. . . Sean stood in the doorway, watching them, hating them. He didn’t want to care – their fight, their belief – he wanted it to mean nothing to him.
“You would hate them for their love of country?”
“Pardon?” Sean tried to turn around, but something in that deep voice forbade it.
“Your face, it speaks volumes. You don’t like them. You don’t even respect their fight. They are prepared to die and you despise them. Is there nothing in your life worth that sacrifice? You don’t have to help them, you don’t have to share their belief, but save your contempt for yourself.”
The voice faded and Sean spun, angry words on his lips. The voice and its owner were gone however, and there was no evidence that anyone had been in the hall. Sean swallowed, his words stuck in his throat. He thought back to Maureen, facing Mrs. Mallory and the leaders of the Irish Volunteers by herself.
She was probably having the time of her life, even if she was terrified.
The voice and its message slid from his memory. With one last glance at the men who would soon make history, Sean made his way back to the drawing room. . .
D: What was that, A? Who is chatting up Sean’s mind?
A: I’m not sure. It just sort of happened.
D: A, you may be taking this ‘inspired’ thing a little too far.
A: Perhaps. Are you sure that’s not you?
D: Uh, no. Now, I’m not usually the one to tell you this, but I think what we have is an attack of the darlings.
A: I know.
D: You know what you have to do, don’t you?
A: Find out who that is and thread it better through the story?
D: . . . You could . . .
A: Or I could beat my head against a wall and hope it doesn’t leave a mark.
D: Also an option.
A: I suppose I could just delete it, too.
D: Save it in that overstuffed outtakes file you have. At least until you figure out who it is. And in the meantime, A?
D: Please figure out where all the home-staging points were for the leaders of the rebellion. If I see the (SOMEWHERE) tag one more time because you have no idea where they might have been, I’m going to take over your hands and start typing for you, too. Take a tip from TerribleMinds and Google Street View the location. There’s no shame in admitting that you’ve forgotten what the city looks like.
A: I have not! I just didn’t have time to put in the descriptions.
D: Right . . .
A: Fine, it’s a good point. Oh, and D?
A: Who are you and what have you done with my Druid? You’re so . . . so . . . helpful!
D: It’s early yet, A. By the time you get to the breakdown of the rebellion tonight you’re going to be wishing for your fortress of solitude all over again.
A: Gee, can’t wait, D.
The Druid Tells the Tale
D: This is wild, and fantastic and good ol’ Liz would probably have had a fit. A and I love Michael Bradley – Time Traveler’s blog, and between the Conspiracy Theory that Queen Elizabeth I was really a man in drag and the pictures of an abandoned Wizard of Oz theme park, we’re both hooked.
A: And Charles over at the Legends of Windemere has some excellent advice on how not to force the reader to suspend belief about your characters’ ability to take a hit: Don’t ‘Black Knight’ Your Characters (Yeah, A: take notes. Bugger off, D.).
D: She’s just so charming. I don’t know how I survived all 1300 years before being cast into the pit that is her mind. For those out there with manuscripts ready for submission (hint, hint, A . . . . ignoring you, D . . . ) Fight for your Write has found some publishers seeking manuscripts. Since not all of you can be wandering Druid/Bards with every hearth eager to hear the tale you tell, it’s a resource worth checking out!
A: I think he’s up to something – he’s being too nice. Anyway, check out The MisAdventures of Vanilla – there’s a new character in town and he gives me the willies: Stan: The Man Comes to Town.