My Writing Journal
My journal. Â Yes, it does exist, much as I some days wish it didn’t… mocking me with its presence, the guilt building the longer I put off writing. Â But I do write in it, eventually. Â Granted, the writing is often scraps, bits and pieces which may or may not ever actually end up on a story…
Sometimes they are just experiments, sketches, feeling out conversations and characters, motives and so on.
Sometimes it is just an exercise in doing. Â Write until the words begin to flow.
Sometimes I can barely bring myself to write more than a few words between two characters and then I switch projects entirely…
Tonight I will share with you an excerpt of one day’s entries – possible spoilers ahead for future scenes of Precipice, Black Fire, and Tem and John stories.
8-8-12
Ryan watched Tem roll out of the bed and disappear into the bathroom. Â He rolled onto his back as the shower started and threw one arm across his eyes.
I want more than this.
Tem looks at him for a long moment, a muscle twitches in his jaw and for a moment Ryan thinks he is going to speak but he turns without a word finally he just nods and shrugs into his jacket.
Evan pulls on his jacket, takes a step towards the door, stops and returns to the bed. Dropping to his knees he gropes blindly at the underside of the bed frame, finally pulling away a small package of paper and tape. He slips it into his pocket.
J – insurance cards isn’t enough to end our relationship
T – trust is
The words hang heavily between them. John searches for and discards one response after another. Tem, remaining at the tree, still doesn’t turn. With his right hand he touches each of the relics in turn, again and again, like a ritual, like a compulsion.
J – I shouldn’t have said that
T – it was the truth, his voice takes on a different cadence almost sing-songy – as if repeating the words of a teacher years in his past. “You should always tell the truth” then his voice drops, bitterness hardening the edges of his words, “The truth will set you free.”
J – It wasn’t the truth, it was anger and frustration. Â That isn’t truth.
T – Anger only frees the tongue to say what kindness usually keeps at bay.
