I'm writing a first draft and reminding myself that I'm simply shoveling sand into a box so that later I can build castles.
Shannon HaleThe snow was too light to stay, the ground too warm to keep it. And the strange spring snow fell only in that golden moment of dawn, the turning of the page between night and day.
Shannon HaleI’ve always believed that as an author, I do 50% of the work of storytelling, and the reader does the other 50%. There’s no way I can control the story you tell yourself from my book. Your own experiences, preferences, prejudices, mood at the moment, current events in your life, needs and wants influence how you read my every word.
Shannon HaleTags: writing
Words can fall hard like a boulder loosed from a cliff.
Words can drift unnoticed like a weed seed on a breeze. Words can sing.
You forgot to cough!” he said.
“Sorry.” She coughed.
“Your sneakiness is dangerous. Next time that chisel will lodge itself in my head.”
“Now, Peder, there’s plenty of stone around here for carving. No need to practice on your own face.”
He stroked his chin. “You’re right, my jaw is already chiseled to perfection.”
She agreed, but she felt too silly to say so aloud.
You can be who you will,” he repeated. His voice softened. “And if you will have me, I will be the one beside you.
Shannon HaleTags: timon
Listen to your second thought, or the third might be too late.
Shannon HaleTags: doter
No matter that we could be beheaded for this,” said Esa. “Heads are overrated.”
“Yes, they are so unfashionable,” said Miri, imitating an Aslandian accent. “This spring, ladies of style are wearing their feathers in their necks.
My ma says a rock lasts forever, but people don’t, and that’s what makes them more precious.
Shannon HaleYour head will be fine,” said Miri. “It’s your neck you should worry about.
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