You’ll Have Noticed…

…a dearth of anything. Am dealing with a bout of influenza. The doc said, go home two weeks in bed. This after I already spent eight days ailing, including an overnight stay in the local hospital.

All else is the fluttering of leaves in the wind.

Twin ink caps (fungi) that dried on the windowsill while I had my attention on other things

Writing, what else?

When I’m My characters out of time, in the first draft of Meld are stuck in a patch of mud and I ,part 2 of the Doomed series, as I am today, and don’t yet know how to write my characters them through that experience. I nowadays turn to another project.

Drat. The sentence above had 45 words as it stood. Why can’t I write long sentences in my fiction? (Editors and beta readers often complain.) But I guess I’d better unpack it in the interests of readability.

Something to look at in the meantime … one of my embroideries … Fleeing the Heat

Yes, so I murdered my first first sentence. I’m limited showing you exactly what I did, not yet knowing all the possible ins and outs of what I can do here. The new first sentence reads …

My characters in the first draft of Meld are stuck in a patch of mud and I don’t yet know how to write them through that experience.

When I’m in that kind of situation, I don’t call it writer’s block. That story-stew is merely waiting for new ingredients. Because it was a time jump that got them into their present predicament, the characters need to have a ‘where-are-we-in-space-and-time’ discussion while at the same time protecting themselves from the wild life. I need to research all the ways in which they can discover ‘when’ they are.

In the meantime it’s OK to write a blog post, work on a short story, or even re-organize your media collection so it can be housed on the internal hard drive. It’s all part of writing.

Hurdy-gurdy, the instrument

This hurdy-gurdy player from Joe’s Retirement Blog on Blogspot

A hurdy-gurdy features big time in Meld, the second book of the Doomed? series. The one pictured above is quite a historic instrument with its wooden keys stretching the six strings. Two strings either side of the bridge — I’m tempted to call it the superstructure it is so imposing — and two strings across the top. The wooden wheel at the right-hand-side acts as a bow, and strokes the strings, leading to the hurdy-gurdy also to be called a ‘wheel violin’.

Those of you into gleaning will feel right at home on this blog.

I’ve been writing this series for a such long time that when I googled hurdy-gurdies just now — to find the owner of the above pic — a website promoting its business of making hurdy-gurdies also came to the fore,

In Meld, the hurdy-gurdy is a hollowed-out electronic ‘modern’ (2150 +/- AD) version with the deeper box that will accommodate the rolled-up bane.

According to my trusty thesaurus, a bane is a ‘scourge, plague, curse, blight, pest, nuisance, headache, nightmare, trial, hardship, cross to bear, burden, thorn in one’s flesh/side, bitter pill, affliction, trouble, misery, woe, tribulation, misfortune, pain.’

The bane under consideration is all those, and more, to the much put-upon hero of the series. It’s possible to get started reading that series with Doomed? Book 1: Mongrel available now as an ebook, and in the not-too-distant future as POD paperback.

Synchronicity …

One thing leads to another. It all began with me trying to find a place to start publishing my Eleven Islands saga. This blog isn’t it. Blogs are structured for journaling and or writing episodic narrative, as everyone I know who writes a blog has told me. Yes, yes. I will knuckle down and blog.

Though it doesn’t mean I will let the other idea go. I started to look at different kinds of platforms. At the same time re-read some of the material I was deciding to rewrite to fit the new parameters.

Glaze representing water on a ceramic tile that looks like water
Example of a serendipitous event is this glaze that represents water in this ceramic mosaic
that also looks like water from a certain angle.

Synchronicity happened. While I was writing short blurbs for the Eleven Islands Saga … they are still up, see The Eleven Islands page on this blog … I came across a romantic interlude between two of the younger characters. Inquired about its suitability for the next Worldbuilding Magazine … and away I went, rewriting it to suit.

So, writing has been the go all week on a project that took off after an impulse that led to me joining

I love synchronicity.

Maxing Blog Architecture?

This week is the final week, I’ve decided, that I will battle the WordPress platform blog architecture. I’ve given it a month and I’m too old to want to spend more time on trying fruitlessly to get what I want.

I’m still having difficulty trying to put easy things in place. On this platform I have so far not been able to hyperlink either between different posts on the home page or, more importantly, between pages. OK, yes, I’m giving myself five more days to get positive outcomes in that problem.

My second problem I suspect will be due to my own too high expectations. Perhaps a blog is not the right sort of platform to serialize story-instalments set in a fictional world … that of the Eleven Islands; write about the process of worldbuilding involved; and to promote novels and other published material set in that world.

Three pieces of a ceramic mosaic depicting a pair of round brown hills in the background, and some tall green grass in the foreground.
The various aspects of the blog are not melded yet

Writing a Made-up Dialect

There is all sorts of good advice out there about not writing in strange dialects that I can quote you page and paragraph. But hey, it’s OK to experiment. This is the beginning of a short story. Does it work for you?

Scrim ate the rest of the day’s gleanings standing by the window of his high-up.
Blue sky beyond with birds so free as Scrim and every other inside the hell was not. This morning he’d stole a pair of pigeon eggs and gulped them raw at the scene. He couldn’t be found with them on him. Later he found a crust, the whole top of a loaf of bread. What kind of fool drops that?