Day 50 (1:42) Of Rewriting My Novel

Ipol (Conlang) Synopsis

Day 3 (? 4?) of writing my novel and I actually wrote a bunch today! But today I wanted to do something different: present on the most-used conlang in my novel: Ipol.

Ipol ['i.pol] is an Eastern Zenestian language descended from Classical Zispoel by way of Old Ipol. Ipol is actually the word used for the accent spoken in Ir Nouzonif (Ip. I Nusnif [i.'nus.nif]), the capital of Zeneste. Most other dialects, including several languages, are lumped together into Ipol Sinezo (literally: Rice-farmer Ipol.)

Phonology

Consonants

Ipol has 16 consonants:

Oral Stops: p, b, t*, d*, k, g*

* t, d > tʃ, dʒ / _ i

**Nasal Stops: **n, m

Fricatives: f, s*, h

* s > ʃ / _ {i, e}

Semivowels: j, w

Liquids: l

Rhotics*: r*, rr

r > /ɹ/ / _ {#, consonant}

r > /ɾ/ / (everywhere else)

rr is the uvular rhotic /ʀ/ found in French

Vowels

Ipol has 12 vowels.

High: i, ij, u, uw

Mid: e, ee, o, oo (/oː/), oh (/ɔː/)

Low: æ (/æː/), a, aa (/aː/)

Phonotactics

Ipol is a (C)(S)V(C)(C)(C) language:

C = any consonant

V = any vowel + r

S = semivowel + r

Translation + Teaser

Excerpt from Part One:

Dr. Este grunted, wrinkling her nose at me. "If you know what's good for you," she rephrased, "you'll stay far, far away from the attic." I gulped. Then, I shook my head. What were a bunch of sticks going to do to me when I wasn't looking. "Why? The Sensonif isn't hiding up there, is she?" I realized that the first stained glass window depicted the three Heroes: the Heroes of Life, Earth, and Language. Then the other window depicted the Hero of Earth killing the Sensonif-a monster said to be fifty-feet high and filled with lava. One touch from her is said to kill a person in seconds. My comment stiffened the Vice President, who stopped. Then, hanging her head, she gripped my shoulder and looked up into my eyes, her gaze lifeless and cold. "Nerte treste ésispijen," she whispered, "Sispoh sispijz la eheempijz." If you care about yourself, you mustn't go into the attic.

Nerte - you.ABS

Treste - you.ACC

sispijen - believe in, care about

Sispoh - must

sispijz - (negative modal verb)

la - in, into, towards

eheempijz - attic (literally house-up, or the top bit of a house)

Conclusion

Given that Dr. Este is the Hero of Earth who sailed around the world with the other two Heroes (of Life and Language,) what do you think is in the attic that she's so worried about?

dudes watch brokeback mountain

Find the Word

A tag from @theothersideofthewoods.

The goal is to find these words in my WIP: charm, bubble, poison, kiss

Your words are: gloom, shimmer, muck, home

Charm

Tonight, the chef had left a couple sliced apples with grilled salmon next to it. Irotijv, I thought to myself. The national dish of Zeneste. Definitely a good-luck charm for tomorrow. The apple was sweet and juicy, and the fish was seasoned and seared perfectly. I fell into my bed soon after having supper.

Bubble

I jumped back, ducking beneath the stream of flames when she turned around. Hota crossed their arms and closed their eyes. “I’m casting a blanket of tranquility,” they yelled, spreading their arms. A blue bubble enveloped the whole train car, dimming the flame in her mouth, but not the orange in her eyes.

Scar

[Taguchif] was sitting by a large window in another empty train car, staring out at the coast while the moon shone over it, reflecting over the water. Her gauntlets laid beside her, exposing her scarred hands. She did nothing when I sat beside her.

Poison

(Is it bad that this word literally doesn't show up in Meiste in the first ~50,000 words???)

Paging: @foxgloves-garden and @reedandstorm, along with open tag.

“It can take years. With the first draft, I just write everything. With the second draft, it becomes so depressing for me, because I realize that I was fooled into thinking I’d written the story. I hadn’t — I had just typed for a long time. So then I have to carve out a story from the 25 or so pages. It’s in there somewhere — but I have to find it.”

— David Sedaris

Day 38 (1:11) of rewriting my novel

Ok today I gave in and started writing Part Three in reverse.

That's mostly because I know where Part Three is headed completely. I'm still debating how I want Part Four to go. I'm now anticipating (but can't predict) a Part Five. A sort-of last-ditch effort for the evil President Sluwfa.

I also wanted to write Lozerief again because she's more fun to write than most of my characters, I think. She's dark and brooding, but she's not evil by any stretch of the imagination. It's also fun to see her at her weakest: for a long time, she was regarded as the strongest Hero. I think it's fun to see her come crawling back to the people she hurt the most.

Day 34 (1:04 in my extended base 30/7) of rewriting my novel

Today I bring back the side character who really won't get enough love: Vimir.

Vimir's a clutz, thick and through. He's easygoing and hard not to love. He spends his time working, but when he's not working he's either making mead to drink later, or drinking his mead now.

Vimir is probably Izi's second-most loyal ally, but definitely his most loyal ally when the story begins. For years, he would spot Izi cash to be able to afford his own place. Izi's always felt guilty, but has never had a way to repay him.

Lexember Post #1

Woo! Happy Lexember conlangers. I will be using Modern Ipol for this one. The first root is:

Sha-

Meaning: "rain, calm, sadness, weather"

Derived Words:

shar - rain

sharijv - electricity

sharna - "debbie-downer," a gloomy person

sham - calm, easygoing

iposharijv - telephone, smartphone

In a sentence:

Jir piner asisharis, stinirinen shrijfte?

LIT: day this-MASC PASS.V.rain.REF, V.go.FUT store?

"It's still raining today, are (you) (still) go(ing) (to) the store?"

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPTS

Too many beds

Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss

Really nice guy who hates only you

Academic rivals except it’s two teachers who compete to have the best class

Divorce of convenience

Too much communication

True hate’s kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse)

Dating your enemy’s sibling

Lovers to enemies

Hate at first sight

Love triangle where the two love interests get together instead

Fake amnesia

Soulmates who are fated to kill each other

Strangers to enemies

Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

Too hot to cuddle

Love interest CEO is a himbo/bimbo who runs their company into the ground

Nursing home au

OC Lore Excerpt

I got the brilliant idea for this short excerpt after listening to one of my favorite songs.

This excerpt is a piece of Aito’s lore, where he lost someone he loved dearly due to his lack of acceptance for himself.

Edit note: This specific excerpt is set in 19th century England (Aito is hundreds of years old) (that’s a whole other piece of lore but whatever)

WARNING: THIS EXCERPT CONTAINS SEXUAL THEMES.

“Do you love me?”

It was morning, and the sun peeked through the drawn curtains onto his tanned face and reflected in his eyes, making them shine like a swirled caramel. I sat on the edge of the bed, in my nude, and he laid behind me with his cheek propped on his hand and the sheets covering his lower body.

I looked at him, a mild visage of bewilderment on my face. I gave a scoff as I stood and grabbed my shirt off the nearby chair. “I just had sex with you. Why wouldn’t I?”

I felt his fingers trace down my spine and stop above my rear, then he placed his hand on my lower back. I shivered as I began buttoning my white shirt.

“I don’t know. You just felt…distant the whole time,” he said softly. He tugged at the back of my shirt, and I turned to face him after I picked up my tie.

“How so?” I asked, looking down at him as I straightened the black tie around my neck. 

He slipped the covers off himself and sat off the edge of the bed in front of me. My eyes traced his figure as he looked up. He ran his hands up the sides of my thighs and stopped at my hips, massaging them. “You just looked…apathetic the whole time. As if you weren’t enjoying it.” His eyes would flit up my body, and I inhaled sharply as he ran his hands down my front. I swallowed hard and slipped my trembling fingers into his messy black hair, although gingerly.

His hands rested on the backs of my thighs as he looked up at me again, a faint, pained expression on his face. His hands dropped and clasped in his lap as he pressed his forehead into my stomach. “That. You’re hesitant. Why?”

I stared down at him, then dropped my hands as well. I felt a vise grip my chest, and I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it. After a moment, he raised his head and eyed at me expectantly. I exhaled deeply and closed my eyes. “I…I don’t know.”

I did know. But I hated that I knew. I knew it was because I still couldn’t fully approve of all the love I wanted to give.

I opened my eyes, and his expression was one of unconvinced hurt.

Gently, he placed his hands on my hips and pushed me a step back. He stood and tilted his head up at me, his voice breaking. “You hurt me so. You can’t even say you love me back.”

My breath hitched in my throat, and I stared at him silently. I felt my eyes begin to sting and gloss over.

“Cry for me,” he challenged, although it came out more as a quiet, choked beg.

I blinked away my tears.