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SnowsHood of Sleet
Feb. 27th, 2022 10:09 pmI'm goofing off on my blogging again, and I know this is a slippery slope, so I compel myself to an update. Things that disturb me on social media: IGNORE. I've been working a lot on my outline, and my eyes get really tired at night. Those two things are most of my reluctance to blog. The other part is ongoing tummy troubles. Something about the process of surgery--the fasting, dehydration, etc.--seems to have set it off. Hopefully it will return to normal in time for the next round.
Today: it was a nice sunny day, above freezing! The Sparrowhawk suggested going to try the bagel shop that opened nearby and that we've never visited. We're always looking for a good bagel, not some puffy monstrosity. There was a pretty good shop pre-Covid, but it closed. We parked across from the lake and had a nice stroll past all the shops. I saw one labeled FROMAGE and was like, "That means CHEESE! It's a cheese shop!" The Sparrowhawk said "Yes, it's been there awhile." "Why have we never gone there?" I cried. "I don't know--maybe Covid?" he said. Possibly it was just because I never saw it and therefore didn't know it was there. But I know NOW . . . . At the bagel shop, we got a cortado apiece and a salt bagel with a schmear, which we shared. Then we got six bagels to take home with us: two salt, two everything, two cranberry walnut. We wanted to try garlic salt, seeded, and cinnamon raisin as well, but they were out, so we just doubled up on the other stuff. The coffee was excellent, and the bagels were the real thing, properly boiled and crusted. I was sad when I got home that I couldn't sample another one, but my stomach has its limitations, which I try to respect, although I never seem to get it quite right. It's a harsh mistress.
I started typing up my chapter outline to see how much I have and where the holes are. As I was typing, I thought of possible solutions to some of the holes. I had a Zoom with Moonmoth and the Nonesuch. As I was saying to them, pulp writing is the exact opposite of everything they would teach you at Clarion. I assume--since I've never been to Clarion. It has dei ex machina, wild coincidences, one-dimensional characters, surprises with no foreshadowing, and ad hoc rationalizations and motivations galore. The story just hurtles along, without much need for themes or rumination of any kind. Whee! It's like some lines from a parody opera that I saw in a book once when I was an editor of scholarly works. One character says, or rather sings, to the other, "Well, it's time to die now! We'd better hurry up about it!" The other asks, "Why are we dying?" And the response is "This is opera! Don't ask! Of course we have to die!" Nevertheless, there is an art to it, so I can only hope I'm getting it right. It's refreshing, but after awhile one fears being simply ludicrous. This fear must be overcome in time for our heroes to fall over yet another cliff! But don't worry, they WON'T die, in spite of all logic and reason!
Today: it was a nice sunny day, above freezing! The Sparrowhawk suggested going to try the bagel shop that opened nearby and that we've never visited. We're always looking for a good bagel, not some puffy monstrosity. There was a pretty good shop pre-Covid, but it closed. We parked across from the lake and had a nice stroll past all the shops. I saw one labeled FROMAGE and was like, "That means CHEESE! It's a cheese shop!" The Sparrowhawk said "Yes, it's been there awhile." "Why have we never gone there?" I cried. "I don't know--maybe Covid?" he said. Possibly it was just because I never saw it and therefore didn't know it was there. But I know NOW . . . . At the bagel shop, we got a cortado apiece and a salt bagel with a schmear, which we shared. Then we got six bagels to take home with us: two salt, two everything, two cranberry walnut. We wanted to try garlic salt, seeded, and cinnamon raisin as well, but they were out, so we just doubled up on the other stuff. The coffee was excellent, and the bagels were the real thing, properly boiled and crusted. I was sad when I got home that I couldn't sample another one, but my stomach has its limitations, which I try to respect, although I never seem to get it quite right. It's a harsh mistress.
I started typing up my chapter outline to see how much I have and where the holes are. As I was typing, I thought of possible solutions to some of the holes. I had a Zoom with Moonmoth and the Nonesuch. As I was saying to them, pulp writing is the exact opposite of everything they would teach you at Clarion. I assume--since I've never been to Clarion. It has dei ex machina, wild coincidences, one-dimensional characters, surprises with no foreshadowing, and ad hoc rationalizations and motivations galore. The story just hurtles along, without much need for themes or rumination of any kind. Whee! It's like some lines from a parody opera that I saw in a book once when I was an editor of scholarly works. One character says, or rather sings, to the other, "Well, it's time to die now! We'd better hurry up about it!" The other asks, "Why are we dying?" And the response is "This is opera! Don't ask! Of course we have to die!" Nevertheless, there is an art to it, so I can only hope I'm getting it right. It's refreshing, but after awhile one fears being simply ludicrous. This fear must be overcome in time for our heroes to fall over yet another cliff! But don't worry, they WON'T die, in spite of all logic and reason!
