Three months ago I woke with an idea that led to my fourth novel 'Lancaster'. A clear line of dialogue/monologue spoken in a female’s voice that I could not shake.
“There is something to be said of the content acceptance of a life carried out within the boundaries of societal norms. Where marriage, children, boredom, the affaire that cures one’s despair and so on leads to death versus a life conducted in the believed miserable single state where young men of consequence rebel well into their thirties searching for pleasures that fade. When their fathers had, in their time, accepted the cruel truth and settled happily into marriage then infidelity.”
I wrote it down in the journal I keep by my bed and read it obsessively until I had an idea of the sort of woman who would state such an observation, but more than that was the fellow who would bear it well and he was Lane Montgomery Lancaster, the Earl Bellamy.
Lane was to be for me the sort of man that grew from a child that would write his mother horrid meandering letters from school all written for the sole purpose of induce guilt. Just imagine it, this wicked child poring over the rotten conditions of the place where she - his dear mama - so willing shipped him off to while she ignores his suffering in the lap if luxury then to have him sign always with an all my love, your devoted eldest-born, Lancaster.
All of it the makings of a sharp dark wit and who could resist such a gentleman?
Here is hoping this week is better than your last,