A Thread for Writers to talk about Writing

[Just Jim]

On 12/6/2016 at 6:57 PM, UnusualAttitude said:

And the thing about a first-person log (and maybe this is what @adsii1970 meant, because he is basically doing the same thing), is that you have to imagine your whole narrative with this voice, not just the dialogues. There is no neutral "voiceless narrator". The whole thing is a monologue of your main character(s). So it must be consistent and distinctive, without being over-the-top and impossible to keep up for 100,000 words or more. That is really hard to do for Bartdon, in particular, with all his damning and blasting. It's just one of those things that seemed like a good idea at the time, I suppose...

Yeah, I do see what you mean being written in a first person style getting monotonous real fast. But I think, in my own head, I would still eventually be doing the other characters in other voices.

 

On 12/6/2016 at 6:57 PM, UnusualAttitude said:

Not sure about Camwise. Maybe an improbably tech-savvy Arthur Dent with a slight gallic accent. Weird indeed.

You mean Martin Freeman, from the movie?  Now that would be fun.  

 

On 12/6/2016 at 3:09 PM, KSK said:

And there's a good topic for discussion! Dialogue, avoiding repetition and variations on the "he/she said" tags that don't sound too goofy or 'boys own comic'?

Oh yeah!  This is one of my biggest issues, one I'm constantly trying to avoid. I spend way more time trying to think out the "he/she said" part of sentences than the actual dialog. And it's one of the things I change the most when I proofread a chapter. Keeping it from being repetitious is quite a trick.

[UnusualAttitude]

17 minutes ago, Just Jim said:

You mean Martin Freeman, from the movie?  Now that would be fun.  

Martin Freeman is awesome in a number of roles (as Bilbo Baggins and Dr. Watson in Sherlock), but those of us who grew up with the BBC remember the original voice of Arthur Dent as played by Simon Jones in the radio plays, and later the 1980s TV series of the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. His cranky, high-pitched voice expresses the anguish of being a normal guy plucked out of a mundane existence and blasted unwittingly into space perfectly. It suits Camwise well, I think. 

[Just Jim]

9 minutes ago, UnusualAttitude said:

Martin Freeman is awesome in a number of roles (as Bilbo Baggins and Dr. Watson in Sherlock), but those of us who grew up with the BBC remember the original voice of Arthur Dent as played by Simon Jones in the radio plays, and later the 1980s TV series of the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. His cranky, high-pitched voice expresses the anguish of being a normal guy plucked out of a mundane existence and blasted unwittingly into space perfectly. It suits Camwise well, I think. 

Oh wow, yeah, I can definitely hear it!

I don't think I ever heard the radio plays, but I do remember the TV series a little. Problem was back then the only BBC we got was on PBS, and that was only now and then. But listening to him now, I agree, Jones has a great voice for Camwise.

[steuben]

On ‎2016‎-‎12‎-‎06 at 3:09 PM, KSK said:

And there's a good topic for discussion! Dialogue, avoiding repetition and variations on the "he/she said" tags that don't sound too goofy or 'boys own comic'?

I've always considered said to be one of those invisible seen words, kind of like a clean glass window. You can see it if you are looking for it. But, otherwise you note it and ignore it. This means it can be reused without causing it to wear out.

But its extreme durability doesn't mean it can't be over used. For example: A said, B said, A said, B Said, ad repeatum. Usually what I do is drop the repeated saids after the first one. With an occasional refresh to keep from getting lost. But down this way leads to a featureless plane of dialogue... I should pay attention to my own advice in this regard.

Using adverbs with said is a bit like salt. A bit is good, sometimes a lot is good, but too much all you taste is the salt. Oblig TVtropes reference: Said Bookism, parent of the good old Tom Swifty.  

The way to avoid it completely is to embed the speech in action. The who is talking is implied by the taker of the action. Example:

Quote

Jebediah stomped out. “Who the kell…“ He looked around wild eyed. “Val, did you? Turn it back on Val!”

Valentina backed up a couple of steps. “No Jeb.”

*scribbles a note about editing chapter 4* Doing things this way does avoid the two brains in a jar effect. *gurgle*  But, used too much and you will always have your characters emoting and gesturing, which can become hammy. Unless you Want. Them. Milking. The Sky. COW! Then by all means.

Supplemental reading: http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/there-are-no-rules/keep-it-simple-keys-to-realistic-dialogue-part-ii and "How NOT to Write a Novel"

[Mister Dilsby]

14 minutes ago, steuben said:

The way to avoid it completely is to embed the speech in action. The who is talking is implied by the taker of the action.

I do prefer to write that way when I'm writing a text-only story, myself. The action and the speech move together, naturally. It can't be overdone, as you rightly point out. I think a good guideline is that when there is action going on, let the actions provide the speech tags--when people are just talking "he said" is the action, and that's what you go with. Otherwise you have a lot of superfluous contrivance like 

Quote

Jeb blinked and shifted in his chair. "This is really awkward"
Val nodded sideways and brushed invisible lint off her uniform. "Yeah. We need to blow some stuff up before the readers fall asleep." 

What I hate hate HATE is when it's written such that the speech tags should all be "he said"s, but the author read somewhere that saying "he said"  is wrong, so you get:

Quote

"Is this better?" queried Jeb.
"No, I don't think so," Val opined. "It's a bit cleaner, but it still sounds really awkward."
"Couldn't we just go back to comics?" wondered Bob. "With the colored speech balloons and all that?"
"Not yet," declared Val, "We're doing an example now. The comic is in the other thread."
"Ah, I see. I bet this isn't even canon," Bob mused.

 

Edited December 8, 2016 by Kuzzter

[0111narwhalz]

I spend a lot of time on my dialogue. It doesn't come naturally to me, so I'm very careful about it. Somehow it always looks awkward, no matter how much work I do on it, and I just have to call it good enough. That's why nobody says a word in the first two chapters of Kerbal Future except for the news anchor. But then people seem to think it's notably good, which confuses me slightly.

Most of the time, I embed the speech in the action, but if I only have two speakers and the conversation is long, I tend to drop the tags and let the alternating lines carry the speakers. It seems to work well enough in most cases.

[Ten Key]

1 hour ago, 0111narwhalz said:

Most of the time, I embed the speech in the action, but if I only have two speakers and the conversation is long, I tend to drop the tags and let the alternating lines carry the speakers. It seems to work well enough in most cases.

Looks like you beat me to the punch Narwhalz. So the rest of this can be considered "me also".  

===

There are times where I omit the speech tags entirely. When there are only two characters involved in a conversation, and both have been clearly identified, it is not necessary to attribute every single line of dialog to a specific character. You can identify the initial speaker, and then just let the conversation roll back and forth for a while. 

When you have a larger group of characters, having one of them ask a question by name (or title!) is a good way of dodging speech tags. From the "Said Bookism" trope thingamabob. . .

Quote

"Are you lost, Daddy?" I asked tenderly. 
"Shut up," he explained.

I think you can also get away with not always identifying a speaker immediately. Sometimes it's okay to let a line of dialog hang for a bit and use the responses to pin it to a specific character.

Quote

Jeb leaned back from the table. "Here Val, how does this look?"
"No, I don't think so. It's a bit cleaner, but it still sounds really awkward."
"Couldn't we just go back to comics? With the colored speech balloons and all that?"
"Bob. . ." Jeb put a hand on his friend's shoulder, steered him in the direction of the door. "I think I saw some crayons or something in the breakroom, why don't you go take five? The adults are trying to have a conversation."

And finally, sometimes it just doesn't matter who's speaking. There is something to be said for using a nameless voice in the crowd, even when that crowd consists entirely of main characters. I will do this sometimes when I want to drop a bit of information for the reader, but don't want to spend more time on it than I absolutely have to. Usually this comes in the form of a question, and it's the response I actually care about. 

Edited December 8, 2016 by Ten Key
the inevitable typo

[KSK]

3 hours ago, Kuzzter said:

What I hate hate HATE is when it's written such that the speech tags should all be "he said"s, but the author read somewhere that saying "he said"  is wrong, so you get:

"Is this better?" queried Jeb.
"No, I don't think so," Val opined. "It's a bit cleaner, but it still sounds really awkward."
"Couldn't we just go back to comics?" wondered Bob. "With the colored speech balloons and all that?"
"Not yet," declared Val, "We're doing an example now. The comic is in the other thread."
"Ah, I see. I bet this isn't even canon," Bob mused.

Then of course you get the really outlandish ones:

"Great Kraken," Jeb expostulated, "Why is this tom-fool of a writer making me talk like this."

I get what you're saying @Kuzzter but to my mind it wouldn't take much tweaking to make that conversation sound OK, and it needn't all be a solid block of 'he said / she said'. All you need do is take out some of the more flowery verbs.

"Is this better?" asked Jeb.
"No, I don't think so," Val said. "It's a bit cleaner, but it still sounds really awkward."
"Couldn't we just go back to comics?" said Bob. "With the colored speech balloons and all that?"
"Not yet," replied Val, "We're doing an example now. The comic is in the other thread."
"Ah, I see. I bet this isn't even canon," said Bob.

Personally, I don't mind breaking up the 'said's with the occasional other verb, especially if those verbs a) are fairly plain English (why query when you can simply ask?) and b) are actually something to do with speech. 'Asking', 'answering', or 'replying' are all fair game in my opinion and, although I can't quite put my finger on what they are, sound like they have different shades of meaning. Similarly 'shouting' and 'yelling' are OK to add a bit of extra emphasis where required.

Some verbs just don't work though.

On 10/20/2013 at 4:05 PM, KSK said:

Bob popped the last fragment of chargrilled mushroom into his mouth and stifled a belch. “Now that you mention it, Jeb," he said solemnly, “I have been working on a song or two for just such an occasion."

More or less OK.

On 10/20/2013 at 4:05 PM, KSK said:

Bob popped the last fragment of chargrilled mushroom into his mouth and wiped his mouth. “Now that you mention it, Jeb," he belched, “I have been working on a song or two for just such an occasion."

Fugly.

Edited December 8, 2016 by KSK

[Mister Dilsby]

1 minute ago, KSK said:

"Is this better?" asked Jeb.
"No, I don't think so," Val said. "It's a bit cleaner, but it still sounds really awkward."
"Couldn't we just go back to comics?" said Bob. "With the colored speech balloons and all that?"
"Not yet," replied Val, "We're doing an example now. The comic is in the other thread."
"Ah, I see. I bet this isn't even canon," said Bob.

Yes, that's exactly how you do it--I didn't mean to imply it has to be ALL "said"s, what really sticks out is when the author can't get out of his own way--maybe by always using "said", maybe by never using "said"--such that the speech tags lose their transparency and steal focus from the actual dialogue.

How much to do? How little to do? If anyone could explain that, it wouldn't be an art.  

[KSK]

17 minutes ago, Kuzzter said:

Yes, that's exactly how you do it--I didn't mean to imply it has to be ALL "said"s, what really sticks out is when the author can't get out of his own way.

That's a good way of putting it - I like it.

[TheEpicSquared]

Hi, could I receive some general feedback on my Through Hardships to the Stars story? Thanks  

[KSK]

Interesting. It's very picture heavy and very different to the stuff I write, so I'm maybe not the best person to comment on it -  @JustJim is probably who you need to be talking to. With all that said, here are my comments for what they're worth.

First - your best chapters are definitely the ones where you have characters interacting and talking to each other. The maiden voyage of Merkury-Appaloosa for example worked well. (He says trying to avoid spoilers  ).

Next - you could cut back on some of the launch sequences. After a while they do tend to run into each other and most launches which the author is describing as 'boring' or 'uneventful' could probably be cut. Having one or two routine launches is fine just to show that your guys can do it but otherwise - do we really need to see the fourth launch of a rocket we've seen before. Similar comments apply to routine orbital manoeuvres. 

You could try showing some of those flights from a different perspective - for example from Mission Control or from a kernel in the crowd watching the launch. You could also be a bit selective about which parts of the flight you describe - they don't all need to start on the launchpad.

Quick example from my own writing.

Pioneer 1 is my Apollo 8 equivalent. The launch is described in detail, swapping points of view between the kerbonauts and mission control. I skip over most of the rendezvous and docking in LKO because we've seen that before in a couple of other flights. TMI is new, so that gets plenty of page time. Then the action skips ahead to cover an in-flight emergency, then all the stuff around the Mün - again because that's new. On the journey home, the technical stuff is skipped over in favour of a flashback sequence to fill in some backstory.

For comparison, Pioneer 4 is my Apollo 11 equivalent. The launch gets plenty of attention again - as seen by the watching crowds and news anchor. There's some reaction stuff from different places on Kerbin. Then we pick up the flight again in Munar orbit with the lander undocking and heading down to the surface. No need to do the whole journey to the Mun - again because we've seen it before in earlier chapters.

Obviously not all of this will work for your own story but hopefully the general ideas might help spark some ideas.

One last thing - try not to insert author comments into the text - it really kills the immersion.

Hope this helps. 

KSK.

[Cydonian Monk]

I'm late to this conversation, as usual.  As for inner voice - I absolutely have this.... some of the time. It all drills down to how our brains are wired - I'm in one of those visual/spatial mathematician type brains, so usually thoughts express themselves more like Jim's daydreams than actual words...

... Except when I'm writing or reading "direct" quotes. In those cases this "visual" part manifests itself as an audible voice and sometimes a mental image of the character speaking or the scene being played out. 

If I've been crawling through computer code all day that part of my brain seems to die a bit, or perhaps it becomes beep beep boop beep. Beep. (Part of the reason I post more on Sundays than during the week.)

 

On 12/5/2016 at 10:29 PM, Ten Key said:

"Crewed" and "crude" are, after all, homophones....

Both of which are applicable to kerbal spaceflight. 

On 12/5/2016 at 10:29 PM, Ten Key said:

In English, Dante's Inferno is an absolute slog. But in Italian, it is magic. 

Absolutely. And slog is the appropriate word for this. A good translator could really clean it up, given the chance. Probably easier to learn Italian and just read the original.

 

On 12/6/2016 at 1:50 PM, adsii1970 said:

Gene sounds a lot like the actor who played Gene in Apollo 13 

Ed Harris is John Glenn in my mind, no matter how many times he's served as CapCom or Flight Director. He's so much John Glenn (and Frank Hummel) that when I think of ANY Marine it's Ed Harris' voice I hear. (And Harris isn't even a Marine....)

Gene to me just sounds like Gene. 

Wernher sounds like John Banner. 

On 12/6/2016 at 1:50 PM, adsii1970 said:

Jebediah sounds a bit like....

Dennis Quaid. 100% Dennis Quaid. (And, ok, occasionally Randy Quaid.) 99.9% Dennis Quaid, but still the best pilot you've ever seen.

[Findthepin1]

So in the thing I'm writing (it has no name) there is a group of people that go out on a hunt. They are getting food for their tribe. There's about fifteen of them in he hunt. They are at the technological level we were at before we could control fire. So they don't have fire or anything technological. They have like spears but that is about it. Is there a way they could make some sort of bag? The materials available would be wild animals (some quite large) and grass, plants, and trees. They don't have rope or anything they could use as rope, and they don't have sewing or knitting. Anyway. Is it possible to make a bag of some sort using those things?

Edited December 14, 2016 by Findthepin1

[Mister Dilsby]

15 minutes ago, Findthepin1 said:

 Is there a way they could make some sort of bag? The materials available would be wild animals (some quite large) and grass, plants, and trees. 

At the risk of sending this thread FAR off topic for KSP-themed writing, I'll reply: if they have access to killable animals, they have access to bags. Animals are made of very convenient stretchy bags which we call "organs". Just chop them out, clean them up and you're ready to go. I hear that bladders work very well as... well, bladders. 

There's also the skin, of course. You can make a more durable bag out of skin. What's that you say? They have nothing they can use as rope? Wrong, if there are killable animals to be had! Just rip out some convenient sinew and stitch up that carry-all. What now, you've got no needle to sew it? Argh, you're standing there in front of a steaming, partially disassembled buffalo corpse and you can't make a needle? Make one out of the bones, silly!

Again, before the thread goes off the rails into a detailed discussion that might better belong on a "Clan of the Cave Bear" fanfic site, here's a convenient link to primitive crafting techniques for all kinds of objects. If you're serious about this, you need to do your own research and get your own knowledge rather than ask a bunch of people you met playing a cute alien spaceship game  

[Just Jim]

opps... you beat me again!!!

<redacted for more or less repeating everything @Kuzzter just said... lol>

 

Edited December 14, 2016 by Just Jim

[Mister Dilsby]

I thought it might be interesting to post about my process for making a page--normally I go through several iterations, all of which get deleted except the last one. This time I saved a couple, and here they are:

This is how the page for today started:

Panels and dialogue is mostly laid out, whether I have the pictures or not. I know at this point that I'm going to have timestamps but I don't know the values. 

Now I get the rest of the pictures and start moving text around: 

In the second iteration you can see that I've broken up the big block of text and redistributed it among the panels. Words are also getting cut--having to work in the dialogue without blocking all the pictures is a really great forcing function for brevity  

And finally, this is what I posted:

More text cuts, and Gene's speech changed a lot once I picked a picture and then had to work around it. Val's balloon also moved in the second panel, when I decided to make the signal delay more explicit by splitting up the end of Gene's speech.

Curious to see how others do it, both for graphic formats and text-only  

Edited December 16, 2016 by Kuzzter

[0111narwhalz]

Personally, I just write it all out in one continuous stream. I'll go back a few paragraphs and tweak a sentence or lose a word, but for the most part, once I reach the end it's done. Every now and then, I find myself retconning a couple chapters back simultaneously with Publish Time, but that doesn't happen often. _{(Or does it? You'll never know!)} 

I'm thinking about rewriting the first chapter or two of Kerbal Future. They were the first things I ever published, and they were written in a few hours in the middle of the night. I feel that I could tell the story much better now, but I'm not sure if nuking the current ones would be too jarring.
Advice?

[steuben]

I started a rewrite of the first big piece I wrote... The hard part is letting go of what you have already written. But you do get to smooth out some of rough bits of characterization and settings. I'd say try it on on the first chapter and see what you get.

I tend to write it all out on paper first. As I transcribe it to the computer I will juggle wording and order. The last tweaks are usually done just before I post it.

[KSK]

Alrighty then - I'll give this a try, using the last update to First Flight as an example.

It probably goes without saying but - 'here be spoilers'. I'm hoping they won't be too much of a big deal since anyone who cares to read First Flight will probably be up to date anyway (and anyone who doesn't care to read it won't care about spoilers either) but nevertheless - this is a spoiler warning.  

OK, by way of a synopsis for those who haven't read it, there's been a steadily building global crisis on Kerbin that's finally come to a head. There have been occasional border skirmishes but this chapter marks the point at which the cold war finally goes hot. Now, for the most part, kerbal military technology started from a pretty scrappy place. Most, if not all of their vehicles are repurposed civilian vehicles and with a couple of exceptions their weaponry is more suitable to the odd police action than major conflicts. Even then, you can imagine most of it being poorly maintained and not really fit for purpose. Think of a fat, happy old sheriff out in the middle of Nowhere. Sure he's got his old sidearm under the desk but he hasn't needed to use it in decades and if he did fire it in anger it would most likely blow up in his face. Somewhat ironically, the one striking counter to this is a recent use of rocket artillery using technology copied from the space program.

So with that in mind, here are my early chapter notes:

"Val on patrol dropping propaganda leaflets, inviting refugees back to Kolus. Frustration that nobody is listening to Obrick and Donman.
Engagement in the mountains. Guerilla tactics, IEDs, hit and run raids on logistics convoys. Intimations of heavier defences being called up from Wakiran centre.
Firesvar forces fanning out into border regions. One brigade rolls through a Wakiran Grove - but does not stop to capture it. Likewise, Kolan Groves near the border are spared.
Strategy meeting. Wakiran generals in the War Room, reviewing maps. Realisation that Firesvar troops are heading for unclaimed Kerm planting territory - at least to start with. Opportunity for counterattack - but any counter cannot be allowed to stagnate into a war of attrition and tie up planting land for too long."

Anyhow, the first section was fairly easy. I'll stick it in spoilers because it's also fairly long.  Note the use of mountaineers as tough, outdoor types who would make decent guerilla soldiers at a pinch.

Spoiler

 

The wind howled against the cliff face, catching against the craggy overhangs and swirling over jutting edges of rock with a sepulchral moan. On the cliff top, a snow griv dropped onto all fours and raised its muzzle to the sky, adding its own shivering howl to the mournful chorus, as if to welcome the ghosts of history home to roost.

The squad leader suppressed a shiver as he studied the four mountaineers in front of him. Three tough, weatherbeaten kerbals, any one of whom looked like they could, and probably had, faced down a charging scallan. Their sergeant, Lukin, wore a band of dirty grey gronnek fur around the edge of his snow hood. Deep set eyes watched the squad leader from a nest of wrinkles and more than a kerbals's fair share of scars. Gronneks don't shoot back though. And scallans don't have families. None that you'd care about anyway. A gust of wind rattled the hut windows, shaking the heavy black drapes stapled over them and keening through a chink in the slatted walls. Safe behind its screen of sooty glass, the flame from the hanging kerosene lamp barely flickered. One the mountaineers flicked a sideways glance at the drapes, before turning her attention back to the squad leader.

"Did you find them?"

Lukin snorted. "Truly. Kerm knows why they're holed up there but they are."

The squad leader shrugged. "The main passes were too obvious and they needed to resupply before breaking clear of the mountains. For sure they won't be refuelling anywhere in Wakira without a fight."

"Figured that part for myself, sir." Lukin kept his face straight with an effort. "Could point them at three, maybe four better places within an hour's drive though."

"I'm sure you could, sergeant. But now you've found them, what did you figure to do about them."

"Draw 'em out and burn 'em down, sir. Open the taps, toss in a special flare or two rigged with sawdust and sparkles - should make a full enough job of them." Lukin hooked a gloved hand over his shoulder. "Let the guards catch a look at this collection of ugly mugs first, all accidental like, to pull 'em away from the camp. Then we knock them on the head, drag 'em behind a rock, and light off the trucks." He scowled at the squad leader's approving look. "Truly. We're Wakirans, not murderers. We'll even leave the seffleks a nice fire to keep warm by. Meantime, I'll be heading off quick and quiet to the first of those safe places."

"Volunteering for bonfire duty, sergeant?"

"Wouldn't trust that lot to keep their eyebrows in one piece, sir."

The squad leader contented himself with a nod. "And afterwards."

"Box gully just south of Hookeye Ridge, sir."

"I know it. Shoes on, people - time to go."

Each of the mountaineers unhooked a pair of four-toed snowshoes from his or her harness and strapped them on. Lukin snuffed out the kerosene lamp and cautiously poked his head out of the door, before gesturing for the squad to follow. They left in single file, rocking slightly on their unevenly soled footwear, snowflakes gusting into the hut behind them.  At a murmured command they headed out into the night at a loping trot, leaving fresh trails of griv paw prints in the snow behind them. The squad leader clapped his sergeant on the shoulder and set off after them.

Doubt the shoes'll fool 'em for long but it might make the difference. And with any luck one of the seffleks'll fetch up against a real griv. Lukin checked the gear on his own harness, tied back the ear flaps on his snow hood and set off down the slope into the wind, drifting noiselessly from one rocky outcrop to the next.

An oily stench of diesel fuel was the first warning that he was getting close, the falling snow muffling sound and sight with equal facility. Cautiously he backed up against the cliff edge, trusting to the weather and his nondescript clothing for concealment. Gradually, his eyes adapted, picking out the expected edges of shadow against the night sky. Four logging trucks formed a perimeter at the edges of the camp, big bowsers of fuel strapped to their trailers. A darker, square bulk occupied the centre, a flicker of yellow light suddenly revealing an open door to a well lit interior and dim figures within.

Convenient. Six in there looks like, so another six on patrol by my last count.  He unhooked a chunky radio handset from his belt and tapped the transmit key twice, then held it for a longer burst. Then he waited.

The sharp clatter of falling stones cut through the snow-swaddled night. There was a long pause and then another, fainter clatter. Lukin crept forward, ears straining for the sound of voices. eyes swivelling from side to side. He glanced up just in time to see a figure silhouetted against the skyline. Another, more distant, clatter reached his ears but still there was no response from the supply camp. Lukin waited patiently.

Kerm. Too dumb to notice or they know exactly what we're about. Either way it seems we're doing this the hard way. He tapped out a second coded transmission, two long bursts followed by three short, then dropped to the ground, edging towards the nearest truck on his belly, reaching for the weighted baton in his belt. One of the shadows by the cab resolved itself into the figure of a guard peering alertly around. Lukin backed away on fingers and toes; circling around, gathering himself.

Like taking down a gronnek.

He sprang to his feet, loping across the snow, weapon held across his chest. The guard spun around, reaching for his belt, just as the baton snapped out and caught him neatly behind the ear with a meaty thud. He dropped to the ground without a whimper. 

Lukin flipped open the bowser hood, studied its innards for a second, then opened the main valve. Diesel gushed onto the snow, the sudden reek making his eyes water. Hastily he pulled out a rag, tied it round the valve to deaden the noise and struck it sharply with his baton. Satisfied that the - now badly bent - handle wasn’t going to close again, he heaved the unconscious guard over his shoulder and took off in a crouching run. He laid the guard down behind the first convenient rock and pulled out his radio, thumb reaching for the transmit key. 

Two answering rattles of static told him that two of the remaining bowsers had been disabled. He clenched his fists, willing the last of the saboteurs to report in. The radio hissed in his hand in one long then two short bursts. Retreating. Cannot engage without compromising position. Lukin swore under his breath then sent his final message of the night. 

Three balls of brilliant white light lit up the sky in quick succession, throwing jagged shadows over the encampment before dropping into the rapidly spreading, glistening slicks of fuel. The cabin door burst open, armed kerbals spilling out, just as the flares burst open with a loud crack scattering sawdust and burning magnesium shavings over the snow. With a deceptively soft whump, the diesel ignited, sending tongues of orange flame racing across the ground. Before the horrified Firesvarn guards could react, the flames reached the trucks, charring paintwork and igniting tyres in blazing clouds of choking black smoke. Metal warped and twisted in the heat, rivets popped, joints flexed open pouring out yet more fuel. 

The guards ran.

Amidst the chaos, three kerbals slipped quietly away into the night, leaving nothing but three trails of boot prints in the snow. A single trail of four toed paw prints, scuffed and dragged out as if made by a wounded animal, petered out amongst a rocky slope leading up to a narrow cave entrance.

 

The second part was fairly straightforward too. This is the propaganda drop. Cloudrunners are repurposed racing planes - they don't have the space to fit any sort of radar gear. Kerbals do have radar of course, for navigation and air traffic control. 

Spoiler

 

Vanguard is outbound. Bearing two-two-five for waypoint alpha.”

“Copy that, Vanguard.”

Val checked her instruments and, satisfied, leaned back in her ejection seat. “Any news from Zephyr, Control?”

“Just scheduled civilian flights, Vanguard. No Firesvarn movement on the ground, nothing heading for Nordham Bay.”

“Good,” said Val briefly. She glanced out of her cockpit canopy, searching for the rest of her patrol. “Last thing we need is disrupted shipping on top of everything else.” The glint of sunlight on steel revealed two other aircraft flying alongside her in a shallow V formation. She clicked a button. “Ferl - you with us?”

“Right above you,” came the laconic reply. 

“How’s that radar holding up?”

“Doing fine. Too bad there’s nowhere to wedge one into a Cloudrunner.”

“Yeah. We’re dropping to eyeball height. Shout if you see anything up there.”

“Will do.”

Val clicked her radio back to the air-to-ground channel. “Coming up on alpha, Control. Descending to reconnaissance altitude.”

“Copy, Vanguard. They should be expecting you but make sure you stay on the right side of the border anyway.”

“Not a problem, Control. That easterly wind is holding steady - should carry the packages right where they’re needed.”

The four aircraft flew on, the Kolan tundra unrolling relentlessly under them broken only by the thin and, Val was surprised to see, mostly deserted thread of the Northern Highway. Ferl reported a steady stream of radar contacts from the west but after Val’s terse warning to one patrol which came perilously close to crossing the border, the Wakiran forces kept a respectful distance. The tundra began to give way to scrubland and patches of conifer forest, and then to the first signs of cultivated land and kerbal habitation. A light flashed on Val’s instrument panel accompanied by a chime from the waypoint indicator.

“I’ll take the first delivery. Watch my back and for Kerm’s sake make sure you hit the next waypoint!” Val checked her transponder settings and pushed her control stick forward, easing the Cloudrunner into a shallow dive. “We’re here to offer our help - and make a point - we’re not here to get involved!” 

The outskirts of a small kerman town appeared on the horizon, surrounded by a scattering of Groves. Val banked to the right, carefully adjusting her heading, then rolled level and uncaged a button on her control stick. “Vanguard, payload armed.” Her eyes darted from canopy to waypoint indicator and back, judging distances, waiting for the exact moment. “Deploying payload!” She tipped her aircraft onto a wingtip, banking hard left, fingers clenching around the weapon release button. The torpedo pylon under the Cloudrunner’s belly sprang open and a rounded tubular capsule tumbled away towards the ground.

Explosive bolts fired, fragmenting the capsule and scattering hundreds of brightly coloured streamers across the sky, each tied to a small cardboard message tube. The wind caught the streamers, carrying them across the border and depositing them across swathes of Wakiran farmland.

One by one the other Vanguard pilots followed Val’s lead: diving for the border then pulling away leaving nothing behind but a cloud of colourful streamers to flutter down over towns and villages, fields and Kerm trees.

 

Both sections were written more-or-less as you see them, although there was some cleaning and polishing along the way. Unfortunately, I don't tend to keep any rough drafts. The next bit was difficult and I got held up on it for quite a while. Eventually, I came up with these notes.

"Chase scene – Firesvar convoy breaks through or around a hastily constructed Wakiran blockade pursued by the Wakiran forces. Initial assumption is that they’re heading for a cluster of Groves near the border. Wakiran forces break off once it becomes clear that they can’t catch up without being pulled badly out of position. Commander sends a scout force ahead to the Groves only to discover that the Firesvarn drove straight through, taking care to avoid the woodland and cultivated areas. Scouts guess that Firesvar is mainly interested in capturing Kerm-free territory and radios the main force to inform their commander.

Firesvarn forces approach a new Grove zone (similar tactics to seen previously – annexation of territory to stake it out for a new seed) and overrun it. Main chokepoint smashed, defender’s weaponry inadequate against better prepared and armoured Firesvarn vehicles. Heavy loss of life. Defenders withraw, regroup and launch counter-attack at multiple points. POV changes to one named kerbal sneaking through the forest, taking out a Firesvarn picket by stealth (cutting a throat from behind, notes that ‘it helps when you can’t see their faces’. Segue to a bloody battle in which Wakiran forces prevail despite losses. Named kerbal sees his squadmate shot through the head shortly before he, himself is killed. End scene – some few Wakiran forces hold the chokepoint leaving motionless corpses and dark stained ground behind."

I also figured out the chapter title.

"A Grove for a Grove might make a good chapter title."

Even with the notes, there were a couple of problems here, mainly because I know pretty much jack-squat about firearms but I did want to depict them as plausibly as I could. Cue, much internet research. No idea how well I did there, although I did try to avoid the obvious tropes. I also had to decide on an appropriate level of firearm technology. Eventually I decided on semi-automatic hunting rifles. As had been seen at other points in the story, my Kerbin is not short of various large, toothy critters (or small toothy critters for that matter) and my kerbals are nothing if not pragmatic. I figured a semi-automatic rifle would let them take down anything nasty at a safe range - and if that failed, to get another half-dozen shots in before said nasty closed to unsafe range. Fully automatic weaponry also seemed like overkill in an (until now) non-militaristic society. 

I ended up with this:

Spoiler

 

Gunfire hammered down the road, almost drowning out the roar of heavy diesel engines.

Designed to stop a charging snow griv at a safe distance - and if that failed, to put another half-dozen rounds into it before it closed to an unsafe distance - each shot from the heavy, semi-automatic hunting rifles was deafening by itself.  Together, they melted into a brutal, nerve-shredding din that bypassed mere eardrums and pounded the brain to an insensate mass. The Wakiran troops lay flat on the floors of their vehicles, cowering under seats, curling up in footwells, arms wrapped protectively around their heads. Bullets ripped through the air, smashing safety glass, ripping into upholstery, whining off door pillars, ricocheting around passenger compartments.

The platoon leader flung open his door. Under no illusion that a few millimetres of steel would offer any real protection, he peered through the chink between door and hinge, trying to catch a glimpse of the approaching enemy forces. Seeing nothing, he steeled himself to lean out a little further.

The rebounding door slammed into its frame. The truck lurched on its suspension, throwing the commander hard against one arm. He felt, rather than heard, a dull snap. Sheets of jagged fire strobed before his eyes and he clenched his jaw in a futile attempt to not scream. The truck lurched again, steel shrieking against steel as it rocked wildly. The commander tumbled over the handbrake, the blow knocking the wind out of him. He fell against the opposite door and this time the fire was engulfed in black.

He awoke to an ominous silence. One-handed he struggled to haul himself into his seat, not daring to inspect the throbbing weight hanging from his other shoulder. Strange - I thought it would hurt more than this. His hand trailed over the edge of the seat cushion, the momentary friction enough to scrape bone against bone.

Ahh.

Blinking exploding stars out of his eyes, the platoon leader looked around. The truck was ruined; buckled door wedged into its equally buckled frame, side panels bowing inwards and what remained of the roof riddled with bullet holes. Pellets of broken safety glass crunched unnervingly as he shifted in his seat.  The other trucks in his platoon hadn't fared any better. Knocked sideways, or in most cases, off the road altogether, one of them perilously close to fetching up against a tree trunk, their makeshift roadblock had been comprehensively demolished.  The commander screwed his eyes shut against more than the agony in his arm. 

"Squads - report in by truck."

He waited, ignoring the shaken but heartfelt swearing from the back of his own truck. Besides - I couldn't have put it better myself. 

“Alpha-one. Two kerbals down, sir! No fatalities.”

"Alpha-two is all-in. No damage here but bruised egos, sir.”

"Bravo-one  - all-in, shaken but not stirred!”

"Bravo-two - three kerbals down... and we'll be sending Calley back to her Grove, sir."

The radio went very quiet.

"Understood, Bravo-two. Charlie-one?”

“All-in, sir. No shortage of bruises but nothing that'll stop anyone holding a spade for Calley.”

"Copy." He clicked the radio off and carefully turned round in his seat. "Sure wasn't hearing any bruised mouths back there. What about the rest of you?"

"Count us in for spade duty too, sir."

The radio clicked on again. "Charlie-two reporting all-in. Anyone that can move, move. Barrim, Sidgan, please render medical assistance to Alpha-one and Bravo-two. Barrim - a word with you once you're done please. Everyone else - gear check on your transport and equipment. I don't care how much sky you can see through the roof - I want a scouting force after those Firesvarn seffleks before they do any more damage. Start at the two Groves up the road and for Kerm's sake keep your heads down.”

Two of the six trucks were wrecked beyond repair and all of the remaining four were windowless, dented and badly shot up. Fortunately, one of them still had an intact set of tyres and, after a brief inspection, four kerbals from Bravo squad piled in with their equipment and weapons and drove off.  After a brief conference with his sergeant, the platoon leader sent out two patrols drawn from trucks Alpha-two and Charlie-one. Whilst Barrim and Sidgan tended to the injured, the rest of the platoon set to work pushing their vehicles into the middle of the road and overturning them.

By the time the scouting party returned, the roadblock was back in place and a crackling fire built behind it. Bandaged kerbals stood by the warmth, sipping from tin mugs, their comrades busily stripping and cleaning weapons and repacking rucksacks. The side of the road was marked by a shallow mound of fresh earth.

“Report.”

"They didn't go anywhere near either village, sir. Far as we could tell from talking to the villagers, they went out of their way to skirt around both Groves."

A raised eyebrow. "And you took their word for it?"

"No, sir. We recced the area. Checked the rest of the Groves in the group too - nothing doing. The last anybody saw of them, they were heading southeast. Too much territory that way for a quick look, sir and since they don't seem to be looking to take any nearby Groves, we came back to report."

The platoon leader adjusted his sling, scratching absently at the thick roll of bandage around his arm. "If they're not capturing old Groves, they must be trying to claim ground for new ones. Not good but it beats the alternative. Break out the maps."

"Yes, sir." The scout ran back to his truck and retrieved a bundle of acetate rolls, which he quickly spread over the ground. The platoon gathered round, alternately studying the map or their commander.

"Southeast?"

"Yes, sir."

"They're going cross-country then.” He jabbed a finger at a line of hills sheltering an expanse of forest. “Probably heading for the Bouldertops - they’re the nearest clear territory to here. We’ve got them marked for Groves ourselves but they don’t have any defending forces to speak of. Command didn’t reckon we’d need them this far over the border.” The platoon leader grimaced. “Give them enough time to bed in and knotweed would be easier to shift.” He jumped to his feet and made for his truck, followed by his platoon sergeant. “Command’ll need to know about this. For sure we’re not going to be digging them out ourselves.”

——————

Lemke stole through the forest, creeping through the undergrowth, alert for Firesvarn pickets - or for a loose twig underfoot that would give away his position. Up ahead he spotted a tree liberally festooned with balls of twigs and moss, white feathers visible inside some of them. Automatically, he shifted course, working his way around a clump of thorn bushes, staying downwind of the woodjar rookery.

A twig snapped. Lemke froze against a tree trunk, eyes darting left and right. A dip in the ground, fringed by more bushes offered better shelter, the hard ground and drifts of dried thorns underfoot sufficient to hide his passage. He dashed forward, lifting his feet high to avoid scuff marks and dropped to his belly. Silently, his hand dropped to the knife sheathed at his waist.

He spotted a pair of boots through the bushes and held his breath. They stopped and Lemke heard a muffled clink of equipment as the Firesvarn soldier dropped to one knee, fumbling with his laces. Lemke measured the distance between them by eye, mouth suddenly dry. Up, across, head back and slice. One less picket to warn the rest. He set his jaw. I can do this. The Firesvarn straightened up, waited for a nerve-jangling minute then set off again, Lemke’s head swivelling to track him.

I can do this. I have to do this.

Lemke launched himself from the dip and threw himself across the forest floor, drawing his knife as he went. He flung his other arm out in preparation, ready to lock it round his enemy's throat. A mottled olive-and-brown jacket filled his vision, short neck and close-cropped black hair above it. Hair not so very different from his own. Hair that snapped round revealing wide open, terrified eyes.

I can’t do this.

The blade swung up and back. Lemke lashed out, slamming the hilt of his knife awkwardly into the side of the other’s head. The Firesvarn dropped bonelessly to the forest floor, eyes rolling back into their sockets. Lemke dropped the knife and fell to one knee, catching him, fingers feeling for a pulse. When he found the beat, weak but steady, he almost collapsed too, limbs suddenly shaking uncontrollably. 

Can’t leave. Must leave. Must hide. Crush berry.

He dragged the unconscious soldier into the dip he’d just vacated and heaved him onto his side. He broke off a spray of berries from the nearest thornbush and crushed them between his fingers, gagging at the sudden rotting stench. He wiped the brownish juice over the Firesvarn’s face and hands then scrubbed his fingers vigorously on the other’s jacket. 

Not dead but smells dead. Smells bad. Need to find. Make trail.

Hastily, Lemke scooped out a trench in the leaf litter. Removing the Firesvarn’s belt, he tied the soldier’s wrists together behind his back, rolled him into the trench and piled the litter back over him. Breaking off branches from the nearby bushes, he arranged them on top  of the limp form until it was mostly hidden under a blanket of thorns. He climbed to his feet and cut a shallow blaze in the nearest tree trunk, not enough to damage it but clear enough for all that knew to see. He set off into the forest again, marking a trail as he went.

——————

The first skirmish had been relatively short. Deprived of their scouts, the Firesvarn at the valley entrance were caught by surprise and then overpowered by superior Wakiran numbers. Although the fighting had been fierce, casualties were mercifully low, the Firesvarn commander unwilling to waste the lives of his troops once the true size of the Wakiran forces became apparent. After a brief foray into the forest to retrieve Lemke’s and, he had been relieved to see, a number of other scouts, the prisoners were now on their way to the nearest town. 

The second skirmish had not been short.

Lemke skidded behind a boulder, leaned out, fired, ducked back. Incoming rounds tore chips of stone off his meagre cover in reply. Rifle fire echoed from the surrounding hills in a savage counterpoint to the screams and shouted orders coming from his radio. He heard a rapid burst of fire somewhere to his right and the bullets whining over his head abruptly ceased. 

“To me!” Another Wakiran soldier waved at him frantically from behind a larger outcrop of rock. “Go, go, go!”

Lemke grabbed his own weapon and sprinted across the uneven ground, throwing himself to the ground amidst another deafening exchange. The blue band on his companion’s sleeve marked him as being from a different platoon. “Lemke - twenty-first,” he shouted over the gunfire. “You?”

“Nedrim. Fifteenth under Lenory!”

“Thought your lot were taking the next hill over!”

“Yep! Got split up by those seffleks,” Nedrim aimed a rude gesture downhill, “down there!”

“Right!”

Lemke caught a glimpse of movement to his left, turned and fired. His shots went high forcing the approaching soldier to the ground. Nedrim’s rifle roared and the soldier rolled over once and lay still. He scanned the hillside, searching for cover, fingers busy reloading his own rifle. Nedrim grabbed his arm and pointed. “That way I reckon.” 

Lemke nodded in reply, eyes darting from tussock to tussock, searching for more Firesvarn. “You go first - I’ll cover you.” He saw Nedrim sprint away in a crouching run, zig-zagging up the hill, head flicking back and forth. His rifle barrel twitched back and forth in sympathy as he tried to watch in all directions at once. Nedrim threw himself into a shallow dip, looked round, then gestured for Lemke to follow him.

A single shot rang out, startlingly close amidst the background chaos. Lemke slid feet-first into the hollow, just in time to see Nedrim topple forward. Time seemed to slow down as he stared at the other kerbal in sudden disbelief, barely registering the blood and tissues spattering his own uniform or fluids seeping into the grass from what remained of Nedrim’s skull. From the back it seemed strangely undamaged. 

The part of Lemke’s mind that wasn’t yammering in shock flung him sideways and round, desperately trying to bring his rifle to bear on the attacker behind him. Something flared in the corner of his eye and he felt a sudden dull pain in his chest. Hitting the ground awkwardly, he rolled onto his back, both hands patting the front of his jacket curiously. 

The sky seemed to turn pale and grey, clouds gathering around the tops of the Bouldertop hills. Lemke touched his damp sleeve with a finger. Must be raining. I should get to shelter. He tried to sit up but nothing seemed to work any more. His joints felt as if they were packed with sand; gritty, slow, unwilling to move. His eyes felt suddenly heavy, the leathery rasp as they rolled back against his eyelids almost soothing. Like a… like a…

Lemke’s rifle slipped out of his hands. One leg twitched briefly and then fell still.

——————

Bleakly, the Firesvar commander surveyed the aftermath of the second skirmish, the remains of his personal platoon gathered silently around him. Bodies littered the battlefield, Firesvarn and Wakiran alike. Each of them a mother’s son or daughter lying dead on a hillside far from home.

Mostly, I stuck to the notes, although the final story wasn't quite as complicated and used fewer scenes. I also cut out the throat-cutting scene - even for a deliberately dark chapter that was a step too far and also far too cold-blooded for my kerbals as previously depicted.

Edited December 19, 2016 by KSK
Removing pointless angry diatribe

[DarkOwl57]

I have decided to do this one thing for my own good.

Due to a lack of participation in my War story (See the link below to check it out), I probably won't try to make another series. It was a good run; I had a maximum of 76 comments on my second story; But I feel that I'm losing an edge. I don't know what to do really... I'm trying my absolute hardest to bring attention to it and work my best to write good quality chapters... But it's not working. I feel like I've failed in some way. I am obviously going to finish the Battle of Kerbin, but I'm not sure if I'm going to write another story after this one...

[Mister Dilsby]

Hey Owl, I know how frustrating it is. We have ALL been there whether or not we're there right now. Part of a writer's growth is learning to abandon things that aren't working--whether it's a single line of dialogue or a whole story--and move on.

What I will advise is to manage your expectations. It's easy in any new endeavor to look at the most successful people already doing it and think that you'll have the same kind of success they do as soon as you jump in. I was lucky: when I started Kerbfleet no one was doing anything like it. It was easier for me to build a reader base, and I've grown that base over a couple of years to where it is now. 

Work at your craft. Fail. Then tune your product--figure out what worked (if anything) and what didn't. You have to be able to step outside yourself and really be objective. That's how you get better.

[Angelo Kerman]

A little late to the party, but when I did Test Flight (all parts are up), I started with a script containing dialog and a general idea of what images to use. I actually flew the whole mission and took lots of screenshots before writing the story... then I laid out the panels in Photoshop and found whatever word balloons  that I could find. In several cases I had to create custom ones. For the most part, the dialog on the pages is what I originally wrote.

I tried using a format similar to @Kuzzter's stories because I'd never made a webcomic before and I wanted to see what it entailed. I also wrote some news articles for the minor missions, partly to see what format, webcomic or news report, I liked best. Certainly the news report format was easier for me to write.

Anyway, Test Flight was a way for me to explore my mission report options. I spent so much time last year modding that I hardly had a chance to play. This year I want to change that, and do something I haven't done before: go explore Kerbin and all of its anomalies. I even designed the Heisenberg mod so I'll have an airship to explore with. The Akron is nearly ready to fly, she just needs me to finish up the Buffalo Wings mod update.

Edited January 6, 2017 by Angel-125

[KSK]

Hey @DarkOwl57.

Well first off - and I say this in total seriousness - congratulations! You finished your war story and I can tell you right now that that puts you way ahead of most writers on this forum, myself included. And it was a pretty substantial piece of work too. If you ever feel inclined, check out the Fan Works Library. As the person who compiled and maintains (sporadically  ) that thread, I can tell you that finished works of any length are a rare thing indeed.

So try not to get too downhearted. You got followers and they kept coming back for more. So you must have been doing something right, yes?

Next - war stories aren't really my thing, so I confess that I didn't follow yours past the first couple of chapters. But Cross Kountry looks very interesting indeed - speaking personally, I hope you find the inspiration to continue with that because I see lots of potential there!

[DarkOwl57]

4 minutes ago, KSK said:

Hey @DarkOwl57.

Well first off - and I say this in total seriousness - congratulations! You finished your war story and I can tell you right now that that puts you way ahead of most writers on this forum, myself included.

Well, I finished 1, let one die, and I'm still working on part three.

5 minutes ago, KSK said:

So try not to get too downhearted. You got followers and they kept coming back for more. So you must have been doing something right, yes?

Well.. Yeah I guess. 

 

5 minutes ago, KSK said:

Next - war stories aren't really my thing, so I confess that I didn't follow yours past the first couple of chapters. 

5 minutes ago, KSK said:

But Cross Kountry looks very interesting indeed - speaking personally, I hope you find the inspiration to continue with that because I see lots of potential there!

Wait... huh?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

OH KRAP I FORGOT ABOUT CROSS KOUNTRY!!!!!