Camp NaNo, Day 2 (But Technically I Just Woke Up)

Brains...brains... Here we are, first thing in the morning on the second day of Camp NaNo. What I'd like to do (and might still), is grab a cup of coffee and drive out to the park and write. It is camp. And I did wake up to a bunkmate scraping his paws across the fan because he was sleeping with his nose practically pressed against the faceplate, so that feels very much like something you'd do in a cabin where the a/c is basically the breeze.

Camp is also (after food, nature hikes, and camp cliques) about crafting. That means I need to update my bulletin board (pics to come), which functions as my idea board/inspiration and really should have been done earlier and plan out a bracelet (which means a trip to Home Depot for brass washers...there may be a post on this later) and maybe a small zine for an outline. My primary goal for this month is to fill up the notebook pictured above and it might be nice to have an easy summary of what the story eventually becomes.

This is actually the underlying theme of this camp: what is Slay Me a Love Song becoming after living in my head and in disparate draft pieces for years?

With that, it's back out into the wilderness of blank pages. If you're at camp as well this month, hope you're having fun!

-- chrissa

Comments

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

Once Upon a Future Past

Sharing with The Sunday Muse #204 . It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening ran behind me dragons, demons, and the sleeping world; afraid to turn, to wake me. Power needs its horror stories, its ghosts. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening followed close; a fantasy of goodness, where the gold is always covering bones. Power needs its fairy tales, its witches. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening treads my hem, like an army from the dragon's teeth and all the lies therein. -- Chrissa

Flagrant

Sharing with The Sunday Muse #217. Come be part of the conflagration. :) Oh, they called the mob to celebrate But only the fire heard They called the mass to congregate But only the dry grass bowed A conflagration Called to prayer Hungry for light Hungry for air Oh, they called the mob celebrate Wearing flames in their hair They called the mass to congregate Faceless in the burning air. Greetings and salutations. I'm not sure what to say--we're not celebrating the 4th this year (not that I'm prepared to cede one holiday to the authoritarian idiots in charge of our state, but our grass is still dry from the heat and we have a dog terrified of fireworks...so we're celebrating by bunkering down and watching Howling 2 at the gleefully deranged suggestion of my sibling) and otherwise I've turned our dead corn plants into the basis for this year's Camp NaNo project...it's turning into a weird year, the kind of year where I'm reading more horror than norma...

A Weed on The Curb

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