The problem for me when I “write fast” is that the
first image that pops into my head is almost always one I’ve seen before. And since I’ve been playing so much Skyrim
the images that kept popping up were general variations on that theme. To write fast you have to let the unconscious
do most of the work, but when I turn the work fully over to the unconscious I
get the commonplace instead of the unusual.
Conscious evaluation of images takes time and, it seems for me, there is
no substitute.
Anyway, here’s the opening to “Witch of Ashes.”
The northern
wind was quiet for once. The polished surface of the tarn shown like a black shield
beneath the ringed moon. To water’s edge came Krieg, on silent boots with a
battle-axe of ebon steel in his fists. He lay flat for a moment, drank his
fill, then rose to ghost along the shoreline. It was almost as if he had a
purpose.
A shadow jutting
into the lake from the shore resolved itself into the fire-ruined hulk of a
dragon ship. Krieg paused. He knew what had happened. A great warrior had fallen
in battle and been laid atop a bier on his finest warship. The trophies of his
greatest victories were placed beside him.
Perhaps his woman was chained alive at his feet; perhaps she went
willingly. Soaked with pitch, the ship had then been set adrift and aflame. It
had burned to the water-line. The remnant had lodged itself here like a
splinter in the flesh of the world.
Intrigued, Krieg
turned to follow them.
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