When my
first novel started to drag I decided to call a meeting. Things were bogged
down and I wasn’t sure why. So I sat the major characters down at an imaginary
table and asked them what I should do to kick start The Lion and the Eagle, my novel about the Revolutionary War.
The
villain was the loudest. Colonel Shrewsbury wanted more page time. He was madly
in love with the heroine and wanted a longer love scene. He also wanted me to
spend more time in portraying his good side—the love he held for his scullery
maid mother banished from the Royal Castle following the episode in the broom
closet with the King.
The
hero was nice about it. Oliver Morrison told me he wanted to grow up much faster so
we could see and feel more of his hatred for Shrewsbury for killing his mother at
the church picnic when he was seven. He
wanted to make sure Emily, the heroine, was at the picnic so she’d be a witness
to the cross he carried (literally) after his mother’s death.
Emily
was the boldest. She said if she was conflicted by her love of two men she
wanted to come out of it with flying colors. She wanted a visible reminder of
her rejection of Shrewsbury just before the story’s violent end. When she
gallantly suggested he carve his initials in her left breast, how could I
refuse?
We all
get stuck now and then. And we all have
our special ways of digging out. Whether it was brilliant or naïve, it worked
back then and it still works today.
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