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If you’re a writer of original fiction, who has an active WIP and either is published, or hopes/plans to be published some day, please interact so I can follow you!

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Blood of the Bull - Intro scene

I thought I’d do something different today (and I’ll explain why tomorrow, in a post). I’d like to show y’all how my epic fantasy novel, Blood of the Bull starts. So, without further delay, allow me to present: Saelin Tauvar.

Grief moved into Villa Tauvar as an uninvited, unwelcome guest. It took up residence in the hallowed halls, sat at the table when time came for breakfast, and listened in on every hushed whisper. The corridors became quiet, and the servants weary. Color slowly faded from the world.

Saelin Tauvar stood in her room, fully dressed for the occasion, wrapped in a blood-red silk dress, and tried to hush the guilty whispers. They refused to leave her alone these past few days, always reminding her how soon she might wear those robes again – that time, crying tears of true heartbreak.

She took a deep breath, and steeled her nerves. If her worries would leave her alone for just a few hours, only to present the image she wanted…That would make her father proud. He may have turned to Leyan’s Hallowd Spirits, but they never lifted vigil from their own bloodlines.

That, Saelin grimaced, might be a bad thing.

There was an ivory mirror on her nightstand, and she used it to make sure her appearance was alright. Her mane of red hair did not fall out of the carefully arranged mass, nor did the robe reveal more than was appropriate for a young lady in these circles. Content with that, she raised her chin, and marched out of the room.

Two guards flanked her immedietly, clad in the most expansive armor and weaponry money could buy. Ever since her father’s passing, Saelin doubled the security of their ancestral home. She knew Leyan well enough, and a young woman, living alone, her brother waging war in a far-off land…that would be too great a temptation for some lowly family, hoping to climb higher on the social ladder. Or maybe one of the more powerful ones, hoping to eliminate hers.

The guests were already gathering in the paved courtyard. The moon shone down upon them, helping the number of braziers to illuminate those gathered. She knew most of them already – men of great importance, and their wives, almost nameless by comparison. Most of them hated her father, and yet came to mourn the great man’s passing.

Or to make sure he is dead, Saelin thought bitterly.

Tagging: @proseweaver @inexorableblob @crypticsx @jltillary

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Setting Reveal: Portophala - Blood of the Bull

All in this world operate in cycles. The sun rises in the morning and sets when darkness claims the place of light. Seasons pass and come again. A person is born, lives, and dies, before they could truly realize their potential.

Why would it be different for Empires?

Portophala is an ancient city. So ancient, that its founding is lost, and not even myths of it survive. Kings, whose names now echo empty, once ruled from this sprawling metropolis, located atop a plateau. By their tireless work, Portophala became what it is today: the crossroads between the eats and the west, between north and south. No trader can even think of coming from the lands of the sunrise without passing through Portophala.

Six empires had come before, each making the city their home. Three of them are known from legends only. Some say the last of their kings buried his city, so that the pretenders seeking to overthrow him would never conquer this jewel of his crown. Some say it is not the original Portophala that now serves as a center of yet another empire, but that it has been built atop the buried city. It is but a tale, and a tall one of that – yet, one sometimes sees men and women squeezing themselves through cracks in rocks and walls, their clothes torn, their faces gaunt. There are no poor in Portophala. Where do these people come from then?

The King of Kings cares little for them. He remains tucked away in his Palace of Eternity, a city within the city. Here, he is surrounded by the brightest minds of a generation: exiles from far-off lands, hunted for their beliefs, dreams, and ideas. They all come to Portophala to live under the protection of a god who walks the earth. Why would a being so wise and powerful need so many advisors? For he listens to them. Many think these foreigners are the ones steering the ship of the state. A few care – Portophala remains rich and strong, and while that is the case, it does not matter who leads.

But in the darkness beneath the city, things are quite different. The destitute huddle in slime-covered refuges, asking why their gods have abandoned them. When a creature unlike any they had seen before came to preach to them, a creature of metal and lights, instead of blood and flesh, they listened. They listened when he spoke of the Lady, the creator of all. They listened when he had called them children of the lady, and promised them a return to her benevolent embrace.

They listened when he called for the blood of the unbelieving.

Tagging: @proseweaver @inexorableblob @crypticsx @jltillary

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Looking for more fantasy writeblrs to follow so if that’s you like/reblog this so I can follow and fangirl over all your work

That is all

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Resources for finding literary agents

It’s always a good idea to begin your research as early as you can, because A LOT is still not enough. When you round up your data, make sure you check out every website, twitter, or other networking site an agency might have.

To jump-start your research, here are all the resources I’ve compiled over the process of my own querying journeys (also, these sites are free, and a few of them have donation pages or additional services if you do find them helpful):

Agent Query – is a great website with a database of agents. AQ also has additional resources like how to submit to a literary agent and how to write a query.

Query Tracker – is updated quickly, especially when agents close to submissions for periods of time. QT has individual message boards for each agent page so writers who are querying can see approximate and recent response times that other writers are getting. Additionally, agent pages also have graphs and lists of clients and other useful things.

Absolute Write – is a forum for writers that has a whole branch for members to discuss agents, response times, goings-on, so on and so forth. Other helpful threads include workshopping chapters and queries – which, if you’re fairly new to querying, is highly recommended.

Literary Rambles – is a blog run by Casey McCormick and Natalie Aguirre, and they post really sweet, in-depth profiles and blurbs from interviews of literary agents in the YA (young adult), MG (middle grade), PB (picture books) and CB (chapter book) realms.

Writer Beware – is sponsored by the SFWA (Science Fiction Writers of America) with support from the MWA (Mystery Writers of America). They update with publishing scams and schemes and traps with advice on how to spot and avoid them. They also have a blog and a facebook page.

What to do when you’ve finished your manuscript – is advice I put together to help writers to prepare their manuscripts and submission needs. Many writers begin querying before they’re ready.

Avoiding publishing scams – another quick tidbit of advice on steeling oneself against the temptation of “too good to be true” offers. The aforementioned sites are linked here as well.

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Xenia & Coria - Blood of the Bull

Character reveal: Blood of the Bull

Xenia kissed the servant girl, pulling her closer to herself. She came eagerly, giggling lightly. The scent of oil emitting from her skin was so strong now, it clouded whatever was left of Xenia’s judgement.

And that’s when the cough sounded.

The girl tore herself away, looking around guiltily. Xenia moaned in displeasure, shooting her eyes at the third woman standing in the doorway, a stoic expression prevalent on her face. Her presence seemed to dominate the room – just like any other that Coria, Queen of Korvas graced with her presence.

“You may leave,” she shot at the servant girl, who scurried away. Then she shook her head. “I looked everywhere for you. And here I find you, my supposed bodyguard.”

Xenia took it silently. She knew how it went by now – Coria was disappointed in her, Coria would chastise her. She could not let her go, the oath her ancestors swore to the queen’s family cut both ways. The Immortal Guard would stay by their side. But the knowledge did not make it easier to suffer her pompous arrogance.

“I have an important task for you,” Coria said, walking closer. “One that does not involve desecrating a temple.”

“What difference does it make if I fuck one of the servants?” Xenia snapped. “This place has not been a temple in…”

“It was sanctified for the Goddess of the River, and no matter what those barbarians did, it won’t change that,” Coria answered, leveling her gaze on Xenia.

Xenia stared back. There were more and more moments like these – tense, anger flaring within her with each passing moment. Just remembering the old times, when they were children softened it, but the more she used the technique of recalling an ancient memory, the less effective it seemed to become. Once, they were friends. But since the coup, and especially in these past few days, since these Leyanese came around with their army, Coria has been a changed person.

No, Xenia thought. It would be a mistake to lay it all on the past months. Coria has been changing gradually, ever since the priests took her, and did not allow Xenia to follow. Ever since they took her to the south. Since she came back, she was no longer the friend she grew up with. She was changed, and she was not. But every day, the old Coria faded a little, and something else, somebody else, wise and imperious seemed to take her place.

“Of course, my queen,” Xenia said, bowing, preferring to avoid a fight. The memories helped. This time. “What is it you desire of me?”

“The barbarian, Caommar, how travels with the Leyanese army, is sent on a mission,” Coria explained. “Was he to go alone, he will undoubtedly perish in the desert. I do not wish that to happen. The man in crude, but he still has uses. So I am sending you with him.”

“Coria, my place is with you!” Xenia cried out, forgetting all formality.

“Your place is where I send you,” Coria corrected her. “You are an instrument of my retribution. Is that not what you swore to become the night we watched my baby brother slaughtered, my mother’s throat slashed, and my father’s head mounted on a bull’s shoulders? Or am I mistaken, Xenia?”

She swallowed, and looked at her. There were no emotions in her voice as she listed the horrific crimes done against her family. It was as if a historian, or a philosopher argued them, and not the last drop of blood the once mighty rulers had remaining.

“It is, but…”

“There is no place for argument here,” Coria said, raising her hand. “You will go, and ensure that his quest is successful. And when you are done, you will return to my side. Great days are coming, my friend. Days you will want to be present for.”

Xenia bowed her head and rushed out of the room, trying hard not to associate those last words to the days gone past.

Tagging: @proseweaver @inexorableblob @crypticsx @jltillary

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Hi! I was just wondering, what's the best way to make/write out a plot?

Guide: How to Outline a Plot

The best way to write out a plot isn’t the same for everyone, and sometimes it’s even different from story to story. There are lots of different methods, and most writers use a combination of them, so you just have to try different things to see what works best for you. Here are some of the most common methods:

1. Just Write

Some writers are what’s known as “pansters” meaning that once they have a story idea in mind, they prefer to “fly by the seat of their pants” and start writing without any planning in place. The key to making this method work is to remember that you’re only writing the first draft. Nothing you’re doing is set in stone, so don’t feel the story has to be perfect in one shot. Follow your gut and write the story to the best of your ability. Worry about tightening and polishing in subsequent drafts.

2. Synopsis

Some writers prefer to start by writing beginning to end summary of the story, describing all the important details and events in the order that they unfold. Summaries can be a great way to flesh out an idea for a plot, and they can also serve as a nice guideline if you want to “just write” your story but need a bit more structure first.

3. Old-Fashioned Outline

Do they still teach outlining in school? I don’t even know… when I was a kid, we learned how to do outlines with Roman numerals for the main points, capital letters for the minor points, and numbers for sub-points. If you’re good at outlining, this can be a great way to outline your plot.

4. Timeline

Creating a timeline for your story can be a great way to map it out. All you need is a beginning event, climax event, and end event. From there you can start filling in the events that follow and precede those events. Even if you don’t know the exact date for when a scene takes place, you can still mark it down in the right general place.

5. Scene List

If you have a pretty good idea of the scenes that need to take place, or at least a good number of them, you can start by writing out a scene list. It’s nice to do them in a table if you can so you can organize important details, like chapter, scene number, date and location, who’s in it, and then a short summary. Though, how you organize it is up to you. If you prefer, you can just write the scene number and then a brief summary.

6. Story Structure Map

Some writers like to map out their story according to whatever story structure they want to follow. They’ll pull up a graphic or chart of the structure, transcribe it onto paper or into a document, and then note each relevant event for each structure “mile marker.”

7. Subway/Tube Map

This is a new one I recently heard about. I haven’t had a chance to try it yet, but I think it’s fascinating. And there are even subway map creators you can use if you don’t want to draw it out. Ultimately, the goal is to map out the events of your story in the style of a subway/tube map. This method makes it easy to illustrate subplots and see how they relate to the rest of your story.

8. The Mind Map

Mind maps can be a fantastic way to get the most important parts of your story out on paper, and to start figuring out where other parts fit in and how they relate to everything else.

9. Index Cards

Some writers have luck writing out key scenes, moments, bits of dialogue (or anything else they have in mind) on individual index cards, which can then be laid out in order on a table, allowing for cards to be easily moved around, added, subtracted, etc. until a more complete story starts to emerge. Some writers even invest in giant cork boards for this purpose. Others use a dry erase board and draw out the “cards” instead. A lot of story writing software, such as Scrivener, even includes digital bulletin boards and index cards that you can use to visualize your story.

10. Method/Theory/Template

There are numerous methods/theories/templates dedicated to building/fleshing out plots. Some to look into:

- The Snowflake Method- Dramatica Theory- Save the Cat! for Novels- The Hero’s Journey

If one of the above doesn’t work for you, you’re sure to find even more ideas online. Try doing a search for “how to outline a plot” or “outlining a novel” to see what comes up. You might even try searching for your favorite author’s name plus “outlining” to see if they’ve done any posts sharing their own methods. You may also want to look into books, software, and apps/web sites that offer ways to help you plot your story.

Good luck!

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Aural & Atreos - Blood of the Bull

We’re closing in on finishing with this setting, and I’ve thought maybe I could help speed things along. Plus, it was an interesting challenge to showcase two characters in the same drabble. Tell me what you guys think!

Tagging: @proseweaver @inexorableblob @crypticsx @jltillary

Captain Aural had a distaste for the desert. He was a man of refined tastes: of wine, of conversations, of men and women enjoying themselves at his home in Leyan. This city had none of that. It was crude, plain, its ancient stoned speaking not of history, but weariness. Some of that he could have forgiven. They were under siege, after all. But the heat killed off any desire in him to be understanding, and left the man with worry.

Not like he needed much to be concerned these days. Things were going wrong in a rapid succession.

He walked into the corner-chamber. The painted walls gave way to plain, brown sand-stone, but at least the pillars running along the edges, serving as substitutes for walls allowed the air to flow a little. The massive stone slab around which the army’s leaders – and that accursed queen – used to gather lay in the center. A man was standing beside it, and as Aural entered, he looked up.

“You got my message, Commander,” he said.

“I am not the Commander. That title belongs to Ennarim Tauvar…”

“Wherever he may be right now. By all intents and purposes, Aural, you are the one who has to make the hard decisions now.”

Aural swallowed and nodded. The other man’s eyes lingered on him for a few seconds, an inquisitive look he could have done without. Atreos, Captain of the Scouts – and the only one of them remaining alive – was a curious man. He was not Leyanese, looking, instead, the worse part of an Islander: his hair was long and braided, his beard quickly growing out of control. He leaned on the stone using one hand, while keeping his fresh stump behind his back. And though he was young – not much younger than Aural, in actuality – he had the air of confidence the army’s second-in-command did not expect when he was thrust onto the war-council.

“Why did you call me, then?” Aural asked joining him.

“To discuss what can be saved,” the other man said.

“Should the others be here…?”

“Kautar is still recovering after what that idiot did to him, and the rest are morons. Nothing would get done if we listened to them,” Atreos waved his hand. “It’s better this way.”

That was a serious breach of how an army operated, but Aural swallowed his reply. They never should have found themselves in this situation, boxed in from all sides, just waiting for something to happen. Unusual moments required unorthodox solutions. Even Leyan’s rigid politicians would admit to that.

“Tauvar left us weakened,” Atreos explained, “and the army demoralized. He marched into a trap, and though he survived, we suffered a defeat. Maybe his survival itself was a defeat. Either way, he is gone now, and we find ourselves left with his mess.”

“Those are harsh words about…”

“They are necessary words, and somebody has to speak them,” Atreos waved. Then, not even waiting for a counterargument, he pointed down at the slab. “Look at this, Aural: what do you see?”

There was a drawing on the stone, crude, chalk outlined of the city, the river Bavel, and the surrounding areas. Three circles marked the enemy’s encampments – one to the north, one to the west, one to the south. There were fortified camps, but they did not build a defensive line around the city – a trap the Leyanese promptly fell for.

“I see that we are boxed in,” Aural said.

“And you see that they can reinforce any of their camps before we would break through,” Atreos added. Aural did not see it as clearly, but he nodded – the enemy played their hand a day prior, and the cost was dear.

“We have only one chance,” Atreos continued. he put his hand at the southern and northern camps, awkwardly fiddling with having to move around the slab to do so. “We need to attack these two at the same time.”

“We don’t have the men for that.”

“I know.”

“Then…?”

“Why suggest it? Because in a few days, we might. And by then, that demoralized shambling band out there that we call and army has to be ready to fight like they never fought before. Either that, or we are all dead.”

Aural swallowed again. He had a sudden surge of sympathy for Tauvar, followed by the bitter taste of shame. He would not abandon these men, he would not slip out in the night, running from his duties.

He will lead them.

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Need some writeblrs to follow!

Why yes hello, it is I, chaos aka Kae.

And I need some people I can follow!

So if you don’t mind reblogging/liking this when you’re a writeblr who posts (about):

Fantasy

Writing tips and advice

Fantasy

Mythological creatures

Or if you’re just a writeblr

Thank you in advance!

[icehvs]

Need some writeblrs to follow!

Why yes hello, it is I, chaos aka Kae.

And I need some people I can follow!

So if you don’t mind reblogging/liking this when you’re a writeblr who posts (about):

Fantasy

Writing tips and advice

Fantasy

Mythological creatures

Or if you’re just a writeblr

Thank you in advance!

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Looking for writeblrs?

I noticed that I followed a lot of inactive blogs or blogs with content that doesn’t really interest me, so:

Would you please reblog/like this if you:

an active writeblr

write Fantasy (High, Urban, Low, any kind really)

write any kind of -punk (Cyberpunk, Biopunk, Steampunk etc.)

write Mystery (spooky villages? misty forests? gimme that!) Bonus for supernatural elements!

Bonus: if you have gritty female ocs because I DIG ‘EM!

are preferably from Europe (just so your posts don’t drown on my dash)

Thank you in advance. I’m looking forward to it!~

[icehvs]

Looking for writeblrs?

I noticed that I followed a lot of inactive blogs or blogs with content that doesn’t really interest me, so:

Would you please reblog/like this if you:

an active writeblr

write Fantasy (High, Urban, Low, any kind really)

write any kind of -punk (Cyberpunk, Biopunk, Steampunk etc.)

write Mystery (spooky villages? misty forests? gimme that!) Bonus for supernatural elements!

Bonus: if you have gritty female ocs because I DIG ‘EM!

are preferably from Europe (just so your posts don’t drown on my dash)

Thank you in advance. I’m looking forward to it!~

[icehvs]

less “chosen one” heroes, more heroes that chose THEMSELVES. give me heroes that see a problem, look around, and think, “WELP, clearly no one ELSE is gonna fix it, so APPARENTLY it has to be me” and goes to their friends and is like “Y’ALL, GET YOUR SHIT, WE’RE GOING ON A QUEST”

“what wait why”

“the world is broken and the people in charge aren’t doing anything, so we’re gonna do something for them”

“didn’t the prophecy say a wise and noble mage would choose someone to conquer the evil?”

“yeah well, i can do magic, and i’m pretty fucking wise and noble, right?”

“…..”

“……………….RIGHT?!”

*hasty statements of agreement*

“exactly. so, i’ve come to the conclusion that i’m the mage of the prophecy. and guess what. i choose myself. now let’s go.”

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Number Five/Nofi - Blood of the Bull

Well, ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived at one of the strangest characters I’ve got running around in Blood of the Bull. Tell me what you think about him?

Tagging: @proseweaver @inexorableblob @crypticsx @jltillary

There was no reason to disturb the circles.

Machinery purred endlessly, a simple distraction in the back of his mind. Number Five walked along the edges of the room, occasionally stopping, gazing upon the many whirring parts, then resuming his vigil. For thousands of years, he did this every cycle, once at the very least. The Lady had entrusted him with his complex, and he was not going to disappoint her.

He was made to not disappoint her.

She was there when he had first gained consciousness. His first memory was her face: pale, sickly, but lit up with such joy…She was so little back then. She needed a friend. And so Number Five and his brothers were made to keep her company on the long voyages into the unknown darkness that lay beyond the skies.

It felt hazy now – faded, old, as memories of over millennia should feel –, but her last words to him still stood out.

“You are to stand at the Cradle,” she told him, “for if they ever need help, my friend, it will be you they shall turn to.”

Number Five did not know if anybody will turn to him for help. For all he knew, the Grand Experiment has failed already. he had not seen the sun, nor any of the subjects in as long as he had been down here. And it has been a very, very long time. They were organic creatures. Strange, made of flesh and blood. Complex, in their own ways – he would know, he helped in their design.

He was keenly aware of the shirring sound his joints made whenever he made a step. He had not even tilted his head in a while. He would have to perform routine maintenance, maybe apply the salve himself…It was an ugly procedure, but one had to do it, and Number Five was all Number Five had.

He took another step, continuing his eternal vigil.

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Ennarim Tauvar - Blood of the Bull

I am back! And with a new character to reveal from Blood of the Bull! I’m not sure how frequently, but these ones are msot definetly going to continue. Especially because the next one is...let’s say it will be out there.

Ennarim hit the ground with a yelp, managing to swallow his cry of pain. His arm twisted under him, and he rolled quickly to the side, before pressure could build up. He felt the numb pain spread along his bones, but at least he avoided the sickening crack of it breaking.

Saelin chuckled, the sickening sound making Ennarim even angrier. He caught his father flash an eye at the girl, and she shut up. Good, Ennarim thought. I hope you choke on it.

He pushed himself up with a grunt, nursing his numb hand. The sword felt heavier than before. Wood should never have been this much a burden to swing or parry with, but Ennarim did not complain. Not out loud. He raised his wounded arm, stretching it out, pointing the wooden blade towards the approaching barbarian. It would have been a defiant picture, he imagined, had his arm not been trembling so badly.

Then the barbarian stopped.

“Come on, Ennarim hissed through his teeth. “Come at me, you damned savage…”

Caommar looked at him, as if he could hear his words. He did speak Leyanese, but Ennarim did not think he heard him. Why was he hesitating then? He had to know he would win any fight, he always did…

“That’s enough,” his father boomed. “We’re done for today.”

Ennarim swallowed the bitter shame as he left the field, gripping the hilt of his wooden sword tighter just so he would not drop it by accident. He hated this, he hated the sand that got stuck between his toes in the small arena, the soreness that took over his body after every day, never healing…and he hated that savage, that intruder in his home. He had not right to beat a Leyanese noble so brutally every day, yet, his father did nothing to stop him.

And, though even the thought filled him with horror, Ennarim hated his father too.

He stormed into the house, and away from them all. He could still hear Saelin’s snickering in his ears. Stupid little girl, so infatuated with that mongrel, instead of knowing where her loyalties should lie…

he collapsed onto his bed, the slight creaking noise grinding against his mind. He shifted to the side that did not hurt. His room was cold, and empty, and no sound was heard but his own, quiet whimpering. He tried to steel himself, to swallow the humiliation, just as he did before, but it was so much harder now, when he was alone.

Part of him wished he could have talked to Iuvan. He recalled his brother being a wise man for his young age – but, of course, he was not so wise in the end. Had he been, Ennarim would not be in this situation today. he would not be beaten relentlessly, he would not be expected to memorize the lives of great men who lived in ages past, and the battles they fought. Had Iuvan not been so stupid, Ennarim would be happy.

One day, he thought bitterly, I will be the lord of this household. And that day they will pay. All of them will pay.

I’m tagging @proseweaver @inexorableblob @crypticsx and @jltillary If you liked this story, and would like to be notified, I can always add more peeps!

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the 7 deadly sins of being a writer

self-doubt

procrastination

sleep deprivation

jealousy

wailing (despair)

notebook lust

horrifying comma use