The Lylurn Enclave

So many things so l...no, stop it

Paul Barkley — Tue, 05 Jan 2010 17:30:46 +0000

I've been bad. Only to myself, mind you, but I've been bad none the less. I've been allowing myself to have excuses for why I haven't been writing more on my book in almost a month. No more. I'm going to set a goal for myself and stick to it. I'm going to start off slightly slower than I tried to in November though, 500 words a day.

Minimum.

No More Procrastination.

Pavlov's Writer - Training yourself to Write

Paul Barkley — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 02:04:21 +0000

For the first half of the month I did fairly well, every time I was able to sit down to try to write I wrote. Halfway through the month that stopped working, I had trouble writing and kept getting stuck. I just realized why. I'd trained myself, just as Pavlov trained his dog, to write on cue. Specifically, this cue. Whenever I listen to that pandora station now I have the urge to write and, if I am at a computer, actually do so. I'd also stopped listening to it around half way through the month.

I've trained myself to write on cue. Woof.

The Cozy Fire of Kept Secrets

Paul Barkley — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 01:39:10 +0000

I have secrets.

Now, that's no secret. Everyone has secrets. I'm sure most people even have the specific kind of secrets I'm talking about. The kind of secrets that you absolutely want to tell someone, anyone, just to see their reaction but also absolutely cannot tell anyone. They eat at you, wanting out. I've let them out, kinda.

I wrote them down on a couple pieces of notebook paper, then I used the paper as kindling to start a fire in the fireplace. So now I sit here, warming myself, as I type, on a cozy fire. The Cozy Fire of Kept Secrets. You know? I feel a lot better now.

TSDUU29ZJ3PN

Help! Need Slang

Paul Barkley — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 02:49:52 +0000

So, I'm trying to come up with a slang term but drawing a blank. It needs to fit the following criteria :

Applies to all the native races of my planet, Lylurn
- That includes Orcs, Ogres, Goblins, Dwarves, Elves and Gnomes
- Humans have only been on the planet 400 years and have mostly taken over except for within the dense rain forest in the middle of the main continent.
The term is mainly used by humans, though also somewhat by natives who are trying to integrate and either have or are seeking citizenship (which raises their status from about equivalent to third class to second class citizens)
Needs to be short, preferably single sylable, and easier to say than "Natives"
Needs to have a hint of derision.

If anyone can give me a good suggestion then I'll give them a google wave invite.

I Wordled my book and then went back

Paul Barkley — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 14:04:05 +0000

Wordle is a toy that lets you take a chunk of text and convert it into a word cloud, the more often a word is used the larger a place it has in the cloud. I found it through Michael Wulf's blog and thought I'd give it a try, so here is the Wordle of the first four chapters of Crystal Clarity.

Unsurprisingly the book seems to be about Eton, the protagonist. Surprisingly, however, I apparently go back a lot. Should probably do something about that. Well, time to get back to writing.

Progress Bars are Depressing

Paul Barkley — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 14:17:32 +0000

I just joined a website where writers can critique each other, http://www.critiquecircle.com, at the suggestion of Michael Wulf and it has some other additional tools to help you write and keep you on track, including a customizable progress graph. I put in the data for the book I'm writing and it's annoying how blunt it is, but in a good way. Now I'm going to go write a couple thousand words.

Eton Malhoon, Profile in Brief

Paul Barkley — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 18:00:31 +0000

Gender: MaleCaptain Eton Malhoon

Personality Type: Tragic Hero

Age: 25

Hair: Red-Brown, Shoulder Length, Natural Color

Eyes: Blue, Caucasion

Nose: Slightly long and hawkish

Mouth: Light Red, thin, the start of laugh lines

Cheeks: High cheek-bones

Ears: Small, close to head

Height: 5'8"

Build: Thin, a hint of atheleticism

Skin: Smooth and largely unblemished , small birthmark that looks like Tybel just above his heart

Clothing size: Medium

Hands: Thin, long-fingered hands

Voice: Crystal clear and melodic

Coordination: Coordinated

Nationality: Rynaldi

Attitude to technology: Useful but not overly interested, just slightly above "User" level

Clothing style: Very situational, usually subdued when on duty

Skills: Public speaking, crowd manipulation, spin control, investigation, decent with a gun but not great

Employment/education: Five years as an apprentice in Aeros under Jubal Bemis, became a citizen at age 9 and began in low-end crowd manipulation, local spin control as a captain in a police district

Mother: Vashti Mahdat

Father: Tannon Farnham

Theme Song: Mad World - Gary Jules

The Criticism Tango

Paul Barkley — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 00:41:34 +0000

I'm looking for some more good constructive feedback on my writing, this is my first attempt at a novel so I'm doing something wrong or something that can be improved but am getting little feedback so far. I would love to be able to just ask and recieve but instead I will bribe. If you want a google wave invite, click that "Contact Us" link to the left and give me some feedback on one of the posts on this blog. Tomorrow night, and every night till I run out of invites, I'll give out some of my google wave invites to people who answer the call.

The Block, The Writer's Block

Paul Barkley — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 22:52:35 +0000

So I've been stuck for three days, haven't written a word. They just wouldn't come out. Don't get me wrong, I had ideas dancing around in my head and a general idea of where I wanted the story to go but every time I tried to put those ideas into words they just wouldn't come out. Then Eton smacked me around a little but and pointed me in a different direction and 1345 words fell out, and more are pushing their way to the forefront for their turn. I think tomorrow, in thanks to Eton for his aid, I'll post his character profile.

Molimo and Mr. Fancy

Paul Barkley — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 16:15:10 +0000

Here is another excerpt from my book.

Molimo leaned forward to get a better look around the side of the building at the two Orcs talking quietly at the end of the alleyway. He was pretty sure they hadn't noticed him yet; he'd always been good at hiding from the big races. As he watched the big one on the left, who Molimo called "Tusks" because he was missing one, pulled his shirt up to his neck so the other one could see his chest. As he did that the other one, "Mr. Fancy", took out a short black rod with a clear glass part in the middle and pressed it to Tusks' chest. He held it there for almost a minute, little red crystals clinking into the glass part as Tusks shuddered.

   Once he was done with that Mr. Fancy pulled the glass part out of the rod, revealing it to be a glass vial with a red cap, and held it up to his eye, nodding in satisfaction he put it into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash bigger than anything Molimo had ever seen in his short life and handed it to Tusks, who was pulling his shirt back down. Tusks took the money and glanced around to make sure no-one was watching. He slid the money into his back pocket and started toward the mouth of the alley. Molimo ducked back and hid behind a bin.

   Tusks walked out of the alley without a backward glance and headed down the street with a big smile on his face, straight into a busy bar at the corner from which a bard's playing drifted just barely above the volume of the rowdy patrons. After a few minutes had passed Mr. Fancy still hadn't come out of the alley so Molimo slunk out and slowly peered around the corner. As he did he saw Mr. Fancy, or more specifically Mr. Fancy's boots. He was standing right there, just a few feet away looking down at Molimo with a smile on his face.

   "How'd you like to make the kind of money I just gave him?" Mr. Fancy asked with a small smile.

   Molimo almost squeaked, his big floppy green ears twitching back and forth in his agitation. Mr. Fancy took a couple slow steps back and held out his arm to guide Molimo further into the Alley.

   "It'll take just a minute" said Mr. Fancy in a low voice, "and if you don't like it, you never have to do it again. What do you have to lose?"

   "Will it hurt?" Molimo asked softly as he stood and cautiously walked into the ally, never facing away from Mr. Fancy.

   Mr. Fancy smiled a knowing smile, "Just a little" he said. Fully aware that he'd already got Molimo.

   Molimo made it to where Tusks was standing just a few minutes ago and pulled at the edges of his ragged shirt a few times before adjusting it so that one of the many holes was position over the center of his chest, "Well" he started, then swallowed and started again, "Well, go ahead then." as he held his chin up and nodded curtly.

   Mr. Fancy took out the rod and slid a new glass vial into it, Molimo noticed oddly that this one had a black cap rather than a red one but didn't have time to comment on it before Mr. Fancy pressed the rod to his chest. It started off with a tingling in his fingers and Molimo wondered how he was going to hold his shirt like this if he couldn't feel his fingers anymore. Then he didn't wonder anything anymore.

   Daxton, "Mr. Fancy", held the rod to the little goblin's chest for another thirty seconds after its eyes had drifted closed and then pulled it away, watching the body crumple to the ground with a barely noticeable thud. He pulled the vial out of the rod and held it up to his eye. It was a quarter of the way full of little red crystals that glittered in the dim light, almost seeming to move of their own accord. Daxton sighed and put the vial away, the goblin hadn't gotten him very much Crystal Clarity but at least he hadn't had to work hard to get it. He turned and walked out of the alleyway and into the street, away from the bar that Nelton, his latest long term mark, had just gone into.

   "Not much longer for you Nelton." Daxton said to himself with a wry smile, "That little goblin saved your life tonight."

It's always hard when you're trying to decide whether or not to kill someone off. If you're going to kill someone, why? What does there death add? Are the readers already familiar with the person or is he a nobody? How do you make people care you've killed someone off? I've tried to strike as close a balance as I can manage, let me know what you think.