Art Imitates Life

Writing workshop done for tonight; I gave them the first half of “Thin Air,” about 10,000 words. I think this will be a novelette when I’m done — I’m not sure I’ve actually written a novelette before. They had a few minor tweaks, but basically, they like it, yay. I’m hoping to draft the second half of it in the next few days, fingers crossed.

Here’s a little bit one of them particularly liked. No context for you, though. 🙂


“Amara? Are you in back?”

“Hey, Roosh,” Amara called back to her sister. “Yes, in the greenhouse.”

“I’ve got Ravi with me – okay to bring him in?”

“My little terror of a nephew is always welcome,” Amara said, smiling.

Ravi came hurtling across the back garden, flinging himself at her knees. “Chinnamma! Chinnamma! Can I eat a plant?” Amara laughed and bent down to hug him – a little trickier with her belly in the way, but she managed a sniff of coconut-scented five-year-old hair. “If I can eat you?”

“Ha ha ha! You wouldn’t eat me!”

“But you smell so delicious!”

“I just had a bath!”

“In the middle of the day?”

Rooshey stepped into the little space as well, now quite crowded with her and baby Isa wrapped against her chest. She said drily, “You’d take a midday bath too, if you’d managed to smear glittery blue glue all over yourself, the wall, the mridangam…”

“Oh, Roosh!” Amara bit back a laugh, though she knew her sister could see it in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Rooshey sighed. “It all came out. Eventually.”


(Some of you will remember the day Kavi poured blue glitter glue all over our piano…art imitates life. Or steals blatantly from it, sometimes.)

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