Lena Corazon

Flights of Fancy

Category: Writing

Revisiting the Music of Tell Me No Lies

voicesToday’s post is brought to you by the voices in my head. Yes, my characters not only try to dictate my storylines and plots, but now they are conspiring to stage a coup and take over my blog posts as well. 🙂 Because Tempest Dumont, the main character of my steampunk WIP, TELL ME NO LIES, has demanded it, I’m going to talk about the music behind the story.

For anyone who’s unaware, TELL ME NO LIES is my crazy steampunk romance murder-myster, set in 1890s San Francisco (the Barbary Coast, to be specific). Tempest is a popular saloon singer who finds herself targeted by a mysterious serial killer who is bent on murdering those scandalous “ladies of the stage,” Jack-the-Ripper-style. The police refuse to believe that the murders are connected, and so she sets off on a one-woman crusade to find the killer and bring him to justice. Along the way, she receives the help of Adam Davenport, the one detective who believes her claims and wants to see justice served. The two of them are like oil and water, and they struggle to set aside their differences (and ignore the growing of attraction between them) to solve the murders.

Tempest is one of those characters who just won’t shut up. She’s incredibly different from my other main characters — loud, brassy, and cynical. She had a rough upbringing, ran away from home when she was 15, and ended up falling in love with a ne’er-do-well airship pirate who eventually broke her heart and tried to frame her for one of his crimes. Now she thinks that she’s heartless and incapable of love… but she just might be wrong.

The playlist has a distinct folk/country feel to it. Even though the tale takes place at the end of the 19th century when San Francisco has become refined and urban, there’s this residual “wild west” vibe that I can’t quite shake.

The first song that I’ll share with you is “Tennessee” by Gillian Welch (Lyrics). In so many ways, this is the definitive Tempest song, just from the first verse alone:

I kissed you ‘cause I’ve never been an angel
I learned to say hosannas on my knees
But they threw me out of Sunday school when I was 9
And the sisters said I did just as I pleased
Even so, I tried to be a good girl
It’s only what I want that makes me weak
I had no desire to be a child of sin
Then you went and pressed your whiskers to my cheek.

That scandalous, whiskered man? Gillian Welch is of course referring to Jack Davenport, the rakish airship pirate who broke Tempest’s heart and double-crossed her. In all seriousness, however, I love Gillian’s voice, and I am sorta convinced that this song was written for Tempest. It’s the perfect theme.

The second song is “Barton Hollow” by The Civil Wars (Lyrics).

Tempest is the sort of gal who doesn’t really believe in redemption, and who carries around a lot of baggage when it comes to dealing with her past. The chorus resonates with all those themes:

Ain’t going back to Barton Hollow
Devil’s gonna follow me ‘ever I go
Won’t do me no good, washing in the river
Can’t no preacherman save my soul

The final song isn’t folk or country, but pop — Pink’s “Glitter in the Air” (Lyrics).The entire album, Funhouse, is on the playlist, but this song is my favorite. Incidentally, I’m convinced that this may be the best awards show performance I’ve ever seen. Pink kills it here:

I love this song to the marrow of my bones. It is achingly beautiful, and the last lines of the song move me to tears sometimes:

Have you ever wished for an endless night?
Lassoed the moon and the stars and hold that rope tight
Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself
Will it ever get better than tonight?

This the song that plays in my head whenever I think of Tempest and Adam’s romance. They’re two souls who have been scarred, who are a bit bruised and broken, yet somehow fight their fears and allow themselves to be vulnerable to one another.

So there you have it, the music of TELL ME NO LIES. It’s not a definitive list by any means — I’ve provided that below, courtesy of Spotify — but I think these three songs capture the overall vibe of the novel. Just listening to them makes me want to drop everything and start working on it again — or maybe that’s just Tempest talking. 😉

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ROW80: Quickie Progress Update

Oh, boy.  I had a sprawling, ambitious to-do list for the week, and I’ve utterly failed at almost everything on it.  Between grading, going to class, running errands, and furiously packing my bags, I haven’t had much time to squeeze in writing.  It’s late and I have to be up in a few hours to head to the airport, so this is just a short little update on progress (or lack thereof):

Thesis: I stuck to my 500 word goal on Sunday, but ended up transitioning into edits and rewrites yesterday.  As we all know, word counts can decrease after an intense round of editing (which is, many times, a very good thing), but I’m not keeping a strict count right now.  I had wanted to have a complete chapter ready for my advisor by this evening, but that definitely didn’t happen.  Crossing my fingers that I can clean up the rest and make it somewhat presentable by the end of the week.

Fiction: Not much to report here, since the thesis has stolen the spotlight.  I did a little research during office hours today (looking up the development of electric lighting in theaters, since the main character of my steampunk tale is a saloon singer), and halfheartedly scribbled a 68-word opening for tell me no lies.  I added another 100 words to the first chapter of Strange Bedfellows in-between rounds of packing (and unpacking, and repacking…), but again, nothing earth-shattering.

Anyway, I’m out for the next week or so.  I may attempt to update via mobile, but as my thumbs are not incredibly dexterous, this could prove to be a challenge.  Hopefully everyone else has managed to stay on track this week!

Daily Progress Update!

Okay, so I’m trying something a bit new.  In addition to the bi-weekly ROW80 updates, I thought that perhaps I’d try adding a quick aside each day to sum up the day’s progress, so I can have a more detailed history of what I’ve done and where I’d like to go in the next few days.  We’ll see how it goes.

Today’s success was facilitated by a video chat session with my best friend who lives in San Francisco, which forced me to sit in my chair and just work for a few hours.  I managed to do the following:

  1. Thesis: I managed to hammer out 1000 words discussing the use of mythopoesis (or the use of anecdotes and storytelling) in etiquette books.  Okay, so I cheated a little and employed the substantial use of quotes to make it to 1000 words, but excerpts are important, right?  Tomorrow’s goal is to clean up what I’ve written and add more, as I’d like to have a rough draft done by the end of the day.
  2. Path to the Peacock Throne: I’ve been horribly stuck with this story, but I was somehow able to add a little over 1300 words in the form of edits and tweaking, as well as starting a new chapter.  I’m pretty confident that I’m going to have to rewrite the pivotal chapter where Liandre learns the truth of her parentage and origins, but I’m now convinced that I’m not going to know exactly how it should go until I’m finished.  Instead, I’m moving on to the next two chapters, which follow Liandre on her journey across the sea to Vao Artan, the mysterious and legendary land of her birth.  The ship is crewed, I’ve decided, by a handful of women who are unlike any that the princess has ever met, and they will help to ease her transition into the new world she will encounter.
And that’s it for me!  I’m going to have to switch gears soon to start contemplating my steampunk tale, which is the one downside of trying to juggle multiple WIPs: constantly disengaging and reengaging in different ‘verses and worlds and characters.  But it keeps me on my toes, if nothing else!

ROW80: Back in the Saddle

Whew, it’s been a busy week with a ton of stuff going on in my non-writing life. I missed Sunday’s check-in, sadly, but I am back for the midweek report!

First, the happenings of real life. I delivered a 45 minute guest lecture last Thursday about my MA research, and it was received really, really well. I have been informed that I am (1) ready to teach my own course (always exciting to hear) and that (2) my MA project is clearly coming together.

I spent the weekend doing a mad rush of grading and prepping for the second guest lecture I am giving (tonight, in fact). I also met with my advisor, who had many lovely things to say about the progress I’ve made with my thesis. Sunday and Monday were spent thesisizing, and I am happy to report that I wrote over 2600 words, bringing up to a total of 12,000 words. I’m nowhere near done yet, sadly, but I have the summer to finish up and pull things together. If I give myself a nightly word limit, the way I do for my fiction, I think I’ll be able to pull this off. 😀

Now, onto writing. Between the stress of school and work and just being bloody tired last week, I found myself in a bit of a rough patch with Peacock. I was flailing about for direction with this coronation scene that I wrote, and while I’ve managed to tidy it up a bit and get it back on track, I know I’m going to have to come back through later on and shorten it up. I’m just not certain that everything that’s currently in there is necessary… but I am challenging myself to wait until the 1st draft is done (or almost done) to start major rewrites and edits.

At any rate, I have broken the 10,000 word mark (never thought I’d actually do that!), and I now stand at 10,222 words. Judging from my wee graph, I almost made my goal of writing 2100 words/week.

Daily word counts

Wordcount graph
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Looks like I’m about 500 words short, but given everything that’s been going on, I’m not about to berate myself.  So yay me!

Moving forward, I’ll be hoping to make my way out of the expository stuff by the weekend.  I’m utilizing Campbell’s “Hero’s Journey” (summarized quite nicely here by Eliza W.).  The simplified version, in twelve steps, looks like this:

  1. The Ordinary World
  2. Call to Adventure
  3. Refusal of the Call
  4. Meeting the Mentor
  5. Crossing the First Threshold
  6. Tests, Allies, and Enemies
  7. Approach
  8. The Supreme Ordeal
  9. Reward
  10. The Road Back
  11. Resurrection
  12. Return with the ‘Elixir’

Right now I’m toiling within the “Ordinary World,” which I have realized is actually anything but ordinary.  Rather, it’s in the midst of major change — the death of Liandre’s father, King Roland, the coronation of her brother, Prince Edric, and a whole set of new pressures and challenges.

At the moment, I plan on combining steps 2-4 together: Liandre will meet her mentor in Chapter 3, but when her mentor tries to tell her the truth of her lineage, the princess will refuse to listen.  This will set off a whole set of conflicts that will result in the call being reissued, only this time in a way that Liandre cannot ignore.  From there, it will be time for Liandre to journey across Peridion and over the sea to the country of Vao Artan, a realm she once believed was little more than legend and fantasy.

When it comes to my writing process, I rather feel like I am trying to forge a path through a jungle with nothing but a machete in hand — slashing and hacking wildly to form the beginnings of a road.  I cut through about a quarter of a mile before pausing, pulling out a smaller set of garden shears, and back-tracking to pretty things up a bit.  Once I’m satisfied with my work I can pick up the machete and force my way through the jungle a bit further.  Right now I feel like I’ve done enough manicuring with my shears; I want nothing more than to push ahead and set my heroine onto her path towards adventure.

plundering the archives

Ever since I was young, I’ve been a bit of a pack-rat.  It’s not bad enough to get me nominated for an episode of Hoarders, but I am unbelievably nostalgic.  I can’t help myself — memories are important to me, and tangible reminders of people I’ve known, places I’ve been, and experiences that I’ve had are even better.

My parents, however, have forced me to clean out my childhood bedroom, but where they see “junk” and “clutter,” I see the priceless artifacts of my life (cleaning out the bedroom sometimes resembles an archaeological dig, but that’s another story altogether).

A few months ago I was persuaded (read: forced) to wade through the mayhem and pack things up for storage in the garage.  I found the typical things — elementary school report cards, yearbooks, loose photographs, old presents and souvenirs, letters and postcards from old friends.  What I didn’t expect to stumble upon was my cache of old writing notebooks, all organized in chronological order from oldest (5th grade!) to the most recent (junior year of college).  Given that I’ve written almost exclusively on my laptop for the past four or five years, the sight of spiral-bound notebooks filled with my scrawls and scribbles was a little shocking.  Even more exciting, though, was the treasure trove of ideas I had discovered.

Don’t get me wrong — some of those ideas were utter tripe, and I’d be very, very happy if they were never seen or heard of again (the silly 6th grade urge to write a story about global warming and an electric car-driving geophysicist who saves the planet, however, is a gem).  Other ideas were a great deal better, and sort of exciting — musings on systems of magic, snippets of pretend prophecies, lists of my favorite names and meanings.  Reading through my old work is like undertaking a historical study of my imagination, an archive of old characters, plots, stray scenes and sentences.   I can pinpoint the books I must have been reading at the time, the movies I was watching, and the other elements of inspiration from which I drew.

Such an archive is invaluable to me, partly because I am fascinated with the progression and development of my ideas over the years, and also because I love seeing what’s remained the same.  “Forever Always,” a hilarious bad story about two high school students who realize they are reincarnated sorcerers from another era, carries within it my fascination with love that endures across time, with magical rivalries, and with speculative fiction.  (I am pretty certain that I was  drawing from Marion Zimmer Bradley’s The Mists of Avalon at the time, along with the Roswell High books by Melinda Metz.  The combination never fails to amuse me.)

The archive also becomes incredibly useful in what I am able to plunder and steal. The idea of introducing a character with troubled dreams in “Path to the Peacock Throne” came straight from my short myth, “The Scepter and Sword.”  The concept for the “Seven Sisters,” the legendary founders of Vao Artan, stemmed from an unfinished drabble called “The Mark,” about six women who were god-chosen to save their world from some horrible evil.

Some ideas might be trash, but sometimes it’s good trash.   So don’t go Hoarders-crazy, but keep an eye on your old, discarded darlings.  Tuck them away and keep them somewhere safe (and don’t let your parents talk you into throwing them out, no matter what).  You never know which one you just might need.

Inspiration: The Fairy Tale

I fell asleep last night musing about some of my earliest writing inspirations: fairy tales.

I am, of course, of the generation characterized by the Disney Princess.  The first film I remember seeing in the theatre is Beauty and the Beast; this was quickly followed by Aladdin, which I absolutely adored, especially because the characters were brown, Princess Jasmine had long, shiny black hair, and her singing voice was done by Lea Salonga, the first (and so far, only) Filipina to win a Tony award.  Being brown, half-Filipina, and extraordinarily proud of my waist-length black hair, my 6 year-old self was convinced that this meant that I was Princess Jasmine, and no one could convince me otherwise.  (I was also convinced that Agrabah was just like the Philippines, and made my father tell me stories about princesses and fire-eaters and bazaars, but that’s another story for another time).

Before Disney, though, I had my trusted book of fairy tales.  Before I could read, my mom would read one story a day before naptime, and I would gaze at the illustrations of exquisite women in beautiful gowns, and dream of being one of them (only brown — I was acutely aware of race and representation, even then, and the fact that all the beautiful women were fair-skinned wasn’t lost on me).  The story behind the book was important as well, and woven into the magic that seemed to surround the book.

My mother told me that she had bought it, along with a copy of the children’s Bible (which was also intensely special to me, and which I read cover-to-cover more than once when I was in grade school), before I was born, when she was single and living alone and dreaming of the children that she would have one day.  It was such a romantic idea, and it made me love the book all the more.

Today, the binding is frayed and falling apart, due to my younger sister throwing it around when she was a toddler (I rescued it and hid it from her; the kid just didn’t know how to appreciate anything).  Going through it, though, reveals how deeply the book and its images managed to influence me.

A few years back, for example, I wrote a myth where a woman is born from a mysterious flower, one that dwells in the deepest, darkest part of an enchanted garden.  She is a faerie-like creature, winged and precious.  Flipping through my fairy tale book, however, I landed upon this illustration from the story, “Thumbelina,” which must have been stuck somewhere in my subconscious:

There are so many images that stay with me still, like Beauty playing the lute while living in the Beast’s magical castle:

Or Karen, the poor girl in “The Red Shoes,” who manages to snag a pair of beautiful red leather shoes, but then finds that she is doomed to dance in them forever:

Or my favorite, the Spanish princess about to be eaten by a terrible dragon:

I fell in love with the clothing, too, the old-fashioned, medieval-esque gowns.  They served as the inspiration for my fashion sketching days, and even now, my characters dash about in period costume.  Quite clearly, this was an incredibly formative book in my life.

Anyway, I woke up this morning with fairy tales still on the brain.  There’s so much I want to do with them, from taking my favorites and twisting them into my own adult versions, Claiming of Sleeping Beauty style, to using them as a launching pad for something different and new, something that plays with gender norms and roles (’cause let’s face it, I’ll be damned if I am going to write yet another ‘damsel in distress’ tale), toys with conventions, and yet weaves some of those familiar elements into it as well.

I’m not out to reinvent the wheel, however.  This sort of project has been done countless times before, and by authors more talented than me.  But I’ve realized that I draw my joy, happiness, and energy from the process of writing, and not just from the lovely outcome.  It’s the process of struggling to convey new ideas, of attempting to translate the images in my imagination to text on a page, of trying to shape and form prose into a form that has beauty and meaning, of giving life to characters and creatures and worlds — to me, this is what it means to be a writer.

Princess-Warriors, Lords Locked in Castles, and Fractured Fairy Tales

I’ve had fairy tales on the brain.

I’ve been reflecting on the influence that fairy tales have had on my writing over the years, as seen here, and I’ve also been thinking about how I might return to them in a more deliberate way, using them as a launch pad for new projects and ventures.  I’ve been in such a low place when it comes to writing for over a year now, and even before that, my writing was restricted to permutations of the same 4 characters, which was fun when it was just a silly project between my friend/writing partner and me, but severely curtailed the multiplicity of universes, ideas, and characters that I once had.

So here I am, entertaining thoughts about revisiting one of my old favorites, “Beauty and the Beast.”

Really, it’s a striking story: a man trapped in a castle, doomed because of his hubris and arrogance and pride, who can only be freed by the love of a woman.

Sure, she’s at risk from his “beastly” nature, as the Disney version demonstrated.  Yeah, she’s got to unearth his more gentlemanly qualities (which kinda reminds me of those terrible self-help relationship books for women: “A good woman can transform a bad boy into a chivalrous gentleman!”).  But it also creates a space where it might be possible to really toy with gender norms, or to at least give that female character more room to kick ass and be more aggressive than most fairy tales allow.

I’m always a little skeptical of the “feminist-izing” of the fairy tale, if only because I’ve read some interpretations that are so damn CHEESY and really… I dunno, self-conscious about the project.  I want something that’s different, something that tries to toy with established norms, but at the end of the day, I want a story that’s good, with characters that are fully-formed and complex.

(One of my favorite “feminist” tales has got to be The Lioness Quartet by Tamora Pierce.  It’s a fantasy and not an explicit reinterpretation of a fairy tale, but it features a female protagonist who is amazing and kick-ass and strong, yet flawed and wonderfully human… I highly recommend the series to anyone who hasn’t yet read it.)

But I digress.  I’ve started brainstorming a “fractured fairy tale” of my own, and it is actually really intriguing to me.  I’m starting from the premise that I want a story that features a cast of female characters who can transcend stereotypes, women who are lovers and fighters, who can be unapologetically sensual and sexual (no slut-shaming here), who can be sexually fluid, who are intelligent, witty, and exist as more than enablers for male characters, or devices to move the plot forward.

In this vein, we have Liandre, the princess of a realm that’s still nameless, but seems to be (in my head, at least) somewhat matrilineal in terms of the order of succession to the throne.  She is the only child of the queen,  Simone Hallivere, who is loved throughout the land for her battle prowess, her fierce sense of justice, and her shrewd political intelligence.  The Hallivere line has ruled for some 300 hundred years, but in order for each princess to be designated heir to the throne, she has to prove her mettle through some act of renown.

This, perhaps, is where our story opens.

Liandre is approaching her twenty-first birthday (the age of majority), when she should be formally named heir to the throne.  Unfortunately, Liandre is a mediocre student and still hasn’t undertaken the ritual rite-of-passage.  Her advisors are beyond frustrated with her (because she happens to be a bit incorrigible, unruly and rebellious, and enjoys provoking everyone), her mother is at the end of her tether, and there are rumblings that she will be the weak link in the Hallivere line, the one who will cause their rule to fail.

Enter Liandre’s aunt, the sorceress/enchantress/witch Erlinda.

There’s magic at work in this universe, and a goddess who is more than a theological belief, but an actual presence and force (here I’m thinking about Jacqueline Carey’s Kushiel’s Legacy series, as well as Pierce’s work — in their work, gods and goddesses are true actors, lurking in the background of their heroines endeavors.).  In my mind, magic flows through the blood of the Hallivere queens, but every few generations it surfaces in ways more potent than others.  These women inherit the full gift of the Goddess, which includes a command of magic and a lengthened life-span.

Erlinda is one of these women, and is something like 150 years old.  She tells Liandre a story, a tale that Erlinda’s mother confessed on her death bed.  It goes something like this:

“Many, many years ago, my mother fell in love with a man, a great lord who ruled a kingdom in the foothills of the Emerald Mountains.  So deep was her love for him that she gave him a most precious gift: an enchanted rose, one that would protect him from all harm while he kept it in his grasp.

My mother’s trust, however, was misplaced, for the handsome lord betrayed her.  The deep love that she felt for him was only passing fancy on his side.  He gave the rose to another, the daughter of some powerful baron from a neighboring land.

In her wrath, she cursed him, trapped him in stasis, never to age, never to love, never to die until the spell can be broken.”

It’s a seemingly impossible task, one based on legend and hearsay and not on solid fact, but it is tantalizing to Liandre, something more exciting than staid, cliched dragon rescues (the fall-back option that her advisors have been encouraging) and yet easier than, say, defeating an army (her mother’s claim to fame).  And so she sets off on her journey to find the Beast in his frozen castle…. and goodness knows what she’ll find there.  Someone dark and brooding, who had his share of pretty negative qualities to begin with but has now festered in darkness for a couple of centuries… He’s bound to be great company.  But I have a thing for Byronic heroes, so what’s a girl to do?

Anyway, still working on some drabbly things that can capture these ideas together.  Also pondering this interesting world where we have sword-wielding Queens blessed by the Goddess, etc.  Is it steampunky?  Straight up-and-down medieval-esque?  I still haven’t decided, and I imagine I’ll have to toy and tinker with it till I’m certain.

In the meantime, something from Kate Beaton on the Bronte sisters and their ridiculous love for Byronic heroes:



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