CHARACTER BUILDING EXPERIENCE
Carolyn and Daniel belong to whichever studio had the show, RA Dick's estate, and anyone else who has rights to them, not I. All her characters and the new people belong to myself or Mary. This sort of takes place in the Day On universe, but can be read without the others, I think. Thanks to Mary for her excellent Beta help, and the idea. I tip my hat to Kasey Michaels who introduced me to the concept presented below; however Sterling and St. Just are much better than my efforts.
November 1, 1982
"So, my dear, what are your plans for the day while my crew and I go fishing?" Daniel Gregg asked. For the past few weeks, the ghost had missed seeing much of his long time friends while some of them worked on the play and anyone not doing that helped tend to Thom Avery, Daniel's step-son in-law who was recovering from an accident. The play had wrapped and Thom had put his unbroken foot down; he wanted to be left alone a bit, please. Carolyn's second mother, friend, and sometimes housekeeper, Martha, had said she would love to have some good fish to cook, and so, the seamen had chosen today to try and fulfill her wish, on the contingency that success would be rewarded with a good meal. Dead or not, they did enjoy food.
Carolyn Muir-Gregg smiled at her husband. "I've been toying with the idea of a contemporary romance novel for sometime, darling. I love writing with you, but I know you like historical, or time travel books, better. "
Pulling his ear, Daniel admitted, "It is what I know, Madam."
Reaching up to kiss him, Carolyn agreed, "Yes, but the present is what I know best. And I've had these people in my mind, off and on, for a long time, I've just been having a tough time with a couple of the characters not wanting to cooperate. So, in this lull, I want to see if I can make some headway on the idea."
"If anyone can reign in recalcitrant characters, you can," the ghost acknowledged.
"Thank you for your confidence." Carolyn winked pertly at her handsome husband.
A fishing pole popped into the specter's hand. "You won't need me to advise on nautical terms, then?"
Carolyn shook her head. "Not for this, and you have taught me well. I don't use landlubber's terms anymore."
"Very well. I shall see you subsequently, my love." Then, he was gone.
"Okay, you," she turned a stern eye onto the two remaining kittens and her dog, Dakota. "All pets behave. I have serious writing to do. This idea is going to drive me bat-er nuts, if I don't sort it out."
Gathering her supplies, Carolyn sat down at her desk and prepared to write.
An hour later, she felt like Thomas Jefferson in her friend, Adam's, favorite movie, 1776. She had made as much progress on her great American novel as he had made on the Declaration before John Adams got his wife in for a visit. At least he had a good excuse for writer's block!
"Blast!"
"May I be of service, lovely lady?" a voice asked.
Startled, she looked up, way up, into a pair of sparkling blue eyes. For a second, she thought Daniel had popped back, but then realized that no, it was not her husband. However, the man standing over her did sort of resemble him, or one of the personas he had adopted while they dated.
But, not quite.
"Uh- who are you? Are you from the spectral fraternity? You aren't the Baron, are you?" she asked.
"Good heavens, no. Don't you know me? I'm Troy Eddington, at your service."
"That's the name of- of the hero in my novel, I think," Carolyn gulped. "I'm sorry; I didn't know I was naming him after a real person. I can change it."
He laughed merrily, sounding for all the world like Tristan. "Oh, no. You don't need to change my name. I am Troy, your Troy. The one and only. Your character. Here to help tell my story."
"But, if you want to change a name, feel free to change MINE," an annoyed woman's voice demanded. "And, darling, it is OUR story."
"Jess?" Carolyn asked; that was who it sounded like, and her friend did hate her name.
"No. You call me Romana. Your heroine, but I don't feel like a Romana. You might as well call me Frank or Ted, those fit just as well."
A lady with Carolyn's daughter, Candy's, eyes and her foster daughter, Jenny's, black hair was sitting beside the fireplace, cuddling a kitten, but not D.C. or Tribble, a totally new kitten.
"Dear one, I've tried to explain that romance heroes and heroines need rather - elaborate names," Troy said gently. "I like calling you Romana, when I'm not using some endearment."
"Well, you saying my name sounds okay, but everyone else- it just sounds wrong," Romana insisted.
"What's in a name?" Troy attempted.
"Who are you?" Carolyn asked again. They could NOT be two figments. They just couldn't be.
"This from the woman who talks to ghosts?" Troy asked with a grin.
"I-"
"You know who we are; I'm ten percent Martha, ten percent Candace, seven percent Jenny, fifteen percent your mother, and the rest - you," Romana said. "Maybe one or two percent pure imagination." She shrugged. "I'd guess that Troy there is fifty percent the Captain, five percent Fontenot, equal parts of Tristan, Blackie, and Adam. Eight percent Brad Williams. Maybe a percent or two worth of Bobby Muir, he has to have a flaw or two, after all. Three percent- Claymore? A few faults, then. And even a touch of Blair. That's another flaw or two, but it's easier to love a flawed hero, yes? Perfect is - a big yawn in ordinary mortals."
Carolyn blinked. She was going to have accept that she was going insane or that these figments were really there.
"You are not nuts, or bats," Troy assured her with a little pat to her shoulder. "I think the villain in this piece does have some of your Aunt Bats, and a LOT of the Troublemakers and Herklippers in him."
"Tristan hasn't invented that permutation of Darlene and Penny's name," Carolyn frowned.
"You can invent too, you just don't want to admit that," Romana wagged a finger at her creator.
Carolyn flushed. "Well, you two are getting along okay, it's your supporting cast that's being problematic."
"I for one wouldn't be if YOU didn't change how I look every other day and continue to rename me. Romana, please, don't encourage that habit!" another man spoke up as he came into the room. "I'm either Patrick Thornton, Alistair Rochester, or Henry Booker, Troy's best friend. I've chosen to appear as I would like to look in your book, FYI."
"I really see you as blonder," Carolyn said. "And with brown eyes, not hazel."
As she spoke, what's his name's appearance began morphing. "Oooh. That hurts. Please, settle on a look for me. I'm not your Captain. It's not easy on me." He walked over to a mirror. "Come on. The other me is much better looking."
"What was that line about vanity, all is vanity?" another man asked, popping to life on the window seat as he did so.
"You're Wayne Hill! Romana -," Carolyn recognized this new guy in an instant. She had to pause while Romana's groan drowned out her words, " - the heroine's best friend's love interest in the subplot."
"That's not exactly true," a woman announced, walking into the room and over to the man who was still scowling at the mirror. "Whatever this guy's name is, I like him better. No matter what he looks like. Don't get me wrong, Wayne is a nice guy, but he feels like my big brother, not someone I'm falling for."
"So, you're Daisy Emerson?" Carolyn assumed.
"Got it in one."
"And I feel absolutely no attraction beyond a fraternal sort of emotion," Wayne agreed, "for Daisy."
"But I do, and I think I'd like to be Henry Thornton."
"Can I have one of the names he doesn't want?" Romana begged. "I feel like a reject from a sci-fi novel with a moniker like this. I'll take any name, really. Almost, that is."
"Is that all you do, whine?" a harried female voice snapped. "Puh-leez. See, Troy. You were better off with moi."
"I never loved you, so would you kindly go play in traffic?" Troy asked the woman who looked disturbingly like Donna and Vanessa both.
"I can't leave here, you know that. Were you always so dense? Hello, Carolyn. I'm Antonia, Troy's first wife, the one who broke his heart."
"You don't appear in this book at all," Carolyn argued.
"And never broke my heart," Troy muttered under his breath. "Eardrums, yes. Heart, no."
"So? Neither do I, but I'm here," a man who looked much more like Bobby than was comfortable noted with a shrug. "Our lives had an impact on those two."
"You're the ex-fiancee' that my heroine finds cheating with some floozy. Is the floozy going to show up next?" Carolyn asked.
"Nah. She was a no name with zero personality. One night stand for which Romy couldn't forgive me. I'm better off without her."
"The feeling is mutual," Romana said darkly. "Romy. Ugh."
Carolyn nodded. "You have a point. Do you like -- Chloe better?"
After a moment's consideration, Romana looked at Troy. "Dear, would you--?"
"Darling Chloe," Troy tested for her.
"Hmm. Very well. It is an improvement." She sighed. "At least it's not something like -- Buffy Beasley."
"I would not do that to any character," Carolyn promised. "Is anyone else here?"
"Now that you mention it," a young man's voice said from the stairs. "Hi. I'm Troy's kid brother..."
"The one who flirts with Ro- er- Chloe's younger sister," Carolyn finished. "Lance."
He beamed. "Yes. I like my name, and my look. It's just..." In two long strides, he was standing in front of her, an entreating look on his earnest face. "Ma'am, honestly, I know your plan is for Claudia to fall for some guy you haven't introduced yet because I'm just flirting, but I'm really not. I do love her. Can't you give us a shot? Please!"
"Maybe in a sequel?" a young woman, obviously Claudia, added. "I do like him, a lot. I've been overshadowed by my cool, older sister, but I think we could have a sweet story all our own."
"On the subject of sequels," Daisy interjected, one hand in the air. "Don'tcha think Henry and I could use one? Maybe it could be a trilogy?"
"Four books," Wayne huffed. "I'm without love over here. I really am NOT attracted to any of you ladies, but I would like a girl. A woman, actually. "
"Well... if you and Daisy aren't matched, do I really need you?" Carolyn asked.
"Of course! I'm - very loveable." Wayne looked highly offended, and remarkably like Siegfried Matthews around the eyes.
"Maybe he's my partner? You did make me a police detective, which brings to mind," Troy said, tapping a finger on his nose, "can I solve a mystery? Erk- may I?- that is? Use the intelligence you gave me?"
"How about the mystery of why I'm out here in left field, fully developed but seldom used?" a guy who looked sort of like Claymore, with hair, asked. "You've probably forgot me. I'm Al Reed. The comic relief, I guess you'd say. I've gotten ten lines, maybe, in thirty pages. I'm not dead."
"If you were, you'd be in the basement, old son," Henry chuckled, leaning against the fireplace.
"Wrong story," Chloe's ex smirked.
"But it has potential. Turn this into romantic suspense!" Troy exclaimed. "Yes. I like it."
"Fine. That kills me. You don't need humor then, so I'll be the body in the basement," Al sighed.
"No one will be buried in the basement. What basement?" Carolyn demanded, looking from one to the other.
"Invent one?" Wayne suggested. "And put him-" he pointed at the so far nameless ex, "in it. Or under it, more precisely."
"HEY!"
"Excellent idea!" Chloe beamed. "So, Troy will rescue me from being sent to jail for a murder I did not commit, even if I wanted to, and even if it would be a public service."
"How did someone get in your basement with a body and bury it without you noticing?" Carolyn asked.
"I dunno. You're the writer and he's the detective, you figure it out," Chloe shrugged. "He seems like a very murderable person."
"Is that a word?" Daisy asked.
"It should be," Chloe announced. "Then, in the next book, we can murder Troy's ex."
"What next book?" Carolyn asked while Antonia yelped in outrage.
"It'll be a series so we can all, except those who get whacked, can find romance," Henry grinned.
"I haven't sold the first one yet!" Mrs. Gregg moaned. "And you're all wanting your own books? Aren't you getting ahead of - of me?"
"An optimistic attitude will help," Lance said cheerfully, draping one arm around Claudia.
She nodded. "Right. YOU like us, and you are a lady of good taste and refinement. So, why shouldn't other people like us, too?"
"Aren't those two a little cute to be in a romantic suspense book, much less series?" the potential murder victim groused. "Unless they get sent to the basement, that is."
"You have the right to remain silent, anything you say will be held against you," Troy growled.
"All the books wouldn't have to be mysteries, or even mainly mysteries. You could - you know, make them cross genre so more people would like them," Al mused. "A funny, romantic suspense mystery! That is the ticket. You'd make a fortune!"
"Throw in fantasy while you're at it," Antonia sniped. "Of course, it would be fantasy to think that he would ever like her." She glared at the main couple.
Taking a deep breath, Carolyn slapped her desk for attention. "Okay, each of you gets to tell me ONE thing for my notes. So, decide what is most pertinent, and I will make a list." It had worked for Fontenot when they had fixed Adam and Jess' house.
Her cast of characters all looked stunned. Then, they began to talk at once.
"One at a time," Carolyn admonished. "Ladies first, in- alphabetical order."
An hour later, she had a list of points and was prepared to entertain debate on whether or not to make her story a mystery.
"I don't suppose you guys would hang around and let me call Jenny, or go see her, since she does have a contract to illustrate my covers?" Carolyn asked, looking up from her list of possible plot permutations.
"We would," Troy said with an abashed smile, "but, we'd be invisible. We're only really alive for you, after all."
"And to your readers, but we probably look a little different to them," Wayne added.
"However, you paint lovely word pictures," Henry assured the writer. "And Jenny has a fantastic imagination, so I'm sure that your minds can meet and make us look as we should. Of course, she only has to get Troy and Chloe right; I doubt the full group would be on the cover."
"But, we're getting books too," Lance reminded him brightly.
"I didn't--"
"You like us, and don't want to let us fade to memory," Daisy said. "So, there'll be other books, and other pictures." She paused to glance at Frank, Chloe's newly named ex-love. "Well, most of us."
"I never liked you either," Frank sulked.
"Like that would break my heart?" she sardonically shot back.
"Okay, I think I know where this book is going now that I know you all," Carolyn said. She read over the pages on which she had jotted notes. "Uh, if I have questions where do I find you, or will you be staying? Do you need rooms?"
"We're all part of you. Just look inside," Chloe said gently. Now that she had a name she liked, she was much more agreeable. "Just a breath away, or less. We didn't really tell you anything you didn't know, after all."
"We just focused it," Troy nodded, taking his love's hand.
"Thank you for listening to us - to yourself," Lance whispered.
Carolyn blinked. They were all gone, or not. Their words and images were vivid in her mind.
She glanced at the clock; barely registering how much time had passed as she heard a clatter in the kitchen and male voices laughing.
"Call the troops, we have enough fish to feed a mountainside full of folks," Tristan hollered, setting off Dakota's barking.
"A small mountain," Daniel's voice rumbled.
"You mean a hill, then, old son," Dash's chuckle corrected.
Carolyn shook her head to clear it. "Did you clean them?" she called out.
Her husband appeared at her side. "Now, that's woman's work, love. Did you miss me?"
"Of course," she answered. "But, I was not at all lonely."
Lifting one brow, the Captain mused, "I have a feeling that's a story in itself, dear lady."
With a grin, she nodded. "You might say that."