Rambling: When the Characters Decide

Rambling: When the Characters Decide

There are many ways to write a story. Some writers plan every little detail before they really start writing the meat of the story. Other writers get an idea and just run with it. And, of course, there is everywhere in between.

I’m a pantser. It means I don’t write an outline, though I do have an idea where the story needs to go. When I’ve tried to start with an outline in the past, I tend to just start writing the story. I’m too eager to dive into the world I’ve created, I think. Despite not planning all the details out, I still feel I have a good handle on where my story is going.

And then the characters make their thoughts heard. This usually means that, as I get deep into writing a scene, my characters do something completely unexpected though still in tune with who they are. It can be as simple as one using a nickname well before I thought they would be familiar enough with another character to do so. But it just feels right.

It can also end up being something as game changing as an unplanned death or a major rift in a relationship. Those sorts of things can completely change the intended direction of the story, but they are often something good, something the story needed that you only subconsciously recognised.

That is how I like to write my stories. Knowing the direction, but constantly guessing and surprised at the smaller details that reveal themselves to me.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

If you enjoy my writing, the best way to support me is to purchase a copy of my debut novel, Fledglings First Flight. You can pick up a copy via the links below. It is also available free to read on Kindle Unlimited.Please let me know what you think!

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Rambling: Valentine

Rambling: Valentine

Today is a day to celebrate love, or something. I mean, in my mind this day has become a very manufactured holiday with an emphasis on the material things – chocolates, flowers, diamond rings. That has never sat well with me. Of course, I also believe that you should be honoring your love every day, not just on this one specific day.

But the day remains and couples some the world buy into it. Literally.

I personally only give the holiday a token nod or, more appropriately, a token kiss.

So, to those who celebrate, I hope you enjoy the time you are spending with your loved one(s). To those that aren’t, I hope you simply have a great Friday and a lovely weekend afterward.

Oh, and to the kids whose parents don’t tell them to give a Valentine card to every kid in their class… You really should. I was always left out, and it made grade school me a very sad little girl when I emptied out my decorated box to find only a small handful of cards, probably from my two close friends and the teacher.

Rambling: “Babe”

Rambling: “Babe”

I was walking downtown to work and happened to meet up with a male coworker at the corner across from my work. While waiting for the light to turn, a man who looked to be a member of the city’s homeless population shouted “Nice hair, babe” at me. I turned with a smile, thanked him, and returned to waiting with my coworker. Coworker was just looking over his shoulder at the man, an expression bordering on disgust, or perhaps confusion, on his face. Maybe he thought I knew the guy, but I don’t.

I told him that I often get compliments on my hair, and he joked that he never does (he is bald). Then I mentioned that the “babe” part was a little much, and he agreed that it really made it “ick”.

Thing is, despite the uneasy feeling I got from the compliment, it wasn’t something I had any intention of addressing, especially not with the one who shouted it at me. That borders on dangerous, and I never want to cause someone to explode at me. We talked a little further with another male coworker in the elevator. To the first coworkers bafflement at such comments, we both said welcome to being a woman and I mentioned that I am grateful to live where we do, because what I experience is nothing compared to what some women have to put up with.

Combine this experience with continually seeing those mysoginistic tweets on Twitter about how to be a good woman, or wife, ones that rail against women expressing themselves through their appearance, and frankly I’m done. I’m sick of it.

We live in a modern world. We live in the future. So why are there men out there still looking at women as only being objects? As only being there for man’s pleasure and to have babies? So long as, of course, those women don’t end up becoming single mothers for any reason.

Ridiculous, right? I sure think so.

I’m lucky to live in the city I live in. The comments I get are fairly harmless compared to what women face in other cities and other countries. But that doesn’t mean I don’t actually face it. I just get off easy, and I know it.

And sure, there might be those who will say that I would not have minded such a comment if it came from an attractive person. They would be wrong. I still don’t appreciate it. It doesn’t feel quite so bad, but honestly? The only person I want calling me “babe” or to have throw a sexually charged compliment my way is my husband. Everyone else can stick to the benign compliments.

It isn’t that I don’t appreciate compliments. I do. But you can tell me my hair looks good without adding babe, or sweetheart. You can tell me I have a nice dress without staring at my breasts. You can walk past me without fully turning your head to watch my ass move. I know when they do it, I can feel their eyes.

I wish that this sort of behavior would stop. Like I said, I know I get off easy here. I shudder to think of what other women have to put up with simply for existing.

We need to do better. And it is unfortunate that the ones who need to do better are the ones that likely never will.

Storytime: A Web of Eyes

Storytime: A Web of Eyes

My breath was already ragged as I tore my way through the underbrush, collecting scrapes and cuts from the branches that I pushed past. No time to stop, just keep running I told myself silently, not wasting the breath to say it aloud. I was not going to give up, they would never catch me if I had anything to say about it.

I burst through a thick bush and had to windmill my arms to stop from falling off the cliff that opened up before my feet. Glancing over my shoulder, I could hear my pursuers crashing through the trees, gaining ground each second I delayed. I looked down the cliff at the river that raged below. I had no idea how deep it was, nor what dangers might lurk in its depth or down its length.

The sound of the pursuers became ever closer.

Taking two steps back, my shins up against the underbrush, I took a deep breath and ran, not letting myself have the luxury of delay or second thoughts. They could not catch me, it was all over if they did.

The jump was high enough that I managed to get all my limbs in order and dove into the water with what was truly a spectacular swan dive. Were I not so desperate, I may have stopped to congratulate myself on my perfect form. Instead, I broke the surface, sucked in a desperate breath and began to swim with the current, rushing along faster than I could ever manage unaided. Risking a glance upwards, I saw two figures huddled on the cliff I had leapt from, pointing down towards me.

I was free for the moment, but did not believe that I had truly escaped them. They were determined, single-minded, and it would take more than a rushing river to win my freedom.

Before that, however, I had to conquer this river.

Despite my best efforts to keep my head above the water, the rushing waters continually pulled me under and tumbled me around. Without the current, I wouldn’t have been able to tell which way to go, I ended up so turned around.

My arms began to weaken, my head dipping below the surface more often than not. As I inhaled another breath more filled with water than air, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was how it was going to end. Drowned in the river, my body being borne out to a lake or sea somewhere, lost.

Very well, I thought, closing my eyes and feeling a strange contentment fall over me. I felt myself drift downwards and didn’t try to stop, didn’t strive for the surface, not this time. My head began to spin from lack of oxygen and I would have swam for the surface, then, had I known which way to swim. Instead, I let go to the inevitable and ended up with the strangest sensation. Instead of continuing to sink, there was suddenly pressure at my back, pushing me towards what I could only presume was the surface and life-giving air.

I broke the surface, filling my lungs and feeling sensation and consciousness rush back, my plight springing back into sharp focus. What had happened? Groggy still, it took me a moment to realize I was moving faster than the current, and there was still the mysterious pressure on my back. Turning slightly, not an easy task, I discovered that I was sprawled across the back of a dolphin.

Feeling my movement, the dolphin unceremoniously dumped me back into the river proper and swam circles around me for a moment before nudging me again to keep my head above the surface.

“Never thought I’d be saved by a dolphin…” I muttered, swinging my arm over the dolphins proffered back and allowing it to carry me down the river again, feeling a little more in control. “Thanks.” I wasn’t sure if the dolphin could hear me above the roaring river, or even understand me if it could, but I still felt compelled to express my gratitude.

Riding the dolphin, I traveled much faster than I could have ever hoped and I allowed myself the brief dream that perhaps, just perhaps, I had outrun my pursuers enough that they would not find me again.

Eventually, the cliff surrounding the river diminished and I discovered that the river emptied into a lake, and that the dolphin was not fond of the still waters within. Leaving me on the shore where the river spilled into the ocean, the dolphin swam back over the fast-moving waters, seemingly untroubled by the effort it had to put in to make progress. I stood there on the bank until I could no longer see my dolphin friend, and raised my hand in a final, unseen farewell before turning to trudge along the shoreline.

First order of business, I thought, I need to figure out where I am. And get to where there are people, where I might be a bit safer.

It felt like an eternity, walking along the lake, though it was more like part of the afternoon, or maybe morning? I wasn’t quite certain what time of day it was and I couldn’t see the sun, hidden as it was behind clouds, to find out, though my rumbling stomach insisted that it was time to eat. I gathered a few berries along the shore, but did not dare stop for longer to try my hand at fishing. Those that hunted me had proven resourceful and fast in the past, I had no reason to believe it would be any different this time. No, I had to keep moving, get as much distance between myself and them as I possibly could. It was the only hope I had. Well, that and the rumours I had heard earlier in my journey of a place of safety, where they would not, could not, go. “South” they had said, but none could give better directions than that, and so my journey had taken me roughly southward. Was I too far west? East? Where did I go from here?

The wind brought shouts to my sensitive ears and I cursed. Was it them again, already? Or just another set? They were all so interchangeable, I couldn’t be sure; dark leather, masked faces, a tattoo of a spider’s web with an eight-legged eye in the centre on all their forearms.

Either way, I couldn’t linger any longer on the bank of the lake.

Choosing a direction almost at random – southerly, and away from the shouts – I dove into the forest and made my way along as quickly as I dared to move, stripping bushes of their berries on my way. The forest slowly darkened around me and the cloud-shrouded sun dipped below the horizon. Soon, I was unable to see the forest floor in front of me and began to trip on every upraised root, catching my clothing on nearly every grasping bush I passed. I could no longer go on, and so with the last of the light I found myself a little hollow in a lightening-struck tree, just big enough to wriggle into. Once I pulled a large, leafy branch from a bush and set it across the cracked trunk, it felt like a cozy, safe little nest. Exhausted, I fell asleep quickly, lulled by the sounds of night around me.

I woke early, anxious to be going and cramped from my tiny hideaway. With more than one groan, I pushed my way out of the tree and stood, stretching out my aching muscles and looking around to remind myself what way I had been going the night before. Thankfully, I could vaguely make out my path from the night before, crushed leaves and snags of fabric. I hoped I hadn’t left so obvious a trail throughout, but there was nothing to be done about it now. I couldn’t take the time to backtrack and obscure my trail.

As I walked through the forest, careful now to leave as minimal a trail as possible, the world around me slowly brightened and I thought I could hear the sound of cheerful voices ahead of me, muffled by the trees. I didn’t feel the now familiar anxiety at the sounds of these voices, leaving me to hope that I had finally found what I was looking for – a sanctuary.

Changing direction slightly, I headed toward the voices and possible sanctuary.

The sight that awaited me through the trees was entirely unanticipated.

A mall. I had heard about them, these relics of a time now gone. I thought they were all long since abandoned, but before me was a bustling shopping centre filled with people for whom the world had not ended.

Did they know what was out there and just didn’t care, or were they so engrossed in their curious routine that they were oblivious to reality? Honestly, it didn’t matter. There may be safety in their numbers, I reasoned, so I joined them.

I entered the mall cautiously, unsure what to expect from this structure that hasn’t yet realized it was obsolete. I did not expect buzzing, bright lights, nor the tidy little rooms filled with all manner of items that I could not begin to understand. There was an entire room dedicated to paper bound together in what I could only assume must be books, based on the brightly lit sign that read “Carlson’s Books”. Who Carlson was and why they was displaying their books in that little room, I did not know.

What is this place? I asked myself as I turned slowly to take in all the strange sights. The mall was packed with people, all of them intent in their business, caring various bags as they rushed from room to room. Unable to contain my curiosity, I grabbed the arm of one woman as she passed.

Ignoring the glare I received, I asked “What is this place? Why are all of you here? Don’t you know what it is like outside?”

She didn’t answer, pulled her arm away with another glare before bustling off into the crowd.

Feeling out of place, I made my way to one of the glass contraptions that appeared to be taking people up to other floors of this crazy building, thinking that perhaps a different perspective would help me understand this place so of out time with the rest of the world. The doors slid shut behind me and I turned to watch our assent. My eyes fell on three figures pushing their way roughly through the crowd, looking just as out of place as I did amongst these people living in the past and my heart sank.

This would not be my sanctuary.

I tried to shrink back into the small crowd in the glass cage with me but I stuck out like a sore thumb. One of my pursuers pointed at the contraption I rode and they redoubled their efforts to push through the oblivious crowd. One reached to a quiver on his back, pulling out an arrow that sported a small pouch tied to its tip.

An explosive arrow. Looking around frantically I realized I was trapped with no way out. That didn’t stop me, however. Scrambling through the others in the tiny space, I used the metal bar that ran along the inside of my glass cage to climb up and try to push one of the panels in the ceiling free. I had just managed to shove aside the panel when the contraption was rocked with an explosion, swinging wildly as one of the thick cables snapped. I pulled myself out hastily and leapt free without looking.

My grasping hands found purchase on a beam and I swung up, straddling my savior as I took brief stock of my situation. The class cage had crashed to the ground below, sending broken shards into the crowd. I could see more than one body lying prone, bleeding. Not my problem, I reminded myself, turning my attention higher up to search for an escape route. Just above me, I could see a series of beams and cables that I was fairly certain I could use to get away from my pursuers. At least temporarily.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled myself up so I stood on the beam and tried to walk its length carefully until I reached one of the cross beams. Wobbling slightly, I climbed up to the new beam and sat astride it as I plotted my next move. I had no desire to be captured or to become a smear on the highly polished floor, so I knew I had to plan each step carefully.

It was time to be an acrobat.

With another deep breath to try and calm my nerves, I leapt from my beam, arms outstretched as I flew through the air, intent on a cable a couple of feet from me. For a moment, I thought I was going to miss, that my story would end here, but instead my fingers closed around the cold metal and I swung far with the momentum of my jump. I was slightly disappointed that nobody except my pursuers saw my death defying leap. My pursuers were too biased and simply could not appreciate my display of skill and athletic prowess.

No matter. I wasn’t here to impress them.

Hand over hand, I pulled myself along the cable, my legs swinging freely, until I reached another of the beams to pull myself up on. Looking back, I could see that my pursuers were struggling to push their way through a crowd that refused to be parted, engrossed as they were in the aftermath of that falling contraption. I had somehow gain gained a little ground, but I needed to actually get down on the ground. I couldn’t stay up in the rafters forever.

Ahead of me, the beams disappears into a dark corner, and I thought I could make out an abbreviated storage space. That would have a way back down, I reasoned, continuing along the beam toward that corner. Thankfully, I didn’t need to perform any further impressive feats to reach my way down, the beam was wide, sturdy, and reached all the way into the corner.

Once I reached the end, it was a simple matter to pull myself up on the storage platform, though I had to pause once did so to allow my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in this hidden little corner. Once I could actually see, I quickly spotted a set of sturdy stairs that seemed to lead back to the ground floor and made my way to them.

Once I was down the stairs, I was easily able to push my way out of the mall, as most of the crowd was still gathered around the fallen contraption. I risked a glance over my shoulder before I pushed open the big double doors to leave and saw that my pursuers were through the worst of the crowd and picking up speed. Without wasting another moment, I dated out of the building and ran as fast as I could down the empty, rubble strewn street. At the front of the mall, the area was pristine, kept in good repair by those strange people who still frequented the mall. Here, out the back, it was the world I was used to: the relics of the old world being slowly engulfed by the rampant plant life that marked the new world.

I was glad to escape the mall that time had not touched. The energy in there had felt wrong.

But here I was truly in my element. I had grown up on overgrown streets like those I now raced along, and I knew I could easily evade my pursuers in this concrete jungle. I kept my eyes open, scanning the buildings and alleys to either side until I spotted what I was looking for. I changed direction slightly, ran up the broken remains of a car and leapt from its roof to grab onto a window ledge. Pulling myself up through the open portal, I tumbled into the building proper and say for a moment, my back against the wall as I tried to catch my breath. Once my moment of rest was up, I took a long swallow from my canteen and crawled away from the window, careful not to allow myself to be exposed. I didn’t think I had been seen, and I wasn’t about to risk it through carelessness.

I made my way slowly through the old building, testing the floor before I put my weight fully on it. It wouldn’t do to escape them just to bring everyone running as I crashed through the floor. I found another exit, one that led into an overgrown alley. I could barely see the sky with all the plant growth around me. Good, I thought, they won’t be able to get up high and find me, now.

I pushed through the plants, seeing to make my way out of the alert when a bright color on the brick wall, almost competition obscured by clinging vines, caught my eye. Unable to contain my curiosity, I pushed aside the vines to reveal words written in bold, bright orange paint. It was a small poem, written years ago, but my breath caught as I read its words. It was about me.

Fear not, young runner
The web of eyes does not stretch forever
Seek out the warmth, like birds of old
Sanctuary awaits, if you can be bold
The sound of the ocean in your ears
Will let you know you can shed your fears

My mouth dropped. I was stunned. This writing, bright though it was, had clearly been written long before I was chased. Possibly before I had even been born. The sanctuary was south, of that I was now certain. And the sound of the ocean? The only way I could reach the ocean from here was by going west. My path was now clear. I would head west until I reached the ocean, them I would follow the shoreline until I found this sanctuary where the eyes of the web could not reach.

I was going to be OK.