Paksworld

One of last night’s discoveries is that some gnomes traveling with a dwarf are kteknik…exiles, usually temporary, who are wearing colors because they’re being punished.   (How to make a gnome unhappy–make him colors.)  If you’re a naughty gnome (could not resist), you may be required to go do something in the outside world that is considered a fair exchange for whatever it was you did.

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I spent some hours at Flycon, the first online international SF convention (no, I didn’t come here and tell you about it–I forgot.   Sorry.)

While in the middle of a discussion of how the internet creates social networks and how writers use those (and how they should be doing it)  several people (writers and non both) said they loathed and despised word counts, progress reports, in writers’ blogs.

So my question for you is, “Do you?”

I like seeing them in other writers’ blogs, and sometimes it spurs me to get back to work.   Posting my “counts” (at least when I have any) helps me stay focused, keep track of my work, not spend all day chatting online, etc.   I would not have gotten so far last fall without that.   But if it’s highly annoying to all of you,  I could maybe quit.  Maybe.   (Though maybe not.  How hard is it to skip the posts labeled Progress Report if you don’t want to read it???)

I’ve now vacated Flycon to go back to work on the book….or maybe you didn’t want to know that (evil grin appears, Cheshire-cat-like,  above the monitor…)

2612 words today, for a total to date of 115,093.

The plotbomb may have more to say, but I’m done for the day.

In the interest of more enticing and informative post titles,  I’ve decided to date progress reports from now on.

Those of you reading my LJ last year (before this blog existed) may remember the series of plot bombs that landed on me in the last third of the book.

Plot bombs are events/characters/situations that I didn’t anticipate and that propagate new plot and lots of words all of a sudden.  They disrupt my train of thought and break things open.   But, being creative and not truly destructive, plot bombs are always–well, almost nearly always completely–right.

The first true plot bomb of the second volume exploded in my head this morning.

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Current word count: 110,415

YIPPEE!

I pushed farther than my hands like, but I really wanted to get this far.   Hands will be fine in the morning…it was just over 3000 words, not 4000, which is where they really yelp at me.

Sometimes it’s good to push.

I went back to the scene that was giving me such trouble days ago and saw that what was missing was the other part of what they discussed (besides having the wrong number of dead people–hate it when that happens.   If A says there were six killed, and B says four, and both were there and neither lied…the writer has had a lapse between pages.   Which is better for the plot?  Pick one and stick through it in all subsequent scenes.)

And that was magic stuff.    A doesn’t know that B has magery of the old type.  B doesn’t know that A has some elven abilities and a whopping dose of taig-sense.   B doesn’t know what taig-sense is, and A only knows oldstyle magery by repute.    These are not the same but there are overlaps, and of course similar objectives…people want power so they can accomplish something with it, and those who have power (want it or not) must learn to use it to accomplish things.

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Not on my birthday, thanks to Stuff, but in honor of.

In the far south, beyond the barren hills of sand that edge the coast, in the dry and rocky slopes that once supported three white towers near a great city, the Guardian of Guardians lifts a hand and the prayers cease. No voice disturbs the hiss of wind on rock and sand; even the children playing among the ruins are silent.

All look north, north to the coast few of them have seen, and beyond to the lands no Guardian has visited, across the Immerhoft Sea, beyond the forests and fields now called Aarenis, beyond the high gray mountains beloved of dwarves and the hills of the gnome princedoms to the lands where magelords live, who once lived here.

“Yes,” the Guardian says. “The veil is torn; the life of the land is revealed.”

……

A clue to those who were wondering if this new story would answer any questions left from the old ones…(evil grin)  Depending on editorial whim, this may or may not be part of a prologue to one or another volume.

This one’s from the second book, so heavily edited to avoid spoilers. ..and there’s no guarantee it will make it into the final book.  Arianya ( Marshal-General of Gird) and Paks are riding along together on a hot summer morning.   Arianya’s the POV.

“She may wear Falk’s ruby, but she’s not just a Falkian knight,”  Arianya said.  “You weren’t at court when she killed that man…that wasn’t a prayer to Falk.  That was magery.”

“It could be both,” Paks said.  She bit into another plum and spat the stone into her hand, then tossed it into the base of a hedge.  “Alyanya’s blessing,” she said as it landed.

Arianya glanced back, half-expecting the stone to sprout then and there, bearing flowers and fruit by summer’s end.    No, that was silly.   “I don’t see how it could be both,” she said.

Though the repairs, etc., and some Other Stuff slowed progress, it wasn’t entirely a dud week after hitting the 100K mark last Tuesday at midnight.

The current wordage is 103,260.

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