W.I.P. Notre Dame

With the devastation of Notre Dame yesterday, I'll just leave a few videos here.

This best showcases the various parts of the roof, and the iconic spire that is, sadly, gone.

An excellent showcase from inside Notre Dame. One of the photos we received today of the Rose Window is heavily featured at the end of this song.

The title song that captures the bells beautifully.

And the original film version with Lon Chaney Sr.

Share your favorite photos of Notre Dame below, and I'll see you next week.

WIP - Weekly Progress

I have nothing to report here - move along - NOTHING TO SEE HERE!

..... just kidding.

Kinda.

In the past few weeks I have been trying my best to get back into the field and zone of writing. It's never as easy as it seems, but once you get those juices going it's easy . . . (That was a rather bare-faced lie right there, but it does, ask any published writer).

Now - writing isn't exactly an art form.

It's a frustrating process that makes you want to, and often succeeds, in tearing your hair out.

I've been going back over previous works throughout the years and doing some re-writes. It's made me realize that I often have a great foundation and basis for a story before I peter out and lose interest in the story. Coming back to it years later I've found there is more motivation and inspiration to continue with the story.

Well, with all that ado, I present to you a re-worked little short back from years ago and redone in this past year's NaNoWriMo. No title, just the story.

As always, leave a little comment below to share what you're working on.

Changing my address had seemed like a great idea. The reasons were this: the way things were going, or the path we were heading down, I didn’t want, or shave have bothered with staying in the same boarding house for more than a few days at a time. If I became sick I would take a week to try and recover, but never for longer than that at one address. I continued moving around, one by one, just having the gut feeling that I should always be on the move. Keeping on the run to make things difficult for whomever it was I was running from. I made a certain point to avoid all of the places that I’d frequented the previous occasion that I’d been here. (Which was sad because I missed all of those places.) I was only here to avoid people in the general populace. I didn’t want any more new people in my life, nor any of the old ones either. I’d keep it that way. I’d managed to keep it up; at any recent address I would dine alone, content to avoid all of the other tenants, doing my best to avoid mingling or small talk.

Though, every resolve finally burns in the embers and dies out.

I knew there’d been a bush I’d been dancing around, figuratively. I’d beat around the bush for long enough. I had to finish what I’d come here to do. I had to find the one person in this city who’d been there the last time – we had to talk about what had happened before.

Since it would be a reunion of sorts I decided to dress for the occasion. I kept it looking nice, while at the same time practical: skirts (many layers of), a practical shirt with a bodice, a small overcoat, then my regular overcoat, a pair of gloves, and a scarf wrapped around my neck to combat the chilly fall weather. I went out that night with every intention of finding him. He had to be easy to find, right?

I knew what I wanted to say to him, I went through it like a monologue in my mind, playing the words over and over again in my mind. It would be simple. All I had to do was find him.

I didn’t know where to go, or start with, so I sort of ambled all over Paris hoping for a great turnout. It wasn’t the worst city to be wondering rather aimlessly around – there were plenty of places that I could pause and sit for a moment to relax with a small sample of food and a drink. The best sorts of food and drinks provided.

After passing such another location I soon found myself wondering on the steps of Notre Dame (to which I dare you not to sing that aloud or in your head). There were plenty of other single walkers out that night, of each sex and persuasion. It was a pleasant evening out, so it was no wonder the streets were becoming full of people, out and about on such a lovely night. I looked up the side of the building at the gargoyles guarding the towers and turrets and bells of Notre Dame (again, I defy you not to sing it!). Most of them seemed rather happy up there, the exception being a few of the more sinister looking creatures who chose to glare down at the masses of the city.

Don't forget to leave a comment, and have a fantastic week!

WIP - Revisit the Old

As I attempt to gather my thoughts for this weeks writing, I've come to realize that I haven't written as much as I would have before. It's always god to get back into better habits, including those of writing, which for me have gone down hill in the past few years. Mostly because I got another laptop so I can watch shows while goofing off on tumblr, devientart, facebook, and all those other sites that take up far too much of my time. It's a challenge for me to write now.

Guess that's why I set up this post each Tuesday blog challenge for myself. I've managed it for almost two years now. So, I'd say that's a record.


In those regards, here are a few little projects that I've been working at on and off for a while. Last time I posted the WIP it was based off Greek Mythology and a bunch of songs that always seem to get stuck in my mind.

Here's a little re-write from when I did NaNoWriMo a few years back.



After the events of our time in Paris I realized that things had gone from bad to worse. There was something wrong with him, something that I couldn’t fix. I’d left. Gone back home to try and sort things out while trying to forget. Nothing helped and soon I found myself back on the shores of the French coast; back amongst the hustle and bustle of the late nineteenth century citizens. Being a Traveller did have perks, though at this point it wasn’t all that grand for me.

I’d changed my address, the only good idea that had seemed to be the great things. The reasons were this: the way things were going, rather the current path we were both heading down, I didn’t want, or bothered with staying int eh same boarding house for more than a few days at a time. A week but no longer. The less I spent at one address, the harder it would be for others to track my movements. A moving target is harder to track than one who remains stationary to be found. The reason for staying a week, illness or becoming sick, which wasn’t as often; never longer than that at one given address. I continued moving around, one by one, just having the gut feeling that I should always be on the move. Keeping on the run to make things difficult for whomever, or whatever, it was I felt I was running from. Keeping a few steps ahead of the pursuer. I made it a point to avoid all the places that I’d frequented, all the familiar places that I’d been fond of on previous occasions I’d been in the Eternal City of Lights. It was a little hard to do, as I greatly missed those side cafes, small bakeries, and simple shops.

On this trip I was only here to avoid people in the general populace. I didn’t want any more new people in my life; nor was I interested in the old ones either. I could keep it that way, separate my little social life for the quiet solitude of now. I’d done a splendid job at keeping this us; at any recent address I would take slight pains to dine alone when I could, and avoided all mingling or small talk as though it were the plague. With only a few days at this address, however, things had managed to take a rather twisted turn.


Every resolve finally burns in the embers and dies out.

There was a bush that I was dancing around, while it was a nice image the thought was figurative rather than literal. I’d been beating around this particular bush for long enough; the few months I’d been here had been fun, but I had to finish what I’d come here to do. I had to stop playing the “normal” life and find the one person in this whole city who’d been there with me the last time – we had to speak about what had happened. What was going on. 
What he was dealing with.


This would be a reunion, of sorts, so naturally I dressed for the occasion. I knew how to look nice, wonderful even, while at the same time keep it practical: skirts, many layers thereof to fit with the times; a practical shirt with bodice to keep intact; a small overcoat, then my regular overcoat; a pair of gloves; and a scarf wrapped around my neck to combat against the chilly fall weather that was threatening winter cold.

I went out that night with every intention of finding him. Of nailing him down and sorting 
things out. He had to be easy to find, right?


I knew exactly what I wanted to say to him. I had it all down in my mind. I went through it like a prepared monologue, playing the words over and over again in the back of my mind. It would be simple. All that was left for me to do was find him.

With any search, I had a vague clue of no place to start. I knew where he wouldn’t be – which meant I had no clue where it was that he could be. Instead of having a rather set purpose, I ambled all over Paris, hoping for a great turnout. It wasn’t the worst city to be wondering rather aimlessly around, there were worse places in the world to do so. There were plenty of places that I could pause and sit for a moment to relax too, with a small sampling of food and drink taken from cafes that were open at all hours. The best sorts of food and drink in the world were right there, close and easy to reach.

After passing such another location I found myself wondering up the steps of the great cathedral Notre Dame (to which, as a modern woman, I absolutely dare you not to sing that aloud or in your head). I wasn’t concerned about being a woman out along; there were plenty of other single walkers out this evening, of each sex and persuasion. No one wanted to be indoors on such a night as this; it was pleasant out, the air warm enough to be comfortable, yet with a breeze to keep you cool. It was no wonder at all the streets were becoming filled with people strolling. The sun was on its decline, casting shadows about the streets and casting a glow on those around.

Pausing on the steps I looked up the side of the building at the gargoyles who were guarding the towers and turrets, protectors of the bells of Notre Dame (again, I defy you not to sing that). While they were protectors, they also served to drain excess water from when it rained. Most of them seemed rather happy up there, content to be the guardians of the most iconic cathedral in the world; though there were a few exceptions to this. A few of the more sinister looking creatures chose to glare down upon the masses instead, seeming to revel in the terror they bestowed. Or knowing something the rest of us did not.

I smiled a bit absent-mindedly to myself, feeling the effects of this place, this city, and becoming deliriously happy with where I was. This city always did that to me, it released the cares and worries I felt beating down upon me. It made me relax in such a way that I’d never before thought possible. It was nice to know that I could go someplace in the world and know that no matter what happened I would always find that sense of peace. Of calm.Slipping in through the massive front doors, I removed my scarf from around my hair, letting it hang about my neck instead. I smiled at the priests, who approved of my being in there – seeing me as a penitent young woman being in a good place. I was a practicing Christian, though when in Rome, as the saying went, I did as the locals did. It was out of character for me, but that night it felt absolutely right.





What are you working on right now? Leave a little comment.