The lost post
Apr. 2nd, 2008 02:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceThe pavements of Newcastle (mainly) are littered with story ideas, snippets of dialogue, titles and characters and all the marginalia of the writing life: twenty-five years of Chaz wandering around and thinking of stuff and then forgetting it before he gets home, for lo, I am not a notekeeping man.
In recent years, this fictional accumulation has been much enriched by the addition of unremembered blogposts, witty little jewels that I thought to send to LJ and, uh, forgot.
Sometimes I remember that I have forgotten them; this doesn't really help much.
As today. I was going to say something lovely to y'all, and I don't know what it was. So it goes.
Still:
Spring is here, spring is here! Life is skittles and life is beer.
Except that it isn't really, of course, either half of that equation. Skittles fall over and beer is bitter, and we're expecting a cold snap at the weekend. But still. The sun is warmly shining as I type, and the rhubarb and garlic in the yard flourisheth as the green bay tree. Which also flourisheth, by definition.
And I have finished my retelling of Dracula, or at least reached the end of a first tentative draft. They may hate it, for I have radically remade the ending, or at least chopped it off a few hundred miles short of where Stoker took it. The trouble with Dracula, I have decided, is a constancy of comings and goings; wherever the story takes you, you have to come back and go there again. And, oftentimes, again and again. This is wearisome. It's probably Deeply Significant in some thematic meaning, but still. Wearisome.
So, anyway. I have more or less achieved the required brevity, largely by dint of not doing that. Farewell,endless shuttling back and forth thematic meaning! This draft stops in London. This may go against company policy; we'll find out soonish. I'm going to read it through and send it off, and then go to the pub. Beer is bitter, and bitter is good. There will be no skittles.
In recent years, this fictional accumulation has been much enriched by the addition of unremembered blogposts, witty little jewels that I thought to send to LJ and, uh, forgot.
Sometimes I remember that I have forgotten them; this doesn't really help much.
As today. I was going to say something lovely to y'all, and I don't know what it was. So it goes.
Still:
Spring is here, spring is here! Life is skittles and life is beer.
Except that it isn't really, of course, either half of that equation. Skittles fall over and beer is bitter, and we're expecting a cold snap at the weekend. But still. The sun is warmly shining as I type, and the rhubarb and garlic in the yard flourisheth as the green bay tree. Which also flourisheth, by definition.
And I have finished my retelling of Dracula, or at least reached the end of a first tentative draft. They may hate it, for I have radically remade the ending, or at least chopped it off a few hundred miles short of where Stoker took it. The trouble with Dracula, I have decided, is a constancy of comings and goings; wherever the story takes you, you have to come back and go there again. And, oftentimes, again and again. This is wearisome. It's probably Deeply Significant in some thematic meaning, but still. Wearisome.
So, anyway. I have more or less achieved the required brevity, largely by dint of not doing that. Farewell,
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-02 02:53 pm (UTC)