[the-rhapsode]

She resumed picking the berries, snatching the ones I had missed in my surprise and enchantment in her story. What do you think, Emmaline? What do mad bears do?

They kill, I said.

They kill.

[the-rhapsode]

New Jersey is a liminal space. More specially, the airport is. Walking through the terminals, there are shops, but no recognizable brand names. As footsteps hit along the tiled floor, lurching due to the sweatily-grasped handle of the suitcase, the burning fluorescent lights flicker and hum. Every few steps there is a bar or restaurant with the same liquor selection in the same order. I pass by an older, wrinkled woman in a purple raincoat. She clutches a worn canvas bag underneath an arm. "Excuse me," she says, "Do you know what time it is?" And I tell her I do not know, because I haven't had time to check my phone. She nods and walks off. In her hand I see a crumpled piece of paper that looks like a bus schedule. There are men and women in business suits, the women wearing clacking heels and the men a morning stubble. It is dark outside the windows, so time does not exist. An airport security guard scratches his thick, hairy arm that's bulging underneath a crisp blue shirt. The toilet roars like a dragon, and the sound continues long after the water has stopped swirling. I frown at the sound, but move to wash my hands. The water glitters on my skin even after I dry them, actual flakes of glitter stuck there. I wipe my hands on my jeans. My stomach grumbles for food and my soul aches for coffee, but none can be found in his overly fluorescent hellscape. I arrive at my gate, more than slightly out of breath. I shiver as the sweat cools on my forehead. Beside me, a business woman in a crisp, white suit hands me a tissue, which I grab with a hurried thanks. She smiles, loose curled hair framing golden eyes that match her Greek insignia necklace. I don't see her again, even when I walk through first class on my way to my blessed aisle seat. I stare out at the New York skyline as we accelerate and lift away. As I look down, I see nothing but blank concrete with no trace of where we just were. Thank you @sulienapgwien for the idea! I hope you recognize someone awesome in here. I wrote this on the bus! :)

[the-rhapsode]

For a moment, I wondered if this would work. As prolific in her practice as she was, my grandmother was not faultless. In fact, sometimes I was her test subject for some of her experiments.

“Here, Emmaline, try this!” she would say, holding a spoon to my mouth, with a jiggling, slightly grey and steaming substance on it.

“What is it, grandmere?” I asked, angling my head away and trying not to let my disgust completely overtake my expression.

“Oh shush, girl, and try this.” She growled, pushing the offensive spoon ever closer to my mouth. “You been grousin’ and mopin’ so much about your womanly aches and pains, try this and it should help relieve the pain.” And this was true. My menstruation usually left me in a mood “more terrible than a bear with a splinter” and aching, with every inch of skin sore. It was so bad sometimes my hair hurt.

I ate whatever it was on the spoon and couldn’t help but mirror grandmere’s smile when I did. The substance wasn’t particularly foul—not so much as usual—but it wasn’t delicious. Tasted gritty. Went down okay. I thought that maybe grandmere was onto something and I prayed that whatever this new concoction was it would help with my pain.

Two days of uncontrollable vomiting later, I remember shakily asking my grandmother to test out her creations on her own damn self before having me try them. She agreed, “I guess ground up frog spawn don’ make the pain hop away…” she mumbled, rubbing my back and cooling my face with a wet cloth.

[the-rhapsode]

The shadow was long, stretched out, and smelled of lightning. Chelle-Mae always said that most of the time, if you ignore something, it’ll go away. 

I figured that if it worked for hornets, it’d work for shadows. 

[the-rhapsode]

The small copper mug I kept in my pack warmed water from a nearby creek as it sat over a rock over the fire. I had picked some wild onions and placed them in the mug along with some basil and a pinch of salt. I raised my arm and glanced at my little green friend, who was now eye level.

“Now, you’re not a shapeshifter, are you?” I said, peering at him.

He stared at me. A tiny tongue flicked out.

“Just know that if you are and I find out, I’ll make it so you won’t have enough shape to ever shift again, you hear?”

It didn’t move. I sighed. “We’re heading to Savannah, to Jubilee. With grandmere gone, that’s best a place as any. Something’s gonna happen there to let me know where to go. We’ll be arriving there at dusk tomorrow, so if that’s not a place where you wanna be, you gotta stop hitchin’, okay?”

(x)

[the-rhapsode]

Snippets made while walking

The shadow man follows me out the corner of my eye.

When the storms come, I can hear her singing. And in the morning, her blush colors the sky.

[the-rhapsode]

“Why not take the power from God, from Life, Death, and Creation itself? Why not worship yourselves?”

(x)

[the-rhapsode]

Guess who wrote about butterfly witches today? :3

[the-rhapsode]

Today’s post brought to you by Dionysus.

[the-rhapsode]

So I see all of my awesome writerly friends creating these fantastic...moodboards? Collages? Of their books and I wanted to give it a try.

This is a pretty low-resolution try.

But I don’t have Photoshop on my laptop just yet. D:

[the-rhapsode]

…..how many chapters should a book be?

omg

Edit: w/e I’m gonna think about this in Acts. That’s how Greek plays were sectioned off anywayso

[deehollowaywrites]

my experience has been that if I assign each Major Plot Point a chapter, that gives me a very rough outline. then as I’m starting to write, naturally I’ll find that more chapters are needed as the thing grows and changes. but starting off with the things you know must happen can be a good plan.

for instance, for the first NaNo draft of what became On the Fence, my outline looked like this:

1. Meet-cute.

2. ???

3. First kiss.

4. Aftermath.

5. ??

6. ??

7. Sex.

8. ??

9. Big fight.

10. Derby/happy ending.

So obviously a lot more Plot grew along the way. But having significant points to aim at and build around, I found helpful.

[the-rhapsode]

That really helps! At the moment I have about...nine Major Things that need to happen, I guess I’m a little hesitant at doing them because I fret about there being “room” for anything else that may come up. Hmm.

[the-rhapsode]

.....how many chapters should a book be?

omg

Edit: w/e I’m gonna think about this in Acts. That’s how Greek plays were sectioned off anywayso

[the-rhapsode]

Reboot.

I deleted everything because it was all old stuff before The Reboot (Ha!) so here goes, I guess. :)

So my name is Dana and I’m writing a book about a cyborg hacker girl named Medi.

She was kidnapped and transformed by the Athena Corporation as punishment for selling trade secrets to the other members of the Olympian Syndicate, a group of companies that own and govern the entire country. Medi escapes Athena with some new “hardware” and is looking to blackmail her way to revenge, but things are tough when you’re being hunted down by the most talented bounty hunters money can buy and your face could scare the gods. With the help of an entitled company heir, the most gorgeous person in the world, and an ancient, powerful ally, Medi struggles with embracing her new body while determined to make Athena atone for her sins or bring their entire world to ruin with the power of her secrets.