Joely Sue Burkhart

Day’s word count:

• Venna’s interview:  954
• Road words: 2709
• Total:  3663

Favorite line:  “It’s amazing what a little wild lovemaking on the shores of the Silver Lake can accomplish.”

79,673 / 100,000 (80.0%)

Yeah, yeah, I know I said to expect short and sweet updates until I finish the first draft, but Venna would NOT shut up until I spoke to her.  So welcome back to the show “Every Character is the Star of Her Own Story,” brought to you in order to create more satisfying secondary characters. The star of the show today is Venna, an evidently very misunderstood villainess in The Road to Shanhasson who refused to wait to tell the rest of her story until I finished the first draft.

~ * ~

The woman wouldn’t even stop sobbing long enough for me to get a word in edgewise. Why on earth had Venna come to see me? I had her storyline safely wrapped up, thank you very much. This sub-plot villainess was done. Finito.

:Evidently, you were mistaken.:

I shot a glare at Gregar as he sauntered toward the door. Yeah, I knew saunter wasn’t his word, but I was too pissed at him for allowing her to bother me here in the homestretch to let him glide. The smug bastard winked at me over his shoulder and shut the door.

I put a fake smile on my face and tried to think of something positive to say. Maybe Varne wanted to chat with me again? Even Theo would be better than this woman.

Venna cried into her hands. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Sure I do. I know all about the poison, Venna. I know you want to be Khul’lanna. I’m sorry, but I’m very, very busy. I really must get back to Shanhasson you know.”

“You don’t know me!” She jerked her head up, her face splotched, the skin around her brown eyes puffy from crying so much. “You don’t even have a picture of me!”

I winced. “I looked, honestly, but I couldn’t find anyone who… inspired me. Not for you.”

“You even have a picture for Theo and Stephan, the lying, cheating curs who got me into this mess. But you don’t have a picture of me! What do you really know of me, then?”

Maybe she had a point. In an effort to make this story as rich and detailed as possible, maybe a few questions wouldn’t hurt. “I know your goal is to be Khul’lanna. Everything you do is aimed toward eliminating your competition.” No matter how dishonorable and murderous.

Her sobs quieted, a bit of hope sparking in her eyes now that I was listening. “Why, though? Did you ever ask yourself why?”

Inwardly, I groaned. I really, really hated that question. “Sure I did. The position of Khul’lanna is the highest female honor on the Plains.”

Venna nodded, her eyes locked on to me like I was the only lifeline saving her from drowning in a bottomless ocean. “Every girl dreams of growing up to be Khul’lanna of the Nine Camps of the Sha’Kae al’Dan. But there’s more.” Isn’t there? hung in the silence, whispered by her pleading eyes.

“I know Rhaekhar hurt you when you were both young. He ended up challenging Tehark, your mate now, and nearly killed him.”

Venna actually had the grace to appear embarrassed, her cheeks coloring more evenly as she dropped her gaze to her hands. “Girls often have crushes on handsome warriors, but he made it very clear he was not for me. Tehark is a good warrior.”

“He loves you,” I said slowly, trying to feel my way through this mess. I knew Tehark sincerely did love her, despite the horrible things she’d done.

“Do you know what it was like? Hiding all the time, so afraid he would find out…” Her hands began trembling, so she played with the hem of her butter-yellow memshai, so close in color to the gold she coveted. “I only wanted to honor him. I only wanted to help him defeat Rhaekhar and become Khul. It wasn’t just for myself, I swear.”

I nodded, waiting silently, hoping she would continue.

“So much pain. So much disappointment…”

I frowned. “What pain? What are you talking about?”

“Did you truly think a gold memshai was enough to make me tarnish my mate’s honor and plot to murder another woman? For outlanders?”  Her mouth curled with distate.  “Am I truly that shallow and hard-hearted?”

Guilt choked me. Yeah, I’d made her that shallow. I’d never tried to find any softness or redemptive characteristic in her. I’d broken my own premise.

Even the darkest Shadow quails before the sacrifice of love freely given. Even the Blackest Heart can be redeemed.

She waited, twisting that cloth until the hem was tattered and tears dripped down her cheeks while I wracked my brain, trying to come up with something, anything. “In the gathering tent, did you happen to overhear Dharman? When he first sat down with Shannari?”

Her mouth flattened, a hard glint coming into her eyes. “Aye.”

My heart beat quickened, my mind churning on the details. “What you overheard pushed you over the edge, didn’t it? You wanted it so badly, so very, very badly.”

Venna nodded her head hard, her hands fisted on the cloth. “I’ve suffered so many losses. Over and over, until I despaired of ever honoring Tehark. I love him, truly, yet I failed to give him the one thing a woman should give her warrior.”

“So when Stephan approached you in Dalden Bay…” I could see it all now, how it had played out. Stephan knew exactly what card to play, how to sway a woman to the murder of another. Jealousy, yes, but not just for title, not even for the pride of a woman scorned.  I suddenly knew Venna’s most secret heart’s desire, and it wasn’t merely the title of Khul’lanna.  Not at all.

I reached over and put my hand on hers, white-knuckled on the skirt. “I’m sorry, Venna. I know, now. I’ll make it very clear in revisions.”

“On your honor?”

“Aye,” I whispered solemnly. “On my honor, I’ll make it right.”

She smiled and suddenly I knew exactly who she was. I’d known she was beautiful, a tawny lioness willing to drag down another to take over the pride. Now I had the full face and background to go with her.

“And I have your picture, too.”

Venna 

Finally, I made it over the hump and I’m into the homestretch.  For those in the know, at dawn, we leave the Plains for Dalden Bay and the final ride up the Road to Shanhasson, pretty much all of Act III (plus a little romantic interlude before all hell breaks loose).

Until I finish this draft, my posts are going to be brief and to the point.  As far as word count, I’m guessing 100K for the first draft, but that’s minus my main villain’s POV.  I’ll have to weave that through later.  This is just the main story line.  I’ve got to get Shannari to Shanhasson, and then bring her home safely to the Plains without too many lost.  That’s my goal.

The hardest part over these next few days will be leaving the story for the real world when I have the scent of “the end.”

Today’s Word Count:  (final)  4,836

Favorite line:  “If anyone is to be Khul’lanna’s breakfast, it is I.  You can be her midday morsel.”

76,964 / 100,000 (77.0%)

I’ve seen a lot of things on this five-year climb.  The road winds up the Mountain, sometimes so steeply my wrists ache from the constant typing.  I can’t type fast enough and come up for air, gasping, arms hurting, hungry and bleary eyed, only to realize I was supposed to have gone to bed hours ago.  Sometimes those steep climbs merely dump me into another Valley of the Shadow of Death, all the more unexpected because of the heights I thought I’d reached.

A soft voice whispers on the still night air:  There’s no safety on this Mountain, didn’t you know that, silly grasshopper?  No stage of the Mountain is easy.  Other than quitting and trudging home with my tail between my legs. It’s amazing, isn’t it, how flat and safe the way back appears if I turn around, and how steep and dangerous the road remains ahead. 

Don’t look back, the voice whispers.  Don’t look down.  Don’t stop now.

~ * ~

Why the melodramatic references to the Mountain today?  I’ve been thinking off and on for days about expectations–specifically reader expectations.  For the first time, I’m writing a book with full knowledge that PEOPLE will actually READ this book.  Not safe people…like my beloved sis and Wanda who are going to love me even if I mess up this story, although they’ll YELL at me until I fix it…but….READERS.

Laugh if you will, but that’s a rather scary proposition.

Oh, I don’t know when, exactly, that this Valley began to inch its insiduous shadow into my path.  It might have been while reading a piece May is writing about The Ruthless Reader.  Or more likely, it’s my own ruthless dissatisfaction with a recent book.  Mix that in with some positive reviews on my own work, and I suddenly find myself wanting to huddle by a campfire and peer around fearfully at the shadows instead of trudging onward.

Those shadows start to whisper such horrible things.  What if…the writer’s question, you know…I’ve messed up this book?  What if people hate me because I killed a character?  What if people are sickened by the villain(s)?  What if people want to tar and feather Shannari because she…No, no, why not stich a big red “A” on her chest?!? 

Worrying about what people might think, I started making little mistakes.  I flinched away from scenes I knew must happen.  In fact, I tried to hide the very complex and gritty characters I’d struggled so hard to breathe life into in a silly effort to make them safe, clean, and pretty.

Instead of letting them bleed and rage on the page in all their dark glory.

Oh, okay, Gregar was still pretty, even when I messed him up, but you know what I mean.

On the bright side, at least I realized I messed these things up and have already fixed them, instead of finishing the first draft and realizing… oops!  Will the real murderously sexy Gregar please return to the story?  Will this whiny, whimpy Shannari PLEASE go away? Will this insanely secure and never ruffled Rhaekhar please fall down on your sword and let the jealous, aggressive Khul back on the page, please?

I finally realized today that I’m in my Dark Moment.  I hit this Valley with every book, the moment when I quail before the feat and wonder what the hell I was thinking.  I thought this story would be safe.  I thought I’d write confidently to the end and not flinch from the truth of my own premise, but even this story threatens me with doubt.  Even these beloved characters wonder if the light truly shines brighter in the midst of the midnight’s shadow, if in the end, even love can save them after the misdeeds they’ve committed and/or seen.

I realized there is nothing more ruthless than a writer doubting herself in the darkest moment of Story.  Yet the moon shines above, dimly but still there, a silver beacon of beauty and love and I know what I must do.

I block those whispers from my mind.  I refuse to consider the shadows writhing on either side.  And I trudge on through the Valley.  Don’t look back.  Don’t look down.  Don’t stop now.

First, a killer review of Survive My Fire and The Fire Within by Bethanie here.  She blew ME away. 

Point of view. The was one of the coolest things about this story for me: Throughout, the narrative switches point of view from 1st to 3rd person depending on which character’s head we’re in (the dragon-woman is 1st, the male is 3rd). I’ve read about this technique, but have never read anything that actually used it.

It was really effective. I liked it a lot, in fact. Why? Well, for one thing, it was very clear when the POV changed, and as we all know, I am a huge fan of clarity, so that is certainly part of why this worked so well for me. But I also think the 1st person POV had a lot to do with how tightly I was drawn into the dragon-woman’s head and why I ended up feeling so strongly what the character was feeling. That line between reader and character became thinner and thinner and thinner until I forgot it was supposed to be there at all. Which was awesome.

I’ll admit the POV switching between 1st and 3rd was purely accidental.  One of the things I like to do for character development as I run through the Emotional Toolbox and Hero’s Journey is a first-person character letter.  It helps me get deep into the character’s head as I explore the key defining moment(s) in the backstory.  With Chanda, she came through so loud and strong from the first word of her letter that I simply could not avoid writing in her in 1st. 

Yet I wanted to switch to the hero’s POV, too, so I could widen the story and show her through his eyes.  I needed to warm up the story and emotions a little, because let’s face it.  Chanda is rather brutal and cold when the story first opens, at least emotionally. 

Hundreds of warriors have braved my domain.  They came, and they died.  I killed them all.

Too much of that strong POV would have suffocated the story, I think.  Anyway, so that’s how I came to write back and forth in mixed POVs, something I’d never done before.  The only other book I’ve read recently that mixed POV like that was Holly Lisle’s Talyn.  I won’t say I won’t do it again, but it takes a special story to pull that off, I think.

Thank you so much, Bethanie!  I’m still beaming like an idiot over here.

As for my Fess Up, I’m still grinding away.  I need to put the finishing polishes on the second pass of BD editor revisions this morning and get that shipped back.  I added a little 700-word scene, and it’s okay…but it’s missing that extra OOMPH that says it must be added exactly right here to balance the story.  So I need to think about it more and see if I can tie it more strongly to the theme and arc of the character.  I promised it back today.

Then back to Road.  I’m still in the aftereffects of that long agonizing torture/interrogation scene.  All threads on the Plains are coming together into one big knot, but so far, I think the knot is exactly where I need it to be.  All that remains…is the final road to Shanhasson.  The final showdown.  Basically, Act III.  But it could be 20K yet.

I hope all mothers had a wonderful day yesterday!  The monsters treated me to breakfast in bed and a tear-worthy little hand-made book they illustrated.  It’s both hilarious and adorable.

Daisy at The Long and Short of It Reviews has given Rose another great review:

Ms. Burkhart also gets bonus points for illustrating the best way to deal with tangled extra-long hair. Start at the bottom and work your way up. So many fantasy writers give their heroine butt-length hair and never mention the every day maintenance of it. One cannot get through a sword fight, or run for one’s life without having to deal with hair-related consequences later.

Rose of Shanhasson is a gritty, sweaty great start to what I believe will be a promising trilogy. I’m really looking forward to getting my hands on the next one! This one’s recommended for fantasy and romantic fantasy readers who like a little Conan in their heroes.

The part about the hair really tickled me.  This might sound dumb, but I remember in the first draft a hundred years ago, I had Shannari’s hair loose under the helmet and someone called me on it.  And I was like…yeah…duh.  Loose long hair is ridiculous.  So from there, I tried to make it REAL, as real as possible.

My warriors even wear socks.  (That’s a joke in the epic fantasy world.) 

Read the whole review here.  Thank you, Daisy!

So there I was, writing away at the bottom of the Well, slamming words left and right…and I suddenly realized I’d paddled into stormy waters.

The water became thick, more like Jell-O, and every stroke about pulled my arms out of their sockets.  “Hmmm,” says I.  “Must have made a wrong turn at Albuquerque.”

I knew this scene.  Even in the old terrible first draft from years ago, I’d had this scene.  The key players had changed, of course, but in general, I knew where it was going.  So why was I stuck?  I started going through the mental check list.  Was it a sex scene?  (Sometimes those bog me down.  All those hands to get right, don’t you know.)  Nope.  Was it a fight scene?  (Ditto on the choreography.)  Nope, but it was a violent scene.  Torture.  I need the good guys to torture some of the bad guys…just enough…to get key information out of them.  They need to know who the traitors are. 

But I knew all this going into the scene.  So the problem was deeper.

After struggling to get even 200 words last night, I finally realized what I’d done around 10:00 p.m.  I’d turned my heroine into a weakling.  Shannari couldn’t watch the torture.  Why?  Because that was easier than letting her do what she needed to do. 

She needed to do some of it herself.

I didn’t want her to participate, but oh, boy, she certainly did.  As soon as I backed up and deleted the weak whiny stuff, she took over in a hurry, sliced and diced a while, and now this scene is going somewhere.  Whew.

Back to drowning in the Well, I hope.

No Friday Snippet today, but if you want to read something, go back to yesterday’s character interview.  I’m struggling to get scenes in Road that don’t spoil something…either the key developments at the end of Rose, or how those things worsen in Road.  So I’ll have to think about what I can share through snippets.  If I have time this weekend, I’ll peruse my old files and see if I can spruce up something enough to give away.

Welcome back to the show “Every Character is the Star of His Own Story,” brought to you in order to create more satisfying secondary characters.  The star of the show today is Theo, a very vile villain from the Shanhasson trilogy.  This interview dumped some very startling information into my lap, which I’ll be using as I come down to the climax and resolution of the Road to Shanhasson.

Read the rest of this entry »

A period of unrestrained indulgence in an activity; spree; binge: a crying jag; a talking jag.

I’m in a writing jag, so deep in the Well that I can’t see the sun.  I don’t want to see the sun.  I hit 1K and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.  2K isn’t enough.  I’d go for 3K but my right arm starts to tingle.

Over 17K in May alone already (not counting this morning).

I just can’t write fast enough.  The threads are tightening so fast they might strangle me if I’m not careful and I can’t use the ivory rahke to hack my way out.  I’ve got to trust that the threads fall into place.

And write faster.

Welcome to the show “Every Character is the Star of His Own Story,” brought to you in order to create more satisfying secondary characters.  The star of the show this week is Varne, Khul’s nearest Blood, from the Shanhasson trilogy. 

You’ve met Varne before in several of the Shanhasson Friday Snippets.  He asked to stop by the other day for an interview.  Evidently I’ve messed up his entire character arc, and he felt the need to set the record straight.  

Of course my co-host and Muse, Gregar, couldn’t let Varne drone on and on endlessly without putting me in a coma, so he stops by for a little while, too, to antagonize his old friend slash arch enemy.  Something Gregar does very, very well.   

Fine Print:  The host makes no warranties as to the validity of the character’s statements herein.  I can neither confirm nor deny future impact on Story.  No characters were maimed in the recording of this interview either, no matter what he may claim later.

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On April 21, I set a goal of 10K by the end of April.  I’m pleased to report that I wrote nearly 15,700 words before 4/30.  What’s even more impressive?  My totals for May are already over 13K.  Yes, I’m on a roll, or rather, I’m on the ROAD to Shanhasson.  I’m in good shape to finish the first draft this month as I hoped.

This week, more of the same.  I’m getting pretty high word counts so far in May, nearly 1900 a day, so I hope to keep this pace until Shannari finishes her business in Shanhasson.  I do have another round of revisions to complete on BD this week, so I might take a slight hit in word count.  We’ll see.

May is looking to be a NaNoWriMo type of month.  I easily have 40K to write yet, even though I feel like I’m on the downhill slope.  What do you hope to accomplish this month?