burnt out, bummed out, and just out

Have written to page 113, four chapters in of Light-year Lion (#lion girl), which is Book 4 in The Prince of Qorlec (#girl prince).

I barely got any writing done. I usually average about thirty pages a day — meaning, I write one chapter a day because the goal with every chapter is 30 pages.

I didn’t get many written today. Maybe ten. Today was just not a happy day. I write more when I’m happier and not distracted by anything else.

I think Light-year Lion might be longer than the other books because the lore has been expanded, there are more characters, so more POV chapters, and Quinn’s journey to build an army is something that will come into play in Book 5, which right now is called Moon Fire. So to set the stage for all that, Book 4 might have to be long. Which means it’ll take longer to write.

Right now I’ve finally gotten to the part where Quinn is about to escape Vorgvon, the detainment prison for entirian prisoners on Kahz. It’s gonna be a fun chapter to write. We get a robot in this book (again) only this time the robot is on the protagonist’s side.

This book is also a little more heartbreaking, as even more characters die.

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Light-year Lion Chargin Full Speed Ahead

By the way, the tag “lion girl” will refer to Book 4 Light-year Lion from now on on this blog. Additionally, “purple planet” refers to The Suns of Anarchy.

So currently I am in the middle of chapter 2 of book 4 of The Prince of Qorlec, and I already love writing it way more than The Suns of Anarchy.

I think I didn’t like writing SoA because it’s basically a transition book. You know when you get to that point in a series where you might read a book that is basically an explanation of how other stuff happened?

Like reading Mercedes Lackey’s Herald trilogy and you get to the middle book, which is basically about the main character’s training?

That’s SoA.

The Suns of Anarchy is basically about how Quinn became married and went through training and how she wound up getting captured by the Zeverec again, this time through her own actions and the failures of General Miora combined.

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Quinn had — and always has — full control of her sexual urges. (yes, exactly what that said.)

This post pertains to The Suns of Anarchy, which is book 3 of The Prince of Qorlec. And it pertains to a specific scene that happens early on in that book.

I felt like I should explain what happened between Quinn and Ckylar when Quinn “blossomed,” and what my intention was with it, and why it happened.

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“Strong Female Characters” rant cont.

This is kinda sorta a continuation of this post.

I wound up thinking of this tonight because I was trying to continue reading I, Robot, (I am never gonna find the time to finish this reading challenge) and I couldn’t keep reading it because I am so, so annoyed that Dr. Calvin wound up being a fucking stereotype.

In the short story “Liar!” everyone is manipulated by this robot who can read minds, through the use of their pride and arrogance, etc. For example, the mathematician (a man) was manipulated into thinking he was going to inherit the company. His pride and arrogance was used against him.

The way Dr. Calvin was manipulated was so, so typical of the way a female character is treated by male writers.

Dr. Calvin didn’t get to be proud or greedy or smug or any other human flaw. Instead she had the sexist  flaw of hating other women and being insecure about her appearance and longing for romance. 

As someone who writes about romance constantly, I’m still annoyed when romance is the sole defining characteristic of a female character. All too often, female characters are whittled down to wanting a husband and kids (Harley Quinn anyone?) and their desire to be pretty and validated as just as worthy as those prettier but stupidier women with big jugs that they hate. It’s . . . really, really annoying.

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Write Book 3 of The Prince of Qorlec — Check

Finished the first draft of The Suns of Anarchy tonight. It’s about the same length as The Harvest.  About 325 pages, so a little shorter.

I’m going to start revising, and when I’m done it’ll likely be a few more pages longer. I think it wound up being shorter because I deviated so much from the original outline.

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in regards to Wicked Witch Boy

I think people should know that I’m not being dramatic or something. I took Wicked Witch Boy down because a startling number of people keep buying it, and I know I need to revise it yet again. I don’t want to keep selling something that needs editing, so until I get to it, it’ll stay down.

I wish I hadn’t asked anyone to read it, but I only asked one person so I guess it’s not a big deal. They read it and never cared enough to review it, so I’ll assume they hated it and leave it at that.

The truth is, I may never put the book back up. I don’t know. If I didn’t live under a rock and knew how popular YA was, I probably would have taken my time publishing that book. I had no idea people would actually buy it without me having to do a lick of marketing. Too bad I just don’t write much young adult.

Also, I think the cover is shit and the font needs to be adjusted. So there’s that.

Maybe the sad reality is the book is only selling well because a boy is the lead character. Which is really fucking dumb. If I went back and made Toby a girl, the book would be exactly the same as it is right now.  Only . . . the title wouldn’t make sense.

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from my ancestors with love

Last night I had a very weird, hellish dream in which I was stuck in a classroom with two of the biggest bullies from my highschool.

They weren’t the only bullies by far, but they were the ones who hurt me the most when I was a kid. It was a pretty horrible school, where everyone — even some of the teachers — joined in the bullying.

The dream felt like being taken back there, only in a college setting.

After being humiliated by a very mean girl, I put my head down on my desk and was very sad. Putting my head down was actually part of the game we were playing in class. Those who didn’t answer questions right had to put their heads down, so they weren’t chosen again.

My teacher noticed that I was upset and I was surprised when she came to me, put her head down next to mine, and expressed sympathy and concern. It was bizarre to me. In real life, no teacher ever cared about me or that I was being bullied. Perhaps if they had, perhaps if just one person had showed me any kindness, my life would have been vastly different.

The professor in my dream said a few very peculiar things. She told me she had been watching me a long time (as in all my life — very strange) and that I had a great laugh. She spoke like a family member, like someone who loved me (though she actually looked nothing like me). When I complained miserably about the bullies, she told me I could change things, which was — again — bizarre.

I suddenly realized I was dreaming and pulled myself out for fear it would become a nightmare.

There are many cultures in which people believe their ancestors watch over them from a spirit world, providing comfort and guidance. Even Catholics believe this.

I have never believed in anything like this — I mean, how boring would it be to sit around watching your ancestors descendants all the time? But after I woke up, I had the exact feeling that an ancestor, who’d been watching me all my miserable life, felt sorry for me and wanted me to know I was not alone.

The exact feeling.

I am still baffled that she told me I could change things. I think she meant that in a larger sense, as in I could have an impact on people, I could change the world.

That’s insane.

I’m a dot in the grand scheme of things. I don’t matter, not even to the other dots. I already learned a long time ago that no one cares about people like me. People like me don’t even get to be human. 

One thing I always loved about The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings was the message behind it, that message being that even the smallest person can make a difference.

In real life, it’s not like that. In real life, smaller, physically weaker people are oppressed and bullied. We live in a society that mocks and belittles women for not being as physically powerful as men — as if physical power were the only thing a person’s worth should be determined by. (Here’s a hint: a person’s worth is not determined by physical strength.) In fact, it’s so awful, women aren’t even allowed to have power fantasies in fiction. We live in a world where it’s feasible that a tiny hobbit can save an entire world, but not a feminine woman (because women have to be masculine to be worth something, apparently). And god help her if she’s a woman of color, because that’s given as even more inconceivable.

So do I live in a world where I can change things? No. Call me a pessimist, but I don’t believe I do. In fact, there’s an entire system in place to make sure I don’t change things. And it extends into the literary world.

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