Removed the first two chapters. It now begins with Kiris in the bathtub, and is gonna be a bit of a firehouse of context and the like until I can weed it out a little more.
Removed chapters 9-14 for rewriting. They originally focused on the Competition of the Turre, and I need them to focus on Kiris' attempts to save Prince Thaav, Iiriok's investigation into Kiris, and the Turre provoking the princes into infighting.
Replotted the end to establish a clear, single-book bad guy, since although the Turre are the BBEG, they're really just setting for this book, and will be the primary bad guy in, oh, say, book three (Iiriok's).
Depending how much I can salvage from those deleted chapters, expect deleted scenes coming soon!
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What are your plans for after you finish this round of edits?
Hello, hello @on-noon! Happy STS :D
Editing is certainly... going. I'd say quickly but it's a ton of developmental stuff, so decidedly not quick since it pretty much involves a lot of clever insertion of stuff that wasn't present in Prince prior to this, a lot of emphasis of things which were present but which were sort of skimmed over, and then fixing the ending (again) to make it make sense. Currently, I'm in chapter eight, and have just finished reworking one of the first conversations between Kiris and Iiriok to better emphasize that Iiriok is, in fact, a threat. Later on, at the start of every other chapter I think, I'd like to add a one to two sentence bio on a relevant prince, since there's just so many of them.
I'm also going to try and iron out the front-loaded exposition in this draft, too, although that might be a post "figure out the first two chapters" affair (I've been debating since draft one whether or not I can just... start in chapter three, which, ironically, contains the remnants of the original concept of this novel in the first place).
That said, after I'm done this round of edits, it'll be first round of beta reader time! I'd like to catch any further developmental-type changes before I go full in on line edits (which I'd say take longer than the developmental stuff but honestly if you break it down into redundancies, then weak phrases, then crutch words, it goes fairly quickly).
Still in the wild woes of draft three. This draft is now affectionately known as the exposition draft!
First half changes: vastly increasing the prominence of Kiris' mentor figure, and restructuring Kiris' first motives to seem to stem from them. Also, increasing Iiriok's suspicion of Kiris, and thereby increasing Kiris' action-desperation as well as overall plot tension levels. Clarify and explain worldbuiding. Add a little more on Evina. Clarify who knows what about Kiris' magic (and oddities within that magic).
Second half changes: Kiris' self-hatred (sorry, buddy) needs to be emphasized to the point that it's clear why he'd rather just abandon himself and carry on as his fake prince identity. Rework several newly introduced inconsistencies stemming from increasing mentor prominence in the first half. Add 2 missing Iiriok/Kiris scenes. Increase Evina's presence overall to frame her as the predominant antagonist of this novel.
Not through the printed edit yet, but (with help of my partner) figured out how to fix what was wrong in the first half! On the bright side, now that I've got a game plan for it, it'll be straight forward. On the downside, it's gonna require some restructuring and overall rewriting.
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Continuing to sort out plot threads in Prince, and I've gotten to the point where I've identified the major plot threads (and am currently listing the points where they fall short/what needs to be added to them/what is unnecessary).
Anyway, plugged just plot arc data into Aeon with the relevant events, switched her on over to Subway, and now I've got the cheerfully spaghetti-like outline of my plot and the event interactions! It's neat seeing where things converge and separate, and is actually quite useful for what I said I was doing in the first paragraph.
[image id: a subway stop map with the "subway lines" in various colors representing plot arcs, converging and diverging at plot points /end id]
Scribbled out the major subplots of Prince real quick. Surprisingly efficient way to figure out what I was forgetting to foreshadow, whose motivations I completely forgot to clarify, and why the second to last scene just wasn’t coming off right.
Would recommend, if you’re stuck in an editing stage.
[image id: a printer sheet of paper with scribbly handwriting in 5 columns, with sideways text between the columns /end id]
Reason for Deleting: This section, unfortunately, no longer fit.
Way to fix it?: remove :(
Excerpt Length: 1038
Context: It's towards the end of Competition, Iiriok and Kiris are soon going to present their findings on the supposed imposter to 'L Tuola, and this is the calm before the storm, so to speak.
Taglist (if you'd like to be added or removed, let me know!): @whimsyqueen, @cactusmotif, @on-noon, @houndsofcorduff, @shrunkupthejams.
Old wip intro here, for anyone who's curious. In short: a prophetic conman is tricked into a competition to rule the region.
The covered path gave way to sunshine for the length of a garden, then became shaded once more. He followed the stones and arches as they took him around one of the corners within the fortress and into yet another courtyard. Here, however, Kiris paused.
It was generous of him to call this a courtyard in face of the size of all the others. Realistically, it was more of a grassy patio which happened to be surrounded by building. The sun did not reach here through the fortress, and the air felt heavy and crisp for it despite the overall warmth. This pleasantness of it was not what stopped him, however.
There, in the shadows at the center of the courtyard, danced Batar and Iirok. Their swords sang with every strike. It was give and take, a placid rhythm of finesse. Neither was trying to gain the advantage. Neither fought as though their lives depended on it. Neither fought.
If princes of the Plateau could be playful, this would be that.
Unlike the main courtyard, the clashes were not harsh. The movements were fluid and their results didn’t stab into his ears, and although neither was more solid than anything else right now, their ebb and flow, moss green to silken yellow, gave him something to focus on. It was as if he had shut his eyes for the first time in a week.
Kiris leant against one of the pillars supporting the arches and crossed his arms over his chest, inadvertently hugging his staff. Cool stone slowly sept through his tunics and into his spine. Either in this realm or the Other, birds sang of spring, and it smelled of grass and faintly of the river running through Tesendi’s center. Vaguely, he hoped he wasn’t intruding on some private moment between the two. He wasn’t going to leave either way.
A light breeze ruffled his hair and the Currents laughed. They remained distant, and Kiris smiled, eyes falling half-shut. Batar and Iiriok changed the meter of their swordplay. The sun crept closer to topping Tesendi.
“Na Suem.”
He tilted his head back to try and bring Batar into better focus without bothering to open his eyes further.
She nodded towards Iiriok and twirled away from a slow strike. “Join us.”
Unthinking, Kiris pushed off the wall and did as bid. This close, they were much clearer, much more human, and even as naked blades whirled not feet from him, it remained soothing. It was a stately pace, and when both swords came lazily towards him, Kiris twisted through and raised his staff to block the follow-on. Both thudded against the staff, each hitting with the flat rather than the edge. The princes’ tunics whirled around them, brilliant blossoms of green and blue. Kiris’ own were that mustard yellow and spangled in stars of gold. What a show they made.
“You seem to be doing better,” Iiriok said, swatting away a stab at his chest and slashing towards Kiris in return.
Kiris stepped aside and guided the sword with the butt of his staff, and Batar ducked under both. “It could have been much worse.”
“And now?” Batar asked, striking upwards. Their dance continued.
“Loud,” Kiris said, “but manageable. This is soothing.”
“I believe I speak for both Batar and I when I say that we find it likewise.” He hopped over Kiris’ low-sweep. “Few are the princes I trust to not take advantage of this situation.”
“Even if I could trust them long enough to not come for my head,” Batar said, “there’s almost no one here with talent enough to be interesting.”
Iiriok smiled. “Thank you.”
She rolled her eyes and gently swung for his. He blocked it and Kiris stepped out of the way, sweeping high. Both princes ducked.
“What am I doing here, then?” Kiris asked. “I’m not any good at this sort of thing.”
“You are not horrible,” Iiriok said, at the same time Batar said, “Variety.” They locked blades and Iiriok gently pushed her back. He continued, “There is reason Aris has permitted you a weapon. If he believed you a danger to yourself—with it, not generally—he would not have had one made for you. Where did you learn?”
The wood was smooth, warming in his hands. It was of good heft and firm material, dense enough that although Iiriok’s blade had left a nick in the dining hall, the weapon itself had bounced off. And now, Kaar’s proofs glowed.
“Toor,” Kiris said.
Batar danced out of Iiriok’s reach and carefully came for Kiris’ head. “They kept you busy.”
“Not busy, so much,” Kiris corrected, coming overhead and tapping her sword to the ground. “They just needed to make me do something so I wouldn’t become immobile. Quarterstaff once a week was their solution.”
“It is easy to forget, Yphant,” Iirok said, twirling around Batar, “that you are a scholar.”
“I’m not a scholar.” Kiris met him on the other side, and Batar offered a threat to distract them both. “If you have any questions on philosophy or theory or what-have-you, you’d be much better off asking Kaar.”
“Perhaps,” he said, that little smile still on his lips. “But I find it difficult to believe that someone Temple-raised would know nothing of the Other.”
“I know a lot,” Kiris said, immediately. He tapped aside both their swords. “But just because I could lead a reduction or a cleansing or your ritual of choice doesn’t mean I ever will. Good luck even getting me to go to them. They’re too—” he paused. But both princes knew: Batar, who he was, obviously; and Iiriok, that his affiliation really was too strong for his own good. He swallowed. “Too loud.”
He shook his head. “Anyway, it’s not like it matters. Give me the choice and I’m never stepping foot even near a Temple ever again.”
“No?’
“If I can’t have me,” he said, “then they can’t have me.”
“I am not sure I understand,” Iiriok admitted.
Batar twisted her blade and Iiriok snapped back the weapons. “There’s much you don’t understand, pretty boy, but that’s half of what makes you tolerable.”
