Scraps from the Cutting Rooom Floor

"How do you know he didn't eat the horse's soul?" Lyta asked, looking back at the wreckage of the ruined cart.
"Because you don't do that to a friend," said Jasper, tension creeping into his voice.
She looked back at him. "What about Bess?"
He grimaced. "Bess made a bargain -- a stupid one."
Lyta's lips curved into a pout. She was obviously uncomforted by this response.
"And stop looking at me like that. I'm your husband, not a beast," he snapped.
Her eyes went wide and her lip trembled. Before Jasper could say anything else, she leaned in close and kissed him. "I love you," she whispered.

A note on writing alcohol

While we are at it, I have some similar thoughts on the subject of alcohol in books.

To be clear: I have drunk very little alcohol in my life. Everything I know, I learned from talking to other people or just doing a bit of research on the internet. So I am no expert! Even so, I often see authors (especially aspiring ones) make some funny mistakes with the characters' alcohol.

The most common mistake, which I have seen many different times from different authors, is for a relatively high-class character relaxing with a glass of randomly-selected alcohol (say, a light desert wine,) to chug it all, giving a theatric grimace of pain.

So much no.

1. The only time down large quantities of alcohol all at once is if they are trying to get drunk as quickly as possible. If so, the alcohol is probably cheap and crappy and your character is not particularly high class. This may be how people act at frat parties, but it is not how people who can afford expensive drinks generally approach alcohol.

So how do they drink?

In general, most people drink by, well, drinking. Same as you might sip a cup of tea or have a glass of juice with a meal. A glass of wine is sipped; a shot of whiskey is savored. Depending on the situation, your character might not even get drunk.

"But wait," I hear you saying, "Isn't whiskey one of those alcohols people chug, because it tastes so bad?"

Look, I think whiskeys and scotches taste absolutely awful, even the fancy Japanese ones. But people who actually drink these things assure me that they find the flavor pleasant, and I have never seen anyone chug expensive whiskey and then sit there grimacing. Think about it: why would you pay $150 for something you find unpleasant?

Which leads me to number two...

2. Not all alcohols are the same. A dinner wine is not vodka and is drunk under different circumstances. Scotch is not beer. Pick the alcohol that is appropriate to your character and the situation; don't just pick at random.

On a related note, if you have never been to a club or bar, I recommend visiting one or at least talking to someone who has visited one before writing about them, as ignorance in this department will show.

Happy writing, my friends!

Amber is Basically a Terrible Person (Another scrap)

Amber's jewel-encrusted goblet clunked against the table as Jasper entered her chamber. He attempted his most artful bow, but her glare remained as cold as the December wind which whistled through a half-open window. "And to what do I owe this inconvenience?" she asked in a voice like ice.
Jasper gathered his resolve and drew a silver box from beneath his cloak. "I have a favor to ask you." His fingers trembled as he set the box before his sister, almost knocking over her goblet. He backed away.
Curiosity widened her eyes, and Amber flicked open the silver lid. "A knife?" She drew the blade from its velvet bedding. Light from the window glinted on its razor-sharp edge, and her eyes turned hard again. "What favor?"
Jasper pushed the hair away from his good ear and tugged at its pointed tip. "I request that you cut off the top of my ear for me, so they'll match." His other ear had been cut long ago, almost as small as a human's.
Amber examined the knife, weighing the balance in her hand. "Why?"
He glanced away from her. For an instant he almost reconsidered. But even Wilgefortis had commented on his ears. "There is a lass -- "
Her laughter cut him short. Amber leaned against the table, tears glinting in the corners of her eyes. When she recovered, she smiled slyly and asked, "What of your little narwhal?"
He shrugged. "I doubt she likes me."
Her fingertips danced along the blade. "And yet you fancy this one does?"
Jasper bristled. "It's hardly your concern."
"Then why have you come to me?"
"Because you hate me enough to do it."
Amber met his eyes. She made no effort to contradict his statement. "You know the geis on our blood. If I harm you, I feel your pain."
He shrugged.
She considered the knife, gently pressing the blade against the pad of her thumb. "You are quite certain of this."
He nodded, the words frozen in his throat.
Amber crossed the gap between them and grasped his ear. The knife flashed.
Lyta --
Pain shot through Jasper's head. He tried to muffle his scream with his fists as he sank to the marble floor. He fumbled for a wad of gauze in his pocket and shoved it against his bleeding ear. Ow.
Amber stared down at him, contempt on her lips. She toyed with the bloody knife. "Huh. The geis doesn't work."
Jasper squeezed his ear, barely able to think. "The geis is fine. You're not my blood."
The knife clattered to the floor. "You..." Amber snatched it back up and grabbed Jasper's hair, forcing his chin up. The blade tore against his skin. "Breathe a word of this, and I swear on my crown I'll cut your throat."
Jasper began laughing deliriously as red droplets pricked his neck. "I have no wish to die before I am even wed, my sister."
Amber withdrew in disgust and tossed the knife onto the table. "You're bleeding on my floor." She gestured toward the door. "Out."
Jasper dragged himself off the floor, still smarting. He hadn't time to mope over his ear -- his grain shipment had been delayed, and he needed to find out why before it all disappeared into the pockets of some thieving official. Before someone starved.
"You're wasting your time." Amber's voice followed him into the hall. "She won't have you."

I like this scene, but I decided to cut it because the whole business with the ear and the geiss and realizing they weren't really siblings was just too complicated.

Scraps

I'm honestly not too sad to see this one go, but just in case you were wondering how Jasper's tournament turned out:

The next morning's events began with archery. Lady Madeleine's brothers -- important students of the military school -- were introduced with great dignity and fanfare; then the rest of the lists were read. A ripple of disbelief spread through the crowd as Jasper's name was called. A quick commotion ensued as the Master of the Tourney stepped onto the dais to confer with the Keeper of the Lists. After much hushed haranguing, he resumed reading.
Jasper took up his bow, feeling Madeleine's brothers' keen eyes upon him. They were massive men, raven-haired and curly-horned, and yet they moved with a easily. They pinched their noses as Jasper passed.
He marched up to the line beside the others, took aim, and bitter shame spread across his cheeks as his first arrow flew wide. His second flew better than the first -- it manage at least to strike the target -- and his third, by some miracle, nearly found its mark. Not too terrible, he reflected, as the next archer took his place. In the end he did not do well enough to attract attention nor poorly enough to attract scorn, except in the eyes of Madeleine's brothers.
The herald announced pairs for the next event, wrestling. Jasper's distress at being paired against Madeleine's elder brother Serge was only outweighed by Serge's.
"This is an outrage," he complained to the Tourney Master. "I cannot fight him." The Master gave Jasper a sidelong glance. "I understand your situation, but the rules of the tourney are clear. If you concede, the match will be awarded to your opponent."
Serge huffed and stomped back. He stripped off his shirt and glared at Jasper. "Let's go."
Jasper swallowed and shed his own shirt. This was not a contest he could win.
Serge circled. Jasper tried to keep his back to the ropes. What had possessed him to enter the lists? He hadn't the least training in hand-to-hand combat, and Madeleine's brother was easily twice his weight.
The larger man charged, feinted, and as Jasper failed at ducking, he discovered his one bit of luck: Serge could not bear the thought of touching him.
Jasper charged, intending to flatten his opponent. Serge's arm shot out and Jasper found himself flat on his back. A knee dug into his chest.
Jasper winced and raised his hands against the magical field that held him down. "That's cheating."
"Shut up, dirt clod, or I'll hit you for real."
Lord Miacha ended the count, and Jasper was allowed to rise.

Not well. Not very well.

Clips from the Cutting Room Floor

Lady Madeleine's arrival later that week threw Jasper's customary brooding into disarray.
Lord Miacha entertained his newest guests with jousting, an aquatic ballet, and a stag hunt, which Jasper declined to attend. But Lady Madeleine seemed not to mind, laughing with him at dinner and even accompanying him on his rambles through the woods. His favorite waterfall she declared a place of divine splendor, and he resolved to prove himself a worthy and not terribly anti-social husband.
Lady Madeleine's brothers were expected in the next few days, and a tournament of skill and daring was planned to welcome them.
"What do you mean you're entering the tourney?" Jade stared at him, the thread she was trying to pick out of her sampler momentarily forgotten.
Jasper paced the library, hands behind his back. "There's a trial of skill tomorrow, and I thought -- "
"You need skills to enter a trial of skills."
"I can shoot," he replied, indignant.
"Badly." Jade returned to her thread, freeing with the point of her needle.
"There's no sense in trying to talk me out of it," he said. "I've already added my name to the lists. It would be shameful to recant."
"You will put the other contenders in an awkward position," she said, sewing again. "They cannot risk harming the king's favorite, but you are not skilled enough to hold your own. Your presence shall ruin the games."
"Am I really such an imposition on everyone?"
Jade sighed and put down her needle to pick out another thread. "Yes."

Clips From the Cutting Room Floor

Jasper sat atop the carriage, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. Rob and Tom sat beside him, driving the horses. The fire had prompted the king to move his court to their summer estate.
Jasper sighed. "It's just too good to be true."
"You sound like your sister," said Rob.
"Amber's a very intelligent person." He leaned back to stare at the sky. "It's just..."
"You're in love with that human."
"Yes." Jasper closed his eyes. Lyta shimmered, smiling up at him as they twirled in the darkness. He pressed a hand against his side, where she had tried to heal him. "I love her." It was a relief to feel the words on his tongue, even as the horrible situation closed in on his heart.
"And you feel guilty for considering Lady Marine."
"I cannot love both."