Writing practice: I don’t know yet… ok, just write alternating sentences (action, description, speech) to practice not getting stuck in any one of them
Action: In May of 1843, in the seaside plot of land later to become the town of Corynne, a woman fell to her death from Maiden’s Bluff.
[little sleep, just overall tired. that’s ok, just write]
Description: The white limestone bluff extends into the North Sea for about a quarter mile, sloping at its furthest as though it were searching in vain for the maiden’s corpse in the frigid depths of the northernmost border of Aramack Sound.
Speech: “I saw her fall,” said Abram Mique, a local ne’er-do-well fisherman of occasional sobriety and unbounded imagination, “but I never saw her land. It’s like the air swallowed her up before she hit the water.”
Action: Although most of what Abram said those days was dismissed with little more than a derisive chuckle, whispers continued to circulate, fanned stronger when shadows could be seen dancing on the bluff face at dusk.
Description: Now, sunsets did make the bluff dance with color and shadow when strong south winds blew clouds which acted as trees when one galloped a horse past at back-lit forest. [this isn’t clear, but whatever. keep going]
Speech: “Two things I know:” said May Fanney, the self-appointed guardian of all local children, “I’ve seen shadows when there weren’t no clouds, and no child under my watch is going up on that bluff after suppertime.”
Action: Nanny Fanney’s guardianship held little sway with the older kids, and one evening in the spring of ’45, four teenagers decided to show the little ones there was nothing to the stories. For several weeks after, two couldn’t speak without stammering, one cried uncontrollably in his sleep, and the fourth left to live with an uncle two hundred miles away and never returned. [excessively dramatic, sure, but I need to keep writing – this is just practice]
Description: Despite its dark reputation, Corynne was a beautifully colorful place – brown sands, green seas, white bluff, and an iron-oxide rich soil that turned a radiant yellow in the right morning light.
[this was a tough session, made hard really because i was pretty tired. good practice though. it will get easier, and better, over time. this is only day 8 of a 365-day year]