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Oct. 31st, 2011
Writing In Snatches
Oct. 31st, 2011 10:21 pmI use the above title because that's been my writing over the past few days--segments of no more than 20 minutes per day. It was still better than no snatches at all, however, enough to ward off the beast for the time being.
PROGRESS REPORT FOR 10/27, 10/28, and 10/31/11
New Words: 1300 on Chapter 1 ("Those Who Came First") Section 2 ("The Dancing Spirits") of Arizona. The despondent Ooljee meets young Wikvaya, a trader who thinks he's cursed.
Total Words: 23950.
Reason(s) For Stopping: Snatches, as I said, between other large jobs and other things that needed to get done.
Book Year: 941 B.C.
Mammalian Assistance: Vegas was at his post all three days.
Exercise: Walking with Laurie and the dogs around campus; several trips with Tucker around the neighborhood and one half-walk around campus; walking down to campus for work.
Stimulants: A Dr. Pepper on Friday, otherwise none.
Today's Opening Passage: Just the first one...
Wikvaya was beginning to consider this trading trip filled with bad luck. By all appearances it was just as successful than most such trips the traders among the Peaceful People took, perhaps moreso because it was his first. The need for his success was magnified since he was the son of a chief. The stones and information he secured were excellent, and he was told by the older men with him—those who had been trading trips before and each with a deep well of knowledge about the items they sought—assured him that he had done well procuring those items as well. And in so doing, they continued, he had dealt fairly with all he encountered—respectful to those who refused him, even-handed with those who bartered for the seeds he carried.
Darling Du Jour: Ooljee lay awake that night with shame over her brusque treatment of the young trader. She had been more concerned with Doba—suddenly speaking then just as suddenly mute again. Added to this was the pain she continually felt when anyone asked her about her magic, what little seemed to remain to her, including this young stranger who seemed so needful and hopeful all at once. The matter of the boy was a small one, but it was enough to occupy the forefront of her thoughts even moreso than Doba. Normally this would be a sign that it was a matter to be paid attention to, but Ooljee resisted until her legs themselves grew angry and wandered her away from the unguarded dug-out she shared with Doba and the Opata elder.
The wind carried low singing to her. The voice was high and sweet but obviously male and it intrigued her. It was a prayer, she realized. A short one sung over and over again as if it was the only one the singer knew and he clung to it raggedly as a dying man to his last breath.
Non-Research / Review Books In Progress: Michener; Brooks.
New Words: 1300 on Chapter 1 ("Those Who Came First") Section 2 ("The Dancing Spirits") of Arizona. The despondent Ooljee meets young Wikvaya, a trader who thinks he's cursed.
Total Words: 23950.
Reason(s) For Stopping: Snatches, as I said, between other large jobs and other things that needed to get done.
Book Year: 941 B.C.
Mammalian Assistance: Vegas was at his post all three days.
Exercise: Walking with Laurie and the dogs around campus; several trips with Tucker around the neighborhood and one half-walk around campus; walking down to campus for work.
Stimulants: A Dr. Pepper on Friday, otherwise none.
Today's Opening Passage: Just the first one...
Wikvaya was beginning to consider this trading trip filled with bad luck. By all appearances it was just as successful than most such trips the traders among the Peaceful People took, perhaps moreso because it was his first. The need for his success was magnified since he was the son of a chief. The stones and information he secured were excellent, and he was told by the older men with him—those who had been trading trips before and each with a deep well of knowledge about the items they sought—assured him that he had done well procuring those items as well. And in so doing, they continued, he had dealt fairly with all he encountered—respectful to those who refused him, even-handed with those who bartered for the seeds he carried.
Darling Du Jour: Ooljee lay awake that night with shame over her brusque treatment of the young trader. She had been more concerned with Doba—suddenly speaking then just as suddenly mute again. Added to this was the pain she continually felt when anyone asked her about her magic, what little seemed to remain to her, including this young stranger who seemed so needful and hopeful all at once. The matter of the boy was a small one, but it was enough to occupy the forefront of her thoughts even moreso than Doba. Normally this would be a sign that it was a matter to be paid attention to, but Ooljee resisted until her legs themselves grew angry and wandered her away from the unguarded dug-out she shared with Doba and the Opata elder.
The wind carried low singing to her. The voice was high and sweet but obviously male and it intrigued her. It was a prayer, she realized. A short one sung over and over again as if it was the only one the singer knew and he clung to it raggedly as a dying man to his last breath.
Non-Research / Review Books In Progress: Michener; Brooks.
