Category: the creative process

daily living, site updates, the creative process, writing

time for a change

ray brantley
Words WrittenThing(s) EnjoyedStuff Accomplished
TODAY:
*sad deflated balloon noise*		PseudoPod Ep. 713: “You Can Stay All Day,” by Mira Grant (Seanan McGuire)Website redesign + updates. It’s summery! I like it!
TOTAL:
9,753 / 15,000		Cat Rambo‘s Short Story WorkshopSuccessfully administered medication to Mrs. Moo
Trying a new thing here. We’ll see how much I like it later.

(I’m not going to admit to how much time I spent fiddling with that silly table to make it look presentable, so we’ll see if this is a format I stick with going forward in subsequent posts. Anyway.)

During the 5-minute timed writing sessions for Cat Rambo’s Short Story workshop today I jotted down two pieces I rather enjoyed: a hypothetical beginning to a short story set in the same universe as my current project, Companion Animals, and a response to the prompt, “The doll was dead.” I’ve polished them just a hair and so figured I’d drop them here, so that hopefully in a few weeks’ time I can look back on this post and compare my progress.

“The doll was dead.”

The doll was dead.

He found it at the bottom of the ravine, half-drowned under grey water run-off and a discarded soda bottle. The doll’s pale pink dress had discoloured under the malign indifference of the elements. Maybe it wasn’t pink at all. Maybe it had been red, once upon a happier time. He would never know for sure, and didn’t care. It was difficult to care, in that moment, about anything other than the doll’s open, staring eyes, which could not be black plastic buttons held in place by a neat criss-cross stitch of black thread, or beads, or little glass marbles with swirls of too-bright colour for irises, tidily affixed to a face of fabric or porcelain.

They couldn’t be any of those things, because fabric could not bruise, and glass could not bleed.

A Last Defence

Starlight pours through the airlock’s glass porthole and illuminates the crime scene before her torch can catch up. Blood, she thinks, glitters like a scattering of diamonds spilt from some baroness’s upended jewelry box. Viscera is duller, like silverware in need of a polish.

She has an academic knowledge of her shaking hands, like her body feels the fear before her mind does. That is one of many things she does not share in common with the little cat that stands, immutable as gravity, fierce as an entire battalion of Imperial pistoleers, on the opposite side of the airlock door.

The station’s failing bulwark groans when the escape pod door hisses open. She turns to throw herself into it, but not without one last look over her shoulder through the porthole. Her saviour, her last defence against the Emperor’s coterie–so small and brave, and so alone.

the creative process, world building, writing

‘companion animals’; progress and an excerpt

ray brantley

First order of business, my accountability to myself: today’s word count target was not just met, but more than doubled! Each week I work on this project, I’m able to produce just a little bit more than I did the week before.

So that’s exciting. And, after sharing the first chapter draft with @amaraqwolf for a bit of external feedback, I feel more comfortable discussing the nature of what I’m working on here with less ambiguity, and providing you with a short excerpt!

Continue reading “‘companion animals’; progress and an excerpt” →
the creative process, writing

on accountability, and a little bit of pride: writerly updates

ray brantley

I finished the first first draft of the first chapter of a novel this morning!

Word count currently sitting at a very modest ~6,500 words, with so very many left to go before the finish line is even in sight, but I think what I am most proud of with this particular accomplishment is how steady and incremental process made it possible.

I decided, a little over a month ago while I was nearing the end of my mental health leave from work, that I would do everything in my power to write just 100 words a day towards a novel. That’s it; 100 words at minimum every day, no matter what, and I would work on making these words appear for just an hour each morning. When that hour was up, or when I hit my word count minimum (whichever came first), I’d close out of Scrivener, put the project aside, and not think about it at all for the next twenty-four hours.

And… I did it.

Non-draft words were research-related earlier in the month. Consistency also not great early on.
…but by June I really had hit my stride, and only missed one day.

I wasn’t 100% consistent; the stats above show that pretty transparently, but what they also demonstrate is a clear commitment to trying again every time I faltered or struggled. Some days (here’s looking at you, May 26 and 27), I just could not get the words to come together the way I wanted them to, and didn’t meet even my minimum required output before my hour was up and I had to call it quits for the day. On other days, as soon as I hit that word count minimum, that was it, I was done, extracting another word out of my brain was akin to pulling teeth, but when I walked away from the project for the day it was nevertheless with a sense of modest accomplishment, that I had kept my word to myself and made progress towards a goal that meant a lot to me.

And then there were days like June 22 and 23: ~800 words! And subsequently, almost 600 words! All accomplished roughly within that hour I set aside for myself in the morning before starting my day job, and many of those words such a delight to write that stopping myself from continuing was nearly as challenging as getting started had been when this process began. But I did stop, and I put the project away again, because this steady, incremental, consistent progress is far better for me than just the occasional day here and there throughout an otherwise creatively barren year where I manage to write a deluge.

All this to say, Self, well done. Good job! I am proud of you, Self, for reclaiming hours from your day to devote to the work that has always been central to your–our–identity. And I am extremely excited to see what we will have to share with the world when June 24, 20201 arrives.

Anyway, enjoy this glorious piece of artwork I commissioned from my talented artist friend, Cami Woodruff, of mine and my husband’s two ragdoll cats, and our temporary foster gremlin, Georgie.

From left to right: our beautiful Mrs. Moo, her dopey son Jasper, and one small ground squirrel in a kitten suit named Georgie. Art by Cami!

some recommended reading

“Late Night at the Low Road Diner,” by my dear friend Frances Rowat, published at Liminal Stories.

the creative process

absence and guilt: get up and go

ray brantley

I’ve convinced myself I’m somehow accountable to my readers for the time I spent not working on this blog, or my projects, over the last several months. I’m well aware of my tendency to project my own negative opinions about myself and my work ethic onto the feelings of others, which is an irrational tendency that 1) hamstrings my productivity, and 2) turns me into a really unpleasant person to be around. So, having at least gotten the impulse out there in the open and called it for what it is, I’ll try to own it and keep it from derailing my future plans for this blog.

Time to get back on track and post the good stuff:

IMG_0359
…you mean you don’t come here for pictures of my cat? (March, 2017)

What I’ve Accomplished

Time to take note of this stuff in bullet point form:

  • I participated in NaNoWriMo ’16! While I didn’t win, I did manage to contribute 18,097 new words to an ongoing space opera draft I have been toying with off and on since October of 2013 (affectionately dubbed New Persepolis). By the end of November, I was sitting at a wordcount total of 33,940 words, and the process it took to get to that point taught me so much about the characters I was playing with, and the world(s) that they inhabited. I don’t know if I will finish that particular incarnation of the story, but the world and characters themselves are so dear to me that I know I’ll come back to it at some stage, if only for my own edification.
  • After NaNoWriMo, I longform outlined the first half (or, potentially the first third) of an urban fantasy novel, heavily utilizing Scrivener’s notecard functionality to make moving parts from chapter to chapter much easier. This urban fantasy novel is one I touched on briefly in September of last year, but since then it has taken on considerably more breadth and scope. This outlining process is one I used when planning New Persepolis, and it’s helped me get the barest bones version of my idea down into a document, instead of turning the thoughts over and over in my head without generating any words. The story itself, still without a working title, is cumbersome with many moving parts; when it has frustrated me, I have instead turned my attention to fic.
  • Courtesy of Audible.Com, I’ve managed to listen to eight more books since November of last year. Maybe a small thing to feel pleased or proud of, but my work schedule and other obligations make finding time to read so difficult now that I really value my time spent on the subway and bus listening to my books in the mornings and evenings now.

What’s Happening Now?

Camp NaNoWriMo. That’s what.

Here’s the synopsis for my story-thus-far:

An inter-dimensional time traveler on the run from the god who is infatuated with him. A newly minted and certified archivist stepping into the shoes of his predecessor, who discovers that fulfilling his life’s dream is not all it’s cracked up to be. The unlikely convergence of these two lives could change not just their worlds, but all worlds that have ever been, and ever will be.

This is a story about love, consent, obedience–and God. Possibly even your God.

Are you interested? I hope you’re interested. Because I’m pretty dang stoked to start this piece of purely self-indulgent fantastical fiction.

To prepare, I’m sticking with prep that I know works (for me): an outline and some character vignettes. Whether I choose to share some of those here in the future or not is TBD, but I will keep you all posted.

In the meantime–time to make sure the radio still works on this thing. It’s been collecting dust.

The Radio:

  • Howl’s Moving Castle (Howl’s Moving Castle #1), by Diana Wynne Jones. Narrated by Jenny Sterlin.

    This one has been on my list since I first watched the iconic Hayao Miyazaki film/anime adaptation of the novel back in 200-somethingsomething, and the story absolutely captured my imagination. I will say that the movie is a pretty stark departure from the source material, but it is easy to see shades of Miyazaki’s Howl and Sophie in the characters that inspired them. I suspect that folks who love the Studio Ghibli version of these characters may be a bit disappointed, but I’ve personally enjoyed getting into Sophie Hatter’s head.

the creative process, world building, writing

old stuff: new persepolis excerpt

ray brantley

Since writing the excerpt below, my vision for this world and the characters within it has changed considerably. Even in this iteration of the narrative, the characters and the story itself are different from what I envisioned in November of 2013. But I want to celebrate writing that I am proud of, and part of that celebration involves sharing it with you today.

Not knowing Republican Shee hadn’t been a hindrance in the disputed territories, but inside a government run hospital staffed almost exclusively by Shee physicians it was proving to be a real liability.

Corelli Jones stared uncomprehending at the paperwork in front of him. His skin felt hot and cold under his clothes and the terrified lump in his throat was making it hard to breathe.

The Shee attendant, who had been sitting with him patiently for three and a half minutes of unbroken silence, finally betrayed a hint of discomfort and twitched one of the long quills that had been laying comfortably still across the scaled crest of her scalp. She stilled it and said, gentle as she could, “Water? Would you like?”

It was an English word Corelli recognized. He forced a closed mouth smile and put the pen down to shift the sleeping infant in his arms. “Please,” he said. The attendant got up from her seat and left the exam room, closing the door behind her, and only when he heard the latch did Corelli exhale raggedly and lean against the table. He bore the heel of the hand not supporting Gabriella into his forehead. Alone, he bit his lip and smothered the sob before it could come out.

They knew. They had to know. No human on New Persepolis grew to adulthood without fluency in the dominant Shee dialect unless they were from the disputed territories. Crossing the border into Republic territory without submitting to immigration processing was grounds for execution. Humans with counterfeit identification papers–or none at all–were as likely to be terrorists as refugees, the prevailing thought was. Better to err, with extreme prejudice, on the side of caution. The attendant had probably gone to page security–immigration, if Corelli was very lucky. An agent if he wasn’t.

Gabriella would end up a ward of the state and grow up with no knowledge of him. There was no way to ensure she made it to Diederik without implicating him in their dangerous and illegal border crossing, and the cache of funds they’d stashed outside the city would end up in the Republic’s coffers long before it would ever be of any benefit to Gabriella. This gambit had been a risky one, but Corelli thought he had prepared for everything.

Evidently, assuming that humans would be presented with human language intake papers at the hospital had been one assumption too many. What a careless mistake.

Continue reading “old stuff: new persepolis excerpt” →
the creative process

get in the fork lift: risk taking and draft making

ray brantley

(NB: I’ve noticed I’ve acquired a few new followers since beginning regular updates of this blog. I just wanted to let you all know that I’ve seen you, and I’m so pleased to have you along on my journey. Hi! Hello!)

During my commute in to work this morning, I caught myself mulling over similarities between one daunting experience from my degree program, and a past attempt at NaNoWriMo. I figured I’d jot the thoughts down quickly.

I finished up my masters degree in archives and records management this year.[1]  In order to fulfill the requirements of my degree program, I visited my alma mater library and archives’ off-site storage facility. Off-site storage is essential for most libraries and archives due to the volume of materials acquired and accessioned during the lifetime of most institutes. It provides an adequate temperature controlled environment for material that isn’t requested with as much frequency, or material that is too fragile to circulate.

While I was there, the sheer immensity of the space was so arresting that I had to stop and take some photographs. (After obtaining permission, of course.) Please pardon the terrible quality of the pictures; my phone’s camera isn’t the best.

archives_downsviewfacility1
My colleagues are pictured for scale. This photograph showcases one range of 10 within one half of the facility; each range extends upwards for 30 feet. (April, 2016.)
archives_downsviewfacility2
This photo provided to give you an idea of the length of each range. (April, 2016.)

To allow the facility’s staff to store and retrieve materials, each range is constructed with a specially designed rail system to accommodate a forklift. You can see the rails near the ground; they’re the strips of metal next to the orange stripes. While I was there, the facility director asked if anyone wanted to ride the forklift all the way up to the highest point of the range. And while I’m not normally a daredevil, something in me made me put up my hand and volunteer.

So, up I went.

archives_downsviewfacility3
This would have been a bad time to discover a fear of heights.

It’s a good thing I’m not afraid of heights, because that forklift rattled and shook unsteadily the faster and higher we went. Turning around to look back down at my colleagues, who from that height I could see but not hear at all, I realized just how far from the ground I was, and how it was only by the grace of a few strips of fabric that I was affixed to the forklift and not falling thirty feet to the ground. I was more frightened than I’d expected I would be, because like I said, I’m not normally afraid of heights–but I was also really proud of myself for vaulting myself dramatically out of my comfort zone in order to experience this new perspective.

Continue reading “get in the fork lift: risk taking and draft making” →
the creative process

city witches and ‘idea debt’

ray brantley

I have an Idea.

…That’s an understatement. I’ve actually got any number of ideas cooking at any given time, but most of them just hang out on the back burner.

But anyway, about this particular idea:  Witches in the city. What sort of life would a trainee witch experience living in a run-down urban tenement? What work would she do to pay her rent while eking out precious time for her craft? What kind of friends would she have? Family? …A cat?

Definitely a cat.

marley
…possibly my cat.

I like this idea a lot, which could be a problem, because at present I have more than enough other ideas simmering in various states of incomplete-ness over at my AO3 account. Interspersed amongst time spent on those fics are various and sundry original ideas that have taken the form of both short stories and outlines for longer works. Many of these ideas I have chosen to let go, and I do this in large part thanks to an article I read some time ago on the concept of idea debt. Here’s the most salient point from that article:

“Idea Debt is when you spend too much time picturing what a project is going to be like, too much time thinking about how awesome it will be to have this thing done and in the world, too much time imagining how cool you will look, how in demand you’ll be, how much money you’ll make. And way too little time actually making the thing.“
-Jessica Abel, “Imagining your future projects is holding you back“

The concept of idea debt hits home for me because it has been applicable to almost every creative endeavor I’ve ever undertaken. …or, more to the point, every creative endeavor I’ve devoted lots of thought towards undertaking, but barely managed to scratch out more than a few hundred words towards an actual draft. In my experience, it’s a terribly intoxicating headspace to occupy, and I compare it a lot to worrying:  my brain turns the project ideas over and over again in my head to such an extent that I feel as though I have accomplished something towards completing my project (or solving my problems). But in reality, just as with worrying, when I stop thinking about my project and don’t begin working on it (or solving my problems), I’ve made no tangible progress. And sometimes–or, in my case, nearly always–the guilt sets in, and I create nothing.

You can imagine how that guilt builds and builds upon itself, the more idea debt I accumulate. …possibly it has this in common with actual debt, but that’s a bit beyond the scope (and emotional capacity) of this blog.

So how does one alleviate some of this debt? The solution as outline in Jessica Abel’s blog is deceptively simple, and is one that she obviously struggles with:  let the ideas go.

“But,” some corner of my brain protests anxiously, “what about This Idea? This Idea is so good! You’ve had This Idea for so long! You just haven’t had the chance to properly explore and work on This Idea! Don’t throw it out just yet!”

I strongly believe that the answer to this needy corner of my brain is, on the whole, a very firm no–but! I do like that Jessica Abel explores a very important aspect of the debt allegory by discussing idea investment. Because she highlights two things that distinguish idea debt from idea investment: a work plan with steps in it that the writer actually completes, and the production of a deliverable.

So, to bring this meandering detour of a blog post back to the original subject of my city witches idea–which is it? Idea debt or idea investment?

At this point, it’s kind of hard to say. (To be fair, it’s hard to determine which is which with my WIPs on AO3, too.) But that’s why I’m going to follow Jessica Abel’s model and make a plan, even if that plan is just a promise to myself, on this blog post, that I will:

  1. continue working on my AO3 WIPs as I am able; I am a full-time, part-time writer, after all.
  2. decide whether my city witches idea debt might pay off this November during NaNoWriMo. Did I mention that I’m participating in that this year? Hey, I’m participating in that this year!

…and with that, I think I’ve just about reached the end of this blog post. Let’s end by highlighting what’s on the radio.

Listening to:

Linked Resources:

introduction, the creative process

A full-time, part-time writer.

ray brantley

That’s what I am. I think it’s just about time that I fully embrace the mantle of the part-time writer, without passing a value judgment on this decision.

In the spirit of both embracing the reality of things as they are (and in an effort to act decisively instead of dithering around, as I have been), I’ve decided to use this space as a kind of amalgam of what my Goodreads account used to be, and what my more informal blogs ought to be. I’ll record here what I’m reading–or, more accurately, what I’m listening to, as most of the fiction I consume currently comes to me in podcast format–and also discuss, a bit, my existing writing projects.

I know. Groundbreaking stuff. Throw a rock into the internet ether, and you’ll hit at least a dozen blogs just like this one. That’s all right; fortunately, this exercise is more for me, and to keep me motivated to critically analyze my tastes and my fiction-writing habits. Think of it as a meandering roadtrip; I’m happy to have guests along for the ride, but it is, at the end of the day, my ride, and I’m behind the steering wheel. Don’t touch the radio.

Speaking of what is on the radio, here are a couple channels my radio is most often tuned into:

  • Pseudopod, hosted by Alasdair Stuart and part of EscapeArtists, Inc., a podcast devoted to short works of original horror fiction. All podcasts produced by EA, Inc. are excellent, but I discovered Pseudopod first and, as such, it will always be my favorite. Each week, different voice talent is brought on to narrate stories, and I especially appreciate Pseudopod’s willingness to seek out narrators from diverse backgrounds. The stories published to Pseudopod are different flavors of frightening and include elements of Lovecraftian horror alongside the things that unnerve us about every day living. Nothing published here is horror for the sake of shock value, which I appreciate, and works with particularly disturbing content come with trigger warnings.
  • The Clarkesworld Podcast, hosted and narrated by Kate Baker, is a podcast produced by Clarkesworld Magazine, which publishes works of original science fiction and fantasy. Clarkesworld stories run the emotional gamut and often playfully bend genres in order to tell a compelling story, but the ones that most stick with me are the ones that end with optimism. Kate Baker is gifted at conveying each character she voices.

My personal writing projects (both in progress, and what’s coming down the tubes) will have to wait for the next leg of this weird trip. There’s lots to talk about–fun stuff, silly stuff, gratingly intolerable stuff–and this was just supposed to be my way of saying hi/hello/get out while you still can, etc.