Yesterday the Ink Slingers got together again. We had tea and a wonderful time with many laughs, which was appreciated by all as it seemed to be “one of those weeks”.
I got almost nothing done writing-wise the last two weeks, so there went my conquests (and I started out the year with such a good streak!). I did however accomplish a few things, including reading Stephen King’s It, which had been moved to the top of my reading list by recommendation of the Committee of Recommended Books. Apart from the Dark Tower series, I don’t usually read Stephen King, because horror is not my thing. However, I found It to be within acceptable horror parameters and quite enjoyed it. I still will not be seeing the movie. There are some things I cannot be talked into.
This week, Jen brought me the Silmarillion, which was also moved to the top of my reading list for the same reason above; and she brought me The Children of Húrin, so I’m going to have a Tolkien fortnight. I have been instructed to enjoy them, an injunction I cannot slight. In that light, I structured my conquest more ambiguously this time, because I love loopholes, and also perhaps I’ll be able to say I’ve done a few more of them at the next meeting 😉
I did receive exciting news from my lovely editor: I should get the edits back on Ria’s Mark in a week or so!! So that’s coming along well. I shall keep everyone updated as to pre-orders, giveaways, and release dates as those become known.
And as always (except for that one time), we did our writing exercise to keep our minds sharp and our fingers nimble. Again, we were very productive and got four exercises in. Here are the first of mine:
dance (my word), flutter, circus.
Mirelda watched the group of young girls move through the dance. The flutters of
their hands and the kicks of their feet were awkward and uncoordinated. It
appeared as though it had been choreographed by a circus clown. Mirelda tried to
keep her growing unhappiness from showing. When the girls had finished, a
dozen fresh faced turned to her expectantly, waiting her approval. Mirelda
didn’t know what to say.
“That was, um, delightful,” she managed to get out without choking on the words.
The girls looked uncertain.
“But will it work?” a voice in the back called out, sounding very much like the
girl was on the verge of tears.
And she had every right to be. What they were doing was not to be taken lightly.
With this in mind, Mirelda was blunt with her response. Perhaps cruelly blunt,
but it could save lives.
“No,” she told them. “I do not think that will work.”
A cacophony of wails erupted, a Mirelda winced.
“That’s not going to work either,” she yelled over the noise.
The girls quieted to whimpers.
“We have to appease this demon with grace and aesthetics,” Mirelda said. “Not
that staggering and lurching you were doing before.”
“We don’t have time to put together another routine,” a girl to the left said,
her face streaked with tears.
She was perhaps fifteen years old. Mirelda knew she was right, but she could not
have them give in to despair. No ceremony would be worse than a poor one, for
the only alternative was the sacrifice. Mirelda lifted her chin and put on a
“We must do the best we can, girls,” she said. “After all, it is the lives of
your brothers you hold in your hands.”
Melly walked into the old shop and was immediately overcome with a fit of
sneezing. Cleaning up her watering eyes and running nose, Melly peering into the
dim, dusty corners of the shop. She pulled the giftcard out of her purse and
checked the address again. Yes, she was in the right place. It was an odd store,
bigger on the inside, and messier as well.
Melly walked back though the random shelves and piles of stuff, searching for
the sales attendant. The store was empty. At least that was what she thought
until she rounded the corner and ran into an old man with wild white hair and
halfway vacant eyes.
“Can I help you?” he asked, peering at her, and she thought he must have lost
“No, thank you,” Melly said. “I’m just looking.”
“See anything you like?” he asked as he turned back to the shelf and began
cleaning an odd vase with a rag that was dirtier than the vase.
“No, I… ” Something caught Melly’s eye.
On the next shelf, in the middle, sitting on a folded paisley something, was a
bottle. At first glance, there was nothing particularly spectacular about this
particular item, but the closer Melly looked, the harder she found it to look
“What is that?” she asked, her eyes fixed on it.
The man didn’t look up from his work. “Don’t know. I just work here.”
Melly reached out to touch the bottle. There was a bright flash, and the store
Hope you enjoyed that. More coming soon! (And no, I have not forgotten my promise of the previous week, that story is coming soon as well.)
Tenna’ ento lye omenta