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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Bookkeeping

The Stratford Man: 526 words (mostly poking to see if it's ripe yet, or possibly even twitching)
Reason for stopping: Can't see straight, and I got as far as I knew what to write.

It's going to be slow going. I can see that: there's a google in every paragraph. (What's the recipe for irongall ink?)

Must find out what Richard Burbage's friends called him. God damn it, I hate historical writing. But I have to admit, the frustrated English major in me rather enjoyed writing this:

"I would not hazard myself to hazard a guess," Burbage replied, hooking a bootheel over a rung of the stool. "What are you working on?"

"Titus Andronicus."

"Still? The plague will have the playhouses closed into winter, Will. Mark my words. And it's a terrible story."
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