Character Building

I read the first chapter of the novel I started back in 2011 in class this week. I got some really good feedback from my classmates. 

The story is about a teenage girl, Cecelia, living in the medieval times who discovers she has magical powers. Other people in her city have magical powers too, but she thinks that no one has her specific power, which is the ability to manipulate earth. 

In the beginning, she doesn't have control of the magic, and it spirals out of her when she gets upset. But she meets a man, Benedict, who not only has the same abilities but also knows how to control them. So he begins to teach her to channel her abilities through her willpower instead of her heightened emotions. 

The advice my classmates gave me was about making her thoughts and feelings about her abilities more prevalent because I'd only been hinting at them, and it could be confusing to the reader. My teacher also explained how action/reaction has to work in a story. In the story, Cecelia does something striking to a soldier, and the way I'd written he just left afterward. It makes sense that we would be outraged and embarrassed and would have an equally striking reaction. 

Revisiting this old story has made me think about my characters. I was wondering if anyone has any advice about building characters because that seems to be what I struggle with the most. How much do you have to know about a character before you start writing their story? I usually just end up writing endless versions of me. And when I write a male character instead, I wonder if I'm really doing him justice. 

Does anyone else struggle with this? I'm tired of writing me over and over. I'm bored with me. I want fresh characters. 

I'd love to hear feedback or advice from anyone about this! Thanks in advance. 

Revised Myristicae Story

*This is the revised part of the Myristicae story that I've been working on recently. I would like to continue this story and see how it turns out.*

The dark green potion tasted rich and earthy. It was hard to swallow as it ran down my throat. I choked, and the scraggly old tree-woman patted me on the back.

“Don’t fight it, dearie. You’ll only make it worse,” she said. Her body had become gnarled to the point that her tree features were obscured by her human ones. All of her leaves had fallen off, and her trunk leaned precariously to one side.

With the last shallow, I tried not to think about her life as I took her life force.

Then it was done. I would change now. She had given me her place in the tribe of the tree people.

Inside the sacred cave of the Myristicae, I would complete my transformation, just like our ancestors.

I felt my blood thinning in my veins, and my strength ebbed with it. I looked down at my arm as my pale skin began to darken and grow coarse. The hairs fused together to form rough patterns of mahogany brown bark. A leaf stem shot out of my neck, growing quickly. Ivy curled around my shoulders.

The old tree woman bent forward, clutching her chest in pain. She called out weakly, and Linden, the Magistratus, or second in command of the Myristicae, hurried in to help her stand. As he held her gently, I noticed the strong sinews in his dark arms. His amber yellow eyes looked at me knowingly.

I had not known her, and I felt out of place at the scene of her death. So I moved outside the cave.

In the dark forest air, my long brown hair waved gently in the breeze. I felt with my fingers that sections of my hair were pulled back from my face with gentle green tendrils, and a few autumn red and yellow leaves were caught playfully in my hair.

I was a tree.

I suddenly laughed, realizing that I had finally grown tall enough to be a model--just like I’d always wanted. I realized I must be at least eight feet tall now. Too bad models with bark for skin weren’t in high demand.

I tested out my newly elongated, coiled-root feet. My steps were slow and tedious now, but with some effort, I was able to move deeper into the forest.

 I imagined how penguins must feel with their long flippers, but at least I didn’t have to waddle.

I could no longer feel the October breeze because my thick bark protected me from the weather.

A shiver ran through me. The forest was beginning to feel like home. I knew the others were there, listening.

“Well, how do I look?” I asked.

Without a sound, a pair of warm brown eyes rustled to life in front of me.

“Wonderful, Hazel. Absolutely wonderful.” Ebony moved toward me. As the Premier of the tribe, her delicate tiara was almost hidden in the tangles of her black hair.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness until I could see the others standing in a ring around me. They all held their branches in the same way, the right raised with the left gently wrapped around the other. Ebony moved to do the same as Linden appeared. He shared a look with Ebony and then joined the circle, following suit.

“Welcome, Hazel. You are one of us now. You are part of the Myristicae,” Ebony said in a warm voice

And then in unison, the circle of trees said reverently, “Your roots run through our Earth.”

“And yours through mine,” I replied.

“We respect your bravery, Hazel. Your task was not an easy one,” Ebony said, her twig-like lips breaking into a smile.

I attempted to return her smile, but my lips felt taut and restrained, almost like I’d had Botox.

“And now, you’ll live like us,” Ebony explained. “The Myristicae are the guardians of the forest, and there must always be twelve of us. As you know, Saffron, a Myristicae elder, has passed on to the eternal resting place. You will now take her place, Hazel. There must be twelve to keep unwanted wanderers out of the town and reinforce the residents’ desire to stay here.”

I considered her statement quickly, trying to understand.

“So no one can leave Pinetop?”

“Oh, people can leave. But first we have to allow them to,” she said.

“And what if you don’t let them?”

“Then they can’t leave.”

“But why?”

“Hazel,” she began condescendingly, “the Myristicae are the guardians of the forest.”

“You said that,” I interjected.

She acted like she hadn’t heard me and continued.

“We were appointed by our ancestors to protect the minds of the people of Pinetop. If they were to leave and tell all of their friends about the walking, talking trees back home, we wouldn’t be safe here. Scientists would come to experiment on us.”

I’d never thought about it like that. The whole time I’d been alive, trees had always talked. In all my eighteen years, it had never occurred to me that trees didn’t talk in other parts of the country. That fact was a bit jarring. Now that I was a talking tree, I could never leave Pinetop, South Dakota, either. I could never see Paris, New York City, or Prague. I would only ever see Pinetop. I began to morn silently for that loss of discovery and adventure.

“Do you understand?” Ebony coaxed me back to reality.

“But why did you have to choose me?”

“Hazel, you are special. Your strong moral character shines through, and we knew your loyalty to the town’s people would make you a wonderful member. It must be you, Hazel. You were chosen by Saffron to replace her. That decision must not be disrespected. Now, if you have nothing further, follow me.”

I nodded solemnly.

The circle of trees filed into a line behind Ebony, and I took my place at the end. We began to stump forward – as only trees can do – back to the entrance of the cave, past groves of inanimate trees.

Finally, we came to a tall gray cave. Ebony parted a curtain of lichen with her left branch and motioned us through. Inside, twelve flat boulders circled a dark wooden bowl on a pedestal made from tree branches. The branches grew right from the packed earth of the cave floor.

We each rustled to one of the boulders, and Ebony took her place next to the pedestal.

“This is the sacred place where we come to renew our energy. This is the place where our ancestors first changed from humans into the Myristicae,” Ebony said as she gestured around at the cave walls. “Our people made an agreement with this sacred place to protect the people of Pinetop from outsiders who do not understand our ways. In exchange, this sacred place would renew our people spiritually, mentally, and physically.”

She cupped her finger branches and scooped up some of the water in the bowl on the pedestal. Then, methodically, she let the water trickle down each of our heads, and she lingered on me.

The cool water ran down the back of my neck, fanning out over my shoulders, embracing me. I could feel its nourishment diffuse into my skin. I was one of them now. I would protect my people, and the people of Pinetop, with my life. The other trees would teach me the history, culture, and wisdom necessary to be a part of this tribe, and when they decide that I’m well-educated, I will assume my place as a protector of the town’s innocence. That is what my ancestors promised, and now I had joined them as a Myristicae.

Myristicae Revisions

I'm continuing to work on planning my Myristicae story this week. My teacher had some good ideas about changing the location of the opening scene. The story originally began with my character, Hazel, transitioning in an abandoned alley. But that doesn't really fit in with the naturalistic theme of a a plant-human race. So I'm planning to rewrite the beginning of the story so that she's called to the forest by a mysterious force from a dying member of the Myristicae. She arrives at the sacred cave of the tree people, the place their species first began. In the cave, the dying tree gives her life force to Hazel so that she can transition and take her place in the Myristicae community because there must always be twelve members. 

I liked this suggestion because it helps the story makes more sense overall. It follows that the tree people would only come into being at the one sacred place and not in the middle of town, which is full of regular humans. For all of the Myristicae to have the same experience of changing into tree people in the sacred cave would unify them as a people. 

When I write, I don't usually outline beforehand. Big surprise. So incongruities don't usually occur to me because clearly my brain thought it made sense at the time. I'm sure outlining would help, but a lot of the time I feel like I have to get something on the page before I can think about where it's going next. I'm not sure what stage the most productive outlining would happen, so maybe I'm wrong and starting with an outline will be the best thing for me to try. Either way, I appreciate the feedback so that I can make revisions that are bigger than just a sentence or two. That makes me feel like I'm growing leaps and bounds as a writer, even though it's really just my story that's improving. Once I make the revisions, I'll post this section of the story for you to read. :)

The Myristicae Introduction

This week in my professional writing class, I had a brainstorm for a new story idea. It started out as just one assignment, but I’d like to flesh out the idea and find out what happens at the end of the story!

So I thought I’d tell you a bit about the story and kind of work on an outline for it.

Hazel Anderson lives in Pinetop, a tiny town in South Dakota. At eighteen years old, her curiosity about the world has just been sparked, and she is looking forward to traveling to the places she’s dreamed about like Paris and Prague. She is part of a closely-knit family, and it will be hard for her to leave her parents and little sister behind. But Pinetop is all she’s ever known, and she’s ready for adventure!

Until one day, all of that changes. Pinetop is a sheltered place. The people who live there don’t leave much, or ever. And no one new ever visits the community. That is because in Pinetop, there are walking, talking trees, called the Myristicae. The people of Pinetop think that all trees are supposed to walk and talk because that’s all they’ve ever known.

So the Myristicae have to keep the people of Pinetop from leaving, and they must keep anyone new from discovering the trees. If word got out about the trees, Pinetop would be overrun with tourists and reporters, and surely, the Myristicae would be experimented on.

Traditionally, the Myristicae have always had twelve members, and there must always be twelve members. So when an elderly Myristicae dies, the leaders – Ebony, the Premier or Queen, and Linden, the Magistratus or second in command – must find a new member. They select Hazel because she is at the proper ceremonial age and of upstanding character. They know her loyalty to the town will make her a great part of the tribe.

Linden goes to meet with Hazel to tell her she has been selected for a great honor. But Hazel refuses. She says she’s too young to throw away her independence and storms out in tears.  When she returns home, the house is dark and empty, and a note lies on the kitchen counter.

The Myristicae have taken Hazel’s family in order to give her some incentive to become one of the tree people.  The note says her family will be safe as long as she decides to join. Hazel knows the trees mean what they say. Her love for her family is so great that she drinks the potion to begin her transformation.

That is where the actual story I’ve written so far begins. I’ll continue to outline and maybe post some more of it.