End of the World: Obligatory New Year's post

I was gonna continue on with the character study of status in novels, but I was dissuaded by the flood of obligatory New Year's posts.

Instead of focusing on whatever it is that I was gonna talk about (personal goals and failures and shit like that) I think I'm just gonna keep this short, sweet, succinct and to the point.

Remember the advice I have given you -- take "aspiring" out of your vocabulary. Believe in yourself. Understand that you ARE amazing in all kinds of ways. Focus on the "yes let's" instead of the "What ifs". 

Prepare yourself to take the next step in your chosen path. (Be it writing, art, music, acting, whatever.) Learn what you need to do to advance your skills, and advance in your career path. Find an agent. Join a critique group. Learn a new skill. Whatever it is, prepare yourself for it, and then do it.

No excuses. You CAN do it. 

Believe in yourself. I cannot stress this enough.

And, above all else, be excellent to each other.

My 2012 has been good in some ways, and horrible in other ways. But, I feel blessed and honoured to have met all of you awesome people online, and I look forward to the day when we can all meet up at a coffee shop for caffeine and insanity.

May your 2013 be fruitful and full of love.

All my love and all the best to all of you.
-Kai Kiriyama

Free Fiction Friday: High Noon

Here's a little short I have written based on a series I'm working on, kind of a high fantasy-Western series. Elves and cowboys and gunslingers and magic and wonderfulness. The Lawmaker is the main character in the series and more information will be coming when I have some for you!

This one is called "High Noon." Enjoy.

-Kai Kiriyama

-High Noon-

The town was a dusty little place, barely a spot on the map. The population was mostly made up of prospectors and farmers who hadn't been lucky enough to own properties in the Ten Cities when the boom had hit and construction on the railway had begun. Buildings lined the main road, it was what was to be expected in a human settlement. Nothing fancy, and it was made worse by the fact that things had not been as prosperous as they could have been.

Rumours has circulated about this place. They said that the town was run by a changeling, or maybe a skinwalker. It depended on who you asked. They claimed that he was a man as big as a house who turned into a bear whenever he was displeased, or when something didn't go his way. The city was supposedly filled with the bones of the people who angered the skinwalker, and he feasted each night on the flesh of stray travelers. It didn't really matter in the long run, the people lived in fear of the supposed changeling, and were not strong enough to do anything about it.

It was nearly noon and the streets were deserted. The skinwalker issued a challenge every day at high noon; if any man woman or child was brave enough to face him, and if they could best him in a fair shootout, he would leave.

No one was brave enough.

So the changeling issued his challenge to the empty streets every day. And every day as the clock moved past high noon, the changeling strode off, back to the saloon to drink and eat his way into a stupor and run the city's stores into the ground.

His spurs jangled as he strode through the empty streets. He stopped in the middle of the main road and waited. The wind blew his long, dust-coloured hair from his shoulders and revealed the subtle point to his ears. His wide-brimmed hat concealed most of his face, but it was clear that he was pale-skinned, paler than any man who wandered through the world the way he did ought to be. He rolled his shoulders, letting the thick woven poncho fold itself neatly around his neck, covering the familiar oak-leaf star pin that adorned his poncho, and freeing his gun arm for the challenge that waited. He stood in rapt silence, his slender form casting the only shadow in the street, his breathing the only sound beyond the sound of the wind.

Faces appeared in the windows, watching to see who was foolish enough to challenge the skinwalker that had taken the town by force and held it in his stranglehold. Whispers began to ripple through the buildings, through the brothels and inns. No one was willing to believe that it was who they thought it was challenging the skinwalker.

The lumbering shadow that was the supposed skinwalker appeared before the tall, lean man. He stared the huge man down. He was tall, yes, and built like a barrel with tree trunks for arms and legs. The "skinwalker" was a hairy beast of a man, probably half-giant if the slender gunslinger had to hazard a guess, and he wore the skin of a bear. 

"You're no skinwalker." The lean man drawled.

"And you're a skinny half-elf with something to prove." The lumbering man replied. 

The half-elf shrugged. "I'm here to free the people you have wrongfully enslaved."

The bear-man's laughter echoed about the streets, bouncing back and forth in a horrible chorus full of malice and disbelief. "We will see about that." He growled.

"We draw when the clock strikes twelve?" The half-elf asked.

"Like gen'nlemen" The bear-man agreed.

"Then perhaps you had best make peace with whichever god you worship." The half-elf replied casually, as though it was nothing to best a man of this size in a gunfight.

"I will not be seeing any gods any time soon."

"You are not the first man to say those words to me." The half-elf threatened. "Nor, do I suppose you will be the last."

A hush settled over the bear-man as the casual tone to the half-elf's words. He scowled and turned his eyes towards the clock overlooking the town. The seconds ticked out int he rapt silence and the long, lonely tone of the clock's bell began to chime out the hour.

As soon as the twelfth chime sounded, a gunshot rang out as the bear-man moved to draw his gun. The half-elf turned his back on the huge man and began to walk away.

The bear-man opened his mouth to shout an insult at the other man, but a gush of black blood spewed forth from his mouth and he fell over, face first, into the dirt.

No one had even seen The Lawmaker draw his gun.

Dissection

Characters are the biggest thing you need to make when writing. Sure, plot is important, and so is world building, but knowing your characters inside and out is a crucial step in creating believable, lovable stories that will stand the test of time or whatever.

Lemme share with you something that I have learned recently:

Don't immediately dissect and take your characters under a microscope when you're first starting a new project.

Seriously, that initial blank slide is super highly intimidating. Like, you KNOW there should be bits of DNA and other forensic evidence on this slide and you feel like you KNOW what it is, but that immediate blank slide is scary. It's like the bad report card you wanna hide from your parents.

Your characters need motivation, and life and a past, but don't start with the tiniest details that you need to see under your microscope. The fact that Jane Doe's favourite pizza topping is anchovies because it reminds her of the fishing village where she grew up is fine and dandy, but if it's not relevant to the story, why would you fill that detail in right away?

And John Doe? His lack of a right nipple due to torture by sandblaster explains why he avoids any place where there's sand and why going to the hardware store reduces him to a crying mess, but he's currently locked in a laboratory being tested on for biochemical warfare, his missing nipple doesn't really play into the story right now.

Start with the basics: Hair and eye colour, age, skin tone, height, weight. Then move on to the next things you need to fill in. Job, family, pets, style of dress.

And so on. I find that RPG character creation sheets give you the best baseline for figuring out what's important. (D&D finally has a practical use, mom!)

And creating believable chracters takes time, but watch out for that dissection and microscope. When you take your characters apart, be sure you have your facts in order and don't jump right into it with both feet. It's an organic process. Your story will help build your characters as you go. Just remember to figure out what's important, and fill in the little microscopic details when they become necessary or relevant.

Oh, and maybe have a dossier handy, keeping your facts straight is more important.

What kind of microscopic details have you added to your characters? 

Characters of High Status in Novels

Last Monday (which was really Tuesday as I was really sick on Monday, but let's not split hairs over the wibbly-wobbliness of time here) I made mention of status. It's something that we, as writers, don't tend to focus on when we create characters, so of course I had to be the one to mention something about it.

I've been writing forever, and in the past 3 years I've taken up improv comedy and acting. Wow, let me tell you, the things I learned about character creation from the acting process has been amazing for my writing craft.

But I digress.

All characters, all people in the world, have a status. It's learning how to incorporate this status into your writing that will really bring about significant changes in your attitude and in your characters. This week, I'm gonna look at "high status".

High status is characterized by several physical traits. A high status character is confident. A high status character carries them self with an air of self-assuredness. A high status character takes up as much space as possible, they are possessive in a way that is unspoken, but very clearly there. The phrase "he walked in like he owned the place" is a great example of someone who is of a high status, or at least, believes themselves to be of a high status (whether conscious or unconscious of this fact is a topic for another blog!)

When a high status character speaks, they speak with authority. They do not falter. They do not stumble over their words.

When a high status character moves, they move deliberately. They do not fidget.

When a high status character sits or stands, they do so in an "open" and confident manner. They take up as much space as they can. When sitting, they take up the whole chair. They "own" their space. They stand facing [the person they are speaking to] straight ahead, they do not lean, they do not stand sideways or angle themselves. Everything is an invitation to look at this person.

When a high status character is in conversation or otherwise engaged, they hold their head high, they look whomever they are speaking to in the eye and are not cowed or intimidated.

Of course there are varying degrees of high status, which we will discuss in a later blog because the subtleties are astounding.

When you think of a high status character, you think of a king. Of a queen. Of the wise old wizard who arrives to tell you what's what. Of the teacher. Of the villain.

Based on my examples, who's your favorite high status character in recent memory?

End of the Word: Boondock Saints 3 Spec -- Deleted Scene

Well, the world didn't end, so as promised. Here is my "Conjugal Visit" scene from my Boondock Saints 3 speculative script. For those of you unaware, "Spec script" means that I basically just wrote a more technical fan fiction for my favorite movie series and have put the finished project into my portfolio for when I start handing out my CV and applying for jobs in the film and television industry. I write a lot and this was honestly a labour of love more than anything else. It definitely brought closure to my relationship with the Boondock Saints. And made me love the story even more. 

Anyway, I do hope that nothing actually happens in the next 24 hours... that would suck.

Enjoy.

Love,

Kai Kiriyama

SC. 8(a)

INT. PRISON – CONTINUOUS

Connor and Murphy sit quietly on their respective beds in their cell. A GUARD knocks against the BARS of their cell. Connor and Murphy look up at the guard, SLOWLY.

GUARD:

You boys have visitors.

CONNOR:

No press.

GUARD: (snorts in contempt)

It's not press. Move it.

Connor and Murphy exchange CONFUSED looks. They stand in UNISON and move towards the CELL DOOR. The door OPENS and the guard HANDCUFFS the brothers. Additional GUARDS appear and fall in to FLANK the brothers as they are led down the hall.

MURPHY:

Who d'you suppose it is?

CONNOR:

Your guess is as good as mine.

MURPHY:

What if it's Ma'?

CONNOR: (a beat)

God have mercy on us if it is.

Connor and Murphy are led to the VISITOR ROOM. It is empty of all other PRISONERS. A solitary GUARD stands at the DOOR on the opposite side of the room from where the brothers entered. Connor and Murphy HESITANTLY take SEATS at the TABLE in the MIDDLE of the room. The GUARDS who escorted the brothers in leave.

Murphy TURNS to watch the guards LEAVE, suddenly very NERVOUS.

MURPHY:

We're gonna die.

CONNOR:

We're not gonna die.

MURPHY:

There's no guards in here.

There's no one else at all.

And look.

Murphy POINTS out the CAMERAS on the walls. All of them are DEACTIVATED.

MURPHY: (cont'd)

All the cameras are turned off.

CONNOR: (dryly)

Maybe it's a conjugal visit?

Murphy gives Connor a look of DISGUST.

A KNOCK sounds on the DOOR where the remaining GUARD STANDS. He opens the door.

Detectives DOLLY and DUFFY enter the room. DUFFY speaks quietly with the GUARD. DOLLY simply STARES at the BROTHERS.

CONNOR:

Told ya'. Conjugal. We're

gonna get fucked either way.

DUFFY finishes his conversation with the GUARD and the guard LEAVES. The two detectives stand over the BROTHERS, looking MENACING. Connor and Murphy stare UP at the detectives, INNOCNETLY. A TENSE moment passes.

MURPHY:

God, it's good to finally see

a friendly face.

DOLLY:

Yeah, about that, we've got bad news.

Dolly and Duffy sit down across from the MacManus Brothers.

DOLLY: (cont'd)

This isn't a social call.

CONNOR:

Aren't you gonna get

in trouble for this?

DUFFY:

Actually, we're here to get

your story about Greenly's death.

MURPHY:

Why? You were there.

DOLLY:

We didn't see the shooter.

DUFFY:

The Chief wants you to confess.

MURPHY:

It wasn't us, so that's

not gonna happen.

CONNOR:

We're not “cop killers”.

We're not letting you pin

that shit on us, too.

DUFFY:

We know that, but our bosses

don't. The public wants

closure.

MURPHY:

How much fuckin' closure do they

need? The shooter's body was right

there!

DOLLY:

It's a little messier than that.

MURPHY:

Bullshit! Why don't you just

tell everyone that Greenly was helpin'

us? That'll clear a few things right up,

and it's not like they can fire him now!

DUFFY:

We've considered it, believe me.

CONNOR:

We're not takin' the fall

for Greenly's death, so you've

wasted a trip.

DOLLY: (hesitantly)

You know we don't agree with

this, right? It's just a cover?

MURPHY:

No shit, Sherlock.

CONNOR:

Haven't you learned anything yet?

Connor and Murphy LAUGH at the Detectives' expense.

DOLLY: (relieved)

You bastards are gonna give

me a heart attack.

DUFFY:

How are you two holding up?

MURPHY: (shrugs)

Roof over out heads, three squares

a day, we're pretty much left in our

cell all day 'cause every time we go

out, a riot breaks out.

CONNOR:

We're very social, made loads

of friends in the year since we've

been in here. We're pretty popular.

DOLLY:

What're you gonna do?

CONNOR:

Wait it out. We're model

prisoners. We only fight back

in self defence.

DOLLY: (mutters)

Jesus...

DUFFY:

You know they're sending

in a shrink?

MURPHY:

'Bout time.

DUFFY:

You want a psych evaluation?

MURPHY:

Why not? S'not like we need

to prove we're not insane. Everyone's

already made that judgement call

for themselves.

CONNOR: (a beat)

You're the first visitors we've

had. No press, no lawyers, nothin'.

We're totally alone here.

MURPHY:

And we're still not “cop killers”.

The DOOR opens then, and the GUARD returns. Duffy and Dolly STAND slowly and follow the guard, leaving. Murphy halfheartedly WAVES goodbye as the DOOR slams shut.

Meat and Potatoes

One thing that I find almost every "writing" blog will tell you is a way to dissect your novel into bits and pieces to help you get through the tough boring bits.

A lot of blogs tend to liken your novel to something edible. Usually pizza.

And then I started thinking about it. (Writing a novel, not pizza, although to be honest, pizza would be a welcome breakfast food.)

Anyway, so I started thinking about it and I realized. Not everybody likes pizza. (Insane, right?) And then, that got me thinking that not every novel is like a pizza, either.

So then what is a novel like? Aside from a bunch of words?

The closest thing that I can figure as a universal truth insomuch as there can BE a universal truth about a creative, organic process like writing, is that your novel is like a typical "Sunday dinner". You know, that old standard? Meat, potatoes, salad, creamed corn, fresh bread, gravy and homemade pie a la mode for dessert? Yeah, your novel is kind of like that.

You start with the basics -- meat and potatoes. This is the backbone for your novel. Your characters, your plot, your character development, your key motivations for said characters. Your goodguy and badguy. The core things that drive your story and make your story more than just gobbledegook on a page. These are your meat and potatoes. The core essence of what makes your story yours. All the rest of it -- love interests, car chases, fighting dragons, mealtimes, love, sex, drugs, rock n' roll, whatever else there is in your book -- that's the extra stuff. That's the gravy and the pie a la mode. But without a solid foundation of meat and potatoes, you're not getting the full effect, you're not getting the complete experience.

So yes, you might have to chew through a bit of gristle to get to the next bite of salad, but when you're staring at that pie, believe me, it makes it so much more worthwhile.

What's your "meat and potatoes" when writing a story?

(Late) Monday: On Status

Status isn't something that you usually see in writing, but it exists in every other aspect of character creation. Status is extremely important as an actor or performer. When you're learning to act (especially in improv) status is one of the first things that you learn. 

Status is pretty easily broken down as thus: status is the natural 'pecking order' that occurs in daily life between one or more people. 

You have high status and low status. For example, you might be high status to your little brother, but as soon as your mom comes in to the room, you are low status next to her.

There are lots of physical tells that indicate status, as well as verbal ones. I will explore those in a later blog. For now, though, one thing to keep in mind is who is higher status than whom, who is the boss, and who is the master of their own little world? 

It takes a  bit of practice, but once you get the hang of putting characters into their correct status, your characters will take on an added depth.

Moment of Silence

Normally, I post short stories on Fridays, free for consumption, but today I'm not going to post anything of the sort.

Another act of senseless violence has claimed the lives of KINDERGARTEN CHILDREN. A shooting in a Connecticut elementary school has killed 27 people; 18 of them were children.

This is unacceptable, and heartbreaking.

I'm sickened over this, and I feel that it would be in poor taste to post a story that likely includes violence in light of this tragedy today.

Instead, I want to give my condolences to the families who have lost loved ones in this tragedy.

I also want to send out my love to everyone affected negatively by this. And in all honesty, EVERY SINGE ONE OF YOU should be weeping uncontrollably at the horror of this.

So yes. All my love to all of you.

Stay safe.

Hug your loved ones, and don't take life for granted.

All my love,
Kai Kiriyama

The Next Big Thing Bloghop

I've posted this on my shiny new Wordpress blog as well, but I figure, y'know what? Let's keep this blog updating while I figure out what I'm doing with myself, so here you go.

I got tagged to do this, so what better way to christen my new blog than by filling out these questions? Good thing I've got answers to these Q'S! Here we go..

What is the working title of your book?

The current WIP I have going is called "Blaze Tuesday and the Case of the (something something)" I haven't exactly figured out a snappy way to title this case, but it's book 2 of a series, so there's that, I suppose?

Where did the idea for your book come from?

My mom calls it a "Star Trek Holo-deck Adventure". I've always had a fascination with noir films and hardboiled detective novels. So I took those elements and set them into a semi-futuristic SteamPunk kind of world.

What Genre does it fall under?

Hell if I know. Probably "Crime" and "Science Fiction", but you can call it whatever you want.

What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

Blaze Tuesday and his partner, Jackson Early, have had tough cases before, but never anything so tough as protecting a bombshell babe from the wrath of New York's mob -- and living to tell the tale.

Will your book be self-published, or represented by an agency?

I'm hoping for the latter, but won't turn my nose up at self-publication.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

Ha. Ha... um... this one isn't finished, but the story that comes before this one (since it's in a series) I wrote, edited and polished during NaNoWriMo 2012. So far, I've just started the second book, so I'm hoping it'll take me about 6 weeks. My editor is awesome and works SUPER fast.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Dresden Files. And maybe a less funny version of Dirk Gently. Shades of Marlowe, too. I try not to copy other people's styles because I have my own and that means that I don't have to think too hard about being exact in my copying. :D

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

Funny this would come up. I'm working on developing Blaze Tuesday into a TV show. Ideal casting?

Blaze Tuesday: Brian Mahoney or Sean Patrick Flanery. Or, if he was done with Psych, Timothy Omundson. Blaze is an older, kind of grizzled detective, so someone who can bring the sarcasm and the whole "super good guy upholding the law" kind of vibe.

Jackson Early: Misha Collins... Or Sean Patrick Flanery, depending on who was cast as Blaze. Jackson is younger than Blaze, so that's kind of a factor. I also wouldn't be opposed to Andrew Lincoln taking up the role of Jackson.

Trixie Luna: Blaze's secretary, who is dating Jackson... huh... I haven't really thought about this one. She'd have to be cute, bubbly and get the soul-crushing "I will get what I want" look, down. I could see a young Catherine Tate playing her. Because, damn if Donna Noble didn't have that "bitch, please" look DOWN.

Kali (last name hasn't been decided yet): Blaze's crush since forever. Also the coroner he used to work with and still uses as a consultant. I honestly haven't got a clue. If I can play TimeLord and pick anyone, I'd probably go with Melissa McBride as a young woman because I love her so much. Like SO much. You have no idea. It's a legitimate crush. :D

Chief Fredricks: IronE Singleton. I miss him in Walking Dead. (Three guesses about what shows I watch.) Funnily enough, when I wrote this character, I was imagining Michael Clarke Duncan and then remembered that he died earlier in 2012, and then was sad. So I changed my mind and wrote the character with IronE in mind.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

I love to read mystery books, but I have always been afraid to write mystery and crime books because they intimidated me. I used NaNoWriMo to force myself to write something outside of my comfort zone, so I did it and I couldn't have been happier with the outcome. Hell, I even entered it into the Curiosity Quills NaNo Virtuosos contest! (Vote for me starting on the 14th!) I've also been obsessed with hardboiled detectives for as long as I can remember, so it seemed natural that I'd eventually start writing one!

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

Mystery, intrigue and clockwork robot implants aren't enough? Mob hits on beautiful women aren't enough? I plan to keep this as an ongoing series with lots of different plots and wonderfulness. I can promise a good time and you'll have my undying love forever? I'm also not opposed to fan fiction! Ha ha!

I have no idea who to tag, someone remind me to tag other people when I find other people to tag, okay?

Tagging:

seeredwrite.wordpress.com

NaNoWriMo follow up

Warning: Contains me being positive and uplifting, supportive, cussing AND LOVE. (Taken from my tumblr)

So we’re 6 days into December and NaNoWriMo has come and gone. Holy crap. Time flies. Now though, I’m hearing a lot of people in the writing community complain about their “wins” and “losses” in November. 

Let me put it right out there in black and white for everyone: not hitting 50 k words in November is not a “loss.” IT IS NOT A LOSS. Hitting, meeting, or surpassing 50 k words in November is not a “win.” IT IS NOT A WIN. 

Do you see where I’m going with this?

The numbers and the deadline are arbitrary. Just because you were unable to pump out a first draft of 50,000 words or more in 30 days doesn’t mean that you’re “not cut out to be a writer”, or that “you’ll never make it as a novelist”, or that “you’re not good enough to write,” or any of the other negative things that you’re probably complaining about after your so-called “loss”. It means that maybe 50,000 words in 30 days doesn’t work for you. And that’s all right! Maybe your one story didn’t quite make it to 50,000 words. That’s also cool! Maybe November was a busy as hell month and you couldn’t devote the time to writing that you had anticipated. That’s perfectly all right, too.

And let’s look at the flip side of that! Just because you wrote 50k, or 100k, or, like some insane people that I know, 285k and beyond, well, that doesn’t mean that you’re gonna “make it” as a writer either. It doesn’t mean you’re “good enough” or that you’re “cut out” to be a writer. It means that you had a whirlwind month and one or more story ideas that seemed to magically flow from your fingertips onto the pages of your draft and into your computer or whatever the hell you use to write that many words in 30 days. (You insane, freaky ass cyborgs you.)

While yes, the feeling of accomplishment from finishing the first draft of your novel is a great thing, the point is to build good writing habits that should theoretically stick with you year-round. Making yourself the time to sit and write 1667 words a day (minimum) is the goal. They say that it takes 30 days of repetition for an action to become a habit. Oh look at that. Writing 1667 words per day for 30 days. Huh, seems like they were trying to reinforce the idea of making writing a habit, wouldn’t you agree?

Personally, I do NaNoWriMo every year. I have been participating for 4 years. And I participated in both “Camp NaNo” session this year. I have completed (and surpassed) the 50,000 word goal on every one of them. Out of those 6 sessions, only 2 works have been polished enough to merit submissions to anything. The third one is nearing completion but is getting cut down to around 35,000 words and will finish life as a “novella”. The other three things I’ve written are being completely discarded and reworked when I feel like delving back into them, which will likely never happen.

All of the works I’ve submitted have needed major polishing. Nothing was perfect right out of the gate. And, I’ve managed to keep the writing habit year-round, however. I write other things too, so there’s one good thing about being a “Wrimo”.

The point of it all is this: stop beating yourself up over an arbitrary number that dictates whether you’ve “won” or “lost” NaNoWriMo. Face it. “Win” or “lose”, you still ended up with more words than you had at the beginning of the month. And that is the goal in the long run. 

On Ego

I've noticed that a lot of writers (myself included) have a somewhat inflated sense of self. Whether it's ego, or something else, I'm not sure, but I find that so many of my writer friends have this mentality.

I know PLENTY of other writers who think the same way, they're all cocky, self-assured creatures who have the mindset that they are awesome and deserve ALL the accolades and the worship and paycheck that goes with being an internationally best-selling author.

Whether this is true or not in the public eye remains to be seen.

But the mindset is abundantly clear.

I'm a cocky, self-assured little wench. I think I'm awesome. I think that I have a distinct, unique style in my writing and that my works deserve to be shared (you know, when I get around to polishing everything and editing and all that other stuff.) I know that I use the cockiness as a defense mechanism. I work myself up to the point that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am [insert positive adjective here] and that good things will come to me for whatever reason I choose to maintain the egoism. For me, it makes rejection a thousand times easier. It means that I can get over the disappointment a lot faster and work on improving what needs improving so that I can try again.

Having said that, I'm perfectly willing to have an open discussion about what [needs improvement, what (you) liked, hated, feelings the words evoked etc. etc. etc.] and take criticism, constructive or not.

I am also all about building my fellow writers up and sharing in their successes (and alternately, being there to grieve with them in their failures).

Writing is a lonely, lonely job. You lock yourself away to be in the throes of your imagination for hours on end. Alone. Because working alone is when you get the best work done. You only get social interaction when you're in the editing/critique/beta reading phase, and usually that's all business. Then it's back to revising. Rinse and repeat.

So why, then, is it SO COMMON with other writers to be self-righteous dicks? I'm not saying that I am immune to this, I'm only human, but I do try my hardest not to fall into that trap of ego and self-righteousness. I'm also certainly not saying that EVERY author is like this either. As with any group, there are some bad apples that you would much rather avoid.

Still, I see it all the time. I see blogs that are entirely self-serving (which you know, 99% of blogs are) or I see online discussions where the writers are condescending towards one another, and everyone else involved. I feel like the vast majority of writers are convinced that they are the next Hemingway or something and that everyone else is sufficiently beneath them. It's a very sad state of affairs. Most of these "authors" aren't even published and still they treat everyone else with an air of disdain and sarcasm. The worst is when I see other people/authors talk down to others. The biggest rule is that your audience is not stupid, you shouldn't treat them as such.

Your ego shouldn't be getting in the way of your relationships with other people. Especially with other authors. You never know when that smug and cocky tone of condescension is going to accidentally burn a bridge that would have otherwise helped you.

I mean really, we're all in this together, right? So why not support each other along? Rejoice in one person's success and offer sympathy in times of failure, but don't be smug and self-satisfied about it. And certainly don't be condescending. We can all get along in the literary sandbox. Right?

Kai Kiriyama lives in Calgary, Alberta with her pet snake Rhaegar and too many books to fit in one room. 

She is a monthly contributor to Zombie Training Magazine, which you can find here if you're so inclined.

You may reach Kai through email here! 
Or you can find her on Facebook if you're into social media.
Kai is also on Tumblr here! 
And of course you can follow on Twitter

The Dreaded Slump

Bollocks.

I'm pretty sure I've fallen into the dreaded "week 2 slump" that tends to plague NaNoWriMo participants yearly.

Usually when I participate in NaNoWriMo, I'm what our local group affectionately refers to as a "cyborg" -- meaning that I can hammer out 1000+ words in 15 minutes. I hate that idea, but when we're sprinting and doing word wars, it makes for better competition when you have a group of people ALL pumping out 1000+ words in 15 minutes.

Last year, I wrote 150,000 words in the month of November. Before that it was 77,000 while working 3 jobs totaling 70 hour work weeks.

Suffice it to say that only 1 of the stories I've written has made it through the editing process without making me wanna barf or with me giving up on the story in general with the intention to come back to it at a later date.

I don't typically fall for the "slump" of a writing deadline like this. In fact, I typically thrive under the pressure. And, if I do end up with a slump, it usually hits me around the 22nd or so, right in the homestretch.

So I'm a little bit lost.

It isn't writer's block. Far from it. I have all the ideas in my head, I know where the story needs to go and where I want it to go. It's just that procrastination is coming so much easier to me this month than ever. Sitting at my computer means that I'm either filling my brain with useless things or scouring the depths of social media or just doing something completely unrelated to writing.

I just don't know what's wrong with me, and it's frustrating. Not even caffeine is helping. Nor is getting "enough" sleep at night.

I think this is the "slump" that all insane NaNo'ers talk about.

Still, I'm doing something right. I have my butt in my chair and I'm forcing myself to peck out a few words here and there, even if they're not the huge amounts of words I usually spew forth.

Anyone have any useful suggestions for making the words work?

Today is a day where I really don't feel like writing. But I'm still sitting here at my computer, typing. The words are coming slower than I would like, it's a little harder to focus (obviously, as I'm posting this to multiple social networking sites and my blog) but I have put my butt in my chair and am doing what I can.

This is the first step you have to realize you need to take when you're truly being devoted to your craft: do it even when you don't feel like it. 

There are times when I have been DESPERATE to write and have been unable to. Those days are worse for me than the days where I feel like I'm not in the right mindset to write. I can press keys and form sentences even if I don't feel like it, but when I have thousands of ideas floating around in my mind and I'm unable to write them down? That's the part that kills me.

I guess that this is a very timely thing to write as we're halfway through week two of NaNoWriMo and a lot of people are starting to feel the dreaded "slump" that comes when creativity flows constantly and so quickly in a mad rush to meet the deadline of 50,000 words in 30 days.

But if you are truly devoted to what you're doing, to your craft, be it writing, or music, or art or something else, then you will continue on. You will move ahead, and move forward. You will power through the fact that you really don't wanna be doing this and you'll make yourself proud to overcome the fact that you don't feel like doing this.

Believe me. There is very little more empowering than working through your self-doubts and your lack of motivation to meet a goal.

Go forth and succeed. 

Love,

Kai Kiriyama

Kai Kiriyama lives in Canada with her pet snake Rhaegar. She drinks far too much tea for anyone's safety.

Kai writes for Zombie Training magazine, which you can find here: www.zombie training .com

To contact Kai, you can ask her things on tumblr (thekiriyamaheir.tumblr.com) or find her on twitter (@thekiriyamaheir) or on facebook (facebook.com/authorkaikiriyama)

Best Line of the Day: Blaze Tuesday

This is my favorite passage that I wrote today. It is from Blaze Tuesday and the Case of the Night Surgeon.

I hope you enjoy this glimpse into Blaze's head.

Cheers.
-Kai Kiriyama

I had to walk past the morgue, and I tried not to stop and peer inside. I hated the morgue, always had. Dead bodies in coolers was a horrifying concept. Like macabre leftovers just waiting for the time when they'd be brought out, reheated and examined.

I shuddered at the thought and reminded myself to throw out all the leftovers in my fridge back at my apartment when I got home.

Excerpt: Blaze Tuesday and the Case of the Night Surgeon

This is an excerpt from the current novel I'm writing.

Enjoy.

Chapter One

I wish that I had a more awesome description to start this story off with. You know, “it was a dark and stormy night” or something similar. The problem is that I don't. It doesn't always start out strong and interesting. Sometimes, the story starts out a little plainer than what we hope for and even the most innocent and boring of things turns out to be the start of something good.

My story started nearly fifty years ago; but I'm not here to tell you about my life. All you need to know about me is what's current. My name is Blaze Tuesday. I'm a private investigator in New York. I used to be a cop, but I gave that shit up five years ago. The corruption in the system made me wanna puke, so I quit. Now, I run a fairly successful P.I firm with my partner, Jackson Early. I'm nothin' special; I'm about five foot ten, blue eyes, grey hair that I keep cut fairly short. I'm skinny... kind of. I try to keep myself in pretty good physical condition since chasin' perps down dark alleys isn't the easiest thing in the world. I like to think that I'm pretty good lookin'; I haven't got any body mods or clockwork though, so I'm not everyone's cup of tea, but I wouldn't call myself rugged or nothin'. Modesty is my biggest virtue... Sarcasm is probably my biggest flaw.

Anyway, this story starts out pretty boring. I was sitting in my office, like usual. I run a pretty lax ship when it comes to the P.I firm. I own the whole building and my secretary and I live in the apartments upstairs. The building is okay; it's an ancient thing left over from the early 1900's back when New York was a major city. I guess New York is still a major city, but the cost of living sure dropped off after the oil crisis of the mid-2000's. Everything inside the building has been updated, though, and it's pretty nice, even if I am a terrible housekeeper.

I'm not stingy with office furniture, neither. I've spent a good chunk of money furnishing the place. Nice desks, decent couches int he waiting room. Killer office chairs. There's honestly nothin' worse than sitting in a chair for eight hours and havin' your ass fall asleep. By the time you stand up to work some feelin' back into your posterior, it's guaranteed that the hottest broad you'll ever see will walk into your office. Trust me; I've been there.

It had been a long day already and I was reclining, feet up on my desk, debating on if the vintage, blue paisley wallpaper in the building was actually worth keeping, or if it was contributing to the pounding migraine that was settling into the back of my skull, when my secretary knocked on the door.

I groaned under my breath, but didn't move from my spot. I was comfy and to hell with what anyone else thought.

“Yeah? Come in.” I said.

Trixie pushed open the thick wooden door and stared at me with a look of familiar contempt. She'd seen me do this a thousand times before. I flashed her my winning smile and she folded her arms over her chest in response.

Trixie Luna was pretty cute. She was in her mid-twenties, bookish, with red hair and the most intense green eyes ever. I kid you not, she could stare right into your soul with those peepers. Add the cat's eye glasses she always wore and you had a hot secretary fantasy waiting to happen. Or something. I dunno, she wasn't as buxom as I liked, but she was a good kid, smart and she made the best cup of joe this side of Manhattan.

We stared at each other for a long moment before a smile slowly crept across her face, and we both started to laugh. We couldn't take this job too seriously sometimes; it wasn't worth the trouble.

“You're gonna fall over one day, sittin' like that.” Trixie informed me matter of factly. “You're gonna hit your head on the floor, crack your skull open and I ain't callin' you an ambulance. That's out of my pay scale.”

She had a point. I really didn't pay her enough to deal with avoidable accidents.

Slowly, I took my feet off my desk and sat up straight. Trixie relaxed and stepped a little further into my office so that we could talk.

“So what do you need?” I asked.

“You've got a client waiting for you in the lobby.” Trixie explained.

“Did you get any details about what they want?” I asked, bored already. “You know that I'm pretty busy these days.”

Trixie rolled her eyes at me, clearly not buying my excuses.

“So I'll take that as a 'no' then?” I teased, grinning cheekily at her.

“It's not in my job description to ask.” Trixie shot back.

“Well, maybe it's time for me to change your job description?” I considered, still grinning. I sighed and waved my hand. “Let Jackson deal with it?”

Trixie's mouth formed a thin line on her face. I knew that look all too well; I'd seen it more times than I cared to admit. She closed the almost soundproof door and wheeled on me.

“Jackson is currently working three cases, Blaze.” Trixie said, her voice low and angry. “Good cases, too. Cases that you declined for whatever arrogant reason you came up with at the time. There's been steady work rollin' in for the past month and you've turned down almost all of it!”

I shrugged. “They were boring, unimportant things.”

“They were important to the people trying to hire you.”

“Irrelevant.” I yawned. “Besides, Jackson closed all of them anyway.”

“And you're running him ragged!”

“He doesn't have to accept every case that walks through our front door. There are plenty of other private eyes in our fair city.”

Trixie strode across the small space between the door and my desk. She pressed her palms flat against the smooth, dark wood and leaned forward. I hadn't noticed how low cut her blouse was until she leaned forward, and I found my eyes wandering for a moment.

“So you want me to just take this case, don't you?”

“That would be a nice start.” Trixie agreed.

I stared up at her for a long moment. She stared back, entirely unamused and I had a sinking feeling that I wasn't going to win this argument.

“Are you sure that Jackson can't take this one?”

The blush crawling up Trixie's neck and onto her cheeks told me exactly how pissed off she was. I braced myself for the verbal bitch slap I was about to get.

“Obviously I was wrong about you, Mister Tuesday. And here I thought that I was working for the most accomplished private eye in all of New York.” Trixie drawled. “What a shame it is to find out that I'm really just working for a lazy, arrogant, self-entitled dickwad who can't be bothered to move his ass to take a job to pay his bills and, oh, I dunno, maintain his outstanding reputation.”

“Are you done slandering me?” I asked. “I might start to get offended.”

“Are you done with this false macho bravado that you seem intent on putting on to alienate your entire clientele?”

“Who said it was a false bravado?”

Trixie gave me a look that would curdle milk. Any of those hot secretary fantasies I mentioned? Instantly gone.

“Fine.” I grumbled flatly, standing up. I walked around my desk, brushed past Trixie, opened the door and walked out into the waiting room.

11-2-2012

So all my social media is a buzz with NaNoWriMo things.

Some good.

Some bad.

A lot of confusion and indifference.

Personally, I am a fan of National Novel Writing Month. It gives me a social community of like-minded individuals in my city. Most of these people I wouldn't have met without the NaNoWriMo meetups and stuff, so I can't complain about that. I also love NaNo because, well, it brings out the super competitive streak in me. I'm ALWAYS competing with other people, to get published, to get noticed, you know, the nature of writing. But NaNo brings out the competition in me even more, I see these word counts climbing and I want to get mine there, too. I want to have my word count meter thing way up there, over 10k, over 20k and so on. It's excellent visual motivation to see my friends and writing buddies climbing that ladder and I want to be there, too!

However, I also know that NaNoWriMo is not gonna produce a perfect piece of work right out of the gate. There's a lot of revising needed after the fact. Especially when you set a huge goal for yourself.

I'm an over achiever, I never settle for 50k words. I shoot for more, and I usually achieve what I aim for. So that motivation is an excellent thing.

I write every day, there's no denying that. I write and revise and work very hard to create stories with the intent of publication one day. I also write for Zombie Training Magazine. I find that NaNoWriMo is an additional excuse to write every day for a month. It makes it a habit to write daily, and that is what so many writers need -- motivation and the suggestion of a habit.

So yes, I am participating in NaNoWriMo. 2012 marks my 4th NaNo, and my first 2 Camp NaNo sessions.

I also finished a spec TV script during Script Frenzy but didn't validate it, and I have written a spec film script last month.

All of this stems from the habit of writing every day that NaNo instilled in me 4 years ago.

So, for those of you about to write? I salute you.

Love,
Kai

Kai Kiriyama lives in Calgary with her pet snake Rhaegar and her laptop.

You can find her on the NaNoWriMo forums under the name KaliYuga.

You can read Kai's Zombie articles at www.zombietraining.com

Kai's Twitter: @thekiriyamaheir
Kai's email: thekiriyamaheir@gmail.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorkaikiriyama
Tumblr: thekiriyamaheir.tumblr.com

Oh God WTF did I just read?

Okay, so I love to carouse fan fiction. I love it. It's hilarious, disgusting, thought provoking, emotionally draining, and a lot of the times is a serious ego boost for me.

And once in a while, you find some absolute gems.

Hell, a couple of very good friends of mine were met and made through fan fiction.

But I've also had my (un)fair share of reading REALLY REALLY GODAWFULLY BAD fan fics.

I have a few triggers, and lately I have unintentionally found all the stories that make me want to bleach my brain and gouge out my eyes. I have the worst luck ever.

But thinking about it, I have to stop and laugh. It's just so insane.

I was also talking to my sister about this, about the horrible, scary fan fics out there, and how we KNOW most of the actors who portray these characters are aware that these stories exist. So my sister asked me a very interesting question.

"What would your reaction be, Kai, if you found out there were stories written about you like this?"

First off, I'd be flattered. Even if it wasn't ME per se, but just my CHARACTERS? Oh hell yes, GO FOR IT. I think that means I've reached a certain level of notoriety right? If my characters are busily humping each other in someone else's mind? Cool. I'm cool with that.

If you're writing about me specifically? (And don't deny it, it exists.) Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! You really couldn't think of someone better to fantasize about?

Okay, well, let's pretend that someone out there is writing fan fics about me. Based on what I've read, my reaction would be three-fold after I get over the initial flattery, shock and embarrassment.

First, wow. What most of these bad fics are suggesting is highly unlikely to be possible. I'm afraid of heights, even standing on a chair to change a lightbulb or get something off a high shelf SUCKS. And I'm honestly not THAT flexible. I get it, it's fantasy, but you gotta work with realism. (I'm not gonna let myself be tied in a knot and put on a shelf for a harem of sex-crazy demons to do what they please with. Or whatever the hell that was that was happening in that fan fic.)

I AM NOT THAT FLEXIBLE. I don't think anyone is. Try to remember that, okay, erotica writers?

Two, just 'cause YOU think it's sexy, doesn't mean we all do. Gotta remember those triggers, man. If you wanna know what my big ones that hit the "NOPE" switch are, just ask. I'm really not that pervy, I just pretend like I am because this is the internet and girls aren't welcome here.

And finally...

Dudes, seriously? You're writing bondage? And you have to stop the 'action' to get something to tie your characters up with? Holy SHIT. I wear a paracord bracelet 99.9% of the time, and if I'm not WEARING it, it's somewhere close at hand BECAUSE I CAN NEVER BE WITHOUT MY STUPID FUCKING ROPE.

Good Lord, I guess it all really does boil down to realism, doesn't it?

Well, now, I guess I should go back and finish reading these bad fan fics. I don't plan on sleeping any time soon...

Kai Kiriyama lives in the frozen north known as Canada with her pet snake, Rhaegar.

Yes, she actually does have a paracord bracelet. The current one is purple.

If you wanna know what makes her tick, feel free to contact her at any of the following locations:

email: thekiriyamaheir@gmail.com
twitter: @thekiriyamaheir
facebook: facebook.com/authorkkaikiriyama
tumblr: thekiriyamaheir.tumblr.com

Wibbly-Wobbly, Timey-Wimey, ball of Editing... Stuff

Remember how I said I HATE EDITING? Like... a lot?

Well, I've found myself faced with a deadline for a submission, so I'm finally getting off my lazy-creative, busy-as-all-get-out butt, and am working on editing a novel I wrote just under a year ago.

Now, I love this novel. A lot. I love the content, I love the plot, I love the concept, everything. It's new, it's exciting, it's a genre blend and I don't have to worry about political correctness, or with censoring myself, and there's no way that it could be misconstrued as a YA novel. (Which is a joke and is better left off unexplained until another blog post because I don't feel like going on a tangent about THAT can of worms right now.) And I've been sitting on this particular gem for almost a year, so I'm pretty detached from the world I so frantically built. (Normally, I like to edit immediately, but that was out of the question for this one, which is, again, another story for another time.)

Anyway, the first draft -- because that's what it currently is -- ended up at about 77,000 words. I was honestly impressed with that number, and wondered how many of those words would need to be cut when I edited. (So far, I haven't cut any, but there's probably around 20,000 that need to be completely rewritten.) Then I found out that the submission guidelines are looking for 80-90,000 words but would consider works with less than that.

Ouch.

Okay, so 3000 words to make it to the minimum number isn't a lot, in fact, it's a number that I'm strangely comfortable with.

But if you know me, you know that I'm a bit of an over-achiever.

I decided to aim to add about 15,000 more words to the manuscript because, why not? My only question was "where do I put all those new words?"

So naturally, I fretted about it, and fretted about it, and sent myself into a mini panic attack and then figured out where to put all those extra words in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep.

I decided that I would take my book's plot and split it into three sections, plus a prologue and an epilogue. (Because I love prologues. It's like a film teaser that warms up your audience and gets them excited before you bore them to death with back story and exposition. Ha ha! I'm an evil tease.)

Well, now you can see my problem: my plot. There's no real holes in my plot, but there are a few half-formed ideas that could be fleshed out and made more whole, more tangible, as it were. There's at least two characters who can be given a little more depth and dimension, and a few plot points that could be expanded upon. And, while we're at it, might as well give this world a bit of history, too.

Now it's looking like those 20,000 words that I was contemplating cutting get to stay with minor adjustments, because, why not? The ideas are there, and adding the extra words and splitting the story into three separate pieces means that each section has its own identity. It means that I can treat each section like a mini novel with a beginning, middle and end that leads into the next mini novel and so on.

It also means that I have to tear the manuscript apart and mess with its timeline.

It's one of my favorite things about being a writer, though. You get to pull apart your own timeline. You get to make it all wibbly-wobbly as you move pieces around to make a linear, coherent story. And, of course, there are fixed points in your story that you can't mess around with or else it creates a paradox!

My problem with this is that it is SO time consuming, and the copy and paste process of moving time around is kind of boring.

So basically, I put on a scarf and pretend I'm a TimeLord. I've gotta get back to this editing thing, before the world implodes.

Allons-y!

Kai Kiriyama lives in the frozen North, also known as Canada, with her pet snake Rhaegar. She is a novelist and a screenwriter (working towards publication) and is a regular contributor to Zombie Training Magazine. (www.zombietraining.com)

You can get in touch with Kai at any of the following locations:

Email: thekiriyamaheir@gmail.com
Twitter: @thekiriyamaheir
Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorkaikiriyama
Zombie Training: www.zombietraining.com