"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. ...

I didn't so it either, I was just working on my entry for the Roogle Wood Press contest, and I'm still not done it.
ReplyDeleteSame here, Skye. I have a little bit of panic rising that I won't get it done in time, but then I tell myself that is not acceptable and to just keep working. Ahhhhh! Here's to hoping the rest of YOUR novella flows smoothly and at the right speed! Have a good day!
DeleteYeah, I'm the same as you and Skye. My novella is ALMOST done, but not quite ... though I THINK it will be done in time. I mean, I could enter it right now, I think it's, um ... understandable enough :D. But I know it could be better, so I'm trying to make it its best before it needs to be sent in :).
Delete~Savannah Perran
That's a good way to word it -- understandable but not at its best yet. I learn something new each time I enter a contest, so I want to make this one count for this year's lessons. :)
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