A strange upshot of the pandemic is that it
has interfered with my novel-reading. It holds
so much of my attention, via constant updates, that nothing
else seems to have priority. My constant wish for more
time is ridiculous. What can be more fruitless than
asking more of what life can give? Better wish for an
effective and inexpensive vaccine. What expanse
of fictionless evenings can be damaging? Months of
only reading reviews, not actual novels is a desolate
prospect. Are novels teaching me another life lesson via their absence?
(This is a Golden Shovel. The final words in each line read as the last sentence of Strange Weather in Tokyo, a novel by Hiromi Kawakami.)
Golden shovels are great fun – but I am struck by the sentence you chose. WOW!!! That, and you managed to actually write something the makes sense! Kudos for a complex job well done.
Thanks for the kudos, Sarah! I found the novel ending in that sentence quite by chance and loved it.
I love writing Golden Shovels. You really brought this one to life.
This is wonderful. You know how much I love the Golden Shovel as a form (thanks to you), but this one feels like it has it’s own strange gravity. Capturing a moment and expanding out from it in surprising ways.
Thanks, Donna and Caitlin, for your words of appreciation.
I echo the sentiments of others and love that for challenge 12, the last one of the half-marathon that you not only did justice to the prompt (and line you chose) but also that you added the extra challenge of making it a Golden Shovel! Kudos!!