one Beta what she thought one of the themes was, and, instead of ‘love’ as I myself expected, she said ‘family and loyalty,’ which is, in fact, totally true of the book. Financial independence and living away from home for the first time – check, on both Aidelle and Phillip’s sides, but especially Phillip’s, since he protests that he doesn’t want to rely on his inheritance, but yet struggles to get away from it when Rion uses it as blackmail. I’m not going to tell you whether or not Phillip decides on financial independence at the end.

I’m also going to argue for ‘empowerment’ and ‘fear of failure’ as being checked off, too, this time from Aidelle’s perspective.

I don’t write powerful women. I believe that they have become an expected and overdone trope in writing, making them unrealistic of real life. I’m not a strong woman, nor, I bet, would many of my female friends say they were if I asked them. A lot of women are going to break down when they hear their pacifist fiancé is going to war instead of marrying (‘military enlistment’ – check). I can’t find the blog at the moment, but I recall to mind a blogger who argued that Bella’s depression when Edward leaves her is totally justified. I say that maybe it’s not compatible with how she’s acted before (or maybe it is. I hated Twilight from the start.), but it makes sense. Emotionally.

Some NA women are weak. Some can’t control their temper and do burst into tears at love’s loss (yes, I fall into this category). However, this doesn’t make them bad characters unless they’re badly written. For instance, over at the Notebook sisters blog, Mime talks about how Disney women are not the pink-dress-wearing damsels about which many complain. She points out that, although, in the first movies, the princesses needed men to rescue them, this didn’t make them weak. They had other qualities, as shared by most women, be they modern-day, Victorian, or a combination of the two in my alternate universe.

Yes, Aidelle is the younger of the MCs at 20, but, because of the nature of the class system in The Continent, she’s been sheltered by her middle-class parents, who want only for her to enter into a good marriage. She’s stubborn, but not strong. She agrees to meet the man who has chosen her for marriage – and little do either realise that their temperaments are a perfect match, even if Aidelle was Phillip’s ‘worst’ wife-card out of his second Selection.

Aidelle says she’d rather not marry – and, yet, as soon as she falls for Phillip, she wants to be his bride. So much so, that one might call her a flighty fawner when we meet her in chapter one.

“Oh, to be wed at the age of twenty!”

At that point in time, failure for Aidelle is the failure to achieve her biggest dream of being Mrs. Costello. I don’t think Aidelle was ever afraid of being a failure to conform to her family’s ideals, even if she did agree to them. Sometimes, one has to say yes to the demands and protestations of family.

One of the arcs I hope is clear in the novel is that Aidelle has got to learn to separate her desires from her fear of failure, to learn empowerment as her own, unique person, rather than being a) the daughter of an Oil Physicist or b) Phillip’s wife. Pretty much her only options in 2010. Through meeting and experiencing the future in the character of Zara (who, whilst not entirely at the dreadful level of real-life feminism, lives in a more balanced society), Aidelle must realise that she has more to herself than what she looks like or who she aspires to be in mente.

Her current self, regardless of weaknesses, should be a state of empowerment. Full stop.

download (2)Moving topic, I was day-dreaming about Pride and Prejudice’s take on the way the absence of love can physically affect the body (as a Philosophical Psychologist would, right? :P) and it occurred to me that Lizzy is, after all, 23 at the beginning of the novel Just looked this up, and she’s actually 20. My MC is the same age as Lizzy Bennett and she shares her regency attitude and overbearing girls-must-marry mother (and her loss of love…), though maybe not so much her wit or patience!

*cough* Anyway, I was about to remark that, along with many classical books, one could consider Pride and Prejudice as being New Adult because of the age-range of the sisters, the ideas of friendship within society and that of independence versus the requirement of a husband for success.

Lastly, I do not believe NA is a marketing scheme. Many of us had been writing NA for years before it became a ‘thing’. I was 5 years younger than Aidelle and Lizzy when I started writing, but it’s taken me a good three years to understand that their story/ies are not YA, even if the themes of moving out and moving on may be like those ideas of YA. When I queried when my MS wasn’t ready, I didn’t know about NA so I queried as YA – though, in my heart, I knew it didn’t fit.

Whilst some NA has been recognised by the industry now, I still argue that it needs more attention and importance as a category. Its themes are difficult to really encapsulate in YA and some degrees of adult fiction. The biggest problem, however, is the subjectivity, and I suspect it will be this way for a while.


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Steampunky Love

It seems that I will have one of those months where I write consecutive posts one week, but fail to get anything in the next. I’m very sporadic and crazy at the moment. As I did say, I am trying to revise for my exams, so I have been putting my entire collection of ideas on the back burner.

Anyway, I promised a snapshot of my crazy, steampunk ghosts dream. Whilst I have a proper chapter of the new novel idea, it tracks into the 3.5K words; therefore, I’ve just delivered a snapshot of what I wrote. Enjoy!

TableClock_AlexB

The click of Alexander’s heels together raised her face from her hands. He slid from the sitting chair to the wooden floor. His fingers worked at a hidden bolt, a hidden trapdoor of which only Charles’ best occupants knew. Alexander wandered down the steps onto the Evening Platform, a platform-balcony of wooden boards and struts spanning the length of the conservatory – and, rightly, on which it balanced – and Cathy, determined not to creep with her tail between her legs, followed.

“Where are you going, Alexander?”

He’d strode to the square opening in the middle of the platform, from which dropped a stiff, vertical ladder of raw iron rungs. Alexander descended. Smugly.

“You cannot stay another night in New York without your four bags. Yes, I counted.”

Cathy huffed. She didn’t care that she travelled heavy. “I’ll get them after The Passing.”

“No, you shan’t. No woman should walk at night…lest words be spoken.”

Alexander was halfway across Charles’ outer court before Cathy had pushed herself onto the well-traversed steel ladder. She clamped a boot on the rung above hers where it clanged as it landed. “I’ll be comfortable without my bags.”

“I do not mind. My pleasure.”

This time, Cathy bit her lip so the taste of blood fuelled her. Far from his stubborn dismissal of her all afternoon, she fumed at his audacity to risk his life against the post-dusk for the retrieval of her bags.

No. She unwound the heel of her boot from the iron rung and jumped to the ground. Flakes of mud rose to her gown hem.

“Alexander, you shan’t.”

He spun, and Cathy almost crumbled under his fierce glare. “I shall do what I please, thank you, Miss.”

She took one step back, as if the force of his words had smacked her across the face. Certainly, her weak-womaned form made her a lesser creature (in his eyes…in the world’s eyes), but Cathy still curled together her hands. She didn’t understand his need to fetch her items for her.

With one last look of disdain, Alexander spun. He fixed his thumbs into his pocket-edges and stormed through the wooden sidegate.

Fine. She didn’t need him. Not like that. Cathy shifted her hands onto her hips and sashayed back to the scaffolding structure under the conservatory. Well, almost. She’d just checked her gloves (had Charles even seen the mess the iron rungs shed onto ladies’ white fingers?) when her breath caught in her throat, crystallised, and spewed out of her mouth in a broken rush.

Coldness. More than coldness: water-bare, lifeless coldness from her toes to the strand of hair falling across her forehead. Cathleen Worth-Hamilton raised her eyes to the entrance of Charles’ complex.

Heads and hands materialised at the far gate. First, blue lips puckered through the atmosphere, then a nose more beak than skin, and eyes as pinpricks. Cathy wilted. They’d come. The first phantasma drifted in the shape of an elderly women, her white hair stained by the darkness. It had taken no more than a metre’s way before another pulled through the air, this an apparition of maybe eleven with her grey hair loose around her shoulders. A male phantasm followed them, a young man of Alexander’s age, perhaps.

Alexander. With The Passing hitting every New York abode, he’d be caught in the way. If he didn’t move fast enough to a platform with distance between it and the floor, the ghosts would Pass through his soul.

“Cathy!” Charles called. When had he climbed out onto the balcony? “You must move. Now!”

She shook her head. Unnatural fear smudged through her body, rooting her to her place.

Charles’ gloved fingertips weren’t even close to her shoulder. “Take my hand.”

“Alexander’s out there.”

~


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Photo of the WeeK: Shimmer

(Moved back from yesterday because of the obligatory blog hop post)

Shimmer_AlexB

I’d like to welcome a very late Christmas present to the blog: my electric guitar, Shimmer, which didn’t arrive until this week. A basic Affinity series Fender Stratocaster, but my family can’t afford anything fancier and because I still have my electric-acoustic, Ruby, I wouldn’t ask for anything more.

I hope you like the shot – I wanted to get all of the lake placid blue colour in, whilst also being artistic. What’s photography without artistry, eh?

Because I have a bit of a fretboard fetish (!), here’s some gratuitous shots of the new one, smooth rosewood fingerboard and harmonious strings.

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I also got a birthday present early – a new phone, so, although I’m not upgrading ’til June, I’ve got a shiny new camera feature to my rather-outdated pixalations here. It’s been great working with my hTc Wildfire, and you’ll find it – and, more importantly, its photographs – scattered across my posts since the genesis of this blog, but it’s time for me to change (aside from the fact that I couldn’t make calls anymore…).


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Picture Post: The Path to the Storytellers

As promised, some photos from a walk I took this week, inspecting the Equinox’s wildlife. It’s a shame I didn’t get any clear photos of squirrels, but there were a good number springing about, too. As usual, I’ve been thinking about writing and planning writing, and this walk gave me the perfect inspiration for a segment where the MC wanders into the house of two peculiar characters…

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~

Four different genus of daffodil dotted the stony path. Em knelt and put her nose to one with an orange centre in a white crest, like a reverse lion-head. Ahead, the path curved down to the further end of the tributary, where a wooden bridge had been reinforced by spokes protruding from the water. Em winced – if fish had swum here once, they’d been scattered by the abrasive shadows.

IMAG7672She glanced at the rockery bridge blocking the end of the tributary; the creak of the board swinging there almost drew her muddy path. Creak, wobble, smack: ‘to the house of the storytellers’.

“As if I would obey a written injunction,” she told her left shoulder.

Yet, the daffodils swirled around her feet – Em shrugged and she’d landed at the sign, the mottled door peeking through the stone when she looked hard enough. A door. And her mind urged her through it.

~

More photos… :D

 

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