Bottling Eureka

Had a “Eureka!” moment yesterday in my research for my next novel. In fact, I’m still riding the buzz this morning.

Ahh, those are such gloriously rare moments!

I truly wish they could be bottled and saved for those terribly gloomy days in which creativity is a no-show and literary hope is nothing more than a lit candle in a gale.

*pauses, re-reads what’s just been written, shakes head sadly*

Apparently my little orgasmic moment has shorted out the metaphor station on my motherboard. I do try to keep the analogies, etc. on a single track for each post.

I do.

Really.

But today I’m just spitting out metaphors like poorly chewed tobaccy (sorry, my Southern is showing.)

Anyhow, just know I did real good and I’m annoyingly giddy about it. Forgive me.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Panning Cold Waters for Warmth

Old and craggy, skin caked with dirt and sun, a skeleton of a man kneeled by an unmapped creek panning for gold.

The hard, rugged life had taken most of his teeth years ago. He’d lost two fingers in a rock slide four springs ago and his leg had never healed right after that damned quake had tossed him off of the mountainside in ’51.

By his best recollections he was 77 years old, but a man could lose years out panning in the wilds of California wilderness.

The sun had just peeked over the horizon, splashing the sky with gold.

Gold.

His lips twisted wryly as he gave the heavens a hard look. Sometimes he didn’t know if God was taunting him with that golden sky each dawn or just egging him on with more of that color he’d spent his whole life chasing. Either way he appreciated the gesture. It was nice to know somebody was still paying him a little mind.

With a familiar wince to his back that had not spoken kindly to him in decades, he leaned back over the chilled mountain stream and put his pan once again to the water...

And suddenly there was gold!

Hundreds of little specks of color dancing wildly in the streaks of the new day’s sun. The old man grinned, his eyes welling up with gratitude, as he shouted to the skies…

“Eureka!”

 

I had one of those moments last night…

I know what to do with my six Scots-Irish brothers’ story!

Eureka, indeed.

Details tonight.

Until then…

Chloe