Bits and pieces…
The most curious thing has happened. For days I have been thinking of writing a post on grief, on the positives and negatives, as part of the Pillowbook of Prudence. I began it today and was three quarters of the way through and Word froze… I had to force quit and lost the whole thing. I sat and looked at the computer and decided that Fate was taking a hand, that I am not meant to write such a post. That last week when I wrote about Spot it was enough. That it is better to move on. Not with denial, but acceptance.
Suffice to say that we have bought eucalypts with pale spotted trunks to plant a grove over his grave, that the rosemary I planted is managing to put out new shoots even in frost and that my daughter is putting together a CD-Rom for me of Spot’s life.
So this week is shaping up vastly different to the last. This week I have talked to the cover designer of A Thousand Glass Flowers and I have to source a number of millefiori paperweights for her. I have one but she needs more.
We have talked about the kind of cover it might be. Dark, smacking of a fantasy but not like the standard fantasy novel. We talked about middle-eastern tiles and glass paperweights, of daggers and blood and then I left the creation to her. The image, font, the whole thing. All down to her. I’m being asked to do the odd interview on different blogs for August and to have a cover image would be wonderful. I can’t wait to see what happens.
Also this week we are supposed to be shearing but rain is spreading like a stain over the state, so its hardly likely. My cooking; orange cakes, brownies, sausage rolls, savoury muffins for morning and afternoon smokoes might be put on hold. Which gives me more time to write.
Which is good, because right now Ysabel is tearing down the stairs of a secret passage in a tower and Guy is right behind her. He watched her figure disappear around the curve of the tower, the sound of her soft boots slapping faintly. He could almost reach out …(Oops, no, wrong POV. It’s Ysabel’s mind we are in)… Guy’s steps were close behind, close enough to make her feel safe, close enough to throw her emotions into a tangle, close enough to trip her up but she paid no heed, intent on reaching that spyhole, intent o…
Sorry, must away… manuscript awaits.
And PS: for any of those who might be interested, on the day I lost Spot, I also lost my Gisborne images file. Fate again… curious.