Cassandra’s Tears

Tears of joy, tears of pain, we are reflected in the salt-water pools we create. So let us build a fleet of paper boats and sail them on our ocean of indecision, laughing at the wind-whipped white-crested waves that would wash over us, drowning us in our own despair, yet somehow never vanquishing us in the end.

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Location: Lennoxville, Quebec, Canada

Tuesday, July 26, 2005


I haven’t posted anything here for quite some time, not because I haven’t wanted to, but because I have written nothing new in a “creative” fashion. Writing group is finished for the summer, our last session meeting at Janice’s house and using the inspiration of her orchard as fuel for our pens. It was a small gathering, just six middle-aged (and up) women swatting at mosquitoes and waving away flies as we listened to the birds in the apple trees and the occasional car pass by.

We moved inside after our second write, breaking for tea and cookies, before finishing off in Janice’s living room. Except for the first exercise, which is two below this entry, I found the evening a bit of a letdown. I would like to write on my own, but I find that, although words flow out of my ballpoint easily enough when it comes to descriptions, plots elude me.

I am reading a very fine book at the moment, Hyperion by Dan Simmons, which I started while I was on vacation with my family on the shores of Lake Huron. I admire an author who can pluck stories out of the air, invent characters and events and spin the disparate parts into a seamless whole. This is also my goal. Perhaps someday I will achieve it.


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