in-sight
“C’mon, c’mon — We’ve got real work to do today!” In a flurry of cleaning up, Nia knocked over a jelly jar half-filled with watercolored water.
“How’s that rushing going?” Thalia raised her brows. “I’ll get some toweling.”
“Why are we rushing?” asked Calliope. “And what’s this real work you’re talking about? Find a job you love and you’ll never work a day in your life. We love writing — and now painting, too!”
“Flourishing Fictions is not going to upload itself to Amazon… We have to do that.” Urania scowled.
“Oh!” Thalia mopped and sopped. The paper towels turned the loveliest shade of gray-green. “I had no idea that mixing primary red into forest green nooo-tra-lies-ez it. Why do we want to neutralize green? Anyhow, allow me to share a universal lesson we picked up from the watercolor book the kid gave us for Christmas?”
Urania sighed and looked at the wall clock. “Go ahead. I’m well aware I can’t stop you.” She sat down and picked up her lukewarm coffee.
“Painting the tree trunks in varying depths of color affects how we perceive them! Isn’t that cool? By painting some light and some dark… it adds a look of multi-dimensionality to the forest. We could step right into that painting!”
Calliope and Urania shared a look. Their first attempt at foggy forest wasn’t half-bad, but… step right in?
Thalia continued, “So right now, we’re looking at FF’s upload from a distance and it is shrouded in mist… scary? Tedious? Detail-oriented? Right and wrong buttons to push?” She grabbed Calliope’s hand. “Once you get up close you’ll find it’s right up your alley Nia… You love that kind of brain work! C’mon Cal — I think there are a few peanut squares left. Let’s give The Muse of Determination some space.”
With only the sound of ticking to keep her company, Nia set off into the foggy forest. Thalia was right… this was the kind of work that felt like play to her.
Flourishing Fictions: Possibilities from A to Z coming soon!
Love the cover for FF!
Reader was stymied by “the sound of ticking” for a bit. While he was certain it wasn’t coming from the ticking of the chair cushions, the facts escaped him. His scrunched up brow refused to un-scrunch! A time bomb? An ancient Big Ben alarm clock?? The grandfather clock in typist’s home outside the studio door?
After rereading the story, there was my answer. The wall clock! For this hearing impaired reader, the muffled ticks from our battery powered kitchen wall clock are inaudible except when all is still, late at night. I would need something to tick with the force of Big Ben in London.
But I would still love to disappear into the foggy forest!