wyld_dandelyon: (Creative Joyous Cat)
First Snow

A glowing egg cracks in the sun
A new dragon’s life, just begun
Eyes unfocused, she looks around
What’s this white stuff on the ground?
And on her feathers, wings and tail
Oh, but she’s hungry; she starts to wail!





Her mother brings a nice hot steak
Hot chocolate thick as a milkshake
A wooly coat to lie upon
Next to her sis who hatched at dawn
More food, more chocolate, more love for all
But especially for these two dragons small.





The bigger hatchlings jump and play
It doesn’t just snow any day!
And full-grown dragons dance in the air
Or hunt and gather everywhere
Mistletoe smiles, and piles and sifts
Happy it’s time to plan some gifts.



wyld_dandelyon: (cat is ready)
A couple of days ago, I was going to post one of my monster sketches from last weekend, but Live Journal wouldn't let me post. Hopefully that won't be a problem tonight, be cause Elizabeth wrote a poem about the creature in one of my sketches!

So, here is the current sketch of the Unicorn Jelly:
unicornjelly

And here is the link to the poem:  http://ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com/2836864.html

Finally, we would welcome some new prompts, whether related to Sea Monsters or not.  Of course, you're welcome to come peek in on us as we create or even join us.  http://torn-world.livejournal.com/151363.html
wyld_dandelyon: (nanoing nanoing)
Imagination:
Dreaming some new bit of art

Skill: Making it well

pastel planet
wyld_dandelyon: (cat is ready)
The other day I followed someone's squib on facebook to a set of pictures. They had some comment about the power of nature or somesuch, but I was struck by the beauty in the pictures. I thought, I should set a story or two in places like this. Then I wrote a poem. A day later I tweaked it a bit and sent it out into the world.

And it was accepted!

The preliminary word is that it will appear in Everyday Poets sometime in June.

Sometimes things just work
The inspiration is clear
And the story flows


I've been doing this writing thing long enough now to know that the words that flow like a gift or a blessing aren't magic. They always follow on times when I worked and worked on my craft, pushing past my limits, often without a particularly good result. If they are a gift, they are a gift I gave myself, a reward for persevering when the going gets rough, proof that I've learned something I didn't know before and am ready to move on to something harder.

I don't know what "harder thing" is next yet, though...
wyld_dandelyon: (Default)
[Poll #1894820]

Oh, hey, I bet [livejournal.com profile] ysabetwordsmith's poetry fishbowl is open.  Let's go see!

Yes,  here it is:  http://ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com/2702408.html

Poetry!

Oct. 19th, 2012 10:09 pm
wyld_dandelyon: (full moon in the Mulberrry Tree)
A friend of mine wrote a Samhain poem that I really like. It's over here:

http://animaltofriends.livejournal.com/6998.html

wyld_dandelyon: (a wizard writing)
The Hues of His Days
a Torn World poem
by Deirdre M. Murphy


Deep blue skies, delicate green seedlings
Crops pushing upward through brown dirt
Tended by golden bees and orange butterflies

Rijorl remembers tendays rowing
Between endless grey skies and gray water
The intense dark of night was a relief
The silvery flash of a serpent-monster
Was more color than they prayed for then

The fields around him now
Offer a wealth of colors
Compared to the sea

Rijorl composes verse for the sky blue snakes
For squatty geese with their clash-colored feathers
Bold bright songbirds and dazzling lizards
He sings for the flowers that hid his scant hair
During the birds’—and humans’—nesting season

After the rainbow rainforest
The Empire’s verdant fields
Seem very nearly monochrome

If you enjoyed this, please consider voting for us at Top WebFiction.


wyld_dandelyon: (a wizard writing)
That's what stories are, right? Shared hallucinations?

If you do them right, anyway, you suck the reader in so for a while, the protagonists problems loom larger in the reader's mind than their own, and the beautiful forest or dreary dungeon or wherever that the story is set is more real than the kitchen or bedroom or "throne room" that the reader is actually sitting in.

All the techniques of writing--point of view, plot, characterization, even grammar--all of that is just the foundation--the scales and vocal warmups, the finger exercises, if you will.

What matters to the reader is being sucked into the hallucination. They only care about the grammar or point of view if it jars them out of the illusion of being there.

So here's to creating the best possible hallucinations out of imagination and pixels!

H is also for Haiku, and it is poetry month, after all:

The blank screen awaits
I could write anything here
But first, I must start
wyld_dandelyon: (Default)
I got all done with my C post for the A-Z blog challenge, and then I remembered I'd promised to post the words to my Coyote song here. So, two posts, one on DreamWidth, and one over at http://wyld-dandelyon.livejournal.com/200823.html.

Besides, songs are poetry, and April is Poetry Month!!!

Coyote Afoot
By Deirdre M. Murphy

Am C Am
My kitchen draped in plastic, the food hidden away,
Dm7 FM7 Dm7
A dozen pots of dyes in a rainbow were arrayed,
Em Am
In folds, knots, and spirals white t-shirts all were laid,
Em Am Dm7 Am (or C before choruses)
I’d been at work for hours, and my nerves were quite frayed.

Then, from up near the ceiling, a white-clad man splashed down
And landed in my dyes—a clumsy red-haired clown—
He admired his new-dyed suit, ignoring my fierce frown,
And with a tie-dyed grin said, “Let’s go paint the town!”

Em F
I demanded, “Who are you, and how’d you get in here?”
Em F
That cocky lad just grinned a smile from ear to ear,
G Am
Said, “Call me Coyote. My dear, you need not fear—“
Dm7 C
My look must have made my disbelief quite clear
 
Em F Dm7
He stood and looked me in the eyes, and said,
Dm Dm7 Dm
“You sing, ‘The Gods are Alive and Magick is Afoot”
Bm F
Then why so much surprise  when I appeared before your eyes
Em
And tripped through your dyes—
Dm Em
Did you think your Gods would meekly stay put?
 
Then the young man shifted to dispel any doubt
To a four-footed form; he tossed my dyes about
And the clothes were all spattered with bright-colored rain
Then suddenly my guest wore human form again

The Gods are alive, and Coyote’s underfoot
And his feet are full of dye and his eyes are black as soot
And the shirts are all dyed now, though how well I cannot guess
And he asked me out again, and I heard myself say, “yes”.

The evening was amazing, Coyote sure can dance
Whenever I felt tired, he revived me with a glance
When I went to rinse the new-dyed t-shirts (the next day)
They were marked with the bright prints of a coyote pair at play
 
Coyote is alive, and magick is afoot
And he sure isn’t tame, and he will not stay put
I didn’t believe he could just show up one day
And I don’t know if I hope he’ll go—or hope he’ll stay.

Copyright © 2001 (2/12/01) by Deirdre M. Murphy, all rights reserved
.
wyld_dandelyon: (joyouscat by Djinni)
When I was a kid, I found people frustrating. They were all so different, and so unpredictable. I liked working with things--scissors, paper, pens, pencils, paints, needle and thread, and so on. With things, getting the results I wanted might be possible or impossible, but the reason was simple--either I hadn't figured out how to make it work or those materials just wouldn't do what I wanted to do.

People, on the other hand--people could do just about anything for just about any reason!

I was really rather astonished when I realized that was exactly the reason that I loved anthropology classes in college--people do the most amazing things, and one person's reason for doing a thing is often quite different from another person's reason for doing the same thing. Once you get past the basic universal needs (things like food, clothing, shelter, companionship, love, and respect), people are much more different than I imagined when I was little.

That's what makes them interesting, and that is why I think characters are the center of every story.

What makes a "strong character"? In my opinion, it's showing enough of the universals that many readers can empathize with that character while also showing the important things that make that person unique.

One of the ways I celebrate the fascinating and delightful (and sometimes - still - frustrating) diversity I see in the people of this world is to write about a variety of characters in my fiction.

I love comments so I'll leave you with a question: What are some of your favorite examples of diversity in my fiction and in the works of other writers?

P.S. C is also for counting and making sure you're counted. I was voter #77 in my ward and #101 in our 2-ward polling place.

P.P.S. [livejournal.com profile] ysabetwordsmith, who created some of my favorite characters, has not yet closed her Poetry Fishbowl. You could stop by and leave her some prompts, if you hurry: http://ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com/2253447.html  Go ahead and hop over.  You can visit her and then come back here to share your favorite characters with me later.  I'll wait.
wyld_dandelyon: (sketch with autoharp)
April is poetry month, which I'd like to celebrate by writing some poetry.

There's also a group of people planning to blog every day (well, almost) in April:

In case the fancy linky-thing is disabled here, here's a link to more information about the challenge: http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/p/2012-to-z-challenge-sign-up-list.html

I'm planning to join in, and I hope that's not too ambitious a plan.

So, since I might blog about anything this month, you're welcome to ask questions or suggest alphabet words for me to use.

(Already this challenge is being challenging--the things that come to mind to blog about don't start with A--bed, bath, and blarney, for instance...hmm...perhaps it should be A for Autoharp. We'll see if anything more specific comes to mind while I get wet.)
wyld_dandelyon: (a wizard writing)
I opened the Muse Fusion last night, did some writing, slept a Loooooong Time (which felt wonderful) and did some more writing.

Here's the snippets I've posted so far:


Ripples

The tall, handsome man in the dress smiled at Othan and then walked on, talking with the small Asataarla woman.

The boy turned to watch him walk. The silk was beautiful, and rippled with the man’s long stride. Othan watched as the two turned into an expensive restaurant. After an obvious double-take, the greeter led them to a table with obvious respect.

Othan dug into his pocket to count his cash. Three basic tokens and one precious coin. Not enough for a dress, even in the second-hand store. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it, the pale dress against the man’s very dark skin. He couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to have silk legs swishing around his legs like that—though his skin color, with its olive tones, would go better with a different color.

He put his tokens back in his pocket and headed in to the store, not really sure what he would do there, but the lure of the dresses had caught him, and he couldn’t resist.
...



Young Love

The young couple got off of the train, two tall, thin forms with carrot-bright hair, slender fingers twined together. The contrast of the Mayaloi-dark skin of the woman and the Irfai-pale skin of the other was striking. They looked around with wide eyes, and Jakei couldn’t tell if they were pulling together out of nervousness or love. She smiled, and thought, probably both.

“I didn’t think Mayaloi came with red hair.” Murruni murmured.

“They don’t. She must have other blood, unless that’s a dye job.”

“Can they get that color with dye?

Jakei shrugged, and tossed her long, golden hair, letting the metallic painted highlights flash in the moonlight. “Beats me. My hairdresser might know.” The Mayaloi woman’s eyes were drawn to the bright peacock-feather patterns painted in Jakei’s hair, and she leaned to her companion, whispering into her companion’s ear.

Beside Jakei, Murruni ran his hand over his bald, tattooed head, stretching to let his gently-sculpted muscles ripple. Like Jakei, he was painted, but his metallic paints were applied to his body, accenting the tattoos that scrolled around his body. “Care for a wager?”

“You really think they’ll have eyes for anyone but each other?”

“They’ll be disappointed if we don’t at least try.”

Smiling, they stepped forward to greet the young lovers. “Welcome to Affanumuur.”
...



Bead by Trelgon

They returned to the summer gather late; the sun was low over the hills and everyone was asleep. Dulsa and Trelgon quickly unloaded the baskets of fish from Fidget, then started draping them over the waiting poles in the smokehouse. Dulsa yawned hugely and repeatedly until Trelgon laughed. “You’re really tired,” he said. “Go on to bed. I’ll see you later.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Dulsa’s hand went to the carved fish in the center of her necklace. She felt very self-conscious about it—they’d been adults only a few months, and she hadn’t had very many beads there yet, but also she knew her younger sister, Freijali, had a crush on Trelgon. How would Freijali take seeing a bead carved in Trelgon’s distinctive style on her sister’s neck?

It was only a month—there was no serious romance between her and Telgon—but a month could seem like forever when you were almost adult and couldn’t court the object of your attraction yourself. Dulsa reached the large tent she shared with her age-set and her sister’s, still yawning. What was wrong with her? The day hadn’t been that strenuous!

She looked around and, to her relief, didn’t see Freijali. The house looked different too. It took Dulsa a minute to realize why—most of the people in the house were sleeping tandem. As she walked over to where her own furs were rolled, one of the few singletons rolled over, looked up, and hastily stood. It was Reivani. “Dulsa—you missed it!” His eyes were shining, though his voice was low.

“Missed what?”

“Our final test—and we passed!” Reivani stepped closer in the dimness of the tent, and he raised one hand toward her, cupped upward. “Would you—” his eyes dropped to her neck, and he stopped. “Oh. Um.”
...


I've got 1100 words into Bead By Trelgon so far. It's at a point where I could call it good or I could call it the end of the first act.  So sponsoring it will get the unapproved draft posted immediately.  The others aren't as close to finished, but I'll give priority to working on whatever gets sponsored first!

Want to read more? I'll work on whichever fragment(s) you tip me to work on, at a rate of at least 90 words per dollar or 1000 per $10 (by which I mean I reserve the right to write more than you pay for). You can tip me in Torn World Credits or use my tip hat at www.wyld-dandelyon.com. Just be sure to let me know which piece you're paying for.ring

I'll be posting more snippets this weekend, over at [livejournal.com profile] torn_world in the Muse Fusion post.  Sometime tomorrow or next week I'll also be sending private copies of each entire work in progress (as far as I've gotten, anyway) to the people who prompted them.  More prompts would be very welcome, and would get you a peek at the rough draft of anything your prompt inspires! 

I hope to see you there!

Now I'm off to write some more.
wyld_dandelyon: (Default)
You can read the prompts so far, and leave prompts on the theme of wildlife here:

And here are a couple of the poems she's written so far today:

The Death Tenders

Impressions of the North (A Torn World poem)

Ysabet also has an epic poem, and a new verse is revealed every time someone links to her fishbowl or poems.  The linkback post is here.


wyld_dandelyon: (a wizard writing)
Ysabet is taking prompts again, and writing poetry all day: http://ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com/2034492.html

If you like food or poetry, you should stop by and leave a prompt, or at least check out her journal as the day progresses and read the free poem (which is about chocolate) and any other poems that are sponsored. Please note--if she gets at least one new prompter, there will be a second free poem, in addition to the ones that are sponsored.
wyld_dandelyon: (a wizard writing)
Ysabet is taking prompts again, and writing poetry all day: http://ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com/2034492.html

If you like food or poetry, you should stop by and leave a prompt, or at least check out her journal as the day progresses and read the free poem (which is about chocolate) and any other poems that are sponsored. Please note--if she gets at least one new prompter, there will be a second free poem, in addition to the ones that are sponsored.
wyld_dandelyon: (joyous icon with black border)
[livejournal.com profile] siege has a cool poem here: http://siege.livejournal.com/720234.html  I've had it open in my browser because it's just so cool, but really, browser windows aren't meant to be open forever.  

And, of course, [livejournal.com profile] ysabetwordsmith has new poetry from this month's fishbowl:  http://ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com/1942220.html  She wrote 23 poems during the fishbowl this month, and many have been published by her fans in her journal.  Go check out a few.  She also has a poll you can vote in, if you're so inclined, though that's a separate post.

And finally, [livejournal.com profile] haikujaguar has invited artists willing to do work for hire for writers and publishers to post links:  http://haikujaguar.livejournal.com/999976.html  I spent way too much of my writing time checking out artists last night.  Most of these artists also offered to do commissions for people who aren't looking for cover or interior art for their books. 

(The conspiracy to promote multiple open browser windows continues...)

wyld_dandelyon: (joyous icon with black border)
[livejournal.com profile] siege has a cool poem here: http://siege.livejournal.com/720234.html  I've had it open in my browser because it's just so cool, but really, browser windows aren't meant to be open forever.  

And, of course, [livejournal.com profile] ysabetwordsmith has new poetry from this month's fishbowl:  http://ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com/1942220.html  She wrote 23 poems during the fishbowl this month, and many have been published by her fans in her journal.  Go check out a few.  She also has a poll you can vote in, if you're so inclined, though that's a separate post.

And finally, [livejournal.com profile] haikujaguar has invited artists willing to do work for hire for writers and publishers to post links:  http://haikujaguar.livejournal.com/999976.html  I spent way too much of my writing time checking out artists last night.  Most of these artists also offered to do commissions for people who aren't looking for cover or interior art for their books. 

(The conspiracy to promote multiple open browser windows continues...)

wyld_dandelyon: (sleeping dragon by Djinni)
I've been writing in between necessary tasks around the house, but the stories I'm working on are resisting quick completion.  Sometimes that's a good sign, that I'm writing something at the edges of my skills, or that needs deep thought.  This weekend, I think it's just a sign that I'm distracted by mundane stuff like having a half-painted porch and weeds the City demands I mow down (and rain, which makes mowing with an electric lawn mower problematic).

But I do have something to share.  This is from a photo prompt by [livejournal.com profile] red_trilliumhttp://outdoors.webshots.com/photo/2016062480012303101Wocvlk

An Irfai Lullabye
a Torn World poem by Deirdre M. Murphy

The heroes in the Irfai songs
Sailed in boats with monster heads
Guarding to the front and rear
Like our infant sailor-beds

Each tiny cradle, built so tight
That it can float, and lull the child
While Momma works and catches food
And Poppa hunts the monsters wild

Sleep little babe, upon the waves
And dream of Death, Snagtooth and Whale
Dying on your brave harpoon
Someday the bards will sing your tale



Historical note: The Irfai tales are often exaggerated; the tales talk of tall ships with extravagantly-carved figureheads at both ends of the boats; in reality, the monster heads on traditional Irfai ships were mostly painted on, and sometimes were no more than painted eyes. However, intricately-carved cradle-boats are used in the modern day by well-off Irfai, and both intricately-carved, well-made cradle boats and cheaper (and often leaky) knock-offs are sold to tourists.
wyld_dandelyon: (sleeping dragon by Djinni)
I've been writing in between necessary tasks around the house, but the stories I'm working on are resisting quick completion.  Sometimes that's a good sign, that I'm writing something at the edges of my skills, or that needs deep thought.  This weekend, I think it's just a sign that I'm distracted by mundane stuff like having a half-painted porch and weeds the City demands I mow down (and rain, which makes mowing with an electric lawn mower problematic).

But I do have something to share.  This is from a photo prompt by [livejournal.com profile] red_trilliumhttp://outdoors.webshots.com/photo/2016062480012303101Wocvlk

An Irfai Lullabye
a Torn World poem by Deirdre M. Murphy

The heroes in the Irfai songs
Sailed in boats with monster heads
Guarding to the front and rear
Like our infant sailor-beds

Each tiny cradle, built so tight
That it can float, and lull the child
While Momma works and catches food
And Poppa hunts the monsters wild

Sleep little babe, upon the waves
And dream of Death, Snagtooth and Whale
Dying on your brave harpoon
Someday the bards will sing your tale



Historical note: The Irfai tales are often exaggerated; the tales talk of tall ships with extravagantly-carved figureheads at both ends of the boats; in reality, the monster heads on traditional Irfai ships were mostly painted on, and sometimes were no more than painted eyes. However, intricately-carved cradle-boats are used in the modern day by well-off Irfai, and both intricately-carved, well-made cradle boats and cheaper (and often leaky) knock-offs are sold to tourists.
wyld_dandelyon: (Default)
Thank You to everyone who has shown up and offered to be our muses so far over at [livejournal.com profile] torn_world .  The window is still open in honor of [livejournal.com profile] crowdfunding  being in the spotlight this week--and prompters can win a print or original ACEO.

So far, despite working overtime, an unplanned 6-hour nap, and a heat index over 100 degrees, I've accomplished the following:

I have a finished short story, Chasing the River, which continues the story of my Butterfly Girl, who ran away to the Rainbow Rainforest.  It's available for sponsorship for $17 or 17 Torn World credits for a few more days; later it will be 19 because the rewrite (as usual) made it longer.

I have a rough draft of a story, Beans and Bugs, as well as a rough draft for a unique Empire board game by the same name.  I will gladly accept sponsorships to work on the story or the game (or both) in $5/5 TW credit increments.

I have a finished poem, Barrier Grief, which was (in character) written by an old soldier, who fought in the most recent big war, but ran away to the Rainbow Rainforest before the final battle, and was unable to find his way home. This is available for sponsorship for $9 or 9 Torn World credits.

I have a couple more ideas, which may or may not pan out before Friday, when I plan to give you a final tally of my writing for this Muse Fusion.

But for now, I have my Muse Fusion Freebie--a poem about my Butterfly Girl and her newly-sworn sister:

Bridge Making


a Torn World poem
by Deirdre M. Murphy

The fibers from the old roof shingles are long—
Longer than the room was wide.
But they’re soft from age and soaking.
Dubiously, she yanks on one.
It breaks.

Obediently, she gathers up fibers in her hands,
Lining up the edges neatly, all in a row
Like the houses where she used to live.
Her new sister laughs, “not like that.
Let them be different!”

“Here, you add to this end!”
The fibers flop out, all different lengths.
“Add more and twist.”
She takes up more, carelessly now,
And twists, and the rope grows.

When they pull, it falls apart; she tries again,
Watching her sister’s nimble fingers.
Tightly twined, the fibers hold this time.
Lizard girl and butterfly girl pull gently,
The new rope holds

It grows strand by strand and twist by twist.
They let it twist back on itself, doubling its width.
Laughing, they put their feet together.
Their matching tattoos look like one tall tree.
They pull hard; the rope is good.

They put a weight on it, let the end dangle,
And sit together, talking, laughing, twisting;
The rope grows longer and longer.
Around them, the whole clan
Does the same.

Three of these will make a rail.
Nine are wide enough to walk upon.
Like people, alone the fibers are weak.
But twined together they’re strong enough
To support a life.




Please let me know what you think!


 


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