Inside the Temple

Inside The Temple is a “behind the scenes” look at some of the high and low points along the way to getting Daughter of the Sun finished. Along the way, I have included some advice that I discovered for other writers, and a little bit more about me.

This was originally included as a bonus feature in the Limited Edition. I liked it so much, because of the different perspective that it gave, that I could not let it lie hidden in just those 50 copies. I wanted to share it with you.

As such, though, it does contain material which could be seen as spoilers. If you read any farther, you might have some surprises and material central to the plot ruined for you. So, if you have not read it yet, you might want to skip this part and buy a copy and read it before going on. Otherwise - you have been warned.

 

Inspiration

I thought I would get this question out of the way, since it is probably the most common question asked of writers: "Where do you get your ideas?" There are many good answers to that question that more experienced authors than I have handed out. Many of them of very valid, like the Sears Idea Catalog for Authors, or Albuquerque. Don't throw those tomatoes, please. That dry cleaning bill would kill me. I know you don't want some ephemeral answer. You want a peek behind the curtain. Well, I can't speak for anyone else, and I can't speak in generalities. But I can tell you my story.

I have never met the man that handed me the inspiration for this story, though he deserves the credit, surely. Orson Scott Card wrote many good books. Among them was the little book How To Write Science Fiction and Fantasy, published by Writer's Digest Books. In it, he discusses the price of magic. Most of the examples in his book deal with the loss of body parts, but an image appeared to me while reading his words:

Elena kneels over the edge of the lake, her body bent and trembling. Lifting a shaking hand, she stared at it in horror: the skin is thin and transparent, like the finest onion-skin paper; the veins map her entire life on its surface. She brushes damp hair away so that she can see, tucking it behind an ear. As she studies her reflection in the water, tears map trails of sweat and grime over her ancient face.

"What have I done?"

She reaches a trembling hand to her wrinkled face, and sobbs when she can no longer blame it on some nasty trick the water was playing on her. She could not run from this-in just minutes, she had aged 40 years.

There was a power in this scene that called to me. I knew the price of her magic-it would require her very life. What would make a woman spend so much of herself? That answer came quick. My own children were less than a year old when I wrote that passage. I knew what I would give my life for, and they were finally sleeping in the second bedroom upstairs in the town house I was living in. As I tapped out those words on the old computer that sat at the kitchen table, I knew why Elena had done what she did.

Perspiration

In the initial idea, it was Elena, and not her mother, that fought the Duke's men to save the village children, even though the villagers hated her. I didn't know why they hated her. I guess it was because of the magic, but too many years--and not enough notes--have passed since then.

Over the next few weeks, I stumbled forward, discovering the story as I went along. It was the story of Elena's survival. In the process of saving the children, she burnt the entire village to the ground, killing everyone inside. The words have been lost over the years, but I remember her digging through the ruins for her daughter's body. Johan was in the story, but did not play much of a part, though he argued with her here, trying to convince her that she had to leave before the Duke arrived. She told him where to stick it, and continued digging through the ruins in the light of the moon. For some reason, a lizard followed her around, never talking, but with many expressions. He always stayed just out of her reach. He wanted her to follow him, but I never found out where.

I left the story at that point. Seventy pages. The longest thing I had ever written. During the next couple of years, I found the nuggets of several other stories, but never made it very far on any of them. It was so frustrating! Here were these stories, each having this kernel of good story in them, yet I couldn't seem to find my way down any of those roads. Until one day when I found those 70 pages.

Re-reading them, I felt the excitement for that struggle again, but I still had no idea what was supposed to happen. I had always been an avid reader of writer instruction books, so I dug into all that I had on my shelf. I devoured them, seeking that inspiration--that moment of lightning--when the muse would leap onto my shoulder and whisper the answer in my ear. But she refused to come. I think she figured her job was finished when she handed me those first three paragraphs. So I jumped online, reading everything about writing I could. I borrowed a dozen books from the library. And it all kept coming back to the dreaded O-word: outline. Why do all of writers hate that word? I think, for me, it was too structured.

I remember college. I started the first year working towards an Architecture major. I loved it, and I was good at it. But I loved music more. During the summer between first- and second-year, I switched majors to music. Everyone I talked to said, "You have to take education classes. At least that way you can make a living when you get out of college." When I finally gave in and took the education courses, I discovered that I hated teaching. The enjoyment I got out of music was in creating and playing. Teaching music to little kids was not for me. For me, the magic was in the music. I want to say one thing right now, and I pray that you will listen: don't you ever let anyone talk you out of following your dreams. The price is too high. Just like the magic in this novel, giving up on your dreams will steal your life. It's not worth it.

Much of the same applies to writing. I thought the magic of writing was in the creation. And it is, don't get me wrong. But what I discovered as I wrote out little scenes on 3"x5" index cards, was that outlining is creation. As you fill out those scenes, you are creating the story. You're just doing it in broad strokes. I had probably 120 or so cards, each with one or two sentences that told what that scene was about. When I finished, I was excited. I knew what my story was about, and the pieces seemed to fit, more or less. I figured I would work the kinks out during the writing process.

That version of the story was closer to the grand adventures that ran through the Conan novels and other pulps of its time. It drew inspiration from J.R.R. Tolkien, Terry Brooks, and more. It had Elena discovering the ancient magic that had been outlawed, and a race to the Tower of the Sun in order to win the day. What was the Tower of the Sun? I had no clue, but I didn't care.

I gave myself over to writing that story: all 200 pages of it.

A couple of friends and I were holding an informal writing club at their house on Wednesday nights. We'd work out screenplay ideas, novel ideas, talk about what made writing great, and read our work to each other. I remember one night, while I was reading that version of the story out and made it through all 8 chapters in one night, there was a moment that absolutely made my day. Cat had stopped working on her own notes, and just sat there listening to the end of what I had so far. When I was done, she looked at me and said, "Damn. I would pay for that." When the inevitable doubt would strike over the following years as I struggled to keep myself writing, I would remember that and smile. On a good night, it made me push forward and keep writing. On a bad night, the little demon of self-doubt would sink his claws into me and roar, "That's what friends are supposed to say!"

I think most people have problems with doubting their abilities. It seems to be a common theme for the majority of us running this human race. I think it is especially true, though, in any person working in the creative arts, be it writing, drawing, painting, acting, or wherever your passion lies. I think we have been blessed with an imagination, but that same imagination can so often act as a curse. Not only can we bring these worlds to life just by weaving the thinnest streams of ideas, but we can twist and distort our smallest fears into major road-blocks with ease.

Somewhere around page 200 of that second version, the demon of self-doubt got me. And I am so glad he did. I realized that something was missing from that story. Oh, it had lots of fun stuff about it, but there was no core to the story. There was no power that drew me into it. At that end of that eighth chapter, I knew what was to happen next--just flip to the next index card and there you go!--but the words did not come. I became convinced that my writing was crap and this story never had a chance. I struggled with the words for a while and then just gave up.

I avoided writing for another two years. Instead, I watched TV, or played at programming, or design. I languished for too long, taking no joy in my very uncreative job. To pick myself out of my stupor, I focused on one hobby after another, trying to find one that I could enjoy as much as I used to enjoy writing, and make a better living at it then I currently did at my job. I spent hours poring over code, while learning to program in C/C++, Visual Basic, Perl and PHP. I spent hours designing websites that never got finished. I spent way too much money on "work-from-home" scams in the hopes that I could find some way out of the depression I was in. The answer came from my writing, though. It was what I enjoyed.

Looking back on my college days, and the death of that dream, I vowed I would finish this cursed book. That is when I discovered Dramatica. It is a complete pain to understand, but it was my salvation. Dramatica is both a story theory and a piece of software. Since I couldn't afford the software at the time, I downloaded the huge book of theory they gave away for free, and I dug in. I must have read parts of that half a dozen times, and I still struggled with what they meant. But I realized 2 things my book was missing.

The first was the heart of the story--the emotional core. So I scrapped those 200 pages and looked back to the original inspiration. What was it about that idea that moved me? That was simple. It was the power of seeing how far that woman had gone to save the life of a child. There it was, right in front of me. The true story that was begging to be told was Elena's story as she went through hell and back to try and save her daughter. Finally. I could begin to see the glimmer of a new path now. I knew the magic was a rare and dangerous skill that would be used only as a means of last resort. This would not be another fireball-throwing frenzy of action, with little else to say for it. That one simple concept was the skeleton of my story. I realized that everything else had to fall on that foundation, and the story started forming. That one idea re-kindled my passion for writing. This, I thought, was what made a good story.

The ending came next. What was the ultimate price? Her life. Would you give your life to save your child's? She would have to, I decided. At the end of the novel, she was going to die trying to save her daughter's life. I also knew I didn't want it to end with her failing, but I didn't know how I was going to get around her dying, and wouldn't know until over half the book was written.

Echoes. I don't remember where I first read about this technique. Perhaps it was in the Dramatica Theory. I don't know. But I do know that is how I crafted the layers of this story, and was a major technique for building all of the pieces of this novel. The Duke wanted to kill his father: a reflection of Elena trying to save her daughter. Raven wants to save his planet: an echo of Elena saving Joss, but on a much grander scale. Even Johan, giving his son away to save his wife's life started as an echo of the "How far would you go?" question. One by one, the pieces pulled together in broad strokes.

This time, though, I forced myself to go deeper. Having the line-per-scene outline done, I wanted to make sure I could keep that emotional core intact, and look for ways to amplify it. So I wrote a paragraph about each scene that gave me clearer ideas of what was happening in that scene and--more importantly--why. It was an exciting, and often exhausting process that required almost as much discipline as writing the novel. In the end, I had a 24,000 word map of my story.

Looking back, it's amazing the number of words it took me to get ready to write this story. I had already scrapped nearly 68,000 words from the previous two versions. And that doesn't include the line-per-scene outline of the second version. Add my new outline on, and I've got 92,000 words. An entire novel in itself.

In James Bonnet's Stealing Fire From The Gods, he talks about how the great stories from the ancient days came about. They were all built from an oral tradition. With each new person telling it, the story would grow just a little bit. New bits and pieces that reflected the passions and worries of the new teller were added. New dimensions and layers were crafted in with each telling. Mr. Bonnet's theory is that great stories need that time to morph into a great and powerful tale. I watched that happen with Daughter of the Sun. With each new look at it, I found a better story, or, perhaps, a truer story. As painful as the process was, I would not give it up. It added too much to the story. For me, the result was a powerful tale with more to it than just action and adventure. I hope you find some of the same enjoyment in it that I did.

Magic

Many writers claim they don't want to use outlines for fear that it will kill the enjoyment and creativity, since at that point they've already written the book once. For me, though, nothing was farther from the truth. All the way through the book, little moments of magic happened in the writing. They are the moments when the unexpected happens, and your face lights up with joy and amazement. They are the moments when you write in a frenzy--athletes call it the Zone--just to find out what happens next.

The first piece of magic for me was simply having an outline. It may not sound like much, but I found that writing with an outline is the cure for writer's block. You always know what is going to happen in the broadest sense. When you sit down at the end of a long day, determined to get your 1,000, 2,000 or 3,000 words in, you know where to start. You don't have to struggle with the blank page. There is nothing more productive. Instead of worrying about how what you are writing now is going to affect things 100 pages down the line, you are free to be creating in the moment. You are free to find the magic in this scene.

The Protector of the Dead. That title was probably the first, and most significant moment of magic for me. I was writing the scene and my fingers wanted to give Johan a title, but he didn't have one. Protector of the Dead is what came out. I must admit, that one threw me for a while. I had no idea where it came from or what it meant, or even how in the hell I was supposed to fit it into the story. I had no idea. I just kept writing, leaving that phrase in the back of my mind. Eventually, Johan started remembering the soldiers he had fought with, and all of the lives that had been lost under his command, and the title started to make sense. Eventually, that single, unintended phrase, forced me to go back and rewrite almost one-half of the outline. It was then that I realized just how much the sub-conscious is capable of filling us with awe if we let it.

Other moments of magic filled me with joy and were enough to make me really want to write the second book. The children in the Duke's camp: Tomas, Barty, Rene, and, especially, Marsh Mouth. Writing those children was some of the most enjoyable moments in this novel for me. The foul-mouthed Marsia never stopped making me smile. When I decided to include the epilogue in this book that told us that Jocelyn was still alive, I knew the children had to be there. Because I wanted to see more of them.

Probably the finest magic, though, is in realizing the power of the written word. There were many scenes where I was caught up in the emotion of the scene. When the Captain and Bardulf were riding off with Jocelyn, and Elena was struggling to make the amulet work, all to no avail, I was hooked. I could not stop writing until that scene was done. My muscles were tensed with the anticipation of finding out how she acted. I knew she could not make the magic work--it was much too soon in the book. But--man!--how I wanted to let that Breath loose and rip the Captain to shreds. Instead, the frustration and anger she was feeling got loosed at her mother. I was almost in tears by the time I finished that scene. I could feel them shoving at my eyelids, and I remembered watching the scene from Romancing the Stone where Kathleen Turner's character was writing the ending scene of her romance novel and just bawling. I thought that was little dramatic at the time, but now I know different. When you are lost in the midst of writing an intense scene, you are feeling many of those same emotions. It's a powerful magic.

The best magic of all, though, is when my first three readers came back and said, "We want more." As important as telling the story is, sharing a good story is where the real magic lies. To be able to find this story, and craft it and tweak it, then share it around the literary campfire for you is a privilege I will never take lightly.

Thank you, dear reader, for allowing me to share this journey with you. If you enjoyed it, pass it to someone else who might enjoy it, so that we can all share a little bit of magic in our lives.

Lonnie