Writer’s Update 2/25/25
Hello everyone! This is the second week of my writing/novel-finishing-challenge, and I’ve hit a substantial amount of bumps along the way. But let’s start with my successes, and move on to difficulties and learning curves in a few paragraphs, shall we?
First off, my word count this week is not as impressive as it was last week. (Again, this section was not nearly as easy to write as the first.) From February 18th until today (I haven’t written anything yet today, and I’m not sure that I will…) I wrote 7401 words, averaging around 1000 words per day. Not bad! I’m three quarters of the way complete with this section, and I imagine that I’ll finish it up in about a day or two. (Depending on inspiration.) This brings my word count up to 53,957—for those of you who might be interested in doing the math with last week’s total, I did go back and edit some stuff from last year. I know, I know—terrible!
Now, I’m sure you’re curious about why this week’s writing was so much more difficult than last week’s. “Leah, difficult? Really? You wrote over 5k words!” Yes, well, I spent a lot of hours sitting in front of the computer—and the unexpected snow days didn’t exactly help the fact. I spent much of the time thinking while the light flickered across my face, cursing my characters for being so similar and yet not compatible at the same time. (More on this in a moment.)
One of my revelations for this week was that ‘fluff’ I deemed worthless last Monday—er, Tuesday, for you guys—is actually not all bad. In fact, what I called ‘fluff’ was actually character development and friendship building moments.
*throws myself onto the corner of my desk and sobs dramatically*
Character individuality and friendships aren’t one of my natural skills. I got so used to just writing whatever—and then heavily editing ‘whatever’—and it being spectacular that I nearly forgot that I’m human, and I do, in fact, er in my writing. (Well, I didn’t forget that much…) Not to worry, though. I’ve devised a plan to solve this issue, along with my favorite (and only) older sister. (Hi Maya!)
If you’ve read my fanfiction, I might have mentioned that every chapter was written in one of many blazes of inspiration. Each character was vivid and practically wrote the dialogue and internal monologues themselves! This was because I knew exactly who they were. Shannon Messenger and Tui T. Sutherland had already fleshed them out entirely themselves—or, in many cases, planted a detailed seed about their personality—and I simply took off from there. How does this relate to anything we were just talking about? I’m glad you asked. See, I’m working on matching my characters to characters from books and TV shows that I like, that way I have a better idea of who they are, and how they interact. Everyone except for Lightningbolt and Hurricane has a match, but they’ll hopefully have personalities soon. (If you don’t recognize these names, don’t worry. They’re barely in the story as far as you’ve read.)
There are also characters who are getting a complete revamp of their personalities, mostly because they had none to begin with. Although, in a certain side-character’s case, it’s because he got way too cheerful in these past few drafts.
The ‘fluff’ is back with a vengeance. Because it’s not fluff. It’s development of the plot, the characters, and it’s all too necessary for pacing purposes. (My story is moving a little too quickly at the moment.) Of course, I understand that meaningless scenes or descriptions are tiresome for the reader. It’s tiresome for the writer, too. There won’t be thousands of words talking about one thing that has nothing to do with the plot in any way. Every scene will be carefully crafted by either the author (me) or the characters. I promise.
I’m almost done you guys. Do you have any idea how happy it makes me to write those words?! In a matter of weeks I’ll move my fingers across the keyboard to write “To be continued…” and run around the town shrieking “I DID IT!! WOO HOO!!!” Oo, and I’ll be getting a massage. I think I’ll wrap this draft up in around 15-20 thousand more words, excluding the scenes I need to go back and add. Once I’m done, I’ll get to work on character development and allow myself a week (or two) to lay back and read some books before jumping into editing, AKA the fifth draft.
Wow. My dream is finally coming true. I’m going to go to bed now—I’m thoroughly exhausted—please enjoy the scene of the week!
—Leah Larkspur
Favorite Scene of the Week
This one was so much fun to write, so I hope you have equally as much fun reading it! I thought it was really cool how I could just slip in Clementine’s biggest but formerly subconscious fear (aha! Character development :D) without getting too emotional. Plus, I was able to do some worldbuilding. Win-win-win, amiright?
Oh and please excuse the abrupt transition and total lack of description in the beginning. I’m not editing, remember?
Clementine’s POV
Hurricane snaps to get our attention. Everybody quiet, he signs, alert. Something’s coming our way.
My spine goes rigid as I turn to follow his gaze. There aren’t any footsteps, but something’s rattling the leaves. And it’s getting nearer…
Two figures made of smoke step out of the trees, flaming red eyes staring curiously at us. They walk slowly around, forcing us into a tight cluster in order to protect ourselves from them. My heart is racing, and my grip around my dagger tightens.
One of the beasts stops directly in front of me, and I’m caught up by it’s piercing gaze.
Suddenly, I’m not in the forest. I’m falling, down, down, down, into a freezing inky black void. My mind is blank, my hands are numb. There’s nothing all around me, nothing inside me, nothing, nothing, nothing.
Everything’s gone.
I’m wandering through the stark nothingness, but I’m standing still. My legs are moving, but they’re leaving my mind behind.
I’m watching.
Moonflower Valley springs into view, shimmering in the black haze like an oasis. But it’s on fire. Heat surges all around me, burning my skin, my clothes, my hair.
I’m burning.
The image flickers, there, then not there. I’m cold. It’s back again, but this time, the green flags embroidered with the Ashbluff crest that wave every day on the castle’s turrets are gone, replaced by a purple and green flag. I don’t recognize it, but I somehow know what it means. Oleander’s king.
The image is gone again.
I’m in the middle of a battle, with the Florian army to my left and the fox armies to my right. Spears pierce metal armor and soldiers collapse to the ground, dead. A man whom I’ve never seen before fights on the fox side, but I know it’s Flynne’s dad. I can feel it in my bones. A soldier from my kingdom swings his sword, and her dad’s head is no longer attached to his body.
Flynne’s running towards me.
The battle is gone, and her face is streaked with tears. She’s yelling at me. She’s yelling at me, but I can’t understand what she’s saying. She’s throwing her cloverberry bracelet on the ground and running past me. I try to follow.
She’s gone.
Citrine is bent over Dad. His chest is rising and falling in labored breath. The battle rages on around them, but Citrine doesn’t take her eyes off of him. He’s wearing the armor of the Florian army. Blood is pooled around him.
His blood.
I’m at his side as he takes his last breath. Citrine is hugging him, stroking his hair, shaking. No sound. She turns to me. Her eyes have cried a thousand tears. She’s yelling at me.
No sound.
But her lips say, “Look what you’ve done! This is all your fault!”
I’m in the castle. Willow is nowhere to be found. Oleander’s admiring the crown that’s been hidden away for years. The battle is still raging on on the far side of the window. He lifts the crown to his head.
Moonflower Valley is winning.
Oleander’s winning.
I’m standing in the middle of the battlefield. All the foxes are dead. Dad is dead. Flynne is screaming. Citrine is crying.
I’m frozen. Trumpets blow in the distance, but they make no sound.
We’re celebrating.
We won.
It’s over.
I sink to the ground and it all fades to black. Pain blooms in my chest, holding my heart with its iron grip. A voice whispers, “Don’t feel.” A hand appears in front of me. I take it.
And I am numb.
