Search site

Contact

Unbound: The Digital Notebook

iamjj1027@yahoo.com

The return, updates, and profuse apologies for vanishing on all of you!

03/26/2013 14:01

Hello one and all, it is I JJ, and I am back and ready for action. First off, let me just say I am sorry this blog got swept away in the tide of life, but I am glad to bring it back. Things with me have been crazy as of late, so some quick updates are in order.

Malcolm Midnight, or more correctly the edited version I meant to self publish, crashed with my last computer, and the project is now sitting on the back burner. To be honest, I don't have a major project going, but I have been working on my craft quite a bit. Poetry has been a much bigger part of my life recently and I would not have it any other way. 
 

Interestingly, that poetic imagery has found its way into my prose, in the form of a short snippet that may in the near future be my major project. Its shapping up to be a story about a boy who gets lost in a place he's called home his whole life, shortly after he finds out his family is moving away. I use a lot of fantastical imagery, and I think t lends an etherial atmosphere to the text so far. Bellow is a sample.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

Our tale begins in the time between day and night. In the west the sun was setting, and the moon was high in the east, gray and pale as a ghost. Between them was the crystallize vale, an endless expanse of sky. And bellow them, a boy was walking along an unnamed dirt road, wondering where his path might lead.

Beneath the branches of ancient mesquite trees, and past fields of wildflowers the color of lavender and gold and sunlight, Jonah Mathers walked in the clear, crisp air, beholding the sky as it turned the deep, periwinkle hue that belonged only to the clearest of twilight nights.

It was still early spring, but the breeze that rustled the desert marigolds and the brittlebush leaves was a summer sort of breeze, warm and pleasant, with a heady perfume of dust and cactus and creosote. Its one of Jonah’s favourite smells, and he breathes it in, allowing it to fill his lungs and his nose and his soul.  Tears well up in his eyes as he thinks of all the summers to come he won’t spend here in new river.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

Aside from poetry and side projects, I've been working on a malcolm sequel, titled chasing ghosts. more on that soon. But for the imediate future, check back in in a couple of days, and we'll take a look at some of what I've been reading/watching in my absense. see you then, bye!