Willow ,'Get It Done'
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Hmm. That's a poser. Maybe it could end up with Anna grieving, not for Sebastian but the might-have-beens, the happy marriage she wishes she'd had with him, etc. She could also admit to Helen that she feels like a monster because she knows she should be sad, not relieved.
Does that help? It could take the "Woohoo" factor out of the scenario.
Ooh, I can work with that. Thanks, Anne! The trick is getting there, of course, but I've got another few ideas that I'm going to try.
Susan, maybe Anna could confide in Helen that she hasn't yet had an opportunity to have a good cry, and Helen could point out that maybe opportunity isn't the issue.
Or Anna is feeling as though she should grieve, Helen says that not all losses are tragedies, and Anna can admit that there is a part of her that is jubilant rather than saddened. A bit of mutual admission that Sebastian had his good points but not enough of them. Anna can say something like, "When I married him I knew he was a good man, but I was too young to realize that isn't enough."
Nice, Cindy and connie. Thanks!
Stolen from cleolinda, "How to Write Good" should amuse.
Oh, and I need some ideas for a good last name for someone who's very proud of the fact his ancestors came to England with William the Conqueror--i.e. French roots, but sufficiently anglicized to not get confused with the handful of reallyo trulyo French characters running around in my story. So far all I've come up with is Delacorte, but I don't think that's quite what I'm looking for. His first name is George, FWIW.
Hmm. Fitzgerald and Dafoe don't fit him, but Fitzhugh or De Vere has potential.
OK, sliding a degree drabble in under the wire. I don't know if I'm breaking the rules here, but this is a direct follow-up to the under the bed drabble I did back in September.
A Lady of High Degree
“I’m telling you, Ned, he has a woman in the village.”
“Our sergeant? Never.”
“You’ve not noticed? Half the nights he’s gone from his bedroll for half the night. That’s what he’s took that book for, and why he won’t even let us look at it.”
“Truly? Then I hope he brings her along when we march. Need more women around here.”
“She’s not that kind of woman, or he’d have brung her already. I’m telling you, he loves a lady of high degree.”
Ned snorted. “You’ve gone soft in the head. There ain’t no ladies in that village. He may be with the miller’s wife or the butcher’s daughter, but a lady? Don’t be daft.”