Cecily Updates

I've been rolling along with the unnamed Cecily Birche story...mostly. Sometimes it's a little hard to write in present tense and get the emotion I want without it sounding a little wierd. I don't know how to describe it other than too blunt, or too simplistic. For example,

Donovan is a little crestfallen, and I wonder if perhaps I should have not refused. Oh, this is all so vexing!

^Excerpt from what I just wrote a few minutes ago. The whole way Cecily states this, (and lots of other stuff,) in present tense, sounds just a little too straightfoward. Of course, authors want to be straightfoward and not make the reader puzzle out what they want to say. (Do they?) But Cecily is supposed to be seventeen, with complex emotions especially regarding Donovan and naturally loosing her family, although the grief isn't so complex, just very strong. Yet sometimes she sounds too...childlike, maybe?
If I were writing this in past tense, first person, I could word it like this:

Donovan was a little crestfallen, and I wondered if perhaps I should have not refused. Oh, this is all so vexing! I thought.

Or,

Donovan appeared to be slightly crestfallen, and I wondered if perhaps I should not have refused his invitation. It was all so vexing, how contradictory my feelings were.

Oh, this is all so vexing!

There, I've added one more bit to the original sentence.

Donovan is a little crestfallen, and I wonder if perhaps I should have not refused. Oh, this is all so vexing! How contradictory my feelings are!

Hmm.

                                                   Cecily? She looks a little too glamourous.

Defeating the Enemy of All Writers

WRITERS' BLOCK!!

This is for Johanna, a list of ideas I came up with to get rid of this awful dilemma. Do not be despairing, dear, I've been there too, many times!

Things To Do When You Have Writer’s Block:
1. Give the piece of writing that is giving you trouble a break. Then go back to in after a long hiatus. You might get a brilliant idea of how to continue, or you might think “this is ridiculous” and abandon it.
2. Make a character profile for your every major character, or write a spin-off of the present story. A short prequel or sequel, perhaps. Maybe take a personality quiz or question list from the perspective of the main character.
3. Listen to inspiring music, especially music with lyrics that might tell a story. It could inspire you for more of the current meddlesome piece of writing, or a whole new tale.
4. Read.
5. Write a story about a character from a favorite novel or film.
6. Write about a personal experience. Look through old diaries/journals for ideas.
7. Write something completely wacky. Just string random words together, or make up a ridiculous character. Or come up with a really silly title, or ask someone to do so for you. Perhaps that will turn into a really good story!
8. Write stories based on dreams you’ve had.
9. Look at an old, unfinished story you haven’t written on in simply ages. You might be inspired to continue.
10. Get a completely new perspective, get rid of distractions. Go write in a tree if you want. Just go write somewhere you don't usually.
11. Get a friend to write the first bit of a story for you. Then write an installment. Then send it back to the friend, who writes another installment, and sends it back to you. Et cetera, et cetera.

Good link here, too:
http://www.43folders.com/2004/11/18/hack-your-way-out-of-writers-block

The First Dance, Part Three

Part three, the last part.

As Xenia, Nicholas and their family bade their farewells, Xenia hugged me a bit too exuberantly and exclaimed,
“You must come sledding with us tomorrow!”
“Goodness, don’t crush her, Xenia!” Nicholas smiled at me. “But you truly must come sledding. There is a simply grand hill in the park, the soldiers have poured water on it so that it is so slick one fairly flies!”
“If Ella and Sergei do not have any plans…” I began hesitantly.
“I assure you, we will be there,” said Ella, who stood nearby. “We had planned upon it from the very start.”
“Until tomorrow, then,” said Nicholas, kissing my gloved hand once more.
“Until tomorrow.”
As I walked down the hall and up the stairs to my bedroom, it was as if my dance slippers had little wings, made of silk and pearls, perhaps, or spun snow that glittered as if with a thousand shards of diamonds, and never melted.
Dreamily I hummed a lively polka from the ball as I removed the hairpins from my coiffure and watched my dark blond tresses fall from their intricate style down past my waist. How well it had all turned out, beyond anything my nervous mind had concocted. The fluttering caged bird I had felt in my stomach from earlier in the evening returned, except not fluttering in nervousness, but in utter delighted anticipation.
There was so much ahead of me here, so many possibilities.
“Oh, thank you God!” I cried, rushing to the window and peering out into the night. A few stars glimmered in the darkness, but each and every one of them, visible and not visible, stood for all that I was grateful for, and all that I knew I would be.

Maybe it's cheesy, maybe it's sappy, it is probably very over-sentimental-romantic, but I really like the way this story turned out. Maybe because I never was stuck on it.
I have no idea what Alix truly felt, or anything about a ball held at Ella and Sergei's, but I was inspired for this, oddly enough, riding home from my grandparent's on New Year's Eve. I started writing it right then and there, because I had my laptop with me in the car.
There is one definite inaccuracy, as Alix and Nicholas first saw each other after four years at the train station when Alix arrived, but... Dramatic license!

Alix and Nicholas eventually married in 1894, and had five children: Olga, Tatiana, Maria, Anastasia, who famously "survived" (DIDN'T!) the family's eventual 1918 massacre, and Alexei, whose hemophilia caused Alix (Alexandra by then, having changed her name upon conversion to Russian Orthodoxy,) great stress and pain. Alexandra would be very misunderstood, (she was criticized for not caring for Russia and being proud and cold because of her excessive shyness,) and disliked eventually during WWI, (she was called the "German Woman" as she was half German,) but her and Nicholas's happy marriage has been called one of the greatest royal romances of all time.

It is hard for me to think of the princess in my story, if indeed she really was like I portrayed her, and even if she was not, being shot down by Bolshevik/Soviet soldiers with hearts of stone, along with her true love and beloved children, in a cellar in the Ural Mountains thirty years after she and Nicholas truly began to fall in love other than a childish infatuation. It was a true tradgedy, and Rest in Peace.

Alix in an engagement portrait, 1894.

I have lately been very much absorbed and interested by the early, pre-engagement life of this fasctinating, beautiful, shy princess with a mind of her own, and I would most certainly expect more stories on her!

The First Dance, Part Two

Part Two.

“How have you been?” he asked as the first strains began.
“Fairly well.” I smiled a little, feeling greatly awkward. “How have you been?”
“Oh, quite well. I’ve been doing lots of military events and such. Rather a bore at times. And you? I was quite worried about you, that you might freeze on the trip here.”
I laughed. “No, not at all.”
“How was Irene’s wedding?”
“Lovely.” I smiled as I recalled the happy event, and I began to feel a bit more comfortable.
“I wish I could have come.”
“Mm. I have a photograph if you’d like to see her dress.”
“I’d love to.”
“She wanted to come, but…being so soon after the wedding and all…”
Inwardly I cringed. This conversation was so dull, so shallow and, while sincere, at the same time very forced.
“Did you know,” Nicholas said suddenly, “that I wanted so very much to dance with you at Sergei and Ella’s wedding ball?”
“No…I didn’t.”
“Of course it was impossible, so I gave you a brooch instead.”
I laughed, but it sounded a bit strained.
“Wouldn’t it have been funny if Xenia had worn it tonight?”
“Yes, indeed.”
Bit by bit, Nicholas’s casual witticisms made me feel more and more at ease, until, all too soon, the dance ended, and Sergei came to claim me. After the dancing was over, (two more I danced with Nicholas, although one was so brisk there left no room for any conversation whatsoever, except for occasional warnings not to bump into something,) the guests retreated to zakuskas, light appetizers. I didn’t much feel like eating anything, partly because Ella’s lady-in-waiting Ekaterina “Kitty” had laced my corset so tightly. I stood talking with Xenia in a nook off the ballroom that was lush with potted trees and hanging vines. A strong, sweet smell radiated from an orange tree in full blossom.
I listened, amused, as Xenia chattered away.
“…and there’s a simply marvelous ice skating pond that is perfect for…oh! You startled me, Nicky! Don’t creep up on people like that, it’s awfully frightening.”
Nicholas had appeared behind Xenia, holding two crystal glasses of rosy-hued punch, and he now looked a bit sheepish.
“I didn’t mean to startle you, dear sister,” he replied in a jesting tone of voice as he handed us each a glass. The three of us were quiet for a moment as Xenia and I sipped the punch. I noticed Xenia glancing around with a sly look on her face, and then she said,
“Oh! I just remembered something I must ask Mamma! Don’t move, I’ll be back in a bit.” With that, she dashed off, narrowly missing spilling her punch on an elderly woman in lilac satin.
Her intent was obvious: to leave Nicholas and I by ourselves. Sometimes, Xenia’s impishness…although of course, there was nothing improper about it, as ball guests mingled not two feet away from us.
“I certainly hope that she does not mean, ‘do not move,’ in a literal sense,” Nicholas said, leaning against the wall.
“If she did, we would be in quite a dilemma,” I replied, surprised at my uncharacteristically witty response.
To my great relief, Ella came by and stopped at the nook.
“Alix, Nicholas! Do come, Kitty is to sing a solo from a new opera that has become popular in France.”
“A…cat singing an opera song? Novel indeed,” Nicholas said, un-slouching from the wall and peering over Ella.
“Oh, Nicholas! You are too funny. Kitty is my lady-in-waiting, Ekaterina!” Ella laughed heartily, and, snatching up my hand, led us to where Miss Kitty was preparing her little concert.
As Ella hurried to Sergei’s side, Xenia re-joined us and whispered to me,
“I hope it isn’t too high opera. I can’t stand high opera!”
Thankfully, Miss Kitty sang in a manner not too offending to Xenia’s ears, and after the concert was concluded, the ball came to an end.

The First Dance, Part One

The first installment of a story about the last Tsarina of Russia, Alexandra Feodorovna, while she was still Princess Alix of Hesse and her and Nicholas's courtship was just beginning. (I've taken to making covers.)

　I paced the floor of my room at Ella and Sergei’s, my white muslin ball gown swishing as I did so. I could feel my pearl drop earrings moving to and fro; my Louis heeled white satin shoes clicking on the polished floor. The diamond necklace that I shifted from hand to hand as I paced poked into my soft palm.
“You’re agitated, Alicky darling!” Ella took my hand to stop my walking to and fro. “What is it? You aren’t nervous, are you? You’re to see Xenia and Nicholas again tonight! I made sure Xenia would be allowed to come even though she’s only thirteen…”
I shook my head and pulled away from Ella’s grasp. I fumbled with the clasp on my necklace; focused on putting it around my neck and centering the pendant. I was not going to say that I was nervous to see Nicholas again after almost five years. I’d harbored a childish fondness for the Tsarevitch ever since I’d met him when I was twelve at Ella and Sergei’s wedding. But now I was sixteen and a half, far too old to feel that way for someone. I should be sensible, I thought. Sensible and greet Nicholas tonight indifferently, as an old acquaintance. Yet I could not do so. I’d been wondering, despairingly, if Nicholas still felt the same for me as he had that lovely June visit in eighteen eighty-four. It was obvious, even to me, a naïve, shy girl of barely twelve, that Nicholas felt the same, perhaps even more, for me. He’d given me a brooch, although Irene made me return it. I recalled the agony of having to give it back. He’d also sent some dried flowers for my debutante ball, he’d never once not told Xenia to include his regards in her letters to me. But still doubts plagued me.
It’s silly, I scolded myself. Silly, downright, absolutely silly. I felt Ella’s cool hand on my shoulder, and I turned to face her.
My beloved sister, so beautiful in her ball gown and brilliant emeralds. So selfless and kind, so lively and level-headed.
“You’re nervous about seeing Nicholas after four years, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“Oh, sweetest Alix! There’s no need! He has been so eager to see you, I assure you. Maybe not so much as Xenia,” Ella laughed. Xenia, lively Xenia! I could barely wait to see her. “Yet he certainly has looked forward to this. He’s no longer the teasing boy you knew, Alix. He’s a serious, very handsome young man. And you’re not a little girl anymore, either. His parents want him to marry Helene d’Orleans, but…”
I vehemently shook my head. “No. no! Ella, don’t speak of such things! I’ve only just come out. Please. Not yet.”
“Nicholas has a mind of his own, though. I shan’t say any more, Alix, I’m just warning you. I would not be so very surprised if…well, all I can say is, it would be very strange to have my nephew be my brother-in-law, too!”
I laughed nervously as Ella kissed me on the cheek and handed me my lily-of-the-valley eau de cologne.
“You look beautiful,” she said.
“So do you,” I replied.
My heart beat like a caged bird as I walked down the stairs of Ella and Sergei’s grand home, hearing the music distantly playing from the ballroom. My brother Ernie’s frank, teasing expression as he took my arm calmed my nerves a bit, but not completely. Sergei and Ella took precedence with Ernie and I following with Papa.
“His Highness the Grand Duke Sergei, Her Highness the Grand Duchess Elizabeth. His Highness Grand Duke Ludwig of Hesse. His Highness Prince Ernest Ludwig of Hesse, Her Highness Princess Alix of Hesse…” The footman sounded very imperious as he announced our names.
Nicholas and Xenia were not yet there. I felt out of place, and clung to Ernie’s arm nervously as I scanned the room. Nobody I knew, at all. Ella began to introduce some of her friends, but I only made half-hearted responses.
Then I heard it.
“His Majesty Tsar Alexander the Third, Her Majesty Tsaritsa Marie Feodorovna, His Highness the Tsarevitch Nicholas. His Highness Grand Duke George, Her Highness Grand Duchess Xenia…”
Ella and Sergei came forward to welcome the important guests. Then the moment I had been most dreading and looking forward to at the same time came.
“Alix!” cried Xenia, rushing forward and giving me a hug. “How grown-up you look! You sent us your confirmation photograph, but…! I love your dress! How have you been? I hope the journey wasn’t too awful. It’s so cold! I hope we can go sledding and ice-skating. I’m so glad you’re here!”
“Xenia, stop chattering!” Nicholas laid a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Welcome, Alix.”
He took my gloved hand and kissed it lightly.
“It’s wonderful to see you again after so long,” I heard myself say.
“Yes, four and a half years.”
We stared at each other for an awkward moment before I blushed and looked down. He was so much more handsome than I had remembered him being.
“If you aren’t otherwise engaged, Alix, I would dearly love to dance the first dance with you.”
Heat rushed to my face. Mentally I groped at straws. Why hadn’t Ernie stayed with me instead of going off to the punch bowl? Then it would be obvious to Nicholas that my brother had escorted me and that I was obliged to dance the first dance with my escort.
“Oh, Nicky! Don’t be so dim! She’s got to dance the first dance with her escort, silly!”
Nicholas stared at Xenia for a few moments. “Oh! Right! I’m sorry. The second, then?”
“Yes! Of course! I’d love to.” Silently I mouthed, “thank you,” to Xenia, who looked baffled.
Just then the orchestra struck the opening chords of the first dance. Ernie came rushing up to me, and clapped Nicholas on the back heartily, greeting him before we went off to the dance floor. I saw Nicholas’s mother come up to him with a dark-haired young woman in a pink dress. Nicholas, rather grudgingly, took her arm.
Ernie and I didn’t talk much as we danced. I was glad, in fact, to begin the ball with someone I felt endlessly comfortable with. Nicholas, in contrast to this, would be at once an agony of awkwardness, and yet at the same time, a delight, for I had wished for such a thing for a long while. All to soon and yet all to slowly, the dance came to an end and Nicholas came to claim me.

Next installment coming later. Forgive the sappiness of some parts!!

Short Story or Novella?

I've been wondering if I should start calling my stories novellas instead. Sure, I have written some proper short stories, such as Skating on the Standart, the Anne Boleyn one, and several others which I haven't posted but might soon. But "stories" such as Cecily Trilby Birche are not really short stories. It'll probably be over 30 pages when it's complete!


 Novella: short novel: a fictional prose work that is longer than a short story but shorter than a novel. *

Short story: short work of prose fiction: a work of prose fiction that is shorter than a novel.*

So... short story, or novella? Technically I don't call any of my writings short stories, just stories, but that makes it sound short. It will take getting used to, just like when one's been pronouncing something a certain way for a long time only to find out that it's the wrong way to say it, but I do love the term novella. It sounds so French, even though the roots of the word are in Italian and Latin.

*Encarta ® World English Dictionary © & (P) 1998-2005 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.

Cecily Trilby Birche & Title Problems

For quite a few months, I've been working on this story about a recently orphaned 17-year-old girl named Cecily Trilby Birche, who must move into a small flat in Detroit, 1906 and take care of her baby sister Eliza while getting by on very little funds. She has been searching for a job as her rent is getting close to being due and there is not enough money. A while after finding happily situated employment, Cecily embarks on a search for her estranged paternal grandparents, helped along by devoted friend Grace and persistent suitor Donovan.

Well, I was going splendidly, but on page 17, over a month ago, I got STUCK. Finally, last night, I thought of something, and voila! I am unstuck, mostly. I have only just began the though of the search for her grandparents, and I hope it will go okay from now on.

I have been writing it in first person, which I don't think I have ever done before. It gives me a new way of writing, but sometimes it is a bit tricky. I like it for the most part, though.

I do have to go through it and add more about Cecily's grief for her parents and 2 other siblings, which is hard to do without making it cheesy!

My one dilemma is a title. It always is. I can not think of a single thing to call it, which is most vexing. Any hints?

Forty-Nine Questions

1. High heels or boots? Definitely boots over those dreadful heels that are so high one can't even walk in them, but I would love a pair high heeled shoes have heels that are only an inch or so, like these: 1890s extant evening slippers!
 2. What time did you get up this morning? I'm not actually sure! Late.
3. What was the last movie you saw at the theater? The Young Victoria, almost two years ago!
4. What is your maiden name? Er, what might be my maiden name someday is my last name now, and that will not be disclosed!
5. What is your favorite TV show? I don't watch TV...
6. What do you usually have for breakfast? Hmm, eggs or cereal.
7. What is your middle name? Lianne.
8. What food do you dislike? I used to despise cooked carrots, but they're not so dreadful now. I guess what I dislike the most is horrid artificial stuff that shouldn't even be edible.
9. What is your favorite CD at the moment? Hmm, I am listening to The Celts, by Enya presently.
10. What characteristic do you despise? Er, hmm, I suppose inhumanity.
11. Favorite clothing? I wish I had a regency-era dress or a Titanic era gown!
12. Anywhere in the world on vacation? England!
13. Are you an organized person? Sort of.
14.Where would you retire to? I have absolutely no idea, that's putting the cart before the horse dozens of years too early!
15. What was your most recent memorable birthday? This last one, great fun if a bit crowded!
16. What are you going to do when you finish this? Eat lunch.
17. Furthest place you have ever been to? California.
18. Person you wish you could meet? Hmm, Enya and Roma Ryan, Julie Andrews, the actors who played the Pevensie siblings in the Narnia films.
19. When is your birthday? Beginning of March.
20. Are you a morning person or a night person? Night, absolutely! Except when I've had a dreadfully long day.
21. What is your shoe size? 7 1/2
22. Do you own any animals? A cat.
23. Any news you'd like to share? Hmm. I went for a bicycle ride in January, and several in Feb. so far!
24. When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up? An author. I still do.
25. What is your favorite flower? If you're talking about scent, lilacs or lilies-of-the-valley, and just for looks, there's too many beautiful flowers to say!
26. What day on the calendar are you looking forward to? Tomorrow, I suppose.
27. If you were a crayon, what would you be? I never really liked crayons. I prefer colored pencils, they're so much more elegant. I would say dusty rose, magenta, or periwinkle.
28. How is the weather right now? Sunny!
29. Last person you spoke to on the phone? My grandma.
30. Favorite drink? I have no idea...ice water?
31. Favorite Restaurant? I don't often eat at restaurants. Something that has healthy, yummy and not expensive food! Oh, but I do adore anywhere that has salads with lots of stuff on them.
32. Hair color? I've always called it light brown, but some people think it's blond.
33. What was your favorite toy as a child? My eight dolls! They were people to me, and they had personalities and were all siblings. I was their mother. Now I sometimes write stories about them as if they were a real-life family.
34. Spring, Summer, Fall, or Winter? Spring or Fall.
35. Chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate!
36. Coffee or tea? Herbal tea, or decaffeinated chai.
37. Wish you were still young? I still am!
38. Do you want to get married? I don't know...
39. When was the last time you cried? A little while ago.
40. What is under your bed? A little bit of dust, and sometimes my slippers.
41. What did you do last night? Ate dinner and watched part of a video of a play I was in last year.
42. What are you afraid of? I'm not sure. When I was little, I was terrified of fire.
43. Salty or sweet? Sweet!
44. Best quality you have? Being a pretty good writer, and maybe determination?
45. How many years at the current job? I don't have a job.
46. Favorite day of the week? Thursday, generally, especially during Spring and Fall.
47. Favorite movie? Pride and Prejudice 1995, Emma 2009, The Young Victoria, the Narnia films....on and on...
48. Have you ever had a crush on anyone? That will remain a secret!
49. Do you like finding all this stuff out about your friends? I suppose so!

Via dear Johanna!