tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85614651491791087452024-02-19T03:49:37.335-08:00Writing Outside the CubeThe trials and triumphs of Anne B. Walsh, office worker turned novelistAnne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-63722513318884989792011-11-24T21:43:00.001-08:002011-11-24T22:02:23.004-08:00"Woo-hoo! I win!"I have officially earned my purple bar as a winner of National Novel Writing Month 2011. Now if I could just decide what goes into the second half of Chapter 19. Or should it be a short chapter, and Chapter 20 a longer one?<br />
<br />
I think I like that better. No law says all my chapters have to be the same length. They've been steadily growing throughout the story anyway. Chapter 19 is officially done, then, and Chapter 20 will be extra-long, with two halves to cover the important doings on both ends of my story. And then...<br />
<br />
Well, I'll get to "And then" when I get there. Right now, I have had a very blah Thanksgiving (nothing really wrong, just mild cold-like feelings and lack of desire to do anything productive) and I need sleep. Here's hoping for a Black Friday filled with words.<br />
<br />
Hard to believe it's been only a little over two months since all of this began. A month and a half since I started work on <i>A Widow in Waiting</i>. And here I am, well on my way to 120,000 words, with just one more "slog" section to get through before I can write the big finish I've been dreaming of.<br />
<br />
It will feel amazing when I can finally present this story to all of you, and find out if you like it, if you're intrigued by it, if the characters feel as real and the world as engaging to you as they do to me. If by amazing I also mean terrifying. Which I do. But then, that's the tradeoff I always knew was there.<br />
<br />
Please, God (and you, my wonderful readers), let this work...Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-15208083165195648262011-11-22T14:50:00.001-08:002011-11-22T15:00:32.999-08:00"The holly and the ivy..."I've been humming this all day, though the greenery in the excerpt—yes, I said excerpt, everyone contain yourselves—that I'm going to give you is neither of the two. I think you can figure out what it is for yourselves, though.<br />
<br />
A bit of background on this snippet. Brighteye, a young man of the travelers, and Andraste, a young woman from the village of Glenscar, have been quietly courting for a few months, despite the strong prejudice of Andraste's mother against travelers (the words "filthy beasts" have come up).<br />
<br />
Today is Christmas Eve, and Brighteye has just asked his beloved's father for her hand in marriage. Her two younger siblings and their friends, both from the village and from the caravan, are shown here reacting to the news of what the father said in response.<br />
<br />
*****
<br />
<br />
Upstairs, in the schoolroom, there was much rejoicing.
<br />
<br />
Cob, Ronan, and Sergeant were doing a three-sided stomping dance, grinning all over their faces, with little Trimmer trying valiantly to keep up until Cob scooped him off the floor and set him on his shoulders. Blanid and Sinead were hugging each other, shrieking under their breaths, and jumping up and down, with Joy and Stray running in circles around them.
<br />
<br />
Darkeye burst in through the door, and Sinead let go of Blanid to charge at her and drag her into a three-way hug. "I always wanted another sister," she said, beaming at Darkeye's tearful, triumphant face. "And now I get one for Christmas, and a big brother too!"
<br />
<br />
"You get all of us." Darkeye picked up Stray and passed her to Sinead, who cradled her naturally on one hip. "We're all family, somehow. All kin." She turned to look at the boys, her smile seeming too big to be contained on her face. "All of us, now. No more sides."
<br />
<br />
"I don't know." Ronan stopped dancing. "Ma'd be perfectly happy to be a side of her own."
<br />
<br />
"That doesn't matter now," Blanid said firmly. "This is Christmas, and <i>your</i> sister—" She pointed at Ronan and Sinead, one with each hand. "—<i>your</i> brother—" Both hands came around to point at Darkeye. "—and <i>all</i> of our cousins, one way or another—" The hands circled twice in the air and came together in front of her chest in a praying position. "—have just got themselves engaged to be married, and we're not going to let anything stop us from being happy about that! Are we?"
<br />
<br />
Heads shook all over the room.
<br />
<br />
"I didn't hear that." Blanid stuck her hands on her hips and looked down her nose at everyone, even Cob, who had at least three inches on her. "Are we?"
<br />
<br />
"No," Ronan said defiantly, followed by Sinead and Darkeye's quieter, "No."
<br />
<br />
"Are we?"
<br />
<br />
"No!" This shout was louder, more in unison, with the littler ones joining in as well.
<br />
<br />
"Are we?"
<br />
<br />
"No!" The noise rattled the window, shaking off some of the snow which had collected on its panes.
<br />
<br />
"Then let's go downstairs and be happy!" Blanid pointed theatrically at the door, and the majority of the group charged through it, yelling, leaving her alone with Cob. He was watching her, as he often did, though she thought his face had a bit more respect in it than usual. One hand slid into his pocket and withdrew a small item, which he displayed to her.
<br />
<br />
"What is—oh." Blanid giggled. "I've heard that's been going around the house all day. Use it and pass it on, isn't that the rule?"
<br />
<br />
Cob nodded. His eyes, the same intense green as the leaves in his hand, hadn't left her.
<br />
<br />
"Well, come on then." Blanid turned to face him directly. "I won't bite."
<br />
<br />
A small hand reached back into the schoolroom and discreetly pulled the door shut.
<br />
<br />
*****
<br />
<br />
So. Cute? Interesting? Make you want more? The writing continues well, with Chapter 18 complete and Chapter 19 likely to be the last one before I launch into the finale...Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-22180677554469223032011-11-20T20:50:00.001-08:002011-11-20T20:54:36.032-08:00"Ugh. That is all."The weather can't make up its mind, and neither can I. Half the time, I'm sure this story is just fine and people will love it. The other half, I hate it and wonder what in the world I think I'm doing.<br />
<br />
At least I have cute cats on my bed. And almost 110K words written. And two more weeks until my personal goal...<br />
<br />
<br />*sigh* I don't know why I'm rambling. Maybe I'm just overtired. Pretty sure I won't sleep if I try, though, so I'll play a game, maybe read a little, and then try and write until I get sleepy. <br />
<br />
Sorry for short and lousy post, but honestly, there aren't many people who care. No offense, and lots of thanks, to anyone who actually reads this.Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-67303486628205783212011-11-15T09:22:00.001-08:002011-11-15T09:30:50.361-08:00"Two steps forward, one step back."Writing <i>A Widow in Waiting</i> can occasionally feel like that. I'll think I've finished a chapter, then come back to it an hour or two later and realize the scene I closed with is wrong for the spot in the story where it is. It'll be used, but not where it is.<br />
<br />
As you can imagine, this is messing with my NaNo word count like crazy. It doesn't help that I'm being simultaneously inspired for <i>Fifteen</i> and have written a couple ficlets for that, and that I'm also maintaining separate documents on the characters and their powers...<br />
<br />
If I were counting all of that, I'd probably be at least a week ahead on NaNo. As it is, I'm a day ahead and about to get farther, as soon as I quit blogging and go actually write. Which is going to be another few minutes, since I'm not done here yet. <br />
<br />
At the moment, I'm in the middle of a big confrontation between my heroine and a man who wants to marry her. He thinks he knows something about her that he can use to get her to agree, but he hasn't realized yet that she also knows something about him. <br />
<br />
The trouble is, I want the man to appear at least partly sympathetic still (until we get to the end of the book, at which point he is revealed to be one of the series' villains), so he can't be as nasty as I originally wrote him, not quite yet. It's a fun tightrope to walk.<br />
<br />
Oh yes, and if I didn't already mention this, I have reached 90,000 words. My original goal, 100K, will be reached by the end of the week, but the story's far from over. At a guess, we're about 3/5 to 2/3 finished... stay tuned for further updates! <br />
<br />
Also a quick apology for the rather emo post before this one. I need to vent occasionally but try to keep it to a minimum...Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-79870918627735383522011-11-12T09:24:00.001-08:002011-11-12T09:34:26.343-08:00"I wish I could tell you..."Dear Mom,<br />
<br />
I wish I could tell you the truth about my life. I wish I was sure you would understand. But you've shown me, over the last few weeks and months, that you don't want to understand, that you would rather live in your fantasy world than take the trouble to understand my real one.<br />
<br />
I wish I could tell you that nagging me about going out and socializing only makes me more certain that there's nothing I'd rather do less. I don't like people. They're loud and rude and self-absorbed, and either they want things from me I can't give, or, much more often, they don't notice me at all.<br />
<br />
I wish I could tell you that my writing seems to work best when I have a starting point, a touchstone to return to. I wish you could understand that it's not theft or laziness to spin out from someone else's idea, that it can actually add to a story, give it extra dimension and richness. <br />
<br />
I wish I could tell you how sorry I am to be such a disappointment to you. But that would require you to tell the truth for once rather than trying to lie about being proud of me. I know you <i>want</i> to be proud of me, and that does count for something, but it still hurts to hear you forcing yourself to lie. <br />
<br />
I'm sorry that I don't write literary fiction that still manages to both be uplifting and to live up to your high moral standards, and that I haven't given you the perfect son-in-law and the gorgeous grandchildren. I wish I could be the daughter you want. But I'm just the daughter you have.<br />
<br />
There are a lot of things I wish I could tell you, Mom.<br />
<br />
If only I believed you would listen. <br />
<br />
Love forever,<br />
<br />
MeAnne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-13636366345982583112011-11-09T09:38:00.000-08:002011-11-09T09:38:43.590-08:00"I know what I have to do..."That doesn't make it easy.<br />
<br />
Although I love my family, and always will, right now they seem to be bad for me. The days after family visits are purely awful for writing, both because I'm off my rhythm and because my parents don't know what I'm up to at the moment.<br />
<br />
Also, I used to be able to stay up all night and write very well, but it seems that method is now lost to me. I tried it the other night, and wrote stuff that will be useful at some point, but isn't right for the place where it is. For a perfectionist like me, that's tough.<br />
<br />
And finally, I just have to hang in there and keep writing, even through my bad case of middle-of-the-story blues. Every writer knows this stage, and unfortunately for me, during the DV, I got into the habit of ignoring my story to get through it.<br />
<br />
Well, I can't do that anymore. I said I would have this story ready for you by Christmas, and doggone it, I'm going to give it my best shot. I do have approximately 75K words of good stuff done, and I am not, repeat, not giving up.<br />
<br />
Besides, I have a secret weapon. When I get blocked on <i>Chronicles</i>, I can just switch to <i>Fifteen</i>. The characters are similar enough that I don't get completely out of the world, but the setting is much more familiar to me, so I can do some fun writing and clear my head.<br />
<br />
For instance, what started as a 500-word ficlet is now growing into a full scene, which introduces a bunch of the modern cast and establishes several things that have translated from the original setup of <i>Chronicles</i> into the 2014-15 world, both good and bad...<br />
<br />
And that's more than you want to know, probably, but I do love to babble about my work. Now for one game, and then to make up the wordcount I lost with a story that didn't quite go where it was placed...Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-6238608094799215702011-11-02T14:25:00.000-07:002011-11-02T14:25:42.722-07:00"Moving right along…"National Novel Writing Month started yesterday (yay NaNo!) and I am already 5000 words to the good. I'm not playing strictly by the rules, since a NaNovel is supposed to be a brand-new project started fresh at the beginning of November, but I think I can be forgiven.<br /><br />I have also been having fun toying with a half-sequel, half-reboot of the Chronicles called "Fifteen", in which, three years after the main action of the four books I'm working on now, fifteen of the main characters pledge themselves to do whatever is necessary to stop an evil force.<br /><br />Unfortunately, they cannot stop the evil entirely, but they are able both to weaken it and to hold it back for fifteen times fifteen years. They're also able to keep it from harming their friends and relatives, who escape to other parts of the world and pass the story down in their families.<br /><br />Fast-forward to the year 2015, United States of America. Bit by bit, fifteen people discover the story of what happened in the village of Glenscar in the year 1790. They learn how their ancestors fled, and what they were running from, and the one most important fact of all.<br /><br />Their time is up.<br /><br />Brain, why must you give me ideas for TV series? Especially ones that I'm positive I could write better dialogue for than I saw last night on "Glee"? (I'm only watching for Damian. Thank God they let him wear red in the last scene. Now we just have to hide his hair gel.)<br /><br />But seriously, I've got this world on the brain, and I'm in the middle of what will be, if I let it, a lost week. I had to sing at church last night for All Saints Day, I'm going again tonight for All Souls Day, Thursday night I have rehearsal, and Friday I have to go visit the family…<br /><br />Gripe, gripe, groan, grumble. Complain, complain, complain. Grump grump. There, all done. Now to get another thousand words on the spinning wheel scene before I have to get changed for what choir members affectionately refer to as "the weepy Mass".<br /><br />Hang in there, everyone. Happy November, and there will be more writing coming your way soon as I can!Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-51554084157404298672011-10-29T20:44:00.000-07:002011-10-29T20:44:28.293-07:00"Time for a smackerel of something."...as Winnie the Pooh would say. I apologize in advance for any formatting issues, but the layout of the blog means the paragraphs will be somewhat long. Please do your best to read it anyway.<br />
<br />
Here follows an excerpt from Chapter 9 of <i>A Widow in Waiting</i>. Eleanor, the title character, has just received a letter from the man she loves, or rather she would have received it if her overprotective father had not opened it first. She must think quickly, or risk losing her one link with her love...<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
Eleanor
lowered the letter, an icy coolness taking possession of her mind.
"What was it you wished to know, Papa?" she asked with a
calm which astonished her even as it penetrated deep into her
consciousness, shielding her frantic longing and her wild, snarling
anger beneath its bulk.
<br />
<br />
"If you've given this—this <i>puppy</i>
some encouragement, some grounds for thinking he can say such things
to you!" Mr. Langley snatched the sheet back from her and
glowered at it, starting to crumple it into a ball. "Because if
you have—"
<br />
<br />
"Of
course I haven't," Eleanor interjected. "Papa, please,
you're being ridiculous. Don't throw it into the fire, I need
something to have a good laugh over." She held out her hand for
the letter again, and Mr. Langley, looking much astonished, deposited
it in her palm.
<br />
<br />
"And
here I thought—" he began, then rubbed his chin. "Well,
Nora, it seems I misjudged you. You've some sense after all. I
thought you'd ruined your disposition once and for all, having
something so like a trashy romance happen to you. Husband shot by
highwaymen, sheltered by a handsome young devil—for I won't deny Byrne's handsome in his own way, just like his sister's quite well to
look at, quite well indeed—but you're no green girl any longer,
Nora. I should have known better than that."
<br />
<br />
"Yes,
Papa." Eleanor nodded serenely. "John may be older than I
am, but you know boys grow up more slowly than girls, and I've had my
seasons in London, while he's lived all his life mewed up in that
little place, with never a chance to see anything in the way of a
lady but his own sister. I came running literally into his arms, a
classical damsel in distress—what could be more natural than for
him to fancy himself in love with me? And you know there could be
nothing worse than for me to try to tell him it's all a bag of
moonshine, because then he'd be sure to lay snares for me to try to
<i>make </i>me love him. No, the best way is for me to let him write me mad
letters for a while, then slowly forget all about me."
<br />
<br />
"And
so it is!" Mr. Langley laughed aloud, delighted. "So it is,
by Jupiter! He'll soon think better of it when he gets no replies to
all his fine lovemaking at a distance, and will his pocket stand the
expense of another trip all this way in that half-a-year he was
talking about when he's had no reason to think he'll find a welcome
here? No, out of course it won't. And back he'll go to his own little
life with his horses and his acres, but with always the sweet memory
of my Nora to brighten his days." He patted her cheek. "There's
my good girl, so wise in the ways of the world so young—you'll find
a man soon enough who'll be able to value you at your true worth, and
maybe not so very far away, hey?"
<br />
<br />
Dutifully,
Eleanor smiled at this sally, and began to flatten the paper
mechanically, as she would have played with any small item she
happened to have in her hands.
<br />
<br />
"I'll
leave orders he's not to be admitted to the house, just in case he's
more stubborn than reasonable," Mr. Langley went on, half to
himself, bustling back around his desk. "And you know, of
course, Nora my love, if there had been something in all this—if
you'd been bird-witted enough to lead young Byrne on, give him false
hope, or even fall for his bouncers yourself—why, then, of course I
was leading up to telling you that devil a penny of mine you'd ever
see if you got yourself leg-shackled to him. But I'm sure you knew
that, and it don't signify in any case!" He waved a hand at her
grandly. "Run along, now, and go have your laugh over the
high-flown language the boy thinks proper for lovers. I daresay you
can find a few of the best bits to make us all merry at dinner!"
<br />
<br />
Since
"us all" would include only her father and herself, Eleanor
was sure she could manage this, as she knew exactly which turns of
phrase Mr. Langley would find most amusing. Dropping him the tiny
curtsey proper from a lady of quality to her father, she turned and
left the study, moving at the grave and measured pace of a woman with
much on her mind.
<br />
<br />
She
didn't start running until she reached the upstairs corridor.<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
Thoughts? Questions? Comments? Any or all of the above will be read, appreciated, and responded to as time and other abilities permit.Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-81839665897818718662011-10-25T19:27:00.000-07:002011-10-25T19:27:48.336-07:00"Good news, bad news. Who knows?"I won't go through the whole story about the old man who never committed himself to what kind of news it was, because if you don't know it, you can probably find it online, or in an email forward somewhere. Instead I will tell you my news.<br />
<br />
Tonight, I will be working on Chapter 9 of <i>A Widow in Waiting</i>. Chapters 1-8 are almost 50K words long. This is the good news.<br />
<br />
The bad news, if you can call it that, is that this feels, story-wise, like the one-third rather than the one-half mark of the book. So it may turn out to be a bit longer, and take a little more time to finish, than it otherwise would have. I suppose I could trim, but I really don't want to. <br />
<br />
I am going to be writing two other books covering this same time period, but one (<i>Playing with Fire</i>) will be from entirely different people's perspectives, letting you see events that are only reported here, and the other (<i>Shadow's Dancing</i>) will be in a different place altogether. <br />
<br />
So... yeah. You'll have to let me know yourself if you think this is good news or bad news!<br />
<br />
As for the DV, I will write it when it is ready to be written, and when this is ready to take a break. No idea quite yet when that will be, but trust me... you'll know.<br />
<br />
Happy seven-year anniversary to it, though. My gosh, seven years... I was lounging on a futon when the idea hit, listening to a friend try to play my keyboard, and we were planning on watching a Netflix DVD of <i>Star Trek: Voyager</i>...<br />
<br />
And then I started staying up until 3 AM and typing frantically until my roommate threatened to drop Oscar the O-Chem book on my head... at which point I would apologize and crawl into my bed-cave to think about what I would type the next day...<br />
<br />
Good times, good times. Thank you for all the love you've showed me in the years since, and I hope we can keep it up! How's about I shoot for this time next year to wrap up SD and bring the DV to a fitting conclusion, huh?Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-33548410633318213932011-10-20T15:16:00.001-07:002011-10-20T15:16:54.429-07:00"Good grief, when did that happen?!"It's October 20th. Which has taken me a little by surprise, since I haven't been keeping very close track of the passage of time, at least not outside my story world. When did it get to be what I can only call late October?<br /><br />I know, I know, right after it was mid-October. And that came after early October! No, I haven't had too much caffeine today. Why do you ask?<br /><br />But in any case, that's not the only thing which is a little surprising. My reboot of what was originally <i>The Highwayman's Apprentic</i>e and has become <i>The Chronicles of Glenscar</i> officially began on October 11th, with the first part, currently in production, entitled (as you know) <i>A Widow in Waiting</i>.<br /><br />Today, I will pass 40,000 words.<br /><br />The next two days will not be so good for writing, since I have to take the bigger of my brothers to our parents' house for the weekend, but after that I have two more weeks free until brother, roommate, and self head north to see <i>Jekyll and Hyde</i> at the beginning of November.<br /><br />Knock on wood, head, and a bunch of other things, but it looks like I might be delivering that original to you in time for Christmas after all. And likely some more Dangerverse as well, once <i>A Widow in Waiting</i> is finished and edited.<br /><br />Sorry for the scarcity of blog posts lately, but there's something about this world that jumped it over all the other ideas I've had so much longer. I hope that I can convey it to you, so that you feel the same magic reading it that I feel writing it.<br /><br />If you would like an excerpt, just let me know…Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-15508136897761961122011-10-15T19:30:00.000-07:002011-10-15T19:32:51.253-07:00"There's a wall there!"No, I haven't started running into literal walls. I hit something of a word count wall today, as I have done precisely zero writing, but seeing that it's been exactly a week since my mother and I had that "little talk" of ours and I've already written one-fifth of the new version, I think I can be forgiven.<br />
<br />
This will be something of a random post, since I have been forbidden by executive order from discussing the Chronicles of Glenscar in the apartment for the last few days, and Krystal reads my blog. (She wants to get her mind clear so she can see how things are running for pace and world-building.)<br />
<br />
So... how about them Steelers?<br />
<br />
Just kidding. Let me see, let me see, news of my life...<br />
<br />
The problem is, I really haven't been doing much other than writing, petting cats, and singing in the choir, except watching a really funny production of <i>HMS Pinafore</i> on PBS last night. It was from the Guthrie Theatre in (I think) Minneapolis, and I will definitely be watching for more from them.<br />
<br />
To start with, several of the songs were reorchestrated with more modern beats, and a lot of dance was added to the show. At one point, to annoy their captain, the sailors do a full-on Broadway-style tap number, and several of them can also do tumbling tricks, so it was great fun to watch.<br />
<br />
Some parts for Little Buttercup, the older woman character, were done as flamenco, complete at one point with a Spanish-costumed "orchestra" (some of the other actors pretending to play instruments), and oh my goodness, her red skirt with its padded bustle and her green-and-black striped stockings...<br />
<br />
But the highlight of the night was an added scene in which nasty, smelly Dick Deadeye is dubbed "Sir Richard Posthumous-Optic" by the visiting Queen Victoria, as missing her is apparently the source of all his general misanthropy. Wow, just wow. <br />
<br />
Krys and I had a lot of fun discussing, if this cast were to put on <i>The Pirates of Penzance</i>, who would play whom. Gilbert and Sullivan wrote for a fairly static cast of singers in their own time, so many of their shows are written for similar voice and body types.<br />
<br />
And now that I have bored you all, I shall conclude with a moment from the end of Chapter 2 of <i>A Widow in Waiting</i>:<br />
<br />
"It would have been nice to be able to properly swear at the donkey-brained mouth-breather who had made this necessary, but she was under a natural handicap when it came to describing his lineage. Family members were just so hard to curse." Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-32167602638621344052011-10-12T09:30:00.000-07:002011-10-12T09:30:29.930-07:00"So this is what going nowhere feels like."Never fear, that was sarcasm. I am in fact going somewhere at a truly astonishing rate.<br /><br />I am pleased to report yet another 10K word milestone, accomplished once again in four days, though Monday was a wash so I suppose I should say three. <i>A Widow in Waiting</i> (alert readers may notice the initial article has changed) has two full chapters finished and a third champing at the bit.<br /><br />I also have working titles for parts two and three of the Chronicles of Glenscar. Part two, the tempestuous romance of the king of the traveling folk with what he initially thought was a meek little village girl, is entitled <i>Playing with Fire</i>. As you may imagine from the title, he couldn't be more wrong.<br /><br />Part three, in a nod to the misplaced apostrophe which started this whole crazy thing off, is currently called <i>Shadow's Dancing</i>. It will contain the full story of the travelers' princess and her wooing of a noble-born highwayman, along with the beginning of the story which will be finished in part four.<br /><br />That final portion will, of course, be called <i>The Highwayman's Apprentice</i>, and the stories of the other three parts will converge in it. Evil will be vanquished, true love will prevail, and a toilet will be disassembled. (You'll just have to be there.)<br /><br />Although my stomach still occasionally feels "gone" when I think about what I'm doing, I've never written more quickly or, I dare to think, better. Thank you, thank you, thank you all a million times for your words of encouragement. They made all the difference in the world.<br /><br />As soon as Sesame vacates my lap, I will switch the laundry into the dryer, and then… Chapter 3, in which Eleanor, the titular widow, must cope all at once with her husband's death, her brand-new love, the expectations of society, and her discovery of a power about which she had only dreamed…Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-35535995619648663822011-10-08T16:15:00.000-07:002011-10-08T16:15:40.863-07:00"Well. That was... unexpected."Apologies for the long lapse between posts.<br />
<br />
The Celtic Thunder concert, as expected, was amazing (special props to the hilarious interplay between new member thirteen-year-old Daniel and returning member Keith on <i>You've Got a Friend in Me</i> and Ryan's fantastic rendition of <i>Friends in Low Places</i>). The family visit afterwards was...<br />
<br />
I showed my mother my current draft of <i>The Highwayman's Apprentice</i>. At first, she was intrigued, though there were points she did not understand. As she went along, she said that the story felt too crowded and I needed to focus more. Then, last night, the family sat down to watch <i>Storm</i>.<br />
<br />
This morning, my mother and I had a talk.<br />
<br />
Since I am sure you have all had variants of this talk with your own families, I will spare you the details. Suffice to say, my mother now feels that <i>THA</i> lacks originality and interest. She characterized it as a "transcription" of <i>Storm</i> and said that she saw nothing of me in it. <br />
<br />
<i>Storm</i>, though a great deal of fun, is a sixty-minute musical revue. The plot is somewhat melodramatic and far-fetched. The characters are cliches, drawn larger than life to give the songs more emotional punch. They do not even have names, being known simply by their function within the story.<br />
<br />
From it, I have evolved, or I am trying to evolve, a cast of characters who are real people, with names and wishes and decisions both made and yet to make. I am, or was, delighting in what might be happening that we never see, before, around, and after the documented action on the DVD. <br />
<br />
Apparently my current work on <i>THA</i>, and the synopsis of the rest of the story the way I had planned it, did not convey this to my mother. She said that it will never come to anything worthwhile, and she strongly recommended that I abandon it immediately.<br />
<br />
In her infinite wisdom, my mother would also like me to abandon the Legendbreakers universe, as she sees no central theme or unifying point in that either, and feels that I am simply pandering to people's emotional desires by pitting the evil Reality Cops against the good Legendbreakers. <br />
<br />
Very shortly after these two modest requests, she lovingly pointed out to me that I seem to have trouble finishing things. Good heavens, I wonder why. I also wonder why I might have packed up my things, and my cats, and left my family's house six hours before I originally intended to go.<br />
<br />
I do not plan to stop answering the phone to my mother, or to no longer go and visit her, or anything equally melodramatic. She wants what's best for me, and she did help me today, by pointing out some problems with the current draft of<i> THA</i>, though it can still stand as backstory. <br />
<br />
Which it will.<br />
<br />
The response to the teasers and ideas I have tossed out has been very positive. These characters have a firm hold on my mind and if I have not written them well enough to make them clear and distinct without too much cliche or stereotype, well, then, I'll just have to try again. <br />
<br />
What do you think of three short, interlinked books, each covering the same period of time but telling the story of a different place and a different couple, or two, and then a fourth to tell the end of all the stories at once?<br />
<br />
The first one I have in mind would be called <i>The Widow in Waiting</i>, and if you read the teaser a few posts back, it tells the story of Grainne's brother Sean and his dark-haired lady. The others do not yet have names, except for the last, which is still<i> The Highwayman's Apprentice</i>.<br />
<br />
There will be magic. There will be bright colors and loud noises, and feats of derring-do. There will be young love and middle-aged love and family love (it wouldn't be an Anne story without families, would it?). And yes, there will be highwaymen, and gypsies, though less in the first book than in the others.<br />
<br />
Still interested? Because in the end, my readers, my friends, it is you who make the decisions. It is you who decide if a story is or isn't worth my time, because it is you, and only you, who can tell me if you will or won't read it.<br />
<br />
Please, please let me know. This has been a hard day for me and some support from you, if it's warranted by what you see in this post, would make all the difference in the world. Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-88806561510380512432011-10-02T17:12:00.000-07:002011-10-02T17:12:38.151-07:00"A song I'll sing of an English King..."<i>The Highwayman's Apprentice</i> continues very well. I am now one-quarter finished and much better satisfied with the quality of the work as it progresses.<br />
<br />
At the moment I am writing several very angst-filled moments, including an angry teenager who feels that no one listens to him and a man who is helpless to stop a recurrence of one of the worst times in his life. However, I am looking ahead to far less unhappy topics. Specifically, dirty songs.<br />
<br />
A couple of my characters will be traveling undercover, and since both of them are musically inclined, they decide to pay their way by singing in taverns. Tavern crowds are not notorious for being finicky or overburdened with delicacy, especially in the 1780s. There will be dirty songs.<br />
<br />
Randomly, Celtic Thunder is in Pittsburgh this Tuesday, October 4. Krystal, my sister, and I have three excellent seats and are greatly looking forward to the show. <br />
<br />
I would make this a longer post, but the fact is that there's really not much to report. The weather is nasty, the cats are cuddly, Krys isn't feeling her best, and I continue to write like a madwoman. Maybe when I hit about the 50K mark on THA, I can take a breather for some DV, but no guarantees...Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-12923347974293572742011-09-30T09:05:00.000-07:002011-09-30T09:05:13.651-07:00"How about... excerpt?!"If you don't understand the title, try this link (video is entirely safe to watch and under a minute): <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i6WPfo9qNSM">How about... cupcakes?!</a><br />
<br />
Then enjoy the following excerpt from <i>The Highwayman's Apprentice</i>, to celebrate it reaching 20K words at nine days into production writing! Comments, thoughts, and questions are very welcome! <br />
<br />
Quick pronunciation guide to the names of the ladies (and if I'm wrong, please do let me know, I'm working off a source I think is trustworthy but I could always be mistaken...):<br />
<br />
Grainne: Grawn-ya <br />
Saibh: Sive, to rhyme with "five"<br />
Liadan: Lee-den<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
Turning back to the desk, she stopped in surprise. A sheet of paper
lay on the floor, where none had been a moment before. By its rough
left edge, she guessed it had been torn from her brother's
sketchbook, and likely it had been displaced from the desk by her
stack of shirts, but the picture drawn on it was nothing and no one
she had ever seen before.<br />
<br />
"Who is she?" Grainne stooped to pick up the paper. "More
important, what is she going to be to us?"<br />
<br />
With his usual economy of line, Sean had depicted a slender,
dark-haired lady walking alone in a formal garden with her face full
of sorrow, her right hand not quite covering the wedding band on her
left. The ring was shaded with dark, fierce slashes of the pencil,
and some of the crosshatching formed tiny arrows. Following them with
her eyes, Grainne gasped. Another face was peering through one of the
topiary sculptures past which the lady walked.<br />
<br />
"And whoever <i>he</i> is, I hope he never comes here." She
set the sketch down hastily on the desk and took a step back from it.
"How does Sean do that?" In just those few pencil strokes
forming the watcher's face, so cunningly hidden within the leaves of
the trimmed bush that a casual observer might miss them, her brother
had managed to convey an impression of careless, brutal power. "When
I think that Ma gave us both the same lessons in art, and I never got
past women in triangle dresses and men in square shirts and
trousers…"<br />
<br />
But in reality, people were curved, curved and firm and warm where
they held her close against their side and peered down into her face,
with perhaps a strong dose of arrogant possessiveness in that
speculative smirk but nothing of the easy cruelty, the delight in
others' pain that the man in Sean's drawing seemed to radiate. No,
people might have a wicked glint in their sea-blue eyes, but it was
only an invitation, not a command.<br />
<br />
Grainne shivered deliciously, thinking of the secret she had shared
with no one. Saibh, with her devotion since childhood to stalwart and
steady-minded Finn, would have found it nigh-impossible to
understand. Liadan might have stood a better chance, given her
ongoing flirtation with Kieran, except that flirtation was all it
was. Neither of them was seriously interested in the other, but they
found it amusing to play the game, and it drove Stiofan Connolly,
currently at sea with his father and the Laverty brothers, absolutely
mad, which was a bonus from Liadan's point of view.<br />
<br />
Fleetingly Grainne wished that Isabel was here, Isabel with her
energy and her enthusiasm, with her rapt attention to stories about
Glenscar and her frustrated desire to experience the forbidden life
of a village girl for herself. Isabel, if anyone, would have
comprehended perfectly Grainne's feelings on the subject of the
black-haired king of the gypsies…
Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-91785238062851389532011-09-28T11:11:00.000-07:002011-09-28T11:11:07.182-07:00"My UFO needs a tuneup."UFO, in this case, stands for Unidentified Furry Object, one of which has been occupying my lap for the last half-hour. It isn't exactly unidentified, though, as I have long suspected that cats are in fact alien energy-sapping devices. What we call a purr is simply the motor revving.<br /><br />Fluffy, the black longhair I had when I was a kid, had the worst-tuned motor I ever encountered in a UFO. He was audible across the room. Sesame isn't quite that badly tuned, but she still makes a considerable amount of noise, as does Poppy when she's in the mood.<br />
<br />In contrast, my sister's Jinx is well tuned but in need of oil, judging by the rusty gate noises he makes on a regular basis. Of course, we suspect that he is half Siamese, which explains both his voice and his temperament. He let a live bird loose in the house the other day…<br /><br />Enough about cats. You want to hear about my writing. <i>The Highwayman's Apprentice</i> continues to burgeon, being sufficiently absorbing at this point that most of my fan fiction is on temporary hold. If I go back to fanfic anytime soon, it will probably be to finish "He Nearly Killed the Cat."<br /><br />I know how eagerly everyone is waiting for more <i>Surpassing Danger</i>, but if I'm going to finish THA in time for Christmas, I need to concentrate on it for a while. Also, though I don't confuse my characters, the style of THA is sufficiently different from that of the DV to make switching a little difficult.<br /><br />Give me a week or two to get well into THA, maybe to the end of the first section of it, which is the only part directly inspired by <i>Storm</i>. The fever may have abated some by then, and I can get back to Dangerverse. We shall see.<br /><br />Also an interesting discovery—I can listen to music and dictate at the same time. Apparently what's coming over my headphones does not interface with what's going into the microphone. Now I just have to make sure I don't randomly start singing in the middle of my writing…Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-50392778452195890862011-09-26T13:25:00.000-07:002011-09-26T13:25:11.040-07:00"Your bed has ears." (Photo post!)Krys and I got home from shopping to discover the above:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQQUPKQNgvmQbUEAQK0ewDcdEi4Q_9XsvlwGtgszigK1FdJ1WQb3y-kbSudKlVJ8LprxmkLxmaCHuKGa9TBulGoi5IN64wKBPzzqV0OEwKFRJIag6wlUGA4YuLKkbhg9wEWgd3iQBdse8/s1600/P9260081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQQUPKQNgvmQbUEAQK0ewDcdEi4Q_9XsvlwGtgszigK1FdJ1WQb3y-kbSudKlVJ8LprxmkLxmaCHuKGa9TBulGoi5IN64wKBPzzqV0OEwKFRJIag6wlUGA4YuLKkbhg9wEWgd3iQBdse8/s320/P9260081.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
You have to look closely, but on top of the mound of pink on the bed, there is in fact a pair of ears sticking up. They belong to the Poppycat, who is shown below in her favorite cave, otherwise known as the suitcase I will be returning to my mother in a slightly furrier condition than when I borrowed it:<br />
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<br />
Not to be outdone, her sister Sesame has decided that my closet makes a good cave. My skirts now have a cat-shaped divot in them. <br />
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<br />
And finally, Sesame has also claimed Krys's smartphone for her very own, and has, I think, quite a look of irritated feline executive interrupted in the middle of a VERY IMPORTANT MEETING. <br />
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<br />
Writing is shortly to take place. Now if I could only decide between original or fanfic...Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-41025261066005185632011-09-24T20:09:00.000-07:002011-09-24T20:09:57.094-07:00"It's happening again..."Those of you who have been reading my blog for a while may remember a post entitled something along the lines of "One tenth in one week. I think I'm onto something," in which I noted that I had written ten thousand words of "He Nearly Killed the Cat" in one week's time.<br />
<br />
Today is Saturday. I started working on <i>The Highwayman's Apprentice</i> on Wednesday. Its current word count stands at 10,185.<br />
<br />
Granted, many of those words will go to backstory only, or will have to be chopped and changed around, placed in different parts of the story, but that's not the point. The point is, I have a truly hot little piece of work here, and people sound very interested in it.<br />
<br />
So, since some people seem to have gotten ideas about Christmas (where, I can't imagine. No, seriously, I really don't know. Did I say something about Christmas without meaning to?), I'll make it official.<br />
<br />
Who would like an Anne B. Walsh original fantasy novel, <i>The Highwayman's Apprentice</i>, for Christmas 2011? <br />
<br />
*shakes head* I can hardly believe you haven't met them yet. They're all so real to me. They have names and lives and feelings and desires, and they want you to know about them, to understand what it is that they want and why they did what they did.<br />
<br />
They caught me, as I hope they will catch you, from that very first moment, when a young nobleman, forced to flee from the law, wounded and half-dead from fever, stumbles into a forest clearing and frightens three children, prompting the boy to defend his sister and their cousin...Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-39886924418112355892011-09-22T10:33:00.000-07:002011-09-22T10:33:04.847-07:00"They didn't do THAT on PBS!"Yes, another "Storm" post. I promise it'll be the last for a while, though you may hear more about the characters I'm evolving from it as <i>The Highwayman's Apprentice</i> continues to grow.<br /><br />The song in question is "Midnight Well," sung by the gypsy king, the story of a naïve village girl who went out in the night to meet a dangerous gypsy man and was never seen again. On the surface, it's a classic "be a good girl or else" song, but there are elements in it which give me a different feel.<br /><br />Credit where credit is due, though, Krystal came up with the idea I'm using for <i>The Highwayman's Apprentice</i>, when she pointed out that although the gypsy king and one of the village girls certainly do meet at the well during the song, he seems to be telling a story about another gypsy and another girl…<br /><br />In any case, the title of this post refers to the final pose struck by the characters during the song. On the PBS special, the girl spreads her arms like wings, and the gypsy, standing behind her, grasps her hands and folds his arms around her, holding her against his chest.<br /><br />On the DVD, this is not the closing pose of the song. Instead, the gypsy takes the girl's hand and supports her as she performs a controlled fall, landing on her back in the grass. He then drops down on top of her, straddling her, and lowers himself down to kiss her, at which point the camera changes focus.<br /><br />I could be wrong, but I think I have an inkling as to why this particular pose did not pass muster for the PBS-aired version of "Storm." Certainly it caused me and Krys to do a lot of shrieking when we watched the DVD for the first time. Also a good bit of envy. Ryan Kelly, gypsy king… mmmmm…<br /><br />Oops, did I just say that out loud?<br /><br />In any case, both "He Nearly Killed the Cat" and <i>The Highwayman's Apprentice</i> are hot in my head right now, and the only other thing I have on my slate is singing at Vespers tonight. Today is the feast day of St. Maurice, the patron of our parish, so we always do an evening prayer service.<br /><br />If you happen to pray, toss a prayer God's way for me. If not, send me good thoughts. I got picked to sing the opening solo of the trickiest piece we're doing, and it just about tops out my range…Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-21354915959486820962011-09-19T14:22:00.000-07:002011-09-19T14:22:30.150-07:00"You never swear. This must be big."The title of the post is Krystal speaking, in response to my comment of "Holy s***!" as I checked the TV listings last night. I snatched up the remote and frantically changed the channel to PBS, at which point she said what I said.<br /><br />Celtic Thunder's "Storm" was being played last night. We got in a bit late to catch the beginning of the first showing, thanks to going out to dinner with my brother who is in college across town, but neither of us found it a hardship to stay up till midnight to catch the second time through.<br /><br />"Storm" is a bit of a departure for Celtic Thunder. The boys have generally done straight-up concerts, maybe with a theme or story to a couple of songs in a row, but "Storm" is a full-length sung-through theater production. And good heavens, what a production it is.<br /><br />I won't bore people with a full description of the plot, but it involves several variously-fated love stories, a handsome highwayman, and a colorful caravan of gypsies, and it got all my story juices flowing. The result hit people's inboxes early this morning—<i>Surpassing Danger</i> is finally beginning.<br /><br />However, "Storm" did also inspire me in its own right. It leaves several questions unanswered at the end, along with a great deal of backstory which is never told. So… how would people like to see, after my current projects are underway, a period piece entitled <i>The Highwayman's Apprentice</i>?<br /><br />Our "Storm" DVD arrives tomorrow. I can't wait. Now to get a few more calories in me, to fortify me for my evening writing. It is, after all, Monday, and if I can, I'd love to get a chapter of "He Nearly Killed the Cat" out on time…Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-85401940523792851712011-09-15T13:14:00.000-07:002011-09-15T13:14:35.672-07:00"Fur. It's what's for dinner."Not that I deliberately set out to eat fur, but in a two-cat apartment, it's inevitable. Not to mention when Sesame settles herself onto my lap, purring her loudest, and then whips her tail across my face just as I'm leaning forward to pet her…<br />
<br />
I should explain yesterday's hypothetical a bit more. I am not the theater director in question, and the casting has already been done. The only reason I was asking was to find out if I was the only one wondering about the decision.<br />
<br />
That decision was to cast the more experienced girl, who has the less appropriate vocal range. While I admit to a bias in favor of the less experienced girl—she is my sister, after all—I don't think it extends to thinking she could play a part when she can't.<br />
<br />
Just to make life even more fun, the girl who has been cast in the part (the show, for those who asked, is <i>Jekyll & Hyde</i>, and the part is Emma, Dr. Jekyll's fiancée) is my sister's friend. She is very talented, and did a wonderful job of playing Eponine in last spring's <i>Les Miserables</i>, but…<br />
<br />
Anyone who knows musical theater will know that Eponine is written for an alto, or at most a mezzo-soprano. This girl has the perfect range for Eponine. Emma, as far as I can judge by listening to the soundtrack, was written for a true soprano.<br />
<br />
I know that none of this is my business. I no longer attend that school, I don't run the theater department, and this may be nothing but a case of my prejudices running away with me. It just bothers me, but I'm going to let it go, because I have some more interesting news.<br />
<br />
While researching <i>Les Miserables</i> the other night, I found some very interesting information on Wikipedia. Apparently there is going to be a film version, to be released in 2012, starring Hugh Jackman as Jean Valjean and Russell Crowe as Inspector Javert.<br />
<br />
Several other names were given for cast members, but no roles were attached. However…<br />
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Anne Hathaway has made her career up to this point out of playing good girls, so it seems unlikely she'll break tradition now. She would make a very charming Cosette. And who can doubt that Helena Bonham Carter will be a terrifying Madame Thenardier? <br />
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But the name that caused me, and I imagine will cause you, the most excitement was that of the actress I think will probably be playing either Fantine or Eponine. Can we or can we not imagine Emma Watson in one of those roles?<br />
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*runs away happily to her writing*Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-60860215642558147882011-09-14T15:02:00.000-07:002011-09-14T15:02:48.029-07:00"So am I a ding-a-ling or a ding-dong?"No, this isn't another "I hate me" post. It's a semi-serious question. I've joined my church's bell choir, along with singing in the adult choir as I already do, and will be headed off to rehearsal shortly. Thought I would toss a quick post online before I went.<br />
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I do also have a question on which I would like feedback. Let's say that you're a high school theater director. *braces self as everyone choruses, "You're a high school theater director."* Thank you. For one particular female lead in the fall musical, you have two contenders. <br />
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Both girls can sing, dance, and act, without question. One girl has more experience, but her vocal range is wrong for the character. Her part would have to be transposed. The other girl does not have as much experience, but is still capable, and could sing the music as written.<br />
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Given these specifications, who would you cast? I'm just curious, because I know what my call would be, and I'd like to see if other people agree or disagree with me.<br />
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Short post tonight. More probably tomorrow. Everybody send healing thoughts Krystal's way--she's used almost an entire box of tissues today on account of hostile sinuses...Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-76285679723356095682011-09-12T10:14:00.000-07:002011-09-12T10:14:30.850-07:00"Whiny PAGE alert, whiny PAGE alert!"PAGE, as long-time readers will know, stands for Panther Author Goddess of (depending on my mood) Everything or Evil. Panther is my Animagus form, while the other three terms need no explanation. It is my official title, and I do my best to live up to it.<br /><br />Unfortunately, on Saturday, I was more living down to it than living up. I was having a bad day, but that's no reason for me to take it out on all of you. I do apologize for the most unpleasant blog post, and thank all of you who responded to it so very kindly.<br /><br />Since not much is going on around here, besides a very good day for my choir on Sunday, I think I will instead tell you a funny story about one of my experiences with my former job. Then I will go and finish Chapter 9 of "He Nearly Killed the Cat," and then I will post it.<br /><br />I've mentioned the setup of the department I worked in before, but for a brief refresher, we had one big boss, five little bosses, and fifty-odd people working under them. One day, the big boss asked me as a favor if I would go to the convention center, a few blocks away, and pick something up for her.<br /><br />I need to emphasize several things about this. First, it was asked, not commanded or required. Second, I had nothing else currently in need of my attention, and it was, at the moment, a nice day out. Finally, I like taking walks. So, I agreed.<br /><br />I should have known better.<br /><br />The moment I left the convention center on my way back, it started to rain. I continued walking, but the rain got harder. When it reached pouring stage, I ducked under an overhang at a piano store. Surely, I thought, this heavy rain can't last long.<br /><br />Once again, I should have known better.<br /><br />I stood under that overhang for half an hour. The rain continued, getting only harder as time went on. The street, one of downtown Pittsburgh's main avenues of traffic, was very nearly flooding. And still, the rain continued.<br /><br />Finally, I saw my chance. A bus was coming which would take me to within a two-block dash of my office building. I darted out and flagged it down, crossing the street in the process, which thoroughly soaked my shoes. The rain I caught in the interim got the rest of me pretty wet as well.<br /><br />Fortunately, it was well into the summer, so I was wearing mostly lightweight fabrics. I also have a sense of humor, and the look of horror on the big boss's face when I walked, dripping, into her office and politely deposited the items she'd requested on her desk made up for everything.<br /><br />The gift card to Moe's Southwest Grill she got me as an apology didn't hurt either. But I did leave a rain poncho on her desk the next morning. Just because I could. She has a sense of humor too.<br /><br />I hope that you have enjoyed this small excerpt from my (someday) upcoming office musical, "Bankers' Hours." Now back to our regularly scheduled programming, which in my case means it's time to write. Enjoy the rest of your Monday, and watch your in boxes for that update notice!Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-76750478414708238162011-09-10T19:15:00.000-07:002011-09-10T19:15:35.749-07:00"I'm not good for anything, am I?"It's been that kind of a day. I slept late, too late judging by how tired I was when I got up, and then spent the rest of the day playing games and eating a lot. I did no writing, very few chores, and never ventured outside the door of the apartment.<br /><br />It doesn't help that the allergies I'm now fairly sure I have are playing up. I take pills with a four-hour cycle to them, and usually I only need to take one per day, but today I've been able to set the clock by my sniffles returning.<br /><br />I've been in this mood before. I know it doesn't last. That doesn't stop it from being unpleasant while it's here.<br /><br />Sorry if this post brings people down. I didn't want to let the day go by without posting something, and this is all that came to mind. Not that anyone reads this blog anyway, so I suppose it doesn't matter.<br /><br />I'm going to try to write. I don't know how well it will come out, but at least then the day won't feel like a complete waste of time. It may still be one… no, not going there. That never ends well.Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8561465149179108745.post-77856873696013759262011-09-08T09:58:00.001-07:002011-09-08T15:13:21.690-07:00"Am I evil, blah, or both?"It's a fair question, especially on a day like today. The sky is blue with only a few clouds, the temperature hovers comfortably between warm and cool, and I am sitting indoors, thinking up new ways to torture characters and cats.<br />
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Part of the problem is that "He Nearly Killed the Cat" is in one of its transition phases. We've finished the first portion of the story, where the world gets established, a few characters get introduced, and the conflicts are set up for the next part. Now for that next part…<br />
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Unfortunately, it's not as easy as that. I have to figure out both what order would be the most convenient to have the conflicts resolved in from a writing standpoint, and what order will keep the tension and interest going from a reading standpoint.<br />
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Also, I have to decide which conflicts affect one another. Though this story, by its nature, has an episodic feel, the various things the characters do on their individual adventures are not isolated. They will have far-reaching effects. I just need to figure out what.<br />
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And finally, I have to get up the gumption to keep writing on this story and to work on other stories, fan fiction and original. I know me. If I let myself off writing every time I feel blah, I'll feel blah all the time.<br />
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(very little voice) Some nice reviews would help…<br />
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But seriously, what I need most right now is food, more tea, and then just to sit down and doggone well do it. No excuses, just work. It's the only way I'll ever get anything done.<br />
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So, with that in mind, to the kitchen! (And really, those reviews would help. I know I have to wean myself off reader appreciation eventually, but does it have to be right now?)Anne B. Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559764971690528224noreply@blogger.com2