My Mother’s Eyes: Writing Wednesday

I’m in the process of giving a bit of love to a novel that’s come out of contract, meaning back to me, so it can be returned to the world – a lot of worthwhile work, and I love the new cover, which is in the righthand column. I’ll have more information on that in a few weeks.

Welcome to Writing Wednesday. My Wednesday shares have become shorter and serialized, and they’re coming from my current WIP (work in progress), Striking Balance. You’ll be able to find all the ones that pertain to Striking Balance under the Categories drop down to your right.

Striking Balance is a Queer Historical Paranormal Fantasy story set within my Appalachian Elementals series. It’s a freestanding tale, so you don’t need to have read the other stories within the series to delve into this one.

As of February 2020, Striking Balance has reached the beta reader stage. Yay! I’m now working on a new WIP so you’ll be reading a new Writing Wednesday as soon as I finish sharing this chapter.

This is installment forty-seven, “My Mother’s Eyes,” and it immediately follows where last week’s installment, “Man of Letters,” ended. The main character in Striking Balance is Benjamin (Nub) Schnell, the possessor of secrets twice his size and seeming age. He’s been working for nearly a decade on the same small farm as his friend, Conall Baldwin, who acts as the farm’s manager. This story begins during the American Revolutionary War years, 1779 to be precise, in the Nolichucky river basin of Northeast Tennessee.

We’re beginning with Ben’s thoughts from last week, which are in orange.

My brothers were much older, and I had no sisters so I thought every woman looked as I did beneath her clothing.

     Did I quit my family because of it? Yes. Because my father insisted that my “obscenity” be removed. He dragged me across Charlotte and back to every self-professed surgeon he could locate in an attempt to have me repaired, and that would have likely led to my death. The surgery, he said, was the only way I would ever be a proper woman, small or not.

     It was the only way I could ever hope to marry.

     “Ye were right tae leave, especially since there is nothing wrong with th’ way ye are.” Ceardach chews hard on his pipe stem as he thinks. “Most of yer kind look more either a woman or a man, but ye are truly caught between. Makes things harder, ah would think.” He leans close to touch the back of my hand, which still clutches my locket. “Ye have yer mother’s eyes.”

Note: Once again, before anyone tries to educate, correct, or otherwise say anything concerning this post – I am recounting Ben’s experience alone and no one else’s. I need no education or guidance on any matter discussed in this series of posts so don’t waste your time and energy on something that won’t make it past moderation anyway.

For the rest of you – have a great week. Oh, and until then…

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