Snippets of February

pinterest: tempus regina

 An update on the development of a new look for Scribbles.  For those of you who didn't hear, Bree (of Bree Holloway Blog Designs and also Tea and Bree) is designing the template; she and I have been going back and forth about the look, and let's just say I'm pretty excited about what she has pulled together.  It is much cleaner and more open than the current look, and will hopefully be easier to navigate.  Keep an eye out for its debut!

In other news, the time has rolled around once more for Katie's Snippets post.  This month last year I was about halfway through The Running Tide, writing about ships and the sea, duels and blackmail; now I am firmly wedged into Tempus Regina (I won't actually know how far I am until I finish), writing about assassins and pocketwatches and the seven layers of heaven.  Last year my main character was in the ruins of a theater in Sicily; this year my character is kicking around the wilds of Scotland.  And interestingly enough, I look back on last February's snippets and think, "Has it been that long?  Huh!"

snippets for february

A breeze had begun to stir, turning the leaves belly-up and ruffling the hair that fell, shaggy as a wolf’s winter coat, on [his] neck; it carried the scent of the morning fire to brush Regina’s lips, and it tasted like iron. Distantly she heard the squirrel, still at war with the birds high up in the rowan... 

- tempus regina

Then the tremor ran out. He of the blue-eyes was an awkward boy again, beating a hasty retreat, and the Assassin was loosening from his broad, braced stance and crashing wearily onto a bench beside her. “Shoo,” he said. “I do not know what it is that makes a man believe he has rights to my table. He ate none of your pomegranate, I hope?” 

 Regina stared at him. Pomegranate… “No,” she said, and started when the word broke apart. “No, he didn’t eat the pomegranate.”

- tempus regina

 They made a fire some feet off the road, under a birch in half-bloom; the Assassin remarked, as he gathered great armloads of its dead wood and Regina pulled blindly at Piso’s straps, that the tree’s spirit kept the evil eye at bay. She gave herself a hiccupping laugh and threw a sideways glance at the carver. His was the only pair of eyes she wanted to be free from, and the birch twigs he had found seemed to have no effect on him.

- tempus regina

And she remembered, too, shards of glass on a dirty floor, casting back her reflection as the White Demon cast it back now.

- tempus regina

She dug her fingers into her throat and her elbows into her knees, watching, sick and fascinated, while the Dragon spun from its chain. Clockwise—and back again. Clockwise—and back again. Going one way the garnets laughed; going the other, they mocked.

- tempus regina

 The room had gone silent, the world and its noise buzzing on beyond the flap; they were in their own firelit bubble, she and the Fisherman, or perhaps their own cocoon. She wondered, achingly, if there would be any glorious emergence for them.

- tempus regina

It took him some time, for the whortleberry fought to keep him, but when he was free he sat upright, looked at Regina and remarked, “Ah ha, so you’re awake properly now. Shades, but don’t you look worse by daylight!”

- tempus regina

where are your characters this month?

Flawed at Heart

pinterest

Back in December, after I wrote a post on strawmen in literature and followed it up with a list of just a few significantly flawed literary heroes, someone asked if I could do the same for heroines.  Since then it has been on my list of Things to Write About, but I find it is not so easy as I thought it would be. Perhaps it is because I prefer writing and reading from the hero's perspective, and find when I look on my shelves that most books have male protagonists.  It may also be because most of those books are classics, and classics tend to have sweet, charming, innocent heroines.  However, it really wouldn't do to put off this post any longer, so I will make do with what I can dig up.

Thus, Joy, here is the best response I can muster.

anne of green gables

We can hardly start talking about flawed heroines without running headlong into this red-haired girl, who broke a slate over a boy's head for calling her 'carrots.'  Anne Shirley is nothing if not flawed.  Her imagination is her most memorable feature, and while it brings charm and life to those around her, it is most certainly a double-sided blade.  She has a temper to match the color of her hair; which of us does not remember her flying in Mrs. Lynde's face and calling her a sour old gossip?  She could talk both hind legs off the proverbial mule (who is always getting, in my opinion, the short end of the stick).  Less prominent, but perhaps more basic, are her struggles with pride and her propensity to hold grudges for ridiculously long periods of time.

pride & prejudice

We brought up Mr. Darcy's flaws last time, so it would hardly be fair to leave Elizabeth Bennet from the picture this time.  She primarily represents the second half of Jane Austen's memorable title, for she judges upon appearance and is adamant concerning her own hasty opinions.  (This is a trait shared by another well-loved heroine, Margaret Hale of North & South - understandably, perhaps, since Mr. Darcy and Mr. Thornton also share significant flaws.)  Elizabeth has a sharp tongue, as well, a fault many of us - myself included! - can easily relate to.  These flaws, like Anne's, are some of the most fundamental aspects of her overall literary character.

the scarlet pimpernel

Another heroine this list could not do without.  Lady Blakeney, wife of the foppish Sir Percy, appears at first blush to be even more flawed than either Elisabeth Bennet or Anne Shirley.  Though a commoner during the Reign of Terror, she is quite as proud as any aristocrat.  Her revenging herself upon a man who wronged her and her brother leads to the death of the man's entire family by the guillotine.  And, of course, when we meet her she is estranged from her husband, scornful (albeit deservedly) of his ways, and something of a flirt.  When pressed between a moral Scylla and Charybdis, Marguerite is also willing to sacrifice her conscience to save her brother's life.  The tension of The Scarlet Pimpernel pretty much revolves around Marguerite's moral flaws.

the queen's thief

Again, Eugenides, the Thief of Megan Whalen Turner's The Queen's Thief series, meets his match in the character of the Queen of Attolia.  The Queen has attained her position as most monarchs of her kingdom have in years past: through brutality.  She is willing to kill - and more particularly, to murder - to attain the safety and prestige of Attolia.  Rigidly just, but almost never merciful, she will extract her pound of flesh from anyone who crosses her.  Indeed, the Queen has few good traits at all.  Turner only manages to procure the reader's sympathy by revealing the moral struggle that still goes on inside the Queen, and by showing how other, better-loved characters feel about her.

daddy-long-legs

Judy Abbott, the heroine of Jean Webster's Daddy-Long-Legs, is not such an obviously flawed character as the above-mentioned protagonists; but like any good character, the defects are there.  In escaping the rigidity of the orphanage in which she was raised, Judy naturally exercises her newfound freedom and pursues her own way in all things.  She is frequently obstinate, sometimes rude, and quite willing to flout the little authority that "Daddy-Long-Legs" attempts to employ.  Quite feminist and strong-willed, she can actually be rather irritating.

the gammage cup

This character, Muggles, is even less clearly flawed.  In general, she is quite the stand-up gal, quiet, patient, the sort of character who minds her own business and lets others mind theirs.  However, this personality lends itself to other kinds of flaws.  Muggles can be too meek, too submissive, and more willing to be walked on than to risk defending herself - aspects of her personality that only serve to make her more uniquely amazing as a heroine.  There are no fireworks about Muggles, as there are with Elizabeth Bennet or Marguerite Blakeny.  She is a simple, normal person with simple, normal flaws.  She aptly illustrates the truth that a character need not have prominent flaws in order for the reader to see his or her growth; the struggles may be much smaller than a hot temper or murderous grudges.  The flaw need only be real, and the author need only bring it to light.