Finishings

I like to finish things. It just feels so nice. I've recently been finishing books. For one, my mom just finished reading The Eagle of the Ninth to my sister and I. That is really good book. Well written. Rosemary Suttcliff is an amazing author. It builds, growing tenser and tenser, more horrible, until the climax, where, up until the second to last chapter, you don't even know if they're going to live. And then the tension slowly slacks off to the best ending it could have had.
And then I finished Mansfield Park today. Again, up until the last moment (the last few pages) I didn't think it could have a good ending. I would pour out my heart and spoil the ending for you all except my sister reads this blog and I'm going to have to make her read it. But OH! Jane Austen did it again.
A week ago, I finished Beautiful Outlaw. Seriously, that was the best Christian nonfiction book I've ever read. Every chapter, I could feel Jesus's presence. I loved renewing my relationship with him, getting to know him and understand him in ways I never knew I could. It was convicting to realize how the religious "fog" (to quote the book) has crept into my life and my worship, pretending to be piety or fear or something else entirely. John Eldridge wrote about Jesus and intimacy with Jesus in a way that I love. I love being able to share my life entirely with Jesus – every moment. Oh, Jesus, how I felt to really see you for who you are. I can't explain it. I can only urge you to read this book. It is not just another devotional.
And then, I just minutes ago finished True Freedom. Oh – you don't know that one. Because I just finished writing it.
Yes, my dear little Maurelle story. Finally finished, finally named. Not edited, of course. As a proud Mama, I can't just go edit it after I finish it (I'll have to wait a few years for that), so I am now putting it down happily, if a bit sadly.
This proud Mama would also like to inform her readers that her book is a walloping 21, 961 words long- 1, 961 words longer than my goal. That's 87.844 pages, peoples.
I really can't add any more to that. :)
So wiithout further ado, I bid you adieu. Until my next post,

Promised snippets

The editing done, I am now free to write my last chapter (I should have liked to put a exclamation point on that, but exclamation points are not exactly dreamy and romantic. And since I'm once again listening to the Ever After soundtrack, I simply can't put an unromantic exclamation point in).
Of course, I may have to edit some more after I finish writing, but I don't intend to look critically on Maurelle for at least six months. If not longer. I can't look at my dears so soon after I finish them and expect myself to not be partial, or to not be offended at someone who is.
I'm not sure where I will take myself next. Perhaps to a fairy tale, since I'm in that sort of mood. Or maybe my dear African tiger-riding princess, or my laundress, or an old story which has been finished but needs refurbishing…
Anyway, after that long-winded explanation, here are the promised snippets:

I looked up and met his cold eyes. “But Raoul, please- just don’t- please don’t-” I looked away and my eyes saw Jacque. When I looked back at Raoul, his face held a sickly smile.

“Of course not. I’m a gentleman, aren’t I?”

I went to sleep, not comforted by having the decision made. What have I done?

It was a gray morning that I woke up to. If I didn’t do something, it would be my last day alive. I was jumpy and frightened at breakfast. Every branch that crackled in the fire I expected to be thieves stomping through the woods, coming to kill me. But no one seemed to notice my terror. Bridget cast concerned looks my way every once in a while; I tried to make myself immune to her anxiety, reminding myself that she wasn’t to be trusted.

I wasn't really listening. It didn't matter. Lost or not lost, Jacque was gone. Dead. I forced myself to think it. I felt sick.

I would have my freedom, but at this cost, I did not want it.

Progress!

Finally making some progress on my story! I'm writing the second to last chapter today...

So here's a few snippets for all you completely uninterested people:

“Watch the edge!” someone yelled, as our horse then tripped on the slick ground. Gabrielle screamed as I slipped off. I rolled to avoid the stamping feet of the horse, and rolled right of the edge of the path. My feet hung in empty air as I clung to the edge of the cliff. I wanted to scream, but, like a nightmare, my breath was gone and I couldn’t even breathe.

“Quain, Quain,” she murmured. “Don’t worry, I can fix it. Bridget can help you.” She sounded almost like a woman, so calm and comforting was her voice.

One of my favorite scenes. Oh, so romantic and tragic!

“We never thought –” I shook my head, my words gone. “When I was six my mother sold to a different master.” I continued. “I’ve been sold half a dozen times, until my last mistress trained me to be a lady’s maid and I was sold here.” I realized, then, everything I had said. I had half-forgotten that he was there.

And... I finally found a picture for Gabrielle and Maurelle! Once again, y'all probably don't care, but I they're so perfect that I just have to share.

Gabrielle (Frank Dicksee, of course)

And then for Maurelle I'm divided between two. My sister likes the first one:

Edward Burne-Jones

But I like this one:

Also Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones

What do you think?

Anyway, that's what my week has been. Cool, cloudy/rainy days (can you believe we had the heat on all day yesterday? In June?) – perfect for writing. I like to listen to the Amelie soundtrack, though I've never seen the movie, while I write Maurelle.
Hope you're all having a wonderful week so far. Sorry for blabbering on and on about my story. :)

Help?

I need help with Maurelle's story. I have a character named Jacque, and I am trying hard to not make him perfect. I am having trouble coming up with faults for him, though. This is his personality:

He is in the last stage of training to become a knight. He is humble, very protective, and loyal. He wants to do his duty as best he can and to become a knight. He is good at tracking (as in going-through-the-woods-following-a-trail).

I don't want him to be perfect, but I can't think of faults that he might have. Are there any suggestions?

Maurelle snippets

I finally finished my first chapter – hurrah hurray hurrah!
Here's a few of my favorite snippets:

I stood awkwardly in the hallway as the men talked. It was the finest hallway I had ever seen. The very walls seemed to hold themselves up straight, and the carved figures in the molding seemed to sniff haughtily at me.

My first paragraph!

§

We stepped into a large, dim building. I could hear horses stamping and whinnying to each other like gossipy old women. I glanced away from the horses and back to the steward.

§

I couldn’t talk. My throat seemed to have closed. I nodded, mutely, and left the decrepit shack without another word. I ran almost the whole way, then collapsed beneath a tree before I reached the house. The sky had clouded over, and there was a wintery chill in the air. My sobs were lost in the wind, and I was glad of it. I didn’t want to see anyone or speak to anyone. I didn’t want to be alive.

Waffling

Or, I couldn't pick a title

A somewhat busy weekend.  So much going on, I had lots of title ideas. I thought of 'Sopping wet and aching all over,' which sounded nice and dramatic, besides being painfully appropriate for this morning. Or 'I have no talent with a curling iron – or, the sadness of graduations.' That would be good, too, because I tried (note the word tried) to curl my hair for the homeschool graduation we went to yesterday, and I can really do wonders with a curling iron (as in, 'it's a wonder how bad that looks!').

Or maybe, 'Birthdays and goat cheese and what they have to do with each other' which was maybe my personal favorite since thinking about goat cheese makes me feel so nice. :)

However, waffling was the best, since I couldn't decide at all.

After that extremely boring explanation, here's what my weekend has been like:

Saturday was my birthday. It was nice, warm (82º, which I can't complain about since thunderstorms were forecasted), and we had goat cheese – with hummus, homemade chive & cheddar crackers (recipe to follow), and blackberries– for lunch.

We found the recipe for crackers here. They were a little bit strong in my opinion, but my mom and dad and sister liked them, and they were great combined with goat cheese (!! makes me so excited !!) or hummus. Note on the recipe: we didn't soak & dehydrate any of our sesame seeds or sunflower seeds and it worked quite fine. I never knew it was so easy to make crackers!

Sunday we went to graduations. It's sad to think of drama and youth group being so different without all the seniors. I wasn't that close to any of them, but it'll just be a little weird with all of them gone.

And today... (drumroll, please).... I ran (sort of) a 5k! It doesn't look as good with the 'sort of' but it wouldn't be completely honest without it... We ran, walked, ran, walked, the whole way (in about 45 minutes). In the rain. This was no light sprinkle. This was a thunderstorm. Not kidding a bit. It poured. I was soaked – jacket, pants, shoes, socks, shirt, and everything underneath. 

There ought to be a word for when your completely soaked, to the point where you think you can't be any wetter, and then you step in a ankle-deep puddle. :)

Anyways, it's been a good weekend. I've got to get back to Maurelle – I remodeled both her and her story. One major thing was that it starts with her just arriving, instead of her having been there for 5 years or whatever. I think that's better because she isn't so jaded and moody and set in her ways. I think this Maurelle has the potential to get that way, but right now she's just curious and a bit frightened. I like her better, and I like my beginning better this way.

Ta-ta for now!

ℒady Awdur 

Hot hot weather.

It is hot. It is the last day of April, 82 degrees, and sleet is predicted for May 2nd! So this is the midwest. We have a saying: If you don't like the weather here, wait 5 minutes and it will change!
I've been contemplating moving to South Dakota or Canada – somewhere that never has temperatures that exceed 80º (or 85º, in heat waves) and has a 100% chance of snow every winter.
Like 6 inches of snow. For two months straight. :)
Or maybe England... I might like England – or Scotland – or Ireland – or France – or the Mediterranean! Pretty much Europe entirely. But especially Britain.
I do not like the heat. I like it cold. And so I sit inside and blog. I would rather be outside enjoying the beautiful spring afternoon/evening. But this is not spring weather, it is summer weather. But anyways.
I'm having trouble with Maurelle. I'm supposed to write this story for school, and I want to finish/chip a way at my Arthurian Chronicles this summer, so I'm trying to finish it. But I'm at the hardest part: the very middle.
Mostly I've been reading Ben-Hur and knitting. I like knitted washcloths, so I knitted one. But I think I should have used different yarn because it doesn't work the greatest. Now I'm trying to knit a shawl but I don't think I have enough yarn.
And we've been really busy in the last week, so I easily found excuses for not writing (I'm using one right now: I need to blog!). I was in Arsenic and Old Lace (I was Officer O'Hara – we had a lot of girls playing boys because there are 10 boy parts and 4 boys). We had practice Monday-Wednesday, show on Thursday, rest on Friday, Show Saturday afternoon, then we stayed to watch the other show (the homeschool group I did it with did two plays this semester), and then struck the set. Hmm... One says "I'm going to strike the set" but it doesn't look right to say "we struck the set"...
I really want to work on my laundress story... And my gladiator story. AHHGH!
Maybe someone can help me with Maurelle.
See, the problem is this: I'm more likely to write a "man who learned better" story than "heroic quest" story. I'm supposed to write a heroic quest. But I have a hard time with writing a quest type story unless it's an ACTUAL quest.
So Maurelle's object is her freedom. The thing she learns is to be more selfless. So I had a chapter on her learning to be more selfless. But the thing is, I don't believe we can learn to be selfless by ourself. And she isn't a Christian. So I thought about having her become a Christian and she learns (a) to be more selfless and (b) outer freedom isn't important because she's free in Christ.
But that would have two problems:
1) It takes the story in a totally different direction. I didn't want this to be a salvation type story because I'm bad at writing those. This is because I myself didn't have a conversion moment, an actual time I can point to and say, "Here I became a Christian." I've been raised Christian, so I don't know how to realistically write about a conversion moment.
2) If I write this, it's no longer a heroic quest because she doesn't strive for her object and win it.
My sister Nan suggested she learns to trust. I like this idea, and it comes naturally from the story:

Gabrielle shook her head again, sadly.

“There is not one who is free, Maurelle. Not you, not me.”

“You can have anything you want!” I gasped, realizing I had said the words aloud. I turned, and fled back the way I had come. I passed the campsite and stumbled along until I came to a thicket so dense I could not pass through it. I flung myself down and cried, then, sobbing. Was nothing trustworthy or sacred?

No; no, it wasn’t. I had always known that. It was the creed I lived by; the standard by which I justified all my actions. I had come up against a cold, hard wall, but it was one I had always known (with my mind, if not my heart) to be there.

This thought was no comfort me.

It was Gabrielle’s parents who had betrayed me; I would have no guilt in carrying out Raoul’s orders, even if I knew, in my heart of hearts, that they were not as innocent as he made them out to be. By luck, by fate, by some good fortune, I had been offered a way out, not three days ago.

But could I trust him?

I felt cold, and not just because of the icy wind. I couldn’t trust him anymore than I could trust Gabrielle. I  couldn’t trust anyone. Had I not just realized that?

You don’t need to trust him.

The answer came so naturally that I wondered at not seeing it before. I didn’t need him, and I didn’t need Gabrielle and her pampered parents. I could tell Gabrielle what she wanted to hear and give Raoul what he needed – just so long as it fit my purpose. I could play on both their needs, and still get my freedom.

I stopped crying; things would go on as before. I had no need to feel sorry. I would be free, and no one would stand in the way of that.

The only problem with this idea is that it takes the story in a different turn. But, still would the freedom thing.
So maybe I will pursue this direction. Meeps. I guess I should. But if I do I have to rethink the whole rest of the book. AGAIN.
I need to work on Maurelle I guess...

I'm Obsessed

Maurelle (John William Waterhouse)

I'm officially obsessed with Dicksee and Waterhouse.This is why:

Sir Frank Dicksee

It's so gorgeous.

I'm considering using one of these for my headers...

But today, I'm specifically looking for pictures for my story (Maurelle's story).
This one is a PERFECT Nouvelle:

Especially this one.(Dicksee)

Gabrielle and Maurelle are more tough. And I have found very little for Lazare or Quain or Jacque or Raoul or Bridget.... I have mostly been looking for my young ladies though.
These might be Gabrielle...

Dicksee

This one on the side (Dicksee again) might be Raoul or Lazare.... Unsure...

Maurelle (Dicksee)

Bridget....

Are you obsessed yet?

 

Considering this one as a Profile picture...

This is why Waterhouse ranks with Dicksee: