Three Minutes.
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Cymbaline pt. 3
Tomas gave him a surprised look, pausing with a hand on the side of the carriage. He stared up at Nickolai. “You meant to kill Emile?”
“Of course I did! No idiot can insult the family of Dubrovsky without our avenging the slight!”
Tomas didn’t have time to reply. A shot rang out across the clearing, and Nickolai tumbled from the seat. A small cloud of gunpowder drifted out of the woods and past Tomas. He spun to face the thick trees. A small, pale face stared back at him, her eyes hard with fury. “Will you deny that he deserved it?” Cymbaline’s voice was low, dangerous. The tiny pistol in her hand gleamed suddenly as it caught the shifting light.
Tomas shook his head slowly, and she nodded. “I thought not. Leave him and go back to town. If you do not speak, none can say he did not die in the duel. Of course, it was foolish to be shooting so close to the carriages, but few will think of that.” Tomas slowly climbed into the curricle, picking up the dropped reins. “I won’t speak.”
The young lady nodded. "Thank you, sir. I am glad to hear it." She smiled suddenly, tucking her pistol back into her skirts. "I expect I shall see you during the summer season. Good day, sir!" She disapeared into the woods, leaving Tomas alone with a corpse and a carriage. Cymbaline had no doubt that he would keep his word of silence.
The End.
“Of course I did! No idiot can insult the family of Dubrovsky without our avenging the slight!”
Tomas didn’t have time to reply. A shot rang out across the clearing, and Nickolai tumbled from the seat. A small cloud of gunpowder drifted out of the woods and past Tomas. He spun to face the thick trees. A small, pale face stared back at him, her eyes hard with fury. “Will you deny that he deserved it?” Cymbaline’s voice was low, dangerous. The tiny pistol in her hand gleamed suddenly as it caught the shifting light.
Tomas shook his head slowly, and she nodded. “I thought not. Leave him and go back to town. If you do not speak, none can say he did not die in the duel. Of course, it was foolish to be shooting so close to the carriages, but few will think of that.” Tomas slowly climbed into the curricle, picking up the dropped reins. “I won’t speak.”
The young lady nodded. "Thank you, sir. I am glad to hear it." She smiled suddenly, tucking her pistol back into her skirts. "I expect I shall see you during the summer season. Good day, sir!" She disapeared into the woods, leaving Tomas alone with a corpse and a carriage. Cymbaline had no doubt that he would keep his word of silence.
The End.
© Emma Seif
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Cymbaline Pt. 2
The crunch of fall’s leaves was deafening under his boots as Emile took his position. He heard Tomas’s voice with an awful, supernatural clarity from the other end of the field.
“Turn on two, fire at three! One!” Linnie almost darted forward. She almost took the pistol from Emile’s hand and killed that bastard Nikolai, but Emile’s honor prevented it.
“Two!” Nikolai stared down the field. While he could barely see the buttons on his opponent’s coat, he aimed carefully, confident at least in that.
“Three!” Gunshots cracked the air like lightening.
Loyalty had never been a feeling with Linnie, more like an urge. She got patriotism like some people got seasickness. So when the shots rang, she couldn’t help herself. She shoved her brother aside, his gun flying away across the damp grass. The bullet flew through the air, directly where Emile’s chest had been.
“What the hell, Linnie!” Emile stared up into his sister’s determined face.
Nickolai was bent over him a moment later, his face stricken. “Emile! I’m sorry, I tried to shoot past your shoulder! These guns are dreadfully innaccurate.”
Emile sat up stiffly, his sister rolling off him into the grass. Tomas offered him a hand, and Emile accepted it gratefully. “No harm’s done, though my hip is going to hurt later.”
Linnie scrabled to her feet, brushing down her full skirts. “Better than having a hole in the middle of your chest!” She snapped, glaring at Nickolai. “Is your honor satisfied, sir?”
“Quite adequately.” Nickolai nodded.
“Then you will not object to our being on our way.” Cymbaline took her brother’s arm and led him off the field. There was a closed carriage waiting there, and they disappeared inside.
Nickolai and Tomas watched as the carriage rattled away, then collected the spent pistols and went to their curricle. Nickolai took the reins, still frowning. “I missed! How could I miss?”
Tomas gave him a surprised look, pausing with a hand on the side of the carriage. He stared up at Nickolai. “You meant to kill Emile?”
...
(c) Emma Seif
“Turn on two, fire at three! One!” Linnie almost darted forward. She almost took the pistol from Emile’s hand and killed that bastard Nikolai, but Emile’s honor prevented it.
“Two!” Nikolai stared down the field. While he could barely see the buttons on his opponent’s coat, he aimed carefully, confident at least in that.
“Three!” Gunshots cracked the air like lightening.
Loyalty had never been a feeling with Linnie, more like an urge. She got patriotism like some people got seasickness. So when the shots rang, she couldn’t help herself. She shoved her brother aside, his gun flying away across the damp grass. The bullet flew through the air, directly where Emile’s chest had been.
“What the hell, Linnie!” Emile stared up into his sister’s determined face.
Nickolai was bent over him a moment later, his face stricken. “Emile! I’m sorry, I tried to shoot past your shoulder! These guns are dreadfully innaccurate.”
Emile sat up stiffly, his sister rolling off him into the grass. Tomas offered him a hand, and Emile accepted it gratefully. “No harm’s done, though my hip is going to hurt later.”
Linnie scrabled to her feet, brushing down her full skirts. “Better than having a hole in the middle of your chest!” She snapped, glaring at Nickolai. “Is your honor satisfied, sir?”
“Quite adequately.” Nickolai nodded.
“Then you will not object to our being on our way.” Cymbaline took her brother’s arm and led him off the field. There was a closed carriage waiting there, and they disappeared inside.
Nickolai and Tomas watched as the carriage rattled away, then collected the spent pistols and went to their curricle. Nickolai took the reins, still frowning. “I missed! How could I miss?”
Tomas gave him a surprised look, pausing with a hand on the side of the carriage. He stared up at Nickolai. “You meant to kill Emile?”
...
(c) Emma Seif
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Cymbaline's Duel
Nikolai shifted the box in his hands, licking his lips nervously. Emile was standing on the opposite side of the field, staring at him in a sort of angry horror. Nik clutched the box tighter, and cast a nervous glance toward Tomas, who stood beside him. “I don’t know if I can kill him, Tomas. Emile was my friend once.”
“It’s a matter of honor. Shoot into the trees and it’s done. Emile doesn’t want to kill you either.”
Nikolai nodded slowly. “He’s angry; I wish we didn’t have to go through any of this.”
Tomas clapped him on the shoulders. “Nik, look who Emile brought as his second.” He gestured toward the edge of the field, where a fourth person was joining them. “Would he let his sister come if he was serious about this?”
Nik frowned. “You don’t know Emile. Cymbaline is an even better shot than he is.”
Meanwhile, at the other end of the field, Cymbaline was shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her trigger finger itched, and she eyed the pistols that Nikolai and Tomas were handling.
“Why does he get to pick the weapons?”
“Challenger’s choice, dear,” Emile replied. Cymbaline ignored his condescending tone- he might be dead in ten minutes, she couldn’t afford to be annoyed with him.
From the other side, Tomas called impatiently, “Shall we get this over with, then?”
Emile nodded, drawing his lips tightly together. “Get the pistol for me, Linnie. Don’t want them to see…” he trailed off, but Cymbaline looked down at his hands. They shook more than usual. The doctor had said the disease was getting better, but he still couldn’t manage fine work. Gossip said it was a curse, but Linnie believed the physician- and Emile had never been a healthy man.
She ran back quickly and handed her brother the pistol.
Before he took his position, Emile grabbed her arm. “You do know that I never meant anything, don’t you? The remark he took offense to- he misheard- I could never-“
“I know, Emile.” Linnie kissed his cheek. “Do me a favor and don’t die.”
The crunch of fall’s leaves was deafening under his boots as Emile took his position. He heard Tomas’s voice with an awful, supernatural clarity from the other end of the field...
“It’s a matter of honor. Shoot into the trees and it’s done. Emile doesn’t want to kill you either.”
Nikolai nodded slowly. “He’s angry; I wish we didn’t have to go through any of this.”
Tomas clapped him on the shoulders. “Nik, look who Emile brought as his second.” He gestured toward the edge of the field, where a fourth person was joining them. “Would he let his sister come if he was serious about this?”
Nik frowned. “You don’t know Emile. Cymbaline is an even better shot than he is.”
Meanwhile, at the other end of the field, Cymbaline was shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her trigger finger itched, and she eyed the pistols that Nikolai and Tomas were handling.
“Why does he get to pick the weapons?”
“Challenger’s choice, dear,” Emile replied. Cymbaline ignored his condescending tone- he might be dead in ten minutes, she couldn’t afford to be annoyed with him.
From the other side, Tomas called impatiently, “Shall we get this over with, then?”
Emile nodded, drawing his lips tightly together. “Get the pistol for me, Linnie. Don’t want them to see…” he trailed off, but Cymbaline looked down at his hands. They shook more than usual. The doctor had said the disease was getting better, but he still couldn’t manage fine work. Gossip said it was a curse, but Linnie believed the physician- and Emile had never been a healthy man.
She ran back quickly and handed her brother the pistol.
Before he took his position, Emile grabbed her arm. “You do know that I never meant anything, don’t you? The remark he took offense to- he misheard- I could never-“
“I know, Emile.” Linnie kissed his cheek. “Do me a favor and don’t die.”
The crunch of fall’s leaves was deafening under his boots as Emile took his position. He heard Tomas’s voice with an awful, supernatural clarity from the other end of the field...
© Mariel Redwood
Monday, March 5, 2012
Writing with Carrie!
So, at the moment I am sitting in my best friend Carrie's house, five hours from home and loopy from lack of sleep. What better thing to do that write a post that will be in cyperspace for the rest of eternity?
Anyway, last night Carrie and I played a wonderful new game. We would pick a prompt - a picture, song, etc, then write a bit of flash fiction or the beginning of a short story based on it. This produced some interesting new material, most of which is the usual insanity. The product of my first attempt was this still unedited short story, finished about five minutes ago. It invloves trains, wizards, Jane Austen, and one very confused girl named after a houseplant and WWII spy radio.
Absidestra swayed a bit with the motion of the train. A glance out the window showed her that they were nearing the mountains. She took a deep breath, sliding into a seat and dropping her bag to the floor beside her. The train was crossing the great plains, heading into the rockies. Des slipped her shoes off for a moment, rubbing her cramped toes. They were impracticle, but she loved the style and considered the pain worth it.
A steward tapped her on the shoulder. “Miss, excuse me, but you must keep your shoes on.”
She smiled up at him. “Sorry, I’ll put them on.” She slid her toes in, and the steward turned back to his work. Des rested her forehead against the window, wondering what California would be like. Interesting, if nothing else. Far more interesting than new jersey, that much she was sure of. The train jolted, pressing her against the window.
A young woman a few years older than her stumbled and sat down hard on the seat beside Des. “Sorry!” she gasped, settling herself in the seat.
Des shook her head. “It’s all right.” She inspected the young woman, who was apparently to be her companion for the rest of the trip. She was tall, with long wavy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She wore a long black coat despite the warming spring air. Des turned back to the window, feeling suddenly tired. She had been on the train for several hours already, and didn’t particularly feel like talking.
When she woke up, it was to the young woman sitting down beside her again. She looked angry now, and more than a little bit worried. Des glanced out the train window again, noting the mountains that now surrounded them. “Is something wrong?”
The woman glanced at her, surprised. “What? Oh, it’s nothing. Just a problem with another of the passengers.”
Des glanced along the train car, searching for the problem. “Is someone sick?”
“No, I got into an argument with him. It’s not your problem.”
Des shrugged. “You’re right.” She started to dig in her bag for a book. She had started to read pride and predjudice somewhere in Kansas, and wanted to get back to the bennet girls.
The door at the far end of the car banged open. The young woman flinched and stood up. A tall man wearing a black coat identical to hers had just entered the car. His sandy hair was rumpled, and he was glaring at Des’s companian as if she had just killed his puppy. The woman grabbed Des’s little clothbound book and hurled it down the aisle at him.
The man ducked, the hard book barely missing his skull. “Elsie!” The woman started to unbutton her coat. Only the first six buttons were fastened, letting it flare open at her waist. The top three were already undone when the man flung himself down the aisle. “Elsie, stop it!” He wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides. Des had come half to her feet without realizing it, and the man caught her eye. Elsie had begun to thrash, cursing the man to hell and back. “Help me get her onto the seat.”
Absidestra reached out hesitantly, staring at her seatmate. Elsie had turned into a wildcat. She wasn’t sure she wanted to get her fingers anywhere near her. But the man was struggling to keep her contained, and he didn’t seem a bad type. His face was kind, though tight with frustration at the moment. She wrapped her own arms around Elsie, helping the strange man to push the woman into her seat. When she was down, the man took a deep breath and nodded to Des. “All right, you can let go.” She did, and watched from beside the window. The man tilted his head so he could look elsie in the face. “Elsie, please settle down for a minute. I know you hate me right now, but we need to talk. Neither of us can afford to die right now.”
Elsie gave one last kick to his shin, then settled. “Fine,” she gritted out. “Talk.”
The tall man glanced around the train car, noting the shocked faces of its few other passengers. “Sorry,” he called, then waved a hand. A shimmer ran through the car, then the other passengers froze in their seats.
Des flinched, staring at the man. “Who…”
“Basil. Basil Wainwright, Wizard.” Basil turned back to Elsie, sighing. Des was left to gape.
“Why didn’t you freeze her?” Elsie demanded, fingercombing her messy hair.
“Because if you decide not to talk after all, I may need her to help pin you down again.” Basil sat down in the seat facing Elsie. “Listen, despite your bad opinion of me, we are partners at the moment. Please let us act as such, rather than picking a fight at every turn. Every time you get angry, you try to curse me.”
Des sank slowly into her seat, making certain not to brush against Elsie as she did.
Else folded her arms, glaring at Basil. “I can’t trust you.”
Basil shrugged. “I can’t trust you either, at the moment. Not when you’re trying to kill me.” he leaned forward a bit. “Please button your coat now. We’re safe on this train, unless we try to attack each other. Since I have no wish to hurt you, and I prefer not to be dead, I think that’s a bad idea.”
Elsie was silent for a moment, still breathing hard with anger. “Fine,” she snapped eventually, reaching up to button her coat. “The truce lasts until we leave the train. Then we decide this with no normal people around.”
“Will you come back to your seat, then? I don’t like our being seperated when we don’t know the people around us.”
She nodded shortly, and stalked out of the car. Basil slumped in his seat, staring wearily after her. Des ventured to speak. “Why does she hate you so much? She seemed nice enough when she sat down.”
The wizard shook his head. “She just doesn’t like me.” he stood, nodding politely to Des. “If you’ll excuse me, I don’t think I should leave her by herself.” He snapped his fingers as he left the car, and the shimmer filling it vanished. People blinked, coming back to life. Absidestra was left to listen to their confused muttering. The only sign that Elsie and Basil had ever been there was her little red book, lying in the aisle.
©Mariel Redwood
I hope you enjoyed it, unpolished as it may be!
~Mari
Anyway, last night Carrie and I played a wonderful new game. We would pick a prompt - a picture, song, etc, then write a bit of flash fiction or the beginning of a short story based on it. This produced some interesting new material, most of which is the usual insanity. The product of my first attempt was this still unedited short story, finished about five minutes ago. It invloves trains, wizards, Jane Austen, and one very confused girl named after a houseplant and WWII spy radio.
Absidestra swayed a bit with the motion of the train. A glance out the window showed her that they were nearing the mountains. She took a deep breath, sliding into a seat and dropping her bag to the floor beside her. The train was crossing the great plains, heading into the rockies. Des slipped her shoes off for a moment, rubbing her cramped toes. They were impracticle, but she loved the style and considered the pain worth it.
A steward tapped her on the shoulder. “Miss, excuse me, but you must keep your shoes on.”
She smiled up at him. “Sorry, I’ll put them on.” She slid her toes in, and the steward turned back to his work. Des rested her forehead against the window, wondering what California would be like. Interesting, if nothing else. Far more interesting than new jersey, that much she was sure of. The train jolted, pressing her against the window.
A young woman a few years older than her stumbled and sat down hard on the seat beside Des. “Sorry!” she gasped, settling herself in the seat.
Des shook her head. “It’s all right.” She inspected the young woman, who was apparently to be her companion for the rest of the trip. She was tall, with long wavy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She wore a long black coat despite the warming spring air. Des turned back to the window, feeling suddenly tired. She had been on the train for several hours already, and didn’t particularly feel like talking.
When she woke up, it was to the young woman sitting down beside her again. She looked angry now, and more than a little bit worried. Des glanced out the train window again, noting the mountains that now surrounded them. “Is something wrong?”
The woman glanced at her, surprised. “What? Oh, it’s nothing. Just a problem with another of the passengers.”
Des glanced along the train car, searching for the problem. “Is someone sick?”
“No, I got into an argument with him. It’s not your problem.”
Des shrugged. “You’re right.” She started to dig in her bag for a book. She had started to read pride and predjudice somewhere in Kansas, and wanted to get back to the bennet girls.
The door at the far end of the car banged open. The young woman flinched and stood up. A tall man wearing a black coat identical to hers had just entered the car. His sandy hair was rumpled, and he was glaring at Des’s companian as if she had just killed his puppy. The woman grabbed Des’s little clothbound book and hurled it down the aisle at him.
The man ducked, the hard book barely missing his skull. “Elsie!” The woman started to unbutton her coat. Only the first six buttons were fastened, letting it flare open at her waist. The top three were already undone when the man flung himself down the aisle. “Elsie, stop it!” He wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides. Des had come half to her feet without realizing it, and the man caught her eye. Elsie had begun to thrash, cursing the man to hell and back. “Help me get her onto the seat.”
Absidestra reached out hesitantly, staring at her seatmate. Elsie had turned into a wildcat. She wasn’t sure she wanted to get her fingers anywhere near her. But the man was struggling to keep her contained, and he didn’t seem a bad type. His face was kind, though tight with frustration at the moment. She wrapped her own arms around Elsie, helping the strange man to push the woman into her seat. When she was down, the man took a deep breath and nodded to Des. “All right, you can let go.” She did, and watched from beside the window. The man tilted his head so he could look elsie in the face. “Elsie, please settle down for a minute. I know you hate me right now, but we need to talk. Neither of us can afford to die right now.”
Elsie gave one last kick to his shin, then settled. “Fine,” she gritted out. “Talk.”
The tall man glanced around the train car, noting the shocked faces of its few other passengers. “Sorry,” he called, then waved a hand. A shimmer ran through the car, then the other passengers froze in their seats.
Des flinched, staring at the man. “Who…”
“Basil. Basil Wainwright, Wizard.” Basil turned back to Elsie, sighing. Des was left to gape.
“Why didn’t you freeze her?” Elsie demanded, fingercombing her messy hair.
“Because if you decide not to talk after all, I may need her to help pin you down again.” Basil sat down in the seat facing Elsie. “Listen, despite your bad opinion of me, we are partners at the moment. Please let us act as such, rather than picking a fight at every turn. Every time you get angry, you try to curse me.”
Des sank slowly into her seat, making certain not to brush against Elsie as she did.
Else folded her arms, glaring at Basil. “I can’t trust you.”
Basil shrugged. “I can’t trust you either, at the moment. Not when you’re trying to kill me.” he leaned forward a bit. “Please button your coat now. We’re safe on this train, unless we try to attack each other. Since I have no wish to hurt you, and I prefer not to be dead, I think that’s a bad idea.”
Elsie was silent for a moment, still breathing hard with anger. “Fine,” she snapped eventually, reaching up to button her coat. “The truce lasts until we leave the train. Then we decide this with no normal people around.”
“Will you come back to your seat, then? I don’t like our being seperated when we don’t know the people around us.”
She nodded shortly, and stalked out of the car. Basil slumped in his seat, staring wearily after her. Des ventured to speak. “Why does she hate you so much? She seemed nice enough when she sat down.”
The wizard shook his head. “She just doesn’t like me.” he stood, nodding politely to Des. “If you’ll excuse me, I don’t think I should leave her by herself.” He snapped his fingers as he left the car, and the shimmer filling it vanished. People blinked, coming back to life. Absidestra was left to listen to their confused muttering. The only sign that Elsie and Basil had ever been there was her little red book, lying in the aisle.
©Mariel Redwood
I hope you enjoyed it, unpolished as it may be!
~Mari
Friday, July 1, 2011
I'm Home! (if not for long)
So, I know this post is rather late, but I'm finally getting around to it. The workshop was incredible! I loved every minute of it -- okay, so I didn't care so much for the map thingy, but that's beside the point. It was only one day. My roomates and I would stay up at least until midnight, which was probably why I got a cold two days before leaving, but was worth it. There were people from all over the country. My roomates alone were from Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and California. We wrote for about 6 hours every day for two weeks, except for a couple of field trips into Chicago on the weekend we had stuck in the middle.
We visited the CIA (chicago institute of art), went to an R&B concert in Millenium Park where I got soaked after playing in the faces fountain, and went to 'Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind' which is comprised of 30 plays in 60 minutes. Wonderful, without a doubt. Especially when they started throwing bacon at the chalkboard for one of the skits. I wrote a ton of poems and short stories and essays, not to mention collected a ton of material for future work. There was a sunrise workshop on the shores of Lake Michigan one morning, which I adored because I'm a sucker for anything having the slightest thing to do with the Great Lakes, and everyone else hated because we had to wake up at 4:00 am. We also listened to a ghost story told by my workshop leader, a great guy who is easily distracted.
I also was very happy after one of our trips into town because I got myself the High Kings' 'Memory Lane', their latest album. Then I proceeded to annoy my roomates by playing it several times over, since my family wasn't there. Not that I wouldn't have done it if they had been, they're just used to it. I hope you liked the pattern i published earlier, though I've actually been thinking it works better as a scarf if you don't have something to pin it in front with. Speaking of crafting, I got myself a heavely skein of black baby alpaca yarn in Chicago! No idea what I'll use it for yet, but at the moment I'm content simply to pet it.
I'm hoping I can post a link to the online magazine the workshop leaders will be putting together. It will include a couple of pieces by each of the participants, and I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone else sent in. It was definitly one of those experiences I will never forget and always want to do again. It won't be the only trip I'm taking this summer, though. My whole family will be attending LEYM (Lake Erie Yearly Meeting) at the end of July, so I'll be seeing a whole lot of Quakers.
As an added bonus, it looks as if I might not be coming back right away with the rest of them. I'm currently working on an evil scheme -- er -- plan to allow a visit with my friends in Ohio! Carrie, Katelin? Tell them to batten down the hatches, I'm coming back. And Katelin knows how much chaos that caused last time. ;)
So anyway, I hope you're all doing well out there in cyberspace.
Wishing that you may never have Writer's Block,
~mari, emma, snow white, emmaline, marta, and whatever other psuedenoms i've collected over the years.
We visited the CIA (chicago institute of art), went to an R&B concert in Millenium Park where I got soaked after playing in the faces fountain, and went to 'Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind' which is comprised of 30 plays in 60 minutes. Wonderful, without a doubt. Especially when they started throwing bacon at the chalkboard for one of the skits. I wrote a ton of poems and short stories and essays, not to mention collected a ton of material for future work. There was a sunrise workshop on the shores of Lake Michigan one morning, which I adored because I'm a sucker for anything having the slightest thing to do with the Great Lakes, and everyone else hated because we had to wake up at 4:00 am. We also listened to a ghost story told by my workshop leader, a great guy who is easily distracted.
I also was very happy after one of our trips into town because I got myself the High Kings' 'Memory Lane', their latest album. Then I proceeded to annoy my roomates by playing it several times over, since my family wasn't there. Not that I wouldn't have done it if they had been, they're just used to it. I hope you liked the pattern i published earlier, though I've actually been thinking it works better as a scarf if you don't have something to pin it in front with. Speaking of crafting, I got myself a heavely skein of black baby alpaca yarn in Chicago! No idea what I'll use it for yet, but at the moment I'm content simply to pet it.
I'm hoping I can post a link to the online magazine the workshop leaders will be putting together. It will include a couple of pieces by each of the participants, and I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone else sent in. It was definitly one of those experiences I will never forget and always want to do again. It won't be the only trip I'm taking this summer, though. My whole family will be attending LEYM (Lake Erie Yearly Meeting) at the end of July, so I'll be seeing a whole lot of Quakers.
As an added bonus, it looks as if I might not be coming back right away with the rest of them. I'm currently working on an evil scheme -- er -- plan to allow a visit with my friends in Ohio! Carrie, Katelin? Tell them to batten down the hatches, I'm coming back. And Katelin knows how much chaos that caused last time. ;)
So anyway, I hope you're all doing well out there in cyberspace.
Wishing that you may never have Writer's Block,
~mari, emma, snow white, emmaline, marta, and whatever other psuedenoms i've collected over the years.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Countdown to Awsomeness
In five days I leave for a writing workshop in a town just north of Chicago, Illinois. Did I write that calmly enough? Because my goal for this post is to avoid writing in over-large letters, like this!!!!!! :D Am I succeeding?
Anyway, it's a two-week long program stuffed with writing and trips to awsome places like the CIA (chicago institute of art), and it's only a mile away from Lake Michigan! And you must know that if you have never seen, much less swam in one of the Great Lakes, then your life is sadly incomplete. I've never been to the ocean, (and know that I am lacking because of it) but the Great Lakes are the ocean without the sharks and spiny things.
So, Mom, a friend and I are heading up to chicago on saturday, and I'm sooo excited! We're staying in the dorms, with two or three roommates -- hopefully nice people. Considering that there's probably an 80% chance we'll have the same interests, I'm not too worried. I'll keep you updated, but for now I need to go through my packing list and make sure I can find everything. :D
Anyway, it's a two-week long program stuffed with writing and trips to awsome places like the CIA (chicago institute of art), and it's only a mile away from Lake Michigan! And you must know that if you have never seen, much less swam in one of the Great Lakes, then your life is sadly incomplete. I've never been to the ocean, (and know that I am lacking because of it) but the Great Lakes are the ocean without the sharks and spiny things.
So, Mom, a friend and I are heading up to chicago on saturday, and I'm sooo excited! We're staying in the dorms, with two or three roommates -- hopefully nice people. Considering that there's probably an 80% chance we'll have the same interests, I'm not too worried. I'll keep you updated, but for now I need to go through my packing list and make sure I can find everything. :D
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Yay!
I finally finished editing Tales of a Lady Pirate! I've even created a cover for it, something I've discovered is extremly fun. Unfourtunatly, I'm beginning to think I might just have to do a thorough rewrite. There's a lot more I could add about the main character's life, and a cousin I came up with only after writing the book who I think will be really close to her. Besides, I've drawn a family tree of the family, and gave the main characters two more kids, who really should be mentioned later on. ;)
In the real -- read off page -- world, spring is certainly in the air. There was a thunderstorm last night, and this afternoon it's been sunny and balmy. Lovely. As a bonus, I found out that my dad's old seminary is having a writing workshop in November, and we'll be going! So tell Katelin the good news, Carrie. I'm coming back to plauge you some more.
Now that I've finished Tales of a Lady Pirate for a while, I should work on Lady of the Moon. Lady is the book that really got me started with my writing, and took me a year and a half to finish. I would love to get it published, but have to do some major editing first. That ought to keep me busy for a while, as will trying to get a pattern and make myself a civil war-era dress to go over my new hoopskirt! Then I can dress up as Nora for real. ;)
In the real -- read off page -- world, spring is certainly in the air. There was a thunderstorm last night, and this afternoon it's been sunny and balmy. Lovely. As a bonus, I found out that my dad's old seminary is having a writing workshop in November, and we'll be going! So tell Katelin the good news, Carrie. I'm coming back to plauge you some more.
Now that I've finished Tales of a Lady Pirate for a while, I should work on Lady of the Moon. Lady is the book that really got me started with my writing, and took me a year and a half to finish. I would love to get it published, but have to do some major editing first. That ought to keep me busy for a while, as will trying to get a pattern and make myself a civil war-era dress to go over my new hoopskirt! Then I can dress up as Nora for real. ;)
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Never. Again.
So, I told you about the 3 hours a day thing? It was a total nightmare. I did not get sufficient sleep or reading time for the entire week. Two hours, I can do. Three, no. I would end up almost falling asleep at the keys with an hour left on the timer. I hated that hour! I didn't "have enough time" to finish the second day's quota. I figured, "no problem, I'll just finish it tomorrow." Obviously a bad idea from the beginning. That same hour was left over every day until the last day when I ended up doing five straight hours of writing, due to a crammed day before that. Ugh. But at least I got a lot of decent writing done. That was the only good thing that came out of it, since I was sleep deprived and on the verge of a breakdown the entire time. By the fifth day, mom was in more of a hurry for me to finish than I was. According to her, the house fell apart. Personally, I couldn't see why it would, since she just complained this afternoon because I forgot to do the dishes. Contradiction, anyone? Anyway, glad it's over. And now I know better than to try for three hours when I have anything alse going on.
Monday, April 18, 2011
New Blog!
In addition to this blog, i'm now a contributor on another writing blog! it's called Mission: Write. thought you might want to check it out!
And you probably noticed the new page up at the top. (which took me forever to figure out, by the way) i'm now posting my stories and poem on that, so check there if you need a good dose of creative nonesense! :p
And you probably noticed the new page up at the top. (which took me forever to figure out, by the way) i'm now posting my stories and poem on that, so check there if you need a good dose of creative nonesense! :p
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Writing Challenge
For at least the next week, I've decided to write for at least 3 hours a day if possble. I've been really lax about my writing lately, and decided it was time to tighten things up. So far, it's gone excellently! the following snippet is, unfourtunatly, not from the last couple of days' forced writing. however, it's a short story about the characters several years before the book begins. i hope you like it!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Liam ran along the docks, determined not to miss a second of the ship’s arrival. His small, bare feet pattered on the wood of the quay as he dodged sailors, merchants and the women Mam wouldn’t tell him about. He finally skidded to a stop and a grin stretched across his face as he saw the ship just coming in. he had gotten there just in time.
A gangplank thudded down a few minutes later, and sailors began carrying goods off the ship. Liam ran to help, hoping to earn a penny or two. As he scampered up onto the deck of the ship, someone suddenly stepped out in front of him. he bumped into them, hard, and almost lost his balance.
The man he had collided with bent over a little and smiled at him. Liam suddenly realised that this bearded man was the captain of the ship. He lifted his chin and snapped off a salute.
“Good morning, sir!”
“Good morning, lad. Where is your father? Is he on this ship?”
“No, sir.”
“Are you lost, then?”
“I’m at the docks, sir. How could I be lost?” Liam was confused.
The captain roared with laughter. “Well put, lad! What is your name? Is your Father a sailor?”
“No, he’s a printer, sir. But I’d like to be a sailor someday, sir! My name is Liam Gallagher, sir.”
“Would you?” the captain stroked his beard. His eyes were grey, like the sea during a storm. But they were kind. “Are you a good sailor, Liam Gallagher?”
“Yes, sir! I love to sail! Mam complains that she can’t get me away from the docks.”
“Well, let me tell you, Liam. I’m always on the lookout for good men, so in another few years you come look for Captain Hyman Weatherby and you’ll have yourself a job. How’s that sound?”
Liam couldn’t believe it. “E-excellent, sir! Thank you, sir! I’ll be the best sailor there ever was!”
Captain Weatherby laughed again and tousled Liam’s hair. “I don’t doubt that for a second, lad.” Then he gestured to the bags and boxes being brought up from the hold. “Do you think you’re strong enough to help with unloading the cargo?”
“Of course, sir! I’ve lifted heavier loads than that, sir. Thank you.” Liam hurried over to the bundles. As he went he heard someone talking to the captain.
“Do ye think the lad’s trustworthy? He could steal the coins from your very pockets, Cap’n.” Liam almost turned around to scowl at the man who dared insult him, but he heard the captain’s reply.
“No, he’s trustworthy, Evans. I could tell that much when I looked at him. And truth be told, he reminds me of my Nora.”
Liam didn’t know who Nora was, but he determined that someday, when he had joined Captain Weatherby’s crew, he would find her. And he would thank her for helping him become the best sailor in the world. For he had no doubt in his mind that that was what he would be.
© Mariel Redwood
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Liam ran along the docks, determined not to miss a second of the ship’s arrival. His small, bare feet pattered on the wood of the quay as he dodged sailors, merchants and the women Mam wouldn’t tell him about. He finally skidded to a stop and a grin stretched across his face as he saw the ship just coming in. he had gotten there just in time.
A gangplank thudded down a few minutes later, and sailors began carrying goods off the ship. Liam ran to help, hoping to earn a penny or two. As he scampered up onto the deck of the ship, someone suddenly stepped out in front of him. he bumped into them, hard, and almost lost his balance.
The man he had collided with bent over a little and smiled at him. Liam suddenly realised that this bearded man was the captain of the ship. He lifted his chin and snapped off a salute.
“Good morning, sir!”
“Good morning, lad. Where is your father? Is he on this ship?”
“No, sir.”
“Are you lost, then?”
“I’m at the docks, sir. How could I be lost?” Liam was confused.
The captain roared with laughter. “Well put, lad! What is your name? Is your Father a sailor?”
“No, he’s a printer, sir. But I’d like to be a sailor someday, sir! My name is Liam Gallagher, sir.”
“Would you?” the captain stroked his beard. His eyes were grey, like the sea during a storm. But they were kind. “Are you a good sailor, Liam Gallagher?”
“Yes, sir! I love to sail! Mam complains that she can’t get me away from the docks.”
“Well, let me tell you, Liam. I’m always on the lookout for good men, so in another few years you come look for Captain Hyman Weatherby and you’ll have yourself a job. How’s that sound?”
Liam couldn’t believe it. “E-excellent, sir! Thank you, sir! I’ll be the best sailor there ever was!”
Captain Weatherby laughed again and tousled Liam’s hair. “I don’t doubt that for a second, lad.” Then he gestured to the bags and boxes being brought up from the hold. “Do you think you’re strong enough to help with unloading the cargo?”
“Of course, sir! I’ve lifted heavier loads than that, sir. Thank you.” Liam hurried over to the bundles. As he went he heard someone talking to the captain.
“Do ye think the lad’s trustworthy? He could steal the coins from your very pockets, Cap’n.” Liam almost turned around to scowl at the man who dared insult him, but he heard the captain’s reply.
“No, he’s trustworthy, Evans. I could tell that much when I looked at him. And truth be told, he reminds me of my Nora.”
Liam didn’t know who Nora was, but he determined that someday, when he had joined Captain Weatherby’s crew, he would find her. And he would thank her for helping him become the best sailor in the world. For he had no doubt in his mind that that was what he would be.
© Mariel Redwood
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Haunted Wood
dad and i went to the protests in Lansing today. unfortunately we got there just in time to catch the tail end of it, but we're going again tomorrow. should be bigger then.
another hobby of mine you'll find references to on here is my writing. i love it! so here's a poem i write a couple years ago.
o haunted wood of mine,
what secrets do you hold?
whether they be new
or yellow with time so old,
tell them unto me
o haunted wood of mine.
(c) es
hope you like it.
another hobby of mine you'll find references to on here is my writing. i love it! so here's a poem i write a couple years ago.
o haunted wood of mine,
what secrets do you hold?
whether they be new
or yellow with time so old,
tell them unto me
o haunted wood of mine.
(c) es
hope you like it.
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