Still Here. Still Writing.

I honestly don’t know why I disappeared again. Lack of motivation, anxiety, low self-esteem, imposter syndrome? But I’m still here and I’m still writing. I will bring this poor blog back. I want to figure out how to make writing work for me in my life, and I will. I promise. For now, here is a piece a boy in the story I’m working on wrote for the girl that he likes:

I know of a girl who can fly. I know she doesn’t look at herself that way, she doesn’t consider what she does to be beautiful. But I watch her walk and I see grace that you usually don’t see in a human. That kind of grace is usually found in swans or house cats — creatures that can glide. She’s just a normal human girl, but she’s the most exquisite human girl I know. She is, in fact, the most ‘human’ being I know. This girl is uncompromisingly kind. She is still figuring out what piece she is in the great puzzle of life. She looks at the puzzle with love even though it scares her. Her life hasn’t been easy but it hasn’t made her hard. She’s strong but still gentle. I know without a doubt that she doesn’t need me and I don’t know yet if she wants me. But I like her. I want to be with her. I’ve imagined what it might be like not to be the only one feeling this love — what it would be like for her to feel it, too. I hope she understands. I hope she feels it, too.

– Kenny Guyton, Where Your Story Ends

What I Wrote Today – 2

Tony hadn’t slept since seeing Isabel at the diner. He just lay awake, staring up at the ceiling, resting his hand on his chest and feeling his heartbeat. It always scared him how fast his heart could beat. He wondered if that was how he would die; his heart would beat too fast and explode. Or something. He had no idea if that was a medical possibility. He’d learned not to Google his own symptoms after he’d convinced himself he was having appendicitis his freshman year of college.

He started getting up at four every morning and going out to sit on the steps, smoking and drinking coffee, waiting for her, hoping she would come by. He was so confused. He told himself that all he wanted was an explanation. Why had she kissed him if she was with someone else? Every girl Tony had ever been with had cheated on him. He knew had badly it hurt to be on the other side of that. But, if he was being completely honest, he didn’t care. He just wanted her to be with him. He’d forgive anything for her to be with him.

The third morning he was out on the porch, he thought he was imagining the sound of footsteps coming from the right around 6:30. He looked up, and saw Isabel…but she was on the opposite side of the street. His heart leaped into his throat.

She saw him and looked away, picking up the pace so she was practically running.

“Hey!” Tony called, getting to his feet. “Hey, wait!” He ran across the street even though he was only wearing socks and blocked her path, putting up his hands to stop her. “Wait, just wait,”

Isabel took a startled step backward. “What do you want?” she demanded.

Tony tried to speak, but his heart was beating so fast it took his breath away.

“I’m going to be late for work,” she said and started to walk around him.

“Wait!” He reached out and grabbed her arm.

She wrenched her hand away and shoved him away from her. She stood, staring at him, her eyes wide and fearful. “Leave me alone,” she said. “You were waiting for me, weren’t you?”

Tony took a deep breath. “Yeah. I needed to talk to you,”

She pulled her hoodie tighter around her. “I don’t want to talk to you,” she said softly, and turned on her heel, hurrying away.

Tony stood, feeling his stomach twist as he watched her get away from him. “So why did you kiss me?” he called after her.

She stopped and turned to look back at him. “Sorry. I…I got carried away. I shouldn’t have done that. It was really insincere. I’m in love with someone else.”

Tony sighed. “Daniel, right?”

Isabel’s eyes widened. “How do you know about Daniel?”

 

From Being Daniel, coming this year, maybe. 👍

Thanks for reading, God bless.

Clare🌻

 

More Like This:

What I Wrote Today 1

Good You Were Here, Chapter 17

Blogmas 2017 – Day 22/31 – Good You Were Here EXTRA

The other day I posted a snippet I wrote for a writing prompt (read it here). Here’s another snippet from that prompt exercise, and this one is extra special because it’s a scene for Good You Were Here! It’s not exactly a deleted scene, more like a bonus scene I wrote just to play around with the characters that ultimately didn’t fit in the book. Enjoy!

 

4/3/17 Bonus Scene, Good You Were Here

“It’s September,” Florence commented solemnly as she handed Angela her cup of tea.

Angela looked away from her mother, making her brain pretend it didn’t make the connection. “So?”

Florence didn’t answer. She knew Angela was pretending.

“Is Evan coming over today?”

“I think so,” Angela replied, turning and walking out of the kitchen.

She walked into the living room, and found Evan already there, taking his shoes off at the door.

“Hi,” he said, smiling at her.

“Hi,” she replied, smiling in spite of the sickening sorrow her mother had awakened in her.

Evan’s smile faded. “You okay?”

“Hm? What? Why?” Angela self consciously ran a hand over her hair, realizing her hairspray had probably not been sufficient to tame it.

“What’s wrong?” Evan asked.

She looked away. So much for not being perceptive. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Just…” She sipped her tea. She took a deep breath. No point in keeping secrets, remember? “It’s September now,”

“Yeah?”

“It was seven months ago,” she said softly. “seven months ago, they told me I had eight months to live,”

Evan’s face twisted. He went to her and wrapped his arms around her. Her teacup got caught between them and pressed into both their chests uncomfortably, but she didn’t move. She pressed her eyes to Evan’s shoulder and let him hold her.

“Look at you,” Evan’s voice was unnaturally high. “You’re fine. You aren’t going to die,”

Tears began to stream from Angela’s eyes, so she kept them on his shoulder. “I mean, probably not next month. But before too long. I have good days, I have bad days. I am dying, Evan,”

He held her tighter, so tight the cup pressed into her collarbone hurt, but she didn’t pull away. She wished he could hold her tight enough to keep her soul in her body. She wanted him to be right, even though she could feel her lungs wearing out, her heart ticking down.

“I want you to live,”

“I want to live, too,”

They stood and held each other, trying to ward off September, trying to ward off the cruel, uncaring clock of congestive heart failure, until her tea was cold.

 

 

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Blogmas 2017 – Day 21/31 – What I Wrote Today 1

Happy Winter Solstice!

Confession time – I honestly haven’t been writing since NaNoWriMo ended. I was, for a while. I was writing blog posts for Blogmas. But even writing my writing actual blog posts has kind of shriveled up since I unexpectedly moved to a new place a week ago. No regrets, but I realized, “Hey, just posting something on my blog isn’t the point. The point is to be writing. Every day.” So this morning I intentionally sat down to write…something. Anything. This is what I came up with. It isn’t much. It may not even make it into the final draft of Being Daniel. But I wrote something, and that’s what counts.
What I Wrote Today 1 – 12/21/17

Jill came over. The door wasn’t locked so she let herself in. She found Nick sitting on the floor in front of his couch, gazing at Tony who was fast asleep.

She went and sat down beside him. Without speaking, she slipped her arm around him and he took her hand.

“How is he?” she asked softly.

Nick shrugged. “Slowly sobering up,”

“How are you?”

Nick sighed. “I’ll get back to you on that,”

Jill kissed his cheek and rested her head against his shoulder. “You aren’t going to throw him out, are you?”

Nick scoffed. “Of course I’m not going to throw him out. What would happen to him if I did? He would never admit it, but he needs me. I’m all he’s got.”

Jill nodded slowly. She studied the pinched expression on Tony’s sleeping face. “Poor guy,” she murmured.

“It’s mostly self-inflicted,” Nick said.

Jill smiled sadly. “I know,” 

“I love him, Jill,”

“I know you do,” she said. “I love him, too.”

 

Thanks for reading, God bless!

Clare

 

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Get a copy of Good You Were Here

Blogmas 2017 – Day 19/31 – Snippets 2

I keep running short on time these days, so here’s another snippet. This one was originally posted here on 11/24/16. I wrote it while listening to this cover of Dancing on My Own by Calum Scott. It was inspired by some personal experience but more specifically by the line from the song, “I’m right over here, why can’t you see me?” Hopefully this scene will find a story of its own someday, but for now, enjoy.

snippet2.jpg

 

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Blogmas 2017 – Day 18/31 – Snippets 1

Back on April 9th, I was doing a writing exercise where I chose a random book, opened it, and whatever page I opened on I would use as a writing prompt. This particular prompt was for a book that is one of my favorites — Once Upon a Marigold by Jean Ferris, and I opened to page 144.

page144

Here’s what I came up with inspired by this scene (originally posted here):

4/9/2017

Writing prompt: Once Upon a Marigold by Jean Ferris, page 144

“Who does that crackpot old king think he is, pawning his daughter off to that simpleton?” Marty grumbled as he watched the Princess Persimmon being pursued without an ounce of grace or imagination by Prince Donovan, who was feeding her grapes at the high table. 

“Don’t let it trouble you so much,” Wilber suggested, shoving a turkey leg into his friend’s mouth before he could say anything else. “You never had a chance with her anyway,”

“I’m not interested in that puckered little Persimmon,” Marty protested. “I’m concerned for the welfare of the kingdom. You really think dimwitted Donavan knows the first thing about trade or foreign affairs or not being overthrown in the first month of his reign?”

“Prince Donavan is a pathetic lout, I’ll give you that,” Wilber said, calmly stuffing his mouth with cheese popovers. “But so is King Franklin, so I’m not terribly alarmed,”

“I want to see the kingdom improve, not continue slogging along,”

“Maybe you should move to another kingdom,” Wilber laughed. “You care so much about politics, Marty. If only you could be happy jousting and playing court. But no. You have to get all up in a stink over crop prices and the working conditions of milkmaids,”

“Somebody has to care about this stuff,” Marty snarled, poking viciously at his slice of plum pudding. 

“Well, I do think it’s very noble of you to care, but maybe you could set your mind at ease and enjoy the feast with me? Whether or not you approve of Prince Donovan and his puckered Persimmon, you have to admit their betrothal has resulted in a good time for the rest of us,”

“One can’t drown the foul taste of horrifyingly stupid merger marriages with turkeys and plum pudding,” Marty grumbled. 

Wilber shrugged and reached over to pick off of Marty’s plate. “More for me,”

“Hmph,” Marty glared across the room. “Looks like the Persimmon got tired of grapes,”

Wilber looked up and his eyes widened. “Hey, she’s headed this way,”

“No, she’s probably headed to find a chamber pot – holy cats, she is headed this way!” Marty turned towards Wilber, his eyes wide with panic. “What do you suppose she wants?”

“We’re about to find out,”

“Hello,” Princess Persimmon said, stopping in front of them and planting her hands on the table in between trays of cheese and pickled eggs.

“Hello, your Highness,” Wilber said, giving her a suave smile. 

“Er…hi, Princess,” Marty mumbled. 

“I don’t suppose I could ask you two a favor?” she said, batting her eyelashes. 

“Yes?” Marty said. 

“Anything,” Wilber assured her. 

She grinned at them. “Excellent. I need you to get rid of my beloved betrothed. By tomorrow night, if you could manage it,” 

 

There you have it! This was a lot of fun to write, but it currently has no title and no real plan. I do have one idea that I could possibly sandwich this into but I’m curious to hear what you think!

Did you enjoy this? Like the characters? Should I continue the story? Let me know!

Clare

 

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