Smack in the middle of writing for NaNoWriMo, and this pops out. New character for a commissioned story, which I didn’t bank on appearing. But decent enough advice from the journeyman Dreamweaver who lies dying in the back of my mind, to the apprentice, writing a story far beyond her experience. Some of you will recognise some advice from Stephen King in there; good. Because he’s right.
I can’t honestly explain why I turned this into poetry; the rhythm seemed to demand it. I hope you don’t mind.
this is your task to gather and weave this story.
It is not beyond your skill,
for you have assisted in so many
that now you must weave your own.
For I am old, and my eyes are failing,
my fingers more knotted than the threads I weave.
Do not despair,
for you may dare,
and you will find your way.
Work with the characters,
not with the plot;
the characters will get themselves
to where you want them to be,
so long as you give them the space
to move and think and be
and react and act and dream and see ….
I am old and full of death as my story draws to an end.
Take up my challenge, Dreamweaver apprentice.
You will be able to mend.