Skip to main content

Winter darkness

I am listening to The Tension and the Spark-- I have not listened to it since last winter. It fills me with bleakness. As Elton John says, "Sad songs say so much," and we love them. I love them.

The weather is laden with heaviness. Even though the darkness indicates winter, the mornings are balmy, but there's the feeling that at any moment it will be cold again. A true Indian Summer.

I am finishing Cambriel soon. At the last moment several things came up, and I began to think I must write another 50K to finish it. Not so. This thing will be done in three days, whether it should be or not. I'm ready to have those two hours every day back, thanks very much.

It's been a wild ride. This is the most diverse book I've written. I know that's a dangerous word, but really.

So far I have lived out my gothic circus fantasy and part of my unicorn fantasy, my walking along a crumbling, deserted Interstate fantasy (though I did that in fact this summer) and a whole lot of other fantasies I didn't know I had. A truly fantastical book. And there's even a surprise sex moment (scene might be too strong a word). There's been a lot of characters coming in I didn't expect, including a tie-in from a story I thought was hopeless, Red Rose. There's also possibly more violence than in anything I've ever written. And a good amount of humor, which I've never tried writing before and is probably pathetic. Some pathos-- a lot of melancholy and darkness. Diversity is a very dangerous word, and before I was a stranger to it. I hope I don't end up hating this book.

In short, Cambriel came at a much higher price than A Raven for a Lark. It has been much harder to do. But it has been so much better, and it has really challenged me. If I send to a publisher, this will no doubt be the first thing I send. It is very interesting, to say the least, even if my writing craft needs a lot of work.

Popular posts from this blog

Where does it lie

I look out onto the yellow and brown vegetation beneath my window, at the castle-like buildings far away and wonder where do I lie in all of this? There was a time when I was unfettered. This was a time before I entered the working world, before I was independent. My heart was free as a bird when I was in college. I did not know what happiness I experienced in my creativity because I had never known different. In other aspects of my life I knew pain but my stories, sprung up lately from a gothic mist into an immersing Pre-Raphaelite painting, were a richness and the most beautiful thing I had ever known. That the most beautiful thing I knew to exist happened inside of me made me very happy, even though I didn't know it. Now I know the sun is setting, even though I can't see it, because the bank of brown, twisted trees and shrubs is lit gold, like a reflection from a golden chalice. Slowly, slowly it will fade until everything is a homogenous, uncertain gray. This is the nightma...

Cassandra stood poised at her vanity mirror. Her long hair, which spilled past her waist, was twisted in one hand, and in the other was a pair of jeweled scissors.

As she lifted the scissors to cut, a larger hand wrapped around hers. Cassandra withdrew with a cry. "Kell! I didn't see you come in." He took the scissors away. "I take it you got the job." "I did," she said crisply. "Return my scissors to me." "Not if you intend to cut off your hair. What do you mean by this nonsense?" "I can't have long hair in the laboratory. It might catch fire or something." "Look there." He guided her to the window. Below them lay the scattered remains of a centuries-old city park. The benches were near invisible due to growth, while the pond had extended far beyond its original boundaries. Ducks floated serenely on its surface. "We played as children. Do you remember how you prized your hair?" Cassandra laughed a little drily. "Of course. I insisted all my powers as princess lay in my hair. I was haughty. unworthy of the friendship of you and your sister." ...

Snow White and the Prince

I dreamed in darkness, cold and alone. Phantasms shifted around me, frightening me, but I was powerless to escape them or even move, as I was sealed in a casket. I thought of the Queen, my Stepmother, and tears dripped from my eyes as I considered the quasi-poignant moments we had once shared, when we might have been considered to be close, when the Queen had nearly been a mother to me, and the face of love had shone radiantly upon me, before eclipsed again by the storms of Venus. I thought of the huntsman, stung to consider that my only friend had been poised to betray me, to kill me, and again in my mind I felt the horror of his shadow, of waiting while he came behind me, knowing there was no escape for me from a death he would inflict. My heart lifted as images of the Prince entered my mind, his grace atop a white-maned horse, always out of my reach, just beyond the words I longed to speak. If only there had been more time for us to fall in love. He might have saved me from those...