Saturday, July 10, 2010

One Article Written, One To Go

The secretary of the local dive club found out a couple weeks ago that I'm a writer. He asked me if I'd be interested in writing some articles for the club newsletter. What do you think I said? Yes, of course. He emailed me a couple of story ideas last week so I've been working on them. I got the first one roughed out over the last couple days, I'll go through it another time with my trusty red pen, then I'll email it to him for his edit. I'm guessing we'll be working back and forth like that until we've learned each other's style and needs. The other idea is too big for the speed he's looking for, we talked it over and agreed to table it until later, but I woke up this morning with an idea on how we can put it in July's issue and still do the thorough job it needs--a series. It's brilliant! I'm brilliant! Now to get him to agree. I'll spend today doing online research and roughing out the first installment and my ideas for the rest. I'll email a source or two for more info, and then present the package to John next week. What's not to love?

But first I need to post my nightly prompt writing and then go out before the sun hits that side of the house and plant the irises and the "hardy perennial garden" (a daylily, some coneflowers, an iris, and daisies), all of which I got off the clearance pile in Goshen. Who can resist 75% off flower bulbs? Not this dirty-fingered girl. And I want to go to Walmart later (once the sun gets to the side of the house and it's too hot to be out planting) and look at the bike racks for my car. I want to take my bike and ride the trail with D&A but right now I have no way to hauling my bike except in the trunk and that's a pain. I think I can get a rack for under $50, that'd be good. Okay, here we go!

July 9 (Happy birthday, Aunt B!)--Zanzibar. In the flat light, the water off the beach looked white, not blue. It couldn't be that shallow, Leah thought, there was a little fishing boat anchored not far offshore, so what made it so white? She stood listening to the soft lap as the water slid up the shallow slope of the beach and then back on itself. There was rain out on the horizon, she could see it slant out of the clouds, but not a breath of air stirred on shore. Leah wondered where Jake was. He hadn't been in the bungalow when she got up, hadn't been in the dining room when she went in for coffee, and he wasn't anywhere on the beach. Was this the day he said he was going fishing early? She rubbed her hand over her brow. Two glasses of the deep red, local wine with dinner was one glass too many. Her head was throbbing and she'd found a big bruise on her side when she showered. Now that she thought about it, her waiter, Teme, had looked at her a bit strangely when he'd poured her coffee. Had she made a fool of herself last night? She needed to find Jake and ask him. She swayed with momentary dizziness. Maybe she'd go and lie down for a few minutes first.

Well, that has possibilities, doesn't it? Yeah, like I ever go back and work more on these. Ah, well, at least I give them temporary life. Off to play in the dirt.

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