Clair de Lune

At night, I open the window
and ask the moon to come
and press its face against mine.
Breathe into me.
Close the language-door
and open the love-window.
The moon won't use the door,
only the window.
- Rumi   

Unrequited

Herself thoroughly dislikes romance novels, romantic comedy and romance-based drama movies, and works of similar ilk.  Reading about or watching missed connections, misunderstandings, and failed relationships is discomfiting at a visceral level for her.  While she will willingly listen to the heartaches of her friends and attempt to offer them solace, she always vigorously declines to subject herself to the lovelorn sorrows of fictitious individuals.

It is therefore incredibly odd that there appears to be a subplot centering on an unrequited love in the story she is writing.  Although the overarching themes and story line have yet to be determined, this particular element in the story revealed itself early on while Herself was working on developing the main characters.  It likely will not be remotely central to the finished story; yet it does remarkably exist.

If I flew away tonight
Would you search for me?
Or would you glance at my empty perch
And forget me even before you turned away?
Unencumbered, wherever I would fly,
I would be free to think of you in peace.
In silence, I would reflect on the color of your eyes
And yearn for the tender strength of your hands.

I will be interested to see how this element of the story completes itself.

Just an Ordinary Saturday

It's remarkable how the crunch of metal in a car accident echoes in one's head afterwards.  That is a terrible sound. I hope you are spared from ever hearing it.

Onwards, and upwards. Today's projects:  exercise, clean, write.  In that order.  And daydream of happy places.

Almost As Good

There are times when one longs for human company, but it is not to be had. In those moments, I recommend a good book for solace.  I have just finished the first Percy Jackson book.  It was quite a good read.  Perhaps this weekend I will read another.

Wish I'd Gone to the Grocery Store Instead of the Gas Station

Note from Herself:

Minor car accident.  No injuries, thank God.

It really does all happen in slow motion just like on television.

Feeling just a bit traumatized by the experience.  The blog may be a tiny bit quiet until I regain my equanimity.

This, too, shall pass.

National Novel Writing Month

It's NaNoWriMo!

Remember the story that Herself had begun a while ago?  She wrote two short scenes then -- approximately 400 words each -- and then stopped.  It seems, perhaps, that those pieces were crying out to be put into words, but that the full formation of the rest needed to brew slowly.  She has contemplated the story periodically since then, generating additional characters in her mind.  She has no distinct plot yet.  Still, with a bit of work yesterday, she now has just a hair over 1,700 words.  With the average novel being anywhere from 60,000 to 200,000 words (according to various searches in The Google), at this rate, it will take a mighty long time.  Nevertheless, the creative process is always a happy thing.

Character development is particularly tricky for Herself; she has rather a lot of difficulty putting herself into another's shoes, seeing through another's eyes.  She knows that the fictional individuals she creates will likely have qualities similar to those of actual people, for she can write best from what she has seen and felt, even if she adjusts, idealizes, or otherwise alters those experiences. She wonders whether people will see themselves in her book, or if they will erroneously attribute actions or motivations to her familiars by assuming that particular characters are modeled after certain real individuals. 

She will remind everyone:  it is fiction.  Those who know her well already know that her life is an open book.  This written story will be something else entirely.

Boo!

There were approximately 600 trick-or-treaters this year.  They came more gradually than last year, though, as we still had treats at 8:30 PM, in contrast to last year when everything was gone long before 8 o'clock.  There were many tiny pirates, the usual princesses, a few scary masks, and general good cheer all around.  Offspring the Second delighted in leaping out and frightening passers-by, and Offspring the Third was practically beside himself with excitement at the whole trick-or-treating bonanza. 

There was even a bit of pumpkin carving, too.  So impressed were they by the jack o'lanterns made by Offspring the Second and the Third and Cherished Friend, that Herself and her Beloved have already discussed decorating the yard for next year's Halloween with a great multitude of pumpkins. That will be excellent indeed. 

The most intricate, as well as carefully and patiently wrought, was the Star Wars Death Star.  Fabulous.