It’s a simple idea – you won’t have a book if you don’t write it. But I think I’m still trying to get that idea into my head…I always seem to write something that I like, and then I get stuck in front of my paper, pen in hand, waiting for that next moment of inspiration so that I can write something as good as the last paragraph. But that amazing piece will never come if I don’t start. The words won’t just appear on the paper, I have to put them there. If inspiration tags along and catches up with me, that’s wonderful. If not, that’s okay. But I will not go anywhere if I don’t even try.

So, simplistic as it may be, I am trying to learn to write. To pick up my pen and start writing words, and not mind if it isn’t perfect. Because nothing is perfect.

Unfortunately.

Anyway, I have made some big changes to my characters. I’m still not fully settled about them all, as it’s been such a different thing to do, but so far everything is working out just as it needs to. I thought I might re-introduce two characters to you, for my sake and yours (hopefully! If you don’t want to/like to read this just skip on past and don’t tell me. ;)  )

Elizabeth Bowen has taken the place of Kady. Instead of a fiery, independent heroine, we now have a girl who is not so “spunky,” but has a deeper and clearer love and devotion to her state, and acts with more maturity.

“Elizabeth Bowen was a short girl with curly black hair. As far as appearance went, she was pretty, with a delicate face and bright, piercing eyes; yet she had no flamboyant features about her. The brilliant rose of youth bloomed on her well-formed cheeks, the same blush on her full lips. Everything about her was carefully and gently shaped, and pleasing to the eye. Her girlish figure was lovely to behold, and the fashion of the time was well suited to it, with the flattering full skirts and neat bodices that were once so popular.

Yet we must venture beyond her features to know this girl better. She was quiet, and watched those about her, for she wanted to know the thoughts and feelings of those around her, what they were and why they were. She was greatly contented in life, for she had loving friends, a close family, and she was nearly a woman, full of the hopes and dreams that girls of her age and station once cherished. Her accent was Virginian – not the harsh Southern accent that my reader may be used to, but the refined and beautiful sound of those of her home, the soft and gentle harmony that has now disappeared from that place. Yet not only were her face and voice beautiful, but she loved to remain still and see the beauty around her, from the glory of the rising sun to the tender flowers that seemed to float in the green grass. Music thrilled her soul and satisfied a longing deep within her. Yet above all her passions and joys, she loved her home, Virginia. For that state alone did her heart burn bright with devotion and loyalty, for it alone did her affection grow and swell. Ever had she loved that place. Nothing could compare the land she had been born in, the land of green meadows, great forests, glorious mountains, and sweeping valleys. It was in the grassy fields and free air of Virginia that Elizabeth’s heart dwelt, in the only place it could ever dwell.”

Aaaaaand I finally found an actor who looks like Mark! =D Harry Lloyd is just about perfect in this photo as an image of Mark Bowen, Elizabeth’s younger brother. Mark is sixteen years old, and a Virginian in his bones. He was practically born on a horse, and spends much of his time training those horses that his father owns.

“He was dark-haired and brown-eyed, with strong features and determined eyes. He was no older than sixteen, yet he moved with the confidence of a man and had the work-worn hands of one who is practiced in his trade. And such were all the young men of Virginia, for they lived in a time where boys became men and girls became women long before they do now. Indeed, Mark Bowen was near ready to go off on his own and make a life for himself, even as his oldest brother had done already. For now, though, he stayed on his father’s plantation, for his trade was in horses and his help was greatly needed in their care and training.

Yet though he was near adulthood, he had still not lost his headstrong ways. The spark of independence burnt bright in his eyes and in the lines of his young face, independence that refused to be tamed, refused to be put out. The Virginian boy, the boy that had been born in the saddle as all real Virginians had at that time, had within himself the burning desire to live more than a complacent life. His soul thrived on stories from long ago, stories of noble men and heroic deeds, of a time long past when each man had to choose for himself to be either a strong leader or a low coward. More than anything he wished for that opportunity, that he might have the chance to be something more than a good horseman, or a good farmer. He desired nobility and bravery, the chance to prove himself before men.”

So, did you read that? =D If you did, any thoughts? I’d love to hear any, especially as I’m going crazy and abandoning my old writing style and adopting a new one that’s old-fashioned – Dickens and Charlotte Bronte have been my inspiration and examples.

What about you? Do you find it hard to make yourself just start writing, or do you struggle with something else?