(no subject)

I wrote 484 words on a short story -- "In the Redwood House" -- and I have no idea where its going. It's going somewhere; it's not stalled; but my backbrain has not deigned to tell me where. This is sort of exciting and also vaguely disquieting. I mean, I get surprised sometimes, writing, but usually I have more idea where I'm headed than this. (I don't know what the Redwood House is yet, for instance, especially since the people the story is about seem to live exclusively in tents. But that's the title, and for now, I'm trusting the process. It can always be cleaned up and/or renamed in revision, if the meaning never appears.)

I do know that the story is set among the people who live north of the Ketatli, the speakers of my conlang, and speak a very closely related dialect, so hopefully that means that the language will at least come in useful somewhere. Not that I object to creating socieites and then not doing anything with them, but it's nice to know that my backbrain is multitasking.

I should be working on my project for CSCI102, which is actually really interesting, but I'm feeling rather lethargic. Tomorrow....

( Ginger Beef )