The Taesian Chronicles now at the Sandy Public Library
I am pleased to announce that The Taesian Chronicles is now available for lending at the Sandy and Hoodland Public Libraries.
I am pleased to announce that The Taesian Chronicles is now available for lending at the Sandy and Hoodland Public Libraries.
As I have mentioned on this blog and on The Ardent Scribe, Scrivener has proven to be a wonderful tool for my writing and creative productivity. It’s not about putting words to electronic paper — a basic text editor can do that — it’s about organizing and maintaining that text as the process unfolds.
My second book, Ohlen’s Bane, is possible because I am using Scrivener.
[UPDATE April 7, 2022: It is important to note that I have written ALL of my books using Scrivener. Accept no substitutes.]

I started out with a plot event list. This is basically a list of sentences, each describing a specific scene in the book, in chronological order of how they will appear in the book. Once that is done, I begin my work in Scrivener.
I create a new scene, or text card, for each sentence. The scene title is 2-5 words describing what happens, and the full sentence I created in my plot event list goes into the card description. I drag and drop those scenes into roughly equal length chapters.
In the research section of Scrivener, I create cards for each named character in the book that describes their physical characteristics, personality and background. I also create a page of place names and yet another filled with randomly created names that I may grab from as new bit players turn up in my story.
Once Scrivener is pre-loaded with all of my research and scenes, I fire the trigger and begin writing.
Ohlen’s Bane started off somewhat slowly. I wrote the first six chapters, about 10,000 words, and then read over what I’d written. It dragged. I found myself growing impatient for the good stuff to start happening. Thanks to Scrivener, I was able to drag and drop scenes to rearrange their order. I scrapped entire scenes — not by deleting them, but by putting them into a Scrap chapter. This gave me recourse in case I found a use for them later on, or even just to grab fragments of scenes.
After paring it down and reorganizing scenes into a better order, I was able to start cranking away again. Now that my story found a good rhythm, thanks to Scrivener’s ability to keep my book organized, I was then able to crank out 12,000 words in a single weekend.
When I finish one scene, I open up the text card for the next. Since it has a brief 2-3 sentence description of what happens, I am up to speed on what happens next and can bang it out in record time.
Scrivener really is a brilliant piece of software, and I don’t think I’d ever get my second book written without it.
Writers cheat. I’m not talking about blatant or even subtle plagiarism. I’m referring to taking short cuts when it comes to plot devices. How often have you read, “It is written…” or “It has been prophesied that…”? I see this technique as a way to explain away why something happens without really explaining why it happens.
There’s nothing less exciting for the reader than inevitability.
As I begin writing the sequel to my first novel, Ohlen’s Arrow, I have imposed upon myself the requirement that I answer “Why?” for every character motive in my story. My process involves making a plot event list, which is nothing more than a sequential list of events that occur in the story. Each event is a single sentence that translates into a scene in the book. I then organize those scenes into chapters.
When I state, “The monsters attack the castle”, for example, I must answer the question, “Why did the monsters attack the castle?” What is their motivation? Simply declaring, “They’re monsters, that’s what they do!” is nowhere near good enough, and would easily come across to most readers as transparent and cheap. If a character gets promoted to a position of power, how unoriginal would it be if I declare that it was prophesied by the mystic elders of the First Millennium? This makes it sound inevitable, and there’s nothing less exciting for the reader than inevitability.
Answering “Why?” requires that I do some backstory research, which can be described as Iceberg Tips. Even though a great deal of the backstory behind my character’s motives won’t actually appear in my book, there will be hints of it and the discerning reader will glean why Argo the Orc hated Prince Ruprect with every fiber of his ugly hide. Without the iceberg, there can be no tip.
I just got back from two separate motorcycle trips, one up through British Columbia to southeast Alaska, and the other down to the northern California coast. When I take trips such as these, I carry a paper journal and write notes about what happens on a daily basis.
Upon returning home, I compile these notes into ride reports that I post on my other blog, Two-Wheeled Astronaut.
Once I was back home and settled, I got cracking on revisions to Ohlen’s Arrow and was able to get them completed. The next step is to hire a professional editor to go over the manuscript. My goal is to get the book back on the e-shelves by the end of August.
If you know of a professional editor — that means it’s their day job, not just something they do on the side — please drop me a line.
In the life-cycle of Ohlen’s Arrow, I’m in the editing phase. I’ve hired an editor and we’ve been going through revisions one chapter at a time. I gave her the story as Word files, one per chapter. She then returns those Word files with track-changes turned on. I open up the Word file and place it next to my Scrivener screen. I review each suggested edit and make the changes in Scrivener as I go along.
At this point very few of the edits involve plot items, although I did rework a conversation my lead character has with two friends at the beginning of the story. This helps establish some key plot elements that didn’t quite fit later on in the story.
The bulk of this round of editing has been spent on sentence structure, grammar, and word choices. It’s like a musician being told how to hold their instrument. What I love about this phase of the “I’m writing a novel” process is it makes the finished product better. It also makes me a better writer.
When I meet people and they find out I’m an author, I tend to get a few different reactions. Over time, I have come to the subjective observation that there are three types of people when it comes to writing a book.
The Busy-Body
I have a great idea for a book but I just don’t have the time.
This is the person who is filled with enthusiasm and hopeful desire to become a full-time novelist. They have an idea — or a dozen ideas — for a book of simple or even epic proportions, but there is something missing. They are all motion and no direction; they never put pen to paper and actually do it.
The Doubter
I could never write a book. I’m just not creative enough.
The irony about this type of person is they are often very good at writing from a mechanical standpoint. They are well-spoken and their written word is precise, articulate, and well-structured. They also tend to be voracious readers, and have a keen eye for discerning the difference between great writing and bad writing. These folks suffer from self-defeating doubt, however. They won’t even enter the race because they are utterly convinced they would never win. I’ve met several editors that fit into this category.
The Achiever
I’ve written six books in the last five years while working a full-time day job.
These are the folks that don’t categorize themselves or define their own level of creativity. They just sit down at the keyboard and write their stories anyway. It has been said that writing a book is like eating an elephant one spoonful at a time, and these are the people that show up with a big appetite and when it’s all done, wipe the corner of their mouth with a napkin, belch once or twice, then say, “Okay, bring on the next one.”
After spending a bit of time on another writing project, I have recently returned my attention to Paragon’s Call. Part of that effort has been evaluating the plot I have mapped out and determining if it will go in the direction I need.
I got that worked out and adjusted the plot line better to my liking, then returned to composition. I’m now up to a little over 63,000 words, with a half dozen chapters remaining. For scale, both book one Ohlen’s Arrow and book two Ohlen’s Bane are about 64,000 words each.
My plot adjustments have shortened the overall length of the novel by removing three chapters that didn’t add much to the book. I learned back in my screenwriting days that if a scene can be removed without altering the pace or plot, it doesn’t belong.
More importantly, my plot adjustments have changed the role of the antagonist in the book. Specifically, I added a new antagonist that will will play a bigger part in subsequent books.
Wait, what? Did I just indicate there will be more after Paragon’s Call?
After reading Michael J. Sullivan’s article, “Starting out Strong – How to Write a Killer Opening” over at Mythic Scribes, I was reminded of the effort I went through working on the opening of my book, Ohlen’s Arrow. My original opening was action packed and very engaging, or so I thought.
Like the love of a first child, we can become enamored with the beginning of our book, especially after we have spent hours or even days writing and re-writing it until we are convinced it is perfection incarnate and have no room for improvement. Then someone can come along and point out just how much work it really needs.
Sullivan worked with me on my opening chapter and as he pointed out in Starting out Strong, I was giving away too much information without really engaging the reader/editor early enough. So I rewrote it, cutting it down to just three paragraphs. I also realized that I was telling the reader what was going on rather than showing them. “Show, don’t tell” is very simple advice but it’s a powerful approach that really sets a story apart from the rest of the herd.
To show you how the opening of a story can impact the reader, below is the current version of my book’s beginning. Read this and notice I’m showing you some intense action in just a few brief paragraphs but I’m raising more questions than answers. What is a cru’gan? Why was it there? Who is the character that fires the arrow?
Thwip.
The arrow sank deep into the creature’s throat and it fell backward in a spray of blood, twitching and clawing at the wooden shaft protruding from its severed wind pipe. The man lowered his bow and crouched down into the bushes in case there were others. He remained still but watched and listened intently to see if he had stumbled upon a lone cru’gan or if it had been part of a patrol. At first the only sound was the wet gurgling coming from the cru’gan’s throat. Now it lay still and silent and the only thing the man could hear was the evening breeze through the pine trees.
After several minutes passed he retrieved his arrow and quickly searched the body, then rolled it under a pile of briars out of sight. He kicked the creature’s blood into the dust and pine needles to obscure the evidence of the encounter, then moved silently away into the pine forest amidst the diminishing evening light.
The book begins with a single action word, indicating the sound an arrow makes when it strikes its target. The next sentence is somewhat gory, which captures the reader’s attention, but it’s not gratuitously so. The third sentence establishes who fired the arrow, something about where he is, and that the sense of danger may not be over (“…in case there were others.”) The opening segment finishes without answering the question of why the encounter occurred, why the man wanted to conceal the evidence, or where he was going. This curiosity is what will spur the reader to continue.
This opening segment is also short enough to fit on the back cover of a book, which can help sales.
For contrast, here is the longer original version. Notice how I was telling the reader a lot of information and only showing a little. It was also too long-winded and didn’t create curiosity within the opening paragraph:
His feet found the trail to be familiar and he quickened his pace. Normally he traveled with a slow cautiousness, always alert for the presence of enemies and danger. Today was different. He was heading home.
The tall pine and fir were fragrant in the afternoon sun. Their needles softened the ground and quieted his footsteps. The sun was setting and it cast long autumnal shadows where it slivered in between the forest trees. He had hunted this forest in childhood and learned its ways and paths under the guidance of his grandfather. The old man had been wise enough to allow the boy to get lost on occasion, always knowing he was safe as he struggled to find his way back to the village. Those lessons, although seemingly dangerous and somewhat frightening to the boy, had shaped him into the ranger he had become as a grown man. It built within him an innate sense of direction and an awareness of his surroundings. Those lessons had saved his life on more than one occasion.
The trail was worn and solid. His people had walked its length for generations for trade with neighboring villages. It’s warriors moved along its course on the way to hunting grounds. Today it saw their best warrior returning home. It had been many years since his feet trod this ground. It had been far too long.
A musky scent in the air brought his senses back to the moment. He stopped and slowly looked around him, listening intently and sniffing the air. A faint breeze came from the north. There was a slight incline rising to his right up into the tree line. Whatever he smelled was gone now, but he knew it wasn’t natural to this area. He was familiar with every kind of animal in the forest of his ancestral home and he knew their ways and habits. This scent was different, not of any animal in the area and although it seemed animal in nature, there was also something malignant and human about it.
He crouched low and began to work his way off the trail and up into the trees, moving slowly but deliberately. The hill got steeper and the trees became close and dark. He could see a narrow line of rimrock up the slope ahead, stretching from side to side just below the crest of the hill. He paused and closed his eyes, listening intently.
He heard a faint snap up the slope to his right at the base of the short rock cliff. His bow was already in his hand, an arrow nocked and ready to draw. He scanned the hillside and rocks amidst the trees and brush, moving his head slowly from side to side to change his perspective on the area ahead. He heard another faint snap and froze.
The opening continued on for another twenty paragraphs after that, with a detailed description of how the man shoots the creature, followed by even more description of it’s physical characteristics. It was long-winded, tedious, and did nothing to engage the reader’s curiosity. The new book opening gives the reader enough to get a sense of what’s going on but draws them into reading more rather than presenting them the full enchilada on a single, drawn out platter.
I have been making slow but relatively steady progress on Paragon’s Call, splitting my time with another writing project. I’m at about 53,000 words, which puts me at just over half-way through the overall plot. I estimate Paragon’s Call will be around 100,000 words, maybe a bit more. For perspective, Ohlen’s Arrow and Ohlen’s Bane were each about 64,000 words.
November is NaNoWriMo … National Novel Writing Month. The goal is to write 50,000 words in the month, with the specific goal of writing something every day for 30 days straight. I appreciate the concept and motivation for NaNoWriMo, but use a different approach. Rather than writing every day, I write only on Saturday and Sunday mornings, and crank out anywhere from 5,000 to 10,000 words in a weekend.