It’s nice to be reassured that sometimes writing isn’t just putting down the words. It’s also the time taken to think and consider and wonder why the hell this story you’re working on right now just lacks a certain something. Turns out the past few hours or so I’ve had shifting words about, being a little distracted by other things, and tapping my fingers to my temple were more fruitful than I first thought. Found the missing ingredient. Now to go back and incorporate the damn thing. Will make the piece longer than I anticipated, but not that much longer, and probably worth it in the end. Nice what just one additional bit of plot can do for you. I think I may put this one aside for the afternoon though and focus on something due at the end of the month. (Actually, that would be a very wise idea - end of the month is fast upon us!)
Also, I have finally sorted out the cross-posting between here (the Wordpress blog itself), Tumblr, Dreamwidth, and Twitter. So am very pleased about that. Saves me a lot of copy and paste jobs I was doing before. ;) Which leaves Facebook, but I kind of prefer posting the link straight there so that one little thing is fine.
Original Article
Continued from here
Marc started. The usual excuses came to his mind: it’s late; we should sleep early; the lights and the radio are on. He didn’t need to voice them, though, for in his mind he heard Brendan flick each one of them off with a solid, reasonable rejection. This land was theirs. They didn’t have to ask anyone’s permission, or wait on expectation. They’d built the fence to protect their sanctuary. Now they could enjoy it, and live their own rules.
Shaking off the old ways of thinking though was, for Marc, like trying to step out of his own skin. While Brendan walked with an assurance, whistling as his lantern swung, Marc couldn’t rid the tension from his chest.
—
TBC
Original Article
It is fast approaching Tuesday (and my father’s birthday on this side of the world - Happy Birthday Dad!) and, oop, there it goes, midnight and I’m still up. Was at work today, er, yesterday, unusually, to take notes for a meeting - vaguely disappointed that a certain eye-catching lecturer who usually makes these meetings was not there, but somewhat made up for by another new distraction arriving. Back in later today, but I have Wednesday and Thursday off.
So what’s happened since Saturday? Little - Sunday was low-key, spent a good deal of time being fed by my housemate (he was cooking for visiting friends) and reading The Unicorn by Lise Gotfredsen - fascinating book and has rather rewritten much of how I think of unicorn’s - this is not Peter S. Beagle’s creature, as lovely and elegant and strong as she is. Giving me ideas that I don’t need either - not going to pursue them straight away, mind, but am noting things down as I read. Capture and keep, capture and keep - but I must not run after them.
I did manage something productive writing wise - contacted the publisher of the anthology I wanted to submit to but missed the deadline for, and checked if they’d still consider it at least as part of their regular submissions, and the response was yes, so that’s very good to hear. Would like to get it done soon, but that won’t be happening until Wednesday, but the pressure is slightly off and hopefully that will mean I can produce something good from it. I don’t quite feel I’ve gotten to what the crux of the piece is yet, what its heart is, so am hoping some more time with it will get me there.
Chinese New Year of course has come, and as many well know it is the Year of the Dragon. Will it be the year of my dragon? A year of getting some proper research done on the wretched thing? Let’s hope. Would like to kick off the Dragon Project, but when to find the time…a Thursday job perhaps. But now for bed, and to post more of ‘Water and Dust.’
And the snowdrops are out so you have a snowdrop picture today.
Photo credit: wwarby @ flickr
Original Article
More from ‘Water and Dust’.
Continued from here
Marc looked back at Brendan, whose eyes were still on the sky.
“What?”
Brendan indicated back onto their land with his head. “This way.”
As the dogs settled back to their post, Marc followed Brendan into the trees, he said, “We should be getting back.”
Without turning, Brendan said, “For who?”
Continue reading
Original Article
Been a full on week, and mostly dancing related; Tuesday teaching kicked off again, as did the Wednesday night class I go to, followed by a meeting on Thursday and a very late night dem-ing and helping run a ceilidh at a local barracks on Friday.
So today have done little that is productive. Met up with a friend for coffee, and watch Red Road in the morning on LoveFilm instant. Initially had it on my list because Tony Curran is in it (oh man, he’s lovely to look at, and on a fraction less shallow scale, impressed me as Vincent van Gough in Doctor Who and King Stephen in Pillars of the Earth), but came away exceedingly impressed with Kate Dickie’s (who I knew I’d seen before but it took a net search to realise she is Lysa Arryn in Game of Thrones performance, and curious about director Andrea Arnold’s other films. Atmospheric, beautifully made and gripping (and just to show what a one-track mind I have, it also featured a very compelling sex scene, which I suspect one wasn’t meant to find hot, but, well…Tony Curran as I said.)
(Tangentially, I wonder what Arnold was trying to say with the many inclusions of random and not so random shots of dogs - I have my thoughts but that would give away the ending a bit much and it works better not knowing where it’s all going. Update: Interesting review (with spoilers) here that theorises not only on the dogs but the use of other animals in the film.)
But, now for some more sentences.
—
Continued from here
Brendan reached out to Marc’s shoulder, brushing over his skin, frowning as his fingers found the scratches. “You’re hurt.”
Marc’s eyes fell to Brendan’s fingers on his shoulder. Holding the rifle and the lantern, Marc couldn’t touch him back. He shrugged. “Just scratches.”
“Still…”
Brendan’s gaze shifted up to the night sky. Marc followed it. In their hurry, they hadn’t noticed the moon, not quite full, hanging in a cloudless sky.
Brendan grinned. “Now there’s a thought.”
Continued here
Original Article
No update yesterday due to SOPA blackout, so today, before I settle in for a night of writing (eep…), some more sentences of ‘Water and Dust’.
Continued from here
The other dogs kept barking, until Marc, his voice cranky and harsh, barked himself.
“Quiet!”
The dogs whined, but reluctantly obeyed, and the barking gradually ceased, giving way to heavy panting, and large doggy eyes peering up, eager for praise.
Marc shook his head, and exhaled, lowering the lantern. The shift in light played with the shadows on Brendan’s face, making his cheeks seem gaunt, and his eye sockets hollow. Until he turned his face back to Marc, and smiled. The serious, suave features always became shy when he smiled, and it still, after all this time, burned at Marc’s belly.
TBC
So now this has a title AND plot that it didn’t have before yesterday. It was meant to be a vignette! My brain sometimes, I despair of it (though do enjoy the little surprises it decides to fling up my way too.)
Continued from here
A rustle through the grass, and Marc’s body stiffened. Brendan’s rifle went up.
The dogs barked and leapt around, one making a dash for it from behind Marc, only to be jerked back by the leash. When a flash of furry ears bounded above the line of grass, Brendan snickered.
“Fucking rabbits.” He put the rifle to his shoulder, and sauntered back to one of the dogs, bending to rub its head with his knuckles. “Daft mongrels, this lot.” Brendan cupped the dogs jaw, shaking it with mock sternness. “Be the death of us one day.”
—
TBC
Original post here
