I feel I have done enough reading across the forums to choose now, and so I shall.
The Great Detectives, Spies, and ? Through History! by Amric. The idea behind it all is an unusual one (letting readers decide anything seems to me a most cruel and unusual form of self-torture), the writing first class, and the humour decided it for me.
Now for the less interesting bit.
The idea for 'Eleanor' was born about two and a half years ago. I was teaching myself to write, and I mean that in the most basic sense. I had just been identified as dyslexic at the ripe old age of twenty, and I was determined that no longer would I struggle to write my university essays and exams. I would learn to spell, I would teach myself the grammar my schooling had completely neglected, and I would keep on hammering away until I could finally put my thoughts down on paper. Er, I don't think I really expected any decent results. I ended up trying my hand at fiction because a few people reported that they liked a little comedy short I had posted in a thread about how people had discovered the Total War series of games. Let's just agree that those stories were complete crap, in every way
I started to wonder what to write for my next story. It needed to be themed to Medieval: Total War, to fit the forum I was writing in and because I could not imagine doing anything so daring as trying something entirely my own creation. I wondered what might happen if the princess unit had the abilities of the geisha unit from Shogun: Total War, making it an assassin. The idea appealed, and I started to plan, beginning with outlining my heroine.
I would like to take this opportunity to say "It's not my fault!".
You see, I sketched out only a few details, a few characters, hardly anything of a plot. The rest ... handled itself. That had never happened to me before, even if it is now the way I get all my ideas and characters. I decided Eleanor should be called that by the complex method of closing my eyes and stabbing my finger at a very big list. She would not be yet another beautiful princess. She should fit her role, i.e. not faint at the sight of blood and all that nonsense. A sidekick was needed, a man who could fight, and because Fulk was a rare name in historical fiction I dubbed him that. Categorically, under no circumstances, never
ever would there be even a hint of attraction between them!
Ever. Too cliché, and entirely too predictable.
That was all my input. So you see, it really is not my fault things turned out as they did.
Except she did not tell me everything. That princess who appeared and started bothering me was keeping things back. Parts of her tale made no sense at all, and great gaps were evident in many places. Some bits even sounded as if she were making it up on the spot, and not doing a very good job of it. Fulk was keeping his mouth firmly shut, probably out of fear. The few other characters I could ‘see’ in the same way were much less substantial, little more than ghost-like wraiths and unable to speak directly to me. I did not pursue it too hard; I struggled enough with what she did tell me, my abilities were so lacking.
With the very incomplete bits I had I started to write, in my crude and fumbling way. The episode I wrote was long, a whole four pages! By the end Nell and Fulk were sending off those predictable romantic sparks. I was not a pleased amphibian. This is where the second thing about my writing established itself. I told them to leave each other alone. They ignored me, and went their own sweet way. This was the first - and very far from the last - time I got trampled by my own work. It has become a familiar feeling, and these days I don’t even resist.
I kept on going, managing I think it was five episodes total. Then this new game caught my attention, Crusader Kings. My game as Ulster in that was sending me an advanced version of what happened with Eleanor - it was setting itself up into a story and pestering me. I had to write it. Eleanor got put to one side. She was not too happy about it.
By the time Blood Red Hand was meeting its fate Eleanor was prodding away at my mind, demanding attention in that delightful way she has. I'd matured as a writer over the months, and she was finally willing to talk. The facade was dropped, no longer did she seem so hyperactive or childish, and when she started to tell me I understood, understood why she seemed so different, and why she had been reluctant to share her story. Fulk also let his act go, the other characters gradually came forward and spoke for themselves.
I started to write again.
