Welcome to Morning Pages — it’s time for a monthly roundup. I hope you’ve got your pencils sharpened and ready to write. Wanna join in on the fun? Read the prompt, set your timer* and get ready to let the words flow. Feel free to post the results of your work in the comments below where we chat about writing and (if the mood strikes us) get a craft discussion going.
If you want critique from other commenters, use #YESTHANKS in your comment. Otherwise, you can tell us about the flash fic and the process you went through to write it. And of course, I’m always open to hear what you think about my excerpts!
*you can write for as long as you want, but most folks choose 15-30 minutes.
Things I learned this month: This is has been the month of training my brain away from epics to write shorter-form fiction. I’ve been somewhat successful, but I certainly wouldn’t say I’m comfortable with flash fiction yet. I struggled with the format I used, wherein I set a timer and wouldn’t let myself write past the ‘ding’ at the end of the session. Eventually, I got to a point where the stress of the impending timer locked me up too much, so I gave myself permission to set aside 5-10 minutes to clean up and finish the piece later in the day.
I’m well aware that 5-10 minutes of edits aren’t nearly enough to deliver a polished piece of flash fiction; these are exercises and one-offs, and that’s what most of them will stay. But a little extra leeway has helped them serve their purpose. Morning Pages are about jumpstarting creativity, and for that, they get the job done.
My favorite discovery of the month has been how fun it is to pants ideas again. I’m a plotter by nature and work off tight outlines for my long-form fiction. Throwing words at the wall to see what sticks makes me nervous, but the outcomes have been a fun and interesting departure from the weeks (months, years) I spend kicking ideas around for my other works. The structure is a disaster, but the ideas flow free and easy.
I couldn’t write this way all the time. If I did, I’d spend most of my time doing enormous overhaul revisions and rewrites. (Yes, I’m aware this is how many pantsers operate. Power to you if this system works, but I need structure to get a functional story on the paper.) For small-scale flash fic, though? Bring on the pants; it’s time to play in a sandbox of new ideas.
The Prompts:
“That’s the part tales don’t mention: how the hero, forever changed by his journey, can never fit into normal society again.”
“Journeys”: A post-canon short in the Oceana ‘verse
“Can you cook a dragon?”
“Dragon Snacks”: Neveshir from Dark Arm of the Maker deals with a troublesome student
“Lock”
Two characters from the Blight universe attempt to pick a lock
“The old gods are dead.”
Who’s left behind when all the gods are gone?
“Twilight”
A character exploration for an upcoming novel.
“Dawn”
Red sky at dawn, sailors be warned.
“Key”
Neveshir is having yet another bad day.
“I haven’t slept properly in seven years.”
A narrative joke in the Oceana ‘verse.
Picture Prompts
“Starspinner“: A young boy has a beautiful but dangerous power
A hunter watches the fierce green fire fade from the eyes of his prey.
Get Involved!
Answer the prompts or dive straight in and respond to others’ comments — let’s share our knowledge, our experience, and have a discussion we can all learn from! Don’t want to miss a post? Subscribe to the blog in the sidebar to get notified about new posts.
Questions
Are you a plotter or a pantser?
How do you think that impacts your revisions process?
Using Description to Enhance Character
Said-bookisms are crutches…right?
I’m a total plotter. It’s good beacuse I kind of know a big part of what will happens and what I will do with my OCs…but it’s harder with the parts I don’t know yet or have no idea how to conect/keep the scene. It got me stuck for months.
I know what you mean about getting stuck while plotting — I’ve spent my fair share of hours staring at the screen not knowing how to connect A to B … or too overwhelmed by everything going on to get started! What do you usually do to get unstuck?
On balance, I’m a plantser. In practice, I swing between the two ends of the spectrum depending on what book I’m working on; right now, even, I’ve got a book that’s plotted almost to the point of zero-drafting, one that’s pantsed almost to the point of not having an outline at all, and a couple in the middle.
My revisions process varies just as significantly, but I’m also much more likely to put effort into revising something I’ve plotted. I pants things for fun! A plotted work might only need minor line edits, or it might need significant tweaks to clarify worldbuilding or make character arcs land right. A pantsed work is more likely to need revisions that require ripping up whole chapters and rewriting them. If I love the book and think it has promise, I’ll start that rewrite. If its main purpose was to explore a new world or try out some new concept, though, I’ll sit back first and decide how much I care.
I’m so impressed that you can commit to pantsing a work because you know it’s exploratory … and you’re not too concerned with what needs to come next. Maybe I’m showing my plotter here, but even thinking about wonky character arcs makes one of my eyes start to twitch XD.
(I have trouble writing these morning pages stories before I know what’s going to happen at the end of them!)
What do you think makes something worth the effort to fix?
I do sometimes wonder if I’d be able to pants something either if I had fewer works on the go xD As it stands, I can’t even imagine putting full effort into every single one of them, so pantsing is a good compromise for the ones I want to keep a light hand on but still enjoy. I switch into that same mode for the Morning Pages, haha.
As for what makes a work worth it: it’s a pretty subjective decision on my part. Part love, part laziness. If there’s not too much to fix, and/or I love the characters and/or the world and/or the plot enough to merit the revisions, I’ll revise. Or revise until it’s satisfactory, then be content with the remaining flaws. It used to drive me nuts, but I think I’m past that.
Okay, but DO you plan these Morning Pages out before you write them? Now I want to know!
That makes sense — it’s hard to get super worked up over the flaws in a fluff project when you have several other pans on the fire. I’m a monogamous writer (hah) who only works well when drafting one thing at a time. I think I can draft and revise two different projects simultaneously, but I haven’t actually tested that theory yet, so watch this space.
But yes, when I know something’s broken, it itches under my skin until I fix it.
As far as planning the MPs goes … sort of? I don’t usually start writing unless I have the seed of an idea re: what to write about, but I suspect that isn’t unique. I’d say about half the time I’m writing towards a specific punchline (either comedic or dramatic), and in that case, I have the rough scaffold of a plot structure in my head even without intending for it to happen. The rest of the time is an even split … I have a vague idea of what I’m writing about and do an exploratory write, or (and this is super on-brand for me) I have an idea I LOVE jump into my head and know it’ll need structure if I’m going to pull it off.
So yeah, I plot those pages out 😐
I definitely feel more pressure to turn out good work on Sunday so I don’t show up on the blog with my pants down, so to speak, and plotting sneaks into those Pages when I’m not looking. Dragon Snacks is one of the few I started that only had an opening line and nothing else.
I didn’t put a whole lot of thought into this excerpt, so I won’t ask for crit on it—but it was a ton of fun! I’ve only done this twice now, but I’ve started using these prompts to explore the voices of characters in upcoming WIPs. One usually jumps out at me when I read the prompt, and I don’t tend to question it. I’ll stare at the page long enough to get the first line—everything falls into place from there—then set the timer and just start writing. I actually made it in under the timer this time… hopefully I’m getting better at finishing on the 15-minute mark xD
My excerpt:
“Can you cook a dragon?”
Jazz slowly lowered their book and stared down the bed at Priya sprawled across the foot of it. “I’m sorry?”
“Can you cook a dragon?” she repeated, like they hadn’t heard it the first time. Her gaze was fixed on the page of the Fantasy novel resting on the duvet in front of her. She lifted her head and tipped it, giving Jazz a thoughtful look. “You know how in Fantasy worlds, there’s always a giant caste of poor, starving people whose only purpose seems to be rioting and/or paying taxes to the king so he can walk around and prove what a jerk he is?”
Jazz didn’t answer, so she forged onwards. “Well, you would think that all those people would be looking around for some way to feed themselves, right? People in a desperate situation do desperate things, and they’re not helpless, y’know? I find it hard to believe that not one of them looked up at the sky, saw twenty tons of flying lizard-meat roaming around, and thought what a feast their village would have if they could bring it down.”
“Aren’t dragons supposed to be breathe fire?”
“Well, that’d be the tricky part.” Priya tipped her hand down, finger tracing out a sketch like a battle plan across the duvet’s faded planetary design. “But there’s always a river nearby in these villages, right? They’re usually built along one. It’s like… a requirement of Fantasy villages. Well, even a dragon has to come down to drink, and it’s probably going to come to the river. If they could somehow jump on its head and force it underwater…”
Jazz continued to give her their most blank look.
“And get enough of them there to pin its wings…” Priya’s mental gears were turning in almost visible calculations. Her head jerked up again. “What do you think?”
“That they’d be about as stupid as whoever first tried to take on a wooly mammoth with a magic wand.”
“They didn’t—” Priya cut off and glared at them. “Are you mocking me?”
“I’m not sure what you expected my answer to be.”
She rolled over with a groan that would do her thirteen-year-old brother proud. “You’re about as interesting as dry toast.”
“I’ll take it as a compliment.” Jazz lifted the book again.
“What are you reading, anyway?” said Priya, lunging across the bed and grabbing one corner of the cover to tip it up and see. She rolled her eyes. “A Stephen Hawking memoir. Figures.”
“I will have you know—”
She lifted her hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not judging. Just saying it’s very… on-brand of you.” She dropped her hands, flopped back on the bed, and rolled over with another groan. Silence fell. It lasted a whole two minutes.
“Rosemary or sage?” said Priya.
“Do I want to know?” said Jazz, not lowering the book this time.
“Would dragon meat be best with—you know what? Never mind.”
XD This is ADORABLE, August! Their dynamic is amazing, and TBH, I feel a little seen when it comes to Priya’s “why don’t they just?!” argument. And the ‘rosemary or sage’ bit at the end just slayed me.
(For the record, I bet dragon would taste best fried, like alligator.)
I couldn’t stop laughing by the end of it. I didn’t know where it was going, but they just wouldn’t stop xD xD xD
Priya would be delighted to hear your culinary input on this most important of questions.
For the record, I’m also going to weigh in and say rosemary, not sage, but that might be a personal preference more than anything. 😉
“Can you cook a dragon?”
Fuck. If there was one thing Luc didn’t want to hear while Aura was driving the hover some 50 metres above ground, it was that. Sable had no idea what they’d just unleashed.
Aura pretended not to hear the question, a muscle ticking in her jaw. Please, for the love of fuck, Luc entreated in his mind, don’t repeat the fucking question.
“Aura,” Sable insisted, oblivious to the peril they were all about to be in, “did you hear me? Can you cook a dragon?”
“Shut up, kid.” Luc wasn’t expecting to be able to talk any sort of sense into them, but it was a lose/really-fucking-lose situation. “Focus on the mission.”
Aura’s hand twitched on the steering wheel and she glanced at Luc for just a fraction of a section — enough for him to realise her other hand was making sure her magnetic seatbelt was fastened extra tight, and for him to follow suit. He was getting too old to go on missions with her, and she just got crazier with age.
“I heard you can! I heard you used to be known as the Messiah! I heard your parties were the– AAAH!”
Luc didn’t even flinch when she turned the hover upside down in the middle of traffic, knowing full well Sable hadn’t been wearing their seatbelt. Well. If their reflexes hadn’t been great they wouldn’t have come on this mission, as evidenced by how quickly they held on to the open hover roof, Luc mused. He couldn’t think much beyond that, as all the blood in his brain was making him dizzy and Aura hadn’t even stopped driving.
“Are you crazy?” Sable’s voice had risen in pitch, fast reflexes notwithstanding. “Get this thing back the right side up! I’m going to fall.”
“Why? Doesn’t it feel like a party now, Sable? Any more questions about dragons?”
“Get me up!”
“You should have listened to Luc here.” She sped up, Sable dangling like a weird ornament. “Your life expectancy would have risen by a lot.”
“Fucking hell, Aura, let the kid come inside.” His voice sounded tired to his own ears, which was a testament to the level of fucked up shit they got involved in, if this didn’t even register above that.
“We’ll see.” She dropped in altitude without notice, Sable’s feet dangerously close to the roof of the hovers in the lane below.
“Aura, please! I’m sorry, okay? Let me in.”
“Don’t think so. You get to hear a tale about dragons now. Do you know why they call them dragons?”
One of Sable’s hands slipped; they wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. “Aura, please, I just–”
“Do. You. Know?”
“Because they make you feel golden,” Sable squeaked, spouting the party line. It would, perhaps, not been as funny if they hadn’t also just pissed themself on a family of four driving below.
“Golden,” Aura spat, “is that what they taught you in kindergarten? No, kid. They call them dragons because a fucked up batch will make the skin peel from your body as if something were breathing fire on you. Yes, I used to cook them.” Her hatred had turned inward, as it always did. “My final party was an exclusive event with a guest list of exactly 999 people. I wasn’t worried about failing — I was the Messiah. I’d never met an illegal drug I couldn’t cook to perfection.” Her smile was getting too ugly for Luc’s comfort, a self-satisfied darkness creeping into her tone. “You know what? If I drop you now, you’ll make it an even thousand on my death list.”
#YESTHANKS
Um… I don’t know what to tell you about process, really. The thing wrote itself. These characters just popped into existence. I’m kind of sad not to know more about them or this world now, but that’s where cooked dragons led me to.
!!!!!
I spent the first half of the story thinking “damn, this is hard-edged and violent and unhinged, and I’m into it but I can’t figure out why Aura is like this” and then the twist happened and I realized we were talking about cooking a kind of dragon that was not, in fact, an enormous scaly lizard!
That was SUCH a cool take on the prompt. And now I want to know so much more about what kind of shady dealings and operations Aura and Luc and Sable are involved in.
(So you can consider us even for Tuesday’s Morning Page where I left you on a cliff about Lord Ackernar!)
Left you a reply just as my internet died. It’s too long to reproduce, but the gist of it was:
a) we’re so not even
b) I don’t know that Aura, Luc and Sable would be on the same side after this because
c) maybe she did drop Sable, and they survived, but not in perfect condition, and
d) maybe Aura knows, deep down, she was too good to have botched the recipe, so it means that, on some level, she wanted that outcome. Also
e) we are sooooo not even.
(we’re definitely even.)
Also it is diabolical to plant the seed in my brain that this character might ever so sneakily be a compulsive mass murderer.
?
This is way late and a lot longer than I intended but I hope you enjoy it.
Selyra Inawynn looked to the darkening horizon as she struck the flint against the small steel rod yet again. It had been hours since the beast disappeared into the surrounding forest, and the sky deepened as twilight settled around her. The cascading sparks devoured the dead grass and leaves that made up the tinder. The woman quickly added little limbs and dry brush, letting the embers develop into flame before adding a few of the logs she had gathered for the night. Once the fire burned steady and bright, she turned back toward the direction the creature had slunk off in.
No movement stirred the forest aside from the small woodland creatures skittering about the trees and timberland floor. She sighed and turned back to the fire and her satchel that sat within reach. The woman dug through the pack and retrieved several bags, a small cauldron, a wooden spoon, and a thin square piece of wood. Selyra sat in front of the campfire and placed the board atop her crossed legs. She pulled a handful of ingredients from each bag: mushrooms, green onions, parsley twigs, and a clove of garlic. The female minced each item and raked them into the small cauldron. The woman pulled a leather pouch from her haversack and took out a small, corked bottle of salt, fished out a pinch, then added it to the ingredients. Next came a small vial of pepper. When Selyra added the final ingredient, she put everything away.
Silence filled the small clearing as all movement ceased around her. Even the chirrup of insects was absent in the gloom. Selyra focused her hearing and let her eyes fall closed, allowing her other senses to permeate the immediate area. Her hand fell instinctively to her belt, palm resting over the pommel of her favorite dagger. She breathed slow, steady, and deep, taking in the scent of the fire, the freshly chopped herbs, the oil that treated her weapons and armor. She inhaled the pine, oak, cedar, and ash that enveloped her, then finally the wild musk of the forest creatures.
A twig snapped over her right shoulder, then brush crackled as the passing of something large pushed it aside. The smell of soot and sulfur assaulted her delicate olfactory senses, and she exhaled and relaxed back into her original position. A guttural growl sounding much like laughter filled the clearing, and Selyra shook her head. “Surely you didn’t believe you would sneak up on me so easily, dragon.”
A scaley green, brown, and grey beast circled to the other side of the fire and plopped down, sending dust and leaves scrambling into the air to settle back to the ground moments later. The human looked the creature over for a moment, then stated, “I take it your hunt was unsuccessful.” It huffed in answer. The woman sighed and began rummaging in her pack again.
After several moments, she pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper and twine. She unwrapped it to reveal a hunk of salted pork. She trimmed off a few slabs, added them to the pot, then glanced across the fire. The oversized lizard studied her with interest, and Selyra fought back the smirk threatening to take over her features. “Can you cook a dragon?” The giant lizard raised a scaley eyebrow. “What? Like you weren’t having similar ideas.” She rolled her eyes, stabbed the knife into the cutting board, and threw two more logs on the fire, ignoring the look of disdain the creature threw her. “Don’t look at me like that. How hard is it for a twenty-foot predator to catch a single deer?”
The beast growled and snorted its displeasure. The female laughed. “Relax, I was only joking. Don’t get your scales twisted!”
Selyra rose from her position and jogged behind her tent. She dug around in a hidden, half-buried trunk near the natural spring and pulled out a skinned rabbit and deer leg. The woman went back to the fire and after a few moments of set up, hung the spitted deer leg over the fire. “It shouldn’t take too long to warm up. You know, you’re very lucky this is one of my temporary lodging areas. The cold water of the spring keeps the earth surrounding it cool, even in the scorching heat of summer. I can keep raw meat longer without it spoiling. Unfortunately, that is the last of my reserve, so if we fail at hunting tomorrow, we’ll both be hungry.”
The woman added the rabbit carcass to her cauldron before emptying her water skin over the ingredients. She hung it over the flames next to deer leg. “A stew will give me at least one more meal, possibly two if I’m careful. It won’t help you, I’m afraid.” Selyra nearly laughed at the site of the dragon, a thin string of drool hung from its jowls as it eyed the warming meat.
“Tomorrow, I will take you to a better area for hunting. This one is a little too close to the villages to find larger game this time of year. The migration takes them further into the forest near the mountains, and the hunters from Honeyhelm and Thornstall keep the stragglers picked clean. Even the small game thins out towards mid to early summer here. We’ll have better luck further west.” Selyra rewrapped the salted pork and replaced it with a large potato from her satchel.
She began cubing the vegetable. “I’m actually impressed you stayed away from the villages and their livestock. Most young dragons can’t resist the easy kill. The fact that you are so at ease with me tells me you’ve been around humans in some capacity.” The beast shifted its gaze to her and chirruped throatily. “I take it I’m not far off. They must have taught you to steer clear of the villages and farms, or I would have heard about you before now.” The dragon’s maw curled into a smile.
Selyra stood and added the chopped spud to the pot. She stirred the stew with her ladle, then checked the leg. It was just hot enough to make her pull her hand away. “Well, this should be good enough for you.” The female cut the meat away from the spit and carried it over to the large creature. “I heard it isn’t good for you to eat it fully cooked.”
The beast leaned in and carefully took the deer haunch between its sharp teeth. It made quick work of the meat as the woman returned to her simmering dinner. “I don’t know what happened to your companion, but you are welcome to stick around for as long as you care to. I will teach you about the migration patterns of the area and how best to stay hidden from the main populations.” The dragon chirped, and she continued, “If you stay closer to the wilds, you will have fewer altercations with hunters. You should rest for now, dragon. We will need to be on the move before dawn if we wish for a productive hunt.”
The creature curled its neck around himself and settled down, while Selyra stirred her stew. Tomorrow would be a new day. If all went well, she would have enough food for the coming week and her new companion would learn a new skill to help it survive the future.
Awh heck, we love a good human/dragon friendship! Something tells me they’re going to be buds for a while.
Are these new characters, or do they come from something else you’ve written?
New characters. Most dragons in stories speak, but I wanted something a little different. The dragon is obviously intelligent and can understand her. She can understand the creature but needs to pay attention to cues to do so. It shows that relationships can be forged regardless of differences, if you are willing to take the time to listen.
I love non-verbal dragons — they make me think of the relationships we have with our pets. (And Toothless, of course.) I’d like to say my cat has mastered non-verbal communication, but he’s heckin noisy 🙂
XD I know what you mean. I have 2 cats. They can definitely get their point across non-verbally but chose not to. They can be so loud!