I haven't been around here much lately, and I've noticed a lot of changes.  I hope everyone is doing well.  I've been mostly at Weeds and Wild Things lately, talking about gardening and other things.  But here's the thing, I don't talk about writing there too much, and I kind of miss that, so here are a few lines from the story I'm working on right now.

She stepped away from the desk, pacing carefully around the piles of papers and files scattered around Oracle’s desk.  “Tell me at least I’ll get a knife,” she said.

“Yes,” Oracle said.  “A knife concealed under skirts.  It will take you too long to get to it, but you’ll have it anyway.”  She lifted her head, waved a hand.  “Remember the knife of a carefully placed word.”

I'm calling it The Fox Who Stole the Bone Queen's Heart, and I like it very much right now, even though I'm struggling with it.  Let me know what you think.

Sort of a first lines meme, I guess, but only for one thing.  I had this idea suddenly at work today, and I had to write it down.  But it's so outside of my usual style that I'm not sure where I'm going with it, other than that it will be a short story.

The Priestess and the Slug
It is a little known fact that slugs are a type of lesser demon.

Here's hoping this lives up to all the potential I can feel in it.

So I need some help.  I have this idea, which is really an ephemeral, less than half-formed thing, for a story.  And it is a story about World War I, which as most of you have probably gathered by now is a war I am completely and utterly fascinated by.  However, fascination does not necessarily mean I'm well-prepared for such a project.

I've done plenty of rudimentary reading on the internet, and I have an extensive catalog of songs about the war, but that doesn't give me all that much.  So really, what I need is suggestions for places to look for research, for books to read, especially about what daily life was like in that period.  I can find books about the war, although if anyone has any suggestions of books they think are awesome, I would love them.

So really, guys, help!  I feel like I'm tackling a project that's much too big, and I'm just starting the research now.  All suggestions are welcome!

So, here's the thing.  I've started a blog over on wordpress.  I'm using it to practice for writing garden books, so I thought I'd try my hand at garden blogging.  Right now my focus is pretty narrow-- entries are mostly confined to my own garden and my dayjob.  But it does mean I'm going to be posting less frequently here.  I don't have time for being here and there, at least not right now with everything that's going on in my life.  I'm not shutting this down-- I can't bear to do that, but I am going to be posting a lot less frequently.  I'm still going to be reading and commenting.

And if you guys want to see what I'm doing, this is where I'll be: Where the Weeds and Wild Things Are.  Stop by and say hello.

I've been sitting on this post for the better part of a week, because first I didn't know what to say, and then I didn't know how to say it.  And I was tired, and heartsick, and angry.  And I'm still all of those things, but maybe talking about it will help.  Anyway.

My dear friend who was suffering from cancer passed away Monday morning.  And I've known her for years, since middle school.  So, roughly twelve years or so, she's been a friend and mentor, and now she's gone.  And I've been sitting on that, because it's one of the things I do best-- not talking about the things that hurt me.

And I know she's not suffering anymore, and she's not in pain.  But I am so angry.  Not at her.  But I am bitterly, selfishly angry at the cancer.  Because she was amazing, and why her?  Which is a stupid question.  But I can't stop being angry that my friend had this horrible disease.  And I am angry at my God.  Because I feel like he could have saved her.  And that's silly too, because I know it doesn't work that way.  I know God doesn't just give people cancer.  That sometimes suffering is part of life, and that she wouldn't want me to be angry like this.

But I want to kick and scream and hit things.  I have wanted to kick and scream and hit things since Monday morning.  And I won't do any of that, because I have far too much self-control for it.  Perhaps I have more self-control than is healthy.

She was one of the many people who taught me to garden.  I have plants she gave me in my garden, I have techniques I learned in the garden beside her, and she was one of the people who taught me to find joy in the beauty of a garden.

And I am glad she is no longer suffering.  But that doesn't help with the anger.  

The viewing was Thursday night, and they put lipstick on her.  She never wore makeup.  I never saw her in makeup once.  And that helped, because I could tell myself, that's not her.  She would never look like that.  Today was the funeral, and it was hard and bad, and maybe I got a little closure.  But I'm still angry.

I think I need to get out into the garden to help with the anger.  She would have wanted that.

This is a somewhat silly thing to write a post about, which is to say I feel really self-conscious about this.  So here goes.  One of my very most favorite songs is I Had No Right, by Dar Williams.  It is an immensely powerful song and it means a lot to me.



It means a lot to me-- about how I feel about war, and how I feel about my religion.  And part of why I feel self-conscious is because occasionally post lyrics from songs that have meaning to me on facebook.  But when I think about the lines I would quote from the song, and I can't, because I don't want them misinterpreted.  And I don't want to be misinterpreted. 

First it was a question, then it was a mission,
How to be American, how to be a christian,
Oh, if the law is their cross, their cross is burning.

To me, this means something very specific about being a Christian in America, and I don't want to be misinterpreted as being of that particular stripe of hateful Christian that thinks the country is going down the tubes because of who is president, who is trying change our country.

So yeah, complicated and probably I overthink.  But there it is.

I've been writing a lot this week.  Some of this is because I had my writing group on Monday, which really helped me see some things that I was missing in my story.  So I have a scene to expand, and some things to edit out.  And I haven't done that, because I have forward momentum right now, and I don't want to get distracted and lose that.

Anyway.  Word count.

On the Wings of Swans

Words Today: 1603
Words Total: 13,995
Mean things: abusive drinking, arthritis, PTSD, racism
Darling: “Drink after work,” he explained.  He studied his feet.  “My face got us thrown out of a few too many bars.  So we stopped.”

It's starting to come along nicely now.  I have a good flow, and a fairly good idea of where this things is going.

It's been an eventful weekend.  I started the weekend Friday night by going for dinner with two of the women from my writing group, which was really nice.  We had excellent food and good conversation, ranging from makeup to writing and movies and books and it was a lot of fun.

Saturday my brother came home from school for spring break, and I had to go to the bank and then I stopped by a local business that was closing to take advantage of the sale and wish the owner well in her next endeavor.  The business is a tea house that I spent many memorable outings at and I have known the owner for quite some time.  I came away from that visit with a beautiful tea pot with camellias and bees on it.  It is a very me tea pot.

Today I went to the Philadelphia Flower Show with my parents.  I ended up with a lovely new orchid, which I will take a picture of and post as soon as the flower opens.  I also ended up with a cute owl pendant, which I need another owl thing like I need a hole in the head, but whatever.  It's cute and I love it.  And the show was awesome.  Not my very favorite, but there were lots of cool things to see.  It was very tropical, as was appropriate, considering this year's theme was Hawaii.  There were lots of heliconias, and proteas, and orchids.

And now, I am working on edits for the pages I have to read at my writing group tomorrow, because I have to read.  No more chickening out because I'm not brave enough to actually do this.  Gah.  I hate reading unfinished things.

On the Wings of Swans

Words Today: 722
Words Total: 10,722
Mean Things: fretting for friends, jealousy, fighting
Darling: "I know," he snapped, "and me and Robbie, and Adrian and Ben, and how the hell is any of it fucking fair?" He wouldn't even glance at her as he pulled into the police station.  "But none of it excuses cruelty."

And back to the edits, but I'll leave you with a photo from the show.  Here, have a wall made of different types of lettuce.

I've gotten a bit farther on On the Wings of Swans, but progress has been slow.  And progress on the second scarflet is kind of at a dead halt, but that's because I do most of my knitting in the morning before work, and things have been somewhat unsettled there of late.  Anyway. Log.

On the Wings of Swans

Words Today: 1,302
Words Total: 10,000
Mean Things: death of people close to you, jealousy, grief, pity 
Darling: “Physician, heal thyself,” Oracle quoted, soft and bitter.  She looked up at him, eyes dark and sober.  “Do not pity him.  He will hate you for it.”

So that's how it looks so far. 

Mourning Dove gets a name change to On the Wings of Swans.  I have been plodding along on it all week and it's been a struggle, which means something is wrong, I just can't figure out what.  I'll get it sorted eventually.  And so it goes.

On the Wings of Swans

Words Today: 891 
Words Total: 8,148
Research: law enforcement funeral protocol
Mean Things: difficult conversations, murder, discrimination
Darling: He could hear his old teacher’s voice in his head.  Adrian, you will fuck up.  It happens.  Keep going.  Save lives, even if you have to do it kicking and screaming and tumbling down a crevasse.

So that is that.  We'll see where it goes from there, even if I have to drag it to the bloody end.

On a less frustrating note, I finished my little scarflet and gave it to its intended owner.  I have started the second one, which is for my mother.