Day twoAn excerpt : “So, what does a fellow do when the father of the woman he loves, just doesn't have the same feelings for him? The video at the end makes me think of all the trouble Malachi has when trying to convince Paisley's dad about how much he loves the man's daughter. An Affair of the Heart “Mom, yes I understand what you are saying, that’s why I’m calling you. I’ve only been gone four hours. Everything is fine. I’m perfectly okay with Malachi. Where did you think I would be? Did you get my note?” “Note? Note?” Annie’s voice rose an octave on the repeat of the word. A sure sign she had lost all control. “Do you think a few short abrupt sentences explain your action? Do you believe they excuse the way you have left your father and I on the verge of terror? We had no idea where you were or how you had gone. You can’t drive because of your vision. Did you call a taxi?Are you okay? Tell me where you are and we will come and get you.” “I’m not coming back there.” “Paisley, honey you aren’t planning anything drastic are you? You were so upset last night. Please, I will talk to your father, make him see we want you happy. Have him change his mind about Malachi. Just come home.” “I’m not coming there, Mom. It’s not my home, its the family home. I moved out and the two of you moved me back in. Took away my freedom, my love, and tried to push me back into the role of a naive child. I can’t return to that.” “Then what are you going to do?” “I’m going to spend the next couple of weeks with Malachi, marry him, and then I’ll return as his wife to confront you and Oto-san.” “What? You’re going to-” Annie MuRong yelled to her husband, calling him to the phone relating everything Paisley had said to her. Her voice on the line was immediately replaced by her husband’s angry demanding tirade. “Paisley Tenshi MuRong, are you serious? You will marry this man?”
Day Three http://juliesbookreview.blogspot.com/2015/02/ey-wade-day3.html?m=1 Another scene:
The chair legs scraped loudly on the kitchen floor when Frankie MuRong pushed away from the table and strolled through the sliding glass doors to the backyard. He knew where he could find Paisley, on his way in the house through the patio door, he’d seen her diving into the pool. The pool he’d had built for her after she watched a movie about a mermaid. As a child she became convinced she was a mermaid and they had stolen her and removed her ability to swim. She'd demanded lessons and learned well, determined to one day get to the ocean and swim far away. Where she would finally be happy. Choosing to sit under one of the many trees provided to keep the area well shaded, he watched his eldest daughter. Her strokes were swift, long, hard, and angry. Back and forth she swam across the Olympic sized pool like a fish stuck in a bowl. Over and over until without warning, she stopped in the middle, treading water and crying. Her back was to him but he could hear her clearly. Her sobs echoed through the water, vibrating into his soul and he wanted to cry with her. He’d only seen her as a rebellious, recalcitrant child. Never imagining her to be so sad and heartbroken. Looking up as a hand was placed on his shoulder, he stared into the weeping eyes of his wife. The tears falling from her eyes simultaneously with the ones dripping from the tips of his lashes, landed on the back of his hand and mingled. Sitting next to him on the cool grass, she whispered into his ear. Silently, he listened. He listened to her reminder of how his great-grandfather had not accepted the love of his own Chinese grandfather, and the family had not been destroyed. He remembered how he’d felt when Annie’s family wanted to keep them apart. How angry and frustrated he had been when his parents believed it would be best if he continued his education before he married her.
Eventually, he nodded in agreement to Annie’s whispers.
Quietly, they watched Paisley plunge under the water, propel upward in a rise as if she would break free to reach the heavens, only to return to earth. Where she beat the water in anger until it rose and slapped back in its incapability to give her what she wanted. Spotting them, she swam to where they were, wiping her face and wringing her hair. Her habitual demeanor of porcelain beauty and obedience back in place.
DAY4
http://juliesbookreview.blogspot.com/2015/02/ey-wade-day-4.html?m=1 When Your publisher hates your character.: "By the way, I really hated her father. Really. Really really. I think I hated him more reading it the second time." These are the encouraging words of my publisher at Inknbeans Press, yes, encouraging because it lets me know I got the point across. More important, it made Mr. Frank MuRong chuckle. This fellow cares none about your feelings. Mr. MuRong is the father of Paisley, one of the main characters from When Clouds Touch. He's stubborn, rude, opinionated, and dislikes Malachi, the love of Paisley's life. When Clouds Touch is the embodiment of a story of soul mates, Paisley and Malachi. Destined to meet since before birth, their story wraps us somewhere between loving and caring, wanting the best for someone, while wanting to see them happy, even when it is risky and they must obey the demands of family. Paisley, a woman of Japanese decent, living with Albinism and heart disease, is meek, yet makes no apologies for seeking what she yearns. Hiding behind the protective fold of her wagasa, she yearns for freedom from her overprotective parents and the love of a man she's known only in her dreams, even at the cost of her health. Malachi, a man who has visions of meeting an elusive shadow, uses his sense of humor and sensitive side to build their relationship. He's determined to win her love, even against the wishes of her parents.~ In a few days Mr. MuRong and his lovely wife will be a guest In The Chair and they will shed more light on their hard to swallow personality. Amused and wanting to know more about my publisher's feelings for this couple, I asked her if I had given them any redeeming qualities. "As for her parents, there were no redeeming qualities. I couldn't even excuse them as loving their daughter and wanting the best for her, because they only wanted the best for themselves."
Honestly, I couldn't write the MuRongs differently. As a writer, we all understand how this happens. The character comes out and well, shows their true character. You can try all you want to make them different, but somewhere in the novel, the real them is exposed. That's the type of people they showed themselves to be, dedicated and overzealous in the protection of their daughter. My next question was: Does it make the book seem bad? Does it work? And when your publisher comes back with a statement like this- "Oh, absolutely. It makes Paisley and Malachi's plight all the more powerful. This is probably the best thing you've ever written, it's like origami, perfectly folded into delicate layers that create a complex yet simple image. It's a touching and beautiful story. I hope you're very proud of it."
DAY 5: I love photographers who can tell a story through a single shot, Atsuko12, is one such an artist. As a matter of fact her photo of leaves reflecting through the folds of a wagasa, is one of the inspirations of When Clouds Touch. The ability to protect while being transparent enough to show life, is what drew me to the picture and bought this scene into my mind.~~ When Clouds Touch "Tell me you love me, Paisley. " “Aishiteiru, Malachi. I love you.” Without a pause or a second thought, she obeyed his command. He paused for a moment after snapping the shot, living the dawning knowledge revealed in her eyes that the statement was true. What was said casually now showed intensely and beckoned him into that reality. “Mujhe bhi tumse iskh huwa hai, I have also fallen in love with you.” Malachi fell to his knees, crawling to her as if being reeled in by a lifeline. Until their lips touched, melded, and their combined breath became a sustaining life force, one for the other. He felt her hands caress his back, his chest, fingers at the buttons of his shirt and he mimicked them, his fingers steadier and quicker, released the buttons at the top of her dress, pulling short when the gap revealed the tiny lace bra underneath. He flicked its front opening, exposing her flesh to his view – a sight immediately covered with his mouth. His need to be closer overwhelming his conscious mind which was telling him to move slower. But it wasn’t his mind, ruling him, it was her hands doing the directing, creating the momentum and he followed her emotions, her rush to fulfillment by caressing her touching her until she lost her control and cried out for him to stop. He rolled to his back, breathing hard, chastising himself for trying to rush her, expecting to see the sky and realized they were shielded from the elements by the red panels of the umbrella. Its protection allowing only the softest light from the sun through, casting a soft glow on everything. He watched her as she adjusted her clothing, loving the pink on her skin, like the shell of a pearl. “Is this how it always is under your umbrella, Paisley? Glimpses of light, beautiful color, shadows of leaves, silhouettes of birds, peaceful?” Paisley lay quiet for a moment, then reached over to button his shirt and rest her head on his chest. Looking through the paper and seeing the world for the first time through his vision. The change in perception made the world a different place, one she had never really noticed. “I rarely look up when I’m walking. It would probably be a little dangerous. My wagasa had always been my protection, my way of hiding from the world while spying on its way of living. Basically, it has been a tool. You are constantly showing me its real duty is that of love, Malachi. I don’t think I will ever see it the same again. Sobo wanted me to be able to go out and enjoy myself, little did I know she meant, grab a guy and make love under it.” “I’m sure that’s not what she meant and I better not catch you under this umbrella with anyone else but me.” Kissing her quick, he pulled her to her feet, grabbing blanket and umbrella and pushing them in her hands. “Let’s go, it’s starting to rain.” Collecting the picnic basket, he followed her footsteps to the car, laughing as they barely closed themselves within before the downpour. http://juliesbookreview.blogspot.com/2015/02/ey-wade-day-5.html?m=1