It took me a while to get back in the saddle today (doesn't it always?) but I have now managed to add another 1000 words to Hallsfoot's Battle, which brings me to just over 71,000 words in total. The mind-executioner's telling of the Third Gathandrian Legend has just ended and now Simon is going to be faced with a real challenge. Which I'll leave hanging nicely in the air (aha! cue evil authorial laughter ...) while I get back to what Ralph is up to in the Lammas Lands and what Annyeke and Johan are up to back in the mother country. Not to mention the elders and the snow-raven. Always leave the reader wanting to know the rest - that's the plan anyway ...
I've also had the great news that the lovely Charles at Ink Sweat and Tears Magazine has accepted my haibun, The secret smell of lemons, for publication and it should appear on the webzine over the next month or so. So thanks for that, Charles - much appreciated. Haibuns (in case you're confused) are a combination of poetic prose and haikus, and I don't do many but they're very enjoyable when I do - it seems to be a chance to go deeper into what I'm attempting to describe and to play about with things more. Quite a challenge really.
Here's this morning's meditation poem:
Meditation 35
The desert sends dryness
on your tongue,
all the bitter aching sun of it.
You can never go home,
sure in the knowledge
that too much gift
is worse than no gift.
You search and search.
Find only
rock and sand
and loneliness.
This afternoon, I've bravely tackled the arid plains of Waitrose in an attempt to stock up for New Year. Not that we need to stock up much as there are only two of us and we don't go out and party, but we'd run out of fruit, and no-one can live on mince pies alone. Not even Lord H. So I feel fulfilled in a housewifely way in that we are at least likely to survive the next week or so. Even if we have to live purely on bananas.
I've just finished Reginald Hill's latest Dalziel and Pascoe novel, A Cure for All Diseases. Oh dear, oh dear. Here's my review which also appears on Amazon:
"I'm usually a great fan of the Dalziel and Pascoe novels, but this is one of the poorer ones. Frankly the first 200 or so pages are not worth reading and are very dull. It's only on Page 205 (in my paperback edition) when the murder finally happens that the novel actually commences. If I were you, I'd start there and you've lost nothing. I can also recommend skipping entirely any of Charley's boring and long-winded emails - they're not worth the read either. Other than that, the rest of it is fine. Though there are far, far too many exclamation marks scattered throughout the book, which gives an unfortunately amateur feel. The one really good thing is at least we do get a lot of the marvellous Franny Root - he's fabulous and holds the book together. More power to his elbow, as that's a hard task indeed. One for the committed fans only, and let's hope Hill is back on form with the next one."
Tonight, I shall be flicking through the Radio Times to see if there's anything on TV after the extravaganza of New Year - I need more plot inspiration and where better to get that from than the telly? So if Simon or the mind-executioner suddenly start burying someone under the patio or walk out of their own weddings in a huff, you'll know what to blame ...
Today's nice things:
1. Getting back to Hallsfoot
2. Having a haibun accepted
3. Poetry
4. The Radio Times.
Anne Brooke
Anne's website - hoping for a feast of TV
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