Blog Tour – An Inside Look at My Writing Process

A few people have asked either in interviews or privately about my writing process. They’ve wanted to know about how I handled planning and writing Bane of Ashkarith. Some people were surprised by what I shared, and I thought it might be interesting to give my readers a behind-the-scenes on what I do when I’m working on a book. So let’s get started!

Setup

I’m a bit of a neat freak and have strong OCD tendencies when it comes to getting ready to write. I can’t stand working in a messy space. Things have to be organized. I can’t write until they are. I’ll just stare at the screen and the mess around me without writing anything at all.

So my first step is usually to tidy up wherever I’m writing. I need to clear at least enough space to work. So if I’m sitting on my bed, I have to have the covers straightened out even if I’m huddling under them on a cold day. If I’m at my desk, things are more cramped and cluttered because I don’t have much space for things, but stuff still has to be ordered and neat. It’s even more important at the desk because there’s more to distract me.

The last thing I always do when I’m getting ready to write is pull up the spreadsheet where I keep track of the times I’m writing and how many words I got in a session. Yes, I do this. It helps me understand what my best writing hours are and, on average, how long a writing session should be to really start rolling out word count. Besides, it’s a nice feeling to be able to look back at what I’ve accomplished in a given week.

This was the log from a few weeks ago.

Writing Log

The empty slots, by the way, are days where I wasn’t able to do any writing on my current fiction projects.

Maybe now it won’t surprise everyone as much that I was an accounting major.

Planning

So, if the writing log and weird requirements for my writing space weren’t enough to tip everyone off, I’m big on organization and planning. My books are no different. I’m a plotter all the way.

I used to be a seat-of-the-pants type of writer. I just winged it with no plan at all and hoped it worked out well. (It never did.) The method just stressed me out because I never knew anything before I started, and it sucked up so much time to edit it that I quickly realized I enjoyed the process more if I planned first. It’s not for everyone, but it is absolutely for me.

If you haven’t tried plotting before, I would highly recommend you do. I’ll explain in a second what I did for Bane of Ashkarith and what I do now for every book I write, but let me say that plotting doesn’t have to suck all the joy out of everything. There’s room for breathing. You can plot just the bare bones if that’s all you need, or you can go all out.

But not plotting leads to a lot more revisions, rough drafts, and plot holes. So if you haven’t already done so, at least give it a try.

Anyway, for Bane of Ashkarith, I employed a method I hadn’t really used much before. Like I mentioned earlier, I’m big on plotting. But I’d never really bothered plotting past a general idea of the content for each chapter. I knew the big events, but none of the details were really solid in between the events. Writing took a lot longer because I had to think about all of that as I wrote.

With Bane of Ashkarith, I chose to plot out the basic highlights of each chapter and then, in the revision stage, I took it a step further and plotted out the individual scenes in each chapter. The result was that I wrote more words in the same amount of time because I didn’t have to hem and haw about what would happen.

I did all of this on pieces of line paper while in different classes when professors weren’t looking at what I was doing (don’t follow my example, by the way. Paying attention in class is usually a good idea.). As a result, I don’t have the scenes from Bane of Ashkarith. But I’ve done it with other novels, so I’ll share the ones I did for On Anarchy’s Wings, my current work-in-progress.

Scene Planning

I apologize for the low quality of the image. I wasn’t able to get a better picture because I wrote with pencil here. I did enhance it so the text would be darker though. The basics of each scene include: listing the viewpoint character, numbering the scenes, and listing down what happens in the scene.

This might sound like a ton of work. I guess it is a little bit overwhelming if you try to do a bunch at once. But I found that I could spend maybe ten or fifteen minutes sitting down before a writing session and jotting down the highlights of every scene in the chapter or two chapters I was going to write without a problem. It didn’t take that much time, and my writing was much more focused.

Writing

Now the part most people would say is the fun part. I think all the parts of writing are fun, but I recognize that I’m not the norm. Regardless, my writing process is pretty simple. I usually pick either an amount of time or a certain length in the novel to write. With Bane of Ashkarith, I usually opted for sitting down and writing until I had finished a chapter, however long that was. But if I’m limited on time or need to work on other projects too, I’ll pick a specific time frame to write, and I’ll work until that time is up.

I’m pretty easily distracted by my phone at the beginning of a writing period or when the scenes are a struggle to write for one reason or another, so I have to keep it away from me while I write so I don’t waste time on YouTube or Facebook. Yeah, I procrastinate just like most other authors I know. I’m normal that way, if nothing else. It’s not really a point I’m proud of since it involves wasting time, but it is what it is.

Editing

With the last part of the writing process, I usually write and re-write for a set time period. Otherwise, I have a tendency to lose track of time and just keep going so I can finish just one more chapter.

Editing is something that I really love. I know… It’s weird. But, nonetheless, I do love it. I can’t decide if I like writing or editing better. When it comes to my editing habits, I go through the work once looking for places where the characters’ voices need to come through more clearly for deep point of view and places where things just seem to drag. If it doesn’t interest me, it’s a safe bet it probably isn’t going to interest the readers. After all, I should be the one most invested in my own work. So if I’m not, why would anyone else be?

After I finish cutting and tightening, adding and re-writing, then cutting and tightening again, I move on to editing for consistency, grammar, and all those little parts of a novel that slip through the cracks sometimes on us when we’re writing. If I didn’t catch it before, my goal is to catch it at this point.

Once I’ve done all that, the last thing I check for is readability and flow. I just go through and make sure everything is said in the best way possible to get the point across. Preferably without being wordy.

Conclusion

This was a bit of a lengthy post, but I hope that it’s been interesting and, even more importantly, helpful to you guys. Writers are always learning, growing, and adapting. I’m no different, and my writing process now has definitely matured from where it was even a year ago. But I’ve found a method that works well for me, so I stick with it and just tweak it to improve the process where it might still be bumpy.

So what about you guys? Do you have anything you have to do before you’re able to focus on writing? What about your writing process? Anything you do that you think others might benefit from? If so, leave a comment and tell the rest of us about it! We’d love to hear about how other writers handle the writing process.

Flash Fiction Fridays: Lost Soul

For today’s Flash Fiction Friday, the focus is on Rith. Featured as the dark god or god of shadows in the Alcardian novels, he’s seen facing off with his sister in Rith’s Disciple, a short story set before the events of Pathway of the Moon. In this piece, the event leading to his parents’ and fiancee’s deaths is revealed.

~~~

The smell of smoke blasted him in the face as he approached the long gravel drive leading to his ancestral home. Rith frowned. Was father burning brush again? He glanced up at the darkening sky. Too late in the day. His heart squeezed, and his stomach ached. Something wasn’t right.

He broke into a run, trying to Step in the shadows. They didn’t answer. He tried again, reaching out with his mind. But still the shadows remained out of reach, refusing his request to portal to the house. His head ached with the effort, and he stopped in his tracks, grasping for his magic once more.

Why wasn’t it responding? Had the drinks he’d had with Sedra and Albrith addled him that much? He tried to reach out to his sisters, but only cold silence greeted him. He couldn’t touch their minds like he normally could either. Could he touch anyone’s? He reached for Raewen and his father. Nothing.

It didn’t matter. He forced himself to keep sprinting down the drive, ignoring the burn in his lungs. The smell of smoke strengthened, and his throat ached as it filled his nose and lungs. The heat in the air grew the closer he came to home.

Then he rounded the corner and saw it.

The entire mansion blazed, the fire angrily licking at the wood and anything else consumable. It raged through everything, flickering and leaping from the windows.

Rith froze for a minute and stared. How? How had this happened?

Where were his parents? And what about Raewen? His heart lurched. Raewen! She’d been planning to visit so they could announce their engagement. He’d been out celebrating the news with his sisters upon their insistence, but she should’ve arrived shortly before he did.

He broke into a run, rationality fleeing. Their motorized coach sat in the driveway where it should be, and he cursed, pushing himself to go faster. The heat seared his skin, but he ignored it, listening for any sign that anyone had survived.

He couldn’t call anyone for help. If they were in there, he was their only chance.

A scream lifted faintly from somewhere at the back of the house. Raewen. Were his parents with her? Why hadn’t they been able to get out? He sprinted around the side of the mansion, searching for any entrance point that wasn’t consumed with flame. The only part of the house untouched so far was the section without windows or outside doors. They must’ve been unable to break past the fire and had been forced to hide in the laundry room. But it wouldn’t be long before the flames reached them.

There wasn’t time to wait for help to come.

He called to the shadows again. They flickered in response but didn’t let him through. Sinking to his knees, he released a guttural scream and wrenched at the magic with all his might. Something inside snapped, and pain seared down every nerve in his body. He stiffened, screaming out of pain now instead of frustration. It shouldn’t feel like this. Why did it hurt so badly?

The screams inside the house grew louder before choking off. He stretched trembling fingers toward the house, his vision blurring. If he could just endure the pain, he could make the magic respond. He could save them all.

The shadows swirled around him, caressing his burning skin and whispering in agitated murmurs. They didn’t like what he was doing. The pain flared higher, and he dug his fingers into the cool grass beneath him. He would not lose them. He couldn’t.

With an agonized groan, he reached out to the magic again and screamed at it with his mind. Let me through! The shadows screamed alongside him, and then the world went dark as they sucked him in.

He was spit back out in the laundry room. Tumbling to a stop, he took in the situation, every nerve in his body still alight. Was this what it would feel like to have the fire rage inside of him? He sucked in a breath, the smoke and heat searing into his lungs. His gaze flew around the room before landing on three still forms in the back of the room. He’d found them.

Stumbling to his feet, he hurried to them. Each step cut into him as if he was walking barefoot across glass. His fingers trembled at his side, and the magic inside of him bucked against his restraint. Why was it acting like this? Why? He hadn’t been out of control like this since he was five.

He’d almost reached them when it happened.

The magic slammed into his walls of restraint and crashed through. Like a river blowing through a dam, it raged through him. The shadows in the room writhed in response, and his head felt like it was being split open. He dropped to his knees, clutching his head between his hands. Tears slid down his cheeks and evaporated as soon as they fell. Make it stop. Anyone, please, make it stop.

His vision blurred again, and he curled up in a ball on the floor, his own screams distant in his ears. Somewhere, he heard a muffled explosion. The ground trembled, and chunks of plaster from the ceiling hit him in the side. He couldn’t stay here. They couldn’t stare here.

He forced himself to his hands and knees, crawling toward his parents and fiancee. Maybe if he could reach them, he could portal them all away from here.

The wall behind them was webbed with cracks. He frowned, blinking. Was he hallucinating now too?

A groan vibrated through the floor and the walls. More chunks of plaster rained down on his back. Then the wall exploded backward, as though ripped out by an invisible hand. Rith collapsed, unable to hold his own weight. What was happening? His dazed mind couldn’t process any of it anymore. He stared at the ruined, jagged edges of the wall. Stared at the void beyond. The gloaming of dusk and his mother’s flower garden were no longer visible. Only blackness greeted him, deeper than any shadow he’d Stepped through.

Was this the end then? He lifted a trembling hand, wondering if the void could act as a portal. It was his last hope. He pushed himself back onto his hands and knees. Inch by inch, he crawled toward his parents and Raewen.

His head throbbed, and each movement was sheer torture. The magic rioting inside of him didn’t ease up. The darkness in the room deepened, swallowing up the forms of his loved ones. His limbs gave out again, and he slammed face first into the stone floor. A sob clawed from his sore throat, and he lay there, staring at the darkness. Then it swallowed him too, and the pain ceased as he gave in, letting it carry him away from the anguish in his soul.

~~~

That’s it for this week, everyone! I hope you enjoyed the piece. I’ll have a few more pieces on Flash Fiction Fridays showing more of Rith’s story if you liked this one. In the meantime, if you enjoyed this, you can learn more about his story in my novel Bane of Ashkarith, which releases at the end of July 2019.

Work-In-Progress Wednesdays #10

For this week’s Work-In-Progress Wednesday, I’ve got an excerpt from On Anarchy’s Wings. In this section, Awnia has confronted Dabhan about Iradia’s refusal to help them and has asked him to help convince Iradia to stop rebelling against the King.

~~~

Awnia rose, turning to face Dabhan. He leaned against the door-frame of the mansion’s drawing room, his long legs crossed. “How good of you to visit, Nia.”

She lowered her head. How dare he behave this way after all he’d done? “I should have you arrested. But I’m going to give you one more chance to be the man you once were.”

“Are you, now?” Dabhan pushed away from the door and strode into the room. He knelt in front of her and reached out to brush a stray curl away from her face. “Fascinating. Just how do you plan on doing that?”

She smacked his hand away from her face. “Keep your hands off me.”

“Why?” Dabhan rose and ambled to the fireplace, picking up the fire poker to stoke the burning coals.

Why? Because his touch made her skin crawl. Because she wasn’t his. Because she was someone else’s. Just like she had been back when he’d first touched her. “You have no right to. That’s why.”

He stiffened. “I have as much right as—”

“No.” She straightened, her fingers clenching into fists in her lap. “You do not. I don’t belong to you. I never have. I never will.”

“Then it seems our interests do not cross, my lady.” Dabhan clenched the poker tighter and turned to her with a sly smile. “What do you want of me?”

“What I’ve wanted since I first came here to parlay. I want you to convince Iradia to join forces with Gabriel. Eclesia is facing the largest threat in her history. We have to be united.”

“No.”

“No?” Awnia rose from her chair, her nails digging into her palms. “I don’t think you understand, Dabhan. If you help, I can get you pardoned for your part in this. You can claim she made you do it.” She narrowed her eyes. Surely he wouldn’t refuse knowing his life was on the line. “But if you won’t help, then you’re going to be executed for treason. No questions asked.”

He shrugged and turned back to the fire. “How is our beloved King, anyway?”

“Fine, no thanks to you.”

Dabhan snorted. “The poison isn’t through with him yet. They’ve only burned out the plant-based portion.”

Icy fingers crept down Awnia’s back. “What did you just say?”

“They’ve only burned out the plant-based portion.” Dabhan placed the poker back in the rack beside the fireplace and turned to face her. “The magic-based portion will begin to work in a few days when he’s beginning to recover fully.”

Her chest tightened. They hadn’t saved him at all. He was still dying. They just hadn’t known it. Her fists trembled against her sides. “How do I reverse it?”

“Reverse it?” Dabhan tapped his chin with a sly grin. “You don’t. Maybe I will.”

She searched his face. What was his game? Was this another clever ploy to force them to cave to Iradia’s demands? “What do you want?”

He strode closer.

Awnia backed up, tipping her chin higher. Her heart raced in her breast, but she held her poise. He wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing her fear. Men like Dabhan thrived on fear and control. She’d seen it plenty of times. And she wouldn’t fall prey to his trap. “What. Do. You. Want?” Each word burst from her like a bullet from one of Earth’s machine guns. Sharp. Quick.

Dabhan took another step forward.

She took one back. Two could play at this game. She’d wait him out until he saw the game was pointless and told her his price for fixing his mess.

Her back hit the wall. When had their drawing room become so tiny? It hadn’t been this small when she’d received her late husband’s guests here. Had it?

Dabhan pressed close until she could feel every hard plane of his muscular body. He lowered his head close to her ear, his nose brushing the rim. “Simple. I want you. Marry me.”

~~~

That’s all for this week, everyone. What are you all working on? Feel free to share it in the comments below! Have feedback to share on my work or someone else’s? You can leave that in the comments too. Just remember to keep everything polite and constructive!

Until next time, everybody!

Saturday Setup: Global Mapping – Climate

Introduction

This week marks the last post about global mapping. We’re going to take a look at climate and how that affects your map. This’ll be a shorter discussion because you’ve already done the majority of the work. At this point, you’re just going to spend a little time thinking about the climate involved in each area in your story and how that will affect your writing. Climate affects a lot of those little details that readers like to see so they can be immersed in the story. So let’s take a look at how.

Climate and Culture

You might be sitting at your computer or looking at your phone wondering what I’m talking about. You might be asking, Ariel, how on earth can climate affect culture? Isn’t it just a nice way to throw some obstacles in my hero’s path?

No. It’s not. Climate actually does affect quite a bit about how a culture develops. For instance, if your hero lives in a culture where the climate is tropical and the terrain tangled jungle, this is going to affect what they eat, what they wear, how they build their houses, and much more about how they live their lives. This culture is less likely to be agricultural because you can’t farm in a jungle without significant clearing of the land. Instead, they might be hunters and gatherers.

Let’s take a look at one more example. Say the climate is an arid, desert-like environment with one or two oases for water and a delta running through it. Well, now the situation is much different. These people will likely migrate to the river to plant crops and raise cattle because there’s no way they can sustain life in the desert conditions otherwise. They’re going to wear light-weight but concealing clothing when out in the desert sand because they have to protect themselves from the sun. But at the river or an oasis, they might wear little to nothing because the heat is stifling and it’s too muggy for comfort. Their food isn’t going to be the same as the jungle tribe’s either. They’re going to raise it themselves or grow it in the rich soil at the delta or floodplains created by the river.

Hopefully, if you weren’t convinced before that climate could affect culture, you are now. So, take some time to think over what types of climates your cultures will live in and think through all the ways that climate could shape their culture and way of life. The ways are many and varied, so have fun with it! Make it logical, but be creative.

Conclusion

I promised this would be a short post, and so it is. Really, climate is going to be determined mainly by what land features you chose to place where. The two go hand-in-hand. You can’t have snowy regions where you placed a steaming jungle or a jungle where you placed glaciers. So, the important thing you need to worry about with climate is how it affects the inhabitants of that biome, both human and otherwise. It has the biggest affect on the cultures of the lives there, and that’s what your focus should be on since you’re going to be writing about those people who have to deal with it every day, or for some chunk of time, at least.

Have any tips for what to consider when it comes to climate’s affect on culture? Drop it in the comments below! If you have any questions about the topic, feel free to leave that in the comments too!