Appointed to the Quest
©2004 Kitnoki -- all rights reserved
Welcome to Scribbler's Progress! In this column, a new writer will be showcasing her skill, or lack thereof, as she travels along the road to being an author. Of what I'm not sure... Our dauntless author, with the oh-so-imaginative nom de plume of Scribbler, will chronicle her journeys and progress -- or lack thereof. She will face such foes as the all-powerful Writers Block (gasp) and Self Pity! I could come up with names like this all day... but I promise I won't. So without further adieu, allow me to introduce Scribbler.
Our protagonist -- as I will refer to myself throughout, so nyah -- has only recently tried her paw at one of the oldest crafts, (no, not that one), and was satisfied, and a tad surprised at the results. She is 23 and considers herself primarily an artist, not a writer, though that may change. She's best known on a website most of the TF community avoids, it seems: Choose Your Own Change. A great place with great people, and, unfortunately, an awful lot of trolls and newbies. But it's been improving -- all the more so now that the site requires contributors to register -- and she'd gladly sell what little soul she has left so see more authors about.
But enough rambling and more talk of writing. Let us look in on our protagonist...
Scribbler sat at her desk, and sighed. The power was off, again. No computer... no video games, not even any microwave popcorn... There was as always her trusty pencil, but it seemed just as dead. Theoretically, she could draw. Theoretically. But nothing came. She picked up the pencil, and moved it to paper, determined to do something. "It was a dark and stormy night." She blinked. No it wasn't. It was a cold, grey October day. And besides, that sounded...
She jumped, and turned. Behind her, stood a woman, dressed in white... It was almost a Grecian look, or maybe Roman.
"Defiantly Grecian. The Romans stole all their best stories from the Greeks anyway."
"How did --"
"Right. Down to business, then. First off: I knew what you were going to say because I just did. It's a Muse thing, okay? I'm Tisiphone and I'm a Muse. No, not a Fury. I throw one little snit and I have to live it down for the rest of eternity. I'm here to help you."
"Finally! I can't think of a thing to draw! I get my own personal muse! This is so --"
"Whoa! Slow down! I may be a mind reader, but I'm not a speed reader. And I don't do Drawing, either. You want Leonardo for that."
"Leonardo? As in, da Vinci? That Leonardo!?"
Tisiphone shrugged. "So he got bored, wanted a job. Anyway, I'm here to help you Write. Second off, I'm not your personal anything. I'm just here to set you on the path. Not to pop up ideas on request. I'm here because you're going to start writing."
"I think I already did."
"One cliché sentence? I'd hardly call that a start, dear... but as these things go, I'm here to help anyway. What you lack is the Writer's Eye."
Scribbler blinked as the room seemed to dim; a halo of light enveloped Tisiphone as she said "Writer's Eye".
"Don't you love special effects?"
"Another Muse thing?"
"Got it in one! The whole point is, I'm not going to be able to do anything for you until you have the Writer's Eye."
The room did that thing again. The mortal frowned.
"What? We're on a budget. Stock effects are cheap."
The Muses have a budget..? Scribbler's mind boggled. "So, ah, how do I get this 'Eye' thing?"
"The usual way; go on a quest. You know the drill. Practice, learn, overcome stuff, slay monsters --"
"Have you ever heard of a quest without them?"
"Well there you go," The demigoddess smiled and waved one hand dismissively. "Now let's get you started..."