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desperanceThere is some kind of mind-meld going on in my head, and it feels ... weirdly comfortable, actually.
What I'm doing is marrying two made worlds, and it is quite remarkable how well they fit. Maybe that's just because I know them both so well: I've been working on Mars for what, nearly three years now, so that's a tolerably solid creation; and I've been reading the Chalet School for nearly fifty. And of course it's my own envisioning of the Chalet School that I see when I read it, and there's not so much difference between that and my own invention; once the words leave the page and enter my head, they're dealing with the same imaginative deck, the same directorial eye, whatever. Something.
And besides, it all makes such sense. We know already that boys from the colony on Mars are sent home to England for their schooling, but it's expensive; only the very wealthy would send their girls too. Which means there's a crying need for boarding schools in situ, for the daughters of the middle classes and the military gentlemen, the colonial officers and so forth. Of course they need the Crater School, oh yes.
And meanwhile, in another kind of mash-up, Jeannie has moved to Sydney and Karen & I spent last night in San Francisco; she had a work dinner last night and workstuff all day today, so I have spent some time watching big ships on the water. And have been all morning singing the subject line, so here, have an earworm. You're welcome. ("Oh, oh, oh what a lovely war, y viva Espana" also works weirdly well in my head, I am just sayin'.)
What I'm doing is marrying two made worlds, and it is quite remarkable how well they fit. Maybe that's just because I know them both so well: I've been working on Mars for what, nearly three years now, so that's a tolerably solid creation; and I've been reading the Chalet School for nearly fifty. And of course it's my own envisioning of the Chalet School that I see when I read it, and there's not so much difference between that and my own invention; once the words leave the page and enter my head, they're dealing with the same imaginative deck, the same directorial eye, whatever. Something.
And besides, it all makes such sense. We know already that boys from the colony on Mars are sent home to England for their schooling, but it's expensive; only the very wealthy would send their girls too. Which means there's a crying need for boarding schools in situ, for the daughters of the middle classes and the military gentlemen, the colonial officers and so forth. Of course they need the Crater School, oh yes.
And meanwhile, in another kind of mash-up, Jeannie has moved to Sydney and Karen & I spent last night in San Francisco; she had a work dinner last night and workstuff all day today, so I have spent some time watching big ships on the water. And have been all morning singing the subject line, so here, have an earworm. You're welcome. ("Oh, oh, oh what a lovely war, y viva Espana" also works weirdly well in my head, I am just sayin'.)