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Hello to the NaNo-ers! Hello to
Christine's non-NaNo-ers! Hello to the people who are writers but are simply Haven't for a while and
really want to get back to it but also feel overwhelmed and possibly
drained!
(High five if you're in the last category.)
Hopefully, whatever category you're in, you'll enjoy breaking up your writing routine (like mine: "not writing". it's a simple routine.) by adding in a Quirk.
One Quirk Later: Prompt #17
Hello hello hello! I don't know why but it feels like a long time since I have been Quirk-ing with you all?? a situation which must be rectified!
("Jem," you say, "if it feels like a long time, that's because the last Quirk was in July. That's three months ago. That is a long time." Shhhh dear ones. Let me gently muffle your entirely valid comments and bibbity bobbity boo us straight to the next Quirk!)
One Quirk Later: Prompt #16
*handwave-y towards my Pinterest*
Something about that kid is fascinating to me. I have not yet decided where on the alignment chart he looks like he would sit, but I do believe he would drink his juice either from a glass or a bowl. No in-between.
To join in with the One Quirk Later madness:
On the last Saturday of October (or, you know... sometime around then??) I will post my Quirk in response to this prompt. But you can use any Quirk prompt (<= look, there's a bunch there!) at any time! Just let me know if you do, so I can come and read it and squeal. 💛
• • • • • • •
Is anyone doing NaNo next month? I feel like I ask this every time it's November or Camp, and always accompanied by a "...because I'm not" 😅 But if you are that's cool and I wish you the best! Go forth! Slay these first-draft beasts! Be not distracted by the fluffy plot bunnies! Steel your heart and chase your dream!
What else is up with everyone? Personally, I've just heard that one of my favourite musical groups is going to be doing two concerts in Australia—like, the other side of Australia, but sTILL. And I want to go SO BAD but also I anticipate tickets vanishing as soon as they go on sale, so. That's what I'm stressing over at the moment. xD
Also I've decided I might want to live in the city (because ✨convenience✨) and this is causing a lot of identity questioning. I have never lived in a city. Why would I want to live near People.
(I do not believe this Mr Bennet encapsulated the spirit of his book character very well... but this gif is an excellent mood.)
...Not an actual stage. I didn't manage to book the stage/spotlight/audio system setup this year. (They were rented out when I got to the shop. By some people who take their show chickens very seriously.)
Neither do I have a Party Tree, but I do have a enough trees that the garden is full of dappled afternoon light, and there's a nice set of wrought-iron garden chairs in the corner. The fairy lights are set to come on as evening falls, too, which I thought fantasy characters might appreciate more than a glaring spotlight.
Is this me making excuses for losing the stage and audio system to chicken judging? perhaps.
And now, let me just slip into third person! *snaps fingers aggressively*
Welcome back, everyone! And first of all, I'd like to call for a round of applause for the nominees for Wisest Counselor. All up you guys have nominated and seconded fifty three wise counselors... and having them milling around my place is so much less stressful than having a hundred and two villains like last year. (My sympathies to DJ Edwardson, who has the task of handling the villains this year.)
My guests have even been giving me advice, because they're so friendly and helpful! Like "Don't procrastinate writing that post, it's better to do what needs to be done straight away," "Looking at your phone isn't a good way of spending your time," "Are you serious right now, child, your time is ticking," "I'M GETTING ANXIETY JUST WATCHING YOU, CAN YOU PLEASE-"
I really should keep these guys around longer. I can learn a lot from them.
So here's how it works! While we had fifty three nominations, only five can progress to voting, so I'll introduce the counselors who got the most seconds from you lovely people. Then you follow the link to the voting form, where you have a heavy decision to make:
Which of the five wise counselors will get your vote?
Well well well. Here we are, gathered once again for a jolly good time, and I'm very pleased to say I've put on an excellent feed in preparation for a few guests.
Because!
And knowing I'm going to be having so many of these highly respected people as guests in my home is a little
intimidating, so I've been taking notes from the good folk of the Shire, as they have a bit of experience with hosting parties! I have plenty of food and drink; comfortable chairs from which they can have a good sit-down, a natter, and a bit of a reminisce; and I've set up the backyard in case they want the opportunity to show off their respective skills, like archery or dancing or fireworks.
...I also spoke to some Shire-folk who have a bit of experience with my first house-guest, who is our award-presenter for this category of the Silmaril Awards....
Gandalf!
...naturally, he hasn't turned up yet.
But I'm sure, knowing his history, that he would be fine with us getting started while we wait for him! Firstly, for any newcomers, here's what's going on and how it works:
Why hello there.
Last week was Children's Book Week here in Australia. So seeing as I work in a field vaguely related to those themes, we got permission to dress up!
...I was basically. the only one at my branch to get into costume. (Except for one girl who came one day as Peter Rabbit, that was cute.)
If you get told you can dress up at work, take advantage of it, kids!!
Bring the chaos. Dewit.
Mary Poppins, for both the first and last day (crocheted the trimmings myself, for Book Week last year, so I had to wear the hat twice xD)
*waves magic Intro wand* BOOM okay let's go. Story first, talking after!
One Quirk Later: Prompt #16
“Rupert.”
He froze at the shout, then dropped his head. “The door’s unlocked,” he called back, hands braced on the table, “so if you’d be so good as to not-”
The door crashed back against the wall, rattling the row of pot plants on the windowsill. One wobbled on the edge then gave in, spraying dirt and pieces of succulent across the floor.
Irene, Protector of the New Golden Kingdom and Defender of the Innocent, stepped inside.
Today we're up to prompt number FIFTEEN in our Quirks, and it feels like such a lot! I know I'm gathering a nice little collection of pieces, and I hope you're happy with what you're adding to your portfolio too!
I haven't always been on time (oops), but I haven't missed a month yet, and honestly it's about all the fiction I'm writing at the moment, so I'm determined I'll persist.
And if you're still here, I'll assume you're enjoying the Quirks too. xD If you have any suggestions or themes or genres or aesthetics or anything for future Quirks, let me know!
"Jem pls. why so many siblings and/or threats. what is your Pinterest like if this is what you're pulling from it." <- you, probably. Well this week!! we have threats!! but don't let that stop you from putting siblings in if you so desire.
Or mix it up! that's partly what the Quirks are for, too.
One Quirk Later: Prompt #15
*waves nose vaguely at my Pinterest*
hmmmm cottage in the woods.
To join in with this madness:
On the last Saturday of July (or, you know... sometime around then??) I will post my Quirk in response to this prompt. But you can use any Quirk prompt (<= look, there's a bunch there!) at any time! Just let me know if you do, so I can come and read it and squeal. 💛
• • • • • • •
Now as I said last post, this is scheduled and I'm not really here! I'm an apparition. I am in fact in Canberra, which I can say with fair certainty despite not being there as I write this that I am freezing and refusing to go outdoors. Fun times xD This is me stretching my comfort zone!! it's great!!
What's been happening in your life? What are you currently reading? I want to read some nonfiction on personal finances bc I have zero plan, I just stare at my bank account like "numbers yay". xD What are you listening to? Two of my friends have recently been receptive to my recommendations of a favourite artist, so that's fun! Give me your recommendations!
oooh I hope I get my story posted for Quirk #14 before this goes up, that would be embarrassing xD It's uh... not written yet. The story, that is. oop.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN, IT'S THE LAST SATURDAY OF THE MONTH.
...normally I play the panic up a little because I've been procrastinating (#writerlyconfessions) but I gENUINELY thought I had another week.
What is this thing called time. so rude.
(Note: it is no longer the last Saturday of the month. It's not even the right month. alskdhaksjak.)
BUT I WROTE THE THING. EVENTUALLY.
She hasn't lost count of the children who've come to her lake.
Each one plants a flower on the bank before they leave. It's become a tradition now, the newcomers pulled aside to be informed by children who've seen it happen before. One hundred and twenty nine years, and the children have filled her grove with flowers and kind smiles.
They also hug her goodbye. She still hasn't learned how to accept this affection without standing stiffly and patting their heads, but they seem to find that adequate.
Today is sunny, and that's why the current children visiting the grove clambered straight into her lake. Fifty-two years ago, a tree fell, its trunk stretching from its old home in the earth far out into the gentle welcome of the water. The bark has been worn shiny by dancing feet, and these children enjoy the path it presents as much as any of the previous generations did: they seem to find supreme joy in hurling themselves off the trunk as forcefully as possible. The shrieking and splashing are constant, but like waves, like the lapping of the water against the bank. Only, naturally, much louder.
She's not worried about the children's safety; no hurt can come to them here.
On closer study she finds there is, somewhat, order in the chaos. One black-haired girl stands on the far end of the trunk and observes the goings-on, her dress splattered but mostly dry. The others line up raggedly along the trunk before her, pose, leap, and splash. And when their heads resurface and they've flicked the water off, the girl offers them a smile and some words which make them beam as though they've received a gift.
The lady in the lake watches, and considers.
Today is sunny, and as the heat swings overhead, the children retreat to the shade and damp cool of the lake's flower-covered banks. Some make their was up into the trees, hollering. Their wet hair hangs in strings down their necks.
The black-haired girl has watched them all make their way ashore. She stretches, staring at the circle of blue that shows above the lake, then moves down the trunk towards the others.
"Wait."
She stops and looks across the lake to the lady, waist-deep and with hair spreading in the water around her. Then she lowers herself to sit on the trunk, slips her legs into the water, and inclines her head. "My lady."
They face each other.
"Your name?"
"Hana, my lady. I'm fourteen."
"Your parents?"
"Mayor and Singer Marks, of Upper Diffily." The girl hesitates. "We were separated when the town was evacuated."
There's understanding in her eyes, and pain. She can't remember what happened and she knows that's telling in and of itself.
The children here don't remember. They recover and laugh and leave her a flower before venturing downstream into the unknown and they never remember what happened to them, and this is a kindness. The lady knows this to be true, for she holds the memories for them as she watches over their time here.
"Hana," she says, knowing the weight of the burden she is about to offer, "would you, one day, become the lady of the lake?"
The girl runs her fingers over the smoothed bark. "You look after the children."
"I do."
"Why do you want to leave them?"
The lady does not think to lie; the skill is of no benefit to someone who deals with death. "I have held so many memories, lives, that my hands will eventually be full."
A long, soft sigh. "Then for you, my lady, and for the children. So they will always have someone."
The lady discovers that Hana is slightly more skilled than she in accepting affection in the form of hugs. Even stiff hugs from someone who has watched children come and go for one hundred and twenty nine years.
Just so you know. I had to type this up on my PHONE which I have never done before and hate. Because I'm a grandma. xD
Also this is utterly un-beta'd. Many apologies.
• • • • • • •
Shout out to this month's (last month's) Quirk-writers:
• • • • • • •
Now, July's Quirk prompt will go up as scheduled, but I'm going on two different holidays over the next two weeks (well... I'm in the middle of one now, actually. Thus the phone typing) so the post will be pre-scheduled and pretty short. I'll try to take some time to relax and catch up on your posts, though - I haven't been managing that very well recently 😅
One of the holidays is actually a youth worldview program in Canberra! (I
fully anticipate freezing into a Solid Block of Ice.
I've never lived in the cold. I don't know how to deal with it.) But overall I'm super excited - I'll be flying down and spending the week
on my own, so a big adventure there for me, and I'm hoping I'll meet
cool new people and of course learn cool new things!
What adventures have you been having? Or what adventures would you like to have, if you could? Do you prefer hot or cold??
...also its possible my blog is, for whatever reason, struggling with people being logged in for their comments and showing them as anonymous? I'm not sure. Pls comment regardless xD
And here we go! a tad late but who's counting!
(me. I am counting. I am stressing and that's not what I'm here for, why do I do this to myself, I keep promising myself I am going to be organised and I never am?? treachery. treachery from within the ranks. the betrayal, how can I go on. *dramatically swoons* *into a nap*)
One Quirk Later: Prompt #14
*waves hands vaguely at my Pinterest* clicky clicky, yeah?also why does Blogger insist on making my images fuzzy, rude, much
stabbing
One day I'll write a post that's not Quirk-related.
...today is not that day.
I mean! I'm having fun, and I hope you are too! Buuut just to make sure you're still having fun, we have more angst potential in this month's Quirk.
What can I say, apparently we have a brain cell in common, and that brain cell is hungry for 1) angst; 2) siblings.
One Quirk Later: Prompt #13
*waves hands vaguely at my Pinterest* you like
wasting time finding writing inspiration, yeah??
I have to say, I'm having a great time making these! and thinking of the delicious story bits I'll get to read from you lot, ehehe
...I mean *coughing* the thought of what you might do with the Quirk definitely doesn't affect what I pick. Definitely not.
But if you happen to like angst, and I happen to like angst, well, it's just good value to go for that, yeah?
...There definitely isn't a conspiracy here.
There will be no waffling around and finding entertaining stories to fill out the blog post today.
Look, I sat down and wrote the first four lines, and the rest... well, it came out in chunks, and I had to fit it together, but yeah. Over half as long again as what I wrote for Quirk #11, and twice as long as Quirk #10.
Also I was sniggering 90% of the time I was writing. So I consider this Quirk a success.
I tap the toe of my shoe against Michael’s, the rubber edges on our off-brand Converse stained green. It’s nice to be lying outside on such lush grass, with the thick grey clouds overhead and the heavy damp air on my skin, so I admire the stains as the mark of adventure.
Michael has his hands tucked under the back of his head and he doesn’t open his eyes when I tap his foot again. “What?”
“I need you to marry me.”
This time, he opens his eyes fairly abruptly. “What.”
“A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins. Nor is he early; he arrives precisely when he means to.”
...actually, that implies that I meant to be writing this on a Tuesday morning when I specifically set rules for myself that prompts would go up on the first Saturday of the month. And I did not mean for this to happen.
Life's just... life, you know? Nothing huge happening, but the everyday does drag your energy down a bit sometimes.
Also, I may have forgotten I had to put this post up.
One Quirk Later: Prompt #12
*strolls in two days late with a juice and a lamington* what's up guys!!
I have to say, I'm pretty happy with how this Quirk fits with my blog, colour-wise. Obviously this did not affect my choice, buuuut I may take this into account in the future. Because I am shallow. xD
Also! How about that angsty text prompt in the middle of the Quirk picture, huh! I'm cackling.
“I hope,” Thomasino snarled, “that you regret giving us up.”
“Nonsense,” Anna said briskly. “That makes it sound as though I’m giving you away, which you know I undoubtably am not. Now will you get in, or shall I pinch your tail?”
“Cruel. Cruel.” Thomasino slunk head-first into the jar and curled around, hissing lowly like a balloon wilting.
Anna flicked the last of the kitten’s tail in after him and screwed the lid on firmly. He dissolved into a thick fog and continued circling, sulky, inside the glass. Careful not to shake the jar too much, Anna slipped a colourful square of cotton over the lid and tied a string around it with quick movements.
On the label, she wrote in her best hand, For rain. Good for two hours.
The jar joined its companions in the basket sitting on the floor beside her, all containing cats in various states of fog and topped by floral cotton and labels tied on with twine.
She tugged her second-best hat off the back of the door on her way outside, centring it on her head so the lace settled neatly down her back. One ought to be well-presented when delivering one’s own wares.
• • • • • • •
The cat door ticked open and shut as Thomasino slunk in. “Unloved,” he moaned. “Unloved and cast out!”
Don't the months just fly around fast!
Without further ado (and don't these intros seem to be getting short... may as
well get to the good bit, I suppose), may I point you, o discerning guests and
those without anything better to do on a fine Monday, towards the March
Quirk prompt.
You know what would have been good? If I'd discovered that The Fairytale Central is doing their fairytale blog tag again before I put up a super short post at the start of February. It would have fit in well with that!
Instead, I'm going to try to stuff it in this Quirk post!
...take the story I am offering and do not question my time management.
He hates to admit it. He’s an adult. But when you can beam snide little messages into your brother’s head even after your parents tell you to sit in opposite corners until you can play nicely, feuds tend to go on longer than they should.
Ten years and they still haven’t got over the habit.
“Please, get out of my head.” Davy rolled onto his stomach and clutched the extra pillow against his ears, as if that would somehow help. “I’m trying to sleep.”
“I refuse. How dare you.”
So I thought "oh, this is the tenth Quirk prompt?? wow, I've probably passed a
year of Quirks now!"
Leaving aside, of course, the fact that fully half the time I've missed
posting.
So I checked my old posts and
the very first Quirk (labeled "oh no I have done a thing")
was in May 2020??
When even was May 2020.
This month's prompt is fairly... urban? I know some of mine lean towards fantasy (that's my bias), but hopefully this one can be used for contemporary, mystery, dystopian, and/or anything really.
Will I still give mine fantasy elements? Who can say. But it's definitely a
non-zero chance.
Drumroll, please:
Remember, if you will, how I said I had Ideas for this Quirk prompt but wouldn't say in case I went a different direction?
Yeah. I went a completely different direction. I was surprised too but seeing as the other directions gave me nothing I wasn't unhappy about it.
I woke up again.
I didn’t expect that, not really. I mean, I thought I’d eventually wake up—I always do—but I thought after all this time it might be for a new reason. Perhaps a different house would call me. That could be nice.
But no. Even though last time I was awake my house looked as though one good thump against its side would let it shiver into a heap of debris, it is, somehow, occupied again. Not that I can see anyone from my vantage point, but there’s some kind of music coming from inside, too deliberate to be anything but human.
Better check what my responsibilities are this time.
Coming back here always makes me feel... nostalgic, I guess? I was but a tiny child when I began (...actually, how old was I?? I think... must have been nineteen? feels like I was a lot younger) and there are so many memories here.
...Of course, if I would stop leAVING UNEXPECTEDLY, my blog wouldn't feel like
it was full of long-past ghosts.
Huh. That's a thought.
But you didn't come here for my 3am-style questioning of identity and self. Thus, a Quirk.
*brushes nostalgia ghosts into a corner*
unless, of course, I decide the prompt calls for ghosts?? 👀