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Showing posts with label #characters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #characters. Show all posts

Wednesday, 23 September 2015

Writing - Welcome Wednesday

Every week, multi-genre author Nancy Jardine features a 'Welcome Wednesday' slot in her blog, where she invites guest writers to chat about various writing subjects.

Today, Nancy very kindly invited me, and I'm discussing that perennial subject 'plot versus character'.

http://nancyjardine.blogspot.com.es/2015/09/welcome-wednesdays-guest-is-nik-morton.html?showComment=1443013172874#c4782221977601192572

Many thanks for the invitation, Nancy!

Me...
 
 
... and Nancy...

Saturday, 29 August 2015

Saturday fiction – ‘Thunderstorm’ – an excerpt

Today, here’s an excerpt from ‘Chapter Eleven – Trial’, from Wings of the Overlord, book one of the Chronicles of Floreskand, a fantasy quest novel co-authored with Gordon Faulkner, both of us writing under the name Morton Faulkner. There’s a small glossary at the end for unfamiliar words appropriate to Floreskand. [Book two is a work in progress, To Be King.] The character descriptions have occurred earlier...

This scene attempts to incorporate weather (not for the first time in this quest, I might add), thus providing action and drama. Weather can often be used as a ‘character’ in a novel; certainly, it provides added conflict, and helps define other people:

A great bank of silvery cloud mass loomed, casting a shadow upon the grassland ahead.
       “Looks like a thunderstorm,” observed Rakcra.
       “It seems to be moving in our direction.”
       Sun shone brilliantly everywhere except where they were going. Darkness spanned the horizon; there was no way round it. The sight alone cast an indefinable fear into Fhord’s heart. Knowing that she was being premature and foolish, she nevertheless delved into her side-pouch and withdrew the storm-idols, and prayers traipsed over her lips. In the past, from the safety of her shuttered windows, she had peered through the wooden slats at the startling flashes of forked lightning, hurled down by the jealous Nikkonslor. But she had never actually weathered such a storm in the open. Yes, she realised, she was afraid. Greatly so.
       Rakcra reined in his whinnying horse. “Stay as outrider, Fhord, while I seek Solendoral and find out what he plans to do.” He squinted to manderon. “There’s no shelter anywhere – we may have to ride on through it, hoping for the best.” He swung his mount round and galloped down the crest into a small vale where the main body of the Hansenand montar rode, oblivious of the encroaching anvil-clouds.
       Musty, dry breezes gusted through Sarolee’s mane. An unhealthy taste filled the air, oppressive. Her palfrey baulked a couple of times but Fhord kept her cantering up and across the sloping bracken. Occasionally, she glanced back over her shoulder, anxious for word from Rakcra or Solendoral.
       At last a rider and horse hurried towards her, the man’s fur cloak billowing in the warm breeze. Fhord was almost wheezing on the close air now as she saw it was Alomar.
       “We’re to quicken the pace, lass. Solendoral says these summer hail storms can be deadly. If we stop moving, we’re lost!”
       Not for the first time on this expedition, her heart sank. “Hail? In summer?”
       “Freak weather hereabouts. Some say this is Nikkonslor’s peeving-ground. But I reckon it’s something to do with the weird cluster of mountains – the Sonalumes don’t seem to obey the natural laws as our so-called experts predict them. Give me a tried and tested stioner any time!”
       Fhord led her horse down the slope, joining the van with Alomar. “Did Ulran –?”
       “Yes – predicted it last night, he did – hence his advice this morn to carry fur cloaks. But what else can we do? There was no shelter at camp, and we’ve come across none since, either. Some of these slopes may shield part of the effects – if the hail falls slantwise. But if it comes down straight, then what?” Alomar grinned, his moustache long and unruly now.
       Fhord nodded and released her fur cloak, put it over her shoulders.
       “Close up!” came the shout from behind.
       Neither Fhord nor Alomar lessened their pace but after a time the rest of the montar, complete with trundling fire- and equipment-wagons, closed up to their rear.
       “Keep together!” shouted Solendoral as the horde began to ascend the shallow ridge directly in their path.
       Ahead, flat unrelieved ground of hedge and thicket with grass interspersed. Hardly a tree in sight, not a boulder cluster to be seen.
       “Keep it tight!”
       And so they rode full into the fury of the storm.
       The prospect was daunting as Fhord – still one of the front riders – entered into the deep shadow. The surrounding air-temperature abruptly dropped. The sun’s light and warmth were suddenly obliterated. She looked warily upwards and all was black, a great rolling mass of cloud, seething slowly on hidden winds.
       Then the torrential hail fell. Alomar’s words had readied her for it, but no preparation could have shown her what it would be like to experience.
       Each hailstone must have been the size of an eyeball. As Alomar had feared, the hail sluiced straight down, pounding upon their heads and shoulders and the backs of their necks. Horses whinnied continually and the great pounding persisted, reverberating through their bony frames, almost tearing the clothes from their backs.
       At least Ulran’s stionery had forewarned them. Upon entering the black shadow they all donned heavy protective cloaks and, if no helmets were to hand, hoods.
       The canvas roofs of the wagons boomed like massive drums, echoing thunder rolls from afar. The fire-wagon hissed and steamed and black smoke billowed around it.
       Bruised and slightly stunned by the storm’s vehemence, Fhord shoved a young Devastator by her side: “Use your shield over your head!” she shouted, pointing to others who had already done so. The rataplan of hail on wood and steel and canvas heightened. Some hide shields were rent with the hail’s force, but others held.
       Head down, Fhord rode on without a shield, riding unseeingly, her mind numb and unable to See ahead. Vision was impaired to fractions of marks as the hail fell in thick sheets.
       Many times Sarolee was jolted as another rider blindly led his horse off course. As for navigation, it was no real problem. The Hansenand, like all other hordes of the Kellan-Mesqa, had instinctive directional sense and would continue manderon.
       A shriek, from a woman just in front, momentarily halted Fhord. She realised that if she tarried, someone would collide with her from behind. But she couldn’t leave the woman to be trodden underfoot or perhaps drown.
       Bruised and weak from the constant pummelling, she gasped for air as the hail broke into water and drenched her to the skin. She gripped the reins tighter and peered through slitted eyes, bracing herself against the storm’s terrible oppressive fist.
       As she concentrated, she found she could perceive that little bit further through the slashing sheet of hail.
       Ahead, on a hard piece of ground – a small island midst the mud – where the hailstones bounced off with staccato sounds, she detected a slight movement, the patch of red – possibly a dress.
       With almost manic force, Fhord tore at the reins, brought Sarolee round slightly and headed the short distance to the patch of red.
       Now the shape was distinct. But there was no movement. It was a girl-child, lying prone. All about her were puddles, splashing. By the– she held back, biting on an imprecation. The child was probably dead already, drowned if not crushed under the horse-hoofs.
       She reined in beside the still, pathetic figure, peered behind and could picture nobody about to collide. But she would have to be quick.
       Against her better judgement, she dismounted and, whilst restraining Sarolee with one hand, she reached down and grabbed at the belt of the girl’s dress.
       Sarolee chose that moment to buck as a stark tongue of lightning flashed overhead, ephemerally illuminating the scene.
       Puddles of mud glared whitely and a deep gash of red appeared on the girl’s temple as Fhord pulled her over. Mud covered her eyes, nose and mouth, but she noticed the child’s small pigeon-chest rose irregularly.
       Again, Sarolee whinnied and heaved against her rein, jerking Fhord. The cloth belt of the dress snapped and for a brief moment she feared she had lost sight of the girl and would never find her again, her efforts wasted. And time was mounting against them. Above the roar of the storm she could hear the trundle of wagons, getting close.
       “Steady, girl,” said a calming voice and Fhord swung round.
       Ulran, astride Versayr, was stroking Sarolee. “Quickly, Fhord, while I calm your horse!”
       Amazed that the innman’s voice could carry above the storm’s din, Fhord needed no urging. She immediately loped across the squelching mess to the girl.
       Her chest still heaved.
       Fhord thrust an arm under the girl’s back and legs. Stooping under the weight, she wheeled round, only in time to avoid the heavy hoofs of wagon horses and their groaning load.
       Fhord stumbled as the fire-wagon passed no more than a hand-span away, hissing and belching smoke and steam like some infernal monster from Below.
       She reached Sarolee a little breathless, but nowhere nearly as exhausted as she’d have thought. Her knees trembled, felt weak.
       “Throw her over your pommel!”
       Fhord hesitated, anxious not to be too rough.
       “Quick, Fhord – no time for niceties, the other wagons will be here any–”
       The groaning and creaking were close enough to hear even above the storm’s noise. With an almighty heave Fhord slung the girl over her pommel and leapt into the saddle after her.
       Ulran threw her the reins and together they galloped forward, just in front of a pair of wagons.
       The wagon-loads were becoming heavier and heavier as leakage poured into them. Inside, the women were bailing frantically to lighten the burden for the already beaten and exhausted horses, but everything was so sodden and weighty they must have felt they were fighting a losing battle. And all knew that to stop now in this quagmire would be fatal.
       “Keep moving!” barked Solendoral, his port-wine birthmark livid in a ghostly flash of lightning. His brow furrowed. That lightning had exposed a couple of men on foot to his right, off the track of gouged mud and puddles. He brought his horse round and was at that moment joined by Alomar.
       “Trouble?” queried the warrior.
       “Join me!” Solendoral shouted.
       Thunder cracked, hail bounced off the ground, wagons creaked and horses and people shrieked and called.
       They were almost upon the two before they knew it.
       It was an argument, two Devastators fighting with bloodied fists, no horses in sight.
       Solendoral recognised them immediately. “Rakcra! Etor!”
       Their leader’s voice penetrated even above the din. Both simultaneously broke their hold and backed off. Defiance shone in their eyes, but there too was respect for Solendoral.
       “You’ve lost your horses, I see!” barked Solendoral. As Rakcra made to speak, he added, “No, not now! You, Etor, up behind Courdour Alomar – quickly, man! Rakcra, here–” And he offered his arm and the youth leapt up behind his leader. “Later, we will hear both sides. But not now!” And both doubly laden horses rode on with the now retreating rearguard of Hansenand.
       The storm seemed to go on for all eternity then finally a glimpse of light could be seen ahead, dreamlike in its quality. Yellow-white, completely framed by darkness, it was like viewing the Sonalume Mountains through gauze.
       Wisps of steam rose and meandered. Fhord heard the song of a bird. Prisms of light dazzlingly refracted on drops of moisture in the air. Bright green grass beckoned, still, soft. Thick beams of godly light slanted through the last shreds of black-grey clouds at the rear of the ranmeron-marching anvil-heads.
       “We’re through!”
       Such was the cry of relief as each member of the party passed into the sunlight again.
       As Fhord emerged, with the girl moaning half-consciously, she looked back upon an uncanny sight.
       It looked as though the Hansenand were riding out of some hideous black tunnel. The sky ranmeronwards as far as she could see was the same silvery mass she’d discerned earlier, yet close by the black feathered into brown-grey and grey and thinned into circling moving wisps, forming a mysterious tunnel. The steam and gasses from the sodden ground swathed about the horses’ fetlocks, creating the impression that they rode on the air itself. They appeared like an avenging army of the gods, returning after some victory over the Black.

- Wings of the Overlord by Morton Faulkner, pp141-146

Glossary
Nikkonslor – great lord of night
Montar – part of a horde, a group of Devastators
Hansenand – a tribe of the Kellan-Mesqa, Devastators
Sonalumes – mountain range
Stionery – weather lore
Innman – inn keeper, Ulran being the most famous
Manderon – our north
Ranmeron – our south
 
Wings of the Overlord – hardback from Knox Robinson

 
A review: ‘… so descriptive you feel part of the story. A fantasy adventure that draws you into the quest…’
 
Amazon UK here

Amazon Com here

Thursday, 27 August 2015

Writing – supporting characters (2)

In an earlier blog (here) I touched upon supporting characters, prompted by a guest post from Nancy Jardine (here) I promised to return to the subject.

A few minor characters – essential to keep the story moving – sometimes push themselves into more than one book. Naturally, if you’re writing a series, it’s a good idea to feature regular minor characters; besides offering some familiarity for the reader, they can grow with the main character too. That can be regarded as a given, also, for series characters: they need to develop and change as their story unfolds from book to book, rather than be untouched by preceding often traumatic events.

In my book Write a Western in 30 Days, I stated ‘While minor characters don’t need as much description, it’s useful to give each of them some identifying feature, whether the hair colour or nose shape. Or a humorous trait. If a barkeep simply serves the drink, don’t dwell on him too much; if however he has information to divulge to our taciturn stranger in town, then imbue the barkeep with a little more life.’ (p91).

This is true for any genre novel. Minor characters are there to add flavour, colour, texture, realism, even humour, and most importantly to move the story forward. They are not there simply for padding and inconsequential chat.

When building up your back-story (which may never see print), there are several instances where character motivation should be embedded. People generally don’t do something without a reason. They’re motivated by pride, greed, altruism, love, anger, jealousy, hate and a lot more besides, much of which is created in their past.

In my book The $300 Man, Lydia hates Mexicans, because her husband found love and solace in a Mexican woman’s arms. The child of that union was Corbin, the hero – so she doesn’t like him, either – his mixed race is a constant affront to her. So her past shapes how she feels towards the Mexican workers at the silver mine in the story. Her past provides her with powerful motivation for her current actions and intent.

Certainly, incidents or people in their past might return to haunt them. By building a past for your characters, they cease to be made of cardboard. Within a short while, they’ll seem alive. And to a certain extent this applies to minor characters as well.

Somerset Maugham has said that every action of a character must be the result of a definite cause – significantly related to the entire fiction, of course.

Each motive must be in keeping with the character’s behaviour pattern that you’ve established. Otherwise, you lose credibility; again, consider applying this to minor characters.

In Last Chance Saloon (2008), which takes place in 1866, Jonas the deputy sheriff is featured; he’s in love with an older woman, Ruth, a widow; the relationship is not resolved at the end. A year later, 1867, there’s a passing mention of Jonas and Ruth in Blind Justice at Wedlock (2011), ‘Ruth Monroe who’d scandalised the town with her new beau, Deputy Johnson, a man some thirteen years younger than her.’ However, in Old Guns (2012), which mainly takes place in 1892, we see that they are now happily married and Jonas is the town’s sheriff. Of course, their descriptions have aged in the intervening quarter-century!

My main protagonists in Blood of the Dragon Trees, a modern-day thriller set in Tenerife, are Laura Reid and Andrew Kirby, aged 25 and 34 respectively; they are fighting the trade in endangered species, among other things. In Catalyst, the first in a new crime series, the hero Rick and heroine Cat meet up with a private eye in Barcelona who is instrumental in helping them obtain incriminating evidence; the private eye is half-English, half-Spanish, Leon Cazador, whose cases are told ‘in his own words’ in Spanish Eye. At the end of Catacomb, the second in the ‘Avenging Cat’ series, the plot necessitates that the hero Rick fled with a minor character to Tenerife, leaving behind the heroine Cat in Morocco. The sequel Cataclysm then logically begins with a villain from Blood of the Dragon Trees escaping police custody in Tenerife and doing harm… which involves Rick and, ultimately, Cat, Laura and Andrew!

These inter-relationships move the story forward, create additional threat, and hopefully keep the reader turning the pages wanting to know what will happen to people they’ve come to know vicariously; I hope too that regular readers will enjoy meeting some of these characters again. However, it is not essential to following the novel to have read all of the linked books.

To a certain extent, these characters elbowed their way into the books I write. Life is stranger than fiction, so it’s not too outlandish to postulate that some characters will know each other in different works! Well, that’s my excuse, anyway.

I’m not alone in this, of course; plenty of authors return to minor characters in their books. Perhaps you can think of a few?

***

Blood of the Dragon Trees - paperback and e-book

Amazon UK here (it has clocked up 8 good reviews, but for some reason no more than that, sadly)

Amazon COM here

Spanish Eye - paperback and e-book

Amazon UK here

Amazon COM here

Catalyst - paperback and e-book

Amazon UK here

Amazon COM here

 
 

 

 

 

 

Tuesday, 25 August 2015

'I very much felt a part of their lives.'

It's good to get favourable book reviews. They make an author's day. The bad ones - well, they happen too... The reviews don't have to be effusive, glowing or filled with adjectives.

We'd like to think the reader enjoyed the story, lived with the characters, maybe even empathised with some of them, and felt compelled to comment. Every comment is appreciated.

Today, the first in my Tana Standish e-book series received a review on Amazon UK; a confirmed purchase.

So, thank you, 'Book Buddy' for your 5-star review of THE PRAGUE PAPERS:

'Thoroughly enjoyed this. The very opening chapter is a promise of intrigue and suspense. I wasn't disappointed. Good fast pace. Characters that are so vividly and craftfully developed that I very much felt a part of their lives. I am now in the second of the series for another rollercoaster ride. '

Amazon UK here

Amazon COM here

Wednesday, 12 August 2015

Writing - Supporting characters (1)

While main protagonists are essential for a good novel, very few books can survive without supporting characters – those secondary individuals who pop in and out of the story. In most cases they’re necessary to help move the story forward. For a beginning writer, they can be used to slow down the action, create interaction that does not move the story forward. So these pesky characters have to be watched carefully.

Any given hero or heroine needs a sounding board, and that’s the secondary character. Otherwise, there’s a risk of little dialogue and worse, the main protagonist may end up either talking to himself or thinking instead of doing.

But how many subsidiary characters can you use?

That depends on the work. A fast-paced thriller will require few, while an epic fantasy may depend on many.

As a rule of thumb, a standard-length book might have six prominent named characters; there will be others, but they tend to pass through, perhaps never to be seen again. A long while back, I recall reading that our memories are most comfortable with remembering lists or items up to six in number.

There’s no hard-and-fast rule about this. If each character is memorable in some way, then the problem won’t arise.

Additionally, we don’t want character names sounding similar or even beginning with the same letter; avoid reader confusion wherever possible.

Your subsidiary characters can crop up for a variety of reasons, so long as they serve the plot.

For my ‘Avenging Cat’ crime series, there are the continuous characters, Catherine Vibrissae, Rick Barnes, the two dogs of law, DI Alan Pointer and DS Carol Basset, and the villains  Loup Malefice and Emilio Zabala.

In Catalyst (#1 in the series) we also meet the private eye Avril Bradbury, head of Bradbury & Hood private investigation agency, est. 1896. Though Avril won’t necessarily figure in future books, I am planning a series of Victorian crime stories about the setting up of that agency, featuring Avril’s ancestors! Other characters are required from time to time to help our heroes. In Catalyst, Rick’s contact Leon Cazador proves useful when they go to Barcelona. Cazador is the half-Spanish half-English private eye featured in Spanish Eye, 22 cases ‘in his own words’.
 
In Catacomb (#2, to be published by Crooked Cat in October), we meet Chuck Marston, a retired safe-cracker and jewel thief, aged 62, who tutors Cat in his techniques. In the same book, we also meet Detective Latifa Badouri of Morocco’s Sûreté nationale – and when I finished I felt that I’d like to meet her again, and maybe I shall... (#3, Cataclysm is due out in December).

For my Tana Standish psychic spy series (set in the 1970s/1980s, beginning with The Prague Papers), again there are continuous characters, namely Tana herself, fellow agents Alex Tyson, Alan Swann and Mike Clayton, their boss Sir Gerald Hazzard, the British SIS psychologist, James Fisk, the thoroughly unpleasant Professor Dmitri Bublyk and his two psychic stars, Karel Yakunin and Raisa Savitsky. There is conflict between some of these people, and each has a purpose in moving the story forward. Besides these, there are 36 other named characters in The Tehran Text (#2 in the series). Even minor individuals deserve to have a name, providing they have a speaking part, of course! (#3, The Khyber Chronicle will be due early 2016).
 
My co-written work in progress, To Be King, the fantasy sequel to Wings of the Overlord (#1 in the Chronicles of Floreskand), currently has around 70 named characters – so far! This is a fantasy epic, however, and many individuals will be sustained over a half-dozen books.

There’s a full chapter dedicated to character creation in my book Write a Western in 30 Days (Chapter 8, p87) and it covers minor characters too, even tackling their description and names (and is not solely geared to the western genre).
 
I’ll return to this subject in another blog to discuss a handful of supporting characters who decided – nay, insisted – they wanted more than a small walk-on part and intruded on another character’s series of books...!
 
Catalyst – paperback & also currently a bargain e-book (till 27 August)
Amazon UK here                                  Amazon Com here

Spanish Eye – paperback & also currently a bargain e-book (till 27 August)
Amazon UK here                                 Amazon Com here
 

The Prague Papers - currently a bargain e-book (till 27 August)
Amazon UK here                                Amazon Com here
 
The Tehran Text - currently a bargain e-book (till 27 August)
Amazon UK here                                Amazon Com here

 
Wings of the Overlord – hardback, (paperback due in December)
Amazon UK here                               Amazon Com here

Write a Western in 30 Days – paperback and e-book
Amazon UK here                              Amazon Com here

 

Tuesday, 28 April 2015

Writing – characters’ names

I’ve touched on this subject before – notably, when writing fiction, try not to use names beginning with the same letter in order to avoid confusion for the reader.

There are countless names to choose from, yet many are rarely used, writers opting for the most common. Naturally, you also want to find the name that seems to fit your character, his traits, her age, behaviour and history, even.

My latest work in progress takes place in China. Now, that country presents a challenge regarding names! With over a billion people, you’d think there’d be plenty of surnames to choose from; but this isn’t so. Of the 12,000 surnames that once existed in China, there remain now just about 4,000, though moves have been made to correct this state of affairs, by some adoption of western names. In comparison: recent surveys say that there are about 150,000 different surnames in the US.

Nearly a third of the population of China shares just five family names. Apparently, about 90% use just 100 surnames, with 90 million sharing the name Li. The most common surnames in China, in order, are Wang, Li, Zhang, Chen, Yang, Huang, Zhao, Wu and Zhou.

The most common surnames in UK are, in order: Smith, Jones, Williams, Taylor, Brown, Davies, Evans, Wilson, Thomas, Johnson, Roberts and Robinson – gleaned from a list of 300 ‘most common’.

So, with thousands of people in China sharing the same full name, there can be frequent cases of wrong identity.

Often, I find it useful to note the name’s meaning; this can help link the name to the character.  For example, the Chinese secretary of my villain is Zoo Peizhi – the surname is Zoo (that is it’s the first name used); Peizhi is the given name and it’s meaning is ‘respectful’, so it seemed to fit!

Good luck in finding that right name for your character.

See also my blogs