The Vagrant is his name. He has no other. Years have passed since humanity’s destruction emerged from the Breach. Friendless and alone he walks across a desolate, war-torn landscape. As each day passes the world tumbles further into depravity, bent and twisted by the new order, corrupted by the Usurper, the enemy, and his infernal horde. His purpose is to reach the Shining City, last bastion of the human race, and deliver the only weapon that may make a difference in the ongoing war. What little hope remains is dying. Abandoned by its leader, The Seven, and its heroes, The Seraph Knights, the last defences of a once great civilisation are crumbling into dust. But the Shining City is far away and the world is a very dangerous place.

* * *

1. Some things take time

It can be tough when you’re struggling to get the words on the page and people all around are talking about word sprints of a thousand words an hour, or daily totals of two, three, five or even ten(!) thousand words a day. But with The Vagrant I learned that sometimes you have to write slowly. As I figured out my process with the book, I limited myself to a thousand words a day. If I wrote more than that, the quality of the writing began to suffer. And more often than not, that thousand words would not just pour onto the page so I could run free for the rest of the day. They had to be chipped out of the edifice of my unconscious, letter by letter. But here’s the thing. Some projects are fast to write, and something of that frenetic energy gets translated onto the page and that’s great. But sometimes, the work demands to be taken slowly, and that can be great too.

2. It’s amazing how much space dialogue can take in a book

In The Vagrant, the protagonist is silent. His primary companions are a baby and a goat so for large sections of the book there isn’t much chatter. It made me realise how much of books is often the principal characters talking to each other and, from a writing perspective, how useful it is to have the principal characters talking to each other. On the plus side, it forced me to find other ways to tell the story and work hard on other elements of the narrative.

2.5. It’s amazing how much space the character’s inner worlds can take in a book

In The Vagrant, we don’t get access to the inner thoughts of the protagonist. I decided that it would be more interesting if the reader had to come to their own conclusions about him, based purely on what he did. You get to see into the heads of some of the other characters, especially the infernal ones but not the Vagrant himself. Again though, this means that a lot of what usually makes up a book in terms of speech and thoughts aren’t there, putting the focus very much on action and reaction.

3. Gender stereotyping is tricky and insidious

Some of the characters changed gender between first and final drafts. This is partly because of feedback that I got and partly because over the course of writing and rewriting, I came across a number of very cool folks posting about the representation of women in fantasy that forced me to look hard at what I was doing. I think it’s all too easy to assign gender to a character without questioning or thinking through the decision, considering why that choice has been made and what message that might be sending out.

I also tried to make sure that there was a balance of male and female characters across a variety of roles, both in the foreground and background. To a degree I did this naturally but not enough. I’m fairly happy with the balance I’ve achieved in the book, and even happier with the sequel.

4. Things that look cool in my head can be hard to put on the page

There was this one fight scene that I had to keep rewriting. It was a cool scene: Three different factions and multiple combatants going back and forth, twisting and turning, different sections of the fight playing out in multiple levels of a complex. High stakes, high drama-

It was complicated and hard to follow.

On a screen, it would have been easy. In a graphic novel, perfect (if anyone wants to turn The Vagrant into a graphic novel by the way, I’m all ears) but in text form, it was problematic. I mean, I could understand what was going on in the scene just fine but apparently that isn’t good enough so I went back and reworked it.

And reworked it.

And reworked it.

And… actually, by then it was pretty good. J

5. Standalone? Duology? Trilogy? Neverending Story?

I originally started writing The Vagrant as a standalone. It was only when I was coming towards the end that I found narrative doors were opening as much closing. When the book was submitted, and I was asked to pitch for a sequel, I found the ideas already there, almost as if I’d planned it that way.

Recently, I was asked: why did you plan to write a duology? The truth is that I didn’t plan a duology. In fact the sequel is with my publisher at the moment and having written a draft of it, I find that there is a third book knocking on the inside of my skull, asking if it can join the first two. So if I’m lucky, one day the duology will become a trilogy, or a wheeloftimelogy. But who knows? Not me. And I think that while sometimes you need a concrete arc that fits into a set number of books, sometimes it’s okay to be taken along for the ride.

* * *

Peter Newman lives in Somerset with his wife and son. Growing up in and around London, Peter studied Drama and Education at the Central School of Speech and Drama, going on to work as a secondary school drama teacher. He now works as a trainer and Firewalking Instructor. He sometimes pretends to be a butler for the Tea and Jeopardy podcast, which he co-writes, and which has been shortlisted for a Hugo Award.

Peter Newman: Website | Twitter

The Vagrant: Amazon | B&N

Mirna Fowler believes she has been cheated in life, growing up in a broken home alone with a drunken and gambling-addicted father. Now she works at a small hair salon in Reno, doing her best to survive while she saves money for school. Hoping to get a degree that will take her places. 

But in the wake of her father’s death, Mirna inherits his extravagant debt, an amount of money she can never repay. As her fractured world begins to crumble, the search for the truth sets her on a path where life hangs on her every move.

* * *

FINISH HIM!

*Throws spear*

*Shouts Get Over Here!*

So anyway…writing is hard. That’s nothing new. The middle is the most difficult for me to overcome. 3,000 words into a short story, or 30,000 words into a novel. Pat yourself on the back for kicking ass and then the full picture comes into view and you realize how far you still have to climb. BUT – finish your work. Why? Opportunity.

So what if it’s not perfect? (It won’t be.) I know a lot of writers who have been contacted by editors and agents after reading some of their short fiction. Do you have a story to contribute to this anthology? A novel for me to look at? It doesn’t always work out (probably less often than does) but you’re on their radar, and demonstrated you can finish a project.

My first draft of BURN CARDS, way back in 2012, was a piddling 33,000 words (I’d been aiming for 70,000.) But it was “done” in a sense that it had a beginning, middle and end. I bulked it up to 55,000 over the next two months (kitchen-sink-novel achievement unlocked – more on this later). It felt good, but after feedback from an editor and a couple of agents, I knew it needed a ton of work. Which leads me to…

PEACE OF MIND – LET IT SIT & IT’S OKAY TO MOVE ON

Most writers will tell you to lock a first draft in a drawer and sit on it. Two weeks, two months; put some time and distance between you and the pages. You’ll come back with a fresh perspective to better bleed red pen all over it, light pages on fire, etc.

My first thought: I don’t need to wait, I got this – hence adding the initial bulk to the novel after finishing a short draft. After receiving feedback and realizing the amount of time it would take to tackle the book, I welcomed two months in a drawer, out of sight, out of mind (kind of…). I wrote some short stories, worked on a different novella. Two months became three, then four, and then I never wanted to see BURN CARDS again. Finally I came back to the book and faced the facts. I’d taken another cue from the Rules Don’t Apply to Me Department, and like a lot of (most?) writers: I had a kitchen-sink-novel on my hands. Everything I’d wanted to write stuffed into a word sack. But it was “done” in a way, and most importantly I learned a ton and grew from the process of diving back in. I wouldn’t have progressed as a writer without the struggle. With that peace of mind, it’s okay to move on and do something new.

THE STORY’S OVER WHEN IT’S OVER, A.K.A. EMBRACE THE NOVELLA

I have a difficult time with high word counts – both as a writer and a reader. Stylistically I’m on the shorter side. A novel I recently finished writing came in at 60,000 words. Best-selling crime/thrillers run at 80-100,000. I love reading short stories and novellas, and my sweet spot for a novel is 200-250 pages (~65,000).

Reading/publishing seem to be trending my way (anecdotally at least) with some of the big guys rolling out e-book-only presses that cater to shorter works. Regardless, I’ve learned to forget it and just write. Back with the first version of BURN CARDS, one of the agents to request it liked the writing but didn’t care for the plot. They gave me another shot at a plot synopsis. Needing (of course) to get back to him as quickly as possible, I gave it a couple of days and sent a revised synopsis that kept only about half of the book intact. No go.

Fast forward a couple of years and I’m talking BURN CARDS with 280 Steps. I’ve sent my original manuscript with an outline for where I planned to take it, similar to the previous ‘revised’ outline. I get a thumbs-up and it’s off to the races. A better, stronger, faster version of BURN CARDS is shaping up – or is it? I kick it off to a friend/editor, and after some back and forth and a long telephone call, I realize the heart of the story wraps up in 30,000 words. To do it right, it had to be a novella.

I’m lucky to have a fantastic publisher who trusted me and rolled with the new vision for the book. The story took me where it needed to go.

PLAY WITH POV, BUT TRUST YOUR GUT

A very good friend and avid reader finished my short story that inspired BURN CARDS. Then he told me he hates first person. Thought about changing it?

A lot of people rag on second person. I think it can produce terrific stories (Dan O’Shea’s Shroud of Turin comes to mind.)

Everyone loves a good third – head hop between chapters, grow your story (and page count!) At one time I seriously considered switching BURN CARDS to third person, but in the end decided against it because Mirna’s voice was key to the story. I think the exercise was worth it; got me thinking about the book in a different way, and in the end I went with what felt true to the story. Give it a shot and see what you come up with.

HAVE FUN

To piggy-back on Chuck’s recent post, “Should You Quit Writing?”…

The editing/re-writing stage of BURN CARDS was the first time I found myself juggling multiple projects – writing comics, finishing a novel. Pile 110 inches of snow on top and this past winter just wore me down. I have all the respect in the world for people who get up day-in, day-out and crank out words. I try my best, but sometimes you just have to pack in it and take a breather. To me, it’s not worth it if you’re not having fun. Sure, writing can be a grind, but don’t beat yourself up too much. Enjoy the ride.

Christopher Irvin: Website | Twitter

Burn Cards: Amazon

The wallpapers are in!

You can view them right here.

Now, I disqualified two out of the gate — I didn’t want to, because disqualifying things makes panda bears sad, and making panda bears sad makes me sad. But one of them had only a Ray Bradbury quote on it (and while I love Ray Bradbury, he is not the keeper of this site in ghostly form). The other one had a flowchart somewhat paraphrasingly terribleminds-related, but the material was original and my fear is that if the wallpaper ever went around, it would be attributed to me when really, it was someone else’s IP.

So, that’s that.

Now, your job is to go to the set of wallpapers and choose your favorite. The way you choose your favorite is easy — drop into the comments and identity by number which one you like the most. Do not vote for two. Just one. (And make it clear which one you’re voting for — sometimes people comment and go back and forth on which one they want, and that makes it difficult to see which one they actually like the most.)

You will notice that one of those wallpapers is one that has no number.

Because I have already chosen it as my winner, so it’s out of the pool.

That one is this reimagining of ARE YOU A REAL WRITER, my flowchart.

It’s by Rebekeh Turner, and it’s right here:

(View the original size version here.)

Rebekeh, you should totally contact me at terribleminds at gmail dot com.

And congrats! That rules.

Anyway, get to voting.

Use the comments.

Vote for one early.

You’ve got 24 hours (voting ends at 9AM tomorrow).

EDIT! WE HAVE ANOTHER TWO WINNERS.

First up: the winner, quite handily, of the voting, was:

#5! By CAL!

And I’ve also chosen a random winner:

#4! The bediapered penmonkey by LISA H!

Both CAL and LISA H — bounce me an email at terribleminds at gmail.

Congrats!

It’s so common a refrain at this point the whole Internet should just get it tattooed on its forehead backward so it can read the message in the mirror every time it brushes its teeth:

DON’T READ THE COMMENTS.

“Hey, here’s a great article about female empowerment BUT DON’T READ THE COMMENTS.”

“Read this news story about the Middle East peace process BUT DON’T READ THE COMMENTS.”

“I found this really great blog post on raising children / using blenders / making cat videos / choosing the right soup crackers BUT FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THE GODS IN ALL THE HEAVENS DON’T READ THE COMMENTS OH GOD DON’T DO IT DO NOT GAZE INTO WHAT IS EFFECTIVELY NOT SAURON’S EYE BUT RATHER, SAURON’S WINKING, LAVA-DISGORGING BUTTHOLE.”

It has become the way of the Internet. We have come to understand that the comments section is not unlike the Internet’s own septic system: it sits below every post and video and article, collecting all the trash and shit and evil clowns that have been cast down from above. It’s positively dystopian. Up above are the elites, zipping about on their information superhighway, while below, the underpass has some kind of violent hobo fight club playing out again and again.

Internet comment sections are routinely rife with abuse. People go there not to have salient discussions, but to have those salient discussions highjacked by psychopathic bandits. Or they go there to be the bandits themselves: derailers, abusers, sexist shit-hats, racist fuckwits. That’s not to say comments sections are without positive discussion. That’s hardly ever the reality. Truth is, you can go to most comments sections and find enlightening, illuminating commentary. You just have to wade through a toxic slurry to get to it. That slurry represents the worst the Internet has to offer, and there you are, crawling through it on your belly like someone trying to find his watch in a gymnasium full of medical waste.

And it’s our own fault.

It’s our own damn fault.

We have failed to tend the field and now that shit’s all thick with weeds.

We own this problem. Collectively.

But we can also fix this problem, collectively.

If you own any online entity that offers up a comments section, you need to do one of two things:

a) Moderate the holy hell out of that comments section.

…or, if you cannot manage that task:

b) Shut down the comments section.

If you own a site where abuse is first allowed and then tolerated once its in the door — that’s not all the fault of the commenters. That’s on you. You’ve created the horrible space and let the monsters frolic there while you turn away. This is especially true with big sites that gets tons of comment traffic. (And here, quite likely, the insidious reality is that turbulent comments sections help those sites — because some people click more just to watch the endlessly replaying car crash going on in that “discussion,” and clicks mean revenue.) It’s not just about programmatic filters, but also about actual humans looking at comments and making editorial decisions about what can go there. Humans will moderate other humans. It has been our way before and must be again.

And here you might say, “Buh-buh-wuh!” And you’ll stammer out something about democracy and freedom of speech and censorship. But I’d ask you shift your POV a little bit. Look at a comments section like it’s the letter section of a newspaper. (For those who don’t know what that is, once upon a time young intrepid children rode their bikes down the neighborhood streets of America, flinging these rolled-up wads of murdered tree, and on the murdered trees someone had printed old, vetted, edited news stories.) The letter section was not a free-for-all. They did not print the rantings of every froth-mouthed cuckootrousers who wanted to air his conspiratorial, hate-fueled grievances with the world. They moderated those letter sections.

Consider, too, shifting your POV and trying to remember that the comments section is a public section. And, as such, it should abide by the relative rules of public discourse. Not entirely, of course, and I recognize this metaphor has its limits, but just the same, you can’t go into Target and take a dump on the barcode scanner. You can’t wander around in public space just yelling hateful shit. (Well, okay, you can in some areas, but it’s not actually encouraged and can have consequences.) Every square inch of floor is not a soapbox. Every gulp of oxygen is not fuel for someone’s belligerence. Every open space is not a concert hall for hatefuckers.

You do not own all the comments sections in all the world.

If you host a blog or any other site, then you own one: your own.

Moderate your comments section, folks.

And have a comments policy in place — I just clarified mine, for the record. And have a way to report abuse, too. (You can always report abuse here to me at terribleminds at gmail dot com.)

This isn’t a perfect solution. Any moderation runs the risk of shutting out voices that have dissenting opinions. It potentially creates an echo chamber if taken too far. (Though even here I’d argue that a safe space echo chamber is preferable to a free-for all prison knife-fight — it’s nice to have voices be heard, but the questions you gotta ask are: heard by whom, and to what effect?) If we are to hope that comments sections can actually be a place for discussion or even argument and not, say, the equivalent of an orgy of Cookie Monsters on a permanent meth binge, then we need to start doing something. Tolerating dissenting opinions does not mean tolerating abuse. It does not mean violating safe spaces online. It does not mean letting the Internet look like something out of Mad Max. This is on us to fix. Some sites do it. Some do it well, others do it poorly, but doing it at all is better than looking the other way. It’s not about creating some singular standard — but those of us with gardens are responsible for tending them to whatever extent we can.

It’s funny — I worked in pen and paper roleplaying games for a long time, and one of the hallmarks of that industry is people coming up to you and telling you about their characters. “I HAVE A LEVEL 14 SPACE JANITOR WITH THE SPECIAL FEAT: DEADLY JAZZ HANDS.” And you nod and smile and say, yes, that’s nice, but you learn to fear those not uncommon moments where someone wants to fix you to a spot and unload their entire character sheet into your brain.

But in fiction, people don’t do that. (Whew.) We’re trained to give a log line, a short elevator pitch (IT’S ALIENS MEETS GOOD WILL HUNTING AS A SPACE JANITOR PLAYS HOST TO A PARASITE NAMED ‘CUPID’ AND HE FINDS LOVE AND…). But really, we still need to be thinking about — and talking about — characters. Character is our entry point into a story. Characters are why we stick around. They’re how we relate. They’re why we give a shit.

So.

Whatever you’re writing right now? Tell us about the protagonist.

Don’t go on too long about it — a paragraph or two, no more — but tell us who they are. What they want. What drives them. What opposes them. Open that character up for discussion and critique. Think about whether or not the character works, or if there’s more you could do — and if there is, ask us. Let’s crowdsource it. COMMAND THE HIVEMIND TO WORK IN YOUR FAVOR.

Or something like that.

Note: if you post about your character, you should endeavor to talk to someone else about their character, too. Quid pro quo, Clarice.

(Extra credit reading: The Zero-Fuckery Quick-Create Guide to Kick-Ass Characters.)

Last week, over 400 (!) of you wrote opening sentences for the challenge.

This week, your job is to pick one and write a story with that as your opening.

Let’s say you’ve got up to 2,000 words for this one. Write the story and post it at your online space. Link back here (with a shout-out to the author of the original sentence, please!) so we can read it. Story should be done by noon EST next Friday (the 24th).

Pick your sentence and get to writing.