D: Oh no. No, A – who is that?
A: What do you mean, D? Can’t you tell?
D: You must be joking. A, please tell me you’re joking.
A: Does this mean you don’t like it?
D: If you mean to tell me that this is m—
A: (Giggling) Sorry, D. I couldn’t help myself. (more giggling . . . now it’s laughter. . . minutes pass . . . still more laughter).
D: Thank heavens. Hello? A? You can stop that now, A.
A: I’m sorry, D. I needed that. No, that is me. With a mustache. At my birthday party.
D: Before or after the sangria?
A: Before. . . just.
D: . . . I fear for you.
A: Thank you, D. Your concern is touching.
D: I see you’re not writing tonight (ahem) . . . do you have a reason for calling me out of the ether?
A: Goal setting.
D: You? Do you have goals?
A: Lots – and most of them are none of your business, Druid! I mean writing goals. I failed at most of them this week. Holiday weekends tend to do me in.
D: Okay, I’m listening, what are your writing goals?
A: Well, last week, I wanted to complete Part 2 by my actual birthday (which is really this week). That’s not going to happen because I realized my entire mechanism for getting Sean and Maureen to Dublin from the west coast was flat-out wrong, and had to re-write two chapters to make it right.
D: I could have told you that.
A: No, you couldn’t; you weren’t even there, D. If you had been—
D: Okay, okay, I get it. So no Part 2 – did you do any writing this weekend?
A: I did; I wrote two small fiction pieces based on prompts and a short story about Sean and Maureen, that are on the Community Storyboard, fixed the two chapters and drafted two other short stories. It’s been very productive, just not in the direction I intended. This week I’m making focus my keyword, and perhaps moderation, too. I want to finish two more chapters, which will put Sean and Maureen in the heart of the conflict in Dublin.
A: That not enough for you, D?
D: . . .
A: Fine. I have to update this blog with some added features to keep things organized and maybe write some more things that aren’t part of the Out of Time universe. Writing for the Community Storyboard was fun. I haven’t done that in a very long time.
D: Congrats, A. Expanding your universe and reasonable goals that might not make you crazy . . . er.
A: Cheers, D!
D: Are we going to do our accolades tonight, A? Or are you still recovering from sangria?
A: Cheeky. Nope, I wanted to congratulate Charles Yallowitz for the publication of his book of poetry, the Bestiary of Blatherhorn Vale. Fantastical creatures, beautiful poetry and incredible cover art – this book has it all. Check it out.
D: Since poetry is more my venue than yours, A, allow me to share the Community Storyboard’s poetry prompt: creature creation.
A: Are you sure that’s not my territory? I could call you the creature or monster of my mind.
D: Nice, A.
A: I do what I can. And that is all for today. I’m going to say goodbye to my long weekend with an hour of British spies. Good night!
“. . . When Eoghan confronted us – when he said his name – I knew where we were, Sean. It was a deep, complete knowing. I know this time, I know this war–”
Sean snorted. “Yes, you do.”
“Politics aside, Sean McAndrew, I knew what we had to do.”
“What’s that?” Curiosity overruled his frustration.
“What? Maureen, you’re mad–”
“Hear me out, Sean. If I’m right, that boy out there goes to Dublin soon and gets himself killed fighting in the uprising on Easter Monday. He had a family here, probably a sweetheart. The Ballard farm doesn’t exist in our time . . . they—“
“Maureen, that happens. Say we convince him to stay. What is to stop him from joining the movements in Galway? He could just as easily die there, too. Besides, no one knows why he went to Dublin. I don’t think we should interfere . . .”