Category: The Blog

Originally published at Joely Sue Burkhart. You can comment here or there.

This section comes shortly after the one from last week when Shannari cut the Shadowed Blood up pretty well. If you’ve read The Rose of Shanhasson, you know that Shannari has a deeply ingrained fear when she’s grabbed or threatened from behind (another reason those little touches last week were so significant). Gregar is determined to make sure she’s well able to defend herself if he’s not at her back.

First draft, edited for content to reduce spoilers to the first book in the series.

From the eager look on Dharman’s face as she faced him with a rahke, Gregar had certainly been correct. The boy looked more than happy to receive the same kind of punishment that she

Originally published at Joely Sue Burkhart. You can comment here or there.

The scene I’m writing in Road showed me exactly what a coward I still am sometimes.

Oh, I think I’m so brave. Boldly writing exactly the kind of story I want instead of suffering to fit a square peg into a round hole and wondering why it doesn’t work. Shipping off contest entries to be reamed. Proudly earning the rejection badge of courage with agent query after query shot down. I’ve grown as a writer, nearly five years old now. I know a few things. I’ve survived.

So brave.

And yet when a scene comes along that I’ve been dreaming of for years and years…I cheat. Skipping ahead to this dream-come-true scene, I write the set up, happily, but when I get to the heart of everything this story is, I write a one-paragraph “summary.” I know it’s not right, but I’m so frozen, so full of dread and fear, that I can’t do it. So I let that paragraph ride and I go back to the main story line. I shouldn’t skip ahead, I tell myself, but in reality, I need to write something safer. Assassination attempts, political manuevering, battles, even another sex scene, because hey, that’s a hell of a lot easier than facing the scene I fouled up.

Word by word, page by page, I’ve caught up to that foolhardy cowardly paragraph. I had skipped ahead in my glittering confidence, sure I could bang that “candy bar” scene out; now, I can’t afford to mess around with it. This IS the candy bar scene of scenes. This is what so much of the journey has been about. I can’t mess this up. I can’t sit here and play this scene safe. Safe will kill this story, and if I kill THIS story, then I kill myself as a writer.

I’ve got to hang it all out in the wind and take my punches.

So I did it last night. I finished the brutal scene that should have been a pleasure, a dream come true, and was in fact harder to write than slaughtering a beloved character. The scene’s not right yet, but at least I quit being a coward. At least I took the shot, I took the risk, though I haven’t decided if I hit the basket or not.

I guess in the end, that’s what matters. At least that’s what Gregar told me when he hauled me out of the Well, dripping wet with my lungs full of water. Lying there, gasping for breath and coughing, I realized something. It all seemed so clear (I hear near death experiences do that). I never could have written this scene two years ago, even one year ago. Hell, I barely wrote it now. It wasn’t on the realm of possiblity when I first started out nearly five years ago.

It all began to make sense. Why this story had to take so long to come to fruition. Why I had to dream about it for years. Because in the end, I never could have written it right until I’d suffered and bled and earned the right to be here. All of these years, I’ve been climbing up Vulkar’s Mountain, bleeding a little more each day, and hoping, praying I would reached the top. I almost turned back so many times.

This Mountain has nothing to do with success, not like I thought at first, and everything to do with Seeing, myself most of all.

Last night, I found the lake of fire at the top of the Mountain, I saw the heartfires of the earth dancing toward heaven, and I understood.

Originally published at Joely Sue Burkhart. You can comment here or there.

Since we’ve been talking about a book that really pissed me off last week, I thought I’d do a “readers meme” of things an author does that you as a reader deem Unforgivable. What makes you throw a book against a wall and scream “Never again?”

1. The Imhotep Syndrome: The hero does something unheroic live action in the book, like leaving the love interest behind to die. This is what made the recent book unforgivable for me personally and earned the Imhotep reference. Yeah, Anck Su Namun does leave him to die at the end of The Mummy Returns, and she receives an appropriate recompense. Unless you’re going to kill the hero for payment of such cowardly behavior, this is unforgivable in my book.
2. The “Who Shot JR” Syndrome: Ever since the last episode of the season for House, M.D. (season 2 or 3?) was a dream sequence, only revealed at the end, I’ve refused to watch it. I love musicals but despise Oklahoma! Again, because of that retarded dream sequence. Now if I *know* it’s a dream and the dream ends up crucial to the story, that’s different. But as a reader or viewer, I despise being tricked. (For those of you too young to remember Dallas, the evening sitcom very popular in the 80s, a very large mystery involving “Who Shot JR” was later revealed to be a dream. At least that’s my foggy memory of the show, and if that’s an invalid reference, let’s call this the #$*@ Dream Syndrome.)
3. The “I See Dead People” Lie: I loved Sixth Sense. I loved watching it the first time, completely unawares, and then watching it again and catching the little clues. I get goosebumps when stuff like that works. As a reader, I relish those little crumb trails and follow it eagerly to the Gingerbread House in the center of the woods. I want the Witch there ready to eat the little children. If it’s all just random garbage thrown in there to trick or confuse me, and those little crumbs lead absolutely nowhere? That’s unforgivable with a potty word flying from my mouth as your book hits the wall.
4. The Dr. Who Are you Again?: I don’t actually watch Dr. Who (I’d love to but That Man is too busy watching Matlock and MASH), but one of the kisses of death for me as a reader is when it’s just not memorable. When I’ve been reading the book, put it down to cook dinner, and then have a free half hour to spare between monster baths, dishes, bedtime stories, etc. I look at the book, and I can’t remember the characters’ names. Oops. Why should I pick up that book again? Definitely unforgivable.
5. The Death-By-Chocolate-Caramel-Butterscotch-Banana-Split-Everything-But-the-Kitchen-Sink Soup: Oooh, paranormal is hawt! Lots of sex is hawt! Menage scenes are selling like hotcakes! I’ll throw it all together and make a killer dessert! Who cares if none of it actually makes sense….
6. The Perfect Record Seatbelt Law: We should always follow the speed limit and wear our seatbelts because readers don’t like us to take risks. It’s too shocking and not very politically correct either. Safety first! Meanwhile I’ve smeared ink on my forehead because I fell asleep on the book.