Worst writing night ever

Last night I had what may have been my worst writing night ever. I stared at one paragraph for almost an hour, trying to figure out how to say what I wanted to say. It was like digging through dry sand. I ended up going to bed without success.

I attacked the paragraph again tonight with better results. It still feels awkward to me. But at least I got through it.

I present it now, not because I'm particularly proud of it (I suspect that it fairly stinks). But the following few paragraphs did have me licked last night. I'm glad to have them behind me. Sometimes writing is like hacking through a jungle with a machete.

***

Penelope listened to their conversation. There was a familiarity between those two. She guessed that they had known each other for many years. Watching them, she felt very alone, like peering through a window from the outside.

“She’s crying,” Fin said abruptly under his breath and nodded towards Penelope. Indeed she was.

Lilith quickly moved to her and placed one firm hand on her shoulder. “All will be well, Penelope,” she whispered. “You must believe me. All will be well in the end.”

“I’m fine,” Penelope sniffed, wiping her cheeks. “I just thought of a joke.”

In fact she had thought of a joke. But it was a joke that only a few of her friends in Luna Castle had known, and it was the sort that could not be retold without losing its humor. That was what had started her crying. All the jokes, secrets, wordless knowledge shared between long friends and family had been taken from her. Everyone who needed just to glance at her face to understand that she was happy or sad was dead. She was among strangers – kind strangers, but strangers nonetheless. Now she wanted to go home. Oh how she wanted to go home.