It’s been a few weeks since my last post. I was on vacation with my family and… surprise (even to me), I decided to really take time off. And yes, before you ask, it was….
Looks like playtime is over. The first clue was my husband heading back to work Monday. I took a few days to myself (YES!) after that. And now.. I’m here with my ROW80 check in (I did close to nothing with my stories, but I read, I made notes, I watched a bunch of TV, went on walks in the woods, daydreamed, saw cool places…. in general, I took a real vacation) and my WIPpet.
As for the WIPpet, I took to heart some of the commentary I received (and haven’t answered… my bad) to my last post. Since I kind of had an idea of what I wanted to do, I guess I really was looking for some validation that I wasn’t messing with things too much. The heart wants what the heart wants, but it’s nice to know that giving in won’t hurt others, so to speak.*
That said, if anyone is interested in continuing to read my Unnamed Story as a beta reader please let me know. I’m in the last two chapters of the piece, and having something of a crisis of direction. I’d love some serious input.
And now, onto the…
I’m jumping back in the Swan Song Series, into the third book I’ve planned out and back into Atyr’s head… Atyr as a girl, not the mature grandmother you’ve gotten to know her as in the Unnamed Story. It’s the beginning of her section in this third book; she thinks she’s dealt with all the problems that could involve her and that, mild nausea aside, she’s about to close out the journey of her youth and become one with her spiritual leader.
Yeah… like I’d let that happen.
So here you go, 14 sentences (I’m posting this on Thursday, so you get a bonus for the day) from Swan Song Refrain (working title):
Atyr didn’t know how long she’d been tied in her seat; she was just glad that this stretch of the journey seemed to be ending.
The side to side waddle of the riding beast’s stride became abruptly short and jerky, an almost spinning sensation as the beast seemed to start forward and then rest back. From beneath the heavy cowl of her robes, Atyr caught bright glimpses of blue and white, tan and brown. Lots of brown… Brown feathers, brown clothes…
Even her hands were brown now.
At least the dusty color was soothing to the eyes. She gazed down at the shishtriara’s feathered neck and let herself fall into a moment’s tranquility tracing the waves of caked dirt with her eyes. Here and there some of the beast’s true cream-colored down peeked through.
The pattern rippled as the beast shifted, its serpentine neck twisting as the beast turned its head to her. Heavily lidded eyes peered under the covering of her seat frame up to her, a faint glow of the day beyond reflected in them.
Despite the warnings she’d been given, Atyr felt herself start to inch back from the beast. The flaps over the creature’s nostrils vibrated faster; a trill escaped its fanged mouth. Its jaws opened in a parody of a grin.
*Yes, hyperbole. I know that no one will be hurt if I change my WIPpet story. Nor will any shistriara… much.