Tag Archives: WIPs

Tuesday’s tip-o-the-hand


This is supposed to be terrible. Original clip art: Flickr

It’s been a lousy spring around here. A bit of good news was that my mom doesn’t have to have chemo after colon surgery. Yay for that. Other than this, all is rattling on as before. That being said, the best I can do for a post, (hoping to get back into the swing of things. Again.), I have a bit of writing from a new project.

I referenced this new story back on March 6th. Time flies don’t it? I showed how a piece of writing changes as you discover things about the story itself and the characters. Even the title is up for grabs.

The first title of the piece was “Though I Had A Son.” Then it was changed to, “Anne Elliot’s Most Degrading Alliance.” Now, it’s “In Favor of His Constancy.” You, the reader, aren’t supposed to see any of this, but what the heck, this is sausage making, people, watch and be amazed!

The following is not a rewrite, but was fun to write. I hope you enjoy it.

In this story, “In Favor of His Constancy,” Lady Elliot (Anne Elliot’s mother) is alive. This scene takes place after she finds out that her dear friend, Lady Russell, was instrumental in breaking off Anne’s engagement to Captain Frederick Wentworth.

“Elizabeth, see reason. The man is handsome and a force to be sure, but even you must see that he is not Anne’s equal in rank or refinement. It would ever be a wedge between them.”

Elizabeth paused, then faced her. “Rank and refinement. Those are words you are happy to use when speaking of marriage. Admit it, you did not think me refined enough for the Baronet of Kellynch Hall.”

Lady Russell now paused. Her right brow raised, and her lips tightened.

“In every way, the Stevenson money was superior to his rank. Even if it was earned in trade and farming. I was besotted enough with a pretty face to accept a proposal. But when reason, in the form of dark doubts loomed, you stood me and them with a bright light of reason to convince me that I must keep my word.” Her hands were trembling, and she could feel a flush overtaking her. She took a seat at her dressing table.

“And I was right to do so. You had an obligation to fulfil. Your reputation was at stake and you were prepared to ruin it. As your dear friend, I could not allow that to happen.”

“I could have broken it off with little damage to my reputation.” Lady Elliot turned to her friend. “When, after a few years, you comprehended the deep unhappiness that my choice had brought me, did it give you pause?”

“It did.” Lady Russell pinched seam of the thumb of her right glove. Poorly made. “But when I realised you would have children from the match, no matter your feelings about him.”

It was deep grief she felt for her friend. There were no children with Sir Henry Russell. Whose fault it was, was immaterial. Elizabeth’s children were lavished with gifts and praise from Jane. Her particular favourite was Anne. This might account for her friend’s razor-sharp dislike for Captain Wentworth. She did not wish her daughter to suffer her fate. And yet.


“He is still beautiful, even at his age, but his looks are so negated by his deficiencies.” Lady Russell says nothing, and Lady Elliot looks at her and realizes something. “So that is it. You are still smitten.”

Jane fidgets uncharacteristically.

“You are still in awe of that pretty face.” Lady Elliot rises and approaches Lady Russell. “Though, I see you are not so besotted as to do something stupid if I am called out of this life.” The revelation was not surprising but was more a relief. It cleared the air and would allow them to have an honest friendship now, and not one couched in suspicion. Her hands still trembled, and she would have to call for Trotter to help her change into a fresh dress for dinner. Jane still said nothing. “And that is because you can admire him from the comfort of Henry’s good management.” She took her seat once more. “You are far smarter than me. Better to view some beauties from a distance. And in this case, not have to live with the consequences of his vices.”

Yep, POV problems, notes to myself about the scene rather than the scene itself, and a sentence that makes no sense whatsoever! Again, this is sausage. I’ll work on this and post the rewrite next week.

Oh, and I’m still not in love with the title. Stay tuned.



And Now A Word From Our Sponsor

And Now A Word From Our Sponsor is the story of a soap opera about to sing its last note. The cast and crew is hoping the return of Frederick Wentworth, reprising his role as a dashing hero, can save the day. Anne is hoping his return doesn’t mean she’s going to have her heart broken again.

Chapter 1

Anne Elliot paid the cabbie and entered the building housing rent-controlled, relatively cheap artists lofts, business offices, and the studios of Russelliot Productions. “Hi, John,” she waved as she passed security. She punched “up” on the elevator.

She wasn’t looking forward to the day. What little dialogue her character, Rebecca (Becky) Lindsey, had was filmed the day before. Today would be endless response shots to the dialogue of other actors. And she would also be one more body to bulk up the crowd for the huge party scene. For the past two days she had taken every opportunity to stay off camera so she could tug at the hideous green floral Alexander McQueen knock-off she’d been given. All the time wearing a pair of cheap high heels that hurt her feet.

The doors to the elevator slide open and she was relived to see she was making the ride to the sixth floor alone. When she’d first started as the innocent and fragile ingénue on the afternoon soap opera, For None But You Alone, Becky’s wardrobe been tailored to her slender frame. An important party scene would warrant a custom-designed dress with matching accessories. Back in the day, trendy designers vied to seeing their name roll on the closing credits.

In the early days of the show, Anne was the artless virgin, representing all that was good and moral in the fictional town of Kellynch Cove, Anytown USA. As the young lead, hers was the human face of a small coastal village, most noted for vacation houses and fishing shacks, which was quickly transforming to an up-and-coming arts community. The basis of the serial was the clash of the traditional, blue-collar solid citizens with modern, sleek sophisticates. For several years the show had been popular with all the right audiences, upper class women with money, college students with earning potential, and even a contingency of performance artists who could watch the show in the afternoons because they worked at night. Usually waiting tables.

After ten years, the show was losing ground with every demographic. Continue reading