Monday, August 25, 2014

Entry #50: IRISH LETTERS

IRISH LETTERS
56,000 words
YA Historical Fiction
Chapter One:  A Good Old Irish Barn Dance

The barn dance celebration following the autumn harvest always led to gluttony because everyone in Kilcar felt wealthy; at least for a few weeks. Whiskey and beer warmed everyone’s stomachs as the last evening of summer was wrung like a dishtowel; extracting each drop of summer like it was liquid gold.

The sweet sounds of the fiddle kept everyone smiling, and the drums kept everyone moving. The school girls - my age - blushed and whispered as the young men they admired strutted like roosters in a separate corner of the barn. Each group kept its distance but still attempted to gawk at the other unnoticed.

I stood in the shadowy corner of the barn behind my parents, watching them eye the partygoers for easy pick pocketing targets. The more the farmers and their wives enjoyed the party, the less they paid attention to the few coins they had dangling in their pockets. The less they worried about Sorley and Myrna Flanagan, the dirt-poor degenerates of Garbh Lane. In the months we had lived in Kilcar, no one could say for sure that my parents were thieves. But every village we passed through the feeling was the same; we were unwelcome.

One young man, who I noticed immediately because of his height and striking blue eyes, stood towards the middle of the barn amongst other adults as if he was one of them. He stood like a man even though he wasn’t quite grown up yet. You could tell that even the wives of the other farmers found him attractive. They blushed and whispered and giggled and embarrassed themselves. They fawned on him and remarked on how big he had gotten, and how handsome. He smiled graciously and thanked them modestly, but he never went red in the face or looked away. He knew what they were saying was true.

His name was Garret McMillan and he was known as young royalty in Kilcar. He was the oldest son of Farmer McMillan and his wife, Eve. It was good that he acted modestly, I knew from years of experience as a hustler. Always exude innocence as if you could not imagine causing harm on another living thing. You can get away with murder if no one knows what’s coming.

As the elders of our village talked amongst themselves and the attention waned away from Garrett, his sky blue eyes subtly scanned the room. He regarded the partygoers with indifference; standing confidently alone among so many admirers.

When his eyes reached the corner of the barn where my parents stood in front of me, he looked at them the same way he looked at all the other villagers. This caused mild fascination on my part because most people pretended they couldn’t see us. We were some of the poorest people in Kilcar.  It made people uncomfortable to look at us.   

Granted, everyone in Ireland - let alone Kilcar (a small village in the county of Donegal) was poor to a degree. The farmers with the most land were the wealthiest. The wealth couldn’t be counted with actual money. Wealth was determined by ownership, which in turn determined power.

Even the McMillans, the owners of most of the land in Kilcar, spent most of their days without shoes. My parents, however, were destitute - and in turn, so was I. We were always dirty and we only had one set of clothes. They were torn and ragged and full of stains.  We owned little more than the animals did and kept our few belongings close to us at all times.

Garrett McMillan glossed his eyes over every villager as if he was looking over one of the many fields in his farm. The people of Kilcar meant not much more than numbers to him. In a decade or so Garrett would inherit the McMillan farm and all the business that came with it.

I watched Garrett, undetected in the dark corner, as he watched the others. He didn’t seem surprised by the presence of my parents - I suppose every village needs some peasants to make everyone else feel rich. Suddenly I realized that his gaze lingered on my parents - not in disgust but in interest.

He was no longer looking at my parents. He saw me! I was hoping to spend the night undetected. No one else seemed to notice me in the dark corner. I was embarrassed by so many things; I preferred not to be seen. By my filth, my poverty, my disheveled, uncombed hair. My parents. Especially my parents.

Somehow he saw me and wouldn’t look away. His eyes locked onto my face and held me captive. His face was still without expression but I could feel that he was studying me. His stare was so intense it felt as if he was burning holes into my soul. I felt like he knew everything about me with just this look.

I looked down. I looked away. I looked down again. I looked up. He was still staring at me. Why?
I had never felt so ugly in my life. I was much more comfortable going unnoticed.

After a few moments I couldn’t take the awkward feeling any longer and I shuffled behind my father. Protected by his shadow, I could peer at Garrett undetected and I was relieved when he finally looked away.

My parents took turns making their rounds throughout the room. They would gather food from the abundant platters and bring it back to the corner of the barn where we would gnaw on it slowly and carefully. It was only an extremely rare occasion that we were able to eat like this. We savored the fresh food because it was only a matter of time before we would have to leave and starve until the next celebration in which the whole village was invited.

Suddenly a burst of loud, chatty commotion came from the opposite corner of the barn, and the villagers shuffled aside to make room for the debutantes of Kilcar to enter the room. “Oohs” and “aahs” were murmured by the farmer and their wives, and the young girls - almost women - entered as a group to be admired like prized cattle at a county fair.

There were four girls that night; this seemed to be an annual tradition at this time of year in most of the villages we had come across. The harvest of the Earth’s bounty also seemed to bring about the harvesting of youth and beauty.

The girls were not much older than I was, but I knew I would never be presented to the village in such a way. I was lacking beauty and wealth and there was no value to a girl like me. I was only good at working and I doubt people even saw me as a girl.

Sophia Meagher was a beacon in the crowd of dismal villagers. Her hair was long, strong and the color of corn silk. Her face was free of dirt and blemishes and was as smooth and as tender as a baby’s. Her light blue eyes, similar to Garrett’s, shone from her pale, slightly freckled and flushed face and caressed her downy blonde eyelashes. No boy or man was immune to a glance from Sophia; they were always visibly affected by her charm.

4 comments:

  1. I love the time period--and that your heroine isn't the expected debutante. It did feel as though it took a while to learn much about her, though--I'd like to see more of her and her feelings from the first paragraph. I loved this bit: "No one else seemed to notice me in the dark corner. I was embarrassed by so many things; I preferred not to be seen. By my filth, my poverty, my disheveled, uncombed hair. My parents. Especially my parents." I wonder if you can get to her reactions earlier, so that we connect that much sooner.

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  2. I love how you've created a rich setting that immediately drew me in. I also love that little twist, from describing the party to her parents' role there. My only real concern was with the descriptions of Garrett in the middle slowing down the narrative just a bit. Otherwise, awesome!

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  3. I love your setting - Kilcar and Donegal county have such a rich cultural history in Ireland, and it's not the typical for historical fiction! (I love Donegal-style fiddle!)

    A few lines really stood out to me:
    "Whiskey and beer warmed everyone’s stomachs as the last evening of summer was wrung like a dishtowel; extracting each drop of summer like it was liquid gold."

    "I was embarrassed by so many things; I preferred not to be seen. By my filth, my poverty, my disheveled, uncombed hair. My parents. Especially my parents."

    "The harvest of the Earth’s bounty also seemed to bring about the harvesting of youth and beauty."

    It seems to promise a story about class and wealth, and the violation of social boundaries- and what happens when the hangover of summer wears off and the village has to survive a cold winter together. I'm excited to read more!

    I do have a few suggestions - much of the description of the celebration the reader is getting as received summary from our heroine, rather than experiencing it with her as it happens. For example:

    "You could tell that even the wives of the other farmers found him attractive. They blushed and whispered and giggled and embarrassed themselves. They fawned on him and remarked on how big he had gotten, and how handsome. "

    Perhaps she could sidle closer to this young man who's captured her attention, and we could hear the embarrassing fawning of the farmer's wives right along side her.

    And in the same way - as she stands with her parents -- are they talking to her? Making whispered remarks about the marks in the room, or the food, or about her herself?

    I think that might bring us more deeply into the moment - hearing and seeing this with her - and maybe hearing her own voice (out loud, I mean) as well.

    I look forward to reading more!

    ________________
    On a side note - had trouble leaving comments - had to disable some privacy extensions in Firefox before I could get my google account to work. Hope that helps others.

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  4. Definitely love Ireland. I like that the debut ball isn't for the MC, and how she's actually there as the daughter of two thieves. It makes me really want to know her parents more, and their family dynamic. I wanted to see more about the parents in this opening bit, like if they're scanning the crowd, whispering to each other, etc.

    Good luck!

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