June 25th, 2003

bear by san

Reading between the lines:

Will, Will, Will....

Then in mine own person I die.

No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is
almost six thousand years old, and in all this time
there was not any man died in his own person,
videlicit, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains
dashed out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he
could to die before, and he is one of the patterns
of love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair
year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had not been
for a hot midsummer night; for, good youth, he went
but forth to wash him in the Hellespont and being
taken with the cramp was drowned and the foolish
coroners of that age found it was 'Hero of Sestos.'
But these are all lies: men have died from time to
time and worms have eaten them, but not for love.
  • Current Music
    Afrocelts: Rise Above It
bear by san

Calling it a day

Ah, yes. ~35K, and here I pause to figure out what the hell the plot is likely to be, and let my brain refill somewhat.

Words today: 400, all of them outline notes.
Reason for stopping: That would be The Dreaded Middle Of The Book right there, and I need to pick this thing up and turn it around a bit, to see if I can get a bite out of it somehow.

I really am going to need to figure out what's going on sometime sooner rather than later.

Part of the problem is writing political intrigue from the POV of characters who are essentially pawns in it, and don't know everything. Part of it is the simple problem of making any kind of sense of Elizabethan politics at all. Man, I am so going to have to oversimplify things. And drop about 75% of the characters it would be fun to use.

The good news is, I think I've weaseled out of Spenser.
  • Current Music
    Trevor Jones - A Sprig of Red Grapes