“Waking Dead Mountain” Take One
This book is aimed at nine and up, so I deliberately chose third person (instead of first person, which I generally prefer), which is recommended for that age group.
It’s also the third book in a trilogy, which means I need to link it to the first two. Traveller is the daughter of the main character of the first book (Dance), and will spend most of the book with the characters from the second book. But I needed to give her some kind of challenge.
I decided she wasn’t sure she wanted to leave the island – but her mum wanted her to see the world, so she went. Familial tension can be incredibly painful (and thus, useful for the story), particularly since readers should already care about Dance. People haven’t met the father before, and I didn’t want him to be a shadowy background figure, so I gave him this small moment of ‘screen time’. |
Waking Dead Mountain: Attempt One 7/8/07
Traveller woke up, because her dad was tickling her.
'Hey!'
'Hey yourself,' he said, and sat on her bed. 'You know you don't have to go.'
Traveller bit her lip. It was almost time. She could smell midnight, and the cold of ice seeping up through the floor. 'You don't have to stay.'
'I suppose not. But the essence of being a traveller is having a place to come home to.'
Traveller giggled. 'How would you know? You've never been off the island.'
'Nor have you.'
'Nor has Mum.'
'Your mother is a smart lady, and I trust her judgement. Most of the time. We named you together, and I knew I'd have to say goodbye to you some day.'
'Do you want me to stay?'
Traveller's dad stood and paced the small room. The walls were wooden, made from a broken-up ship four generations earlier. They curved inward, making the house cosy and safe. 'No,' he said. 'I want you to go, and see for yourself. If you're a traveller by heart as well as by name, I'll be content to keep home for you.'
'What if I'm not?' said Traveller in a small voice. 'Will Mum be very upset?'
'Oh, Dance isn't as stubborn as all that. It might be she doesn't like travelling herself, when it comes to it.'
Traveller sat up. 'Do you think so?'
'Why not?' said her dad. 'Life is full of surprises, and the world is large. Or so I hear.'
Traveller pushed back the covers and stepped out onto the cold floor. 'But. . . what will I do then? Who will I be?'
'Yourself,' he said, and kissed her. 'Now come on, let's not keep Boy waiting.'
Traveller was already dressed in her best clothes, ready to set sail. |
“Waking Dead Mountain” Take Two
The first version just didn’t grab me, so I tried again. This time the tension is that Dance is afraid of Salty (the captain of the ship), and passes that fear to Traveller. It’s better tension than before, because internal tension gets boring fast. External tension (will the pirate skewer poor defenceless Traveller with her bloodstained cutlass?) is much more interesting. I also added a little more sensory detail, so the story is more real to the reader. Sensory detail is incredibly powerful, particularly when you use many senses (not just sight, but sound, smell, etc). |
Waking Dead Mountain: Attempt Two 11/8/07
'One more thing,' said Traveller's Mum as they walked down the icy harbour hill to the waiting ship. 'It might sound silly, but it. . . well, it just isn't.'
'What's wrong Mum?' said Traveller. She tried to meet her Mum's eye, but one of Dance's eyes always pointed in odd directions, and it was impossible to catch her expression from that side.
'Nothing's wrong,' Dance said, brightly. She patted Traveller's tightly-plaited hair. 'As long as you make absolutely sure not to bother the captain.'
'Captain Salty?'
'That's right.'
'Why?' asked Traveller, pausing. The midday mist coiled around her feet, making her seem taller than she was. 'Are you sure nothing's wrong?'
Dance pushed back her own white hair, which only made it spring out from her head in more directions than before. 'I don't know. Presumably you've heard the stories Salty herself spreads around?'
'But she's different now she's old,' said Traveller. 'Isn't she?'
Dance glanced back over her shoulder at the village she and Traveller had called home all their lives. 'I don't know. But I promised your father I'd take good care of you. That means keeping you and Salty as far apart as possible. I've asked a few questions, and found out she prefers the night shift. That means she'll be asleep every morning, which is a start. But I'm trusting you to keep out of her way the rest of the time.'
'Okay, Mum,' said Traveller, 'I'll do my best.' She spotted her friend Ana leaning over the port side railing and ran down the icy hill until she fell over and slid all the way to the beach.
Ana waved frantically, bouncing up and down in her excitement, and twisted one of her natural ringlets around a finger. Traveller jumped up and ran straight into the waves of the beach. Her mouth curved upwards, as always, at the warm whisper of waves against her legs. She wasn't sure she wanted to leave her home island at all, but at least she'd never leave the ocean. And at least her Mum was with her. |
“Waking Dead Mountain” Take Three
Traveller was still too wimpy to be a main character. I finally realised her goal had to be the goal of the book: to wake a dead mountain. There were going to be an overwhelming number of strong characters on the ship, so I decided Dance was unable to go – which means Traveller is now more vulnerable than ever (though I’ll need to explain later why Dance sent her little girl off alone with a pirate). I also gave Traveller an interesting ability that doubles as a drawback. She can feel the emotions of the heest. Unfortunately, she can’t shut them out, which causes immediate problems from the first chapter (while the Salty problem simmers for a few more chapters). Greater difficulty for Traveller means more enjoyable stress for the reader. |
Waking Dead Mountain: Attempt Three 21/8/07
Traveller and her Mum walked slowly down the hill toward the harbour, as if they could stop what had to happen. A ship waited to take Traveller away. It tipped to one side gently, making the furled sails shrug their sympathy. Traveller had left her shoes at home, and the icy ground burned her bare feet. She looked down, and smiled. There beneath her feet, as always, were the monsters. The monsters were called heest; wild, bulky creatures as big as houses, with giant red eyes and glowing red heartbeats through their translucent skin. They followed her everywhere, spinning in delighted circles when she laughed, and nudging at the ice below her feet whenever she felt sad. Most people believed heest were mythical; ice-dwelling fish that could make the ground open up and swallow a man whole. Traveller could feel their thoughts, gently, through the ice, warming her as she tried not to think about what she was doing. She didn't blame them for making her leave home. Their world was broken, and only Traveller could understand them clearly enough to help. She considered feeling sorry for herself, and decided not to.
'One more thing,' said Traveller's Mum as they continued down the icy harbour hill to the waiting ship. 'It might sound silly, but it. . . well, it just isn't.'
'What's wrong Mum?' said Traveller. She tried to meet Dance's eye, but one of them always pointed in odd directions, and it was impossible to catch her expression from that side.
'Nothing's wrong,' Dance said, brightly. She patted Traveller's tightly-plaited hair. 'As long as you make absolutely sure not to bother the captain.'
'Ana's grandma?'
'That'd be the one.'
'Why?' asked Traveller, pausing. The morning mist coiled around her legs, making her seem taller than she was. 'Are you sure nothing's wrong?'
Dance pushed back her own white hair, which only made it spring out from her brown face in more directions than before. 'I don't know. Presumably you've heard the stories Salty herself spreads around? About being a pirate?'
'But she's different now she's old,' said Traveller. 'Isn't she?'
Dance glanced back over her shoulder at the village she and Traveller had called home all their lives. 'I've asked a few questions, and found out she prefers to work on the night watch. That means she'll be asleep every morning, which is a start. But I'm trusting you to keep out of her way the rest of the time.'
'I'll do my best,' said Traveller. She spotted Ana herself leaning over the port side railing of the ship and suddenly missed her brilliant smile. It had been far too long. She ran down the icy hill until she fell over and slid awkwardly onto the beach. Grains of ice, not sand, dug into her hands.
Ana waved frantically, bouncing up and down in her excitement, and twisted one of her natural ringlets around a brown finger. Traveller jumped up and ran straight into the waves of the beach. Her mouth curved upward, as always, at the warm whisper of waves against her legs. At least she'd never leave the ocean. Or the ice, far below everything, where the heest fluttered their ragged fins in echoed excitement.
Ana yelled a greeting. She jumped into the waiting rowboat and hung dangerously far over the side as the crew lowered it into the water. One of the crew seemed to be missing an arm. Traveller grabbed a breath and dived through a wave to get closer to her friend. The water rushed past her face, and she opened her eyes to see bright bubbles in the green. She surfaced gasping for air, and grabbed Ana's outstretched hand. Ana tugged and Traveller kicked, but it was the one-armed man that clasped Traveller's elbow and lifted her aboard. |