Wednesday, December 29, 2004
I spent three hours yesterday on five hundred words, and I fear none of them are actually usuable. I finally gave up and spent some time making notes, trying to figure out why starting this section of the chapter is proving so hard. I have so many misgivings, a fear that I may actually have begun this section, and perhaps this entire chapter, in the wrong place. I thought that Daughter of Hounds would prove less difficult for me than was the absolute nightmare of writing Murder of Angels. It ought to be. Easier, I mean, if only because I know most of the broad strokes of the plot, which I always kept at arms length with MoA, needing the novel to happen as I wrote with as little forethought as possible. Perhaps I've only hit a small bump, an inevitable one in the switch from Emmie's POV to Deacon's.
After the notes, I read Shirley Jackson's "The Daemon Lover" and then Angela Carter's "Wolf-Alice." Jackson and Carter are two of the authors I count on the keep me grounded, and, when I get lost, to help me find my way back. I will never cease to be astounded at the beautiful simplicity of Jackson's prose, of her forthright, matter-of-fact approach to terrible things. Later, I watched the Science Channel — A Brief History of Time and a special on the Cassini-Huygens probe (those photographs of Titan from earlier this month are astounding). Then I played about an hour's worth of Devil May Cry 2 before bed. It's really not bad for a two-year old Playstation 2 game, especially if you're in the mood for a simple, straight-up hack-and-slash, which I was. After Halo 2, I've had trouble finding something I want to play. But. I'm also trying to cut down on the television some.
It occurs to me that perhaps, having blessed the world the Seven Deadly Sins of Writing (of which there are nine), I should, in all fairness, also attempt to provide the Seven Virtues of Writing. But it's going to take some thinking, so I'll get back to you on this one.
11:56 AM
Comments:
Post a Comment
