“Sarah,” Dad called. “I need you.”
Sarah jumped up so fast Matt felt a breeze from the motion. Blearily, he followed the blur that was his sister as she dashed to Dad. Dad’s breathing still echoed, and his hands were clumsier than usual. But he was tying a bundle of wheat when she came to a screeching halt in front of him. An instant later, she ran over to gather up another bundle of wheat and tie it while Dad reached for yet another.
Matt blinked hard. Dad and Sarah were gathering wheat. Brow furrowing, Matt turned his head slowly to the left. Sure enough, his mother held the scythe firmly and swung it with grim determination. Eyes widening, Matt followed the angle of the swing. She cut a nice clean swath through the wheat – much more accurate than his had been. But Dad was still shaking from using it.
Frowning, Matt struggled to sit all the way up. She’d been working non-stop since they started, but although her clothing had already begun to darken with sweat as they’d gathered the wheat, she’d still looked as put-together as she always did. Now, the darkness was spreading rapidly. Her hair was already coming free, falling down on her back and neck. There, sweat plastered it to her skin. As his own breathing began to quiet, Matt could hear how each swing made hers more ragged.
Convulsively, Matt pushed himself to his feet and stumbled backward in reaction to the sudden screaming burn of his muscles and lungs. The burst of pain faded quickly as he straightened fully, and he only stumbled a little as he walked determinedly to Dad and Sarah. Bending to gather the wheat stretched the muscles he’d so recently abused swinging the scythe, creating a strange mix of pain and relief. He blew out a breath. He could do this.
As he fell back into the pattern – cut, bend, gather, bundle, tie – the ache of his back and arms began to fade, overwhelmed by new burning aches in his legs and backside. When the pain became unbearable, he bent his knees. When that became too hard, he knelt and crawled forward. When that became too much, he stood again. Doggedly shifting from position to position, he pushed himself forward.
As long as they were working, he would, too.
Monthly Archives: January 2017
“Sarah,” Dad called. “I need you.”
Ignoring the skin,
The freezing wind strikes the heart
And spreads to the soul.
Really! A desk has fallen from the sky and alighted in my “office”! (Now, to fix the roof!)
Ok. Technically, that may be a slight hyperbole (probably a good thing). The desk was already in my office. It didn’t fall – it emerged (Nope. Still scary imagery.). Let’s say that it was discovered/found/unburied. Think of my office as an archaeological dig of boxes packed with the intention of moving which never happened.
The point is that I have a desk. Well, part of a desk. Enough for a laptop and drink. What more does writer need?
Time. And money. And sleep. Lots of sleep.
Just kidding. Kind of. (*sobs*) That said, since my brain is obviously running on fumes (and where does one get a refill at these prices?), I am going to tentatively promise a novel update for tomorrow. I will even be rearranging my work schedule to try to guarantee it. And by posting this, I will be leashed to the collar of duty and unable to give in to laziness, procrastination, or exhaustion!
So… novel update tomorrow maybe probably kind of….zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…
So… apparently I really stink at estimating how long something will take me to do. Either that, or I’m horrible at recognizing my own limitations as far as energy and time (maybe both… probably both). Whatever the reason, I’m finding that my New Year’s resolutions are taking more time than I expected, which means I’m torn between what I should do and what I want to do.
That said, I’m very close to having a working office.
Now, before you get excited, let me clarify: my office is not close to being done. There’s a ton of moving, building, painting, sanding, staining, and cleaning before I get to that point. That said, however, I am close to having enough of it done that I can have a dedicated writing space.
In other words, I’m almost where I can clear off space on the desk for my laptop and have room to sit in front of it.
It sounds so much less impressive put that way. It’s true (how depressing is that?), but it really doesn’t reflect all the work that has gone into getting it that far. Moving furniture from room to room, juggling things around to get them out of the way until the furniture is in place, finding places for it afterwards – it’s not rocket science, but it does take a good amount of time.
Which leads me to the question: will I do what I should do or what I want to do?
What I Should Do
What I should do if I’m serious about completing my New Year’s resolutions is to continue to put off writing updates for Deathwalker and Wind Town until I get the office completely finished. I mean, if you look at it logically, that’s what makes the most sense, right? From a time management perspective?
If I focus on the office with what spare time I have, the office will be finished sooner. That’s pretty clear. Which should help me get back to a regular posting schedule (Oh, if only the world worked like it does in theory!)
What I Want to Do
What I want to do is try to update at least one of the novels this weekend. I think that’s why a lot of people read, and I don’t want to leave people hanging for any longer than necessary. (I’m assuming you don’t like being left hanging because I don’t. So if I’m wrong, let me know. I’ll stop worrying about it.)
On the other hand, I don’t want to start up again too soon and have to start skipping updates again. I feel like an extra week or two of the same break is better than constantly interrupting. Then, again, I don’t know. What do you think?
What I Will Do (Probably)
EM: [Wailing] I don’t know!
Sorry. (I’m such a drama queen!) Seriously, though, I’m going to try to do both. (Because I’m crazy. Duh!)
I’m going to work on the office, and if I feel like I make enough headway, I’m going to work on an update for the novels. That seems fair to me. Unless someone wants to suggest a better plan… anyone? Anyone at all?
No capitalized letters,
A missing comma or two,
Some missing periods or
(Let’s be real)
(Their “there” is “they’re.”),
Run-ons, fragments, and splices
A call to the red pen:
Let the writer beware.
Even one person
Liking your work,
Asking for more, or even
Talking about it
Is such a gift, a surprise,
Of surpassing sweetness that
Never quite fades away
Actually knowing versus
Thinking you know:
Have you seen proof,
Or did someone say so?
Will it hold up in court?
Will it hold up in life?
Can you afford to fight it
Even knowing you’re right?
And if you are right,
Will all lawyers agree?
Does “right” even matter?
What’s legality’s fee?