Word Count and Control Me

I didn’t feel like posting two small blog posts for two things that are both small. Update on Control Me will be my first topic. I am already 76k in, with more still to type. I think this will be my longest novel yet; which I cannot tell if that is a good or bad thing.

I also need to start getting a good little description for it to tell people what it is about. That part is the hardest for me. I tend to ramble. Alas, I need to think back to my schooling.

What I have so far:

What would you do if people were hunting you for your special abilities? What if you were the one to discover this?

Janet Clemmons was trying to get her Master’s Degree in Rhetoric when she gets offered a job to help the government. While working for the government she discovers that people are hunting for an object that can control people. As she continues to analyze she discovers that she is the object that is being hunted.

In order to help her the government assigns her a personal bodyguard that makes her travel the world to keep her safe, but that is not possible.

She is forced to use her powers to escape being captured causing her to do things she never wanted to do: kill people.

The more she uses her abilities, the more she is hunted. Arguing, fighting, and death are becoming popular in her life because of what she makes people do. Soon, she will have to make a tough decision to stop the hunt and end her having to murder people in order to live.

I hope it sounds all right. Once I find someone to edit my novel I can do more and get their opinion. I love this novel because it is not my normal style, but that topic is for another blog post.

New Year, Time to Write and Another Part of Control Me

Don’t worry, that is not my resolution. I never was a fan of them. What’s the point of setting a goal to last all year? Why not strive to be happy and do what you love? Well, and I have to learn to stop doubting myself. I have a tendency to think my writing is awful and I will never get published. No, I don’t have a fear of rejection, more a fear of being accepted. Maybe I will finally get over my fear and send out Query Letters. Hence the word ‘maybe’.

In regards to that, I plan to do what I have been doing for the past couple years: write a novel a year and type up a novel a year. Hope that I can do that. Writing is my hobby, but my passion. Plus, if I don’t get confident and published, lots of friends and coworkers will be angry about not going on any trips.

I do have to say, I was spoiled for Christmas. I got a lot of amazing writing gifts. I can admit this, getting anything like that makes me feel like a little kid again.

Favourite one is this:

All I am waiting for is the blue ink I ordered so I can write my novels with it.

But, seeing as I have gotten side-tracked, I will stick with what I had initially planned: posting a little bit more of Control Me. Remember, it’s not edited yet, but enjoy! One of my favourite parts:

I helped Jared fold up the tent and stuff it in his bag. We woke up as soon as the sun hit the tent. There was no chance we wanted to risk being caught while packing. “Do we need to pack up anything else?” I said to Jared as I did up all the clasps on my large bag.

Jared closed up his bag and put it on his back. “No, the tent was the last thing.” He grabbed his small bag and waited for me to get the bags situated on me so I was able to move with ease. “We’ve got to grab a train to an airport. It’ll take three hours.”

“Fantastic. Let’s get going then.” I began to follow Jared through the woods. As we walked we listened for the sound of footsteps. Last time we checked a group was close to where we were. Every twenty metres or so he would stop and signal for me to do the same. It allowed us to be safe and protect ourselves in case people were near. This particular pause was longer than normal.

“I think that there are people near us,” Jared said as he focused on listening to the area around us.

When he went to reach for his weapon I placed my hand over his to stop him. “Let me handle this.” My method was quieter. I stood against Jared as I listened to find where the people were hiding. Not being able to see the people would make it difficult to control them. I signalled to him that I needed to move closer. Don’t follow. I need to make sure I can run back and find you. I waited till he nodded in acknowledgement of my message before I began to make my way through the brush towards the direction of the voices we had faintly heard. There was a group of twelve discussing the plan to do the search of the area. Now the method of trying to incapacitate them at the same time was going to be tricky. Either they would all attack us after they revived if I just put them to sleep or I could kill them and not worry about them chasing us. I decided to do the latter because it was the best decision for Jared and me. All of them had weapons, which made it easier on me. All I had to do was make them go after each other like they were all enemies. I stood, hidden by the trees as I looked at the group, thinking of the thought I had created in my mind. Within seconds one man had pulled out his gun and killed the guy across from him. After that shot it was chaos. They all fired at each other, falling to the ground in agony. As the last guy fell I dropped my head and stopped thinking of the thought. The deed was done. I was a monster. I had killed twelve people by making them kill each other. I was a monster. I had killed twelve people. Not wanting to dwell on the facts, I turned around and walked back to where Jared had stayed hidden.

Jared looked at me with a concerned face. “What happened?” he said when I had not spoken a word to him once I returned.

“They’re dead, or dying.”

“How many?”

“Twelve.”

“The others will notice. We better start moving, and fast.” Jared started to jog, weaving around the trees. He could sense my dislike of what I had just done, but he had no time to console. Twelve people were dead and whoever they worked for would take notice. He knew that my decision was the correct one. “You made the right decisions even if it seems like you haven’t. I told you, the first time always is the hardest.” That was not at all that supportive, but it was all he could think of while navigating back to the train station.

“I hope it does. If not, I don’t know what I will do.” It was hard to keep up with Jared’s pace carrying a large bag on my back and carrying a smaller one in my arms. The death of those men should distract whoever sent them long enough for us to get on a train and head towards an airport.

“Another ten minutes and we’ll be there.” He increased his pace, not wanting it to be longer than ten minutes.

Help? Just More Insults Towards Characters and Difficulty Writing.

I have blogged about writers attacking others before. Once again, I have found more of this happening. Some writers have voiced their opinion on this matter. Instead of copying and pasting what is being said, I am going to do a spin-off of what was asked and answer it in a better manner.

1. Character Development

One writer asked for some help in regards to their main character. The writer provided the name and wanted to get some feelers for what people thought of when hearing the name.

This s the constant response:

“Character's come from the author, and really needs to be the author's job to create them. As a wise woman once told me, writing is a solitary endeavour for a reason. The more people get their fingers into the pudding, the more it'll be messed up.”

I am not going to lie, sometimes I have problems with my characters. Most are based off a bunch of my friends and acquaintances, but mashed together. Putting out feelers helps me make sure my character is right for my book or for the name.

Yes, they are created by the author, but if your future readers cannot imagine them then there is no point of writing that person. Instead of saying make them whomever you want, one should ask what is already known to see if you can help.

I start with a basic character and develop them as they go. Characters are important to my novels, but I want them to grow with me as I write. My advice then is:

• start with a basic idea.
• look to your close friends for advice, traits, behaviours and looks.
• names can always wait unless the name is essential to the story.
• go with your gut.
• remember, how you envision them is not always how readers do.
• let your character grow and show you who they are.

Hope that helps with that. My advice is from my own experience and may not work for all.

 

2. Writers’ Block/Difficulty Writing

Every writer has this problem. If they  don’t they are lying. For once, I can say that I am happy how this thread turned out on the page. The original person said they were having a hard time writing because they edited as they wrote.

I always tell people that do that to stop. Write the entire story in one shot, take a break and then go through to edit it as many times as you want. You cannot edit it before you even know the entire story/plot.

One person’s responses that started an attack against them:

“I find it interesting that you say it went well, but only wrote two pages. I'm not sure what to tell you -- you either have the desire or you don't. Writing should be enjoyable. If it's not enjoyable for you, maybe you shouldn't do it.”

Some days I have issues writing two pages because writing seems so hard, other times I can write a lot. It happens. People have lives and cannot always write. Telling someone not to write is the worst thing to do to a person.

People say don’t push your writing, but at times you will need to do that in order to regain interest. How people gave advice made me smile. By far, this is the nicest response and one I can support because I agree 100% with it:

“But the good news is that in the case of writing, practice makes perfect. The more you do it, the better you get. And that's kind of a cliché line that people tend to throw out about a lot of hobbies and it isn't always true. But you definitely get better the more you do it. Again, I look back at the previous things I've done and I can note a clear line of improvement from work to work.”

Most of my work is crap, and I know that because I read it and laugh. I have gotten better, and that is from practice. To this person, it is their first novel. To those that loose interest or have issues, it is a learning curve. My advice when it comes to writing the first novel:

• write first, edit second.
• write as much as you can, when you can.
• if struggling wait it out. If it has been a long time (more than 3 days) sit down and try to write a paragraph or two.
• think about your novel whenever you can. This helps keep your interest.
• writing will be frustrating, sad, happy, pretty much any emotion you can think of, but that doesn’t mean to stop.
• lastly, NEVER stop writing. You will never know if you like it until you have finished a novel. If someone tells you to stop, laugh at them and keep writing.

Sorry about my rant again. I find it hard to check this forum site without finding some problems with people. Hope this helps others.

If any writer has advice, comment away so other writers can read about how you handle these situations and what other viewpoint can be offered.

Back to typing up ‘Control Me’. Over 45, 000 words and counting!

Control Me Preview

I haven’t had much happen in my life in almost a month. I have been busy working, Christmas shopping and preparing to go to two football games. One game involves me dying my hair bright green and blue, and painting my face. Will post some of those pictures.

Instead of ranting I figured I would post some of the book I am working on typing up, Control Me. Be warned, this is the typing up of the rough draft, I haven’t gone through to edit or make sense out of most of the novel.

Hope some people enjoy it, this is one of my favourite parts that I have typed up so far.

Cpt. Anderson saluted his superiors before he guided me to the chair next to where he sat down. His face was serious and he stayed quiet. Technically, he was not forced to attend this meeting, but he chose to for my sake or the sake of his superiors for he was unknowledgeable with how much power I acquire.

When I sat down I glanced at each officer before looking back at Cpt. Anderson. No one looked pleased to be here.

“Well, Miss Clemmons have you been briefed as to why we asked to meet with you?” the officer directly across from me said. His tone made me feel like I was less intelligent than them.

“Yes, I have,” I replied. For first introductions, this was the worst. It felt like each of the six officers were trying to see through me

“before we proceed with making a decision and meriting your proof, we need to see evidence.”

What type of evidence? I said to each of the people’s minds in the room. I had enough of their attitude.

“I’m sorry. What did you just say? The officer sitting beside me said.

Cpt. Anderson tried not to laugh. Since yesterday he had adjusted to me talking to him through his mind.

I asked you gentlemen, how you would like me to prove my abilities.

“Your lips are not moving,” the officer sitting at the head of the table stated.

I know. I am not using my mouth to speak. For being superiors they lacked imagination and intelligence towards something other than literature and facts.

“But, how?”

Cpt. Anderson put his left hand over his mouth to help disguise and resist laughing more. He felt my frustration that I was feeling because he was sitting directly next to me.

I am speaking to you through your mind. I can say anything to you this way.

All six officers stared at me in awe and confusion.

“Nope. I don’t believe you,” the officer that addressed me first said.

I sighed. It’s true. It would be best if you realized it now before I show you the next part. I assure you it will not be pleasant for you. Not that I was complaining about potentially causing harm to them. This was what I feared: disbelief. All I wanted to do was scream out of frustration. If I became angry it would spread to everyone. I had not properly worked on my powers to handle too many people, or designate each person a different reaction.

“Was that a threat?”

Yes, it was. I do not like when people do not believe me.

“And what could you possibly do to make that threat a reality Miss Clemmons?”

Glancing over at Cpt. Anderson I smiled. “Sad or angry?” I said to Cpt. Anderson.

“Sad, I guess,” Cpt. Anderson responded. Although, it was humorous to think of the men in charge of him getting angry for no reason, sadness was more of a proof of my abilities.

“Excuse me Cpt. Anderson and Miss Clemmons, what are you two discussing?” the officer beside me said.

You will see. I focused my eyes on the six of them and began to send out the emotion of extreme sadness. My body did not react as I pushed the feeling onto them. If I was using my ability correctly, Cpt. Anderson was not to be affected by the feeling.

Each officer’s eyes began to tear up before they started to cry.

Believe me now?

“How? Why? I feel so sad right now,” the officer across from me said. His eyes were red and puffy from crying.

I am making you feel sad. It’s a way to prove to you my abilities.

“Enough! I can say that we believe you now.” He wiped his cheeks with the back of his left hand. His cheeks were damp from tears he did not know why they were shed.

Within seconds I stopped sending them the feeling of sadness. My point was proven my abilities existed.

“Do you know how much danger you are in with a third of the countries trying to find you?”

“As you have seen and experienced, I am more dangerous than any of them,” I said. Instead of speaking to them through their minds I opted to speak aloud. “Emotions are only one aspect of what I can control.”

“You are a commodity that people will do anything to get a hold of. As you have analyzed, people have ideas with the use of you.”

It felt like I was to be disposed of like I was a threat to the country and world. Fear set in as I saw their faces. It was a mixture of concern, anger and no emotion. This was business, and I was their business. “So, what am I to do?” as the officers discussed me, I sat in silence and waited for a response. No other option but waiting existed for me.

After seven minutes all the officers returned their attention to me. “For now you are to remain here and monitor any new messages received from these countries involved. You no longer need to look at previous documents,” the officer across from me told me. “You will be supervised and escorted at all times. You are to keep your abilities a secret. Only the people in this room are permitted to have knowledge of your abilities and the full extent of them.”

What he told me was not difficult. The supervising and escorting aspect bothered me though. “Anything else?” The tone of annoyance was strong in my voice and I didn’t bother to try and hide it.

“You are to not use your abilities.”

That statement bothered me the most. My abilities were a part of me. There was no switch to turn them on and off. “I’m sorry, but that one I will not agree with.”

“You have no say, we are telling you that you are not allowed to use them.”

“I do have a say.” I clenched my hands into fists to try to suppress my anger.

Cpt. Anderson put his left hand on my right forearm. He gave my forearm a light squeeze. “Sirs, you cannot ask her to not use what is a part of her,” he said to his superiors in defense of me. He chose to remain silent throughout the meeting, but now he intervened for my sake. The majority of the rules were able to be respected. The last one was not.

“Did we ask for your opinion for Cpt. Anderson?” the officer across from me said. He was displeased with Cpt. Anderson for speaking out.

“No, sir, you did not. You are making a terrible decision assuming Miss Clemmons will agree to the rules.” Cpt. Anderson knew that I was able to leave at anytime, and then they would be unable to control me.

“No offence, gentlemen, but if you want me to stay then I get to deal with all the rules except for the last one. I had the decency and respect to inform you of my abilities. I could have let the people try to find me and invade Canada,” I said. What I said was the truth. How they came to have knowledge of my abilities was from me informing Cpt. Anderson. They were not in charge, I was.

“We will have to discuss this,” the officer beside me said.

“You have till lunch. If you do not agree to my use of abilities I plant to pack, leave and return home this afternoon.”

“Another threat?”

“No. As you should have realized by now I do not threaten. I warn before I act.”

“We will notify Cpt. Anderson of our decision at 1100. Dismissed.”

Cpt. Anderson saluted as he led me out of the room and down to his office. Once we were out of earshot of his superiors he looked at me. “Well played, Janet,” he said. It sounded like congratulation. As we entered the stairwell he held the door open for me.

“I did my best. They were difficult to convince.” I walked down the stairs beside Cpt. Anderson without him the meeting may not have gone as well. In my defence he stood-up for me, not wanting me to be taken advantage of. Thank you for helping me in the meeting. It was nice having support. Support was not a concept I embraced often.

He smiled, knowing I was able to decipher what it was about. Once we reached his officer’s floor he stopped me outside the entrance. “Even if they told you that you were not allowed to use your abilities, would you have listened?”

“No.” I smiled. My rebellious nature made me unsuitable for the army. Taking orders was difficult for me.

“Come, we’ll keep you occupied as we wait for the decision.” He held open the door for me before he began to lead me to his office. Even after several days of me working in the building, the people in uniform still gave me awkward looks. Most of them he caught and gave a look back. Civilian workers were not uncommon, but it was rare to see a new one without a connection to a person already working on base.

 

Keep writing everyone! Never give up on it!

When I Want to do Other Work

My mind is a pain in the ass sometimes. A couple days ago I was typing up Control Me and working on the sequel to The Selected and my mind had to distract me.

My mind decided to distract me with a new book idea. I only typed up two pages and am still trying to get a feel for it. I figured I would share my really rough draft of it to decide if I want to continue or not.

Here it is:

The lights flickered in the hospital hallway I stood in. Alarms, sirens, beeps and shouting surrounded me. As people ran past me they shoved me to rush to rooms. Paramedics wheeled people in covered in blood, burns or other severe injuries. Everything seemed to be a blur. No one took notice of me as I searched the halls.

“Anna! What are you doing here?” my mother came out of a room. Her scrubs were coated with blood. She was coated in sweat, her ponytail now frizzy and falling out. She took off her gloves and placed both of her hands on my cheeks.

“Dad called. Why is he telling me to go to Denver?” I said to my mom while I looked at her. This was my mom on a rough night at the hospital. She was an ER doctor and the occasional surgeon if needed. “He said I had to leave tonight. I packed what I could and came here to get you.”

My mother led me around the nurses and doctors station and into a small break room to talk. The commotion in the hospital and the power on the brink of going out was too distracting and loud. “Oh, honey. My sweet baby girl.”

Whenever she said that I knew that she was going to refuse and follow it by an explanation that will not be favourable by me. “Mom, you have to come with me!” I protested.

“I have to stay here and help.”

“Dad said he wasn’t going and now you! What am I to do?”

“You can do this baby. Dad and I have obligations. He is in the military, he has to fight and I cannot leave the hospital with all the wounded.”

“Then why are people not leaving if the threat has publically announced?”

“Most people think we are safe here in Canada because only the States have been attacked. Your father and I don’t want to risk your life like that. You must go. Denver only suffered a little damage from a nuclear bomb far away from it.”

“How am I to get there?”

“The car sweetheart. Now, getting going.” Her eyes were tearing up.

The door opened and a male wearing scrubs entered the room. “Diane, thank god you are here. Well, hello Anna,” the male doctor said to me.

“Hello Dr. Schmidt. How are you?” I said. However hectic and depressing the situation was I never forgot my formalities.

“Glad to see that you have not left. Are you going to Denver?”

“Yes, she is,” my mother said with a stern voice.

“Good. My son, Devon, is on his way here. I was going to give him my car, but if you are going I would like it if he could go with you.”

“Devon, as in the sophomore U of T student?” I said to Dr. Schmidt.

“Yes. He will be here shortly. I, too, want you both to leave as soon as he arrives.”

“Why don’t you go with him?”

“I am obligated to stay here, just like your mother is. He is all I have left and I want to make sure he makes it to the refugee camp in Denver. If nothing happens here, I am sure we will all make our way down there to meet you and him. I will tell him to meet you out by your car once he arrives.” Dr. Schmidt left without saying another word. He sensed that my mother and I needed more time alone.

“Mom, you have to come with me.”

My mom pulled me into her arms and started to cry. Her entire upper body was heaving up and down as she cried. “No, baby. I need to stay here. Dad knows I am here and I have to wait for him.”

I started to cry against her shoulder, not wanting to let go. I had turned 18 on May 8^th 2016, only two weeks ago, and now we were preparing for a nuclear war. A war that was started between the United States and North Korea, and Canada was getting stuck in the mix because of being allies with the United States.

“The longer you stay, the harder it gets. Did you grab the photo album I told you to grab?”

“Yes, why?”

“I made it for you.” She pushed me away from her so she could look at me.

I realized she had known about this potential event longer than I did. “How long have you known about this?”

“Only a few days. Now go!” She let go of me, crossing her arms at her chest like she often did.

I nodded, knowing that stance and look, even through her puffy, red eyes and tears on her cheeks. I left the room, crying hard, and ran towards the entrance/exit that I was to meet Devon at. My whole body hurt from the crying that wouldn’t stop.