Aug 30, 2015 22:59
Another week of writing on Witherwilds. I finished my edits of chapter two and doubled back to work on chapter one. Most of the week I felt stymied by "this is not good enough" fears and did more staring at the page than writing.
I finally found an opening idea that appealed to me and summoned my courage to commit words to paper, convincing the silly Perfectionist Brain that there is little likelihood of perfection right now and "serviceable" will suffice.
So, I give you words, far from perfect, but perfectly serviceable:
Srila had duty on the Songwall just before sunrise, so the melodies she hummed to her plants did not involve her songsacs, just simple power-less tunes she sometimes crooned to her daughter. Moving through the jungle on her terrace, she startled a pair of night monkeys who were gorging themselves at the fruit platter Lelo had left out for them. The monkeys hooted in displeasure and scampered up the trunk of her coconut palm. From there, they flung themselves into a mango tree growing next to the iemodi, their bodies black comets that blotted out the stars.
___________
* I have no monkey icons, so have a lemur instead.
that thing called writing,
snippet sunday,
witherwilds