Goals and Punishment for May

Last month I failed to meet my goals, but I'm going to give it the good college try this month. In case you're wondering, I have already watched "New Moon" and am currently in the process of editing the video. Team Jacob!

So, without further ado...

MAY 2011 GOALS

• Finish writing the new scene for "The Mark of Flight"
• Finish the first two lessons of "How to Revise Your Novel" with HELLHOUND
• Write at least three more blog-posts
• successfully move into new apartment

Now, I know what you guys are all waiting for, and that's the punishment. So here it is:

If I fail to meet my goals this May, I will do a cover of Rebecca Black's "Friday", complete with dance choreography and costume.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, click the video below, take two Tylenol, and call me in the morning.

And it will be in my head for a year. *shudder*

If I succeed in my goals, however, I will do a spoof of "Friday" called "Monday":

It's Monday, Monday, gotta work hard on Monday

Everybody's wishing it was still the weekend

It's Monday, Monday, gotta chug my McCafe

Cause I've got bags under my eyes like they are packin'

If you have any further suggestions for my punishment, please leave them in the comments!

English Teacher Called Out For Writing?

I could sit here and explain this to you, but I think I'll let this guy do it:

More on this when the rage-blackout is over.

Update: Extended reading on Smart Bitches, Trashy Books
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Interpreting Conflicting Advice: Part II

      In my first post about interpreting conflicting advice, I talked about "Having an Open Mind vs. Stick to Your Guns". In that post, I mostly discussed receiving criticism and how to both understand and address the underlying problem and fix it in a way that stays consistent with your vision of the story. Recently, as I've been rereading and editing The Mark of Flight, one bit of conflicting advice has been coming up over and over in my head:

Be Passionate About Your Work vs. Have Distance

Now, I don't usually have issues being passionate about my work; a more apt description of my relationship to my writing would probably be "obsessed". I always think about at least one of the stories I'm working on, to the extent that I create specialized driving playlists so I can direct my attention-deficient brain toward thinking about my characters, envisioning new scenarios, and teasing new motivation possibilities from song-lyrics on my one-hour commute. But despite that passion, I sometimes lose that battle against my inner-critic.

Time for a trip to the anecdotal ward! Yippee!

In university, I joined a writing workshop that nearly made me quit writing. I won't go into the details, but after my humiliating first session, I set aside The Mark of Flight and started writing literary short stories, trying to prove to everyone in that class that I wrote genre fiction because I liked it, not because I was incapable of writing something else. The resulting stories were decent, I guess, but writing it didn't excite me, didn't set me dreaming, and didn't make me happy.

Best example.

So I stopped. I hid behind fan-fiction and RPGs, leaving the "real writing" for when it no longer hurt so much to face the opinions of my classmates. It took me a while to get over the feeling that The Mark of Flight was un-salvageable crap. Eventually, however, the gravity of my world and characters drew me back in. Getting a full-manuscript request from an agent was a good boost to the ego as well, especially when one of my classmates announced it to the teacher in class, and everyone made the *shock!face* (right).

There were a few things I did wrong. I mean, really, the first thing I did wrong was to submit a piece of my novel to a writing workshop rather than a short-story. It's really hard to critique independent chapters of something, but I hadn't written a short story since high school. The larger mistake was letting the opinions of my classmates make me embarrassed to write the genre I liked.

I'll let you in on a secret: writing is a lot of work.

We dream, write, rewrite, fret, brainstorm, edit, rewrite again, scrap, shred, cobble-back-together, and if we're lucky, we get something that's good enough to be looked at by a professional. That professional will then point out all the areas we still need to improve before that puppy can ever see the business-side of a printing press. Do you really want to waste all that time writing something you don't care about, just because you think it's more literary/marketable/socially-acceptable? I don't, and that's where "be passionate about your work" comes in. You'd better love it like that song you never stop playing, because you're going to be spending a lot of time with it.

HAVE DISTANCE

My second mistake in that workshop was submitting a piece of work I wasn't ready to receive criticism or opinions on. I address this a bit in my post about being ready to receive criticism, but I'd like to take it in a different direction now.

CRITIQUE POINT: criticism is a constructive analysis of what is and isn't working in your story; opinion is a subjective assessment of the quality of your work.

Criticism: "The motivation for your villain isn't clear"/"You have a very independent heroine"
Opinion: "Your villain sucks"/"I love your heroine!"

Negative opinion has no place in a workshop. The understanding is that the work being submitted is not perfect, and therefore is not ready to be judged. I would also argue that positive opinion does little good without being supplemented by an analysis. It would be like looking at a half-finished sculpture and saying "OMG it's so great don't change it you're so amazing!" Which is what I imagine happened with the Venus de Milo. Just think, if someone had offered a critique, we could have had this:

Not cool, people.

Anyway, I had assumed that the instructor of the workshop would try to mitigate opinions and direct my classmates toward making constructive critiques, but that turned out not to be true. The first comment I received on MoF in that workshop was: "I hated it". (Coincidentally, that was from the same classmate who later announced to the class that I had gotten a request for a full.)

But guess what? If I get published, no one is going to mitigate opinions on Amazon or book review blogs. They key here is to have enough distance from your work that you can let those negative opinions go without making you want to chuck your laptop out a window a la Psychopomp and Narfi.

My reason for submitting the chapter I did was because I had written it recently. I thought having a sample of my most recent writing would be better than a sample I had already edited, but I didn't have enough distance from the work to see it clearly. Writing is like getting a bad haircut. While you've still got it, you'll probably feel pretty sensitive about negative commentary. You don't want everyone to tell you it looks like crap, even if it does. But a few years later, you can look at those pictures of yourself, and when your friend points out that your bangs are uneven, you can laugh.

It's not that I've gotten loads better at taking negative opinions, I just realized that the very first draft is still too ugly and vulnerable for me. I need to realize some of my own mistakes and hack at the piece a bit more before I feel comfortable handing the sword to someone else.

PLAY WITH ME: When do you think it's necessary to have distance? What methods do you use to gain distance? 

First-Person Present Tense in YA

Not even all of them.

Last week I declared a no-writing week, and set to work on the massive pile of books on my bedside table. Some of these are from StellarCon, and some of them are my first-paycheck treat.

I've taken to carrying books around with me, which has helped in the effort to read more. I always carry at least one general fantasy novel, and one YA novel. Recently, I've noticed that I finish three or four YA books per regular fantasy book, which is why I like reading young adult fiction -- I can finish a book in two or three evenings, and the prose isn't as thick as that of Tad Williams or Jaqueline Carey.

I've zoomed through several YA books in the past two or three weeks, including The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins, Matched by Ally Condi, and White Cat by Holly Black.

I wasn't shocked to find that The Hunger Games was in first-person present-tense, because the immediacy of the plot really lends itself to that narrative mode. After obsessively devouring the trilogy, I picked up Matched because the premise was fascinating. I wasn't disappointed, but I was struck by the fact that this author had also chosen first-person present-tense. I thought about it, and decided that in a world where the future is decided, and all reminders of the past are removed, present-tense was the only option. By the time I got to Holly Black's White Cat, I wasn't even surprised. First-person. Present-tense.

 I'm sure by now we're all used to first-person, especially in YA, where the immediate sympathy of the reader demands a close perspective from the word go, but reading present-tense in genre fiction was a bit of a surprise for me. I see it in literary fiction sometimes, but where I first noticed the trend was in fan-fiction, especially short works. Now, I fell off the fan-fiction bandwagon somewhere around 2006, when I decided it was time to focus my writing on original work. But last year, while waiting for season 3 of Merlin, I skimmed through livejournal to see what was there. I clearly remember Skyping with Adryn one evening, and reading Merlin fanfic whilst waiting for her responses.

Scribe: Shouting to Corwin for cover, Zieke lunges forward and hacks through the foot-soldier's waxed leather armor...*blahblahblah*
Adryn: Are you reading fanfiction?
Scribe: @_@ How did you know that?
Adryn: Because you keep writing in present-tense.
Scribe: ...
Adryn: Don't you hate writing in present-tense?
Scribe: ...

It was pretty embarrassing. I'm the most grammar-conscious of my friends, and to have made a tense-shift error of that magnitude mid-scene was uncharacteristic. The funniest thing was realizing that Adryn had spotted the trend well enough to identify exactly why I had staggered over to the "dark side". (Since that mortifying slip, I have written one thing that includes present-tense: Goodbye Girl, the first half of which is f-p/p-t.)

I have to wonder why that's becoming such a common narrative mode. I find it to be spare, and almost too immediate in most cases. While the subject-matter of The Hunger Games and Matched were both well-suited to present-tense, I feel like White Cat would have been exactly the same book in past-tense. There was no clear reason why the book needed to be in present-tense. Black's faerie series is in past-tense, so it isn't just that she's a present-tense author--it was a clear authorial choice for this set of books. Maybe it was simply because she wanted to experiment writing in present-tense, or because that's just the way the character spoke to her--I get that. As the author, her choice is valid, even if it's not the choice I would have made. Admittedly, I would never make the choice unless the story would be improved by it (and you'd have a hard time convincing me it would), so my biased self is probably off the mark concerning her motivations. My point, however, is not why she made that choice, but the question of whether Holly Black or any author would have made that choice fifteen years ago.

Personally, I don't think so. I know there were f-p/p-t novels back then--there had to have been. I just don't think they made up such a large percentage of the YA section. I certainly don't remember reading any, and I read even more fifteen years ago than I do now. I think the recent trend probably has to do with the idea that immediacy lends itself to faster reader sympathy. Things beyond authorial (and even agent and editor) control are causing writers to need that immediate sympathy any way we can get it. The length of books is being cut, prose is being dumbed-down, and Tolkein-esque jaunts into the land of useless description are halted in their tracks. We simply don't have time for it...or so we tell ourselves.

Oh, what was the line? "They paved paradise and put up a parking lot." But who is "they"? It's useless to try blaming anyone--authors, agents, editors, publishers, readers, Hitler--because the narrative mode of fiction is beginning to reflect our current culture, which demands short, fast, and now.

"Give me spots on my apples, but leave me the birds and the bees. Please."

Have you recently read a book in present-tense? What did you think? Do you think the recent trend of present-tense will last?


GO READ Raven's response post on this topic - it's not only hysterical, but provides another layer of analysis on the subject, and the three novels.

Goals and Punishment for April

I'm sorry for not posting last week, but things have been heating up around here both literally and figuratively, and it's been difficult to fit everything in. I may, however, have something interesting for you guys in a few days.

In lieu of some sort of discovery analysis, today I want to outline my goals for the month of April.

1. Finish the bulk rewrites for the new segments of "The Mark of Flight"

        -2 scenes, + continuity pass

2. Revise Query letter

3. Do at least the first lesson of Holly Lisle's "How to Revise Your Novel" on HELLHOUND.

And if I FAIL to complete these tasks, my punishment is as follows:

I must watch the second Twilight film from start to finish with the following rules:

• I cannot mute the sound
• I must give the movie my full attention
• I must film myself watching, and produce a video of the results, to be uploaded and displayed on the Word-Accountable Blog.

Now, I read the first Twilight book and watched the first Twilight movie. I have neither read nor seen anything further, though I've heard quite a bit of what happens. I don't think just watching me grimace at the screen would be very entertaining, so I've decided that--if I have to do this punishment--it's going to be a drinking game.

Due to the things I decided to choose as my drinking-cues, Raven has warned me to drink nothing more alcoholic than Smirnoff.

I MUST DRINK

1. Each time Taylor Lautner is shirtless
2. Each time I don't believe Robert Pattinson's American accent.
3. Each time Bella's creeper radar appears to be broken beyond repair.
4. Each time there's a Vampire/Werewolf fight.

Leave suggestions for further drinking rules in the comments, and wish me luck in completing my tasks.

Character Flaws - Make them Matter

Character flaws: those deficiencies and limitations we're supposed to give our characters to make them more human and accessible. We know we need them to avoid writing the dreaded Mary Sue, whose only flaw isn't really a flaw, because it never gets her in trouble or changes the course of her story. Seriously, y'all: how am I supposed to believe that clumsiness is negative when its only consequence is tipping her in the arms of Edward Cullen her love-interest?


A few weeks ago, I wrote a post on interpreting conflicting advice in which I discussed a story I had written and how I used a beta-reader's suggestion to root out the real problem in the story. That problem wasn't that the main character didn't have flaws, but that the flaw didn't matter enough to the story for the reader to feel satisfied. It was only really in writing that post that I understood what I had done. Lest I accidentally claim to having more genius than I actually possess, let me assure you that I didn't "get" the connection of flaw to textual evidence of it until I wrote it down. 


Aspiring writers hear all the time that their characters need to have flaws. What we don't hear so often - which is perhaps more the point - is that those flaws have to matter. What's the point of giving your main character a lightning-bolt scar if it doesn't get him recognized when he doesn't want to be, or twinge and burn when he's taking OWLs? So, how do we make the flaws we give our characters matter?


We give them consequences.


The flash-bulbs are going off in my head like two starlets are cat-fighting on my brain's red-carpet. I knew this about flaws already...sort of. All the components were floating around in my head, waiting for me to connect them. (Raven could probably wax awesome here and make a metaphor about molecules and covalent bonds in reference to this kind of discovery, but I'd have to wiki that sucker, and then she'd sneeze on my science-metaphor and knock it off its unstable little legs.)


Epiphany-moment: I can't just give characters flaws for the sake of having them; I have to make their flaws have consequences! The realization found me scrambling through my manuscripts to make sure there was evidence of the flaws I knew my characters had. And, holey-plots, Batman - there are some places I will need to make repercussions, which opens up a lot of new exciting story possibilities. 


The best part about this connection was the realization that I could follow it backwards, rooting through the text for consequences to flaws I hadn't realized were there. 


I knew that Bay was a recalcitrant busybody, but I never realized his itinerant ways stemmed from their own insecurities, from the grudge he holds against the town he grew up in, and the teacher who left him behind. Who knew Arianna was so impulsive, so rebellious, and that her resistance to taking suggestions from anyone she considers beneath her would land her in so much trouble? And Helena - the Magic-weilding Hellhound - I couldn't believe how fast her self confidence vanished when she wasn't kicking bounty-hunter butt. Boy, does that kick her legs right out from under her in regard to her relationship with her roommates. Then there's Procne - deluding herself about her brother's death because she secretly fears being alone.


Srsly. I could be here a while.


Another bonus about flaws with consequences is that they help me with another topic I really struggle with: theme. I rarely start out writing with a theme in mind, and if one manages to emerge from the text, it's watery and unfocused. But if I consider my characters' flaws...


Mark of Flight: Wisdom is not defined by class or appearance.
Hellhound: Overcoming insecurities to find one's humanity.
Beggar's Twin: Acting out of the fear of loneliness ultimately hurts more people.


I can change these into sentences that reflect major themes in my work! "A princess discovers that wisdom is not defined by class or appearance"; "a non-human girl overcomes finds confidence in her own humanity"; "a young woman defeats her fear of loneliness and puts her brother's soul to rest."

Wow. So, apparently my issues in finding the theme of my story had to do with that un-established connection between a flaw, and how it matters to the story.


*cue hard rock hallelujah*


Giving your characters flaws is not enough - they have to somehow impede your character from reaching his or her goal. Even if it's not part of the main plot, it's got to matter enough to the story that the reader can sympathize with overcoming their own drawbacks, even if they're not the same. Because people sympathize best with characters who have accessible flaws, it's important to showcase them by giving consequences to that flaw.


 Does your character have a scar? Have it cause insecurity, and have that insecurity make her angry. Have that anger make her use excessive force to dispatch an iddybiddy-bad-guy and draw the big bad closer. Sometimes it's useful to look at the plot, and tease out a flaw that might already be there, like an archaeologist unearths the skeletons-in-the-closet of ancient kings. Considering last week's post on character journeys, you can probably tell that I really like this "going backwards" method.


Your characters' flaws have to matter, and to matter, they have to have consequences that affect a plot or sub-plot of the story by hampering your character. Whether it's feeling unworthy of the love-interest, or having a fear of heights that keeps him from becoming a dragon-rider, these flaws have to mean something to the story.


What kinds of flaws have you given your characters and how do they show up in your story? Do you think of flaws before you start, or do they rise from the text as you write? How have your own flaws held you back or gotten in your way?


Image by Jeremy Brooks

Character Starting Points - Going Back

Photo by kevindooly

Sometimes I start writing with a great idea of who my character is, sometimes I start with just a name and a purpose. One of the most valuable things the writing process has taught me is that characters don't have to be perfect the first time around. I've talked a bit about my two books, The Mark of Flight and Hellhound, and as I mentioned in my post last week on characters that cry, I had totally different experiences writing Helena and Arianna.

I created Arianna when I was fifteen, and role-played her with my friends Adryn and Merilee in what I suppose you could consider a very early version of the first book's plot--kidnapped princess who gets help from a slave and a mage, and who risks her own life to save the slave when he is recaptured. I think there were dragons, demonic wolves, and lots of convenient way-houses/caves in some of those early RPs. I'm relieved no longer to have the files.

We moved on to other worlds and characters, but something of Arianna's essence stuck with me, her stubbornness and pride, her kindness and idealism, brewing in my head with her sweet, stuttering ex-slave of a love-interest, who inadvertently learns to use Magic. One day in my senior year of High School (when I was eager to write anything that wasn't a college application essay), I started The Mark of Flight. By then, I had a pretty good idea who Arianna was.

Helena, on the other hand, was little more than a name and a goal. I didn't know what she looked like, I didn't know who her family was or her background, and I knew nothing about her personality. I wrote a version of the opening scene as a writing prompt for one of Holly Lisle's mini workshops, and couldn't get it out of my head. The day before NaNoWriMo, I wrote an outline--at that time I was unemployed and feeling a little worse than useless, so I figured if I was going to be a jobless moocher, I might as well be a jobless moocher with a word-count.

Picture by mrhayata

While writing Arianna, I found there was a disconnect between the girl in my head and the girl on the page. It wans't until I was half-way though the book that I figured out why--Arianna was reacting to the plot, not driving it. I had no outline for the story, and I was still too immature as a writer to think about each scene, and how my character could work in it. I hadn't yet learned that scenes should be a collection of character choices given circumstances, not character reactions to circumstances. That shift in perspective happened only when it had to--when I needed Arianna to make the choice of whether to continue home, or to save the boy who had risked his life for her. After that, she drove each scene and started to become the stubborn, proud, kind, strong girl in my head.

Helena was a more active character to write from the beginning, and easier in many ways because she was modern, and had clear priorities. The problem was, I didn't know her. She was gray matter, condensing into something more concrete as my idea for the story expanded, evolved, and delineated specific requirements. By the time I'd gotten to the end...ohh, boy. All the characters were different, but Helena more than anyone. That spiraling mass of gray matter had finally condensed into a star, but her side-winding trail through the first draft of my story left a detritus of obsolete character actions and scenes.

Arianna, on the other hand, had come into her story almost as wise as she left it--definitely not what you want from a fourteen-year-old princess out in the wilds of her own country for the first time.

For both of these characters, I first had to find their ending-points before I could really decide their beginnings. When I was in school, I always wrote my essays straight through, and then pasted my conclusion into the beginning, so that it looked like my meandering path to the point was intentional. Sometimes, I'd even go back and fix the rest of the essay to more concisely reflect that. Thankfully, I'm a more diligent writer than I was a student.

What I discovered for my characters was that, once I knew who they were when they exited the story, I could use that essence of character and take them backwards a few steps, logically, based on what happens in the story. I could decide for them a stage from which to grow, and change, and develop into that character I had finally come to know by the end. In short, I messed with the starting-point of their character-journey to make the road to their destination more poignant and noticeable.

What kind of things do you learn about your characters in a first-draft? How do your characters' personal journeys evolve and change as you write, and from draft-to-draft? Would you/have you made changes to a story because of a character's need to be dynamic?

Characters that Cry

An Artist in Excruciating Pain

(Wisdom of the day: NEVER Tweet the word iPad. You will get spammed into next week, even if you delete the tweets.)

Writing characters that cry is a tricky process. Every time a character of mine starts to get choked up, I ask myself not whether I would cry in that situation (If I wouldn't, there's something wrong), but whether I would want to read about a character who would. Secondary characters can get a lot more leeway than main characters in this regard--just look at how often Hermione bursts into tears, as opposed to Harry, whose life is unquestionably more difficult (ignore the part where he's a boy and therefore biologically not as prone to tears). I know it's really important for a main character to retain the respect of the reader by showing what they're made of.

So why do my characters cry so much in rough drafts?

In The Mark of Flight (MoF), my main character Arianna is a fourteen-year-old princess, who struggles to get home before her kidnapping incites a war. In Hellhound (HH), my MC is Helena--a shape-shifter, who grew up enslaved in a gang-like style of living until she freed herself with magic and started working to stop her ex-master. These two characters have very little in common, even their worlds: Arianna's world is High Fantasy, while Helena is from a contemporary alternate version of the US. If there was one thing I discovered through writing both of them, it was that they sniffled their way to the finish-line.

Pampered Princess or Badass Shapeshifter--it doesn't matter. They both wibbled at every moment of intense feeling. By the time I got to the end of the first drafts, I knew the faucets were leaking enough to daunt even the Mario brothers. 

I thought I knew Arianna pretty well when I started MoF, but no matter how well you know your MC before you start, you always know them much better once you finish. At first I thought it was okay for her to cry, since she was a spoiled princess, but when I finished MoF, I went back and removed almost all of Arianna's tears. I had learned so much about her character that I decided her pride and determination wouldn't let her cry until one key point--when she discovers she has fleas in her hair. Trivial, yes, but it's that triviality in the midst of the seriousness that finally gives her an outlet. It serves at least two other purposes, as well.

Writing Helena was a totally different experience.

As some of my older readers will recall, I came up with HH the day before NaNoWriMo started, based on a scene I did as a writing exercise. I had a strong outline, which I wrote in a day using Holly Lisle's note-carding method, but learning about Helena was "pantsing" all the way. There wasn't time to get to know her before I started writing--I had to get to 50,000 words by December 1st. I knew she was running, she had a secret, and she had a goal. I knew she was out of place, but not why, or how she felt about any of it. As the story progressed, I filled in her background, I learned her reactions. I think I got her right in the last two or three chapters, but she had about 20 breaking points scattered throughout the story.

I've chosen which one I think is the most important, and I'm trashing the rest. For the character I had established by the end of the story, her level of vulnerability at the beginning and middle of the story was way too high. That's what I love about writing, though. I can fix my mistakes, and only my beta-readers will ever know.

And everyone who reads this blog. Dammit.

It can't be productive to write this way, but I wonder if this isn't part of my learning process--to write characters weaker in the first draft, so I can decide their limits, and then go back and revise. Maybe in the next book or five, I'll learn to be a little more conservative with the waterworks, so my main characters don't start reading like Cho Chang.

Are you bothered by characters who cry a lot? Do your characters cry too much in rough drafts, or not enough? What other kinds of rough-draft tendencies do you have?

Sunday Sample - The Markmasters Trilogy

I can't remember the artist for this...

An excerpt from "The Mark of Flight", book one of The Markmasters Trilogy.

Tashda had betrayed her.

 It was like being lifted from a drug-induced gaiety and suddenly dropped back into consciousness. The ethereal brightness of the world faded into simple moonlight, life became less beautiful, and Arianna was suddenly, rudely aware of her mistake. Her terrible, irresponsible, thoughtless mistake. These were no queen’s hands, she thought, opening her fists and staring at them in horror. These were the hands of a fool.

Bay grabbed her shoulders, wrenching her away from the door. “Come, my lady. There is no time. Tashda will have noticed this spell break, and I’m not sure how much time I can give you. Shiro!”

Arianna looked up, remembering for the first time the black-haired young man who had come in with Bay. The Mage thrust her towards him, and she recoiled from his obvious filth. No, she couldn’t think like that. She was worse than him now. She was a war-starter, for her mistake would surely be the catalyst for a fresh wave of fighting.

“Shiro, take her and get out. Take the Grays.”

“What about you?” Arianna asked, head snapping over to look at him. “You don’t expect me to get home with just-”

“There’s no choice, princess!” Bay snapped, turning to the casement and shoving it open.  “Go now!” he yelled, swinging his arm toward the window. The young man flinched, as if bracing himself for Bay to hit him. Arianna, leaned her head out the window. There was a single story drop to the ground, but in the evening darkness, she could see nothing soft to fall on. The sound of footsteps in the big hallway made up her mind.

“Let’s go!” she said. “We’ll have to jump.”

“Shiro, now!” Bay said, grabbing Arianna’s arm. The young man stooped so she could fling her arm around his shoulders, and she heaved her legs over the sill. Arianna’s back scraped against the casement as the two men lowered her out, and she was glad for the years and years of daring herself to look straight down over the castle Rizell’s curtain wall. Her arms slid through their hands, and they caught her wrists with a jolt. Her feet dangled a meter above the ground, and they let go. 

She gave a truncated cry and crumpled under her own weight, but it took only a second for the fighting blood to kick in, and she scrambled out of the way. Her feet stung, but she tore off toward the stable ahead, wet grass lashing her ankles. A thump behind her signaled the young man’s landing. He passed her on his long legs, flung the stable doors wide, and darted inside, Arianna right behind him.

To her shock, the horses stood outfitted and ready. The young man—Shiro—laced his fingers and Arianna stepped into them and tossed herself across the saddle. She struggled with her skirts for a moment before she was able to get her legs situated properly.

He handed her the reins and stepped back, turning his head from side to side. Through his nest of pitch black hair, she couldn’t see his eyes.

“Hurry up, get on the other horse,” she said, words pierced with sharp gasps. Her throat and chest burned from the run.

“I d-don’t know how to ride,” he breathed. “You have to go now. They don’t know I’m w-with you and you’ll be faster w-without me!”

Arianna stared at him. She imagined herself tearing through the wilderness, unable to discern direction, with a whole company of Markmasters in pursuit.

“Nonsense,” she hissed. “I can’t do this myself,” she loathed her next sentence, though it rang truly inside her own ears as she spoke. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Though he grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck with one big, filthy hand, he nodded.

She nudged Star toward him. “You’ll have to ride behind me.”

The young man’s posture stiffened, but Arianna wasn’t about to give him a second to protest. They had wasted enough time as it was. They’d have to leave her mother’s horse and hope that either that Bay man made it out alive, or that they could outwit or outride a single Markmaster.

“Come, we haven’t got time to argue!” Her voice trembled, but he jumped at the order as if she had shouted it, vaulting nimbly up behind the saddle. Arianna was, for once, glad of her slight weight, for though the young man was little more than skin and sinew, he was quite tall. She wondered what region he was from, to have such long bones and such strange coloring. Star didn’t like the extra weight, and let Arianna know with laid back ears and a rueful glare, but Arianna spat out a few commands in Danaian and they erupted from the stable.

It became obvious almost immediately that Shiro’s claims about his equestrian abilities were not the product of modesty. Arianna’s legs strained as she pressed her feet hard into the stirrups, struggling to keep balance for two as Shiro slung about uncontrollably behind her. Star—confused by the accidental leg signals—snorted and jerked at the reins.

Finally, Arianna managed to get the mare following the reins alone, and wheeled her around toward the road. They hurtled down the little path, turned, and burst into the open darkness of the road.

Ahead, she saw the festival pole, silhouetted against the boiling, cloudy sky, and a pair of figures running straight towards them, blond heads bright. She gasped, gaze shifting, and saw their smooth auras swelling with energy, spells sparkling at the ends of their outstretched hands. She pulled Star’s reins hard, and Shiro fetched up against her back, chin cracking against the back of her head. She grunted, but ignored the pain, wheeling the mare and digging in her heels. They catapulted up the faded road towards the ruined castle in a wild four-beat sprint. Shiro’s arms crushed her ribs, and if she had been inclined to breathe at all, it wouldn’t have been possible.

They pounded up towards the ruins, and a plume of flame snapped out on their left, flaring hot. Arianna screamed, and Star bolted right, heading straight for the steep edge of the motte. Ropes of blue, translucent Magic ribboned out at the edge of her vision, chasing them.

They couldn’t stop—they would have to go over the edge of the motte.

“Hold on!” she screamed, and drove Star with her heels over the edge. Blue Magic arched over their heads.

Everything slammed forward, and the pommel dug into Arianna’s gut. Shiro was heavy against her back, threatening to push her over Star’s low-bent neck as they slid down the steep hillside. The skirt of the motte flared below them, muddy, rocky, without purchase. Star wasn’t running, she was skidding down. Just when Arianna’s hands slipped on the mare’s withers and she pitched forward, Shiro’s arm tightened about her waist and he reversed direction, pulling her back. He had a bit more stability behind the saddle, and he had somehow managed to get his feet in the stirrups with hers.

            They lurched, Star leapt the last few lengths of the motte, and Arianna barely righted herself before the mare crashed into the ocean of tall, golden wheat.

            “The road!” she yelled, and Shiro pointed, but his feet jerked from the stirrups and he quickly had his wiry arms around her waist again, head bent down into her shoulder. They tore a wide path through the field, galloping for the hulking, broken structures concealing the road.

            Another tail of flame arced over them and splattered like burning grease in the wheat ahead. Star reared, and this time Arianna’s fingers tangled in the horse’s mane. Shiro somehow managed to stay on, and as soon as the mare’s hooves touched down, she took off, skirting the spreading flame and churning a path through the pale wheat.

            There was a roar of thunder from above, and a great rush of wind blasted their backs, bringing a spatter of sparks from the quick spreading flame. Star moved in great leaps, and Arianna realized with a sick trill of fear that the flame was being pushed up around them by Magic. Desperate, she dug at Star, leaning forward, though she knew the mare could go no faster.

Then the sky opened up. First a few drops, then a torrent pelted down over them like shattering glass, battling with the flame. They leapt between buildings and Star pivoted, slinging her riders sideways as she found the road, and hurtled into the tunnel of trees. In the sheet of sudden rain, the gray horse and riders became invisible.

When Tomorrow Comes

Song my friend Dai and I wrote, while I was in Japan.

You can donate to Japan's disaster relief at the following websites: http://ow.ly/4ddkE, http://ow.ly/4ddkF,http://ow.ly/4ddkG, http://ow.ly/4ddkH

When Tomorrow Comes
By SAKURAN
Lyrics,Vocals,Piano: L. Scribe Harris 
Guitar,Music,Backing Vocals: Daisuke Sakurai

waiting for morning, and the shadows in my room
are concealing all the memories
I reach out my hand, groping for comprehension
of the solid hole where there used to be dreams

there are no more chances, just this unfurling life
and I gave too much just to give up tonight

When tomorrow comes, It'll be okay
When tomorrow comes, I won't worry anymore
When tomorrow comes, I won't be alone
When tomorrow comes--just another day

My thoughts are all uncensored and the voices in my head
are telling me who I'll never be
Is it okay to pretend until I can make it for real
Or is it just one more useless lie to believe

These doubts have paralysed me and I ask myself, "Why?
Am I so scared of falling, I've forgotten how to fly?"

When tomorrow comes, It'll be okay
When tomorrow comes, I won't worry anymore
When tomorrow comes, I won't be alone
When tomorrow comes...

I open my eyes, look into the light
let it illuminate every corner of my life
scattered everywhere, regrets too shameful to bear
but I am standing here now because I've been there

When tomorrow comes
When tomorrow comes
When tomorrow comes
When tomorrow comes...

Just another day, after day, after day, after day

Just another day...

Just another day.