I would discover that this is a thing a couple of weeks before massive writing burn out. Well, we’ll see how the next couple of weeks go. If nothing else, I have enough WIPs to give samplings from them for ages.
In the meantime, a bit more on the “Braithwaite wins” idea...
Incidentally, while I don’t need feedback to pursue my writing, it can help give motivation, direction, and jiggle through writer’s block on a piece, so if I post anything you’re particularly interested in, feel free to ask questions, say things you’d generally be interested in seeing explored, etc. Can’t guarantee it’ll happen, ever, but you never know. I have an entire series that started as a one shot where people asked questions and shared thoughts!
“Do you have any thoughts about names?”
“For the baby, I mean. Mrs. Branson’s suggestions are dreadful.”
“I don’t know that it’s my place to have thoughts about such things. Sir.”
“Oh come on. I’m just gathering ideas. I’ve asked the rest of the staff, too. You have to be able to come up with better than ‘Iago’ and ‘Gonaril’.”
“ I’ve always fancied Edwin as a boy’s name, Sir.”
“You named her what?” Edna scowled from the bed. While it had not been the most difficult of births, it had been a long labor and late at night. It was therefore no surprise that Edna had fallen asleep when it was over and slept in late the next day, giving Tom plenty of time to deal with the registrar’s office.
“Constance,” Tom repeated himself, smiling pleasantly.
She didn’t soften in the least. “I hate that name. Don’t you think I should have had a say in what our daughter was called?”
“Don’t you think I should have had a say in whether or not we had a daughter?” he countered. It earned him the filthiest look imaginable, but he didn’t budge. “It’s a family name, and anyway, the birth certificate is already filled out. There’s nothing to be done about it.”
“Well I don’t have to call her that. I’ll call her Mildred or Winnifred. Little Winnie.”
Tom shrugged. “Suit yourself. You’ll only look foolish, in the end, looking like you don’t know your own daughter’s name.” He smiled at her sullen anger. “But Doctor Clarkson says you need time to heal. I’ll leave you to your rest.” Before she could reply, he turned and walked out of the room. Perhaps it was petty, enjoying her outrage, but she’d been impossible enough to live with that preventing her from winning, even a small victory like this, was worth it. The sooner she realized she couldn’t win everything, the better.
No offense meant to people named/fond of Mildred and Winnifred. I don’t personally think they’re dreadful. Honestly, I don’t think even Tom objects to them, he was just fishing for info.
