The Villa Diodati writing workshop in France was wonderful, but it was overshadowed by news of a medical emergency in the family that occurred while I was away. I will still try to get a report on Villa Diodati 13 up when brain cells allow, but after that, I make no guarantees for anything happening on this blog for a while. We’re in a state of limbo at the moment. As I have already learned this year, grief eats creativity, and fear doesn’t seem to be any better.
As a result, my writing progress has come to a halt, and at this point, I am declaring Nanowrimo lost. I got some weekly words done before the news hit, but right now, I don’t give a flying wombat for how many or how few they were. Depending on how things develop, I may well also declare ROW80 over for this year. Life happens, sometimes more than we want, but life is way more important than words.
I have no math for WIPpet Wednesday today, just an excerpt from a short story I was polishing at VD13 “The Pool of Souls”:
Rubbing her eyes, she hurried to the Pool of Souls on the opposite end of the square. The light of the moon, a day from full, rippled on the surface of the water. The broken reflection flickered brightly, and below she could see the glinting ashes of dormant souls.
Imila knelt down next to the side of the pool. The marble was hard against her knees, but she hardly noticed the discomfort. She was closer to Terya than she’d been since her death; she imagined she could feel her daughter’s presence there in the water. She lifted the thick paper she’d made to her nose, breathed in the scent of cinnamon and almonds, thought she caught a whiff of Terya’s own dear smell.
“Come to me sweetheart,” she said as she immersed the paper in the pool. The water was cold, the warmth from the sun long gone, escaping during the night like a soul from the ashes of a burning body.
Imila had never caught a soul before, but she had often watched soul catchers at their work. The true trick of it was in the paper. She swirled the paper around in the pool, panning for ashes as she’d heard some men panned for gold in mountain streams.
Flecks of souls eddied in the small vortex she created, circling around her hands as if trying to determine if this paper was meant for them. Imila watched in wonder as some of the silvery ashes detached themselves from the rest, coalescing in a shiny mass. She continued the circling movement, coaxing her daughter’s soul closer. Then the ashes caught in the rough texture, and the paper turned a shimmering bluish gray as it absorbed all that was left of Terya.
WIPpet Wednesday is the brain child of K. L. Schwengel. If you’d like to participate, post an excerpt from your WIP on your blog, something that relates to the date in some way. Then add your link here — where you can also read the other excerpts.
I’ll be back, I just need a break for a while. I hope everyone is appreciating the health and well-being of their families.