Saturday, May 26, 2012

The Devils in the Details

   Do you have fight scenes in your book? What does your character used to defend him or herself; a gun, a sword or even his bare hands? How much do you know about how to use a weapon or use your hands as a weapon?
   My protag is a muscle bound assassin who is feared in his world but when he has to come to ours he is on unlevel ground. He's suppose to come here, find his prey and leave without being known but he gets found out by a young woman who will be his partner throughout the rest of the story.
   The young woman, Kristina is the key to the story. She has abilities she is only just learning about, but she also has fighting skills. Her parents sent her to self defense classes blah, blah, blah. How do I convey that in my writings?
   I have some knowledge of martial arts. Not much. I am a brown belt. Like I said, not much, and I didn't want Kristina's fight scenes to look orchestrated, so what did I do? I studied hand to hand combat and martial art videos and read articles from well known people in the martial arts arena. I even watched myself in a mirror with a weapon to see how to make it look real.
    My assassin's skills and even the marine in my novel had to feel real and I hope that I have accomplished that with what I have learned, and there is magic in my book also.
   Alas! that is another story. Study your characters abilities. Try to make them as real as possible. Research is the key, so don't treat it like poison ivy.
  
     

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Bringing Your Words to Life

     I have a very vivid imagination, so when I read a book I see everything that's happening; the action, the character, even the scenery. How does a writer convey that to his or her readers? I put myself into the story. I touch the rocky wall, feel the sand under my feet and then I put it into words.

     Example: Jenny and Mica were laying on the beach. He kissed on the forehead and smiled. This would be a day she would never forget.

This is much better: Jenny felt the scratch of wet sand against her back. She opened her eyes. Micah was smiling. His blue eyes as turbulent as the sea they had just come from. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. A delicious shiver went down her spine. This would be a day she would never forget.

    Even that can use improvement but I think you get the idea. Where are they? What are they doing? You tell me.
   

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Snippets from FRACTURE The Secret Enemy Saga


Tegrin waited until midnight before he slipped into the caves and through to the other side, wanting to avoid humans at all cost. Darkness would be the best cover. He did his best hunting at night.
       He thought his knowledge of this place was very good but he did not expect the beauty that surrounded him. It could almost be home if he did not know better. His catlike eyes adjusted well to the dim light of a half moon. Tegrin’s excellent hearing picked up even the tiniest sounds.
       He sniffed the air, taking in every smell around him. Small rodents and birds nested close by. His eyes narrowed. Another scent filled his nostrils. The one he was looking for.
      The Couton, and they were heading towards the lights of a city. Urgency gripped him as he headed for the town below. He stayed in the brush along the road to conceal himself and tried to work on a plan of capture.
      Just before dawn he came across a cold, lifeless dwelling. He sniffed the air and the smell of death filled his nostrils. Tegrin circled the building, listening and sniffing the air, but found no life was present. He walked up the steps pushing the door open. Inside were two bodies, one male and one female, both had been murdered. He knew by the scent that the Couton had been there.
      The hair on his arms stood up. He was not alone and knew it. A young woman lunged from the shadows, a knife in her shaking hand.
      “You killed my parents!”
      Moonlight reflected off the long blade of a Bowie knife slicing through the air. Tegrin was too fast for the hand that wielded it.
      He deflected the knife, pulling her close to him. She had a whiff of something strange before darkness enveloped her. A deep voice faded away.
      “I did not kill your parents,” Tegrin whispered.
      He carried her back to the caves. This was a complication he did not need. “By the Throne of Patwain, what am I to do with this human?”
      He studied the woman for a long time. She looked to be about nineteen, maybe less. Long fiery red hair fell across her face. Quite pretty, he thought, in an unusual way.
     Those green eyes, he sighed, they had been filled with hatred for him before she blacked out. The wait for her to regain consciousness chewed at him. He knew he would have to tell her the truth.