This is number fifteen in a series of posts where I document the complete process of writing a novella - Day By Day!
INTRODUCTION
I am documenting (via my blog) the complete start to finish experience of writing a novella that I will be releasing for FREE once it is written.
I will be writing approximately 900 words per day and I will post each day's writing the following morning, unedited, on my blog. This means you get to see my draft with all its original spelling mistakes, bad grammar, and clumsy sentences
The timeline for the experiment is as follows:
- Plotting, Characters and Scene Outlines - April 1to April 20 - COMPLETE
- First Draft Manuscript - April 21 to May 18 - IN PROGRESS
- First Manuscript Edits - July 1to July 5
- Reader Proofs - July 6 to July 25
- Final Manuscript Edits - July 26to July 31
STATUS
Today's Date: May 3rd
Progress: Day 12 complete. Following is the day's writing (Chapter Six continued)...
“Just look at the state of you,” cook said, pulling a shivering Ryann into the kitchen. “Just what have you been doing?”
Ryann sat down on a chair and allowed cook to drape a towel over her shoulders. “It started raining and then the barrow tipped over and I lost the vegetables. By the time I had collected them all up again I was wet through to my skin.”
“Dear, oh dear,” cook continued, rubbing Ryann’s back with the towel. “You should have just left them. They would have waited until the rain stopped.” She took a step back from Ryann and pulled off the towel. “And now your dress is going to be no good to anyone. You’re definitely going to need those new clothes in a hurry.” She pulled Ryann to her feet. “Now get off to your room and change out of those clothes. I’ll send one of the girls to warm up a tub of water for you. We don’t need you catching a chill, do we?”
Ryann hurriedly made her way back to her room and pulled off her clothes. Then she pulled on a nightdress and wrapped a robe around her, before sitting down on her bed to wait.
“What’s happening?” Ryann asked, a little later in the afternoon.
“Shhh. Quiet little one. Don’t say anything.” Cook mopped Ryann’s brow with a damp cloth and pushed her back onto the bed. “You’ve caught yourself a fever. You’re going to have to rest here for a day or two.”
Ryann tried to sit up again, but cook held her fast. “But I’ve got things to do. Master Bramwel will beat me if I’m late.”
“Shhh. Don’t you worry about anything. We’ll take care of it. Just get some rest.”
Ryann closed her eyes once more and quickly fell into sleep.
“Well what are we going to do?” cook asked the sclavas gathered around the kitchen table, a little later that day. “Ryann’s right about one thing, Master Bramwel still needs attending to. Who’s got any ideas?”
“I can do it,” said Kieran. “I’ll make the time up someway.”
“You’re never going to get enough free time to attend to Master Bramwel as well as the Lord, Kieran. No, someone else will have to help.”
“It’s okay, I can do it. And I know how Bramwel likes things. I’m the best person suited for the job. You know that. And especially at the moment while we’re waiting for another sclava to replace little Megan, it’s the best solution.” Kieran looked around the table and smiled as a few of the others nodded their agreement.
“Well, if you’re sure, Kieran. But make sure you come to me if you can’t manage it. You know what a temper that boy has and we don’t want you or Ryann taking a beating because of it.”
Kieran nodded. “Of course, cook. But I think I can handle myself. Who knows, maybe Ryann will even have it a little easier when she is recovered.”
Cook laughed. “I wouldn’t go counting on that. I just hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for.”
“Pardon, Lord Cala,” Kieran said as he walked into the large sitting room.
Lord Cala looked up from his seat and beckoned Kieran in. “It’s okay, lad. Bramwel and myself were just having a chat. You can carry on tidying up.”
Kieran briefly bowed and made his way toward the window where there was a pile of papers lying on the floor. He bent down and started to tidy them.
“Now tell me about your studying?” Lord Cala asked Bramwel.
“I have been busy, father. I have been studying some of the battles you were involved in.”
“Really? And what have you been reading?”
“I read that you led a great army across the moors and attacked the heathens of Kariwick.” Bramwel paused and looked around the room.
“And?” Lord Cala leaned forward in his seat.
“I read that the battle was lost and a great many soldiers were killed, sire.”
“And what did you learn?”
“Learn? I just told you what I learned, father.”
“You told me what you had read, but studying is about learning. So what did you learn?”
Bramwel opened his mouth and closed it again before replying. “I learned the history of the battle.”
“And what about tactics, strategy, terrain, and consequences?” Lord Cala shouted, getting to his feet. “What did you learn about them?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about that.”
Lord Cala started to pace the room, impatient for Bramwel’s reply. “Well?”
“Having a horse is important,” Bramwel stuttered. “I’d like a big white horse, just like you had.”
Lord Cala strode over to Bramwel and slapped him across the face. “A horse? What has that to do with battle?”
Across the room, Kieran laughed.
Lord Cala quickly turned to face Kieran and stared at the boy. “Perhaps you have an answer for that, do you?”
Kieran picked up the tidied stack of papers and put them on a side table. “Sorry your lordship. I was just thinking about Master Bramwel.”
“What about him?”
“Sorry. It’s nothing. Nothing at all.”
Lord Cala took a couple of steps toward Kieran. “Spit it out, boy. You interrupted our conversation with a laugh. I want to know what you were thinking.”
“It’s just that Master Bramwel only ever thinks of his horse, sire. His white toy horse. He plays with it all the time and imagines himself riding it into battle.”
Lord Cala roared with laughter and turned toward his son. “Is that so?”
Bramwel’s face turned a bright red and it puffed up like it was going to explode.
“You and your toys, Bramwel. I have told you before, you are too old to be playing with toys. I am going to start supervising your study time in future.” He turned back toward Kieran. “And you. In future you are to keep silent unless you are spoken to. This time I will forgive you. I haven’t had such a good laugh for a very long time. The thought of my son playing toy battles and reading about them just for the history will excuse you this once. Now before I change my mind, get out and go do something else.”
“Yes sire,” Kieran said, hurriedly walking out of the room.
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