One of my favorite things is writing for different types of characters. The easiest way for me to write is by having an interesting or funny character do something interesting or funny, and readers like it too. For me the easiest way to do this is by making a true odd ball and seeing how they react to different situations. Combining character traits isn’t very hard. Take a job of hobby, let’s say a politician, combine a dissimilar trait, how about the inability to hide their emotions, and them throw them into an odd world or out of the norm experience, such as a surprise war on sentient vegetables. It’s hard to be disinterested in a character that is completely out of there element. What traits do your favorite characters have?
I don’t know about you, but there is nothing like a character song to put me in the mood to write. A character song, as you might guess, is any piece of music that fits the tone of voice or style of a character. Mostly, I stick to fast paced or nightcored music to keep my book fast paced, it also increases my writing speed and spelling errors. While doing publishing research, I like to listen to ‘Everybody loves me’ to keep me spirit up while I pull myself the realism. What kind of songs do you listen to while writing?
Snow and ice make this area almost barren of life. Humans nest near the frozen forest. Only a large stone wall separates the two. On one side, smoke rises into the night air, on the other golden yellow eyes rival the stars. It appears as if it were a blue moon that night. That is, the first night where there were people on both sides of the wall. No, the villagers rarely left the warmth of their sanctuary. There was only one gate at that point, it was wooden and just as high as the wall. We watched the gates open, peering into the light that shined in the dead of night. Two horses pulled a little sleigh.
It is unknown weather we stayed out of curiosity or hunger. There were few reasons why people left the village so all of the golden eyes watched the sleigh. I alone kept watching the gate. Something fascinated me about what lay inside. The scents that traveled to me caused me to creep closer. Few people were still about, but they made much ruckus during the day. The doors were closing as I looked into the area where a few beams of light shown. As the opportunity for food closed before me someone entered the snow.
They cried out and the closing of the gates stopped. Wrapped in cloth but shrouded in darkness she came up to the gate. The woman stumbled as she came closer to where I lay in wait and watch. Those who had been closing the gate tried to grab her and keep her from going outside into the night. She gently pushed past them. By chance she walked towards where I stood. I knew of this person if only by the smell she carried. Every so often, in times when deer and rabbits were thin, something yummy and warm would be thrown over the wall, and I would promptly eat it.
The woman noticed me and approached she carried something wrapped in cloth up to me. Everytime the gates were opened I would see her. When I was a pup, young and naive, I entered the village in search of the source of good smells. I was not rewarded for me snooping around and small barks and my best growl did not help me. As warm blood fell onto cold fur I was scooped up by the woman. That was a while ago.
A small bundle of warmth was set before me by the lady before she turned and walked back into the gates. With all light not from the moon gone, my companions approached, no doubt hoping for a snack. I snarled at them and looked back to the tiny creature wrapped in a bundle for me. This was not a gift. I had been given something to nurture in the same way that I had been cared for as a pup.
That night the pack wrapped themselves around the pups and the human. Ture is was difficult raising the little creature, but he had skills beyond his years. Raised just as any other pup he stood alongside me for many years. A few times the lady came from the gate. Though the little one growled at her she pet him gently every so often, brushing his cheek and speaking human jiboroush.
At one point the lady stopped visiting and the juicy food she had thrown no longer fed us.
When Maria passed away, the whole village was saddened she had always been so kind, even to those who could not reciprocate. I had heard she had been feeding the wolves, keeping them at bay. No one bothered to give them scraps any longer. We didn’t know we needed to. I was to learn first hand what happened when the wolves weren’t given their peace offering. It was the middle of the day. Wolfs are never out during the day, this day must have given way to a blue moon, however. I was just a young girl but I still remember the event very well. Though the walls were high, they were weak with age.
Wolves of white and black and brown tore down the stone. The village went into chaos. Father called me onto the roof where would be the safest, and we watched the attack together. There are many things I could recall about that day. The way the wall right next to our house fell into individual stones or shards of stone. The stench of blood and the way it stained the snow. The cries of others. But the thing I will tell you about was how one young lad was running with the pack.
He stood on four feet and howled with his friends, ripping at meat and devouring anything dead. His ribs shown clearly through his flesh. The chieftain grabbed up the kid and held him tightly until the wolves were drove away. Young wolf boy bit and growled all the way to the hospital. Though everyone had tried to warm him up and dress him, wolf boy broke free and vanished through the gap in the wall.
Our village was never the kind to resort to violence. A gate was built beside my house and a few knives were sharpened. Over time the little village grew into a town, then a city, but I never forgot to feed the wolves from that day forward. Each day just before dusk leftover meat would be given to me and I would put it over the wall. Slipping through the gate and scoping out a hole in the snow to keep it relatively warm, I would place the meat for the beasts.
After a while, when I placed the meat, I could feel eyes watching me, yellow eyes hid in the shadows. There was a night at one point, where a brave wolf came forward from the shadows, leaving the pack. Soon after the wolves stood close to the gate when I opened it. It was around that point when I saw the wolf boy again, he seemed to be just a little younger than me, but much stronger than when I had seen him before.
I bought cooked meat for the boy and would toss it to him. This made me get fairly close to the wolves, however, because wolf boy was always the furthest away. It wasn’t long after that before the first wolf trailed in after me. On a freezing and stormy night the leader of the pack slipped in through the gate. When I tried to lead him back outside with a chunk of meat, more of the pack came in.