“The bravest part of any story is the moment you choose to enter.”
🪶 What’s in a Name?
In my last post, we met Maurice—the enigmatic matchmaker with a velvet coat, a fondness for misdirection, and a parrot who can sense true love.
Originally, he was called Maurice Handsome Cicero—a name as ridiculous and delightful as the man himself. But on returning to the story, something about that flourish felt too on the nose. Too complete. Too sure of itself.
So I looked backward, to the man behind the illusion.
He was born Albert Heartman, a name rooted in earth, salt, and duty.
Now, he walks the world as Maurice Heartman Cicero—a hybrid of inheritance and invention. A man who wears his reinvention like a well-fitted coat, but whose past still clings to the seams.
✍️ A Note on Process
Writing this story has felt like unrolling an ancient, half-burned map—smudged in places, missing landmarks—but the further I go, the more clearly the roads begin to reveal themselves.
The name change? That happened mid-sentence—sometime between Maurice adjusting his vest and me realizing he wasn’t lying. He was protecting something. Himself.
And Anabel?
She’s forming. But we—yes, even the author—won’t truly know her until she decides to introduce herself. My writing is less a process and more a quiet negotiation with the unknown.
Writing has become increasingly challenging in both body and circumstance.
I can only go slowly, but I still move forward—word by word, scene by scene.
Because the story still burns. Quietly, but steadily.
🔎 Sneak Peek from Chapter Two:
Mrs. Macchiato cast a critical eye over the rest of the interior, finding it festooned with ribbons, banners, and candles arranged in what struck her as distinctly dubious taste. It evoked, she thought with pursed lips, something akin to a poor man’s brothel. She shielded her daughter, Anabel, from entering, visibly wrestling with her internal debate—her very presence a testament to her desperation. A matchmaker who relied on a trained bird to determine romantic suitability seemed positively absurd, yet hadn’t she exhausted every other avenue?...
🎭 Closing Scene:
Mrs. Macchiato hesitated briefly, an internal battle waged clearly upon her brow. Finally conceding, she motioned Anabel forward. Her daughter, stepping into the shop, seemed more amused than troubled, eyes bright with curiosity. - And with that glance—equal parts appraisal and amusement—Anabel steps into the story. Maurice may think he's met the mother, but it’s the daughter who will alter his path…
🗓️ Coming Next Week:
The full Chapter Two—rewritten, polished, and ready for you to read.