Writing itself is going pretty slowly, I'm sad to say, and I'm looking for a voice-finding breakthrough to strike me this weekend. When I was drafting One, Merrin's voice just flowed, and this one....? I know it's in there somewhere, I just have to figure out how to get it from my brain into my heart, you know? My CPs have had some suggestions, and I'd love to hear yours- at this point, I'll try anything.
Anyway, that's the update. Without further ado...
Everything I was obsessed with this week.
Because I know you want to know.
1. Spoken Poet Ryan Grist on a Girl Who Reads. (Warning: Begins and ends with a couple of slightly objectionable words for body parts. WORTH IT.)
I don't normally go for spoken word poetry, but this is AMAZING. Might make me reconsider. I know it's annoying when people say "just watch the video," but...just watch it. (I've hit "replay" at least 30 times this week.) Yum.
2. Joshua Radin's No Envy, No Fear. Just another calming song for another tumultuous week. Plus, I like the idea - "No envy, no fear." A good goal for a writer, even if I'm far, far from it.
3. Fountain Soda.
Oh, fountain soda. Pop from a can is one thing, but there's something about the way the fizzies diminish in just the right way and the ice so perfectly chills it that makes me OBSESSED with fountain soda. I don't know if it's a blame-the-fetus thing, but I'm craving it even more now. Especially the ice. Lots and lots of ice.
And now a bit from the WiP. You might be able to tell what a struggle it's been...*shrugs.* I think I'm going to try some writing exercises this weekend (guh. I've never needed exercises) to get the juices flowing.
In the meantime, meet Princess Laila. She's Havah's big sister, and they're getting ready to walk the carpet into a club for Laila's eighteenth birthday extravaganza.
“Besides,” Laila said, “With as often as you sneak away, you should be wearing an EMP too.”
Havah snapped her head around to look out the window again before Laila could see the flood of red to her cheeks.
“Who are you seeing, anyway, when your bionguards lose you? What are you doing?”
Havah was quiet.
“It had better not be a boy. Mother would kill you.”
“What does Mother care about me and parties? Or boys, for that matter? If there were any. And what do you care? We all know you’re the one everyone’s watching.”
“Havah,” Laila’s voice became softer. “I may be the next Queen, but I’ll always need you.”
Havah turned back, blush gone, and smiled. She leaned in, reaching for Laila’s hand and threading their fingers together. “I know.” Then she wiggled her eyebrows, darted her face toward Laila’s, and smacked a big wet kiss on her cheek.
“Havah!” Laila screeched. She moved to swipe at her cheek but stopped her hand at the last moment, patting gently at it instead. “My paint!” She glared at Havah but didn’t pull her hand away.
Havah giggled. “You’re lovely, Lai. Paint or not, and you know it.”
Laila glared. “Princess Laila once we’re outside. Princess Havah.”“Of course, LaiLai. Will you calm down? Let’s just have fun. Okay? Party time, birthday girl.”