The Blessing (or Curse) of Montgomery

Oh, Lucy Maud Montgomery, what hast thou done to me!? I used to have such lovely dialogue and so much of it, too. There was dialogue, and a little bit of description. I didn't write feelings, I didn't write long paragraphs giving a magnifying glass view to the character's soul, like,
"Anne had an uneasy doubt that it was not strictly 'sensible' that she should still feel on her hand the warm pressure of Gilbert's, as distinctly as she had felt it for the swift second his had rested there; and still less sensible that the sensation was far from being an unpleasant one -- very different from that which had attended a similar demonstration on Charlie Sloane's part, when she had been sitting out a dance with him at a White Sands party three nights before. Anne shuddered over the disagreeable recollection." - Chapter I, The Shadow of Change (Anne of the Island)
I don't write such detail like that. Nor have I ever pursued describing the daisies and roses and violets and beech trees and birch trees, etc.
"But everything in the landscape around them spoke of autumn. The sea was roaring hollowly in the distance, the fields were bare and sere, scarfed with golden rod, the brook valley below Green Gables overflowed with asters of ethereal purple, and the Lake of Shining Waters was blue -- blue -- blue; not the changeful blue of spring, nor the pale azure of summer, but a clear, steadfast, serene blue, as if the water were past all moods and tenses of emotion and had settled down to a tranquility unbroken by fickle dreams." - Chapter I, The Shadow of Change (Anne of the Island)
 And while I have yet to say that the violets are purple and that the purple is ethereal, I am now finding myself writing extensive, dialogue-less paragraphs like the former one here. I have been on a Montgomery kick after reading Rilla of Ingleside and have already finished Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea. And now, instead of quick little sentences that detail feelings and emotions and thoughts as I had in the first half of The Girl with Violet Eyes, I am now discovering paragraphs like the following:
"She didn’t know if she could wait that long. This adventure was going to seal her fate and her trust when it came to Martin and Halt. And their opinions were the only ones that she truly cared about; Ivolet knew from experience that Quin would give her trust blindly. If this venture succeeded, Ivolet knew that Martin and Halt would believe that she was really on their side. If it didn’t, then she supposed she should start looking for another hiding place in Belayer." - May 10, 18 (The Girl with Violet Eyes)
 For the record, that's very not me. And while I am very happy to have such descriptive DNA injected into me -- I have always felt that it was a shortcoming of mine, and mourned it greatly -- it is changing my book! The first half is becoming an entirely different style from the second half. Or, rather, it's the second half is changing. I'll have to attribute it to the fact that Ivolet is older and thus more apt to analyze her thoughts and future. She's a very analytical person, my dear Emerald.

And there you have it. Montgomery's blessing is giving me a lovely style that I do appreciate, but it's ruining the smoothness of my book! Therein is the curse

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