Memoirs of a Madwoman, a novel... by Rebecca Watters Options

[Lady Syl]

Prologue
Undisclosed Location in
the Shivering Isles, the
Realm of Sheogorath
3E 433

Looking at my reflection in the mirror before me, clad in the robe of an Order Priest, I never thought that this was where I would end up. I have betrayed my Lord Sheogorath. I am now an enemy of the man I once worshipped as the Madgod. He had been everything to me, just as He is everything to all of His loyal subjects, Manic and Demented alike. But now He is a man I despise. Sheogorath went too far when He allowed that outsider to come into the Realm and usurp the throne of Mania. Now I want Him to pay for what He did to Thadon, and to me, and to all that I loved. He took from me every person, everything that ever brought me joy and love, replacing it instead with fear, pain, and sorrow. He couldn’t stand the fact that my heart might love another more than it loved Him, so He took from me anyone He saw as a threat to my devotion to Him. How I didn’t see it before is almost shameful. But then, He keeps the truth hidden from us beneath the heavy and binding layers of madness which He claims is a blessing. That is the truth of the Shivering Isles. All of us that live here have been “blessed” with madness.

But no longer am I bound by those chains. The blessing of Order has freed me from slavery to that prattling fool, and my mind is no longer bogged down with insanity. I have come to a place of clarity for the first time in my life. I can now see how my life might have been, if not for Sheogorath and His Realm of Madness. Had I been given the chance to steer my own course, I might have led a normal life of no consequence. I might even have been happy. Instead, I am filled with anguish, and I feel as if my heart has been torn into a million tiny pieces while it still beat in my chest. Death will come swiftly; I no longer fear it, and I will welcome it with open arms. Only in death can I hope to find peace for what I have done. But even then, I may find nothing more than punishment—who is to say?

Thadon believed that when we die, we would all go to a place of perfect bliss and live together for all of eternity, never to feel pain again. But then, Thadon lived much of his life in his own false sense of bliss, a world created in his own mind with the help of his precious drugs. What a fool he was. And yet, what a beautiful soul he had. Even with all of his faults, I loved him. I still do, I guess. Our people can’t understand how a relationship ever developed between us; if you look at it from the outside, it’s easy to be shocked and confused by such an unlikely pair as Thadon and I. But one has to look much deeper, and return to the very beginning to understand. There is more to the story than what has been told, and only my heart still holds the truth of our love. Our love, conflicted by our madness as it was, was beautiful and pure. No one can understand that without knowing how it all began, and there is only one other person alive now who knows how the story goes. I began recording my story before the truth of my insane state became clear to me, and I gave it to a trusted confidant because I believe she will keep my story safely hidden away until the time is right for it to be revealed. Perhaps it never will be. One can only hope.

There is more to my life than what is here and now. I’ve lived 37 years, all within this Realm, and for an elf, I’m still very young. But in 37 years, I’ve had enough misery to last me an entire elven lifetime, and I’m ready to move on—whether to punishment or eternal bliss—or, more frighteningly, to nothingness. Whatever awaits me, I will face it with courage. I have no choice. The time has come, and I must answer the call, even at the cost of life itself, if necessary. And I take with me the only remaining link to Thadon that I have. The rest I leave behind me, and I pray that my story will not be lost. There is so much to it that has yet to be told, and all of it is part of who I am and who I was before. The events in my life have shaped me, like formless clay is molded into a twisted and beautiful masterpiece by the hands of a Demented artist. Everything that has happened to me has brought me to where I stand now, and it was all beyond my control. But the things I have witnessed, and the suffering that I have endured will not go down in history. Those who survive will view me only as a traitor, and I will be reviled.

But perhaps the time will come when my story can be told, and maybe then I will not be so misunderstood by all who have heard the echo of my name, trembled at the sound of my voice, and looked upon my cold and hardened face. So many have feared me. So many have ridiculed and betrayed me. And so many have seen me only as an enemy without a heart. But that is not all that true; I am not so cold and heartless as I have appeared. Like with each person, man or mer, there is more to me than what is seen on the outside. There are layers of emotion, thought, and experience that compose the depths of who and what I am. There is a side to me that was broken, and hidden away for many years. To those who truly knew me, I was a loyal friend, a doting mother, and a passionate lover. However, most people do not see the world for what it is. They see everything around them with a narrow view, and do not look beyond what is plain to see. Though I am a woman with a broken soul and a beating heart, to most I am only the Lady of Darkness, or the Mistress of Death. To them I am simply Syl, Duchess of Dementia….

Syl in Order robes

This post has been edited by Lady Syl: Sep 2 2011, 03:58 AM

[Destri Melarg]

WARNING: WALL OF TEXT INCOMING!!

SubRosa touched on it before, but it bears repeating. The mistake that you are making with this first chapter is that you are treating it just like the prologue. We already heard Syl speaking from an 'Undisclosed Location in the Shivering Isles.' I know you want to go through Syl’s childhood quickly to get to the meat of the story, but simply telling us about events and how she feels about them does the character (and the reader) a disservice.

Chapter 1.1:

First off, specificity, you need to focus your story. You have a tendency to jump around quite a bit in relaying the events of Syl’s childhood. The paragraph that begins with . . .

My first lesson in necromancy came when I was nine years old.

That is your opening! Nothing written before that can hold a candle to this sentence of a dozen words! It draws us in and establishes everything we need to know about Syl and the strangeness of the Isles without having to explain anything to us. I loved every part of her ‘necromancy lesson’, but then you abandoned it so that Syl could spend the next nine paragraphs telling us about her mother’s abuse, her father’s infidelity, her own dress and play habits, and the violent politics of Dementia. All of these things would be better served by allowing us to see them occur over the course of a day, or even a single afternoon.

Check it:

Nine year old Syl goes to her first necromancy lesson at the home of her Altmer governess, Muurine. There she comes face to face with the reality of growing up as a ‘Demented child’ (this is an excellent turn of phrase btw). Returning home, she encounters her beloved Ada beating the holy hell out of her mother. Again, this qualifies as ‘normal’ behavior in the land of the demented. After the beating, Muurine recounts the details of Syl’s botched necromancy lesson while the Lady Adrial nurses her wounds at the table. In that scene we would be able to see (through action and dialogue) Lord Gelebor’s strictness (he wants her to learn the dark arts), but also his doting devotion to his Syl Arenal. They send little Syl out for her hour a day of play under Muurine’s supervision, but Syl doesn’t really trust (and is maybe a little afraid of) Muurine after the grisly sights she witnessed at the house in Crucible, so she sneaks off. She overhears Lord Gelebor and the Lady Adrial discussing the future that they see for Syl away from the bloodshed that always attends the transfer of power in Dementia.

Syl spends the rest of the afternoon in her quarters, where her mother joins her, comforts her, and encourages her to 'follow her heart and never let any man control her life and take everything away from her.' Muurine arrives with the evening and imparts the wisdom that all life is suffering. As is their habit, they stay and fall asleep with Syl in her chambers. But Syl is restless that evening with everything that the day has shown and told her. She sneaks from her room and encounters her beloved Ada in his private garden with a chamber maid.

Chapter 1.2

Again, you need to focus the events of the chapter into a specific moment in time so that we as readers can see what is occurring without Syl having to tell us. Alanwen should walk around the palace like she owns the place, having firmly established herself as Lady Adrial’s replacement. Syl’s hatred of the woman should be felt in the palpable tension that exists in the palace halls. Not only does Lady Adrial confine herself to quarters, she confines herself to Syl’s quarters! Syl and Muurine are the only people to whom she will speak, and her speech has become increasingly erratic (even for Dementia). The dialogue that you have here, when she says: “They are coming for me Syl,” is great! But instead of ‘she would sometimes say’, just have her say it. As readers we need immediacy. Things that ‘would’ happen never have the same impact as things that ‘are’ happening.

Competition between Syl and Alanwen for the affections of Lord Gelebor should take concrete form. How do they compete exactly? We need a scene with them doing so (perhaps you could even open this section of the chapter with it, because such an opening would establish their enmity towards each other and create the tension within the palace).

The events of the second part of this chapter are very specific and absolutely terrific! My only advice here is to take the indelible scene in the public garden and use that same level of detail for their ride through Crucible and into Ashwood. Syl telling us that her father was despised doesn’t carry the same impact as her seeing the looks given to them by the citizenry. I would also suggest that you actually give us the dialogue when Syl comes into her chamber to tell her mother about the new dress.

I think you have the makings of a fantastic novel here! The problem, as I see it, is that Syl is too far removed from her own story. Let her nine/ten year old self carry the action. Get her in there, and get her dirty!

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Apr 7 2011, 09:19 PM