Tag:

writing

Challenge Season Is About To Begin

I admit I’m rather reluctant to do NaNoWriMo this year. I’ve never found it useful and the daily word limit required to hit 50,000 words is simply out of my reach when I have a full time job that requires me to write. By the end of my professional day I am frequently out of the mental steam required to squeeze another 1000+ words out of my brain.

So this year I’m taking a more laid back approach to the challenge. I’m starting with my Norse Mythology project, something I’ve already written 6000 words on, and in the run up to NaNoWriMo I’m entering the ChapterBuzz 10k challenge. This challenge is much closer to my writing speed – 350 words a day rather than 1667 – and as the ChapterBuzz authors put it on their website,

“By focusing on a relatively small number of words—instead of, say, 50,000—you’ll be able to put more thought into what you’re writing, and end up with a solid foundation for a great novel that you can build on over time.”

Fingers crossed that means I’ll have 16,000 words, or more before NaNoWriMo even starts. Yes, I know that’s cheating, but with no real prospect of doing 50,000 words in a month, this year I’m using National Novel Writing Month more as an incentive to write than an actual goal. That way it won’t be too upsetting if I only manage to crawl up to November 30th with 30,000 words under my belt.

Norse Mythology: The Mother Of All Rabbit Holes

Way, way back in March I wrote a blog post talking about how a new plot idea had bubbled to the surface of my brain and I was intrigued by it’s possibilities. As part of this year’s Camp NaNoWriMo I immediately wrote the opening 6000 words of this new story, before a bout of writer’s block persuaded me that I needed a better understanding of my topic; Norse Mythology.

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Swear Like A Viking: Rings, Swords And Right Hand Men

I was asked by the leadership at Asatru And Heathen Order to write a short article for their Facebook page on the topic of swearing oaths in the Viking period. This was the result, penned over a weekend.

Swear Like A Viking: Rings, Swords And Right Hand Men – by Trudi Hauxwell

Amongst modern Heathen groups the arm or ‘oath’ ring is a popular way to display one’s Heathen faith. These rings, which are worn as an item of personal adornment, are also used as a ceremonial tool in rituals and public declarations of fealty to a group or group leader. But what do we know of their use in the Viking period and how much do modern practices reflect the beliefs and customs of our ancestors?

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A Surprise Plot Makes An Appearance

About a month ago I was in a bit of a rut with the story I was working on, a science fiction tale set on a distant planet. In order to head off an approaching case of writer’s block I decided to take part in a few Twitter challenges, which resulted in the micro stories you can see on this blog.

The one image that stuck with me the longest during that couple of weeks was of Lucien and Aldous, my vampiric characters. It was enormous fun to come up with little vignettes for them and it got me to thinking about vampire fiction in more detail.

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Microfiction: Lucien & Aldous #4

“I’ve always preferred the eighty-nines myself.” Aldous announced with a noticeable slur. “A more full-bodied vintage for the true sanguinarian.”

Lucien picked a shred of flesh from his teeth with a fingernail. The nail was long and scarlet and didn’t belong to him.

“Aldous, you are such a snob.” He muttered.

Flash Fiction: The Gluemn In God’s Eye

For years I’ve been fascinated by the idea that life may exist under the icy crust of Jupiter’s moon, Europa. In particular I wondered how an intelligent species might mythologise their landscape when the limit of their universe is a miles thick ceiling of ice. This is a glimpse in to life beneath a frozen ocean.

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Microfiction: A Walk In Whitechapel

In response to a one word writing prompt: liminal

Whitechapel is never silent. The ghosts of two millenia crowd the lanes, beckoning, with crimson allure from shadowed doorways, calling to you in brash Cockney from long dismantled stalls. They grasp at your feet as you stroll, oblivious over their plague-rotted remains.