So I am having trouble settling on a way to open my work for Camp NaNo and wanted to get some input. My story is set in England in the 19th century. As such I am debating between whether to jump straight into narrative, extensive exposition, or somewhere in between. Typically I don’t start with exposition, except here.
After my father died, I lost the privileges and duties of heir apparent to my younger brother. I hold no resentment towards him for that, or the woman I called Mother for fourteen years of my fifteen years. As the lady of the estate and proprietress of Father’s businesses it was within her authority. While I never had the chance to find out which of the rumors were true, I always favored a belief that she feared her economic future were I to inherit when I came of age. Also, since my brother was now the first born son of the head of the estate, Mother, it seemed natural to me in some odd way. In truth I did not care to inherit Father’s business enterprises, nor the management of the vast family properties. I was content enough at the time because I knew that I still had status as the first born son to the public. More or less, my future was guaranteed. It certainly would have been entertaining to see my name changed from Hawthorne Albert Hall to Hawthorne Albert Temple, the surname of my then betrothed.
The clink of porcelain china called Stephen into the dining room. Mother’s eyes shifted between brother and I. With deft swiftness, Stephen collected the dirtied breakfast china. Silence reigned until his brown terrier tail slid through the heavy oak door and the latched clicked. Fortunately, Mother’s eye did not land on me at that moment. “When will you return to your studies?” she asked, her head cocked at the interrogation angle. Her cup of tea hovered just in front of her vulpine muzzle.
Tristan pushed his cup and saucer away from him. The hot tea sloshed around in the white porcelain cup, drops falling out on to the white, embroidered table cloth. He sat back in the high chair and tapped a black furred paw on the table. “Tonight I go to Dover, then the train to London tomorrow.”
“Very good.” Her gaze turned to me. “And you, Avery, what do you have planned for the coming days?”
When I was born, some years ago, my mother never recovered. Before I was a year’s grown, still a small ball of red fur, Father was expecting his second born with his new wife, the vixen I came to regard as Mother. As the years passed, I proved very little, while brother Tristan excelled. Despite my failure that Mother faulted on my lack of ambition or motivation, Father shrugged it off as a matter of deferment. Up until the day he died, before I was of age, he believed I would grow into my position as eldest son. I honestly did not do much growing, Tristan did. Truth be told, I was happy when Mother used her influence to name Tristan heir. The weight of expectation, of the tremendous stature the family name Hall carried, was lifted.
Much obliged. Hope everyone enjoys the camping.