I’ve been playing hooky
And seeking out beauty
That comes this time of year
While running after cuties
Since the world is talking about Hurricane Isaac, I thought I’d post an excerpt from what I’m working on right now. FORTITUDE, set in 1898, is a story about sixteen-year-old Claire O’Farrell—a first generation Irish-American living on Dauphin Island, Alabama (which is currently without power and the only road to the bridge is flooded.) The following is taken from the first chapter, when Claire is returning home from a visit to town.
“Lose your sea legs already, Claire? You look a wee bit green.” [Pa asks.]
I only shake my head and try to breathe. My bones feel hollow, as if they aged three decades in as many minutes. But the feeling passes as the miles from Mobile increase and the miles to Dauphin Island decrease. The silent shadow of a brown pelican passing overhead, the smell of low tide and all the comforting details of shore life revive me body and soul. I am able to ignore Joe’s persistent gaze and relish in my pa’s quiet strength.
I decline Joe’s offer for help back to my house and enjoy the last few minutes of peace on my way past the cluster of village buildings bordering the shell mounds. When the palmettos begin to thicken, I slow my pace and veer down our drive.
Dauphin Island has wonderful trees–and one was the starting point for my story. May all the trees weather yet another storm.
For more cool trees and pictures about FORTITUDE, check out http://pinterest.com/wonderwegian/fortitude/
I’ve taken this from writer buddy Stephanie, who took it from another friend, etc but I changed a few alphabet words to mix it up a bit.
On a side note, if you put both an orange and a vanilla flavored Tootsie Fruit Roll in your mouth at the same time it tastes like an orange creamsicle.
Autumn on the Gulf Coast came and went and came and… I hope it sticks around this time! The crisp weather of fall (if we’re lucky enough to receive typical seasonal weather) is invigorating. I usually get inspirational writing boosts this time of year but it hasn’t happened yet. So, I’m sitting at my desk with the table top fan blowing on my face, praying for the courage to step forward with my WIP. I haven’t made major progress on Corroded (because of other projects—and laziness) in at least two months. This blog is my jumping point to get back into the swing of things. I need to face the climax of the novel and conquer!
Even growing up in the also sporadic climate of coastal California, inspiration happened this time of year. I believe I began each of my novel length stories in the fall, starting at fifteen years old. The bulk of my poetry was written in autumn, with a generous helping of winter and some spring sprinkled in. Flipping through my poetry notebook I can count on one hand the poems written during the summer months. And speaking of poetry, I haven’t written a cataloged poem since I was pregnant with my oldest in 1998. Question to self: What’s up with that?!
But for now, I’ve got a terrifically awful poem to share. Remember, these poems are two decades old in some cases. Don’t hold it against me! This one happens to be from the autumn I started college, at seventeen years old.
Breath of Life
Days do ever pass Leaves turn golden and fall Attending our last class Is a walk down an endless hall
Sometimes it will seem Like it’s you against the rest But your light will forever beam You know you’re one of the best
So keep in touch With that strong sensation It will give you much Over-powering elation
This morning frost covered the grass and the bird baths were iced over- up to 1/8 of an inch around the rim. All the other cold nights this month only produced some frost on the rooftops. There was even a glittering layer of ice crystals on the canvas of the folding chair on the front porch. I enjoy the winter while I can… it goes so quickly here, if it decides to visit.