Have I ever mentioned I was writing a fantasy book? Probably once or twice if you’ve been following my writing journey for any length of time. Or maybe this is new information. I started writing it over ten years ago, and for the last ten years I’ve started and stopped and tinkered and dabbled. The story has undergone a series of overhauls because I inevitably get stuck. A year ago—almost to the date—I scrapped everything I’d written chalking it up to world-building and started over. Over the last year, I’ve gotten the closest to a finished draft than I ever have, which is both exciting and terrifying.
Why?
Because this book has become my personal Camino de Santiago, my creative pilgrimage. Despite my many years of writing and having written ten books over my lifetime, this book has been the one that alludes me and makes me feel like I’m fooling myself as a writer. I set it as a goal, the unattainable one that is a moving target of someday.
As a contemporary writer for the most part, there is safety in the known. I can draw from the world around me. I can create a place rooted in the safety of a world that exists in the here and now. The process for writers of historical and fantasy face a different challenges, and for fantasy, specifically, one of those challenges is building a world, its inhabitants and its systems from scratch.
And I’m close!
I made a promise to myself to use April as the month to finish the draft (or work hard trying to do it). April is here.
So here are the current Fantasy WIP stats:
This WIP is currently at 82,000 words.
It is tentatively titled: Deconstructing Cale Elysian.
There is one main protagonist—Cale— with a cast of “found-family” characters around him.
While the story would be categorized as a high fantasy because it is in a brand new world with new systems, the story is driven by low fantasy elements to keep it grounded.
There is a magic system.
What I hope to accomplish this month (so you can hold me accountable):
I want to add around 50,000 words (like during NaNoWriMo), or as many as I need to get this book close to a finished draft.
I’d like to shut down my perfectionist tendencies and just write forward (it has been harder with this book than my others).
I’d like to share my weekly updates with you here and on Instagram each Wednesday.
That’s it.
Here’s a snippet of what’s been written. This is from the POV of Cale’s best friend Yoneo:
Yoneo squinted in the darkness of his tiny attic room of their family cottage. Wondering if he heard something, he waited. After a few seconds, he closed his eyes again and rolled over deciding one of his sisters—probably Teniko, who was hiding a new, secret lover—was sneaking back into the house. The brin coursing through his system was wearing off, leaving a nasty headache in its wake which required sleep. When he heard the tap again, his eyes snapped open; he sat up and groaned.
“Teniko, if that’s you, I’m going to kill you,” he whispered it to no one in particular since if it was in fact his sister, she wasn’t in the room.
Being stuck between a quartet of sisters was a challenge in and of itself, add the extra pressure of being the only boy and it increased exponentially. The oldest sister, Nika, had paired last summer and lived in Billerdem with her partner, but that left the other three, Kira just above him, Teniko who was just below him in birth order and drove him crazy most of the time, and then the youngest Martika. While he had lots of attention, it was often too much, and his dad wasn’t much of a respite wanting him to be the strong silent type he could count on while his sisters nagged him to share his feelings. It was exhausting.
Yoneo rolled from the comfort of his bed and slogged his way around Teniko’s bed where his sister was actually sleeping. Which meant, if it wasn’t her, it was someone else. His heart picked up speed wondering who in the blister of the dark would be throwing pebbles at his window. Probably Jem since he’d be the only one likely to do something so irrational. But that didn’t make any sense. Yoneo loosened the fastener and pushed the window open, not particularly concerned it would be someone dangerous. They lived in the tiny village of Brockton, for light’s sake.
“Yo?” A familiar voice sort of whispered up from the garden below.
“Cale? What are you doing? Your dad is going to kill you!” Yoneo whispered back.
“Can I come up?”
“Wait. I’m coming down.” Shock flooded his system. Cale sneaking about was like Hah stopping its rotation around the suns and then changing direction to go around the opposite way.
He moved through the cottage with care avoiding the creaks of the old home. Like the third step on the way down the stairs along with one right at the bottom that seemed to have an odd thump when you removed your weight. He took a wide step just the other side of his parents bedroom door to avoid the squeaking floorboard, and when he opened up the door, he made sure to do it slowly so it didn’t groan.
His friend was nowhere to be seen in the yard, the bushes, the herbs and flowers his mother coddled looking more like a wild meadow than a manicured garden. “Cale?” Yoneo whispered into the dark.
Cale stepped out from behind a tall shrub. It was difficult to see him in the dark, though the moon provided some light, but not enough to chase away the shadows. He looked weird. And lumpy.
“What are you doing? I thought you were sick,” he said. “Come.”
Cale moved down the walk and into the house, looking behind him as he went.
“What’s going on?” Yoneo asked once they were inside and the door shut behind them.
Yoneo’s father coughed, and he held a finger to his lips. It wasn’t that his dad would be angry that Cale was there, but the man loved his sleep he had so little of it. His temper was formidable. “Wait,” he whispered, went up the stairs retracing his silent steps, grabbed some blankets, and returned to Cale the same way. The difficulty of having so many people in a tiny little cottage meant there was no space. “The barn,” he whispered and led the way to the out building.
When they were safely inside and out of the hearing of his family, Yoneo asked again. “What’s going on?”
Cale’s face, despite its usually golden glow, looked pale and stricken.
“Are you still sick?”
Cale flopped into a pile of straw and it was then what had made his friend look lumpy; he was carrying a bag. “I’m not sick.” Cale finally said after some time.
“Are you running away?”
“You could say that. I’m going on The Tour.”