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[personal profile] desperance
So I was lying on the sofa this morning, underneath a cat, with a coffee at my side and Laurie King's latest Russell/Holmes novel to wallow in (and oh, this one is good: the opening section is a model of technical challenge achieving the status of art) - and the first line of a story occurred to me, as they do, more or less independent of anything. And I played with it for a couple of rubbery minutes in my head - it's kinda like solo squash, you hammer it this way and that, see how it bounces, how it comes back to you - and then I realised how comfortably it fell into my little current collection of things-I-am-writing-about-Steampunk!Mars, so yay. Just what I needed, another unfinished piece of an unconstructed puzzle.

At the moment, then, sit rep, more for my own amusement than your use as it's just titles and first lines:

"The Burial of Sir John Mawe at Cassini": Never did a man hanged see such a funeral.

"With Kipling on Mars": I did perhaps know it to be the greatest day of my young life, when Willoughby called me to his office one morning in early Aquarius.

"The Girl Who Mapped Mars": Any map is an act of autobiography.

HUMAN ENGINES: I didn't know I could be a thief, till I saw Robin.

BROKEN SYMMETRY: "Herver, I would damn your eyes, if you had any."

That's two stories, one novella, a YA and a mystery. Not necessarily in quite that order.

In other news, I am now going to drift downtown in hopes of finding a replacement for the Palace Cafe, which has blocked up all its power outlets in an unmistakable declaration that it no longer wants my custom.
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desperance

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