This is true mostly because I find that I can only write well when I'm in a kind of... sleepy trance. My brain sort of shuts off and the words just flow out. It's the difference between thinking of where the letters are when you're typing, and letting your fingers remember. Overall it might not be correct to let your fingers remember, but if you mess up you can go back later and fix it. That is why I have to stay up late in order to get any good writing done; or I can just get a ton of ideas and not write so that they build up and build up and build up until finally they just spill out in an overflowing fount of words, endless, beautiful words.
I promised another sneak peak of my latest story today, the one about What Gruman, and I will deliver. I've been working very hard on it, and it's almost completely on the laptop now, which means that the time for mindless translation is almost over, and I'll have to actually be able to think in order to write. But for now, I've spent the last couple of hours just typing away, and I am satisfied with the results. I'm very glad that I have a head start on this book, because it's a little bit of a vacation.
But I feel like I'm just repeating myself. So, I'm going to go ahead and let you meet Jack and the Grape Vine, and we'll see what we see. If you had any feedback for me, I would be happy to here it. Here is the scene where they just met Jack Mann.
"“Princess What Gruman, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you. Now, let’s skip the pleasantries and go right to business; what can I do for you?” Jack had an open, honest (if somewhat plain) face, and it looked trustworthy enough.
“Bad Ass says that if anyone can
help me you can.” Jack smiled just a little bit and leaned forward a tiny bit
in his chair, his attention focused on her. “I need to know how to find a
particular crone. I don’t have the faintest idea where she’s at.”
Jack nodded as if this had been
expected. Had it? “And what if I do this?” He didn’t seem greedy, just curious.
“You can come with us.” What stopped
dead and wished that she could suck those words back in like a vaccum. Since
she couldn’t, she didn’t bother trying. Jack, who she would have thought would
refuse at once (he didn’t look like the adventuring type) appeared to be considering
the offer quite seriously. Well, she
thought to herself, if this is what it
takes I’ll do it.
Jack was speaking, half to her and
half to himself. “I can come with you, hmm? Well now… It has been quite a while
since I’ve left the clearing.” He looked up into her eyes and smiled his bland
smile. “All right, it’s a deal. Now, let’s go get you some information, shall
we? We need to hurry before it gets too dark out.”
…
There was a thin, overgrown path
hidden behind the cabin. The two of them marched along it, Jack leading the
way. They were both holding lamps, though they weren’t lit yet. They still had
half of an hour before the sun set, and then another fifteen minutes until it
became truly dark outside. Despite the fact that the day was getting on, it was
still hot out here, and What tried talking to Jack in order to ignore the sweat
trickling down her back in nasty little rivulets.
She told him about the curse, about
the dream, everything that she knew about the crone- which wasn’t much, but it
would have to be enough. Jack had listened silently, and when she was all done
speaking and her story had run out he had simply nodded and said “I’ll do what
I can.”
What’s legs were beginning to really
ache when she finally asked “Where are we going? Are we nearly there, at
least?”
Jack smiled at that, and pointed
ahead; “See for yourself, we’re here now.”
What had been a bit distracted by
the smile, which hadn’t been bland, for once. “What’s that?” She looked around
hastily.
They were at the mouth of a
miniature clearing, and inside of the clearing was the biggest grapevine that
What had ever seen. The grapes on the clusters were as big as a man’s hand, and
the vine stretched far up into the sky until it simply vanished from sight.
“Whoa.”
Jack smiled again, looking pleased
at her reaction. She guessed that he didn’t have much opportunity or reason to
show this off as much as he would like to. “Thank you. I raised it from a tiny
seed. Now, wait right where you are and try not to make any noises or sudden
moves. That would break my concentration and then we would have to start over.
We need to get this done before it gets too dark out.” After Princess What
nodded her consent he walked forward into the clearing and placed his hands on
the (for lack of a better word) Trunk of the vine. What stood as still as she
could, watching with interest. How could a plant fix her problem?
Jack began to speak, muttering words
that What couldn’t quite hear. He kept muttering for minutes, and it began to
grow gradually soothing, like a lullaby; What felt herself drifting off into a
trance as his voice hummed on and on.
And then there was a rustling. It
began at the top of the vine; a whispering that descended down along the vine,
rustling the leaves as it passed. Down, down, down it came, until it surrounded
Jack. It tugged at his clothes playfully, and whipped his hair into a frenzy. A
few stray stands of wind teased What and cooled her. They whispered words in
her ears that What couldn’t quite understand.
And then, all at once, the wind and
the voices were gone.
Jack finally moved from his stance,
lowering his hands slowly. He took one long breath and let it out, and with
that his shoulders drooped in exhaustion. When he finally turned he looked pale
and wan, but there was a kind of happy exultation behind that.
“What
was that?” the princess whispered, and her voice was full of awe.
Jack gave her a grin and laughed. “I
was listening to the grapevine. How did you think I knew you were coming?”"
There it is, folks. I hope that you enjoyed it. This is going to be a very punny book, but also rather serious. Is that possible? Well... It is now.
Okay, well that's all I've got for you today. :) Thanks for reading (and for following me), good night, sweet dreams, and read always. I love you all.
-Eva Gould, Author
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