#WordWeavers 2406.09 — Who has the best meals in your story?
The main character's first non-vegetarian meal was crab cakes. Her marathon trainer insisted she needed more protein in her diet. Since then, her diet has been more like a day angel's than her own kind, which is a problem because day angels live on the top of buildings and any good day angel restaurant is going to be a rooftop restaurant. Her day angel friends and team mates fly her up to the best fish and chips places. I think she eats pretty tasty food, both sky and earth cuisines.
You'd think her antagonist would have the best meals, since in the worst case she could choose takeaway delivered from ten different worlds. (Okay, all but one of the colonies are non-earth-like planets, but still.) Problem is she prefers dessert. Not a meal.
#PennedPossibilities 339 — Does your MC learn from their past, or are they prone to repeating the same mistakes?
My MC is way too prone to making mistakes. Repeating them, not so much. Somehow she survives.
From the current work, this:
..."Better not to get hit?"
"Definitely. Though the direct route through an obstacle is sometimes more unexpected."
And:
Were my trust misplaced, I'd learn something about myself. But, then again, that seemed to be my method of operation: win—or get hurt, pick myself up, make different mistakes.
#WordWeavers 2406.08 — Where would your SC go if they had a bad day?
She's a day angel. Solitude is easy. Near sunset on the always hot world she lives on, she can always catch a thermal and spiral high into the sky. Gliding way above it all, the city she's trapped living in seems so peaceful, so devoid of people. She can make believe for a few minutes that the boss doesn't hold blackmail that would frame her for murder, and that she can soar off into the coming purpling dusk and start anew. The dry air swiftly dries all tears.
This keys into pennedpossibilities 338 rather well (https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/112573054902942695): a betrayal. She. Doesn't. Cry. Stoic, right? When she's held it in for three-quarters of the novel, when she's trusted her identity with someone who has suddenly proven trustworthy, at least in her heart, my MC admits the first hurt of two betrayals that sunder her.
Whilst I won't reveal details, it is a case of a once trusted adult providing only material support when the MC required a simple act of love and caring.
Never forgotten. Never forgiven.
Thus she breaks, while being held. Actually, both cry over being betrayed, but that's also spoilers. In a subsequent novel, the friend characterizes the event as a "cloudburst."
#PennedPossibilities 338 — How would your MC or SC respond to someone betraying their trust?
Since a childhood betrayal is an essential part of the MC's character, let's say she reacts rather poorly. She makes the worst mistake of her life, later runs away, and becomes a criminal (and an anonymous hero amongst other things.) It takes three novels for her to resolve the consequences of that betrayal in an event that shatters her conception of reality. And. She has to keep it together. At all costs. Lives will depend on her; failing to continue through it all would betray trust placed in her.
#WordWeavers 2406.06 — MC POV: When was the last time you laughed? CW: Spoilers if you follow me under another alias.
My MC's story is rarely funny, despite being regularly snide or darkly humorous, sometimes ridiculous like here. Because the "last time" she "laughed" requires too much context, this is the penultimate time she laughed in the entire novel. It's also a minor spoiler for a chapter that will soon be published. The is a slight revised [#excerpt: Two SCs are sitting in a high security prison, on either side of the bars. The MC is watching them from the wrong side of them. The reader knows she has slept with both men.]
He sat opposite my shapeshifter. They looked at one another, the shapeshifter imitating his actions. When it devolved to insulting gestures and the sticking out of tongues, I cleared my throat to forestall laughing outloud.
The prince grinned as did my shapeshifter. The prince said, "It's like looking in a mirror; uncanny."
"Yeah," I said, covering my mouth. "Uncanny because not a mirror image!"
#PennedPossibilities 337 — What was the worst job that your MC or SC ever had? CW: 400 word tootfic.
This #excerpt tootfic is from an in-universe novel I published online in 2016 that would include both my criminal MC (aka the devil-girl) and her SC (aka Bolt) as SCs, as told by the crime boss who wants employ her as his enforcer. My MC has a knack for existing well and without regrets. The detailed jobs and conditions were undoubtedly the worst my MC experienced, and Bolt didn't like it either, which foreshadows their eventual friendship. [I made a few revisions.]
... From what [Bolt], my youngest employee, could find shadowing her in the university district, she was looking for a change of career. She had applied for admission to the [Home Planetary School for Thaumaturgy]. She'd have to wait months until enrollment started.
I saw leverage and a desirable new hire.
Why would I want a security specialist who failed her last employer? Well, in CA's case, sometimes you can't save a person from her own stupidity [so I found the failure forgivable.] I also visualized a different employment for this woman's "miraculous" talents.
I gave orders to ensure the woman's efforts in finding a job to pay room and board would be only marginally fruitful. I provided strategic services to many businesses; they usually respected my opinions on such matters. The woman seemed reluctant to venture into downtown or suburban Home City. Perhaps it was that she was shy about being noticed as the failed security specialist for the deceased Doña. Perhaps it was because visibly healing wounds, time pounding the pavement, and days exposed to the sun and the elements made her look like a vagrant. In any case, she restricted her search to the less-structured more-freewheeling Lower City where I conducted my core business. Her life would be hard.
Surprisingly, this stoic didn't break. She saved the minimal coin she made first sweeping floors, then, when pushed out, cleaning ovens at a bakery, then later hauling garbage, and after that painting walls. She literally performed a dozen menial jobs before the proctors granted her admission when the spring session opened later in the month.
And during those months, she spent nothing. Instead, she lived homeless in encampments in the warehouse district. She never visited the homeless shelters paid by the homeless tax levy where she'd have to identify herself. She ate when she got handouts, even bathed in public washrooms. She even endured a week of strong spring storms, sheltered beneath the eaves of warehouses or restaurants after they closed, sometimes soaked to the skin.
The latter drove my usually hard-flanked [day angel] to tears one evening. The only thing I could do to stop [Bolt] from flying the [daemon] to her aerie that last dark rainy night was to relent and promise to offer the former specialist a position in my organization the next day.
#WordWeavers 2406.04 — Antagonist POV: Is it easy for you to apologize? Can you apologize to someone right now?
If I made a mistake or bumped into somebody? Of course. Many people recognize me, or take a look at me, and something between awe and stupidity sets in. I account for that. I've survived the fall of civilizations; I can be charming. What I won't apologize is for doing things I must do, whether it simply upsets you or ends up killing people you knew, and all the permutations in between. My role in this miserable life that never ends is ensuring humanity survives. Nobody apologizes to me for saddling me with that responsibility. You know what really ticks me off? Questions like this one. Sorry!
The devil-girl is at heart a control freak; she's just not mean or unpleasant about it. Depression results when she's stymied in finding how to control problematic situations from which she cannot escape, which usually ends up with her trying crazy and dangerous things to bully her way through.
But...
If it the situation puts people at risk and she can't do anything about it...
She did have a mental break one time, where she failed to harm herself.
Another time... well, her employer died, though it was because her employer became too stupid to live. She has enduring PTSD, and it's not because of her too young age. It's that she's was raised to be responsible and doesn't know how to let go.
#WordWeavers 2405.31 — Do your MCs enjoy games that are more physical or intellectual?
Wintereyes has never heard of... What did you call that? Games? She'd be interested in learning more about Township people if you would be willing to teach her.
The devil-girl is familiar with the concept of games, and she's done role playing games—as in trying to act the part of various people she might deal with in social situations (estate parties) or in real life (tenant farmers, officials, miners, petty rulers, etc.) Doing well meant she'd face less anxiety when hosting or negotiating with real people. Social anxiety was one of the many reasons she would later run away.
Things like board games or sports games? She wouldn't see the point. She was a prizefighter. Though people considered it a sport, that was never a game for her. It was how she would earn tuition and hone her fighting skills, and get sucked into the mob.
So physical or intellectual? She'd definitely enjoy physical games better.
#PennedPossibilities 331 — Has your MC ever desired the feeling of a fresh start, or a better understanding of themselves and / or the world around them?
Yes. Disappearing and starting fresh is a recurring theme with her. She's done it a few times.
My devil-girl values her freedom to pursue her interests (thaumaturgy) over practically anything. But for a single book, she has no attachments to anything material. She lives as an ascetic. Threaten her people and it won't end well. She will do most anything, if she feels she is learning or stretching herself. And, when she's pressured to do what annoys or bores her, or you have the temerity to threaten her, she will state clearly that she will disappear on your ass if you don't stop. No idle threat, that. She ended up running the syndicate when the Doña died (and no comment about who was responsible for the Doña's death), then ghosted the organization two weeks later taking nothing with her. She'd gotten rid of the undesirables first and was just sooo done with it all the flapping headaches.
#PennedPossibilities 330 — How does your MC go about expressing or not expressing their sexuality? CW: Sexuality?
Intellectually? Tactically?
She was reputed to have the kiss of death, but that gets ahead of that she used it to control the Doña's underlings in the mob. She even arranged for her own teacher, a mob lieutenant, after she'd throughly studied for the test and felt she was ready. She didn't kill him, don't worry! She found she enjoyed kissing, and used it aggressively on men (and women) as a tool until she discovered the whole thing could be fun—then incidentally found herself "expressive" with two boyfriends in two days.
#WritersCoffeeClub Ch 9 Nbr 30 — How do you achieve a sense of wonder in your stories? CW: Intimacy
I don't have a formula, and it isn't something I try to create arbitrarily. It's usually written by accident (or incidentally), and almost always requires tuning of the found passage to make it truly wondrous. It's the right words in the right order. [Not helpful, R.S.!] If anything, wonder is usually tied up with emotion, a sense of achievement, or something well deserved, maybe even something so perfectly crafted by people or nature that it would make a person stare or feel goosebumps. However, I find simply being human can evoke the best sense of wonder—for example:
I woke to dawn rays filtering through lace draperies. A cool jasmine-scented breeze tussled the soft fuzz on my arms and brought the sounds of twittering robins and sparrows. My bombastic bedmate had not molested me. Perhaps she had heard me when I said I preferred men. That, however, did not prevent her from snugging up to me in her sleep.
I grew aware of warmth against my back. I commended myself for not flinging myself from the bed like a crazy person this time, but instead lifted my head and looked back. She lay there, sheets kicked off by one of us, her golden back against my paler one, making us a pair of Cs. Her usually poofy hair matted against her face and spread out in night-sweat glued-together curly tresses across her pillow. She snored imperceptibly, and somewhat daintily for such a large-boned woman.
When I shimmied to break contact, she began to shiver. Even after I gently replaced the sheets over us, she continued. She twitched. After a few moments, I heard the faintest whimper.
I lay my head on the pillow and felt bad. I shimmied back, until our skin made contact. In a minute she quieted and fell deeply asleep. I didn't move. Didn't want to. Because, I knew. She had felt terribly alone—worse, I realized, so had I.
#PennedPossibilities 329 — How is your SC typically seen by others? Does it ring true to who they really are?
The roommate SC in a previous story is seen by others as an imperious arrogant bully who is always correcting people and not at all friendly. To say her adoptive mother runs things is an understatement of epic dimensions. The SC, as a controlling person by nature, accepts and amplifies the sense of power her mother lends her. Since she is rarely, if ever, seen around her adoptive mother and then seems both cowed and agitated in her presence, many consider her a bossy blow hard. She's proven herself the smartest student in school and holds a TA position in practical magical arts.
Is this who she is inside?
Hardly.
She has the expected problems with self-esteem. Her mother is her mentor, but she's unable to demand attention despite needing it, and instead drinks (and will take drugs). She feels horribly lonely. Boys run away at their first opportunity, despite the status they could acquire befriending her. She even considers letting herself be used—not that anyone would have the temerity to try, which turns it into a fools quest.
The MC ends up in a situation where the SC offers her a bed when the MC loses her job (okay, quit the mob) along with her apartment (which becomes unsafe). A bed. Literally. The SC's.
The MC discovers her roommate only sleeps well when held.
#WordWeavers 2405.28 — Did your MCs have comfort objects they carried as a child? Now?
I guess if you could run away from home and fear being dragged back again, you must be a child? Right? The day she ran away, she took only one thing that wasn't essential. It wasn't a doll. She was tutored on how to govern and had people (not dolls) to practice with everyday. It wasn't a remembrance of her parents. Their celebrity had made them shy away from photography, and then they died. Taking a vinyl record was a nonstarter; listening to it, if she could, would have made her cry. Not comforting. No, what she took was a very obscure book! I'll let her talk about it for you:
My books lay thrown on the counter, on top of the messenger bag, on top of my clothes. I felt a spike of anger. I looked from them to him.
He said, "Stop with the playacting. This—" He tapped a hand on my Marlin's Tertiary Primer for the New Age Thaumaturge."—is a month's basic for most!"
I shook my head. Over the last nine months, I'd learned the first edition was worth magnitudes more.
He pushed aside the book revealing the stained blue paper-backed journal. "And this: Thaumaturgical Review Letters. That's nobody's idea of light reading."
I snorted at how wrong he was. "I dumpster-dived that one. I hiked up to the university a few weeks ago. You'd be surprised what moneyed folk throw away!"
"I was saying—"
"My Marlin's is kind of like a plush bear for silly girls. And yes, I do sleep with it. Give it a sniff. It smells like silly me—"