I knocked out two chapters of this stuff in the last couple of weeks, and I feel like despite all my advances I still haven't gotten anywhere
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I've had problems like this all my life in writing. You cannot let stuff like this get you down. (My dad actually burned over 200 hand written pages for "Ambassador to Earth" I had in one huge ass notebook. All of the story, the notes of every planet, the characters, all of the fantasy creatures I made for the story, all of it... we didn't have a compy. Yeah, that's when I finally started realizing he was an asshole.) The only readers I've ever had to anything were my siblings, a friend in high school that died (may God have mercy on his poor soul), and you. That never stops me. And I'll tell you why!
Are you writing for the purpose of selling, or are you writing for the soul purpose of creating? That's the first question any creator, not just writer, has to ask himself. Why are you doing this? I create to do just that. My imagination keeps me going. It's something no one can ever steal from me, ever, as corny as any normal person would find it.
About the name, that could be what Martin calls them. He may learn the name and translate it to his language as that.
Are you writing for the purpose of selling, or are you writing for the soul purpose of creating? That's the first question any creator, not just writer, has to ask himself. Why are you doing this? I create to do just that. My imagination keeps me going. It's something no one can ever steal from me, ever, as corny as any normal person would find it.
About the name, that could be what Martin calls them. He may learn the name and translate it to his language as that.
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