Friday, July 9, 2010

Something to come?

Ever since my trip to Gaspe , I've had the notion of writing soemthing in mind. The other night I gave myself some time to really think about it and see where it took me, and that's when it became a story.
    Now I have the tale of a young woman taking a road trip to escape from a life she no longer knows whether she wants or not bouncing around in my head, along with a lot of little scenes of what she experiences along the way. It's inspired in part from some novels of a genre I don't even know the name for, those sorts of contemporary ones that are kind of quirky, and deal with the lives of simple people, and win awards. I picture it being read aloud in a very particular voice, one of those standard female voices for reading books on tapes... :'D
    Anyway, it's quite a diversion from the sort of stuff I usually write, and I don't think it's very good. It's also the first time I've ever drawn so heavily from my own experiences... People always say to write what you know, though I've never really done all that much of that XP. (I'm still not really doing that, but what the heck...). But it's coming from a good well of inspiration, more then I've had in a while, and I'm enjoying writing it. I think that's what matters most :)
    Hopefully it grows into a fully fledged, fully presentable story, but either way here's a couple of snippets...
 
 
 
Rounding the corner,
There it is!
Something I haven’t seen in years, sparkling with light…
I roll down the window, letting the cold air buffet my face unevenly
As I try to smell the ocean.


This next bit would come a bit later on in the story...


This stretch has easy curves, roads with small shoulders that are slowly washing out, and lots of warning signs. They inform that I’m in danger of being swept off the road and into the ocean on my right by giant, squiggling waves; and of having rocks tumble down obscurely angled cliffs and crush me from the left. I don’t pay much attention to the signs, although I do stop to take a picture of one placed right in front of a cliff as obscurely angled as the one on the sign before it. I figure that this cliff was clearly what all of these signs were based off of, the one cliff that had such a bad record that someone brought an artist in to paint a blocky black silhouette of it to paste across the countryside. I figure if any rocks are going to fall on me, it’ll be the rocks off of this cliff. I drive around the bend without incident. I figure that gives me a right to not worry about any more rocks falling off of more gently sloping, unassuming cliffs than this one.
The other thing this stretch has is waterfalls. The first one I see, I almost miss. It was nothing until I was right next to it, and then it was a bright ribbon of liquid rushing down past my window. I hit the brakes. Checking my rearview mirror, I confirm that no one’s behind for as far as I can see, then I back up until I’m right next to it again. Rolling down my right window, I lean across the passenger seat, stretching my seat belt to its limits and craning my head for the best view I can get.

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