I already wrote elsewhere today, well over 10 minutes. It was garbage.
I had forgotten about this place where I wanted to put all of my thoughts.
SO, here I start anew. Over a year since my last post.
I have no discipline.
But, I have been reading more and more lately, and thusly have been wanting to write more and more.
So, here it gooooooes, again.
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She was nervous. She had invited a man to her house, a man she hardly knew. She was going to cook him dinner to get to kno...
To seduce him. She wanted to seduce him. She knew she wanted to get to know him better, she really did, but what was really in control of this situation was the flutter she felt when he smirked at something witty she said, or the rush of warmth she got the closer his body got to hers. It had been a while since she had felt that spark, that magentic pull, and that was a lot more fun than getting tangled up in feelings.
But the cooking calmed her nerves. She wasn't much of a domestic goddess, but she knew she was good at cooking.
Time management, however, had never been her strong suit. She glanced at the clock and realized that she was at least 20 minutes behind, glanced at her mess of a kitchen, and then down at her disheveled appearance.
Shit. She had five minutes to get changed and look put together before he was due to arrive. The rest of the food was going to have to wait so that she could be at least borderline presentable. She had had so many plans about answering the door, dinner almost ready, her face fully made up and hair twisted neatly, gently tossing a salad. She glanced at the shower, feeling the sweat on her skin and deciding that, with as much cooking as she had left to do, it wasn't even worth it. She slipped out of her long cotton lounge pants and food stained t shirt and slipped on the casual black dress she had laid out earlier. She was thankful that it was cotton and breezy and would at least hide most of anything she could get on it while she finished cooking. She opted to skip adding any more jewelry to the small pieces she usually wore, brushed a little makeup over her face, and was just finishing touching up her eye makeup and reapplying the tinted red lipstick from earlier when the door bell rang. She panicked, tossed her hair up in a clip, slipped on the simple ballet flats by the door, and was surprised at how put together she looked as she dashed past the mirror to the door. She certainly didn't feel it.
She took a deep breath, counted to three to calm her nerves, and gently pulled back the door.
He was devilishly handsome holding a bottle of red wine and a small bouquet of flowers. "Hey, she smiled, the warmth she started to feel oddly calming. "Come in."
He grinned and stepped in, handing her the wine and the bottle of red wine, "For the lady," he said.
She explained to him about running late and invited him in with her to the kitchen, apologizing for her mess. He laughed and picked up the tops of the beets she had roasting from the counter and asked, "Can I help you with anything. do you want me to toss these?"
"No, no," I'm using those. He raised his eyebrows. "With roasted beets. They're delicious if you cook them right."
"yes, yes they are. but most poeple don't."
Sunday, July 17, 2016
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Onward - 30minut
The sun filtered through the trees casting a verdent shadow speckled with blotches of light. The walk into Robur had been slow this morning, the rock riddled road slick from the prior nights rain. But everything was green, the leaves on the lower hanging tree limbs and bushes bright and clean, dust from prior travelers having been washed off in the downpour. The birds were busy and talkative, breakfast was easy to find when the worms crawled to the surface of the soaked soil. Calla enjoyed the quiet walk alone on days like this, especially when she could get an early start and avoid other travellers, especially those on horseback, whose heavy footsteps often splashed her with mud all the way up to her knees.
It wasn't like the clothes that she wore were extravagant, she only had the one good dress, but she was proud of it because she had sewn it herself. It was a sagey green color, fitted through her waist with a simple, flowing skirt down to her ankles. She had managed to barter with Sue the dressmaker for scraps of lavender silk that she pieced together to trim the cuffs of the small bell sleeves and the scooping neckline. The only chance she got to wear it was in to town, and she hated to arrive splattered.
She turned the final bend in the road before the giant Oak that served as the cornerstone of town came into view and stepped to the side of the road. She pulled out the tiny piece of mirror she had saved from the sight where a runaway carriage had wrecked near her home. She had a not so secret reason for wanting to stay clean and look her best today, Calla hoped to run into the Blacksmith's son, Xander.
...
It wasn't like the clothes that she wore were extravagant, she only had the one good dress, but she was proud of it because she had sewn it herself. It was a sagey green color, fitted through her waist with a simple, flowing skirt down to her ankles. She had managed to barter with Sue the dressmaker for scraps of lavender silk that she pieced together to trim the cuffs of the small bell sleeves and the scooping neckline. The only chance she got to wear it was in to town, and she hated to arrive splattered.
She turned the final bend in the road before the giant Oak that served as the cornerstone of town came into view and stepped to the side of the road. She pulled out the tiny piece of mirror she had saved from the sight where a runaway carriage had wrecked near her home. She had a not so secret reason for wanting to stay clean and look her best today, Calla hoped to run into the Blacksmith's son, Xander.
...
Monday, November 4, 2013
11.3.2013 - late post.
Man, I couldn't make it three days without already missing one of my 30 minute sessions (but to be fair, I cleaned house, spent 6 hours at car dealerships, and then helped my husband work on his paper. My plate be full and although it wasn't published on my blog or for my project, I did spend over an hour writing and editing last night.)
But anyways. Today I'm going to write twice, I hope, to make up for it. I was thinking about this post all day yesterday, in fact. You see, the point of this project, aside from getting me to sit down and use the creative part of my brain daily, was to get me out of the rut I've been stuck in... pretty much all of my life. I have quite a few ideas for stories. I have a few characters that bump around in my ahead fairly often, and I want to bring them to life. My problem is that I get too caught up in the details. What's their name going to be, what's the name of the city or town or village they live in, who are they related too, what color are they going to paint their toenails? I waste all this time trying to brainstorm this information and make detailed notes about who they are (because for some reason I think I'll need to reference it), that I never actually just sit down and let the words flow on the paper.
Basically, this is my journal. This project is going to force me to sit down, sharpen some dulled skills, and in a more creative, less analytic way, help me develop these characters, their personalities, their stories. Names may change, stories will likely have very little plot, and you may never get the resolution you were hoping for. I've never taken a creative writing class, and since it's been probably well over 5 years since I've taken an English class, there will probably be some grammar and content errors as well. (But please, feel free to point them out to me in the comments!)
I don't even expect this to be good or well received I just don't want people reading it under the assumption that it's intended to be some Dickens-esque serial where I publish a bit of the story each week. It's not. It's just a girl and her keyboard.
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(That did not take me 30 minutes. Shit.)
Ok... I am a huge Harry Potter and LOTR nerd. I like steampunk, fairies, wizards, magic, enchantment... and the Victorian Era. I love Charles Dickens. One of the BEST, absolutely most amazing novels I've read (and reread) is Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell by Susanna Clarke. I feel like all of my characters live on the same map, just different parts of the same world.
(I'm cutting this one short today - 24minutes, oh well.)
But anyways. Today I'm going to write twice, I hope, to make up for it. I was thinking about this post all day yesterday, in fact. You see, the point of this project, aside from getting me to sit down and use the creative part of my brain daily, was to get me out of the rut I've been stuck in... pretty much all of my life. I have quite a few ideas for stories. I have a few characters that bump around in my ahead fairly often, and I want to bring them to life. My problem is that I get too caught up in the details. What's their name going to be, what's the name of the city or town or village they live in, who are they related too, what color are they going to paint their toenails? I waste all this time trying to brainstorm this information and make detailed notes about who they are (because for some reason I think I'll need to reference it), that I never actually just sit down and let the words flow on the paper.
Basically, this is my journal. This project is going to force me to sit down, sharpen some dulled skills, and in a more creative, less analytic way, help me develop these characters, their personalities, their stories. Names may change, stories will likely have very little plot, and you may never get the resolution you were hoping for. I've never taken a creative writing class, and since it's been probably well over 5 years since I've taken an English class, there will probably be some grammar and content errors as well. (But please, feel free to point them out to me in the comments!)
I don't even expect this to be good or well received I just don't want people reading it under the assumption that it's intended to be some Dickens-esque serial where I publish a bit of the story each week. It's not. It's just a girl and her keyboard.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(That did not take me 30 minutes. Shit.)
Ok... I am a huge Harry Potter and LOTR nerd. I like steampunk, fairies, wizards, magic, enchantment... and the Victorian Era. I love Charles Dickens. One of the BEST, absolutely most amazing novels I've read (and reread) is Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell by Susanna Clarke. I feel like all of my characters live on the same map, just different parts of the same world.
(I'm cutting this one short today - 24minutes, oh well.)
Sunday, November 3, 2013
11.2.2013
30 minutes of writing:
The common's kitchen was Maggie's favorite place to be on crisp fall mornings like these. After Nurse Anne woke her in the morning, she shoved on her most broken-in blue dress, splashed some water on her face, and barely ran a brush through her sleep-tousled, reddish blonde curls before sprinting down the stone steps and across the cobbled courtyard. She could feel the heat from the ovens before she opened the door and it enveloped her like the warm, down coverlet on her bed as she walked into the room. The kitchen was buzzing with the sounds of the busy staff, pots were clanging, whisks whispered against the edges of large metal bowls, and the workers chattered and whistled as they hurried to get the morning breakfast ready for Larkwhite Castle.
Mario was finishing the day's fresh bread, he had been up many hours already mixing, kneading, and waiting for the bread to rise so that he could get it in the oven with just enough time to bake and still be warm for breakfast. The sweet smell of the browning bread made Maggie's stomach gurgle. She waved quickly to Mario, knowing better than to be the distraction that would cause the bread to burn. She scuttled quickly out of the way of a frantic porter looking some lost cup or serving utensil over to Chef Reigna, who, although busy directing traffic and overseeing the final meal preparations, never seemed to have too little time to give Maggie a squeeze and sneak her a little treat or let slip what would be on the dessert menu for the evening.
Well hello, my little princess!" Reigna said, bending down to hug Maggie. "I think there will be a lot of leftover bread today, since the hunting party hasn't come back yet." She winked, knowing that Maggie had a soft spot for bread pudding once the weather started to turn.
Maggie grinned back at her, "I hope they come back soon, Chef, and I hope that they bring a big deer back for you, too!."
"Ahhh, that would be nice now dearie, wouldn't it though? I think if you go over by my books, there may be something there to keep you satisfied until breakfast is served." She gave Maggie a pinch on the cheek and a quick kiss on the forehead before sending her off in the direction of the over-sized, stained leather book that kept all of the Chef's secret recipes and notes. Hidden between the book and wall was a small pile of glazed nuts and dried plums. Maggie snuck them into the pocket of her dress, waved a quick goodbye, and headed out the back door.
The back door of the kitchens led to a sort of Alley where Maggie could sit, in peace, eat her treat and play with Goo, the cat the hung around and kept the mice out of the pantries. She sat on a weathered brown crate, pulled the nuts out of her pocket and laid them on her lap. She was just about to call out for Goo when she overheard Nurse Anne from the corridor above the kitchen that led to the staff quarters, speaking to one of the stable's horse trainers. She decided to keep quiet to eavesdrop on their conversation, as this was the only way to get the best gossip on the comings and goings in the castle.
She picked what she could from their hushed tones, but soon gathered that the children of a distant-relative had been recently been orphaned, and was to come live at Larkwhite! There was a distinct lack of other children to play with, as many of the children of the cooks, stable-hands, and other staff had chores of their own to do, and were thus limited to the amount of time they could play.
...end 30 minutes.
The common's kitchen was Maggie's favorite place to be on crisp fall mornings like these. After Nurse Anne woke her in the morning, she shoved on her most broken-in blue dress, splashed some water on her face, and barely ran a brush through her sleep-tousled, reddish blonde curls before sprinting down the stone steps and across the cobbled courtyard. She could feel the heat from the ovens before she opened the door and it enveloped her like the warm, down coverlet on her bed as she walked into the room. The kitchen was buzzing with the sounds of the busy staff, pots were clanging, whisks whispered against the edges of large metal bowls, and the workers chattered and whistled as they hurried to get the morning breakfast ready for Larkwhite Castle.
Mario was finishing the day's fresh bread, he had been up many hours already mixing, kneading, and waiting for the bread to rise so that he could get it in the oven with just enough time to bake and still be warm for breakfast. The sweet smell of the browning bread made Maggie's stomach gurgle. She waved quickly to Mario, knowing better than to be the distraction that would cause the bread to burn. She scuttled quickly out of the way of a frantic porter looking some lost cup or serving utensil over to Chef Reigna, who, although busy directing traffic and overseeing the final meal preparations, never seemed to have too little time to give Maggie a squeeze and sneak her a little treat or let slip what would be on the dessert menu for the evening.
Well hello, my little princess!" Reigna said, bending down to hug Maggie. "I think there will be a lot of leftover bread today, since the hunting party hasn't come back yet." She winked, knowing that Maggie had a soft spot for bread pudding once the weather started to turn.
Maggie grinned back at her, "I hope they come back soon, Chef, and I hope that they bring a big deer back for you, too!."
"Ahhh, that would be nice now dearie, wouldn't it though? I think if you go over by my books, there may be something there to keep you satisfied until breakfast is served." She gave Maggie a pinch on the cheek and a quick kiss on the forehead before sending her off in the direction of the over-sized, stained leather book that kept all of the Chef's secret recipes and notes. Hidden between the book and wall was a small pile of glazed nuts and dried plums. Maggie snuck them into the pocket of her dress, waved a quick goodbye, and headed out the back door.
The back door of the kitchens led to a sort of Alley where Maggie could sit, in peace, eat her treat and play with Goo, the cat the hung around and kept the mice out of the pantries. She sat on a weathered brown crate, pulled the nuts out of her pocket and laid them on her lap. She was just about to call out for Goo when she overheard Nurse Anne from the corridor above the kitchen that led to the staff quarters, speaking to one of the stable's horse trainers. She decided to keep quiet to eavesdrop on their conversation, as this was the only way to get the best gossip on the comings and goings in the castle.
She picked what she could from their hushed tones, but soon gathered that the children of a distant-relative had been recently been orphaned, and was to come live at Larkwhite! There was a distinct lack of other children to play with, as many of the children of the cooks, stable-hands, and other staff had chores of their own to do, and were thus limited to the amount of time they could play.
...end 30 minutes.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
11.1.2013
30 minute writing... go!
It had been a long, cold winter. The grounds were still frostbitten most of the day, the ground crunched under the toes of the girls' stiff-toed boots while they walked the grounds of Uncle Morty's manor after breakfast, and the leaves on the trees had yet to start showing any hint of growing back. It was mid-March, yet there was still no sign of springtime in Everwood.
In truth, it had been a long, cold year. the Harrison twins felt the burden of their tragic lives reflected in the landscape around them. A year ago today marked the internment of both of their parents in the tragic siege of their hometown of Waterborough. They had been moved almost immediately to their uncle's manor in the small, country town of Everwood, away from all their friends, yet close enough to receive the near-daily reports of the constant turmoil and destruction encompassing their once-home, the capitol of Hedland and the epicenter of the Masonic rebellion.
This day also was their twelfth birthday.
The girls were not expecting merriment, or any semblance of the parties that they had enjoyed in the past, but they did take a moment, in hushed tones between themselves on their morning exercise, to celebrate the passing of another year, another year that they had survived and supported one another, despite all the odds against them. Their lives had been completely turned upside-down, yet they still had one another.
The girls' family were victims of their own fortune; The Mason's despised all thinks that had the luck of draw. The girls were blessed with good breeding not only in their intelligence, but also in their beauty Their black hair hung down well past their shoulders and stood out in stark contrast against the white-grey mist hovering around. Their cheeks were nipped pink by the cold, and you could hardly tell them apart if you did not look into their eyes. Natasha's eyes were a bright ivy green, and Natalie's were a pale, crisp blue. Aside from the distinct eye colors, the girls were nearly identical. They're smiles curved up on the right just a smidge more on the left, and even their mannerisms mimicked one another.
Their personality differences, however, where as distinctly different as their eye colors. They were the daughters of two national lawyers and blessed with intelligence and worldly exposure. Natasha was the dreamer, the one with great, often even outlandish, ideas. Natalie brought her back down to this world, and was her voice of reason and the voice of planning to some of Natasha's less hair brained ideas. It was on this day that they put their minds together to develop a plan to free their parents and ultimately all those imprisoned by the Masonic uprising.
The idea was simple, to pose and infiltrate one of the youth orphanages back in Waterborough to gain knowledge of the Masonic agenda and get in with the Masonic youth culture. But the girls situation in Waterborough society, as well as their striking good looks, had left them well known among not only the well-bred circles of their peers, but also amongst those who wished to use them as an example.
"Well, we could start skipping meals to blend in," offered Natalie. "We will need to look less well-fed to be believable orphans."
...end 30 minutes
It had been a long, cold winter. The grounds were still frostbitten most of the day, the ground crunched under the toes of the girls' stiff-toed boots while they walked the grounds of Uncle Morty's manor after breakfast, and the leaves on the trees had yet to start showing any hint of growing back. It was mid-March, yet there was still no sign of springtime in Everwood.
In truth, it had been a long, cold year. the Harrison twins felt the burden of their tragic lives reflected in the landscape around them. A year ago today marked the internment of both of their parents in the tragic siege of their hometown of Waterborough. They had been moved almost immediately to their uncle's manor in the small, country town of Everwood, away from all their friends, yet close enough to receive the near-daily reports of the constant turmoil and destruction encompassing their once-home, the capitol of Hedland and the epicenter of the Masonic rebellion.
This day also was their twelfth birthday.
The girls were not expecting merriment, or any semblance of the parties that they had enjoyed in the past, but they did take a moment, in hushed tones between themselves on their morning exercise, to celebrate the passing of another year, another year that they had survived and supported one another, despite all the odds against them. Their lives had been completely turned upside-down, yet they still had one another.
The girls' family were victims of their own fortune; The Mason's despised all thinks that had the luck of draw. The girls were blessed with good breeding not only in their intelligence, but also in their beauty Their black hair hung down well past their shoulders and stood out in stark contrast against the white-grey mist hovering around. Their cheeks were nipped pink by the cold, and you could hardly tell them apart if you did not look into their eyes. Natasha's eyes were a bright ivy green, and Natalie's were a pale, crisp blue. Aside from the distinct eye colors, the girls were nearly identical. They're smiles curved up on the right just a smidge more on the left, and even their mannerisms mimicked one another.
Their personality differences, however, where as distinctly different as their eye colors. They were the daughters of two national lawyers and blessed with intelligence and worldly exposure. Natasha was the dreamer, the one with great, often even outlandish, ideas. Natalie brought her back down to this world, and was her voice of reason and the voice of planning to some of Natasha's less hair brained ideas. It was on this day that they put their minds together to develop a plan to free their parents and ultimately all those imprisoned by the Masonic uprising.
The idea was simple, to pose and infiltrate one of the youth orphanages back in Waterborough to gain knowledge of the Masonic agenda and get in with the Masonic youth culture. But the girls situation in Waterborough society, as well as their striking good looks, had left them well known among not only the well-bred circles of their peers, but also amongst those who wished to use them as an example.
"Well, we could start skipping meals to blend in," offered Natalie. "We will need to look less well-fed to be believable orphans."
...end 30 minutes
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