An Idea is Born

I don't know how other writers begin a WIP. Well... clearly they begin with an idea. The plotters sit down and plot it out. The pantsers begin writing. As you know, I'm a pantser, but I think even for a pantser... I'm pantsy. No. Really. Not only do I not plan things ahead, I throw things in without even knowing what they mean.

This morning, I woke up with an idea... Last night, I was rereading a romance set in regency times... (sue me... I'm a girl... I read these things...) and they were listing off how many servants worked at this Duke's mansion and I realized that you rarely read the stories about these hundreds of other people in the story. His primary residence had a hundred servants in this story. When you couple that with the fact that I've recently realized how few dukes there really were during that time... Why do the dukes get the stories? It's not fair. What about the scullery maids? How about the grooms in the stables? Did they not have interesting stories? Crap, there were all these invisible people with lives that just didn't matter because they weren't one of the few dukes around.

An idea is born.

My ideas walk in fully-fleshed with even strange little details that I have no clue what they mean and that's how they start. I type them out of my head and, if I'm lucky, they'll leave me alone and I can go back to working on whatever I'm working on... or... not. Or the next scene drops into my head.

Since I'm probably doing a lousy job explaining it, why don't I just show you. Here is this morning's idea in rough draft form and it would be like a "prologue" to a four part anthology of novellas. (Yes, oy... exactly.) This is how my ideas are born... screaming and ready to keep me up at night. (BTW... I have no idea what the ogre or the whispering ring have to do with anything... therein lies a tale apparently. I'll know when I get there.)

I believe the title of this is "Off the Page" but I'm not sure. Anyway, here it is--and it's rough:

Of Note:

In the world of fairy tales the word “only” is thrown around cavalierly. She was an only child. The only entrance was through the tower’s window. The only way to break the spell was true love’s kiss. He was the king’s only son and heir to the kingdom. Only. Only. Only. Only.

Only… that’s not true.

There were other stories. There were stories that were, how shall we say it… off the page.

Dear reader, what would you think if I told you that Cinderella was not truly an only child even before her horrid stepsisters came to stay? People were not as cold-blooded as when they lay flat on the page for your perusal. Before Cinderella was even a thought, there was a baby boy born to her mother. The midwife said the child did not live the night. The midwife lied.

What would you think if I related the tale of the other way into the tower and told you that Rapunzel was not the only one who’d been held captive there? Why do you think the tower was originally built? Surely you didn’t imagine that the witch just happened to have a tower laying around that would work perfectly. Besides, hadn’t you reasoned out that it must have taken quite a while for Rapunzel’s hair to grow long enough to use for a rope? The window was not the only way.

Thankfully, true love’s kiss was not the only way to break the spell. Magic is far more flexible than that! If you waited around for that, you’d either be stuck with a load of dwarves or in a castle sleeping for a hundred years. What a misery! How unimaginative! Also a love that shallow wouldn’t last much beyond that kiss. No, it was not the only way. Anyone who knows a shred about either magic or love must realize that.

While I won’t deny that princes weren’t littering the ground, it should strike you as slightly perverse that there seems to be only one of them per royal family. Well… only one of them whom they talk about.

Dear reader, imagine the possibilities if you knew the stories off the page. Imagine if there were no onlys. Entire worlds would open up. You’d find out about the ogre and the whispering ring. You’d know that Cinderella’s brother sent the fairy godmother in the first place. You’d realize that you’ve been as trapped in a tower as a certain long-haired princess when, in reality, if you only knew where to look… you could rescue yourself.

There are no onlys and once you know that… you’re ready to journey off the page.

My personal odyssey is over!

After that rambling post earlier, I buckled down and finished The Unseen Kingdom which is the Odyssey retold in modern day from the perspective of Odysseus's son... and it's a paranormal... and it's YA.

Di made me do it!!!!!

Honestly, I'll never take a dare from Di again. That was freaking hard. It was like someone had sewn pants on a pantser because I had to work in the Odyssey's frame. *screams* It was awful. *sob sob sob* Trust me on this.

On the other hand, it's done and I can work on other projects that will let me take these pants off and fly by the seat of them.

No... wait... maybe not.

Okay, fine, I'll leave the pants on.

*kicks rug*

And now, since I've had my celebratory pudding topped with whipped cream, I'm going to bed. Probably.