February 14th, 2006

bear by san

great artists steal. no, really!

So, I was reading up on Fionn mac Cumhail when this song by Neil Finn came on. Coincidence?

Or the amazing creepy psychic ability of WinAmp?

Those salmon have a cameo in Blood and Iron. Because I am a mythology slut.

Also, why am I possessed of the urge to write a sprawling dynastic second-world fantasy with a sort of Amber:Ghormengast::Upstairs:Downstairs sensibility?

Well, because it would let me dust off all the secondary characters and worldbuilding still sitting around my brain doing nothing from the "The Sins of the Fathers" and the "To Reign in Hell," campaigns, that's why. (I'm not particularly clever about naming roleplaying campaigns. But I am good at characters. And I recycle them constantly. Hey, they're just standing around in my head taking up space. Besides, all that fantasy worldbuilding is hard work.)

Next question: how the hell do I do that without also ripping off skzbrust egregiously? Because outright stealing is fine, but copycatting is tacky.

Memo: no assassins. Also, no cooking. And miniature dragons are right out.

That whole Order/Chaos yin/yang dichotomy could lift nicely, though. And the idea of the Cosmic Egg that I used in TRiH. (I don't feel too bad about swiping from Roger what he swiped from the Tuatha de Danaan, really. Though I'd give the Nuadha thing a rest.)

Well, it would let me do something with Barnhard and Dana and Jacob Dust and the Three Daughters of a Wicked Queen...

Oh, this is all Suzanne Vega's fault. And if I'm robbing Roger's grave, it gives me the excuse to name a character Benedick that I've been looking for for the past fifteen years.

Now I know my words seem strange to you
But if you wait until my song is sung
And the story's told
You might come to understand
Why I'm old and bent and Devil-spent...

Oh, yeah. These guys want a job.

Well, they're just going to have to wait their turn.

It's even got a title, if I dig around in the Shakespeare in my head. Come to Dust. ETA Or, even better, if I can figure out how to write it as SF rather than fantasy (because I need a new SF idea much more than I need another fantasy setting), I could go for one of those nifty, oh so lit'ry one-word titles like Vellum or Light or Air. Like Dust, maybe. I'm sure the critical establishment would be forced to take a book with a title like Dust seriously.

How come the book I'm supposed to be writing isn't this co-operative?

bear by san

Hi, I'm Bear. I'm here to problematize you.

Why do all my ideas start with my backbrain going "That's neat, but there's a problem with it?..."

I'm thinking that Roger Zelazny watched too much television. I've commented before on the similarities between Corwin-and-Random and Napoleon-and-Illya. But as I'm contemplating this, the adjunct similarities (which kitkindred has noted before) to Bonanza are starting to sink in. Think about it: a gazillion children (of about half a gazillion different mothers) who don't get along real well, but God help the outsider who starts something with one of them. An authoritarian father who is never around when trouble kicks up. A lot of riding around and shooting things.

Creepy, isn't it?

Be that as it may, the Oberon/Mr. Waverly/Ben Cartwright figure needs a name....

What's really amusing me is that, by the time I get done filing the serial numbers off this sucker, the only way anybody's going to be able to tell where the idea came from is to point to this post. It already doesn't look a damned thing like Amber in my head. Except for the eighteen siblings thing.

...truepenny suggests I call him Alexander. You know, that's not half bad.

Now I just have eight mothers to name. Wait, cpolk just named one for me. Seven! Seven mothers to name!

In progress: book number something or other, Ken MacLeod, Newton's Wake:

I love the writing. And he writes dialect infectiously; I have to bite my lip not to break into a Terrible Fake Scottish Accent every time I open my mouth.

The hard edge on the transitions is a bit jarring now and again.

bear by san

(no subject)

Progress notes for 14 February 2006:


New Words: 708
Total Words: 708
Pages: 5

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
708 / 100,000

Yeah, I know. But I can't really put my heels down until after Boskone anyway, so I might as well get it out of my head while it's cooperating.

Hey. I get to use jewel tone eye colors! Woot!

Reason for stopping: What a good place to stop!
Mammalian Assistance: none
Stimulants: Constant Comment, cranberry lime seltzer, some good Italian olive oil bread
Exercise: none
Mail: nomail
Today's words Word don't know:  haloed, velveted
Words I'm surprised Word do know: curlicues
Tyop du jour: the jungle of spurs (speaking of second-order cliches) 
Darling du jour: Collapse )

Man, it takes me longer to lay words on paper than it used to. It's because I don't just write anymore. I stop and think about it as it's going down.

Fewer revisions, though.

Books in progress: Ken MacLeod, Newton's Wake
Interesting tidbit of the day: n/a
Other writing-related work: One critique

bear by san

A rose is a rose is a rose

Per riba_rambles, Rosa cultivar: "Christopher Marlowe".

Somewhere, I'm sure Kit is rather smug that his is nicer than either of Will's. (So to speak.) Although I do think Annie Hathaway's is the clear winner of the four.

Two more for my eventual Literary Rose Garden. (which will sadly be mostly pink, apparently) 

Ben doesn't get one. "Always a bridesmaid," quoth truepenny. Nor is there a John Milton nor a John Donne. No Yeats, no Kipling, no Hemingway.

It what must surely be a crowning injustice, there is also no Rosa cultivar: Robert Burns. (There is a Robbie Burns. Which I love. Ironic that it's white, wouldn't you say?)