July Fourth, Chess Club Style

Well then. It’s July 4th, which means, of course, Independence Day!

*cue fireworks*

(Sorry, non-Americans who don’t get fireworks and ice cream… but I hope you have a lovely day all the same! ;))

Maybe think about celebrating Independence Day not just with fireworks and barbeque, but perhaps even reading the actual texts of the Declaration of Independence and the American Constitution and Bill of Rights…! Novel thoughts, I know…

I also wish I was watching Beyond the Mask again… That movie was SO good! *flail*

Today I can’t help but post a snippet from The Owl of Kedran’s Wood, the first book in my Kedran’s Wood series, because the Chess Club celebrated the 4th of July in the story. …And I just realized it’s the only holiday I’ve ever written about. Weird.

Here we go!

KWcover
The week passed with surprising quietness as far as anything having to do with Tare and the Wildlings went, but was anything but quiet besides that. The Fourth of July arrived with a literal bang as the Chess Club celebrated Independence Day along with their families and the rest of the town.

A very overrated parade wound its brightly colored and blaring but cheerful way through town. It was really much too hot to sit around and watch it, but everyone did anyway, even though the line of vehicles, people, and occasional horses seemed to last all day.

Most of the Chess Club members had dared each other to enter the parade itself, but despite that, no one had ended up doing it.

Ice cream flowed rather more freely than the local river did, and the tantalizing aroma and sizzle of grilling hamburgers filled many back yards, parties flourishing everywhere.
The Chess Club also took the opportunity of an impromptu party of their own at Ivy’s house to finish off the famed disaster cake of the Epic Cake-Bakers, and consumed more of what Ivy claimed was the best lemonade to be found for miles.

The snap and bang of firecrackers filled the air sporadically all day long, and toward evening everyone gathered to watch the firework display from the grandstands of the local football field. The deafening noise, general hum of happiness and excitement from the crowd, and the smell of leftover smoke filled the air, while the brilliant and beautiful fireworks themselves lit the sky in dazzling flashes of colored light.

“They’re not nearly as good as Gandalf’s fireworks,” Baz complained. But he had to admit they were okay nonetheless, and that it was still fun.

“I’m trying to imagine Tare having fun,” Lavender remarked over the noise. She giggled. “It’s not working.”

“I should think not,” Baz said with a laugh.

Adrian put in dryly, “I bet he doesn’t understand people who have a good time listening to explosions.”

“Poor Tare,” Ivy said, also laughing. “He’s probably sitting at home reading or something, and subconsciously grabbing his guns whenever there’s a bang, thinking he’s under attack.”

After the public firework display, groups split off and headed variously home to wrap up the night with fireworks of their own, or in some cases watching neighbors or friends setting them off, and ate still more ice cream, getting very sticky in the dark because they couldn’t see the mess they were causing.

And when all was over, everyone finally went to bed far later than was good for them, and didn’t care a bit.

***

Happy Independence Day!

And here, have some gorgeous soundtrack music because I’m thinking of it. (Don’t let Mel Gibson running at the screen with a flag scare you. It’s just music with a picture in the background. XD)

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Where Are the Words

horse and the rider

“Where is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? They have passed like rain on the mountain, like wind in the meadow. The days have gone down in the West, behind the hills into shadow. How did it come to this?”

I haven’t written in 2 months.

Oh, sure, I’ve written oodles of snippets (for several different things, including my Kedran’s Wood books and lots for The Other Half of Everything), and done lots of plotting, and editing, and blog posts, and emails, and letters, and to-do-lists, and… you get the idea.

But 2 months ago was the last time I continued on a story of mine. Right now I’m staring at where my current works-in-progress break off and — there’s nothing.

It’s true I was taking off from writing on purpose, somewhat, to finish some projects, and it’s true I enjoyed the break, somewhat.

But there aren’t any words.

Sometimes I wonder if there will be any more, or if I’ve forgotten how to write — really write.

But I suppose that’s part of what I want anyway: To rediscover writing. If I can. We can hope…

Or… Not exactly writing. But storytelling.

What about you? Do you consider what I just mentioned to be “writing” or do you only count actual-manuscript-words-in-a-linear-fashion as real writing?

Do you have those moments when you don’t know how to start writing that next part of your story — not because you don’t know what to write, but because you don’t know how?

Do you ever have those moments where you just don’t have any words?

How do you deal with it?

writing gandalf

I don’t know, Gandalf, I really don’t.

#75thPost