A Promise Kept and A Teaser Given

Recently, I’ve been both distracted by events out of my control and guilty of procrastination in regards to the writing of my novella. This was bothering me a little bit, until I was reminded about this post by Robert Hruzek.

As such, I made a pledge on Twitter that I would have either the prologue or first chapter complete by Tuesday. Well, two days before that, I’ve managed to complete my prologue for what will act as the prequel to my ‘main’ novel I’m working on.

And below, you can find that prologue in full. A teaser, if you will, for the rest of the book. Please give any feedback, as that will be more than welcome.

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The room was alive with activity as the midwife went about her work. She nervously prepared buckets and bowls of warm water; whispered orders to her aides, hoping that the young women would be able to perform the tasks given them with the proficiency she expected. Men bustled around the doorway, kept from entering the room by two stalwart guards - The mother and grandmother of the young woman laid on the bed. Both had cudgels in hand, and had already been forced to use them on at least one occasion each.
“Just relax, dear.” Bethak, the midwife, spoke in calm, soothing tones as the girl began to wail in agony. The contractions had been getting progressively worse over the past two days but still no child arrived, something which concerned all in the village of Vejar.
“How do you expect me to…” A scream overpowered all other noise, and the midwife sighed as she waited for the girls to return from the other room. “Just do something! I can’t take this!”
“I will, child, I will.” Rubbing hands together and pacing back and forth, the grey haired, plump woman allowed an acidic glare at the door each time she faced it. Stopping when the kettle began to whistle, she poured the dark fluid into a wooden mug. “Here.”
Lifting the girl’s head, Bethak began to pour the thick mixture into her mouth. “This will ease the pain, Kendre, so drink.”
It was a few minutes of more pacing and glaring until the young assistants returned, carrying clean sheets, clothes, and a wooden box. They quickly laid them out on the table, returning to their positions against the wall to watch, with a visible unease, Kendre continue to writhe in pain. Shuffling feet and wringing hands, casting fleeting glances one to the other, they dared not to speak.
For so short a woman, her grey hair wrapped by white cloth into a bun, Bethak carried a presence that filled the room as she opened the box, giving a shake of her head. Taking a bottle of Trelanich wine and a thick cloth, she moved back to the girl. “This will be over soon, my child. I promise.”
She lifted the thin dress to reveal the belly of the girl, poured the wine on the cloth, spilling no small amount on the floor in excess, and rubbed it all over the swollen torse of Kendre. Needless to say, the two guards had closed the door to prevent ogling eyes from gazing in at their kin’s exposure.
A knife was pulled from the wooden box then, which too was wiped with the cloth. It was a nasty looking tool which, when Bethak lightly ran a finger against the edge, cut her finger neatly. Sucking on the wound, she turned back to the girl, knife in hand, a sadness in eyes grey as her hair. “This is the only way.”
The three against the wall gasped, mouths agape, and Kendre’s eyes widened as her face turned a deathly white. “What, what are you doing?!” She shouted in panic, struggling to move herself from the bed.
“Hold her down.” The apprentices moved quickly, hastened by the sharp tone from their teacher, grabbed Kendre’s shoulders and forced her to lay on the bed. A moment or two later, Kendre began to stop writing. “Good. The medicine is starting to work. Keep her still.”

By the time Bethak had finished, the night had matured and most of the men had left the doorway of the house. A small cry was heard, and the two guards, no longer caring for their duty, rushed into the room. They were followed by two men: Kendre’s father and husband. The blacksmith and the miller’s son.
“It’s a boy. Though, I’m afraid the long birth may have done him harm.” With the child in her arms, not yet washed, Bethak turned to show the new entrants.
All gasped. Kendre’s mother collapsed to the floor, to be quickly cradled by Jont, her husband, who had turned a nauseous green colour. Jurane, the eldest of the women, lowered her head and closed her eyes. Flen rushed to his wife, stroking her sweat-covered pretty face in fear. “What happened?” He avoided looking at the still open belly of his wife as he pleadingly asked for explanation from the midwife.
“I do not know. I haven’t ever seen anything like this, this disaster.” She looked at the poor girl laid open and then snapped an order to the the older of the three apprentices. “Sew her up, you fool!”
A few minutes of silence followed as Kendre was sewed shut. Bethak washed the boy, then wrapped him in the sheets, her hands shaking as she did so. “Would you like to hold your son?” Arms outstretched, her eyes pleaded with Flen.
He took the infant, looking at him with disdain. Skin as pale as fresh snow allowed what seemed like every vein to be clearly visible and hair far too thick, was just as white. Matted still from birth, the hair looked a mess and as Flen ran his hand softly through it to try smoothing it out, his hand was left full of near see through strands. A tear fell down his cheek.
It took a few minutes for Flen to notice the strangest aspect of his newly born first child. His eyes. The irises were a pale red and he swore they glowed with a crimson hue. Even through his lids, the light was clearly noticeable. Flen started to cry.
Jurane laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder, also looking down at the child. “What are you naming him?”
“Look at the boy, Jur! Look at him! And all you’re concerned about is his name?!”
“Shh. Don’t make the poor child cry. I see him perfectly well, and while he is different, inexplicably so, he will need you and his mother more than any child ever has.”
Understanding the distress in the room, and the hardships ahead, Bethak ushered her three assistants out of the room and followed them, leaving Flen, Jurane and the others to recollect themselves. “How can I look at him when he’s like… Well, how he is?”
“You will learn.”

Months and years passed and Jurane had been right. Kendre and Flen did learn to love their son, and they showed the boy, who they had named Jerod, as much affection and love as had any other parents. Perhaps even more. They allowed him to learn the art of the blacksmith, and despite being young, he showed great prowess.
“Happy birthday, Jerod.” Kendre looked at her son as he entered the small lounge of the single floor home. He was now thirteen, and the past year spent at the forge had transformed him from a sickly whip of a child into what hinted at a strong man.
“Thank you, mother. Granpa let me take the day off, so I can relax all day.” His voice still held the pitch of a lad not yet approaching adulthood. As he sat down, he moved his hand to wipe at a stray hair, though stopped short. Even now, it had the tendency to fall out if touched and he had only a thin covering anyway, though still long.
“You should play with your friends today then.” Kendre had lost the youthful beauty she possessed all those years ago, and though still quite young, her appearance was that of a much older women. The years had played heavy on both her and Flen: People did not accept their child, seeing him as a freak, and on several occasions were they nearly thrown out of the village.
Jerod only nodded, and jumped up to leave the house. He had taken what ridicule and taunting his parents could not prevent with surprising resilience. Often he had not been aware of any such talk, but when he was, a simple shrug was all he gave; dismissing any and all insults.
When he got outside, the village was busy in preparation for the second largest event of the year: the Springtide Ball. A festival of the upcoming work and beauty; everyone would be dressed in their best and enjoying the company of each other in dances, food and merriment. Jerod was looking forward to the event this year. He’d finally ask Herryl for that dance he’d dreamed of so often.
“Jerod!” He looked to where the shout had originated, smiling widely when he saw the pig-faced Mical running towards him. Giving a wave, Jerod waited for his life-long friend.
“Look at it,” the veiny lad swept his arm grandly to take in the village green and all the preparations taking place, “Springtide Ball! It’ll be the best yet!”
“You’re still planning on asking her for a dance?” For a young boy so faced like a baby, Mical’s voice was surprisingly deep. Mayhap the extra year he had on Jerod made all the difference between their pitch.
“Without doubt. I can feel tomorrow is the right time.” He twirled a little, mocking a popular dance. “Then we’ll be dancing all night ’til dawn!” He laughed, which came out more like a giggle.
“Speaking of which, there she is.” Pointing off into the crowd, Mical signalled that Herryl was on the green. Jerod blushed.
“Shh, you dolt. I don’t want to draw more attention than necessary, and your pointing off at people won’t help.”
“Well, look who’s snappy today. Your birthday doesn’t give right to act like a thorn-footed mule.”
Jerod playfully punched at his friend’s arm with feigned anger. Then he ran down towards the green and all the preparations: They were just as much fun as the Ball itself. At least, for the younger ones who could simply watch and have their excitement build up.
Reaching the crowds with Mical only a short distance behind him, Jerod gave hellos to a few of the people he knew, and started to look around at all the activity. Cloth pavilions striped red and blue were organised with tall poles between them, rope hanging for the lamps that would be placed at the various loops, tables being set beneath their roofs where food would be laid out for all to feast upon, and food was being cooked. The smells of potatoes, parsnips and chickens filled the air, boiling in large cauldrons that Jerod himself had helped to make at the forge, roasting over open spits that were guarded by the young men of the village against dogs.
Conversation filled the air: countless discussions about the food and dancing to come; orders being shouted; hands being hit by wooden spoons and protestations at not yet being allowed to taste what was in the pots; happy playing of the younger children who simply were soaking up the enjoyment, still too young to fully understand the event; whispers of discontent as people noticed the white haired boy with glowing red eyes, unhappy at his presence here - at an event intended for decent folk.
Herryl. He would have noticed her in a crowd of thousands, but today Jerod was entrapped inside the beauty he saw. A slim girl with brown hair that bounced as she walked, loose curls framing a pretty face that was slightly tanned.
“Jerod? Jerod!” Micah pushed the younger boy who then jumped a little. “Welcome back to the real world. Stop staring, donkey mind, it’s weird.”
“What are you talking about? I only glanced at her.” A mild frustration was in his voice as he returned the push.
“A five minute glance?” Micah stuck out his tongue and laughed heartily.
“Leave me alone.”
“I think I will actually.” Micah then whipped around the corner of a pavilion, disappearing into the crowd. Jerod once again found himself sighing.

For a while longer the boy stood around, taking in the buzz of activity, then found himself face to face with Herryn. He hadn’t ever been able to blush, but the veins on his face seemed to grow, as did a lump in his throat. He simply stared at the girl, not able to form words.
“What?” Herryn’s voice was musical, and yet held a biting tone. “This is what a normal person looks like, do you not understand? No one wants to see your face. It’s offensive.” She walked off with a strut.
Jerod fell to his knees. As his hands hit the grass beneath him, tears began to fall and his body shook violently as he tried to absorb the words spoken to him. He’d received the taunts before, been told that he was unwelcome, yet he had never reacted to them. All of a sudden, however, it was as though the pain of all those other occasions had been let loose. He let out a scream as he saw, quite literally, red. “Damn you all! Might a curse be left on all your heads.”
Flen, who had been putting up yet another pole, heard his son’s wail and ran to him. People in the green watched the boy, his face contorted with anger, and backed away. “What’s wrong son?”
“Leave me alone!” Jerod shouted again, and as he looked at his father, even he shifted, quite unwillingly, away from his only child. Eyes no longer had just a crimson glow to them, it was as though they were aflame. He screamed again, tears still running down his face, though it sounded more like a roar: animalistic, predatory, angry.
Then it began. On his clothes fire burst forth, as though a physical manifestation of anger. Of hatred. Of pain. Then it exploded. The sound was deafening, and a moment later the green was wrapped inside a fire that burned near white-hot. Screams were heard faintly behind the roar of the destructive dance of flames; people being burned alive as a thick black smoke rose over Vejar.
Quickly the fire spread, expanding to the houses, engulfing all within its ever-growing mass. As it grew, it became hotter, searing through wood and brick like a knife through butter. Until, after only a matter of seconds, it was gone.
And with it, so was the village, its people, its buildings, the pavilions and all the grass. No sign was left that this small area of land had been a village; except for the large scorch upon the earth, leaving a black-brown scar on the land.

It was an end. It was a beginning. It was death, and it was birth.

The Purpose of a RolePlay Post

I was looking through a few of the old tutorials I had written over on RolePlay Gateway, and spotted this one. It’s a good edition to be added here, I’ve decided. As such, below is a revised version of the tutorial. While designed specifically for RolePlaying, replace ‘post’ with ‘chapter’ and I think it’s equally as pertinent to fiction.

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Each post you make in a RolePlay is your opportunity to contribute positively to the story being played out by the group of writers. Oftentimes, for new RolePlayers it can be difficult to know exactly how to do this. As such, this tutorial is designed to make it a little easier for you.

Three-Fold

There are three primary purposes to a RolePlay post:

1. Reveal your character.
2. Develop the environment.
3. Move the plot forward.

If you do these three things, your posts will certainly have a positive impact on the story, creating an enjoyable read for your fellow players, as well as any silent observers you may have. However, let me elaborate a little on each point in turn.

Revealing your character: Each of your posts should reveal some aspect of your character. Whether it be their appearance, thoughts, personality, attire; any developing traits or quirks, or maybe traits that are regressing and becoming less and less prominent over time.
One mistake often made by inexperienced RolePlayers is revealing everything about a character in the first post. What are you going to write about after that? An introductory post should be just that: An introduction to your character… Letting the reader and other players know that your character exists. Subsequent posts can be used to reveal further aspects of your character. Giving you things to write, and others to read.

Developing the environment: The environment is an essential part of any RolePlay, and is constantly changing: It should be alive. The sun moves across the sky, for example; so if you have two characters sat in the sun, a few posts later (perhaps an hour or so later in ‘In Character’ time), they may well be sat in the shade. Make mention of that. A person in a bar shifts off his stool to go to the bathroom. Make mention of that. It’s important to maintain a ‘real’ feel to the environment.
Also, atmosphere is an important part of the environment. Does moving into the next dungeon hall, for example, mean a deathly silence that weighs heavy on the party? Is the tavern a smoky, smelly place full of tension? Make note of these things.
The environment is the world your readers are drawn into. If a city was made entirely of still backdrops in a movie, with only the main actors moving, not many people would watch it.

Moving the plot forwards: Each of your posts should move the plot forward in some way. What’s the best way to do this? Maybe the easiest is through ‘prompts’ and ‘reactions.’ Let me give you an example:

A Prompt: As John Smith opened the door, he looked to the man he’d been chatting with and cocked his head to indicate the man should follow.

A Reaction: Dave Johnson noticed the strange fellow who’d been sat next to him a few minutes ago make some gesture. Picking up his drink as he stood, Dave walked towards the door.

Rudimentary examples, I know, but they should give an easy understanding of what I mean.
Another major aspect to consider about developing the plot is pacing. What amount of time should each post represent? A minute, a day, a week? Whatever is pertinent to that particular post. For example: Your party of wonderful heroes spends a full day on horseback. There is no need at all to describe every mile. But maybe you need a post where they break for lunch? To give a chance to display their discomfort, complaints, etc. Or do you just wait until they make camp in the evening. The choice, of course, is your own, but it’s something to consider.

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Well, there you have it. A quick overview to the purpose of a RolePlay post. Now you are armed with the tools needed to play a positive part in any RolePlay you join.

Your views

What do you feel RolePlay post or chapter should contain? Do you have tricks you use to maintain any of the points raised above? Share them with us! We’d love to hear what you do and what your opinions are.

A Break Can Be A Good Thing

For just short of two weeks, I’ve been at a friend’s house. As such, I’ve been able to take a break from most of my writing. This blog (though I did manage to get a couple posts published), my novel, and my short story.

While my flow has been disturbed, I believe the break was a perfectly good thing: The mental rest was welcomed, and stepping away from the world of writing has allowed my mind to clear considerably. I’ve returned home, and to my projects with more ideas and a greater perspective.

Being able to focus on more than my writing, I found that ideas popped into my head from time to time. Ideas that perhaps wouldn’t have done so otherwise. Ideas that I’ve been able to mill over and develop, ready now to apply them.

It’s interesting for me to see the change in clarity that has occurred. Previously, when working on projects, I’ve taken the mindset that I should work until finished. This little hiatus has shown me that a break can be a good thing.

Your Breaks

What are your thoughts on taking an extended break from writing? Do you gain or lose focus? What are you experiences here? Let us know!

Battling Writer’s Block The Easy Way

All writers know of, and dread, writer’s block. That sudden lack of inspiration, a depletion of creativity. A costing of money, even. It can be one of the great banes of writers’ lives, and is never at all welcomed. So, how can we battle it? How can we unblock our creative pipes?

Try This Simple Irony

My writing of this post is actually a result of my own writer’s block. I had absolutely no idea what to write on my blog, which is probably mostly due to the fact that I have been rather distracted this past week with various away-from-computer issues. So, my mind has been entirely in some other direction than writing of any kind. Let alone writing about writing.

So, I decided, “Hey, I’ve got writer’s block, let’s write about that.” And as you can see, it’s actually worked pretty well. Though probably not as long as my other blog posts, I’ve been able to actually produce a post for you all to read. And hopefully a post that will be helpful.

If you have writer’s block, whether in regards to your novel, blog or any other type of writing, try writing about your writer’s block. It could work wonders in getting those pipes nice and clean once again, at which point… Hey presto! You can write again.

Your Experiences

Give this method a try and let me know how it works for you. Do you have your own tricks for beating writer’s block? If so, share them with us. It’d be great to hear them!

A Change of Perspective

This is a part of my Writing From A Different Focus group-write project. Here, I went for a roleplay post style of writing, but while also shifting the focus away from what would be ‘my’ character. Taking on the role and perspective of a minor, or even unseen, character, I am pushing my boundaries by writing in first person and also be taking the perspective of a by-stander rather than that of the character who is doing the actions pertinent to plot.

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I’d heard tell of late about a man who had the ability to perform such trickery as hadn’t ever been seen in these parts. Magic, they were calling it. I was far too old to believe in such fantasy tales though; I was still at times amazed by how gullible the young were.

Well, despite being in the local tavern for a cold ale after a hard day’s work, I still couldn’t escape the rumours of this foreign fellow. Telling my peers to stop being so foolish, a solitary corner was certainly favourable.

Try as I might, however, no matter how hard I thought about it, something was certainly different about the man who entered the tavern some time after my solitary solace from foolish chatter and whimsical ideas. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

Maybe it was the black clothes. No one wore such colours in these parts; unless at a funeral of some sort, of course. Perhaps his eyes were what caught my attention: A crsytalline azure that, had I knew no better, would have appeared to glow slightly. Certainly, the fellow walked in as though he owned the place; such arrogance I’d not witnessed before. Even the local Lord carried himself with a little more humility and he was well known as a pompous, arrogant fatman.

My eyes and focus were drawn entirely to this stranger and as he walked, no, sauntered, to the bar, I made the assumption I’d had one too many ales as he seemed, for only the moment he spoke to the barkeep, to glow a deep blue. I had to shake my head, trying to kick off the effects of the evening nectar.

He walked upstairs with no change of manner and disappearing from my view, I disregarded the strange man and returned to my relaxation. I did notice, however, a few bangs and scrapes in the upper levels of the building. My attention was once again drawn to the stairs as a loud rumble revealed a tumbling dwarf. He’d obviously been thrown down, the poor little bloke.

Normally, I had no liking for dwarves: They generally were uncouth and with accents deep enough that I never understood them. With a face covered in blood though, I wondered at why someone would want to cause damage to one of the small folk. Then I saw him again.

The man with the azure eyes stalked down the stairs, a piercing stare aimed for the stumbling miner beneath him. I gasped as a grip was had on the beard and the arrogant one dragged his mark from the tavern. I tried to shrink further into my corner, not wanting to get involved with such things.

The knocking over of chairs and drinks caused quite the ruckus, and rightly so. No one moved to prevent the young man continuing his cruelty though. He was dangerous looking, and his eyes were threatening - nobody wanted trouble on a Wednesday evening.

As the two left the tavern, the silence that had been case over the common room was lifted as rumours began to spread once more. I sighed and took another gulp of my ale.

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Whew! That was a challenge and half! Despite being a pretty short scene, taking it from someone’s viewpoint who has no idea about who the character was (my primary roleplay character, by the way: Saladin Akara), what had brought him to that tavern, or what was going to happen afterwards was hard in itself. I’m so used to taking the role of the character being the focus of someone’s attention.

To add to that, I was writing in First Person, which I so very rarely do. All in all, for so short a piece, it took me a whole longer to write than I would perhaps assume it should do.

So, what did I learn? I think one of the important things I learnt was how perspective can entirely change the feel of a scene. Here, for example , my character would have been interacting with the dwarf for reasons far from malicious: He is quite the ‘goody two shoes.’ However, from a stranger’s viewpoint, Saladin is seen as a cruel, rude and violent person, though entirely mysterious to the point of distraction.

This was interesting as I have to ask myself, “What do my readers see from this scene? What I intend when writing from Saladin’s viewpoint, or what the old guy saw?”

An interesting thought, certainly.

Writing From A Different Focus

Sometimes, as a writer, it is far too easy to remain within a defined comfort zone. Whether it be a particular genre of writing, a specific style or a point of view that is essentially the same, we generally are proficient within our writing comfort zones. But as we try to grow as writers, perhaps we should try to step away from our areas of comfort.

A nice excercise in this is to change our focus. Whether this is a change from third person perspective to first or second, or perhaps moving away from scenery descriptives to more motion-orientated work. And maybe even shifting from fiction to non-fiction.

All of these things challenge us and as such make us grow as writers.

A Challenge

As a group writing project, I challenge you push yourself and give writing from a different focus a try.

• Post a new entry on your blog with your writing piece, linking back (in the spirit of community) to this post.
• Give a brief (or not so, it’s your choice) explanation of how what you wrote moved you away from your current comfort zones and a little on how it helped you to grow.
• I’ll (again, in the spirit of community) compile a list of all the entries for reference.
• Please email me a link to your entry at hayhed2k3@gmail.com so I can add you to the list.
• Entries should be received by the end of Sunday 19th April. (I’ll go by EST on this deadline).

Have Fun!

I hope that you all have fun with this little challenge and group-write; I am certainly looking forward to some brilliant reads.

A Personal Essay

Terry Heath recently gave a writing prompt at his blog:

Spend an afternoon in a location (or reflect on one where you’ve been). Explore it thoroughly, then recreate an actual scene you experienced where something you’ve observed ran in strong contradiction with what you expected in this location. Reveal the subjects observed by appearance, action, and dialogue.

This seemed like a nice challenge, and as I am always looking to challenge myself and widen my spectrum of writing, I thought it would be an enjoyable prompt in which to take part.

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As I sat in the Intensive Care Unit of a chlidren’s hospital that specialises in heart surgery the most prominent memory is that of the monitoring equipment: Giving assurance of life, piercing the respectful silence that weighs upon even the most stalwart of hearts.

Little hope was found in the hall of beds, lights darkened, the incessant blips were enough to send any person to the point of insanity. Nurses spoke with a gentle whisper, solemn, humbled, as they sat at their station or visited beds to perform obligatory observations.

Those who were in attendance of their loved ones; sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, all maintained their vigil. Trusting in the skills of doctors and nurses, knowing that they have no control themselves, and remain focused wholly on their own concerns and tribulations.

That was until, from a secluded private room stepped out a slip of a woman. Short, slim, brown-skinned, dressed in the bright colours of garb native to India or Pakistan. The sharp features of the woman focused on the bed at which I sat as she approached my family.

“May I give a blessing for my religion?” Her broken English was a barrier that was easily overcome as an understanding was formed not only of intent but of special circumstance.

“Of course, so long as I can give your son one of our blessings.” My dad spoke to the woman, both their voices sustaining the hushed reverence of such a place as, with some enthusiasm, the unassuming woman agreed.

Retreating back to the small room where her son lay, only a few moments passed until she returned with oils and various other items needed to perform the blessing of her religion.

Speaking in a language I didn’t understand, she offered forth the blessing and prayer to the deity or deities in which she believed. My dad, in turn, disappeared into the secluded private room and, I assume, performed a blessing of my own religion.

It was, while families prepared for possible bereavement, a wonderful and humbling demonstration of selflessness and faith. A sharing of cultures that carried no pretense or bias.

Solitude was transormed in that simple exchange to a feeling of togetherness. Time was sacrificed from vigils that were of utmost importance, and with a kind thanks for the blessings and being able to share faith, lives continued on their separate paths.

A momentary crossing of roads that inspired a small boy.

Characters: An Alternative Creation Story

This is yet another post in response to my Twitter survey, suggested by George Angus over at Tumblemoose Writing Services. I had actually been planning a post similar to this as part of my reality in fiction theme I’ve been running over the past week or so. George had made the request of looking at character creation in RolePlay so the focus will be shifted a little from my original intentions, but it works for ‘normal’ fiction also.

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Characters are key to any story. They’re the crutch upon which the story rides, conflict is created and the reason that people will read your work. They play an especially important part in RolePlaying: They are the tool by which you are able to write and interact. Your posts are focused on them, you must rely on their own view of the world to bring it alive. You, for all intents and purposes, become that character while playing. But, how important is the creation process of your character?

It all starts with a name

At least, for me it does. I’m among a rarity in RolePlay: My character becomes my muse and in a sense all my roleplay writing comes from the character itself. When first introducing a character, I generally know nothing about him/her beyond their name. Their appearance, personality, likes/dislikes, and abilities all come to me as I write. For me, this allows a nice progression for my characters throughout the story.

However, that doesn’t really give a true insight. So, let’s take a closer look at character creation.

Balance

It’s essential. More so than a lot of people realise. Regardless of setting, genre, race or rank of your character it needs to have balance. It’s very tempting (and even I fell in this trap when new to the RolePlay scene) to create a character without flaws, a character all powerful and all knowing. But oh, how bland such characters really are! No one is perfect. And neither should your characters.

They will surely have weaknesses, fears, personality flaws and yet they indeed will still have their own strengths. The art to character creation is finding the right balance: Someone with no strengths at all is just as bland, remember.

The Process

Creating a character can certainly be broken down into a number of steps:

1. The basics: Age, sex, race and appearance. These all are dependant on what setting you’re playing in. In a post-apocalyptic world where all adults were killed, you wouldn’t make a character over the age of 18. Sex most often is never an issue: Man, woman, both, neither - the choice is yours. Race again is an important one for maintaining reality. In a realistic setting (based in our real world) you would’t play an elf or Martian. Appearance again is all dependant on the factors already taken into account. It needs to keep with the world in which you are playing; would a European person in the 1300s really wear a ninja outfit? I doubt it. A guy wearing a skirt? Well, maybe. But a woman wearing a full suit of armour is perhaps not so likely (I’m going to get lynched by all the women readers now!). And would your dwarf really be five foot eight inches tall?
2. Skills and abilities: Here again balance is the key. Someone with muscles that dwarf even WWE wrestlers who can move with the ability of an Olympic gymnast? That just wouldn’t happen, I’m afraid. A person who is masterful with every weapon in existence? Not unless he’s been around for several eons. Masterful in one weapon? Oh, certainly. Able to shoot lightning from her knee all day without any effect? Maybe, but is that maintaining balance, or looking for an all-powerful sorceress? Making magic usage effect your characters creates a nice feel for realism: They don’t have a constant supply of energy. Just like the knight wouldn’t be able to ride his horse for three weeks non-stop.
3. Personality: I once saw a character profile where the character was “shy and talkative.” What?! Again, keep things realistic. Conflicting personality traits like that make your characters unbelievable. This will break what was discussed in an earlier blog. Something of utmost importance. Sure, have your character shy and maybe one person to whom they can approach with total ease: That’s entirely believable.
4. Background History: A lot of people like to write a full biography for their characters. While this may be useful to some people it isn’t at all necessary. If nothing more than why your character is where they are at the begining of the game/story and their current motivations and goals, you’ve provided more than enough information. And, revealing everything at once means you lose a great back-up tool when you can’t think of what to write: The Flashback.

And there you have it. A nice skeleton profile of your character, ready to leap into whatever game you’re taking a part.

Why?

Why go to all this effort though? Surely you can just write out your character as you go along like I do? Definitely. Often for new RolePlayers this gives a nice template for easily making a character, when perhaps it isn’t the most natural of things to do. Also, it can provide a quick reference tool for other players to learn about your character. The players can then have an understanding and look to implementing sub-plots with you or areas of conflict or mutual interest.

If writing for a purely literary purpose, the character profile can help you to organise your cast of characters. Though I would add in one more area: Relationships. Between main characters, other minor characters and anyone they may meet. As your novel progresses it’s a good idea to also update that section (along with all others - I know they can all change at times) to keep your information up to date so you have a quick and simple reference tool.

Your very own creations

Have you roleplayed before? Written a novel? How did you go about creating your characters? Please share with us. Everyone is different and my own methodology may not be the same as yours. Let us know how you write your own story of creation!

Community Writing: Roleplay

This is the second suggestion made to me on Twitter for what people would like to see on here. Suggested by Joanna Young over at Confident Writing. Very focused on community, it was no surprise that Joanna made this great suggestion.

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Roleplaying at its core is taking control of a single character among many to make a story with other writers. Building and developing a world in which to place those characters, developing plot, allowing relationships to form between characters, and finally completing the story.

But, is that it? Is there another aspect to roleplaying that the ‘general’ definition omits? I would say so: A side-effect of group creative writing would definitely be community.

Sites like Roleplay Gateway are a prime example of this. With forums for general chatter, a place to ’show off’ artwork and poetry, prose and music; Gateway (as it’s fondly referred to by its members) is a great example of a place where you are not just writing in collaboration, but also part of a much wider community. And with the added benefit of a chat built into the site, the community aspect is greatly increased.

So, why does roleplay open itself so readily to creating community?

It’s because communication is key when working together. Be it on the chat, on the forums, or via private messages and IM, you need to communicate for your roleplay to succeed. Planning on general plot, adding your own twists and sub-plots between characters/players; it all requires you to talk with your fellow writers.

Through this, friendships are created rather quickly: You get an insight into the writer as a person from his writing and ideas, conversations on plot turn into “Hey, how are you today?” and the next thing you know, a friend has been made. Overall, the experience is a good one, and the community aspect is something a lot of roleplayers actually roleplay for.

With so wide a demographic; from young teens just discovering the joys of writing, to seasoned roleplayers and writers up to within their 40’s (the oldest I’ve seen is 42, I believe), you also get to see a greatly varying view on the world. And it is that one mutual interest which brings together so many people.

Your experiences

Have you roleplayed in the past, or still do? Been part of a writing community of any kind? What were/are you experiences? Share them with us!

Spring Cleaning for Your Desk and Mind

Yesterday on Twitter I ran a little survey about what people wanted to see on the blog. I got a pretty good response, and this is one of the ideas suggested to me. The suggestion came from Andrew Hayes and I felt it was a fantastic suggestion.

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The days are getting longer, the weather warmer and soon it’ll be Easter. That’s right! It’s the spring! A time of birth and new beginnings, and traditionally when feather dusters, bleach, furniture polish and all manner of cleaning stuff gets dragged from cupboards for Spring Cleaning.

As writers, maybe we too should do a Spring Clean. Our desks may or may not be cluttered with all manner of trinkets and pieces of paper, so maybe we should organise the area where we unleash our sword (pen… Or keyboard) to help us stay focused. I know that when I look at my desk, the thought of giving it a good de-clutter is daunting: Pens, old and empty lighters, scraps of paper, letters, CDs and DVDs with either music, movies or data on them; magazines, glasses and a teaspoon!

There is so much there to distract me from writing, many reasons to procrastinate, and with the TV remote on there in the mix too… Well, you get the picture, I’m sure. It certainly isn’t cohesive to healthy writing. So, what should I get rid of? What should I make sure is there?

Pens are a great idea. How else can I jot down those random ideas that come to me on a whim? Though scraps of paper don’t fit in with that: They can go. I’ll need a notebook, probably A5 in size, spiral bound. This makes note taking really easy and sometimes, let’s be honest, opening up a new Notepad window and typing your idea, even in this digital age can take a lot longer than using pen and paper. Note taking, as a writer is very important, as I’m sure you all know.

Cigarette lighters, mugs and teaspoons can all go in the bin or sink. Letters can go in the right folders and CDs and DVDs can go back in their cases, nicely neat and tidy. The TV remote, as much as I like being able to control the telly from my desk, can go on top of the TV where it belongs, I think. After all, I’ll be much less likely to turn it on when writing if I have to move to do so.

Phew! *Wipes brow* That done, and my desk looks a million times better! And with a tidy environment, my mind can work much more clearly. And I think it’s time to put my newly purchased notebook to use.

Spring cleaning for your mind is nowhere near as easy as your desk: It’s not just about removing anything distracting or messy. We’re now into the fourth month of the year… I wonder just how many ideas, thoughts, goals and other miscellanea have been floating around in your head since January? For me, there’s been a lot. All jumbled up and in no real order.

So, in this time of Spring Cleaning, maybe we should get our minds in order as well. Put down those goals, make them targets: Who, what, when, where and why? The ideas need to be jotted down, given order and organisation. Also, writing them down, like saying them, makes it all much more real than a mere whim. I spent a considerable while today getting my thoughts, goals and ideas in order. Maybe you should give it a try?

Bring your own duster!

What do you do when Spring Cleaning your desk and mind? Any hints, tips or tricks you find useful? Let us know!

And if we get enough ideas, I’ll throw together a nice post on Spring Cleaning tips from the Writer’s Journey community.

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