All right, I give up. Cayle wins. Masques it is. I can’t fight this level of insistence, not that I actually want to fight it. That’s totally not the point though. Hush you.
In case you’re wondering what brought this on, my masked illusionist has spent the last few days whispering the most delightful secrets in my ear, including some very private things about himself. You may or may not realized the sort of writer I am, so let me just say that I think he’s going to come to regret telling me some of this. I have a tendency to use such things in the story, to poke the MC where he or she is weakest. I tear my characters apart so I can build them back up even stronger than I found them. Cayle’s definitely going to find that out. The hard way. Then he can go talk to Devan who has definitely been through that wringer a couple of times now. Honest, it’s for their own good. *evil author laugh*
Don’t think of Cayle as entirely defenceless though, anymore than Devan has been. Cayle’s wrapping me so tightly around his finger that I’m not sure how badly I could shred him (though I remember thinking that about Devan at one point too and that didn’t save him). All I know for sure is that Cayle is intoxicating enough that want to write him now. You have no idea. I have no words. He keeps making me stop in my tracks, eyes wide and tap away frantically on my phone/computer/whatever’s-handy, trying to get the latest whisper down before he says something else.
November might feel a bit like I’m cheating on him. Don’t try to figure out the logic on that, especially since Devan was here first. I can’t even make sense of it, yet it’s how I’m starting to feel. I wouldn’t worry about me too much in that sense though. Once November 1st hits and I’m able to start setting words to Still They Watch, I’ll end up so thoroughly wrapped up in that it won’t register that much. Devan will have his due. He always does.
I think the biggest surrender here is that there will be four books to Masques after all. I know, I told Cayle that there wouldn’t be a fourth, no matter how much he begged. No quartet, I said. His response? He showed me the basis for it. I caved. He won. And gloated. A lot of gloating. But the idea is so good, and such a fitting end to the project, a good wrap to the world. How could I say no to that?
You know, this really is starting to feel like what happened every time Devan wanted something in the early days. Hell, he’s getting what may end up being a whole other trilogy in the Necromantic world, so maybe Cayle’s insistence on a fourth book isn’t that bad.
Yeah, I know, I’m rationalizing. Already. And I haven’t even started outlining the first Masques book. I know the first scene though, pretty much the whole first chapter. I may have to bang that out a bit, just to keep my illusionist happy. Can’t have pouting characters. They do things to get their way and I always end up bug-eyed in the process. Never a good look in public, trust me. And telling observers that “I’m fine, but my character just said something amazing” will only cause them to pack you off in a nice white huggy coat. Unless they happen to be a fellow writer, then maybe they’ll understand and just nod.