Oh, I’ve been in such a terrible mood most of the day, and it’s been because I wanted to start writing, but I couldn’t figure out what to write about, and I have been stuck in this place for three or so days, and it was making me just crazed.
(It didn’t help that we did our first driving practice with Kavi today, just going around the block, which was flat-out terrifying. But we survived it.)
FINALLY, I asked Kevin to help me brainstorm, at 10:00 at night, which I should’ve done hours and hours before. I threw out ideas, he threw out ideas, I shot most of his ideas down, but in the process, figured out what actually sounded fun to write. He didn’t seem to mind either, which was very good of him.
And now I’ve drafted a little scene, and I think that has given me a possible starting point for this Patreon project. More tomorrow, I think. I’m tentatively thinking I plan to post some piece of this story once a week? That should be a realistic goal. We’ll see how I feel in the morning.
Selah-na-Sorayyah tripped walking down the gangplank of her family’s ship, even though she’d walked that gangplank at least a hundred times, visiting one world or another over the two decades of her life. She tried not to take the fall as an omen, although if Auntie Natti had seen it, her great-aunt would’ve surely claimed it as proof that they’d made a huge mistake, letting Selah apply to the University of All Worlds.
Half the family thought it was a terrible idea – “why would you want to be a ground-pounder?” her youngest brother repeatedly asked, until Selah wanted to bang her head against the metal bulkheads in pure frustration. The other half of the family was convinced that she’d be calling them for a ride home before her first year was out.
But Selah had applied, and she had gotten into the competitive arts program, and she had even gotten enough of a scholarship that all three of her parents had begrudgingly admitted that yes, the family could afford it.
So even if Selah had tripped walking down the gangplank and fallen to her knees, catching herself on her hands and scraping them up on the concrete of the spaceport landing pad, she wasn’t going to cry out from the pain. Nope. She just took a sharp breath, braced herself for a moment, letting the wave of pain subside, and then pushed herself to her feet.
They had said their goodbyes on the ship, so none of her family were there to see Selah press her scraped up palms against the cotton fabric of her standard-issue student sari. Her palms weren’t actually bleeding, so that was good. Selah settled her backpack more solidly on her back, turned towards the gates of the domed city, and started walking. And if she had to blink her eyes tightly a few times, to keep tears from falling, no one would ever know.
This was going to be wonderful.