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...