Hypothetical Bliss

Monday, January 14, 2013

Writing Until Your Brain Hurts

Today it became clear to me that my cyberpunk short story is going to have to be a novella. I wrote a scene in which my main character got to trash the one thing she loved most: her boat. It was fun. Her drunken abandon came out really well, I think.

I broke 10,000 words, then 11,000, and not I am sitting at 12,776. I've got a good four or five more scenes to write before I can really pay off on the conclusion of the story. I've got my fingers crossed for finishing it in less than 30 more pages. At this rate, I am probably looking at 20,000 words total. Here's my favorite line that I wrote today:

"Blanch held a suitcase in one hand, the oblong key in the other, standing on the doorstep of everything while the lapping of water on dock-posts softly serenaded her. She squeezed the electronic key until the steel plated corners bit into her palm, and then loosened her vice grip. It hurt, sure, but it felt curious. Everything felt curious."

Saturday, October 27, 2012

ready

I put two rings on my thumbs. I unclasped the hook for my life-long emblem and hung it from my neck once more. I tugged my fingers through my hair, pulled it into a war-hawk. I laced up my boots. I steadied myself. I took a deep breath.

I prepared myself.

Now I am ready.

Monday, October 22, 2012

a month in burnt umber

October in ten oranges seduces you. It's not a flirting, dancing seduction. It's a seduction of presence, of beauty, of openness. It's a seduction of the crunch under your shoes and the sun filtering through trees not quite naked. October's crows fly over your head and playfully, they mix the air. You tilt your head back and worry, for just a moment, that autumn is a myth; that all there really exists is the uncomfortable pressure of summer's end compacted into winter's start. The rustle of wind breathing leaves across the street calls you back to now. October runs fingers down the back of your neck and reminds you, all there is is now.