I finally restarted working on the high fantasy story I’ve been kicking around and wanting to drown for a while.
When I say high fantasy, I’m using the term in the context of- actually let me slow my roll. I think what I’m doing is an amalgam of swords n sorcery, high fantasy, with a taste of magic, hint of religion and myth. BUT that said, I’ll just say fantasy for now.
We don’t have to be fancy here.
I haven’t touched this story for months. I’ve not been writing a lot of fiction of late. I am very amused by how I’m writing fiction these days. Back in the day, I’d have an idea and BANG BANG BANG 4-5 K done. These days, I’m so interested in exploring particular things in my fiction it just takes me for fucking ever to write it.
I have this ever growing list of things I want to explore in different ways in my fiction. What started out as notes to help me remember (sleep disorders have properly fucked up my memory) has turned into a low key way of doing some plotting and at a glance I’ve been moving those ideas around in terms of what genres I want to play with them in.
Now on to the story at hand.
The working title is Cat Rules Queen. I had an entirely different version done that I hated so I started over. Here is what I’ve realized:
- Writing literally anything else does not stress me out like writing fantasy does.
- Trying not to fall down my own nerdhole about the race of beings I’m molding is fucking hard.
- Trying to keep the language somewhat modern feeling and hearing, without it hitting a tin note is fucking hard.
- I have a LOT invested in doing this story to my own standards and I’m kind of fucking myself up about it.
That last thing.
I try really hard not to do this because it is a part of the type of human I am but, sometimes I put the worst type of pressure on myself as a creator. I have this vision of what I want this story to be and I keep getting frustrated because I can’t get it quite there because I am not totally sure how to get it where I want it to go. This is sort of beyond my own need to create representation and into WHY the fuck can’t I DO THIS SHIT RIGHT territory.
The latter is really an emotional kick in the heartballs because, I can’t write when I treat myself that way. Thus the story won’t be done and will not be as good as I want it to be.
I put this pressure on myself and it ain’t workin.
So I’ve decided that I will likely publish this story for free at some point and that has relieved me of some of the pressure. Y’all know I’m not ashamed of my writing fuck ups and I feel like this one might qualify. It’s not totally what I want, but I might be headed there if I let myself do what I know how to do.
This story has a very particular soundtrack I’ve been listening to a lot of the following while working on it:
- Lacuna Coil
- Children of Bodom
- Five Finger Death Punch
- Lamb of God
- Amon Tobin
The music has been very dark and hard while the story isn’t. That is a running thing with me. My music for my writing almost never makes complete sense. I wrote the sweetest little romantic story for my Patreon project as a bonus thing while listening to Slayer. When I listen to the Moonlight Sonata (the whole thing) I imagine writing a super violent, very graphic silent film with that as the soundtrack. Or, I’ve written some nasty nasty hardcore violent kinky smut while listening to it.
My creative process has changed so much in the last few years. After my tries at forcing super seriousness on myself, I’m getting back into play.
I’m hoping that finishing this fantasy story will help. I’m going to put in writing right now that I’m going to let myself play.
Now how about a lil bite?
We come to see where our King Nailah meets her future Queen, the cat woman called Makatza:
The King came out of the privy still buttoning her breeches, her sword clanking on her hip. “So, I looked at him dead in his Gods Damned eye and said no but I’ll sit on her-” Her ribald story came to as abrupt a halt as she did. Standing right there, one ear turning, tail swishing, was the cat woman. She stared up at the King with her enormous pumpkin colored eyes.
“You’d sit on her what your majesty?” Her whiskers twitched. The King stammered and dropped to one knee, unfortunately her breeches were loose and several men got a good half moon. She was too rapt to feel the breeze across her crack. “I, I oh please a thousand pardons Lady Cat. I hope I haven’t offended you. May I ask, what is your name?”
The cat woman tittered and offered her hand. “I am Makatza. I might forgive you your majesty if, you feed me. If you are really nice I might let you rub my ears.” The King rose and barely got a hold of her pants before she showed everyone whether or not she really had a tattoo in a private place. She kissed the small soft, fuzzy hand. “I shall endeavor to please you. As you allow.”
I’ll get into the feline behavior I studied and how I’m making Makatza another time.