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Posts Tagged ‘novel’


Derelict – definition: 1) abandoned by the owner or occupant; 2) failing to take proper or normal care, neglectful; 3) a homeless and destitute person : vagrant.

Today’s word reminded me of a photograph a friend sent me of a small building in Italy. Inspired I wrote the following. Will it inspire you too? What did you think of my story?

Italian Dream

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“Oh, what a delightful little building, David, we must get a photo of it. I’ll show Christine when we get home.”

“It’s certainly interesting, Sally, and I’m sure Christine will get a kick out of it. I wonder what the wooden frame is for.”

The forever curious, David, circulated the building happily taking numerous shots from every angle. Meanwhile, Sally opened their picnic basket, spread out the blanket and began placing cheeses, fresh rolls and olives onto plates.

“You must have enough photos now, David, come and uncork this wine.”

While relishing the fresh rolls and tangy olives, the couple enjoyed the Tuscany countryside surrounding them.  The sparse shade eased the heat of the sun but still little beads of sweat glistened on their brows.

“Why did we leave this trip so long, Sally? Even the kids would have loved it here.”

“There was so much to organize around, my dear, with Michael’s sports and Christine’s horse trials the summers just flew by. But you are right they would have loved it.”

“We’ll just have to make the most of our free time then. Maybe we can persuade them to come with us next year – what do you think?”

“A really lovely idea, David, but Michael has his tournaments in the summer and Chrissie has her company – I’m not sure they would be able to come.”

“Surely, Chrissie could manage time away she has three staff to man the building projects now and I know for a fact Michael has another coach to substitute for him. I’m going to ask them when we get back.”

Sally breathed in deeply to calm herself. Once David got an idea there was no dissuading him and trying to reason with him just made him even more bull headed. She took a large gulp of wine and shook her long blonde hair wishing for a slight breeze to cool her body. Without looking she knew David would be frowning at her for not sipping the wine but they were on holiday and she wanted to stay relaxed.

“I’m going to take a few photos of the valley, there’s a vineyard along it. I’ll be back soon.”

Sally tried to stop her petty thought before it began but there it was – he never helps clean up. After twenty five years of marriage the little things niggled the most. Now stop it, enjoy the view and the rest of the wine – tell him it toppled over when he comes back.

                She watched her husband walk over a slight crest and vanish out of sight then lay back to watch the clouds float past, wondering where they had come from and where they were going. It was the ultimate freedom floating on the breeze. Sally enjoyed another gulp of the dark red liquid savoring the taste on her tongue. It was so peaceful she wished it was always so.

A creaking sound drew her attention to the little building, the doors had wooden planks that nailed them shut so what could creak? Maybe time and weather had worn it down enough that it would collapse. As Sally watched the plank fell away and the nearest door opened to reveal a strikingly handsome man with dark hair and eyes. I must be dreaming – too much wine in the heat.

“Sofia, come to me, my love, our time has come.”

His voice was deep and husky, mesmerizing her for that moment.

“My name is Sally you have me confused with someone else. How did you get out of that little shack?”

“Do not trouble yourself with the appearance of the portal, my love, take my hand and we will return home together.”

“A portal, now really what game are you playing? This is such a weird dream.”

“How can you question a dream while you are still dreaming it?”

“I have no idea but I think I may have sunstroke. I’m sorry I can’t help you. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to find my husband.”

“Husband…but here I am in front of you, my darling, Sofia. Let me show you our path home.”

With a slight shake of her head Sally decided to see where the dream would take her so took the man’s hand and walked beside him toward the building. His hand felt so real, its texture and heat – she had never had such a vivid dream.  As they approached the doorway he stood to one side to let her enter. The interior was not that of a weather beaten shack but a lavish entrance hall with a tiled floor and beautiful curved staircase.

“Now I know I’m dreaming this is impossible.”

“You have returned to me and our home, my love. I have waited so long.”

Maybe David was right about gulping the wine after all.

“Sally? Sally, where are you? Come on honey we need to get back to the hotel.”

David had returned to find the picnic tidied away but the rug still spread on the grass and the empty wine bottle laying on its side. Initially he thought Sally had gone to find a sheltered spot to relieve herself, but when she didn’t return after five minutes he began calling out. Now twenty minutes had past and still no sign of her.  Where could that damn woman be?  An hour later with the sun setting and his voice hoarse from shouting, David picked up their picnic things and returned to the hotel.

His frantic shouts of help had the staff rushing to his side as he entered the foyer.

“Please calm yourself, Signore, what has happened?”

“My wife…she’s disappeared, we have to call the police, get them back there.”

“Where exactly were you, signore?”

“Up on a hill overlooking the vineyard to the west of here, we set out a picnic next to a shack with a frame above it. Please hurry we need to find her.”

In his panic David did not notice the glances between the hotel manager and several of the staff.

“This shack you speak of, were the doors boarded up?”

“Well…yes, how would you know that? Have you been there?”

“Yes, Signore, there are many stories of strange things happening around it. Some say it is a portal to another world, others that it is haunted.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, this is serious my wife is missing, I don’t have time for games. Get the police on the phone now.”

The manager dialed a number and spoke quickly. David couldn’t stay still so paced back and forth across the tiled foyer. Once the manager had finished speaking he looked up expectantly.

“Well, are they on their way? Should we go to the shack and wait for them there?”

“Signore, it is best you travel with them.”

David commenced his pacing until the sound of sirens could be heard. He ran to the front of the hotel to meet the policemen. He was shocked to see a white van instead of police vehicles and two men in white coats.

“What is this? What’s going on? Didn’t you understand me? We have to find my wife.”

“Please, signore, go with these men, they can help you.”

The two men stood to each side of David and firmly took hold of his arms. He began struggling but a sharp prick from a syringe had him calm in no time. The manager shook his head slowly, glad that the incident had not become violent.

“You are home, my love and everything is perfect again.”

“I have to go back to my real life you must understand that, this isn’t real.”

“Oh but it is real, my darling Sofia, that other world can no longer hold you. I have ensured your absence is explained.”

“What are you saying? What did you do?”

“You are no longer alive in that world, your over bearing husband resides in a mental institution and the children you bore are here with us but young again. We will enjoy our children the way a husband and wife should.”

“Are you saying I died?”

“That world was the unreal one, my love; you were stuck there for such a long time.”

Sally…Sofia shook her head, everything felt so familiar in this grand house. Gradually her memories came back and she led the life she had always dreamed of.

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Nadir – definition: 1) the lowest point; 2) the point of the celestial sphere that is directly opposite the zenith and directly under the observer.

Aurora Borealis observed in Norway on 2006-10-28.

Aurora Borealis observed in Norway on 2006-10-28. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I could relate star gazing experiences or the fantastic moments I have witnessed the aurora borealis here in Alberta but my mind went to the characters and parts of a story we can overlook. When we are engaged in writing about our main characters and their story they are our primary focus. We can neglect what is literally under our noses. The interaction with secondary characters can be an artful way of enhancing our main character. Their reaction to someone else will illustrate their personality more effectively than using endless descriptions. Of course secondary characters can also be important in their own right not only implementing momentum in the story arc but also as individual characters with their own ‘lives’ that are affected by the circumstances they and our main character find themselves in.

Take a look at this post:

http://crimsonleague.com/2013/04/11/creative-writing-tip-character-traits-in-secondary-characters/

Even the smallest detail can eject your reader from a scene. Would a historically set story really have burgers on the menu? Would a character wear a wristwatch? This is where research is vital for accuracy and to ensure your reader totally believes in the world your characters inhabit. The choice of weapons, clothing and social conventions build your world making it all the more believable. A Victorian lady would not go on a girls night out but entertain a few friends in the parlour during the day. A space commander would probably not spend his evenings knitting. Pirates use a cutlass, an alien a laser.

Here’s a great post:

http://susanleighnoble.wordpress.com/2013/04/11/realistic-food-in-your-fantasy-novel/

No matter your genre, your world building must have rules, structure and conventions that your hero is fighting to maintain or struggling against. Their methods and actions must reflect what is available to them and most importantly it must be believable.

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Today I am sharing a scene from my speculative fiction novel, Life in Slake Patch. Young men of the resistant group, known as the Tribe have been captured and secured in a grain store.

LifeinSlakePatch 001sunday_snippets2

Woken by sudden shouting, horse’s hooves and cries of help, I knew something was terribly wrong. Pulling on a pair of britches quickly, I raced out of the long house to see huge flames leaping into the early morning sky. The grain store was on fire and the young men were still locked inside. The heat hit me as I rushed toward the store. Men were lined up between the large water troughs and the burning building, passing buckets of water back and forth as quickly as they could.

Suddenly there was a deafening crash as the store roof collapsed. Screams pierced the air then all at once there was silence. Shocked faces were bathed in the gold of the flames, no one moved for several moments then hectically the bucket line restarted. It took over an hour before the flames were quenched sufficiently for the chard logs to be pulled away, exposing the blackened bodies of the seven members of the Tribe. One by one they are laid out then wrapped in hessian and taken by wagon to the spirit garden out to the east. Each wagon accompanied by the father of the young man within, riding on horseback with black cloths shrouding them, as was the custom.

The Tollst residents watched the procession leave in stunned silence. Death was usually through old age and occasionally an accident but this was an unprecedented event, something that would make its mark on everyone there that day. Merchant Folke stood at the gate and as we watched the last wagon past through he asked us all to say the death chant together.

Please enjoy everyone’s snippets – here is the list.

http://mermaidssinging.wordpress.com/

http://caitlinsternwrites.wordpress.com/

http://ileandrayoung.com

http://wyrmflight.wordpress.com/

http://www.mandyevebarnett.com

http://womanbitesdog.wordpress.com/

http://jennykellerford.wordpress.com

http://jennifermeaton.com/

http://richardleonard.wordpress.com

http://jordannaeast.com

http://letscutthecrap.wordpress.com

http://writerscrash.blogspot.ca/

http://joeowensblog.wordpress.com/

Today’s word for those who would like to know is Promontory – definition: a high point of land sticking out into the sea or over a lowland. I could have found a scene where Evan travelled to a similar place but chose not to. However, I am sharing a wonderful scenic view instead.

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Belligerent – definition: 1. waging war; 2, eager to or showing eagerness to fight.

I am sharing an excerpt from my Life In Slake Patch speculative fiction novel. (Still awaiting representation.) This scene lends itself well to today’s word.

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As the cluster of riders approached we saw there were nineteen or so horsemen. We would have no trouble fighting them off as our party was made up of thirty men. Then another shout was heard; there were more horsemen coming from the east, another ten or more. We would have to co ordinate our efforts if the attack was to come from two flanks. The four out riders dispatched earlier were almost indistinguishable from the surrounding landscape to the south and I hoped with luck they would reach the Garricade compound in a couple of hours with some hard riding. In the mean time we had no choice but to hold fast.

As the riders moved toward us it was plain that all were young men and just before they reached our barricade a rallying cry rung out.

“Brothers fight for supremacy.”

Gripping my dagger even tighter in readiness, I shouted orders to my men.

“Stand firm behind the wagons, let them come to us.”

The clash of metal against metal and wood against wood filled the valley air. Cries of pain rung out as wounds were inflicted and cries abruptly silenced. A shadow blocked the sunlight above me; I looked over to see a horse’s belly level with my head. Swiftly I turned to look up and face the rider. He was no older than myself swinging a baton toward Peter’s head. I let out a cry and dug my dagger deeply into the rider’s thigh and pulled with all my might. The rider’s scream of pain seared through the air as he fell from his mount. I held him fast with a foot against his chest and my dagger’s tip pushed into his neck.

It was then I noticed the deafening silence around me. Looking up, all faces were turned toward me as if everyone had become frozen. One by one the Tribe riders weapons began to drop to the ground, my men took advantage of the opportunity and grabbed their opponents. As the Tribe members were secured my victim groaned.

“Don’t fail me brothers’ fight.”

But he could see all heads hanging down in defeat turning away from his stare.

In truth I was shocked it had not occurred to me or any one of us before that there might have been a leader to the Tribe. We had thought it was a few disgruntled young men wandering the plains, surviving by stealing. This man must have recruited his followers. I looked down at my captive.

“What’s your name?”

“I am, Aiden, leader of the Tribe and proud of it, you down trodden oaf.”

At the insult I could feel my muscles tense and pressed the dagger deeper into his neck. He cried out again and I released the pressure.

“Secure this man with the others. Medic Jones, please tend to the more seriously injured first.”

Thank you for reading and as always comments are always welcome.

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Bog – definition: a wet spongy marsh; a poorly drained acid area in which dead plant matter accumulates and sphagnum usually grows in abundance.

wellies_tcm9-281955This word took me immediately back to an event that happened to me when I was about nine years old. We were on vacation in a quaint cottage beside an estuary. Wellies (rubber boots) over bare feet, wearing T-shirts and shorts, my younger brother and I went fishing for crabs. The tide was slowly ebbing out exposing a muddy riverbed. We happily poked around catching small crabs and fish to put into our bucket for a while. Then I spied it, a huge crab near the center of the expanse of mud. I stepped slowly hoping not to frightened it away.

Just as the crab was in touching distance I sunk. Mud oozed over the top of my boots and dribbled around my ankles and in between my toes. My brother starting laughing as did I, until that is I tried to extricate my boots out of the mud. I was stuck fast. No matter how hard I tried I could not get out. Panic set in and my brother could see it. I screamed for him to get my Dad. Thoughts of the tide coming back in and my drowning filled my mind as I waited. It felt like hours of course but was probably only a matter of minutes before my Dad appeared. He laughed at first but when he saw my face, told me not to worry. He strode towards me, grabbed me under the arms and pick me out of my wellies. I protested about leaving them but he told me they were lost, he would get me a new pair.

This sort of experience can be artfully used in our writing. Personal events and their emotional effect can assist us in describing a characters situation. Maybe one of my characters is stuck – I can remember that feeling and expand it to suit the scene I am creating. Small details make such a difference. I can still remember how that cold mud felt between my toes and how it smelt. Depth in a scene draws our readers in – go deeper into your self to find those golden nuggets, the ones that make your writing superb.

Have you used a personal experience or memory to help with a scene? Care to share?

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Invoke – definition: 1) to call on for aid or protection 2) to call forth by magic : conjure; 3) to appeal to as an authority or for support

I have to tell you I was invoking more than just a polite plea for assistance yesterday. My blog post would not format correctly and I edited it over a dozen times! Very frustrating, when the stupid thing would not line up as I wanted. The enter key on my keyboard went through a beating I can tell you. I would adjust it, save it and then view post only to find the picture inserts and text were bunched up together – again and again. A few choice words were uttered…you know those ‘magic’ words that help with things are going wrong. Well now that’s off my chest back to sanity.

Return (red/left circle) and Enter (green/righ...

Return (red/left circle) and Enter (green/right circle) buttons on a keyboard. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I am sharing a post from Kristen Lamb, who is not only a great writer but generous to a fault with her expertise.

Enjoy.

http://warriorwriters.wordpress.com/2013/04/03/three-phases-of-becoming-a-master-author/

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Welcome R.L. Morgan – today’s word describes Robin’s character Mary. She has to be quick witted to survive. Agile – definition: 1) able to move quickly and easily : nimble; 2) mentally quick

RLM image

Of the characters you have created or envisioned, which is your favorite & why?

Mary Elizabeth Williams is a young girl who’s just beginning to learn about boys. She’s rather plain looking, and resents to some extent the way the boys in her class treat her, using her brains to help them to better so they can stay on the various sport teams the school has. A new boy, Jonathan, joins her class and begins to treat her the way she has always wanted to be, for liking her for being the person that she is. The relationship is short-lived because her father gets a promotion which meant she has to move away at the end of the school year. Just before she does she decides to give him a kiss at the mall, away from all the prying eyes of their friends.

At her new school things return to the way they used to before she met Jonathan. This time, in addition, everyone at school tease her continuously about her house being haunted. The thing is, it is haunted by a ghost named George, who she can see and who treats her, the way Jonathan did.  George takes Mary on trips to the past and even does her homework.

The thing I like most about Mary is that, she’s never downtrodden by the way she’s gets treated by everyone at school.

Do you favor one type of genre or do you dabble in more than one?           

Right now I’m staying in the broad genre of romance.  For 11 years, from 1995 – 2006 I wrote almost weekly commentary type items for a community newspaper, which I loved doing; and along the way I started to slowly write a Contemporary romance manuscript. However I never sensed it would be good enough to bw published.  One day someone suggested I write something for a younger audience, which I did and wound up with my debut YA Paranormal/Time Travel/First Kiss romance novel in less than a year.

Right now I’ve returned to writing the romance manuscript which I’d started many years ago.

What do you enjoy most about writing?

Being retired, writing gives me as well as my creativity something to do, and I hope this will lead to an actual second career as being an author.

Have you got a favorite place to write?

Although we don’t have any children; we do have a second bedroom where I do all of my writing.  I also do my marketing/promoting of my book and social interaction there as well.

Do you plan your stories, or are you a seat of the pants style writer?

I love this question, as it allows the reader to get somewhat in the mind of the author being interviewed. As for myself, I’d probably say a little of both, part plotter/part pantser. As I said in, the above, I made a skeleton of an outside, writing down the basic plot points I’d like to hit as the story unfolded; and as a sculptor starting with a wire base of what they’d like to have, I added material then took some away, until I had the finished product I had in mind.

What inspires your stories?

Honestly, I would have to say it just pure imagination. As I wrote my novel I kept putting myself into the character of Mary. I wrote I what would do or say next had I been in her shoes.

What are you currently reading?

I seldom get a chance to read. I worked for 33 years with the same employer and had to commute about an hour each way. Now, being retired I’m busy with my writing and marketing/promoting my debut novel. When I have the time I like to read poignant memoirs, such as the last one I read, “And The Whippoorwill Sang” by Micki Peluso.

Do you have any odd habits or childhood stories?

Relatively speaking I would have to say no as odd habits are concerned. And as far as childhood stories are concerned, what child my age didn’t love reading those crazy rhyming stories by Dr. Seuss.

Do you have any pets?

We’ve got two cats as they don’t allow any dogs, except service dogs, where we live.

Do you belong to a writing group? If so which one?

Unfortunately I don’t. It would be wonderful to have someone critique what I’ve written as I write it.

What age did you start writing stories/poems?

I’ve only started writing in June 1995, when I was in my fourties. The items were commentaries as I’ve already stated for a community newspaper. But that was non-fiction, writing the novel I’ve recently published has been a new learning experiences; learning all the “rules” one needs to know to become good at it.

Do you have a book published? If so what is it called & where can readers purchase it?

I Kissed a Ghost0001

My debut YA Paranormal/Time Travel/First Kiss romance novel entitled, “I Kissed a Ghost” got released on December 20, 2012.

My book is available on Amazon at: http://www.amazon.com/Kissed-Ghost-Robin-Leigh-Morgan/dp/1480030031   It is also available on Amazon.co.uk Amazon.de   Amazon.es   Amazon.fr   Amazon.it

How did you come up with the title for your book? 

Selecting a title for a book had been a very challenging experience for me; but after racking my brain over it, I decided to merely summarize the premise for the entire story in as few words as possible until I had something which could be used as the title for my book. Hence, since the story is about a girl [Mary] and her kissing the ghost [George] she had living in her house; the story had to be called, “I Kissed a Ghost.”

If you could meet one favorite author who would it be and why?

I would have to say it would be J.K. Rowling, because I admired where she started from, and what she’s accomplished with her series of Harry Potter books. Oh, how wonderful it would be if each of us authors could be only 1% as successful.

If you could live anywhere in the world – where would it be?

It would definitely be Bermuda. I’ve cruised there three times and simply adore the people there as well as the climate.

Island-Default_colored

What’s your favorite movie of all time?

That is a very difficult question to answer as they’re so many. However, I never seem to get tired watching any of the movies by Mel Brooks.

Where can readers find you and your blog?

http://www.mypennameonly.blogspot.com   or
http://www.mypennameonly.wordpress.com or
http://www.mypennameonly.webs.com   [this is also my website]
http://www.mypennameonly.tumblr.com

[Readers can find several UNEDITED SNIPPETS from “I Kissed a Ghost” in any of all above blog sites under the category of “GHOSTLY WHISPERS”

Where else can people find you?

I can also be found on:

TWITTER = http://www.twitter.com/mypennameonly

FACEBOOK = http://www.facebook.com/mypennameonly

GOODREADS = http://www.goodreads.com/RobinLeighMorgan

Do you have plans or ideas for your next book?

I’ve returned to writing the still untitled adult Contemporary romance novel I’d started many years. The story also has a paranormal element running through the storyline.

Who is your best supporter/mentor/encourager?

As I’m relatively a private person when it comes to my writing I unfortunately have none.

What is your greatest ambition in writing? 

Being able to make the NY Times best sellers listing, once in my life.

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sunday_snippets2Happy Easter Sunday to those of you who celebrate it. I am sharing a small part of my current WIP today. It is a children’s story about two woodland sprite’s who heal sick and injured animals in the forest they live in. It is very rough as it was my NaNoWriMo novel, so apologies for editing errors I have not got to as yet. The title is Ockleberries to the Rescue.

The following excerpt is the end of a chapter where the sprite’s home was seriously damaged by a storm. Their deer and beaver friends have come to help re-build. I would appreciate comments on word usage and an idea of the target age I should go for.

“That’s a very impressive bit of building you have there, Crispin.”

“It’s all thanks to the beavers to be honest, Dash.”

At that moment Matilda appeared carrying something in her mouth. She lay it down in front of Tansy.

“A home warming gift of sorts, Tansy something for the new room. I hope you like it.”

Tansy picked up the beautifully made bowl. It had finely gnawed edges and sides.

“It is exquisite. Thank you Matilda. There was no need to bring anything; you and your family have been more than kind helping us.”

“It was my pleasure and anyway I enjoy making finer objects. I knew the boys could cope without me for a while. Looks like they have been more than just coping.”

“Yes, they have been very industrious. We only have the holes to block up now and Crispin can hang the door into its new place.”

“So if you are happy to finish on your own I think I will take my boys home.”

“We can certainly finish up ourselves, thank you all for an amazing job. We know the extra room will be a real bonus when helping our fellow woodland creatures.”

Arm in arm in front of their new façade, Tansy and Crispin waved the beaver family off. It would take a few weeks for Crispin to make extra furniture and Tandy more shelves but they were happy knowing it was all for the benefit of the animals that came into their care.

Fellow Snippet Bloggers for you to visit:

http://mermaidssinging.wordpress.com/

http://caitlinsternwrites.wordpress.com/

http://ileandrayoung.com

http://wyrmflight.wordpress.com/

http://www.mandyevebarnett.com

http://womanbitesdog.wordpress.com/

http://jennykellerford.wordpress.com

http://jennifermeaton.com/

http://richardleonard.wordpress.com

http://jordannaeast.com

http://letscutthecrap.wordpress.com

http://writerscrash.blogspot.ca/

http://joeowensblog.wordpress.com/

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Lurch – definition: a sudden swaying or tipping movement, a staggering gait.

I don’t know about you but my immediate thought is of Lurch from the Addams Family. Although he is not a main character he is well known and takes an integral part in the show/movie. I will use him as a character study.

Fester_lurch_1966Lurch is an imposing figure at 6 ft 9 in tall with a deep, resonating voice that seems to come up from his boots. As the family‘s butler his shambling, gloomy persona also gives the audience a sense of strict formality. His stumbling, slow gait gives us the impression that he is still coming to grips with walking. He does resemble Frankenstein’s monster in some ways, with a flat head topped with scant hair and one opaque eye but does not have the neck bolts. He is much more pleasing to the eye in his suit and bow tie.  Lurch can speak normally, however tends to use inarticulate moans instead, which are fully understood by the family members. We can only take the word of said family that Lurch can indeed be eloquent and vivacious. Although Lurch does not excel in his role as butler he is without doubt faithful to the Addams but is often the object of their jokes.

Although his size and strength can be a hindrance at times, Lurch goes about his duties as best he can and seems to take pride in even the most arduous of tasks. There is no question that he is loyal to the Addams family although he can be clearly exasperated by them on occasion. This is shown by the occasional dubious looks he gives some of their stranger activities, although he does share some of the family’s macabre standards.  However, his loyalty is rewarded by the family treating him as one of their own.

When Lurch is summoned by way of the hangman’s noose bell pull, we hear a loud gong-like sound and Lurch appears instantly with the immortal words “You rang?”  It seems that no matter where he happens to be in the house he can transport himself instantaneously to whomever called him.

This strange character does seem to have quite a strong paternal affection for both Wednesday and Pugsley, and looks after their needs from making their lunch to driving them to school to generally keeping an eye on them. Next to her headless Marie Antoinette doll, Lurch is Wednesday’s best friend. Lurch in turn is close friends with Thing, the disembodied hand. Surprisingly Lurch’s talent is in playing the harpsichord at a virtuoso level.

Have you got a secondary character you would like to share as a study?

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Transgress – definition: 1) to go beyond the limits set by law : violate 2) to pass beyond or go over a limit or boundary; 3) to violate a command or law

In a normal social  environment going beyond acceptable limits is either frowned upon or punished depending on the situation. However, its not such a bad thing for a writer to push the limits. Our imaginations make anything possible. We can even set our own limits in our created worlds. A being with no emotion, such as a vulcan would not think twice about the slaying of another being – as long as it was the logical action in that situation. In the mind of a twisted villian they would view their actions as sanctioned or required within their madness.  While a victim could act violently in self defense and be seen as a hero. Both characters have killed but we view the acts differently.

As always it is a question of perspective. Something I have pressed upon my children. When I was told ‘but I was alright Mum’ – my counter comment is ‘from your point of view, yes you were fine but from mine I imagined you dead in a ditch’. It seemed to do the trick as they are both very good at texting me to let me know where they are and how they are. Yes I admit I have a ‘worse case scenario’ mindset, maybe it’s the writer in me or just the normal motherly instincts for her cubs.

The first time I was consciously aware of the strength of perspective was when I re-read Cujo by Stephen King. The first time I was a ‘live life to the fullest’ single and felt sorry for the poor dog. The second read, I was a mother and sympathised with the poor woman and child. Two opposing views for the exact same story.

Which brings me to ponder when we are creating characters and situations should we endeavor to tailor make the story to appeal to more than one demographic?  For example my novel, Life in Slake Patch is from the viewpoint of a young man realising the way of life unchanged for generations could be a great deal better from his perspective. However, it also shows the hierarchy and why that way of life was structured in the first place. In essence, Evan wants more than only one day to visit his new bride and not to live in a male only compound, while the all female hierarchy has made those exact laws to safe guard from another world war.

LifeinSlakePatch 001character-developmentPyramid from: Profesorbaker’s Blog.

When you study your stories can you identify this type of duality?

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