The Equicart

I noticed that I've been posting short stories lately that have already been podcast. I still have some in backlog, but I wanted to throw out something new this month. "The Equicart" is my first foray into something resembling steampunk. I really hope to one day bring the characters in this story back into other stories, so keep an eye out for them, and enjoy!

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There must have been thousands standing in the rain that day. The entire city had braved the downpour to see the unveiling that Lord Kaelin had refused to cancel. “The Horse of the Future,” all the posters said. The promise of a low-maintenance form of transportation was hinted at below the picture of Lord Kaelin himself, as if he were whispering assurances that you would be the first to know the wonders of his new creation. The posters were still up, tacked to the walls of every building, though the ink of their boasts was running and the paper growing fragile with the rain.

Athayde had no choice but to be here, unlike the massive crowd that huddled under oilcloth umbrellas and held coat collars over their heads. Athayde peered through goggles at the milling people, his head uncovered, the rain plastering his hair to his scalp. He ignored the drops streaming down his neck and the uncomfortable way his soaked feet felt, unable to stay dry in his boots. Every few seconds, his gaze left the onlookers and moved back to the cloth-draped shape that was the cause for all this anticipation.

The four-story warehouse also played home to the factory of Kaelin and Co. A wide striped awning served to keep the rain off the yet-to-be-revealed Horse of the Future. So too was Lord Kaelin himself dry from head to toe. A friendly-looking man, Athayde knew from personal experience that there was a temper behind those amiable eyes. Anger lingered underneath Lord Kaelin’s mask, ready to be released at any moment should the opportunity show itself. Athayde had maintained a position with Kaelin and Co. For nearly a decade only by avoiding contact with the raging beast of Lord Kaelin’s temper. He gave the man no excuse to send him to the street, though he had seen dozens upon dozens of men and women come and go in those years. The job wasn’t great, and the fear of job loss was always lingering, but the company was one of the most prosperous in the entire city, and the pay was good. Besides, Athayde lacked even the most rudimentary technological skills. There weren’t a lot of other opportunities for him unless he was willing to be paid next to nothing for his labor. Athayde wasn’t willing.

The fatherly, crowd-pleasing face was what he showed now, although Athayde could only see his back. He knew the exact expressions Lord Kaelin would be using as he gave the speech he’d practiced all morning. The crowd was rapt with eagerness, attentive to his every word as he described the outdated nature of horse travel. His new innovation would revolutionize the world. “Imagine traveling from Elginboarde to West Lavisham in a day! With what I have hidden under this cloth, you can travel a mile in minutes! I guarantee a trip from the eastern gate to the western gate in less time than it would take to saddle a horse and clamber ungracefully into your sear. No more feeding, no more jostling about on the back of a creature that could choose to throw you off at any moment.”

The crowd held their breaths as Lord Kaelin reached for the cloth. The rain pattered on their clothes and the road, the only sound as they waited for the cloth to be thrown aside. Athayde suppressed a yawn.

With a flourish, the Equicart was revealed to the masses. With many oohs and ahhs, excited chatter and shouts of approval, the people surged forward to get a closer look at the new innovation that would make moving about easier. They surged up to the rail of the building entrance, clamoring for more information, details on how the Equicart worked. Lord Kaelin pointed out the wheels, the seat, and the pedals set in the floor that, when pressed in an alternating pattern, would power the contraption. The faster you pressed the pedals, the faster the Equicart could go. Of course, there were plans to develop Equicarts that could carry more than one person, even families.

Athayde allowed his mind to wander. With so many people around, there was little he could do to guard the Equicart unless a riot broke out. Even then, he couldn’t do much by himself. Kaelin and Co. had other other security personnel to help, but the unveiling hadn’t been considered enough of a risk to merit other guards being present. Normally, they guarded the doors of the building, or protected the projects under construction. Being outside on the job was not usual. Even the clouds and rain were a pleasant distraction from the dim and loud interior of the warehouse.

It wasn’t long before the crowd dissipated. Whether it was due to the novelty of the Equicart fading or the persistent storm, Athayde didn’t know. Whatever the cause, it displeased Lord Kaelin. He stood under the awning beside the contraption, looking left and right as though not believing everyone was gone already. He slowly spun on the spot until he was looking at Athayde, a grimace appearing on his lips. The guard quickly brought his attention back to the task it was being sold for. He didn’t make eye contact with Lord Kaelin. Vainly, he hoped that not looking directly at the innovator would make the man overlook him.

“You guard. Name?”

“Athayde, my lord,” he replied, struggling to keep the frustration from his tone. “Athayde Hamli—”

“I will leave the Equicart here tonight,” Lord Kaelin cut in. “The rain can’t last forever, and once it clears, people will want a closer look. They can’t get that if it’s locked away in the warehouse. I’ll have you out here with it tonight. You’ll be relieved in the morning.”

Athayde finally managed to close his mouth and get over his shock once Lord Kaelin was out of sight. Did the man really expect him to stand out here with the Equicart all night? The pouring rain lessened to a drizzle, and there was no sign of Lord Kaelin returning. The lights began going out in the factory, and Athayde realized it was heading toward night. He hadn’t had dinner, and no one would leave through this front door of the warehouse. Would anyone even realize he was out here?

His answer came, and it wasn’t good. No one passed by, no one he could bribe to bring him some bit of food to silence his growling stomach. After an hour listening to the grumbling and feeling the fat raindrops change to misty drizzles, he realized there was no reason he should still be enduring the weather uncovered. He sidestepped a few feet until he was under the awning, lifting his goggles from his eyes once he was protected from the drops. He was already soaked, but at least he might manage to dry out by the time the sun rose. At least it was late summer and wouldn’t be cold as the hour grew closer to morning. The heat started working against him, and only a few hours into darkness, he was yawning. The light pattering of rain only made his eyelids droop, but Athayde refused to allow himself to lean back on the wall of the building. That would be his doom, end up costing him his job.

His eyes snapped open, and Athayde was surprised to find he’d somehow managed to doze off both while standing and on watch. He was disoriented, his legs rubbery beneath him though his knees screamed with stiffness. How long had he been standing there asleep? The rain had stopped. The streets of Elginboarde were slick and wet, reflecting the light of the gas street lamps. The night air was perfumed with the clean scent that came after a storm. Athayde took in that scent, letting the sense of a night washed clean push away the clouds obscuring his thoughts.

A scraping sound reached Athayde’s ears, and he realized he’d been woken by a similar noise. A rat, perhaps, that had ventured out in search of food after the storm cleared? A stray dog or cat? Or a man, out for a midnight stroll to steal a certain newly-revealed innovation in travel? Athayde pulled his goggles back over his face, wishing he’d been able to afford those new waterproof lenses. Drops of water clung to the goggles, distorting patches of his vision, but he knew wiping them on his clothes would worsen his view, spread the water around in streaks and make seeing all but impossible. Distorted vision or not, wearing the goggles was still better than going without them. Athayde’s eyesight was terrible, though he did his best to hide it. His lenses had been specially made by an old friend of his mother’s, a woman who had discovered that bending glass could help clarify the vision of those whose eyes made things fuzzy and indistinct. Athayde had turned down the woman’s wire-rimmed lenses she called spectacles in favor of goggles. He blended in better with average people that way; spectacles weren’t commonly used yet, and those that did wear them were labeled either very intelligent or beneath notice. Athayde couldn’t pass as very intelligent. At least the goggles gave the impression that he was a technician or engineer of some sort.

The Equicart was undisturbed, so Athayde feigned boredom, yawning as he surreptitiously scanned the rain-slick streets beyond the awning. Silently cursing his wet lenses, he made a guess at which direction the sound had come from and settled his left hand at his hip, feeling for the brassbound hand crossbow sheathed there. Kaelin and Co. hadn’t yet deigned to allow its guardsmen pistols, but at least they demanded a certain level of skill with the bow, and they did have a small target area on the top floor of the factory for practice. Athayde was fairly certain he could hit whoever came at him, distorted vision, moonless night and all.

The sound of movement again reached his ears, and Athayde decided confrontation was better than being snuck up on. “Who’s out there?” He called, loudly enough to be heard by his stalker, softly enough that it wouldn’t disturb anyone sleeping in the homes further down the block.

The sounds stopped. Athayde’s hand hovered over his crossbow. He should probably draw it, but he’d never shot an actual human being before and really didn’t want to start now. His eyes flicked back to the Equicart, making certain it hadn’t somehow been absconded with while he was looking elsewhere. The wheeled seat sat placidly in its spot, a contraption of wood and metal, worth more than anything Athayde had ever owned or likely would ever own. To Lord Kaelin, the thing was probably worth more than Athayde’s own life. He sneered at the offending device and looked back toward the place where the sounds had stopped. Silence.

Then, quietly from the dark shadow of a nearby leatherworks, “Thayde?”

For the second time tonight, Athayde’s jaw dropped open. Only four people ever dropped the “a” from his name. Three of them were women: his mother and his sisters. This voice was male.

A shadow peeled away from the building, dark clothes defying the gas lamps’ attempts to illuminate the form encased within. Hand still hovering over his holstered hand crossbow, Athayde watched the man approach until their proximity brought his face into the light.

“Mittias?”

The grin of the other man was infectious, and Athayde couldn’t stop himself from returning it. There were a dozen reasons he shouldn’t be smiling at this man, a dozen scars, a handful of betrayals, and a thousand words that lingered in the too-recent past. Still, the sight of his old friend at this moment made it frighteningly easy to forget what had happened before. Before he knew what was happening, Athayde had been caught in an embrace. Worse, he found himself hugging back, treachery and harsh words forgotten for the moment.

Then, the hug ended, and Athayde found himself scowling at Mittias. Suddenly, that boyish grin, the black cloth cap, his neat black coat, that pug nose were all detestable again. Mittias didn’t seem to notice, though it was hard to tell if it was because of the poor lighting or he voluntarily ignored the downturned corners of Athayde’s mouth. “It’s been… what, eight months, Thayde?”

“Ten. And a half,” he replied, crossing his arms. “I thought you left Elginboarde with… whatever her name was. Something about searching for gold in the Durgael Mountains, wasn’t it?”

“Oil. And her name’s Lula.

Athayde didn't care. She and Mittias had run off without much more than a well-wishing. And nearly a year had passed since then. It still smarted to be cast aside so easily. "Did you find any?" He asked, not really wanting to know whether or not there was oil in the mountains.

Mittias shook his head, and Athayde couldn't help but feel a smidgen of pleasure at the gesture. But then Mittias's infuriatingly charming grin made another appearance. "We found gold."

"Gold?"

The dark-clad man reached into a pocket and produced a leather purse of better quality than Athayde's finest coat. Still grinning, Mittias opened the purse and produced a few small nuggets of gold ore. It was raw, unrefined, but at a glance, Athayde was sure his old friend was holding more in his fingers than Athayde made in a year. Maybe in two years. "I've got more money than I know what to do with," Mittias said, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his voice. "And there's plenty more in the mine. Lula's making sure we actually own the land, seeing to ownership documents and all, but it'll be ours by the end of the week."

Ignoring his awe at the fortune Mittias suddenly had, Athayde sneered. "I don't care," he muttered defensively. "I'm sure you and what's-her-name will be happy being rich."

"Lula. She wants to see you again." The bits of gold went back into the purse.

"I don't want to see her." Athayde didn't want to remember the last time he'd seen her, when Mittias had led her by the hand, walking them both out of his life. He'd thought it would be forever. He'd hoped it would be, since the conversation that came before that departure had crashed his world around his feet.

"Thayde, look. I can't say I'm proud of what I did, but Lula and I want to share this with you."

"That's not the reason you came back to Elginboarde."

Even in the lamplight, Athayde could see Mittias's face go pale. "No, it's not. Not the main reason, anyway. But I'm glad I found you. I can't believe you're still working for Kaelin."

"Lord Kaelin," he defended. "So why are you here?"

Mittias straightened his shoulders, and his eyes flicked to the shadowy form of the device Athayde was supposed to be keeping an eye on. "I'm here for that."

"The Equicart?"

"If that's what the thing's called, yeah."

"Go to the storefront in the morning and order one. We're closed right now. We don't sell directly from the warehouse anyway. You know that."

There was that grin again. "I'm not here to buy one." Athayde didn't say anything, just stared down his unwanted nighttime visitor. Finally, realizing Athayde wasn't going to ask the question, Mittias answered it anyway, his dark eyes twinkling. "I'm here to steal it."

Athayde rolled his eyes, sighed, and felt his blood boil all in the same moment. "You just told me you have more money than I could make in my whole life. Why would you want to steal the Equicart?"

"Why not? It's the 'horse of the future' isn't it? Rich men want rich toys, and I want it. That one, specifically. They can make more. But I'll have the one that was first unveiled."

"You couldn't possibly have known it would be left out here tonight."

"You're right. I didn't. I was expecting to have to break into the warehouse."

Biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from shouting in anger, Athayde clenched his fists. Mittias was just as infuriating as he'd always been, just as cocky and self-sure. "Get out of here. You're not getting it. Don't think I won't treat you like I would any other thief." His left fist uncurled, and he wrapped his hand around the handle of his crossbow.

A pistol was pointed at his chest a second later. Mittias's grin was gone. The look in his eyes was one Athayde had never seen before: real care, regret. "Thayde, I'm taking the cart-thingy."

Athayde froze, staring at the barrel aimed at his heart. "You wouldn't."

"I don't want to, but I will." He stepped toward the Equicart.

Even as nearsighted as he was, as broken as his vision was thanks to the water on his goggles, Athayde could see the opportunity. His crossbow was out in a flash, the pre-loaded bolt pointed at Mittias's head so that when he turned back to Athayde, the head of the bolt was aimed at his eye. Mittias smiled. "You wouldn't."

Athayde didn't respond. It took too much effort to keep himself from shaking. He gestured with his free hand at the pistol. It disappeared into Mittias's coat. "Thayde, what have they done to you?"

There was no hiding the trembling of his voice. "W...what?"

"Does Kaelin pay you so much that you're willing to risk being killed for... for this thing?" He nudged the Equicart with his foot. "Why are you even out here?"

He didn't know how to respond. Why was he out here? Lord Kaelin had told him to stay, and he'd stayed. Like a dog, a good dog waiting for the pat on the head and a few scraps from the dinner table. Except he'd never get either. There would be no appreciation for guarding the Equicart until morning. He'd be lucky to get extra pay for the hours. His stomach rumbled loudly, filling the silence in lieu of the words he couldn't find.

Mittias's eyes went to Athayde's stomach, then back to his face. "Are there more in the warehouse?"

Athayde nodded. There were three more Equicarts that had already been built, and a dozen more were at different stages of completion in the factory. Lord Kaelin was expecting to have hundreds of them on the streets by winter.

"Why are you here, Thayde?"

He was shaking visibly head to toe now, the crossbow wavering, hardly pointing at Mittias any longer. His old friend put a gentle hand on Athayde's arm.

"Why, Thayde? Say it."

"I don't know." The crossbow lowered. Athayde didn't know for certain if it was his doing or if Mittias had pushed his arm down.

The kiss came suddenly, and Athayde hated himself for not immediately pulling away from Mittias. Instead, he kissed back, falling back into a time before he'd been thrown into a life alone. Before Mittias had walked in, introduced Lula, and promptly ended the relationship. Sixteen months had been ended in just a few words. Athayde's heart had broken, and Mittias's abrupt kiss put him frighteningly close to forgetting the breaking had ever happened.

Like most kisses, it ended too soon. Athayde didn't want to open his eyes and face the reality of the months since Mittias had left him for Lula. "I wasn't lying," Mittias whispered, his hand not leaving Athayde's cheek. It was as warm as he remembered despite being clammy from the damp weather. "Come with me."

"I can't."

"Come with me, Thayde."

He finally opened his eyes, tears making his vision even worse. He couldn't see anything through his goggles. "What about Lula?"

"I wasn't lying. She wants to see you again. She's told me she feels like she knows you. Apparently I haven't stopped talking about you since..."

"That's not what I meant." The quavering was finally leaving his voice.

He heard Mittias take a deep breath. "I want you back. I never should have left you like I did. Lula's interested, but if you don't want her, she understands. I understand. But we want to share all this with you." The purse was shoved into Athayde's hand. "That's yours, no matter what. But we want you to come with us."

"I--"

"Do you have a key?"

His vision began clearing. He shook his head. Mittias replied with a nod. "You might want to turn your back while I break in, then."

Half a grin overtook his mouth. Mittias was always brash. And in his own way, honest. Athayde didn't turn away as Mittias somehow flipped the locks on the warehouse door wihtout much sound. He slipped inside, leaving Athayde alone with the Equicart again. He looked down at the crossbow he still held, "Lord Kaelin and Company" etched into wooden shaft. It might as well have been etched into his cheek. He hated his job. But did that mean he wanted to run off with Mittias, wherever he was going with Lula? He knew the woman from only one glance. What would he have with them?

What did he have here?

He was admitting the answer to himself as Mittias came back into view, pushing an Equicart ahead of him from the warehouse. Once it had cleared the door, Mittias turned and began pulling. Another Equicart came out after him. "One for each of us," he explained a little breathlessly. He removed his scarf and tied the back of one Equicart to the front of another; no doubt he planned to drag the second one behind his own. He climbed into the front Equicart and gestured with his head for Athayde to take the one already outside-- the one he'd been ordered to protect.

"I thought you wanted the revealed one," he mumbled, at a loss for anything else to say. Mittias shrugged.

Athayde was rooted to the spot. "I don't know if I can be with you again."

Mittias sighed. "Honestly, I don't blame you. But this isn't the place to talk about it. Come with me, let's go somewhere, we'll talk. If you can't stand to be around me anymore, fine. But let's at least get out of here."

He glanced at the crossbow in his hand, at the Equicart, at Mittias, up at the warehouse, and through the streets of Elginboarde. There was openness out there somewhere. And... what else?

Mittias's face fell as Athayde walked the few steps to the door of the warehouse. But he didn't walk inside. He closed the door, set the crossbow on the ground with the "Kaelin and Company" label facing the street, and climbed into the Equicart. Looking at his old flame, he couldn't help but see Mittias's smile. Not his usual sly grin, but a genuine smile. They began pedaling, and a moment later, they shot down the street together, the third Equicart trailing behind them.

Getting Addicted to Writing

I don’t like doing things halfway. If I owe someone money, I pay it back in one big chunk, rather than a little bit here or there. When I go out to exercise, I want to do a 5k, or spend time on all the weight machines, and I want to run or jog, not just walk. And when I write, I want to sit in my dark cave, away from everyone and everything, and whip out a few thousand words in a few hours.

The problem with this mindset is that it is very wearing. Yes, I’ll write a huge amount of words in one big writing session. I’ve been known to hit Lowellian word counts now and then. But after these marathons, I write NOTHING for a week or two afterward. I’ve gone months without getting words down before. Sure, things get finished eventually, but working like this is a recipe for idleness and inaction. Such a tiny percent of my time was used for the things I needed to do. “If I have fifteen minutes, it’s not enough time to write,” I think. “I can’t get myself revved up and going,” I tell myself. And another day would pass where I put no words down. I got nowhere fast. I’m talking moving at glacier-pace.

If you are at all like me, you understand that it’s rare to find the times that you can get in those marathon sessions, those private afternoons ideal to writing, when you can focus on nothing but the story and the characters. It’s not often that life will say, “Hey! Here, have five hours of no obligations and get a big chunk of that book done!” No, that doesn’t happen, really. Between work, a 45-60 minute commute one way, running, and just general existing, I’m lucky to have life plop an uninterrupted 30 minutes for writing. I bet you have a similar problem. One of the most common questions for writers is “How do I find time to write?” I’ll do another post on that someday, I promise. This one will touch on it, but is mostly about what the title suggest, getting addicted to writing.

So anyway, up to this point, we’ve established that while I love writing, it was hard to actually make myself do it. Even though I have an addictive personality, writing was nothing more than a hobby. Sure, I had daydreams about being an author, about having people come up to me and tell me that they’re fans of my books. But I didn’t do the actions to make those dreams happen. I was sinking in dreams, waiting for some stranger to look at me on a bus and say, “Hey you, you look like you have an amazing book idea. Here’s a lot of money. I want to publish it and then make a movie about it!” And then I’d tell him my idea, it would magically already be written, and then I could really call myself a writer. Life doesn’t work that way.

Then a small miracle came along: The Magic Spreadsheet. Find it here. This little tool has gotten me to bust out 131 of days in a row that I’ve written. Seriously. Today is day 131. Yes, me, Captain-I-Can’t-Write-Unless-Everything-Is-Perfect-And-I-Have-Hours-To-Do-It has written 131 of days in a row. But this is the beauty of the tool. For The Magic Spreadsheet, you build a chain. All you need to do to get a link is write 250 words. That’s all. 15 minutes can cover that. Or less, if you’re a fast writer like some people. Take a few minutes before bed to focus, decompress, sit at your notepad or computer or whatever, and BOOM! You have written today! If you’re easily distracted, it doesn’t take very long to hit that word count, and then you’re free to watch your TV show. Heck, watch your show and plunk down words during the commercials! Two or three shows’ worth of commercials will get you your word count, and you’re done if you want to be.

This concept makes it so easy to get addicted. You gain points for building your chain, and if you write more words than the minimum count, you get extra points. There’s even a leveling system, which gives you further goals to shoot for. As your chain/habit grows, your word count goal gets a little bigger. If you want; leveling up is completely optional.

Holding to the bare minimum 250 words a day will result in your writing 91,250 words in a year! JUST DOING THE MINIMUM! It’s not hard. That’s a whole novel in a year, chipping away at it bit by bit. If you’re like me, you’ll find yourself in the zone, thinking, “Oh… that was 250 words… that’s it?” and then you’ll keep going and write more. Then you get your extra points and your novel grows faster.

Holy cow. Guess what: you’re addicted!

Suddenly, you want to write every day, because things are moving along! Time has started throwing itself at me. A few minutes a day really makes for something amazing. It wouldn’t be good to make cookies this way, but it’s great for writing!

Don’t get me wrong; I still don’t like doing things halfway, which is why I’m now one of those infuriating people that averages 1000+ words a day. But I’m an overachiever and should probably be shot. And here’s the thing: the Magic Spreadsheet brought on the mindset that has spilled over into other parts of my life. This mindset jumpstarted me on getting back into running after I got diagnosed with a rapid heart rhythm and stopped for a while. Rather than trying to run 2-3 miles a couple times a week (and usually not doing it), I started going a mile every day. I did that for 34 days in a row before I finally started doing more mileage during the week and taking weekends off. But the point was that I built the habit by getting more mileage and better fitness in small chunks. I wasn't in such overworked pain after a few miles that I turn into a lazy lump for the rest of the day and the next 3 days after. And what’s more, it helped me find a balance. For once, I don’t feel trapped, having choose between whether I’m going to run or write from one day to the next.

I’m an addict. Voluntarily. You can be too!

Curds and Web

Little Miss Muffet

Sat on a tuffet,

Eating her curds and whey;

Along came a spider,

Who sat down beside her,

And frightened Miss Muffet away.

Not quite. The age-old nursery rhyme only tells part of the story, and that part is still wrong. The story of little Miss Muffet and her spider starts not with Miss Muffet herself— or even with the spider, really— but with a spaceship. Or, more accurately, a fleet of spaceships. Two dozen of them were prepared for launch. These were colony ships, taking citizens of a planet out in search of new worlds to populate. For quite some time, the inhabitants of the home planet, Voras, had scouted some other planets they had discovered in the reaches of space, and Earth had quickly been eliminated from the list of worlds to colonize. While living conditions there appeared ideal, the planet was already home to numerous species, and there was an established ecosystem they didn’t want to disrupt. Researchers were surprised to find beings on Earth that were closely related to them, younger cousins that were significantly smaller in size. Settling on Earth might inhibit the development of their less-advanced relatives. From what they could gather, their earthly cousins could not even talk.

Each of the two dozen ships was crewed by a single colonist. If the vessels had been built for more than one, they would have been unwieldy, too large to escape the atmosphere of home. The inhabitants of Voras preferred simplicity to complication, and it was just easier to build many smaller ships than a few larger ones. Besides, the Vorasi tended towards solitude anyway, so ships built for one were ideal.

Vail was just one of the many making the journey away from Voras to one of the four carefully selected planets they were colonizing. She was one of the first sent out, since she was a strong, large female with a great clutch of eggs ready to hatch. Her legs were particularly long and hairy, and her abdomen quivered with strength. She was one of only four females going to their chosen planet, and she approved of the two males that would be arriving a the same planet in the future. Each colony would be settled by four females, two males, and four clutches of eggs fertilized by other males who were remaining home. The Vorasi researchers had decided that would be the formula to give their colonies the best possible start. The offspring would be genetically diverse, enough so that the colonies would not have to deal with dangerous amounts of inbreeding to survive. Vail was the first one to go out and establish a colony.

The Vorasi scientists in charge of the ships themselves hadn’t accounted for the heat and intensity of Earth’s sun. Vail was just passing by that particular star system, when most of her ship’s systems fried. Propulsion skewed, navigation failed, and she found herself plummeting to Earth.

The impact shook Vail to the core, but she managed to avoid any fatal injuries. When she regained her bearings, her first thought was to check the clutch of eggs in the ship’s hold. They hadn’t fared as well as she had. None of them were salvageable. Not only was her ship in terrible shape— a single glance told her it was irreparable— but now she was completely alone. None of her children would survive to hatch. And she had no way to communicate with Voras to let them know what had happened. She was stranded and isolated. Ever the optimist, she realized that at least she could live out her life on this planet in comfort. Earth had been deemed ideal, after all. At least she wouldn’t suffocate or starve. There would be plenty to eat here, and there was plenty of land in which to find a place to build a den or a web network.

Her surroundings were pleasant. Great hills and valleys spread before her, full of rocks, trees, grasses, and all sorts of places to hide. Wild animals scurried and roamed, giving her live prey if she wanted it. But Vail had long ago given up on hunting meat. She could live as easily on wild fruits. Unfortunately, like her smaller cousins that inhabited this planet, the fruits here were smaller, too, and they were simply not abundant enough to sustain her. Perhaps this utopia wasn’t quite what the researchers had thought. She considered reverting to being carnivorous, but for most of her life, she had abstained, and now the prospect of hunting meat again made her ill. There must be an adequate food source somewhere. So the enormous spider left behind the ruins of her ship and set out in search of enough food.

Instead, she found a settlement of the most advanced life form of the planet. They called themselves humans. It was located in a valley between tall grassy hills. A large blue body of water stretched to the horizon nearby. Some sort of primitive wooden vessels floated on the water. Humans sat in the vessels, throwing nets and holding wooden poles over the water. Their habitats were far different from the webs the Vorasi made. The humans built shelter out of strips of trees and clumps of soil and grass. They walked strangely on two legs— they didn’t even have eight— had only two eyes, and were generally smaller and more delicate than Vail and her people. The humans communicated by making a range of sounds with their tiny, round mouths. But they had food. Droves of it. Vail had never eaten vegetables— she wasn’t sure she could eat them— but if she had to, she would make it work somehow. But could she make herself understood by these creatures? She desperately needed a meal. She would try anything.

From the moment the first human spotted her at the edge of their settlement, the entire population began to panic. They scattered in all directions, keening in a strange high way, filling the air with sounds Vail didn’t have a word to describe. A few of the larger humans rushed toward her instead of away, brandishing objects that could only be weapons. Her survival instincts kicking in, Vail backed away from the settlement, but the creatures kept after her. She would have to defend herself or be killed. She gathered her strength in her six backmost legs, reared up, and prepared to strike.

A screeching whine filled the air, and Vail and the humans hunting her all turned their eys upward. The object soaring through the sky was strange to the humans, and the sight sent them running away back to their wood and mud homes. Vail recognized the object as another Vorasi ship. She skittered quickly after it as it crashed toward the surface of the planet.

To her horror, the ship did not look like it was going to crash to the ground. Its trajectory would place it well within the body of water near the valley. Voras had no large bodies of water; there was no need for the Vorasi to learn to swim. Vail could only watch in terror as the ship broke the surface of the water and disappeared into the blue.

Depressed, Vail remained on the shore of the water for days. She didn’t move, didn’t eat, and hardly breathed as she mourned her fellow colonist. Had it been Noach in that ship? Sheve? Lolli? Or had it been one of the males: Parduk or Gonig? It mattered little; one of her fellows had just fallen to death. If it had been another of the females, then another whole clutch of eggs had been lost, too. It was too much to bear.

Eventually the time came for Vail to move on. She still needed food, permanent shelter, and… she was surprised to discover that she longed for companionship. That alone was strange for a Vorasi. They were, by nature, solitary unless it was time to mate, but there were always others around. Or did she simply miss the knowledge that there were more of her people nearby? Surely, the other four ships with her remaining companions had left Voras on time. Though she hoped they would not run afoul of whatever had brought her to this planet, she at least had hope that if they did end up on Earth, they would survive the collision as she had. But that would be for another time. Their departures had been delayed by several solar cycles to prevent crowding or the chance of collisions with each other when they landed. It would be a long time before another ship passed by. Food was most important at the moment. Dare she try to approach the human colony again? It wasn’t far. Perhaps trying again would be a good idea.

She headed slowly toward the settlement and was in a pass between two hills that led down to it when she heard a soft sound that could only be made by a human. Cautiously, Vail looked around for the source of the sound and was lucky enough to find it easily. Under a rather pathetic, gnarled tree, a small female human sat perched on a wooden seat. A reddish-brown bowl made of hardened earth was in the odd appendages at the ends of her upper legs. The creature lifted the bowl to its mouth and drank, then picked up a much tinier bowl with a handle and scooped some of the contents into her mouth. Vail watched, envious of the human’s food but wary of approaching. She remembered all too clearly the reaction when she tried to enter the colony.

But the prospect of food was too strong, even if it was just a small taste of what the female had. Vail didn’t know what it was, but it had to be more filling than the tiny nibbles of fruit she’d managed to get herself. She’d stripped whole trees of their sweet bulbs and barely gotten a mouthful. She crept closer, coming up slightly behind the little one. She crouched in the space next to the tree, working to make herself as small as possible. It was no easy feat, considering Vail was larger than the tree the girl sat by. Her underside touched the ground, her long legs bent. She kept her many eyes still. She had no desire to frighten the young human, so she remained perfectly still, waiting to be seen.

The little female finally noticed her and jumped up from her seat. To Vail’s glee, the tiny creature didn’t run or produce some sort of weapon to use against her. The thing stood and stared at Vail for a long time, still holding the bowl of food. It took all the willpower Vail had not to seize the bowl and devour its contents, whatever they were. It wouldn’t be much, but perhaps it would be more filling than the fruit. She flicked her eyes up to the small human. It was hard to maintain eye contact when the smaller beast only had two eyes. Vail flicked her pincers at the little beast and flicked her eyes down to the bowl.

The female followed Vail’s eyes, and ever so slowly, the creature lowered the bowl and placed it on the little wooden stool she’d been sitting on. Then she backed away several steps. Careful to keep her own movements slow, Vail stretched her legs, leaned over the stool and lowered her mouth to the bowl. The contents weren’t meat or fruit. She hadn’t a clue what it all actually was, but she didn’t care. She was getting food. It was a runny liquid and had some sort of strange chunks in it. It hardly mattered that it was an unknown substance and might make her sick later. Vail was simply pleased to have something in her stomach that she didn’t have to work for. Wresting the fruit from the trees took more effort than it was worth for such meager meals. Once the bowl was emptied, she backed away a few steps. The human showed no fear as she gathered the bowl and her little stool and tucked them both under one arm. In fact, its mouth turned upward at the corners and opened, showing tiny, rounded white teeth. In truth, the little beast would have made a rather nice few mouthfuls for Vail. The thought barely crossed her mind. It had been ages since she’d hunted meat. It no longer tempted her.

Tentatively, the human reached out its free hand toward Vail’s face. Confused, Vail remained still. The hairless fingers came closer to her, reaching…

There was an air-splitting sound, and another Vorasian ship arced through the sky. Vail craned her eyes upward, quickly figuring the craft’s path. Despair filled her as she realized this ship too would end up in the great body of water. She mourned her friend immediately, but other concerns were more pressing than lingering at the site of death. Alone or not, she could find a way to survive on this planet.

It turned out that the day/night cycle of Earth was very similar to that on Voras. The small female returned to the tree every day, bringing food to Vail. The creature could not carry much, but Vail knew she was doing her best. She gratefully took what was offered and found it was enough to sustain her, since she didn’t need to expend the energy to find it herself. To her dismay, another of her people’s ships crashed into the water on her sixteenth day on Earth.

That made half of her colony that was now gone, not including her. How soon would she see the last two ships come and crash? Would she be fortunate enough to see another Vorasi survive the plummet? She wished she could pinpoint the cause of their ships' failures, or better, find a way to communicate to her people what was happening. Even if another of them did manage to stay alive, chances were bad that it would be one of the males. She could still hope. But until the next ship came, she had nothing to do but focus on her little pet human.

From what she could gather, the young thing considered her a pet. Vail wished she'd studied linguistics in her younger days; maybe then she would have an easier time translating the noises the human made at her. She did pick out some words that were said regularly, but "spider", "big", "hope", and "monster" meant nothing to her. Perhaps one of those strange words was the creature's name? Vail decided it must be Spider. That was the one the human said most often. It had to be trying to communicate what it was called. Wait, did humans give one another names?

The scraggly tree in the pass between hills became a sort of lair for Vail, though it was more open than she would have liked. When Spider wasn't around— she decided that's what she would call the human thing— she explored the area. A large cove served as shelter, and Vail began building her webs from there. Even though she wasn't one to eat what she captured, there was still pleasure in trapping prey that willingly wandered into her grasp. She considered actually reverting to being carnivorous, but unfortunately, the insects on Earth proved to be smaller than the fruit here, and the cables of her webbing was too thick to hold such tiny things. She built patterns of cord from her cove to the tree and even stretched a glorious web horizontally from one hilltop to another. It stretched for miles, creating a great glistening net high above the ground.

When Spider first came to the tree and saw Vail's web, the creature shrieked and clapped its front paws together in what Vail assumed was glee. To her horror, the little thing scaled the tree and reached out to touch the web. The little five-digited paw touched a thick strand of webbing and stuck, but when Spider pulled back, the web flexed, and then it gave way, springing back into place and releasing its sticky hold on the youngling's hand. Spider made the delighted shriek again, and then to Vail's complete surprise, her pet human flung herself out of the tree and onto the web. Did the human have a death wish?

Spider remained suspended on the web for a few minutes, and Vail finally began to move forward to free the dim-witted thing from her web. Before she could reach Spider, though, the little female twisted her body and rolled around midair so she was no longer face-first in the web, but stuck by her back. She continued to roll, still vertical, still sticking to Vail's handiwork. Spider giggled, and Vail found she enjoyed the sound. Slowly, she crept up into her web and pressed on it with her two frontmost legs, shaking the web so the human bounced and jangled in place. The strands held her well, and she did not fall. In fact, Spider laughed harder.

Play became regular over the next few days, and Vail worked hard to create more webs in patterns and at angles that Spider could enjoy. She even helped the human child reach places she normally would not have been able to. The wandered high, overlooking the rolling hills and the valleys. They stayed out of sight of the human settlement; Vail feared venturing too close to again. The thought of being attacked was not one she relished. But there were plenty of other places to go. Webs stretched everywhere in the pass and the hills, so that Spider and Vail could soon traipse all over the valleys without ever setting foot on the ground. Their favorite place quickly became a spot over one dipping valley, where wildflowers grew and created a colorful mosaic far below them. The air was perfumed there, and Vail and little Spider would relax in the web and take in the sun and the songs of birds.

A day came when the sun began to set and they were still very far from the village. Vail realized Spider was tiring and would not be able to return to the village on her own; she would definitely not be able to reach it by dark on those two short legs and tiny feet. Vail knew what she had to do to make sure the other humans didn’t fear the girl’s absence. Vail crouched down on the web and stared at the human child, the hairs on her back quivering. Was she really going to allow this to happen? No, she was not allowing it? She was encouraging this!

Spider got the hint and climbed up onto Vail's back. She clung to a few of the stiff hairs and bounced along as Vail slowly made her way to the humans' settlement. It wouldn't take long; Vail could cover distances quickly. Even so, Spider fell asleep fairly quickly. Vail slowed down even more to make sure the little creature wouldn't fall from her back.

The last bits of sunlight were almost completely faded by the time Vail reached the valley. The humans had torches lit, but only a few of the fully-grown humans were outside in the flickering light. Spider woke when Vail twisted and reached up a leg to prod her, and the creature slid down to the ground, immediately drawing the attention of the adult humans. Again, they grabbed their weapons and rushed toward Vail and her human pet.

As before, a stringent sound rent the air, and lights streamed across the sky. Not one, but two Vorasi ships sailed downward, heading for the body of water. All the humans shouted in fear, even little Spider, and they stared as the ships hit the water, sending up huge splashes.

"The water's rising!" someone shouted, though Vail didn't understand what the words meant. She did, however, notice that the big lake was pouring over its banks, its surface raised because of the five Vorasi ships that had sunk to the bottom, displacing the water. Only then did she realize she was already soaking wet. The climbing waters were not yet near her, but droplets of the stuff were raining down on her from above. Water fell from the sky here on Earth? Had it been falling the entire time she was here? Maybe. She hadn't noticed. She skittered away from the human colony, not wanting to be drowned.

Spider called out, and Vail really looked at the humans. They were in a panic as the waters began to fill their valley. It would not take long for everything to be underwater. Spider's two tiny eyes grew large and pleading as she stared up at Vail. She couldn't let her pet drown, either! And what about the colony? Ignoring the water and mud around her feet, Vail stepped slowly toward the flooding village, crouched down, and waited for Spider to climb back on. To her surprise, the rest of the humans hurried after her. The entire population— Flock? Mass? Herd? Cluster? What was such a group called? Vail decided "herd" must be accurate. Every last human from the settlement was up on her back in moments, clinging to one another and pulling on the hairs on her back, wrapping themselves around her legs, and generally weighing her down. But she found she did want to save them all. Carefully stepping through the water that was licking at her belly, she began to walk away from the rising waters and headed for the hills.

***

Hope Muffet spent the rest of her life hailed as the heroine of the village. She was the fortunate one that brought the misunderstood monster to save them all from the rising waters, and Hope was clearly the favorite of the big spider that roamed the hills— a spider she liked to call Comet because it had saved them from the great shooting stars that had caused the flood. The waters took so long to recede that the villagers didn't rebuild their village in the valley. Instead, they built new houses and huts right on the webs that stretched between hilltops.

Into her elderly years, Hope still liked to take a little stool and a bowl of food down to the scraggly tree where she'd first met Comet. Sometimes, she wouldn't even eat, but would wait for the greying eight-legged beast to appear from its cove, settle in next to her, and eat from the bowl.

___________________________

"Curds and Web" has been podcast through Every Photo Tells (www.everyphototells.com)

Book Review- Rock of Ages by Walter Jon Williams

This review is of the book Rock of Ages by Walter Jon Williams.
Summary

Drake Maijstral is an Allowed Burglar, one of those lucky thieves who is viewed as an artist, because he only steals the most valuable objects and does so with some serious style. He’s a celebrity with quite a reputation, the envy of every other Allowed Burglar around. And, he’s sorely in need of a vacation. But now that he’s trying to take one, and on Earth no less, no one believes he’s honestly not planning on stealing anything. And when priceless objects keep disappearing from the places he’s staying, fingers automatically begin pointing at him. He starts getting challenged to duels, but Maijstral takes it with good grace up until something happens that finally pushes him over the edge: someone has stolen his father’s coffin.

That was my summary. Here's the summary I got from amazon.com

As the top-ranked Allowed Burglar of the Human Constellation, Drake Maijstral finds that his celebrity status leads him to four challenges to duel, three proposals of marriage, and the theft of his father's coffin. Only his cleverness and ingenuity enable him to uncover a conspiracy to destroy his reputation.

Context

The concept of Allowed Burglary is an interesting one, especially considering how burglary has changed as time goes on. The simple filching of possessions and money, to the (frighteningly) common identity theft problems of today makes one wonder how we could make the jump from considering theft a crime to an art form. I would actually be extremely interested in seeing Williams write a brief history on how Earth so changed. I know that, according to the speculated future Williams has created, a lot of Earth’s changes are due to relations with aliens, particularly the Khosali. Of course, an encompassing history from 1995 (when this book was published) and the year the book takes place would have a lot to cover: how Elvis became a god of a certain religion, how Earth became a global community with hereditary political and religious titles, and how humankind adopted and adapted to Khosali customs. Considering the Khosali are very doglike, it’s a good thing humans didn’t degenerate to buttsniffing, although ear and wrist-sniffing are common. 

Style

I actually read this book in paper form. I don’t know how easy it really would be to listen to in audio form. While for the most part, it was easy to read, I do have a couple complaints regarding some of the terms. First of all, the main character’s name threw me for a loop. He’s rarely called Drake and is primarily referred to by his last name, Maijstral. The “ij” combination is such a strange, rare combination that I was about sixty pages into the book before I realized I was mispronouncing it. I had initially read his name a “Majistral”. Once I realized what I’d done, I attempted to pronounce it correctly in my head as I read, but it was too odd a sound combination for me. It sounded wrong because I had spent so much time calling him by a name that was easier to pronounce.

There were other instances of hard-to-pronounce names. This is one of those crimes that pulls the reader out of the world of the book, pausing the action while the brain struggles to make sense out of a name. Fortunately, these were not main character names and were uncommon occurrences, but they still interrupted the flow of reading. A few examples are: Przemysl, Huyghe, Drawmiikh, and Krpntsz.

My thoughts

I wasn’t surprised to discover that this was book three of a series, although it actually functioned decently as a standalone novel. It was a self-contained story with characters that obviously had a past. I didn’t feel the need to go back and read earlier novels of the series to get that history. It didn’t really work against me that I didn’t know if the characters’ past interactions were only made up and not documented or if they were detailed in other books. I didn’t feel like I was missing out.

As a novelty, this book was actually enjoyable. Speed bumps were plentiful but not enough to make me stop reading early. The book is intended to be farcical, but I didn’t get many laughs from it. The ones I did get were pretty decent though. I just don’t know that I would go so far as to consider the book a comedy. Lighthearted, yes, but not a true comedy.

Would I recommend it? Not particularly. The book was fun, but I found myself yearning for it to be finished.

You can find more info on the book on the author's website. http://www.walterjonwilliams.net/

Guest Post: Erin M. Pruett on Character Development

Those of you who follow me on Twitter (@afgrappin) or who know me in real life have no doubt heard me mention my co-author. Erin M. Pruett is, at least in writing, my better half. I don't do every project with her, but the ones I do are markedly different than the ones I do alone. And even my solo projects often get run past her and discussed in some way form or fashion. I've been trying to talk her into writing a post for a few weeks, and she finally did her first one as a birthday present for me. I think I need to have birthdays more often.

I'm not going to go into detail on just how much Erin helps me with my writing. I'll let her tell you. Here's her first post on writing.
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"Character Development and Motivations" OR "How to Keep Your Characters from Sounding and Acting Like You (or Alike in General)"

    Hello, hello! Guest writer Erin here, giving my 2 cents on something that A.F.G. is always needing my help with. My main talent in writing lies in character development. I love psychology and analyzing personalities, and that helps to give me insight into my/A.F.'s characters' personalities and flesh them out into people that are as real and tangible as you or I. I'm not the "when" or "where" in the writing process. I'm the "who" and "why." Put A.F. and me together, and you get the "how." Anytime I'm approached by my brainstorming buddy A.F. with an idea for a new story arc for a particular character, the first thing I say is, "Why? Why would they do that? What is their motivation? What in their personality profile or backstory would influence them in choosing or doing this?" If we can't come up with a good answer, the idea is scrapped. If that person has no reason or motive to carry out an action, and we can't give them one within the confines of the story, then it doesn't make sense for them to do it.

    A big advantage that the two of us have as writers is each other. I'll write about our brainstorming buddy processes another time, but it applies to this post in regards to character development: it keeps us from falling into one of an author's biggest traps: creating characters that all sound and act like the same person. That's one of my biggest pet peeves when reading a book or short story. They care about the same things, they react the same way, they always agree on the best course of action, they have the same speech patterns and use the same curses, and their motivations for their actions are unclear. So I'll hope it's a fluke, and read something else by the same author, and the same problem is apparent. Then I'll read/see/hear an interview by same said author, and realize exactly what the problem is: their characters sound and act just like them! Sometimes the case is that they tend to unconsciously base their characters off of the person they know and love the most, and that can be even harder to overcome than accidentally making all of your characters into incarnations of yourself. Why, you ask? Because you tend to love that person more than yourself, that's why. *wink*
   
So, how do you keep this from happening? How can you be sure your characters aren't all based on or influenced by your own personality or that of someone important in your life? There are a couple of methods that I've heard of and used.


1. The first, and most obvious, method is to have a brainstorming/writing partner. This person could be a full-blown co-author, a wall to bounce ideas off of before you write, or someone who reads over your first draft and critiques it. Having another person to listen to your ideas when they're fresh can help you from making mistakes in the initial writing process, which is much nicer than finishing your story/novel/etc. and getting blasted by publishers and editors and having to go back and change everything. Another perspective in the creative stage, in whatever capacity you're comfortable with, definitely helps, in more ways than just character development.

2. Then there's the method of using beta readers. Before you publish anything, whether it be on a personal blog or with a publishing company, have a couple of different people read your work and critique it. I'm not talking about looking for grammatical and spelling errors, like a final (technical) editor might. Have them look for plot holes, inconsistencies, and character development. Give them a list of questions to answer, like, "Did you believe the characters were real people?" and, "Did their choices make sense?" and, "Did they seem like separate individuals with real personalities?" and so on. Get their perspective on your story, your world, and the people populating it. It helps to have one or more pairs of eyes, opinions, and preferences, outside of your own, who don't have the same insight into the story that you do (knowledge of backstories, world history, etc.) to fall back on to fill in any gaps that might be present. In fact, whether or not you need help with character development, it's always a good idea to employ beta readers. It can't hurt, and it could make a world of difference in, well, your world!

3. Another method, one that A.F. employs quite well, is to base each character off of the personality of a different person that you know. For example, the Queen in a story is based on your mom, the King your Dad, the jester your ex, the main character/hero your best friend, and so on. Any time a problem is presented to any character, you simply ask yourself, "What would ____ do?" Or, you could call that person and ask them. It helps to ensure that your characters have distinct, real personalities, and make choices that are different than the ones you would make. And since you know these people personally, the characters are going to have more depth with less initial work from you. The downside is that you only have a limited circle of people in your life that you know well enough to base characters on, and if you rely too heavily on this method, the characters within each story might all be well-rounded and different from all others in that particular story, but all of your stories (and the people in them) as a whole might start to sound the same, since they're all populated with what boils down to the same people. So unless you have a vast group of friends and relatives, and you don't play favorites and choose the same ones as personality donors all the time, this method might not be the best one for you to fall back on.

4. Now I'll tell you my preferred method. I call it the "What Would I Do?" method. I first create a character based on me. I pour my heart and soul and entire personality into one character, who is influenced by me and only me, down to the smallest detail. Once I'm satisfied that I am represented in the story by this character, I build the rest of my characters and their psychological profiles (I've even taken personality tests like the Myers-Briggs Personality Test from the perspectives of my characters to be sure the results come out differently from mine and that I know them inside and out), sometimes using a bit of the previously mentioned method of basing them on people I know, but it's pretty easy for me to build original people using this method. I come up with their vices, their habits (biting fingernails, people-watching, drinking, etc.) and why they have them, what they like to do for fun, things they hate to see in other people (pet peeves), what their upbringing was like, how if affected them, their philosophy on life, everything. I go into unnecessary, miniscule detail about every possible aspect of every single character, major or minor, because once you're writing, you never know what will become important, and it's good to already have all those tiny bits in place. You may never use most of what you come up with about the characters in the story explicitly and sometimes the story itself may necessitate a change, but those little details can still help you in the decision making process while writing. Then, once my cast list is finalized and detailed, writing can begin.

Sometimes, I find myself in a situation where I don't know what a character would do or why. In those cases, the first step I take is to figure out what I would do in that situation. Once I know that, I can eliminate it, and keep it from influencing my decisions for the character. I have a very strong, very opinionated, personality (just ask A.F.), and it's easy for "me" to take over my characters and smother them, no matter how much detailed work I've put into building them. So by first putting "myself" into their situation and deciding what I would do/choose, I can then easily put it aside, step out of my head and instead put myself inside the character's head, and choose from their perspective, not mine. I look into their past and psychology, see how it might relate to and/or influence them in this particular situation, and then what needs to happen usually becomes clear. Another way that this method is useful is if I need something to happen in a story, but don't know who should do it or why, so I use a variation of the same method. I ask myself who I know in my life who would be best suited for/most likely to do the task I need done, etc., I find which character is most like that person, and then go from there.
   
    I totally get how easy it is to make decisions for your characters that are heavily based on what you would do. I mean, you are you. It's very hard to get out of your own head and keep yourself out of your characters. I struggled with that for a long time, and I know A.F. did (and sometimes still does). So by letting myself decide what I would do, I'm analyzing myself, I'm letting my mind say, "Well, this is what I would do and why," and then I can set it aside, satisfied that my opinion has been heard, and then I can hear my characters' opinions. Sometimes you have to be selfish and let yourself be heard first, so that your words don't end up coming out of your characters' mouths. Creating a "you" character does wonders as well, because that way you don't have to remove yourself and your personality from the equation entirely; you have a focused outlet for "you," so then your other characters can be themselves, and you can see them with unbiased eyes.


    I hope all this makes sense, and helps you to create well-rounded, realistic characters! A.F.'s characters have certainly gotten more depth and individuality since I started butting in with my methods (*wink*), so I'm hopeful that they will work for people other than me. Happy writing!