Life - NaNoWriMo
So once again this year I'm participating in NaNoWriMo. Or National Novel Writing Month. On top of a full student courseload.
Whee!
I'm crazy. Anyway I intend to pursue Sixed as my novel of choice this year. We'll see how it goes! I'll be updating this blog hopefully more throughout November with chapters and meanderings from NaNo.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Monday, October 22, 2012
Musings - Morning Tea
Musings - Morning Tea
The slow march of sun against glass as I watch light creep along my teacup. Monday morning and shadows fade away. We all have somewhere to be of pressing need.
The slow march of sun against glass as I watch light creep along my teacup. Monday morning and shadows fade away. We all have somewhere to be of pressing need.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Free Writing - Sound
Free Writing - Sound
Sound noise audio. Audio. A girl plays a flute. Play. Plays. The sound of chimes, wind, wind chimes. A soft breeze and the flood between silence and noise. Noise. A tone for contact, allegro, allegro brisk, quick, allegro, a flute, a girl plays a flute and there is contact Contact, brief, brisk contact. Contact. A note, lilt, up, down. On and on, staccato. Brief, precise, noise. Noise. Static. Harsh, broken, flaring up and down. Noise, static, the sound of televisions on and off, blips, beeps, clicks. Click. Repeated, firing, fast, machine gun, clicks. Clicking, sputtering, empty, dry, dry noise. Sound. Tempo.
Sound noise audio. Audio. A girl plays a flute. Play. Plays. The sound of chimes, wind, wind chimes. A soft breeze and the flood between silence and noise. Noise. A tone for contact, allegro, allegro brisk, quick, allegro, a flute, a girl plays a flute and there is contact Contact, brief, brisk contact. Contact. A note, lilt, up, down. On and on, staccato. Brief, precise, noise. Noise. Static. Harsh, broken, flaring up and down. Noise, static, the sound of televisions on and off, blips, beeps, clicks. Click. Repeated, firing, fast, machine gun, clicks. Clicking, sputtering, empty, dry, dry noise. Sound. Tempo.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Writing - Diary of Black Death
Writing - Diary of Black Death
I think I'll stay in this quaint little English village to begin with. The countryside is beautiful, and I am oft finding myself taken with moments of profound joy looking skyward. The inhabitants however are rude and jostling. Won't they be in for a surprise. They ask too many penetrating questions of strangers and travelers. Still I think I'll put my feet up here for a time.
I think I'll stay in this quaint little English village to begin with. The countryside is beautiful, and I am oft finding myself taken with moments of profound joy looking skyward. The inhabitants however are rude and jostling. Won't they be in for a surprise. They ask too many penetrating questions of strangers and travelers. Still I think I'll put my feet up here for a time.
Writing - Hide and Seek
Writing - Hide and Seek
"Brian, come here."
There was just a tinge of hesitation on Brian's part, but dutifully he stood and set aside the laptop. Walking over to where Amy was standing at the window.
"What is it?"
"Brian, come here."
There was just a tinge of hesitation on Brian's part, but dutifully he stood and set aside the laptop. Walking over to where Amy was standing at the window.
"What is it?"
Writing - Enchilada Microwave Dinner
Writing - Enchilada Microwave Dinner
Beep.
Beep.
Garret mumbled to himself. Consciousness couldn't come fast enough. Bleary eyed and blinking.
What was that?
Beep.
Beep.
Garret mumbled to himself. Consciousness couldn't come fast enough. Bleary eyed and blinking.
What was that?
Writing - Opera Jumps
Writing - Opera Jumps
Could she hear it? Outside the buzz, the crowd, the sounds and the feeling. It permeated the senses, overrode the stone and concrete around them. Somewhere far away, she knew that the orchestra was warming up, they would tune and re-tune. Somewhere else a singer was warming up her vocals, others were moving around, checking paperwork, lights came on and disappeared, sounds erupted out of speakers.
She jumped. Hopping anxiously from one foot to another, then springing with both feet planted as high as possible. Everyone had a role to play, everyone in a moment to do a something that fit all the facets. They played, blew, sang. She moved. So different, so alike.
Not alone though, never alone.
That was a piece of 2 minute writing I did tonight at the prompting of http://www.twitter.com/ainsleyhillyard Her prompt: Opera jumps.
Could she hear it? Outside the buzz, the crowd, the sounds and the feeling. It permeated the senses, overrode the stone and concrete around them. Somewhere far away, she knew that the orchestra was warming up, they would tune and re-tune. Somewhere else a singer was warming up her vocals, others were moving around, checking paperwork, lights came on and disappeared, sounds erupted out of speakers.
She jumped. Hopping anxiously from one foot to another, then springing with both feet planted as high as possible. Everyone had a role to play, everyone in a moment to do a something that fit all the facets. They played, blew, sang. She moved. So different, so alike.
Not alone though, never alone.
That was a piece of 2 minute writing I did tonight at the prompting of http://www.twitter.com/ainsleyhillyard Her prompt: Opera jumps.
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