Post by Jessamine de Mornay on May 8, 2006 6:44:39 GMT -5
After visiting Douleur ideas had just about run out of my hands like blood, making their way to paper so fast that I almost couldn't read them as they were written. Now there was only a conclusion to be done, the last paragraph to tie everything together and leave the reader feeling satisfied, like there was no more to be said, never wishing for another word.
This was always the hardest part for me, bringing things to an end; part of me wanted to continue expounding on these characters, making the story of their lives never end, taking up with their predecessors when the lives of the first were over. Still, my writer's heart beat too steady for that- there was no more to say about these people than repeating that they lived their lives as best they could, and now I only had to find a way to express that.
Suddenly it was there- my pondering must have jostled it loose. Eyes wide and grinning I wrote my last paragraph, marvelling at it even as I sorrowed a bit for it- after all, characters that you have loved for so long cannot be happily hidden. My story, of a wager at Bryony that touched every house of the Night Court, was done. My characters, nobles and adepts and everything in between, were safely tucked away within pages of prose, resting from the trip my mind had sent them on. Maybe seeing this book read and enjoyed would lessen the sting.
Standing and stretching, I changed into something a little less ink-splattered- a gown of dusky rose, simple but flattering, thanks to little sister Candida's skill with clothing where I had none- and hands as clean as the deep inkstaining would allow, hair plaited in a simple braid. All in all, gathering the assorted scattered sheets of manuscipt took longer than my dressing, but finally they were together and in order. NO letter from Cedrillon in two weeks and the novel finished- what a perfect excuse to visit. Smiling mischeviously I tossed my head and headed 0ut. Ready or not, here I come...
This was always the hardest part for me, bringing things to an end; part of me wanted to continue expounding on these characters, making the story of their lives never end, taking up with their predecessors when the lives of the first were over. Still, my writer's heart beat too steady for that- there was no more to say about these people than repeating that they lived their lives as best they could, and now I only had to find a way to express that.
Suddenly it was there- my pondering must have jostled it loose. Eyes wide and grinning I wrote my last paragraph, marvelling at it even as I sorrowed a bit for it- after all, characters that you have loved for so long cannot be happily hidden. My story, of a wager at Bryony that touched every house of the Night Court, was done. My characters, nobles and adepts and everything in between, were safely tucked away within pages of prose, resting from the trip my mind had sent them on. Maybe seeing this book read and enjoyed would lessen the sting.
Standing and stretching, I changed into something a little less ink-splattered- a gown of dusky rose, simple but flattering, thanks to little sister Candida's skill with clothing where I had none- and hands as clean as the deep inkstaining would allow, hair plaited in a simple braid. All in all, gathering the assorted scattered sheets of manuscipt took longer than my dressing, but finally they were together and in order. NO letter from Cedrillon in two weeks and the novel finished- what a perfect excuse to visit. Smiling mischeviously I tossed my head and headed 0ut. Ready or not, here I come...