Well, here we are. The Year of Words has officially started. Today I took the first, faltering steps toward my goal of 500,000 words for the year.
I'm at about 850. Yeah.
That's okay though. This is going to be a big project. I'm okay with easing into it.
All that being said, I'm really excited about this first project of the year. It's current title is Godchild (no connection whatsoever to Godslayers, sorry). I intend to work on this novel throughout the time I'm in England. It's drawing inspiration from a variety of sources and is probably my most character-driven fantasy novel thus far (in conception at least; we'll see how it works in execution). It's going to be a tour de force about a man with magically-induced amnesia coming to terms with the truths that his shattered memory conceals. It's the first novel I've ever written in first-person and present tense, so I'm curious to see how that affects the immersion for my readers. (You're just going to have to wait a while to let me know. I very well may not finish this one by the end of the year.) It's mind-based magic system also allows for some really interesting twists on perspective (I hope), and it's also probably the darkest, most violent story I've ever approached telling (which is kind of saying a lot, for me.)
All in all, an engrossing project that will gladly see the investment of my time.
Oh, and as promised, a brief sampling of today's writing.
There are no words before the next invasion.
Fire surrounds me. My clothes grow crisp and then burst into flame. My skin melts and my blood begins to boil. Wind howls, roaring in my ears, filling my lungs and then stealing my breath.
I open my eyes. He stand before me. Dark and towering with the fire obscuring all details of his person.
My eyes are like glass, made more pure by the flames. As I turn my face toward him, my body becomes as bronze, refined by the searing flames dancing in the reflected light of my skin.
The flames wrap themselves around me as I reach forward, grasping at this man. This towering, hulking beast whose eyes blaze with fire and shadow and desperation.
My fingers are closed around his ankle. The water drips down the drain.
Drip... drip... drip.
He wants something, but I have no idea what it is.