So here I am typing my first blog on my iPad2 and feeling decidedly smug and industrious, even though I’ve already run through my allotment of storage for the month thanks to a marathon moviewatching session last night that had me up til the wee hours and left me with an appreciation for the talent, and face, of actor Kevin Zegers – huh! * takes deep breath * Longest sentense ever right there….
I’ve been at home all day enjoying the respite from work and the relaxation that can only be fully appreciated being home on a work day, reading and thinking how talented is my latest library stalking victim Teresa Medeiros. She has a stunning ability to write descriptive romantic passages without the adjectives turning on her. There is none of the cloying prose to be found in bad, too flowery romances. Hers is just right, the result of an inborn talent so many of us writers long to cultivate but most never actually achieve.
If we’re lucky we’ll achieve some individual approximation of that talent, some singular style that might prove compelling enough to capture the reader’s heart. Which brings me to the point of all this pontificating – I am a G.
I was reading Mederiros The Bride and The Beast and sighing as I contemplated the idea that I might never reach this level of skill – or be lucky enough to have a grown woman stalk my work so assiduously she was willing to look silly and get the large type books from the library because those were all that was available. I finished the book and turned to begin my writing allotment for the day and the following came out:
The wind seemed to whistle around her as she raced through the quiet suburban streets. The moon overhead lit her way perfectly as her feet flew over pavement grown cool with the approaching fall. Trees waved gently, their music a near silent accompaniment as the elegant old houses in the neighborhood bore silent witness to her flight.
Not bad hey? I’m no Shakespeare, but even he had to start somewhere.