SWORD OF SORROW
BLADE OF JOY
WHY THE GIRL STEALING DUMPLINGS IS ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT PARTS OF THE TALE
THE TALE OF THE SWORDSMAN BEGINS
The adventure of Li Ming and Shu Yan was NOT the story I wanted to tell. Back then, I was working on a sweeping generational epic that was going to see the fall of a dynasty and the rise of a family of warlords — siblings pitted against each other in the aftermath of the fall of an empire.
But after about 30,000 words, I needed a break. So one afternoon on a July in 2019, I set out to write a short story — one that had been bouncing around in my head for a while.
RUNAWAY is the short story that came out of that weekend. After writing it, I was surprised by how fun it was. These two characters seemed to have a lot to say. Would it really be so bad to take a break from the epic and write their adventures a bit more?
By the beginning of 2020, I had three of these little tales. And then the pandemic hit and I lost all of my clients. I suddenly had a bit of extra time, and I knew I was going to hate myself if I didn’t take the chance to work on the Tale of the Swordsman (after all, the pandemic was only going to last a few months right? How naive I was back then).
Before I knew it, I had a whole novel.
And the adventures of Li Ming and Shu Yan were just beginning.
The girl, mouth full of dumplings, struggled to chew. Her eyes shone with impish delight.
“So, you want me to take you to a town in the middle of nowhere with the possibility that people are after you?”
“I’ll pay you well.”
“You’d better.”
“Does that mean you’re taking the job?”
“It means I’m thinking about it.”
“I’ll pay you more when we make it to the town.”
“I said I’m thinking about it. I don’t like babysitting.”
“I promise you won’t regret it,” she pulled the pouch of coins out from her sleeve again to hand to the swordsman.“My real name is Shu Yan.”
“Keep that tucked away safe. You can pay me later,” Li Ming said, holding out a hand to stop the girl.
“Yes, sir.”
“And none of this ‘sir’ crap either.”
“Yes…” she trailed off, unsure how to address him.
“There’s bandits, you know. And robbers. And criminals. And thugs.”
“I’ll…stay out of your way and let you do your legendary thing.”
“I’m already regretting this,” he grunted.
But her mood seemed to improve, and she settled into the chair across from him with confidence. Li Ming sighed. Babysitting. Fifteen years on the cold trail of his master’s murderer, and he was now babysitting. How had it come to this?
“Are you going to eat all those?” she said, eyeing the four remaining dumplings on his plate. “I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Yes,” he said, reaching for another dumpling.
But before his chopsticks reached the plate, the girl made her move. In a motion that was more surprising than swift, she snatched a dumpling from the plate and popped it into her mouth. The shrill laughter of a woman flirting with a merchant cut across the restaurant as though mocking the swordsman.
“Ok, you’re just a kid, so you may not know this: it’s a dangerous thing to come between a man and his dumplings,” Li Ming warned. “I wouldn’t—”
She grinned at him and snatched two more dumplings and shoved them into her mouth.
“What…what…” Li Ming sputtered. “You…you’re paying for more dumplings, you brat!”
The girl, mouth full of dumplings, struggled to chew. Her eyes shone with impish delight.
The scene in the restaurant where Li Ming and Shu Yan first meet sets the playful tone of their relationship. It’s the interaction that acts as a blueprint for the rest of the saga.
You’ve probably seen the setup a hundred times: Young spunky kid meets a grizzled warrior and asks them for help. In fact, when I first had a friend read RUNAWAY, she remarked that it reminded her of the opening of the movie True Grit.
And then something magical happened.
Shu Yan snatched the dumplings off Li Ming’s plate and popped them in her mouth like the cheeky little imp she is.
And that changed everything.
You see, at that moment something happened that never happened to me before. My characters took control of my story, and it became their story.
It was the first time I had ever encountered it. I wasn’t planning on ending the scene like that—it sort of just happened. By popping those dumplings in her mouth, Shu Yan taught me something I didn’t know.
I was a discovery writer.
Oh sure, I’ll write plot things out, create a plot line and research notes and then get to work, but sometimes, a piece of magic happens and my characters do something I didn’t plan. When that happens, I feel like I’m an observer, not the author of their tale, and I just take a step back and let their interaction play out how they want it to go.
I remember leaning back in my chair, stunned. She was never supposed to be this mischievous. I didn’t want her to eat those dumplings, but she did. As I set out to write the rest of their tale, I realized that I was onto something special. I knew they needed to tell their story.
Did you like the peek behind the scenes?
If you did, I have one favor to ask.
Could you share this image with your friends?
Word of mouth is always the most potent form of marketing. It would mean a lot to me if more people were to discover my stories.
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