Driscol Has Spoken . . . Not Really

 OOC Driscol. You have been warned.

~ * ~ * ~

I've been staring at this page for the last sixteen and a half minutes trying to figure out what on earth I'm supposed to write. Fiction, nonfiction. My thoughts, another person's thoughts. This entire journal has been blank for months now and, although Jill was patient at first, I think she's ready for me to write something.

  I don't know what she expects me to say, though. I mean, everyone else has so much more going on in their heads. Clearly I don't want to say anything, ever, because I simply stand here all day, watching, waiting, listening. No personality. No real emotion. I'm just here. But I won't rant, not right now.

  This is my first entry, so I guess I should introduce myself, maybe. The name's Driscol Gallaugher. I'm seventeen, my only friend is Fiona Harren, apparently I know how to hunt, and I used to run a bar (you know, before I got whisked off into a journey to search for the missing king). I live with my mom, but we don't talk a lot. Well, I don't talk a lot. I never do.

  I'm not sure why Jill gave everyone else personalities and gave me a single word: Silent. Why couldn't I be loyal, like Rylan, or crazy, like Lorcan? Elroy is overconfident, Donovan is scared of his own shadow. Gael doesn't say much, but, when he does, at least he has anger to back it up.

  And me? I'm quiet. Just quiet.

  My author is almost finished writing the book and you know what? I know less about me than you do. I'm still just there. I'm just quiet and still and yet I can't do anything about that. I mean, doesn't she know the meaning of character development? I think the most significant thing I do in the whole book is have a secret crush on Fiona, but she never finds out because I DON'T TALK.

  What is Jill thinking, for crying out loud? Doesn't she see I have things I want to say, things I need to get off my chest? I mean, how would she feel if someone stuck her in a story just to stand there all day, watching everyone else have conversations and adventures and fall in love? She would hate it, just like I do.

  I mean, seriously, I don't even know what I like. Does that tell you anything about how little I speak? The most entertaining thing I even did in the book was have a half-playful, half-serious argument with Fiona that lasted ten seconds before I stopped talking. Again.

  And speaking of Fiona, what makes Jill think I'd like her, of all people? We're complete opposites and best friends. Since when did "best friends" have crushes on each other? Not only that, but she's in love with Rylan Laury! What makes my author think I'd like her, knowing she was happier with someone else? Am I desperate, or just stupid?

  I wouldn't know, because I never talk.

  Also, while we're letting things out here, can someone please explain to me what my backstory is, because I can't quite figure that one out. My mom is in the picture, but not really because she never shows up and I never miss her or think about her. And then my dad is roaming around town somewhere, apparently the most hated man in Hanoria, yet he never shows up either. So why do people hate him, why am I avoiding him if he's a sweet old man who never bothers anyone?

  AND WHY DO PEOPLE HATE ME? I'm his son, not his accomplice. Goodness gracious alive.

  Another thing: I have six hundred gold pieces and I tell Donovan I'd want to use that money to travel. What? NO. This whole journey consists of traveling, I'm doing that for free. What idiot would want to travel more? My feet hurt, there are bugs everywhere, the weather sucks, and, on top of everything, there's nothing really great to see out here -- just trees, trees, snow, and -- oh, look! -- some more trees.

  Also, please don't get me started on the fact that a purple haired elf, who showed up halfway through the novel, gets to become a more important character than me. HE EVEN HAS MORE OF A BACKSTORY THAN I DO. What the heck is that all about? What, because he's an elf, he gets more attention than me? It's probably those golden eyes. Chicks dig the golden eyes.

  Personally, I always thought girls went for the tall, dark, and handsome type. I mean, look at me! I'm dark! I'm handsome-ish! (I wouldn't know that either, because all the princesses either fall for sweet, innocent Donovan or hard-to-get Gael. Or, worst of all, Rylan. Now that one I don't get. At least I'm silent and kind. He's got an attitude and girls like him more than me. He's not nice at all. He doesn't like people in general. At least I love people, but, once again, you wouldn't know that.)

  Well, this has been long enough. Here's to hoping I'll stumble upon a voice box in the next book. Maybe I'll give them all a piece of my mind when I do.

  -D.G.

  P.S. This was totally fictional (you know, just in case Jill decides to read it). Ta-ta, lovelies!

  P.S.S. YES. I said it. Because I say weird things. Bet you didn't see that one coming.

The Diary of a Fictional Character in Love

Alas, I am afraid NaNoWriMo has ended, but my story has not. So far, you've heard from Lorcan and Elroy. But it's my turn now. We're still writing in our journals, since Jill has not yet completed the novel. In my opinion, giving us journals was a great idea. I mean, seriously, I'm one of two girls surrounded by a group of loud, smelly boys. A journal is long overdo.

You see, none of the guys would want to sit through me talking (except Corlan, but . . . he's kind of an old guy and he went back home some time ago). And, of course, Princess Neala is a girl, but I doubt she wants to hear me whine about feelings and other things that bother me.

So, that's what you're here for. :) I suppose I should first introduce myself and then my predicament.

My name is Fiona Harren. I'm seventeen years old and I am currently traveling with a group of nobodies (and one somebody!) to find and rescue King Ieli, bringing him back to safety. My real home is in Hanoria, Dalithorne. My middle name is Arlene and I hate it (so don't you dare tell anyone). I dream of being rich and able to afford nice things. I'd also like to live somewhere nicer. I stay with my mother, but I spend a lot of time hanging out with my friend, Driscol, who runs a bar in our small town. I have recently fallen in love with the most incredible guy on the planet and . . . Well, that's where the predicament comes in.

It's natural for people to fall in love. It happens all the time, everyday, all around us. Sometimes it's love at first sight and, at other times, a friendship slowly blossoms into something beautiful. In my case, it was the first.

Rylan Laury is his name. He has shaggy, blond hair and eyes so blue the sky can't even compete. It's no wonder it was love at first sight. But, you see, love at first sight won't always work out, for a person has to have at least some sort of personality. And let me tell you, Rylan Laury's personality completes him. He is, indeed, perfect, in every sense of the word.

In fact, just the other day he--

Oops. Hold on. Jill needs me for something. (I think it has something to do with my father, who recently returned. That's a LONG story. I'll whine about it when I come back.)

~ * ~ * ~

"I think I'm gonna throw up," muttered Elroy, scanning the page once more to make sure he hadn't missed anything important. " 'His eyes so blue the sky can't even compete'? I mean, really, what is that?"

"Dude, it's called love," Donovan explained, reading over his brother's shoulder. "Maybe she's just faking, though. I mean, why would she leave something like this out in the open?"

Gael rolled his eyes from where he was leaning up against the trunk of a tree, sharpening a stick with his knife. "Isn't it a little childish to be messing with something that doesn't belong to you?"

Elroy snorted. "Yeah, because you're such a saint." He shook his head and stood up. "Just mind your own business for now. It's not like we're doing anything wrong. She left it here."

Gael never responded, so Donovan turned back to his brother. "Maybe he's right. We shouldn't read her diary. Girls don't like it when guys invade their privacy."

"And how do you know?"

"I got caught reading Neala's journal earlier . . ."

Elroy sighed dramatically. "Fine. I'll just put it back where I found it." And he did, but not without scribbling something of his own on the page first.

~ * ~ * ~

I'm back. SO much happened while I was gone, but I'll have to tell you about that later, because it's getting dark and I don't want to get too off subject before I have to stop writing. Where was I . . .?

. . .

. . . . . . . . .

What.

WHAT?!?!?!?!

Okay. That's it. I won't write anymore tonight. In fact, I might throw you into the forest to be forgotten forever. Thanks a lot, Diary. Now excuse me while I go wallow in my embarrassment.

~ * ~ * ~

Slamming her diary shut and letting out a scream muffled by her hand over her mouth, Fiona Harren truly did wallow in her embarrassment. She made a big scene, pacing back and forth, muttering angrily to herself, wallowing in her embarrassment some more, and then finally deciding to simply collapse on the ground, since there was no one there to see her. Everyone had gone down to the lake when she went to retrieve her diary.

She officially hated her life.

And she hated it even more when, suddenly, she opened her eyes, and realized that, not only was it dark outside, but directly above her stood Rylan Laury himself, concern written all over his beautiful features.

She stood up quickly, brushing the dirt off her clothes and trying to make her hair look presentable (of course it never did). "Rylan . . ." Her voice trailed off and she could feel her face turning all shades of red, so she ducked her head.

"What's wrong?" he questioned casually, like he knew nothing about what had happened, like everything was fine, when it definitely wasn't. "Why were you sleeping on the ground?"

"I wasn't sleeping," she explained quickly. I was trying to forget about how perfect you are.

He nodded slowly. "Oh. Well, we're about to have dinner, if you're hungry."

"Berries again?"

"What else?"

She rolled her eyes and then the two of them fell into awkward silence as the crickets chirped around them. She was still kicking herself for ever writing in that stupid diary. It was the worst decision she'd ever made and she'd never stop regretting it. But Rylan knew everything now and there was nothing more to hide. It was both thrilling and terrifying.

"I'm so sorry about the diary," she blurted, causing him to jump in surprise. "I didn't know you'd see it, otherwise I would have never admitted those things. But I didn't know anyone would read it and I didn't realize you'd--"

"Wait, what?" he asked and she wondered if he was just trying to make her feel better.

"The diary!" She groaned pathetically and ran a hand through her short hair. "I'm sorry, but I really can't take any of it back! I mean, I want to -- trust me, I want to -- but it was all true! Your eyes are more beautiful than the sky and you are perfect! And I know it sounded stupid, but that's just how I feel and I completely understand if you never want to talk to me again!" She took a deep breath, looking right at him and feeling almost free. It was finally out in the open. "I feel the way I feel, Rylan. You don't have to feel the same way, but I do expect you to accept the fact that--"

"What diary?" he questioned, just as she exclaimed, "I'm in love with you!"

Both fell eerily silent, staring at each other with wide eyes. Brody shouted at them from a distance, saying something about eating berries, but neither one responded, or moved, or breathed. They only stared at each other, unsure of what to say or do next.

"U-Um," she stuttered, trying to avoid his gaze as her face started turning red again, "you didn't . . . read my diary?"

His eyebrows furrowed. "No. Why would I do something like that?"

"Then who . . ." She looked up. "But there was a note from someone in there! It said you'd read it all. Your name was signed at the end. It had to be you!"

He shook his head slowly. "Nope."

Now utterly humiliated, she slowly turned around and started back toward the journal she'd left next to her favorite, large, oak tree. "I know who it was," she muttered, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a hole and never come out. "Just leave me alone for now. Go eat."

He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he turned and started back up the hill, where the others, oblivious to what had just happened, were waiting for him.

She picked up her diary and quill, sighing again as she cursed herself for ever agreeing to write in that stupid journal.

~ * ~ * ~

Dear Diary,

Elroy is so dead.

Oh, and I hate you.

Love, Fiona. :)

Dear Diary/Journal Thing, Elroy Was Here

Yo. <----- That's the cool word I discovered this morning. No one ever uses it in Dalithorne. According to my author, yo is a word used to attract someone's attention. It can also be used as a greeting. In this case, it was both. Right . . .?

In honor of finishing Pretenders by Lisi Harrison in four days during NaNoWriMo, Jill assigned me and the guys (plus Neala) journals. I know. What you're thinking is probably the exact same thing I'm thinking, Journal. What. A. Stupid. Idea. We don't need journals! We're adventurers! We're men! We can handle ourselves and we don't have to write about our feelings to do so!

But she said if we write in our journals every single day, we'll get free food.

Yes, that's right.

She starves us. Such a slave driver. It's supposedly "for a good cause," but I doubt starving us could ever save some kittens.

Anyway, Donovan (my few-minutes-younger, twin brother) doesn't mind. He still has month-old candy in his pockets, so he won't be going hungry. But he writes, anyway. He was so excited when Jill brought this idea up. He grabbed a quill and started writing immediately. I mean, what is he? A girl? No man should ever have so many feelings welling up inside that he must write them the moment the idea is suggested to him.

No.

We put a fight, we argue, we lose the argument to a girl, and then we write. :)

. . . Phew. Close one. Jill was reading over my shoulder. I had to write that.
 
I'm not speaking to her anymore, not after what happened this morning. We're not on the best terms and I'm making sure she knows that. She deserves more than just the silent treatment after the way she treats her characters.

(P.S. Lorcan's blog was a lie. Characters don't control the story and, even if they try to, the author still dictates it.)

You see, I started a food fight in King Morain's castle and what did I get? Almost arrested.

Donovan resists arrest and what does he get? A kiss from the princess of Spirulous. Like he's all that. I'll have you know, he's a dork. (That's another word I learned today. It means, "a stupid or foolish person.") All he used to do back in the village was cook, or help Mama in the shop, or do all his chores like a perfect kid. He was nothing like me: a bad boy with ladies chasing after me left and right. I'm the exciting one. If anyone deserves to kiss a princess, it's me.

Oh, well. She didn't like it, anyway. I could tell by the way her face got all red. She asked to come with us after that, when we were heading out of the castle (more like running from guards, but whatever). I think it was because she saw me coming. I don't blame her, really. I am devastatingly handsome. You know that. ;)


Anyway, I really don't like the way Jill has set things up. I mean, what made her think I wanted to be with a bunch of idiots on this journey? Granted, she probably didn't want (a) girls, because they'd fight over me, or (b) smart people, because then it wouldn't be as obvious that I'm the greatest of all characters. But, you know, it's a lot of pressure being this cool. Jill really likes to put all that work on my shoulders, but I take it like a man, since I am one.

Which brings me back to the first part about why I shouldn't have a diary.

She said if she had to write all November, we did, too. Gael was brave enough to challenge her, but he lost when she threatened to have Morella (his five year old sister) appear and tag along for the journey. She threatened Rylan with having Fiona show up. She threatened me with Mama. That's why I'm writing right now.

I'm not sure whether or not Mama or Fiona will show up, but I've read some of Jill's ideas. Lying to her characters . . . Tsk, tsk. Poor Gael won't even see it coming. I don't plan on telling him, not now. There's no way I'm sticking my neck out and risking my mama showing up. She's scary when she's mad.

"Just write about how you feel," Jill explained earlier, as we all stared at her like she'd grown seven heads. "Or write about your day. I don't care what you write as long as it's nonfiction and something you wrote yourself." Lorcan groaned and then she added, "Fine. Write fiction if you want, but you have to write it yourself."

IMHO (a phrase I learned, it stands for "in my humble opinion"), she didn't give us enough details. So, I don't know what to write. I think I'll just sit here and pretend I'm writing. Oh, wait. I am writing. I guess this counts, since it's taking up space. Word. Word. Word.

Elroy.
 
Plemmons.

Is.

Awesome.

Wow. This is nonfiction. :D

Well, I guess I'll get going for now. My author is about to start writing again and apparently I'm needed on the set. Or something.

BTW (stands for "by the way"), Jill has the key to your lock, Journal. Please don't let her open you. Resist. Be strong, even if she tries to read the true words I've written, don't let her. She will take it and turn it into something else. You're the last bit of freedom of speech I have.

Great. Now she's yelling at me. With a smirk on her face. Her blog is open. I know where this is heading.

BE STRONG, DIARY MANLY JOURNAL WITH FEELINGS OF ONLY AWESOMENESS WRITTEN IN YOU.