Thriving in 2021


Hi guys, long time no blog.

I would apologize for my hiatus, but I believe it was for the better. Let me give a bit of an update:
Since my last post I have moved to a new state and started a new job; America has gone through the 2020 election and inauguration, as well as a surprisingly intense winter storm in the southeast and the one year anniversary of Covid-19’s takeover; my dad had back surgery, my truck was broken into, my love for anime has grown, and Nickelodeon announced an Avatar Studio. But personal stuff is boring.
How does that relate to this blog?
Well, long before I dropped off, I started feeling really weird about the website. In fact, the disappearance was a long time coming.
When I started, I put a lot of pressure on myself to publish only my best content. Every week had to be valuable and well edited to a shine in case anyone cared to read it. I’m no expert, but I had hoped that my thoughts could be interesting, maybe even inspiring to young writers. That pressure grew steadily over time, and as life entered a turbulent phase, I found myself preferring silence to unpolished posts. Looking back, I think the stagnation of my blog and twitter added to my reluctance to work on my manuscript at all.

After finding some inspiration and encouraging friends, I fell in love with my manuscript again and have been making big strides. I want that energy to reach here, too.

So I’m going to try to start over.
This blog is documentation of my writing journey. Media I find helpful, thoughts on the craft, updates on what I’ve been working on, revelations about storytelling. It doesn’t have to be pretty in the beginning. I want to be kinder to myself and more reasonable with my expectations. This is a learning experience, and trial is the only way to grow. I hope you’ll be here to grow with me.

So here we are. This was probably a pretty boring blog, but I stand by the desire to put it out there. Like a commitment. I’ve got my habit tracker all set up and some discoveries to share — starting next time with structure, because guess who is reevaluating her outline again.
If this is your first blog, maybe check out a different one to get a better idea of what the page is about. Maybe stick around to hear me break down my structure. It’ll be fun.
Stay safe!
Rena Grace

Draft 4: Chapter 1


Welcome back to my WIP updates!

After several weeks of computer troubles, I’m having to settle with the fact that I won’t be able to make header images for my next few posts, but I decided to press on anyway.

So, those keeping up with past posts will have noticed that the last revision reached a word count of just over 4,000. General precedent and market trends report and encourage chapter lengths between 1,000 and 5,000 words. Obviously, that is a pretty big gap and will be affected by multiple variables — not the least of those being age category, genre, or individual writing preference.

Since beginning this project, I knew that I preferred shorter chapters to longer ones. It’s not something set in stone, I imagine most of my chapters will be broken up by scenes. This line of thinking alongside my ever-increasing word count lead me to go ahead and split my next round of edits into scenes. For these posts, I’ll still be titling the excerpts “Chapter One,” but that will be mostly for consistency and clarity.

So that’s a lot of chat before jumping into this week’s edited opening chapter. I hope you enjoy and share what you think!

Scene 1:

Working weekends was a drag. Abryn didn’t disagree. But there was always something to do. A malfunction with the trams, a power outage across town, a steel frame to bend back into place by hand. And who could do that if she didn’t? All of her workers were dryftless. They didn’t exactly have her strength.

This week’s request was delivered Rain-day morning while she and Wells fixed lunch. The messenger had insisted ‘they’ needed the job done by midday the next day. Before Abryn could get too many details, Wells appeared over her shoulder to tell him, in the politest way possible, to shove off.

Wells didn’t mention it over lunch or for the rest of the day. But there he was, propped up on the couch, sleepy black eyes watching for her early the next morning. Apparently, she was predictable. “You worked last weekend,” Wells said, sinking further into his pillow and ruffling dark hair out of his face.

“You say that like you missed me.”

He rolled his eyes, “You’re diverting.”

“That was a two hour job. They just needed me to–”

“You were the only one there.” He seemed to know she’d stopped asking her workers to help with overtime, even if he wouldn’t come out and say it. “You skipped dinner to stand in the mud.” 

“Lucky me, midday is long before dinner.” 

He gave her a cold look, heaved his lanky body out of the cushions, and skulked into the kitchen. She always felt worse when Wells gave up an argument. She emphasized that she’d be back for lunch and shut the door behind her. None of these requests were ever that difficult for her. There was really no reason to go bothering anyone else when, a lot of times, people just got in her way. 

Shaking his disappointed gaze from her mind, Abryn jogged across town. Or at least she tried. She was built for lifting, not hustling. There were trams that ran from Downtown to West Station, but no matter how much she tinkered, she couldn’t get them moving faster than a brisk walk. She heaved across the damp cobblestone streets, telling herself it was training for the next time Wells invited her on one of his jogs.

West Station was the dingiest of the three in Ridgate, and that was saying a lot. The tin roof stretched over the boarding zone sagged pathetically to one side, and the platforms themselves were littered with debris. Abryn reminded herself to demote this station’s foreman. Len or Fen or something. He was abusing her tolerance. There were two shops, one on each side of the tracks to split up eastward and westward moving traffic. The shop for the westbound track was sickening. Tools scattered, broken parts mixed in with the new, engines left half-finished over the weekend. It hadn’t been a week since her last check-up. Maybe I’ll fire him. 

She stormed to the dumpy control panel and cut power to the tracks. Weekend deliveries were rare and weekend travellers, rarer, but it didn’t hurt to be thorough. She didn’t understand what made this urgent, but she hated leaving things for someone else to do. 

Abryn made it to the abandoned train by late morning. It was a beaten down engine cart with an empty cargo trailer behind it. Must’ve been part of a larger west-bound caravan because there was no sign of what or who was previously being transported. 

The engine cart had slipped an axle and leaned heavily to the left. The mechanism itself seemed fine; it could use a tune up, but it had one of the newest-looking batteries she’d seen in months. It seemed to be holding a steady charge and everything. The enclosed trailer behind it wasn’t attached when she examined it. The hitch was bent, and the socket had twisted open. Three of the cheap metal wheels had doubled over or snapped completely off. It must’ve been nearly slung off the tracks when the engine lurched down. 

Abryn took a firm stance and straightened the hitch back out, but there was little she could do for the socket. She wrapped it unconvincingly around the ball and crushed it a bit in her palm, but the train would have to rely heavily on the chains to stay connected. 

She stood in front of the damaged side of the engine, considering her options. Lifting the frame onto her knee, she tried repositioning the axel but didn’t have the reach or the angle. The tracks were built on gravel mounds which did not make for stable footing. She set the engine down carefully before letting her feet slide down to the still-fresh mud. It wasn’t going to be easy to get back to the shop like this, but if any one person could get it back, it was Abryn. She was the only dryfter in Ridgate who worked as a mechanic. It would’ve taken six-or-so dryftless to do the same job.

She cranked the engine and put it in reverse on its lowest setting. It was another mile out of town to the next connection onto the inbound tracks, and she had no interest in going that far to come all the way back in the correct direction. Shutting off the power lines turned out to be a good idea. Standing between the two carts, Abryn lifted the inner left corners of each and fell into the engine’s pace back toward West Station. She knew that she had to be getting close to the shop when the trailer lost another wheel. It lurched hard to the right, and Abryn dropped the engine cart to keep it from toppling off the tracks. Metal screeched and sparked as the engine continued to force its way along the rail. She jerked to stabilize both and sprung to shut off the power. 

Always another thing. 

Abryn slid down the gravel mound, chewing her tongue in irritation. According to the fresh gashes in the wooden siding, adrenaline had dryfted her hands into dark, leathery claws without her prompting. The joints in her legs were also slowly slipping back into place from the instinctive jump. Quick impulse dryfting like that sent pins-and-needles up her calves and pushed her heart to increase blood flow. She stretched out her fingers and wrists, dryfting them slowly between states. Hands were the most likely to cramp up after impulse dryfts. She wiped the little spots of blood from the soft skin between the fingers and cracked her knuckles, considering leaving the stupid train there until the morning. What’s coming through Ridgate anyway? 

But someone needed her to get it done. West Station was so close. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

There was slight movement at the door of the shop. A low-ranking Militia officer stood stiffly next to a young woman. The officer puffed out his chest and started down the tracks toward her. “Lady Bryn, you’ve been summoned to the Central,” he called, still a distance away.

“Tell him that is not my name, and tell him I’m busy.” 

His steps faltered, but only slightly. “I’m not supposed to leave until you come with us.”

“Don’t come out here unless you’re bringing that big dolley by the wall.”

He hesitated again before turning back to fill her request with the help of the young woman. His face was bright red as he rolled it out to her.

Abryn grabbed the dolley in one hand and heaved it to the front of the train. 

“This is an important matter,” he said, “There are Highborns in town he needs you to speak to.”

“This is going to sound mean, but if it was that important, Kaler would have sent someone more important after me.”

She scuffed a dry spot into the sticky dirt, eased into a stable squat, and used her free hand to push the cart onto the far wheels. The officer stumbled back a step as metal creaked precariously. She grunted and wrestled the finicky tool into place then eased the frame back down. The rusty old thing just barely lifted the cart off its broken axle. It wasn’t meant to hold that much weight, but with the station so close, it’d save her a lot of trouble, struggling to move it herself. 

“Ma’am,” he cleared his throat, pretending his voice didn’t waver, “these are very important guests. He wanted the Central well-manned.”

Abryn gave him a blank stare and a fake smile. “Tell him I have my hands full. Literally, if you must. It is supposed to be my day off, and I will not spend it playing games. Please, go away so I can do my work and go home.”

The officer set his jaw but eventually scurried back to the platform.

After checking the connection again, she returned to its rear. The two stood in the doorway, perched with peaked interest. Facing West Station, she lifted the back end of the trailer off the tracks.

Abryn sighed and refocused on the task at hand. With the slick tracks, she needed better footing. She dryfted partially, letting the bones and muscles in her legs readjust. Her feet shifted, elongating under thickening skin. Claws and thicker foot pads would help with traction. Changing the joint location of her knees and ankles made it easier to lift and pull the cart behind her. The first few steps the two carts didn’t want to move. The chains rattled, and metal ground on metal. With a small grunt, the trailer jolted forward. The ball hitch had left the socket. Chains snapped tight in the middle, giving the assembly some momentum. Clawing into the gravel between the ballasts, Abryn got up to a heavy run sustaining it just long enough to screech into the shop.

“That was incredibly impressive, Lady Bryn,” the young woman bowed as Abryn caught her breath. She had the slightest eastern accent.

“Do yourself a favor,” she awkwardly waved off the bow, “Don’t listen to anything Kaler says. Just call me Abryn.”

 “I apologize,” she nodded another bow. “He asked me to summon you to Central.”

“No,” she said immediately. “I don’t have time for him today.”


The officer stepped in, “You have no authority to dismiss a command. He is your superior.” His eyes shifted nervously as he tried to maintain an authoritative air. 

Abryn took a breath and straightened to her full height. “How about you go sit down while the adults are speaking. You still smell like the Academy, Sergeant-major.”

He flinched. Reasonably so. She wasn’t part of the Militia, but her presence made up for her lack of rank. She was almost half a foot taller and maybe sixty pounds heavier. On top of that, his nervousness implied he was dryftless. 

“I apologize for the interruption,” she said, calmly returning her gaze to the woman

She had maintained a gentle smile — maybe even an amused smirk — throughout the exchange, “Ma’am, if I may, I am part of the Highborns’ travelling party in Ridgate. The Maistru summoned you on their behalf.” She had no Highborn tattoos — in fact, no tattoos at all; she was dryftless.

But then something sunk in. “Wait. Maistru?”

The woman nodded.


She nodded again.

Abryn’s eyes narrowed, “This is not funny.”

“It isn’t a joke,” the officer said.

“Tell him to waste someone else’s time. I’m not playing games,” she nudged past them and left the grimy shop behind. She caught a trolley back east, staring blankly through the bright homes and makeshift shops along the railway. The colorful, modge-podged neighborhood of the dryftless slowly faded away, leaving the perfect grids of the relentlessly monotone Downtown Residential Zone. The tram’s route cut into and through the broad plaza surrounding the Central. She waved to friends in their Militia-green vests as they mulled around outside. There were quite a few of them out, leaned against doorways, picking at the cracking wood siding, and kicking stones back and forth… 

She shook the thought from her mind — the thought of Kaler as Maistru over all of Ridgate. He was always looking for a way under her skin. She wasn’t going to let him today.

Abryn stepped off the ever-moving trolley and strode back to the house, hands stuffed in home-stitched pockets to keep her fingers from twitching. The sky was the azure of midmorning. The move hadn’t taken long at all. “Told you I’d be back before lunch,” she said, ducking in the door. “Wells?” There was no reply. A note waited for her on the kitchen counter written in a tight, tall script.

Called in to work. You win this time. I’ll pick up lunch.

Any other day, she would have been excited for the chance to make him eat his words, but the bad feeling had settled back into her stomach. She stuffed the note in a pocket and tried not to run to the morgue two streets past the tram tracks. The back door was always locked, but, lifting on the handle while pushing at the top, the bolt could be maneuvered out of its socket. Wells always kept a bottle of grease soap in the wash room to help her scrub oil off as best she could. She slipped into a sanitation gown and had barely opened the door when a thick smell wafted from the autopsy room into the hall. The chemicals turned her stomach. She stared intently at the ground, waving under the assumption Wells was in the room. But she had to check. She stole a glance to see him pacing toward her, sanitation gown damp with things she didn’t want to think about. Despite her efforts, she failed to keep her eyes from the autopsy table and the body thereon. Ridgate’s Maistru — or former Maistru — Remlot Gentry gazed blankly through the ceiling looking cold and blue.

Wells already had disposed of his gloves when he caught her gently by the elbow. Her face burned, and she was losing feeling in her fingers. He guided her silently to his office to sit and catch her breath. “What are you doing?” He said, pulling his medical mask to his chin. “I told you I’d be working.”

“It could’ve been paperwork,” she said weakly.

“Paperwork. On a weekend.”

She sighed, “I had to know if he was really dead.”

“Who told you?”

“Some kid. I thought it was a joke at first.”

“Apparently, he showed up on the doorstep last night. Absolutely brutalized. Significantly worse on the right of his body, if you can believe it.” 

She could believe it — Kaler was left-handed. “Rumor has it he was the one promoted to Maistru.”

“Out of all of our options?” Wells cursed, his pale face somehow losing more color. “Guess that’s it, then.”

“What? No.”

“I’ve told you for years, I would not stay with that idiot running the town. I meant it.”

“You’d just leave without me?”

“I never said you couldn’t come, but I wasn’t sure you’d want to leave.” 

She ignored the bite in his tone. “And who would take over for me in the shop?”

“Quit making that your problem. You’ve got to take care of yourself, too.”

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel at all guilty about leaving. You basically run the morgue.” 

“They’ll find a replacement for me just like they can for you. Doesn’t matter how important we may or may not be. They’ll find someone.”

She chewed her tongue and narrowed her eyes. “I guess you have a dead guy to get back to.”

He pursed his lips. “We can talk about it over lunch. I’ll bring home dumplings.”

Abryn waited until the exam room door clicked behind him before leaving. She turned sharply out of the front door, heading straight for the Central.


Scene 2:

Ridgate’s Central was a single-story, H-shaped building with the only two public entries in the east and west courtyards. The eastern courtyard was a clean space — or relatively so — boasting smoothly paved, light gray limestone and scattered with reasonably soft benches. The west-facing, however, was filled with dark gravel and surrounded by tinted windows. One for Endlife celebrations; the other for punishments and executions. 

Abryn refused to use either entry. Instead, she marched to a door leading to the laundry room. The higher-ranked officers barely flinched as she entered from the side door, but the startled newbies inside fumbled to tell her she was in a restricted area. An officer posted outside told them to stand down, and she passed by, entering in the lobby that bridged the two wings. The room was a little crowded, but Kaler was tall, and his bright auburn hair was impossible to miss. She exchanged salutes with a few officers as she weaved over to him.

There was something off about him. He was never disheveled. Not like this. They were subtle keys. He stood a distance from their friends. His brown eyes were restless; his arms crossed in front of his vest, almost covering his new insignia — red with five silver bars. There was a stiff edge to his movements. His jaw was clenched. She wished she found satisfaction in his anxiety, but instead, it was more unsettling.

Failing to hide a deep breath, he put on a smile when he saw her, “I told him you wouldn’t be long.”

“What is going on?”

“Not in the mood to make new friends?”

“I never seem to like your friends.”

“Oh, you’ll like this one. He’s fun. Of course, if you don’t like him, you better be a convincing liar,” he said, maintaining his typical playful tone. “Either way, I’ve really talked you up to some important people. You could at least thank your Maistru, Bryn.” 

She held her blank expression. 

He waited for a moment before brushing his unnaturally unruly hair away from his face. “You can quit reading into this summon. The Highborns have some engineering needs that you’re going to help them with. Ignore me, fine, but you’re too smart to decline their request.” He gestured to the Maistru’s office. His office now. “You’ve kept him long enough. You remember your common etiquette, right?”

Abryn didn’t give him the satisfaction of a withering glare. Anticipation tied a knot in her stomach as she approached the imposing oak doors. She fixed her hair as best she could. Her fingers twitched softly at her side, but she cocked an eyebrow and straightened her posture. It was difficult to block out the whispers echoing in the entrance hall. The two officers posted as guards pulled the double doors open toward her. 

The office was a tall, wide room, well lit by massive windows that peered out into each court. There were about a dozen people inside, and every eye turned as oak scuffed the floor and the latch clicked into place. A sharp man with long, heavy hair leaned against the desk. Abryn’s eyes rested on the thin arrows drawn on his neck — tattoos that marked him as a member of the Cutov family.

He rocked to his feet and dismissed the officers — all women, she realized — back to their other duties. Abryn saluted him with a fist over her heart, displaying the tattoo on her hand that marked her as a dryfter.

Maybe I should have bowed. 

His expression hadn’t changed from the confident smirk he’d worn when she’d entered. He had an almost aggressive bounce to his step. To her relief, he held out his hand, palm down, in an informal greeting. She returned the gesture, resting her hand on his. Without warning, he pressed his lips to her knuckles. 

Abryn fought hard against the urge to jerk away, blushing. “Oh, so you’re a kisser,” she said to underplay her surprise. 

It was a risky first impression, but her instinct was right. His grin widened. He straightened up and placed his palm on the top of her hand. He glanced behind him to the only person left in the room — the woman from the station. “As I told you,” she said with a gentle laugh. 

“I’d been warned about your quick wit — several people, actually,” he laughed. “I knew I’d like you.” 

She faked a smile and took a moment to look him over. His hand marked him as a dryfter. He and Abryn were the same type: terresuca. He stood a few inches taller than she was but had more of a swimmer’s build like Wells. His maroon Highborn’s cloak draped all the way to his knees and his bare chest underneath bore several more delicate tattoos. He had olive skin and dark brown hair, straight and long down his back. There were a number of small, haphazard braids pulling unruly hairs away from his face. He had sharp features but chose to wear short facial hair that gave him a somewhat casual look.

“I’m Kerrix,” he said. “And you’re Abryn the engineer, right?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, “but ‘mechanic’ is a more accurate description, Lord Cutov.”

“Don’t do that,” he waved his hands dismissively. “Titles are stupid. Just Kerrix. No ‘lord’ or ‘sir’ or anything. Anyway, I hear you’re the best in Ridge Gate.”

“Be useful or be forgotten.”

He flashed another crooked grin. “I like that attitude. We share a similar mindset. Let me get straight to the point, we need your help with our train — my travelling party and me. We’ve been having engine troubles on and off since we left the Coast, and I’m afraid we’re on an incredibly tight schedule. We’ve put off fixing it as long as we could.”

She nodded, “Of course. I can help with whatever you need.” 

“Perfect. That’s what I want to hear. If that’s the case, I also need your recommendation.”


“We also need some medical assistance. The best all-around in town.”

Abryn tried not to react. “Oh, I’m sure Kaler had — er, the Maistru, I mean — can give you a good recommendation. I’m sure he has access to all the stats or records.” 

The Highborn raised an eyebrow. “Interestingly, he deferred the question to you.”

“Oh. Of course. Well, my sister is a fairly talented medic. Last I heard, she held the widest variety of certifications in town.”

“What’s the best way to find her?”

“Any of the first-tier officers have clearance to find her,” Abryn gestured toward the lobby. “I passed six of them when I came in.”

“Deal,” he glanced at the young woman and nodded for her to leave. She smiled and floated by to find an escort. “We should go look at the train while Mabyth takes care of that.”

Abryn agreed and let him guide her out into the lobby. The Militia officers scrambled to salute, leaving only the echo of footsteps as Abryn and the Highborn left. Kaler held the door to the western courtyard open. She refused to look at him, but his eyes followed her out. 

The dark gravel crunched beneath them as the door swung shut. “I hate that,” the Highborn — what’s his name? — shook his head. “I’ve asked them to quit that since I got here, but it’s pummeled into their instincts.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a Highborn in Ridgate, Lord Cutov.” 

“Just Kerrix, please.” 

Kerrix. Kerrix, Kerrix, Kerrix.  “Oh, of course. It’s hard to, well, un-pummel an instinct,” she lied, keeping an eye out for the next tram as they bounded across the pavement. Don’t forget his name again.

“Seems that way,” he laughed, gazing around the plaza. Pods of officers were already beginning to form near the shops and restaurants. “Where’s the best place to eat in Ridge Gate?”

Abryn scanned the different cafes and pointed him to one of the larger buildings known for its variety of high-protein dishes and cheap drinks after hours. 

“Best in all of Ridge Gate?” 

“I mean, in terms of Downtown, yes. My friends and I go every couple of weeks. It’s very popular among the officers.”

“What about outside of Downtown?” They were already halfway across the plaza, and he wasn’t slowing down.

“The dryftless have smaller shops and restaurants, but none of them are this nice.” 

“How about you walk me past the best one between here and West Station?”

“I’m sure the tram will be here soon if you’d rather wait on that.”

He shook his head. “You can’t see much from the tram. Let’s go see some restaurants on our way.” 

The farther they strayed from Downtown, the more nervous she felt. The dryftless didn’t care too much for regulations; worse than that, the officers in Ridgate were the most lenient in the area. Since Abryn could remember, the little town had been a closed circuit of Academy graduates. There was a constant flow of new sergeants coming in, gaining some experience, then relocating somewhere nicer. So much time was spent on ‘training,’ the actual responsibilities were pretty regularly ignored. 

Most neglected of all were the dryftless neighborhoods. The straight, neat lines of Downtown housing were immediately abandoned as the cobblestone paving ended. It was common to run across home-crafted sheds and stands. Many of the artisans made additional money after work selling hand-crafted furniture or pottery or clothing or tools. Animal pins filled whatever space the owner deemed necessary, often running out into the streets and connecting to a second home that advertised fresh meat. The houses themselves were slathered with thick paint and graffiti. 

Kerrix didn’t seem to mind, though. He discussed the issues he and his travelling party had been experiencing like nothing was extraordinary around them. Occasionally, he’d want to go down a narrower alleyway to see what was on the other side only to continue explaining different scenarios where their engine would die or they would lose power to the cabins. Apparently, the whole train shut down a little ways out of West Station, and he and his party had been forced to push the train in. He’d stopped at a few stores to make small purchases as they went, joking with the shopkeepers as if he didn’t realize how ridiculously out of place he looked. 

It took nearly an hour to get to West Station along their meandering path, but he wasn’t unpleasant company. Despite the easygoing nature Kerrix projected, the stress of him seeing the dingy Station was relentless. Abryn held her breath as he led her to the east-bound shop where the Highborn train was docked. She only had an instance to be upset with the mess before she was captivated by the most gorgeous train she’d ever seen.

Four sleek, black-and-maroon, luxury carts held together with bright silver frames and polished connections. It looked like a sleeping carriage and a dining car between two engines facing opposite directions. The windows — even the dark, reflective glass of the sleeping cart — were clearer than any glass in all of Ridgate. Kerrix went to the sleeper to drop off his purchases from the market, and Abryn stepped right onto one of the engines. The assembly was sleek and minimal with streamlined access to controls and common maintenance areas. This beauty was probably maintained by some of the best engineers the Coast had to offer. Real engineers. She’d get it running to their standards. She had to see how fast it could move. 

Abryn was shoulder-deep in one of the ports when Kerrix stepped onto the cart behind her. “That was one of the most unique places I’ve seen anywhere on the island. Do you live in that part of town?”

“No, I live in the dryfter neighborhoods, Downtown.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Of course.”

“Doesn’t hurt my pride,” one of the belts in the back felt kind of funny. “It’s a really vibrant community.”


“Yeah,” she said nudging past him to get a look under the vehicle, “it’s kind of a hidden gem. We don’t really get tourists.”

“Should you get more tourists?”

She slid underneath the front end, “I mean, sure.” 

“That wasn’t convincing.”

“You want an honest answer?” she chipped at some corrosion buildup on one of the terminals. “No, not really. There’s not much to do here other than drink or bury somebody.”

“I’m sure there’s more than that.”

“Eh, everything here is pretty mediocre.”

“Then why stay?”

She shrugged, forgetting he couldn’t see her shoulders, “This is where I’m needed.”

“I’m sure other places could need your particular skills.”

The conversation with Wells flashed through her mind. “Maybe so.”

“Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”

“But,” she smirked, “I’m not sure what this place would do without me.” She pulled on a slipped belt, and it crumbled in her palm. The mechanism wasn’t at all maintained to the standard she’d expected. She tried to snuff her disappointment. She slid out from underneath and stepped past where he sat on the shop floor. He didn’t seem concerned with the mess. 

He must’ve noticed her frustration as she scurried around the shop trying to find parts in the mess. “I think I might go see if Mabyth found your sister — let you concentrate a bit. I feel like I’m in the way.”

She blushed, “I apologize if I was rude…”

“Not at all!” He rolled to his feet. “I’m just supposed to be watching her, anyway. Making sure she’s safe, and all that.”

Abryn nodded, gave him directions to the hospital, and crawled back under the hood as he left. She wanted to know what he’d do if he found her sister, but it didn’t feel like her place to ask. She could only hope he didn’t bring Reislyn back here with him.


Continuing a Series

Writing Advice

So if you’ve been here before, you might have seen me sharing the drafts of the first chapter in my WIP. I may have never mentioned it, but I am plotting the Tales of Drynic as a trilogy. As of now, I am in the early stages of Beta Reading and Critiques. There are many edits between me and publishing book one, but that isn’t stopping me from planning ahead. 

In case you didn’t know, it is industry standard to write and market the first book in a series as a Stand-Alone story “with series potential.” As far as I understand, this primarily applies to traditionally published works, however, because I intend to traditionally publish, that’s what I know the most about. 

That said, I found myself in a pickle these past weeks. I knew I was unhappy with the ending of my first book but couldn’t pinpoint how to solve it. Needing outside help, I sought out Beta Readers to help stir up new ideas. The first to finish agreed that the ending was underwhelming and felt unfinished. I explained my situation further, and we opened a conversation on the matter. While this wasn’t a bad idea, I still struggled to pin down where I wanted to end up. 

So it was time for more research, and here I am to share that with you. Let’s talk about how other series treat their individual books. 

An easy, accessible place to start is Harry Potter. Not only is it mainstream enough for most people to have at least a vague understanding, but it’s got a lot of examples of individual stories woven together. So let’s run through the resolutions:

  1. Harry destroys the stone, Voldemort is defeated, and Gryffindor wins the house cup.
  2. Harry saves Ginny, kills the Basilisk, destroys Voldemort again, and Gryffindor wins the house cup.
  3. Harry discovers Sirius is innocent, finds the actual culprit, Sirius and Buckbeak get away, Gryffindor wins the house cup.
  4. Harry wins the Triwizard Tournament, Cedric dies, Voldemort is back, we find the actual Moody. *Tonal Shift.
  5. Harry destroys the Prophesy, Sirius dies, and Voldemort is exposed.
  6. Harry finds the fake locket, and Dumbledore dies.
  7. Harry destroys the Horcruxes, Harry masters death, Harry stops the war, Harry defeats Voldemort, and Harry starts a family.

Early on — in the first three books, especially — the stories are only kept in their specific order because it follows Harry’s chronological school experience. For all intents and purposes, book one could have introduced the Basilisk, book two could’ve talked about Azkaban, and book three could have sent us to find the Philosopher’s Stone. Adjust the ages, and the books work the same each time: they are closed cases, opening with the summer before school and wrapping up with the train ride home.

But then book four happens. 

On the surface, it’s the same: summer, school, new problems, problems solved, Voldemort returns, end of the year feast. Super similar right? Except it isn’t. Voldemort’s full return in this book is immediately followed by the first notable ‘good guy’ death since James and Lily Potter. And it’s a child. Books one, two, and three have satisfying, closed-circuit endings. But book four? Book four tells you that things are just getting started. Book four sees that you’ve made it through the opening trilogy and takes a chance. After Harry leaves the graveyard, there is no ending until book seven when Voldemort is defeated. Don’t get me wrong; plenty of people made it to or past book four and didn’t care to finish the series. But Rowling’s target audience needed to know that Voldemort had been conquered. After that point, the books were still episodic, but they were no longer stand-alones. 

Well, that’s great and all, but not everyone is writing a septology. Today’s hot trend is the trilogy — and by ‘today’ I mean trilogies have been growing in popularity at the same rate as the advancement of story-telling techniques. A trilogy sets up an overarching ‘beginning, middle, end’ with tiny ‘beginnings, middles, ends’ scattered through. But I’m not here to talk about the ‘Rule of Threes’ trope. Not today at least. I’m here to figure out how in the world to bridge my stories. So let’s keep following pop culture right to one of the most mainstream trilogies of the past decade-or-so: the Hunger Games. How does each end?

  1. Katniss saves Peeta, they kill the last tribute, then defy the ever-changing-rules to win the Hunger Games.
  2. Katniss is saved from the Hunger Games, Peeta is captured by the Capitol, and a revolution has started.
  3. Katniss kills President Coin, and she and Peeta leave the rebuilding country to start a family and recover from their trauma.

Looking again at book one, we get another example of a great standalone. The protagonist wins, the Capitol looks stupid, she gets to bring fake boyfriend home to see real-fake boyfriend. All is well in the world. But the success of book one — along with Suzanne Collins’s pre-established reputation with The Underland Chronicles quintet — prompted a second and third book. Similar to Harry’s fourth book, book two, Catching Fire, ends on a cliffhanger that no longer works as a standalone. Peeta is in the Capitol which is bad. Haymitch lied to Katniss about prioritizing Peeta which is bad. The Districts are rebelling which is mostly bad. Katniss has to learn how to be inspirational without using Peeta’s general likableness as a crutch… which is bad. And now they have to go hide underground and handle double the PTSD which, say it together now, is bad. 

In terms of pacing, the two series play out the same. If you condensed Harry Potter into a trilogy, I would argue books one, two, and three are part one; they’re tonally similar and end in a satisfying way. Books four and five are part two. They start on the foundation of the first part, cover a tone shift, and end with the ‘lowest point’ after the death of Sirius. This is an unsatisfying ending that begs for a conclusion. Books six and seven give that conclusion. 

*Note: there could be an argument made for book six to be included in part two, ending with the death of Dumbledore, but Sirius’s death was more of a shock. He was 36 when he died. He had plenty of life left. Dumbledore was approximately 150 and filled the ‘mentor’ role, which has an entire trope dedicated to the concept that mentors have to die before the finale. It shouldn’t have been a huge surprise.

Now, there’s a common structure between these examples: the breaks are pre-established by set timelines. Each Harry Potter book tells of the events that happen in each school year. Each Hunger Games book tells of the events that happen in and around the Games. Now, that said, the finale book for each does not have to follow this trend (Mockingjay definitely doesn’t) because it is the ending. It doesn’t have to bridge a transition; its role is to finish the story regardless of when that finish is. Well, that isn’t always applicable. My manuscript included. So these examples only got me so far. That led me to another observation about these stories: both (in my opinion) are significantly plot-driven. 

While I enjoy reading plot-driven stories, my heart lies with character-driven stories. Let me explain where I see the difference. Harry Potter and Katniss Everdeen are fairly static characters. Harry is written as a paragon — selfless, innocent, loving — despite his increasingly difficult role in society. By the end, Harry’s growth was more in his skill than his actual personality. He aged into a little more confidence and wisdom, but I can’t point to a particular internal struggle Harry overcame throughout the series. Katniss might be even more static. She enters the series hardened and cynical and despising the Capitol, she leaves the series hardened and cynical having overthrown the Capitol. Except now she picked a boyfriend and has more trauma than I can shake a stick at. The Hunger Games is dystopian and focuses more adamantly on the corruption of the government rather than the flaws of its jaded protagonist.

In my search for character driven stories, I landed on the Incredibles. So let’s talk about what happens between movies.

  1. Bob learns that his glory days as a solo-act are behind him, and his family is important. Helen learns that the world still needs saving sometimes, and sometimes supers are the ones best suited for the job. Violet learns that being different is okay, especially when you use your gifts to help others. Dash learns that there is a balance in being special, and that you are the one who chooses how you are going to use your power.
  2. Bob learns that he is not the best suited for every job, and sometimes he needs to learn and adapt or just stay out of the way. Helen learns that sometimes you have to be the change you want to see in the world. Violet… spends the movie liking a guy… and Dash spends the movie pushing buttons. 

While the second movie, in my opinion, dropped the ball on the kids’ further development, I think it did well continuing the arcs of Mr. and Mrs. Incredible. For this discussion, the relative success or failure of the second movie matters less to me than the bridge between the two. At the end of the original, each member of the main cast has gone through a significant development, and one often related fairly closely to their individual specialty. ‘Stronger together; be flexible; be seen; think before you dash.’ We are left with an open-ended scene that leaves the audience satisfied, and able to continue the story indefinitely in their own imagination. The second movie does a fairly good job of taking those arcs and continuing them along their logical paths. 

A pitfall of many character-driven series is continuing character arcs. Most authors and readers agree that they keep wanting to see growth from their characters if that’s what was set up by book one. But there are so many traps that an author must fight to avoid. A character might come across as too different, having lost something that made them likable in the first book. A character might look too similar, having randomly reset to the factory settings we found them at in book one. A character might settle too easily into a brand new mindset.

So how did the Incredibles handle this? Bob was a do-it-myself kind of guy. He started to open up to the idea of accepting help by the end of the first movie, but that will require time to adapt to. When Helen is picked as the face of the Deavors’ legalization movement, it stuns and destroys Bob. He isn’t used to being sidelined. He isn’t used to raising kids. He isn’t the stay-at-home type. And he is upset by it. The whole movie we watch him struggle to keep up with everything happening around him, and eventually, he is able to start asking for help. It takes a while, but Bob has to come to terms with the fact that he is not suited to do this job alone. You can’t bench press every problem away. Helen’s arc continues as well. She was adapting to the idea that embracing your powers isn’t necessarily bad. She saw multiple instances where her family would have been killed without the use of their different skillsets. And from there, she is encouraged to reconnect with her full potential. Once in this situation, she reacts like Bob did in the first movie, falling easily back into the role that she played for so long twenty years ago. She missed the rush and the opportunity to help people. Helen had to relearn her place in society, embracing who she loved to be while also adapting to who she is now. 

I hope this analysis was as helpful to you as it was to me. I feel more confident in the direction my manuscript needs to go, and where it’s most appropriate to stop between novels.


Stay safe,

Rena Grace

Writing Women Wrong

Writing Advice

This week, I had every intention of writing about villains I love… But I got caught up on a tangent elsewhere and haven’t been able to jump off of it. And that topic is the anime, Naruto. Yes, hello, hi. I am a twenty-something-year-old girl who loves Naruto. While we do exist, we are few and far between. That’s actually what I wanted to blog about today. I wanted to point at one of the big reasons I think it is difficult for girls to like the show, and that is because of the girls in the show. 

Two notes: First, I’ll try to keep this fairly surface level so that you can read this post without having watched the show because I think this is important. But we’ll see how that goes. Second, I will be referencing exclusively from cannon episodes of the anime; not the manga, not the filler, and not from Boruto.

So I grew up in the prime of Naruto, watching Part One as it came out dubbed on Cartoon Network, and by many metrics, I fit the target audience. The show is aimed very strongly at boys, but, hey, that’s the kind of media I always preferred. As a kid, I had a limited understanding of time, so I was never the best at scheduling myself to catch every episode. But I saw enough. When Shippuden started up, I remember going over to my friend Jessica’s house to watch the subs as they came out online; I was even less consistent with that, but it was enough to give the series a slot in my memory.

Fast forward almost ten years: my younger brother gets hooked on the show and watches it through in order — something I had yet to do. He loved it so much, he offered to watch it through with me immediately after finishing the thing. So off we went, finishing Part One and Shippuden in a matter of weeks. And, overall, I loved it.

But I’m not going to talk about how it’s great. Not today at least. Today, I want to express the sheer disappointment I felt basically any time a female character was introduced. 

First, I want to look at ratios and power balance. In Part One, we are introduced to a standard: there will always be at least three boys to every one girl. Each four-person squad has a leader and three pupils. Each of those teams except one has the same setup: male sensei ( notable and cool), two male students (often rivals or opposites), and one female who is almost always useless on missions, but exists in at least one love triangle. 

Let me elaborate. Here are our main teams in Part One:

  • Led by Kakashi (male), Naruto is strong and short-tempered, while Sasuke is strong, but cocky, calm and collected. Sakura is said to be smart, but does a total of two smart things in the 220 episodes that make up Part One: she was the best at walking on trees, and she woke herself up. Those two events are as lame and forgettable as I’m making them seem. 
  • Led by Gai (male), Lee is hardworking, loud, and ridiculous, while Neji is naturally-gifted, quiet, and serious. Tenten throws things. Not even super well. There are other characters with other abilities who still throw things better than the ‘specialist.’ I think she won a single battle. It was in Shippuden and it was against a clone of herself. She has a personality, but I struggle to describe it… That says a lot. 
  • Led by Asuma (male), Shikamaru is intelligent, low-energy, and methodical, while Choji is stupid, loud, high-strung, and impulsive. Ino has a potentially cool ability. It’s useful when her dad uses it. But instead, her primary function is to be the petty romantic rival to Sakura. Because girls are only as important as the boys they’re chasing.
  • Led by Kurenai (female, but don’t get too excited), Kiba is loud and aggressive, while Shino is quiet and weird. Hinata had a lot of potential, too. Like Ino, she has a really cool ability, but she’s not known for her fighting ability. She’s known as the quiet, socially awkward girl who loves Naruto. 

Even the team leaders do this three-guys-and-a-girl thing. Kakashi sensei is insanely talented, uses an ability he shouldn’t have, and carries massive emotional baggage. Gai sensei is insanely strong, quirky, and passionate. Asuma sensei is the cool-guy archetype and is at the center of an emotional arc in Shippuden. Kurenai sensei could break the mold by being the only female team leader… but instead, she is best known for trying to use mind control on a mind control master from a clan of mind control masters. After that, she gets pregnant and shows up when we need to be reminded that the baby daddy is dead and we should be sad. What a legacy, right?

Now, it is my pleasure to finally bring up the Sand Siblings, and the closest thing to a useful woman Part One has to offer. Temari. Temari is the eldest and leads the group more prominently than their actual leader whose name I never remember. She’s a competent fighter and a logical mind. And she has interests that don’t involve chasing boys. Her brothers are Gaara and Konkoro — overly serious and antisocial, versus cocky and goofy. While Gaara is the powercell behind their plans in Part One, it’s Temari that leads them. It was the first time I didn’t meet a female character and hate her by the end of the arc. And, let’s be real, Temari is great, but she is nothing compared to the other characters in the show. 

For me, the sad part of this all is the fact that Masashi Kishimoto knows how to write compelling characters. Let’s look for a minute at motivations:

Naruto: become the ninja president so the village will love him. Sasuke: avenge his clan in his own self-righteous way. Shikamaru: take a nap… lol, but for real, he just wants safety for those he loves. Kakashi wants to atone for his sins by protecting those around him. Gai wants to train to be the strongest he can be. Lee wants to prove that hard work can rival natural talent. Neji wants recognition for his skill despite his rank in the clan.  Kiba also wants to be ninja president, but for the power it holds. Asuma wants to bring flowers home to his lover. Shino wants to find cool new bugs. Choji wants to eat and marry someone who will feed him lots of food. Konkuro wants to be the best at his skillset. Gaara just wants to feel love.

The specifics aren’t important in this matter. I just want to point out the variety and depth of so many of these male characters. Let’s compare that to the motivations of the women mentioned above. 

Sakura wants Sasuke to love her. Ino wants to beat Sakura — specifically in getting Sasuke to love her. Hinata wants Naruto to love her. Kurenai is very much a background character, but I’d guess she wants to raise her son with Asuma. Tenten is a piece of paper who carries around knives and throws them when she’s told to. I don’t even know what she wants. 

Thank Kishimoto for Temari. She wants to be useful. She wants her brothers to ask for her advice; she wants people to know she is a force to be reckoned with; she wants to beat the crap out of you with her fan. It’s great. She’s stubborn and assertive and feels like a real person. 

And thankfully, in Shippuden, we’re introduced to a handful of other women with motivations. Tsunade loves drinking and gambling because she is a healer who feels responsible for the deaths of those she loved the most. Konan has one of the most creative powers in the show, leads a group of international terrorists on a mission to obtain world peace, and nearly kills one of the biggest villains in the show in a one on one fight. Kushina is terrifying; she comes from a powerful clan and carries a powerful creature inside her. But at her core, she’s silly and awkward and just wants to be treated like someone who matters.

The funny thing about all of these characters is that they each come with a love story that I, personally, find convincing. 

Woah, woah, woah. Did I just contradict everything I’ve been saying? 

No. My point stands. As a girl, I struggled to connect to the flat female characters we are introduced to. Time and time again we’re shown really cool guys and their really cool abilities, while girls spent their time on the sidelines cheering the boys on and trying to steal a kiss. And the backtracking done in Shippuden felt too little too late. 

And that is so sad! I connect so strongly with so many of the characters in Naruto, yet feel like my entire gender is an afterthought. I get angry seeing ways that the early women of the show could have been written to be compelling. I feel sad when I see how little impact even the useful women had on the show. I question why nearly every team has a three-to-one ratio. And why the female team members almost always set up a love triangle.

The anime got better over the years, and I hope Boruto is continuing to advance what women can do in-universe. Maybe one day I’ll share how I would go about changing the female characters to be more relatable. Step one, I think Sakura should have punched the shit out of Sasuke. Just once. That’s the minimum of what I ask. 

Thanks for tuning into my geekiest talk yet. See you next week. 


Stay Safe, 

Rena Grace

Lessons Learned from Characters I Love

Writing Advice

Welcome back to ‘I really, really love these characters and really, really love talking about my really real love for them.’

If you haven’t ingested any of this delightful content, I cannot recommend anything more than these shows, movies, and books. There is also nothing I can do to keep from spoiling these properties.

So let’s jump right into some delightful dudes. 

Remus Lupin [Harry Potter] 

When I think of Remus Lupin, I think of compassion. 

He appears for the first time in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban as the newest installment of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The first notable thing about Lupin is seen through the lens of contrast. Harry’s first year, the class was taught by Quirrel, a nervous man who happened to have the antagonist of the series growing out of the back of his head. Pretty standard. It’s fine. There are limited comments made about his actual class, lessons, or teaching style. Most of his notable interactions happen outside of the classroom. I see him as less of a teacher and more of another side character who is in it just enough to set up his villainy, hidden in the shadow of our goodest-bad-boy, Snape. The next year, Harry is introduced to the self-obsessed egomaniac and notorious best-smiler, Lockhart. In the book and — maybe even more so — the movie, Lockhart is a buffoon, existing as a source of comic relief as he bumbles through skill-related tasks. We see more of his lessons and his role as an instructor in the Dueling Club, but these are used mostly to set up his characterization. Again, the most focus is put on his role outside of class — showing off, talking big, bragging, and interacting with fans. 

Which leads us to Harry’s third year. Enter Lupin. We first meet him on the train to Hogwarts — the only instance I’m aware of a staff member traveling via the Hogwarts express. He’s described as a little unkempt in a way that implies he is poorer than most other wizards we’ve met so far. Despite this, the first action he takes proves him to be a powerful protector, as Harry is attacked by dementors. Throughout the year, Lupin’s classes are shown to be the highlight of student life — contrasted again on a few occasions as Snape steps in as the harsh and relentless substitute teacher. Lupin’s role as a teacher and mentor is highlighted considerably more than his predecessors, from engaging lessons to his mentorship over Harry. He is continuously shown to be intelligent, compassionate, talented, and humble. These four traits are not particularly present in either Quirrel or Lockhart. 

Lupin’s character is given more context and depth than any other professor this early in the story. We discover that he was friends with Harry’s father, the assumed villain (Sirius Black), and the real villain (Peter Petigrew); the three called themselves Marauders and were some of the brightest and most talented wizards of their time. Snape hates him, not out of a bad gut instinct or a disdain for false arrogance, but for Lupin’s association with Snape’s childhood bullies. And, the icing on the cake, we discover that Lupin is a werewolf while also learning how poorly werewolves are treated in the wizarding world. With this thorough understanding of Lupin, we get a clearer glimpse of his motivations, fears, beliefs, regrets. He sees himself as the last Marauder standing, and that is tragic. The Marauders are some of the only people in the world who ever accepted him. He feels alone in the world, outcast because of something he never asked for nor could he help. Lupin elicits a deep empathy that neither of his predecessors nor any of his successors. 

Let’s go over that lineup again. Quirrel was a snivelling puppet for Voldemort; he was killed. Lockhart was a pompous prick; his memory was wiped, landing him permanently in the psych ward of St Mungo’s Hospital. Mad-Eye Moody was kidnapped, ‘drugged,’ and portrayed by a Death Eater. Umbridge was a monster of a woman sent to oppress the truth of Voldemort’s return; she was abducted by centaurs before scurrying back to hide within the Ministry. Snape was a double-double agent who, though base intentions were good, tormented Harry for his father’s sins and murdered the Headmaster. Then last, we’re given glimpses of the sadistic Death Eater siblings whose names I never cared to retain. 

It’s safe to say Lupin stands out. Lupin comes in as a favor to Dumbledore and leaves because he is unjustly (more or less, as he takes multiple precautions for the safety of the school) labeled as a threat. Lupin is kind to his students, respectful to his staff — aside from Snape and his grudge — and one of the most relatable characters of the series. He feels abandoned and shunned. He feels betrayed. He is scared of himself. And because of all this, he displays a compassion that outshines almost any other character. Lupin is Harry’s first true father figure. It’s a truly fitting title. His return in the later books is one worth celebrating, and his death defending those he loves is one that broke me. But what good would Lupin be without the full context? Because of other adults around him, because of his history with Harry’s dad, because of the parallels with the main cast, and because of his roles in society, Lupin is a powerful character that stands out among a vast, seven-book-spanning cast. 

Shikamaru Nara [Naruto] 

I could write an entire post on Shikamaru alone. This sweet boy is a delight. But not at all in a way you’d expect. Shikamaru is shown early on to be intelligent and skilled. He is not particularly strong; instead his strength lies in his incredible ability to outthink his opponents. He will let you think that you have him cornered until it’s absolutely too late. But you know one of the greatest things about Shikamaru? When we first meet him in the series, he is one of the laziest characters in fiction. 

In the first major arc, we watch invaders attack an arena and put most everyone to sleep. Those who stayed awake were the people fast enough to ‘release’ themselves before going completely under. So we’re following a few of the conscious characters, one of which is going through to ‘release’ others to help. She makes it to my sweet boy, Shikamaru, at which point we find out that he was asleep, but not because of the attack. No. No, of course not. Instead of joining in the fight around him, Shikamaru opted to take a quick nap. As annoying as that sounds, the stakes are fairly low at this moment and it’s early enough in the series that comedy is still a primary focus. And the narrative timing makes this a very funny scene. 

This scene sets up his arc. We’re given time for this kid — maybe 13 years old — to grow up. And it’s wonderful. 

After the attack is handled, we discover that Shikamaru is the first and only member of his class to be promoted that year. This is because of his carefully planned and logical assessment during his examination shown earlier in the show. Because of this promotion, he is called on to lead a rescue mission, where things go wrong. It’s at this point the writers show his fear of failure. After the mission, we’re led to the hospital where he has completely shut down emotionally. His father challenges him, asking him if he’s going to abandon his rank and to squander his abilities or if he’s going to push forward and grow into a leader that their village can rely on. Of course, he’d be a pretty terrible character if he’d chosen to give up. Over the next million-or-so episodes, he is given ample time to grow. We watch his teacher, Asuma, introducing him to a logic game. Shikamaru reads the handbook and immediately destroys Asuma in their first game, commenting on how Asuma ‘didn’t have to go easy,’ though that’s obviously not the case. We’re also shown more of Shikamaru’s father — an older, more mature version of essentially the same character — and imagine how Shikamaru might grow up. We watch him hide a strong love for his comrades behind a can’t-be-bothered facade. 

*Major Spoilers for Naruto: Shippuden* After a time skip, Shikamaru is an older teen embracing his role as a successful tactical leader. And again, things go wrong. Shikamaru gets in over his head, at which point, his old mentor, Asuma, swoops in to save the day… and dies. All the playfulness of childhood is gone. The writers masterfully spend the time necessary to let the audience feel the pain and anguish that he’s trying to hide. And he does hide it. He goes for a while before his father — remember, a very stoic, logical figure — sits down with Shikamaru one evening to play that same logic game Asuma taught him. They play in near silence. His father occasionally comments on things like Shikamaru’s uncharacteristically bad gameplay. They really allow this scene time to emphasize the mood. A few minutes in, his father mentions how proud he is. Later, he says that it would be a tragedy to go to his own son’s funeral because of something vengeful and reckless. Finally, full of rage for possibly the first time on screen, Shikamaru flips the game over, and the warm candle light is blown out. The two are left in a solemn blue darkness. His father gets in his face and, in a deadly serious tone, tells him to let it all out. All the anger and sadness. There is an immense understanding in his father’s eyes. A sense that the older man had experienced the same loss and bottled it up the same way. His father leaves him in the room alone, and after the door closes, Shikamaru lets out a soul-rattling sob. *okay, spoilers done*

That is character development. That takes a trope of the ‘smart man who is too logical to have emotions’ and gives it so much room to breathe. Shikamaru feels like someone I could know. He feels like someone I want to meet personally. I’d go get coffee with this person. That way, as we keep following his arc, we celebrate his victories, and we crush under the pain of his losses. 

Ling Yao [Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood]  

If ever there was a character I love as much as I love Shikamaru, it is the heir to Xing himself. Ling is introduced as an absolute goof. He shows up fairly early in Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood (though excluded from the 2003 series) and, before we know he is royalty, he tricks our protagonist into paying for his meal. Over the next couple episodes, he pops up as what is probably best described as comic relief and a bit of well-timed exposition. He seems likable, but I wrote him off as a throw-away background character. As we get to know him, we find out that he’s on a mission to discover immortality so that he will become the next emperor. It’s introduced as a very neutral action. Political gain is fine, and this motive puts him on the same track as our heroes — they’re looking for a powerful stone, a philosopher’s stone, in hopes that it can solve each man’s problems. 

The longer he’s around, the deeper his character goes. Ling is a beautiful example of a trope called “Crouching Moron, Hidden Badass.” In a nutshell, this is a character who, in one way or another, seems harmless, useless, or just plain silly. However, when the time comes, they are not to be messed with. 

Ling is introduced with two faithful bodyguards who he frequently ditches. While it’s clear they care deeply for Ling, he at first seems a bit dismissive of them. Until we see his first fight. Ling has the great displeasure of battling two very strong homunculi early on and really showcasing his skills. He comments at some point that, as one of fifty heirs vying for the throne, he had to become skilled enough to — well — not get assassinated. He and one of his bodyguards, Lan Fan, hold their own for a while, but when Lan Fan is hit, the prince chooses to retreat. However, he doesn’t just flee, he runs with her on his back. It’s a tense scene, as the two are followed by inhumanly fast creatures skilled at tracking, and Lan Fan is losing blood fast. Despite her protests, Ling adamantly refuses to leave her and save himself. This sets up his most defining belief: a King is a servant to his people. As committed as his bodyguards are to him, he is committed to them, even if he enjoys joking around by running off.

For the sake of simplicity, I’m not going to talk about the character fusion that happens around the midpoint. But even considering that, Ling’s priorities never change. He will become the next emperor because that’s the position from which he can best protect as many of his people as possible. It is that unwavering resolve that makes him so interesting because, unlike our protagonists, Ling does not care about the cost. He sees no moral dilemma using an item made from human sacrifice. I think it’s unlikely he’d make one, but if one exists, he has no qualms about it because it is the means that leads to an end that he is passionate about. That end is something I think we can all empathize with. When Ling loses people close to him, he feels more than sorrow; he feels responsibility. Ling bears the injuries, death, and sacrifices of his friends as his personal burden, as if they’re his fault and his alone. He frequently questions his abilities to rule with the logic ‘what kind of a king am I if I can’t even save one subject?’ It’s flawed logic and puts an immense amount of pressure on him, but it’s a noble cause. It hurts so much more to watch Ling react to the sacrifices of his people because we as the audience have seen how personally he takes these matters.

I could keep going about these characters pretty much indefinitely, but I think it’s better to stop here. Next week, I think I’ll talk about some of my favorite villains! See you then!


Stay Safe

Rena Grace

Lessons Learned from Characters I Love

Writing Advice

You know, I feel like it’s a great time to gush about some lovely characters from some lovely properties that I love. Ya know?

I enjoy a variety of media and that’ll be represented here. If you haven’t ingested any of this delightful content, I cannot recommend anything more than these shows, movies, and books. 

**A note for the format: I am going to talk extensively about the first character. The other discussions will be considerably shorter.

I’m going to split this into several posts This week, I’m going to talk all about some awesome ladies! 


Toph Beifong [Avatar: the Last Airbender] 

What can I say that hasn’t already been said? Toph is the total package. In a show of fantastic characters, it was difficult to say ‘let me just pick the best one’ because each character feels so real. How do you compare these very diverse personalities, skills, traits, and dynamics? Because of the interconnectivity of all the characters, I struggle to identify favorites. But I wanted to talk about Toph for a very specific reason:

Toph receives one of the flattest arcs of the show. There are characters with a fraction of the screentime go through massive, compelling changes. And that’s the reason I want to talk about her here. A lot of you authors out there — myself included — have spent a lot of time learning from pros. I know that I’ve done a fair amount of research looking into what makes compelling characters, and, while there are cases like Indiana Jones where the ‘flat arc’ is perfectly acceptable, it is often suggested that the best way to convince your audience to latch onto a character is through a beautiful, symbolic arc. Yet here we are. 

One of the greatest things about Toph is the way this minimalistic arc plays into her character. When we first meet her, she is confident, powerful, stubborn, unyielding; she is the perfect foil for our MC, Aang. She embodies everything he needs to learn from her. She is an earthbender through and through. And to strip her of those traits would lessen the impact that she has on Team Avatar as a whole. Her minor arc centers around the slow-growing appreciation for authority, and it is just enough to ground her as a realistic person — a child who is still growing and learning. 

Of course, one of the best things about Toph is her blindness. I’m sure you writers out there have been warned against ‘writing a token ___ character’ to fill a diversity quota. Readers of the world are begging –demanding– diversity. And rightfully so. The world is full of a menagerie of people, yet the basic character template is ‘straight, white, able-bodied male until distinguished otherwise.’ That is a tragedy. Therefore, the response to this is to include one ‘checkmark’ character. Because that will satisfy fans. One character of color. One LGBT character. One character with a mental or physical disability. Bonus points if you lump several characteristics into one — a black female, wheelchair bound, who likes girls because lesbians can be hot. What a great idea. If you don’t understand sarcasm, understand I do not agree with this method. 

So what does that have to do with Toph? Her blindness is not used as a way to fill a quota. Her blindness is so well integrated into the world and her character. Why is she the most incredible earthbender? Because she can’t see, she developed an ability (that makes sense in-universe) that shows her what is happening. Want added drama in more mundane activities? Toph can’t see anything when they travel by sky bison. Need a way for Team Avatar to know they’re being pursued? Toph can feel people coming long before they’re close enough to attack. She isn’t a one-trick-pony. She is integrated into the story in every way. Without Toph and her blindness, the story could not happen the way it did. 

Asami Sato [The Legend of Korra] 

Originally, this slot was taken by Megara from Disney’s Hercules, but Asami hits all of the same points plus a few extras. When we first meet Asami, she’s the pretty romantic rival to Korra. She gets a standard meet-cute with their current shared-love interest, Mako, and sweeps him away to a world of wealth he’d never known before. Another show might take this opportunity to tell the audience they should be rooting for Korra and Mako to end up dating because Korra is the MC. The writers could have made Asami unlikable in a dozen different ways. She could’ve been snobby, dumb, petty, manipulative, unfaithful… Shoot, they gave her two chances to oppose Korra — once when Mako and Korra kissed and again when her Equalist father asked her to turn against Team Avatar. 

Legend of Korra has its faults, but I think they really wrote a beautiful character in Asami. She is level-headed and kind. She is hard-working and smart. She is independent. Oh, and did I mention, she is a non-bender? She is at a disadvantage in a straight fight, yet holds her own. And in a world where the market is overflowing with ‘strong women’ who look just like Korra, Asami is a great reminder that strong women come in all shapes and sizes. She wears heels and makeup and her hair is always perfect. She is soft-spoken but unwilling to be plowed over. She has strong emotional reactions — something Korra also offers in a way I appreciate. Asami is just a joy. The writers took a character who I assumed I would dislike, and they let her become one of my favorite characters in the show. 

Anastasia Romanov [Anastasia] 

It’s finally time to talk about one of my favorite animated movies out there. Our title character, Anastasia, is loosely based on the real life Russian Revolution in which Czar Nicholas ii is overthrown, and he and his whole family is killed. The following circumstances lead to a series of conspiracies that one of the daughters survived. Of course, that daughter was the inspiration for this magical, musical, happily-ever-after adaptation of the real-life events. 

So let’s actually talk about the movie. Because of the magic of amnesia, our grand duchess ends up in an orphanage at the age of 8 with no idea who she is or where she came from. Nothing aside from a locket that convinces her to go to Paris. We are shown that she is loved by her fellow orphans while butting heads with authoritarian figures. She is shown to be a bit aloof as she continues to show a strong will that favors that of royal privilege. This very fitting personality trait sets her up for fantastic banter and push-and-pull relationships with the headstrong Dimitri who helps her travel from Russia to France. 

I adore the character of Anastasia because she is so perfectly balanced. She is kind but proud. She has no intention to be run over. She is determined but unsure in herself. She has serious doubts that the path she is pursuing leads anywhere. I am a sucker for a snarky character who is stubborn and sassy while hiding a fear of the unknown. 

Next week, I’m going to talk about some of my favorite boys in fiction. I hope to see you all then!


Stay Safe, 

Rena Grace

Chapter One – Update and Comparison

Short Stories

A few weeks ago, I posted the first chapter of my WIP, Tales of Drynic. The first post (found here) was a celebration of completing the first draft and first round of developmental edits. I really wanted to show the progress made between the first and second drafts in an effort to encourage young or new/unpublished writers — myself included — to keep pushing through. The first draft is always a mess. So is the second draft. But you learn so much with each pass through your work. So let’s talk a little bit about what has changed.

The draft below is the results of my first round of Critique Partner (CP) readthroughs. While I don’t want to explain too much terminology in this introduction, suffice it to say I swapped full manuscripts with a few other writers, and we commented on and made suggestions on the clarity of each other’s work. It’s a pretty vital step on the path to publication as these are the first outside eyes to ever see your manuscript. It’s necessary to ask other people to critique your work so that you can see what is and isn’t working once translated to the page.

A good critique partner will tell you both sides of the coin. Example: my biggest strength is character (if you’re surprised by this, you haven’t seen the library of content I’ve post here.) All of my CPs commented on their connection to my core characters and the clarity they are reading with. Conversely, I have two big weaknesses: clarity in my magic system and describing setting. It is important to remember the positive comments as equally as negative ones; positives build you up and help battle impostor syndrome and self-doubt, and negatives point to ways you can improve your craft.

This draft focused a lot on those changes — trying to immerse the reader in the scene and finding ways to more thoroughly explain the shapeshifting magic that exists in universe. Without any further adieu, I present the new-and-improved Chapter One of Tales of Drynic.

Stay safe,

Rena Grace


Synopsis: Abryn and her estranged older sister, Reislyn, were raised as some of the only dryfters in all of Ridgate. When Highborns from the East request the assistance of a mechanic and a medic, the two are forced to travel together with a group of strangers. The party continues west on a diplomatic mission to offer aid to a struggling city of non-dryfters — a place painfully reminiscent of their hometown.


Chapter 1; Draft 3

Abryn didn’t like working on weekends, yet she couldn’t remember the last one she’d taken fully off. This week, the request — supposedly urgent — was delivered rain-day morning while she and Wells fixed lunch. The messenger, a dark-skinned man with white patches on his face, had insisted they needed the job done by noon the next day. Before Abryn could get too many details, Wells had told him, in the politest way possible, to shove off. He didn’t mention it over lunch or for the rest of the day.

But there he was, propped up on the couch, disappointed black eyes watching for her early the next morning. Apparently, she was predictable. “You worked last weekend,” he said, leaning farther into the cushions.

“That was a two hour job. They just needed me to–”

“You were the only one working.” He seemed to know she’d stopped asking the firav to help work overtime, even if he wouldn’t come out and say it. “You skipped dinner to stand in the mud.” 

“Lucky me, noon is long before dinner.” 

He gave her a look and heaved off into the kitchen. She always felt worse when Wells gave up an argument. She emphasized that she’d be back for lunch and shut the door behind her. None of these requests were ever that difficult. There was really no reason to go bothering anyone else when she was fully capable of just fixing up whatever had broken down. 

Shaking his disbelieving gaze from her mind, Abryn jogged across town. Or at least she tried. While she could’ve waited for one of the trains that connected the Downtown to West Station, only two ran on sun-days. On top of that, they were in such bad shape even Abryn, built more for lifting than hustling, could outrun them. She heaved across the damp cobblestone streets, telling herself it was training for the next time Wells invited her on one of his jogs.

She made it to West Station, flicked on the warning signals for both the east and westbound tracks, and took a moment to catch her breath in the dark, dumpy control room. It was unlikely the signals were necessary; weekend deliveries weren’t common, and very few passenger trains travelled through Ridgate. She didn’t understand what made this urgent, but here she was. 

Abryn made it to the abandoned train by late morning. It was a beaten down engine cart with an empty cargo trailer behind it. Must’ve been part of a larger west-bound caravan. There was no sign of what or who was previously being transported. 

The engine cart had slipped an axle and leaned heavily to the left. The mechanism itself seemed fine; it could use a tune up, but it should make it back to the shop, no problem. The enclosed trailer behind it wasn’t attached when she examined it. The hitch was bent, and the socket had twisted open. Three of the cheap metal wheels had doubled over or snapped completely off. It must’ve been nearly slung off the tracks when the engine lurched down. The carts that the city of Leanns sent to smaller towns were always cheap and in terrible condition. Abryn took a firm stance and straightened the hitch back out, but there was little she could do for the socket. It wrapped unconvincingly around the ball and crushed it a bit, but the train would have to rely heavily on the chains to stay connected. 

She stood in front of the damaged side of the engine, considering her options. Heaving the frame onto her knee, she tried repositioning the axel but didn’t have the reach or the angle. The gravel mound the tracks were built on did not make for stable footing for long. She set the engine down as carefully as possible before letting her feet slide down to the still-fresh mud. It wasn’t going to be easy to get back to the shop like this, but if any one person could get it back, it was Abryn. She was the only dryfter in Ridgate that worked as a mechanic. They’d have needed six-or-so firav to get this job done, and that’s more hassle than the Militia cared to put into it.

She cranked the machine and put it in reverse on its lowest setting. It was another mile out of town to the next connection onto the inbound tracks, and she had no interest in going that far to come all the way back in the correct direction. The warning lights should stop all trains at West Station. If another train was coming she’d hear them before they’d even decided to ignore the signals. Standing between the two carts, Abryn lifted the inner left corners of each and fell into the engine’s pace, heading back to Ridgate. She knew that she had to be getting close to the shop when the cargo trailer lost another cheap wheel. It lurched hard to the right, and Abryn dropped the engine cart to keep the trailer from toppling off the tracks. Metal wailed as the engine continued to scrape town the rail. She jerked to stabilize both and dashed to shut off the motor. 

Dropping the engine had caused even more damage to the frame. Just another thing.

In the adrenaline rush, her hands had dryfted into dark leathery claws without prompting. She only noticed when she saw the fresh gashes in the wooden siding. She slid down the gravel mound, chewing her tongue in irritation. Dryfting her hands slowly back, Abryn stretched out her fingers and wrists. Hands were the most likely to cramp up after impulse dryfts. She wiped the little spots of blood from the soft skin between the fingers and cracked her knuckles, considering leaving the stupid train there until the workday started tomorrow morning. One day wouldn’t kill them. If she left the warning signals up, surely people would stay off the tracks. Who would need to come through Ridgate anyway? 

But someone needed her to get it done. West Station was within sight. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

Abryn glanced back at the shop one last time and saw a thin, light-haired Militia boy, maybe a half a foot shorter and sixty pounds lighter than she was. No rank markings on a green vest; he was a Private. The black trim around the bottom meant he was part of Ridgate’s civic Militia. But she didn’t recognize him. Commandant Major Gentry had recently requested additional transfers, he must’ve been one of them. 

He noticed her look at him and timidly waved her over. With a deep, resentful breath, Abryn hiked back to the shop at West Station. She halfheartedly extended her hand, palm down in greeting; he examined her tattoos. He was definitely new. Ridgate’s whole civic Militia knew she was a dryfter, specifically tigruca. There were so few dryfters to keep up with here. After a few more moments, he cautiously responded, placing his palm on the back of her hand. As with all Militia officers, his hands were wrapped hiding whether or not he could dryft. His skittish nature implied he couldn’t, meaning he was a firav. 

“Lady Bryn, you’ve been summoned to the Central.”

“Tell Kaler that is not my name and that I’m busy,” she crossed the shop and grabbed their biggest dolly.

“Er… Ma’am, he says I’m not supposed to leave until you come with me.”

She strode back down the tracks. “I have things to do here.”

He pleaded again, following her to the abandoned carts. She shoved the dolly under the engine cart and wrestled the finicky tool into place. The rusty old dolly just barely lifted the engine cart off its broken axle. It wasn’t meant to hold that much weight, but with the station so close, it’d save her a lot of trouble, struggling to move it herself. She checked the connection again before striding to the back-end of the cargo trailer. She turned to face West Station and lifted the end of the trailer. He stepped back in apprehension. Abryn was right: definitely firav. 

“Please, ma’am,” he said, “this is an important matter. There are Highborns in town he needs you to speak to.”

“This is going to sound mean, but if it was that important, Kaler would have sent someone more important.”

“Ma’am, these are very important guests. He wanted the Central well-manned.”

Abryn gave him a blank stare and a fake smile. “Tell him I have my hands full. Literally, if you have to. It is supposed to be my day off, and I will not spend it playing games.”

The Private stood for a few more moments before retreating back to the shop and disappearing out the door. Abryn exhaled heavily and refocused on the task at hand. With the slick tracks, she needed better footing. She dryfted partially, letting the bones and muscles in her legs readjust. Her feet shifted, elongating under thickening skin. Claws and thicker foot pads would help with traction. Changing the joint location of her knees and ankles made it easier to lift and pull the cart behind her. The first few steps, the two carts didn’t want to move. The chains rattled and metal ground on metal. With a small grunt, the trailer jolted forward. The ball hitch had left the socket. Chains snapped tight in the middle, giving the assembly some momentum. Clawing into the gravel between the ballasts, Abryn got up to a heavy run sustaining it just long enough to coast into the shop.

She had just dropped it inside when the Private returned. She dryfted her feet slowly back to their human state, walking to the far side of the train to disconnect the chains and haul the engine cart onto a lift. Moments later, a lanky, black-haired figure joined her.

It was unlike Wells to be dressed before noon, much less out of the house. Yet he was here wearing a carefully subdued face of concern. Abryn studied an uncharacteristic urgency in his dark, hooded eyes. He kept most of the emotion from his voice, but it wasn’t completely hidden from her. “I was called into work this morning maybe an hour after you left. The Commandant Major is dead.”

“Gentry…” Abryn blinked slowly. “Does that mean Kaler is –”

“Yes, he’s Commandant now.”

“I see,” she pursed her lips and bit her tongue. Her heart beat a little faster. “He summoned me.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m here.”

“He sent you?”

“Yes; there are Highborns in Ridgate –”

“There really are Highborns here?” She stopped herself and calmed her tone, “Multiple Highborns?”

“Yes!” Wells hissed. “I passed one — almost my height — when Kaler summoned me to summon you. Said there was another one across town.”

She ran her fingers through her hair, “Well, what did he say?” 


“What does this have to do with me?” 

“How would I know?” Contemplative silence trailed his words. He shook his head, his voice calmer, “I have to get back to the morgue and take care of my side of this mess. They should be near done draining him.”

“Do you think they had anything to do with the Commandant?”

“The Highborns? I don’t know. The timing is unusual if they aren’t involved. But then again, since when do they care about the hierarchy of the civic Militia?”

“When was the last time we had a Highborn in Ridgate?”

Again, he shook his head. “It was that older Cutov woman, wasn’t it? The one that promised to send more working-class dryfters from the capitol.” 

Abryn rolled her eyes, “I remember now. It’s a waste of my time to go sit pretty on Kaler’s arm and play politics.”

“You should go see this guy.”

“I have a job–”

“I can have bags packed tonight,” he cut in. 

Her fingers twitched at her sides, “That’s a big leap.”

“Is it? After all these years of swearing you’d leave if he promoted?”

“Do you see this frame?” she thunked the hollow cart. “Who else could straighten that out right?”

He narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t your primary shop. The semantics aren’t your problem.”

She set her jaw. “Well, what about Reislyn? Do you plan on leaving her with him in charge?”

“If it makes you feel better, go get her before we leave.”

“Because that would go well. I haven’t seen her in years. Why don’t you go–” 

“Quit dodging me,” he pulled his shoulders back. “Things are happening. I’m not sure I want to be around to see where this goes. I’d guess you have that same instinct, too.”

She dismissed the idea, “We can talk later.” Abryn shouldered by Wells and accompanied the young officer back to the Central.


The Private didn’t leave her side until the Central was in sight. It was a single story building — Ridgate had the only Central she knew of that didn’t have at least a second floor. Its grey shiplapped boards didn’t look great but were better maintained than most, even compared to the houses and shops Downtown. The deep green embellishments were repainted every decade-or-so, though the rest of the building had never been painted white, as was supposed to be regulation.

Kaler was waiting for her in the entrance hall. His auburn hair was distinct through the distorted glass in the windows, so she had time to find her most distrusting expression as they stomped up the bowing wooden steps. 

There was something off about him. She had never seen him disheveled. Not like this. They were subtle keys. He stood a distance from their officer friends. His brown eyes were restless; his arms crossed in front of his new, green-and-black Commandant vest. There was a stiff edge to his movements. He almost seemed nervous that those polished brass triangles might jab him if he shifted wrong. She wished she found satisfaction in his anxiety, but instead, it was unsettling.

With a deep breath, he put on a smile and reached out to touch her arm. She stopped out of his range. “What is going on?”

“Not in the mood to make new friends?”

“I never seem to like your friends.”

“You should probably get along with this one,” he said, maintaining his typical playful tone. “Either way, I’ve gone through quite a bit of trouble to get you an audience with some pretty important people. You could at least thank your Commandant, Bryn.” She held her blank expression, biting her tongue. He waited for a moment before brushing his unnaturally unruly hair away from his face. “You can quit reading so far into this summon. The Highborns have some engineering needs that you’re going to help them with. Ignore me, fine, but I know you’re too smart to decline their request.” He gestured to the Commandant’s office. His office now. “Well, you’ve kept them long enough. You learned common etiquette, didn’t you?”

Abryn didn’t give him the satisfaction of a withering glare. “Of course. I save it for people worth respecting.” 

Anticipation tied a knot in her stomach. She fixed her hair as best she could. Her fingers twitched softly at her side, but she cocked an eyebrow and straightened her posture. It was difficult to block out the whispers from officers across the entrance hall. Two Lieutenants pulled the heavy double doors open toward her. She walked lightly into the room, consciously reminding herself to breathe. Apart from a few civic officers — all women she knew to be dryfters — there was only a man inside leaning confidently against the desk. Abryn’s eyes immediately rested on the Cutov Highborn tattoos displayed on his neck under a heavy mane of hair. She gave a short, subtle bow and extended her hand in greeting. With a crooked smile, the man approached her. There was an almost aggressive bounce in his step — he wasn’t like that stiff, reserved woman she’d met a few years ago. Instead of returning the gesture, he brought her hand up to kiss it. 

She fought hard against the urge to jerk away, blushing. “Oh, so you’re a kisser,” she tried to play it off.

It was a risky first impression, but her gut reaction was right. His grin widened, and he straightened up and placed his palm on the top of her hand. “Your Commandant warned me about that quick wit. I knew I would like you.”

She recentered with a deep breath, taking this time to get a good look at him. His hand marked him as a dryfter — specifically a tigruca, like Abryn. He was a few inches taller than she was and wore a full-length maroon Highborn’s cloak open to his bare chest which, like his neck, bore several delicate tattoos. He had tan, olive skin and dark brown hair, straight and long down his back. There were a number of small, haphazard braids pulling unruly hairs back. He had a sharp face but chose to wear short facial hair that gave him a rugged look. He was thin for a tigruca with more of a swimmer’s build like Wells. 

“My name is Kerrix,” he said. “And you’re Abryn the engineer, yes?”

“Yes,” she replied, “but ‘mechanic’ is a more accurate description, Lord Cutov.”

“Don’t do that,” he waved his hands dismissively. “Titles are stupid. Just Kerrix. Anyway, I hear you’re the best in Ridge Gate. They also say you and your sister are some of the only drynic left in town. I imagine that makes you pretty invaluable.”

“Be useful or be forgotten,” Abryn nodded. “There are a few other dryfters — er, drynic — outside of the Militia. The only one I know personally runs the morgue for all of the Midland region.”

“By your logic, he won’t be forgotten either,” Kerrix nodded and flashed another crooked grin. “Let me get straight to the point, and we can talk details over dinner. I need your help with the train we’ve been using to get around the island. It’s been having engine troubles on and off since we left the Coast, and I’m afraid we’re on an incredibly tight schedule. We’ve put off fixing it as long as we could.”

She nodded with a smile, “Of course. I can help with whatever you need.” 

“Deal,” Kerrix said, guiding her out. 

As she passed, Abryn refused to look at Kaler, only nodding to officers who stood a short distance from him. Her stubbornness prevented her from reading his expression, but he carefully watched her leave. 

Strolling into the roughly paved courtyard, Kerrix described an efficiency problem and listed off a few circumstances when the machine would quit running altogether. Apparently, he and another — Bryst — had to roll the train into Ridgate when they couldn’t get it to start back up. She sympathized with that effort. 

The Highborn didn’t seem to notice how foreign he looked, walking from the fairly regulated blocks near the Central into the arbitrary construction found in the overcrowded neighborhoods that made up most of Ridgate. He waved off her suggestion of taking the tram, occasionally commenting on a homegrown garden or an artisan’s furniture stand built onto the front of someone’s home. Though he never mentioned anything negative, he seemed to be making mental notes about the small tenements, dingy bathhouses, and crowded communal wells. 

Across town, Kerrix’s train sat in the boarding lane of West Station. Abryn would have never believed it, but apparently Highborns travel on weekends. It was likely their request to take care of the blockage west of the city.

The Highborn train was beautiful: four sleek, black-and-maroon, luxury carts held together with bright silver frames and polished connections. It looked like a sleeping carriage and a dining car between two engine carts facing opposite directions. The windows — aside from the dark, reflective glass of the sleeping cart — were clearer than any in all of Ridgate. It seemed that its connection to the powerline above was purely optional. Abryn had never seen a battery-powered engine up close before, much less tinkered with one. These machines were made to be faster with higher-quality materials and maintained by real, trained engineers. Confident it couldn’t be that hard, she stepped into the engine cart to learn a few things. With a basic understanding of the power source, she checked for the issues Kerrix had mentioned and hopped out to look at the mechanism.

“So,” Kerrix perched himself on the edge of the platform, hanging his feet over the side, “tell me about Ridge Gate. You must like it here if you chose to stay.”

Abryn considered the best answer to give. “I’ve been here my whole life. These people really need all the dryfters they can get to stay. Only ever visited other firav towns in the area; almost always on job requests. Spent a few years in Leanns, but I was pretty young.” He waited for her to say more. “It’s difficult to make a real comparison to other places on the island. We’re a small town. Not many travellers come through, so I don’t hear much about other places.”

“Should it get more travellers?”

“No,” she said a little too quickly. “I mean, we’re glad you came through, Lord Kerrix–” 

“I told you, Kerrix is literally fine. You and I aren’t that different.” 

She refrained from outright agreeing with him. “Well, Kerrix, there’s just not much to do here other than work.”

“Doesn’t sound ideal.” 

She pulled hard on a slipped belt which snapped and crumbled in her hand. She was a little heartbroken. This engine wasn’t nearly as well-maintained as she had expected. “It’s not that bad.” She stuffed the broken belt into one of her many self-stitched pockets. She had a few available replacements in the repair section. She was sure there would be one the same length.

He chucked, “That wasn’t even a little convincing. You’re not being honest. Do you like it here? I’ve heard some call it ‘Death Valley.’”

He wanted honesty, huh? “What do you really expect from Midland’s main cemetery?” Her voice echoed slightly off the interior of the train. “Half our land is devoted to dead people other towns cart in. A quarter of the remaining is devoted to taking care of the carts they use, and the rest, we have to cram as many houses on as we can, yet the Militia still refuse to let firav live in Downtown. I’m sure you’ve noticed our lack of palaces.”

He had a boisterous laugh. “Sounds terrible. I hear palaces are very desirable these days,” he said. “Without palaces, why does anyone stay?” 

“Where else would they go?” Abryn asked back, her tone remained even, but the humor had faded some. She thought of her earlier conversation with Wells. “Reislyn, Wells, and I — dryfters could relocate, easy. I don’t know about the East, but around here, it’s much harder for firav to just move.” 

“And if they had the option, do you think they would leave?”

“Some of them, I’m sure,” she replied. “Maybe even most.”

“Would you have enough trains for that kind of move?”

She peered out from under the cart to find him looking at her. His face was impassive. Like that was a normal question to ask. “Not really; I keep a lot of available, but mostly trailers, not passenger carts. You never know when some firav plague could wipe out a quarter of Pinewood or Dupesville. That becomes our problem very quickly. And if we’re saddled with a bunch of useless, broken-down carts, that’s on me. They need me and my mechanics to keep trains running to keep them safe.”

He smirked, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “Highborns understand that sentiment. Keeping people safe. You just want what’s best for every person out there.” He shrugged his distant expression away, shifting to a kneel. “Well, listen, don’t work through lunch or anything. We’d like to leave by nightfall, but as long as we’re out of town today, we’ll stay on schedule. I’m going to find my travelling companions and look for food. Any suggestions?”

“All the good food is near the Central, just outside Downtown,” she said. “There’s a sweet older woman in shop 607. She serves great soups and gives great life advice.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience.”

“Of course not; she learned it all from me.”

He laughed again and told her he’d see her later.

Abryn worked for a little while after his footsteps faded away. The remaining adjustments wouldn’t take long, and she wanted to get more information from Wells. Hopping back to the platform, she jogged into town. Slightly winded, Abryn walked the rest of the way to the morgue, a pale blue building that didn’t feel appropriate for its function. The back door was always locked, but, lifting on the handle while pushing at the top, the bolt could be maneuvered out of it’s socket. She scrubbed oil and grease off as best she could and checked for any cuts or scrapes before slipping into one of the sanitation gowns. Though the tiny tears on her hands had long-since healed, she maneuvered into a pair of tight gloves before entering the cold room. 

Sure enough, Relmot Gentry — former Commandant of Ridgate — lay lifeless on the autopsy table. He had been a respectable man, distant and professional but kind. Most importantly, Gentry had held high standards for his officers, especially command staff. She looked away quickly, already feeling squeamish. 

Wells glanced up from the gaping hole in the dead man’s chest and dismissed his assistant. Even though one of the firav would have drained Gentry’s blood as soon as he arrived, Abryn impulsively touched the mask over her face, keeping back from the body and sending Wells an expectant look. 

“He was definitely murdered. Absolutely brutalized. I see no signs of drugs or poison; he was just overpowered. And you won’t be surprised to hear that the bruises were significantly worse on his right side.” Kaler was left-handed. Wells looked at her, his hooded eyes tired and resigned. “What did he want from you this time?”

“He gloated a little,” she leaned back on the wall and focused on keeping her voice steady. “Puffed up real big trying to fit that new vest of his. But it was mostly about the Highborns; they need me to fix some issues with their train.”

“And what do they want?”

“I don’t have the slightest idea,” Abryn shrugged. “The one I was with kept asking me about Ridgate. What it’s like, whether I like it here, if I wanted to leave, if others wanted to leave. I didn’t ask why he cared, but I got the feeling he didn’t want to talk about himself.” Wells gave a thoughtful hum. “He was odd,” she added. “He had some odd questions.”

“I would imagine we seem odd to him,” Wells said, ” the dryfters that choose to live here.” 

She agreed with a sigh. “Anyway, I came by to get lunch. Are you close to finishing up with this?”

He looked at his disgusting gloves and shook his head. “You should go talk to Reislyn instead. Get lunch with her — she works nights these days.”

“We’ll have time to talk about this after I finish up with the Highborns. Who knows, they could give me some kind of medal if I do a good job. ‘For services to home and country.’ Or the ‘I’m sorry you live here’ award.”

Wells rolled his eyes and gave her a knowing glance before going back to work. 

“I’ll be at the house if you change your mind.” She sighed and let herself out. 

Searching for the Theme

Writing Advice

Across the internet, in niches of the writing community, the topic of theme is pretty widely discussed. Spawning from years of reading-class conversations over literary icons, thematic statements can feel simultaneously obvious and vague, practical and mystical, tacked-on and over-thought. 

What even is a theme? 

“Theme, of course, is a statement, direct or implied, about the author’s ideas of the human condition.”

Ah… of course. That makes sense. Thank you Google.

I have heard theme renamed many things that feel more relatable: the ‘big idea,’ the ‘universal truth,’ the ‘commentary on humanity.’ The Lesson. The Moral. The Take-Away. But even those words can feel pretentious and unhelpful.

To take an example right out of Mrs. Peirce’s AP Lit class, let’s look briefly at the Great Gatsby. An incredibly basic summary of the story might look like this: Jay Gatsby gains wealth in an effort to win the adulterous affection of a past-lover, Daisy Buchanan, eventually leading to his death. From this statement alone, I could argue that two large thematic ideas are wealth and love, because they are two of the biggest factors in the writing, and, therefore, in the summary. Gatsby gains wealth in order to pursue his lost love. Many of his biggest goals revolve around gaining those two things. Love and Wealth. Wealth and Love. Seems simple enough. Yet, if you were to Google themes of the book, you would get lengthy lists that varied with each source. “The American Dream,” “justice,” “power,” “greed,” “ambition,” and on and on and on. 

And suddenly we’re overwhelmed again. How is this supposed to help us as writers? What can we learn? I think there is one great lesson: there is no one right answer. Don’t overdo it; I believe every story has a theme, whether intentional or not. Let your story happen, and these elusive themes will happen the same.

Still concerned? Hoping to be more intentional? Let me walk you through my process:

In my writing, I look for one theme. No more, no less. And for me, that theme starts with characters. 

In my current manuscript, Tales of Drynic, my main character’s name is Abryn. Abryn is a mechanic who chooses to work in a poor town, even though she doesn’t have to. She stays because she has abilities that the townspeople need, and she needs to feel needed. That’s her goal, her motivation, and her philosophy. Be useful or be forgotten. Because her self-worth is tied to her usefulness to other people, she is constantly learning new skills. Not only can she fix machines, but she can cook, she can knit, she can play guitar, she can be what you need her to be. Because she is a fast learner, she develops a false-pride and a sense of hollow self-importance. Because she clings to this false-pride, she becomes upset when she doesn’t pick something up or have an aptitude for any one thing. She is uneasy around blood, and that is a large point of shame, as she feels useless in medical situations. She keeps herself in a cycle of learning, hoping to be the best, and refusing to have faith in others.

When the story begins, you meet Abryn as a workaholic who bears the weight of her town’s transit-repair team — a job she sees as vital to the survival of the townspeople. She is introduced to royalty who tempt her with an offer to help them save surrounding cities from collapsing on themselves. She is put in a position of power that feeds the belief that she is earning worth because of her help and involvement. Time and time again, she is presented with options that give her a sense of control; she is given the opportunity to take matters into her own hands on a power-high that can cause ripples across her small island-nation. 

If you consider these character traits, ideals, fears, beliefs, and flaws — things you likely already have baked into your own character — you can start to see them weave a coherent through-line that leads to an idea about humanity. Theme is often directly linked to character and character growth; it’s easier to learn from other people, even if they’re fictional. 

To me, Abryn’s story says that self-worth cannot be earned. To you, it may mean that perfection is unattainable. Another might see that one person can’t do everything. Another learns that it’s important to love yourself. All of these answers are just as valid as the last. The thing is, I — as the writer — am only focusing on the one. I cannot stop the reader from seeing different truths, but this truth is the one I want to tell myself. That is how I find my themes — by looking at my life and asking what I need to teach myself. 

So maybe that is a place to start. It can be overwhelming to look at the world and try to make a statement that applies to everyone. It’s intimidating to find a way to say “love is the most important thing of all,” or “world-peace is the best option” without sounding pretentious. Maybe the most important place to look is at your flaws, pains, and tragedies. Funny thing about humans, we often need to learn the same stupid things.

That’s all I have for this week. I hope it gave you a direction to look in. 


Stay Safe,

Rena Grace

Comparing Group Dynamics

Writing Advice

As a piggy-back to last week’s blog, let’s talk about more team dynamics. Just like in part one, I’m going to be using some basic tropes of the five-man-band to make these comparisons. As a refresher, the five-man-band is a tried-and-true method of team building that helps authors build a balanced team. The basic players are as follows: To start, you have the Leader, who does exactly what you’d expect — lead. Next up is the Lancer. This character is the right-hand-man of the group; they tend to be the closest to the protagonist, and often poses the most internal conflict of everyone — though that’s not necessary. There are a lot of flavors to Lancers: the best friend, the almost-as-good rival, the cranky loner, the literary foil (we’ll talk more about that in a bit.) Next, you have the Heart, the emotional center of the group; the big guy, the group’s muscle; and the smart guy, the group’s brain. As we talked about last week, the most interesting team members often have complex and unique relationships within themselves as well as with each other. Though, as you’ll see today, there are examples of simple teams done really well.

Before we jump in, let’s talk a little about the Literary Foils. Typically referring for single characters, a literary foil is something that uses opposite characteristics to highlight features of your protagonist. Selfless Leader? Greedy Lancer? That’s a foil. The differences highlight important traits. I’m going to be using this literary device on a group scale to talk about how some of our favorite teams stack up to their in-universe counterparts. 

Aang, Katara, Sokka, Toph, Zuko VS Azula, Zuko, Mai, Tai Li

Let’s start with one of the hottest topics in the world right now: Avatar. Among so much more, Avatar the Last Airbender has an amazing team dynamic, but it also has an incredible foil team. 

this is your spoiler warning. I will be giving specific examples that will spoil character arcs.

Starting out with our favorite pacifist monk; Aang is in a subcategory of leader, being a “chosen one” of sorts. While he is kind and loving, the role of the Heart would probably go to Katara. She fulfills the Heart role in a very motherly way. Her brother Sokka — the self-proclaimed “idea guy” — plays the role of the Smart guy, with Toph as the Big Guy in a small package. 

In comparison, the ladies of the Fire Nation work in a much different way. Azula, in all her terror, is a powerhouse in this trope. She takes up three of the five roles as the Leader, Big Guy, and Smart Guy. She always has a plan, and it is at least three steps ahead of anyone else. And in terms of pure power, skill, and talent, the princess is on a completely different plane. This sets up a super interesting dynamic for the rest of the group. While Tai Li is a very traditional Heart — soft and kind and vulnerable — I would argue that Mai Is as well. Mai is in a constant state of emotional shut-down, though she is far from un-feeling. I would call her an anti-Heart or a hidden-Heart. The way the writers chose to use Mai and Tai Li as foils to each other furthered Azula’s separation from them.

Notice how, holistically, Team Avatar’s spread is infinitely more balanced than Azula’s. We see that once the Hearts of her group leave, you see the princess incapable of making coherent plans or applying her strength effectively. While Team Avatar does struggle when Sokka is high on cactus juice or before they have the brute strength and power of will Toph brings, they don’t crumble under their own weight the same way Azula does.

Now, you may have noticed I saved our favorite cranky, honor-obsessed enigma for last. I thought it would make the most sense as we get to see him as part of both groups and by himself. Zuko is a great example of the almost-as-good rival on both teams, and this works to his benefit as a stand-alone character. Since he was little, you see his technical skills paling in comparison to his sisters; “she was born lucky, he was lucky to be born.” Once he joins team Azula as teenagers, he takes up the implied role of Lancer. Being the only other bender puts him in direct comparison with his sister in the way the other girls aren’t; this comparison reinforces that he is still only second best. As a further foil to his sister, he portrays another level of what it means to be a Heart. He is the midpoint between Mai and Tai Li, internalizing all of his negative feelings like Mai but is much more open to expressing them like Tai Li. 

Any time he is by himself, Zuko demonstrates all three characteristics of the group (Leader and Lancer are a bit redundant in solo situations) as seen in the episode “Zuko Alone.” He is smart enough to stay alive, stay under the radar, and keep out of trouble for the most part. He kind and loving in the way he takes care of the Earth Village family. And he is strong and capable when he defends them from the power-hungry soldiers. It’s common for the “loner” variant of the Lancer to have a well rounded skillset but not good enough to remain a solo act for too long.

Once aligned with Team Avatar, you see him in the full role of a Lancer. He equalizes the team, adding the last bit of balance they were missing. Literally, he is the last element needed, giving him an element of the Big Guy. His knowledge of the Fire Lord and Fire Nation gives him an element of the Smart Guy. And his willingness to help each member of the Team accomplish some goal — some even finding closure on their character arcs. He also fills in the important role of in-team tension. While it’s great for teams to get along, things won’t be great always. Sometimes you have to allow your arch-nemesis onto your team to teach you firebending. Zuko was brought on after months of opposing Team Avatar, and each had an additional, personal reason to mistrust him. But this mistrust lead to the vital episodes that Zuko spent helping each team member with a personal task.

You can see how, while Team Avatar has very simple, straightforward alignments, they are foiled by their most intense, highly-complex rivals. Zuko’s inclusion in both groups highlights just how different the dynamics work. 

Kirk + Spock + Bones VS Future Generations

Live Long and Prosper, my dudes. Through sixty years and almost ten series, Star Trek is a great example of how diverse these five-man-bands can really be.

The original show gave us one of the earliest dream-teams on television. While you could argue to fit additional members in the additional slots, no one beyond our original three (Kirk, Spock, & Bones) really have much impact on the team’s makeup. It might be slightly different in the new movie adaptation, but I’m sure the premise is similar. Captain Kirk is, by rank the leader. In great 60’s fashion, he is the most charming, the most charismatic, the best at whatever the episode needs. Like Our Harry Potter example last week, he is a relatively simple character, leaving the nuance to his closest friends. Spock, his Lancer, fills in both the roles of Smart Guy (the logical mind of the expedition, as well as the most familiar species with space travel) and the Strong Guy (again, because his species is innately stronger than the human race.) Bones, as a doctor who works under a moral code, is the Heart; his medical knowledge also gives him some Smart Guy characteristics, allowing Captain Kirk to simply exist, supported by his colleagues.

Decades later, The Next Generation breaks down the players into the one-a-piece method of the trope. Captain Picard is again our Leader. Ryker, the second in command, is our Lancer. Dianna is an emphatic therapist, making her our Heart. Warf, a Klingon warrior, is our Big Guy. Data is an android, filling in the role as Smart Guy. This is the simplest way to set up a team. Everyone has pretty clear roles, and there is hardly any significant overlap. If you’ve seen the series, you know that the simple setup works for this story, allowing more focus on plot than characters. TNG focuses largely on creative worldbuilding, vast adventures, and unique scenarios. There was no need to over-complicate things by splitting the focus evenly between plot and characters.

Another couple decades pass, and we get our next great run in the series Voyager. In stark contrast to The Next Generation’s plot-driven story, Voyager feels almost completely character driven. We, again, start simple with Captain Janeway as the Leader. Chakotay is the second in command and plays the Lancer, as well as a fairly spiritual version of the Heart. Pretty straightforward. In this generation, I consider the technology to be the main “Big Guy” as it does a lot of the plot-driven heavy lifting. That leaves us with a really interesting setup for the role of Smart Guy. B’Elanna is far-and-above the best engineers; The Doctor is a hologram with access to an infinite amount of data with no limit on mental capacity like humans; Seven-of-Nine is a Borg — a species that thrives on accumulated knowledge from other civilizations galaxy-wide — so she knows more about the universe than the rest of the crew combined.  In a story like Star Trek, it is important to have a wide range of knowledge on your team at any time. This setup puts a strong focus on the internal conflicts of the show, minimizing the need for physically strong characters. The writers devote a lot of time to problem solving, both academic and emotional; they even give Janeway a handful of episodes to explore the relationship between leading and taking care of one’s emotional state.

Each generation has its own take on power and skill distribution. I’d say that Star Trek’s only baseline consistency is actually in their Leader characters. They are generally only that: the Leader. As with many main protagonists, they are well-rounded in everything, while other characters take up specific support roles for each trope. Obviously, with such large casts, each person can bring something a little different to the table to balance out the mix. It’s important to consider how each character is vital to the success of the team. How would your team work without any one primary member? If the team would function fine, maybe reconsider that character’s value in your story. 

There is no one-size-fits-all mold for any team. In fact, that nuance is what makes readers want to keep engaging. It is important to look at your story and decide how nuanced your team needs to be to fully benefit the story. An awesome skill/power dynamic is an easy point of interest for your reader to latch onto, but it isn’t always necessary to every story. Using tropes like the five-man-band makes your characters easier to understand and remember, even if your reader has never had the trope explained to them. While it isn’t the only way to work, it is an effective method to consider. The biggest benefit is the versatility and variety you can get while staying in this format. It keeps your team in check without taking away the freedom you have as an author. The possibilities are endless!

That’s all for this week. Next Monday, I’m considering annotating the team I built in my current WIP, Tales of Drynic. If you’d be interested in seeing that analysis, I’d love it if you left a comment down below!


Stay Safe!

Rena Grace

Group Dynamics in Fiction

Writing Advice

In an era of self-isolation and social distancing, I want to talk about some of my favorite teams in fiction. One of the fastest ways to get me personally hooked is by setting up a group of characters that I love to see interacting. 

As with all elements of fiction, a number of tropes and trends have arisen over the years around the ‘dream team.’ Overly Sarcastic Productions (OSP) on Youtube has a fantastic video on the semantics of this trope, and I highly recommend checking them out after this! I’m going to hit on the basics of their video to help frame today’s blog.

Let’s start with something obvious: the best teams work best when each member contributes something. OSP really successfully discusses the most common members of the five-man-band: the Leader, the Lancer (right-hand man), the Heart, the Big Guy, and the Smart Guy. These five archetypes cover basically anything you could need for a five-man team, but using these cut-and-dry outlines can make a character feel flat and one-dimensional. Oftentimes, the most successful way to combat this is by combining archetypes.

Let’s start out with the simplest example.

Harry + Hermione + Ron (Harry Potter)

How could I talk about team dynamics without discussing this generation’s golden trio? Harry and the gang fall into a looser five-man-band, occasionally picking up Neville or Luna as the Heart or Ginny as the Big Guy. But on their own, they’ve got a pretty obvious Leader-Lancer-Smart Guy composition. On the surface, at least. This dynamic is interesting specifically in the way it splits up the roles of Lancer and Smart Guy. Ron is the quintessential Lancer — the first best friend, the side-kick, the one who’s always there. But the entire Weasley family is a wealth of knowledge. When it comes to the wizarding world, Hermione is nearly as lost as Harry is, as both grew up in muggle homes. Without Ron, there would be no nights at the Burrow to see how a magical family lives. There would be no explanation of unusual items and customs. Ron’s experience makes him more of the street-smarts guy, but that role is a pillar of many stories. 

As for Hermione, yes, she is bookish, and she in every way fills the stereotypical ‘smart guy’ role. But! She is also a wonderful foil to Harry. She is committed to overachieving in classes while Harry exists in a more passive world of natural talent and chosen-one-ness. And despite that, she stays with Harry through everything. She is unyielding. She helps him and Ron with homework because she can’t stand to see them fail. She isn’t mad when Harry is entered into the TriWizard Tournament because she cares so much more about Harry’s safety. She stays with him every second while looking for Horcruxes. She doesn’t even leave when he’s cheating to beat her in Potions. 

Because of the complexity of his friends, I wouldn’t say that Harry has a very complex archetype. He leads because it’s his story. And that works! I have so much love for these characters, especially the way they are written in the book. They exist on an even playing field. The story works because they exist together, creating a unique unit that feels unstoppable. 


Captain America + Ironman + Thor (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

Next, let’s talk about everyone’s favorite superheroes — well, they’re mine at least. However, many of you astute readers are questioning me. “Don’t you know there are more Avengers than that?” To which I say, yes of course. But these are the ones that matter. Even considering Black Widow, Hulk, and Hawkeye, the three listed above are the characters I care about the most. They also happen to be the most interesting characters to examine.  

Lined up against our five-man-band archetypes, there are some pretty quick parallels: Tony Stark is very obviously the ‘Smart Guy,’ Thor is obviously the ‘Big Guy,’ and Steve Rogers is obviously the ‘Heart.’ Very simple, clear alignments. It becomes a little muddier when you look at the other two “roles” of Lancer and Leader. 

Before we get there, let’s talk about the Leader v Lancer relationship. At its most basic level, Lancers are the right-hand man; they’re the second in command; they’re often the closest to the Leader. The Lancer often provides in-group opposition to the Leader. In good writing, the Lancer is a foil to the Leader, accentuating that characterization. So what does that do for our Avengers example?

Well, all three have very distinct moments of leadership. I believe — even aside from their solo-films — all take charge as the commanding force of large battles. 

Cap leads in the Battle of New York, leaving Thor to zap things and Tony to decide on his own what should be done. In this situation, Tony is the Lancer to Cap’s Leader. It highlights that Cap is a team player with the charisma to shine, while Tony is more of a quick-thinking, individualistic rogue.

In the Battle of Sokovia, Tony takes the lead, taking responsibility as the creator of their current issue, Ultron, with Thor playing Lancer, mostly by extension through the life-lightning he used on Vision. Cap is just there to punch things and save people this time around.

In the Battle of Wakanda, Thor is the turning-point in the fight. While Cap did what he could, leading the charge and calling the shots, he was the Lancer here, dependent on the God of Thunder to join in and decmate the army more efficiently. When the time came, Cap put up a great fight against Thanos, but it was Thor that was there to deliver the final blow, making him more of the Leader. All this time, Tony is in space, incapable of filling any real role.

While there’s nothing special about saying “Tony is smart, Thor has powers, and Cap is a sweet, lovable softy,” there is something special about the way their leadership dynamic ebbs and flows. 


Quasimodo + Esmeralda + Febas (Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame)

This is one you might not have expected to see on this list, but I really really really wanted to talk about the success of the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Unlike the two examples above, there really aren’t many characters to add to make this a full five-ish man band. Other main characters include the scary bad guy, those comic relief rocks, and that one gypsy-narrator who can’t decide whether or not to be omniscient. 

That means this group works exclusively by itself. For this one I want to abandon the roles of Leader and Lancer because I don’t think they really apply to what has been done here. I want to talk about the other three roles and how every character fills every one. 

Let’s start with our main guy, mister Quasimodo. This guy is incredible. And the first thing you’re likely going to notice is his heart. His introduction scene shows him encouraging a baby bird to fly. You see a gentleness that warms your soul right before you’re reminded of the manipulative asshole who raised him to be timid and fearful and ashamed to exist. Yet Quasi loves him until the end. After recognizing years of abuse, neglect, lies, neglect, manipulation, murder — shit, nearly stabbing the woman he was falling for — Quasi still tries to save this monster from falling off the cathedral into the depths of lava-hell. And that’s not even touching the love he has for his friends.

… Yet… there was that one time he held Febas in full armor with a single hand. And that time he effortlessly moved the stone seal from over the Court of Miracles. And that time he literally broke down stone columns of an architectural masterpiece. You can’t deny he’s incredibly strong! … Yet… he is also smart! He devised an escape plan for Esmerelda, and he figured out how to read the map to find her.

Of course, if we’re going to talk brains, let’s talk about Febas. While he fits the typical ‘big guy’ persona — strong soldier who breaks into a burning building, who chokes out a guard, who catches our very heavy protagonist from falling to his death — I think he’s much more than that. Aside from a startling wit, he is always quick to pick up on things. He is the only character to recognize Esmerelda in disguise. He helps her escape Frollo by thinking quickly and saying she had claimed sanctuary. His immediate instinct when trying to decipher gypsy code is to literally translate the Latin or Greek or Aramaic. 

Our sweet captain also has an immense heart. He is generous with money; he risks his life to save those unrightfully oppressed; he falls in love with someone of much lower social status. 

Which leaves us with Esmerelda. She is loving. Her song God Bless the Outcast is one of the most beautiful pieces of writing I know of. She defends Quasi when she doesn’t even know him, simply because of the love she feels for the oppressed. She uses that love to give others confidence, reading Quasi’s palm to tell him he isn’t a monster. That scene leads to the fact that she’s brilliant — both observant and quick. She keeps up with Febas’s banter — in fact, she’s never without a come-back. 

But I think most notable is her strength. Everything Esmerelda does, she does with her full strength. On the physical side, the dancing she does is not light work. Neither is the insane escape sequence she pulls off shortly after. She then goes hand-to-hand with an experienced soldier. And then there’s the scene where she dives into a river, strips Febas’s armor off, swims him to the surface, and gets them both to the bank. Are you kidding me? But it’s more than that. She prays with all her might; she loves with all her might; she leads with all her might; she defends with all her might. It’s a big presence that leaves an impact.

All this leads back to the group and it’s dynamic. All things considered, I would say Febas is most like the “Smart Guy,” Esmarelda is most like the “Big Guy,” and Quasimodo is most like the “Heart.” The Hunchback of Notre Dame is incredible because it gave us three characters with incredibly powerful (and incredibly similar) skill sets without any one of them stealing the show. Not only did they accomplish that. They did it while flipping stereotypes on their heads. Strong soldiers are supposed to be dumb. Dancers are just ladies with no agency. Big, bulky guys should just tag along to lift things. These characters have one of the most beautifully complex team dynamics I’ve ever seen. If you haven’t seen this movie in a while, I highly recommend you watch it, if for nothing else than a phenomenal display of great writing. 


I think next week, I’ll release a second part, talking about some of the teams I didn’t get to. These will be teams that I want to go more in depth with, comparing and contrasting in-universe examples. Specifically teams from Star Wars, Star Trek, and Avatar the Last Airbender. 


Stay Safe,

Rena Grace