Tag Archives: the blood king

let me ask you a question: what time is love?

remove 9K, add 1K. That’s how it goes. I worked on the rewrite of my diner-chapter last night, when the Blood King comes and Haven (MC) meets him for the first time. I want him to be scary, unreliable, borderline dangerous. But he’s nice. He’s half fallen angel and all vampire. He’s ruthless and serious and highly, highly capable. But he’s not evil. He’s just old, and seen the world in a way my 17yr old protag hasn’t. He wants to take care of her, she who has lost almost everything.

I need more bad guy, or in my case, it’s bad womens. There are three witches, and when they come nothing good happens, and I know this. And I know the Blood King saves the day and it doesn’t look like saving at all. I know who dies, or almost dies, and I know that Haven’s world changes, again, and I know that her best friend falls in love after the book ends and I know she and the Blood King build a relationship that’s unexpected and full of love and caring because she needs a parent and he makes a good one.

But I feel I’m lacking the epic-ness that folks attach to when they read specfic YA. I write small stories and I always have. I suppose, though, the bigger-ness will come out in the rewrite, and I like having a vampire, who, at his core, is deeply in love with the fallen angel that takes care of him, is tired of knowing the secrets of the universe and desperately misses his son. I think his story would be a great one and maybe one day I’ll write the whole of it, but right now he just wants to make helpings.  But he needs to make helpings and also be at least a tiny bit scary. He did threaten Haven, which was nice. But it wasn’t quite enough.

 

 

 

 

 

stranger we become

in this rewrite of “The Place Where We Belong” (whose title is going to change, this one felt right at the beginning, and is now wrong somehow), I realized there was a whole 40-page chapter that probably no longer fit. My MC goes into work, and just as she’s about to close up, one of the possible/maybe antags (this one is the Blood King) shows up. There’s another character, who works for the Blood King who has become more important to the story, and my wee subconscious was telling me that with his previous introduction in the text (when he was being all undead blood drinky), we had the connection we needed to the BK and his nefarious ways, so perhaps he wasn’t needed – perhaps he was better lingering in the sidelines like a dangerous shadow.

So I deleted the chapter (saved for posterity, of course because I liked it a lot)and started writing it anew. This time I was going to have a friend of the MC (who she feels betrayed by) show up so they could have a Chit Chat of epic proportions.

No sooner did I open the door, and bam! the Blood King is like IAMHEREBITCHES, because he is nothing if not ego and did not want to lose his scene (he has a really important scene near the end, but apparently that wasn’t quite enough for him).  So there you go. I deleted the chapter, only to be told that I have to write it again. It’s different, slightly, as the MC has more information than she did before, and although I’m glad I can re-purpose a bunch of the previous version, I’m also amused by the BKs pushy-ass ways.

The complexity, here, is that he’s a good guy, but my MC doesn’t know that. For the reader, I don’t want it to be obvious – because even “good guys” have an agenda.

**

“And you and Quince?”

I tugged on my t-shirt, stretching out the ace of hearts print. There were no words to describe what Quince and I were, nothing that didn’t require notes and a diagram and all of my fingers and toes. “He’s my alibi,” I said, instead of the complex answer. The Blood King laughed.

“Emerick loved him, too,” he said, and watery pink-stained tears formed in the corners of his eyes. He smiled, a half-true, searching smile, both sad and wistful.

“You ruined that,” I whispered and he shook his head.

“Some things are bigger than all of us,” he murmured and the tattoo on the back of his hand shifted, grew another leaf, birthed another star.

Haven & Aiden

Sometimes you write a thing, and it amuses the living poop out of you (maybe that’s a metaphor? for something? Anyhoos…)

 

“The Crimson,” he said. “We believe in conviction. We believe that there are things greater than ourselves, and that if we are open to possibility, the impossible will welcome us.”

It sounded like cult propaganda. I tapped my teeth together. “When I was seven I believed in the power of Grayskull but it didn’t make me a Master of the Universe.”

it’s 12:35am. I wrote some words

lots, actually, while listening to Psyche, a Canadian band you probably haven’t heard of, even though they have been around since 1982. They played Terminus this year and, yes.

Anyway, it’s very late, but I wrote 1, 459 words today, and now the grand total for “The Place Where We Belong” first draft, is 58, 006K.

 

And i feel very good about this. I may watch Constantine now, but suspect I am too snoozy to do a Pilot! Report.

because I did a thing, this thing!

Lookie what came in the mail today!

And because I added a 1K scene (yeahp, a funeral, super sadness!), and my mss. is now over 57K, and I am a good and law abiding person, I get to go do this!

CRONENBERG
CRONENBERG

a thing about which I am super excited! You can see the blurb is by Stephen King. I don’t even understand a world in which Cronenberg needs a blurb, but then my Viggo appears on the back-flap advance praise list, so yanno.

NOTHING IS TRUE.

EVERYTHING IS PERMITTED.

 

like molasses in january.

i wrote almost 600 words, and yet word count stands at -165. Oh, editing, you can suck a lemon. :D

What didn’t suck a lemon, it turns out, was the edited version of the snippet I posted yesterday, about the marks on The Blood King’s hands. I’m a fan of that passage, now, but I’m technically still back on Chapter 2,  which is stuck like a stuck thing.  So I plod. I will do this plodding. I will plod out a first draft, and then I will fix that one too.

and so it goes.

today’s word count: -165

total word count: 54,943

zero!draft excerpt (of stars and flowers)

manuscrit-qui-a-inspire-Alias_image_article_paysage_new

 

On the back of his hands were two dials, like mandalas, or wheels. Ink the rust of henna, skin stained instead of tattooed. There were flowers in the centre, what looked like flowers, petals the blue of faded denim, circled by tiny letters, words too small to read, shapes I didn’t recognize. A language I didn’t know.

A pin wheel of stars fanned out,  deliberate scatter.

It was as if the whole of the sky, of heaven and earth, had marked him.

Gingerbread (3) .

today’s writing was not the whiz-bang speed race of yesterday or the day before. I have managed my 500 words, which were all edits (hence the slowness). The scene is Haven, my MC, meeting Aiden the Blood King for the first time. I wrote to Johnny Hollow, and, no surprise, given the inspiration for the Blood King, William Control:

****

Suddenly he wasn’t scary anymore, just intense, like he was used to having to make his point through body language. Through words and how he entered a room. He shifted. We weren’t touching anymore and I could see more of the tattoo that covered his neck. Script. I could feel my lips move as I tried to read it.

“Now you’re really staring.” He raised his hand and pointed to the place above the knot of his tie.

“What does it say?”

It was a second or two before he answered. He took a breath and the look on his face made me think he wasn’t going to tell me. But he did.

His hand went to his neck, fingers grazing his collarbone under the shirt. “It says ‘Love will tear us apart’.”

I wasn’t expecting poetry.

“Cheery.”

He laughed. “Also true, no?”

I thought of Terror. I thought of being wasted and miserable and useless. I remembered lying on the floor in my own filth trying to convince myself it’d be fine if I died too. Drowning in the kind of never-ending misery that hurts everywhere and you never know if it’s going to get better. If it’s going to stop. “I guess so.” But it was true. I knew it, and Aiden knew it. I looked at him, and all the days of missing Terror welled up in my chest.

“I wish I knew where Emerick was.” It was true. I did. I wanted to tell Aiden about the box, and the paper. I wanted to tell him everything. Not because he was the Blood King, and not because he was Crimson. But because his tattoo said ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’, and you don’t get a tattoo like that unless it already has.

***

and, scene.

Good night, and good mornings.

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