bodhranwriting

[bodhranwriting]

[bodhranwriting]

“Write your characters doing something during a conversation to make it more interesting!”

Obvious writing advice, you guys are smart - you already know this.

So instead: a list of things I like having characters doing during dialogue scenes [fantasy orientated].

Spinning thread

Washing their hands/arms

Knitting

Reading [or trying to]

Bandaging a wound

Playing a competitive dice game

Cooking

Picking apart a flower

Brushing a horse

Trying [and failing] to light a match

Throwing a ball in the air

Cleaning equipment

Picking their teeth

Giving themselves a haircut

Making a grass necklace

Solo card game

Choosing clothes

Scrubbing a floor/wall

Dust beating carpets

Watching a trap

Writing a letter

Fiddling with breakable objects

Eating a food they hate

Having sex.

There’s definitely more.

[bodhranwriting]

I’m writing a one-shot and I have to do maths.

"The town of Holfalls is known for many things - it's magnificent goats, beautiful waterfall, and ranging fields of medicinal and food crops. Isolated by the northern borders of the small kingdom of Embyre, this town is often forced to handle its own problems even if it exports medicinal ingredients to the central powers.

You have arrived here for whatever reason suits and no sooner than you set foot in town you have been arrested and sentenced to execution by sacrifice.

It's your mission to escape the prison and - perhaps - discover what's causing a once sensible and sober council to turn to such drastic measures."

[bodhranwriting]

WHO WANTS SIXSMITH ON HIS BEST BEHAVIOR??

“What’s happening?” Emmett asked, eyes squeezed tightly shut. His whole body was itching horribly.  

“There are a few investors floating around this party,” Talas smoothed his waistcoat with one free finger and then tucked an errant curl behind his ear, “So Maia and I are going to go… court them. I have heard some are interested in the engine.”  

Emmett forced a smile. “Good. Go… do that.” 

Sixsmith’s smile was a little more innocent in that way only he could really manage. “Go brighten their lives like a little sunbeam as you brighten mine.”  

Talas glared. He lifted one hand from his crutches and jabbed Sixsmith in the chest. “You. Behave.”  

The salute was only ever so slightly mocking as Talas left.  

Sighing heavily, Emmett took Sixsmith by the elbow and turned him around. Pretending to study the hideous gold mess which apparently constituted art these days (Emmett suddenly felt not only overwhelmed, but old), he murmured, “Six. As much as I concur with you on the subject of the elites and their draconic hoarding of excess wealth – tonight is not the time or place to jump on a chair and start espousing them at large.” 

Sixsmith blinked at him. “You are sufferin’, aren’t you?” he said sympathetically.  

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” Emmett asked, wincing at the sudden burst of violin strings.  

“You’re talkin’ like a professor.” He must have seen the anguish in Emmett’s face because he quickly added, “Dun’t worry. ‘m on me best behaviour.” 

“Captain Askren, Mr Sixsmith –“ Esmeralda’s voice boomed cheerfully from behind them – “I’d love for you to meet someone very dear to me –“ 

Emmett turned around, trying to fix his face into amiability and saw a handsome man in his sixties or seventies, with a perfect snow-white moustache and beard, smiling beatifically in his direction. 

No, not his direction.  

Sixsmith was frozen in place, as white as the man’s suit.  

“Captain, this is Dr Thomas Maynard. Thomas, this is Captain Askren and Dr Sixsmith of the Iris –” 

Maynard nodded at Emmett, still smiling widely, then turned towards Sixsmith. “Hello, Gideon,” he said.  

He extended his hand.  

Then Sixsmith, without any nameable expression or sound, punched the man directly in the face.  

(Guesses for why he did this can be put below if desired)

[bodhranwriting]

I’m writing a book. It’s called Tocktick. It’s fun.

[bodhranwriting]

I tried to use Heroforge to make our heroes.

I’m writing a book. It’s called Tocktick. It’s steampunk, every single main character is disabled and/or queer and it’s about an airship race around a colonised island (totally not Ireland at all).

[bodhranwriting]

Dogwood & Cicero

Dogwood was born in a temple by the sea.

He was one of ten children – two older brothers, three older sisters, three younger sisters, and one younger brother. They were raised by their grandparents after their mother killed herself and their father abandoned them.

It was a squalid upbringing in a rundown shack in the forest until they reluctantly gave Dogwood over to the ocean druids to be apprenticed when he was ten. He'd had affinity with animals from a young age and they couldn’t feed ten grandchildren. They tattooed him before he left so he’d be recognisable to his family when he grew up.

However, due to unknown reasons, Dogwood fled the druidic circle eight years later, stealing an enchanted torc on the way.

Dogwood is a shy and conscientious individual with a fidgety manner and a sharp, pedantic mind. He finds crowds overwhelming, has a secret sweet tooth, and is functionally illiterate - preferring to spend his free time sketching on his wax tablet.

Cicero was born in his family’s caravan as they were moving to a new city.

He was the firstborn of twin boys, with a younger sister following two years later. They were raised by their single mother after their father was murdered when Cicero was eight years old. They had a poor, but supportive upbringing in a small house in town where their mother was a carpenter. When he was young, Cicero saw a bard performing and knew he wanted a similar life.

He made an enemy of his first employer, an alchemist named Din, because he bested her in a competition and ruined her reputation.

He fought against a raid by enemy soldiers and acquitted himself well when he was twenty-one. For this he was bequeathed a magical dagger for his services by the city. This raised his status enough that he was able to become one of the town-criers despite his low birth since he was trusted by the authorities.

Cicero fell in love with a smuggler named Arbis which remained civil after their breakup as it was mutual and obviously how it was going to end with her as a criminal and him working for the council.

Cicero is bright, charming, and loud - a firework in a blue tunic. Highly protective, but rash and frivolous with it. He adores libraries and street parties in equal measure, collecting knowledge like a pastel magpie. However, he has two left feet, poorer vision than he admits, and a tendency to overestimate his ability to get out of messes he created.

[bodhranwriting]

I made my boys. Not clearly visible, the matching woven rings on their fingers.

[bodhranwriting]

I love when protagonist characters aren’t described particularly flatteringly. I love phrases like “hair the colour of wet straw” or “she was tall and angular and looked a bundle of sticks haphazardly tied together” or “little beady beetle black eyes set in sunken sockets.”

[bodhranwriting]

If you're reading this...

go write three sentences on your current writing project.

[bodhranwriting]

Our three protagnists!

Bridget

Lir

Dee

My favourite thing about having three different POV characters is getting to describe the same person in three different ways.

[bodhranwriting]

Hero's Return Opening - Bodhrán M.

Bridget crouched as low as she could in the gorse bushes and tried not to breathe.

Through a thin veil of yellow flowers, she saw the lumbering great-elf pause in its task of ripping bark from a nearby tree with both taloned paws and raise its enormous head to sniff the air.

Its nostrils flared, the vein-like protrusions across the pallid face flushing in time. Even at this distance, Bridget saw the pupils widen.

Heart hammering at her ribs, she tightened her fists – feeling cold fur in her right and the skin-warmed hilt of her knife in the left. Compared to the broadsword at the creature’s side, it looked like a sewing needle. The rabbit’s neck was still caught in the snare, its glassy eyes staring towards a darkening sky.

Bridget didn’t take her attention off the approaching great-elf as she tried to blindly unpick the knot. It moved slowly, awkwardly placing one foot at the time on the uneven slope. They didn’t favour walking upright and it was odd to see it so determined to do so. And, unlike a deer or a hound, it couldn’t spring to top speed immediately. These things were made to run and keep running, wearing down prey through persistence alone. If she snuck away now, perhaps there’d be time. If she left the rabbit…

But this rabbit was big. Bigger than she’d seen in weeks, a real proper buck with gold highlights in its fur. Her mouth watered just thinking about it. All the other traps had been empty and the pit bare and it seemed half the villagers now had woken up on Gráinne’s table from a hunger-faint.

If it came to it, surely, she’d be able to knock the great-elf down and buy herself some more time. It wasn’t light, but neither was she, and that was after months of dwindling supplies. Skirt it, shove it, and then all she had to do was break the line of sight and get back to the mines without being spotted. They’d be feasting by moon-up.

The great-elf abruptly lunged forwards and Bridget suddenly stopped thinking with her stomach.

[bodhranwriting]

Listen, I like bugs and creepy-crawlies. I think they're cute so I need other opinions.

CW BODY HORROR