Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Writing Beta 1

So, if any of you pay attention, you know I enjoy writing and that I've spent a great deal of time writing a work of fiction which I have only referred to as my novel for two years.

I wanted to talk a little bit about what writing is to me and the way I write, maybe get some practice in as well.

So, let's start with my novel's setting:
It's a Scientific Romance or Fantasy that takes place at no specified time period possibly millions of years in the future where humanity, after many apocalypses, has taken a hard reset and is no as advanced as we are.
While this society is not technically advanced they are physically more advanced in evolution. For example most people live to be a Hundred thirty five years old, there are being with highly concentrated awareness of time, space and spirituality who (kind of like a prophet?), and there are races or bloodlines that are physically stronger, faster and more war like.

I enjoy Scientific Romance, but that doesn't mean I'm going to use lasers and lightsabre-nunchaku, oh no, I prefer a trebuchet or dual dao. (split Chinese broad sword)

No a setting, isn't what's important to me. Personally, I prefer character driven stories that don't lay out a black (evil) and white (good) perspective of a world; i.e. there is no hero, no villain but a single world split by forces who want the same thing but have very different ideas and ideals as to how it should be done, then once there is in place a key story create a world around it.
To create the conflict around a world broken world would be like creating an epic film and polarizing the humanity of the story into an amplified version of reality.

Now, because my story is only at the half way point I'm not going to give out any details as what it's about, I'm not stupid (much), but I will demonstrate my writing style:

First a concept: A group of lower class teenagers making the best of life even if they don't have the benefits of living in an advance society.

Second a primary character named Cole Ellington-Martin, he's sixteen and works as a laborer, he's good with his hands and has a girlfriend who is dirty blonde. He has a conflicted past for his parents were divorced and he was passed back from from an abusive mother who was once an Militia Sergeant (see, already making the world) and his alcoholic depressed father who never helped his son even though he heard the cries of help.
Third, some more Characters:
Byrum Elliot Smith is an in the closet homosexual (suggests that this world looks down on homosexuality) who is best friends with Cole and spend most of his time smoking pot and hanging out with Cole at the work place (A suggests the legality might be different in their world or that they live in a loose community). Always wear's a charcoal gray fedora, never talks about his family, considers Cole his only family most of the time.
Tristan Darlene Reidel is Cole's girlfriend and she comes from a rich family but hates the aristocracy of it all and spends most of her time avoid them and her aids so she can just get away with Byrum and Cole. Sometimes only Cole, it gets cold on the weekend.

Forth comes the setting:
I'm going to say they live in place like Nowhere, Kansas but they live in a country run by an Aristocratic Government (crude oil, war and socialism at it's worst, an idealist's nightmare) that gives all the coastal prime land and military support to those who pay for it and those who live in Nowhere are stuck with a volunteer Militia. The Aristocracy is a bit more advance than we are but in Nowhere there is not so much high tech juice and more broken down Chevys.

Fifth comes the writing and deciding on a perspective. Standardly, most stories are written either from first or third person (with other choices below third person) but I like to toy around with the unconventional like using both or even second person to really mess with your head.
I prefer first person because it's very human, it comes quite literally from the perspective of the main character and you can get a personality from them.
So let's begin:

From an outsider's perspective we were just pukes living in the dust bowl that was Old Obtain City in the Crescent Province. Farmers and sons of laborers who used to work in the tank factories back in war time were the only people that lived here. Not that I really care what those rich nothoi thought of us, I had the time of my life in those parts, no military, no money, no rules.
The smell of oil and gasoline was the in the air as me and Byrum pushed the old Jeep out of the mud as Tristan lean against the door of the shop shaking her head at our methodical madness.
"You two jacks can't do anything without making a mess, can you?" She laughed rolling her eyes as I shot her nasty look before letting off the tail gate, as did Byrum as we stepped back from the mud and examined it.
It was one of those genius moments where I let Cox park a car I've spent weeks on. Well, that's not say he's always incompetent, he does amazing body work until you get near him and an air powered ANYTHING, my arm was still in a sling from the drill accident.
"Well, Cole," Byrum, standing beside me, put his arm over my shoulders to rest before giving a great sigh, "Now what?"
I looked at the two metric tons of jeep and wiped the sweat from my forehead, "Get in the driver's seat and let on the throttle when I say, Trill,"
She pulled her hair from her face and pushed herself off the door and ran over to the right side of the jeep and got in.
"Okay, let's do this," I said, shrugging Byrum off me before I heard a loud roar from the engine and before I knew it the two of us were hit by a wall of mud.
Mud, as thought by rich folk, is something we militia children dwell in. No, motor oil and grease, but not mud.
"The hell are you doing?" Shouted Byrum running for cover behind me and as I covered my face till the rev of the engine calmed.
I lowered my arm, seeing past to the blonde in the driver's seat, "You were saying, about making a mess?" I said before looking behind me at my friend crouching for safety.
She smiled at me and sat back down into her seat, giving me a thumbs up as I walked over to the to the tail gate and leaned against it, as did my huskier friend.
Byrum ran his hand through his short black hair and peeked over the tail gate, "On tria?" I nodded and she placed his hand to the bumper.
"Give it some petrol," I shouted and she slowly began revving up the engine and I looked at Byrum and began, "Ena... duo... tria!"
We both push as the wheels turned and mud whipped past our legs. With great thud and a loud roar the jeep practically jumped from the hole as we fell in it before the Jeep sped across the dirt parking lot before spinning and burning out into the wooden fence across to a dust veiled stop.
I scrambled from the mud and ran into the dust cloud to the empty vehicle. I ran around and jumped the fence beyond the screen to find Trill on her knees in the grass.
"Yeshua Messia," I sighed running to her so I could help, "are you okay?"
"I'm fine!" She barked and I stepped back.
"That had to be going at least eighty," I chuckled in hysteria as she helped herself to her feet.
"Next time," She said looking at her shaking arms, "you drive and I count to drei."
End of scene.

So I don't know what that was about, entirely, so I may return to this and revise and add onto it.
I've been wanting a side project to practice when I can't seen to write for the main project so this was fun.
Sorry about the random.
Thanks for reading.

Do good work.
May God Bless.
Shalom and Raya.

Brent Matthiew Lillard

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