"You're more poet than anything." I folded my arms and glared at Ian. He sat perched on the edge of the roof, dressed like an adventurer. I coveted every part of his outfit -- the breezy shirt made of course cloth, the sturdy breeches, the leather boots that laced up to his calves, the dagger on his hip. Tomorrow he would set sail to a life I craved more than anything. But did he appreciate his opportunities? No. And I hated him for it. "Do you despise poets, Ingrid?" His voice was sad, but a grin twisted at the corners of his mouth as he finished his question. Those blue eyes of his cut in my direction with a teasing flash. "They don't DO anything." My thoughts and emotions ran in torrents, but I could see his flowing smoothly and quietly. Even in his uneasiness about the morrow, his face was a peaceful as a child falling asleep in his own bed. ...

Aww so cute, that's a great idea. I just started mine as well, I am already stuck though.
ReplyDeleteYay, Skye! Hurray for starting!
ReplyDeleteKeeping working on it.
Whenever I am stuck, I usually back up to see if there is something I unconsciously don't like in the part I already wrote. Sometimes a wrong scene or a poorly developed character from a couple pages ago is what is causing me to hit a wall now.
The other reason I get stuck is because I need to go back to the drawing board and do some more brainstorming. But brainstorming can be fun.
Anyway, I am just so excited about the fact that both you and I are working on stories at the same time. Keep up the good work!
Yay! This is great!! Can't wait to read more!
ReplyDeleteI have some unexpected twists throwing themselves into this story and begging to be written. I'm definitely pantsing this one.
ReplyDeletePantsing = flying by the seat of your pants (in abbreviated blogger-writer terminology)