I probably should have posted this sooner, but if you follow me or Boomkaart Books on social media, you’ll know I’ve been running a sale on the first two books of the Tuner Trilogy. Through December 25, I’ve discounted the digital and paperback editions of Tunerville and Confluence.
I may continue it through New Year’s Eve; I haven’t decided yet.
BY THE WAY — if you read Confluence and liked it, please please please leave a review. It is naked and afraid!
I also knocked the paperback price of The Shiny Folk and other stories down by a dollar, permanently. It’s now $4.99 and will remain so. That book’s not selling — story collections really don’t tend to do well, plus it’s older, so whatever. WordPress won’t let me offer it through my site anymore without ponying up for a Business plan, and I can’t afford that. So the focus has remained on the trilogy for now.
Speaking of which, I was waffling between finishing The Catalyst (working title; I have a real title in reserve) and writing the third and final Tuner book. See, here’s the thing. I wanted to keep trying for traditional publication. Tunerville got close but didn’t quite make it, and because I needed something, ANYTHING, to put on my resume, I decided to formalize the indie publishing that began with The Shiny Folk. Thus, the raw material for Boomkaart Books coalesced into reality. Sort of like the way the tuner materializes a ghost, ha ha.
If you’ve read Confluence, you know I went totally extra and created a conlang. In fact, the book’s dedication page contains a phrase from said language. Here it is, from the glossary in the back of the book:
The language is called Essdran. Pronounce the double ss like the th in them. It’s based loosely on English and Welsh, with a mashup of tweaked Celtic cognates.
I wanted to write the other book and then finish Book 3 while I was querying. But I’m still job hunting, and I’m too stressed to concentrate on it properly. Plus, my head keeps drifting back to the world of Ilarrya, my fictional country in which Essdran is the primary language. Sooooooo . . .
I decided to work very hard on the conlang, which will feature more prominently in Book 3, while pushing equally hard on finding a job. The language really needs to be more developed before I can dive into the story. The harder I work, the faster it will get done.
Not only that, but when Book 3 comes out, I intend to offer a discount when you buy the trilogy as a box set. Amazon will let me do this through Kindle Direct Publishing; as I’ve mentioned before, I’m still hoping to find another distributor because they suck.
I know some folks won’t buy any books in a trilogy or series until it’s finished, due to the fear that the author may not actually finish it. This poses a bigger problem for traditionally published books than indie ones — if the first book in a planned series doesn’t sell, publishers will drop it like a hot lava bomb. So buy that book, y’all.
That’s not really an issue in self-publishing. I can do whatever I want on my own timeline. Because I want you to have the complete story, and I promised I’d finish it, I will finish it first. Those of you who read Confluence and are pissed off at me over the ending (YES I WENT THERE, MWAHAHAHA) should be happy with this.
And if you like Ilarrya and want to immerse yourself in its backstory, let me know. I could probably offer the world compendium as a companion book.
Writers get stuck in creative ruts, just like any other artist. The best way to jump-start your brain is to do something new. You can experiment with form or a different point of view. You can try a new genre. Or you can make up a language!
So you know I’ve finished Book 2 in The Trilogy That No One Wants. The first book, Tunerville, is a contemporary fantasy that involves ghosts. I don’t want to spoil (just in case), but I’ve taken my character a little further than his backyard.
I mentioned in the marshmallow post (I need more of those) that I was creating a conlang. Did I confuse you? Do you have questions? I shall answer them.
Conlang is short for constructed language, one in which phonology, grammar, and vocabulary have been created rather than developing naturally.
Famous examples include auxiliary conlangs (auxlangs) like Esperanto and Lingua Franca Nova. Most people consider artistic languages (artlangs) created for fictional universes, such as Dothraki and Valryian (Game of Thrones), Klingon (Star Trek), and the various languages J. R. R. Tolkien created, around which he wrote The Lord of the Rings, as the typical conlang.
A priori languages aren’t based on any others. Most artistic languages fall under this category, as do auxlangs. A posteriori languages, like mine, are borrowed from or based on existing tongues.
How in hell do you do this?
I started with some typos from my music friends chat room that weirdly resembled Scottish Gaelic (no, really) and based the structure on Welsh. The latter has very little in the way of exceptions to its pronunciation and grammar rules, unlike English. I don’t speak it, but I looked into it before a trip to Wales, and it’s not that difficult.
The double-l in Welsh does not have an equivalent sound in English. It’s hissed a little bit — put your tongue on the roof of your mouth and say “L”. Similarly, a conlang that isn’t based on your native language can lack sounds common to yours or contain some yours doesn’t. If you decide that your fictional speakers aren’t human, it definitely will.
My conlang doesn’t have a name currently because I’m still trying to think up place names for its setting. All the phonemes are in place (unless I change them later), and I’ve left out a couple of letters, so it’s not a carbon copy of either Welsh or English. As for syntax, it’s still a bit iffy yet.
Writer Kristin Kieffer points out in this blog post (see Tip #2) that all the things you think about when worldbuilding will apply to your conlang. A future civilization that grows food exclusively via hydroponics probably wouldn’t have a word for plow. A culture who loves elaborate ritual will have long phrases and lots of modifiers.
David J. Peterson has a great book for conlangers called The Art of Language Invention. Another fantastic resource is Mark Rosenfelder’s The Language Construction Kit. I’ve dropped a companion web page below in links. Both are available at Amazon; the Kindle edition of Mark’s book is the full text.
There’s a program called Vulgar that will create a language for you; I’ve held off, but I might end up using it as an assist because making up root words and all their derivations is harrrrrrd.
Why in hell would you do this?
Tons of reasons. Creators of auxlangs generally intend them to be used by real-world speakers. For example, Esperanto was developed to facilitate international communication. Codes are also conlangs; they provide ways of shortening or encrypting language to obscure communication (cryptography), make it faster (shorthand) or make it understandable when speaking isn’t possible (semaphore). They also let people tell machines what to do (computer languages).
Artlangs can lend depth to fictional worlds. For the television adaptation of Game of Thrones, David J. Peterson created the Dothraki and Valyrian languages off the basics in George R.R. Martin’s books.
And for Star Trek III: The Search for Spock, they wanted the antagonists to have a full-blown language, so Klingon was developed by Marc Okrand from a few words James Doohan (Scotty) improvised during the original series. It’s comprehensive enough for Treknerds to actually speak it.
As with any kind of research or backstory, you’re better off using it judiciously rather than doing huge expository dumps and risking what I sometimes call the Jean Auel effect (bless her!). Her Earth’s Children series, which began with the Clan of the Cave Bear, had page upon page upon page of explanation of the food, clothing, toolmaking, etc. in the daily life of her prehistoric characters. I personally enjoyed it, but it can bog a story down.
Interestingly, Auel managed to come up with a highly developed sign language for her Neanderthal characters, which authenticated them according to the known research at the time of writing. Novelist Anthony Burgess and anthropologist Desmond Morris collaborated similarly for the largely non-verbal 1981 pre-historic film Quest for Fire.
While this performed splendidly for those works, some writers and critics don’t find a comprehensive conlang necessary for immersion in a fantasy world and claim it can even be distracting. Perhaps, but if you do decide to include it, it should have more consistency than just random gibberish. A smattering of words and phrases can be enough, although that doesn’t count as a true conlang.
Stephen King’s characters in The Dark Tower spoke a dual dialect known as Low Speech, Mid-World’s common tongue, and High Speech, a ritualized and formal language only used by gunslingers. While King didn’t take the trouble to create a whole language, the lexicon enhances the setting quite well. We know we’re not in Keystone Earth (our world) when people are talking both in the ka-tet’s present and Roland’s past.
High Speech also has an alphabet, in a font called Hoefler Text Ornaments Regular, which you can download. If I were to write “Hello my name is Elizabeth” in High Speech, it would look like this:
You don’t have to go this far, although I might because, while complicated, worldbuilding is also FUN.
Will my conlang become a full-blown, usable tongue? Eh, who knows? I’ve never done this before, so it’s a challenge. I’m proud of myself for getting this far. I even invented words for cardinal and ordinal numbers that actually build on themselves and make sense. If nothing else, it forces me to think about setting in a new way, an excellent writing exercise regardless.
If you’re interested in reading more about conlanging, here are a few links.
Hi everyone! I’m sorry for neglecting you. I’ve been busy, people.
Since I seem to have priced myself out of this job market and I’m sick of it here anyway, I put my house up for sale. I’ll be moving soon and staying with family in their city until I either find a job there or elsewhere (preferably elsewhere).
In other news, I started working on a conlang for Book 2 (more on that in a future post). I applied for a Hollywood development program with Tunerville. They didn’t select me, sadly. Oh well, there are other opportunities, no doubt. I haven’t given up on this story, although I’m working on new ideas.
Remember the Invasion project I ditched at the beginning of NaNoWriMo last autumn? It’s still kicking, and I’ve decided to see if I can develop it into a screenplay. I’ve got a lot to learn, but that’s okay. Learning new things is good for your brain.
Speaking of new things, my online friends Charles Winthrop and his partner, whom I met through the now-defunct Consumerist website, have created a candy business called Winthrop’s Whimsies. It’s very small and just starting out, but let me tell you, these folks work hard to bring a little sweetness to your day.
This is reflected in the product. They make their candies to order, by hand. As you can see, these are REAL marshmallows, handmade, and don’t conform to the industrial mass-produced shape you’re probably used to. They’re a little irregular, a little special, and tasty as all-get-out.
Disclosure: I did receive a free package of handmade marshmallows in my flavor choice to check out, and I’m happily leaving a review.
My pick, Black Raspberry, arrived in a sturdy cardboard box with “Keep me cool; I contain marshmallows!” written on the shipping label and fortunately delivered late yesterday, before today’s projected excessive heat could roast them. I got distracted by other things and didn’t open the package until this morning.
Inside, I found a plastic-lined paper envelope, which I ripped into eagerly.
I selected a piece and shoved it into my gob. Oh mah gaw.
It plunged me into a cloud of pillowy sweetness and an explosion of fruity, raspberry flavor. These are really, really good, y’all. I had to stop myself from gobbling the whole package.
Other flavors Winthrop’s Whimsies offer include Popcorn, Apple, Coffee, and a nod to their home state of Kentucky, Bourbon flavor (non-alcoholic). I haven’t tried those yet but I’ve heard they’re pretty good. I think the Vanilla marshmallow would be really good melting in a cup of cocoa. I want that one next.
The candies are made with natural extracts, so if you’re allergic to anything, you’ll need to take that into consideration. I am not, which means I can indulge across the board.
Though Winthrop’s Whimsies is not officially open yet, you can get the marshmallows online. This is a small business, just getting off the ground, and it’s just two people at the moment, so the website may seem a little sparse. They’re working on gummies and other kinds of candies. Expect more deliciousness in future.
I’ll be back soon to talk about my conlang. I’ve never done anything like this before. Thank goodness I saved my college linguistics and grammar texts. A lot goes into constructing a language; I have new respect for the folks who worked on Game of Thrones and Star Trek, and of course, the granddaddy of conlangs, J. R. R.Tolkien.