As some of you may know I’ve been posting Coal Dusters, a previous NaNoWriMo novel, on Tuesdays. So besides working on Blludstun I’ve been doing edits & rewrites on Coal Dusters. Rewrites is putting in mildly as this week I realized I left out an important scene. Yikes. I allowed myself to get distracted and started filling out that scene.
Getting back into the head of that character wasn’t too difficult but the time taken for those 5000 words meant less energy for this year’s NaNo. A sign from the universe to give it a little rest, I guess. The new Dusters scene pretty much wrote itself – the best scenes do. Of course I’ll count those words towards this year’s word-count. I’m never concerned with actually finishing whatever I’m working on for NaNo which gives me permission to write with a sense of ending even if I don’t get to that ending.
I did do some Blludstun work though. Some of it was a light rewrite of hat I have done already to add another character. I’ve never included a pet in my stories so I figured it was time to add a cat to the mix. Something that doesn’t need dialogue 🙂 Plus cats are standard paranormal tropes. I spend an hour or so of letting that cat get underfoot. I’ve named it Mineo – as a tribute to Sal Mineo & as a nod to Mina in Dracula.
As I’ve been writing the plot has become cleared to me as well. I need some time for the elements from by inspirations to intermingle in my subconscious to coalesce inot an original story. I’m happy with the direction it is going to take. I’ve also been watching the latest Channel Zero: The Dream Door – which is pretty good in taking the ordinary and turning it into a wild roller-coaster – something which the latest season of American Horror Show has failed to do.
Gabe went into the kitchen and I sat on the couch and began to read the letter. It was dated June of the previous year.
If you are reading this letter it means I’ve passed away before I had the opportunity of meeting you in person. When the Lineage agency contacted me with your name and address it was my intent to fly to Canada to make your acquaintance. You see neither I, nor my late husband, have any living, blood family. I wanted to insure that I was leaving the estate to someone who would know what to with it. Much of the cash is going to charity but the idea of our worldly goods going to some auction house didn’t sit right with me.
I’m not sure where to begin. The enclosed documentary will tell you what little there is known about my late husband but it makes scant mention of me. I’m hoping by telling you some my history you may value our treasures as much as I do. Of course you may do what I feared and put our worldly goods up for auction.
I was the only child of James Lionel Taylor, the renowned clockmaker. My mother died in childbirth. My childhood was far from normal, though my Dad did the best he could to run his business and raise a child at the same time. As a result I spent a great deal of time in his shop and workrooms. In fact he had a room set aside for me to sleep in on nights when he was working.
Besides clocks he also made automatons that were so life-like I once asked him to make me a mother. I became so fascinated with them that I began to create dolls and soon he was showing how to construct the mechanisms that would make them move. I recently saw one of his automatons in an auction. It sold for nearly a million pounds.
One day when I was about sixteen a man came into the shop to have his hand repaired. Yes, you read correctly. His hand. He had lost his left hand in in an industrial accident and had it replaced with a fully articulated artificial one. The little finger wasn’t responding as it should and he hoped my father could repair it.
The mechanism was too small for my father to work on easily so he allowed me to try. My smaller hands were perfect for the job. By the way that man was William Blludstun. He was only twenty at the time and I found him very handsome. In order to do the work he had to remove his shirt to give me full access to the connections.
William took an immediate interest in my education. He insisted that I study the then burgeoning field of robotics with an emphasis on medical applications. He, himself, had developed the very skin that was on his artificial hand. It blended seamlessly with real flesh, felt real except that it had no blood vessels to carry heat to it. So his hand was always at room temperature.
My father was at first skeptical at having this dark stranger take such an interest in his only daughter but if nothing else William was persuasive. When I was eighteen we were married. It was on our wedding night that I discovered the truth. William was, what we call now, a transperson. Once a woman he was now a man.
All of this is now a matter of public record. To me it was a profound shock. I had never considered the malleability of gender. Born a woman I never questioned that fact. As I furthered my medical education I learned that there was a broader range of sexuality even within what one is born as. This was one of the reasons we never had progeny.
When my research into your life revealed that you were a man married to another man I was very pleased. Perhaps there is something in the Taylor genetic make up. I looked forward to meeting you to compare our d.n.a to see if there was something they would reveal. Alas that was not to be.
But I digress. As William’s reputation grew so did his wealth. He began to retire more and more from the public eye. We built a home, Blludstun Estate, in a location we kept as secret as possible. This is where we have lived for the past twenty years, as out of the public eye as possible. We continued our medical research and scientific development with the utmost privacy and security.
When William died some ten years ago I carried on as best I could but my heart was no longer in the research. Now I too am dying.’
November 1 -30
June – Capturing Fire 2019 – Washington D.C. capfireslam.org