{"id":204,"date":"2013-08-20T20:23:00","date_gmt":"2013-08-20T20:23:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.tamaragranthambooks.com\/2013\/08\/ready-set-write\/"},"modified":"2015-11-13T15:20:47","modified_gmt":"2015-11-13T15:20:47","slug":"ready-set-write","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/tamaragrantham.com\/StagingSite\/ready-set-write\/","title":{"rendered":"Ready, Set, Write"},"content":{"rendered":"

I’m celebrating at the Grantham house. Why? Because my kiddos went back to school yesterday, and I’ve been writing like a machine.<\/p>\n

Yesterday, I worked on four different novels\/short stories. For those of you not familiar with my writing, I write mostly young adult fantasy, similar to Meg Cabot or Suzanne Collins. <\/p>\n

Here’s a look at one of my short stories called Deadlands . . .<\/p>\n

\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the worst pain a person can feel?\u201d I asked Anafi, my blind guide. The man sat across from me, the camp fire popping bright orange sparks, illuminating his scarred brown skin.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cYou ask the oddest questions, Yonto.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cIt\u2019s Sabrina.\u201d I don\u2019t know what Yonto means, or why he calls me that. Anafi smiled as he chewed a mouthful of dripping hot salmon. <\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cI think Yonto suits you better.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cYou didn\u2019t answer my question.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>His gaze penetrated me, though I knew he saw nothing through the scars that had once been his eyes. \u201cWhy would you think I have the answer to such a question?\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cYou\u2019ve been through a lot. I just thought\u2014\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cDo not ponder these things. Sadness, pain, they are an abyss that consumes.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cRight,\u201d I mumbled, chewing the fish, wondering why he couldn\u2019t be straight with me just once. \u201cSo what\u2019s on the schedule for tomorrow?\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cThe Deadlands. Nasty place.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cWorse than where we\u2019ve been yet?\u201d Honestly, I had trouble believing it.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>His voice became quiet. \u201cMuch worse.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cHmm.\u201d We\u2019d almost drowned, burned, starved to death. But it would be worth it if we came out alive. I had to finish this. For Damon.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cDo you ever wish you could go back? Fix things without all this?\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>He laughed.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cWhat\u2019s so funny?\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cI\u2019ve been a guide for twelve years. Never have I heard such strange notions.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cBut it would be easier, wouldn\u2019t it? If we could just go back, knowing what we know now, and fix all those things we regret.\u201d Saying it out loud brought back memories I\u2019d tried desperately to push away. Leaving Damon behind, thinking he\u2019d be okay.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cYou should eat your fish, Yonto.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>Though hunger escaped me, I took a bite. <\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cMy daughter talked as you do. She had an imagination, that one.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cI didn\u2019t know you had a daughter.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cEsther. Named after the queen who saved her people. But we never called her by that name.\u201d He smiled, as if re-living a memory. \u201cOnly her mother called her Esther, and only when she\u2019d caused trouble.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>A muggy breeze wafted, smelling of the swamp, of peat and mold. The chirps of cicadas increased into a high-pitched wail. Of all the places we\u2019d been yet, this felt the most like my home in Louisiana. But home was millions of miles away, another planet. Another life.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cSo what\u2019s in the Deadlands?\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cYou\u2019ll find out tomorrow.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cDon\u2019t you think you should tell me now? So I\u2019ll be prepared.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>\u201cNo.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>All righty then.<\/o:p><\/i><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span><\/span><\/i>\u201cThree hours we sleep. Wake before dawn. We leave before the sun rises.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>Anafi stood and unrolled his bed pack. I watched him work with nimble movements, his fingers feeling the seams of his blanket, his bare feet searching the ground for stones. <\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\n            <\/span>When I\u2019d first learned that he\u2019d be my guide through the Race, I\u2019d cried. I thought I\u2019d be dead in a day. Really<\/i>, I\u2019d asked. A blind man for a guide?<\/i> <\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
\nBut here we were, day thirteen, and already we\u2019d outlasted half of the others.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I’m celebrating at the Grantham house. Why? Because my kiddos went back to school yesterday, and I’ve been writing like a machine. Yesterday, I worked on four different novels\/short stories. For those of you not familiar with my writing, I write mostly young adult fantasy, similar to Meg Cabot or Suzanne Collins. Here’s a look […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-204","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/tamaragrantham.com\/StagingSite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/204","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/tamaragrantham.com\/StagingSite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/tamaragrantham.com\/StagingSite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tamaragrantham.com\/StagingSite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tamaragrantham.com\/StagingSite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=204"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/tamaragrantham.com\/StagingSite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/204\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1540,"href":"https:\/\/tamaragrantham.com\/StagingSite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/204\/revisions\/1540"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/tamaragrantham.com\/StagingSite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=204"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tamaragrantham.com\/StagingSite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=204"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tamaragrantham.com\/StagingSite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=204"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}