Crown Anemone, Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale
I’ve become obsessed with the death of Silk River, can’t stop thinking about it. It was so sudden. In April everything was great, going so well I set a word goal for May and brought the story to over 56K. In the flow of the daily mundanities, I continued working with the manuscript, seeking dramatic opportunities. Then, in the midst of it all, the story fell to the floor of my brain, gasping for air. Wtf?
It stopped breathing. La Muse floated over it dropping itty bitty white lilies. I thought she liked the story! Hell it was her idea! The treacherous b–okay, won’t go there. She might cry poisonous rain on my seedlings.
Fine, fine…but the next time…