Ulrika O'Brien
Excerpt:
Away in a thicket, a lark leapt aloft. I dozed among our flock when the clap of wings startled me, and so I spied him down along the Bremen road. He was a strange sight: lanky, awkward, and carrot-crowned beneath his cap. His parti-colored suit, bright gold and scarlet and every other color, looked like a carnival. But he had no cart nor any traveling companion. He had not so much as a donkey. I had only seen holy monks travel alone; the roads are bad for solitaries, the forests worse. Was he mad?
Writing Description:
Largely aspirational rather than actual; not that bad after twelve or fifteen edits.
Writing Goals:
I'd like to write a minimum of five hundred new words a day on my current first novel (as opposed to any previous first novels, which shall remain nameless).
Website:
akirlu.livejournal.com/
