I’ve read this before—and I should have suspected it would come naturally like they said—but I felt like an average person looking into some sort of glass room full of untouchable writers each time I’d read it. The idea was a pleasant, comforting thought for me. But it felt too alien, like it was doubtful it would ever come into play. After all, I was merely a beginning writer.

But writing routinely, even just a few times a week (as I have been doing), really does make the words flow more freely. And before too long, you actually start to feel like writing the next part of your book without having to view a cavalcade of motivational posters; You start getting genuinely excited about all the fantastic possibilities that will come from you sitting down in front of that keyboard. Read the rest of this entry »

This is one of the four chapters I mentioned in my previous post. I had written this before I started to iron out a decent timeline with proper motives and villains. I just thought I would post this, since it might give you a better feel for my writing style. I’ve also shared this with a few friends. Since the general situation will be largely unchanged in the final product, critiques are definitely most welcome. (For that matter, critiques are always welcome here.)

Matar had flown long enough. He just … somehow … knew he had. He changed his wing pattern to ‘Up, Down, and Close‘. When he broke free of the clouds, he could clearly see every detail of the dense city buildings, even in the dying light. He didn’t think of it as ‘Shiira’. In his head, it was more like, ‘Lonely Circled Group with Even Layers‘.

~ ~ ~

Whenever Shanung was doing someone else’s job, he usually paced. Back and forth he went; the wood beneath his feet creaking with each step. High above the city, the wind would occasionally gust. So, to break up the monotony, he would lean against any of several support beams, stemmed from the surrounding parapets, and rap his aki pipe against the iron rail guard, making a distinct ‘dinging’ sound until the embers stirred up inside. If he timed it just right, he would get to watch the wind catch a few of the embers so they could ‘dance’, glowing and twirling over the cityscape. Peering over the edge of the tower, he noticed the Shiirati were finally flocking south in droves. Turning to Marrow, he spoke loudly in his rough, leathery voice. “I know this is boring, but you’ll need to wake up, boy.”

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