A Reprise

Wildlife preserve near Lake Worth. At the end of our journey we found ourselves in a vast meadow bordered on all sides by high fence topped with barbed wire directed inward. We quickly crawled beneath the gate and looked at the fence to the sign posted on the outside.

Red Rose ends with an epilogue . It's my first epilogue and more the kind of vignette I have missed writing for A Fine and Private Place. I have made it a cycle, or I hope I have. I believe the reader will know after all that Rose, the watcher at the window, has done that of course she will follow Jude and Scarlet into the wilderness, and there the calamity will begin, culminating to crisis once more. The fullness of summer had waned and all was still in the old house as the first autumnal rust curled the edges of the surrounding trees. One figure moved in the old house. She kept the fire glowing, an inviting flicker to tired or curious passersby. A long braid hung comfortably over one shoulder as she lit each taper along the wall with a long match. She extinguished the match with a blow, leaving the smoke to curl in the near-darkness. She was perfectly still, listening. Outside of the old house, a figure made his way around the perimeter. His was a shabby form, careworn. He

Pages: 119 Words: 60,823 Characters (no spaces): 281,843 Characters (with space): 342,848 Paragraphs: 1,349 Lines: 4,319 Welcome me back to the land of the living. Welcome me to reading, to my vignettes and projects, to catching up on Internet stuff, to photo-work, to the land of dreaming. I began in Indian summer. Here I cease in the fullness of autumn, and I verify that never has a more beautiful season has passed in this territory, never more colorful leaves or life-giving air. I bear with me a full novel not one word of which was writ thirty days previous. I cannot believe I was so deeply tempted to abandoned NaNoWriMo that I passed nearly twelve hours at one point with the attitude that my manuscript was entirely shelved. How could I? I love it. When I feel clearer, I will decide how much to polish, if I want to serialize it in Winter Light, or what. I have to admit I am tempted by Lulu. Anyway, this afternoon I am going to verify my word count and get on the Internet. I will try

This morning I began the anti-gothic, Northanger Abbey . The main reason I did was so that I can watch my Masterpiece Theatre DVD after I read it. I have felt a great reluctance because I really do not like satire. So far, though, I find it amusing. Every jibe she gives to the forlorn, tormented heroes and heroines makes me want to close it and start on something else in my list, but the story itself actually moves and generates curiosity, and there is some of her own moralism and criticism of shallow people, which I like to hear at times. The heroine has met her hero, Henry Tilney. Can it be possible that subsequent authors were inspired by this anti-gothic in their gothics, because I have read of some heroes like Henry, entirely opposite of the dark, brooding? I question as I read. I wonder how much I am missing, if each sentence is making fun or if I dare relax and enjoy the story without being made fun of. That's what I hate about satire. So far, though, Catherine bears a stron

I completed Caleb Williams early Thanksgiving morning. I did not expect the ending, but it was very interesting. Falkland as villain is the character about whom Caleb's feelings are profound and enduring. Destroying Falkland is necessary in the preservation of his own life, but due to the great love he bears for his persecutor he is destroyed to vanquish him. That is very gothic in a different way than the usual to me in that the story is so action-oriented and short on description, atmosphere. Godwin's style was not what I expected. It was plain. There were few characters and no tender feelings, except those which Caleb bore his master and destroyer. I guess that relationship would be a truly gothic element. It deepened my understanding of plot and character-driven work, maintaining suspense and focusing a story to a single character.

According to my former schedule I would be done now. This does it for the work until after Thanksgiving, at least officially. I decided I would not attempt to write more until Saturday, hoping my creative reserve will replenish. However if I have the urge, I will not hold back. I will feel much better when the deed is done. I opened Cambriel last night to do a word count. It ended around page 100. How is this? At 116 I am still struggling along. I must have used larger paragraphs, but I don't see how. I had many characters, and they talked often to each other. Red Rose has been silent and very difficult. My vision came together. I can see that it did only because I put myself before the computer and did the hard thing. In truth I think it is better in many ways than Cambriel.

Pastor T____, I'm so upset. I'm all grown up now. But I am separated from God. I can't believe the things I used to believe. I don't want to be near a God who condones what I see. I've been there too. And my mother. You know, she and M____ are divorced now. You know, everyone believed in their love. I remember once I asked you about marriage and divorce. God's messages about that were frighteningly clear to me when I studied the catechism. I was upset, and I asked you, what about my mother's divorce and remarriage? You said that was different. You never explained why. It isn't something I mentioned after that. It was a sort of puzzle in my mind I knew I had no hope of solving. However, now I believe you were wrong. There was nothing different. There was absolutely nothing different. God's messages about marriage and divorce have always been clear. No one has ever tried to argue about that. Divorce is legal, but divorce is divorce, and everyone knows

I reformatted my word count to do 2000 a day till the end of the month, with some days off. That is much easier. As you can see I'm almost done. I came up with a great setting today, but I'm totally blank now, so I'm glad to rest.

As I had peeked through a Cloud, To see that which was not allowed, Like the flash from a Falling Star, Winged Messengers appear so far. We're ascending up a narrow Path, Which are to make one realize that, A Place of peace and love does exist, To be taken in whole, do no resist, As the Pearly Gates are opened, Arch Angels shall be summoned, On a tree branch sat a White Dove, Welcoming you to the world above.

For the weekend...

I'm struggling pretty desperately with Red Rose right now. To make myself feel a little better, I'm recounting Cambriel . In desperation I wrote some really embarrassing stuff  that year that will never see the light of day. There is one part though that is so terrible it's amusing. One morning I remembered Lamb Chop singing that "Anything you can do, I can do better" song. It always amused me so much. So I actually worked it into a scene. “I made bread,” I reported to Shelley as I brought him food on a tray in his study. “It’s a little funny-looking, but it tastes good.” “Capital for a first effort.” He didn’t even break a smile at the swollen mound of bread. “The yeast must have survived the time.” “That would be something for you to study beneath your microscope,” I said, pouring him a measure of tea. “A particularly vigorous form of life.” I crooked a smile at him. Shelley looked particularly intent on his work when he wore glasses, tiny roun

I may have to steal Nathan's DS for this.

I did not reach my day's goal and am behind again, but I am out of danger. My story has changed a great deal in only one day. I have other things I have to do tonight and can't write any more. But it is feasible at this point that I will make my goal. I am 1750 words behind today's target.

I may not be one for writing novels anymore, more like short stories. Writing so much in such a short time is not conducive to a story with few characters and a narrow focus. Leisure time is very important. I miss writing vignettes for the Summerhouse, walking in River Legacy and crafting. I can't wait to get back to it. If I put the time in, it will happen, no matter how blocked I am. I need to follow the core force of the story, no matter how unexpected it may be or what strange place it leads. The story then flourishes, rather than becoming skewed or distended. I am really interested in the balance of power between various people. This is what the story is indicating. Also, my story is quite focused on the protection of the weak and defenseless. I have taken some writing lessons to heart. Particularly giving the protagonist some point on which the reader can feel sympathy. Also exploring the dynamic of the three possible romance situations, as defined in Story Structures. It red

That's four words away from today's goal-- a total of 5000-odd words written today. I really didn't think I could do that today. I'm not so behind after all, but I really miss having a life.

I ended right on the word today. I don't think I have ever done that before. Well, it will be useful for me to write more this weekend if I can find the time, but I am done for the day. I am tired, and I need ideas. The scenes I constructed today were better and more vivid than anything I have done before in the book. I will be very happy if I can ever find an easy portion of this to write.

I have been struggling to write all day. After 7000 words I have to call it done. I have the weekend to catch up on the 3000 words I need before Monday. I am so tired and so out of ideas for now.

I received my red 1960's dress today. It fits wonderfully. The fabric looks and feels like a couch. It also has a lot of hand tailoring and special details to enhance the fit that you cannot do in a factory, so that is special for me as well.

8:  Merge onto I-30 E toward DALLAS. 14.4 mi 9:  Merge onto I-35E N/ US-77 N via EXIT 45A on the LEFT toward DENTON. 1.6 mi 10:  Take the VICTORY AVE/ HI LINE DR exit, EXIT 429C. 0.2 mi 11:  Turn RIGHT onto VICTORY AVE. 0.4 mi 12:  End at 2500 Victory Ave Dallas, TX 75219 Estimated Time: 27 minutes      Estimated Distance: 19.81 miles

I met my day's goal, though tomorrow I have a great deal to do and so I feel nervous about it. I have been using every spare moment of my time lately like the last bits of gravy on a plate. Gone is my restless, fearful sense that I am not doing what I should be doing, but in truth I long for the days when I can go where I wish after work, read or do whatever I please.

I'm 2000 words short of my word count today, but I have a day off this week to catch up, so I'm not yet worried. Also, my productivity increased dramatically. That was 1500 words in an hour and a half. The story is coming quickly now. I also found time to go to the store and pay for my seven eBay auctions today. So I consider today productive. The best thing is ending off well and putting confidence toward my next session. Also it's really storming out there tonight. It has been a really great day and night.

I did not meet my goal on Thursday or yesterday, and last night in despair I elected to discontinue the novel. However this morning after nearly twelve hours' sleep I was cleansed of all discouragement and took it up again. It is going with more strength now, and even happier, I am done with it for the rest of the weekend.

I reformatted my week's goals to allow myself more space tonight. I will try to write this weekend, and on my day off next week I will be able to catch up.

Can it be possible with all the changes in my life and the world outside my window that Winter Light is still there, kindly receiving my desperate letters in the middle of the day or the middle of the night? When I was a child and had the chicken pox my mother hid all the mirrors from me. When she left the room I rose painfully on the soles of my inflamed feet on the couch and peered into the mirror above me, and screamed. "I will never be beautiful again," I said hysterically, which is some kind of emblem of my conscious being, the solipsistic fairy tale where I am the maiden and wicked queen together. In what was kind of an emotional thing I decided to change my look. Last September after the BJD convention I got a hime cut, then got my job in October. I fought with my hairdresser over the cut and enjoyed the results, even though I didn't have the time to style it with my new job, and it looked dreadful pulled back. There was no way I could drag my princess hair in solv

It is bright and cold this morning, a chill overlaid with sun. I am so many places at once, I have no idea where I am anymore, but I think I would like to be in River Legacy most now. My writing is different for me now. It's a lot of effort, every paragraph. I can see that I am making every piece count now instead of streaming material from a well-ploughed tract over and over. My stories are starting to remind me of no one else's at all. Red Rose is accelerating at this point into something I had not intended, but welcome as I desperately need the word count. I am struck as I inhabit this unfamiliar landscape by faces and places that if I look long enough can trace back to Earth. When I recognize someone or something I am startled. I realize my writing is like a dream, not a place that I can control, but a mindfield where my waking world is transformed into something strange and compelling. All that said, I am tired. I have not been sleeping well at all lately. You would not th

That was time-consuming, even though I invented a great deal and kept typing at a frantic pace. I will have to start sooner tomorrow. It's actually a little scary, definite horror aspects.

The house looks ghostly in this near-darkness. I have kept at my writing and not turned on any lamps. I wrote much better today. I am not struggling as I did yesterday. I even had time to vote. I have not had time to read or rest. I am already feeling longing to have an afternoon to do other things. I am so glad I have a day off soon.

My story is only beginning, and though I have the main events outlined, I struggle to lock onto its source of energy. I am at no shortage of obstacles and conflict, however.

Throughout the park this morning there was evidence of a great natural harvest.