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This outline is turning into my just typing out my thoughts as they come to me.

I am such a discovery writer.

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Okay, what did my stupid computer do. I had a document with world building for the sorcerer planet and now its just gone. I made a whole folder for it.

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I just read the dumbest thing on here and it seems to have broke my brain for the time being.

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How do I come up with new characters anytime I start outlining?

Well, okay, I picked up a needed thread that I had let go of last time and it needs another character to be introduced to get into because none of the other characters, with the exception of Hadrian, are involved in it.

I might write it and then cut it if I can't fold it in properly, but I need to see what happens, even if I leave it unsaid in the final story.

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no! I went to finish the last two scenes for my outline and the last five scenes that I summarized didn't save. :(

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Worldbuilding the home planet of Sorcerers for fun today.

I just got the idea in my head that it would be fun to play with a world with two forms of elemental magic.

Not as fun as Cardelsiff and I don't have an actual story to go with it, but worldbuilding is just so much fun.

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I am going back through the draft and summarizing each scene and then writing the purpose for the scene. I am pleased that I still like it. I see more and better ways to improve each scene, but I still don't want to gut it. Progress.

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I am alive.

We had the stomach flu come through my house and now I have another virus wreaking havoc in my sinuses.

Today is the first day I opened my draft document since the 19th. I decided to pull a scene by scene outline from it rather than dive back into writing since I'm still muddled in the head.

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I have this one thread dangling in this story and I really want to use it, but I haven't found the right spot for it. Maybe in the second book. It's like my mind is knitting it in with other stuff in the background, but I can't see what it's becoming yet.

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This Terrible but also Very Fun Week

This week I was taken out by a migraine. Settled in Monday night and hung around until late Wednesday morning. This took me off my 1k a day pace, but not by much. I did get just over 6k added bringing the draft up to 41k.

The writing I did get to do this week was so much fun. I have reached the part of the story that breaks from the last draft so rather than transferring and making minor changes to scenes, I am crafting entirely new ones and building out altered and strengthened plot lines and character arcs.

This has been so fun. I got to write an adorably awkward early scene with Aila and Zuriel as well as a darkly fun scene with the minor baddie where he is gaining actually sinister attributes.

Here’s a little snippet from how Zuriel’s training is going:

              “You have already become so much more than I ever thought you would be.” Halvar said, a soft awe to his voice.

              Aaron’s smile faded and Pyre nudged his side with his warm snout. He ran his hand on the dragon’s scales and tried to offer assurances that they’d fly soon. Then he turned his attention to Halvar.

              “I can’t even handle a real sword. I can’t keep my thoughts from barging in on other people’s minds. I can’t pull fire without blacking out and I can’t form enough stairs to mount the dragon I barely know how to talk to.”

              Halvar chuckled. “You’re just going to gloss over the fact that you have three magics and a dragon, then?”

              Aaron sighed. “I’ll count them as a plus when I can do anything useful with them.”

              Halvar stood and offered his hand to help Aaron up. The potion Cyrus had given him had helped, but he’d pushed himself harder than he ever had in his life. And all he’d managed was to leave himself so useless he’d probably need someone to carry him back to his room.

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*Writes a new scene with the minor baddie* Oh! That was...much better.

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I think I have finally changed this draft to the point where the partial draft I have been working from is going to be of little use to me. There are still scenes in there that I will probably transfer, but a lot of it has either been altered beyond use or axed entirely.

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I have a migraine and I have been distracting myself by making mood boards for TSoV characters.

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Another solid week in Vale

I added a little over 7k to The Shadow of Vale this week bringing the word count nearly to 35k.

The amount of the previous draft I am transferring over is really surprising and quite exciting. While I have made significant changes to some of the plot lines and characters, there is still so much that I am finding just works with minimal changes. I think changing some of the context is making some of the scenes work better than I thought they did originally.

Despite getting really sidetracked by another WIP this morning, I did get my 1k in today to round out a solid week of writing.

I also did a fair bit of work on some out of sequence scenes that got stuck in my head. That might have been another 1200 words or so, but they won't actually count until I get to fold them into the draft. ;)

So much was transfer, it was actually kind hard to pick a snippet, but here we are:

              “What’s that?”

              “A dummy sword.” He pushed it closer to Aaron who took it reluctantly.

              “Shouldn’t I be training with a real sword?”

              Cyrus rolled his eyes and drew his sword again. He turned and offered the hilt to Aaron while taking the dummy sword back.

              With a grin, Aaron took hold of the sword, the tip of which immediately dropped into the dirt when Cyrus released the blade. “Oh! It’s heavy.”

              Cyrus sighed and ran his hand over his face. “This is going to be a long day.”

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hahaha

I don't know why it's so funny to me but I searched for images of grumpy and it was just a bunch of cats.

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Because I want to Fan-girl over my own wip

I just want to share my favorite little scraps of CoG.

Some warnings: This is a very dark story and some of these scenes I have never shared because of how dark they are and how triggering I know they can be. I have put specific warnings between the most egregious scenes (A murder scene and one heavily discussing Suicide).

              “I missed you at the study tonight. I wanted to see how you’re doing.” Mostly true.

              She rolled her eyes. “You’re here to talk about the last time we saw each other.”

              “What was that?” I blurted the question, a bit thrown by her direct approach. Not sure why, I already knew that about her.

              She gave a slight shrug and shifted her weight. “I don’t know,” she stood up, “No, I do.” She stopped and took a deep breath and looked me in the eye. “I felt like I needed to know if I could express affection. You just got really close and I just, reacted.”

              She dropped her eyes and I looked around the balcony a moment. “Well, how did your experiment go?”

              She chuckled. “I don’t know. You kissed me back and I freaked out.”

              I didn’t say anything for a while. I still wasn’t sure what anything she had just said meant. Payton was right, it made no sense to me why she would kiss me and then freak out when I kissed her back. It had to be how I did it.

              “Look, I’m sorry for how I reacted. You caught me off guard. I didn’t mean to freak you out or trigger anything. I just,” I stopped. I had no idea what I was trying to say. “Can we try again?” I finally brought out. That was what I wanted. Start over with the possibly of some sort of clarity.

              “Okay.”

              “Okay?” I said it like a question because I hadn’t expected her to be okay with the idea.

              She laughed at this. “It’s not like I didn’t want to kiss you, I just did it on impulse and I think surprised us both.”

              “Yeah you did.” I laughed, too.

              She grew serious and took a step closer. “Alright. No surprises. I think I do need to know if I can handle being with someone I trust.”

              We looked at each other a moment before we both leaned in. Our lips met sort of awkwardly, so I adjusted, and she did the same. It quickly shifted from tentative and awkward to a sort of passion I don’t think I’d felt before. It wasn’t like a I-am-about-to-take-you-to-bed sort of passion, but something else. Something deeper than that.

              She slipped her arm around my neck, opening her mouth against mine.

              Trust. I realized that was the difference.

              She drew back, but slowly. She didn’t run, she didn’t even pull back to where the arm I had around her waist was dislodged.

              “Why do you like me?” 

              “What?” I wasn’t entirely sure I had registered the question properly.

              “You came here to see where we were, what it meant, right? That was not the kiss of a man who is dispassionate about me. But why? With the mess that I am, why?”

              I looked at her a bit dumbfounded. She was so smart; how did she miss such obvious things? “You did hear everything I told you, right? Why in the world would you have kissed me after that?”

              She smiled and moved her hands down, so she was hugging me around the waist instead of the neck. “Alright, that’s fair. I don’t know. You might have been messed up, but you’re not a monster.”

              I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, thanks. Not a monster. That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

              She laughed and nestled closer to me. It wasn’t like no woman had ever done that before, but knowing what she’d been through, it seemed crazy to me that I would be someone she would feel comfortable with. “Alright, alright. You didn’t balk. You didn’t look at me like I was broken.” She pulled back a little to look up at me. “You showed me your own scars. Even ones that you had to think would send me running.”

--

[Warning! This one is rather graphic/gory. It's a murder scene]

              I stood watching him a moment. It was time. I glanced past him at the knives then back at him as he slept covered in the blood of the men, and women, he had murdered that evening. I decided it was only fitting and went quietly for the knives.

              My hand shook as I pulled it out, my nausea was barely contained. I closed my eyes and the images returned. The pools of blood reflecting the flames. The screams. With a shutter I made my way back to the living room.

              He’s not worth it. It’s the contradiction that bothers you.

              I approached his chair. He still slept peacefully, perhaps a little deeper now. That would help. I wasn’t sure I could subdue him if he fought, even with the rising anger, the screams still echoing in my ears.

              Don’t let yourself lose control. He’s not worth it. How could you think of murder while I am teaching you about mercy?

              No. I had to do it. I was the only one who saw him away from the End Seekers. The responsibility was mine. It was my rapist who first awakened his blood lust. A man I led him to. It was my job to stop him. The murderer. The monster. My father.

              He’s not worth it.

              The screams grew louder in my mind. My stomach churned and my heart pounded. Not again. Tears spilled from my eyes. No one else would have to suffer at his hands and the hands of those who followed him.

              Daughter…

              I raised the knife, still trembling, tears falling from my chin. I brought it down with all the force I could muster. It was harder than I thought. His corrupted flesh seemed to resist his own justice.

Oh, Daughter…

I pulled it out and stabbed again. He opened his eyes, shock and fear in them. He looked at the knife in his chest then back at me. “Daughter?”

              He looked just like them. Like the men he murdered. Pitiful. Helpless.

              Oh God, what have I done?

              I panicked, pressing my hands to the wound, warm blood oozing through my fingers. “No, no, no. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

              He opened his mouth as if to say something, then he simply relaxed. His hands falling to the side. I stared at him a long time. I had pulled the knife out again, but I couldn’t recall when. I looked at it in horror, dropping it from numb fingers. What had I done? How was I any different?

              I stumbled back into the far wall and curled into a ball. It was done. I couldn’t take it back. I stopped him. I stopped him. But I had also become him.

              O, Child.

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              I laid down beside her. She pulled back slightly when I tried to hold her so I stayed on the edge of the bed, hands on my stomach. “I know this sucks.”

              “I’m a monster.” Her voice broke.

              I looked at her, she was trembling, staring up at the ceiling.

              “That’s the thing Chris, we all are in our own ways. I’ve told you some of what I’ve done. I’ve killed.”

              “I murdered him. I decided he needed to die just like he did. I’m no better.” She covered her face and rolled toward me.

              “The wrath we’ve earn has been taken by Christ.” I said softly taking her in my arms. She uncovered her face and buried it in my shirt and hugged me back. “Even David was murderer. You can come back from this Chris.” She squeezed me tighter. I could feel God moving. He wasn’t going to let her go and I wasn’t either.

--

              The pressure slowly began to lessen. The desire to peel off my flesh was still there, but less.

              “For God so loved the world that He gave His only son that whoever believes in Him shall have eternal life.”

              I closed my eyes and listened.

              “In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that he poured on us with all understanding.”

              “Are you quoting scripture?” I asked softly.

              “Yeah. That was in Ephesians chapter one. I don’t remember which verse anymore. These are some of the verses I held onto when I wanted to die.”

              I could feel myself begin to cry again. I pulled my hands in, curling up within the circle of his arms. He hugged me and kissed my head then went on speaking scripture over me.

--

(Warning!: this scene has addresses suicide, attempted suicide and suicidal ideation)

              My eyes filled with tears. I hated that I knew what she meant, how she felt. I pulled her back into my arms, my right arm barely obeyed me, but I managed to get her weak and writhing form gathered up against me. “You don’t deserve to die, Chris. You aren’t evil. You aren’t beyond redemption.”

              “I killed him. I stabbed him. I’m just like him.” She squirmed in my arms.

              “I know. You messed up. You can come back from this, Chris. I swear.”

              “Let me go. Let me go.” She cried, but stopped struggling.

              “No. I have been here, Chris. I would have died if Will hadn’t stayed. I am not leaving you.”

              “You don’t understand.” She made another feeble attempt to free herself. “I don’t deserve to live. I am fallen. I am stained. I can never make it right.”

              “I know! You’re going to have to learn what it means to receive the same forgiveness that you couldn’t give him.”

              “I don’t deserve to be forgiven.” Her tears were beginning to taper off.

              “That’s the thing about grace and mercy, Chris, none of us deserve it.”

              For a long time, she said nothing and laid still in my arms. If it weren’t for her pulse and breathing, I would have been worried she’d died or passed out.

              “Let me go.” Her voice was calm, purposeful.

              I loosened my grip and she slid out of my arms and pushed herself back into the pillows, glaring at me.

              Tell her your story.

              My stomach clinched at the idea. There were things I knew I should have told her about me already. Not that it was likely to have changed anything, just that given how close we’d become, she had a right to know who she was giving her heart to.

              I thought of the click again. The hallow realization that I had failed to kill myself.

              I met her eye again and found her studying me. “You really believe I can come back from this.” It wasn’t a question.

              “I know you can.”

              She shook her head and looked down at her hands, then her bandaged arms. She ran her fingers down the bandage on her left arm where the cuts had been deepest. “Why?” Her voice was just a whisper.

              “Because I’ve been there.”

              She shook hear head again and looked at me with a challenge in her eyes. “This isn’t the same as fighting in the war. I didn’t have to.” Her chin trembled and her eyes filled with tears again. “I wasn’t trying to survive, he never would have hurt me.”

              “I know.” I leaned forward and laid my hand on hers. “I’ve done horrible things. Things that I will have to live with for the rest of my life. I know what it feels like to want to die, to feel like you deserve it, like the world would be a better place if you weren’t in it.”

              “I know fighting was hard, but how could you think you deserved to die?”

              I opened my mouth to speak but faltered and clamped it shut again. What would she think of me when I told her what I’d done?

              Her brow furrowed. “What happened?” Her eyes shown with concern that made me feel nauseous. Was she worried about me or afraid of who she’d picked to spend her time with?

              “I didn’t,” I started, but stopped again, dropping my head to my chest. She grabbed the hand I had laid on hers.

              “Tell me.” I looked at her and she watched me earnestly.

              “I didn’t join the war as a saint, Chris. I signed on as a viper.”

              She let go of my hand and drew back further into the pillows. My chest felt like it was in a vice. I was going to lose her over this.

              But maybe she would be able to live with herself even if she couldn’t live with me.

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CoG Scribbles

Possible introduction/prequel scene

              My lungs burned as we moved through the streets. The smoke and the constant shouting across to other soldiers had turned my throat into raw meat. I half expected to taste blood.

              All this was abruptly pushed out of my mind as we emerged into the courtyard. We all froze, looking up at the sight before us. God stood in robes that seemed to be on fire, the night sky illuminated around him despite the smoke. It was beautiful. It was all we had worked for and fought for: Heaven on earth.

              And before Him stood Satan. It was a strange sight. At first glance he was just a man. A well-formed, strong looking man but around him you could see a shadow of the beast he had become.

              “Can’t you see your light fading? Look around you. You’ve lost.” Satan grinned waving to the fires and broken bodies around him.

              “I have not lost.” God answered calm, as if the destruction couldn’t touch Him. As if it wasn’t there. “This is your crime. This is your destruction.”

              Satan took a step forward. “You still mean to save them? These worthless maggots who were all too eager to go to war against their fellow man.” He laughed. “You have no power here. Admit it.”

              “Do you mean to challenge me? I could snap your neck with a breath, a thought. You will cede, and bow before me or you will become the carnage you have unleashed on the world; the carnage you crave.”

              Satan only laughed. “You are weak, Forgiver.”

              God nodded and stepped forward quickly. It was difficult to see, but he drew a sword, bright and flaming, and struck, not at the man, but the shadow of the beast. Satan cried out as God struck a second time.

              Satan vanished and two smoking, bloodied horns fell to the black asphalt.

              God regarded them a moment before looking around. “My children, your road is not yet coming to an end. So long.”

              And then He vanished.