When is romance/sex most poignant in a novel: when it’s just another nail in the coffin, or when it comes like a thief in the night, sneakily riding the wave of the plot until the perfect time?
I’m going to create another version of the story. I know I’ve been talking about it, but I’m actually going to do it, instead of just moving a few things around, adding in here or there. To me, it’ll still just look like moving things around. But to you, it will probably look like a full story makeover. I’m doing this for the sake of the story. There is a time for Rome and Labriella’s relationship to be hot and heavy. But I rushed it–not because I introduced attraction too early, but because I made attraction the main event. Yes, that attraction is vital, but I don’t have to singularly focus on it for it to come to pass.
I wanted to find out if I could write abruptly instead of detailed.
I could.
I wanted to see if I could write sex scenes.
I can.
I wanted to see if I can get away with detail and gore.
I did.
It’s been really encouraging to see people reading, following, and favoriting me as an author. As I’ve been hunting for stories online to read lately, I’ve been reminded of why I began writing my story in the first place. Sure, I was bored and didn’t have a book with me to read. But I also had devoured so many online stories that there were few left in my genre that appealed to me at the time. Exasperated, I realized that I had subconsciously developed an ideal male character in my mind’s eye, somewhere between a fantasy and a character I would want to read about…but he existed nowhere except in my mind.
And so I created him. And somehow, I ended up writing the kind of story that I wanted to read—the kind of story there are so few of. It’s a darker genre, traditional in its culture of men placed over women, but unconventional in its opportunities to flip things on their heads, and in its determination to get inside the characters’ heads.
And really, that’s what I wanted: An angsty fantasy story with graphic romance as both the problem and the solution. I wanted to see two strong main characters fight against themselves, each other, and the world to become one. I wanted to see the woman use her “lower” position in society to become valuable. I wanted to see the strong man have an identity crisis. I wanted to see a beautiful beast who remained beastly. I wanted to see up become down and down become sideways. I wanted to take the “known” (a well-known fairy tale in this case) and turn it into Wonderland (which is illogical/mind-boggling). If I saw one more Superwoman or girly-girl, I thought I would scream…or vomit. If I read one more “let’s get pregnant and have a family,” I was going to throw something. I don’t want to read about a kid; I want to read about the love bunnies. Everybody else can go take a hike. And why do I have to wait until next chapter for a POV change?! What if I want to know what they think now, when it’s most important and fresh in my mind?
And so Beauty and the Beast was born—renamed The BeastKing Chronicles now. A series, but really all one story. A story that could continue on and on for an eternity, because it follows an immortal. A story whose romance doesn’t end in a single volume to trade for another minor-character couple, or end in a family and a happily-ever-after. A story that’s full of trials, just like life—but extraordinary trials, such as you could never actually live. A story full of characters who would be phenomenal or terrible to meet in person—the kind that could make you lust or scream, murder or sex up.
Don’t you want to read that kind of story?
What kind of story do you want to read? And why aren’t you writing it?
I’m newly hooked on the Korean TV drama series Gu Family Book!
For those of you who haven’t watched any Korean dramas, they are in actual Korean, available with English subtitles. One of the things I have come to appreciate about Korean dramas is their level of expression. In theater (i.e. live plays and shows, with actors on stage), actors are often over-expressive compared to TV shows and movies, in an effort to engage their audience and make them feel like participants in the show. Korean dramas carry this over-expressive element, even though they are filmed. Sadly, some viewers may view this as bad acting (particularly those of us who are more accustomed to Hollywood acting).
For those of you who are anime fans, in some ways Gu Family Book is reminiscent of the manga/anime Naruto, but also of Inuyasha. The storyline follows a boy who is half human and half nine-tailed fox. The first two episodes of Gu Family Book follow the boy’s parents: the human daughter of a framed Korean lord, and the thousand-year-old nine-tailed fox forest guardian. The rest of the series (so far, and I’m on episode 10 out of 24) follows their son, Choe Kangchi, who was sent down the river like Moses (aka baby in a basket) and taken in by a struggling merchant. Kangchi grew up with no knowledge of his origins, other than being found on the river, so when he comes into his power, it’s a big surprise—and one his adopted family doesn’t know or understand.
Part of what makes Gu Family Book so interesting, is that you and the monk watch history repeat itself…only to question whether it will actually turn out exactly the same this time around. Another interesting thing is that Gu Family Book is very unlike any of the other Korean dramas I have watched, and a friend of mine who recommended it said the same thing. It’s not as lighthearted. There is plenty to laugh at past the first couple episodes. But there are also depressing themes, like watching the fall of a wealthy house twice over—the father framed and murdered as a traitor, the older brother tortured, the beautiful daughter sold to a courtesan house (which is like a cross between a geisha house and a brothel), and the rest of the household sold into slavery.
So if you’re one for historic cultural legends, two-sided characters (with one side being a beast nature), and female characters that refuse to go quietly into the night, I recommend giving Gu Family Book a try.
I admit, Kangchi’s father Wol-Ryung is my favorite; he wins the charming award when he’s normal, and the sexy award when he goes dark. Here are some video clips of his romance.
Flow charts are really useful. No, really, they are. You don’t even have to draw all the little boxes (though I suppose you can, if you really like shapes; who knows, maybe drawing will stimulate the creative side of your brain!). Or maybe it’s technically called a “web” if you just have ideas and lines. But I don’t like the spider insinuations, so I’m going with “flow chart.”
“But WHY should I care about flow charts?” you’re probably asking. “What does this have to do with actual story progress?”
Everything. It has EVERYTHING to do with story progress.
See, sometimes I’ll just see things–almost like a vision. Whole scenarios will play out in my head, like I’m watching a real-life video. And when I write, I just write what I see. If I can’t describe it accurately enough, I draw a picture or create a diagram or make a list of possible alternate words to record the idea until I find the words to describe it.
But sometimes, a story can get bogged down by ideas. If you have too many ideas, and no clue how to organize them, you can hit just as much of a block as if you had no ideas. I might know exactly where I want to go, and what I want to happen before I get there, but how do I actually get there?
And that, my friends, is where Mr. Flow Chart comes in
I realized after working on finishing chapter 2, and then jumping back to work on chapter 10, that my writing style has changed again. … Drat. This is a problem. I went from uber broad, to social-centered, and now to super detailed.
Given that the prologue isn’t supposed to fit style-wise with anything…except maybe some future “interludes” to give dramatic insight (foreshadowing) into some not-so-closely-followed characters. Or maybe ultimately I’ll just end up making the prologue read like the rest of the novel. I don’t know at this point.
But the problem I’m having that chapters 1 & 2 don’t read like 4 & 5, and 6 & 7 stand out above the rest like a monument–which is finally being overshadowed by the not-so-eventful chapter 10. And somewhere roundabout the scourge on my writing abilities/conscience that is chapter 8, my writing style tried to mutate once again. So I went back and added more detail to chapters 1 & 2…only to discover that my writing style has mutated AGAIN, and this time it’s so detail-oriented that I either have to scrap what I’ve rewritten and go back to the original, or revert the whole thing (all 10 chapters) to detail.
And, well, sorry to those of you that like a simple or easygoing read, but…I think detail is gonna win out on this one. The story just…READS better with the details; the emotion comes across more vividly. And really, the emotion is what this story is all about. If this story reads in monotone for you, you have every reason to call it trash. So at the risk of sensory overload (which is how my dad reacted when I read him the first couple lines of the dream sequence in chapters 1&2), I will be converting the story.
No worries. Basic plotline stays the same. No new plotline “events,” I think; just more social interactions (aka dialogues), and loads more description where there isn’t dialogue. …We’ll see about how much description ends up framing the dialogue.
Seriah Black 