Writer Wednesday: Traits of a Writer

I've been talking a lot about status for your characters, and that's great, y'all should go read those posts if you wanna take your writing to the next level.

Today though, I'm gonna turn that lens on us -- the writers.

Let it be known that today, I have decreed that writers TEND to be introverts.

I'm borderline. I work on both levels, somewhere right between introversion and extroversion. I love to talk to people and I go to conventions and whatever, but for me, a good time tends to be home alone on a Saturday night with a cup of tea and a good book.

Introverts tend to be more apt to being lost in thought and introspective. Introverts are more in tune with feelings and while they seem to be lonely, the opposite is true. Introverts have fun watching as opposed to actively participating.

Introverts tends to display all the characteristics of being shy and "low status".

Introverts tend to get nervous in large groups.

Anything sound familiar?

Don't worry, this is totally okay. You're a writer. You're allowed to daydream, to get lost in thought, to listen, to people watch. It's almost expected of you. 

The problem is that you're also expected to engage your audience. To do meet and greets. To do book signings and all manner of press things.

Introverts, repeat after me: thank heaven for the internet. You can do so much to engage your audience with the internet and social media. Applied liberally (and directly to the audience) even an introverted writer and build relationships with the people who would be buying your work and stuff. 

So fear not. You may be introverted, but we know that it's okay. It's kinda what being a writer is all about.

Status Flip Side: Low Status Characters in Novels

I've been talking a lot about status, and I focused last week on High Status. This week, I'm taking a look at the flip side of that coin -- low status.

If you read the High status posts, then I'm sure that you can imagine what a low status character is like already. Fidgety, shy, can't make or keep eye contact, stammers, takes up as little space as possible, seems insecure, very quiet.

Wanna get a feel for lower status people in real-life? Watch an interview with Norman Reedus. Seriously. The man is charming and outgoing and clever, but he displays every single characteristic of a low status character. If you wanna get a good look at the differences between high and low status, watch an interview with Norman Reedus and pretty much any of his co-stars. Particularly Sean Patrick Flanery (searching for Boondock Saints panels at Comic-Con and such is a great place to start) or Michael Rooker (which again, panels at Comic Expos, but this time search for Walking Dead and the Dixon Brothers.) You can see a vast difference in the way these men behave and it's a stark contrast in high and low status.

However! Using Norman Reedus and Sean Patrick Flanery as a case study for high and low status (Or Norman and Michael Rooker even) is extremely interesting because while the statuses are clearly defined in body posture and mannerisms, the actors view themselves as equals.

This is not the case in most character studies where status comes into play.

Low status characters tend to become 'shy' when confronted with someone even remotely higher in status than they are.

When writing a low status character, remember that the low status only applies to people outside of the character's own head. If the character is alone, he is the king of his own world. He can sing, and dance and be generally high status, but as soon as his boss, or sister, or mother, or king walks in the door, the low status character is immediately back to begging and prostrating himself, unable to make eye contact, no longer singing, now very determined to take up as little space as possible in the room. 

This makes for very interesting dynamics in pairs or groups and creates sort of a "pecking order" which I will discuss another time.

For now, I recommend going and having a look through celebrity photos and watching interviews with celebrities, see if you can't pick out who is high status and who is low status. Then, start applying these things to your characters. It'll open up a whole new playground with your writing.

Round 2!

OH MY GOSH! You guys and gals are the best.

Voting for Round Two has gone live and I would love it if you'd head on over there and give me and Blaze Tuesday another chance. There's some kickass prizes available to be won from Curiosity Quill Press, and a new cover challenge. PLUS! You get to read more of Blaze Tuesday and the Case of the Knight Surgeon.

Not too hard, right?

Anyway, I'd totally appreciate it if you'd hang out and go spare me a vote. And if you don't like me, feel free to vote for someone else, I don't mind. :) I'd also love to hear what you think of Blaze so far!

Thank you in advance, I'm hoping that together we can pull this through and keep me int he top 5 and take it all the way!

Link is at the end of this post.

All my love!
-Kai Kiriyama

VOTE FOR BLAZE HERE!

Writer Wednesday: Your Own Pace

I've been a member of several writing communities for a while now. I've been a part of several critique groups, both in person and online. The local chapter of the NaNoWriMo participants is the big one that springs to mind, however. And I just helped start the Samurai Scribes - a new kind of open commune for writers in all stages of working towards publication.

The Samurai Scribes is just in its infancy, but we're working towards a goal of cross-promotion as well as self-promotion for our own works, but also towards creating a sort of online community with access to resources and friendly faces right there all in one place. Not all of us are published. Some of us haven't even got a single manuscript ready for much else outside of MORE revisions. Some of us have screenplays and no novels. Whatever. That doesn't matter because we're an open group based on mutual respect and open communication. We work under the idea that we are all on the same path, though not everyone walks that path the same way. It's about the journey as much as it is the destination -- what worked for me may not work for you and vice versa.

But I'm a little bit off-topic here.

What becomes truly important is understanding your own pace.

I have been writing forever, ever since I was little. I decided at 13 years old that I was going to be a professional writer and make a living off of it.

13 years later, I'm still trying to make a living off of it. And that's perfectly okay.

I have gotten to a point where I am no longer satisfied with going to meet-ups and writing in cafes with a group of friends. I am no longer satisfied by editing draft after draft. I have surpassed many of the people in the groups I am or was affiliated with, in my opinion. I feel that I have learned all that I can from interacting with certain people, and that's all right.

I've hit the point where I need to move on from wishing and speculating and drafting and revising. I've hit the point where it's time to get "serious". (Ha! Me, serious. But you know what I mean, I assume.)

It's only taken me 13 years of working my ass of to learn and improve and get comfortable with my craft and with my style and my voice for me to get here. It's only taken me being rejected, torn down, almost giving up and going to flip burgers for a living (which I may yet still have to do, but that is neither here nor there) crushed and despairing for me to grow enough to understand that there is no real magic trick to "making it" as a writer. 

There are methods and shortcuts and ways to manipulate the system, and most of these have actually cropped up in the past few years while I perfected my mind and my craft. 

The point is that there is always more to learn, always more to do. Just because Jane so-and-so is ready to query her 300k word book, doesn't mean that she is what the publishing houses and agents are looking for. She may be ready to take that step, but her craft may not be ready to carry her all the way.

If I'm gonna be honest, my words may not be ready to carry me all the way, but I'm ready to take the next step in getting my work "out there". And I have found the community and strength to help keep my spirits up as I go.

And if you're curious, come check out The Samurai Scribes. We will welcome you with open arms.

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? 

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.

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

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

Milestone: First Rejection

I got my very first rejection letter today.

This is a new experience. I've been rejected before, for other jobs and whatever, but this was the first fiction story I've submitted to anything. Hence the first rejection letter I've ever received.

It was a simple, two line email that I made the mistake of reading before I was fully prepared to deal with anything today. [read: before I was properly caffeinated.] My initial reaction was to cry and to ostrich myself away forever. I didn't do either of those. My second reaction was to begin drinking immediately. But there was no alcohol in the house. I have since purchased some beer but have not started drinking yet, as I don't really feel the need to drown my sorrows with alcohol anymore.

I started to think about what this rejection means for me.

Well, first off, it means that I wasn't what the publisher was looking for. And that's okay. This was a short story that I had put an amazing effort into and yes, I'm pretty proud of how it turned out. I am smitten with my own ending. Definitely not something that I usually write, so that's a plus.

Secondly, it means that this story now has several options.

I could edit a bit more and submit it elsewhere, I could add more to the story and make it an actual novel (or novella if I'm feeling lazy) and submit it elsewhere, considering that it's a zombie story, I could probably get it cleared by ZT and have it printed in several instalments in the magazine, I could publish it on my blog for free reading...

The possibilities are not limited to what a single publisher is looking for. I am really only limited by my own time and imagination and drive to actually work on this story.

And that's all right, too.

I have a bunch of other projects on the go. Some are writing projects, some are personal projects, some are crafts, some are gifts... I'm really just limited by my own personal priorities and promises.

So now that I can look at this rejection with a clear head, and a more reasonable amount of caffeine in my bloodstream, what am I getting out of it?

Well, for one, I'm a little less cocky about it today. I went into submitting this story with full on confidence. I was utterly convinced that I was gonna get accepted and this would be my first official story published. My ego has taken a beating today and it's making me seriously reconsider my other works. Maybe I need a little more fine-tuning? Maybe I need to be more creative? Maybe I need to streamline my work? (I dunno how that last one is possible. I write screenplays that have no unnecessary scenes because I'm so to-the-point!)

I also realized that inflating my ego and being cocky is awesome. It makes the period of mourning about rejection a lot less brutal than it could be. I mean, I'm not crying. I'm not drunk. I'm sitting at my computer and I'm about to get back to work on another project while I decide what to do about this one. Being as cocky as I get means that the rejection hits hard, but I can bounce back pretty easily. It could be a lot worse. I don't deal with rejection well. You should see me when I get dumped. That's a horrible sight.

And is also a little bit off topic.

It means that I know that I can handle a rejection without spiralling into despair and madness (any more than I already am, anyway.)

It means that I have a story that could theoretically be submitted elsewhere and is fine tuned enough that I'm comfortable sending it out.

The point is that I have made peace with the rejection, understand that there are other fish int he sea, so to speak. I'm not angry, it's part of the game, and this is a game that I plan to keep playing for a long time. Writing is my craft and is going to be my full-time job. This story just wasn't meant to be the kick start I needed. And that's cool, too.

I dunno why I was rejected. I just wasn't what they were looking for this time.

But that's awesome, right? Because now I know that there are worse things than being rejected.

The Story of Thor and Skrymir (Kai's version)

One day, Thor, Sif, Tyr and Loki were having an argument about who the mightiest of them all was. It is worth noting that the gods were all fairly drunk at this point, and that we're talking about huge Viking gods, not the pitiful Marvel adaptations who are little more than aliens. Anyway, the argument got rather heated, as the mead continued to flow long after the other gods all went to bed for the night.

Each of the gods claimed that they were the mightiest, and if the stories are to be believed, only Thor could really  back that claim up, but still the arguments were presented.

Finally, Loki convinced the others that if they really wanted to test their might, they should all go to the coldest place that they could find and perform various feats of amazingness, and since Joutenheim was off limits, they went to Midgard, to the Arctic Circle.

So off they went in Thor's chariot (which as you know is pulled by two male goats and is not the most glamourous thing there is to travel around in.) In retrospect, Thor realized that it was a good thing that his father was asleep because Odin doesn't approve of drunk driving. (Let this be a lesson to all of you, there's no excuse for drunk driving and Odin will punish you if you do it.)

With a less than elegant landing in a snowdrift, the gods disembark from Thor's chariot and they all begin building snow forts because there's nothing else to do in the North Pole.

Sif's snow fort was a multiple roomed castle, complete with a sauna.

Thor build a squat longhall with a burning fire in the center of the room.

Tyr said fuck that and built a modest igloo but tamed a pair of polar bears to guard his new house.

Loki just sat and watched his friends build their snow creations with a smirk on his face. When the others were finished their creations, Loki stood slowly, shaking the snow from his shoulders. He transformed himself into a giant, a giant even more giant than regular giants because he was Loki and his ego demanded it. With a laugh, he began kicking apart the snow forts that his friends had built. Tyr's polar bears tried to stop him but he picked them up and tossed them over the arctic tundra and they didn't come back.

"Loki!" Thor cried. "You douchebag!" (Douchebag is an ancient Norse word that is, of course, translated to mean 'he who is a bag of douches.) "Now we are cold, and drunk and have no place to sleep. Also, my goats have been eaten by those polar bears you threw and we're stuck here until we're sober."

"No! You foolish Thunder-bitch!" Loki replied. "While it is true that we are trapped here until morning, I have proven once again that you are all silly and that I am the mightiest."

Tyr scratched his head with his one good hand. "How's that?" He slurred drunkenly, more than a little choked up about the loss of his polar bears.

"Well, as you know, I'm not a simple Aesir like you. In my blood runs the tolerance to freezing cold because I'm awesome and part giant." Loki explained impatiently. "And so I can withstand even the coldest temperatures in all the Nine Realms."

"We're still stuck, Loki." Sif said grumpily. "You moron."

Loki simply laughed. "My point, dear sister-in-law, is that I can sit here all night and not complain, but you all will freeze and die and I've half a mind to let you."

"I"m telling Father." Thor said pompously.

"Tattle-tale." Loki snapped. With a dramatic sigh, he took off one of his gloves and dropped it to the ground. "I was going to give you my vest, but you're all so ungrateful that you can sleep in my glove and just deal with it." He folded his arms over his chest and spent the rest of the night sulking.

Thor and Sif and Tyr, however, all climbed inside the glove and had the best sleep of their lives snuggled in the fingers of Loki's glove.

None of them would admit to Loki being the mightiest, though.

The End.

Kai likes to make things up, and this is her version of why Thor and his friends would have slept in Giant-Loki's glove. 

Send Kai your feedback, she loves it. 

So, you live with a Writer...

"I wouldn’t want to live with a novelist. Writers are highly voyeuristic and indiscreet."

-PHILIP ROTH

 

 

I came across this gem of a quote earlier on Twitter. Timely as all get out, too, because I woke up with this blog post hammering away at my brain. It's quite funny, actually, to think about it. I have tons of writer friends, even two of my siblings write in varying degrees, and I am constantly meeting other writers, published, non-published, self-published etc. most of them online.  I'm sure this has been covered before, but it never hurts to write my own take on it, right?

To me, it seems like we all share a few common things. A love of creativity, a desire to tell stories, a NEED for escapism, to name a few. I have noticed that there are a few things that we all share above and beyond those basic things, and I had to examine it further.

Beyond having friends who I've noticed these common traits in, I live with a non-writer. If I'm gonna be honest, he's a non-reader as well, but only because he takes advantage of audio books instead of hard copies due to his job demands. I feel kind of bad for him, as not only does he have to deal with my neurotic crap, and my 'being a hormonal twenty-something female' crap, he also has to deal with living with a writer and all the baggage and insanity that comes with that. And let's not even get started on the get-togethers I sometimes attend (AND HOST) with other writers.

But all right, you've found a person you like. You might be in a serious relationship with them. Or maybe you're just roommates or best friends. No matter how you came to end up like this, you are now living with, or at the very least, socializing heavily with a writer. What do you need to know and what can you do about it?

1. Be prepared to be ignored for extended periods of time.
It's got nothing to do with you, specifically. Trust me on this. You're probably a great person, witty and intelligent and able to carry on conversations about all manner of topics, and that's great. But writers are elusive at the best and reclusive at the worst. When we get a thought into our brains, or we know there's a deadline, prepare yourself for lonely days in front of the TV eating microwavable meals for one. There's no stopping that flow of creativity, and usually it is better to create alone than while being distracted. Once the fever is gone, you'll be back in our good books. This also rings true for any friends or relatives who are involved int he writer's life. Don't be surprised if your writer friend disappears for weeks on end.

2. Reality is an unfortunate side effect of living that we don't particularly trust.
Remember when I mentioned escapism? Yeah, we're all prone to that. Things in real life tend not to fascinate us the way they fascinate you. It's either that or we see things differently. You might see a rock, we see a petrified dragon egg awaiting the blood sacrifice of a tyrant given by the third heir to the throne and we will run with it. Just let us have our way with things. Maybe come with us? You'll never know what it's like till you let us bring you.

3. Nothing is important besides the words and caffeine(/alcohol/nicotine etc.)
No seriously. You will have to remind us to eat, sleep, and probably be forced to take over the cooking and cleaning. If you have pets, ha, good luck. You'll have to walk Fido and feed Bubbles the Goldfish because when that fever gets hold of a writer, there's nothing more important than getting the words out. I have had food unexpectedly brought to me when I've been sequestered in my office for 8+ hours in a day and haven't eaten anything. It is always appreciated, and it's also really nice to know that someone cares enough to bring us food and make sure that we're not dead. My vice is caffeine, so wherever I set up my camp (sometimes I work in the kitchen) I am sure to have various caffeinated beverages on hand. Just be prepared to take in in stride and know that things will go back to 'normal' when the need to finish the writing subsides.

4. You will have to deal with either OCD levels of cleanliness or "Perpetual Bachelor" levels of messiness.
There's very little in between. I'm a neat freak, usually. Messes and clutter annoy me and I prefer to have a place for everything and everything in its place. Unfortunately, I live with kind of a slob, so there is a lot of head-butting about it. And if there's clutter in my office, there will be hell to pay.

5. Your day is nowhere near as exciting as whatever we're doing at the time.
Again, this isn't a personal thing, but having a conversation over dinner about how you had to do ten hours of bullshit data entry just isn't as appealing (or as amusing) to us writers as whatever novel we're reading or writing at the time. This is doubly true for writers who don't have to do much of anything else but write. And I apologize.

This is really just the tip of the iceberg, so feel free to add your own in the comments. These ones are really the big ones you would have to deal with if you were living with me.

Kai Kiriyama is available to chat on twitter @thekiriyamaheir or through email at thekiriyamaheir@gmail.com

Kai currently lives in Alberta and writes for Zombie Training Magazine.

Make Me Cry

It's funny, I have just spend the last 3 days marathon writing whilst sitting at my kitchen table in the most uncomfortable chair I have and what is the first thing that I do? I sit back the heck down and write a blog at the kitchen table in my godawfully uncomfortable chair. And then I'm gonna write something else. Why? Because it's all I know how to do.

Now that I have that out of the way, give me a moment, please, to express my elation one last time.

I completed Camp Nano session 1 last night. I crossed the 50,000 word finish line and I completed the novel that had been scratching away at my mind like a rodent for some time.

High fives and slurpees all around.

Yes, this is going to be another blog about the book that has been plaguing me for months. Deal with it.

I feel like I have had a great weight lifted from my body.

I have written 10 books to completion, one film script, three television scripts, several comic scripts and a multitude of short stories but never have I felt anything to rewarding as finishing this book.

This book has been an extension of my life since I came up with the idea just after November of last year. It has been slowly eating away at my brain for months and I finally sat down to write it.

I am very proud of this book. This book has been a difficult thing to write. I started out doing research for it by checking all sorts of gross medical stuff and learning about the doctor side of things. When I sat down to write, I realized that I didn't actually need all of that stuff, and the book really began to take on a life of it's own.

Finishing it now, I can tell you that it is the same story that I originally set out to tell, but it's not presented the same way that I had originally wanted. It sort of evolved as I sat down to write it, in a good way.

I've said it before, I am usually a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of writer. USUALLY. I'm perfectly happy to sit and plan a story and write down all my plot points and blah blah blah. This time I did a little bit of both and I am really happy with the way it turned out.

This book was extremely difficult for me to write. It deals entirely with my main character contracting an illness and suffering in the hospital. I'm not going to tell you much more than that.

When I set out to write it, it was told from the first person point of view of my main protagonist as she was getting treated in the hospital. As I wrote, I suddenly developed this character into more than what I had originally set out to do. And her relationships with people. Her parents suddenly became thse fully fleshed out characters, as did her doctor. I didn't originally set out to write it that way, but it just felt to be the natural progression of the story.

The scary thing I found, is that I got amazing attached to my character "Zero". As I was writing the final chapters, I found myself crying more than once. I had to stop and remove myself completely from the story before I could go on.

I really hope that my passion and that level of commitment to "Zero" shows and I hope that I can illicit the same response from my readers.

It's been a really emotionally draining month.

And now that it's done?

I couldn't be happier with it.

So now it's off being critiqued and beta read by my friends and I want all the feedback I can get.

I'm taking this one all the way.

But for now, I need a nap.

Kai Kiriyama is going to spend the next three days sleeping.
If you need to reach her, email her at thekiriyamaheir@gmail.com or find her on Twitter @thekiriyamaheir

More about the Battle of Camp Session 1

I am going insane. If I wasn't already insane, I'm at least a few steps closer.

This Camp NaNoWriMo book is going to be the death of me! Ha! Funny that I'm writing a book about a person in a hospital and I'm claiming that it's gonna kill me. Is that irony? Or just coincidence? Probably the latter. I think irony would be if I actually did die. And that would suck.

Okay, linguistic stuff aside, I'm really having a hell of a time with this thing! I just can't find my motivation to go on with it, to keep plugging away. I mean, I'm motivated, but the words don't wanna flow as nicely or as easily as usual. And it's frustrating me to no end.

But I think that I've figured out why it is that I'm struggling so hard.

In my area, when November rolls around and we all sit down to do the usual NaNoWriMo session, there are all sorts of wonderful plans and events made by our intrepid MLs, Xanateria and Naiya. We go have food and fun and hang out together and support each other and we do word wars and earn prizes and stuff. Plus, there's an online chat room for just us in Calgary. Plus, there's the NaNoWriMo forums open too.

There's just so much support!!

I find that Camp NaNo, while it's still technically in it's infancy, lacks that support. And it's not because of anything, aside from the fact that it's only the second year that they've run a Camp session.

And this isn't to say that there are literally no supports. One of the girls in Calgary has chosen to take on the responsibility of running a weekly meet-up. Unfortunately for me, this meet-up is on the other side of the city, in a restaurant. I don't like to sit in restaurants and not order anything, even if there's a group of people eating. Especially then. As it is, I can't afford to drive across the city every week and I certainly can't afford to eat out (because it wouldn't just be me, the boy-thing would be joining me.) And, as much as I love the group, I have a few issues I need to work out on a personal level, with some of the members of the group.

(I wonder if the other parties involved realize that I have a few issues with them?)

And the internet chat room for just us Calgary wrimos is still open, but I find that it's a lot more distracting than helpful. My iPhone is distracting enough! I have games and twitter on that thing, I don't need a chat room too.

But on the other hand, maybe I DO need that chat room? Maybe I DO need that little push and that support to complete my 50,000 word goal by the end of the month?

I'm going to finish this novel. That isn't the question and it's not up for debate.

The question is am I gonna make the 50,000 word goal by month-end?

I think that regardless of if you THINK you need it, having the supports of other people working towards the same goal as you and being able to talk it out and get the cheers and tears from your friends and peers, it really does make a big difference.

Would I change my experience this month? No. Do I think I miss the meet-ups and stuff that we have in November? Yes. But do I need that support all the time? In some ways, definitely. And I sincerely recommend building a bit of a circle of people who will support you in all of your writing endeavors because it does help.

And if you want it, email me or find me on twitter. I'll support you while you write!

Take her up on her inivitation!
Kai on Twitter: @thekiriyamaheir
Kai's email: thekiriyamaheir@gmail.com

Vote of Confidence

I'm struggling today. It's never a good feeling.

I feel like I've lost all motivation, all drive and all determination to write anything.

So I decide to blog, go figure.

I think that if I get my thoughts out of my head and into the aether of the Internet, maybe I will motivate myself somehow to get back into the swing of writing.

As my mom would say, "I have lost my na-na" (because na-na is the quicker way to say "je ne c'est quois" in an anglophone family of chronic insomniacs!)

I'm not gonna lie. Part of it has been brought on by myself. I have been taking on extra responsibilities. I've been slacking, I've been less than motivated to write anything. I have gotten in too deep within my character's psyche and have spiraled into a depression. I was depressed beforehand.  I let video games hold my interest longer than I should have. I've been really under the weather, struggling with my joints and migraines. All sorts of things have come between me and my project.

And yet I see all of these reasons and to me they are just excuses.

I take full responsibility for it, however. These excuses? They're all just excuses. I didn't HAVE to play video games for three hours. I could have written the 1,667 words every day, that's usually about 30 minutes of work for me. I could have sat down first thing in the morning, written my words, done my exercise and had breakfast before I got started on my other responsibilities for the day. But I didn't. And I fully accept that. I have brought this all upon myself.

This isn't to say that I'm stressing out about it at all.

On the contrary.

I choose to do the NaNoWriMo events as an exercise for myself, for my mind, for my creativity and for my discipline. It takes 30 days to make something a habit, and the goal of NaNo events are not only to write a 50,000 word novel in a month, but also to reinforce the idea that if you write a little bit every day, it will soon become a habit, and that habit ideally will stick with you throughout the year.

Anyway, I am so far behind to make up the 50,000 words. I'm still just over 13,000 and I have 10 days to make up the 37,000 words and finish my novel.

Am I going to do it? I don't currently know. I want to do it. And I am damn well going to TRY to do it. I have the utmost faith in myself and in my novel. I know that it'll be worth it when I'm finished. I just have to pull up my skirt, and put my writer pants on. It's usually easy for me to just go and write. But this is different. Still, I know that it's something that I have to do. Not just for myself... actually, yeah, it's mostly for myself. It's about my pride and my creativity.

I'm going to be selfish and greedy about it. It's about MY work. MY pride. MY creativity. MY motivation. MY future career. ME ME ME ME.

To Hell with the critics. To Hell with people wanting to edit/beta for me. To Hell with the subject matter. To Hell with it all.

This is about me. This is about the book I want to write, about the story I wanna tell. This is about finishing the story that I think is interesting, greedy and selfish as it may sound, I'm not writing for anyone else this time 'round.

Realistically though, is there anyone else that you should be writing for in the long run?