Onward

Okay, now let’s try. Since I sorta…tookthetimetoreadthedirectionsthistime…

Mirroring–ON!

:snerk:

Since I forgot to set it up before posting that last entry–NOW let’s see if the mirroring thing works.

I wonder how it’s supposed to work.

It isn’t really wasted, I know. The rent had to be paid. There were things we needed at Target. TGI Friday’s wasn’t really necessary, but we were hungry, and it was there. That’s cool.

I didn’t need any new clothes. But I didn’t buy anything I can’t wear for a long time, either. I bought such a pretty, pretty skirt, and several other things.

And now I’m home. We came home, I fell over. For almost two hours. It’s the damned heat, I’m telling you! 113 today, how the heck am I supposed to function when it’s 113?

Anyway. Nothing done on Taro again today. I’m stalled, thirteen pages from the end.

Grrr.

So after the worldbuilding insanity died down a bit, I realized I hadn’t done my writing exercise today. I’m trying to learn a bit when I have time to try new things, so it mattered. A lot.

I went to Holly Lisle’s site to see what she had to say about description, something I know I need help with.

Here’s “start with the biggest gun you’ve got,” using whatever jumped into my fingers from what has been milling around in my head all day.

*****

Disease or curse, his own sin or the Will of Lork, Nelit refused to just meekly die. He had left his family, abandoned his tribe, to find a way to live. Travelled months across the face of Tikrops searching for a way. Found companions and lost them, fought and fallen and got back up and simply refused to die. He was not giving up now.

Not even if ten not-human short little gold guys did want to put him in a box that hung from a rope and hoist him up a hundred feet to talk to their Master Artificer, a–man?–who had blown himself up in the pursuit of knowledge twelve times.

Or so his people boasted, anyway.

*****

Here’s my attempt at using action to convey setting.

*****

“Ah, but you have not seen,” Hafidr objected. The artificer snapped his fingers–Nelit noticed his right hand was a paler yellow than the rest of his golden skin–and pointed at a device. “This will show you.” He grabbed Nelit’s wrist and held the tribesman’s hand over the–spiked copper ball? Caught in a gentle vice, Nelit could only stare as the object flared with a red glow. “You see?” Hafidr asked as the thing let out a warning whistle and the fire on the hearth jumped and surged so wildly Nelit considered jumping out the window though they were six flights up in the cliff-face housing. “Flame responds.”

“Yes, I see!” To Nelit’s relief the Gnuj released his hand; he jerked away and the room settled.

The pale hand was not real, he realized as he rubbed his wrist. The inventor had a false hand. A miraculously life-like, extremely strong, incredibly dextrous false hand. Nelit could not believe Hafidr had made it; the master was too…scattered to have done such work. Perhaps the Gnuj were not all insane?

Just every single one he’d seen.

A mage with the skill to make that hand might be able to stop disease.

Like I don’t have enough I’m trying to do, now I’m going to be posting on both blogs for a bit…

Yeah, I know, no whining. Nobody likes a whiner.

Anywhoo, FYI, the import function doesn’t work very well. Or Blog-city’s export function doesn’t. SOMETHING is screwing me up, that’s for sure. That’s why so many of my posts are tagged “Broken.”

Just till I get around to fixing them. Hey, have YOU ever tried to move over a thousand posts? It’s not exactly easy to do!

Also, please note, things will be out of order till I get more on top of things!