current project

Ok, as many of you know, I’ve been checking out the books in the 808 section of my local library, trying to improve my writing skills.  The current book I’m reading, Between the Lines, by Jessica Page Morrell, has gotten my mind running at full tilt.  I’ve been going back through my story and adding details to scenes, clarifying my time line so the reader has a better handle on what time of day things happen.  That sort of thing.  So not really any new writing, per se, but I’m adding words to Mathew’s Dilemma instead.

Current word count: 59,696.

EDIT:  8:41pm I felt so guilty about not doing any new writing, I made myself write a few words before I stopped for the night.

 

            Bubbles are shooting out from the wand.  I watch them float away, sometimes slow, sometimes fast.  Zephyrs play with them, making them run roller coaster cork screws, sideways.  That makes me smile. 

            Some pop on the grass before me, some on the steps I sit on.  The steps are cold from the rain earlier, but dry now, my pants won’t get wet.  Warm sunshine heats my arms, but the cool wind keeps me from sweating.  Traffic going by is only background, until rude cars with rumbling mufflers shatters my pleasure.  Annoyed, I glare at the car, but the driver always ignores me.

            I go back to my bubbles.  Such a simple thing for an adult to enjoy.  Their fragile thin skins, with rainbows dancing on them.  The bigger ones are the hardest to make, and they pop soonest.  I look over and see one of my bubbles has floated all the way to my neighbor’s back yard.  It floats there, oblivious to how it should stay here.  Another zephyr grabs it for play.  It dashes on the fast moving air around my neighbor’s house and out of my sight.  I wonder how long it survived.

            Another is easily had, and I raise the wand to my lips and create them.  Bubbles are beautiful in their momentary existence. They float careless, as if inviting the wind to play with them, taunting the closest zephyr.  They don’t last long as a zephyr’s plaything.  I watch the bubbles, my bubbles, hit the grass, the sidewalk, the fence, my son’s play set.  None of them last too long, really.  But that’s ok, they are still worthwhile.  They still make me smile.