I got new pens. Papermate PhD. I used to like Pentel RSVP, but at some point in the eternal pen exchange (for every five that disappear off my desk, a new one appears), someone left a PhD on my clipboard.
I love it, and the others I’ve bought, but I didn’t mean to go on about pens. It’s just turned out to matter a lot, because apparently my guys don’t want to work on the computer right now. I’m two thousand words into this new story and every one has been hand-written, then entered into the computer.
That’s just the beginning of what’s weird about this story.
It’s urban fantasy–not my thing at all. I don’t care for vampires, and I don’t have much of a fascination with the other staple monsters of the genre.
Seems this story is going to be pretty dark. Very odd for me.
It’s third person omniscient POV. “In a hole in the ground lived a hobbit. Not a dry, sandy hole–” (that’s as far as I can go without looking it up) Normally I write first person POV, where the story is told by one of the characters, or third person limited, where I sort of plunk the reader on one character’s shoulder and they experience the story from there. Either way, the reader only knows what the POV character does.
Not this time. I have an all-knowing narrator in this story, who goes in and out of people’s heads at will. It can tell things no one sees. If a tree falls in the forest–it knows.
It kind of freaks me out.
The names have changed. It’s now Fidelis who limped down that hall to help Gabriel. Other things have grown. Random girl-child whom I named Lexi because that was who I was talking to when I needed a name–she’s Naomi now. And there’s something very special about her. I just don’t know what it is.
I’ve decided this is a leap of faith. My muses want to know if I’m going to trust them, or if I’ll tell ’em to sod off and stick to working and re-working the stuff I already know.
Here goes nothing. (I do, however, reserve the right to keep throwing bricks at them. They’re being obnoxious about the whole thing.)