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| Tee Morris & Pip Ballantine in steampunk style |
Pippa Ballantine and Tee Morris, the husband and wife duo responsible for the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences series were there and, aside from speaking hilariously of their adventures in publishing, ran a writing workshop on Friday, which I was fortunate enough to attend. Sneakily, they assigned us each a character to write with and now I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to write a proper story with my superhero whose powers are failing. Darn it! Too many story ideas and not enough time to write them! I'll find a way somehow. (For a sneak peak at some of what I produced during the workshop, see below.)
Elizabeth Heritage took a fantastic session on publicity for books in NZ, guest of honour, Gail Garriger showed off her dancing skills and discussed corsets for beginners, and there were many other fantastic events.
I can't wait for next year's con!
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| Me & Debbie Cowens, ready to read our novels at Atlantis Books |
Sneak peek
Here are some snippets I produced during the writers' workshop with Pippa and Tee. This first one is to establish the character, show who they are, and some of their vulnerability. I was given "a superhero whose powers are failing."
The smell of a church has always
been a comfort to me, even as a child.
For forty years, there’s always been something about the oiled wood of
the pews and old incense that pulls peace into the world. The dim light from stained glass windows, the
old stone of the walls. Almost all
churches have that feeling. That
connection to God.
Almost all.
I’ve always felt it here before,
but not today. I finger the cross at my
throat and stare up at the figure of Christ.
“Is this how You felt in those last moments?” I wonder. The words spoken from the cross are seared
into my mind: “My God, why have you
forsaken me?”
A chill runs over my skin. Goosebumps.
I’m feeling the cold. How is that
possible? Why is it happening now? I quickly unroll the sleeves of my
shirt. A lifetime hiding invulnerability
and now I’m covering goosebumps.
I press my knuckles against the
hard edge of the pew in front of me. The
sharp corner of wood where it hasn’t been worn smooth by years of parishioners
hauling themselves up for hymns. It
hurts. I stare at the indentation it
makes in my skin, a red groove in the pale flesh.
Simple wood can hurt me now. Wood, for Christ’s sake! How do I protect a city that depends on me
now? Friends complain of grey hairs as
they age. Mine were earned with hours
spent a suit and a mask, defending the innocent. I don’t mind the grey, but it won’t be enough
to save Isobelle or put a stop to the drug dealer’s plans. I need my powers for that. And my powers are failing.
The next section was an exercise in dialogue. The same character (3rd person, this time) but being offered help by another character. Then, the second character changes their mind about helping and our hero must convince them by offering something they want. See how it turned out:
“Jamieson.” Mother Superior’s voice lassoed him with soft
authority.
He stopped. The shade of the oak gave a certain privacy
to the convent’s yard. “Yes?”
“I can help you.”
Rick licked his lips. They felt dry and cracked. “Help me?”
“With your…problem.”
He blinked. “What problem is that?”
Her grey eyes narrowed beneath
the habit she wore, turning the lines on her face into deep creases. “You don’t have time to play coy, young
man. You think we haven’t noticed? You need an intervention with the
Almighty. And you need it soon.”
“Your prayers are always welcome,
Mother, but…”
“Pish! I don’t mean prayer. Prayer won’t help you now. You need your powers back and that requires
action.”
“My powers.” He swallowed.
“How much do you know?”
She chuckled, a dry rasping
sound. “More than you, I’d wager. But if you want my help, we have to act
now. Easter is the time our Lord spent
in the grave. God’s attention on this
world is less during the time before the resurrection.”
“Is that why…?” He floundered, waving a hand in small,
ineffectual motions. “Is that why my
powers are gone? They came from God and
He’s…mourning?”
She shook her head. “No, child.
But it gives us a chance to summon someone who can bring them back. The fallen angel, Azadriel. Your father.”
Rick felt the weight of her words
settle in his chest. It was hard to
breathe. “No. That…that’s nonsense. What are you talking about?”
“Your father wasn’t human, Mr
Jamieson. There’s a reason you got the
powers you have.” She shrugged. “That you used to have.”
He frowned. “No.
You’re tempting me. You’re the
devil in the wilderness. Even if this
were true, why would you have anything to do with a fallen angel? That’s evil incarnate.”
Her lips pressed tight and her
jaw hardened beneath her crumpled paper skin.
“I’ve run this convent for 30 years, Rick Jamieson. I’ve watched you grow up and watched you do
good with the gifts you were given and never once turned on you or your mother
for what was done all those years ago.
Now you call me the devil? Me. With the blood of a fallen angel running
through your veins!” Her fingers
clutched at the rosary hanging at her side.
“Solve your own problems, you ungrateful boy. And I’ll solve mine. There will be other ways to get that girl to
safety. You’re not the only powerful
contact I have in this city.” She turned
and strode away.
Rick hesitated. What else did she know? “Wait!” he called.
She stopped. Her head lifted, the fabric of the habit
sliding an inch further down her back.
She did not face him. “What?”
He took a few steps closer, out
of the shade and the sun felt suddenly hot on his skin. “Who’s the girl you’re trying to save? Is it…?”
“Isobelle,” she said. “Yes.
But there’s a better way.”
“How?”
“I’ll give them what they
want. A place on the convent grounds to
store their drugs.”
“But you know what that will do
to the city. If we don’t stand up to
them, they’ll control everything.”
“And if we do, we lose Isobelle
or maybe our souls. You’re right. Whether he’s your father or not, dealing with
a fallen angel is a fool’s business.”
He rested a hand on her
shoulder. “Please. Let me try.”
And that concludes our taste of this particular story. I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you to Pippa and Tee for their workshop. If you'd like to hear more of this story, keep your eyes open and maybe sign up to my newsletter. I'll be finishing it and making the full story available in the future.
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