April 10th

Yesterday evening, Keith and I sat outside on the front lawn in camp chairs and watched the stars come out. Abby nosed around in the grass and then plopped down, her snout on her paws.

It was almost strange, to be sitting in chairs without any tv in front of them, I'm sorry to say, and yet also wonderful.

It was so quiet. We could feel the temperature slowly change from the warmth of the spring day to the cool of the evening. We could hear the sounds change slowly from bird song to insects singing.

At first the sky was a washed blue and then it began slowly to soak up color. One star came out, and then there were a scattering and then an airplane flew over the house, all the lights blinking. All the street lights came on, tall orange lamps, shining down the road.

"I'll meet you here tomorrow night," I offered to Keith, as we were folding up the chairs to go in.

"Sure thing," was his happy response.

When we went inside, the house was warm and quiet, the scent of Asian glazed salmon still faint in the air.

A few days ago, I went for a walk with our new camera. In the park, the dogwoods are coming out:

 

 

I think I've used up all my poem-writing creative energy, which is good timing, because I heard back from my friend about Torii.

 

He told me a lot of mind blowing things. First, he told me it was literature.

 

So... I guess I write literature.

 

What more could one want from life?

 

Probably a successful adoption and then a lot of sleepless nights and piles of dirty laundry, but I digress.

 

He told me not to change anything, but to add to it great depth of interior expression in order to make it great literature.

 

Anyone else, he said, would read it and think it was great as it was. However, he said that because he read my blog, he knew I was capable of going much deeper with the novel.

 

He suggested I open a new file, at almost any scene, and simply dive down into the characters- talk about what is driving them, what they remember, explore past associations, emotions, etc.

 

All this time, I'm frantically scribbling notes and nodding my head and pacing around my kitchen while various expressions of shock passed over my face, due to the incredible nature of this feedback.

 

I mean- dialogue, world construction, action scenes, plot movement, theme- all of that, needed no work. This man makes his living by writing.

 

He just wanted more. He said I kept dropping hints about all this other history and he kept waiting to hear this history.

 

He said he did know the characters better near the end of the story, but he said, "That's an awfully long time to make a person wait."

 

At the time that I received all this heaping mountain of extraordinary feedback, I was right in the middle of writing the poem, so I filed it away for future reference.

 

Yesterday, I pulled out good ol' Torii and I was all, "Awwwww! I love Tenshio! He's so adorable."

 

Then I set about telling all his deepest secrets and generally making him more accessible.

 

I wrote about five or six paragraphs, to insert into the original scene and sent them off to my friend, to get his feedback, before I went any further in that direction.

 

He said, and I quote: "It's simply brilliant."

 

Excuse me while I fall

off.

my.

chair.

 

*

*

*

 

Okay, I'm back.

 

Holy crap!!!

 

So now I'm going to be writing through the entire first half of the story- which I think is the most spare, in terms of interior richness, and just fill it out.

 

In other news, it's time to renew our lease and as usual, this has spurred my husband into a house search, thinking that searching for a house, buying a house and moving into a house, all while in the middle of an adoption, is much preferable than signing the new lease.

 

My husband, he is always on a quest for greatness.



February 1st

I feel as if I've had my head in the imaginary clouds for quite some time.

Between posting Rosemary (which makes me squirm sometimes, to notice all the flaws in my writing), and working on Torii, I'm amazed that I even know what month it is.

When I wrote Rosemary, I didn't realize how much freedom the author has, in terms of perspective. Almost every descriptive sentence was directed through Letha- as though the reader had to see, hear, feel, taste, etc, all through her and her alone.

It's too funny, when I think back. I didn't write it that way on purpose; I wasn't aware of it. The story isn't written from the first person perspective. It's supposed to be third person. My writing just came out that way, at first.

But now, when I get it ready to post on my blog, I have to go through and untangle nearly every other sentence.

My poor editor friend. I can see, as I read through now, just how much work she did.

It made me think, though, that it really is true; that writing is best learned by writing. There's no point being embarrassed that one is still learning. We're all learning something.

It makes me wonder what is going to stand out to me in Torii, years from now. But that doesn't bear thinking about, certainly not now, as I'm about to send it away.

Gulp.

I finished the end, even the very end.

I should probably get back to my poor neglected merperson, but all I really want to do is write more Torii. I want the characters to live on and on. I don't want to leave them be.

January 21st

The mint lives!

I guess mother nature is a powerful healer and mint is sturdy enough to survive even my black thumb. It is sprouting tiny shoots as we speak.

I have a lot of work to do because...

I am sending Torii to my friend to be read and he will pass it on to his friend, the publisher!

There is no guarantee of it getting published, but just the thought of this process has already loosened up several new ideas on certain scenes that have been driving me crazy.

It's helping me take my work much more seriously- other people that I respect a great deal are serious about my writing.

As soon as I found out about this path that Torii will be taking, I went running out to the garage, to tell Keith.

He took one look at my face. "Did we win the lottery?" he asked, breathlessly.

I couldn't fall asleep last night, thinking about everything.

Hopefully the ending of Torii will come clear now. I feel like there should be an epilogue, as a companion piece to the prologue- something that will sum up and symbolize the theme of the story.

So far, this scene has eluded me, but maybe it will come clear, as I read the story again.

Okay, I have to stop procrastinating and start working on it. Oh dear.

November 6th, Excerpt

The room was full to overflowing. Pidguyok lay outstretched on the veranda outside the open door. Gilly and Aiko sat companionably leaning against each other.

Hironori sat quietly in one corner, Miyoko resting her head on his shoulder. She held his hand, hidden under his long sleeve. Tenshio stood above them, leaning his shoulder against the doorway, his arms crossed.

In the brief silence after Kaito had finished, Pidguyok cleared his throat and sat up.

“I’ll tell a story,” he offered, his ears going up in hope.

He appeared almost surprised when no one raised any objections to this.

“Well,” he began, his eyes bright. “Once upon a time there was a little mermaid. She lived in the watery deeps, twenty thousand leagues below the bellwether where Pandora’s box was kept sealed, for freshness, and where the great whales rove.

“One day, a golden eagle was thrown into the ocean by the fury of Hurricane Debbie. Using the powerful currents of the Gulf stream, he flew against the waters, soaring through the vertical water column.

"The mermaid saw him gliding past her. She loved him at first sight. She reached out and caught him like a tiger by the toe.

"They swam past all the glowing herring to the shores of Madagascar. But she was a fish out of water and could not fly.

"'When the clock strikes twelve, the spell will be broken," the eagle said. “You must go back. Your coach is a pumpkin.”

"But the mermaid was caught by the one golden feather, hook, line and sinker.

"The eagle said, "You must see the Conductor for a ticket to the end of the line. We must climb every mountain.’

"They traveled night and day through waist deep snow, uphill all the way, like when I was a boy. They traveled from sea to shining sea. Every step was like walking on broken glass. But the eagle loved her and he would walk ten thousand miles just to fall down at her door.

“The conductor was in the counting house, counting all the stars that are beyond number, like diamonds in the sky. The conductor said the ticket is forever- signed, sealed, and delivered, baby! They held their future in their hands.

"But unbeknownst to them, Moby Dick went down locked in with the great white whale and Pandora's box was opened! All the wicked blackbirds flew out. Hark now, hear the sailor's cry! It's a mournful sound, in the fog of war.

"The little mermaid said, 'The last thing out is hope. Wait for it.'

"She threw herself into the ocean. She was in the belly of the beast for three days and three nights, weaving shirts out of thorns. She threw the thorn shirts over the blackbirds and they all began to sing. Oh wasn't that a pleasant dish to set before the king!

"And the mermaid said, 'I don't have to fear it, oh my gypsy soul! Let your spirit fly into the pearl-spangled shoal of mystics! Let the fog horns blow!'

"The ocean spat her out like the foam upon the shore.

“‘You’re the sweetest thing I ever knew,’ the eagle told her, ‘and all my love belongs to you.’

“He made her wings of wax and eagle feathers, tied up with copper transistor wires, to lift her off the floor. They climbed cathedral mountains; they saw silver clouds below, until the shadow of the starlight became softer than a rock bye baby, don’t cry.

“Because, if a fish and a bird fall in love, that is where they will live- between the ocean and the sky, where the lights shine bright, world without end, amen.”

The sound of the fire was very loud in the otherwise silent room. Pidguyok’s tail began to sag.

Captain Kaito put his fingers in his mouth and let out a long, piercing whistle. The room burst into applause. Miyoko waved her handkerchief in the air. Suzuki beat the veranda with his hands. Aiko pulled a snow drop out from behind her ear and tossed it to Pidguyok’s paws

“What’s a mermaid?” Yuudai asked his wife, puzzled.

"That is by far your best story yet, PIdguyok," Tenshio said, his eyes dancing.

“That’s my friend Pidguyok, the loquacious one!” cried Gilly, tears shining on her cheeks.

“Again,” cried Amako, as she clapped. “Do it again!”

The End

November 3rd

This, dear blog reader, will be a long, most likely boring post talking about my writing, mostly so I can have a sounding board for all these ideas I've been working out. If that sounds interesting to you, read on.

I have been writing nonstop and my head is full of Torii. Certain things about that story have become clear, things that I knew were off in some way that I couldn't pin point until now.

I had several questions.

Did the story require scenes of Gilly's parents, abuser and her real life setting?

I had written them in, but I knew if I was going to keep them, I would have to take them apart and completely rework them.

The last time I worked on the story, I simply cut every one of those scenes out.

When I reread the story without the scenes, I knew taking them out was the correct choice. They aren't necessary; they take up too much room and clutter the focus of the story.

The reader is perfectly capable, with the few clues I have left them, to construct their own idea of what Gilly's original family and society were like.

Another important question concerned the structure of the overall story. The story has two parts. One is the journey across the Kagamihara, ending at the Sacred Gate. The other describes Gilly growing up at the Nishiyama village, ending with her abduction to and resolution at the Underworld Gate.

The question is, where would the second part of the story begin?

I had two options, both with strong appeal.

One was to begin with five year old Gilly learning and adjusting to her new way of life at the Nishiyama village.

The other was to skip completely to an eleven year old Gilly, a month before she turns twelve.

I wrote the original draft beginning with the five year old Gilly- three chapters worth.

Every time I read it, I worried that it dragged down the pace of the story. Feedback from my editor friend confirmed this.

On the other hand, some of these scenes were the emotional foundation for other scenes. I needed them.

I thought of two options for those chapters. Take them out entirely, or switch them to the first half of the story, extending the ending.

If I choose the later, I felt the ending would drag. I preferred the clean cut ending right at the Sacred Gate. Besides, the first half was already too long.

So I cut the three chapters entirely out, but I simply wasn't sure if this was correct or not.

This is the part of writing that is so annoying when it goes wrong and so exhilarating when it comes right. There isn't any sort of clean cut equation to show the correct answer. It's all instinct and feedback and experimentation.

This time around, I realized that I could layer those key scenes further into the second half of the story as recollections or flashbacks, as opposed to bunching them all up at the beginning.

This allows the story to move forward immediately, as it should, but it also retains its depth of memory.

I have been busy attempting to discover where and how I should do that weaving. I'm not sure if I've gotten it right or not. Time will tell.

Since resolving those two major structural question, I feel much happier with the story.

I have taken out a great deal of unnecessary narration.

I am an earnest story teller. I very much want the reader to understand, to see, to feel, so I end up over directing them at every point.

I have pushed down into several key scenes, deepening their emotional tone. The characters have become more human and natural in those scenes.

Doing that has allowed me to finally see the ending. I understand how it will be structured- what scenes are required and in what order.

I have questions about whether or not I should take out some scenes already written, and I wonder if there are a few I should write in. I still have to actually write the ending.

All in all, it is a good story. It's always better than I thought it would be, when I finally drag it out and make myself read it.

In addition to this, I have been writing three other stories.

One is the allegory. That story proceeds the slowest. It wants to go to places that I can't understand and that I don't like. I have to force myself to let it go there. I write it, question it, delete it.

I have these two contradictory beliefs about the story. One is that it is exactly like everything else I've ever written and therefore why am I writing it. The other is that it's more real and more raw than anything I've written before and therefore it is promising.

These can't both be true. I don't know which is true.

The other two stories are like reservoirs where I freely dump everything that bothers me about the allegory. I can say anything that I want in those stories, because it doesn't matter. No one will read those stories.

No one may ever read the allegory either, but I persist in writing it as though they might.

I keep telling myself, be real. Don't gloss over. Don't side step. Just write it.

Then I write it, question it, delete it.

This is a good sign. It means that I am stretching myself. I can't see the results yet, but I'm hoping they will be worth it. I just have to stay with it.

And it's so satisfying. It just is. It's like tearing a hunk of bread off with one's teeth or something.

February 28th

I heard back from my friend about Torii, which is always so exciting. She used adjectives like "enchanting, foreboding, heart moving, engrossing and hopeful."

Also, she indicated that the mixture of dark and light, humor and tragedy work, with the over all feeling being one of light.

That is relieving to know.

As usual, my descriptions are word dense and there are a lot of loose ends I need to tie up, but at a certain point, she got too engrossed in the story to continue writing down her comments, so that's good feedback in and of itself!

Also, she requested the second half as soon as possible. I've been working on that last night and this morning and sent off what is there so far.

Now I'm going to go back into the rewriting/writing process and see if I can't capture a few of the scenes that have been eluding me. Maybe I can finally write the end.

Also, I found this verse this morning, which I have to share, because it is so beautiful:

"Happy are those who hear the joyful call to worship, for they will walk in the light of Your presence, Lord. They rejoice all day long in Your wonderful reputation."

-Psalm 89:15-16

November 7th

Today is a cloudy, quiet Monday. I have the bedding in the wash, as is usual, and must clean the floors.

Yesterday, we went to church.

I have a hard time describing church. Or maybe what is more true, is that I have a hard time thinking about or experiencing church.

Certain things about church I love very much, and enjoy. This church has a chant that goes like this:

Leader: Who do we believe is the Christ?

People: We believe Jesus is the Christ, the Anointed One of God, the firstborn of all creation, the firstborn from the dead, in whom all things hold together, in whom the fullness of God was pleased to dwell by the power of the Spirit. Christ is the head of the body, the church, and by the blood of the cross reconciles all things to God. Amen.

I also love dressing up and walking across the church through a beautiful fall day. I love the joyful solemnity of the church service. I love hearing the hymns- the hymns were mind blowing to me. It's so real, I guess is why.

We sang: I love You, Lord, and I lift my voice to worship You. O my soul, rejoice. Take joy, my King, in what You hear- may it be a sweet, sweet sound in Your ear.

And we sang: Jesus, draw me close, closer, Lord to You. Let the world around me fade away... for I desire to worship and obey.

They also sang Blessed Assurance and He Who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it.

These songs knocked my socks off. Singing such things out loud filled me with wonder and shyness and joy. I felt dizzy. It awesome to have been doing that all week long and then get to sing about it out loud, with a whole group of people who know what the song is talking about, and also had experienced being close to and belonging to Him.

That's what I love about church. Other things confuse me and to be honest, I don't agree with some of what they say. But that's alright. I don't have to agree with them in order to worship God with them. We're all only human anyway, and I certainly don't think that I have it all put together. No way.

Keith's mother is having some serious health problems and we may be driving up to Indiana to pick her up and bring her down here, to stay for a couple weeks. This may not happen, but if it does, I will have to search for the guest bed under the mound of army gear that's currently and cleverly disguising it from the untrained eye.

My father's friend, the professional writer, is going to be calling me sometime this week about a book idea. I guess his friend, the publisher, is looking for a certain type of novel, and he thinks I could write just such a novel. I guess it would be based off my life, sort of autobiographical, but not completely.

I sort of started on such a thing, just to see what it would feel like. And the answer to that is- it feels painful and it's slow going.

I reread Torii and it captivated me. I didn't realize until then exactly how well I had done at capturing Christ's love in the person of Tenshio. That was my intent all along, but goodness. I remembered all those times I offered the story to Christ, over and over again, as I was writing it and as I was thinking about it.

But it needs such a dreadful amount of work.

Keith did so well running his training mission that his CO has made him mission commander of every single training mission from here on out, which is a very dubious honor. It will run the poor guy right into the gound, but he's already preparing for the next round of training missions.

Hopefully soon he will put in his packet for becoming a recruiter and we will be heading off in that direction. I guess everyone but Keith and fifteen other guys in his company have received orders, most of them to go to Korea for a year, so we are waiting to see if Keith won't come down on the same orders himself.

If he's accepted into the recruiter school, then he won't have to go to Korea- if indeed, the Army in all its wisdom is thinking of sending him there. If he did end up going there, I would move back to Colorado and we'd have to push back adoption plans for yet another year or more.

So, things are kind of up in the air. That's what's new over here at the Indiana household. Now the sun has come out again, and I'm going to go for a walk.

September 19th

I figured out what I have to do with my story- I have to completely re write it.

I have to change a fundamental principle of the way in which the spirit realm functions, and then manage all of the changes that occur as a result.

Previously, I had imagined there being some kind of mist that separated the two regions of the spirit realm. However, now I think that's a poorly thought out idea. I don't need a clearly delineated and yet vaguely defined and poorly understood boundary.

Making this change eliminates the need for the continent of Antarctica to be connected to the southern most point of the Touzainanboku mountains, as I had envisioned earlier, as a gateway into the Kagamihara.

This eliminates the need for an encircling land route, as people can access the Kagamihara and the ocean at any point along the coast, the occasional cliffs not withstanding.

This means that there will no longer be travel across Antarctica at all, since ships setting out from Minami City will merely sail around it and into the Indian ocean.

And that, in its turn, means that every single scene with the Krigmerk will go.

Sigh.

I have to go with this. It works in every way that I need it to work, and it's logical, congruent and simple. No more stupid road, no more far fetched travel ideas.

So, the Nishi mountains will have a rice farming town high up in the foothills, with terraced rice paddies, as I have already written in, as well as a fishing community down on the coast, with a road connecting them, where the sea faring daemon will live.

This works better than the sea faring daemon living "somewhere out in the middle of the ocean," which constituted my previous idea on that point.

The road connecting the fishing and farming communities will see a lot of foot traffic, which is going to be the most popular form of overland travel by far. Your occasional samurai in service to some organization or city might have a horse, but they're rare, and they won't enter my story.

Not many will travel at all. Even sea faring daemon will usually do only coastal fishing. Anyone who must travel a long distance will do so by ship.

So. Gone are like, six characters and I don't even know how many pages of writing. None of it was truly vital to the story, except Pidguyok. He's vital. So, he stays.

But he will be met in the lower Minami City, where Gilly will mistake him for a normal dog, and he will join them from there.

Fushi will not join them. There's no point; he can't fit on the ship, and almost the entire journey will be by ship.

He'll meet them at the Minami shrine, as before, but for advice and moral support, not as a companion. Any roles that he played, Pidguyok can fill.

This is going to be a hell of a lot of work, and countless scenes will die and be folded away carefully into the discard file, never to be seen or used again.

I'm also massively changing Minami City. It will be comprised of two levels. The lower level with be a shipping port and market. The middle will be residencial and toward the top of the mountain will be the official offices, library and court, etc. At the very top will be the shrine itself.

Tenshio and Gilly will arrive by small fishing boat- maybe, maybe not- anyway, they'll arrive by some kind of boat and meet Pidguyok. He may or may not accompany them up the mountain. They may just meet him again on the way down... No, I think he comes up with them.

They journey up the mountain to the library by rickshaw, which will be used in such large cities as Minami. I have to completely change the library. It must be larger and Osamu is too young to be the master librarian. He'll have to be a junior librarian, one up from apprentice.

Tenshio will have to meet formally with the master librarian, as good manners dictates, and then meet more informally with his friend, Pidguyok and Gilly in tow. (That will be interesting.)

After their stay at the shrine, they will return to lower Minami City and book passage on Captain Kaito's schooner. They'll sail past the icy coasts of Antarctica and out into the central oceans of the Kagamihara.

When they get to Tenjiku, I must almost completely rewrite those scenes, as I only rapidly sketched my way through them. I must write the scene at the Ishii no Torii, since I simply skipped that entire scene earlier.

End of part one.

Begin part two.

I must write in scene in Minami City when Aiko has her betrothal ceremony, so the readers understands what the looks like and the implications, so they can contrast that to Gilly's relationship to Tenshio. Otherwise, they won't understand the emotional framework, or the daemon marriage rituals.

I must figure out when, why and where exactly Tenshio goes, when he goes into the Kagamihara.

I must draw out a time line so I can weave in Katashi's actions with Gilly's story, so the readers get the strong sense of something threatening building somewhere out there, in the background.

Then I have to decide if I'm going to keep Gilly's parent's story, or drop it completely.

Then I have to actually write the end of the story.

Then I have to read it through all over again, to see how well any of this worked.

Phew.

Hopefully after all this is done, when the reader enters the story, they will be able to sense the ways in which the world is smoothly functioning around them, in mysterious and yet congruent ways. Hopefully, they will be drawn irrevocably up in its strong emotional current with no jarring distractions.

One thing at a time, and the first thing is a hell of a lot of deleting.

September 16th

I am turning thirty four this winter.

When I mentioned this to Keith, he was stunned. "Are you really?" he asked, in disbelief.

I love that man.

Last night, the thought of my birthday had me in the grip of a cold fear, though I'm ashamed to admit it. I saw how short life is.

It doesn't seem so bad right now, in the morning, after I've had some coffee. But it still stuns me- just how fast our lives go by.

Now I'm wrestling with a much more important matter- how on earth do daemons travel the long distances between towns?

My entire re write is hung up on this question, much as the entire second half was hung up before I could figure out who sailed the ship to Tenjiku.

So far I have two ideas, but both of them have the same significant problem- that of being too childish.

The first is a lacquered carriage drawn by the sable coated sika deer of Japan, and driven by the same grinning, pointed eared Tanuki creatures that have a ramen stand high up in the Nishimachi mountains.

The second is a coal powered train, staffed by the aforementioned Tanuki.

I'm not writing a children's book, but it sure as hell feels like it, at the moment.

At first, I was able to ignore this whole question because T'ien-lung personally carried them to Minami City. Now I realize that this won't work. It's illogical. T'ien-lung and Tenshio cannot both leave the shrine at the same time.

Tenshio is not going to call down the wind just to catch a ride into the city either. Besides, I decided that it won't carry passengers; it will only carry the person sealed to it.

Besides, it's not like your typical daemon is going to have a celestial dragon available to them for their every travel need; there must be some other, more pedestrian mode of transportation available to the general public.

Horseback? Maybe the Nishiyama town keeps horses stabled at the bottom of the rice paddies and there's a system in place that's kind of like the Pony Express.

But I'm tired of writing about horses. Ceallach is nothing more than one long journey by horseback. I'm horsebacked out.

Sea journey? The daemon do fish the coastal waters around the Touzainanboku mountains, though they don't venture out into the deep waters of the Kagamihara unless they're true, ocean faring daemon.

But that just seems so tiresome. Though, actually, it does make the most sense. It would be the fastest way of travel, by far, because it could cut across the distance, instead of following the coast the long way around.

But no. That just makes the whole culture too sea faring by far. I want the average mountain daemon to be terrified of the ocean and subject to bouts of seasickness, as Tenshio is.

To tell the truth, I want like hell to make it a train. I want there to be a train and I don't want to explain how that's possible. I want it just to be- just throw it out there, logic be damned.

Just be all- Yeah, that's a train, you got a problem with that? You want to know why they don't use that technology elsewhere, if they have it here? You want to know where they mine the coal from, how they get it to the train, who works the mines, all that crap? Well, I'm not telling you. So there.

Sigh.

I'm not going to make it a train. I make it a train and boom! I'm writing a children's book. Everyone knows that, it's clear. Every story from the Polar Express to Hogwarts to Narnia has a train. I can't put a damn train in my story. I already have a dragon and a talking dog, for god's sake.

That leaves me with the carriage. It's not a bad idea and having it drawn by deer is pretty interesting, though not entirely original, of course. I think I can describe that in a fairly adult way, but then the story gets this strange, pseudo-British flavor.

The Japanese did have coaches, but they were way, way back in the Heian era, and they were actually very slow and uncomfortable ox carts. The imperial family still uses horse drawn carriages, but they look suspiciously British, upon close review.

The Japanese nobility did have peasants run them around by foot in these little dangling, ornate boxes, but that's just ridiculous.

Maybe horseback is best. Tenshio can dress up like a samurai and it can be all shades of Shogun and Ran.

Bonzaiiiii!

I hate this crap.

Wait. Maybe it should be completely British. After all, I have an English convent center stage in the second half of the story. Why not add one more of the same element, and just have the stage coach be completely British, with all the trappings, like muddy leather boots and luggage. It'll still driven by the Tanuki, much as the convent is for daemon in the full regalia of Catholic nuns.

That's more bizarre and yet less childish than the other options, and it's balanced. I can even throw in a stone ale house/inns as way stations, and English pastures/farms where the horses are stabled and bred.

Hm. I like it. I think I'm going with it.

September 13th

I've gotten pretty much to the point where I can't write the ending of Torii without going back and cleaning up all that rumble in the earlier sections.

I'm kind of scared to do it, so I'm not. I'm just fiddling around the edges, waiting for things to settle and thinking about what I'll do next.

I'm not going to try and get Torii published right away. It's not like Ceallach; I can't just throw it out there. It's too ridiculously personal. Besides, some of the concepts in Torii need work. I want to give it time enough for all the ideas in that story to develop. I want it to live up to its potential, if you know what I mean.

I think I'm going to try and submit short stories to magazines so I can get a publishing record. I've found three magazines and I have made a little list with word count requirements.

Then I'm just going to write. I'm going to write whatever the hell I feel like writing, until I stumble across the next good idea and then I'll start shaping it to fit the word count, if I can.

That way, maybe I can develop a little following of people who enjoy my work, in addition to you guys. :)

Actually, the response to my last excerpt was really good. In fact, whenever I post an excerpt, I get a lot more activity, a lot more quickly than usual. It was partly what got me thinking down this line. I must have hooked some of you, is what I realized. You must be interested in the story.

I thought, gosh, if I can do that with very small excerpts, I'll bet I can do that with short stories. I'll bet I can write colorful, original and interesting short stories that are full of drama and human emotion and my usual dialogue.

We'll see.

September 12th Excerpts

Variations on a Theme:

“Master Tenshio!” she said slowly, the reality dawning on her.

“Yes, Gilly?”

“Master Tenshio!” she repeated, drawing away from him. She drew her hands up under her chin and looked at his face. Her cheeks were flushed with color, her eyes wide and flashing. “You kissed me!”

He laughed. “Indeed. How reassured I am, to see that it didn’t escape your notice."

Her mouth dropped. “Master Tenshio,” she repeated, dismayed.

“It is no longer necessary for you to use my title, Gilly. Please address me simply by my name. If you wish to address me as Master Tenshio in public, that would be perfectly appropriate. But do not call me that when we are alone.”

Gilly’s astonishment turned unexpectedly to indignation. “That’s not fair!” she objected. “You can’t just change the rules like that!”

Tenshio had a hard time trying not to laugh. "I didn’t make those rules," he said, after a moment. "I obey them as much as you do.”

.......

“And you have been calling me Master. You can’t keep doing that,” Tenshio continued.

Gilly rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s entirely your own fault, Master Tenshio,” she said, pointed out. “I can’t help it if I am an excellent student.”

“Very well, I’ll just have to teach you a new lesson.” He straightened up and put his hands behind his back. “Please repeat after me: Tenshio.”

A joyful laugh escaped Gilly; it broke up the last of the tension that had been in her body. She looked at him with dancing eyes. “I can’t!” she protested. “Really, I can’t. It’s too much.”

“Ten-shi-o,” repeated Tenshio, with careful enunciation. He waited expectantly. “My mother calls me that all the time, as you know. I’m sure it will be easy for you.”

The giggles took hold of Gilly; she clasped her hand over her mouth and shook her head emphatically.

“And here I thought you were a good student,” he teased her. “I assure you, you don’t wish to fail my class. Please concentrate.”

“Master Tenshio!” Gilly laughed.

“No, no,” he said, with mock sternness. “That is all wrong.”

“Oh, please,” gasped Gilly. “Stop making me laugh!”

“Very well. I will give you an extension. But I do expect excellent results during the next lesson.”
.......

"Tell me what you think it means.”

Gilly groaned. “Why must you do this to me? I know perfectly well that you already know what it means.”

“It’s a more valuable experience for you if you think it through yourself.”

“Yes, Master Tenshio,” Gilly replied, her eyes twinkling.

His arms tightened in response. “I gave up being your master,” he whispered. He put his face against hers. “You are the master now.”

“No!” cried Gilly, appalled. She pulled her head away from his and looked at him with wide eyes.

Tenshio laughed softly. “Oh, Gilly. How deeply I have offended your sensibilities. I love you.”

“Don’t play,” Gilly pleaded, yielding to his embrace once more. “I can’t get used to it.”

“Very well,” he said gently, resting his head against the top of hers. “I won’t tease.”

.....


Her sleep had been deep and untroubled and when she sat up, she was still groggy. She blinked at him in wonder and then looked around the kitchen in growing disbelief.

“Good morning, Gilly,” Tenshio whispered.

“Good morning,” she said shyly. She pushed away the strands of hair that had fallen over her face. “We did sleep in the kitchen!”

“Yes. And unless you wish to discover exactly what my mother would say under these circumstances, I suggest we return to our usual beds.”

Gilly gave him a broad and sleepy smile. “One day, we’ll tell her, and find out.”

“Anytime you wish. Are you going to drop the use of my title today, Gilly?”

A quiet sound from the eastern room came to his attention; it was better than a cold shower. Immediately his mind was crystal clear.
 
“My mother,” he whispered, urgently. “Go, go, go.”
.......
 
Gilly blushed. “Thank you for pointing that out, Master Tenshio,” she murmured with pointed and defensive sarcasm.
 
“I see you are going to use that title indefinitely,” he remarked, his eyes dancing. “Even perhaps fifty or so years from now, when we are in bed together, you will use it.”

“I will use it whenever I have need of it,” she replied loftily and then giggled despite herself. “Anyway, won’t you be?”

“Won’t I be what?” Tenshio asked warily.

“The master in bed?” she replied, shaking with the giggles.

“I doubt that very much,” he remarked dryly. “I have a feeling that title will go to you.”

“Really?” asked Gilly, her interest piqued. “Why do you think that?”

“Oh, those lessons are much further ahead of where you are now,” he said. “For the moment, you should concentrate on coming a little closer.”

“There’s no room!” she objected.

“That’s the point,” Tenshio explained.

.....

“You look very disheveled, Master Tenshio,” she said demurely. “Whatever have you been doing?"

“I’ve been making love to my wife, as a matter of fact."

“What a lucky woman,” Gilly murmured. “I hope she takes good care of you.”

"Oh, she does," he assured her. "In fact, she esteems me so greatly that, even now, she persists in using my title."

She laughed, and put her forehead against his. "Tenshio," she said tenderly. "Tenshio, I love you. Now put me down and let's go have breakfast."

September 10th

So, as you can probably tell from my slinging all those excerpts at you, I have been writing like a freaking son of a gun. Only those pieces are old now- I'm much further ahead. I usually let things simmer for a good while before I feel confident putting them out, and even then, they get changed later.

I added about ten thousand words in the last five days or so- I took it from fifty thousand to sixty thousand. I would have written more except that Keith keeps wanting me to interact with him.

I know, right? Who does he think he is, my husband or something? Heh.

So, I end up writing late into the night, and when I get up, I'm almost afraid to read what I did the night before.

Which is the reason why I'm writing this post, as a matter of fact.

I completely deconstructed Tenshio. It's so ironic. It was supposed to be Gilly that got deconstructed. What I didn't realize, but should have known, is that, for Gilly, that already happened. That's the first half of the book.

The second half of the book is about Gilly getting put back together over a slow process of twelve years and huge amount of investment from Tenshio. The natural result of this is that it's he and not Gilly that gets torn apart at the end of the second half.

I broke him down, and I mean, I broke him right the hell down. He has nothing left. I tore off layer after layer of his self possession, calm reserve and strength.

I'm not sure I'm going to keep it this way. It feels so wrong. I feel so bad for the guy. He's taking over my damn story.

Also, the third section of my story is now larger than the first and second combined. Which means that they will be combined- the story will be in two parts, not three. Of course, the first part needs some major and massive revisions, which will help balance everything out.

Oh, I love getting to the end! I love the view. It's stunning.

Oh my goodness, people. This story. When I brought Gilly back up to the Nishiyama shrine, the story just dropped out from under me, like the view from a glass bottomed boat. The depth this story contains! It's extraordinary.

There's vast physical distances, and there's vast amounts of emotional history and there's a large span of time that the reader lives through. And because they live through it, it's as though they themselves can remember what Gilly remembers.

I've given the reader memory within the story. It's astounding. Like, it's not like just meeting a character and he's mourning for something past, and the author describes to you what that was, and you feel for the character, because you can imagine how that feels.

Instead, it's like the reader goes back to a place they themselves have been to, so that they and Gilly feel the same way automatically.

And what's better, is that the first time the reader is at the shrine, Gilly is a child, so they see it through a child's eyes.

Nothing is explained. Gilly has magical thinking, she doesn't wonder about how Tenshio lives his life, or cooks his food, or passes the time. The reader has no idea how things happen, or why, or what context to place Tenshio into. At that time, his inhumanity is striking.

The second time they come, Gilly is a young woman. She sees the shrine, and Tenshio,  as she did as a child, but now also as an adult, having been raised amid the daemon for over a decade. There's still mystery, but there's also perspective. The reader understands everything, context, purpose, and history. At this time, it almost comes as a shock that Tenshio isn't human.

At least, it seems that way to me.

I tell you what, it just keeps getting deeper and better, each story I write. I'm petrified of the next story, of the possibility that there might not be anything left in me to write about.

September 9th Excerpt

This captured Gilly’s imagination. She was lost in thought for a moment, considering this. Then she looked at Tenshio, a certain realization dawning in her eyes.

“How do you always know the exact right thing to say to me?” she asked him slowly. “My whole life… you always have the perfect thing to offer me.”

“Gilly,” he said humbly, “that’s very reassuring to hear. I myself feel as if I’ve been bumbling from one mistake to another. But for what’s worth, I try and prepare for you.”

“You prepare for me?” Gilly asked, beginning to smile. “As though I were a test?”

“You’re not like a test, Gilly,” he earnestly explained. “And I would be a poor mate if I hadn’t taken the time given me and learned the best way of supporting your healing. Besides, as Daitoku, I was already very familiar with human injuries and human healing, because of the way they affect the Kagamihara.”

“So, all along, you’ve been planning in advance for… me?”

“It is like a game of Shogi,” Tenshio explained, his eyes lighting up. “I can plot out the course far in advance, by calculating what pieces you have in your possession and where they lie on the board. Usually, this works.

“However, just when I have become complacent, thinking that I have arranged all my pieces exactly as they should be, you frequently drop onto the playing field a piece I had not previously even known existed, and I must rethink my entire strategy.”

“I must be a formidable player, then,” she said, trying not to let her laughter escape.

“Very,” Tenshio replied, his voice serious.

Gilly remembered all those times he had sat amid papers and maps, a cup of tea or sake by his elbow, lost in research. He had been plotting out the best course for them to take. She realized then that he had never stopped; he had been doing that all her life.

When she couldn’t walk on her own, he had carried her. When she had gained a little strength, he had walked beside her. When she didn’t know what to say, he had taught her the words. When she was imprisoned in a cage of her own making, he had shown her how to dismantle it from the inside out.

Gilly felt a rush of love for him such as she had never felt before. For a moment, she felt it so acutely that she was frozen in one spot. Then she was released from it; she went swiftly across to Tenshio and threw her arms around him.

“I love you,” she breathed.

“I love you,” he replied, taken by surprise. He enfolded her in his arms and patted her back gently.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Sorry for what?” he asked, bending his head to hers.

“For complaining about childish things, like romance,” she answered passionately.

“You don’t have to apologize, Gilly. If it’s important to you, I can try to provide you with some,” he said earnestly. “But to be honest, I’m not quite sure I know what that is.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Gilly said fiercely. “That’s nothing. I don’t know what it is either. Something like meeting in a tea house where no one knows you and holding hands under the table.”

“We might have some difficulty with that. I don't know any tea houses where we won't immediately be recognized."

"You think it might be difficult for the Daitoku and his living human wife to go incognito, is that what you're saying?" Gilly asked, her eyes dancing. "Maybe we'll have to go all the way back into the Kagamihara."

"I'm not entirely convinced that romance is worth that level of dedication. Besides, doesn't romance have something to do with flowers? I seem to remember hearing that somewhere..."

September 7th Excerpt

When Gilly met Tenshio at the convent gate at the end of the next week, it was a bright, chill day and the sun brought out the burnished copper of the fallen leaves that moldered away on the grass. There was the smell of snow in the air.

“Please excuse me, Master Tenshio,” said Aiko in her gay voice, as she bowed to him. “I must go to the village to post a letter; you and Gilly please go ahead.”

“Of course,” said Tenshio pleasantly. “Good afternoon, Gilly. How was your first week back?”

“It was busy, Master Tenshio,” she replied, not quite meeting his eyes. “It seems but a short time now until graduation.”

“I am sure. Time passes quickly.”

“Yes, Master Tenshio, it does.”

Gilly walked along beside him quietly. Over her shoulders, she wore a shawl his mother had given her for her eighteenth birthday. The bright scarlet and cream silk brightened up the dull gray of her dress.

Her spirit was muted and subdued. It was as though she were weighed down by something, some fear or sorrow. It frightened Tenshio, all of a sudden. Ever since he had returned from his last trip to the Kagamihara, it was as though his own, well known Gilly had been lost somewhere.

He looked down at her in concern. “Did something happen at school this week?” he asked.

“Why no, Master Tenshio,” Gilly replied.

“Are you worried about leaving the school that you have known so well?”

“No, Master Tenshio. I’m sad, of course, to leave. But everything must come to an end.”

He stopped in the path and took her elbow in his hand.

“Gilly,” said Tenshio quietly. “Gilly, please tell me what is troubling you.”

Gilly’s heart was pounding in her chest, and for a moment, she could not speak at all. “I’m very sorry to have worried you, Master Tenshio,” she said in a low voice. “I assure you, I am well.”

Tenshio looked at her in disbelief, his golden eyes narrowing for a moment, almost in anger. “Gilly, to whom do you think you are speaking?” he asked crisply. “I can see with perfect clarity that you are not well.”

“I am very sorry to have troubled you,” Gilly repeated. “Please don’t concern yourself with me. I’m simply in a poor mood. It will pass.”

He looked at her face in bewilderment. “Gilly, we must have walked this path together a hundred times, but lately I feel as though I am walking beside a stranger. Why won't you talk to me? Where have you gone? I miss your company.”

“Master Tenshio, I’m right here,” she said in surprise.

“No. No, you’re not,” he replied, taking her by the elbows. “Frankly, I’d rather you yelled at me than say one more pleasant phrase. Now, tell me what happened.”

Gilly clasped her hands together tightly; she took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Master Tenshio,” she breathed.

“Sorry for what?” he asked, in growing disquiet, when she did not speak further.

“I am very sorry that it was your fate to be sealed to me by the Sacred Realm,” she whispered.

Tenshio’s eyes went wide in dismay. “What are you saying, Gilly?” he asked, his voice deepened.

“You didn’t have a chance to choose the person you will spend your life with. You must take me out of obedience to the Sacred Realm, and I’m not a fit mate for you. You should have been given a graceful, lovely daemon girl with poise and beauty, but I’m… marred and… spoiled…”

“Stop,” said Tenshio, his voice rough and deep. “Stop it at once; stop saying those things.”

“But you know that it’s true,” Gilly insisted, with perfect sincerity. “I know that you do not love me, not as a woman. I know you’ll be kind to me and we’ll have a good life together. I will do my very best for you. I just wish that you could have chosen someone that you truly loved.”

September 6th Excerpt

They began walking toward home, Gilly swinging the closed umbrella along beside her. The drops of water felt good on her face, refreshing and cold. She thought it was a beautiful day after all and wondered what was for dinner.

“How is your new school year? I was sorry to miss your first day of school,” Tenshio asked, after a bit.

“Your father was there.”

“Are you enjoying being a senior?”

“Well, yes, but…” Gilly paused, her mind racing. She’d been wondering about this for some time, but had been too afraid of the answer to ask it. "We never discussed where I would take my two year apprenticeship,” she reminded him, at last.

“Did you have some place in mind?”

“Did you?” She looked up at him, an unspoken hope in her eyes.

“I had been considering Minami City,” he said calmly. “I heard from Master Yuudai that Miss Aiko will be apprenticing herself there. I thought you might like to be near her.”

“Miniami City?” Gilly said, horrified. “That far away?”

“It’s not that far,” Tenshio objected. “I thought you would like to go there. You’ve visited there often, and are close to Aiko’s family.”

“Do you want me to go there?” she asked.

“That choice is yours to make,” he said, looking down at her puzzlement. “If you did, it would be perfectly suitable.”

Her heart sunk at this second disappointment. “Well, if you think it would be the most suitable thing,” she said, discouraged.

“Gilly, if you had some other plan in mind, you can certainly pursue that,” Tenshio said, wondering why she looked so cast down. “Please tell me, if you do.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll just go to Minami city.”

“Gillian,” said Tenshio, standing still on the path. They stood at the out edge of his father’s garden, looking bedraggled by the rain and the ravages of autumn. “It does matter, if you wish to do something else. Did you have some other plan in mind?”

“No!” Gilly said firmly. “I didn’t.”

He looked at her suspiciously, knowing that she was hiding something from him. However, she was clearly unwilling to talk to him about it. He felt a strange reluctance to pry, as he looked down at her. She wasn’t a child anymore; she had a right to keep her own counsel.

“There is no need to decide until winter break,” Tenshio said at last. “So we will not make any concrete plans until then.”

“Very well, Master Tenshio,” she murmured.

He looked at her, his expression concerned. “Do you remember what I said to you when I returned from the Ishii no Torii?” he asked.

“Well, yes,” Gilly said in amazement, her heart beginning to pound.

“The Eiheisama did not tell me exactly what role you would have to play in the fate of the Spirit Realm, only that it would be vital. I can’t help but think, Gilly, with all this disturbance, that your role might come sooner rather than later.”

“Oh,” breathed Gilly, trying to manage her disappointment. That was not exactly the part of that conversation that she remembered best.

“I wish I knew more, so that I could better prepare you,” Tenshio said, half to himself. He looked at her; her face looked a little pale to him. “Please don’t worry, Gilly,” he said kindly, putting his hand on her shoulder. “It is in the hands of the Sacred Realm.”

“Yes, Master Tenshio,” Gilly said softly, her head down.

September 5th

Ha! I figured out how to download videos onto my blog. Here's one example of what I listen to when I'm sitting for hours in front of the computer.

I listen to a great deal of Kitaro. Naturally. The reason why will become obvious when you hear it. I am highly indebted to him for the entire third section of my story. (This is the short version of this song.)

His music has many other moods, but they almost all have this quality of movement. Almost as soon as I hear his stuff, I'm hunched over the keyboard, muttering to myself, "Let's do this!" And then the flurry of typing overtakes the dulcet tones of his music and I come to myself five hours later, and remember that I was supposed to mail the rent check.

September 4th

I was searching through my discard file last night, trying to find a little scrap of description I wanted to use, and ended up reading the whole darn thing.

Tenshio used to be a very different character; he used to be much more... feral, I think would be the word. That was back when it was going to be a very different story.

I kind of like him the original way. It's too bad that it didn't work. Those scenes have this raw, textural quality that's fascinating and darker than most of what I write.

I've started in on the end scenes of the story. Now that I've gotten there, I think I was wrong about Tenshio being broken; I think he will be.

That certainly wasn't my intent- he's not the main character, he's a supporting character. He's not meant to have a massive crisis. But he turns out to be playing a much larger role in everything than what I had first thought. He's almost more human than Gilly is, and even my father is moved by him.

All he must do is act his part through the series of events that my plot dictates for him. Now I think that in the course of doing this, it will end up breaking his faith. He's too much invested.

I think though, in light of this, I must give him some greater part to play than just pacing the beach. I'm thinking of having Katashi survive the blast and return to kill the stupid human girl that just ruined all his plans. That will give Tenshio some outlet for his frustration and rage.

After all, he's not really a priest at all; not like an Anglican priest. He's an expert in the spiritual martial arts who's been scripted into the service of the Sacred Realm. He may be the epitome of self discipline, but that just makes him all the more lethal, and he may be unfailingly formal, but those are just good manners.

It's only right that I give the poor guy the chance to kill his enemy. I think it's a more well rounded and satisfying ending, as it allows both my characters to face and finish off their enemies.

August 29th Excerpt

(Rather a long and light hearted one.)

It was a bright, beautiful autumn day, clear and crisp. The hillsides were gold and copper, with touches of red. The thick grass that the girls sat or sprawled on was cool and springy to the touch, carpeted with stray leaves that had escaped the sister’s raking.

There was a lot of wild cheering going on closer to the field, but Gilly and Aiko, not being avid hockey fans, had staked out a more pleasant position under two large oak trees at the top of a gentle rise. From there, they could overlook the gala and passion of the game from a safe distance.

“But it’s so romantic, Gilly,” breathed waif-like Miko, a slight girl who bested everyone at math and was the daughter of a samurai who owned a large estate somewhere south of Nishiyama. Her blouse collar always seemed a little too large for her neck, but her wrists were the last word in elegance.

“It is,” agreed Saya in her pleasingly low, husky voice. “You can’t deny it. The Daitoku saves you from certain death- with his own blood, by the way- then takes you on an epic journey through the Kagamihara- a place none of the rest of us will ever lay eyes on- and then is sealed to you by heaven itself at the legendary Sacred Gate. You can’t say that it’s not romantic.”

Gilly opened her mouth to protest, but Aiko cut her off.

“Never mind her,” drawled Aiko, who was sprawled out on the grass, one arm under her head, her dark hair loose. “She doesn’t think romance is quite proper.”

“Oh, shove off,” said Gilly, immediately. “Just because you held hands with oh captain my captain Suzuki...”

Aiko shook with laughter. “Tsk, tsk,” she said, when she could speak. “Do I sense jealousy? I’m certain that your wise, and…” here she broke off into giggles, “…quite frankly ponderous, Daitoku would inform you, very calmly, that jealousy is an unbecoming and unfit emotion for young ladies. And then he would tell you…” The giggles took over again for a moment. “He would tell you… to do… your homework,” Aiko ended on a shriek of laughter.

Gilly folded her arms and gave her best friend her most level and withering look. It took a great deal of self-discipline; Gilly had nearly burst out laughing at Aiko’s statement about homework, knowing it to be so very true.

“Jealous,” she sniffed. “As if. Do you know what you are?”

“Splendid?” gasped Aiko, still in the grip of laughter.

“A little hoyden, that’s what.”

“Stop it!” hissed Miko, excitedly. “The sisters are looking this way!”

“Look,” snapped Gilly, exasperated. “This is how it goes. I see him and smile and he smiles in return. And then he says, “How are you, Gilly?” And I say, “Fine, thank you; how are you, Master Tenshio?” And he says, “I am well, thank you for asking.” And then we go for a walk. At no point does he hold my hand, kiss me or quite frankly do anything that I wouldn’t expect from an older brother.”

“Goodness,” said Miko faintly. “I see.”

“I do feel obligated to point out that your situation does remain romantic in principle,” Saya said, “if not in practice.”

The girls let out a collective groan.

“I know who you’d be perfect for,” Gilly said suddenly.

“Who?” asked Saya, suspiciously.

“Master Osamu.” Gilly grinned at Aiko, who burst out laughing again.

“What? The O-toshokan’in? Why?” Saya asked incredulously.

“Is the Daitoku back yet?” Miko asked Gilly.

“No,” Gilly said quietly. “Not yet.”

“He always comes to see you whenever he gets back,” Saya insisted. “That’s romantic.”

“That’s polite,” Gilly said, rolling her eyes. Then she grinned. “Give it up, Saya. The O-nishikaze Daitoku does not have a romantic nature. I suspect Master Osamu to be secretly sentimental, that’s why I think the two of you would be an excellent match.”

Later that evening, the same four girls were in the village, having had a sudden craving for the little pieces of barbecued chicken that were roasted over coals on long, wooden toothpicks.

The late afternoon air was full of the delicious smell of sweet barbecue sauce. The sun fell onto the curved roofs of the village houses and shops, with their curtained doorways and barred windows. The wide, tree lined street was still busy, as people walked home for dinner after working in the fields or shops.

The girls were standing by the Yakitori stall, collaborating over which selections they should choose, when Miko jabbed Gilly in the ribs.

“It’s him,” she said in a high pitched whisper.

Gilly jumped, feeling a sudden start of terror for one, brief moment. Then she saw Tenshio standing at the gate of the Magistrate’s house, deep in conversation with him. Sheer joy expanded all through her. She put a hand over her heart, and then came to herself.

“Calm down, for goodness sake,” Gilly replied, her heart beat returning to normal.

Tenshio bowed to the Magistrate. He turned and saw Gilly at the corner and his face lit up. As he approached, all the girls bowed respectfully.

“Good evening,” he said pleasantly.

“Good evening, Daitoku,” the girls murmured.

“How pleasant to see you here, Gilly,” said Tenshio. “I was just going to the school. Are you well?”

“I am, thank you,” Gilly replied, without thinking. “How are you, Master Tenshio?”

Beside her, Aiko shook slightly, and then Gilly remembered. But it was too late.

“I am well, thank you for asking,” Tenshio replied.

A wondering look crossed his face as first Aiko and then the rest of the girls starting shaking, their hands over their mouths. He blinked rapidly and gave Gilly a puzzled glance.

“Would you like to walk with me to my parent’s house?” he asked her. “I was going to visit them.”

It was the last straw; the girls’ giggles escaped. They leaned against each other like rickety shacks, incapacitated by mirth.

“Yes,” gasped Gilly.

In an unusual and forward act of desperation, she grabbed Tenshio’s arm and propelled him quickly away from the group, turning once to give them a dirty look.

“Bye bye-ee!” chirped Aiko, irrepressible.

“What on earth?” asked Tenshio, bewildered.

“Never mind those girls,” Gilly said fiercely. “They’re just like a silly pack of geese.”

“Are they?” asked Tenshio, beginning to smile.

“I’m very glad you’re back, Master Tenshio,” Gilly assured him.

When they reached the farm house, Tenshio slid the door open and stepped in.

“We’re home,” he called out, slipping out of his sandals.

There was a squeal of joy from the kitchen and in a moment Miyoko was shuffling across the front room, her arms outstretched.

“Oh, Tenshio!” she cried. “You came back so soon! And you brought Gilly! What a marvelous surprise for the middle of the week. And we don’t have any meat… If only I’d known you were coming…”

Swiftly, she kissed Tenshio and then Gilly, squeezing the girl close.

“After what I have been eating, vegetables and rice sound delicious,” said Tenshio sincerely.

“Oh, you missed the most marvelous birthday party, Tenshio,” said his mother, hurrying back to the kitchen. “Gilly, did you tell him all about it? There were so many girls here! One of them brought these little iced cakes, so delicious.”

“Perhaps it is best that I missed that event,” Tenshio remarked, his eyes dancing. “I already had a close call with a group of girls in the village. It appears there is no place left to escape them.”

He settled himself in the west room, with his back to the open window. Grinning, Gilly slipped down the stairs and into her kitchen sandals.

“Oh, you don’t mean that,” Miyoko scolded, busy turning sliced root vegetables over the fire. “If only he’d had a sister, things would be different!”

“I was sorry to miss your birthday, of course, Gilly,” he said.

“I know,” she said, looking up with surprise. She smiled. “You could have kept poor Mr. Hironori company.”

“Who could have kept me company?” asked Hironori in his slow, pleasant voice. He stepped into the kitchen, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the unexpected visitors. “Well, how nice! The children are home.” He drew himself up and clasped his hands behind his back. “Is it Friday already? Perhaps I should go into the village for a nice piece of fish…”

“No, no, dear, it’s too late,” said Miyoko, affectionately. “Never mind that. Go sit down. I’ll warm up the sake.”

August 26th

I know what it is.

I have stepped back into an old identity, one I wrote about in Torii. The ragged girl, the girl who must deal with the leavings of her parent's love and affection.

I don't have to do that now, of course, but when I was a child, that is how I learned to view myself. When I started to demand more, in my late teen years, I created this chasm between what I wanted from my parents, and what they were able to give me.

I felt guilty, like a bad, bad girl, for demanding something from my parents. The sense of worthlessness was almost crushing. I felt as though my needs were invalid and gross; I felt as if they revealed something wrong about me.

It was as though I was the cuckoo in the nest, knocking the other sweet little chicks out, endlessly squawking, ugly and misplaced. Only the cuckoo gets fed, in nature, so that's a bad metaphor.

Now, my parents are able to pour out love and validation at the drop of a hat. They have heard all my anger without reflecting it away and grieved with me over my pain. This is an incredible gift. I realize how rare it is to have parents that strong and that healthy.

They aren't the same people. I'm not the same person. But sometimes I step back into the old identity, like when a sibling receives a beautiful baby girl, and I continue infertile. Then, along with my grief, I feel like an ugly, bitter person for feeling my own sorrow at the same time that I feel joy and excitement for them.

This doesn't make me an ugly, bitter person; this makes me a human person. I seem to have labeled my humanity as evil, bad, unnecessary, and unsightly. I can write beautiful letters to a friend, telling her to love herself and nurture herself, but I can't seem so easily to tell my own self this.

Maybe I should try doing that deliberately- I should stand in front of the mirror and say that flacky phrase "Every day, in every way, I'm getting better and better." Only that's all wrong. Because the trick is not to teach yourself to value self improvement, but to teach yourself to value who you are right now.

You know why else this is coming up for me right now? It's because I'm writing Gilly up through adolescence, so I've already unlocked the door on that little shop of horrors. Mmmm.... unwanted renaissance. Such are the dangers of writing.

Yesterday, not surprisingly, I was able to go back and rewrite a key scene. The first time I wrote it, Gilly reflected a surface part of my personality and didn't act like herself. Then I fiddled with it almost endlessly, but all I was doing was rearranging the wrong dialogue.

Then yesterday, I pretty much destroyed the entire scene and wrote it from a much deeper part of myself, and Gilly was herself. But after three hours of this, I was emotionally exhausted and watched anime on Netflix instead.

I'm going to have to do this the entire way through everything that I've already written.

What an exhausting prospect.

I think I'll go grocery shopping instead.

August 18th Excerpt

(I'm starting to go back and rearrange all the stuff I wrote through so quickly last weekend.)

Gilly stood in the midst of excited and nervous girls in the grassy quad at the Nishiyama Shuuduoin, wearing her new and slightly itchy uniform. The buildings of the convent rose up around the crowd she stood in, with its Gothic windows paned in dark glass and stern architecture. The morning was a little cool, and she wore a cardigan over her white blouse with the narrow banded collar.

Though she stood near Tenshio, she did not hold his hand. At nearly twelve years old, she had begun to feel self-conscious about such displays of affection.

Her face had lengthened and her cheekbones had become more prominent. Above her large dark eyes were strongly marked, level eyebrows and a high, curving forehead.

Her silken shining hair was drawn neatly back from her face with two simple barrettes. The rest of her straight hair fell to her shoulders, where the ends persisted in curling up every which way.

She did not smile often and in repose her face held a quiet, almost studious reserve; an expression that mimicked the one she had seen most often on Tenshio’s face throughout the years.

Though she was not a particularly tall child, she had grown in height and her arms and legs were a bit on the gangly side. Tenshio no longer had to crouch down in order to see her eyes when he was speaking to her, though he still did so from time to time, out of both habit and affection.

Tenshio himself had not changed at all. For the slightly formal occasion of the first day of school, he wore a dark grey silk coat over his indigo hakama and layered kimono. His face was pale, calm and remote. He stood patiently, watching the crowd of other parents.

Every once in a while, Gilly would recognize one of her classmates and her somber face would light up. Inevitably, the parents and child would make their way over, to offer their respect to the Daitoku in pleasant and courteous phrases. It was almost as though Gilly and Tenshio stood at the center of a slow moving current in a pond.

Over the years, various history and geometry classes, as well as the attitudes of the villagers, had taught Gilly just how important the Daitoku was. He was important not just to the Nishiyama region, but to the entire daemon community and everyone knew him, if not by face, than by name.

Sometimes it surprised her, to come from a class where she had seen fuzzy black and white pictures of former Daitoku mina in her history book, their expressions stern, to find Tenshio waiting by the gate, in color and smiling.

The same authority figure that had charge over one of the most sacred places in the spirit realm was also the one that held fallen leaves, acorns and river rocks in his hands for her when they went for a walk up the stream, and bought her birthday presents, and tutored her in math.

“There is Aiko,” Tenshio said to Gilly quietly, bending toward her.

“Where?” whispered Gilly, her eyes searching out the crowd.

All the girls wore the same uniform and so were difficult to recognize them at first. Then Gilly heard the deep and carrying tones of Master Yuudai’s voice over the general murmur of the crowd. Standing on tiptoe, she caught sight of a dark curly head, and then Aiko was running up to her, her eyes bright; Gilly braced herself.

“Oh, Gilly, isn’t it exciting?” Aiko cried, squeezing the girl.

Aiko was still slightly taller than Gilly. Her loose hair tumbled around her shoulders. Her face had matured into the same classic beauty as her mother’s, though where her hair had come from, no one could tell. It wasn’t so noticeable when it was done up in the more formal styles that were typically worn outside of the school.

“We’re going to see each other all the time now!” Aiko exclaimed. “Master Tenshio,” she added, bowing belatedly.

“Miss Aiko,” replied Tenshio.

“Do we have a good room?” Aiko asked excitedly. Her things had been sent ahead, and Gilly and Miyoko had spent the last few days setting up the room the two girls would be sharing for the next year.

“I think so,” Gilly replied, cautiously, not entirely sure what constituted a good room.

Master Yuudai’s large frame had appeared out of the crowd, Lady Atsuka following in his wake. The two parties greeted each other warmly.

“Best of luck, Miss Gilly, on your first day of school,” Yuudai said to her.

“We’re so glad to have you in the same class,” Lady Atsuka added. “Little Aiko will be less homesick.”

“She can come over to Mrs. Miyoko’s house with me anytime I visit there, Lady Atsuka,” Gilly said earnestly.

The heavy bells hung in the chapel tower began to ring out, startling the birds that had been roosting there. They rose up with a confusion of black flapping wings against the morning sky.

Gilly watched a tearful Lady Atsuka hug Aiko close.

"Do you very best this year, Gillian," Tenshio said to her.

"Yes, sir," Gilly said, turning her attention to him. "I will."

“I know you will be kind to Aiko. It will be hard for her at first, a situation you can most certainly relate to.”

“Yes,” agreed Gilly, soberly.

“This is for luck," he said, smiling. He reached inside the folds of his kimono and brought out a small, silk wrapped package. Gilly took it respectfully in both hands, her face shining.

"Thank you very much, Master Tenshio," she whispered.

He patted her head fondly. "I will see you at the end of the week."

“Yes, sir."