The Cut Direct
Jul. 20th, 2006 01:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceSnip-snip go the angel's wings. Every feather is a blade.
I cut, I cut, see how I cut...
This morning I cut, oh, two good days' work; and there is a lot more to come. For months now I've been saying "there's a hundred pages early on where nothing happens," in hopes it would be true. More or less, it is. Eighty-five pages of pure sensawunda and internalising angst; there is nothing much wrong with it in and of itself, some of it is rather lovely and much is Deep and Meaningful, but that doesn't mean it isn't also Wrong. Out it goes, out, out!
Mind, I am keeping the sentence where I used the phrase "sense of wonder". It's these little things that carry us through. At the moment, I'm also leaving the Eliot quote, which is more shocking. It may go tomorrow. It probably should.
Having got this far in, I have done some sums. At current rate of progress, I need another fifteen hours of reading-and-scribbling, plus some fifty hours at the keyboard. And I have a week, more or less, to do it. And I am tired already; but the book is a Balrog, and must be first quenched and then wrestled with, and so cast down from a great height. Perhaps I should get up earlier, squeeze in an extra day.
In other news: Barry did Leaping yesterday, and I only wish my camera weren't too slow to catch him. He's a very jumpy cat anyway - in the good sense, I mean: not nervous, just jumping up high - but when he Leaps, he is extraordinary. There was a moth around, which encouraged a lot of Leaping. Perhaps it's hallucinatory, but he looks like he gets up around my head-height, and I'm a tall man.
In other other news: I had an Adventure, but not in a good way. I fell. I wasn't drunk, please note; I just fell. In public, naturally. And now I am stiff and sore and bruised, scabby like a little boy, and not feeling at all well. It's lunchtime, but I can't be bothered to eat; how weird is that? Not the heat, today is cooler; I just sit here and nothing occurs. No juices, no interest. I think I'm broken.
I cut, I cut, see how I cut...
This morning I cut, oh, two good days' work; and there is a lot more to come. For months now I've been saying "there's a hundred pages early on where nothing happens," in hopes it would be true. More or less, it is. Eighty-five pages of pure sensawunda and internalising angst; there is nothing much wrong with it in and of itself, some of it is rather lovely and much is Deep and Meaningful, but that doesn't mean it isn't also Wrong. Out it goes, out, out!
Mind, I am keeping the sentence where I used the phrase "sense of wonder". It's these little things that carry us through. At the moment, I'm also leaving the Eliot quote, which is more shocking. It may go tomorrow. It probably should.
Having got this far in, I have done some sums. At current rate of progress, I need another fifteen hours of reading-and-scribbling, plus some fifty hours at the keyboard. And I have a week, more or less, to do it. And I am tired already; but the book is a Balrog, and must be first quenched and then wrestled with, and so cast down from a great height. Perhaps I should get up earlier, squeeze in an extra day.
In other news: Barry did Leaping yesterday, and I only wish my camera weren't too slow to catch him. He's a very jumpy cat anyway - in the good sense, I mean: not nervous, just jumping up high - but when he Leaps, he is extraordinary. There was a moth around, which encouraged a lot of Leaping. Perhaps it's hallucinatory, but he looks like he gets up around my head-height, and I'm a tall man.
In other other news: I had an Adventure, but not in a good way. I fell. I wasn't drunk, please note; I just fell. In public, naturally. And now I am stiff and sore and bruised, scabby like a little boy, and not feeling at all well. It's lunchtime, but I can't be bothered to eat; how weird is that? Not the heat, today is cooler; I just sit here and nothing occurs. No juices, no interest. I think I'm broken.