Miss Alexandrina

The thinking-space of a not-quite novelist


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Swirls of Words

Did you know that there’s a place on the web where you can visualise any document or element of text? Wordle. So, being me, I was messing around on it, seeing what I could come up with if I copy-and-pasted the entirety of WTCB into it.

Anndd, tilt head…now. No, I won’t laugh at you for doing that. I’m doing it, too.

WTCBwordle2

WTCBwordle4

The romantic, arty version

Let’s look at this for a second. (Click to zoom if you like) I think it’s a pretty awesome representation of the novel. As expected, our protagonists Aidelle and Phillip – the lovers – feature the most. In the same vein, the supporting relations emerge here: Peter, Phillip’s brother, from whose eyes some of the novel is seen; Zara, Aidelle’s Supporting Character; Rion, the antagonist; even Dr. Costello – misled father role, if he had to be shoved into one – has been recorded by the Wordle, through both direct and indirect ‘father’ references.

In fact, if one looks closely enough, one sees that, whilst not all of the Costello family are mentioned, Andrew makes his appearance, and even servants Tia and Richards are there!

Interestingly, you’ll see words like ‘head’, ‘face’ ‘eyes’, ‘lips’, ‘voice’, ‘hand/s’, ‘fingers’ and ‘arms’ in varying levels of Wordle prominence. I can guarantee that novels without strong romantic hooks will have these words contribute much less. However, due to my romantic plot, these characters understand each other through the way they touch, through their attraction and appreciation of each other: that’s what holds together the novel. In the same way, you’ll notice the prominence of words of unity and measure – ‘one’, ‘together’ (juxtaposed with ‘without’ in the second Wordle), ‘heart’ and ‘love’. Aww.

On the other hand, one mustn’t forget the setting-y, sci-fi-y words with a leaning towards Aidelle’s entrapment: ‘clock’ – naturally! – ‘time’,’stopped’, ‘house’, ‘door’, ‘kitchen’, ‘room’, ‘war’, ‘world’…

I’ve got the philosophy elements via ‘know’ and ‘thoughts/think’, ‘believe’ and ‘mind’.

Is that even ‘words’ in there? The Wordle knows me well!

Of course, I could analyse every word mentioned for its literary relevance to my works. Instead, though, I’ll leave that to your wandering eyes. There is some great Wordle word placement. Some words there aren’t surprising – those words of place and sentence; others, I guess, are novel-specific.

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As a last thing, I’d like to thank Charley R for promoting Fauxpocalypse on her blog (though she does spell my surname wrong, but she has fully admitted to that fact to me). Check it out.


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Notebook Sisters Blog Hop – For The Writers

*I know this looks like a long post, but stay with me. I really enjoyed writing about my writing and there’s some exclusive stuff from first drafts and new projects, so [well of course I think so] it’s worth a read. I’ll put the questions in blue, so you can skip around, if you like. And pictures – I’ll keep you entertained with pictures ;)* 

Over at the Notebook Sisters blog, they’re holding a linkup and giveaway, so check it out :) In the meanwhile, I felt it a great way to summarise my reading and writing over the course of this year – and you know I love to talk about what I’ve been up to ;) Without further ado:

Wow, looking back, I have to see it has actually been a long year. Short in how it has passed, and how much I have moved, but long in what I have done. Seriously, I started university and that’s fantastic/scary. However, this is about my writing (the reading bloghop is here).  Surprisingly – if you consider that I’ve been editing the most/more than ever this year – I have much to say.

How many books/stories did you write this year? (Estimate your overall wordcount for us!)

TRIANGLE, finished March ’13. Contemporary romance standalone, first draft, at 105,000 – wrote the last 45,000 of it this year. *That’s almost an entire novel :O*

DON’T MESS WITH TIME (DMWT), July ’13. NA sequel fantasy/sci-fi/genre unclassified, first/second draft. Still typing it up, but current wordcount is about 40-thousand, so I believe I completed NaNo, woop! Judging by my estimates, I may still have another 20,000 to type up!

REVELATION, July/August ’13. NA dystopian short, about 5,000. Published Dec ‘13/Jan ‘14.

LYSANDER YAKINOS, Sept ’13, first draft, currently at 15,000. M/M mature Romance novella.

ESSAYS, TURQUOISE WINGS AND ME, Oct/Nov ’13. NA urban fantasy short. 7,500. Edited, currently out with beta.

Across the year, I also started The Continental Almanac supplemental; and various commentaries and essays like the ‘literary cross-examinations of the Costello brothers’. Varying amounts, non-fiction/fiction supplemental, second draft and in-progress addition as the novels progress.

Overall wordcount about 133,000 (rounding up).

Which was your favourite to write?

The chapters, first draft, on a writing site

The later chapters, first draft, on a writing site

TRIANGLE always has a place in my heart, being the longest of my books and my only successful co-authored book (I say that, but those last words logged were all me when my co-author had to pull out). I think it’s mostly because of the contemporary romance between the characters. It’s so hard to explain, but I love their love. It’s also a book that touches on family and religion, so, whilst it’s going to be a pain to eventually edit, I like to think that the final product will be more than simply a romance in three parts from three pairs of eyes.

Which was the hardest to write?

ESSAYS, TURQUOISE WINGS AND ME was a challenge – even beyond choosing its title! This was probably because of its rather abstract genre – I guess ‘NA urban fantasy’ – with a university student finding out that fairies exist, just not in the way we expect of them. I was working to a contest prompt, so my wordcount was perhaps stifled, though I found it just right for the idea. I found it difficult to fully encompass all the ideas in the general short story, though I suppose this is part of the writing discipline to hold back some ideas.

DON’T MESS WITH TIME, in a way, troubled me, as it is completely different (apart from characters and ideas) than its predecessor, and I have to find a way to edit in all the clever themes and metaphors that make WHEN THE CLOCK BROKE my favourite piece of writing.

Tell us about your favourite Male Character you wrote this year!

Lucas Gorge from Triangle. I have so many interpretations of him on my computer. I made this my background one day, and must have deleted the source photo, for I have no idea where I found it now. He is my character crush. *drools* In addition, I love his quirks, which are also his faults. I can’t say much without including spoilers, but he is, at first, very cold and slowly comes to appreciate the help that Andrea gives him.

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And how about your favourite Female Character?

lucy_hale_wallpaper_6Reading back through DMWT for quotes, I realise how much I love MC Zara still. In the first book, she was a SC and younger; here, she even recognises that she was weaker as a person, more “I hate the world” teenagery. She’s about twenty in DMWT, so she’s changed a lot. What I love about how I have written her is her kick-a$$ attitude that doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. She knows she’s wrong at times, but still goes with her guns. She could be called ‘selfish’ and I think she’d take that.

(I’ve just realised – the first draft of Lysander has practically or literally no female characters!)

Can you introduce us to some awesome sidekick(s)?

Léa Gorge, whilst not being a sidekick in the sense of superhero-y type attack the word conjures in me, is a companion and non-POV character I’ve come to enjoy seeing alive. Her sense of breezy humour, reminding me of her sundresses, means she lights up a scene. She obviously adores and wants to protect her ‘baby’ brother, but sometimes she has to turn to her own needs. Behind her jovial exterior, it’s clear that she herself wants romance to succeed.

In addition, I learnt a lot about her in her short screen time. I love that, being fluent in French, her job is as a translator of books. Although she’s freelance, I can see her working as the international rep. of a literary agency. Also, she makes coffee weirdly. ^.^

Any romances in your writing? Which couple didn’t go together as expected?

My writing always has at least some romance in it. I can’t help it! I’ve always been enamoured by Lucas and Andrea from TRIANGLE, so that one goes without saying. My betas gave me a lot of support for that plot. Team Landrea all the way!

I set out at the beginning of DMWT with the aim of making a strong romantic subplot between MC Zara and SC Max (considering that its predecessor I still categorise as Fantasy Romance). However things didn’t quite go to plan, because 1) Max didn’t turn out to mesh at first meeting with Zara as I expected he would. He laughs at her ideas, and even in the last book treats her as an inferior.

2) Max had a crush on the antagonist, Zoey

3) Zara found herself more attracted to another, even though we all knew it would end badly. So, the romance is there, even if not the ‘right’ one – I’m still aiming for the couple to find their way to each other in the final finale.

I also keep coming back to that M/M romance of a couple of characters from the Time, Stopped trilogy (the story, minus its above title, of which I’m keeping under lock-and-key for now ;) ), so I guess I’m not done writing their past vignettes and tales. I don’t know what it is, but I find gay snogging so easy to write. Seriously.

What’s your favourite Pinterest Board for one of your books? Can we see some pics for the book they inspire?

I don’t have Pinterest (can’t afford to lose myself in another online site) so I’m not sure how to answer this. However, that’s not to say that I don’t have a few folders on my laptop. Although, WTCB doesn’t count as it’s in editing not writing, I even have an entire family tree for the main characters and have been finding faces for them. Looking through, I probably should have a general bookish Pinterest, even for just posting romance pics like Anna and Bates as Ale and Chris (A Game of Murder).

AnnaandBatesGoogle

For this year, my big project was the first draft of DMWT, so I was kept an eye out for neovictorian and steampunk-style machines (I had to devise a bunch of new machinery, so I needed all the inspiration I could get) and décor. For instance, this record player one of the guys down my corridor has, and this first model T Ford car.

RecordPlayer_AlexB

FordT_AlexB

What challenges did you compete in this year? (NaNos? Personal goals? Challenges run by other blogs?) And how did you go?

CampNaNoWriMo! I was in Uganda for July, so I took that opportunity of no internet, phone or anything else access to speed handwrite my ideas. I took my notepad everywhere, and, as a result, a full of the pages are almost orange with the dust. I’ve not yet typed up the entire thing, so I don’t know if I passed the challenge, but it felt as if I completed it. I did, after all, fulfil my personal challenge of finishing the first draft of DMWT in a month.

In addition, I did set myself the challenge of finishing TRIANGLE before I turned eighteen, just so I could say I’d written an adult romance without being an adult myself. Foolishly – at least, I’ll lament when I have to edit! – I also set and completed the challenge of getting the wordcount over 100K. At 105,000, I succeeded.

Show us the full cast in pictures from one of your books.

I do this a lot already. Only in November did I talk about my ideas for the main cast of DMWT – the entire cast is too diverse to include, and even the speaking cast is extensive. The three shorter stories are hardly worth listing the characters of. REVELATION has one MC and the people she meets before and after she thinks she’ll die; and Turquoise Wings has four characters in its entirety. TRIANGLE, however, has enough to make a proper list. I’ve not, however, cast those characters who appear in less than three scenes or who don’t have substantial speaking parts (for instance, the vicar with whom Andrea has a conversation in the first chapter never turns up again, though he has history with her family).

I’m going to use the Sims2 versions of Lucas and Andrea because I love how they look so much. :P

Lucas Gorge and Andrea Ford

LucasAndreahappy

Although he wouldn’t call himself a player, Lucas moves through relationships quickly. No woman has been right for him. He can only guess that it’s due to his religiosity or his perpetual neatness. Andrea gave up on men when she gave up on her art degree. That was no Artemis pact; she simply failed to find the men in her life attractive. But her thirtieth birthday creeps ever along with the thought she’s wasting her life alone. It’s worth newspaper dating, yes? What Andrea didn’t bargain for, though, was the guy who blanked her call turning up as the new Head of Religious Studies at her alma mater.

*I have so many different hooks for this story; that one entertained me a lot as I wrote it.*

Keith Malone

Yes, I realise it’s Mika…but I’m having trouble really envisioning the best person who looks like Keith

Working as a bank teller with his best friend Harry wasn’t exactly where Keith has envisioned his life, especially after the love of his life threw her ring in the rubbish. However, a chance encounter leads his vulnerable heart back to life. He may not be able to forgive Andrea yet, but Keith ought to open his eyes – his perfect match might be where he least expects her.

Léa Gorge

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Léa journeyed to Lansdale at her brother’s request, and, somehow, never left. The power of being freelance! When Lucas stranded her – it’s a three-hour drive back to their family home, after all – Léa took up residence in Keith’s recently-vacated spare room. The one problem? His grudge against Lucas is a grudge against her, too.

Christine Taunton

Keith is dull, and, whilst Christine isn’t exactly on a mission to let the whole of Lansdale know that, she’s determined to stop her mother’s Alzheimer’s nurse, Andrea, making the same mistake as she did, when they could both have fur coats and three-diamond rings.

Alexia Acker

Hard-working Alexia is a divorcee, who likes to pretend to be the queen of casual relationships, when, actually, she has a massive crush on her boss. It’s only when Andrea’s relationships fall to pieces that her distant-minded colleague reveals the soft side of her meant for love. And she’s got the best advice: fight for your goals.

Mark Morrison

Mark wasn’t impressed when Andrea applied for a post at Swinford Clinic. Sure, she had the 2:1 to prove her intelligence, but her heart wasn’t in the hospital life. When one of Andrea’s lovers goes to Mark for help, will he reconsider his offer?

Ryan Garner

Arguably Lucas’ best friend – though it’s clear that four months has not been enough for the absent-minded HOD – Ryan teaches chemistry and is the first to see that Lucas goes weak at the knees at Andrea’s entrance. *somehow, I managed to marry Ryan twice in the novel. I mean: to the same woman*

Harry Brook

Always inviting Keith to the pub, Harry talks about his ex-wife a lot when warning Keith off being in a serious relationship. It’s clear he’s not confronted his divorce properly, and he is given the chance to do this, once and for all.

Epic quote(s) you wrote?

All of the quotes! *I wish* I’ve put the titles of the projects by the last quote of their section.

“We are not heroes, only pawns in a game, losers, like the rest. To hold and conquer time is to make us the lords of this new society.”

Quaint emotions bloomed from the teenager and into the adult, an attraction curling the eyelashes and stilling the mind.

Weaving against each other, they kissed for the sake of kissing. DMWT

Solace, it seemed, emerged from distraction and power. They had a war to compile.

The last thought still hummed in his brain when he jumped up and shut the window: had losing this fight been worth seeing his portrait in the hall alongside his father’s?

“A letter,” Lysander said. He thrust the letterhead into the air. Not as if it was going to stay there. Lysander didn’t care. The envelope poured to the floor, along with the last button of his shirt; hands were needed for a better activity.

Lysander raised his eyebrows slowly. He said nothing – he had no need to. Blue eyes, coloured like rain, howled into his own. The searing image of his own sight scraped him. Raw, clean.

“I am a violent person. Where are the virtues Aristotle decreed? Where have I left them? In what dungeon did I throw offending justice?” Lysander Yakinos

A society of sceptics eyeing the external world together made for an apt post-non-apocalyptic society. Revelation

Show us your favourite funny scene!

Humour is not a strong suit of mine, especially in this year’s pieces (my other trilogy is more devoted to the black humour tone), but here’s a cringe-worthy scene I was particularly proud of writing:

Placing her teeth into her bottom lip, she turned on the shower once more until she heard not even her thoughts, only the melodic patter of the water as it hit the porcelain tray below. Washing the grapefruit-gel through her dark locks, she hummed again. The day was all right, even counting the lack of sleep. Maybe she would ask Linacre to cover for her once her family had infiltrated The Institute, and she would go and nap and dream about being her past self with nothing to care about but getting into the Physics—

“Zara?” called a voice – about two metres from her.

Zara jumped. She shrieked. She cut the water off with one hand, and threw the other over her naked body. A man stood a little out of sight when she looked over her left shoulder. The steam drifted off her body and evaporated and condensed on its surroundings. In her clearer sight, Zara stared at the man in her bathroom. Maximillian Folster.

“Max!” she screeched. “Get out. Get out!”

“Oh, my!” he exclaimed, face burning from beige to a deep red. Yet, despite her protests, Max made no move. Idiot.

“Max!” Zara didn’t have enough hands when his gaze grew octopus tentacles, pulling her apart. She lunged for the towel on the rack a metre away, and untidily draped herself in it.

“What do you damn well want?” she asked. Her face burnt, but she stepped once to the side and tilted her body upwards to be about level with Max’s own. “What do you mean by coming in here?”

“I— also I—” Not only had his cheeks boiled into rosy lumps, embarrassment had painted his entire face a healthy glow. “You see, I—” Max didn’t know what to say when he had no idea where to look. From studying the ground, he flexed his own fingers, pushing them to breaking point. This must have caused frustration for him, as he looked up immediately after doing so.

And then, as if he had forgotten how her naked flesh rippled under the prison of the towel, he blushed dark again, and the whole circle of awkwardness repeated.

Zara grew sick of the game – and she was getting cold. “I need to get dressed. Whatever you have to say to me, say it now or say it later, I don’t care. Shoo, Max, shoo.”

Show us a snippet of dialogue you’re proud of.

I love dialogue. DMWT had a particular good selection, because of the dynamics between the four central characters. This piece is between the protagonist and antagonist.

“Please, you don’t see how much my family matters to me. If I’m stuck here, who can tell them not to make the same mistakes as I have done?”

Zoey’s smile snapped wide, eagerly mocking. “Poor, little Zara, who suffers from the Cassandra complex. Don’t mess with time.”

Cinema Sins - "Hey, that's the title!"

Cinema Sins – “Hey, that’s the title!”

“Look,” Zara said. She spread her hands wide. “If I could have helped Tia back then, I would have. If I had known she was here… Anybody else and I would have done the same. Don’t you see that?”

Zoey snorted. “I see only you, Costello.”

Zara retracted her hands – the fierce heat radiating from Zoey already burnt her face, and she wouldn’t risk her hands getting the same treatment.

“We’re all going to vanish like her anyway.” Zoey shrugged one hand onto her hip, whilst the other swiped her hair from roots to tips. “The paths of time converge – they’ve seen that we don’t belong and they’re trying to eradicate us, one body at a time. People die everyday and we can’t stop that happening. Costello – you’ve been the war with your well-blooded family; they lost so arbitrarily. Well, I tell you this: time’s gonna suck away some people. If they escape into this hell, time’s gonna find them eventually.”

I also enjoyed looking back on this snippet between Max and Zara:

Finally, his seriousness was too much for Zara. “Max, be quiet! I know you can sound like me so stop pretending that you’re from another century.”

“But I am from another century,” he murmured, cooling the tips of his words, but keeping a pronounced difference from her. “I saw the way you reacted when you found out that Linacre came here from 1991. I may have not travelled as far as him – if we think of this place as a definite spot, not some slipped-between-the-crack hostel, as now it really is – but I was still born in the a different century from your hear— from you.”

Zara shook her head. She lounged against the scannerboard until Max’s raised eyebrow pulled her away. “But you’re not Linacre. Not in skin, no, not in personality or smile. Forget your crusty upbringing and embrace this improbable present day. You’re my friend, so be my friend, not this transformed stranger.”

Tell us about some funny typos or writer-bloopers you’ve had this year!

Sadly, I’ve not had many funny too-fast-writing mistakes. I get perfect-imperfect tense shifts, possessives coming out of nowhere or failing to make it to work on time, and characters trailing off literally mid-sentence (where, I suppose, I told myself I’d add later).

‘Zara scuffed your feet’ somehow ended up in my recent editing of a third-person novel.

What has writing taught you about yourself this year?

I can pitch better than I thought I could. Also, though it’s more about my manuscript than me, that my first pages/chapter drags way too much. I’ve rewritten it three times this year.

To sum up this year, my pitches can intrigue, but my first pages let me down. Oh, and I can speed-write and speed-edit if I set my goals correctly.

Best piece of writing advice you learnt this year?

Don’t submit to agents and small press editors simultaneously.

Last word from your manuscript(s)! Go!

*These are so odd out of content*

DON’T MESS WITH TIME: Institute

TRIANGLE: loveheart

REVELATION: forever

LYSANDER YAKINOS: year

ESSAYS, TURQUOISE WINGS AND ME: cheeks

First sentences from your manuscript(s)!

DMWT: Physics was confusing enough without adding a fifth dimension that Zara didn’t even believe in.

TRIANGLE: Swinford was more of a hospital than a clinic, and that fact alone annoyed Andrea.

REVELATION: I’d not thought about believing in God before the apocalypse.

LYSANDER YAKINOS: He was an odd man, was Lysander Yakinos Archer. *straight to the point, wahey!*

TURQUOISE WINGS: Autumn leaves hugged the road in a blanket of amber.

DMWT first draft

DMWT first draft

Anything big on the horizons for next year? Plans to query? Publish? Edit?

Oohoo, you tease me.

REVELATION has literally just been published in the Fauxpocalypse anthology; expect print book release time early-mid January.

The editing for WHEN THE CLOCK BROKE goes on. I’m hoping to do most of my rewriting (to make it more interesting) of chapter one over the Christmas holiday. Actually, chapter one has killed me. I am secretly a ghost, given up on writing. On a more serious note, yes, this rewriting is for querying. I said I’d do so by the end of this year, but university altered my plans.

Tell us a bit about a book you’re super excited to write in 2014!

I’ll be typing up the remainder of DON’T MESS WITH TIME, but I’m more excited about getting started on one of the new projects swarming my mind. I’m ready to get writing again! I doubt I’ll start the NA uni romance I’m planning (leave that for CampNaNo!), and whilst I’d like to begin on the final of the Time, Stopped trilogy – I started one-step planning it on urge this afternoon – I’m hoping to get more of OF ONE LONDON EYE written properly, instead of in starts and spurts as I am currently. It’s about time I completed Aggie’s YA mystery trilogy.

Basically: Agnetha’s thrilled to start her paid training at Oxford Met policestation, but paperwork and lost boys wasn’t exactly what she signed her murder-solving mind up for. Luckily, a familiar toothbrush-moustached detective trusts her enough to let her shadow a team to London. When the mystery of a missing child reveals a crime aimed at Agnetha herself, she is running for her life in a strange city. It’s time for the eighteen-year-old to doubt what she’s always trusted – her wits – and, as the trilogy comes to a close, she may well lose more than her job…

Here’s a snippet from one of the first chapters:

“Yes, Agnetha,” Wallis said, “criminology is dull. We don’t live in a TV land. We aim to reduce the risk of the propensity of crime, not slip on sunglasses whenever we find a mystery.”

I raised a slender eyebrow at her.

“Be happy you’re not a forensic. Police-people get the better job.”

“Oh, yes,” I remarked absently. “I have a B in A Level Psychology, remember.”

PC Wallis’ lips twitched. Wordless, she slid off the desk and, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, stalked over to her wedged computer.


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WIPpet Wednesday 4th

Rather depressingly, I have to report that my memory stick has snapped. Since my Windows 8 laptop is super efficient, I’ve not been needing the device to write with, and I didn’t lose much. Some of my edits of Of Jackets and Phones *smacks pillow* and my smoothed-out end of one of the chapters of DMWT. I was able to grab back the beginning of the following chapter, from this post, and I intend to not look at that messy ending of the previous chapter. I’ll block it from my mind as much as possible… I think there’s still a chance for me to recover the memory stick files (-or-am-I-just-being-naive-?).

Work-in-Progress Wednesday

Wantage_Hawkins

Let’s see. It’s the 4th of the 12th, ’13. How about lines 13 lines? Oh, look, that’s exactly what I wanted to post, xD. I don’t really do selective paragraphs well.  To recap: we’re looking back at Secondary Character Max’s life as he starts college, pressured into Physics by his parents when Genetics is what his mind has been on. I’ve skipped the Head of College speech for you, since it’s meant to be dry and explanatory. Again, first/second draft weaknesses. But I like it at the moment. Instead, I’ve jumped past the page-break to Max’s meeting with one of the other first years on his floor.

A dreamy smile flit onto his lips. He didn’t think of the chance to meet new people or the drinks, but of the chance of discovering what had hidden in his mind not blood. Success through brains, not Name. His excitement came from the idea of practical work; reading about building machines no longer sated the chattering white-noise in his mind.

A knock on the door roused him from his reverie. Science held time more than fame. Max skipped to the door, and, with one flick of his hand, unlocked it.

“Enter.”

The man Max had shared words with earlier commandeered the door. He rested his hands upon his hips, whilst his eyes soared over the cubicle.

“My brother said the Folster heir had breached the premises. Maximillian, am I correct?”

“Broth—?”

Max saw it then: the lack of crinkles around the edges of the man’s eyes, the thinner slant of his neck and shoulders. Not the person with whom he had spoken, but his younger brother. This must be the one studying Physics.

“Apt room, Folster.”

Max strode away, lowering himself onto his bed when he was sure the man had no more remarks. “It suffices. Pray, tell me your name. I think we skipped that vital introduction.”

The boy pulled the same amused face as his brother. “Ezekial Maverique.” He shifted his hands to one lock of that same corn-coloured hair, tossing it away with arrogant pride.

“Nice to truly meet you,” Max said. He extended a hand, but Ezekial simply gazed at it. Before Max thought he would not shake it, his lips twitched into an upwards smile and he grasped Max’s hand up and down twice. His tight hands were warm.

“Well, it seems we shall sit Physics 101 and the basic structural assembly classes together, Folster.”

“We will.” Max smiled. No matter how he tried, the uncomfortable knot did not abolish from the pit of his stomach. How did the man know his favourite module choice? Ezekial’s higher status – and the fact he blatantly knew it – unnerved him, but something more made Max’s hair stand on end.

What do you think? Should Max trust Ezekial or his stomach, or is there more under the mop of corn-coloured hair than just a snappy mouth? Any ideas about what happens next? xD It would be many years before Max would meet the MC, Zara, but that’s the bit of the chapter I’m not willing to re-copy out yet.


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WTCB September: Lake Placid Phillip

Nobody is entirely pacifist. Even the most trained of religious cannot help intruding anger; even those people who bear calm exteriors have emotions snapping at their heels.

But still we hope for a way to avoid war-like tussles. I myself have seen too many people hurt verbally to let my mouth run riot. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for all my characters. *cough* Agnetha *cough*.

Phillip, on the other hand, is calm. Of the various metaphors Aidelle uses, two stand out in my mind from recent editing: the warm sunset and the placid lake, waves of love flowing over its smooth surface. When Phillip is with Aidelle, he is at his finest as a pacifist. Sure, he argues with her, but – annoyingly, according to Aidelle – he never raises his voice to contest her.*

But, as his granddaughter will find out in the third book, Phillip was not always like that. The Continental Almanac records that, in his childhood, he was actually quite a violent person, but that his painting might well have saved his soul. My words, not The Almanac’s*.

“It was wrong. This fancy Costello artifice surely had no place in actual living. Phillip had never understood the arranged marriage system as it was, but now more inconsistencies of the upper-class bled from the perfect wallpaper. As he galloped up the many stairs, forever becoming a certain doom, Phillip scowled at his surroundings, from over-polished rails to the portraits staring at him from every corner. The next year he would let riches tumble from his fingers, for they had given him nothing before. Only one result stood from the wreckage of his upbringing.

Phillip was becoming a pacifist.”

(Lysander Yakinos, short story WIP, prequel to When the Clock Broke)

In this case, Phillip is the epitome of natural pacifism, not trained, monistic pacifism. He is like me – exposed to anger and (verbal) violence at an early age, so looking for a better outcome in the world, through non-violent acts (though, this may or may not extend to his motives. I’m not entirely sure what his innermost thoughts are at times).

One might argue that his pacifism is a theme of the novel, the sole creator of trouble: because Phillip firstly refuses to go to war, he is blackmailed by his brother, cannot afford to lose his money to support Aidelle, and so leaves her for the war, and enrages her, which leads to the breaking of time…etc.

A Beta reader actually said to me that she likes the role-reversal here. I never intended for Aidelle and Phillip to be the opposite of the stereotypes of their gender – men have more testosterone and women are dainty.

Testosterone is nothing to do with Phillip’s will. Mind over body and all that. Aidelle is quick to anger just because she is, as are a lot of my female leads. Call it force of habit, I guess. Phillip, on the other hand, has acquired a skill she has yet to learn: controlling one’s anger. He’s no softy. He can go to a five-year war and not come back with obvious PSTD, unlike his skittish brother.

But war is harsh. Phillip avoided it for a reason: his own good. And, as I said at the beginning of this post, nobody is entirely pacifist. Adopting a scientific eye, perhaps Phillip is filled with the regular amount, or more, of male testosterone*, but he has been suppressing it since he found out how cruel that part of his prenatal personality can make him. Worn down by war, he reverts to his frustrated self at home, being the proverbial vinegar-bicarb-volcano exploding.

Yes, Phillip shouts, he yells, he storms out of a dinner meal after treating his family horribly. He stresses, and, for two scenes, he is angrier than I have ever seen him since.

I’m not trying to prove a point here. Yes, pacifism is a state of inaction, rather than a complete state of mind, but I say this because Phillip defines himself by his pacifism, but he is wrong; nobody can be entirely pacifist, and he is more than simply a man who refuses to fight. Maybe Aidelle is right – by being calm, he is causing more pain to everyone else in the long-run.

Who knows?

UgandaLake_AlexB

Too, despite his now-gentle nature, Phillip bears prejudiced thoughts. He is not the most symbolic of this type of person in the novel – that is Dr. Costello, his father, whose strength is, in fact, weak-mindedness that he believes tradition and his son’s singular words than having the eye to observe change fairly* – but he is ready to lift up an invisible barrier of prejudice when he is anxious.

As his author, I’m incredibly proud: most of this has been his emotional growth, rather than my character development. I’ve talked a couple of times about how I decided to make him indifferent/unshowing of his adoration around Aidelle, but the prejudice and the anger came of my character’s own accord.

I love being a writer.

In a non-related tangent, ‘Lake Placid Blue’ is the colour of a Strat I desperately want. Look how pretty he is!

*The thought occurs to me here: of Dumbledore and Harry.

*One could argue that The Almanac’s words are my words, but, for this post, I’m referring to it as an outside guide to a real world, not a fictional accompaniment to a fictional trilogy.

*Because it’s a fiction that women have no testosterone; the majority of us just have substantially less.

*A little like Carson from Downton Abbey, perhaps?


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WTCB September: The Costume Department

The thing about being a polymath is that most ideas rotate back to one another – cross-curricula practises, you might say – and costume design rings from the actress in the back of my writing mind, especially as Downton Abbey will be back on English TV screens soon. I’ve been reading the behind-the-scenes things; and the show is currently in the perfect era for research – just before the flirty thirties of A Game of Murder, on the cusp of the 20s in A Belgium Mystery’s prequel – and after the turn of the 20st century, the style of which features in When the Clock Broke.

Edit: I am currently flailing over this site – The Gentleman’s Gazette – about the attire and manners of the best gentlemen, for instance, that of M. Poirot. Check it out if you have an interest in early 20th Century men’swear.

So, I pay attention.

Now, I used to be one of the writers who described every piece of clothing for every character, but now I despise the same idea. Well…‘despise’ is too strong a word, but I do find it annoying when writers list clothing unnecessary. “He was wearing a y-coloured x and z-coloured ws…”

However, that doesn’t mean that we writers have to avoid the clothing aspect altogether. In When the Clock Broke, clothing is sometimes used as a tool for indicating status. Most of the Costellos are constantly in dress clothes and look alike, so it would be pointless to describe more than the occasional “unlike his brothers, Phillip had not dressed for dinner” or “he stoppered the blood from his nose with the cuff of his pinstriped shirt”, but when personality is shown through clothes, the set up becomes more interesting.

For instance, I show the butler’s sycophancy by his immaculate uniform; I show maid Tia’s opposite anarchic will by the fact she has customised her uniform.

pre-editing sketches of young Aidelle’s outfits

pre-editing sketches of young Aidelle’s outfits

‘Costume’ for characters is, just as in the acting world, so important for showing era and world without saying as much. That’s why the stereotypical sci-fi has everybody in grey armour-like suits or black one-pieces. Editing WTCB, one of my largest posts to jump over was portraying the alternate earth where 2010 is more like 1910 (though not exactly…). Samantha Shannon had a specific point from where her world splits from ours, but I have no such luck with that, since the entire genesis of society, the movement of the tectonic plates, came differently to my world as it did to ours. This is still Earth, but its evolution has changed. That’s an idea writers have played with for centuries; I’m simply taking it back a step.

Anyway, I’ve never been a fan of dystopia, and that is even shown through the unconscious choice of attire I gave my characters at their genesis. The generation above Aidelle and Phillip might as well step into Downton, for their period dress suits. However, it is in combination with geography where the world becomes modern. In fact, in present-day 2010, Aidelle’s generation are more prone to a more modern style of dress.

Whilst women have recently been allowed to wear trousers, most don’t; even in Zara’s time, 2050, trousers are considered odd clothing for a child-bearer to wear, though Zara and Zoey are most comfortable in them when working on mechanisms.

On the other hand, Aidelle wears a blouse, knee-length skirt and bolero in the first chapter, something which would have been quite controversial in her lifetime, even for someone under 30. It doesn’t sweep to the floor with grandeur, nor does it really flatter her feminine shape. Most of all, it’s not glittery or shimmering, not made of materials that look like riches, though they are not; it has the air of something handed down. Though it’s not a hand-me-down, the appearance is of more importance than the actual fabric or the prettiness of the clothes. I happen to think Aidelle looks very dashing in her first outfit – and so does Phillip! – but, had she chosen her clothes differently, maybe she would have been in a different mood that morning.

Octavia Costello’s favourite evening outfit, in emerald, modelled by yours truly

Of course, it depends on the character themselves, as well as their surroundings; some are more prone to bouts of anarchy, where they shall not wear the same as their parents (though, I don’t believe any character has ever feel constrained in their costume), whereas are happy to be seen as their parents’ offspring. Each will always have their own style, even those who are more fashion-following.

On a similar line, check out Alex Hayman’s post ‘Fashion in Fiction‘, where she shares my sentiments on excessive description.

And sure, Aidelle is a tad obsessed with The Continent’s fashion at times, but, as she herself notes, she hopes it will make the socialites cease their cruelty. We’ve all been the bullied outcast at times; we’ve all tried to drop our own personalities in exchange for admiration or a softening of hate, just as Aidelle does.

That’s why the costume design of a fictional set can be important.

When thinking of description of clothing, do not go overboard. Provide what is relevant not only to plot but also to personality and setting. Don’t forget POV when describing clothing – a tweed jacket may be day-wear to one person; to their friend, it may be a sign that they’ve gone snobbish; or to another, a sign of overspending…

In some genres, this will more vital. For instance, a character wearing a striped scarf might provide vital clues for a murder mystery, but for science-fiction, it might not add anything (unless you’re The Fourth Doctor!).

What’s wrong with my scarf??


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WTCB September: Love, According to Phillip [Extract, chapter 22]

golden_red_by_AlexBLuckily for me [as a writer], Phillip has the WTCB equivalent of a degree in undergraduate Philosophy, which means I’m allowed to wax lyrical about the sensual metaphysics also caressing my life: ie. love. And, because the book’s goal is, ultimately, love, I think I should also have that allowance extended to the characters’ opinions on love. In a society where marriage is made for the sake of blood status, the opinions on this subject are thus diverse. Peter wants equality; Phillip wants love as ruler; Dr. Costello is content to see his sons joined in loveless marriages as long as an heir is produced.

More on this later in the month, hopefully.

In the first draft, I had a lot of speeches. You only have to ask my Betas to find that I had said a lot of irrelevant stuff in my first few chapters. Only in the latest edit of chapter one did I remove all the twiddly worldbuilding.

This speech, however, is one of the pivotal moments in the novel, as Phillip finally understands that – sod it all! – he has to stand up to his father. And I love it. I have changed it, nipped it, done surgery on all its parts, but I could never remove it entirely, for it portrays Phillip’s mindset; though in insano corpore, he is in sana mens – finally, he has seen through his depression to that clearer space where love dwells, victorious.

~

Besides, what mattered about his own dignity now, when he had taken the belittling beyond his care?

“Peter is the only one who understands, Father,” he announced. It was true, after all. Phillip swallowed, and, before the restraint forced them back, the words he had always wanted to say tumbled from his lips. “He makes more sense of love. For you, love is a different substance. Your love is a marriage working to give a suitable male heir, and, indeed, an heir who will follow in your footsteps exactly, one who will always walk in your shadow, or through the trench you dig for him. Rion will be that boy, but I will not.”

Words cluttered in mind. Far from shutting his eyes and walking away, though, Phillip thrust his chin forward. He may have been blue, but the different hues of their opinions needed retelling.

“The kind of love I feel, such as a butterfly on a flower, is a lasting bond, withstanding rules and disagreements, even enduring through time. It can drive men to the ends of their wits for their woman, empower them to pluck every star from the sky to impress her, and it is the courage to give themselves and their heritage and their property if she asks it.”

He wouldn’t look at his father. The blue evening beyond the window called – but this time with better intentions, one creating a route to Aidelle. He had been stupid enough to ignore his intuition before; now he had to engage the fortune before it fell to dust. Dr. Costello sounded as if he lingered at the edge of his desk again. He moved papers and drew an irritating rasping into the study, but said nothing.

silent_star_by_AlexB“Love is immutable,” Phillip continued, thinking back to his college days. If ever a well-crafted argument existed, it did so in philosophy. “Metaphysical. Why were we ever saying about ‘ultimate design’? Would you like to know? I believe that every human has the right to love, and if there is any purpose that we fulfil whilst existing, it is in loving, that part of everything. Love is enough for a Final Cause. It must be an unmoved mover; and the world lives on because of love.

“Real love guides the right way; I am afraid that false love shall end badly. Anger and thievery rob the lining of romance’s pockets. You see? Love has ultimate power that human brevity cannot conceive or deny – beyond good and evil. It is wonderful, Father. One cannot survive without the supplier: the pool-heart of a woman. Now, Aidelle—”

A throat cleared in Phillip’s audible periphery. He stopped, her name the best taste on his tongue, and turned to his father. Phillip wasn’t home yet. He had the flock of his brothers and Dr. Costello to elude before he would reach Aidelle’s uncovered shape.

Peter’s face was a blanket of fear. He slumped against a standing shelf, clutching the spines of its medical manuals. Dr. Costello was scowling, and his forehead became a creased battleground, struck through with lines of age. His jaw was set.

“Not her. She was never good for you. Of that, I am sure,” the doctor said. His eyes lit up – the only show of physical fight amongst the verbal punch. That silence was an odd perfection.

Peter wrung his hands; Phillip strode onwards.

“I am sorry if it offends you,” he said, “but I love Aidelle more than anything in this world. I always have, and, as I realise now, I always will. There can be no flight from love’s embrace for me. I need her to count the music that lies deep within my soul. Aidelle means everything – certainly more than selfish greed to tempt those petty-minded like Rion.” Phillip rolled his eyes at his brother’s name. “I know that he has won you over. You think that Rion cares for you the most, but he only has eyes for your fame; confront him and he will not deny it. That is what he does. What does Rion know of love? It is not as if he can play passion as a game. Not as if he can take a flower and sting her for her love of him.” Phillip’s throat dried. Nevertheless, he pressed on. These words had to be said. “He may think that he can stand tall, but he will back down when he knows that you see through his disguise; trust lost, he will no longer try.”

~


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WTCB September: Geography of The Continent

This is yesterday’s post. Technically. Today’s post is not coming, either, though it is Thursday, so that can be forgiven. My evening in which  I intended to post was a nightmare. First, I had powercut for an hour and I lost the Sims household I was playing on. That makes me grumpy anyway! Next, my keyboard and mouse stopped working. And then, at quarter to nine, I lost this original beginning of draft because I’m a ninny and forgot that my laptop is connected to the same plug as the main computer now.

It’s fair to say that I gave up at 9 o clock. Grr.

On the other hand, my French manicure went well and I had some Horlicks. Yum.

AND – I’m posting this on my new laptop. Yay! Now I have the resources, I intend to get back onto schedule – at least, before the big computer packs up and kills all my backup files before I’ve backed them up. Sorry – stressing!

So, here it is. The first of the WTCB September posts: about the land in which all the characters reside, The Continent. It’s an alternate universe, where the tectonic plates never moved so much for all the continents we see in our world. As scribed in The Almanac:

Lavenders_AlexB

(All my landscape photography is on the main computer. You’ll have to deal with an old photo of lavender for the while)

To shape a world similar to our own but so very different is difficult. An alternate history is no easy-catch clause, but, in a way, it saves this universe from being swept up in modern fantasy and fairytale.

But where did the split from our humanity begin? Was it right at mental genesis? Documents held in The Continent’s Administration Office claim that when the settlers, those who began to understand their world with reasoning and emotive minds, began writing, they described ‘factios’ (possible translation and transcription is unclear of this term. Other variations include ‘factions’ and ‘factio’ as the plural) between the groups swinging down from the trees.

Not only existed those who had the ability to craft or command better than others, but also those who developed their own style of living. In our world, we might call them foreigners, for these factios might well be compared with the cultures across our broad spectrum of the Earth. Except that these all lived on the same block of land, slowly spreading themselves outwards for their own needs – those who learnt to sew nets and spot motions moved to the sea-edges for their fishing. Those who knew the craft of writing remained in the centre, where every other skilledman could reach their power.

As time passed, these factios saw themselves as the better, even when they were not self-sufficient without the other factios – and from there, it is assumed the original shapes of class came.

But they also still pushed through the same great minds we have encountered. From just beyond the land a mile from Costello Mansion – according to legend – a sharp-minded, clear-voiced Socrates proclaimed of his ideas for a civilisation governed by equal rights and rules; one of the first applicants to a teaching-school (that is, what were later known as the colleges) with an interest in philosophy was a hook-nosed boy whose parents had been part of the factio counting grain. Using his knowledge of counting, Renee Descartes devised a Cartesian division still used in Zara’s time.

From a family of painters related to the Archers and descended from those first hut-builders came Michelangelo in the early twentieth century; from the scientific minds supposedly connected to the Leighs grew Hen Forstere and his brother Eddison, creators of, respectively, the Automised Taxicab, and the captured oil-lamp.

Freud himself was a contemporary of Tia’s. However, his status as a butler meant that his profound, youthful ideas about the mind were dismissed until after his death.

Even two generations of Woolfs were formed of the ill-fated marriage of a lower-class and upper-class citizen, brought together through their love of forbidden literature in 2070.

Although the land never separated into more than four (known of 2083) tectonic plates, the community still manages its equivalents of French, English, Greek and the like. If you told a Continentian those names, the words would be drivel, but this must be their equivalent of the Upper and Lower societies divided by position, rather than blood and money.


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This September, I’m all About When the Clock Broke (and a Call for Betas)

WTCB CoverIdea1_11

I feel, after all my time working on my main novel, When the Clock Broke, that she is almost ready. I had always planned to try and be ready for querying by the end of this year – and I have been pushing myself to finish this round of edits before I go to Reading for my BA. I’m at least halfway through by chapters, but what I really need is some fresh eyes on a couple of problematic chapters further on. I’ve had at least three pairs of eyeballs on the first quarter, but not as many as I would like on the middle, where I’m aware, as the protagonists experience Complications and Despair, the pacing slows.

Anybody interested in an NA romantic fantasy, featuring three timepieces – including a wristwatch for jumping through time – alternate universes, a stuck-up family of ‘good blood’, and a suspiciously-arid grassland?

I probably only need a couple more fast readers. The work has got to that stage where I need a more professional opinion I can only get by trying out my novel with agents and publishers. And, yeah, it’s nice to hear “interesting and unique concept”, but I need to delve beyond that flattened surface into the ink and swill of something sellable.

Otherwise, I’ll simply be going in complicated circles of editing.

WTCB_drafts

In the meanwhile, I’m pushing myself by also dedicating this month to not only the editing of WTCB*, but also posting almost exclusively (I say ‘almost’ because the Photo of the Weeks remain) about the novel, its setting, its characters and its extended works.

The question is: where to start? And what to do? Okay, two questions haunt me, not one. Still… Ideas in the comments, please!

Aidelletears1

*(and editing OJAP and peer-editing project)


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Guest Post: Flight Risk by Nicole Helm

Today I’m welcoming Nicole Helm, author of Flight Risk, which comes out tomorrow with Samhain Publishing, to the blog to talk about her new book!

(FYI, I’m scheduling this on my friend’s laptop. I still have no internet and won’t until after the 31st. Bear with.)

 

~

FlightRisk72lg

Flying too close to love could get her heart burned.

The Evolution of This Book

 

First of all, I want to thank Alexandrina for inviting me to guest post on her blog during the release of my third book, Flight Risk, a contemporary romance set on a small antique airfield featuring a reformed bad girl airplane mechanic, and her goody goody FBI agent best friend. There’s kissing. And swearing. Mostly from the heroine.

 

Anyway, Alexandrina invited me to talk about the evolution of my book and how it came to be published.

 

Let me start by saying I’m a lifelong writer. For as long as I can remember I’ve made up stories and people in my head and translated them to paper. I finished my first  completed novel in college (with the help of NaNoWriMo), wrote a few manuscripts that will never see the light of day, then in 2012 the fifth book I wrote to completion was published.

 

Flight Risk was the sixth completed novel I wrote…kind of (though worth noting it was written long before book 5 was published). I first wrote Flight Risk to enter in Harlequin/Mills & Boon’s inaugural New Voices contest. In this competition, first chapters were posted for all to see and vote on. So, I wanted to open with a bang to grab people’s attention.

 

So, it started with the heroine getting in a bar fight. This did not go over well with the romance readers of the competition. In the end, their distaste for the scene was spot on, not because bar fights aren’t a great opener–but because it was a fight for the sake of a fight–for the wow, look at me factor. Not well motivated by either party.

 

In the end, after letting the book sit while I wrote something else, I decided to rewrite the novel completely. Toning down the fight scene, working on the character’s motivations. Then a few months later I submitted the full through another contest. The feedback was positive, but a rejection because my story had one fatal flaw: not enough conflict.

 

I set it aside again, worked on something else, thought about conflict. Then, started all over…all over again.

 

This third version is the version you’ll see if you pick up Flight Risk now (mostly). Not every book I’ve published has gone through three complete rewrites before it has sold, but I was still very much a romance writing newbie at this point and had a lot to learn about motivation and conflict. Setting the book aside and working on something else helped me learn and grow enough to come back and make the story something that could sell.

 

This new version did not come without rejections, though. A few agents requested a partial but ended up passing, and I had rejections from a publisher as well before I submitted to Samhain, who ended up being my publisher on this project.

 

It took almost six full months from submission to getting the email from my editor that she wanted to acquire Flight Risk. Then another four months to get cover and cover copy. Then another month before edits started rolling in.

 

My edits were mainly focused on tightening up the pace. No major plot or character changes, just delete a lot of scenes and inner monologues that aren’t necessary. I talk about this to prove that a lot of times in publishing, rejection isn’t about good or bad. right or wrong. It’s about finding the right editor who sees something special in your story.

 

I think sometimes in the pursuit of publication we’re told not to discuss our failures. Someone important might see and judge you based on that, but stories of failure are always what gets me through my own moments of failure. That we all can fail or be rejected or misunderstood, and then move on and up so that we succeed, get an acceptance, speak our story clearer.

 

I kept rewriting Flight Risk in the beginning because I loved the characters, but knew I hadn’t told their story well enough yet. I kept submitting that third version despite rejection because I believed the story was good enough and that those rejections were not for us rejections, not not for anybody rejections.

 

I like sharing my story, especially with other writers, because it’s always good to remember that rejections don’t define us. That everyone’s journey looks different. If you’re a writer, there are only two things you MUST do.

 

1.      Keep learning. I learned a lot from the feedback I got. Sometimes it was: this person just really isn’t the reader I’m trying to reach. More often though it was: okay, they didn’t get this…how can I change it so they do?

2.      Keep writing. Always. No matter what. Forever and ever. Over and over and over again.

 

Thanks for having me today. If you have any questions, feel free to ask in the comments and I’ll try to answer them. You can also find me on my website: www.nicolehelm.wordpress.com, Twitter: @nicoleThelm, Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorNicoleHelm.

 

If you’re interested in learning more about Flight Risk click here: http://nicolehelm.wordpress.com/flight-risk/


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Extract: III: Agnetha, Out

Rewriting A Tale of Jackets and Phones, I thought I’d include a bit of what I’ve been working. In this little snippet (semi-familiar to those who might have read A Rosary, A Fume-Cabinet and A Music Book), Agnetha considers how to get out of her house to investigate Mr. Craig’s murder without her mother’s permission.

Dead-Body-outline2

I had to concede that I was weird to have already had a working plan for getting out of the house. I was infuriated by grief and that emotion possessed me into thinking breaking into school was a good idea. Such was deliciously twisted escapism; if I made it to the school, I was worthy of the goodnight hug I had previously missed. If I solved the mystery, I gained a worthless sense of self-satisfaction.

“Mum,” I told her, shortly after we had attempted to have dinner as an ordinary, unaffected family Far from my parents’ divorce being the case for our silence, we simply could not initiate sentient conversation without silence catching up with us.

My mother sharpened her eyes on me. Her pointed nose dipped as she removed the glass she had been holding from her hand. “Yes?”

“I’ve got a bit of homework I have to do tonight. I’m gonna stay in my room this evening.”

My mother nodded. She looked pointedly at Benny, and he faltered in his eating.

“She’s a Year Nine; she has more to do than me,” he moaned. “Come on, I should be allowed a break like Agnetha.”

“But here she is, proving her worth by working in her break.”

I almost laughed in my bitterness. What did she know of my worth?

“But, Agnetha,” pressed my mother, “I thought you were going to relax?”

I eyed her over the dessert. “Oh, I will. I’ve got something on my mind first, though – a little I need to do.”

“I am glad,” was all she replied.

We ate the rest of our meal in silence. Benny tried to talk, but I had no energy to do so myself – my mind was beyond the earthly matters, up to that ‘heaven’ Mr. Craig had gone to frequent.

PGLRopes_AlexBI swallowed the last of the bitter red jelly, and  crept away from the table. If I had chosen to stay at school and conduct my searches from there until all the teachers had left, my mother’s suspicions would have been dragged into overdrive; she would have known of how unlike me such an action was. As it was, pretending to up to my ears in homework – and numbing depression – had diverted her mind from me. I called to my mother that she’d probably not see me again until the morning.

I prepared my bedroom. From there I’d escape. I pushed my door to with a bold click and locked it. My mother had queried me about the request for a locking system before now, but she wouldn’t deny her teenage daughter privacy. And so, I hoped, today would be the same.

I made the journey that same night, creeping out of my bedroom window the way I’d used to when, at eleven, I had wanted all sorts of people to notice me. That idea had never worked, and I had given up on those silly fantasies. I had become used to the plight of being ignored – so much so that I could not deny it was part of me.

~

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