There is a tempo to a story, a certain beat that carries the audience
along the plotline. It may leisurely lag, snagging on every hiccup, snaring on
every sigh. It may merrily syncopate, speeding along the trills and whistles
with nary a gathering breath.
There is no right or wrong. There is only rhythm.
Cup your hand to your ear, young author. Listen to the beat of your
tale and sing along attentively.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
Post-Note: I spent yesterday battling an oak tree for dominance in my
parents’ front yard. My newest writing project got not a thought… hence, a post
more generalized than I usually prefer. Sorry about that.
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