This just in, straight from the Chasm of Despair!
|From the Mouths of Morons, Part I:|
Me: "You don't wait for the words to come. You just have to force them out one by one."
Sister: "Just like poop."
Brother: "That's why you sometimes write shit."
Sage words, and appropriate. Sorry for calling you morons on the internet, brother and sister. I sacrifice your intelligence in the name of alliteration.
In that vein, I tried to tell my sister what Dark Arcana was about. This was the result:
|"Um, it's...character driven. Uh. So there's Oscar, who is a boy with the ability to manipulate reality with his dreams. I mean, he has no control over it. He dreams it and it turns real. And he can't control it, so his nightmares turn real too. And there's Ethan. He's a scientist. He's a genius. And...well, okay, first, there's this time agency that watches over history. And Ethan finds them, so because he found them, they try to recruit him. Except Ethan doesn't believe in destinies and prophecies, so he's all "...No." Then there are these aliens that keep messing with history. The time agency and the aliens are in a time war. Uh."|
Major fail. Yeah, there's a third moron in the room also.
I didn't know what my own story was about. All the happiness I felt at finally having a synopsis done just drained away like warm deflated soda trickling down a rusty drain. It means that the only thing holding my plot together is some time war that takes place outside the universe. I have nothing actually happening in the world itself.
This manifests as talking heads: either people are having trippy dreams with no transition between them and reality, or they're just having conversations.
Everything is virtual.
There is no action.
There is no sense of place.
This is why I'm trying to stuff in all this political stuff with all the different plot lines, even though I have no idea how it will work. My bunny cries out for some foundations.
Don't get me wrong. I will figure out what this story is about eventually. I am going to take the shitty road, and force it out one word at a time. Just expect a lot of ranting and raving this month. I finished my 1,667 words for the day. I know what is supposed to happen, but not much of it turned out that way.
In the meantime, let's just say that the Chasm of Despair knows me so well that they have a cave with my name on it.
Nice to see you again, fellas. The usual.
|Warp Riders by The Sword||Across The Dark by Insomnium|
|By The Light of The Northern Star by Tyr||Darkness in the Light by Unearth|
|Van Halen by Van Halen||1984 by Van Halen|
|From the Mouths of Morons, Part II:|
Me: *starry eyed* "So Stephen King writes 2,000 words a day. Every day. He said-- what's so funny?"
Sister: *is trying not to laugh* "I'm still thinking about poop. And I know he's thinking about poop."
Sister: "So while you're talking, we're having a telepathic conversation about poop."