6 June 2002

The location seemed well enough: It had both sunny spots and shady. It was slightly out of the way, but not under a rock. It was open to nature, but provided protection from the more severe elements.

Or so she thought. She settled in to the spot, began to make herself comfortable and to do the business which had drawn her out here in the first place.

And very important business it was, too. And so she was not entirely paying attention when, an hour or so after sunrise, her little campsite shivered and vibrated as the world shook. Startled, she grabbed on tightly and waited. A second tremor came, even more violent than the first, and she feared she had made a terrible mistake.

But there came no more tremors, and she sighed and went back to her business.

A terrible wind, then swept out of the sky. She could only crawl behind a shelter and hang on, watching helplessly as the wind swept away her camp... and then her work. She crawled deeper into the shelter, bewailing her fate.

Finally, finally, after minutes or hours or days she did not know, the wind stopped. Tentatively, she crawled out. Only rubbish remained of her camp. Her work, the very calling of her life - gone. And then just as it seemed things could not be more bleak, the world went black, and she was no more.

(There. I thought I'd give you something a little more entertaining than: I realized after I got in my car this morning that there was a spiderweb stretching between the window and the mirror. The spider was in the window, laying eggs. The drive to work pulled the web and the eggs free, and when I got out of the car, I squashed the spider.)

The voices are screaming at me, and yet they are refusing to come out.

I've got a story-bit I want to write about Tarri recovering from her ordeal in Khymrych. I've backed up and started over so many times that my delete key is about worn out.

I want to write up in story form the background to the Scum plot I'm running, because that's the only way it's ever going to be told, but I can't figure out how to get it moving.

Kevil started writing a song the other day, and then abandoned it, leaving it sort of floating around in my brain unfinished.

I want to write up some basic info for the Children of Morning, but they're not talking either.

Would someone please remind these people that I'm the one in charge, here? They're not listening to me!

--Liz