I was hoping to get Chapter 4 finished this week, but Things have come up and conspired to eat most of my time. Here's hoping I can reclaim some of it and get the chapter out by Saturday night at the latest.

Meanwhile, here's the first Forward Motion for Writers exercise I've done for the Zette's Gym forum in quite a while. The challenge, as listed at the forum, was to write a sentence that included all five senses. Here's my attempt:

He drew his limbs tight to avoid feeding more skin to the broken stone, stars bursting into false brightness and fading behind his closed lids, and concentrated on each rasp of breath that burned his nostrils with dust from a past long forgotten and coated his throat with the dry promise of death.

I'd like to start writing again, but I'm not sure where to start. I mean, if your most senior of six bodyguards is found mysteriously dead in a foreign ruler's palace, what's your next step? Do you rage? Are you shellshocked? Wrought with anguish because he was your lover or because your favorite plaything is gone? Are you lost and paranoid?

This is a good time to make one of those Lists of 20, where you write down 20 alternative answers to your question and use one of the last few, which are bound to be unusual and brain-stimulating. Unfortunately, I've never actually gotten all the way through a List of 20. Hm. My assignment for the evening is to decide what reaction the young queen would have so I can get started on Chapter 4 of V's book.

I've become a hoarder of sorts. I always have been to an extent, but it seems to be getting worse. I've always found solace in gathering enough books around me, enough snacks, enough of my favorite foods so that I never feel anxious about running out. Now I find myself gathering experiences. It's a bit disconcerting to look back and see how many items I've purchased in the hopes that they would help me define who I am and how I can best handle my anxieties. I buy them and use them for a short while, then can't bring myself to use them any longer. I don't know why. Maybe I'm telling myself that I don't have enough time or personal space to use them well. Maybe because I feel like there are so many things that need to be done that I don't want to start another one and not be able to devote my full attention to that new task.

But that doesn't stop me from continuing to hunt for the next experience. The next self-help technique, the next hobby. The one thing that reins me in is my compulsion to comparison shop before I actually buy anything. (Thank God for Wishlists!)

I would like to believe that this isn't so bad if it helps me eventually pinpoint the way to work with my problems. At least I've identified that I have these problems-- including the problem about seeking answers to my problems. Meanwhile, I just wish I could get around to using that biofeedback kit that sounded so wonderful for the two weeks I mulled over it.

Sorry to be so long between posting. It's been a rough time out here. I haven't written much in months. Things were already looking grim and frustrating, and then our house was stripped of our silverware, media equipment, and copper pipes and wires (we're not yet sure what else is missing, since we're still in the temporary apartment). Five break-ins in spite of all of our attempts to secure the house. The estimate for the electricity alone is in the five-digit range. Not counting the roof repairs and foundation repairs and any gutting needed....

But I think I've found my footing once again. I'm ready to write again, and that's a wonderful feeling. All we can do is move forward, right?

Thanks go to all of our friends and neighbors who've offered so much moral support. And carpentry knowledge.

Save those old chapters.

Been struggling with chapter 3 for some time. I've begun 4 different versions of the chapter, and though I've been enthusiastic about them, I would always get to a point where I realized I had boxed myself into a corner. Very frustrating, since I have a storyline; I just keep having trouble connecting the dots.

While getting ready for work this morning, I thought of a way to use the latest beginning incorporated into the original "chapter" that I renamed and shuffled off. Good thing I still have it!

Take a moment of silence in remembrance today.

I need a writing strategy

I was able to sit down and do the Zette's Gym challenge, but every time I try to start Chapter 3, I stall. So here's my thought:

Approach each scene as a Gym challenge. Set a task for the characters to achieve during that scene, specific or general, doesn't matter as long as there's a goal to aim for. If I can do one Gym, I should be able to do a number of 'em and then string 'em together.

The Forward Motion for Writers site has a members-only area called Zette's Gym. Today I tried out a challenge (about writing a realistic spellcasting scene) to flex my flabby muscles. This is how my posted attempt turned out:

Head... heart... hands.

Betony’s hands trembled as she traced the symbols for each point of focus across her skin. A single misplaced threading could strip her own weave and leave her lifeless-- or worse, mindless.

Thread warp and weft.

Her head ached from the effort of holding her loom’s image in her mind. She fumbled in her apron for the woolen threads she had braided together.

Nothing.

Fear pounding in her throat, she turned the pockets inside out. She fell to her knees, scrabbling in the grass to find the tricolored braid. When had it fallen out? While she held Alphebe through her last convulsions? When she had stumbled in her flight from the sight of the Wards buckling in spite of the chanting of the other Adepts?

Howls of victory rose from the compound behind her. The seals had failed. They would break free of the fortress soon. And no help would be forthcoming if she failed in her Summoning.

Green for life, red to call, white for alliance. Tears blurred her vision as she dug her fingers into the moist soil to coax a slender weed free of its moorings and denude it of all but its bright green stem. She unwound the tangle of discarded roots to pull the longest root free, hastily brushing the soil from the fragile white strand. Her own hair would have to do for red; she raked her fingers through it, yanking free a strand that reflected enough copper to fit her need.

She knotted the elements together at one end and swiftly braided them into a single patterned cord. Winding the cord through her fingers, she Reached into the bones of the earth and called to the ley lines, using the pattern she’d woven in this world to draw the threads of energy she needed into her grasp. Her fingers twitched as she wove the shining strands into a tapestry behind her mind’s eye, not daring to pause until she could knot the ends of warp and weft together.

She released the weave back into the earth and felt a flash of triumph as it was accepted, sinking into the rich soil until she could no longer even picture it in her mind. She had done it! She, a mere acolyte, had completed a Summoning!

Her vision blurred. Not from tears this time. No figure rising before her, either. Just the feel of heat intensifying through the soles of her feet, of energy rising within her until her limbs felt leaden and her breath was wrung from her chest.

Alphebe’s voice teased at her memory, whispering, Never weave yourself into your Working.

Ah, gods, what had she done?