Click here for Part One. In which Ness takes a past tale and tells its story.
Now, whenever I pick up the threads of this story, I time-travel – two years forwards, two years backwards. Spoiled and less spoiled.
The story still isn’t finished, in fact, it isn’t all that long. But ‘They Call Me Marian’ gradually moves forwards – like a glacier. Or a snail. Or anything terribly slow, really – and I am enjoying it.
If you read it you can see my growth as a writer. You can see when I decided to utilize the magnificent things known as ‘Paragraphs’ (it really was quite the discovery for me).
You can see that my grammar has somewhat improved. (The key word being somewhat).
True, the story has changed with the character. It even had a story spiral off from it (in this tale the sheriff was the hero, Robin the rogue and Sir Guy of Gisbourn had a rough exterior but a heart of gruff softness).
Whilst I continue to write and edit various projects, I sometimes drift back to a word document which has waited patiently for my input; for new words; for the story to continue in the telling.
Who knows – one day it may be published. One very, very distant day.
But for now, Maid Marian has just been shockingly kidnapped and two years ago, Allan a’Dale is singing a singularly uncomplimentary song with the subject matter of a certain maid.
Favourite Quotes (in no chronological order):
“A most insincere apology with less meaning than a traitor’s promise.” He smiled, charm dripping off him along with the raindrops.
“It, well,” I would rather be locked in a field with an angry bull. Ten angry balls. With a hundred jousting knights galloping towards me, their lances lowered. “I needed to …”
“Marian,” he said, savouring it, “a most beautiful name.” He looked me up and down – took in my faded dress, patched apron, and wet hair plastered to my crown. “It is too bad that the bearer of the name does not live up to its promise.”
Lines which I (perhaps) have a facial seizure when reading:
I related to her my whole history in my childish way inserting unconscious pathos as my lonely, motherless heart cried out for love.
… Sir Guy’s smooth voice replied, “Ah, well, I am gratified that I have finally caught this barbaric half breed Saxon fox…”
Sir Tomas was, according to Lady Anne, handsome and good looking, but in my private opinion his spirit – ugh! It was small, mean and cold AND he has a huge wart on his nose.