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This is an experiment in writing fiction in public -- as well as in writing fiction, full stop. (I write poetry, mostly.)

Plain Kate is a fairy tale novel, which I will probably market as YA. I plan to present scenes here as they are written. I write out of order; I don't use an outline; and sometimes I change my mind about early scenes and don't correct them right away.

Try the archives if you want to start from the beginning. Comments are welcome.
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Sep. 22nd, 2006 @ 10:41 am 3.5
This follows almost directly from the last bit from the last bit. Having recovered some spiritual and physical strength, Kate decides to part company with Linay. In an unwritten scene, she struggles out of the tangle of willows in the river flat, up the bluff to the river road. There is a strip of farmland won from the forest: wheat fields, with the forest behind. She is exhausted by the climb, and unprepared to make her way -- a little muddled with weakness.


The wheat field was half-harvested, rough-shorn as Drina's hair. Kate walked beside it, feeling her legs tremble. The field was quiet, thick with starlings, who were feasting on the fallen wheat.

Plain Kate was a town girl -- the word she thought was gadji -- but she knew wheat wasn't left to lie in the fields until the poppies came up through it. She looked at the red flowers dancing in the ruffled skirts. Something was wrong.

( three scenes; long. )
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May. 23rd, 2006 @ 12:05 pm 3.4 Interlude
Following directly from the last chunk. I had in mind a piece of plot that would happen here, but I -- well, who needs plot.



"I could kill the heron," said Taggle. "If I wanted. I would lie in wait, on one of the willow branches, and take him from above."

"Like a panther," said Kate. She was working her way towards the pool that was hidden from Linay’s boat by the largest willow. She inched along the bottom of the V made by the steep bank and the willow’s great furrowed trunk, balancing with both hands.

Taggle curled his tail. "A panther," he said. "Ah. A panther." He sprang up on a branch and padded along beside her ear.

The willow’s rough bark made her feel the fragile tightness of the new scars on her hands. Would she still be able to carve, with her hands stiff and gloved in scars? It was the only thing she could do. She came clear of the willow, and found herself above the edge of the little pool, tucked into the bank.

The pool was a half circle, with the willow branching above and green fronds trailing in the water like a curtain, all around. Taggle stretched himself out on the branch, over the pool. "I would wait," he announced, "like this."

Plain Kate looked at the green, dappled space. Her skin was sticky and grimed as she’d been wound up by a spider for months. Her legs did hold her, but they trembled a little.
"Is it safe, here?"

"I will watch," said the cat, nonchalantly, and closed his eyes.

And Kate first huffed, then suddenly laughed from the bottom of her heart. She took off her smock and leggings, and wearing nothing but the cat charm around her neck, eased out into the calm, clear water. Little willow leaves, dark as tea, stirred up from the bottom, and cool mud squelched between her toes. She splashed until she felt new, then lay back in the pool and watched Taggle’s dream-twitching feet, and the willow against the sky.
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May. 16th, 2006 @ 03:58 pm 3.1 - 3.3 on Linay's boat.
This follows directly from 2.4, The Rusalka, and replaces the earlier 3.1. It's long.




She rocked like a cradle. There was a chuck, chuck like a dove or waves on a dock. Plain Kate woke.

She was dry. She was lying in on something soft. She was wrapped in soft blankets. There was a soft light, and a smell like a herb garden. Taggle was a long warmth stretched at one side, his chin in her hand, his tail curled over her neck. She thought they might be in heaven.

Taggle farted.

( It's long. )
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Feb. 25th, 2005 @ 12:49 am 2.4 The rusalka
This follows directly from 2.3, "The bear cage" (there's a small revision there in which Stivo drops the key to the bear cage, steps on it to keep Kate from grabbing it, then picks it up and hangs it from his belt) and leads directly into 3.1, "Linay's Boat" (which should now make more sense). And this is the part I've been avoiding writing. Kate, I'm awfully sorry about this.

***
Sun. Sun after five days of drizzle and mist. The bear cage grew hot. It still smelled like the bear, rank, and it still had some of the bear's fleas. She scratched and pushed the stale straw to the cage edge.

Then through the straw heap came Taggle, ambling, slipping through the bars, a young muskrat in his teeth. "Wrph," said Taggle, around his catch. He spat the creature out: it tried to stagger away and he put a paw down on its back. "Did you find the sausages?"

Plain Kate looked around, then whispered, "Taggle — they think I'm a witch."

"So," he said, "no sausages?"

"No sausages," she said, exasperated.

"Well." He flipped the muskrat into the air and killed it with a swipe. "I might be persuaded to share."
( Read more... )
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Feb. 8th, 2005 @ 10:15 pm 1.1 - 1.3 Complete Chapter One (revised)
This comes right after the prologue.

( It's really long. There are some updates to the first part. )

***
( this part is new )

***
( only minor changes to the end )
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Oct. 24th, 2004 @ 10:56 pm 3.1 Linay's boat
Here's the beginning of part 3, even though I haven't written the end of part 2 yet. Let's just say it doesn't go well. I'll probably skip the horrible parts anyway, so I'm not giving much away by skipping ahead.


*****

She rocked like a cradle. There was a chuck, chuck like a dove or waves on a dock. Plain Kate woke.

She was dry. She was lying in on something soft. She was wrapped in soft blankets. There was a soft light, and a smell like rain in an herb garden. Taggle was a long warmth stretched at one side, his chin in her hand, his tail curled over her neck. She thought they might be in heaven.
( Read more... )

Yes, it's a poem. Pay attention to the stuff that rhymes. As experienced readers of fantasy will know, the magic plot decoder ring (TM) always spits out its information in form of bad verse. However, I am tempted to forgive myself (mark the date!) because I have already established that Linay breaks into rhyme occasionally, and can't lie. (Or that's what he said. He meant it, I think.) So he might very well give away his master plan in verse form when asked.
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Oct. 24th, 2004 @ 12:45 am 2.3 The bear cage
Note to self: a few more Roma words would make it easier to connect Linay to the Roamers later. Nadja and Drina -- girl's names. This follows immediately on the last one.

**********

Rye Baro's words produced first a silence then a chorus of shouting. Stivo wrenched her around, and she could see how his shadow moved like a cape around him, how everyone's shadows stretched in the early slant of light.

"No shadow!" Stivo cried, and Nadja screamed.

On top of one of the wagons was an iron cage that had once held a dancing bear. They hauled it down and shoved her in it. She lurched up, banged her head on the bars, and fell sprawling. "I didn't," she was shouting. "I didn't do anything!"

Plain Kate rolled over and looked up at the gathered Roamers. The strong stripes of shadow-bars fell around her but didn't touch her . She could see how strange it looked on her hands. She could see how strange it looked on her face from faces that looked down at her. They were marked with awe and fear. Even Daj looked afraid. Plain Kate lay there, breathing hard, watching.
( Read more... )
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Oct. 23rd, 2004 @ 12:41 am 2.2 Plain Kate slips, is accused
(A few uneventful days later, to be dealt with in a few paragraphs, mostly establishing the characters (Stivo, Behjet, Daj, her daughters (names?), Wen, and tertiary. Need some hints of the creature from the river. These need to be worked into part one also.)

(In this first scene, Taggle should come in later.)

That night they camped in a low clearing near the river. It was more bog than meadow: a miserable camp. Every step pressed tea-colored water from the grass. The wheels of the wagons sank halfway to the hubs. The horses stamped, snorted, and pulled at the sour-smelling grass.
( Read more... )
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Oct. 18th, 2004 @ 12:29 am A different opening to Part 2
(In this one she decides she has to give Niki the headdress for his daughter's wedding. (requires fix to part 1). "Leave it on the dark doorstep and go."

Not sure how to handle the reveal/reaction on Taggle talking in this version.)

.....

Plain Kate hesitated. At the bakery, the doorstep wasn't dark. The door was thrown open. Inside the rushlights were lit. She felt the warm breathe of the ovens. Niki was standing at a table, elbow deep in dough. For a moment she stood and watched his big arms move, muscles flickering in the flickering light.

He looked up. "Plain Kate! What--"

She hesitated on the doorstep, with the night at her back. "I brought...." She held out the headdress. "I finished it."
"Come in, come in." He beat his hands together, knocking free clouds of flour. "This has to rise for the morning baking. You needn't have come so early ... too early for anybody but bakers. Set it down, let's look." She set the headdress on the corner of the table with not much sticky dough on it. She couldn't look away from the little birds. "Plain Kate." Niki's voice sounded far away. "Katerina. You're running away."
( Read more... )
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Oct. 17th, 2004 @ 12:27 am An opening to part 2
(requires a revision of part one in which Taggle's learning to talk is a accident and a surprise to PK)

Plain Kate scooched backward and stared. "Taggle!"

Taggle was snuffling round the meatpie. "It's covered with bread," he huffed. He batted the crust, then sprang back as it broke. He started licking the gravy off his paw. "Oooo," he purred. "Oh. Good."

"Taggle!" cried Kate, again.

He looked up from his licking. "Share?" He arched his whiskers forward, hopefully. "There's some bread. "

"You're --" she choked. "You can talk!"
( Read more... )
Of course, the problem with that one is I'm not sure where she's going.... ?
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Oct. 16th, 2004 @ 12:22 am 1.3 Plain Kate loses her shadow
there was no catch -- or no catch of fish. Father's nets brought up three boots. Big Hans caught a dead tree. And on the next day even less. Plain Kate saw Hans swat Taggle from his nest on top of a coil of rope. The cat was kicked and cursed from every market stall. Kate kept to herself, working. No one brought her old rolls or odd carrots. Summer thunder cleared the market square. Soaked and cold, Plain Kate worked alone to finish the bow, her hair dripping into her face.

( Read more... )
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Oct. 13th, 2004 @ 12:17 am 1.2 Linay won't take no for an answer
For the next three days Plain Kate sketched and carved in scrap wood, trying to learn how the bow worked. Even as she bent over the little birds of the headdress for Nicolovena she was thinking about how the bow bent with the grain of the wood. Plain Kate loved to carve, loved to use the skill in her hands that was (she thought) the only good thing she had. And she loved wood, which was beautiful and willful as a cat. Wood had its own ways, and she knew them well -- with the cat wood was (she thought) her only friend.

When it got too dark to work, she went down to the docks with her rod and wooden lures. Taggle went ahead of her with his tail curled in a happy curve. The day boats were just coming in, unloading the fish and nets and gear with great loops of talk and rope. The night boats where just going out, lighting the fires that shone down on the water. She fished as the stars came out, throwing her line into the darkening water. Taggle spent time catching the moths drawn to the fires of the night fishers. He leapt and twisted in the shadows.

Kate caught only a little bluegill in the first hour, but as the fishers came by with their wheelbarrows, things changed. ( Read more... )
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Oct. 12th, 2004 @ 12:03 am 1.1 Enter Linay
***


The stranger was too tall and too thin, and had joints like a jumping jack strung too loosely, so that he seemed about to turn a flip or clatter into a pile of bones and string. He was pale of skin and eyes and hair, and his clothes were white and stained with travel. He spread his cloak on the dust and laid out an array of tin trinkets. They shone white in the hot sun. He put down small boxes, which he did not open. He sat down at the cloak edge with a tambourine on his knee. Plain Kate had never seen him before.

She was working just then on a bridal headdress for the baker's daughter. She was carving birds the size of fingertips. As Plain Kate carved, she listened. The stranger played the tambourine as she'd never heard it played, drawing from in not just bangs and jingles but music, lively as a quick stream, bright as bird song.

When Plain Kate looked up to stretch her neck she watched the stranger. She saw people sidle up to him sometimes. He smiled and chattered up to them, eager as a baby bird. He sold a few trinkets. Once or twice she saw him open one of the boxes. Vervain the mayor's daughter snatched a look in it, then looked around to see who was watching. She didn't buy anything.

As evening gathered, Niki the baker came to check on the headdress Plain Kate was making for his daughter's wedding. He brought rolls that were too stale to sell. Plain Kate bit into one at once. It was hard as an uncooked potato. She chewed and chewed. She jerked her chin towards the stranger. "Who's that one?" she asked. "What's he selling?"

"That one?" Niki snorted like a horse. "Useless frippery. Useless." The old baker hated everything that was useless, from lap dogs to wedding cakes. But Plain Kate was strong for her size and never complained, and Niki liked her, though of course he never said so. "You watch him, Plain Kate. That one might steal everything that's not nailed down, and some things that are only nailed loosely." Niki picked up the delicate pieces of carved wood in his big, burn-splashed hands.
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Oct. 10th, 2004 @ 11:57 pm Once upon a time
In a market town by a looping river, so far from the king's city his power was just a rumour, there lived an orphan girl called Plain Kate.

She was called this because her father said: "This is my daughter Katerina Svetlana, after her mother who died in birthing her and God rest her soul, but I call her just plain Kate." And the butcher, swinging a cleaver, answered: "That's right enough, Plain Kate she is, plain as a stick." A man who treasured humour, especially his own, the butcher repeated this to everyone. Everyone laughed, and after that she was called Plain Kate. But her father called her Kate My Star.

Plain Kate was plain as a stick, thin as a stick, and flat as a stick. She had one eye the colour of river mud and one eye the colour of the river. Her nose was long and her brows were strong.

Plain Kate's father was a woodcarver and a cabinetmaker. He could make plain boxes and fancy carvings, pins for harps and combs for ladies, pegs for holes and seats for wagons. For Plain Kate he made pull-alongs and potato pancakes, jumping jacks and toast with jam. She loved him. He died of river fever when she was ten. As he died he called Katerina Star of my Heart, and glowed with love. Plain Kate never knew if he had seen her or her mother.

So she was alone in the world, and folk said she had a long shadow.

( Read more... )
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