My Mind is a Sick, Twisted Place

For me, writing is a very visual process and when I have a vision of a story opening, I have to get it down right away… while the character is still staring at me in awe, like I just pulled a Captain Kirk and materialized in their tidy, little, conflict-driven world.  If I don’t do it just then, the moment passes and the characters disperse and are gone forever.  Getting them down ensures that they be will frozen in time, impatiently waiting in the scene where I left them.  And every once in a while, I re-open one of those stories and have a revelation of how to continue.  I did so just last week with a short historical that I started back when my attention span was that of a pollen seeking honey-bee lost in an English Garden. 

My hero, Steven, was thrilled to see me…at first.  And Lila was ever so prim and grateful that I had returned and decided to let her speak.  I will say, that this is the funnest story to write.  But Amylynn’s blog reminded me that etymology is ever-present in my every thought.  I am a bit rusty on the tedious details of Regency England.  My novel, whose details I had extensively researched, is Victorian, and though there is a mere 37 year difference between my short-story and novel, I am back on google looking up muffins.  Amylynn will know what I mean, I can hear her giggling already.  But for the rest of you, here is an illustration of what happens in my head.  Everyday.   My thoughts will appear in italics.  The words I actually manage to write will appear in bold.

Lila entered the library famished. Could one be famished in 1814?  Maybe she was just hungry…hmm.  There was definitely poverty back then.  I’m sure someone was super hungry, and famish would probably fit if it were a street urchin.  Come to think of it, I’m famished right now.  But how would the daughter of a Viscount know what famish felt like?  Oh forget it.  I’ll google it later.  She had chosen her favorite dress? gown? I think I remember Julia Quinn using the gown word.  Or is a gown in 1814 just for debutante balls.  I think it’s gown.  I’ll go with gown. gown for the festivities of the day.  It was pale blue, a color her mother had chosen for her because it brought out her eyes.  The neckline was what?  how were the necklines?  It’s picnic season, so probably lower cut.  What was Gwyneth Paltrow wearing in that Jane Austin movie?  I think low cut.  But not too low cut. She’s not a courtesan.  Or was it prostitute in 1814?  Nope.  I think prostitute was later.  Courtesan was earlier.  Or maybe there’s a difference in their services.  Are Courtesans just escorts?  And when did Whore appear?  For the love of god, how did I get onto whores?  Well not onto whores, haha, but…Poor Lila.  She is standing here in Starbucks staring at me aghast that I have only partially dressed her.  Ok, back to the keyboard. Nevermind the neckline.  The tiny pearl buttons surely that made pearl buttons…right?  Haven’t pearl buttons been around forever?  BAH!  Forget the buttons.  She had been the first to arrive at breakfast would she be by herself?  She should probably have a chaperone, even for breakfast.  With a lusty Duke around, surely no female was safe. Except for me. Did they call it breakfast?  Maybe it’s just tea.  But I’m looking at the table and there’s no tea.  Wouldn’t there be a butler in here?  Or is it a footman?  Cook would still be in the kitchens, but there would be somebody in here sanding against the wall staring into space waiting for the Duke to burp.  Hmm. Oh well.  and she went directly for the biscuits and jam Now would that be bisquits?  The English are always throwing in Q’s, aren’t they? Maybe there weren’t even bisquits/biscuits at all.  They were around in 1851, but what about 1814?  Maybe they were muffins.  Or scones.  Crumpettes?  Weren’t scones the same thing as crumpette’s?  Dammit!  I want a scone!  There is nobody in line.  I’m getting a scone.

As I walked to the counter, Lila looked at me and threw up her arms.  She’s frustrated that I am leaving her standing alone in the library two inches away from the biscuits/bisquits.  Simmer down, missy.  Simmer down.