I took the weekend off and now I am retuning. The kids are home today and I am giving myself 15 minutes to do this and then get to the other writer's work. I feel like there is a lot hanging out there-- things I still have to do in around the house--like fold laundry and wash the next batch. Recycling needs to get out today. My writing life always starts with a laundry list.
How about a writing exercise instead?
I just finished Book of a Thousand Days by Shannon Hale: It's a young adult novel. A good one. Based on a fairy tale where a princess gets shut up in a tower for seven years. Told by her maid. Great character. Nearest book is not actually that, I will pick up the one Henry is reading, and look at page 124 and write down a passage starting with the 5th sentance. That is unless it doesnt go to 124 and I will half it and go to 62.
From Ivy and Bean
"I like th screen," said Bean, "but a kitchen is a little bit boring. Maybe you could turn it into a science lab for making potions. The screen could protect secrets."
Write for the time left (5 minutes):
I wrote some very boring and stilted stuff here about what kind of characters these probably were and I tried to guess the end of the book.
Let us see if something I read is more fruitful then something I haven't read.
(I'm taking more than 15 minutes) From Book of a Thousand Days:
Stars light my page. We'll be starting my journey in earnest come dawn and I suppose I won't have time to write again for some time. Song for Evela is west of Titor's Garden, so we'll follow the road that stretches for the setting sun.
Hale did such and excellent job with this syntax of this girl. She's a maid and supposedly simple, but was taught to write to be princess' maid. But she knows how to sing the healing songs (interestingly there are healing songs in Katherine Duey's Skinhunger, the last YA book that I liked so much before this one. I got involved with those characters equally and was driven to read by each, equally but Hale's was very lyrical I think.) Her sayings, the way this girl called things, seemed exotic, old fashioned. Appropriate to the character. Was it just this girl that kept me reading? She was compelling. And the story was a little outrageous. Locked up in a tower and all. And there was a lot that you didn't know. I suppose all those things kept me reading.
This was hard stilted work.
My head is muddy today--slow as sludge. Thick and dark. Can't see through it. My eyes are having trouble. And I would be doing myself a favor to just accept this and keep going. Do what I got to do.
As always (slurring my words on paper),