Tag Archives: Enya’s Son

Today’s Research: Sunrises

Pausing to Research

Quite often as I’m writing, I realize that to describe something I need to better understand it, or even see it. I know some writers do not pause. They just make a note to come back to it later. I’ve learned to accept the fact that I must pause. And so I did today.

YouTube Research

Of course, I’d rather be in Ireland, but since I can’t be today, many times YouTube is the next best thing. I thought you might like to experience it with me, so below is the video that I hope will inspire a good description. I’m on Chapter 23!

Today’s Research: Humorous Scribes

What Your Teacher Wasn’t Suppose to Read

I’ve read some of these before, little notes written in margins or on scraps found inside book bindings. I can relate right now to these medieval scribes. See if you can figure out why.

photo by Walters Art Museum Illuminated Manuscripts

Complaints by Medieval Scribes

  • New parchment, bad ink; I say nothing more.

  • This page has not been very slowly written.

  • The parchment is hairy. The ink is thin.

  • Thank God it will soon be dark.

  • Oh, my hand.

  • Now I’ve written the whole thing. For Christ’s sake, give me a drink.

  • Writing is excessive drudgery. It crooks your back, it dims your sight, it twists your stomach and your sides.

  • St. Patrick from Armagh, deliver me from writing.

And my favorite:

  • As the harbor is welcome to the sailor, so is the last line to the scribe.

I’m a long way from the last line right now.

How I Would Rewrite These Scribe Complaints

  • New version of Word crashing. I say nothing more.

  • This page HAS been very slowly written.

  • Laptop battery is dead. The charge is slow.

  • Oh God, why did you create electricity?

  • Oh, my hand. (And wrists, and shoulders, and elbows.)

  • I can’t seem to write the whole thing. Give me a drink!

  • Writing is excessive drudgery. It crooks your back, it dims your sight, it twists your stomach and your sides. (I couldn’t improve on this one!)

  • Oh shopping girlfriend, save me from writing.

  • As the hot tub is welcome to sore muscles, so is the typing of The End to the novelist.

I feel a kinship to these ancient scribes, although my complaints are nearly as charming.

The Irish Saint in my Novel

via flikr

The One I’m Currently Writing Anyway

Today, June 9, is the Feast of St. Columba. In Irish his name is Columcille, meaning “Dove of the Church.”

His mother was like Hannah of the Bible in that she prayed desperately for a child. When he was born, she fostered him to the church much like Hannah did for her son Samuel. There was probably an intent by the monks who wrote the story down to make that comparison, but it fascinates me true or not. And that’s all it takes sometimes to get my novelist mind turning.

Read More

If you’d like to know more about Saint Columcille, I’ve written a blog post that links to a previous one. Go here.

Let me know what you think!