Creative Writing Kickstart

The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create -- so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.
― Pearl S. Buck

This is how you do it: You sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until it's done. It's that easy, and that hard.
— Neil Gaiman

Creativity is seeing what others see and thinking what no one else ever thought.
— Albert Einstein

Workshop #10, Creative Writing Kickstart, was presented by Richard Scarsbrook first thing in the morning on the last day of Writersfest. The nice part about it was it included a 19-page handout, like a mini-course, and I might have been tempted to pare it down to share with you here if we hadn’t done so much actual writing. In fact, I think we did more writing in this workshop than all the others put together!

The best way to get yourself writing is to actually write. So Mr. Scarsbrook presented us with a number of prompts, breaking them down into two categories – experiential, and conceptual. For the experiential prompts we were given a single word, and told to focus on what that word evoked in us – a memory or experience, a strong response or feeling. For the conceptual prompt he played us a piece of music, geared to generate a feeling about something that is not a memory. And to make it more interesting, we weren’t told what the music clip was until we were done writing.

If there had been any discussion of some of the finer points from the hand out, I didn’t take any notes about it. To be honest, I’m pretty sure we jumped right to the prompts.

Our first experiential prompt was the word Childhood:
When I was a child, we lived in a rowhouse that was used as military family housing. We lived in a center row that faced onto a common square that held a large sandbox and swings. Our milk was delivered to our door in glass bottles, our bread was delivered by a breadman. We had a white cat (they were always white cats) named Fluffy. We also had my grandfather’s canary, named Ricky. One day, Fluffy knocked over Ricky’s cage and, as cats will, killed him. My mother told the breadman not to let the cat out but the warning came too late. We never saw Fluffy again. Being only three or four at the time, I understood that Fluffy had escaped out the door, but I couldn’t understand why Ricky’s cage was empty. Finally, my sister told me that Ricky was dead, and that dad had buried him in the sand box. So I got my mother’s large serving spoon and spent the rest of the day digging in the sand box, looking for Ricky.

Conceptual prompt #1
It was a calm and peaceful evening, but the woman was not able to enjoy the serenity around her. Her heart was filled with sorrow, her face was wet with tears. Never had she felt so alone. It was an ache she could not escape, no matter how far she walked along the beach. The moonlight was wasted on her. Her steps slowed, faltered. She stood on the shore facing the water. The clouds hid the moon.
Music clip: John Barry’s Out of Africa, Flight Over Africa.

Experiential prompt #2 –Person
His name was Billy-Bob. He was a good ‘ole boy, same as his cousins Jim-Bob and Eugene. Billy-Bob was only in his early 20s, but he already had a sizable paunch from weekends spent guzzling beer with Jim-Bob and Eugene. His personal hygiene left much to be desired and he was usually found wearing dirty, ripped jeans and a tee-shirt with some sort of humorous, usually offensive, picture on it. At least that’s what he wore to the bar. When he was working at Rusty Taylor’s garage, he wore grease spattered overalls. He was moon-faced with thinning, unwashed brown hair that he kept long, pulled back into a tail.

Conceptual prompt #2
She stood in the door, letting her eyes adjust to the smokey interior. Why on earth would Tom want to meet here? A jazz club of all places. A few annoyed glances were sent her way and she stepped fully inside, letting the door shut behind her, sealing in the darkness and blocking out the light. The music was loud, but she couldn’t deny there was something about it that pulled at her. Her eyes adjusted and she glanced around, looking for Tom. She couldn’t see him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t here. A look of annoyance flashed across her face. If he was, he could damn well come to her. With determination, she made her way to the bar to sit and wait.
Didn’t catch the name of the piece of music, but it was some kind of Bosa Nova.

Experiential prompt #3 – Family
She could see the lights of the small town she grew up in twinkling below her. If she tried hard, she could probably pick out her family’s house, but she wasn’t quite ready for that. She could picture it in her mind though – Mama would be in the kitchen in her big, yellow apron with the blue roses sprinkled over it. She’d be finishing up the dinner dishes, probably alone because Sissy wouldn’t think to offer to help. Sissy would consider clearing the table to be more than enough. When Mama was done with the dishes, she’d use the crocheted dish cloth – she only used crocheted ones, never store-bought – to wipe down the counters.

Conceptual prompt #3
How bittersweet, to have found him, only to have to say goodbye to him again. She stood on the cliff top, watching the ship sail away, imagining him at the rail, watching the shore recede. Would he look up at the cliffs, know she was watching him depart? She liked to think so. Her hand rested on her stomach. He said he’d come back to her, for her. All she could do was wait and see.
Music clip: Gayane Ballet Suite from 2001: A Space Odyssey.

Experimental prompt #4 – A Place
It was dark and cool. The rocks loomed up on either side of the detritus strewn path that wound its way between them. The taste of moisture and age was in the air. Earthy scents of decay, and green, and age filled the sinuses. Dark green moss and bright green ferns formed a patchwork over black, fossil-filled stone. Sunlight was filtered through a canopy of cedar, beech, and pine. The glint of water could be seen, the sun’s reflection piercing.

Conceptual prompt #4
Running. She was running, but she didn’t know why or to where. All she was conscioius of was one foot after another. There was no past, not future, only now. A chill filled her. At the top of the rise she spared a glance behind her. There, just coming over the distant rise. A line of grey – ships, robots, she didn’t know what they were, but she knew she couldn’t let them catch her. She began to run in earnest.
Music clip: One of These Days, Pink Floyd

Experiential prompt #5 – Relationship
“We’ve been together for six years,” Mavis said. “Is it really too much to ask?”
“But you’re asking for a commitment,” Roger countered. “You want a r—r—r—”
“Oh for God’s sake. You can’t even say the word. Repeat after me, re-la-tion-ship.”
“I know what the word is,” he snapped. “I just don’t understand why all of a sudden you’re so gung-ho to start one.”
“Start one, start one?!” Mavis’s voice rose. “What do you think we’ve been in for the last six years?”
“Yeah, but now you want to label it. It makes it all official-like.”
Mavis just stared at him for a few seconds. Then she turned and walked away.

Unfortunately, we didn’t have time for a fifth conceptual prompt. But these prompts really showed what we were capable of in just a few minutes. And it also proved that you don’t need an elaborate prompt to kickstart your creativity, all you need is a single word, or a song.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

THE WEEK IN REVIEW
If I had to use one word to describe last week, that word would be mediocre. I didn’t have a lot of outside stuff going on – just a stitchery guild meeting – but I also didn’t have a lot of ambition to get things done.

The weather wasn’t quite as sunny as we were promised, but I really can’t use lack of sun as an excuse. Even when the sun was out I was feeling kind of blah. I got a lot of mundane things done – household chores, phone calls I’ve been putting off (like registering the microchips in the kittens) – but not a whole lot of extra writing.

My serial post was a few hours late . . . has anyone figured out what spell Izolda cast that drained her of all her power? I’m pretty sure I can wrap this mess of a story up in just a couple more installments. It really deviated from what it was supposed to be, but some of those deviations, like the introduction of a rusalka, make it a better story. Once it’s finished I’ll let it sit for a month or so before reading it from start to finish, and then I can decide whether it’s worth editing or not.

I took my Neo (which had a stuck X key and a missing #6 key) and my backup Neo (which was totally pooched) to the computer repair store and asked if they could take the keys from the backup one and fix the old one. The guy thought I was nuts, but lo and behold he did it and I now have a fully functional Alphasmart Neo again. Now I just have to start using it. LOL

I started doing the “morning pages”, as suggested by the instructor of one of the workshops I took at writersfest. He got the idea from the book The Artist’s Way, by Julia Cameron. Now I just happen to own a copy of that book, so when I was struggling with then I looked them up and it turns out I was doing them exactly right. Who’d have thought?

Did some stitchery, not just at the stitchery meeting, did some reading, just didn’t do any writing outside of my blog posts, despite the fact I spent more time in my office. *sigh* But hope springs eternal. Maybe this will be the week the words return.

NEW WORDS:
2086+507+298+601=3,492
DOWN 495 – words from last week

Seriously, I do not know what’s wrong with my brain. I know the words are in there, why won’t they come out? I’ve done the morning pages 4 days in a row now, but I’m not really counting them as reportable words because they’re pretty much throw away words.

The book says it takes about three weeks for things to “click” so I’m crossing my fingers that’s the case. Which is not to say I’m going to wait three weeks for something to happen, I’ll keep trying anyway, but it’s nice to have something to look forward to (hopefully).

Goals For Next Week:
Get all my blog posts done and maybe a few extra words besides.

EDITING:
0 hours
A funny thing happened on the way to figuring the prophecy . . . Okay, maybe not. Maybe I figured I’d use one of my large, top wire bound note books to work out the prophecy on, and then just never got around to.

Have I mentioned I get distracted easily? I had cookies to bake, and cats to cuddle, and the neighbor’s plants to water (while neglecting my own). It was suggested I used my reMarkable tablet for this, but I think I need the large sized notebook for the space.

Maybe I should put it on my list.

Goal For Next Week:
Figure out the prophecy; get editing Elemental Spirit.

POETRY:
Last week’s form was a bit obscure, which is fun to do occasionally. It had a really weird syllable count to it, plus a rhyme scheme to follow, which made it a bit tricky, but I really like the way my example turned out.

And I found the poem remnants that I wrote during the Duende workshop, so that’s good. Duende isn’t exactly a poetry form, so I can’t cheat and turn them into the form of the week. The second one especially doesn’t lend itself to a form. But I’ll probably go ahead and finish them for my files – I don’t know what else to do with them.

Goal For Next Week:
Find another new poetry form to share. Expand on the poems I started during the Duende workshop.

CRAFTING:
I’m spending way too much time checking out the work of the members of the on-line stitchery groups that show up in my Facebook feed. And while they were inspirational at first, now they’re getting to be a little depressing. I’m seeing some brilliant stitching, and it’s kind of making me feel inadequate.

Yes, I know I shouldn’t compare myself to others, but sometimes you just can’t help it. And I’m sure if I wanted to give up my writing and focus on my stitchery I could be just as brilliant, but that’s not going to happen. So I am content to be good, with flashes of brilliance. LOL

We had a presentation by one of the newer members to the stitchery guild and I came away with a severe case of education envy. She showed us the wide range of stitchery techniques she’s tried over the years, and then told us that she learned most of it at this art school I didn’t even know existed!

Considering the amount of time I spent stitching on my zentangle sampler, I would have expected to be further along, but right now I’m working on a vine with leaves and it’s taking forever!

Goal For Next Week:
Keep working on my sampler; maybe give one of the kits I got from Amazon a try.

WHAT I’M READING:
My reading has slowed right now to a crawl. I’m still reading The Book of Magic, by Alice Hoffman, but that’s about it. I think I need to add reading to my list. :-)

Goal For Next Week:
Keep reading.

THE WEEK AHEAD:

The lists are really helpful for getting things done, even if most of those things are mundane. But it does show me what areas I’m slacking off in.

I want to keep up with my morning pages. Sometimes when I run out of things to whine about in them I’ll have an image or thought creep in that makes me go “Hmmm.” So maybe getting all that angst and whining down at the beginning of the day is actually working.

I have another fairly quiet week ahead, so now’s the time to make the most of it. Maybe I can even pull my Neo out and go outdoors to write. Wouldn’t that be a treat?

The weather is supposed to continue to be a little brighter, and it’s been warm enough lately that I’ve had the window in my office open. It’s a little easier to avoid the internet distractions when I’m using my laptop in my office because the internet sucks up the battery power, so there’s another advantage of spending more time at my desk.

That track is getting closer, I just have to step on it.

The Pond - Part 38

Izolda’s thoughts were jumbled as she walked slowly back to her home. Had she tried to bring Dmitri back from the dead? She remembered considering it, but no matter how much she loved her son she would never inflict such a thing on him.

At best he would be cursed to a half-living state, his damaged body needing constant maintenance to keep decomposition at bay. At worst he would come back as a soulless creature whose body was broken beyond repair.

But if she had not used up her power for that, then whatever she had attempted must have been a spell of equal power. And she must have completed it, whatever it was, otherwise she would still have her power. The rusalka should not have been able to compel her as she did, to leave her home and go to her.

Now she returned home, none the wiser. What kind of spell would take the memory from her to succeed? Still mulling it over, she finished the chores that had been interrupted and went into her workroom. The dress she had been wearing just yesterday was balled up in a basket. It reeked herbs, giving her an idea.

As she identified the smell of each herb, she wrote it down on a fresh page of her work book, then did the same for the decoctions and tisanes that had been left on her worktable. Beside them she listed what they could be used for. She studied the page, brow furrowed.

While there were a couple of possibilities, the spell that seemed to make the most sense was a spell of forgetting. A very powerful spell that encompassed not just herself and Nikolai, but the entire community and well beyond.

Izolda sighed heavily. As much as she felt her curiosity eating away at her, she put everything away again. To force a memory to return would be another major undertaking, and she no longer had the power for it. And if it was so important that the memory be forgotten that she would sacrifice her power, then whatever the memory was, it was best left in the past.

She went upstairs to give Dmitri’s bedroom one final cleaning before sealing it up, as she had Pavlina’s. Frowning at the door beside it, she opened it and peered inside. There was a neatly made bed, a washstand, and a trunk, just like the others. Why had she ever thought they needed a guest room?

With a shake of her head, she closed the door again and went back downstairs to wait for Nikolai to return, and couldn’t help the shiver of apprehension she felt.

He seemed to have aged in the short time he was gone. His shoulders were drawn inwards and his step was heavy. Going to the cupboard, he took down the bottle of vodka that was kept for rare occasions. Ignoring the cup Izolda offered him, he went over to his chair by the fireplace, slouched down in it, and took a long pull straight from the bottle.

Izolda opened her mouth to chastise him, but shut it again, the words dying stillborn on her tongue. The rusalka had taken her children from her, and now it appeared she had taken her husband as well. The Nikolai sitting by the fire was a broken man.

What more did the creature want of her?

Post Delay

If you're looking for this week's installment of The Pond, I apologize but it's going to be delayed. We're nearing the end of the story and as I was about to schedule this week's installment I noticed a whopping big plot hole. I didn't have time to fix it right away, but I'm hopeful it'll be up later today.

Mistress Bradstreet Stanza

This form was created by John Berryman and used in his fifty-seven verse poem, Homage to Mistress Bradstreet, which he wrote as a tribute to his life long study of the poetry of W.B. Yeats.

The stanza is an octave (eight lines), and was never particularly popular. It has a rhyme scheme of a-b-c-b-d-d-b-a, and a syllable count of 10-10-6-8-10-10-6-12. Other than the rhyme and syllable count, there are no other rules to this form. You can write about whatever you want and have as few or as many verses as you like.

Schematic

xxxxxxxxxa
xxxxxxxxxb
xxxxxc
xxxxxxxb
xxxxxxxxxd
xxxxxxxxxd
xxxxxb
xxxxxxxxxxxa

I have to admit, I didn’t take a close look at this form when I picked it as my form of the week, I chose it because it looked short – only eight lines. But between the rhyme scheme and the shifting syllable count, this form turned out to be a little tricky.

When I was at a stitchery guild meeting, one of the other ladies and I were talking about how crazy we all were, and I’m not exactly sure how the subject of poetry came up, but I jokingly said I should write a poem about this. And so I did, for my example. :-)


Needlework

The needle slides in and out of the cloth,
one exquisite stitch after another.
The emerging pattern
is never like any other –
each image, once caught on fabric by silk
is unique, with no others of its ilk,
a gift for another
foredoomed to become a meal for a moth.

Writing the Rom-Com

Romantic comedies seem to take over where the fairytales of childhood left off, feeding our dreams of a soulmate; though, sadly, the Hollywood endings prove quite elusive in the real world.
— Mariella Frostrup

I think that romantic comedies have a special place in most people's hearts, especially the younger demographic.
— Noah Centineo

I love romantic comedies. I have a deep respect for them. I think they're really difficult to write and write well.
— Rashida Jones

Workshop #9 was on writing romantic comedies, or Rom-Coms, presented by Farah Heron. While I took lots of notes in this one, once again I apologize if they seem a little choppy. It’s hard to write both fast and legibly.

Romantic comedy is a sub-genre of romance. It’s a comedic work where the main plot follows two people falling in love. To be a true romantic comedy, romance must be central to the story and it must come to an emotionally satisfying ending. It’s not just a funny romance, the humor is built into the plot/premise.

Elements in your rom-com that you need to consider before you start to write:

1. Subgenre/age
Though it’s usually contemporary, the rom-come can be historical, paranormal, or even sci-fi. As well, the age category can be adult or young adult. But it must reflect the values of the day – for example, if it’s historical you need to follow the morals of that time period. The reader must respect the character and be able to relate to them.

2. Rom Com tropes
Common tropes include (but are not limited to) fake dating, enemies to lovers (banter and conflicting goals), forced confinement (tight spaces, frayed nerves), grumpy one soft on the sunshiny one, forbidden love, best friend’s sibling, never been kissed, love at first sight, love triangle, and secret identity. Use a trope in a fresh, new way

3. High concept logline
A logline is a one sentence summary that distills the story elements down so they can be easily digested. A logline formula: When X happens, your protagonist tries to get Y but gets Z instead. Rom Com is not really a high concept, it’s actually more character driven.

4. Setting
Consider where it’s taking place and when it’s taking place – now, in the future, in the past (historical). Where do most scenes take place – indoors, outdoors, in an exotic location? What are the defining characteristics of the setting? Some settings are well suited to comedy such as the circus, a county fair, the zoo. If you’re going for dark humor, try a funeral home. Think about the atmosphere you want to generate – mysterious, cute, happy, heartwarming, sunny.

5. Characters
Rom Com is the most character driven of all the romances. The characters come from the premise or trope, but you need to bring the readers close to the characters so they feel the feelings of love, hope, redemption, etc. Archetypes can be used to help create character. Sorting people into categories is human nature – it’s a shortcut to characterization. The reader needs to fall in love with your characters.

Romantic Archetypes: Alpha (hero), Beta (hero), Virgin, Girl Next Door, Awkward Nerd, Bad Girl/Boy, Wisecracker, Hot Mess, The Charmer, The Square, the Every Person/Pollyanna, and the Cinnamon Roll (someone who is perceived as gentle and kind – gruff on the outside, soft and squishy on the inside).

Rom-Com characters often have strong personalities. When these personalities come in conflict with each other, as in an enemies-to-lovers story, the tension generated between the two might cause you to write an unlikeable character. You can fix this by having them do something heroic early in the story. Make sure their actions are justified and the justification is sympathetic.

Don’t prevent your reader from falling in love with your characters. Funny things can happen to your character, but don’t humiliate them. If there’s no getting around their humiliation, make sure to keep them likeable.

The compatibility gap is the thing that stops your characters from being together right now. It might be confliction goals or personalities, or something in their back stories.

And unless they’re stranded on a deserted island, there are bound to be other people around. The BFF and friend groups are an important part of the story, and can add humor in their own way.

6. Intimacy Level
The Rom-Com has varying levels of explicit sex. It can be sweet, clean, and wholesome, or take place behind closed doors. Or it can be steamy, spicy, hot (1 to 3 sex scenes), or erotic (more than 3 sex scenes – sex is a big part of the story).

7. Comedy Types: 

Situational – sit-com type comedy, comedic situations that are awkward, inescapable, and lighthearted
Banter – dialogue based, the playful and friendly exchange of good-humored, teasing remarks.
Observational – humor that revolves around the ordinary and commonplace aspects of everyday life. Often used by stand-up comics.
Physical – relies on the use of the body to convey humor – slapstick, clowning, mime, pratfalls, making faces.
Satire and surreal comedy do not work well in the Rom-Com.

Three things to keep in mind:
1. It’s okay if the first draft isn’t funny. Comedy is easier to do in rewrites
2. Let go of your inhibitions. Turn off your inner critic and write with abandon
3. Never forget this is a romance

Farah’s Tips:
Lower your inhibitions – be weird.
Check early with beta readers to see if it’s working.
Take risks.
Read romances.
Read rom-coms.
Watch Rom-Com movies.
Practice – write lots

If you’re thinking of writing a Rom-Com of your own, Farah has some work sheets to help get you started. You can find them HERE

And for further reading, you can check out the following books:

The Complete Writer's Guide to Heroes and Heroines: Sixteen Master Archetypes, by Caro Lafever, Tami D. Cowden, and Sue Viders, or Romancing The Beat: Story Structure For Romance Novels, by Gwen Hayes

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

THE WEEK IN REVIEW
I had a strong start to my week last week, but too many grey days in a row tanked me towards the end.

As well as getting my blog posts done early, I also wrote a rather lengthy snail mail letter to my sister and did a bunch of reading and stitchery. Then I decided that what the big bookcase behind my desk needed was an extra shelf so I could get the books off of my desk and the floor of my office.

So following my stitchery meeting on Tuesday, I went to Home Depot and they had the perfect shelf for me. My plan was get the bookcase squared away in the afternoon, finish my sister’s letter in the evening, and then I could start Wednesday out right – in my office.

However, things never work out that well for me. The shelf was perfect, but the pre-drilled holes in the bookcase weren’t. I needed more drilled, and the hubby was off helping a friend and he’d taken his drill with him. By the time he came back and drilled the holes for me, it was dinner time. So I finished the letter in the afternoon (while I waited) and I read in the evening.

Wednesday I got my bookcase squared away in the morning, and for good measure got my desk cleaned up properly (as in found homes for all the papers and notebooks on it instead of just moving them around) in the afternoon. Then Thursday, while I was sitting in my office working on the installment for The Pond, it occurred to me that the little two shelf bookcase I use for my tea station would be more efficient if it had an extra shelf too. I didn’t have the same good luck with that one, but after the hubby cut down the shelf I found to size, it worked fine. And yesterday I got my CDs moved over and all is right with the world in my office now.

NEW WORDS:
2194+523+456+814=3,987
DOWN 354 – words from last week

While I’m not displeased with the words I wrote last week, I would have liked to see more of them. And by more I mean words on things other than blog posts. If I can write 5,000 words to my sister, surely I can write a couple of thousand on a story of some kind.

But like I said, I had a strong start to the week, but then between bookcase reorganization and cleaning off my desk, and then one day too many of grey dismal weather . . . so what should have been extra words turned into extra gaming and reading.

Goals For Next Week:
Get all my blog posts done and maybe a few extra words besides.

EDITING:
0 hours
I keep thinking about those historic records I want to cite at the beginning of each chapter of Elemental Spirit. Seeing as this book is supposed to tie all the others together, it might be a good idea to figure out what the actual prophecy was that started the whole thing.

Goal For Next Week:
Get back to work on An Elemental Spirit.

POETRY:
Well, I found a new form to share and it was neither too short, nor too long – it was just right. Not as easy as some of the ones I’ve been doing lately, but not as hard as a coded Welsh form. :-)

I did not work on expanding the poems I started in the Duende workshop, but I have a very good reason for that. I, uh, kind of lost them. Not lost as in gone forever, just . . . I don’t know where they are. They’re in a notebook somewhere, but part of cleaning off my desk and organizing my bookcase involved putting away the notebooks I had laying around, so it’s just a matter of figuring out which notebook they’re in and where I put it.

Goal For Next Week:
Find another new poetry form to share. Expand on the poems I started during the Duende workshop.

CRAFTING:
I joined an embroidery group on Facebook and have been getting a lot of posts from another one in my feed. So I may have spent a little more time than I should have admiring other peoples work last week. But they did inspire me to think beyond samplers or bags. I’m not saying I want to start stitching on sneakers or hats, but I do have a number of plain shirts that could use a little spiffing up.

I did spend some time on my zentangle sampler, but again, not as much as I would have liked. And there was stitch-in at the library that I went to where I actually got some stitching done, not just talking.

Goal For Next Week:
Keep working on my sampler; decide which shirt I want to enhance.

WHAT I’M READING:
I’m still reading The Book of Magic, by Alice Hoffman. And as I predicted, I zipped through Croc’s Return, Panther’s Claim, Python’s Embrace, and Gator’s Challenge by Eve Langlais.

Goal For Next Week:
Keep reading.

THE WEEK AHEAD:

I followed my lists last week, and I gotta tell you it feels really good when I can cross things off of it. Too bad most of them were mundane things like water plants, clean kitty litter, do laundry. LOL So this week my goal is to be able to cross off things like edit Elemental Spirit and update writing journal.

And I’m looking at another week where the only thing in my day planner is my stitchery guild’s regular meeting. Unless the dentist’s office calls with an appointment with their periodontist. *sigh*

The weather is supposed to be a little sunnier, but I’ll believe it when I see it. But my office is all squared away, so there’s nothing stopping me spending more time in there this week. The possibilities are endless.

I can see that track clearly from here, maybe this will be the week I step back on it.

The Pond - Part 37

It was just starting to become light when Izolda awoke. She levered herself up from the ground and blinked in confusion, feeling physically weak as though recovering from a long illness. What was she doing outside? She frowned, unable to remember anything after returning home from the mill with Nikolai.

The mill! She moaned and clutched her knees to her chest. Her sweet Dmitri, gone. She allowed herself to mourn, rocking back and forth as silent tears tracked down her cheeks. Once again the rusalka had torn away a piece her heart. Now it was only her and Nikolai left. Who would she take next?

After a time she swiped a hand across her face and climbed to her feet. Brushing herself off she frowned. Her clothes were tattered and her skin itched with hundreds of tiny cuts. Had she been warding off a magical attack?

Izolda looked back towards her magic circle. It was charred in the center and the protective herbs she’d planted so carefully around it were withered and brown. She reached out with her power to try to determine what had happened.

“What is this?” she wondered aloud. “What has happened to my magic?”

It was not just her body that was weak, the magic she was so proud of was almost entirely gone from her. But how, and why? Obviously she’d been working magic, but what kind of spell would cause her to lose consciousness, or to take her memory from her?

She shivered in the cool morning air. Something untoward had happened here. If only she could remember! Making her way slowly back to the house she wondered if the rusalka had attacked her. But why would she need to, so soon after taking Dmitri from her?

Slipping into the house, she saw that Nikolai was sleeping in his chair by the fire. The sight stopped her cold. Had he been waiting up for her? Would he believe her if she told she did not remember what happened?

Quietly she went into the bedroom to wash up and change her clothing. The dress she had been wearing had a stink about it, and she bundled it up, taking it with her to her workroom and shoving it into a basket. Her workroom showed signs of activity, bottles left unstoppered, the spellbook holding Varnya’s blackest spells open on the table. She glanced down at it.

The right hand page was blank. Whatever spell had been written there was gone. Only the most powerful spells disappeared after being used. What had she been doing, and why?

Shaking her head, she went back into the main room and started a fire in the stove. Tying on an apron, she rattled the pot she was making porridge in loud enough to waken Nikolai. He woke with a frown, but accepted the cup of strong tea she brought him with a grunt of thanks.

Breakfast made, they sat at the table to eat, for once having nothing to say to each other. It made for a quick meal and when they were done, Nikolai pushed back from the table.

“I must go to see how bad the damage was to the mill,” he said gruffly.

Izolda nodded, but said nothing in reply.

As she was cleaning up the breakfast things she felt a pull. Leaving the dishes half done, she went outside to determine where the pull was coming from. Her head turned this way and that. It appeared to be coming from the direction of the pond. It was a summoning spell.

Had she had all of her power she might have been able to resist it, but she was defenseless. Reluctantly she made her way to the pond where the rusalka waited.

“What do you want of me now,” she asked wearily. “Is it not enough that you have taken both of my children? Can you not at least allow me to mourn for my son in peace?”

The rusalka rose to its full height and glided towards her. It circled her, sniffing. “What have you been up to? Your power is greatly diminished. You were not foolish enough to try and bring your son back to life, were you? Even you must realize such a thing is not possible, although I would have enjoyed taking him from you again.”

“I do not know what you mean,” Izolda said irritably.

“Whatever magic you were working, it was dark magic. Do not think to deceive me.”

“I am not deceiving you.” At least she didn’t think she was.

“Just remember,” the rusalka warned. “I am not done with you yet.”

Viator Poetry Form

This poetry form was invented by Canadian author and poet Robin Skelton. It does not have an apparent meter or rhyme scheme, but it relies heavily on the continued repetition of a refrain throughout the poem.

The viator uses the first line of the first stanza as a refrain – it becomes the second line of the second stanza, the third line of the third, etc. It concludes as the final line of the final stanza.

The length of the poem will depend on the number of lines in the first stanza. For example, if you begin with a four-line stanza, your poem will have four stanzas, with the first line descending in each stanza until it becomes the fourth line of the fourth stanza.

You need to take care with how you utilize the refrain. A poorly chosen one can ruin the poem. But the refrain can also showcase things like thoughts or obsessions, and lend themselves very well to topics about everyday life. It helps if you’re able to create a refrain that can be a stand-alone line.

Rhyming is tricky because you have to take into consideration the placement of the refrain in each verse. As well, you may want to avoid a lengthy Viator – each extra line of the first stanza adds that many more stanzas – and lines – to your finished poem. If you start with a 10-line first stanza, that’s going to lead to a 100-line poem (10 stanzas of 10 lines each). You’ll find the refrain can become very repetitive very quickly.

As much as I would have liked to try to write a Viator that rhymes, it just wasn’t happening for me. Maybe I’ll try again sometime. I’ll just think of it as a challenge.


Slave to the Muse

The pen dips into the bottle of ink,
black marks appear on the blank page.
The first step is taken, the story begins.
All is quiet as the muse looks on.

The flame in the lantern flares as
the pen dips into the bottle of ink
and words begin to form on the page,
written in the darkest night.

The words do not cease to flow,
the hand writing does not tire as
the pen dips into the bottle of ink
and words flow one into another.

Pages turn before they are dry.
The hand holding the pen falters
but the muse will not let go, and
the pen dips into the bottle of ink.