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Taking wing
Jan. 25th, 2006 04:07 pmQuote of the day:
"I remember what somebody said about nostalgia, he said it's okay to look back, as long as you don't stare."
—Tom Paxton
Writing talk of the day:
After six days of not writing nuthin' I wrote 1000 words today. A very productive lunch hour. Yay me. I'm closing in for the kill. Night Warrior/Born to Darkness, for all its unmarketability, is closing in on Doneness. (Born to Doneness?)
I was still home sick yesterday, but not too sickish, so I worked on another Dos Lunas story, "Closes Within a Dream." This one involves JK at age nineteen when he first discovers his power. It's an ungainly 12k, and very stubborn about those 12k, too. It's too novelistic. If I'm determined to make it a short story and not a lead in to a novel, or a part of a novel, then I'm going to have to get ruthless about cutting out some colorful secondary characters. The thing is, for me that's the life of this story. I could be wrong.
I did think that I might string all these stories together into a novel-of-stories with some sort of framing device front, center, and back. I even came up with a decent framing device and a conflict/plot device that strung them together quite nicely. The trouble is, the voice is so different in each of these stories that it just didn't feel right. Hortensia's voice from "Hortensia's Man" is not the same as Eudora, who is not the same as Lunar Magnusson, who is not the same as nineteen-year-old JK. Or thirty-year-old JK, or Ramona.
I also thought of rewriting them all from the ground up, using one voice...but that didn't seem right either when I started to do it. Nobody has put me in this quandary but myself, but quandaryfied I am. I keep thinking that time will give me the answer, and maybe it will. Truth is the daughter of time, after all. But so far, she's keeping mum.
Bathos of the day: Yesterday, the mourning dove my mother has taken care of for the last twenty years (thanks to a kitty cat of our acquaintance mangling her wing too badly to fix), found her full wings again and took off into the Dreamtime. My mother buried her in the backyard (in a Mushrooms shoe box, as it happens), rather close to the grave of my cat, Mocha, the hunter who contributed the dove to mom's menagerie. The dove outlived her attacker by eighteen years. Which I guess makes this also the irony of the day.
"I remember what somebody said about nostalgia, he said it's okay to look back, as long as you don't stare."
—Tom Paxton
Writing talk of the day:
After six days of not writing nuthin' I wrote 1000 words today. A very productive lunch hour. Yay me. I'm closing in for the kill. Night Warrior/Born to Darkness, for all its unmarketability, is closing in on Doneness. (Born to Doneness?)
I was still home sick yesterday, but not too sickish, so I worked on another Dos Lunas story, "Closes Within a Dream." This one involves JK at age nineteen when he first discovers his power. It's an ungainly 12k, and very stubborn about those 12k, too. It's too novelistic. If I'm determined to make it a short story and not a lead in to a novel, or a part of a novel, then I'm going to have to get ruthless about cutting out some colorful secondary characters. The thing is, for me that's the life of this story. I could be wrong.
I did think that I might string all these stories together into a novel-of-stories with some sort of framing device front, center, and back. I even came up with a decent framing device and a conflict/plot device that strung them together quite nicely. The trouble is, the voice is so different in each of these stories that it just didn't feel right. Hortensia's voice from "Hortensia's Man" is not the same as Eudora, who is not the same as Lunar Magnusson, who is not the same as nineteen-year-old JK. Or thirty-year-old JK, or Ramona.
I also thought of rewriting them all from the ground up, using one voice...but that didn't seem right either when I started to do it. Nobody has put me in this quandary but myself, but quandaryfied I am. I keep thinking that time will give me the answer, and maybe it will. Truth is the daughter of time, after all. But so far, she's keeping mum.
Bathos of the day: Yesterday, the mourning dove my mother has taken care of for the last twenty years (thanks to a kitty cat of our acquaintance mangling her wing too badly to fix), found her full wings again and took off into the Dreamtime. My mother buried her in the backyard (in a Mushrooms shoe box, as it happens), rather close to the grave of my cat, Mocha, the hunter who contributed the dove to mom's menagerie. The dove outlived her attacker by eighteen years. Which I guess makes this also the irony of the day.