ann_r_starr: (easy going)
Here are my thoughts on fanfic.

Since you guys all know me, it would be pretty pointless of me to say I fully support fanfiction. So bare with me while I be utterly pointless.

I support fan fiction.

What is less pointless is why I support fanfiction and the people who write it. So, my friends, let me take you down memory lane.

To start with, I strongly object to a 'no child left behind' policy in schools. Simply because if my many, many schools hadn't simply shuffled me forward when I was young, someone might have caught on to my rather large issue rather then berating me for it.

I have always loved to read and to tell stories. But I learnt to read by memorising whole words, in the young adult level books, skipping completely that stage of learning to read by sounding out words. That lead to my being a fantastic reader with a huge vocaburary... that I had little to no idea how to spell.

Here's a fact. The phrase "Sound out the word" has very, very little meaning to a child who isn't even aware letters make sounds on their own.

Here's another fact. A child who can't spell anything with more then four letters but who loves to write stories gets very little support and a great deal of mockery. So it wasn't school that taught me to overcome my spelling issues. Nor was it my parents, who didn't realise the cause of my problems until I was fifteen or so.

The people who helped me get past my issues with spelling and grammar were the supportive and friendly fans of my Pokemon fanfiction - and in particular the friends I made through those fanfiction works. I'm still not the greatest speller in the world, but the support of my fans and friends lent me the strength I needed to follow my dream and over come my shortcomings.

Without my start in fanfiction, my dream of writing an original novel would have been lost. And I know I'm not the only person like myself in the world, so, that is why I support fanfiction. Because somewhere out there is another child who needs a safe space to learn to walk before they can chase their dreams.

Do I consider fanfiction to be uncreative or a mockery of the original author?

Not at all.

I can understand why some authors are touchy about fanfiction, but I think dismissing it as uncreative or a mockery is out of line on the parts of published authors. Firstly because very few people write fanfiction out of hatred for the original work. That would be an amazing waste of time - which is why, even if Katherine Kerr were to allow fanfiction, you wouldn't find me writing it.

Secondly, and I admit to bias here, I don't consider fanfiction to lack creativity. When I wrote Pokemon fanfic, Ash, Brock and Misty were rarely seen in my writing. My interest was in the Pokemon themselves, in particular Mew, Mewtwo and what might have been involved in that cloning process to make Mewtwo so different from Mew.

My fanfics were certainly ill thought out, badly ploted and full of Mary Sues, but they also were nothing like the original games or cartoons. Nor were most of the other fanfics I read over the years. Most fanfiction writers take the original setting and add a 'what if' to it.

That, in my opinion, is creativity. After all, isn't the truth of so called 'original fiction' that we authors simply take reality and add a 'what if' to it?

ann_r_starr: (Default)
Well, since Storm's Honour is into the first stage of the editting process - meaning sis is working hard and I'm forbidden to even touch it, it was time to move on to the next project. And dump yet more work onto my long suffering sister.

Yep, we've started work on Water's Fate. Or rather, we started it days ago and I'm just getting around to updating the blog that no one reads. Except me, and occassionally others - when I nag them to.

Later I'm going to have to sit down with the original Water's Fate, aka Fate, Faith and Destiny, and sort out what parts of it are worth keeping in the rewrite. There were, if memory serves me correctly, some very good scenes in there.

There are also some scenes that are, let's say, less good but worth preserving as a counter to any future growth of egos. Alethia's obsession with her hair and Acqua's obsession with Faith's eyes among them.

ann_r_starr: (Default)


Yep, that's it. The End. The writting rollar-coaster is over and done. Now it's time for a few drinks, a headache tablet or two and some celebrating.

Then it'll be time to get down to the nitty-gritty of editting, editting some more and polishing before sending it out into the world.

How am I feeling? It's a bit of a jumble actually. Relief, pride, satisfaction and yeah, a little bit sorry.

I've had some fun moments writting this, I've had some frustrationg moments (if I never hear "Amaro isn't very heroic if he doesn't always win" again it'll be too soon), some heart-breaking moments (I still grieve for those pages on my lost memory stick) and we won't even go into how many times I wanted to hit delete and walk away from the whole damn thing.

But over all? It's been one of the best times of my life and, after I've had time to catch my breath, I'm looking forward to sharing the next stage of the journey with you all.

Thanks for the support guys. I couldn't have done this without you.
ann_r_starr: (Default)

Wow, just look at that. Less then 700 words until I meet my goal and probably only another 4000 words (most of which is pre-written) until Storm's Honour is a completed first draft. As you can probably guess from my choice of potato picture, I'm feeling a little shell shocked by this.

I have been looking forward to saving SH as a complete novel for ages, but now we're getting so close to that point? I'll admit it, I'm actually kinda scared.

Which is actually kinda fitting. I started SH after my old and long dead laptop decided to commit suicide and eat Theif's Choice and my USB stick ate my backup, four days before I was due to submit the first 5000 words as a class assignment. So, still griving the loss too much to re-write TC just then, I needed 5000 words of something else. And there was Amaro, with his back story begging to be turned into a novel in it's own right.

So, yeah. It's fitting that SH is going to end with me thinking, "Shit, piss, fuck, what am I going to do?" After all, that's how it started, two years, nine months ago. It's been one hell of a journey, guys.

And the roller coaster isn't quite over yet. So give me a safety rail to hold onto by leaving a comment for me? I'm going to need your support for this last hill.
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Prompt 5 – Outsides

Here we go again.

The thought wasn't particularly kind, but it was true. The shouting, the smoke lingering on the air, the smells of burn and wet, the angry looks, his parents trying to field the complaints off with promises of repair or payment... And his sister standing in the middle of it all, head bowed, fists clenched and her face wet with tears of mixed fury and despair as people pointed accusingly at her and hurled insults.

“Out of control!”


“She'll kill someone one day, mark my words!”

“Lock her up!”

No she isn't! He wanted to scream at them. It was an accident! She never means it! If you people would just stop treating her like this then she wouldn't get so angry! He didn't open his mouth though. It never helped to yell at the masses when this happened. All trying to defend his sister did was make people suggest that there was either something wrong with them – who had ever heard of triplets being born with completely different signs after all? Must be a sign that something had gone wrong – or that their parents were incapable of raising any of their children. He didn't want to start those rumours again. The temple and the guard had already made noises that hinted they were seriously considering taking the children.

He knew what would happen if they did. They'd separate all four of them. Make sure none of them ever saw each other again. Or at least, make sure he and Tres never saw Artica and baby Tavia again. They'd probably send him as a servant to one of the temples in Maelstrom proper, with orders to train him to 'good' behaviour. And Tres... Who knew what they'd do to Tres? Lock her up, perhaps. Throw her into Naurorod and leave her to die there?

Zap was only six, but he wasn't stupid. Tres might be a Fire, but she'd never survive alone in Naurorod. She was too little. They both were, but if someone tried to take her, he'd fight them. Or at least make them take him too and they'd stay together.

“Why does she always do this?” Zap looked over at the speaker, saw Artica holding Tavia carefully and looking at Tres with annoyance. “It's not fair. She does that stuff and no one wants us around any more.”

“It's not Tres' fault,” Zap protested quietly to his sister, finally able to voice his feelings. “She's trying real hard to control it, you know she is.”

“I know,” Artica sighed, some of the annoyance fading. “But she should try harder.”

“I think she's trying as hard as she can,” Zap replied, looking back at his red-haired sister. He wished she was the blonde haired girl triplet or that he had red hair. Then she could cut it or he could grow his and he could claim it was his fault – that he'd knocked a candle over or something. And he'd look more like Tres then Artica.

He and Tres should have just been twins. Artica could have been older, she'd have liked that. She always wanted to be grown up and act like one. She hadn't been fun in ages, not since they were old enough to take lessons at the temple and she'd started to play with other kids.

“I'm telling you, Tanson, if you don't control that girl of yours, the village will deal with her.” The captain of the guard glared at Tres with unconcealed disgust as he spoke to their father.

Dragar, I'm sorry, but Tres is only a child. And there's no one really who can teach her properly. She is trying but-”

“Then send the girl to Naurorod!” snapped Dragar. “Or Ilyamen! Sell her to the clears if you want, but that girl does not set one foot off your farm from now on unless it's to leave Sparkstrike. If you insist on putting your own home and children in danger, so be it, but the entire village does not need to suffer for your foolishness. Mark my words, Tanson, if that girl is the cause of one more fire in this village, I will remove her myself!”

“NO!” Zap couldn't stand it any more. He pushed past people and ran out to stand in front of Tres, his arms spread out to protect her. “You leave Tres alone! You can't take her away! I won't let you.”

“Boy, be silent,” Dragar snapped. “I can do whatever I need to protect this village. Tanson, control your offspring or lose them. I won't tolerate any more incidents like this.”

“Zappary, Tres...” Their father sounded and looked tired. “Go home now, both of you. And straight up to bed.”

It wasn't fair, Zap thought as he took his sister's hand and led her away from the crowd. It wasn't like he'd done anything wrong or Tres had meant to burn the temple's stupid paintings and ugly rug. They shouldn't have been shouting at her for trying to light the torch that had gone out. They'd frightened her. “It's all right Tressie,” he whispered as they walked. “I know it was just an accident. I won't let them ever keep us apart. Even if they try and take you away, I'll make them stop. Or take me too. We'll never, ever, be apart, I promise.”

“Really promise?” Tres asked, looking up from her feet for the first time.

Zap pulled off his shirt and tried to dry her tear stained face. “I really promise,” he replied. “I'll never, ever, let anyone make you cry again, Tres. Never ever.”

ann_r_starr: (Default)

Prompt 4 – Insides

Bas skipped down the last few steps into the guild, smiling brightly as several people called out a welcome to her. She loved the thieves guild. Loved the people and loved the place. Most of all she loved being a part of the guild.

Soon she'd old enough to start learning the art of picking pockets. Bas couldn't wait, but until she turned ten she was just as happy to run around with the other guild children. They had a freedom that she'd noticed other children didn't have, and they got to help keep the most important secret in all of Naruta. They were special. And she was one of them.

Behind her she heard another set of footsteps and stepped aside to wait for her twin to run down after her. Grinning she took Pas' hand and the twins ran into the nursery. Instantly they were swarmed by the other guild children who were already there, all eager to talk to them. Bas loved it, loved being the center of attention. Here she was the center of attention, the queen of her own little world. Here she wasn't just the little orphan girl, she wasn't a noble child or a poor one. She was just Bas Sanderson, one of the guild. And one day she would be an even greater thief then either of her mothers. But for now, she was happy to just belong.

“Pas and me saw the baker's got some berry pies in the window,” she announced, grinning at the cheers of the group. “Who wants to go get them?”

As she ran out of the guild with her brother and half a dozen other guild children, Bas ignored the grins and amused looks of the guild adults. Telling the adults that none of them were babies and they were on a serious mission could wait. There were more important things to deal with. Like stealing berry pies and making sure she and Pas got the biggest pieces.

ann_r_starr: (Default)

100 Stories, 100 Days

Prompt 3 – Ends

Acqua sighed softly as she rested her head on her brother's shoulder, watching the stars fading out one by one and the bright blue line on the horizon growing thicker. Amaro had long since fallen asleep, but Acqua was in no rush to wake him. They'd spent a long night out here, just talking about things that they'd needed to talk about and which Acqua's trip to Morilanta had brought to the surface.

It hadn't been an easy or pleasant talk, for all it was productive and long needed. Endings were after all often difficult and uncomfortable. Indeed, as much as Acqua had longed for her older brothers to stop treating her as the 12-year-old she'd long since outgrown, there was something unsettling about the knowledge that the last ties of childhood were now gone.

Still, nothing ended without something new beginning. Maybe now she would be free to be herself around her family, without feeling she had to act like the silly, somewhat innocent child they'd still seen her as. Acqua was, she hoped, at last free to be the young woman that guild life and the streets of Ilyamen had moulded her into. It would be a pleasant change not to have to pretend, no matter the cost.

One of the first things that would end as a result of this freedom was that she fully intended to stop holding back in spars with Talon. She was at least as accomplished with her daggers as Talon was and it was past time the student proved she had at least equalled her teachers in that area. Maybe then her family would stop worrying about her.

Acqua hoped so. It would make her and Mat's future plans a little easier. Shifting closer to Amaro for warmth, Acqua watched the sun rise slowly and bath the siblings in the light of a new future. She knew that, whatever it held, they were both ready for it.

Because no matter what endings or beginnings they faced, the bond between them was unbreakable.

ann_r_starr: (Default)

Prompt 002 – Middles

Being stuck in the middle could really suck, Pas thought with a sigh. Arguments between his brothers and sisters didn't happen often, but when they did they always seemed to drag him into it. Like now, with Bas and Aries alternating between glaring at each other over a torn, muddy and altogether ruined book and demanding Pas support one or the other of them.

It hadn't been entirely anyone's fault. Aries really shouldn't have left his book on the floor, but Bas should have both watched where she was standing and wiped her feet before coming upstairs. “It's no one's fault,” he told his siblings. “Aries, you know this room's too crowded to leave stuff lying around. Bas, you should have been more careful. So you both did it.”

“I guess,” Bas muttered, then sighed. “Sorry Aries...”

“It was my fault too,” Aries admitted. “It's okay.” As his siblings made up – with a hug that looked more like wrestling or perhaps an attempt to strangle each other – Pas headed downstairs to get a bucket of water and some rags so he could clean up Bas' trail of muddy footprints before their parents got home.

He was halfway through the trail in the kitchen when someone tapped his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Robin and Letha watching him. “We help?” Letha asked solemnly. Pas frowned slightly as he thought about that offer. The little twins liked to be involved in most of what the older three did, but there was always an equal chance that their helping would make things worse then before. Like the time they'd tried helping to water the garden and drowned the seedlings.

“It's pretty boring,” Pas warned them. “How about you two go up to your room and pick who you want to sleep with tonight? I'll finish up here then bring you both a cookie and some milk. It's past your bedtime anyway.”

“Aww,” the little twins chorused, but they made their way upstairs without a fuss. Much to Pas' relief. He agreed with his mother's regular mutterings that Letha had to have a Wind sign hidden somewhere. It was the only explanation for how she could scream nearly loud enough to shatter glass.

Finishing up washing the floor and the stairs quickly, Pas dragged the water bucket out to the back of the house and tipped it out. Faint laughter drifted to him on the breeze and his ears pricked up for a second before he hurried back inside. Hastily he filled Robin and Letha's little tin cups with the last of the day's milk and pulled two ginger cookies out of the tin before hurrying upstairs. As he passed by his room, he warned, “Muma and Daddy are nearly home. Better get ready,” before continuing on to his younger siblings. The scraping of beds being pushed together soon followed him down the hall. “Come on you two,” he announced. “Eat quickly and I'll help you get ready. Muma and Daddy will be here soon.” As the little twins gulped down their snack, Pas hastily helped them change into their nightclothes. As soon as they'd finished, he brushed the crumbs off them and helped the giggling duo into their beds. “Shh,” he whispered, listening for the tell-tale squeak of the door opening. “Go to sleep,” Pas added, lighting the little candle on their dresser with a spark. As the twins squeezed their eyes shut tightly – still giggling – Pas fled back down the hall.

“Quick, they're at the gate,” Bas hissed, hurrying away from the bedroom window. Aries was already under the covers as Bas and Pas scrambled into their now giant bed. All three grinned at each other in the dark then closed their eyes as they heard footsteps on the stairs.

Taking hold of Bas' hand under the covers and lightly resting his foot against Aries, Pas smiled. Sometimes being in the middle could suck, but sometimes...

Sometimes it wasn't bad at all.

ann_r_starr: (Default)

Prompt 001 – Beginnings

Every beginning was an ending. Nothing new could start without first destroying what had come before. Nature at it's most basic was proof of that. Dawn was the beginning of day and the end of night. Love was the birth of both strength and weakness, but the death of the same for it destroyed anger.

Even Amaro's own life was proof for this theory. The beginning of his friendship with Kestrel had been the end of his ability to turn a blind eye to the evils of slavery. The beginning of Amaro's growth into a stronger man had led to the end of his brother's life. The beginning of his friendship with Talon and his first steps into the life of the mercenary had been the end of his comfort with nobility. The beginning of Alethia and Talon's life as a married couple had been the end of their travels.

He hadn't always been pleased with those beginnings and endings. Hell, he'd resisted at least half of them like his life depended on it. Yet none of them had scared, no, terrified him a fraction as much as what lay before him now.

His little sister, the little girl who'd healed the wounds of Thom's death and his own abandonment of Vortai, was curled up in her bed, with Aria in her arms. Both of them were asleep, peaceful, content and looking like older and younger versions of each other. What terrified Amaro was that, seeing his toddler daughter and his sister in stark contrast together, he couldn't deny that Acqua wasn't a child any more. Somehow Acqua's adoption of Bas and Pas hadn't brought that home to him. Not in the way seeing her and Aria together did. And if his sister wasn't a child, would she need him to protect her? What would it do to their relationship if she didn't?

Moving nearly silently, Amaro picked up the vaguely dirty white teddy bear from where it had been left on the dresser and set it gently between the two girls. Neither woke, but both girls shifted slightly. Aria wrapped her tiny, chubby arms around the soft fur even as Acqua turned her head away from the ear that was tickling her nose, rejecting the once ever present piece of fluff.

Amaro pulled a second blanket over the girls, guarding them against the cold and silently left the room, and the house. Looking up at the stars as though they could carry his words to their mistress herself, he whispered something that was half a challenge, half a prayer. “Not this time, Etaf. They're both my little girls and they will always be my little girls.”

The beginning of fatherhood would not be the end of anything. Especially not being Acqua's big brother. He needed both roles to much to surrender either.

ann_r_starr: (Default)
Last time I failed, but I'm hoping this time I can complete the challenge. And to make it tougher, I'm going to make the rule for myself that I have to have written something for every prompt in 100 days.

Wish me luck.
031.Sunrise.032.Sunset.033.Too Much.034.Not Enough.035.Sixth Sense.
091.Birthday.092.Christmas.093.Thanksgiving.094.Independence.095.New Year.
096.Writer‘s Choice.097.Writer‘s Choice.098.Writer‘s Choice.099.Writer‘s Choice.100.Writer‘s Choice.
ann_r_starr: (two cents)
I was going to blog about this when it first came to light, but unfortunately I had other things that needed to be done (shopping for food before the cats ate me, washing clothes, writing, ect) and by the time I had a moment to spare, it was sort of resolved.

Why do I say sort of? The cover is being changed and reprinted, doesn't that solve the problem?

For this book, yes. For Liar the problem is also 'solved'. But this isn't a matter of simply two books with bad covers. Both books are merely the symptoms of a far larger problem. One that, in 2010, we should be able to say we've left in a dark and regretful past. But we can't.

I'm talking about racism in general, but in particular, the practice of whitewashing book covers. Why don't I focus on the boarder issue of racism? Because this blog post would never end. Racism is still a huge problem and perhaps the only way we'll really put an end to it is by addressing and treating one symptom at a time. Such as cover whitewashing.

What is cover whitewashing? No, it's not painting a book cover with white paint, that's just vandlisim. Cover whitewashing an even more unattractive act. It's the act of taking a story about a character with anything other then white skin, some times people of Asian heritage, but generally those with black or dark skin colours, and, rather then have an accurate representation of that character on the cover, use a white model.

Here's an experiment for you;
  • Go to your local bookstore or library.
  • Find some children's or YA books that star a character described as having dark or brown skin.
  • Now sort out which of those have a character on the front.
  • Count how many of the cover models are black and get back to me.
The blogging world is taking a stand against this, and they've proved that if enough noise is made, publishers will change the covers. This is good, this hurts their pocket. But it's not enough.

What I want to see is simple. I want to see a day where a fuss doesn't HAVE to be raised. Where a publisher simply wouldn't even consider whitewashing a book cover. A day where I can write Thief's Choice, see Mat, Acqua and Echo on the cover and not have the only difference between Echo and Acqua be Echo's cat-ears and tail.

 This practise needs to be made unthinkable, and it needs to happen now. And the only way that will happen is if people keep making a fuss. But don't just make a fuss about newly published books. Find those older white washed covers and make a fuss about them too. Blog about cover white washing, write complaints to publishers who do this and talk about it with your friends and family.

Together, we can make 2010 the year the whitewash was put away.


Jan. 23rd, 2010 06:51 pm
ann_r_starr: (Default)

Quick word count update, complete with balloons and beer. Help yourself.

Writerly rant to follow
ann_r_starr: (Default)

Be happy potato guy. I am.

Even if I'm just updating this to put off actually working on the novel.

>_> <_< *jedi mind trick* You didn't see that last sentance. This is not the willful distraction you're looking for.

Eh, yeah... So... Look at potato guy dance. And be happy. Yeah.
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Tonight I read this article by Jackie Kemp, discussing the idea of death in children's writing. She is unquestionly bothered by the thought that not all children's stories are full of happiness and sunshine, using examples of her 11 year old son and the 10 year old daughter of a friend - both of whom were brought to tears by books they were reading.

While I certainly question the wisdom of giving a book about the Holocaust to a ten year old, I disagree that children and YA fiction should not include death. By the age of 10, 11 or 12, kids are already well aware that life isn't fair and that some times the good guys don't always get their happily ever after. Ask a 11 year old to read Cinderella and you'll most likely get eyerolls. While a child might dream of being a king or queen still, at this age that dream is a desire for power against the almighty adult. It's not because they believe that a prince is suddenly going to sweep them off to a magical kingdom.

Kids know how reality works at this age. They're beyond the fairy-tale Happily Ever After. But they like reading about characters who overcome the odds, achieve their goals and, while they might cry when a loved character dies, there's a sense of satisfaction - provided the character's death had meaning.

Pointless death - that is, death that's only there to end the story - has no place in children or YA writing, of course. It has no place in writing aimed at any age group.  However, death is not nessicarily a terrible thing to expose a child to. And when included in novels, it is generally handled a good deal more tactfully then much of what is shown on TV.

At some point in everyone's life, we're exposed to the idea of death, be it a friend, a relative or a pet. And often we encounter it as a child. When a death occurs in books, generally we see how other characters grieve, but continue to go on with their lives. Even the Bible has this idea of people losing a friend and life going on. I don't see this as a terrible concept for children to be exposed to. Not toddlers and pre-schoolers, naturally. But when kids are old enough not to believe in fairy-tales anymore, they're old enough to be gentlely exposed to some of the darker realities.

Death is a part of life. A sad, heart breaking part, but a part of it. And I believe it's easier for a child to be exposed to it through words on a page, and a fictional character, then it is for them when Fluffy or Fido passes away. Parents need to stop wanting to hide their kids from reality and start being willing to actually parent. When your child reads something sad, sit down, hold them tight and discuss the book. Find the reason for or the good in the death of the character. Explain to your child that, yes, sometimes people die and it is very sad. Let your child discuss it with you.

9 times out of 10, your child is more ready for the grim reality then you think. And the magic of a book is, the character is alive again the next time you open it.
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Well, I've finished rewriting one of the lost scenes from Storm's Honour, which re-completes chapter one. As much as I hate to admit it, the chapter has a much stronger ending then it did with the original scene. So all's well that ends well I guess.

Next up is the rewrite of Amaro and Talon getting winter work in Humontis, then I'm done with rewriting and I can get back to finishing the novel. Set backs aside, I'm actually quite happy with Storm's Honour. Some scenes will need a rewrite when I get up to the second draft, of course, but considering this is a first draft still, I'm not worried about that.

If need be I'll use this year's NaNoWriMo to finish up, but I'm hoping that time can be given over to Water's Fate while I polish Storm's Honour up and get it ready to send out to agents and publishers. Having a smashed up knee is certainly helping avoid distractions.

You know, I really look forward to the day I can use this blog to chatter to fans about up-coming books rather then pretty much talk to myself. :p

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I hate it when I get careless and then Etaf and Soahc conspire to bitch slap me.

I lost my memory stick on the train tonight. For a few hours it looked like I'd lost nearly a third of my novel.

Instead, I've lost five pages. Still hurts.

Lesson learned.

Back up, back up, back up.
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Amount of money in Penalty Jar: NOTHING!
Number of Pages: 96
Current Mood Music: None tonight, been working in silence.
Words: See below

I was happy last night. Tonight, I'm over the freaking moon! Dance potato guy, dance. I've earned it, with a great deal of help from sis.
ann_r_starr: (Default)
Amount of money in Penalty Jar: NOTHING!
Number of Pages: 70
Current Mood Music: Defying Gravity - Not perfectly fitting, but close to Amaro's mindset at the moment.
Words: See below

As the dancing potato guy shows, I'm feeling reasonably happy at the moment. I'm adveraging 1000 words a night and trying to get to 2000 words a night. So, not as good as I'd like, but 1000 words a night after a huge spell of writing nothing isn't something I'll turn up my nose at.

I just wish there was a program on my computer to make my coffee for me. Save me having to head to the kitchen so... Hey, just had an idea. Excuse me, going to the kitchen for a moment.

Ah, I'm brillant. Bring the kettle to the study, don't have to go to the kitchen so often. One day I'm getting a coffee maker and just installing it in here. Now THAT would make life easier.

Well, it's only 12:27 AM, so, back to writing.
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Well it's been awhile since I updated my progress, so here you go. I'm aimming to reach 43,000 by  the end of the day to get back on track. Wish me luck, everyone. Past performance suggests I'll need it.

Amount of money in Penalty Jar:

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And we have LEADERS! Well, future leaders. Shadow "Shade" Brightmore and Damien "Dami" Ashtonson have made an appearence in Storm's Honour, at last. Which is not good for Amaro, although no one knows that yet. Tomorrow's writing will be fun, honestly.

I like stopping my character's hearts with sheer terror THEN breaking said hearts. *cackles evilly* The joys of being a writer.

Even better news is, I'm 747 words away from the 40,000 word mark. Which is half of what I've predicted Storm's Honour's word count to be. I'm starting to have doubts about that word count (100,000 is looking more likely), but at the moment I'm still keeping the goal at 80k, so 40,000 is going to be a big milestone. And at 500+ words a day, we're going to reach that very soon.

Yes, I did say 'we' are going to reach it soon. Without you guys to motivate me, I'd have given this up months ago. As I said to sis; Writing a novel is like having a baby. It weighs you down for months and by the end of the process you're screaming and vowing you'll never do this again.

Why am I planning TWO more of these things?

Number of Words: 39253
Number of Pages: 71
Amount of money in Penalty Jar: $2
Current Mood Music: When The Dust Begins To Settle - Krypteria (Impending doom music. Hinting something? Me? Never.)
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