Uprooted

Currents don’t shift all at once.

Sometimes, when it floods, there is a quick new channel that displaces what passed before.

Most changes to the waterways are gradual.

A slow peel of the bank.

A deposit of gravel.

A diversion from one side of a boulder to the other.

It is easy enough to sit at the side of the water and feel secure.

To miss the bank dissolving beneath you.

To find yourself exposed, off-balance, your gravity shifted.

The words on the page work as well as any current.

A slow, steady pressure and the core unravels.

Leaving only the bare skeleton exposed-

Washed away by our changed direction.

IMG_9314Standing firm has its price, in both stories and life


 If you would like to follow some more shifting channels, I have also written a fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor. It is available here.

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Whitewater

The corners are always deceptive.

Rivers are not static passageways.

A stretch of slow, even current is likely to round a corner on jagged rocks, on churning undertow.

We watch for the whitewater.

Once you know the river, some dangers are fixed.

But others hide beneath the surface, rising fallen trees and stumps to surround you.

Distraction is dangerous.

Complacency is fatal.

Writing should capture that feeling.

The sweet-sour taste in your throat as you round the corner.

As the whitecaps carry you through-

Or dash you against the rocks below.

IMG_0265A beautiful passage, an unforgiving pathway


If you’d like to chart some rougher waters, I have also written a fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor. It is available here.