Francesca Forrest's Blog, page 14

dark moments, falling action

I read a novella and a short story recently, and I've been thinking about them and about stories and how we tell them, what we tell, etc. The novella was Iona Datt Sharma's Division Bells; super highly recommended. Love develops between two bureaucrats who are working for a minister in the UK's House of Lords. They're working on legislation, and the minutiae of that and of trying to work for good things in real life, within flawed systems, weaves together perfectly with their personal stories. I...

showing not telling in Betsy-Tacy and Tib

Thanks to osprey_archer , I've been (very leisurely) reading the first few Betsy-Tacy books. They are a real delight, and I laughed at this scene from the second, Betsy-Tacy and Tib. The girls are eight years old, and they're each looking after a younger sibling, and Betsy, the inventive one, has hit upon learning to fly as an activity. They will jump off progressively taller things, flapping their arms, until they master flight. At the point of this excerpt, they've already jumped off a hitchin...

tiny snowman

Yesterday some wet snow fell, and also yesterday, we got a delivery of propane. Afterward, when I went outside to check my tanks, I found that the delivery person had left us a tiny snowman on a metal saddle that's supposed, in the summer months, to hold a hose (we don't actually use it for that).

It's a charming snowman!

The delivery person was doing their rounds, filled up the tank, and then took the time to make three wet snowballs and stack them--voila, snowman.

I have no way of thanking them--...

oops, let's try again

Elsewhere on the interwebs, I've been doing microfiction, a tiny story a day, based on single-word prompts. Three of us create prompt words for the month. We intend to keep it up for a whole year! So far I've only missed one day.

I posted an entry here featuring one I wrote, then lost confidence and deleted the entry. The thing about microfiction--especially, maybe, mine, is it's VERY slight! Not much to see! ... But I deleted the entry more because I feared it might read as saccharine. I like t...

Mr. Medium and Hot Mama

I saw these fun salsa labels last time I was at my dad's. They were in a little corner deli in his town. I would read a graphic novel illustrated by whoever did the designs, a graphic novel about Hot Mama, Mr. Medium, Mild Child, and Auntie Verde. Hot Mama is a single mom, an artist and adventurer. Mild Child is her kid. Auntie Verde works for a big company and is always getting her sister and nephew out of fixes, but she's not really a corporate type: she loves to garden and knows the names of ...

day into night

There's a scene early on in Miyazaki's Spirited Away when day suddenly turns to night--a sweep of nightfall crossing the scene, and with the darkness come the spirits, disembarking to visit the tea house. Chihiro's reality changes around her in an instant.

This happened to me yesterday evening when I was waiting at international arrivals in Logan Airport for Wakanomori's plane to touch town. It wasn't crowded--a few people sitting on chairs in the waiting area, a few random people like me, airpor...

many Tims, favorite word, tower of Babel

many Tims
The other day I saw the two neighbor girls onto the bus as both parents had to leave the house very early. I went over at 7:15, and they were still in their bedroom playing an imaginary game together. They are nine and eleven years old (or maybe eight and eleven; not sure), and it was the most charming thing to hear them talking and dramatizing together so happily.

"There's many Tims; what do you expect?!" --that was the one line I wrote down from their game.

And they were so good abou...

different hour, different mood

I just was enjoying a gift that someone gave me. It was wonderful, I was smiling; it brightened my morning.

But yesterday, when the gift was delivered, I had a totally different reaction, more along the lines of OMG, what?! Someone is giving me artisanal ice cream in a flavor I love, that they made themselves? Ahhhhhh, I don't have TIME for this! I can't eat ice cream now! I'm stressed out and not-hungry and anyway someone my age develops a heart condition or diabetes or at the very least puts on...

first sunrise, 2024

We went to a lookout above the Quabbin Reservoir to face east for the first day of the new year. The first light, many minutes before sunrise, lit up a crack in the baleful sky.



As it grew lighter, the waning gibbous moon glowed brighter.



Wakanomori turned his back on the colors to admire the moon.



The sun was as discreet as a Heian lady, just the hems of her brightness peeking from beneath the clouds' screens.



There was evidence fairies had been at the lookout earlier, enjoying takeout.



I posted ...

from "give 'em hell, iskwew" by Samantha Nock

Poetry sometimes speaks right to your marrow in a way other words don't; it's like music or a fragrance.

These lines are an excerpt from "give 'em hell, iskwew," a poem by Samantha Nock in her collection A Family of Dreamers (thanks always to radiantfracture for introducing me to Samantha Nock's poetry)

in kokum's purse she has the same shade of red
lipstick that mom wears
she applies a heavy layer
and kisses a tissue to blot
places it back into her bag.

red lips left like a fingerprint.

Lori, i think k...