Treadmill Journal for September 25, 2012

Have 3300 words typed in. It's rougher than I realized; the whole time I was typing it in I was alternating between "Oh, that's pretty good" and "Oh, that's pretty rough."

So here's the plan for tomorrow: Fill it in the rest of the way, or as much as possible. I'm looking to triple it, roughly. The tricky thing will be figuring out how much explanation about Rasputin and Ivan to put in, and how much to just let them be themselves and hope it all fleshes out in the serial.

Also, need to play up Ivan's desire to return to Russia and Rasputin's skepticism about every single blasted thing Ivan has said (also how completely exasperated Ivan is with him).

There are LOTS of plot holes at the moment, those need to be healed up and I need to have the outline hanging right over my monitor while I work so I don't open up any new ones.

So: Aim for 1500 words tomorrow. All new ones. Rough is fine. But still try to keep the level high.

Also I need to spend a couple of hours on my blog tomorrow. Somehow. It will be a less active day, I guess.

And good night!!

On Evidence

From The Daily Writer:

Evidence plays a fundamental role in all writing. In nonfiction, of course, assertions must be backed by reliable data, testimony, analysis; they must weather counterarguments. Evidence also plays a role in fiction. If you're writing a political thriller, for example, and part of the drama is played out in the Pentagon, you will need to "prove" to your readers, by way of "inside" background information, that the setting is authentic.

The truth is universally honored; yet many are not aware of the extent to which a claim must be backed by evidence before it can be accepted as truth. Moreover, as Carl Sagan once pointed out, "Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence." For example, if you're going to claim that you were visited by aliens, you had better come up with more than a photograph, which can be easily faked.

This is the central plot problem in Rasputin Wakes Up. Rasputin can tell from sensing his own body that he is a vampire; but how can he come to believe that Ivan really is Ivan the Terrible, First Tsar of Russia? No inside information is going to be sufficient, because Rasputin has no means of verifying it. Manner can be put aside to arrogance or delusion; there was no artwork that Ivan can stand next to to prove his identity, and it wouldn't be precise enough if there were. Ivan can try to use his personal authority on Rasputin, but the first encounter with Rasputin after he wakes up proves that Rasputin is too powerful a personality himself, even though he was "only" a peasant, for that to have any influence with him. And in fact, Ivan does lack authority, because he is not the Tsar that Rasputin knew, his powers are no greater than Rasputin's (only his experience), and in any case he has yet to realize that his power when he really was Tsar derived from the office, rather than his personal qualities.

Ergo, he can not make a case that Rasputin will believe; he is going to have to forge new power, rather than stand on his prior standing. This is the realization that will lead to the conclusion.

Thank goodness for ten minute writing prompts!! My whole plot makes sense now...

Rasputin Wakes Up - Beginning

Sodalitas Convivium implied that conviviality was a required element to club membership, but Ivan was not interested in being chummy. He brooded over Rasputin's body, fatigued from the effort of dragging him out of the icy water and transporting him from Moscow to London in one evening. It was a feat worthy of celebration, but the humans in the billiards room and and smoking room and dining room would have been horrified, aghast, speechless at any announcement of Ivan's accomplishment.  Supposing, of course, that they could have even fathomed the beginnings of such an endeavor, which, it went without saying, they could not. And so Ivan brooded alone, in a straight-backed chair pulled up close to the side of the bed, watching for signs of success.

Success appeared unlikely. He could not see the extent of Rasputin's injuries, though the humans who had ambushed him claimed to have poisoned, shot, beaten, stabbed, and shot him again. All before they threw him into a frozen river.

Poison was unlikely to prevent the transformation that Ivan had undertaken; neither should the freezing water have mattered. The beating was probably not that severe if it had also been necessary to stab and shoot, so the stabbing and shots were the open questions. Had they damaged the heart beyond the repair a vampire transformation could provide?

The damage Rasputin had sustained would also determine how quickly the transformation could take place. Ivan had begun the process while still in hiding in Moscow, but there had been precious little of Rasputin's blood for him to drain, and the man being unconscious had made it difficult for Ivan to prompt the drawing of his own blood that would supplant the man's humanity. His previous offspring had transformed much  more quickly than the three days that had elapsed since the river rescue; Ivan would not have attempted to move him from Moscow at all had not the citizens' innate suspicions of the supernatural, combined with the revolutionary hysteria being spread by the damned Bolsheviks, not made it too dangerous for Ivan and Rasputin to remain. Ivan took it as a hopeful sign that the transformation would occur that he had been able to dematerialize Rasputin as well as himself for the flight to London.

A discreet knock at the door disturbed Ivan. He glanced down at Rasputin, still unconscious, still bearing the dark marks of his last human day on his face. The rest of him was covered by the bedspread. Ivan roughly shoved his face away from the door and stood to open it.

"More fuel for your fire, sir?" asked the maid, cautiously. She was short, and carefully not looking in. Ivan acknowledged a grim appreciation for the English respect for appearances.

"I'm fine," he snapped.

"Yes, sir. Very good, sir," she said. He could smell her relief as she turned her mind to the next door.