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Story-Scribbling Sunday – February 26, 2012

February 26, 2012

My daily wordcounts are slowly rising again. 800 words aren’t a lot, not even half of what you have to write each day for NaNo, but it’s the most I’ve written in a day.

I guess it was mostly because I finally wanted to get done with Julius’ POV. Which I am, now. I’ll visit Theresa again, make a bit of a connection to “Masks”, but hopefully, I won’t get stuck with her POV too long. I’ll probably have to go back to Julius for a scene or two, and then to Annabell – finally, I can pick that thread up again!

I try to use the time at work to think about “Goblins”, but I can’t stay focused on it. I think about everything else – other stories, especially “Larin and Liria” and “Wirü Timay’a”, blog posts I want to write (but am too tired to actually write when I come home), completely random things such as Tokrean milk prices, books I’m reading, have read or want to read, and sometimes I spend hours reciting every song and poem I can remember. Or daydreaming about running away…

The beginning of spring and reading Tolkien are both dangerous things to me, and both at the same time, that’s just foolish. Both of them make me wish I was crazy and irresponsible enough to just walk away from everything and travel, to see mountains and forests and send my boss a postcard from somewhere far away, saying, “Gone to travel the world, won’t come back to work.”

But of course, I’m too dutiful (and cowardly) for that, and so I only stared longingly at the snow melting on the hill across the road as I carried around boxes of lettuce seedlings and made up a story.

Thoughts of travelling, especially on foot, always make my mind jump to the wandering Kivailo storytellers of the middle ages (and by Nalannesashylaÿ, how I wish that were an acceptable career choice!), and so I spent a little while imagining I was a Kivailo woman who did just what I wished I could do, grab a few things and walk away and found a storyteller clan, and the rest of the day memorizing a sort-of almost-poem I’d made up. (I’m far too lazy to bother with rhyme and metre and make it an actual poem.) I’ve decided that there’ll be one story-teller clan that claims this was how it was founded, and if I’m ever very bored, I’ll translate it into Tosacy. (That, oddly, I’m not too lazy for!)

Looked at the hills in the morning sun,
Snow just melting, the trees still bare.
Saw the road up winding away.
Thought of the places it travelled to,
Hills upon hills and the mountains beyond,
Rivers and lakes, the sea far away,
So many places a traveller would see.

Weary from toil and bored by the town,
Far from her home, no friends yet near.
A husband her clan did choose for her,
No child yet born, no one she held dear,
No one she loved to hold her there.

Turned her back and walked away,
Left the work and packed her things.
No one missed her while she was near.
When they missed her, she was gone
Up the hill and hidden from them.

Saw the mountains and the leaping streams,
The Forest’s huge trees reaching high above
Dwarfing the woods she’d seen before.
Saw the hills rolling far below,
Saw the plains stretching far beyond.
Saw roads in the valleys but chose the paths,
Went to the villages, not the towns below.
Told a story and sang a song,
Earned a meal and a bed in the barn.
Hunted for supper and slept by the road,
Shared her fire and was paid with a song.
Heard a legend and passed it on,
Thought of a story and told it soon,
Dreamed at night and made it a tale,
Thanked the Great Dreamer every day.

Fell in love but did not stay long,
Birthed a child but still journeyed on.
Met a lost man and took him along,
Called herself widowed and married again.
Raised four more children, travellers all.
Some did sing and some did trade,
But travelled all and none did stay
In one place more than three days.
Some descendants travel still,
Live on the roads and sing her songs.

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4 Comments leave one →
  1. February 26, 2012 03:41

    “Gone to travel the world, won’t come back to work.” How many times have I wanted to do that very thing! Unfortunately, like you, I’m too responsible and too cowardly to just up and leave. But one day I’ll get there!

    • February 26, 2012 11:12

      It gets even worse when I remember I know/knew people who were brave enough to do things like that. My own father apparently hitchhiked to Turkey when he was sixteen.
      And the silly thing is that my parents never taught me to be afraid – but (especially as a girl) you can’t grow up without the notion that hitchhiking is dangerous!.

  2. March 1, 2012 22:55

    Let’s run away together! Your poem is pretty and makes me dream of traveling myself. At least I went to Budapest in January…

    Btw, sorry for not getting back on you with the whole meeting and writing thing. I got lazy, too lazy to write even! And now uni started again, so I’ll be busy.

  3. March 1, 2012 23:26

    Yeah, I’ll be pretty busy myself in the next couple of months. Still, I’ll try to keep writing at least a couple of words every day.
    Oddly, I didn’t feel like running away today, even though the weather was great – right now, I’d rather plant my garden!

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