Susan, thanks - it was the mentally wanting to flop the action (her laughter) for the feeling (her exhilaration), which in some way, I guess, is a sense of cause followed by effect, rather than vice versa.

edit: boy, was that not clear. Just that, for good dramatic effect, inverting the usual logic generally seems to me to work more effectively: the author shows the action, the reader goes whuzzah and takes ten seconds to react him or herself, and then author gives the reader the why of it.

I like writing. It's good.

Hmm. That makes sense.

Hmm. That makes sense.

Here comes a quickie rumination.

It does for me, anyway. Because essentially, whatever visual creativity I've got is at the minor, hardest-to-access end of my creative scale; I can draw it with words, or play it with music, but things like photography, sculpture, painting, drawing, I suck at - I have no real access to that creative path.

But writing, especially the show not tell variety, has got to really paint those pictures. Thing is, the pictures won't be the same for any two people, readers, writer, anyone at all. So for me, getting the reader to subconsciously wonder what their own landscape of a scene is going to look like a half-second before they actually envision it is a nice bit of trickery: drawing them into it.

Saves a lot of grief.

First time drabble

“Stop moving.”

“You nearly stabbed me in the eye!”

“No I didn’t. Look up. Okay, now close it.”

“I can’t believe you do this every day.”

A rustling noise as one implement is set down, another picked up.

“You are such a wuss. Open your eyes.”

“You’re not done yet?”

“You can’t wear eyeliner without mascara. It looks unbalanced. Stop blinking!”

I turn him around to face the mirror. The smudged black outlining one eye makes the other one seem a paler blue; oddly naked and almost vulnerable.

“Wow.”

“So, you like it?”

“Yeah. Do the other one.”

That's just delicious, Jilli!

My grandmother used to tart up my face when I was very little, it was the only time I'd sit still. And then she'd hand me the mirror and it was magic. You totally brought me there. Thanks!

I need some damn inspiration.

If you keep writing, pretty soon you will have a book, and everyone will love it, and you shall revered throughout the land.

Also, you will feel accomplished, and know that you created something good.

What Lee said.

Also, what Allyson said to Jilli. There's a definite sense of "oooooh! initiaion into some sort of Mystical Secret Ritse!" thing about that first makeup deal.

Am still on the road. Susan, got your chapter section and will curl up with it wit I get home; the business centre in a hotel is not conducive to backfeeding...

Ah, the week before a writers conference! In which I look at the workshop schedule over and over again trying to decide between "The Slush-Killing Query Letter" and "Developing Plot and Story Action," between "He Shot the Sheriff and I Know Why: Motivating Your Characters" and "Honing Your Pitch," and similar choices for ever single time slot. Cue angsting because my agent appointment is during Julia Quinn's seminar on the business of writing--will there even be space at the back when I sneak in late? Time to ransack my wardrobe, see if I have three appropriate outfits that fit my current still vaguely post-partum body, and head to the stores if not.

Can't wait till Friday!

Another First Time drabble, just under the wire. Susan inspired to use characters from the book I'm working on now, which was interesting -- I've never done that before. In the book, Maggie and Tyler have met unexpectedly at a party, five years after they shared a hot, sweaty, no-strings weekend. ---

The first time, he was nearly naked. Jogging shorts and a beat-up pair of Nikes didn’t amount to much on six feet of lean, muscled man.

She’d turned the corner and smacked into him, a wall of hard flesh still slightly damp from exercise. He circled her waist as she stumbled, and she breathed in salt air, sweat, and man.

“S-sorry,” she stammered, looking up into eyes as dark blue as the water at dusk.

“No problem.” His mouth slanted into a smile so purely male, she tingled. In a gut-punch of lust, there were only two thoughts: Yum and want.