Last Thursday I posted about diving into the edit of Daughter of Blood, (The Wall Of Night, Book Three.)

I also shared that the vital precursor was “reading through The Heir Of Night and The Gathering Of The Lost — as discussed in Reading M’Own Books: How That Went — and finally the DAUGHTER manuscript.”

Anyway, I thought you might like to know what the process looks like.

Firstly, it takes a lot of space, so yay for the big table:

And then I want to make sure I don’t lose any of those “lots of notes”, so I carry the manuscript around like this:

As for those “lots of notes”, well, a page can look like this, i.e. relatively clear of annotations: 🙂

Then again, this can happen: 😉

The Wall of Night Series map; design by Peter Fitzpatrick

The A Geography of Haarth post series is exploring the full range of locales and places from The Wall of Night world of Haarth. Each entry is accompanied by a quote from either The Heir Of Night or The Gathering Of The Lost, or both.

This week the series remains focused on places beginning with the letter “T”. It’s also our third week of temples. 😉

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Temple Of Night:  the main temple precinct of the Keep of Winds, comprising temples to all nine Derai gods, but primarily dedicated to the god Mhaelanar, the Defender.
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“She was right, Kalan thought, but he still loathed the turn his life had taken. The House of Blood was the most extreme of the warrior orders, exiling all but a bare minimum of those with the old powers—usually to one of the priestly Houses. There were days when Kalan was grateful that the Temple of Night had been short of novices and so he was still part of the forbidden warrior world, even at a distance. But at times like this it made his lot seem that much harder.”

~ from © The Heir Of Night, The Wall of Night Book One: Chapter 3 — Whispers in the Dark
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“Darksworn, he thought, and felt the familiar insect crawl along his spine, although he had never resisted the knowledge that there might be Derai amongst the Swarm in the same way Malian had. Perhaps because Brother Belan had told him the story when he first arrived in the Temple of Night, and the crazy old man had seemed like his only friend at that time.”

~  from © The Gathering Of The Lost, The Wall of Night Book Two: Chapter 42 — Rites of Honor

…as the great Sherlock Holmes would say (or words to like effect.)

On Monday June 30 I mentioned that I had just finished “reading through The Heir Of Night and The Gathering Of The Lost — as discussed in Reading M’Own Books: How That Went — and finally the DAUGHTER manuscript” and had “made lots of notes.”

So now it’s onward into the edit. As I mentioned in a recent interview with fellow author, Kate Forsyth, I think there is something magical about this stage of the story development process, when you have the essential arc “down” and can then shape and refine, adding greater nuance, texture and subtlety.

Little things, like “finally” nailing a name (one of several) for a character who wears several ‘masks’ through the story — but which I hadn’t been able to pin down until I had completed that vital read through of all 3 books that now comprise the ‘story to date.’ (And all of which touched on aspects of this particular character.)

And then there’s all those continuity niggles — like, “but if this, then how come that?” Many of which you don’t see when in the throes of story wrangling, but which leap out on a read-through — and must all be addressed before the story is loosed on an unsuspecting world.

So hence my enthusiastic “onward, onward” re dealing to those “lots of notes.” 😉

You’ll recall that last week I posted that I’d had some great news for the Daughter Of Blood (The Wall Of Night Book Three) manuscript, in terms of very positive, overarching feedback via the series’ lead editor, Kate Nintzel, at HarperVoyager (US.)

And as I said in the comments: “There may also have been a huge exhalation of relief as well!”

Not only because the journey of the book has been a long one, but because sometimes manuscript submission ends not being the culmination of the writing process, but only the end of the beginning.

USA

I think one of Kristin Cashore’s posts on writing Bitterblue, illuminates this occurrence really well. The full post is:

Pictures Of A Book Being Made

I believe it would well repay a full read, but here’s a sequence of excerpts that really ‘spoke’ to me as an author:

Firstly: “Above is the first page of the first draft of Bitterblue. Note that the date is October 25, 2007. …

Then:  ” Notice the date. It’s April 3, 2010. I’ve been writing for two and half years. I’m nowhere near the end of the first draft …

[Yay, I thought at this point: so it’s not just me!]

Finally:… I’m paraphrasing, but what [my editor] said was along the lines of: This is going to sound like a crazy idea, but now, at the beginning of the revision process, is the time to voice crazy ideas. Would you consider starting again from scratch?”

I really love Bitterblue and think it is worth every minute of my wait to read it — but nonetheless, I am so glad that I will not have to start again with Daughter Of Blood! (Not least because I’ve already done so once, in the earlier stages of the book.)

But as I said, do read Kristin’s full post because she then goes on to talk about her writing process from that point, which is also really illuminating, right through to:

“In total, Bitterblue was four years of drafting and revising from start to finish.”

And the concluding sentence, which I heartily endorse:

“Love and godspeed to all writers.”

And to all readers, too: love and safe journeying through the realms of Story to you all.

Blue

In the first week
the sea is the dark blue of the mountains
between the blooming heather and the first snowfall.

In the second week
the sea is the greyish blue of her Sunday best sateen
which she wore when they first met.

In the fifth week
there are storms. White waves crash on the deck.
Through her porthole she sees a sea as green-blue as his eyes
that caught her gaze when he asked for her hand in marriage.

In the eighth week
her child sickens.
they are becalmed in the turquoise blue of the bracelet
on her sister’s arm, waving at the dockside.

In the ninth week
the days grow shorter. At twilight
the sea is the inky blue of the words in her diary,
recording births, deaths and distance travelled.

In the last week
they bury her child. The ship is enclosed by sea and sky
the blue of the eggshell she found on the path to the byre.
Nearby an unfledged chick with staring eyes,
covered in flies.

The next week she unpacks seeds brought from home,
plants cabbages and carrots,
marigolds, poppies and nasturtiums.
The cornflower seed, she sets aside.
In summer the garden is aflame
with red, orange and yellow
but no blue
not any scrap of blue.

(c) Catherine Fitchett

Published in Flap: The Chook Book 2, (The Hen House) 2010

Reproduced on my blog with permission

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Fellow Cantabrian and Tuesday Poet, Catherine Fitchett, is the next up in my re-feature series. To read my commentary and Catherine’s bio, check out the original feature from Tuesday November 30, 2010:

“Blue” by Catherine Fitchett

You can also visit Catherine on her blog:

Still standing on her head

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To check out the featured poem on the Tuesday Poem Hub and other great poems from fellow Tuesday poets from around the world, click here or on the Quill icon in the sidebar.

On June 11, when I posted on ‘”Which Should Speak, Book or Author”, I decided that when it came to the story, I am increasingly convinced that the book should be left to speak for itself as much as possible.

But added that: ” When it comes to the author speaking, I feel there’s a little more scope for output on writing process and the writing life.”

So I am going to try and post a little bit more around both those topics — always assuming, of course, that I can think of something/anything(!) interesting to say. 😉

If you have questions you’d like answered or to see more discussion on, feel free to comment here and let me know.

Btw, if you missed it last week, my regular Supernatural Underground post was on on solstice reads — feel free to check it out and comment with your picks. And if that’s not your thing, check out the 6th post in Amanda Arista’s “Living Heroically” series, on Approaching the Cave. (In fact, I think her whole post series is worth a look.)

The Wall of Night Series map; design by Peter Fitzpatrick

The A Geography of Haarth post series is traversing the full range of locales and places from The Wall of Night world of Haarth. Each locale is accompanied by a quote from either The Heir Of Night, The Gathering Of The Lost, or both.

This week continues the focus on “T.”

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Temple Of Mhaelanar:  a temple within the Temple of Night particularly dedicated to Mhaelanar, the Defender.
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“Korriya’s smile was bitter. “…It entered the Temple quarter with the first wave of intruders, and the souls of the weak and the unwary were sucked into it like a vortex.  None of us would have survived if we had not managed to barricade ourselves into the temple of Mhaelanar, the Defender, where the psychic barriers are strong and kept it at bay. “

~ from © The Heir Of Night, The Wall of Night Book One: Chapter 6 — Matters Of Blood

On 30 April I learned that I had won the Sir Julius Vogel Award for Services to Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror — a very great honour.

And yesterday the award itself arrived in my post office box: yahoo!

As we know a picture speaks a thousand words, so here’s the photo. 😉

 And thank you again to everyone who nominated and voted for me: I really am greatly honoured.

~ by Rebecca Fisher

Introduction:

I feel like this entire column has been slowly building up to the introduction of this particular movie. Spirited Away is considered Hayao Miyazaki’s masterpiece: the highest grossing film in Japanese history, the first Studio Ghibli film to became a global hit, and the winner of the 2002 Academy Award for Best Animated Film.

It also happens to be the first Miyazaki film I ever saw, and I really wish I could go back in time in order to experience it all over again. Spirited Away was like nothing I had ever seen before, and I can vividly remember how utterly engrossing it was to watch this strange, beautiful and unpredictable story unfolding on the screen in front of me.

Premise:

Chihiro is seriously unhappy about having to leave her old school and move to a new neighbourhood. Despite the enthusiasm of her parents, she’s determined to be sulky about it. But on the way to their new house, Chihiro’s father takes a wrong turn. In the middle of the city, the family find themselves driving down an overgrown lane that leads to the entrance of what appears to be a huge abandoned fun park.

Chihiro is reluctant to go any further, but her parents seem strangely obsessed with exploring the place. Moving deeper into the extensive parklands, they come across a street of food-stalls packed with delicious looking food. Chihiro explores further, finding an imposing bathhouse situated on the other side of a bridge at the end of the street.

The eerie quiet of the abandoned theme park.

But as evening falls the spirit world comes alive. Soon the streets are filled with strange shadows, levitating masks and bizarre animal creatures. In horror Chihiro runs back to her parents, only to find that they’ve been turned into pigs.

To survive in this strange new world and have her parents restored to their human forms, Chihiro must get a job at the bathhouse, working for the intimidating old witch Yubaba, who runs the place, and serving the strange spirits who go there to replenish themselves.

Story:

It’s a surreal and frightening situation that Chihiro finds herself in – no less surreal and frightening than the film itself. Surrounded by mysterious figures such as the witch Yubaba, the bathhouse girl Lin and the stoic young Haku, Chihiro has no idea who to rely on. Everyone she meets can be dismissive and belittling, only to turn friendly and helpful on a whim. Who can she really trust?

Haku tries to protect Chihiro – but who is he really?

As well as that, she’s caught in a net of inexplicable rules, where strange gestures or incantations, or the act of not breathing in a certain place, are the only things keeping her safe. She only has her own determination and courage to navigate through the ever-shifting rules and unstable personalities around her. As such, it can be quite a harrowing film at times, with the tension derived not from any obvious danger, but the underlying feeling that any wrong move – however arbitrary – could have dire consequences.

This idea is ingrained into the way Miyazaki tells his story, which defies most Western conventions of how films are meant to be structured. There is no clear-cut mission or quest to be achieved, no full understanding of where Chihiro is or what she’s expected to do, and none of the familiar beats and rhythm of your standard fantasy story. Instead Chihiro is thrown into one bizarre situation after another, struggling to keep her head above water (sometimes literally), in an episodic and unpredictable manner that cannot be easily guessed in advance.

Chihiro begs Yubaba for a job.

That said, there are some aspects of the film that are vaguely reminiscent of more familiar tales. When Chihiro and her parents enter the rundown entrance that leads to spirit world, there’s a “bigger on the inside” vibe reminiscent of the magical wardrobe in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Her parents are turned into pigs by a witch’s power, much like Odysseus’s men on Circe’s island. Chihiro trying to assert herself in a world of random happenstance and moody creatures is also inevitably going to invite parallels to Alice in Wonderland.

And of course, the inexplicable rules such as not eating the food of the spirits and guarding one’s name against those who would use it to control you, are featured in all sorts of fairy tales around the world.

Characters:

As with many of Miyazaki’s films, the protagonist is a young female. But whereas the likes of Nausicaa, Sen and Arietty are competent and mature young women, Chihiro starts off as a rather whiny pre-teen who is determined to complain all the way to her new house.

Yet when her parents insist on exploring the old amusement park, you’re drawn in alongside her as the gradual shift from one world to the next takes place: first in the glimpse of little shrines along the side of the road, then by the sounds of a faraway train, and finally with the sprawling parklands that seem far too vast to be contained within a city.

Chihiro grapples with manual labour.

It’s impossible not to empathize with her when her life takes such a confusing downward turn, but over the course of the film she gradually assumes her responsibilities and demonstrates compassion and selflessness when it comes to caring for others. And as ever, the stunning animation makes her a fully dimensional character, capturing all her facial expressions, movement and body language. Little details are added just for the sake of it – such as when she gets out of the car and then doubles back in order to leave her bouquet of flowers in the backseat.

And she’s surrounded by all sorts of incredible creatures: a dragon, a giant baby, a pair of shape-shifting witches, three disembodied heads, origami birds, and spirits of every shape and colour. It’s a feast for the eyes, and I guarantee there’ll more than one moment in which you’re staring awestruck at the screen.

Conclusion:

At one-hundred-and-twenty-five minutes Spirited Away is a surprisingly long film for one that’s ostensibly aimed at children, but every second is packed full of some new wonderment. Tranquil scenes are interspersed with some rather terrifying depictions of spirits and witches, and Chihiro’s astonishment at it all mirrors our own.

One of many incredible creatures on display.

Perhaps a bit too scary for very young viewers (though not more so than some of the stuff that goes on in Disney films), Spirited Away is an undisputed classic. I watched it recently to refresh my memory for this column, and just writing about it makes me want to watch it again!
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Next Time: Howl’s Moving Castle

On the heels of Spirited Away came Howl’s Moving Castle, based on the book by Diana Wynne Jones. But does the thematic depth of a Japanese animator mesh well with the sardonic wit of a British author? As we’ll see next time, Howl’s Moving Castle is a rather odd blend of two very different types of storytellers.
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About The Reviewer:

Rebecca Fisher is a graduate of the University of Canterbury with a Masters degree in English Literature, mainly, she claims, because she was able to get away with writing her thesis on C.S. Lewis and Philip Pullman. She is a reviewer for FantasyLiterature.com, a large website that specializes in fantasy and science-fiction novels, as well as posting reviews to Amazon.com and her LiveJournal blog.

To read Rebecca’s detailed introduction of both herself and the series, as well as preceding reviews, click on:

Big Worlds On Small Screens

Listening to Glenn Gould on Orton Scar

From Ravenstonedale
driving north on unfenced roads,
moonlight reflects the tarmac’s

frozen wake across the moor —
a snail’s trail  in my rear-view mirror.

Bach unwinds from the c.d.
a landscape of variations
into this zero night.

The grass is white; trees black.
The walls run off like staves.

The moon fingers each stone
separately, in unexpected harmonies
and structures, endlessly practising —

compelling me to stop.  Listen
to the quiet significance of the moment.

Across the counterpoint
I hear the chill cry of a predatory bird.
Single notes glitter like frost.

©  Kathleen Jones, 2011
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From: Not Saying Goodbye at Gate 21 by Kathleen Jones, Templar Poetry, 2011.
Reproduced here with permission.

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Last week I featured fellow Tuesday Poet, Kathleen Jones’ “Winter Light” in celebration of the Southern Hemisphere’s winter solstice and the NZ festival of Matariki (which was Saturday 28th this year.)

When I was guest editor on the Tuesday Poem Hub on October 16, 2012 I featured another wonderful, wintry poem from Kathleen — Listening to Glenn Gould on Orton Scar.

With Kathleen’s kind permission, I am featuring the latter poem again for you today. Both poems are drawn from Kathleen’s 2011 collection, Not Saying Goodbye at Gate 21, which won the Straid Collection Award in 2010.

If you want to read more of Kathleen’s work, you can also check out To the Gods, the Shades (a personal favourite!) here on Tim Jones’ blog — or by visiting her blog:

A Writer’s Life

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To discover this week’s featured poem on the Tuesday Poem Hub and read other great poems from fellow Tuesday Poets from around the world, click here or on the Quill icon in the sidebar.