I’ve done it. So far anyway. I’ve actually managed to begin a new story just a day after I finished the previous one. Truly my blah blah instinct amazes me.
I love writing the way I write. I love not having a plan. I think for five minutes on the drive over to the write-in, considering story ideas like one ponders what they’d like to have for a snack.
Beaches? City-scape? Romance or Fantasy?
I’m surprised at what comes out. What’s the matter with me, I’ve asked myself several times.
So this new story. It’s set in a wilderness, like a Moor. I’m not sure if it’s set on this planet or not yet. I need the Fantasy genre right now until my setting comes to life.
Here’s a brief excerpt:
‘A vivid memory flashed into his mind. He saw the ominous low-rolling fields stretched out in all directions, except for a distant circle of green rising up to a little hill. In the center the hilltop was overlooked by a single tree- its wide branches spread out on either side like an upside-down bowl. The earth was black and barren, as if fire had swept across the plains. Straggling ropes of thin stems lay all in one direction- pointing to the horizon as if the beleaguered sky was to blame.
Moordym Downs was a world unto itself. Rising up out of the stretches of windswept landscape- as if every small boulder for miles around had come and leapt up onto each other’s shoulders to build the walls, was a solid lump of a castle. Other buildings connected to it, some tall townhouses, some mercantile, some rugged stone barns, and some derelict.
People actually lived there, he thought; like they wanted to.
He shook his head.’