Camp NaNo, July 2021

Vampiric spiders infest a high school as part of an interdimensional construction project. When they add yet another former student to their group, they create the kind of neighborhood resistance that derails projects and, possibly, neighborhoods.

I've committed to participating in Camp NaNoWriMo this July, although that might be slightly impossible, depending on how June goes. In addition, I've decided to do a 14-day, 5K a day project this month (June 2021) to move forward with a separate project that I'm on the fence about but might feel differently toward if the word count was higher.

In addition, sort of as a complement to some of the non-writing projects from last year, I'd like to fill out the yard notebooks that I've started but not quite kept up. The yard didn't receive the complete reset we were thinking about in 2020 and the freeze at the beginning of this year just pushed it back further. And now I'm thinking I'd like to turn at least one of these notebooks into a look back and one into a look forward and that's because I need projects.

Cheerful projects. Projects that I want to do. Projects that distract and create a way forward.

-- 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

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...

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

A Weed on The Curb

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