Well, I have had a wonderful day.In writing? Well, sort of.I wrote a small story (a subplot, really) of my book. It involved a traitorous Nymph, a devious dwarf, a chest full of rubies, a gold sword, a magical Pearl amongst other things....What more can I say? I had a blast writing it. And, well, to add to the general delight I had writing the story, I chose to take my work outside.So, I decided to go all out. I took a very sophisticated backpack (bright pink) and stuffed it full of everything I thought I could possibly need for my adventure: an old yellow sheet riddled with holes, two folders loaded with papers, drawings, and my beloved map, and a huge bottle of water.After telling Mom of my plan, it slipped my mind to tell her that, while I, honestly, planned on writing, I also brought my flint-and-steel with me--you know, in case I got any Man vs. Wild urges to light a fire using dry wood.So, I was off at four-thirty, a great time of day to talk a walk. As I approached my destination--the beautiful wood that was filled with limestone boulders, glass bottles and other junk, and of course, the bones of cows---I saw, much to my delight, a large wisp of cotton puff, from one of those thistle plants, blow past.I stopped dead, a huge smile spreading across my face, and already, my inner-adventurer had come out, and my mind was a-whirl. (What perfect fire-starter this would make, I thought!) So I scooped it up, and proceeded to the woods.Well, upon arriving, I picked a spot just within a circle of grey, moss covered boulders (the perfect inspiration, and the trees above would cover any smoke I created from the eyes of curious neighbors). Using a dead piece of wood, I pushed all of the dry cow dung off the rocks and, simultaneously, leveled the ground.I pulled out the cotton, ''roughed up the fibers'' as I had seen done on so many Discovery shows, and, attempted to light a fire. I struck that darn steel for five straight minutes, resulting in only frustration and small sparks. I was not Bear Grylls, as much as I hated to admit it. But, finally! After a long while, it struck well, and the cotton caught fire and...in my excitement, I grabbed the nearest possible piece of wood, smashed it on the fire--and whoosh--it extinguished with nothing to show for my work but a blackened cotton puff. And that was my first fire...yay!So, resigned to writing, and unable to roast venison over a spit without a proper fire, I spread the sheet, placed my things around me, and sat down.I literally sat, for forty-five minutes, writing being the last thing on my mind, and staring up at the pale green canopy (the lovely light that I sat in, is called, I am told ''dappled light'' and I have decided it is one of my favorite sights to see).Finally, I decided I'd work on something that, I thought, was totally unrelated to the main plot. And so, from there on, I worked the story of Maura, the self-conscious, treasure-obsessed nymph who ultimately steals the Nymphs' precious Pearl, and gives it to the dwarves, which starts one of the largest wars in history. And, much to my surprise, I finished it.(baby steps, I guess) It was a short story, amounting to only four total pages in a small notebook--but, it was an adventure! Hopefully, I'll get to do it again soon.
A place where books, writing, Catholicism, thoughts, ideas, and the nonsensical ramblings of my brain are all mixed into one. A brew of my favorite topics that's almost as good as that of my favorite coffee. Almost.
Writerly (Rye-ter-lee) adj. : Of or relating to something that makes one want to dash off and write a story/and or reminds one of something they saw in a book. Example: The antique store, with its tall shelves crammed with unique trinkets and baubles, had a writerly atmosphere that the girl recognized as soon as her foot crossed the threshhold.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Just Because
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