Fiction by L.L. Muir
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Sins of the Writer

12/27/2017

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Reaching the sixth book in the Curse of Clan Ross series, I expected to make a few blunders, but this was a doozie.
All through the writing of The Lad That Time Forgot, I scoured the first five books trying to find important details that needed to be included. I swear I did. I even went looking specifically for mentions of the child or children Jillian was carrying in the Juliet book. I was almost sure she'd been expecting twin boys, but I couldn't find a word about them.
Obviously, I was blind.
Thanks to a fan of the series, who also happens to be a Muir, my big blunder was brought to my attention. I mentioned, in the new book, that Monty and Jillian had a daughter, Lucy, who was particularly close to Quinn and Jules' daughter, Emmie. But I failed to mention the twins--two more lads that Time/Lesli forgot.
So...
May I introduce Ewan and Seumas Ross, four-year-old twins who are just 11 months older than Lucy. Even at this age, they are finding their own paths. Unlike his sober brother Ewan, Seumas hates being indoors and prefers following the animals around all day. Even in church you can find something alive and furry in one pocket or another. It has gotten to the point that Jillian has to do a TSA-style search of his person before he's allowed to get into the car on Sunday mornings.
A week ago, when the pointed little nose of a hedgehog appeared above the top of Seumas' shirt pocket during a particularly long prayer, Ewan confessed he'd been used as a drug-mule and had smuggled the animal inside the church.
Both boys were given porridge for supper--Seamus, for using his brother to further his crimes, and Ewan, for even knowing the term drug-mule. Montgomery was speechless when he was served the same meal, albeit a larger portion.
He gasped. "And just what have I done?"
"Obviously," Jillian explained, "you aren't too careful about who's in the room when you're watching your crime dramas."
Seamus stopped glowering at his bowl to laugh at his father. Ewan cocked a brow and nodded. Montgomery scooped up his spoon and dug into his oatmeal without further argument, no doubt to set a good example for his wee tormentors.

Uncle Wickham has been the only one, thus far, to notice that Ewan always seems to know where his brother is and what's he's doing, even when Seumas is outside and out of sight. The picture below is of Ewan and Emmie who have been sent off to fetch Seamus from Morna's barn--on the far side of the Ross/Mackay Burn...
Obviously, their lives won't get seriously complicated for a long while yet...
Picture
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    About the room...

    There are a number of rooms in my head. Behind one, there is a gnarly table covered with thick open books. If I close those and tuck them away on the shelves, my thoughts become less cluttered. I can focus on whatever is left on the table.

    The floor of another room has so many tasseled pillows you can never reach the surface beneath. Tapestries cover the stone walls. (This is from my childhood memory of a movie about Katherine the Great. I think Peter O'Toole was tickled there without mercy.) I loved her room so much, I created one of my own.

    The most trafficked place in my head, though, is The Waiting Room. Characters arrive of their own free will. Few are ever asked to leave--even the villains have to be allowed from time to time, though I try to finish their stories and hustle them out the door as quickly as I can.

    The room itself is square. No alcoves for characters to hide from me or initiate romances with characters from other books. For example, the main character from a Regency romance started flirting with Isobelle from 1496! I had to get to her story quickly before the relationship could threaten both their happily ever afters.

    I have an obsession with white-leather wing-backed chairs, so the waiting room is full of them. Let's face it, there's an actual duke in there and I can't just give him a folding chair from Sam's Club, can I? His given name is Stanley, and like Stanley, many of these characters have been waiting years for their turn. And though they need no food and water, no change of costume or trip to the loo, I like to think I've made them comfortable.

    I mentioned that few have been asked to leave. One of those was Mrs. Wiggs, a female gunfighter and a lovely woman for the most part. But she doesn't suffer fools or poor piano playing, so when she shot another character for a weak attempt to entertain the rest, I had to send her and her guns packin'. *snort* Get it? Packin'? 

    In any case, Mrs. Wiggs will have to bide her time in the waiting room of Bella Bowen until her trilogy is finished. (Bella Bowen is the pen name under which I publish Western romances.) She's better off there. Or at least, the other gun-toting characters will be able to defend themselves... As for the poor piano player, I don't think she's going to make it.

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