Hey, all! It’s been a while since I posted. I actually have a good reason: homework.
I’m studying counseling. It’s a wild trip, because part of this journey is learning to take apart my own issues before looking at anyone else’s. Between that and homework (homework! I haven’t had homework since 2002!), I’ve been somewhat out of touch.
For those of you in the learning-to-write crowd, allow me to turn you toward Helping Writers Become Authors, run by K.M. Weiland. This is a FANTASTIC resource. Check it out.
For anyone looking for inexpensive, nutritious, and delicious food, I’ve uncovered a lovely recipe for rice and beans.
And last but not least, have a snippet. This is a part I’ve been tweaking for a while. Poor Notte. We really do torture the characters we love.
“She is dead!” I screamed this. I screamed it so hard my throat hurt. I screamed it so hard my voice came back to me, echoing against rising stone in the distance. I screamed this so loudly that birds as far as the eye could see took flight and sped away.
The horse spoke into the odd and empty silence that followed. “You are not.”
“What does that matter?” I tore a fistful of grass and dirt and threw it at him.
Not one blade came close. He turned his long face sideways, watching the blades drift to the ground. “The demon which killed her lives, as well.”
Rage encompassed me, nearly as deep as my grief, and when the two merged in my soul I threw my head back to shriek such anguish that my vision faded, my heart stuttered, and my extremities went numb.
Somehow, the world was still there when I came out of this. I do not know how. It seems such pain must surely erase all that dwells around it.