Quote of the Moment

"What's Past Is Prologue." - William Shakespeare

Friday, April 30, 2004

I know, I said the posts would grow exponentially, but I guess I was wrong. I've haven't been feeling to well all week, so the images have decided to hush up for a while. Although, thinking about it and trying to come up with at least one more character, I did have an idea. Another character will be almost the opposite of her (male character) - he lives in reality, and he can't accept anything within him. The emotions, the dreams (which of course she is the Shepherd of Dreams and therefore touches many people's minds - she will linger with this ones mind, for she wants to understand it more). I see him frequenting brothels and drinking without thought of consequences (which might also make his reality not as real as he thinks it is). Not a guy you want to be around. But he's starts to sense an intrusion on his sleep, and he's not sure what it is... Well, I know it's the Shepherd of Dreams. :)

Just thoughts and ideas. I intend to push myself this weekend with my novel. I can almost taste the end. If I pull off a lot tonight and tomorrow, I'd be so thrilled. I may not be able to do anything spiritual for Beltane, but if I can finish the rough draft then that will be a great thrill. Note: right now I have the drive and urge to do it, but things may be different once I get home from work. I always have the motivation at the most inopportune times!

Wednesday, April 21, 2004

I see a woman's hand reach out, covered in blood. Her own blood. I don't know if this is the Shepherd of Dreams, but it's somehow connected to her, to this story that wants to be unearthed.

I feel like I need to see so much more before I even know where to begin writing on this. Which is probably a good thing because I can't start writing on this for quite a while. Too many other things that need attention. *Tells herself to tackle one novel at a time* There has to be another main character in all this mess, along with the Shepherd of Dreams. Maybe another song will conjure further images. Who knows. My muse is as confusing as the Shepherd of Dreams at times.

*Grins* At least I'll never fear of running out of ideas.

Tuesday, April 20, 2004

She was a slave. Her mistress's husband was the father of her child. When they chose to sell her to someone else, they took the child from her, so the mistress could raise the baby girl as her own. In this society it is the daughter that carries the name and gains the land and property of her parents. It was the seperation from her child that struck her silent.

She has lived much of her life since then in Dreams. It has been sixteen years since she lost her daughter, yet she's aged only a few years, for when she is in the Dreams she doesn't age. Her talent manifested when she matured during adolescence, but the loss of her voice stengthened her connection to Dreams, allowing her to take a certain level of control. Her true speech, that of speaking to others' minds, also developed when she ceased using her tongue to communicate.

Is she still a slave? Physically, I'm not sure. Emotionally and mentally she still feels chained by the outer world, unable to steer herself in the direction she chooses. She has never had a choice.


Two posts in one day. Sheesh. Maybe I shouldn't quit my day job. This is when I have time to listen to music and form ideas.

Oh, I didn't mention last time. I finshed Part II of my rough draft this weekend. *Happy dances* Now, Part III, which shouldn't take me too long because I have a feeling it will be during the revising that it gets expanded into a goodly length. No more posts today, I swear.
She raises her staff, the shape of a shepherd's crook, and the wind picks up. It blows from behind, her hair lashing in her face and her wraps billowing around her. Darkness descends on the scene, so the vision of the plain disappears, but she can still be seen clearly. The smile has left her face.

Then an image forms of a child being ripped from the arms of its mother. This is her child. This is her Nightmare. She craves vengeance. Her power lies in Dreams, yet she has no power over Nightmares. If she could harness Nightmares, she could have her vengeance, for she is powerless in the real world. For all her strength of stature, she crumbles under the weight of reality.


Yes, I will continue adding my visions of this here, since I seem to see these things at work, and this is the most convenient way to write them down before they fly out of my head. This may just increase my posts, exponentially...

Thursday, April 15, 2004

Picked up some new music lately, and certain songs have a tendency to kindle images in my mind.

So, I'm listening while I'm at work and I see this woman in my mind. She's standing on a plain, almost bare of plants, except for a few dry looking bushes. Her shoulder-length hair blows in the wind, a light brown and layered. Bright feathers are tied into her hair. She holds a staff, and stands confidently. Her eyes are a piercing blue. She wears multiple colored fabrics wrapped around her body.

Awesome image, I'm all psyched. So then I obviously want to know more about her, who she is, what her name is. Well, she won't talk to me, to my chagrin. But she draws something in the dirt at her feet. Kind of the right half of a heart, and then a dot in between the two points. The name Shepherd of Dreams pops into my head. Okay, I'm getting somewhere. But I still want her to talk to me, to tell me her name, not just her title.

Then I realize she doesn't talk.

*Slams hand on forehead* Great. Now I have a character in my head who doesn't speak. I have a feeling she's telepathic, but she sure as hell doesn't want to connect to my mind. It'll come slowly, but I don't know if I'll be able to write a book (and this has novel, not short story, written all over it) with the main character (or one of the main characters) being mute.

I do know, I like her smile, even if she does it when I'm asking her questions, and she's not answering. Ach, back to work for now.

Wednesday, April 07, 2004

I know it's been a while since I posted, but I was in a slump. So, after allowing a short story out of my head, I'm for the most part all better. Accept for the fact that I'm so worn down from work (not to mention my internal clock is all wonky from Daylight Savings time). Deadline this Thursday - I have the minimum, but I wanted to get to the end of Part II in my novel so bad for this deadline. It's not that I don't want to write (I'm itching to get it out of me), it's just that my body wants to collapse after work and not move. I'll make sure I get some done tonight. I wish I could be as productive during the week as I am on the weekends.

Onto other things. I'm approaching the end of my rough draft! Eek! This is good and bad. Good because I'm so eager to get to the end. Bad because I've built up in my mind what I want the end to be like, and I fear I will fall far short of my ideal (even after revising). I'm just scared when I write it, it'll be horrible. Fortunately, that's not stopping me from getting to the end. *Crosses her fingers that she can finish the rough draft by the last deadline this term, and have the ending almost match what's in her head*

That's all for now. I don't wanna work (I'd rather go home and write). :p