Distracto-piece Theatre

Welcome to a blog in which I continue to avoid working on a fiction project because my brain just starts screaming whenever I consider picking it up. Why? *shrugs* Who knows? I was informed yesterday by a younger family member that I was no longer allowed to blame anything on the pandemic...so let's just say my writing schedule has been thrown off by rain, heat, and the general desire of my brain to go on periodic screaming jags.

Change of seasons are always tricky for me--what I want to work on varies with my ability to enjoy reading and writing outside and whether we're trying to cram activities into less-hot parts of the day and so I've been feeling the pull of different projects to begin with. Then the rains came. I have a dog who gets shaking and trembling nervous when the thunder begins. We're not in a flood zone but he also objects to going outside when it's wet. So he's under the desk right now, panting. And my brain is taking a deeeeeeeeep breath.

What I need is a good, physical book on writing the fantastic so I can be "on task" and curled up with the dog.

And that's the distraction for the day! Not as productive as laundry but more pup-friendly.

-- Chrissa

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Not Slacking, Just Writing

So. My actual screensaver called me out today. Have I been writing much poetry? Is the doggerel below P O E T R Y? Yeah, probably not. However. The real story is that I'm working my way through a few stories for Camp NaNoWriMo. At almost halfway through the month, I'm still not sure what will end up under the pen on a day-by-day basis but I've added to several. My reading has been similar. Lots of initial chapters or initial handful of chapters but very, very few final chapters completed. I'm thinking about taking a day and just clearing out my zine basket. Summer heat settled in early, so I haven't been doing any outdoor reading, but zines are pretty quick and I should be able to finish several while the squirrels raid the birdseed. :) Hope you're having a good writing/reading summer! It must have been a movie, black and white, Watched when I was younger, maybe sick, Glancing between Mom cleaning and the screen. A father and his daughter in a lighthouse New ...

Phalanxes

Phalanxes of plastic ducks: wizards, barbarians-- the occasional detective-- swirl in the giant conundrum. Plastic dolls (fashion dolls?), no judgement on brand or aisle or hair, especially now, hear the canard-verse via pathways laid down in heat, in formless transformations. They know the wars. They know the strategies. They know the tidal energies. Or so Mandy says, holding a damp doll by the hair, dripping on the carpet, sleepy as an oracle fresh from a hot spring [or a bath] prophesying plastic. It's been a week since The Sunday Muse. And I'm working on the Indie Summer Read/Writeathon (currently reading Rocket Science and enjoying the drama) and working on other projects...but I find that I'm missing my Sunday poetry. :) -- Chrissa

To Blue Fields Far Below

Sharing with The Sunday Muse #228 , The Fashionable Twenties. A sycamore fairy sits crosslegged in the road Dragons swim toward smooth hills above the storms Vines embrace the telephone poles Someone washed the blue skies and she knows It's time to dare the salty foam It's time to wade through the eternal fields' folds And gather golden apples for home. Hoping this finds you with space to daydream and a good book in which to wander. Working on turning last week's prompt into a longer piece, as I found myself intrigued by the idea of tea in the garden as combat. Social situations are not my forte. As it's still Spider September, there will be a chihuahua-sized jumping spider that is none too happy about anything but hunting squirrels (that's for you, Mom). -- Chrissa

A Weed on The Curb

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