Really, Agatha, you might have told me.”
"Told you what?” Mairelon said. “That my ward was once a street thief? I didn’t think it was a secret.”
“A street thief?” Letitia wrinkled her nose and looked at Kim with disfavor. “How horrid.”
“I think it is the most romantic story I have ever heard”, Miss Matthews said with conviction.
Master Richard!” Hunch’s voice was not loud, but it expressed volumes of scandalized disapproval.
Mairelon paused and looked up. “What is it?”
“You ain’t going to just—” Hunch stopped and looked at Kim. “Not with ‘er standing there!”
“Oh, is that all that’s bothering you?” Mairelon looked at Kim and grinned. “Turn your back, child; you’re offending Hunch’s proprieties.”
Kim flushed, as much from surprise as embarrassment, and turned away. “I ain’t no child,” she muttered under her breath.
“Under the circumstances, that’s so much the worse,” Mairelon replied cheerfully.
You mean I'm going to have to do a spell in front of a bunch of toffs?" Kim said, outraged that no one had mentioned this before she had agreed to this come-out.
"Yes, exactly", Lady Wendall said serenely. "You and Richard have plenty of time to design something that will reflect your unique background, as well as demonstrating your abilities as a wizard. I am looking forward to seeing what you decide upon."
"I could pick everyone's pockets at once with magic, "Kim said, still disgruntled. "That'd 'reflect my unique background', all right".
Nine times out of ten, talking is a way of avoiding doing things.
Patricia C. Wrede- Obawiam się, że lustro nie wymaga żadnych korekt – oświadczył z niezwykłą dla niego delikatnością. – Z zaklęciem jest wszystko w porządku, powinno też być kompatybilne z lustrem zamkowym. Problem polega na czymś innym.
- Wiedziałam – rzuciła gniewnie Cimorena i zaczęła chodzić tam i powrotem przed kominem. – W domu stało się coś złego.
Murphy is a writer's best friend, but you have to keep an eye on him, or he'll steal the silver.
Patricia C. WredeTag: writing writing-craft writers-on-writing
(In reply to the question, 'Would you like some suggestions for a plot for your next book?')
There are three problems with getting plot suggestions from other people. The first is that ideas are the easy part of writing; finding the time and energy to get them down on paper is the hard part. I have plenty of ideas already. Which brings me to the second problem: the ideas that excite you, the ones you think would make a terrific book, are not necessarily the same ideas that excite me. And if a writer isn't excited about an idea, she generally doesn't turn out a terrific book, even if the idea is terrific. And the third problem with my using your suggestions is that, theoretically, you could sue me if I did, and that tends to make publishers nervous, which makes it hard to sell a book. So thank you, but no.
Tag: ideas plot writing-philosophy plot-suggestions
Then they gave me a loaf of bread and told me to walk through the forest and give some to anyone who asked. I did exactly what they told me, and the second beggar-woman was a fairy in disguise, but instead of saying that whenever I spoke, diamonds and roses would drop from my mouth, she said that since I was so kind, I would never have any problems with my teeth.”
“Really? Did it work?”
“Well, I haven’t had a toothache since I met her.”
“I’d much rather have good teeth than have diamonds and roses drop out of my mouth whenever I said something
Mendanbar took a deep breath. “You could stay here. At the castle, I mean. With me.” This wasn’t coming out at all the way he had wanted it to, but it was too late to stop now. He hurried on, “As Queen of the Enchanted Forest, if you think you would like that. I would.”
“Would you, really?”
“Yes,” Mendanbar said, looking down. “I love you, and—and—”
“And you should have said that to begin with,” Cimorene interrupted, putting her arms around him.
Mendanbar looked up, and the expression on her face made his heart begin to pound.
“Just to be sure I have this right,” Cimorene went on with a blinding smile, “did you just ask me to marry you?”
“Yes,” Mendanbar said. “At least, that’s what I meant.”
“Good. I will.”
Mendanbar tried to find something to say, but he was too happy to think. He leaned forward two inches and kissed Cimorene, and discovered that he didn’t need to say anything at all.
After this, anything might happen. Anything at all. - The End
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