Tag Archives: telepathy

That little sneak…

Jenna, the main character of the Distant Horizon series, is somewhat notorious for eavesdropping when it comes to trying to gather information.

Today I’ve got a few excerpts of her doing just that… or trying to. 😉

In case you haven’t read Distant Horizon yet, here’s an example of what I mean. To catch you up on what’s happening, Jenna is standing outside of her grandfather’s office, listening in on a private conversation between him and the rebel’s mission leader, Jack.

There was a pause, and this time, Jack’s voice was quiet. “Next time, if there’s even the hint of danger, tell me. Or have Inese do whatever she does and give me a heads up.”
 
A bit of metal clanged behind me and I jumped, but the hallway was clear.
 
Must’ve been the vents.
 
“I do my best,” Pops said. “What about the kids? How’d they do on the field?”
 
“Well, Lance has a good hand with swords, and he’s exactly the type of guy we need right now, but he’s inexperienced and brash.”
 
Pops snorted. “You’re one to talk. What about Tim?”
 
“Besides being Community, he’s a good kid with a good heart, and he managed to hack the Camaraderie’s communications without them batting an eye. I didn’t get a chance to see his shooting skills, but if you want to get Crush on the ground again, Tim should be able to run navigation without a problem.”
 
Pops cleared his throat. “And my granddaughter?”
 
I pressed closer to the wall.
 
Jack grunted. “She needs Inese to teach her to gather intelligence without being caught.”
 
“What do you mean?”
 
“Given that she’s been listening for the past five minutes
”
 
Heat rushed to my cheeks as the door swung open. Jack smirked. “Come in, kid. Your ears must be burning.” I stared at him, mortified, but he waved me in and pulled the door shut behind us.
 
Pops stroked his beard, evaluating me. “How long have you been out there?”
 
“Since you were arguing about the reason you sent Gwen to Guatemala,” I said sheepishly.
 
Jack patted my shoulder. “See? What’d I tell ya? She has a knack for the sneaky spy stuff. All she needs now is some training.”
 
Pops fixed him with a glare and sipped at his coffee. “I’m guessing you have questions about the mission?”
 
“Actually—my parents.”
 
Pops motioned to a chair with his coffee mug, and I sat, twining my fingers around the pendant’s chain in my pocket. “I want them to know I’m alive, and what’s going on in the world. The beasties, the powers. Everything.”

Anyway, her tendency to try overhearing information she’s not supposed to know continues in Fractured Skies... though she hasn’t quite learned how not to get caught.

To fill you in on this excerpt, Jenna has just left the room where she has been eavesdropping on someone she’s not sure she trusts. She’s trying to gather information about the people she’s currently stuck with.

I stepped over Quin’s legs into the other room. He still stared at the wall, his expression blank. I bit my lip, and then slid down next to him. “Hey.”
 
“Done eavesdropping?”
 
I stared at him. He hadn’t moved an inch, save to speak. His hands were clasped over his knees, his chin tilted toward the glass window in the ceiling. His black hair was cropped less than half an inch from his ears, the most Community-oriented hairstyle I’d seen in a while, though he wasn’t Community. He had a rounded face, a smooth, beardless chin, and a lean form. His tunic hugged his chest but gave his arms space for movement.
 
“You heard me?” I wrapped my vines close. This guy could easily beat me in a fight. Hopefully Pops was right to trust him.
 
“Didn’t hear you,” he corrected me, still staring at the window. Aside from the reflection of that creepy blue light, there was nothing of interest outside. “You walked by, but once you went to the other room, they didn’t acknowledge your presence. I figured you were trying not to be seen.”
 
“Um
” I closed my mouth, not really sure what to say. “Does it
 I mean—”
 
A small smile formed at the edge of his lips. “I’m not mad at you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
 
“She’s your partner, so I didn’t know—”
 
He snorted, still staring at that confounded window. “She’s my sister, and I’m a mercenary. Mercenaries eavesdrop.”
 
“I’m not a mercenary,” I protested, vines quivering with annoyance. Months ago, they responded to my thoughts at a snail’s pace. Now they responded to all my thoughts.
 
“I didn’t say you were.”
 
I scowled. “You implied it.”
 
“No. I meant only that if I eavesdrop, I should not be angry when others eavesdrop.”
 
I blinked. Someone who worked for the Camaraderie who talked sense?

Once we get to Starless Night, however, Jenna has a whole new tool for eavesdropping… telepathy. Granted, she’s not always aware she’s using it (and she does have a pesky brain seed that keeps trying to take over and loves using it for her) but the more the seed influences her, the better she gets.

Here, in this excerpt from the beginning of Starless Night, she’s still not that great at using telepathy to read minds.

It doesn’t help that, perhaps, there’s more to the butler than he lets be known.

Though Lady Black droned on, her butler observed me with a cutting blue gaze. Uneasiness flitted through me.

Something about that butler


My thoughts strained to reach his surface thoughts. Why did he make me so nervous? Tell me who you are


I slammed into a steel wall of nothing.

You may call me Stuart, Miss Nickleson, he responded, his mental voice chillingly precise. I am Lady Black’s butler. And you will find that I am not so generous as the ambassadors regarding who I allow into my head. If you have a question, you need only ask. I am quite forthcoming on a good many topics.

I swallowed hard, ducking my head so I didn’t have to see him watching me. I’d done it again—tried reading someone’ s mind without thinking about how I didn’t want them reading mine.

And that’s it for Jenna sneaking around today and eavesdropping today!

Do you have any favorite characters with sneaky skills? 🙂

* * *

Sneak around with Jenna in the Distant Horizon series!

* * *

Happy reading and writing!

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A Focus on the Telepathy Power

There are a bunch of powers in the Distant Horizon universe, from Tim’s techno sight ability to mentally connect with computers to Jenna’s elemental ability to manipulate plant growth and use super speed. Previously, I’ve talked about the life-spirit power and it’s ability to save or suspend lives.

Today, let’s talk about telepathy.

There are several uses for telepathy, including the common ability to read minds and broadcast thoughts for communication, to the more obscure abilities of possession, and even more skilled (albeit nefarious) trick of planting specific memories in a target’s thoughts.

It’s the latter I want to focus on today. Tim got a taste of this in The Glitch Saga.

But Jenna… she deals a lot with the finer troubles of telepathy.  While she’s not a telepath herself, a certain notorious Lady Winters leaves a set of memory seeds in Jenna’s head—seeds which, over time, attack her mind with false memories and nightmares meant to leave her more susceptible to future telepathic attacks. The primary seed she has to deal with in Distant Horizon is of beastie transformation, which proves burdensome while she’s trying to search a beastie plant.

Here’s an excerpt from Distant Horizon:

The winding corridor opened to rows upon rows of floor-to-ceiling tanks, each filled with thick, greenish fluid. Bubbles traveled up the tubes, passing over occupants who had been stripped of everything but a breath mask. A helpless, sickening sensation spread through me. I stared at the liquid, petrified.

Lady Winters dragged me into a tube and shoved me inside, the numbing liquid surrounding me, slick against my skin. Burning.

I needed to escape, to breathe, to run—

“Let’s not open these doors, ‘kay?” Jack said, jarring me from my nightmare. I glared at him, but for once, I didn’t mind his sarcasm. Lady Winters had taken joy in giving me that memory. Her identity charm rustled against the fabric of my shirt.

“Isn’t there some way we can help them?” I asked.

“By the time they’re here, it’s too late.” Inese motioned to the tanks around us.

I closed my hands into fists. Lance pushed me forward, and as we passed the tanks, one of the occupants woke. Bubbles erupted around her mask. Her eyes bulged, terrified. She pounded her fists on the glass.

Lance stepped back, despite all his show for strength, but I saw my reflection. It placed me in that tube—in that thick, unknown liquid with its sense of helplessness


I flinched and turned away. I was betraying the people who were imprisoned here, but every time I looked at them, I was the prisoner.

A memory seed tends to use some sort of outside world trigger (in this case, the beastie tanks), to activate a pre-planted memory. In some cases, the victim will be aware they’re the target of an attack, and in some cases they’ll simply react without knowing why. In other cases, the victim is trapped in the memory, only aware of of what the memory is showing them.

The more skilled the telepath, the harder it is to remove these seeds. Unfortunately for Jenna, Lady Winters is one of the most skilled telepaths within the Camaraderie. And, unfortunately, the memory seeds makes it a tad difficult for her to do research that the rebels need in order to combat the Camaraderie.

Here’s a look at one such scene in Fractured Skies.

I huddled under a mass of vines, Tim’s tablet in my lap. All the lights were on, and I’d made sure the flower charm was nestled firmly against my skin. There was a good chance the charm was the only thing that was going to keep me from having a memory attack. I pressed the icon on the tablet for the Legion Spore folder. A list of files popped up. Some of the documents contained lines of code—gibberish I had no hope of understanding. But some of the documents looked promising, more like a research paper.
 
Biology—a science I understood.
 
My heart pulsed in my wrists, warning me this was a bad idea. But if I wanted control of my memories, I had to understand what the Legion Spore was and what it could do.
 
I opened the first document:
 
The Legion Spore is an experimental project requiring beasts and power users to be merged with a computer AI to form a single entity of enormous capability and power. To do this, the Legion Spore utilizes a hub system. This system consists of both beasts and power users, each assigned to use their powers for specific tasks while being linked to a single mainframe.
 
That must have been why I heard multiple voices when the Legion Spore spoke, why it sounded like a discordant chorus. If everyone was trying to think at once, with so many voices crying in pain…
 
The tablet shook in my fingers.
 
I could do this. I could read a simple research paper without freaking out because of some stupid thoughts in my head.
 
For mobility, the Legion Spore flies by utilizing a combination of air and fire elementals who provide the upper membrane with hot gas. In order to conserve space, the air sacs may be deflated while inside a hangar. The hull of the ship, including the membrane, is formed from the bodies of shapeshifters.
 
I stared at the words. I’d seen all of this before. Not personally, but I’d seen what Lady Winters showed me in the memory attacks. The shapeshifters had been tied to the outer steel frame, a grid of interlinked metal that created the skeleton of the hull. The other beasties and humans were forced to kneel inside a tower of cages. Though the structure was metal, it was mostly empty space and not much bigger than a cargo-hold. Wires ran around their skulls and across their bodies, and into glass tubes between them…
 
Cold sweat poured down my back.
 
Dear Community, how could anyone have supported this project?
 
The vessel is mostly organic, and entirely self-sustaining. Like the Portuguese Man O’ War that it was designed to resemble, the Legion Spore ensnares its prey with long tentacles, targeting organic matter and devouring it through the use of various acidic agents. This may prove doubly useful in battle, as the Legion Spore can feed itself while targeting enemy combatants.
 
The Legion Spore ate people?
 
The room wavered in the corners of my vision. My stomach revolted. I closed my eyes and took quick, shallow breaths. I needed a drink of water—
 
I needed to get through this document first. This was a short one. The more I understood, the better off I’d be against the Legion Spore next time.
 
Even if the ship did eat its enemies.
 
Once its prey is devoured, the nutrients go to the Legion Spore’s nutrient tanks. These tanks feed into the hull of the ship, which mimics the flesh and muscle of various warm-blooded creatures—
 
The fleshy hull stretched out before me, veins pulsing underneath its skin. A sour odor drifted to my nose, but when I tried to wipe it away, a thin tentacle caught my hand.
 
Thud-thump.
 
A heart was beating.
 
Thud-thump. Thud-thump. Thud-thump.
 
My heart pounded, each thump growing louder as other beating hearts joined in.
 
A column of thinly covered muscle rose above me as the tentacle dragged me toward a seething, bleeding organ. I couldn’t let it take me! I yanked my hand from the tentacle and fled to a small door at the end of the vessel. A sticky hand grabbed my ankle. I careened to the ground. Airy whispers filled my head, vying for attention. My eyes were dry from the heat of the ship. I was on the top level, next to the air sac. Hot air swirled above me. Their murmurs tickled my ear.
 
We are legion

 
No—I couldn’t let it catch me—couldn’t let it trick me into revealing the location of the Coalition. I pounded on its walls. I had to get out—

Needless to say, Jenna is ready to put a stop to the memory seeds’ attacks, and much of Fractured Skies revolves around her searching for a solution to the problem of those seeds.

Eventually we get to Starless Night, where, without giving too many spoiler, Jenna discovers that the memory seed is a lot more involved than she first thought, and considerably more dangerous. Because, what might happen if a telepath leaves more of themselves in a seed than anyone realizes?

* * *

Join Jenna’s fight with memory seeds in the Distant Horizon series!

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Happy reading and writing!

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Memory Seeds

A couple weeks ago I posted “When Two Books Share the Same Scene,” and I referenced the concept of “memory seeds.”

Let’s go deeper!

In the world of Distant Horizon, telepathy is one of the strongest and most dangerous powers a person can have. While it’s generally used to read minds and emotions, telepathy can also be used to implant ideas in a person’s thoughts and, at its most powerful, possess them.

(Tim is very much not a fan of this when he starts dealing with the second Legion Spore in Spirits of a Glitch, and he first gets an idea of how the implanted memories work in Ghost of a Memory).

Lots of fun for me as the author, not so much fun for my characters.

However, a few telepaths, including Lady Winters (the insidious “Brainmaster,” but don’t let her catch you calling her that), know how to plant so-called “memory seeds.” Rather than having to be present when they attack, a telepath leaves a set of (usually) false memories inside their victim’s mind that are set to activate under certain conditions.

In Jenna’s case, Lady Winters inserts memories of Jenna being transformed into a sub-human beast, though she’s never actually been in a beastie tank.

Here’s a look at a scene in Fractured Skies where she’s attempting to confront the seed with Gwen, one of the rebel telepaths:

Are you ready?

I swallowed hard
 or imagined I did
 and nodded. Let’s get this over with.

She raised her hands to the black ceiling above us. The blackness grew lighter, shifting into green. Gwen faded into the darkness. Green liquid crashed over my head.

I was trapped in the glass tube of a beastie tank.

Thick bubbles shimmered around me as I flailed, screaming. The burning liquid, the deadened sensation of my hands and feet—I shook my head and begged to get out, but my words were lost in the breathing mask strapped over my mouth.

Look around you. This isn’t real. Wasn’t real? What wasn’t real? I pounded my fists against the glass. “Let me out!”

Look beyond the glass. What should you see?

I took a gasping breath. Beyond the glass I couldn’t see anything


That was the problem. I should have been able to see something. A shadow of movement, the smooth structures of other tubes. Those images slowly formed in front of me
 but not because my eyes had adjusted.

Recognizing that your surroundings aren’t what they are supposed to be allows you to take the first step in controlling your situation.

That voice
 Gwen!

Over time the memories get worse, with the idea that the next time Jenna confronts her, Lady Winters could easily use the memory seeds to disable her in a fight.

This happens and, in a later confrontation, Lady Winters adds the memory of the Legion Spore’s transformation. With the latter seed, simply hearing the Legion Spore’s telepathic voices can trigger the memory, but crowded spaces (claustrophobia from being inside the transforming Legion Spore) can also cause the seeds to strike.

Ideally, another telepath would be able to remove them, which is what Gwen tries to do at first. But when you’re dealing with someone as strong as Lady Winters, removing the seeds can be a challenge, especially when traps have been laid to keep them from being removed.

Memory seeds aren’t the only trick telepaths can use to manipulate others, and once we get to Fractured Skies, Jenna learns that the seeds in her head may be a bit more complex than the average seed.

And once we get to Starless Night, well, the enemy she’s fighting might be herself…

* * *

Who can Jenna trust when she can’t trust her own mind and memories?

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Happy reading and writing!

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đŸŒ± Book Art – Influence

Today’s book art is a little more abstract…


đŸŒ± * Influence * đŸŒ±
Distant Horizon Universe

An abstract, psychedelic image. A woman in a tank top appears maybe old, maybe young, differentiated by where a transparent cloak covers part of her face. The sky is filled with pink and purple auroras, and behind her a twisted, gnarled tree rises.

Featuring: Jenna / Brain Seed
Book: Starless Night (Distant Horizon #2)
Medium: Daz Studio 4.15 with Iray, and Photoshop CS5
Description: Before Brainmaster’s death, Brainmaster planted a brain seed in Jenna’s mind—a telepathic seed which has slowly latched onto Jenna’s thoughts, changing her personality and twisting it into that of the late telepath.

Here we see a glimpse of Jenna’s corrupted mindscape during a moment when the brain seed has taken hold…

Beware the brain seed’s influence in Starless Night . . .
Amazon (US)  | Amazon (UK)  | Apple Books | Barnes & Noble | Google Play | Kobo | Smashwords

(Also available in paperback!)
Amazon (US) | Amazon (UK)

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Thoughts on Writing – Formatting Telepathy in a Novel

There’s a section I’m currently working on formatting in Distant Horizon, which has a lot to do with telepathy. And of course, that had me puzzling over the best way to format telepathy.

Originally, I had planned to designate telepathic sections using colons and italics, like this:

:This is a thought that you hear in your head,: the blogger thought to her readers.

However, I had several beta-readers say they didn’t like that formatting (never mind that I loved it in Mercedes Lackey’s Magic’s Pawn), so, since I want to make the book easier on the readers to read and enjoy, I made the change. They suggested keeping with simple italics, tagged like dialogue to note that it’s telepathy.

That worked well in Magic’s Stealing, where telepathy is mostly limited to communication.

Then we get to Distant Horizon.

*Flop.*

There are several forms of telepathy in the Distant Horizon universe. Most telepaths specialize in one or two abilities, but a really powerful telepath can do any of these:

(Note: These aren’t their formal classifications, just how I’ll refer to them for the moment)

  • Communication (Sending thoughts).
  • Mind Reading (Getting a sense of what someone else is thinking).
  • Perception Manipulation (Changing what someone thinks they see/hear/touch, etc.)
  • Possession (Taking control of someone’s body through a mental link).

(…Hehe. I feel like I’m writing out optional skills for a role-play character. Let’s take three points in communication and two in perception manipulation, please…)

The problem I’ve run into is how to denote each of these things, among other normally italicized sections.

Originally, I used italics to denote a few different things: telepathy, flashbacks that the characters is “experiencing” at the moment,” and telepathic attacks, in which what is happening is perceived entirely in the narrator’s mind.

When I was using the colons, it was easy to show that someone was communicating via thought, versus a person was having a short flashback, and when someone was communicating via thought during a flashback.

Fun, right?

Now, however, things have gotten a little more difficult.

For example, if the main character is thinking to herself, it usually isn’t too hard to switch the italicized parts to a non-italicized thought, given this story is 1st person, past tense.

For instance, this:

He winced, then handed me the notebook. “Look– I don’t know about either of us, okay?”

Wait. Either of us?

I gaped at him. “You’re not taking the pill, either?”

Becomes this:

He winced, then handed me the notebook. “Look– I don’t know about either of us, okay?”

Wait. Either of us?

I gaped at him. “You’re not taking the pill, either?”

No big change, and in fact, I like it better. Otherwise, it really felt more like it was italicized for emphasis.

I read an interesting article that mentioned using italics for thoughts creates greater narrative distance. Since I want readers close to the MC’s perspective, removing as many of these as possible could prove beneficial. (Plus, it makes Isaac happy. He never was a fan of all the italicized chunks I had in the earlier drafts).

But what about thoughts that are active? Thoughts that, by all right, should be 1st person present?

“What about you? Do you have this so-called persuasion power?”

He inclined his head. “Yes.”

You’re admitting to it? “You were using it last night,” I tested. “To get me to come with you.”

If I try to remove the italics, the paragraph doesn’t read right (or maybe it does, and I’m just being finicky). Technically, I could change the thought to “He was admitting to it?” and the sentence would read fine, but I’m thinking it sounds punchier if she’s directing an active thought toward him.

So I’m considering removing italics for thoughts that flow with the the past tense prose, or rearranging them into past tense when feasible, while leaving italics for thoughts that are in present tense, along with thoughts which are directed toward another person, even if that person can’t hear them.

The reason for this is that there’s a scene in which the main character unintentionally uses telepathy (I won’t say how, to avoid spoilers). However, some of what she’s broadcasting isn’t actively targeted, at least, it wouldn’t appear to be at first glance.

He gave me a pointed look. “Be careful with that thing.”

I winced. “I don’t plan on using it.”

“What you plan to do and what you do are two different things.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, ducking my eyes from his scowl. All I wanted was a stupid reminder.

“And what you’ve got is trouble,” Inese retorted. I stared at her. I hadn’t said—

“Now stop worrying about the shiny. We’ve got work to do.”

See what I mean?

If I remove the italics, it won’t be clear that the narrator broadcasted the thought. But it isn’t directed at anyone, either, and kind of reads as if it’s just being emphasized.

But what if I only italicized thoughts that she knows is telepathic. She’s new to the concept of superpowers. If the characters around her react appropriately, she doesn’t have to realize what she’s doing, and the readers will learn at the same time she does.

Try reading this passage again:

He gave me a pointed look. “Be careful with that thing.”

I winced. “I don’t plan on using it.”

“What you plan to do and what you do are two different things.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, ducking my eyes from his scowl. All I wanted was a stupid reminder.

“And what you’ve got is trouble,” Inese retorted. I stared at her. I hadn’t said—

“Now stop worrying about the shiny. We’ve got work to do.”

Since Inese is commenting directly on the narrator’s thoughts, and the narrator reacts with confusion, we can guess what has happened.

Plus, this allows for a lot of fun when she’s dealing with high-end telepaths. After all, they’re strong enough to manipulate her mind without her knowing that they’re changing her thoughts. Neither the narrator, nor the reader, actually know what is real and what isn’t, and which thoughts are actually hers.

Unreliable narrator, anyone?

Now, the problem with doing it this way is that there’s always the chance that the larger scenes involving telepathy (and there’s a huge one at the end of the story that prompted this particular blog post) may be confusing for the reader. That’s why I’m hoping to find a proofreader for this style of formatting before Isaac and I release the book. But for now, I think I’ve settled on this:

  • Thoughts directed toward someone/something in present tense will be italicized.

He inclined his head. “Yes.”

You’re admitting to it? “You were using it last night,” I tested. “To get me to come with you.”

  • Telepathic communication (when the narrator is aware these are not her own thoughts) will be italicized.

Brainmaster clucked her tongue. Poor Miss Nickleson
 Let me show you what happens to the people who rebel.

  • Flashbacks/memory attacks, where the narrator is experiencing them but does not know this is a flashback will not be italicized. Tags may need to be included in the prose to help aid the reader.

Brainmaster clucked her tongue. Poor Miss Nickleson
 Let me show you what happens to the people who rebel.

A rocket slammed into the ground, blowing a beast to bits. Sun scorched the back of my neck, and the stench of burnt flesh tainted the air. A blast of heat rolled over me. I shielded my eyes while debris pelted me with dirt. Something smashed into my chest. I removed my hand from my shirt and found it hot and sticky. The pain threatened to destroy my vision—

(Since the main character cannot distinguish the manipulation from reality, this is not italicized).

  • Flashbacks/memory attacks that the narrator is actively experiencing and is aware of, will be italicized.

The winding corridor opened to rows upon rows of floor-to-ceiling tanks, each filled with thick, greenish fluid. Bubbles traveled up the tubes, passing over occupants who had been stripped of everything but a breath mask. A helpless, sickening sensation spread through me. I stared at the liquid, petrified.

Brianmaster dragged me into a tube and shoved me inside, the numbing liquid surrounding me, slick against my skin. Burning.

I needed to escape, to breathe, to run—

“Let’s not open these doors, ‘kay?” Jack said, jarring me from my nightmare.

(In this scene, Jenna is having a memory attack, and though she can’t escape it, she’s aware that the attack is happening).

  • Flashbacks where the character is “remembering,” but not really “experiencing” will not be italicized.

He put the training weapons aside and sat on the floor, stretching his fingers to his toes. “Besides, the Community’s boring. There’s no excitement. Do you remember when we used to pick blackberries off the neighbor’s bush?”

I nodded.

Walking home from school, we used to take the back ally to our parents’ houses. One time I noticed a dark blackberry poking out from a broken slat in the fence. It was ripe, and touching the berry left a deep red juice stain on my fingertips. The neighbors could’ve been fined because the fence hadn’t been repaired in a timely manner.

(She’s recalling a memory, but she isn’t “experiencing” it, per se).

And, of course, I’ll use italics to emphasize certain words. And also for sound effects, foreign languages, etc, though I’ll try not to overdo it. 🙂

So, now that I’ve got this sorted out in blog-post form, I’m off to finish formatting the italics in the manuscript. It’s not perfect, but hopefully the formatting will be smoother now.

I hope you’ve found this post helpful. 🙂 Have you ever had to make a particular type of formatting distinguishable?

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Thoughts on Writing – Literary Doppelgangers

You know those times when you’re writing a story, and you think you’ve finally created a character that’s at least a little bit different… and then you find their literary doppelganger?

That character which just seems far closer than you would have liked?

While watching Jessica Jones (which is an awesome show, by the way), one of the things that struck me and Isaac was the similarities between the villain of the show, Killgrave, and Brainmaster, the villain of our story, Distant Horizon.

They’re definitely different, but they do have some striking similarities (except that Killgrave is just so much more evil… An absolutely fascinating character, but evil). Note: I have only seen the show, so I’m not sure how he compares from the comics.

First, let’s take a look at Killgrave.

Killgrave has mind control powers. He can walk up to a person, tell them to do something, and they’ll do it. His powers have a time limit (12 hours), and a limited range. He’s obsessed with Jessica Jones, trying to win her back after she finally managed to escape his grasp. He doesn’t mind leaving behind a body count just to get Jessica to move in closer as she tries to stop him. (But he doesn’t do the dirty work. No. He comes up with creative ways for other people to kill each other or themselves… and leaves an even bigger mess for Jessica to clean up).

Also, he wears a purple suit. Kind of his style.

Now, let’s take a look at Brainmaster, from the story Isaac and I are working on.

Brainmaster has telepathy, which, in our story, equates to three possible options… mind reading, mind control, or communication via thought. Powerful characters can do all three. We see her doing all three of these things, but one of her trademark moves is taking control of characters by implanting suggestions in their brains… some of which cause them to attack others or themselves.

And she wears purple robes.

(This is where I was cringing watching Jessica Jones. Killgrave, also a mind controller, has a purple suit. I’d never even heard of his character (at least, not other than a single cartoon episode of X-Men with a very different version of him) until a few weeks ago.

These characters are different, but they do have similarities. Both have mind control powers. Both haunt the main characters (Jessica has traumatic flashbacks of Killgrave, Jenna has traumatic memories that Brainmaster plants in her head), and both wear purple. Maybe it’s because of the idea that the color purple often reflects royalty and power. (There’s an interesting web page about the historical uses of the color purple here).

For characters who are meant to be powerful, it makes sense to have them wearing purple.

Anyway, I thought it would be fun to post a short scene from Distant Horizon, one where we get to see Brainmaster for the first time.

Note: This scene has been truncated to minimize spoilers.

I pushed the door open.

Inside, a lady wearing a flowing, deep purple robe stood at the end of a long metal table. Her robes were fringed by golden swirls and thick, bold lining. Part of her white hair was rolled into an elaborate bun; the rest cascaded to her shoulders.

The lady’s eyes narrowed and her face contorted into wrinkles. She wore just enough eyeliner to accentuate her fierce eyes, and her nails were painted a gold that matched her outfit. More than most leaders, she was dressed for appearance.

Beside her, an elderly woman with graying hair was bound to the chair. Her shoulders were slumped and her head lolled back.

Go away.

I jumped. I hadn’t heard anything, but it was clear that the woman standing with her manicured hand on the corner of the woman’s chair had spoken. She lifted her chin and scowled.

“Let her go.” I tightened my grip on my spear.

Brainmaster smirked and slid her nail along the edge of the chair. Something forced me– my mind– away.

I couldn’t move. My arms were frozen in place.

She smiled and brushed back a wisp of white hair. Drop the spear. Close the door behind you. Take a seat. She gestured to the chair, a slow, elegant motion.

I dropped the spear, took a seat. Listened.

A slow smile crawled across her cheeks. She gestured to the woman in the chair. “The true plague is disobedience. It makes our society inefficient. This woman is a traitor. She spreads the plague by her presence. She’s a lost cause. Kill her.”

I stood, vines uncoiling from my arms, and walked the length of the table. Power pulsed through my vines, urging me to take control. To let them flourish. To use them.

The traitor turned her head, her eyes half-shut.

“She’s the true monster,” Brainmaster murmured. “A threat to everything we hold dear.”

I wrapped my vines around the woman’s throat. Felt their pressure against her skin. Closed them tight. The woman coughed, gasping, but I didn’t let go.

Funny thing, Nickleson. Do you ever wonder how a beast feels when it’s given orders? Is this what you want?

I stared at the dying woman, confused.

A beast is such a mindless thing. You could be so much more.

The woman sputtered and fell limp. Her head lolled.

A chill clawed through my spine.

She was dead.

I’d killed her.

And that’s where I’m going to leave that scene…

*Cough.*

Brainmaster. Yeah, she likes messing with people’s minds. Maybe that’s why I enjoyed watching Killgrave’s character so much.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this post. 🙂 Have you ever written a character, then found their literary doppelganger?

 

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