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Writing Wendl - attrition...

Status report on the current novel project, Wendl the Fallen : At around 60,000 words, I've killed off a couple of characters, which is usually an early sign that the story is finding me. The target is a rough draft of about 100,000 words in twelve chapters, which will trim down in re-write and editing to something like 70,000 words in ten chapters. I've never written a novel this dark before - or this funny. To be honest, I'm not at all sure I'll ever be able to finish it. Meanwhile, The Winged Child will be out in February. That is my best one so far.   Henry's books . If you would like Follow.it to deliver Drovers Gap blog directly to your email inbox, click here .  

Even when...


Even when we could not

recall the exact occasion,

had forgotten the names,

and faces were grown dim

in our memory, so vague,

elusive, we remembered

the Song. Things happen

and pass in the moment;

music abides in the soul.


Henry's books.

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Comments

  1. Beautiful words, Henry. And I love the picture. My dad was a fiddler - this makes me think of him.

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    Replies
    1. Thanks for the encouraging comment. It made me smile. I'm grateful this resonates. It is my mother's music I remember. My father was suspicious of joy.

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    2. I smiled at the description of your father - I've known a few like that. My mother was always singing around the house when we were young, then I did the same. It was a sad day when my daughter reached 13 and asked me if I'd stop singing, as it was getting annoying. My grandchildren enjoy my rendition of The Wild Rover, though :-)

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    3. My mother was a singer on her last day, and I married a singer, who has been singing today, in church and out. As a young man, I had a huge crush on Jean Redpath, whom I only knew as a voice on the radio. Music has a long reach.

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