capriuni: Text: "I know where my towel is, But I can't find anything else." (Default)
So, last night, between a long, hot, shower and getting ready for bed, the question of this whole test clarified (as happens), and this is the revised version that's circling in my head, now, after sleeping on it.

[personal profile] jesse_the_k. [livejournal.com profile] lilacsigil, [livejournal.com profile] kittenmommy, [livejournal.com profile] elettaria, and [livejournal.com profile] prydera all disagreed with my inclusion of the criteria that the disability be "Actual" and "have consequences," since that would likely lead to "disability policing." And I see that point -- I also realized that, since "A Quest for Cure" is irrelevant in this test, "Cause" is also irrelevant. So that part is simply out.*

I realized that what makes the Bechdel Test so strong is that it is completely free of jargon -- using words that even those who never studied literature or writing get intuitively:

Stories have people who talk to each other about... stuff. The Bechdel Test point out: Unless those people are women.

I (and many folks in my circle) are comfortable with terms like "Conflict resolution," "story arc," and "motivation," but these terms are still jargon to many (and they have lots of syllables). [livejournal.com profile] elletaria also pointed out that it would be nice just to have random people with disabilities Show up in the background scenes whether or not they're actually part of the story. It's so rare that they're even in the background.

So-- this is the hot-water-drenched version:

1) There's a disabled person visible
2) Who wants something, and tries to get it,
3) Other than: Death, Cure, or Revenge.

(This might be the main character having story-type adventure, or it could just be someone in a wheelchair, in the crowd, buying a paper at the newsstand, while the lead couple make googly eyes at each other in the foreground)


*(Incidentally, I included "consequences" mostly as a note to myself. I originally wrote my NaNoWriMo novel as a script for ScriptFrenzy!, five and a half years ago, and back then, I only had my prince character suffer a missing eye and facial burns to break from the trope that the heroic prince is now and must always be "A Handsome Prince."

But, in revisiting the story this time around, I realized: "Oh, hey! having only one eye is going to change how he moves through his palace, isn't it -- especially all those steep, uneven, lit-by-torchlight, tower staircases? That's probably something I should address, and not have him capering up and down like he used to, when he was twelve..." [He's also relatively newly disabled -- within the last year -- and he hasn't, yet, gotten completely comfortable with his changed body])
capriuni: Text: "I know where my towel is, But I can't find anything else." (Default)
(I've also posted this to [community profile] disability, where it is waiting in the moderation cue, and I mentioned this at the end of my most recent post about my NaNoWriMo novel [under a custom filter], but I also thought it might be good to open this question up to everybody, so... here it is [ETA: Also, I realized, just now, that I can cross-post it to [livejournal.com profile] crip_crit, so I will do that]):

So, you know about The Bechdel Test, for evaluating certain aspects of gender bias and sexism in fiction, yes?

Well, there has been some talk in some circles, about how one could come up with something similar for depictions of PWD in fiction -- the discussions that spring immediately to mind are these two from Dave Hingsburger's Blog: "Rolling Around in My Head," from March of this year:

The Dave Test and The Rolling Test (I think he updated the name in order to honor all the comments to the Rolling... blog, not necessarily the little wheelchair stick figure).

Anyway, November is freshly over, and I'm still recovering from this year's NaNoWriMo marathon, and my head is still buzzing with my story. Cut for rambling about my story ) I realized I've created some disabled characters that do not embarrass me, and that feel as though they do reflect something of what I experience as a disabled person (even though I did not give either of these characters my form of disability). And, in the process, I think I've hit on my own "Disability Test" for fiction (movies, TV, books, etc.):

1) There is at least one character who has an actual disability (with consequences)
2) The character is in the story to resolve a conflict of his or her own
3) Curing the disability will not resolve that conflict.

notes with more rambling )

The thing is, the strength of the Bechdell test is in its simplicity: 3 points, 15 words. So-- any tips or feedback on how I can simplify this test? And, perhaps more important, do you think this test "covers" the biggest weaknesses in fictional depictions of disability?
capriuni: Text: "I know where my towel is, But I can't find anything else." (Default)
(A fully detailed description can be found by clicking through to the flick'r page)

NaNoWriMo 2011 winner

Total word count: 50,663.

No, technically, it's not actually a novel, strictly speaking, 'cause I never got out of chapter one, plot-wise. But it served its purpose admirably, of giving me an escape and a mental exercise to help me deal with stress. And it allowed me to really think deeply about what I think is actually my default worldview, but I've never actually put it into words before.

And I am still, after all this, still fond of my central characters. Which has never happened before. So that's a win, too.

I know that I also owe my friends an Art Garden report. And, before midnight tonight, I need to post my next Plato's Nightmare entry, so I can keep up my promise of having at least one post a month.

But first: I went shopping today, and I bought myself an extra dark bitter sweet chocolate bar, so I can have something to celebrate my win with.

So I will break off a couple of squares of that, and enjoy them, right now.
capriuni: Text: "I know where my towel is, But I can't find anything else." (Default)
[Begin Quote]

My Novel, Oh my Novel--

Why are you doing this to me?

You keep me up late, with your chatter in my head, and then wake me up far too early with this?!

No! I will not go back and change it. If you wanted the beggar's ghost to be the mentor, instead of the wizard, you should have spoken up when we started out. Now, sit down, and be quiet.

If you behave for the rest of this trip, maybe we'll go out for ice cream later.

[End Quote]

FOUR HOURS LATER:

Okay, Fine! Have it your way! I'll write the extra dream scenes, but I WILL NOT rewrite what's already written. No, it doesn't matter that it makes no sense. I'll just stick the dream sequences on at the end-- yes, even if they actually happen at the beginning.

And no ice cream for you...
capriuni: text icon "Writer's Block" (blocked!)
It took me 29,100 words to figure out where my Chapter One starts (metaphorically speaking), now I need to figure out Chapter Two.

Long, rambling, exposition-- as much to clarify my own thinking as to spell things out for readers-- but it might help you know what sort of thing I'm looking for )

My $29K Question: Something is going wrong on the Otherworldly plane, and two of the "regular visitors" to the Otherworldly B&B seek help of my wizard and MC, to come to the Otherworld and help solve the mystery / fix what's breaking / find what's lost (Wizard and MC could 'travel there' via dreams or astral projection, or maybe just a form of self-hypnosis that allows them to see the world from a ghost's or bogle's vantage point).

But What? Why?

Oh, and gripe: You know what's annoying, for fantasy writers like me? Google's spell check does not recognize either the word "Otherworld" or "bogle," so every time I write them, I get red squiggly underlines.
capriuni: Text: "I know where my towel is, But I can't find anything else." (Default)


Just so you know: I didn't even decide to join in until the fourth.

Yesterday, I admit, I was in full-blocked, can-barely-stand-to-listen-to-my-own-thoughts mode and managed to add a whopping 47 words to my manuscript.

Today, I added 3,600 (and change) words. In less than nine hours -- since I posted that poll this afternoon (I told you polls clear my mind.) [see footnote]

*preens*

[footnote] I fixed my character by having her be the one who first encounters my Wizard character (via a surprise letter in the mail) instead of her mother making first contact and telling her about it in a surprise conversation over dinner. Also, having her gather the mail and letting herself in from school gave me a chance to witness her relationship with her mother (as she sorts out the mail addressed to her) and the rest of the world (in how she deals with all the junk mail and pop culture surrounding that. The wizard's letter fell out of a mass of supermarket circulars, and is the Unexpected, Unknown quantity. So when she examines the envelope and puzzle out what it might mean, and what she should do with it, she begins to have a direct relationship with him before she even meets him.

Which gives her something else to be besides passive (and angry and resentful that she's been made passive). Simple, really (once I thought of it)
capriuni: text icon "Writer's Block" (blocked!)
Poll #8521 writing a novel-on-the-fly is like wondering a maze, and I've come upon another dead end
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 1


I've chosen my main character at random, from a snippet of a scene I wrote last year. It turns out she's a teen at an aloof and detached stage in life and has no emotional incentive to go boldly forth into anything. Should I:

View Answers

Rewrite her, at a younger, more enthusiastic age?
0 (0.0%)

Make her an audience for a completely different story, rather than a character in this one (just have another character tell a different story while she's sitting there and listening)?
0 (0.0%)

Scrap her entirely, and hand the Point-of-View role over to some other character, who is currently 'on the sidelines'?
0 (0.0%)

Keep her, but make her a secondary, rather than main, character?
1 (100.0%)

Or should I keep her as-is, but change the world she's in, by:

View Answers

Giving her a best friend that's her own age?
0 (0.0%)

Changing her starting family (currently, she's an only child of a single mother -- maybe she should have siblings by the handful, or two parents, or...)?
0 (0.0%)

Giving her family wealth and privilege it doesn't currently have, for her to rebel against?
0 (0.0%)

Changing the way she moves from her current family position to being fostered by the wizardy-mentor who acts as a catalyst for the plot?
1 (100.0%)

A third question (and a third Question type) for good luck -- freestyle: give me phrase, sentence, or idea -- anything that pops into your head:

capriuni: Text: "I know where my towel is, But I can't find anything else." (Default)
The "How Many?" Questions:



The "Old House's Mystery" Questions:

  • What's the floorplan? )

  • So what did happen, ~100+ years ago? )

  • (I'd put this under a cut, too, but right now, I just have the question, and not much to say about my thoughts on an answer): What are the consequences of this conflict remaining unresolved? If the Truth does not come out, So What? Could it be that Strange Aunt is preparing to make her will, and if this family feud is not healed, the house will be sold outside the family, instead of passed down? Hm... I could figure this out after I start, perhaps. But I'd feel better being able to add it to My List now...
capriuni: Text: "I know where my towel is, But I can't find anything else." (Default)
The first one I had up there focused on how the Monster Teddy Bear was created, and why he was chosen by his human. But I've realized that that's only the opening premise of the story, and not the actual center of conflict for the storyline.

So today, I rewrote it. I also finally decided what he actually looks like, and I also settled on a name -- the one that he would've originally had, if he'd come out normal, and got put on store shelves with a proper label, and everything (I'm not sure if that's the name my human character would give him, or not. But it might be the name he starts out with, in his own head... I imagine the naming of toys is a bit like the naming of cats); the toy designers/marketers had intended him to be part of their "Country Cousins" line, aimed at the "Grandmother Market," so I tried to think of a name that ad-writers would think sounded like Old-Fashioned Farm Boy. I'm not sure of "Alfonse," but I like the backwardness of the initials Z. A. Maybe Zachery Amos would be better?

Anyway, here it is:

(Begin)
Zachery Alfonse didn't know how he came to be the strange bear he was -- none of the toys did. Only Old Steam 'n Stitch, the oldest assembly machine on the floor of the Fluffy Hearts Ltd. toy factory knew for sure... And Old Steam had been shipped to the city museum the day after Zachery was born.

Zachery didn't really mind the fact that he had big duck feet instead of bear paws, that his left ear was like a rabbit's, or that his snout was like a crocodile's -- all full of felt teeth. Sure, his looks had almost gotten him thrown into the Recalls Bin, and other toys assumed he was as mixed up in the mind as he was in his body, so it was harder to make friends. But Sally Rose chose to take him home. And he could scare away the Night Shadows faster than any other toy.

Just when he and the others were all starting to get along, however, the announcement came that The Holidays were coming, and Mother was taking Sally (And Sally was taking Zachery, and Crayon Box) to stay with Strange Aunt Julia until the New Year. The Whole Family was going to be there, in Julia's big, old, House.

And the House was strange -- even Zachery thought so. What secret does the house know, and what message is it trying to send, before the family has its last big party, and everyone goes their separate ways?
(end)
capriuni: Text: "I know where my towel is, But I can't find anything else." (Default)
(quote):
This old house once knew my children
This old house once knew my wife
This old house was home and comfort
As we fought the storms of life
This old house once rang with laughter
This old house heard many shouts
Now she trembles in the darkness
When the lightnin' walks about
(unquote)


(Just a song going through my head, now that I've started meditating on this particular strand of my story.)

Note: I don't particularly like the terms "subplot" or "B plot," etc., especially in a children's story where the protagonist / viewpoint character has so little control over the events that move the story from one place to another. The protagonist may have no idea of the parent's troubles with the Boss, but when a job is lost or promotion granted, and suddenly the whole family has to pack up and move 'cross country, you can hardly call those "other" troubles a subplot. When making a braid, which of the three strands is "primary"?

And that is particularly true when the character is a house and its primary concerns and worries are about the humans moving through and around it.

written out as an actual dialogue between the four of 'us' -- cut for length )
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Back in the writing days of my youth, before I had the Internets at my disposal, I'd work through my writer's block by writing out questions and then, and then, answering myself -- sort of like one of those metaphorical dialogues from the Middle Ages.

Now, that I do have the Internets, I can still ask myself, but you guyzes can also pipe up and shout out answers (a bit like a Christ-a-massy Pantomime!) (Yay!) (Please do... it helps).


  • Question One: What sort of stress is the mother under, that she is projecting her fears and insecurities onto her daughter?

    • It might be because of unresolved issues or wishes from her own childhood, or
    • stress about work, or maybe
    • someone from her past comes back into her life. Or maybe it's not the past, maybe she's worried about
    • a Big Change that is looming in their future.


    The unresolved issues, if that's what it is, might be triggered by someone coming back from her past... That might be interesting. Could it be someone from her past coming back to warn her about the future? Or is that going overboard?

  • Question Two: What sort of job / work does the mother have? That would determine what sort of stress she's under, and/or what sort of warning she gets... Well, what are some broad catagories of work?

    • Construction / Factory / Manual Labor
    • Intellectual / Accademic
    • Business / economic
    • Travel / Exploration
    • Medical

      Of these, I think "Business," and "travel" would be the most believable in a) giving enough privelege / allow the most free energy to give over to worrying about her daughter's future status (rather than just, say, making sure she's healthy and safe). And if the mother has a mid-level job in either of these fields, that could put her under the most pressure to "keep up a appearances."


  • Question Three: Why do the mother, daughter, and daughter's favorite toys go to stay in old House-with- issues -Mystery?

    • The mother might be laid off, or lose her job, and they go to stay with a relative in a "new" place until they get resettled. Or maybe:
    • it's the Holidays[tm], and they're just staying at this house because it's family (formal family reunion/vacation). Is it
    • for the Mother's job -- a business-related trip "Vacation" (i.e. is it a boss's house, or retreat? If it's for work, why would the daughter be there?)


  • Question Four: Is the Old House with Mystery directly connected to the toy factory where our Monster Teddy Hero was born?

    • I don't think so... After all, the teddy travels some distance in a cargo container before arriving at the store where he is found and taken home... and if the Teddy's magic life-giving heart does turn out to be a charm from the toy company's founder, then I'm already including the "Factory perspective."

    • On the other hand, if it is connected to the factory, than the teddy monster could have important insight into solving the mystery... But would that make him too much of a Marty-Sue?
capriuni: Text: "I know where my towel is, But I can't find anything else." (Default)
Okay, so I've decided to go with the haunted house version of my story. Now, which of these three levels of "living" should my toys have? These definitions are borrowed from TVtropes.org's "Sliding Scale of Living Toys")

Level 0:
Immobile: Toys cannot move independently, but can observe, think, and communicate with each other, via a sort of ESP
Level 1:
Schroedinger's Toy: Toys can move and do everything a person can do, but only when no human person is looking (presumably because it's the human who decides they can't move, and that rule is only in effect when the human is present)
Level 2:
Toy Masquerade: Toys can move any time they choose, but they just choose to keep it a secret (all the Pixar Toy Story movies use this level)


I'm waffling between Level 0 (which I'll add a "twist" to), and Level 2 ...or Level 1.

If I go with Level 0, my toys will have a sort of "Astral body," like the New-Agers wrote about in the 1970s and '80s. When they're at rest, their "astral bodies" will be snug inside their polyester fluff and stitching bodies, and what they see, hear, and feel will be bounded by that body's limitations. When they're "out and about," a ghost-like version of themselves can leave their bodies and wander through the world, like ghosts, including walking through walls, etc. With a tremendous effort, they may be able to influence the physical world (knocking pencils off desks, etc), and maybe be able to move their own bodies from the inside, in an emergency... But since, most of the time, they're interacting with other toys and entities on the same level as themselves, they don't even notice that they're ghostly bodies are all that different from their polyester bodies.

On the other hand, Levels 1 & 2 would give me a lot more flexibility, especially in the very beginning of the story, when I need to get my toy protagonist into the path of my human protagonist, so she can take him home... His polyester fluff self needs to get within her reach, from the reject bin, or wherever he's put when he's first discovered.
capriuni: Text: "I know where my towel is, But I can't find anything else." (Default)
But I'm leaving it up, anyway, because maybe someone else will notice a snag or nifty detail I never would, if left to my own devices...
---

The magical premise of my story, by which toys are alive, is that the objects around us absorb our mental and emotional energy. It happens strongest with children's toys, because children are emotionally attatched to them, and use them to deliberately act out their thoughts and feelings. But it's not limited to children's toys -- it happens with grown-ups' things, too -- such as our cars and computers (and the machines that make the toys in the factory).

What I'm wondering is: should I include this whole range of "living objects" in my story, or just stick to world as seen by toys?.

My Main Toy Character is a freak, "monster," teddy bear that the other toys look down on, assume to be mad or non-sentient because he wasn't created as "normally" as they were.

(Aside to my DW/LJ audiences: You can see why the "Monster Teddy Bear as metaphor for living with the oppression of Ableism" is setting off alarm bells in my brain. ... I mean, from where I sit, it's about as subtle as a concrete bat painted saftey-orange. And "walking through" the story behind this character's eyes is likely to bring up a lot of angst for me -- and in November to boot. That month is already up there on the Angst-o-meter, thanks to SAD and culturally-mandated sentimentally. Brace yourselves, friends!)

Option #1 (aka the 'Christmas Three-hanky Special) )

Option #2 (aka 'The *haunted house* Mystery Special) )

Option #1 is more traditional, Option #2 may be too weird and confusing to pull off...

Help me decide?

(Aside #2: Yeah... As I was typing this up, became pretty clear to me that #2 is the right answer...)
capriuni: Text: "I know where my towel is, But I can't find anything else." (Default)
(I'm mostly talking to myself, here. But comments would be cuddled, petted and replied to)

An outline for Inanimate-to-Sentience transference )

How this might play out, specifically, in my novel: )

What I'm not sure of, yet:

  1. Where on the Sliding scale of living toys (via TV Tropes) my toy characters should fall, or
  2. What's the nature of the nightmares and ghouls they battle, in the main conflict of the plot
.

Any ideas?
capriuni: Text: "I know where my towel is, But I can't find anything else." (Default)
So, yesterday, I made a poll about what I might write during NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month: November 1-30). At the time I made it, I thought I was conflicted and/or confused over which story idea I should tackle.

I got three responses over on the LJ side of the divide. And I found myself disappointed that no one picked my children's fantasy/misfit toy idea.

So I guess that tells me I wasn't so conflicted, after all -- there is one idea that tugs harder at my heartstrings than the others.

Here are the two main characters slowly coalescing in my imagination, right now:

A girl -- perhaps six or seven years old, but maybe as old as ten -- who loves bugs and creepy crawlies and imaginary monsters, but whose mother, aunts, uncles, teachers, et alia, all want to be a "cute" girl, who likes ponies and princesses, and sparkly fairy wands, like other "normal" girls her age.

A "monster" toy -- as according to one older definition of "monster": a creature with a mix of several different animals' body parts. There's a snafu at the toy factory, and the computerized patterns get all mixed up, so, for a brief period, stuffed bunnies get giraffe necks, stuffed lions get bunny ears, and so forth. The glitch is discovered, the machines are stopped, and all the "defective" toys get found, taken apart, and their pieces recycled -- all except for one: a "monster" teddy that somehow managed to get through the assembly line and into its package and into the shipping crate before the glitch was discovered.

Naturally, the girl finds the monster (somehow), and (somehow) gets it home. Maybe the mother gives in, perhaps as a bargain to get the girl to wear the pretty dress and to be ladylike at an important event. Or maybe the girl finds the packaged teddy in a discard pile at the store, or ...?

And then, the story takes a turn into Raggedy Ann, Velveteen Rabbit, and Toy Story territory, and becomes a "Secret life of toys" tale. And the Monster Teddy becomes the protector/hero, because it can use its fangs and claws and weird looks to fight off nightmares and malevolant shadows...

Here's what I'm pondering right now: are there more interesting, and /or nuanced ways, for a toy to "become alive" than through the pure and innocent love that the child has for it? Because, frankly, that scenerio, while a commonly accepted trope, seems a bit too saccharine to be a good fit with these particular characters.

Hm.

Um...

Sep. 20th, 2010 02:12 am
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Thanks to a reminder from [personal profile] thblackflame, I just (re)-signed up for NaNoWriMo... The year that the Art Garden is on again.

Ooops?

Well, since I've been doing daily stints in writing off the cuff in short bursts every day for five months, now. At least I'm in better writing shape than I was back when November was, more or less, the only time I'd write fiction...
capriuni: Text: "I know where my towel is, But I can't find anything else." (Default)


OpenOffice's word-counter says I have 50,129 words. NaNoWriMo's word-counter says I have 50,025 words. I actually have four more pages (give or take) of handwritten story in a spiral, college-ruled notebook that (more or less) takes the story to the sort of end. Probably another 450 words, there, I guess, maybe more.

But I'm tired from traveling (yes, even though you're not doing anything but sitting passively in a moving car for 10 hours, it's tiring), and I'm bored with trying to decipher and transcribe my messy handwriting. And 50,025 is good enough. So I'm just going to stop where I am, and not look back.

I did my bit to earn an extra dollar for NaNoWriMo's Young Writers' Program.

I'm going to eat some chocolate chips, and make myself some cocoa with real sugar, and maybe veg in front of the tv for a while.

(I'll tell you about the Art Garden, tomorrow. Public, non-f'locked version for now: It was dandy. I cracked up reading my own piece; mother would have been mortified, but members of the audience told me they love it when I do that. I guess I'm the AG's version of Harvey Korman...)
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5 Really Adorable Things That My Kittehs Do:

  1. Amanda, will often, when she thinks it's time for bed, jump up onto my desk between my keyboard and my monitor, and demand scritches. Then, if I do not immediately follow her into the bedroom (which I usually don't, because I am addicted to the Internets), she will go off to one side of the desk and curl up on an old padded envelope and fall asleep there, just to sleep in my pressence. When she wakes up, and I'm still obsessing over getting just a bit higher score in Tetris, she will wake up and meow/yell at me with a tone that I swear sounds like: "Come on! You've got to be kidding me! Go to bed already!"


  2. When I finally do go to bed, she will wait until I've climbed in, and pulled the covers over my head, and peek over the edge of the blankets, as if to make sure it's really me. After I roll over to my final sleeping position for the night, she will curl up in the crook of my knees, and use my legs as a backrest.


  3. Right by the door leading from my living room to my office (almost exactly flush with the edge of the door) there is an armrest to a futon frame. When Trixie, my other cat, sees me heading into the office, she will sprint ahead of me and jump onto the armrest so I can reach to give her head-scritches.


  4. Sometimes, when she sees me coming, Trixie will raise her right paw, Maneke-Neko (spelling?) style, except that she stands when she does it, instead of sitting down, like the statue; ocassionally, she has managed to "high-five" my bare toes.


  5. I can't help but kind of melt, a little, when I see Amanda and Trixie grooming each other...


And, yeah, sorry, but I can't resist entirely -- just a little NaNoWriMo boasting:

capriuni: Text: "I know where my towel is, But I can't find anything else." (Yay)
I am all caught up!

(Well, sorta.)

If I had been a good and consciencious little writer, and written at a steady pace of 1,667 words a day, every day since the beginning of the month (instead of not writing anything for the first week as I wallowed in Obama-Watch, 2008), I should have gotten to word #20,004 by the end of November 12th.

I typed in word #20,032 a little over half an hour ago. Strictly speaking, it's not on deadline, since the word was crossed on the 13th. But that really doesn't matter, because it will be all the same difference when I sit down at the computer, first thing after breakfast.

From here on in (until I hit the wall of the Art Garden), I shall be getting ahead of deadline (Which I need to, because of the wall of the Art Garden).

I think I've earn myself a midnight snack with chocolate chips... :-)
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First things first: The Setting and premise. This novel takes place in a the kind of world you find in Sword and Sorcery novels, except the timing is about 600 years after your typical Sword and Sorcery time. That is, a typical Sword and Sorcery novel is usually set in an alternate European/Western culture, where magic is real and literal (rather than metaphorical and philosophical), back when that culture was in the Middle Ages or Renaisance.

I'm working with the idea that the stories of knights and dragons and wizards that we read about in those novels are actually histories of what happened in those worlds 600 or so years ago. And my story is set in the same world in the present day. So: Magical learning for those worlds would have been like reading and writing is today-- the special priviledge of a special class, and most of the populace were "ilmagerate" (yes, I made up that word -- like it?). Now, the basics of at least rudimentary magic is taught to everyone in schools, and only a few adults have the misfortune of being ilmagerate. Magic is treated as a branch of science, and even though most people are not experts, magic and spells are still part of everyday technology-- like cars.

My heroine is a nerd/geek: her main love all through grade school was studying the history of magic from 600 or so years ago, and she'd help fellow students who were slackards by expertly helping them plaigerize their magic homework. Now, she's a grad student working on a masters in Magical Engineering, and her university is a small one, not exactly prestigious, but it's centered in the place where one of my heroine's ancient hero wizards was said to have lived and worked. She decided to go to this school in hopes of having better access to primary source material, but: during the summer months, the place turns into a tourist trap. The one job she gets, as an intern, is as an assistant in a carnie sideshow, giving psychic messages to an ordinary carp, so it can play the role of "the Mighty Dragon Carp of the Western Sea."

On the day our story begins, the show goes wrong; the carp starts acting crazy, and just as the show nears its finale, it coughs up one of the plastic toy rings that is given out at the carnival midway as a third-place prize. My heroine realizes, as soon as she picks it up, that the ring has been enchanted.

Now, my poll:

[Poll #1295625]

(BTW, I've written 1,540 words so far today, and plan to get right back to it as soon as I've had a bit more caffeine)

[Edited to add: When I was drifting off to sleep, in the wee hours, it occurred to me that the Heroine's fascination with history and magic for ~600 years in the past is really like the proverbial gun on the mantlepiece in the first chapter, and that maybe the message should somehow be connected to that, somehow. How, exactly, is a question I can't figure out, yet...]

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Ann

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