Bryony Prequel, Section One: Nothing
Word Count: 0
Hopefully, this is something I can rectify starting tomorrow morning!
The challenges to attaining it: I have two editors going on vacation, so they need stories stockpiled, plus I have early deadlines with next week's Thanksgiving holiday.
The very good news: Our family will celebrate a formal Thanksgiving this Sunday and an informal one the following Saturday, so I will have a stretch of time when no one will want anything from me. I can see it now, a several day stretch of fiction and more fiction.
Please, God, no more emergencies.
"The Master-Player"
Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906)
An old, worn harp that had been played
Till all its strings were loose and frayed,
Joy, Hate, and Fear, each one essayed,
To play. But each in turn had found
No sweet responsiveness of sound.
Then Love the Master–Player came
With heaving breast and eyes aflame;
The Harp he took all undismayed,
Smote on its strings, still strange to song,
And brought forth music sweet and strong.
Word Count: 0
Hopefully, this is something I can rectify starting tomorrow morning!
The challenges to attaining it: I have two editors going on vacation, so they need stories stockpiled, plus I have early deadlines with next week's Thanksgiving holiday.
The very good news: Our family will celebrate a formal Thanksgiving this Sunday and an informal one the following Saturday, so I will have a stretch of time when no one will want anything from me. I can see it now, a several day stretch of fiction and more fiction.
Please, God, no more emergencies.
"The Master-Player"
Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906)
An old, worn harp that had been played
Till all its strings were loose and frayed,
Joy, Hate, and Fear, each one essayed,
To play. But each in turn had found
No sweet responsiveness of sound.
Then Love the Master–Player came
With heaving breast and eyes aflame;
The Harp he took all undismayed,
Smote on its strings, still strange to song,
And brought forth music sweet and strong.
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