Dancing Lights Behind My Eyes

First of all, I apologize for the extreme lateness of this post.  I have just submitted a novella to a publisher for consideration for an anthology.  I’ve been working frantically on that for the majority of December.  I am exceedingly blessed to have two very dear friends who are willing to go through the ringer with me.  I use them as sounding boards, as handkerchiefs, as praise monkeys, and as my first-round editors.  You are dreams, and I adore you both so incredibly much.  Thank you.

And for full disclosure, my spare time has been eaten up by a Qunari named Signify.  Signify has been dubbed the Herald of Andraste and she’s in the process of growing the influence of the Inquisition.  I have enjoyed the other two Dragon Age games I have played thus far, but Inquisition has taken the cake.  I would gladly spend the next four days glued to the tv and controller, but for the need for editing.

I do miss Fenris, though.

I am working on the second round of edits for the piece to be published next year.  This round has been more difficult.  There is, of course, the reiteration of my weak points from the first round, but also a basic questioning of some of the nomenclature in the story.  The point both of the editors have made is exceedingly valid: reader confusion, mental changes to the characters, a lack of “history” for the race itself based on common interpretations of the used words.  And though I can see this validity, though I agree with it, I still have some part of me utterly opposed to changing it.

It isn’t an opposition of “This is my story and I’ll do what I like with it.”  It’s not a difference of views; I see and agree with the argument.  This is something entrenched within my breast, something that is reviled by changing the nomenclature.  Repulsed.  Refusal.

The frustrating part of this is that I can’t say why I am so against the change.  I’m not sure why this is so important to.. that world or my subconscious or whatever it might be.  But this isn’t the first time something inside has decided things without my conscious mind knowing.  So I shall endeavour to stop fighting it and simply let it rise to the surface, to surprise me when I least expect it.  Then the world-building will be clear, the decision made valid, and the next story– should there be one– can grow properly.

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