The Novel and Its Creation

This is my experience of the process… and though I am approaching the completion of “Novel No.5”, I can tell you this ‒ each novel is different and therefore the writing of each of them is too.

So, I am going to take my two recent creations and tell you this… I have found my progression taking leaps and bounds.

A Fine Profession was always about the character of this one young woman and taking her, plopping her in certain situations, and seeing how she would react in any given scenario. I spent weeks formulating her in my mind, considering how I could take her from one journey point to another. I fasted. I tempted myself with the need to write but I held off until I had her in my sights. The ability to restrict the flow of writing something that is burning its way out is explosive. The novel therefore splashed the pages so easily when I finally let myself loose.

The Chambermaid writes as though she’s in control of the direction of her life and she seems so sure of what is going on around her. Truth is, she doesn’t have a clue. The novel is a novel within a novel, with the heroine seemingly writing her own story and a private investigator reading and reacting to it.

She writes as though her experiences are fantastical. They’re not real, according to her. She thinks she is writing the fantasy. She may well consider herself a dirty version of Jane Austen. I shall let you decide! Her thoughts and feelings are true, but skewed, by the condition she suffers.

Now, this is where it gets interesting. The sequel A Fine Pursuit is another novel within a novel, but outside the novel too. The revelations that will spring forth will be crushing. I have to really shock and awe now. Whenever I read a novel, the only way I know it’s good is if I cry at the end or at some point during. If not, fuck it, there was no point. I am brutal!! I personally need to be moved. Like in The Color Purple. Damn, the end always gets me. I don’t even try to cry. It just happens. The ring slipping out of his hand in Schindler’s List. Feck, I wept quiet tears, for humanity and everything we are capable of, both good and bad. The thing is, I do not cry easily. My husband would tell you, “She’s hard as nails, our Sal.” I really am. I absolutely am. I hate chick flicks. I like action movies and ass-kicking. I spend hours pouring over books and films, seeking that something that might move me. Those answers I seek are out there somewhere and it’s why I read. The readers are why we do it, right? Those beautiful people who want enlightening and escapism.

So, when it came to starting A Fine Pursuit it was with a different philosophy. As I wrote Noah’s story, I knew what it was that he suffered. I knew what I was heading toward throughout the journey. But, people need to experience this book entirely through his eyes, as he does, as things happen. I felt like I had to go with the flow, just let it happen, so my writing is not as strained and we see truthful reactions from him to scenarios that he nor anyone else expects. Even I wasn’t sure where Noah was going to take me because he’s such a complex man, with such a horrific past behind him.

When I had finished my first draft, I knew I really had something, but I knew it still needed to be underpinned with more. It needed the markers along the way to make the reader think… almost goading the reader to realise what is bubbling beneath. What is Noah hiding that even he cannot admit to himself? I was just not feeling anything else though. I’d written 100K words and was wrung out from that effort, though I knew there was more. That’s when you need to separate yourself from the character, from the book, and take yourself into the mind of a reader. Ask, why did he do that? why isn’t that explained? why would people treat each other like that? You have to answer all the questions people will need to be sated. You have to enrich all those ideas you have with more mystery, more feeling, more insight into the people, the person, the man or the woman, and make them real.

You have to feel the novel as a whole. You cannot view it from beginning to end then. As the author, you have to be above the creation. You need to be able to read the book from any given point and think, how can I make this convert better? The puzzle gets scrambled inside your mind and you take the rough edges and smooth them out. I go back and add bits where they need adding. Close the gap, fill the holes, plant your seeds and then grow them. But all the while, I am still writing to provoke and challenge. But still let the reader have their own experience. Then, you give it to your initial readers and let them tell you what’s what.

It starts with a singular idea, with a character or a world to explode, but a novel is really so very long when you’re writing it. Until you have written one, you never know just how hard it is to write something so vast and complex that actually still makes sense when you get to the end! You have to get people’s mannerisms, their quirks, their humours, their foibles, strengths and characteristics they’ve had since birth! It’s a crazy thing writing a novel. It’s a schizophrenic thing and so akin to method acting.

I’d warn people that my writing is graphic and evocative, crude and sometimes hardcore, but there is every reason for that. There is every reason. This is art. This is subverting all the boundaries and bonds placed on us by society. This is putting the worst of the worst before you and then bringing out the best of the best. This erotica writer will corrupt you and make you question things you never did before. At the end of the day, you’ll be made to see that the sex isn’t the point.

So, this blog has been a bit overdue, but here it is. And I am afraid, that is all I can tell you for now. The editing is ongoing and the novel is shaping up, but anything could still happen. No spoilers. But, I am excited to see how my next work is received. I have tried to give it absolutely everything. I really have discovered… the more you write, the more you develop. Keep writing.

News!!

A Fine Pursuit is written and now in the final stages of edit. This is an erotic romance from an entirely male perspective. I started it at the beginning of June and it has been difficult to write, for a number of reasons.
Questions that will be answered in this book:-
1) Baby “Xander’s” paternity…
2) Why did Noah’s previous marriage fail?
3) Why were Noah and his father estranged?
4) …Why does Noah need to see one of country’s leading shrinks?
5) What really happened in the Seventies, when all those people went missing from the Lodge?
Let’s not forget, I have written you a love story here… and so much about that is tied up and I will give away no spoilers!
The book will now fly to my beta readers… so watch this space…

Some great 5 ***** reviews… a happy author

I received a great review from a fellow author for my erotic novel, A Fine Profession…

Though it’s billed as chick-lit, A Fine Profession by Sarah Michelle Lynch is much more than that simple genre tag allows. What I discovered between these electronic pages is an involved story that’s engaging in ways as to draw the interests of both sexes. To label it as mere chick-lit or erotica serves only to lure a certain segment of readers while keeping others at bay.

This is the story of Lottie, a practitioner of all things sexual, hence the erotica label. But the story delves deeper into the human condition, examining the choices made by this one woman. Lottie is the one telling the story of her own sexual awakening, spilling her secrets to Heath, a private investigator sent to track down this mysterious Chambermaid. The sex scenes certainly call for an audience of 18 years of age and older; but don’t be turned away. Lynch has crafted a well-written story filled with fleshed-out characters that are as real as any literary characters I’ve ever read. We learn of Lottie’s childhood battle with illness, of her struggles with early-adulthood responsibilities, and of the true love she seeks. But just who sent this private investigator to track down the Chambermaid? You’ll have to purchase your own copy to get answers. This is a book I feel safe in recommending. I don’t normally read erotica, but A Fine Profession offers so much more than simple sex. I rate Lynch’s novel 5 out of 5 stars.

Not long later, I received another great review from another fellow author, for Beneath the Veil…

The story that unfolded before me as I read the pages of this paperback entranced me. The main character, Seraph, is an edgy and ‘dangerous’ reporter in the future time of 2063, a reporter with more flare than Lois Lane, and more reason to hold a grudge; in this future vision, the world is recovering from a viral disaster, and Seraph is in the middle of it all, taking her chances to tap her sources.

However, all is thrown in the air when it is revealed that her last surviving, much loved and revered relative, is dead. She hot steps it
from New York to York, Yorkshire, to attend the funeral and pay her respects. Yet there is more here than meets the eye, and from one of the last remaining wedding dress shops where said relative, Eve, had spent her life, an underground network of mystery and betrayal is discovered.

Intertwined with this, Seraph finds herself falling in love with a Dr, a man who was supposedly fired from the large corporation that now runs most of the world’s resources.

I truly enjoyed this novel and read a part every time I have an opportunity, and on my free day, I finished the last half in almost one gulp. A truly energised and inspired read, reminding me much of Resident Evil meets James Bond, though it is neither of these things and yet can borrow from both simultaneously. It is fast, sensual, exciting, and mischievous.

If I had to pick one thing to critique, it would be that the character viewpoints are mixed throughout a large portion of the book, meaning that in one scene you hear and know what more than one character is thinking, which can get a little confusing, (for example, the scene is all about Seraph walking through a room, thinking things over, but then her love interest’s thoughts come in from his perspective in the same paragraph.) However, that said, this is the first novel by this author and such things are easily looked over when you are as involved with the story as I was.

The ending is good, and I look forward to purchasing the next book in the series and finding out what happens next.

See my Amazon Author Page here for more reviews and all the books!

 

A New Cover for The Chambermaid

Just to let you know, I have a new cover for A Fine Profession… I am much happier with this than the other. Though this is an erotic novel, and the female is a dominant, the cover does not do it justice nor does the synopsis! I never like to ruin the storyline for readers, however. I am so passionate about writing good stories with strong characters that are real.

This is ultimately one woman’s search for something meaningful and… you got it… a love story. You have to read it to believe it and it’s currently on offer on Amazon for a few pence/cents! Click on the cover to be taken to Amazon or just go to my contact page to find my Author Central collection. My novels are growing! Thank you x

P.S. the sequel – the concluding part – is shaping up nicely!!

 

A Fine Profession WEBSITE USE

News

Ladies and gents,

Yes, it seems my erotic writing has been approved by both sexes… thank goodness!

Just to let you know, The Chambermaid’s Tales are shaping up like this…

There are two novels in the series. A Fine Profession followed by A Fine Pursuit, which is being woven as we speak. The two are very much yin and yang and are designed to complement each other in every way. All the unanswered questions of Book One are going to be satiated.

There is also going to be a series of short stories which document Lottie’s adventures. These will be separate to the novels, which focus on her relationship with Noah. In these “Tales”, we shall hear in-depth what drives her, what made her so successful in her “profession” and there may even be some other insights into her time at The Lodge. These short stories are going to be serialised in a new magazine before being later released as a collection in eBook. I am writing them so they will in no way impair your enjoyment of the novels, but simply deliver extra insights into The Chambermaid and her private thoughts.

A Fine Profession is already out, and a release date for the second instalment will be revealed in due course. There will certainly be some more of Lottie’s adventures to tide you over before the second novel is released, a little later this year!

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The Secrets to My Latest Work

I was writing a trilogy last year and people kept asking why I wasn’t giving erotica a go, like a lot of other writers. Indeed, it is a genre currently swamped. I kept brushing off the urge to try my hand at an erotic novel but deep down, I knew it was something I wanted to do.

Finishing a trilogy is absolutely and utterly brutal. You have spent so much time with just a handful of characters and you have to say goodbye. But, I can tell you, my latest book was a lot more difficult. I wanted to get my heroine just right. Pinning down one very complex person is a lot more difficult.

I knew she was averse to intimacy before I even started. Great sex is great but what about a deeper level of understanding? How would she cope with that? I knew her problems were down to illness. I knew a lot of things already, before I started work on this novel. Sometimes, as a writer, you just write and see what happens, but this time I knew exactly where I wanted to go. But, the creative urge can lead you to places you never expected it to…

Absorbing a ton of research, maybe my mind filtered the data and came up with the strongest thread of a storyline it could – combined with a plot that absorbs all the throes of a setback. Somehow, something dropped in my lap. A friend I know discovered they had been avoiding decisions their whole life and they had only just found out why. I looked at this book that explained why they avoid making decisions or asserting themselves and it was like a switch had flicked. This slotted with what I wanted to do so well.

I then took to forums and scanned a lot, but mostly absorbed everything I could about the condition I wanted to portray in this novel. It just struck me that so many people might suffer in silence or not even know they have it and I wanted to incorporate it in this work of mine.

So, with all these aspects of this one character floating around my head, I took to the laptop again. I had to sit here thinking “what would she do in this scenario?”. I was like a complete method actor! This book is nothing like my previous work and it is NOT me. I have to be clear on that. I found my muse and I exploded her. I absolutely wrote this for someone else, to give someone else the voice they might not otherwise have had. I knew with her having already survived so much (and never having faced it) the cost of that had to be great.

Along the way, a psychiatric doctorate crossed my path that again, lit up another light bulb inside my mind. Whether this be stroke of luck, destined or whatever, this second book I have coming up is going to be so interesting. I am dissecting opposite sides of a spectrum that are so intertwined you will not know whether you are coming or going!

So, when people ask whether I find this book intensely personal or whatever, I say no. It was refreshing to write something that is so far removed from me it is astonishing that I managed to put my mind in The Chambermaid’s headspace. As I say, I sat for hours before taking to the keys, wrestling with who she was and dissecting every piece of her psyche.

There is so much more to these books than sex and cusses and adventures. I am writing to challenge and provoke. What is the point otherwise? I wouldn’t be giving anyone anything new otherwise. It’s all fiction at the end of the day but if it leaves you wondering afterward… I have done my job.

I Feel Very Much Like Camille Sometimes…

Chapter 9 of BENEATH THE VEIL….

 

Camille paced about the flat as she spoke, while Seraph lay on the sofa as if she were undergoing a session with her psychiatrist.

‘You may have heard my codename whispered about just as much as Eve’s was. I am the milliner.

‘I was raised in an orphanage on the outskirts of Paris after my parents died in the Ravage. Like you, I had no brothers or sisters, and so I became a creature of solitude, preferring not to entangle myself emotionally. What happened in 2023 was terrifying, but for the children, even more so. Some lost their siblings, some their parents, most their grandparents. I had not a single person left in the world. It seemed as if we had all been born merely to suffer and to try and survive as best we could with what we were left with.’

Seraph saw Camille try to shake off some fraught remembrance, before she continued:

‘At the orphanage, I realised my forte for sewing and it’s something I went on to pursue. And so at age eighteen I left the suburbs behind after winning a scholarship to attend the Parisian School of Art and Design, graduating in 2034. After that, I spent years travelling the world, making garments to sell on the streets, randomly moving from one place to another. I begged, borrowed and sometimes even stole to keep food in my stomach and clothes on my back. I fell in with a street gang in Budapest and we moved from one place to another together, doing whatever we needed to in order to overcome the noose Officium had hung around the world. For at least five years, I had no fixed address whatsoever. It didn’t bother me sleeping on the streets, or in alleyways, or on someone’s cold floor. I’d never known comfort, and so, it was normal to me. I woke up every day knowing that the search for food came second to my need for excitement. I’d grown extremely tough and people back then knew me as something of a scrapper. Looking back, I realise I was desperately seeking my place in the world. I always knew that there was only one person I could rely on and soon friendships broke down, loyalties became divided and I broke free. An attempt to spring a group of factory workers from their bonds went wrong and I decided it was time to put some distance between myself and Europe, taking myself off to the Orient.’

Camille glanced at Seraph with animation as she turned her mind to the next chapter of her life.

‘In Japan, I found my second home. There, I appreciated the culture, the society and their way of living. It was even more cramped than in Paris but that didn’t matter to me. Living in a pod was luxury compared to my previous habitations! I developed a friendship with a sensei, after he bought up some of my silk dresses for his daughters. He was a tiny, unassuming man, devoted to his wife and family. His clan were brave enough to live in some abandoned farmland just outside Tokyo and one day he invited me to his humble abode for dinner. I was struck not only by his generous hospitality, but also by his family’s skills in Shotokan Karate. There were literally hundreds of trophies dotted around their shack, dating from as far back as the Seventies. At that time, he was the only person in the world to have reached his eleventh Dan, a grandmaster of unparalleled skill, agility, strength and speed – but something of a pariah. I asked one of his daughters to show me her skills, and she nearly broke my back as she grappled me to the ground with one fell swoop. I was so impressed, I begged him to teach me everything he knew. He refused at first, but I was persistent. For weeks, I laboriously cycled from the city to his home every day, turning up with more gifts for his daughters. Each time he turned me away, I refused to be dissuaded. Then one day, he relented, and my tutelage began in the boggy rice fields at the back of his home.

‘The fertile green surroundings and the prolonged and unforgiving rain became the backdrop and the dojo of my lessons – and my enemy. Barefoot and dressed sparingly, I took a lot of blows at the will of his hand. He nearly knocked the life out of me as my face was continually pushed into the cold, life-draining, damp mud. While the family ate their meals together inside, I was left out in the cold in my makeshift bamboo shelter to survive on decaying vegetables and dried fish. I nearly gave up so many times. But that would have been the easy way, and that had never been an option for me. I knew that as long as I had breath and strength left in me, I would never break.

‘I still remember so clearly the relentless circuit training in the unforgiving earth of those fields, and performing press-ups while he stood on my back taunting me with abuse, saying I was just another pathetic woman who would break against his will. Each taunt made me more determined, more resistant to failure, and I began to feel invincible. I rose above the idea of being weakened by my human form. After mastering the basics, I had grown so physically and mentally strong that when it came to combat, the process wasn’t a conscious experience for me. My very first attempt to smash through a wooden plank was successful, easy even. Until you actually participate in the disciplines of martial arts with a humble approach, an open mind and a full heart, you can never understand the mentality it enables you to develop. Once the mind has been broken, and rebuilt, you can become whatever you want to be. If you will something to be so, it must be. My body became a highly-tuned force of rigidity, and I was no longer a creature of reaction, more one of calm and serenity, allowing the world to wash over my being. The key is not to react, merely to retain strength. Unless it was really necessary to perform, only then would I execute myself, and if so, only absolute exhibition of one’s skills would suffice. Sensei Toshiro entered me into some national competitions, and I won every single one. He and I formed a bond that went beyond the one he shared with his family even. We were equal souls existing on a level plane, and even a whisper of breath from one of us revealed to the other what we were thinking or feeling; we were so in tune with one another.

‘However, knocking my opponents out soon became too easy, and I tired of my life in Japan. I began to yearn for the streets of Paris back home, and I returned there in 2041 after several years of living from hand to mouth, from country to country.

‘I maintain my discipline and still spar and meditate every day even now. It was something that I knew would never leave me. Many members of RAO have been taught by me, and I’ve now reached my eighth Dan, something I never asked for nor brag about, because it is simply a testament to all the wonders that martial arts have enabled me to enjoy – friendship, discipline and freedom from fear.

‘After returning home from Japan, I got by selling millinery on the streets of Montmartre, until one day an elegant Englishwoman turned up and bought everything on my table. She noticed my shabby clothes and unwashed appearance, declaring, “How can someone of your talent be so undervalued?”

‘At first I was reluctant to latch on to her friendliness, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer when she insisted on buying me dinner that night. She offered me a job at the bridal house then and there, and I asked, “What makes you think I want to work for you?” She gave me that stern look of hers, and simply said, “Because I know a woman of your calibre will be indispensable and instrumental to my cause.” I was instantly intrigued, and she began to explain how she’d heard from Sensei Toshiro that I’d left Japan and come back to Europe. He was part of the resistance and had not stopped exclaiming to her about how good a combatant I had become. Then she had some revelations that I wasn’t expecting. She informed me that my mother and father had been in the French Secret Service, a fact I knew nothing about until she disclosed it to me. She placed a file on the restaurant table and I looked it over with interest and horror. However, I began to get some sense of my identity and I realised my similar pursuit of thrills and adventure was something I’d undoubtedly got from them. They were not killed by the Ravage, but by Officium, and I knew as clearly as I see you now, that my lot was to join Eve’s efforts. I moved to York and settled for a quiet but purposeful life, helping her make this place more successful than either of us could have ever imagined. Many of our members met and married through the work they carried out for Eve, and the women became clients at the shop. However, don’t let that overshadow her success Seraph. She still had dozens and dozens of customers who came from the farthest corners of the globe to have their wedding dresses made by her. I suppose it was the romance of this building that drew them here, but also the relatively small fee she charged for them to have a gown made from scratch, and to their exact specifications. Her decision to remain open amidst a world of declining craftsmanship somehow paid dividends, and for once, refusing to follow a trend proved unbelievably canny. There were still a lot of people who had managed to find happy lives for themselves, but they were very few and far between after the Ravage.’

Camille took a deep breath and continued, ‘Now she’s gone, I have no idea how I will carry on without her. She was the bedrock of this place, and it simply won’t be the same without her. I loved her dearly, and I never expected to feel so sad about her loss. I never in my wildest dreams ever thought anyone could be as good a friend to me as she was. I never thought such kindness existed in the world until I met her. She was the ultimate person, ultimate woman, ultimate warrior even.

‘She never mentioned him by name, but I knew she’d known great love during her lifetime. It was written all over her face sometimes. A woman who has been loved truly has a certain look about her, one of heightened knowledge and undeniable mystery. She lost that great love, and it is that which made her what she was. But I cannot tell you anymore than that.’

When Camille finished her explanation, she fell on the coffee table in front of Seraph. Her head bowed, she began to cry, sniffing and dripping with tears. Seraph got up off the sofa and knelt down, taking Camille in her arms. They played mother and daughter to one another, and Seraph’s mind turned to one thing – when had this love affair taken place, what happened to him and also to her own parents? She didn’t want to launch a barrage of questions at Camille, who was obviously grieving and was just as forlorn as she over Eve’s passing. She decided she would find out for herself what had happened, even if it killed her, and she would finally lay all this to rest. She didn’t care what it took, she would do it. It was time.

 

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A Serious Part of My Erotic Novel

This is a window into my heroine’s mind and why she seeks sexual adventures most of us can only dream of…

I was different because I understood when it counted. I had the advantage of having stared death in the face. The lingering memory of dull pain, plus physical and emotional exhaustion, was swimming in some chasm in a far-off land, a burning ember in a junkyard of flammable old sofas, waiting to ignite a disaster zone at any moment. All the idling, petty thoughts of others, they wearied me. I was cut off from everyone who had not battled the same burdens. I was alone and misunderstood. I was different. I was a statistic. I would be judged unless I told my story and I did not want pity. No. Not that. So, I did whatever it took to remain hidden, or unseen: a ghostly spectre that swished in and out of hotel rooms, taking comfort in my inconspicuousness. A behind-the-scenes girl who was happy enough in her own private achievements. I did not need questions or queries, interrogation or intervention. I needed to stay hidden. Bury the pain deep down, manifest it any other way, just not face it. Not that.

 

A Fine Profession, eBook out now on Amazon UK and US and beyond…

Thanks

Just wanted to say thanks to all those who have recently followed this blog. You can also follow me on Twitter or Facebook if you wish, just check out my contact page.

With my upcoming erotic novel, I aim to entertain, enlighten and challenge my readers. I aim to inspire and inform. I really do think writers have a responsibility to use their power to do good! 😉

Please keep an eye on this site and I will be tweeting and blogging a whole lot more in the days and weeks to come.

Thanks,

Sarah

Writing tips and inspirations

It always amazes me how writers differ in their approach to crafting a story or piece of poetry. Some start with a singular thought. A line. A word. An idea.

My literary journey began with the story of three sisters scribbling away in a bleak little town in the middle of West Yorkshire. I felt some affinity with that. I am one of three sisters – and I have a brother too!

Charlotte, Anne and Emily Brontë had each other and were all talented in their own right. It is said they used to sit around the table and carve stories together. A little notebook featuring their scribbles sold for a large amount of money only recently. Why was it worth that much…?

Charlotte must have gone to her publisher with some idea of how good her books were. She must have known. But how do any of us really know how good our own writing is? By the reaction we get from our close ones? Or simply from a gut feeling deep within that tells the writer that what they put on a page is as good as they could get it and that it is a correct and accurate portrayal of all the characters involved?

Similarly, JK Rowling had a First Edition (with scribbles) go up for auction recently and sell for a large amount. But back in the day, she was turned down by some 12 publishers before she got a deal. Then came the franchise etc… Would the other books have been as good if she had not had the power of a book deal behind her and the freedom to write what she wanted? All these questions we ask…

How do we get discovered?

EL James has the fastest-selling paperback of all time. Yet, many claim it is poorly written. Others say Sylvia Day is much better as an erotic writer, and this may well be true. However, a lot of her fans are currently very unhappy… Just how do we draw the line? At a trilogy? But, the sales can’t really lie, can they? Maybe James hit a note at a particular time and in a particular place?

So, I go back to my original thoughts… how do we craft books? From real-life experiences? From dreams we want to chase? From one thought that niggles at us so much until we succumb and spill it? From writing what we enjoy writing? How did Charlotte craft a book that has been often listed as the greatest novel of all time? It has everything: a love story, class struggle, childhood loneliness, rags to riches, a madwoman in the attic, a journey, and so much more besides. Did Charlotte (otherwise known as Currer) simply hit the right note in a time when male writers dominated? Did Charlotte and her posse simply get it right because they had their stories, their books, discipline, faith and fresh, Yorkshire air to nourish them? Makes you wonder.

We need people to aspire to, to be better. How do we extend our vocabulary if not by reading? But are two or three minds better than one? Or can ideas be supplanted sometimes (explored by someone who did not originate it) in a more efficient way than it could have been by the originator?

Everything and everyone around me gives me the tendrils of ideas and I explore them. I find a way to make ends meet or do the dot to dot. The more I write, the freer I feel in my approach, because the more my confidence grows. I imagine that is how Charlotte felt. A tiny little woman from Haworth realised she could wield the power of words and she did so for one reason: imagination. Never supplant yourself, only supplant others. And always, let yourself be free.