it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken
matociquala

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If Dusty Springfield

Never did a single thing in her life except record "Son of a Preacher Man," it were enough.

*phew*

'Scuse me: I need a cold shower now.

***

Wordcount: 1018 words. God. Damn. It.
And through that meatgrinder of a scene that has been kicking my ass since Monday. Which is fucking odd, because not a damned thing happens in it except for setup for other scenes and some exposition and a little plot development. But it was a tiger to write.

And I figured out how to dispense with the eleven months between September of 1595 and August of 1596, which I need for expositional reasons (stuff happens that is Important Later, but the POV characters aren't there for it. So it needs to be handled As Exposition.)

Bleh.

Frelling historical novels.

And I have a headache. I'm going to shower and see Seabiscuit, and hopefully get that exposition out of the way tonight.

Writing Is Hard

***

And here upon my knees, striking the earth,
I banne their soules to everlasting paines
And extreme tortures of the fiery deepe,
That thus have dealt with me in my distresse.

--Christopher Marlowe, The Jew of Malta
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