I challenged myself one night a couple of months ago to turn my Spotify music to a random song and let it play, and write a snippet inspired (not necessarily directly) by the song. So it happened that “Love is an Open Door” came on and I began to write. This came out, featuring a couple of characters from my historical fiction work-in-progress, Fortis Corde. It’s just a tiny snippet . . .
Diana wrinkled her nose, a giggle rushing out of her lips. Francis’s eyes suddenly took an unprecedented glow, his delicate features lit by a flush of appreciation. They sat together in the corner of the Waylands’ parlor, the fire cracking furiously in the hearth, and between them sat a small stack of books. Poetry. Most of them had been fondly rifled through, and they often lingered on one page to revel in its written magic. Yes, there was some sort of odd enchantment at play that evening. Most folks present noticed it, except Diana. She had long ago recovered from her little infatuation for Francis Stuart, and now she found him an excellent friend. He understood the beauty of language, the allure of the storybooks. He often spoke of someday writing volumes of fairy stories, after he travelled through Europe and gathered a collection of folk-tales, myths, and legends. “Even here,” he had told her once, “there are stories just waiting to be upturned, in this fertile soil.”
Diana agreed wholeheartedly. In fact, she herself hoped to someday find a wellspring of inspiration, a time when there would be a liquid rush, a stream of fire and enthusiasm. Only now she felt tingles whenever she picked up her pen to write a story. But that fire remained remote, untouchable and mysterious. She often envied Francis . . .