I’ve been at home with a cold these three days, coming down with it at the end of a long day with the orchestra. On Wednesday I read four library books; yesterday I re-read one (The Castle Behind Thorns, Merrie Haskell, historical fantasy and quite good) and wrote 2,000 words in an article for Story Embers, which probably won’t get published for a long time. (It says on their site about three months after submission, which isn’t actually that long, but feels like that.) Today I polished it up and submitted it, and am trying to knock into shape the last segment of a short story that takes place after the end of The Two-Legged League, which I mean to submit to a contest, although the deadlines is the 31st. And it’s hard to type when you have small nosebleeds about once a paragraph. And it’s hard to go on making sense of a delicate balancing act between characters when your brain’s a bit fuzzy because of irregular sleep.
On the other hand, the birds are singing in the mornings now. The ground’s frosted early in the day, but slowly the water wakes up and starts running instead of sitting still, which naturally brings a lot of chaos if you’re near a river (we’re having so much flooding), but is still beautiful. The fields are striped three colours now: white, black, and yellow, because enough of the snow has melted you can see what’s left of last year’s stubble. And Of the North has woken up again (to be promptly sent back to bed when I got sick — but I’ll get back to it).
I have a guess as to why the story fell asleep last summer and why it’s waking up now instead of some other time. It gets into some scary personal things which would need more than half a blog post to get into, especially since I still have a lot to do before I give in and probably take another nap, but, anyway, there’s a hypothesis and I just have to trace it out to my other books and see if it fits.
Oh! And I’m doing April Camp NaNo. You can follow my rollercoaster progress here.