Today I battled with concerns oft battled – those of if I am throwing too many story lines together into this one, and if it would be better if I could split the book cleanly into two. There are certainly enough separate parts, but also many times they entwine. I didn’t get to writing until about 2:30 due to organizing, so 600 words is fine for two hours. I need to have it outlined before continuing too far, and hopefully I see to that in the next few nights. Must know the section goals!
My fav extract today is from a Sveldtlander ceremony:
“Dorgoga’s thirsty morning was far from quenched, yet the Joss Face Eaters stood with heads downturned, still and solemn, as Dancetrap performed the Meditation of Death.
More a dirge than a dance, the aged spiritflinger’s arms spread wide, satha fanned out behind him, tips brushing the meager grasses to resemble the outstretched wings of a crow. He ululated the collective mourning of the clan in a low groan akin to rolling thunder, skeletal fingers trembling mid-air and releasing minor spirits in offering for Hugulk, the endae’s chosen spiritcatcher. Dancetrap shook and occasionally flicked his wrists, releasing what was otherwise held within the confines of his reverent chain. Broad-faced Hugulk leapt about the incantation circle, snatching said spirits from the air before they could be lost to the sky. His expression a mix of indignation and unflinching resolve, the glistening veteran showed his thirst, for the minor spirits were as numerous as __________’s spirit was strong, and the sweat rolled freely.
A murmur ran through the mourners, whose eyes always secretly followed the spiritcatcher’s dance, as Hugulk missed three of a possible four flings in a row. A small thing, but the spirits would now nourish the yellow life-giver instead of remaining at the behest of the clan during the bloodshed that now seemed inevitable. Impatient, he waited for the impending rise in Dancetrap’s pitch that would begin the heraldry of the life-giver and mark the end of the ceremony.”