October 26, 2023
Your map represents the world your characters live in. It might be as small as a doll’s house or as large as a multi-galaxy supercluster, and that’s fine…provided you can keep it all straight.
October 25, 2023
October 23, 2023
Pain stains the deadlocked roads yet the shades of horror do not seem to penetrate the ornate walls of the Manor...
October 21, 2023
“You will wake soon, my poppet.
Then you will learn this dance of the night.
But for now, sleep.
Dream of beauty, of fangs,
and of blood.”
October 20, 2023
Some moments, Whispers from the Valley of the Yak is hard reading. The emotions that hit at certain times challenge you. You want to change things and make things better or stop others from happening. I found myself emotionally confused at times, because, well, humans are strange beings that don’t always behave in their own self-interest, let alone in the best interests of others.
October 20, 2023
Then the roosters, together, roared like they were the kings of the jungle…
October 19, 2023
October 18, 2023
My heart thudded in my chest, not knowing what this presence was, or what it wanted. I could feel it in the corner, the spot in the darkest dark of the room. It radiated energy, calling to me.
October 17, 2023
The women gathering in the house, the evil collecting around them and the terrifying events of the weekend had me shouting to the the group not to do whatever action it was that they were set to do. It was as if I was watching a horror movie.
October 16, 2023
Lint. Sounds like a town in Holland or Belgium, or the site where a great treaty might be signed…
October 14, 2023
While I sat sipping this gorgeous cuppa, I felt myself drift all over the world in ecstasy. Memories of South Africa drifted in, sunflower fields of Georgia spilled over, daydreams in Australian gardens flooded my nose, my heart, my mind. The word that came was “sensual.” Not in the romantic sense, but in the spiritual sense. Every one of my senses was engaged.
October 12, 2023
The first time I went to a convocation, I felt I could die of joy. My hummingbird heart, an anxious pet, sang a dawn song. It wasn’t the entrance hymn, “O For A Thousand Tongues To Sing.” It wasn’t the chancellor in his indigo-velvet cap and doily collar, although his literal orb and scepter made me weak and strong. It wasn’t the presence of so much earnestness, furnish me though it did with purpose and pleasure.