30 April 2025, Writing - part xxxx034 Bookgirl, Initial Scene, Conclusions
Announcement: I
still need a new publisher. However, I’ve taken the step to republish my
previously published novels. I’m starting with Centurion, and
we’ll see from there. Since previously published novels have little
chance of publication in the market (unless they are huge best sellers), I
might as well get those older novels back out. I’m going through Amazon
Publishing, and I’ll pass the information on to you.
Introduction: I wrote the
novel Aksinya: Enchantment and the Daemon. This was my 21st novel
and through this blog, I gave you the entire novel in installments that
included commentary on the writing. In the commentary, in addition to other
general information on writing, I explained, how the novel was constructed, the
metaphors and symbols in it, the writing techniques and tricks I used, and the
way I built the scenes. You can look back through this blog and read the entire
novel beginning with http://www.pilotlion.blogspot.com/2010/10/new-novel-part-3-girl-and-demon.html.
I’m using this novel as
an example of how I produce, market, and eventually (we hope) get a novel
published. I’ll keep you informed along the way.
Today’s Blog: To see the steps in
the publication process, visit my writing websites http://www.sisteroflight.com/.
The four plus two basic
rules I employ when writing:
1. Don’t confuse your readers.
2. Entertain your readers.
3. Ground your readers in the writing.
4. Don’t show (or tell) everything.
4a. Show what can be
seen, heard, felt, smelled, and tasted on the stage of the novel.
5. Immerse yourself in the world of your writing.
6. The initial scene is the most important scene.
These are the steps I use to write a novel
including the five discrete parts of a novel:
1. Design the initial scene
2. Develop a theme statement
(initial setting, protagonist, protagonist’s helper or antagonist, action
statement)
a. Research as required
b. Develop the initial
setting
c. Develop the characters
d. Identify the telic flaw
(internal and external)
3. Write the initial scene
(identify the output: implied setting, implied characters, implied action
movement)
4. Write the next scene(s)
to the climax (rising action)
5. Write the climax scene
6. Write the falling action
scene(s)
7. Write the dénouement
scene
I finished writing my 31st novel,
working title, Cassandra, potential title Cassandra:
Enchantment and the Warriors. The theme statement is: Deirdre and
Sorcha are redirected to French finishing school where they discover difficult
mysteries, people, and events.
I finished writing my 34th novel
(actually my 32nd completed novel), Seoirse,
potential title Seoirse: Enchantment and the Assignment. The
theme statement is: Seoirse is assigned to be Rose’s protector and helper at
Monmouth while Rose deals with five goddesses and schoolwork; unfortunately,
Seoirse has fallen in love with Rose.
Here is the cover
proposal for the third edition of Centurion:
|
Cover Proposal |
The most important scene
in any novel is the initial scene, but eventually, you have to move to the
rising action. I am continuing to write on my 30th novel,
working title Red Sonja. I finished my 29th novel,
working title Detective. I finished writing number 31,
working title Cassandra: Enchantment and the Warrior. I just
finished my 32nd novel and 33rd novel: Rose:
Enchantment and the Flower, and Seoirse: Enchantment and the
Assignment.
How to begin a novel. Number one thought,
we need an entertaining idea. I usually encapsulate such an idea with a
theme statement. Since I’m writing a new novel, we need a new theme
statement. Here is an initial cut.
For novel 30: Red Sonja, a Soviet spy,
infiltrates the X-plane programs at Edwards AFB as a test pilot’s
administrative clerk, learns about freedom, and is redeemed.
For Novel 32: Shiggy Tash finds a lost girl
in the isolated Scottish safe house her organization gives her for her latest
assignment: Rose Craigie has nothing, is alone, and needs someone or something
to rescue and acknowledge her as a human being.
For novel 33, Book girl:
Siobhàn Shaw is Morven McLean’s savior—they are both attending Kilgraston
School in Scotland when Morven loses everything, her wealth, position, and
friends, and Siobhàn Shaw is the only one left to befriend and help her
discover the one thing that might save Morven’s family and existence.
For novel 34: Seoirse is assigned to
be Rose’s protector and helper at Monmouth while Rose deals with five goddesses
and schoolwork; unfortunately, Seoirse has fallen in love with Rose.
For novel 35: Eoghan, a Scottish National
Park Authority Ranger, while handing a supernatural problem in Loch Lomond and
The Trossachs National Park discovers the crypt of Aine and accidentally
releases her into the world; Eoghan wants more from the world and Aine desires
a new life and perhaps love.
Here
is the scene development outline:
1.
Scene input (comes from the previous scene output or is an initial scene)
2.
Write the scene setting (place, time, stuff, and characters)
3.
Imagine the output, creative elements, plot, telic flaw resolution (climax) and
develop the tension and release.
4.
Write the scene using the output and creative elements to build the tension.
5.
Write the release
6.
Write the kicker
Today: Let me tell you a little about writing. Writing
isn’t so much a hobby, a career, or a pastime. Writing is a habit and an
obsession. We who love to write love to write.
If
you love to write, the problem is gaining the skills to write well. We
want to write well enough to have others enjoy our writing. This is
important. No one writes just for themselves the idea is absolutely
irrational and silly. I can prove why.
In
the first place, the purpose of writing is communication—that’s the only
purpose. Writing is the abstract communication of the mind through
symbols. As time goes by, we as writers gain more and better tools and
our readers gain more and better appreciation for those tools and skills—even
if they have no idea what they are.
We
are in the modern era. In this time, the action and dialog style along
with the push of technology forced novels into the form of third person, past
tense, action and dialog style, implying the future. This is the modern
style of the novel. I also showed how the end of literature created the
reflected worldview. We have three possible worldviews for a novel: the
real, the reflected, and the created. I choose to work in the reflected
worldview.
Why
don’t we go back to the basics and just writing a novel? I can tell you
what I do, and show you how I go about putting a novel together. We can
start with developing an idea then move into the details of the writing.
Ideas. We need ideas. Ideas allow us
to figure out the protagonist and the telic flaw. Ideas don’t come fully
armed from the mind of Zeus. We need to cultivate ideas.
1. Read novels.
2. Fill your mind with good
stuff—basically the stuff you want to write about.
3. Figure out what will
build ideas in your mind and what will kill ideas in your mind.
4. Study.
5. Teach.
6. Make the catharsis.
7. Write.
The development of ideas is based on study and
research, but it is also based on creativity. Creativity is the
extrapolation of older ideas to form new ones or to present old ideas in a new
form. It is a reflection of something new created with ties to the
history, science, and logic (the intellect). Creativity requires
consuming, thinking, and producing.
If we have filled our mind with all kinds of
information and ideas, we are ready to become creative. Creativity means
the extrapolation of older ideas to form new ones or to present old ideas in a
new form. Literally, we are seeing the world in a new way, or actually,
we are seeing some part of the world in a new way.
The beginning of creativity is study and
effort. We can use this to extrapolate to creativity. In addition,
we need to look at recording ideas and working with ideas.
With that said, where should we go? Should
I delve into ideas and creativity again, or should we just move into the novel
again? Should I develop a new protagonist, which, we know, will result in
a new novel. I’ve got an idea, but it went stale. Let’s look at the
outline for a novel again:
1. The initial scene
2. The rising action scenes
3. The climax scene
4. The falling action
scene(s)
5. The dénouement scene(s)
Right now, I want to
write bookgirl. That’s the working title
of my novel with the following theme statement:
For novel 33, Book girl:
Siobhàn Shaw is Morven McLean’s savior—they are both attending Kilgraston
School in Scotland when Morven loses everything, her wealth, position, and
friends, and Siobhàn Shaw is the only one left to befriend and help her
discover the one thing that might save Morven’s family and existence.
I’ve already developed the protagonist and
the protagonist’s helper for this novel.
I’ll remind you with their descriptions:
Siobhàn Shaw was a very tall and slender
girl. She didn’t sit or stand, she
folded and unfolded. Normal chairs and
furniture didn’t seem to fit her properly, but no onlooker could really tell
why—she wasn’t basketball tall, and she never sat in an unladylike or informal
way. Perhaps it was her approach to
sitting and standing. It made her
standout in ways she never wanted to stand out.
Her dark brown hair was long and always looked a little stringy. She pulled it up into a highly unpopular and
old-fashioned bun, that frizzed at every side.
She didn’t know any other way to put up her hair. Her face was a classic oval, but that did her
no good. It wasn’t long, just slightly
short and she had a high, broad forehead with a widow’s peak that was a little
lopsided to the left. Her eyes were
large but slopped a little down at the outside corners so she always looked a
little sad even when she smiled. Her
smile was made her cheeks go up without any nice dimples, and her chin was
round. Well that’s what oval means. She was lucky her brows weren’t like her
father’s. They were evident but not connected and well shaped
except they followed the sad droop of her eyes.
That only made her look a little sadder all the time. The only problem was that she was never
really very sad at all. Her lips and her
nose were nicely formed. The nose small
and a little blunt, and her lips wide and pink.
Her complexion was light like a peach and the real redeeming feature was
the constant blush on her cheeks. That
also made her stand out in ways she didn’t wish. Her clothing was always a little frumpy. It was hard to fit a girl as tall as she
was--too tall, but not tall enough, and there never was enough money to have
anything that was new. The used clothing
and charity shops were all she could afford.
Even her school uniform was used, and didn’t fit her well. The ones for tall girls were too big to fit
her slender frame and the ones that fit her size were all too short. Her skirt looked strange and too large, and
her blouse a little too short. At least
her skirt, a kilt, was the Shaw tartan, mostly blue and green with a think red
line, it matched the coat and her sweater.
Still, the sleeves on her dark blue coat were always too short and the
coat too large. She disappeared in it,
and it bulged in all the wrong places.
Only her emerald green sweater fit her properly. That’s because she has an extra large one
that had been through the wash one too many times—the wool had shrunk. She didn’t have many sewing skills, so she
couldn’t do much to fix her clothing.
Her shoes always looked a little off because she had to repair them with
book glue and polish them with ink. Then
there was the thing that made her always stand out. Siobhàn Shaw always carried a book in her
hand. A book in one hand and her
official bookbag in the other. The book
is what set her apart. That’s why they
never called her Siobhàn, just book girl.
Always book girl.
Morven McLean was elegant looking. Everything about her was elegant
looking. She was perfectly formed—not
too tall, not too short, not too thin, and not too curvy. She was the perfect physical balance that
girl’s desired and boys followed greedily with their eyes. Her face was oval, but with that little
well-formed chin that made her look, yes, elegant. Her cheeks rose sweet and gently high, not
too plump, and not too thin with a natural shadow of pink. Her lips were nicely molded around perfectly
white and straight teeth. They were
exactly the correct balance to her nose and her large upward inclined eyes and
delicate brow. Her Scottish hair was the
exact shade of red with brown that made her standout in the way she usually
wanted to stand out. Her brow was not
too large and not too broad. Her hair
was controlled exactly where she placed it and how she placed it. She kept it long and free and brushed into
perfection. Not a lock was out of place
and not a single strand of her hair dared disobey where she put it. Her clothing was what you expected from a
model. Always the haute couture and
always fit to her form so it revealed her to perfection and not to distraction. Even her uniform looked good on her from the
top of her head to the tip of her toes.
She was always happy that her McLean tartan was mostly red, and made her
standout like almost none of the other girls.
These two young ladies are already
connected. They will soon be embroiled
in even more connections. I’ll get to
that, next.
Setting:
Kilgraston School in Scotland. This is a Scottish boarding school near Perth
and Bridge of Earn. The school is one of
the best in Scotland. It has closed down
since I researched it—so sad, but I think I’ll still use it.
I chose and researched this school for a
couple of reasons. First, I wanted a
woman’s boarding school. My protagonist
is a girl of limited means who is very bright and hard working. She lives and came from Bridge of Earn where
her father owns a bookstore. She has a
problem with books, she can’t stop reading them. This is the source of her knowledge, skills,
and intelligence.
Second, I wanted to set my novel in
Scotland because of cultural and social reasons. I was looking for a little exotic yet
familiar for my English readers and my American readers.
Third, a girl’s boarding school provides
many positives and many negatives. The
negatives are those cultural and social issues that affect all schools and
especially boarding schools. These are
exacerbated in a girl’s school, plus the pathos creation is very powerful. You can have a bullied boy in the boy’s
school or boarding school, but that doesn’t generate the same pathos in your
readers. I’m sure boys can be as cruel
as girls in any environment, but we expect boys to defend themselves and we
culturally consider them wimps if they don’t.
Girls on the other hand are culturally
different. They are not necessarily
expected to fight physically to defend themselves and we tend to see them as
victims. This builds pathos. When a girl responds and gets back at her
bullies, we also see that as a powerful statement of action. We expect this from boys, we don’t
necessarily expect it from girls. In
fact, a girl responding physically to bullying, can be expelled. We do that with boys today too, but that’s
another problem.
Suffice to say, I an researching
Kilgraston as the setting for my novel.
This is the initial setting and will be unless I discover something that
would greatly affect its usefulness as a setting—even then I might just fake
the rest. It’s fiction, after all. We want to use real settings, but they can be
fictionalized for entertainment and use.
Telic Flaw:
The telic flaw comes with the protagonist,
but what if it doesn’t. I’d argue that
the telic flaw must always reside with the protagonist, but I am proposing a
novel where the protagonist and the protagonist’s helper strongly
interact. The telic flaw is theirs
together. Just what is this telic flaw?
I’m proposing a telic flaw concerning the
family and library of the protagonist’s helper.
Morven McLean has a problem. She isn’t the protagonist, but she has lost
everything. That is her family has lost
everything. She never really had
anything except what her family did, but now she has nothing. Ultimately, one of the books from her library
includes a cryptic message. The message
will lead the protagonist and her to the resolution of the novel, but we have
to get there.
This will be a mystery novel, and the
mystery will be about Morven McLean and her family. Siobhàn Shaw, the protagonist will eventually
resolve and solve the mystery using her skill as the book girl, but the telic flaw
comes from the protagonist’s helper and not the protagonist.
This is an interestingly set up
novel. So, the telic flaw is the mystery
regarding Morven McLean and her family.
I also am contemplating another telic flaw
and piece to this novel. I’m debating
how I will make these work together or which I will make the main telic
flaw. I’m contemplating that Siobhàn has
every possibility of being a model.
Morven realizes this and also realizes that she has been jealous of Siobhàn
from the beginning because she is really so elegant. Siobhàn still has real issues that she must
personally contend with because of her personality and her life. I’d like to have Morven realize her own
negative affect on Siobhàn and desire to make up for it. Basically, Siobhàn and her father will take
Morven into their circle and family because Morven’s family has abandoned
her. The changes in Morvan will cascade
to Siobhàn and the actions of Siobhàn will cascade to Morvan. We’ll see how this works when I finally get
around to writing the novel.
Initial Scene:
I didn’t write much about the initial
scene for bookgirl working title Books. I’m certain you’d like to know more about the
initial scene for Books. I’d like to
know too.
Back to basics. I wrote and write that the meeting of the
protagonist with the antagonist or the protagonist’s helper makes the best
novel initial scene. There are other
ways to do this, but this is the way to make it work. This brings conflict directly into the novel
as well as the telic flaw. Since the
telic flaw is what the novel is all about, that’s the way to begin.
I already developed the protagonist and
the protagonist’s helper—that’s Siobhàn Shaw and Morven McLean. We know enough about these girls to begin to
write. Their meeting as protagonist and
protagonist’s helper are what we want to focus on. The question is how to write it, and how to
set it properly.
This is a little difficult initial
scene. The question for me, as the
writer, is how to compose it. I want
this to be the reveal about Morven’s loss of wealth. The elegant Morven is shown to be a
pauper. The where and when are
important. The realization for Morven is
important. The point is to bring out the
greatest pathos possible. The perfect
situation would be a television announcement or a public announcement that
tells the world that Morven is broke.
That might be what I begin with.
Perhaps Morven and her current friends
learn about it from the tele and Siobhàn finds out through reading the
news. Something like that. Morven receives a call from her father telling
her to walk home. Perhaps the day should
begin with Morven coming to school in her family’s Mercedes touring car or
better yet, their Rolls Royce with a chauffeur.
She bullies Siobhàn personally.
Maybe they run into each other.
Siobhàn’s lunch gets stepped on or something. Then she is harassed at
lunch. This would allow us to see
Siobhàn and Morven in action.
The moment of truth is the televised
announcement that the McLean family factory or industry or bank or whatever (I
need to research) is bankrupt. We see
Mr. McLean being escorted off the premises.
Morven calls her father, and he tells her to walk home, but her phone is
suddenly cut off.
We have a situation, where Morven is
completely devastated. Siobhàn walks
with her to her house, estate actually.
When they get there the police will not allow Morven inside. She has a breakdown. Siobhàn invites her to her house. We see a domestic supper scene. Siobhàn helps Morven. They get up in the morning, have
breakfast. She gives Morven a lunch like
hers.
When they arrive at school, when the girls
try to bully Siobhàn, Morven steps in, and that is the consummation of their
friendship. We have a great lunch and
communication scene.
Okay, that’s more than just the initial
scene. Perhaps we should try to expand
on the initial part of the initial scene.
That’s just where we are at the moment.
We have reached the point of writing the
initial scene.
I started the initial scene. I’m not sure how I will put the entire scene
together. I just started with Siobhàn
and her movement from class to outside.
I think I need to build more description in the scene, and I’ll bring in
Morven. I’d like to show some of the
bullying that Siobhàn does through, and then zap Morven. I need to actually write the scene to really
get it together. I might show you the
details just for grins but it may take a little while to get it all
together. As I wrote before, the best
initial scene is either the meeting of the protagonist and the antagonist or
the protagonist and the protagonist’s helper.
I might need to find the antagonist for this novel, but I’m not sure
they could fit into the initial scene.
The true power in the initial scene is the
interaction of the characters and especially the interaction of the protagonist
I their world. Part of the development
of the initial scene is the initial setting and the telic flaw—specifically,
the circumstances of the overall novel.
The events of the initial scene develop and design the entire
novel. It sets in place the action,
secrets, and mystery of the novel. It
asks and develops questions that only can be answered in the context of the
novel. That’s what gives power to the
initial scene.
I started it. I’d like to finish it today. We shall see.
I didn’t even work on it—ouch. I did start the setting development. My plan was to create a circumstance that
would lead to Morven’s revelation as well as Siobhàn’s initial bullying. I will plan to lead both of them
outside. However, in retrospect, the
revelation of Morven’s great loss might be best revealed with a broadcast.
Perhaps, I’ll have Siobhàn wandering
around while revealing the character and her background. This might be a good way to show off the
school and the character. When Morven
comes to school. Morven might be pulled
off by her girlfriends to witness the broadcast. Before that, I’ll need to have Morven and her
friends bully Siobhàn a little before all this happens. Perhaps there is some means to bring them all
together. When I write it, I plan to
share it with you. It will be the first run
of the initial scene.
It's very important that the initial scene
really touch the reader and bring the novel to life. The characters and the place should come to
life just like the characters, and all the problems, or a large portion of the
problems of the protagonist should be made obvious. All these are not necessarily resolved by the
climax or the resolution of the telic flaw, but they are part of the life and
revelation of the protagonist through the novel. This also doesn’t mean the writer makes an information
dump about the protagonist—there are many secrets to keep about the protagonist
and to reveal in the proper time and sequence.
One of the great secrets I want to reveal about Siobhàn is brought out
by Morven.
Morven realizes that Siobhàn is a very
elegant and beautiful girl, but who has never had a teacher or the opportunity
to learn about beauty and herself.
Morven becomes the power building the new life of Siobhàn. How this will happen with no money and other
issues is still up in the air. We shall
see.
Here is the first cut of the initial scene—at
least a part. I’ll give you more.
September 2016, Kilgraston School, Scotland, Great Britain
Siobhàn Shaw unfolded her
long legs to make herself more comfortable in the too small desk of her
brightly lit classroom. It was brightly
lit because the sun was absolutely brilliant this rare and singular September
day. Unusual for Scotland and especially
in September.
Siobhàn
held a book in one hand and her official Kilgraston bag entwined in her
other. She glanced around the empty
classroom and reluctantly unfolded herself from her desk. She stepped with a sigh toward the back of
the classroom and lifted her book hand to touch the top of the doorframe. Siobhàn was a very tall and slender
girl. She didn’t really sit or stand,
she folded and unfolded. Normal chairs
and furniture didn’t seem to fit her properly, but no onlooker could really
tell why—she wasn’t basketball tall, and she never sat in an unladylike or
informal way. Perhaps it was her
approach to sitting and standing. It
made her standout in ways she never wanted to stand out. Her dark brown hair was long and always
looked a little stringy. She pulled it
up into a highly unpopular and old-fashioned bun, that frizzed at every
side. She didn’t know any other way to
put up her hair. Her face was a classic
oval, but that did her no good either.
It wasn’t long, just slightly and beautifully elongated, and she had a
high, broad forehead with a widow’s peak that was a little lopsided to the
left. Her eyes were large but slopped a
little down at the outside corners so she always looked a little sad even when
she smiled. Her smile was made her
cheeks go up without any nice dimples, and her chin was round. Well, that’s what oval means. She was lucky her brows weren’t like her
father’s. They were evident but not
connected and well-shaped except they followed the gentle droop of her eyes. That only made her look a little sadder all
the time. The only problem was that she
was never really very sad at all. Luckily,
her lips and her nose were nicely formed.
The nose small and a little blunt, and her lips wide and pink. Her complexion was light like a peach and the
real redeeming feature was the constant blush of her cheeks. That also made her stand out in ways she
didn’t wish. Her clothing was always a
little frumpy. It was hard to fit a girl
as tall as she was--too tall, but not tall enough, and there never was enough
money to have anything that was new. The
used clothing and charity shops were all she could afford. Even her school uniform was used and didn’t
fit her well. The ones for tall girls
were too big to fit her slender frame and the ones that fit her size were all
too short. Her skirt looked strange and
too large, and her blouse a little too short.
At least her skirt, a kilt, was the Shaw tartan, mostly blue and green
with a thin red line, it matched the coat and her sweater. Still, the sleeves on her dark blue coat were
always too short and the coat too large.
She disappeared in it, and it bulged in all the wrong places. Only her emerald green sweater fit her
properly. That’s because she has an
extra large one that had been through the wash one too many times—the wool had
shrunk. She didn’t possess many sewing
skills, so she couldn’t do much to fix her clothing. Her shoes always looked a little off because
she had to repair them with book glue and polish them with ink. Then there was the thing that really made her
always stand out. Siobhàn Shaw always
carried a book in her hand. A book in
one hand and her official bookbag in the other.
The book is what set her apart.
That’s why the girls and teachers never called her Siobhàn, just book
girl. Always book girl.
She
carried her bookbag all the time because since she started at Kilgraston it
tended to go astray if she didn’t keep fast hold to it. Siobhàn didn’t want to leave the classroom,
but she knew she must. The bright day
would put most of the girls out on the grounds, and they would be looking for
her. Usually, in the normal crowd of
girls in her grade, they kept their distance because bullying was considered
unbecoming by most, but safety lay in a crowd, and Siobhàn’s crowd had deserted
her. It’s not like they looked out for
her in any case, but her tormenters did have some degree of class to
uphold. Too much attention would breed contempt,
and no one cared much for Siobhàn. She
wasn’t a joiner, and she was always near the top of the class in her
grades. She might have skipped a few
classes ahead, but scholarships for the poor and academically skilled were few
and far between. It helped defray many
other costs for her father, so there was no reason to hurry her education along
too quickly. If she cared for sport, she
might have fit in a little better with her class, but all she liked to do was
read. She was lucky she lived in a
bookshop.
Her
father let her borrow the books Siobhàn would eventually repair. She put them back to rights, even replaced
pages. That had become easier with the
advent of computers and the many fonts available to manipulate. She didn’t have a computer at home, but she
could use the school’s computers, and she had many times.
Since
Siobhàn finished reading a book a day and she usually could fix more than one a
night she was almost always at a book deficit, but she had read so many books,
that didn’t make much difference. If she
had read it before, the pleasure of the rereading was worth every moment to
her. How she finished her school work,
her house work, and her book work every day was likely a tale worth reading on
it’s own.
As
it was, Siobhàn, happened to exit the main building of her homeroom classroom
at exactly the wrong moment. At that
very instant, the main persecutor of her life, Morven McLean was stepping out
of the Rolls Royce Touring car, one of the many her father owned, with the aid
of her personal chauffer.
Morven
McLean was elegant looking. Everything
about her was elegant looking. She was
petite and perfectly formed—not too tall, not too short, not too thin, and not
too curvy. She was the perfect physical
balance that girl’s desired and boys followed greedily with their eyes. If anything she was too petite. Her face was oval, but with that little
well-formed chin that made her look, yes, elegant. Her cheeks rose sweet and gently high, not
too plump, and not too thin with a natural shadow of pink. Her lips were nicely molded around perfectly
white and straight teeth. They were
exactly the correct balance to her nose and her large upward inclined eyes and
delicate brow. Her Scottish hair was the
exact shade of red with brown that made her standout in the way she usually
wanted to stand out. Her brow was not
too large and not too broad. Her hair
was controlled exactly where she placed it and how she placed it. She kept it long and free and brushed into
perfection. Not a lock was out of place
and not a single strand of her hair dared disobey where she put it. Her clothing was what you expected from a
model. Always the haute couture and
always fit to her form so it revealed her to perfection and not to
distraction. Even her uniform looked
good on her from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. She was always happy that her McLean tartan
was mostly red and made her standout like almost none of the other girls. That is as long as none of the other girls
stood too close or to tightly around her.
Then she was invisible, and that she hated more than anything in the
world.
Immediately,
she was partially surrounded by a group of girls just like her—well somewhat
like her. They weren’t wealthy, or very
wealthy. They were relatively pretty,
but not as pretty as Moven, and wore the best clothing possible that still fit
the uniform code. It was their bearing
and affected elegance that made them stand out, and still among them, as long
as she could be seen, Morven stood out like a sore thumb. Unfortunately, Morven was petite and could
not stand out if her gaggle stood in front of her.
Siobhàn
didn’t really evaluate such things. If
she did, she might note that Morven was not as tall, not as feminine, and not
as brash as her comrades. They fell into
obscurity around her like toadies to a boss.
While she disappeared in their small crowd.
Although
Siobhàn turned and headed toward the quad, where most of the girls were
congregating on this very pleasant day, Morven immediately noted her and
stepped with a lilt toward Siobhàn.
Rarely did Siobhàn show herself so obviously and openly in the morning,
and Morven hadn’t had any sadistic pleasure that particular morning. Her breakfast was perfect, her clothing had
been perfectly prepared and laid out, and her personal maid had taken care to
brush her hair and adorn it perfectly.
She had no reason to complain, and so Siobhàn became a perfect target.
Fortunately,
Siobhàn also had longer legs than Morven and all her, so-called friends. As Siobhàn turned to walk toward the quad,
Morven had to double her pace to even try to catch up. As she walked, assured she was followed by
all, she mumbled complaints under her breath, and clutched her very nice purse
and official bookbag in one hand. Morven
pouted as she doubled her speed, and she reached forward with her free right
hand. At the proper moment, when Siobhàn’s
very old bookbag came back in a natural swing, Morven grabbed it and tugged on
it.
Siobhàn
had been diligently protecting her bookbag for years. It was a castoff that was not too tattered
and not too dingy. She cleaned it and
nurtured it, but in the last year it had taken a few spills—that’s why she carefully
guarded it. It had gone missing on more
than one occasion in the last year, and Siobhàn kept a close eye and a strong
hand on it. She hadn’t expected Morven
to make a grab for the bag directly. She
usually just struck Siobhàn on some location within her normal reach. Occasionally, Morven would use a textbook or
a ruler. She had little use for a ruler
in class, so Morven might have kept one just to strike Siobhàn. She was a relatively large target.
Today,
Morven grasped Siobhàn’s official bookbag and didn’t let go, this forced Siobhàn
to stop and turn. She didn’t want to try
to drag the bag out of Morven’s hands that had resulted in a disaster last year
when one of the straps broke and spilled everything in the bag on the
floor. She had lost her lunch, Morven
stepped on it.
Something
similar played out today. Although Siobhàn
tugged gently, Morven was not about to let the bag go. Meanwhile, Morven’s friends were surrounding Siobhàn.
Morven
turned her eyes up toward Siobhàn’s. She
slowly unzipped the bag.
Siobhàn
pressed her lips together. She knew that
words were meaningless to this crowd and with this girl. If she said anything, it would be thrown back
in her face. They were all silent
because everyone knew how this game went.
The first to speak was the loser.
The one who complained would be yelled down as the assailant. That’s why they waited with baited-breath for
Siobhàn to speak.
Additionally,
the first to make contact with the other’s skin would lose. A strategic slap with a ruler or with a bag
was just an accident—a strike with the hand or by grasping another’s fingers
was an easy complaint to the teachers.
Morven
opened the top of the bag and pulled out Siobhàn’s maths book. Her lips twitched as she tossed it to the
side and onto the concrete. She reached
for the small canvass bag that held Siobhàn’s deficient lunch. With a flick of her wrist, it fell at her
feet and Morven just happened to accidentally step on it. She ground it with her shoe. She did speak then an apology, “Whoopsy. Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to crush it.”
A
Greek chorus around Siobhàn took up the wail, “She didn’t mean to squish it
under her heel.”
Siobhàn
shrugged and gave a strategic tug to her bookbag. The bag came out of Morven’s hands, and Siobhàn
clutched it tightly to her chest.
Morven
glanced around at the bright day, “Because the day is so pleasant, and I’m
feeling so charitable, I’m happy to put you on my schedule at lunch. You won’t have anything else to do, I’m
sure.” Morven kicked the crushed canvass
lunch bag out of her way and stepped past Siobhàn. As she passed, Morven somehow grasped Siobhàn’s
book and twisted it out of her hand.
With a backward motion, she struck Siobhàn with the book and let
go. The book went flying and it’s cover
came apart as it landed. Morven let out
a sadistic laugh, “Good day to you, Bookgirl.”
It was a slur. “I’ll see you
again at lunch. We have a date.”
When
the girls left, Siobhàn gave a sigh. She
recovered her Maths book. It was for
calculus. It wasn’t too scuffed. She had ended up paying for damaged
schoolbooks more than once. She’d not
caused any of it, but the powers that be had determined that she was a threat
to Kilgraston’s property. She carefully
chose books that were already damaged and made sure the ledger for the books
read correctly. She hadn’t been charged
for them for a while.
Her
reading book was another problem. She
examined it carefully. The cover had
come off, but she could take care of that easily enough. The facing page was slightly damaged, but she
could replace that too. She would have
to anyway. Her lunch was the worst
off. She had a sandwich and crisps in
separate reusable bags. The sandwich was
potentially eatable. The crisps were
dust, but also eatable. She only drank
water so liquid wasn’t a problem. She
hadn’t lost much. Not even her
dignity. She had lost that a long time
ago, and if she retaliated, the rules of the school would have likely caused
her to be expelled.
It
was funny that tall and athletic looking girls were singled out as aggressive
and dangerous while the smaller and petite girls were always considered the
victims. She did not want to endanger
her scholarships in any fashion. She
always kept her mouth shut and her hands to herself. That made it easier to defend a blackeye or a
bruised knee. She mused, Morven and her
friends were much too short to hit her face.
They could never give her a blackeye.
That was a blessing.
Once
Siobhàn picked up her things and put them to rights the best she could, she
headed toward the quad. Like a
classroom, there was less danger with many girls around her, and Siobhàn was
safe, Morven had gotten a little out of her system. That’s how it worked.
The quad was really a lawn. It was split by the main Kilgraston house,
the chapel, the dorms, and some of the other classroom buildings. The lawn lay between them all with some very
ancient trees and not enough places for girls to sit. The grass was always too wet to manage
without a protective waterproof blanket of some sort. Many of the girls carried just that type of cloth
in their bag. Siobhàn couldn’t afford
such a thing. She just found a space
against the wall and leaned back against it.
She wanted a corner, so she could keep an eye on whoever approached her,
but a wall would work since Morven’s brats had already got their piece of her.
She
carefully put the separated part of the cover of her book into her official bag
and opened it to where she left off. Before
she began to read, she noticed everyone was on their phones. That wasn’t completely unusual, but most of
the time, in the morning, the place was filled with conversations and not with phone
searches or the news. Today, they
weren’t talking at all. Siobhàn didn’t
have a phone. She couldn’t afford
one. Her father had a hardwired phone
for their house and store. One number
worked for both, but he didn’t have a portable phone either. They didn’t have a tele either. All their news came in print. Siobhàn usually read the papers after she
opened the shop in the morning. She ate
whatever breakfast she could and read the top papers on the stack. She kept it unwrinkled and clean so they
could sell it during the day.
Siobhàn
looked to the right and then to the left.
No one was talking on their phone, they were looking, and something
seemed to be happening. Something very
exciting and irregular. Siobhàn look
each way again and then headed toward the main door to the classrooms. Inside the office was a large
telemonitor. The Head Mistress kept it
on a local news broadcast until the class bells sounded. Girls without phones had congregated there.
Morven
happened to be there too. Here eyes were
glued on the large screen and not on her phone.
She was the only person speaking on a phone anywhere Siobhàn could
see. She was slightly ahead of Siobhàn,
and outside of Morven’s view. Morven was
watching the screen anyway.
From
the back of the room, Siobhàn just caught the beginning of a raid on some
estate that lay relatively close to their school. The gate was labeled, McLean, and showed the
same tartan Morven wore mounted on either side of the arch. Scottish Police officers stepped to the gate
and opened it. Then they, with a host of
business suited men and women following, walked up the white gravel drive to
the front of the house. It was a very
large and beautiful mansion. The
officers didn’t stop, and they didn’t knock.
They climbed up the long marble steps to the large double oak door and
opened it. They all rushed inside. The view was cut off for a moment, but when
the business suited people reached the doors, the video continued on the other
side of the oaken portal. A breathless
BBC Scottish voice pronounced, “The Police Scotland have entered Bank President
Ian McLean’s mansion and are searching for the President and his wife. Their actions, according to the affidavit we
have seen is to prevent the destruction of evidence. There.
There, it looks as if they have caught them dead to rights. Mr. McLean is still in his bathrobe as is
Mrs. McLean. It looks as if he is making
a call on his phone.
Morven
was holding her phone and speaking—her eyes were glued to the screen.
Mr.
McLean lifted his eyes, “Sorry Morven, I must hang up now. You’ll have to find your way back to the
house this afternoon. I’m not sure you
can get inside. Oh, you might want to
retain what funds you have. I’m afraid…”
At
that moment, a police officer seized the phone from Mr. McLean’s hand. He gave a nod, “Sorry, sir, this is
evidence. I’m compelled by law to take
custody.”
The
breathless BBC voice returned, “The police are graciously allowing the McLeans
to dress, under supervision, before they take them down to the Scottish Police
offices in Perth. As we have been
reporting this morning. In a daring
early morning raid, the Scottish Police have arrested Mr. and Mrs. McLean for
bank fraud and misappropriation of funds.
We can report now that Mr. McLean’s bank has been the subject of an
investigation for months. We can state
with absolute authority that the Perth authorities will impound and lock up the
McLean’s property. Much of it is likely
to be taken by the state in court due to the massive failures of which Mr.
McLean has been accused.”
Siobhàn
watched Morven for a moment. Morven
lowered her phone. The girl’s lips fell
for a moment into a pout. She pulled her
trembling lips against her teeth and then relaxed them. The bells for chapel rang. It was Tuesday and time for morning
prayer. Morven didn’t come. She didn’t come to chapel anyway. Morven walked out of the main entrance. The girls around her skittered away. She wasn’t really liked by anyone. Siobhàn noticed, Morven’s group of girls
didn’t gather with her either.
Siobhàn
went to morning prayer. She didn’t read
her book.
Classes
went just ask Siobhàn expected. She took
notes and accomplished all her work. She
read her book every opportunity she could.
She watched Morven. Morven pulled
out her books and appeared to take notes.
She looked attentive, but Siobhàn could tell the difference. Morven was thinking about other things and no
teacher or student called on her.
At
lunch, Siobhàn usually went to the library and read while she ate her
lunch. When it was cold outside, she lay
back against one of the large radiators while she ate and read. Since the day was so pleasant, Siobhàn remained
outside. She didn’t have much hope for
her lunch either—it was squished. She
didn’t intend to sit next to Morven, but she did. It was entirely an accident.
Morven
sat near Siobhàn on an old round stone bench that encircled one of the ancient
oaks on the lawn. The day was still
bright, but it had turned a little cool.
Morven sat with her elbows on her thighs and her cheeks against her
firsts. She sighed a couple of times.
Siobhàn
pulled out her squashed sandwich and pried the gooey mess out of its plastic
bag. She tore it in two and handed a piece
to Morven. Siobhàn waved it in her face,
so she couldn’t miss it.
Morven
didn’t bat it away. She sighed again and
took the limp squashed bread between two fingers. She glanced at Siobhàn, “You don’t expect me
to eat this, do you?”
Siobhàn
nibbled on her piece of the sandwich, “You don’t have anything else to eat?”
Morven
waved the flattened bread around, “I’ve some pounds.”
Siobhàn
noticed twin tracks of tears crossed Morven’s cheeks, “I heard your father tell
you to not use them right away.”
Morven
took a shuddering breath. She took a
bite of the sandwich. After a moment,
she spoke again, she didn’t look at Siobhàn, “Are you here to gloat at me?”
Siobhàn
opened the bag of crisp dust, “Where are your friends?”
Morven
shrugged, “I never had any friends.”
Siobhàn
offered the bag of crushed crisps toward Morven, “I don’t suspect you’ll have
any after this either.”
Morven
took a fingerful of crisp dust and dropped it into her mouth, “I suspect
not.” She looked away, “Whatever
happens, I’m not going to ask you or even say it to you.”
Siobhàn
moved her mouth to the side, “I didn’t think you would.”
“Then
what do you want, Bookgirl?”
Siobhàn
smiled, “How are you getting back to your house after school?”
Morven
shrugged again, “I’ll walk. It isn’t
that far.”
Siobhàn
closed up her lunch things, “I’ll walk with you.”
Morven
turned suddenly toward her, “Why would you do that?”
Siobhàn
tilted her head, “Why not?”
Morven
looked straight back at her, “You know a squished sandwich and crisps taste the
same as usual ones. You don’t eat
enough, Bookgirl.”
Siobhàn
pulled out her book and began reading it until the bell announced the end of
lunch.
After
school, Morven waited for Siobhàn at the front of the main building. No one else was around. Instead of heading down the lane from the
main road, they moved toward the Woods and down the gravel road to the
west. Morven led and Siobhàn followed.
After
a little while, Morven called over her shoulder, “Why don’t you move up beside
me?”
Siobhàn
came up even with her, “I didn’t think you would want to be seen with me in
such a close proximity.”
Morven
shook her head, “Who else is there?”
“No
one.”
Morven
asked, “Aren’t you going to ask me if it’s all true—that is about my father?”
“Not
really.”
“Well
it is. I’m certain he’s deep in it, and
now you’re an accomplice with me.”
Siobhàn
gave a little laugh, “What about you?”
Morven
slowed a little, “I’m done. I’m sure
there is nothing for me. Me mum and da
are gone. I might never see them again.”
Siobhàn
pursed her lips together, “Are your bills for Kilgraston paid up through the
end of term?”
Moven
kicked at a larger piece of gravel on the road, “I guess so.”
“Then
you have a full term to figure it out.”
Morven
stopped talking and started thinking.
Not
much later, they arrived at the gate to the estate. Police tape and chains locked the iron gates. Signs warned that the property was under the
control of the Scottish government and protected by the Scottish Police.
Morven
looked at it with dismay, but not disappointment. She made a gesture with her head for Siobhàn
to follow, and they moved around the tall iron and brick fence to the
right. After a few hundred meters they
came to a spot where the fence was not complete. An entire section was missing.
Morven
walked through and Siobhàn followed her.
They went to the front door and found that it too was chained with
warning tape and signs. Morven scoffed
and turned to the right again. They both
walked around the house. The back doors
and side doors were all locked and some had been marked and chained.
Morven
led them to a side window. She opened it
without any effort and climbed on a large decorative rock beside it to easily
enter the room behind. She took a
flashlight from the desk beside the window, “This was my room.” She went to the wall and turned on the
lights. A bright and frilly girl’s room
was revealed in the glare of the bright lights.
It was mostly pink with slashes of black.
Siobhàn
took a turn around it, “Won’t someone see from the outside?”
“Nah—we’re
too far from the roads or other houses.”
“You
don’t think the police will be watching?”
“If
they do come, I’ll just say you’re stealing everything.”
“Thanks
for that.”
Morven
made a face, “I just need to get my clothing.”
“Where
will you go?”
Morven
stuttered, “I don’t have anywhere to go.”
Siobhàn
smiled, “You may stay with me.”
Morven
shuddered. She didn’t say anything for a
while. Then she let out, “Why would I
stay with you?”
“You
don’t have anywhere else to go—do you?”
Morven
turned away, “I have no close relatives, and no one who would want me
anyway. They all hate my father. He’s the same with family as he is with his
business.” She gave a shuddering giggle,
“This really is a mess.”
Siobhàn
asked, “What about your mother?”
Morven
turned a face of anguish toward Siobhàn.
Siobhàn put her arms about the smaller girl, “I didn’t know it was like
that.”
Morven
held onto Siobhàn, “Second mother. First
died. Second didn’t want children.” Morven pushed her away and rubbed her eyes,
“I’ll pack a suitcase with a few things.
I might be able to come back and get more later.”
Siobhàn
waited patiently for Morven to finish.
Once her suitcase was filled, Morven took a long look at Siobhàn, “You
know. You are the tallest and perhaps
the skinniest girl I’ve ever seen.”
“Is
that a criticism?”
“Actually,
it isn’t. From the first day I saw you,
Bookgirl, I despised you. I despised the
fact that you look and move like a model.”
Siobhàn
laughed, “Like a model. That’s hardly
true.”
Morven
glared at her, “I can prove it, but I know all about that business. My mother was a designer, and my second,” she
spat, “was a second-rate model. My
father’s trophy wife and all that.”
Morven grabbed Siobhàn by the hand and towed her through the door.
They
walked quite a ways to the other side of the house and into a beautiful gold
and silver decorated boudoir. Morven
turned around, “This is my second mother’s room.” She stepped directly to a large door and
opened it. It revealed a huge closet
filled with gowns and clothing. The
collection was dazzling. Morven nodded,
“Much of this clothing is in the thousand to ten thousand pound range. I want you to try on a gown.”
Siobhàn’s
face showed utter surprise, “Me?”
“Yes,
you. Didn’t you wonder why I hated you
so much from the day I met you?”
“I
thought it was just your personality.”
Morven
gave a hearty laugh, “Yes, it is my personality, but more than that, I knew
from the moment I saw you, that you could wear this clothing like my mothers,
and I never could. I look like a little
girl. You look like a lady and a model. I could make you look like an aristocrat.”
“I
find that hard to believe.”
“Take
off your clothes.” Morven was already
going through the closet and the gowns.
She didn’t turn around, “Take off your clothes, Bookgirl.”
“I
don’t want to.”
Morven
still didn’t turn around. She pulled out
her phone, “If you don’t do as I say, I’ll call the police. I’m sure they are close.”
Siobhàn
made a disparaging sound, but began pulling off her uniform.
When
she turned around, Morven held a fantastic Oscar de la Renta Orchid Organza
A-Line Gown. It was a translucent peach
and covered at the top to the thighs with varying pink and peach cloth
petals. Morven scowled, “Take it all
off. You can’t wear a gown like this over
dingy knickers and a sports bra.”
Reluctantly,
Siobhàn peeled off her sport’s bra and knickers. She stood for a moment in the nude. Morven took a second look at the very
wonderfully made girl before her. She
had only noticed the form before, but the actual flesh was astonishing. Siobhàn had muscles and taunt flesh covered
with feminine softness. It was more astounding
than Morven expected or even anticipated.
Before Siobhàn could notice her attention, Moven rushed up to her, “Bend
your head down. I’m not tall enough to
help you get it started.”
Siobhàn
bent over and in spite of her words, Morven helped slip the gown over Siobhàn’s
head and then smooth it over her upper body and flanks. Morven commented, “I’ve helped second mum get
dressed a lot. She is exactly your size,
and this fits you like a glove.” Morven
positioned the gown just right. She put Siobhàn’s
small breasts in the proper places, and fixed the dress precisely where it
should go on her body. When she was
done, Morven stood back and gave a very pleased smile, “That dress is well over
10,000 pounds. It looks much better on
you than my second mother. She always
looked like a skank. Which reminds me,
we aren’t done. Come sit here.” Morven motioned, and when Siobhàn didn’t move
fast enough, she grasped the larger girl by the wrists and puller her to a dressing
table. The desk held all kinds of
cosmetics and makeup. “Hey, Bookgirl,
ever worn makeup?”
Siobhàn
shook her head, no.
“I
didn’t think so. I’m going to make you
up like a model.” Morven started with some
cream and began working on Siobhàn’s face.
After a while, Morven stood back, “I knew it. I just knew it. Your face is perfect. It’s classical. If I had time to do your hair… Well, at least I can let it out and brush
it.” Morven took out Siobhàn’s bun and
let her long hair fall down her back, “I had no idea you had this much
hair.” She scowled, “It’s beautiful, but
you don’t wash it enough or properly.”
Morven took a brush to the hair and a comb. She brushed it until it shown, put in some
body foam, and then decorated it. When
she was done, Morven took a very long look at the now transformed Siobhàn, “Get
up and come here.”
Siobhàn
unfolded herself from the low chair and stepped to the large trimirror in the
corner of the room.
Morvan
watched Siobhàn’s movements and bit her lip, “How do you know to stand and walk
and act as you do? It takes most models
years to gain that kind of elegance and refinement.”
Siobhàn
didn’t shrug. When she got to the mirror,
her mouth did open wider, but she clapped it shut. She wasn’t looking at herself at all. It looked like a new person, a person Siobhàn
had never seen before. The gown fell
perfectly over her thin and tall frame.
The makeup brought out all the very refined beauty she had in her face,
and it wasn’t the plain kind of face she was used to. Her face was older, elegant, sophisticated—it
looked like she stepped out of a catalog for women’s clothing. Even her hair, just pulled back from her made
up face looked perfect and balanced the gown and her face. She could tell that if she had any idea how
to put her hair up properly, that would have added some degree of perfection to
her look. She turned this way and that.
Morven
couldn’t take her eyes off Siobhàn. She
was not as astounded at the change as Siobhàn.
Morven knew she would look like this, a timeless, perfect beauty. In some ways she hated it, but her lips
turned up in a grand smile. There was
suddenly hope for her, and perhaps hope for Siobhàn. She turned away reluctantly, “I’d love to
take all these with us. I suspect they
would miss so many 10,000 pound pieces of clothing.”
Siobhàn
looked confused, “I don’t think they would fit you.”
Morven
stared at her, “They wouldn’t be for me at all.
There is no way they could fit me, my stature, or style. They would all be for you my sweet
Bookgirl. Every single piece.”
Siobhàn
didn’t know what to say to that. She stood
a moment more admiring the change. Then
she let her smile and eyes droop, “I suspect we should go. I still have work at home and the bookstore.”
Morven
came over to her. She put her arms
around Siobhàn. She only reached up to
her breasts. Morven held her close,
“From this moment on, Bookgirl, you shall be my sister and best friend. I will make you…well we shall see what I can
make you.” She stood back, “One
moment. I almost forgot.” Morven pulled out her phone, “Look as
marvelous as you usually do. I’ll get
some pictures.”
Siobhàn
shook her head. She just stood still in
her natural pose. It seemed to be exactly
what Morven wanted. Morven moved around
and directly Siobhàn’s eyes and head.
When
she was don’t, Morven sighed, “Let me help you with that gown.”
Siobhàn
undressed and put back on her clothing.
They left the house in the same way they entered. This time Morven was pulling a large canvas
suitcase behind her.
I find that once you start writing, things
change. In the first place, I’m rather
happy with the development of Siobhàn and Morven in the initial scene and first
chapter. What is interesting is what
changed, and what I discovered about these two.
In the first place, the real advancement
is the idea about modeling. I fancied
this idea from the beginning when I developed the Siobhàn character. She is a girl who is totally unaware of her effect
on people. She has no idea how special
and beautiful she is. One of the main
points of the novel is to show the development of Siobhàn from a quiet
wallflower to a powerful young woman. The
way I expected to accomplish this was through Morven.
Morven changed a little. I envisioned her as similar to Siobhàn in
some ways, but I decided to make her significantly different to explain her
bullying and attitude. Morven is much
like her father. She cares little about others and mostly about herself, but
she is self-aware enough to realize many of her own faults. Thus, when she loses everything, she understands
how she can regain some of her own stature and value. She sees that through Siobhàn, she might
regain something—at the moment, this is the only thing she can hold onto. I haven’t shown this much yet, but this is
one of the great character ideas for this novel and for Morven. She is a person desperate for a certain type
of attention as well as a certain type of success. She also has a cruelty streak, a degree of
badness that gives her a feeling of superiority, but she realizes where her emotions
come from—in a certain way. This is part
of the discovery in the novel.
Also, I needed a reason for Morven’s
knowledge as well as the perverseness of her emotions. Her father is a basis, but her mother and her
second mother are the reasons. The
occupations and success of her mothers provided her knowledge, but also her
mother gave her a stature and a build that makes modeling impossible for her,
but the knowledge that will (might) allow her to make something of Siobhàn.
That’s one of the main plots of the novel. I intend to build on this idea of
modeling. The second main plot of the
novel hasn’t happened yet. This is supposed
move forward when the books from Morven’s estate come into Siobhàn’s bookstore and
they find the book. I’m not sure how
this will work out, but I’m planning to move into this in the third
chapter. Should I begin giving you the
second chapter? Perhaps that’s next.
I want to write another book based on Rose
and Seoirse, and the topic will be the raising of Ceridwen—at least that’s my
plan. Before I get to that, I want to write another novel about
dependency as a theme. We shall see.
More
tomorrow.
For more information, you can visit my author site http://www.ldalford.com/, and my individual novel
websites:
http://www.ancientlight.com/
http://www.aegyptnovel.com/
http://www.centurionnovel.com
http://www.thesecondmission.com/
http://www.theendofhonor.com/
http://www.thefoxshonor.com
http://www.aseasonofhonor.com
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