Well one of them.
Working on the interior art for the book! This is the one of the poetry books that Ghyslaine’s dah, Samuel would buy her during his trade journeys. So, I have been writing…you guessed it poetry.
Challenging in a couple of ways. The poems are written by a male character from a neighboring kingdom that you will meet formally in book two. Ghyslaine is sure they are written by a woman. It always amazes me how when we connect to art (music, film, prose, illustrations, etc.) we layer ourselves onto it. We feel certain this stranger feels like we do.
The other challenge is I would like this poem to mean something completely new to the reader by the end of book one. So, I have to plan it out.
You will know first!
Thank you for your patronage!
Oh, btw here is a draft of the poem…I will have to write many. Fun!
Living as black marks in a landscape of barren white.
Tired, toiling scratches that lend color and meaning to the otherwise void.
Are we not like these well intentioned blotches?
Scribed with hope. Scarring the page with meaningful blobs and jots.
Sometimes running into one another briefly for a stanza and in lock-step for a verse.
Destined to part ways.