I recently went through a box, wanting to transfer the contents into plastic totes/tubs and move it from our bedroom. I knew what was in the box, so I wasn't surprised by what I found--several years' worth of my journals. On the top was one dated for 1992, what I found inside besides the journal pages is what surprised me, because I thought it had been lost: I found the page with the very first words I wrote leading to the version of FIREBRAND I have today. The words that officially got the novel started. They aren't in the book, but this is what got the brainstorming rolling for me.
I thought I would share. Apologies for the crude/bad writing, but I didn't fix anything.
Dated: 1-2-1992 (close to midnight)
"Your highness." Sir Gaheris swept past the guard around me. His voice was trembling. He knelt before me and repeated, "Your highness, Sir Bedivere sent me. Your father, the king . . ." his voice trailed off in a half-sob.
In my mind, I panicked. We were standing in the twilight after a full day's battle at the River Cam. A futile and senseless battle against my half-brother Modred. (In the margin, I added: Killing had never been easy for me. {Right! Our Lin?}) The carnage of the battle surrounded us. The sickening syench, hung heavy in the air. It clung to my skin, my hair, my clothes. I'll never be clean again, I remember thinking. I fought to keep my voice in control as i spoke. "What of my father, Gaheris?" BUt, I already knew what his reply would be.
"The king has been sorely wounded--Sir Bedivere (striken: has sent me to) bids you, please come. I shall take you to him." My father was dying. Why had I not been there to defend him?
*end*
Not my use of Bedivere. That eventually changed to Bedwyr. The river changed from the cam to the Thames. But it was Ris who got things started. He "spoke" the first words. I was in bed, unable to sleep and I "heard" and "saw" Ris. I immediately turned the light back on and scribbled those words. More came the next day, and the brainstorming began.
I'm thinking of posting some of those journal entries from that first year of writing. My struggles. My joys. My thoughts on creating Lin.
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