things of writing

Had a writing date yesterday. I don't generally write at cafes on my own; for whatever reason, if I'm on my own and not at the dayjob, I'd just as soon write at home in pjs, with cats disposed about me. But meeting another person or couple of people at a cafe for a few hours time is generally very productive for me. First, you get to see some friends and talk a little, which generates some good energy; then, I find that the noise and activity of the cafe--but only when I'm not just me by myself, oddly--creates a nice tension against which I concentrate more fiercely. As if the friction of pulling against the distractions creates a more intense writing momentum.

One thing briefly discussed yesterday: what to do when you're not getting much action on any of the projects you have underway.

Freewrites are always good, of course, but last time this happened to me I wrote a few pieces of flash fiction and found that really helped. I even sold a couple of them. Something to keep in mind, next time that happens. It's such a weird feeling, not being able to get deeply into and moving on any of your fiction projects--kind of hollowing; glad it doesn't happen often. Do you know what I mean? Has it ever happened to you?

Anyway, the end of the first draft of Deep Terrain is getting closer. I offer a brief bit of wip in celebration of that:

“Echoes of your approach,” Citra said, “have been sounding for some time.”

Echoes. Thaniel sucked at the word like a lozenge. He had so many questions, but in the long haze of exhaustion was having trouble sifting them for the important ones.

Echoes, though. He thought of the great shells among the bones, the delayed, selective call and response of the chasm: the whole a honeycomb of connection. The thrum in the trees, in the rock roots of the isles--perhaps after so long here, Citra could read changes in its tone and vibration, as a musician read minute changes in pitch and tuning.