Story-a-Day May and Other Goals

2015-04-30 08.04.18

I love Story-a-Day May. I’ve been working on rewrites for my second novel, Drowning Karma. The rewrites have become much more massive than I anticipated, which is fine, but time consuming. I also really want to go back to Hannah’s adventures at the Asylum. The problem is that I haven’t made the time to straighten out the first half of the story. So, it’s hard to pick up the thread now. I want to go back over what I have and figure out where the story is going before I throw more on.

Tomorrow, I’ll be attempting to sell my art at a festival, and getting ready for that has taken a lot of my concentration today.

But I want to participate in Story-a-Day. I don’t know what to do.

Well, as I think about this, I’ll write backstory.

Delia Fairfield’s father lost everything in the war, but Delia wasn’t one to let a war get in her way. From her father, she stole what money he hadn’t squandered and headed south. Her brothers warned that she was rushing into swamp land and heathen territory, but she’d never heeded her brothers before. She wouldn’t start now.

Mosquitos swarmed around every weary traveler venturing into Florida in those early days, but even the mosquitos avoided Delia Fairfield. She rode her own horse deeper into the state and nothing accosted her–not the mosquitos and not the bandits. She wore a veiled hat to hide her face, not to protect her flesh. From a young age, she understood the power of mystery. That power enabled her to buy the land she wanted even though no one in the area had ever considered selling land to a woman. That power enabled her to hire as many men as she needed to build what she wanted. That power wove itself into the very woodwork of the hospital she insisted had to be built far into the woods away from average patients.

Delia had no intention of ministering to average individuals. She had special patients in mind. Some might have accused her of building a hospital for inmates not patients. The word patient implied freedom to leave, but freedom wasn’t a word Delia thought much about. She had all the freedom she wanted. What did she care about freedom for others?

Once all the workers were in place and the foundation was laid, Delia selected a handful of special workers to escort her on her travels and help her with her mission. She set out into the world to find those special patients she needed. It didn’t take long for her to establish her reputation, and soon unhappy families and spurned lovers were bringing patients to her. She promised to cure every patient of delusion, but cures were never her intention.


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