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Here goes nothin'. [Nov. 2nd, 2006|07:33 pm]
Home For Dedicated Anthropomorphic Writers

[mood |creative]
[music |Jesse Cook - Into the Dark]

I've been working on the world-development and plot outline for a novel for a long time, and only recently had the time (and balls, honestly) to begin actually writing it. Imagine North America, serveral thousand years in the future, after a global catastrophe has destroyed all human civilization. Nature begins to slowly rebalance itself once the human element is gone, and the animals have begun to evolve. This, of course, takes time. Some species have begun to develop the ability to stand upright to look over tall grasses, some have begun to craft stone tools. Things are still very primitive. This is the world that my novel is set in. I am a very slow writer, but I hope you enjoy the short blurb that I have so far. It's not enough for a chapter by far. I'll likely write a prologue later on as I become more aware of where the story is taking me.

No working title as of yet. Also, formatting this stuff from Word to post it here is a pain! My Lawd.

Read more...Collapse )

Hopefully there will be more to come. Feedback is appreciated. ^_^
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Yo! Some news from my end... [Oct. 29th, 2006|12:39 pm]
Home For Dedicated Anthropomorphic Writers
[Current Location |My Room, With My Rats Snuggled Up Inside My Shirt]
[mood |chipperchipper]
[music |Bon Jovi - Dead Or Alive]

Well, as mentioned in my own LJ, there's been a few developments in my quest to become the Next Big Thing in animal fantasy (yeah, sure).
I decided to try and sell 'em in the USA since there's a big fantasy market there, and thanks to my Australian agent's help I got into contact with a New York based agent called Russel Galen, who's something of a fantasy buff. He and I talked on the phone for about an hour, and got on very well - I pitched my rodent books to him and he was very interested and wanted to read them. However, when I was in the process of sending him a manuscript, I had another read of it and decided it could use another overhaul. I talked to Russel some more and he agreed to wait until the rewrite was done. I write ridiculously fast (a fanfiction I work on when I'm taking a break has now reached the 450-page mark and I've been writing it for about six months, tops), so it shouldn't take too long. I think the Rodent Chronicles Redux (as I'm informally calling it) will turn out well. I'm getting rid of some of the more silly and juvenile concepts that were in there, and trying to ground it overall more in reality. I'm also making the characters quite a bit more animal-like (eg, now they use pee to mark their territories and anyone who's weakened in any way gets killed or has their home stolen off them), in the hopes of making all those people who say "why rodents?" just shut the godsdamned hell up (I wish).
So far it's going nicely. 30 A4 pages and the plot is well in motion. It feels a bit more like "fantasy" fantasy now - it's not ripping off anything, but fantasy readers ought to find it vaguely familiar, hence unthreatening and hence desirable. *pats self on back for being, liek, teh clevah!!one*
I've had an idea which I think is "neat" - getting in touch with Robin Jarvis, a fellow rodent-writer and my 12-year-old self's personal god. He's kind of obscure, which is sad, since IMNHO* he's a better writer than Brian Jaques. He gave me my taste for darkness and horror in stories like this.
I'm thinking that if I spoke to him - on the phone, or by mail - he could perhaps give me some advice. At the very least, I could let him know he's got at least one fan.

In the meantime, here is a banner I made. Yes, you may steal it, assuming you want to.

* IMNHO : In My Non-Humble Opinion. None of my opinions are humble. They are all loud and obnoxious.
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Hello! [Sep. 21st, 2006|06:25 pm]
Home For Dedicated Anthropomorphic Writers

[mood |hungryhungry]

So, I found this comm early this morning while searching for an anthro-fiction group. It's small, but that has it's benefits, right?

All right, on to the fun stuff. My name is Cyn, I'm 21, and a therian of the coyote variety. I have been writing all my life, but only really decided to pursue writing as a career as a teenager. All of my earliest works involved anthros (though I didn't know to call them that at the time) in some way, although those attempts have since been lost to time, and many crashing hard-drives.

I am also a struggling artist who scrounges for pocket money by doing commissions. By art can be seen at my DeviantArt site. Most of my artwork is also very anthro- and furry-inspired. My writing comes slowly and in spurts. Working full-time leaves me with less time to brainstorm and imagine than I'd like! Hopefully I'll be able to come up with some fun things to post here.

I discovered the furry and anthro fandom through the Redwall books and various fan-sites way, way back in 1999 when I first started sniffin' around el Internetz. I've been an on-the-edge member of said fandoms ever since. I'm shy, and Internet Drama generally turns me off. Thus my disinterest in bigger comms. Too much in-fighting!

That's that! I hope you all find something in my random blurbs that you enjoy!
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Prologue [Sep. 3rd, 2006|02:41 pm]
Home For Dedicated Anthropomorphic Writers
[Current Location |Writing hell]
[mood |productive]
[music |Deathly silence]

I don't know how to do an LJ cut. Sorry.

The world of rodents was a dangerous one. Not many people knew that better than Opifex did. But, then, she had lived in it for over five thousand years.
The short, fat mouse crouched by the side of a dying rat, her grubby brown hair hanging over her face and her tail twitching.
‘Tell me who did it,’ she said in a low voice. ‘What did they look like?’
The rat stirred slightly. His eyes were wide and bulging, their stare fixed and terrified. ‘I saw…’ his voice was ragged and faint. He coughed, and blood gurgled in his chest. ‘I – hurts…’
It was easy enough to see why. Something had ripped a deep and horrible wound into the rat’s body, from the side of his neck and right down over his stomach, so deep that it had exposed bones and organs. His fur glistened with blood, and the bare skin on his paws and ears had gone deathly pale.
‘Tell me,’ Opifex said urgently. ‘I have to know. The eyes – what were the eyes like?’
‘Red eyes,’ therat whispered. ‘Red eyes, tears… crying. She was crying.’
He was trembling now, beginning to go into shock. Opifex knew he was beyond any help she could give. She felt a deep coldness gnawing at her. Red eyes. Red eyes, with tears flowing from them… like a river. She only knew of one person who had eyes like that.
She stood up and surveyed the area once again. Dead and dying rodents were scattered everywhere through the tunnels and chambers of what had once been a thriving colony. The attack had come without warning, and the sheer brutality of it was enough to shock even her. Young and old, male and female, all dead. No-one had been spared. Not even the babies. Fighting was commonplace among rodents, but this… this was a massacre. And Opifex knew who was responsible.
‘Carnifex,’ she muttered.
She heard the dying rat cough again, and glanced down at him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘So sorry for what happened to you.’
The rat half-raised himself from the ground, with a strength that surprised her. His face was full of bewilderment. ‘Why?’ he asked her. He sank back as fresh blood dribbled out of his wound. ‘Why…?’
Opifex knew. ‘For revenge,’ she said.
There was no answer. The rat was dead. Opifex drew a strange shape in the air over his body. ‘May the blessings of life be on thee,’ she said.
The absurdity of it made her grimace. She turned away. Anger was rising inside her, and with it came pain. A deep burning ache ripped into her chest, as if she were being stabbed with a red-hot knife. She cringed and dug her fingers into her skin, as if trying to pull the sensation out of her. It didn’t do any good at all.
She walked on, trying to blot it out. Rodents did not have surnames and these days titles were thought of as ridiculously old-fashioned. Only people from legends had titles, and people in the distant past. And this was not the distant past. This was what humans called the twenty-first century. An age of cars and huge dirty cities. Humans were thriving. So were rodents. It was because of humans that rodents had become as widespread as they were. They provided food, and places to live, and transport as well. In under-city tunnels like these, there were no predators. Humans could not get at them down here. The only real danger came from disease… and from other rodents.
Opifex, however, had a title. Opifex the Singer. That was what they had called her once. Immortality, in stories, was usually a curse. To her, it was a gift. She had existed since the beginning of the rodent race itself. Never age. Never die. That was what immortality meant. But even immortals changed.
She walked slowly through the tunnels, taking in the horrors that lay there without showing much emotion. She had seen death before.
Opifex was an unimpressive figure. She was wide-shouldered and thick-limbed, with big paws and a bulging, saggy stomach. Her fur was ordinary tawny brown that paled to white on her stomach and chest. She wore her hair long, and it hung about her ears in a tangled mess. There were a pair of dragons tattooed on her ankles, and both her ears and fingers were laden with rings. She had a round, childish, slightly jowly face with a pointed snout and straight, dark eyebrows, and her eyes were slate grey. There was no secret wisdom in them, no gleam of magic. They were just blue-grey eyes, perfectly ordinary, but a little sad.
Opifex reached into her bag and brought out a dagger. It had a long, straight blade, and was made entirely out of some kind of black metal. There was no shine to it at all. She clutched it tightly as she walked on, her ears swivelled forward to listen for any sound of movement. Carnifex’s scent was still strong in the air – she could still be in the tunnels.
Even immortals have enemies.
She found her in a small chamber that had once been used to store food, crouched on a little heap of earth. There was blood on her face and arms, and on the short sword clutched in her paws. She was tall and thin, and lithe, and she sat there with her back hunched forward and her head bowed, staring at the floor.
When Opifex entered she looked up sharply, relaxing when she saw who it was. ‘I knew you’d come and find me, Opifex.’
Opifex stood still in the doorway. ‘Carnifex.’
‘Veriton. It’s Veriton now.’
‘So that was what the Thieves were on about,’ said Opifex. ‘“Veriton protect me”… that was smart.’
Veriton grinned horribly. ‘How do you like my new face?’
She looked like another mouse, and young. Her fur was skewbald – brown and white in patches – and she had long, pure-white hair. Perhaps she would have been pretty, but for the only thing about her that hadn’t changed.
Her eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, running with tears. They flowed over her face in a constant stream, like blood from a wound that would never heal.
‘Does it still hurt?’ Opifex asked softly.
Veriton stood up. She was a head taller than the other mouse, and when she approached her, she moved with a strange and terrible grace. ‘Always,’ she whispered.
They were very close now. Opifex could feel the other mouse’s cold breath on her face. She stuffed the dagger into the back of the belt which was her only clothing. ‘I could heal you,’ she said.
Veriton turned away abruptly. ‘You can’t,’ she said.
‘Let me try again.’
With a lightning movement, Veriton whirled around. There was a flash of steel, and next moment Opifex staggered toward the floor, the bloodied sword embedded deep in her shoulder. ‘Gods damn you!’ she screamed.
Veriton snarled at her. ‘Did that hurt? Forget what pain feels like, did you?’
Opifex recovered her balance. She wrenched out the sword and tossed it onto the floor. ‘Stop it,’ she snapped.
Veriton watched as the wound in her shoulder silently closed over, leaving nothing but a patch of bloody fur behind. ‘How can you stand it?’ she half-whispered. ‘Don’t you feel the pain?’
‘Sometimes. When you’re near me. You killed them all, Carnifex. Why do that? What’s the point? They’re only mortals, can’t you just leave them alone?’
‘They must die,’ said Veriton. ‘All of them. I just want…’ she broke off suddenly and doubled over, clutching at her chest. ‘It hurts, Opifex, it never stops hurting, I just want the pain to stop…’ she started to sob.
Opifex embraced her tightly, clutching the other immortal’s thin frame to her chest. Veriton held onto her and cried into her fur, her never-ending tears mingling with the blood on Opifex’s shoulder and sending pink rivulets down her back.
‘It’s all right,’ Opifex whispered. ‘We’ll find a way, I swear. We’ll find a way to make it stop.’
Veriton’s claws suddenly tightened on her back. ‘I found a way,’ she rasped.
Opifex let go of her. ‘No,’ she said. ‘You can’t do it. It’s insane.’
‘I don’t care,’ said Veriton. ‘It’s the only way. I want to die. I just want to die. Please. Just let me die.’
Opifex took the black dagger from her belt and held it out to her. ‘Then do it,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to hurt you again. Take it.’
Veriton stared at the dagger, wide-eyed, then snatched it. She turned it over in her long fingers, examining it from all angles. The metal was cold, and she felt its magic prickling on her skin when she touched it. She pressed the tip into her chest, pushing until the skin broke and a little drop of blood oozed out. She breathed in sharply at the pain, then withdrew the dagger and looked at Opifex again.
‘I’m sorry,’ Opifex said softly. ‘For what happened to you.’
Veriton lashed out with the dagger. It hit the other immortal in the face, making a deep slash from forehead to chin.
It broke the strange silence. Opifex screamed, backing away, her paws rising to cover her ruined face, while Veriton advanced on her, her expression twisting and contorting into one of pure, burning hatred. ‘You don’t know what pain is!’ she snarled. ‘I’ll show you, you – pathetic – evil – vermin.’
Opifex tried to run. She was too slow, and next moment Veriton was on her, tearing her paw away from her face. She cut her, again and again, destroying her features, caught up in a maddened frenzy, tears still streaming down her cheeks. And these wounds did not heal.
At last Veriton stopped. She half-rose, the now-stained dagger still clasped in her paw. Opifex moaned and tried to get up, but her paw slipped on the bloodied floor and she fell back again, her chest heaving. ‘Oh gods…’
‘You’ve lost your ankh,’ Veriton whispered. ‘Where is it?’
Opifex rolled onto her side, curling up feebly to protect herself.
Veriton bared her teeth in a sneer. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘I’ll give you another one.’
The dagger came down once more. Opifex barely felt it.
Afterwards Veriton stood up, rubbing her paws on her face to try and clean the blood off. ‘The gods are dead,’ she said. ‘I killed them. And soon I’ll kill the only one left.’
Holding the black dagger against her chest, she took one last glance at Opifex, lying quite still in a pool of blood, and walked away.
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New Member! [Sep. 3rd, 2006|02:26 pm]
Home For Dedicated Anthropomorphic Writers
[Current Location |My room]
[mood |anxiousanxious]
[music |Enya - Orinoco Flow]

Well, hi!
Call me Opifex. (Some people shorten that to Opi).
I grew up as a fanatical Redwall and Robin Jarvis fan, and now I write anthro fiction of my own, which I'm trying to get published. At the moment I've only got one book on the market - The Land of Bad Fantasy, published this year by Scholastic - but I hope to change that.

Unfortunately people in 'the biz' who I've spoken to about it seem to have some kind of problem with the fact that I wrote about sentient rodents. I don't know why. They ask dumb questions like 'why are they rodents? Why not make them human?', as if talking animals were something completely unheard of in the world of fantasy writing, and several of them have told me outright to start writing something else, which made me very angry.
The rest of them seem confused by the fact that my rodent stories aren't written for an audience of little kiddies - they're for teenagers. And by the fact that I use contemporary dialogue instead of Ye Olde Tolkein-Talk, as if that were in violation of some kind of law.

Any road, I'm determined to sell these books of mine because I put years of work into the damn things and that work better not go to waste, and also because people in the target audience who've read them have responded very positively to them. I think anthropomorphic animal stories should be less obscure and scorned in the world of publishing, and I want to get rid of the preconception that it's only for little kids. Plenty of older people enjoy reading about animal characters. I do, but there's precious little animal fantasy written for adults, and most of what I've found has been either out of print or just not very good.

If anyone has any advice about where I might take them, I would be very interested. I'm only a n00b in the world of publishing, and it's tough for a n00b to sell stuff, particularly stuff that's as weird and unconventional as what I wrote is. I thought that if I spoke to some kindred spirits it might help me get a new perspective and also feel a bit less isolated (I know a total of one other person who writes anthro fantasy).

So yeah. Hi. I'll post a snippet of my writing in a seperate entry.
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Novel Idea [Jul. 28th, 2006|06:39 pm]
Home For Dedicated Anthropomorphic Writers

[Current Location |my dorm room...infront of my laptop]
[mood |deviousdevious]
[music |umm...what now?]

Right, aside from the corny subject title. Here is my first offical posting on Anthrowriters. Me and Paperflowers (the other moderator and maintainer of this community), have known each other for little over a year now. Maybe a year an a halfish, and the two of us have become the very best of friends. And while with that friendship the two of us have discovered our ability to co-write. And the two of us have ended up penning not one, but two Novels. Or at least roleplaying them out and starting on the penning. The first is a Furry western romance action novel, staring two main characters, and also our original fursonas, Roxanne Wildfire O'Hara, a vixen, and Derrick Baine McConnelly, a wolf. Our second Novel, a World War 2 themed, furry romance action novel. This story hits much closer to home for me, considering that the main character is from my state. And the main character of this story is Jacob Sheppard, a coyote from Arizona and has one hell of an optimistic outlook on life, that gets tested time and again. And the girl who snags him you ask? Her name is Angela Webb, of London England. A wily she wolf with the temper of a saint, and one hell of a cute lil lass. YET that is not all we have in our little endevour. For in the mental works of our twisted little minds, there sturs the urge to sail the great blue oceans of earth as pirates! That's right a pirate furry novel!
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(no subject) [Jul. 28th, 2006|08:41 pm]
Home For Dedicated Anthropomorphic Writers

[mood |complacentcomplacent]

Okay, so since I realize that this community (still new), is so very small, I think outlining a couple things might be for the best.

As far as content goes, we're up for anything, as long as its tasteful. I know we should have mentioned that we accept all ratings (Rated G-R) which goes along the lines of the movie-rating system. If you are unfamiliar with the movie rating system...you obviously have not been to a movie theatre in the past ten years. 

We do accept content that goes with controversial issues, such as homosexuality, incest, twincest (if the need arises), depression and mental disease, social issues (like politics, addictions, interpersonal relationships of a non-romantic kind) etc. Romance fiction is welcome, but we embrace all genres, including Fantasy, Sci-Fi, horror, thrillers, comedies, spiritual and even poetry. 

BIG NOTE: currently, we are not accepting NC-17. This may change in the future, but currently, we feel it is best to be on the safe side, since we are not sure if any future members of the community would be of the proper age to view such material.

ALSO, we feel it is important to know a member's age, just so we can guarantee that minors not come into contact with any offensive material. The law (at least in the USA) states that you must be 18 to view "questionable material". 

One thing we will NOT accept (simply because of our own morals) is pedophilic fiction. In most states, it IS illegal. Ergo, we will not accept it. 

That's all for now. We hope to see some fiction/writing soon! ^_^

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Welcome! [Jul. 24th, 2006|02:14 pm]
Home For Dedicated Anthropomorphic Writers

[mood |cheerfulcheerful]

Hello and Welcome to AnthroWriters! We hope you enjoy your stay here!
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