Yesterday's writing prompt:
(because there will be another one today later)
A traveling poet has come to declaim hir verses in a large technology-focused city. Is there anything odd about this poet? How does the city change as the poet makes hir way through the city?
Today there was game, and knitting, and stringing beads. But for all that I didn't do that many things all told, the one thing that sticks out is more raking and filling our yard waste barrels with tree branches that had fallen. We also moved all of the rocks that were our old path finally to the back end of our yard. I used an axe, which should frighten people who know me well, but some of the wood was so rotten that I hardly needed to use the axe at all. Tomorrow is more painting.
Obviously life has gotten in the way of my nanowrimo attempt this year, but I have some smut to show for it. After the holidays, I will take out my smut and dust it off and see if I can finish it over the next few months. I will water it and watch parts of it grow (Oh my!). I don't know if it will ever be truly finished, but I cannot let the story die because my attempt faltered.
One a.m. is past my bedtime, so off to sleepy land I go!
