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.

Labels: Texas

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 led an ill-kept horse behind him. He did not come to the door of the estate but continued to move through the overgrown lawn toward the orchard.

A hundred years had passed since a glass coffin had been installed at the base of the oldest apple tree. It was partially sunken into the ground, entwined with roots. In the coffin was a maiden, carefully arranged in a fine dress, her bloodless features as unchanging as those of a statue. Her hair had been arranged carefully, had grown in a hundred years to trail around the sides of her pallet and mass beneath her head and shoulders, curled like vines and black as pitch.

The passerby went to the coffin directly and knelt. He had a belt of tools which he removed and splayed upon on the ground. He began unhitching the coffin lid from its fastenings. He was as silent and inwardly-focused as the woman in the coffin. He opened the lid, which creaked painfully.

Without the separation of glass the fragility of the woman’s gown was all the more apparent. An antique preserved behind glass, it was impossible to think of touching her—but the raider did not hesitate.

As soon as his hands came down upon her, her antique eyes flew wide, terrifying glass eyes that saw nothing. Her rubicund mouth trembled in frenzy. Her impossibly long and slender fingers curled around his shoulders, feeling along him as a blind woman searching her way through a dark room. She clutched at him as he clutched at her.

He lifted her from the coffin, cradling her easily, and she curled around him willingly, still touching his face in identification and wonder. All at once her neck slenderized like a bird’s, she lifted to him and put her lips upon him, sank her teeth into his throat and drank deeply.

The immortal turned, undaunted, held the longing parasite carefully as he took her back to his horse, urged her from his wounded throat and settled her upon the horse’s back. She curled there as willingly as she had upon him. She stared at him as entranced as entrancing.

Jude took a moment to remove some medical implements from his saddlebag and repair his damaged throat. He made Scarlet once more secure upon the horse’s back, mounted up behind her, and took off with her across the lawn, urging the horse into a canter. The tools he left forgotten near the dismantled glass coffin.

As they rode away together, the pace ever more frantic, the figure in the house crept to the window to look after them, one hand delicately peeling away the thin curtain.

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, Red Rose, story notes

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 not to take that for granted anymore.

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

So far I find it amusing. Every jibe she gives to the forlorn, tormented heroes and heroines makes me want to close out 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. And-- 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 sport of. That's what I hate parodies.

So far though Catherine bears a strong resemblance to Austen's other characters in her fortitude, decorousness and deep kindness to others. Austen's other heroes for a large part have been intimidating and aloof, so I don't know what possesses her to make fun. With Henry's good nature, gentlemanliness, and provoking humor he seems ideal for Catherine. Perhaps what irked Austen was not the dark or tormented but the self-absorbed and vain.

Labels: reading notes

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, but no romance.

It deepened my understanding of plot and character-driven work, maintaining suspense and focusing a story to a single character.

Labels: reading notes

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.

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

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 what it is.

So many things have opposites. They are made legitimate by their opposite. There is no life without death, light without darkness. But the same is not true for marriage and divorce. Divorce delegitimizes marriage. Subsequent marriages are ever less likely to survive after divorce. I have never seen anyone try to argue about this. Everyone knows it's true. Why doesn't anyone care?

I don't want to be near a God who sets down his word in stone, leaves me in the cold to understand him without the ones who have gone before, and surrounds others with his love and the comfort of affirmative friends, while they play games.

I lose my religion. I don't want to pray. I want to go as far away from God as possible. I don't want to see His face or hear His voice. I want to find a different religion.

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.

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

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.

Labels: Texas, towns

For the weekend...

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

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 round spectacles perched on his nose. But now he was watching me, his eyes on my wrist as I served his tea, on the apron strings around my waist.

“I know you despise my laboratory, but I would like to show you something there. I want you to understand my work.”

I halted with surprise, remembering the difficulties from the night before. Surely he had not forgotten. But I would do anything to ease the tension of that event.

“I can come this afternoon when my cake is finished.”
He smiled, pleased.

“I have something to show you, too. Perhaps a little before sunset, in the garden.”

I had made my discovery earlier that afternoon when I had grown tired of whipping the cake batter, which persisted in remaining lumpy. “You’re too weak,” Johnny had said, and set about whipping the batter to a fine consistency. I went back to the garden, craving air. In the stillness I found a little summerhouse which had been long abandoned. I left Johnny to pour the batter in a greased pan, as I had instructed him, and set it to bake.
I had not set a match to Cambriel’s journals—I was using them. But only conditionally and for my own ends.

“Anything you can do, I can do better. I can do anything better than you,” I sang, looking at the mound of books.

“Cannot!” Johnny chimed in from the sink.

“Can too.”

“Cannot.”

“Can too.”

“Anything you can do, I can do better,” he chimed. “I can do anything better than you.” Soapy water sloshed over the floor at his vigorous movements, but he didn’t notice. I was so filled with affection that I would have mopped the floor thrice over for him. I supposed that was how spoiled boys came about.

Well, you had to be there, I guess. Ophelia is tired of being compared with Cambriel, so she taunts the absent maiden with a song. Johnny in turn taunts her. My characters were really dumb sometimes, but they had a sense of humor that kept me amused all month long.

How different this month has been from that one! Each word has been wrought with excruciating pain, but I like to believe there will be less throw-away material in the end.

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

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 reduces the romance dynamic to a balance, imbalance or exchange in power. I'm not sure I agree, but I have been exploring that idea in my story.

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

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.

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

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

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

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.

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

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 solvent waste.

Life changed, and I did not know what to do with my hair. I knotted it in the bun each day and eventually stopped trimming my bangs. I pinned them back with the length, which looked ghastly.

It has been months since I trimmed them, and they have scarcely grown. They still hang like they are waiting to be trimmed, just a few weeks past a required trim. I have wanted so much for them to be gone. I want to forget I ever had them, or the hime, but I can still see those pieces.

But I look at my MySpace pic from one year ago, at my face framed in the haircut, perfect bangs, and compare to my present dilapidation, and I want to wail, for I will never be beautiful again.

How can a year make such a difference?

What about my Innocent World dress?

I know at least it isn't just about my hair. I feel an autumnal fear. I fear my body dying all around me. I fear it's too late, too late. I don't understand.

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 think this kind of time change would be disruptive, but it has been for me. My appetite has been very poor, and I have felt pretty wimpy but haven't known what to eat, because I crave nothing.

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

Labels: NaNoWriMo 2008, story notes

Labels: river legacy, Texas

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

Labels: river legacy, Texas