Write or Die: New Beginnings

I did not attend the last Write or Die gathering due to an insane amount of wind (briefly discussed in last month's post) that knocked out our power till about 9pm. It was decided that our August prompt would be "New Beginnings," which did not immediately generate any good ideas on something to write. My first thought was of a dream I had years ago, where the societal norm was to book your wedding venue years in advance and without the requirement of a potential spouse (dream logic...totally made sense at the time, lol). In the dream my wedding party and I were in this beautiful, cavernous church, even though I was unencumbered by an engagement ring.  I remember being sad and wanting to leave and someone saying we should wait in case someone showed up (what?!). Spoiler - no one did. I couldn't figure out how to a) draw that out into more than a few sentences or b) sufficiently turn the ending into a "new beginning." Pretty sure I just wanted to be done with relationships by the end of the dream. 

What I went with is a wildly fictionalized version of situation that happened about 7 years ago. There was a fella I had a crush on who worked Legislature-adjacent and would occasionally be in the building for meetings, including with my senator. We engaged in several short conversation and I benefitted from him stopping by with extra donuts leftover from a conference. When he announced that he was leaving to return to a job at his previous place of business, I decided this presented me with the ability to ask him out without having to worry about seeing him semi-regularly if he said no. 

The opportunity arose when he mentioned possibly attending a town hall being put on by a senator and city council member (nerd 😄). I let him know I would be there and asked if he was free for drinks (or gelato) afterwards if he ended up attending. He confirmed attendance the day of, but let me know he had plans following the town hall (his nephew was coming over to help with some yard work). I was a little disappointed that he didn't offer an alternative date for grabbing drinks/gelato, but still attended the town hall. We sat together and it went pretty well overall. He even emailed me the next day to let me know that we'd made it in the news footage of the event. I couldn't find it, but shared an article I found that described him as the "token millennial." He and I were probably the youngest adults there, but he was the only one of us to ask questions (surprise, surprise).  

The kicker happened about a year later, during which time our paths had not crossed. I was helping sell cinnamon rolls after Mass as a fundraiser for the Knights of Columbus and I saw him heading over to our table. I was glad to see him and was enthusiastic when he walked up. It was immediately clear that he didn't recognize me, which I admit was a bit ego bruising. The only benefit was that as he walked away, the "crush" switch was instantly flipped to off position. I distinctly remember thinking "well, that's that," which opened the door to new possibilities...or beginnings, if you will. 

As for the story - fairly last minute I decided to try writing it as Lady Whistledown, the infamous writer of the gossip column in the Bridgerton books and show. I included the plain text below, as well as the society paper I created in Canva. I figured the latter would be difficult to read format-wise, but also wanted to show off how fun it looks. 😊

Dear Gentle Reader, 

As we near the beginning of a new social season, the winds of change have begun to blow. The dainty flower beds surrounding the lavish estates shall soon be depleted to create opulent nosegays designed to evoke envy from other guests at the various balls. The dressmakers have been overworked for weeks, as each family prepares to make the most of the season and the patisseries have begun preparing to be inundated with orders for various delicacies to serve London’s most elite. 

The ambitious mamas of the ton continue to scurry around in a frantic flurry of feathers and lace, hopeful that one of their lovely daughters will be chosen the diamond of the season. As the diamond, and therefore the particular favorite of the Queen, they are all but assured to make the best match with the finest gentleman from a leading family. For to make a grand match is the ardent wish of all those competing for marital bliss and social status each season. 

One could argue whether the winter or spring months are most abuzz with gossip flowing among the houses of the ton. Being confined to our dusty drawing rooms in the cooler weather does encourage us to find what entertainment we are able. However the public interactions of others in the springtime does ignite our imaginations and we - this author included - are quick to spread any sordid details of our friends and enemies alike at a frightening rate of speed. 

A benefit of the crocus emerging is that some slates are wiped clean from their previous embarrassments. One such anecdote that begins to fade from memory is that of Miss Elizabeth Blakesley, the eldest daughter of that ancient family. A genteel beauty of the highest quality, Miss Blakesley has graced the presence of every ball to which she was invited. A royal blue ribbon was frequently seen entwined in her jet black curls, barely holding back the neverending cascade of inky darkness.Her dance card was always filled with names from the most prestigious houses and each season whispers swirled like a summer storm as to which gentleman will finally catch her fancy. 

At the beginning of last season, one such fellow did catch her eye - a tall, whiskey haired gentleman of seven and twenty named August Blackburn. While a resident of London, he did often travel to assist in his uncle’s business ventures. This season he was in town long enough to accept invitations to attend several grand balls and the perceptive party-goers began whispering about the particular regard he paid Miss Blakesley. The long stares from across the ballroom, the refreshments provided without request and the securing of several dances throughout the evening were observed by not only this author, but others as well. Miss Blakesley accepted these overtures with apparent interest, clearly favoring Mr. Blackburn’s company above that of the other young men hovering about her. When after a month of such attentions they did not abate, it was generally accepted that Elizabeth’s younger sister, Agatha, would soon ascend to the title of Miss Blakesley. 

But alas, despite the excited murmurs and rampant speculation, the expected progression of events came to nought. Just as the peonies began to dominate the landscape, the ton was deprived of Mr. Blackburn’s company when he was called away on business by his uncle. Our beloved busybodies attempted to discreetly inquire into how long he was expected to be abroad, though a discussion of how tactful these determined mamas can actually be could fill its own publication. This author was able to ferret out that, not only was Mr. Blackburn expected to be gone the remainder of the season, but he had arranged to take up residence in France and had no plans to return to London in the foreseeable future! A poorly placed confidence was shared by an unreliable companion at the end of August that, while Mr. Blackburn had informed Miss Blakesley of his departure, he had not requested to correspond with her during his absence nor had she received any missives from him during the remaining months of the year. 

As this author wishes the best for Miss Blakesley, our hope is that at the start of this new season, the conduct previously visited upon her will not dampen her spirit nor lessen her chances of finding a love match among the available gentlemen vying for her attention. 

With spring comes hope and new beginnings.

~ Katie Q. 🐧