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bear by san

March 2017

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bear by san

*sigh. crack*

Boy is home. Boy's computer appears to have shit the bed. Attempting to fix.

Word count: 3400 Act III, scenes i-iii, complete. Some of this was previously written.
Reason for stopping: That's it. I'm done.

***

For those of you playing along at home, the trick is writing for the groundlings and the gallery simultaneously, by the way. Shakespeare does this. Dickens, too. Also, Neil Gaiman.

If I can figure that out, I have this licked.

***

Faustus: Was not that Lucifer an Angell once?

Mephostophilis: Yes Faustus, and most deerely lou'd of God.

Faustus: How comes it then that he is Prince of Deuils?

Mephostophilis: O by aspiring pride and insolence,
For which God threw him from the face of heauen.

--Christopher Marlowe, Faustus, Act I Scene iii

Comments

Groundlings

But while the gallery can be aware that groundlings are being entertained, maybe the groundlings should not be too aware of those things which are flying over their heads.

Mildly aware, yes, but aware to the extent that they think someone else might be having more fun than them... probably not.

I have a feeling that getting that balance right would be a very clever thing to do. Popular success-wise.
For those of you playing along at home, the trick is writing for the groundlings and the gallery simultaneously, by the way. Shakespeare does this. Dickens, too. Also, Neil Gaiman.

If I can figure that out, I have this licked.


Terry Pratchett does it too. The other thing that Shakespeare, Dickens and Pratchett have in common is that they seem to genuinely like people, warts and all. At least that's the impression I get as a reader. Despite the awful stuff that happens to the characters, the authors care about them. (Can't speak about Gaiman on this 'cos I haven't read enough of his work to be sure.) The reason I can't get on with much highly praised "literary" fiction is that the author seems to take this lofy, superior position and demonstrates smug superiority with regard to their characters.

Liking people

They do, don't they? Vonnegut as well: that ability to hold all of humanity in a sort of great and sorrowful affection makes a big difference. Too much genre work romanticizes characters and makes them be better or worse than they are, I think. And too much litfic makes them all rat bastards or flawed vessels.

Really sharp observation, I think.

Oh dear

Don't you just hate it when they shit the bed like that? ::grin::

Got over 1400 words last night and am still in the afterglow of Pirates of the Caribbean. Boy, was Orlando bucking for a Musketeer inclusion with that hat at the end? ::grins::