Tag Archives: Nulled & Void

icicle feet

It is wintery and I am cold. Unfortunately, the moment the sun is down my internal clock says GO TO SLEEP. It is 7 pm and I am ready to hibernate. Luckily I have this cold beer to see me through till at least oh…7:30 pm.

I’m busy rewriting a book, which is a strange exercise in KILL ALL POVs and try make another character more sympathetic and human (I am failing hard here, hahaha oh well).Also, my agent hinted at …wait no,my agent said please please let’s have some romance for the MC and I was all BUT THERE IS, and then I realised that only I could see it. Hah.

No-one tell Suzie that it’s staying a Doomed and Tragic romance, mmkay?

Okay enough waffle. Have a snippet instead. 😀

We can feel the hate emanating from Alice’s bulk. We have destroyed him, torn him in two, and he wants us to pay.

“Who?” says another voice, calm and emotionless as the icicles that form under eaves. The owl floats down, lands before us, and changes. A woman in white, she is the sky-ward soul of Idalis. She is sharp and small and thin and distant as her other half is vast and round and overbearing.

“Ida,” Sariken says. “I suppose you too want me to destroy them.”

She looks at us. “I should.”


She raises one shoulder, drops it. “I find myself not caring.” She turns on her toes like a dancer, all grace and speed. She reminds us of us. “I want one thing only; for Alice and myself to become what we were, to be reunited.”

Sariken shakes his head. “We would need the Amnio for that. I think we all know that is not an option.”

“Fine,” she says. She smiles with only one side of her face, while the other stays blank, as if it is not even listening to the conversation. “Then do what you want with them. I know Talim, he would not have time for a broken vessel.”

“I am not my brother,” Sariken says. “I think at least, they should live.”

“You’re an idiot, Sariken – you would let them live, knowing what they can unleash?” Alice says. He moves towards Ida, and their hands touch and for a moment it is almost as if they are one again.

“True.” Sariken folds his hands behind his back and stares down at the ruins about his feet. We, who do not feel fear, feel something close to it.

I was never faithful and I was never one to trust

I just looked up from a day of rewriting a third past POV into first present and realised it was Thursday.

Whoa, how did that happen?

I have to write a new scene here, but my brain is feeling kind of numb, so I’ll leave that for the morrow, when my head is fresh.

In the meantime I shall inflict an excerpt on the world. This is from Nulled & Void, and it’s part of a scene where my three destroyed angels touch the metadivine in order to see if someone they know has become a god. It makes way more sense in context.

I think.

Trend hasn’t moved yet. The day is still young, and most of the congregation is asleep. Passed out on inflatable mattresses, wrapped in sleeping bags. The sun is almost at peak. The thin sound of it through the small dusted windows a high whine.
Em and Gavs are sitting on the rubber couch, pink now in the dusty light.
“Hey,” says a dissident. He touches the vial at his throat. Half-bows. “Wanna beer?”
I snort. What a stupid fucking question.
The dissident nods once and runs off to fetch me a drink.
What? says Em.
Gavs is half-asleep, curled against her. Their fingers are linked. He looks at me through half-lids, waiting.
Once, we could tell when a god was born. Thanks to our connection with the Amnio. Now of course, we keep the door closed. But if we could touch it for just one moment, I would know. I need to see something, I say. In the waters.
Em hisses. Gav sits up. The dissident presents me a beer.
Just a touch, I say after I have downed half the beer in one long swallow. A dabble.
They know better than to ask me why. And it will take only a moment. Em shifts up a little on the couch, releases Gav, and I take my place between them. The three of us meet, fingers curling together, and the skin is to skin, and I lean over and kiss Gavs, quick and hard, and as I pull away, I draw blood.
He was expecting it. Not a flinch. Em does the same to me, and then Gavs to her.
The few waking dissidents watch from the dusty shadows, silent. This is not something they have seen before and they can tell. They can tell. This act is bigger than it seems.
For a moment, blood to blood and spit to spit and skin to skin and we can feel everything. The Amnio is just there, waiting for us.
It calls.
We do not come to it.
We hesitate, just on the edge, and feel for the electric flicker of a new god.
The shape of the god is familiar-new, potential and probability and perhaps. It’s her. Certain. We have what we came for. Time to turn back.
And it is so hard to not just let go, take the leap back to our precious waters. But we have made a vow,
Em pulls back first, lets go my hand.
She is shaking. I want, she says.  I want … and then she holds her self quiet and still and I can feel the want leaving her, like it is leaving me, leaving Gavs.
Did you see it? I ask.
Gavs nods, and Em sighs,  Yes.
Good. The Asher-Bird ungod has been resurrected.

edit: I should probably add, yep, i know it’s jerky and wtf, I’m still trying to work out what I’m doing with it. 😀

killing minor characters

Minor characters. It’s so hard for me to leave them minor. I want to know what drives them, why they do things, what broke them, and what good is left in them if they’re bad, what evil they can be pushed to if they’re good. They fascinate me.

This is problematic. (But also good).

Problematic because I write scenes that serve no purpose, only my own curiosity. They jar, they slow down pacing. Plus, I have to get all hard-core and mean before I agree with me that I need to cut the buggers.

Good because without my love of the Why of Minor Characters, I would frex, never have written Sea Rose Red. Felicita and Jannik began as two characters in Hob an Lam and one day I asked myself why the hell they were together, and what were they on about when they mentioned meeting behind umbrellas.

So I wrote a little meeting scene. And a year or so later I pulled out that little scene, and wrote a book around it.

Today I was busy drafting and organising wtf I’m going to do with Nulled & Void, where I have 5000 pov characters (9, actually, but dear god that’s just too much to ask of a reader). I didn’t want to cut any of them because I want the reader to care about them as much as I do.

Only, that’s not fair. That’s about me, and not about the reader.

So at least 3 of those povs met their death today. More might still fall. And that’s a good thing, because somewhere on my mess of a harddrive is going to be a folder full of stories waiting to seed.