Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Fe Fi Fo Fum .. or something like that

I’m profoundly tired today. I’ve been up since yesterday except for some brief naps. I just can’t escape the pain today. But … that doesn’t keep me from thinkin’. Thinking is probably a dangerous thing. I don’t do it well. It strains my wing muscles. But I do try.

I’m still – if you’ll excuse this expression coming from a pixie – up in the air over Timmy’s quest. I keep going back to my original idea because nothing else works, but I’m not satisfied with it. I’ll keep grinding brain cells together until it works.

I haven’t got a title for story three yet. I’m still calling it Timmy’s Story.

Tentatively, the first paragraph is this:

“Three things happened in 1347. I turned fourteen, which made me an adult in everyone’s eyes – except those of my aunt and mother. A ship for Genoa landed at the London docks and most everyone in Scotland and England died as a result. The third thing? Well, I’ll tell you about that later.”

Later we meet a new character. She just kinda showed up in this story. I hadn’t planed this one at all:

I ducked to avoid a collision with Katra’ Jayin’s newest daughter. She was ten days old and had only one flying speed: as fast as she could go. She wing-braked, which is a lot like skidding to a halt in mid-air and circled my head twice, landing on my right shoulder.

“Timmy!

“Good morning, Tamalee,” Unfortunately a food now has a similarly spelled name, and it is pronounced exactly the same. Alas, we don’t foresee these things.

She gave me a huge kiss on the cheek; she kissed everyone. “Momma and papa are still sleeping. They were up all night! Did you know that? So it was hard to sleep. It’s hard to sleep when you are up. Did you know that? … Aunty told me to chase a bug.”

I snickered at that. She ignored it.

“I caught five gnats, a green biter and one hopper. I watched Cousin Anna milk the goats. And Katra’Jael is sitting on the old wall where the rock pens are. She isn’t doing anything.”

That bit of news was disturbing. Jael was always doing something, usually involving keeping me within her line of sight.

Without a breath, Tamalee rushed on, “… and we’re going to have a big dance tonight.”

“First I’ve heard of it,” I said.

“Of course,” she said. “I just told you and I just decided to organize it. Well, b’ye!” She zipped off with that abbreviation of ‘God be with ye,” but made a long loop around Old Oak and returned to hover in front of my face. “You could dance one dance with me. … Even if you’ll dance ALL the others with Jael. Everyone know you belong to Jael.”

Everyone but me. Jael claimed me as her own when newly born, and that had been that. Well settled in her mind, she made sure it was a fixed idea in everyone else’s too. Until the last year or so, she’d had the bad habit of showing hunt teeth and hissing at every female, human or pixie, who sowed the slightest interest in me – interest that wasn’t motherly, that is.

I didn’t mind too much until this past year. I like Jael, though sometimes I like her more than other times. Last spring-day I had porridge and ham with the Widow Whitmore and her daughter Isabella. Isabella is two years past me in age and a Basarith granddaughter. That makes her a very distant cousin. She has glossy black hair and a sweet – and accommodating – disposition.

Jael’s muttering about ‘pulling off her wings if she had any, traveled through the village in half a day. Jael was scolded by everyone but so very unrepentant that Isabella found someone else upon whom to bestow her flirtatious smiles.

This is all rough draft, and bits of it will change. I don’t know why I’m so dissatisfied with the journey and quest that I give Timmy. None of them seem real. Part of what makes fantasy fun is finding something that’s outrageous and making it seem plausible and real. “Fee Fi Fo Fum ….” It may not make you shudder now, but only because you’re familiar with it, or learned it through a Mickey Mouse cartoon. Bah! I had it read to me from a Golden Book. It made me shudder! And at that tender age it made me ask dozens of questions. That’s good fantasy. So this journey has to work. I have to be happy with it, or none of my readers will be.

1 comment:

  1. Bottom line is exactly what you said. You have to be pleased with the story first.

    I like Timmy. I have always liked Jael, (smile), and Tamalee is as cute and precocious as a baby pixie can be.

    I don't know what quest thy will ultimately take, but it needs to be one in which both their talents are necessary to achieve the goal. But I don't need to tell you how to weave a tale. I hope you will find some respite from your pain and that you can concentrate on Timmy and Jael's story.

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