That Necessary Growing Process Called "Editing"

Let me tell you a secret...

Whoever tells you editing is simple and fun... don't listen to them. 

Because it's not. 

It is, more than likely, the hardest part about writing a book.

This summer I have made it my great project to edit Secret of the Hazel Tree and hopefully look into publishing it... soon. Honestly, I have no idea what the Lord has in store for this book of mine, because I've been looking into publishing for the last two years or so, and every time He's said "no." It hasn't been an easy journey, but I know it's been one that I need. 

Every book needs editing, and mine is no exception. Seriously. Unless you're a Jedi or something amazing like that, you're not going to put down a perfect story the first time around. I should know. I've tried it. More than once. And with every single story, I've had to go back through and edit it. 

It's a rough process. Large-scale editing, to me, is like trying to alter the events of history after everything in your novel is over. Small-scale editing is like walking into a swarm of mosquitoes. It won't kill you, but sufferin' cats, does it hurt! Working through your story will throw back every bad thing that's in the novel, and it's your job to fix it. I'm thoroughly convinced that writing and editing together is one of the toughest chores the human brain will ever face. 

When I finished the first draft of Secret of the Hazel Tree on April 30, 2014, the story stood at 198,000 words. One hundred and ninety-eight thousand words. I'd written almost 200K in 5 months. It was phenomenal. I felt like I'd just conquered the world. 

In reality, I'd just begun the quest to conquer a realistic, magic-free Cinderella mystery. 

Two years later, I'm still editing. Granted, being at school has really thrown a wrench in the works as I really don't have the time Sept-May to actually take hours to sit down and work at my stories. Hazel Tree has taken a back seat time and time again. 

Last summer, I spent a good deal of time tackling some of the big-scale problems. Continuity with characters, missing details in the revelation scenes at the end, scenes that didn't add to the story as a whole, etc. I rewrote my first chapter almost five times. And I'm still not completely satisfied with it. As the first chapter, it's gotta grab people's attention and pull them completely, hook-line-and-sinker, into the story. I wanted readers to absolutely fall in love with my main character from the very beginning. I wanted it to taste fresh, but I still wanted it to have that old-fashioned fairy tale flavor. 

Last summer, within adding things, fixing things, deleting things, I edited out 10,000 words in three months. 

This summer, I've been going through chapter by chapter, reading, rewriting, editing, deleting... you name it. If it's related to writing, I've probably done it within this last month. I've gone 38% of the way through my manuscript, and I've already edited out about 12,000 words. 

Currently, SotHT is at 177,139 words. So, it's still long. I really haven't changed anything huge. I haven't cut millions of scenes, nor deleted any characters. I just discovered that I'm wordy. Really wordy. (This blog post should be proof enough for that.) It's still the same story, but I've been hard at work editing. And it hurts.

But that's okay!

Editing is supposed to hurt. My dad's favorite thing to say to me is this...

"Never fall in love with your writing. The moment you do that is the moment you cease to grow as a writer."

If you're happy with what or how you write, you'll never get better. Satisfaction with "good enough" will never become excellence. Editing is part of the natural process towards becoming a better writer. Editing is double-checking your work, scrutinizing word choices, questioning character traits, and doubting plot progression. If you can't respect and believe your story, chances are your readers won't either. 

I love this quote!

I like to think of editing as self-teaching. I'm finding the flaws in my own writing and making myself fix them. 198,000 words has been hard to wade through and refine, I'll not deny that. But I've been able to polish up chapters and brighten up paragraphs by removing the excess decorations. Now, I truly believe, my readers will be able to enjoy the story more because they can actually see it. Too many words before blotted it horribly from view.

For those of you who are die-hard long novel lovers like me, no fear. I'm not working to destroy my Cinderella and push it into the standard young adult length. I want my story to speak for itself and I'll allow it to do that in any length it chooses. 

Editing isn't fun. It isn't easy. But I can promise that, if faithfully pursued, it can be entirely rewarding. It'll make your story better. 

And it'll make you a better writer.

Try it sometime. 

God bless!

Official Goodreads Author!!

Sufferin' cats, I'm so excited I'm not sure it's good for me!! 

SECRET OF THE HAZEL TREE IS ON GOODREADS!

And I am officially a Goodreads Author! Yeeee-hawwwwwwwww!!!

Okey dokey... I'm calming down. It may take a few days, but I'll get there eventually. *grins* It just means I'm that much closer to getting SotHT published! If you have a Goodreads account, it'd be just ducky if you would stop by Secret of the Hazel Tree's page and add it to your shelf! And, if you do, I'll give you some virtual gingerbread. No, that's not a bribe. 

God bless!

Writing Plans

I think it's time I'm honest with you all...

I had fully intended to edit, polish, and publish Children of a Legend sometime this summer/fall, but as 2014 slips away, I don't think that's happening. For me, the story that begins in CoaL is just that -- the beginning. It's the first in a series (hopefully only a trilogy) and the story is one and the same to me even though its path is divided into three books. That's The Dragon Tamer. I still am not entirely sure how the whole story is going to play out. Don't get me wrong, I know my main plot points and all the scenes I'm dying to write, but exactly *how* everything comes about... well, you never really know how that's going to be until you actually get to it. 

What I'm trying to say is that I'm having a hard time reconciling myself to writing a part, publishing a part, writing another part, publishing another part, etc. For me, it never was three separate books but one story as a whole. I can't publish even the first part until I know the last part. *shrugs* Sorry, guys. 

{Experimental, promotional whatever cover...}

Since May 1st, I've been working on book two (Rebirth of a Legend), and I've penned about 17,000 words so far this month, bringing the entire novel up to just over 63,000 words. I'm excited that it's been going so well, and I'm having loads of fun! For one thing, RoaL includes all of the main and minor characters of CoaL, and introduces a bunch of new ones. While in CoaL, I wrote mostly from Davin's POV with a few chapters going to Lord Vernd or one of his croonies, I'm finding RoaL to be a lot more complicated. In order to follow the entire story, Davin's POV isn't enough, and I'm currently following about four different people and their POVs as the chapters progress. It's great fun. *grins*

In the meantime, as bizarre as this sounds, I think Secret of the Hazel Tree is the closest to being published out of any of my stories. Truthfully, it's the only *complete* story among any of my works. I had thought on April 30th when I finished writing it, that it would sit for a few months, and then I'd edit it, run it through a passel of beta-readers, and then hopefully publish it sometime 2015/2016. Yet.. reading over it, it doesn't seem to have as many problems as I thought it had, and the few people I've let read it have loved it. Obviously, it's not perfect, but I'm hoping that the problems can be fixed within a decent amount of time.

What am I saying now? I'm asking you to pray for me. I'm considering trying to self-publish Secret of the Hazel Tree this year. Yes, this year, as in 2014. I'm not positive it will happen, but I'm content to know the timing is all in God's hands. I am planning on my first year at college this fall, so any book releases will have to go around that somehow, and I'm not sure how that's all going to go. It's odd -- I already have the entire release party for SotHT planned, and the book's not ready yet. :D

So, please pray for me as I start this endeavor. Also... a question: From what you know of SotHT, would *you* be interested in reading it and helping me promote it this year?

God bless!

"... And They Lived Happily Ever After."

198,027 words.

5 months.

...

And the first draft for Secret of the Hazel Tree is complete.

Yes, indeed, dear friends, yesterday I typed the last words of a manuscript I began for NaNo last year. What started as a 20,000 word contest entry morphed into an almost 200,000 word novel. I'm not sure how that happened, but there it is. *grins* I'm thinking I should blame Ken for getting 10x as many words as I intended. 

And just because I'm floating on Cloud 9 right now, and really don't know what to write here, let's give you some stats, shall we?

November: 72,250 words

(December - no writing due to holidays)

January: 18,038 words

February: 20,297 words

March: 44,835 words

April: 42,607 words

Best day: Nov. 7th with 6,093 words

Worst day: Jan. 9th with 0 words

Ooh! How 'bout some snippets? Everyone loves those! Finding good ones that don't give anything away will be difficult, but let's try anyway!

~~~~

Hasteri rushed into the kitchen, her face a grand flush of exhaustion and wonder.

“Thed-duke,” her words came out in a rush. “'Ewantsya.”

Ahna and Celesta stood simultaneously.

“'Speak so's we can understand ya, 'Asteri. Yer all shook up. Who wants who now? Nice an' slow.”

“The duke. 'E wants ta see C'lesta.” Hasteri gave a small gulp. “'E asked fer 'er right away.”

Ahna turned to give her darlin' a sympathetic gaze. “First the duchess an' the magpie, an' now 'im. I'm so sorry, Miss Lesta.”

“'E's in 'is study,” the maid offered timidly with a finger pointing in the direction.

~~~~~

 “Have you many children then, Girdorn?”

“Five, Sire. Five of the most wonderful blessings in the world, yet five of the hardest troublemakers Iron ever saw.”

~~~~

At least, he noticed with relief, no one seemed overly eager to rope him into a dance. And, if any girl was desperate, he could very neatly escape by claiming pain in his arm. The wound, so newly healed, still smarted; not badly, but it could be persuaded into a greater discomfort should the need arise.

~~~~

Ahna's strong arms were around her once again. “Stop cryin', darlin'. One'd think ya'd run outta tears by now. There's always time ta make it right with 'im. Don't tire yerself out with useless wailin'.” She blew a small huff into Celesta's blonde hair. “Though, I gotta admit, I'm a bit jealous.”

Celesta pulled back. “Jealous? Of what?”

“You.” The housekeeper tapped her nose. “'Ere I thought ya were the timid, little girl I always knew, an' now yer standin' up ta killers an' doin' who knows what else? An' where was I all this time ya were playin' the 'eroine? Stuck 'ere in this kitchen, that's where. I missed ev'rythin'.”

~~~~

 “Julien? Oh, my poor boy!”

His mother's voice came from far away, out of a fog, and he fought to hear her clearly. He took a breath, wincing as his lungs ached with the effort.

“He's waking up!” The shriek nearly deafened him, and a tight hand grabbed his arm. “Julien! Oh, Julien, speak to me!”

His lips were dry. “Ow,” he managed.

Queen Louise Altonsina fell across his chest, gripping him tighter. “Oh, you're not dead! Thank our blessed Creator!” 

And now I'm off to celebrate with editing Children of a Legend. 

God bless!

Post All The Snippets!

Okay, well... maybe not. But I am going to take advantage of this opportunity and link up with Katie's Snippets of Story. I unofficially did a NaNo challenge of sorts during the month of March while working on Secret of the Hazel Tree, and got 45,000 words as a result, so I have lots of snippets to choose from!

The second dance quickly turned into a nightmare for both Julien and his partner as it was one of Queen Louise's new selections, a lively song with a piping flute descant. The pattern one's feet should follow was complicated, indeed, and no matter how he studied the other dancers' movements, he could not make any sense of it.

At length, after running consecutively into no less than six couples, Julien gave up. “Perhaps we should sit this one out?”

The girl's cheeks had turned a bright pink with the effort she had put into the dance, yet it was clear that the song was getting the better of her. With what Julien was certain was a relieved nod, she surrendered the steps to the dust and allowed him to lead her off the floor.

~*~*~*~*~

With a sniff, the housekeeper drew herself up. “Well, iffen yer not goin', then I will. I could pass as one 'o 'em rich ladies. I know I got the 'aughty part done ta perfection. I'll jest march up ta the prince an' order 'im ta take me ta the baron. An' jest ya wait 'til ya 'ear what I'm goin' ta do ta that uncle 'o yers... why are ya laughing?”

The mental image was too hilarious for Celesta to hold it in anymore. She could believe that Ahna would do exactly as she said she would, but she didn't think Prince Julien would appreciate a housekeeper crashing the event of the century. The duchess would never approve.

~*~*~*~*~

Celesta knocked on the door as Ahna grumbled, “R'mind me next time, I 'ate walkin'.”

“It's not that far.”

“It's 'azardous fer a woman o' my age ta weary 'erself with cross-kingdom treks!”

~*~*~*~*~

Denstan sat with his back to the visitors, intently working on something on the table before him, while Rerik hung on his father's knee, completely enamored. Ahna swaggered up to him and dropped a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, well, well, if it ain't our Kadsa's young man! Still as reckless an' wild as ev'r, I 'magine.”

“Father's not reckless!” Taimee insisted while Rerik only gaped at the strange woman who dared to thump his father's collarbone.

~*~*~*~*~

He was battling a grin, and losing miserably. “I am slighted to think you deem me unfit to learn your name. Or even just one of your names. Come, you must have pet names and the like,” he said, dropping his hands to his sides in a playful exaggeration. “Won't you tell me one of those? I must call you something besides that girl or young lady!”

Celesta licked her lips, trying to calm her racing heart. “Pet names?” Surely that is not dangerous. I might be able to oblige him in that, at least. Something that won't link me to the Hill.

“What does your family call you?”

“My family?”

“Yes, your family. Surely they have something they call you, even if it may not be your real name. You can share that with me, can't you? What do they call you?”

The question hit hard, a lot harder than he may have meant it to, but the hit was there all the same. He could never know what it was exactly that he was asking. She took a deep breath and gave the answer.

“Cinderella. My family calls me Cinderella.”

~*~*~*~*~

“Will you not tell me what is going on?” The queen planted her hands on her hips firmly. “You have been gone hours from a ball thrown in your honor, and now after I abandon it in the hopes of finding you and bringing you back, you reappear with your shirt torn, your face pale, and blood staining your clothes.”

“I was showing Cinderella the library when someone attacked me.”

He wasn't sure what she thought more important: the mention of the girl or the attack. Fortunately, she chose the girl. “You were with who?”

~*~*~*~*~

The prince stared at the brothers. Jorah was taller by appearance the elder of the two, yet the features shared between the two almost made them twins. He could not think why he didn't notice it before. What he did notice was that neither one looked anything like Ilmiltora, for they boasted sandy curls where hers were dark, ruddy countenances where hers was delicate, and pleasant faces where hers was decidedly not. How such different people could all be in one family was beyond Julien's reckoning. He burned with curiosity about them, but wasn't sure how to phrase his questions with a pretend innocence.

“If you are the nephews of Sir Perradd, then...” he coughed, “Ilmiltora must be your sister.” There. That wasn't too shocking, was it?

Jorah's eyebrows went up. “I'm afraid we do not have that pleasure, Your Highness.”

The other, Jacynthe, laughed and spoke for the first time. “You mean we're lucky to claim her only as a distant cousin and not a blood sister.” 

Again, all snippets from Secret of the Hazel Tree. And yes, it's all mine. Please don't steal anything. *grins*

God bless!

February Snippets

If you've noticed a lack of posts around here, you're very observant. Pat yourself on the back and have some virtual gingerbread. That's because I have been endeavoring to write as much as I can on Secret of the Hazel Tree. It is my wish to finish up the first draft by the end of March, and this morning I reached 117K words. Yes, I am glad of it, but there's still a long way to go. But we'll get there. I am determined to finish this story. Even if it kills me in the process... which, it won't, I'm sure, but you never can tell what some of your characters might do if they get a hankering.

Anywho, I'm taking advantage of Katie's Snippets of Story to share with you some of what I've been writing on SotHT. I *think* these are all from February, but there could be some of January and March mixed in... *cough* 

Enjoy!

 “Then why did ya shriek ta wake the dead, Miss Georgettica?”

Georgettica's face adopted a light flush. “You heard that?”

“Aye, and so did most 'o Iron.” Ahna threw her hands onto her hips. 

~*~*~*~*~

The duchess was already annoyed with the world, and mostly Veroniscen, by the time the carriage rolled to a stop at the front door later that afternoon, and seeing Georgettica giving her a sly grin as she exited the carriage didn't help one bit.

~*~*~*~*~

 “Silver skies, darlin'!” Ahna nearly fell over when the door thudded open. Her face went white when she caught Celesta's pained gaze. “What's it? Someone 'urt? Sick? 'Armed ya? The magpie? Do I need ta spit? On who? Tell me!” She leaped forward and dragged Celesta by the arm to a hard-backed chair. “Sit. Spill. Now.”

~*~*~*~*~

Celesta made certain her hands did not tremble as she scooped steaming vegetables on each plate. Georgettica made a face at the pile of green staring up at her, but apparently she'd heard enough of her mother's lectures on healthy eating and the benefits of such, and so said nothing. Veroniscen, however, parading on her status of favorite daughter, could not hold her tongue.

“Is this all, Mother? Peas and lentils?” She raked her fork across her plate, scattering peas in all directions. “I will wither away on this diet, and then the prince will never look at me.”

“That's because he was looking at me.”

Veroniscen snarled. “Hush, Jetta! No one cares about that!”

“But it is true!”

“Girls!” Duchess Nicolinabeth slapped her hand down on the tablecloth. “That will be enough. Georgettica, I do not want to hear such things from your mouth again, do you understand me?”

Georgettica understood and pouted.

“Didn't you make anything else?” The duchess directed her question towards Celesta as though she were to blame for the sour moods.

“O-oh, Ahna put together some gingerbread and a glazed nut cake.”

“Marvelous!” Veroniscen glowered her triumph down upon her lentils and pushed her plate away. “Fetch the cake, Cinderella.”

~*~*~*~*~

The bowl Veroniscen had thrown was evidently beyond repair, and the fragments of its former glory gleamed among the ashes and dusty spheres of vegetables. Celesta bit back a groan. The duchess knew as well as she that picking the peas and lentils from the heap would take sufficient time; the task had only been given as a deterrent. She really didn't want her lowly stepdaughter to accompany them to the ball. How could the prize of meeting the baron compare to the insult of bringing a servant to the prince's masquerade?

Celesta shook the thought from her head. “For Mother's sake,” she said softly.

As she reached for the first pea, thunder rumbled in the distance.

A storm was on its way.

~*~*~*~*~

Julien pushed himself out of the chair and crossed the room, with the motive of distracting himself from the upcoming festivities, to a large structure over which had been thrown a large but thinly woven blanket. He tugged the cloth from its place with gusto, revealing the golden gleam of parallel bars making up a fine cage, in which sat a hunched bundle of feathers. With the blanket gone, and light streaming freely into the cage, the feathers ruffled and rearranged themselves to their proper position, leaving in the place of the bundle a magnificent sparrow hawk.

“And shall your bird ever grace the royal aviary with his illustrious presence, Your Highness?”

Julien flashed a wry grin at the musketeer. “Only until my mother deems it necessary for him to be housed within my own chambers.”

“My prince is incorrigible.”

“Indeed.”

Denstan did not look the least perturbed at Julien's use of his personal favorite word, for it was not often that the prince found opportunity to toss it back at the musketeer.

~*~*~*~*~

The queen had insisted on several last-minute etiquette lessons for Julien, claiming that he was in desperate need of polishing himself up before presenting himself at the ball. Personally, Julien would have preferred to forfeit all polish and arrive at the masquerade in a wrinkled shirt and the dirt of the training yard plastered on his face, much to the horror of Sir Perradd and his own royal and particular delight, but he knew it was pointless to go against his mother.

~*~*~*~*~

Julien and Veroniscen had made a few turns about the room before more couples joined them. While the prince was determined to prove himself most disagreeable in any manner than might seem advantageous, his partner was settled in her own mind to make the most of this first dance.

“Your Highness is looking remarkably well this evening,” she began.

“Hardly,” Julien responded, keeping his face as stone-like as possible. He counted himself lucky to have learned so much from Denstan all these years.

“May I say that I was deeply grieved to hear of the loss Your Highness underwent this morning. How awful it must have been to loose your eagle.”

“Sparrow hawk,” he corrected blandly.

“I cannot imagine how hard it was for you, to loose such a friend, even one so...” she tittered, “inhuman, if I may say. You can be assured, however, that you will not a friend among this company, myself greatly included, and we shall all stand by your side. You shall never fear for a loss again, I am certain.”

“Provided I claim this company as friends.”

The remark was blunt, but Julien didn't regret it as a sudden shock passed over Veroniscen's face. But in a moment, she had recovered.

“My, Your Highness, do not think me a vain flatterer, but you certainly are a most wonderful dancer! I don't think I can claim to have ever had such a delightful partner whose grace and lightness of foot were so excelled. Indeed, it is a rare pleasure.”

Julien thought her a toady and resolved to drag his feet. 

God bless!

Upward To Live On Clouds

After working very hard on Secret of the Hazel Tree and reaching the great count of 86,000 words just this afternoon, I figured I deserved a break. And while I'm here, why not some snippets because you've all been such dear and wonderful readers? *high fives each of you* 

{Snippets of Stoy hosted by Katie of Whisperings of My Pen}

A girl with bouncing auburn curls dashed from the trees and stopped dead in her tracks when she caught sight of Celesta and the boy. “Oh, I thought we were... I mean, um, does this mean we're done now?”

“I don't think so.” He responded, still watching Celesta. “Are you sure you're all right? We're in the middle of a race, and that's why I didn't see you.”

“Donhans Leign!” The little girl couldn't have have been much older, or younger, than the boy, yet the way she spoke and planted her hands on her hips reminded Celesta greatly of Ahna. “Does that mean you ran her over?”

~*~*~*~*~

Jenisal's blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “You have the face of the Duchess Claria.” She held out her arms and Celesta stepped into them. “It's wonderful to see you again, Miss C'lesta!” She stifled a small gasp as her arms closed about the girl. “You are so grown now! I do believe you are my height!”

“She is, Ma.” Vrasen volunteered boldly. “An' she looks like you from the back.”

“No, she don't!” One of the smaller boys piped up. “Ma don't look nothin' like that!”

“Doesn't look anything, Kemual.” His mother corrected without taking her eyes from Celesta. “But I do believe you're right. She's a lot prettier than I am.”

~*~*~*~*~

 “Oh, Kadsa, I almost forgot.” Jenisal gave one last kiss to the cozy cradle sleeper and came back to the table. As she sat down, she dug into her apron pocket and pulled out a small slip of paper. “I found this on the bottom of Miss Celesta's bundle, slipper between two pieces of gingerbread.”

Celesta leaned forward. “A paper? Ahna didn't tell me anything about that.”

“I'd expect not, Miss Celesta,” Jenisal sent a smile in the girl's direction, “as it's got Kadsa's name on it, and not yours. I think Ahna sent it, judging by the handwriting.”

Kadsa accepted the paper, and her eyebrows flew up as she read the scrawl of her name inked onto the front. “That's Ahna's handwriting, all right. It hasn't changed a bit since she left.” She held onto the note for a moment, her eyes misted over with the love and memories of the past, before falling to tearing the sticky seal Ahna had pressed onto the back.

Jenisal couldn't wait for Kadsa to properly get the note open. “What's it say?”

“Now does it have your name on it, then?” Kadsa grinned, moving her fingers even slower to only further aggravate her friend. When it was finally spread out before her eyes, Kadsa read it quickly, and a knowing look crept into her face.

“What? What does she say?” Jenisal put both hands on the table in her enthusiasm.

Kadsa cleared her throat. “She's sorry that she couldn't come visiting today, but she's certain she'll be around soon enough to make sure that young man I married is taking care of me. And of course, she wants to see Taimee and Rerik.”

Jenisal's eyebrows went up a hair. “That's it? I don't recall Ahna being in the habit of sending greeting cards. If she writes anything down at all, it usually means she's planning to move the sky and send us all upward to live on clouds.”

~*~*~*~*~

Ahna was singing.

Celesta and Hasteri exchanged astonished glances. It wasn't uncommon to hear the sprightly tune of Prince Filbert being sung amid the poorer people of Troisem, for it was a nonsense song that even most children knew by heart before they turned six. It wasn't even odd that some of the notes coming from the kitchen sounded flat or off-key because the old song had been passed down verbally through the generations, from lips that sang beautifully to mouths that rasped like a hurricane in a monotone, until no one was certain what the original tune was at all because so many variations had resulted from the different singers. No, nothing about that surprised them at all.

It was the fact that Ahna was singing that was so astonishing.

Ahna. The stern housekeeper, the steadfast organizer, the one who kept things running smoothly and the woman no one wanted to cross or argue with was singing. Ahna never sang.

In all the years that Celesta had known her, she had never once broken out into a song. Not even a simple hum had escaped her lips in all her time at work. She always claimed songs were distracting, that tunes kept one's mind off the important things that needed to be done. Ahna didn't even whistle while she worked.

And now she was singing.

~*~*~*~*~

“She can have some sausages,” Georgettica inopportunely offered. “They are quite delicious.” She selected one from the platter in front of her and bit into it hungrily before reaching for a second to slip to The Count who was waiting impatiently under the table. She licked her fingers in enjoyment, but Veroniscen only smoldered.

“My dear, ladies of noble birth do not consume meat.” The duchess reprimanded her youngest. “It is a disgusting habit, and it does deplorable things to one's waistline. I really cannot condone it.”

“But I saw Veroniscen eat some venison yesterday,” Georgettica said in a quick pout, “and you like fried fish.”

“Fish is not technically a meat, and I was speaking more of red meat.” Her mother sighed heavily. “Gracious, Georgettica, I have so much to teach you. It is a small boon to know that the Crown Prince will not be marrying you. Veroniscen is so much better suited to royal life.”

“The palace is the last place for you, Jetta. You would only embarrass us, I'm afraid.” Veroniscen looked sideways at her sister, her tone one of sympathy, but her eyes filled with a gloating.

Celesta could hardly blame Georgettica for stomping her foot, sticking her tongue out at Veroniscen, scooping up the entire platter of sausages, and parading out of the room with The Count behind her, his tail wagging expectantly.

~*~*~*~*~

 “That name means nothing to me.” Julien rolled his shoulders back and stiffened into a rigid pose. “But names escape me more than I care to admit, so I suppose it is little wonder that I do not remember that one, Denstan. I can always remember a face, much to the dismay of many, yet titles and names are merely trifles, and I cannot recall them as well as I should please.”

“Indeed, my prince.”

“Denstan, it is not your place to agree with your Crown Prince when he is woefully berating his own flaws. Musketeers are to protect, not chafe.”

Julien caught snickers coming from the other guards and forced down his own smile. Denstan was the closest thing he had to a best friend, or any true friend at all, so how could he help such comments? They not only made Denstan speechless, which was an accomplishment all on its own, but it was also rewarding to break the stoic faces of the other musketeers.

“Indeed, my prince.”

Julien sighed. Almost speechless. 

God bless!

Beautiful People: Celesta

Have you ever had a story that grabbed you by the throat and wouldn't let go until you agreed to write it? A story that knocked you down and sat on your head and refused to let you think of anything else? A story that made itself so important in your life that it was unpardonable NOT to work on it?

That's what's happening to me with Secret of the Hazel Tree. I began this as a small story for NaNo last year, and now it's grown to, well, basically consume me. I can't think of any other story right now because SotHT is too commanding. I have to finish this story. And I am determined to finish it. I have been writing at least 300 words on it every day this year, and if the Lord wills, I will be writing every day until I finish it, which I'm hoping will be sometime in March. We'll see. This story started out as only 75K long in the planning and grew to be 70K as only the halfway point. 

But enough on that. I've determined to let you all know more about my wonderful, amazing story (hey, it can be that in my eyes, right?), and so, since I haven't done one in forever, I'm Beautiful People-ing.

And yes, I think that's acceptable phraseology. Hush up, Little Writer.

Celesta Le'Blancard

1. If your character’s house burned down, and they were left with nothing but the clothes on their back, what would they do? Where would they go? Dear Celesta, forced from her beloved home... well, she'd most likely go with Ahna to a friend's house until they (or the duke) figured out what to do. The Leigns or Kronwards would definitely not hesitate to take them in. Celesta would mourn the home she lost, of course, but she would take the move better than most.

2. Are they happy with where they are in life, or would they like to move on? Celesta is currently happy with her life, even though there are a few, or a bunch, of dark spots that tarnish her world. The most "moving on" that she would want to do is exactly what she envisions her future 5 years from now: her stepsisters married, and her stepmother preoccupied with her daughters' lives, and she can be alone again. Well, not alone. Ahna would never leave her side. And of course, Ahna has plans very different from Celesta's, much to Celesta's dismay. 

3. Are they well-paid? Not paid at all in coin. She works as a servant in her own house, and in return for her labor, she is fed and given clothes and a place to sleep.

4. Can they read? Yes, and probably too much. Celesta expects no adventure in her life, not that she'd wish for much anyway, but she loves reading and fantasizing adventures in books.

5. What languages do they speak? The common tongue of the Twelve Kingdoms. Troisem is one of the northernmost kingdoms on the continent, but for a few exceptions, the whole continent speaks the same language. Each kingdom does have a slightly different dialect or accent, each in its own way. Most of the Troisans speak with a "peasant accent" which, in our world, sounds very muchly like a thick Brooklyn accent. Celesta, being the daughter of a duke, no matter how lowly he might be, was educated well, so while she's familiar with the peasant accent, she doesn't speak it.

6. What is their biggest mistake? By whose standard? Celesta would count hers as losing the love of her father. How, she's not exactly sure, but she would do anything to regain it. Ahna would say that Celesta's biggest mistake is her thinking less of herself, not in a worldly sense, but in doubting her ability to do or accomplish anything and believing herself to be of no consequence. Celesta's stepsister, Veroniscen, would believe that mistake to be not doing what she wants done, right now.

7. What did they play with most as a child? Books. Celesta was never much for dolls, and the stories written down already were much more interesting than anything she could make up herself.

8. What are their thoughts on politics? Don't know if she really has any. Celesta feels deeply about helping people, but the affairs of state, international issues, importance of imports/exports... not really. She doesn't ever expect to have to worry about that stuff, so she doesn't.

9. What is their expected life time? Pretty much the same as humans in our world. Most people live to 70-80 years, so I'd expect Celesta to live about the same. However, I can think of people who'd love to disagree with my expectation.

10. If they were falsely accused of murder, what would they do? How would they react? Firstly, be shocked that anyone would stoop to recognize her. Then the shock would change into terror when hit with the realization of the accusation, and she would deny the charge and try to clear her name. Celesta tends to be naturally curious, even though she'd timid, so her investigation would be mostly avoiding direct contact with, you know, people.

God bless!