Working, here and there, on Of the North. I’m trying to stick to chapter order, but not succeeding very well, so I jump around from one spot to the next.
Currently I have 11,345 words in the “New/rewritten OtN scenes” document and 4,496 of notes for plot and character development in another document. Sometime this week I organized things, so now when I get to a certain place, I don’t have to search as much for notes for it. I also have things organized under headings for characters, so if I’m working on developing a character, it’s easy to find. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but it’s been a busy month requiring lots of socializing.
By the way, in case you hadn’t noticed, writing is not an escape from real life. I wrote a post about OtN’s progress the other day, and at the time I had one of the things-to-change in the back of my mind, but in an “I’ll get to it eventually” sort of way. The next day it came smack and hit me, and because I left it so late, stopped my progress on another area. I thought “I should have attended to it as soon as it came up, so I could keep working smoothly.” That’s a lesson for life too.
The Rooglewood contest for this year is Snow White. You might remember I mentioned a fairy-tale-ish Mediterranean-feeling story? I thought of trying it for the contest if it fit with the story they picked. Last week I suddenly (in the shower, of course) discovered the climactic scene, possibly the ending scene, and the theme. Now I’m assailed by the usual doubts about whether it’s possible to fit it all into 20,000 words. But the mood of this story is quite bright and sunny, except when the villain’s around (those villains do seem to like intruding where they’re not wanted), and I’ve always thought of Snow White as being like dark chocolate. So we’ll see, if the plots turn out to have any similarities, what happens then. I like Helen’s story enough to work on it regardless.
I started May (and the holidays) by being sick, so I got lots of reading done.
Farmer Giles of Ham, Adam of the Road, The Door in the Wall, Pooh, part of The Thirteen Clocks, and:
The first six Harry Potter books. I’ll talk more about them when I’ve read the last one. I’m only reading them because some friends of mine kept saying words to the effect that I can’t judge them on hearsay, if I haven’t read them myself. I think the quality of my writing has been suffering a bit because of it. Tolkien or the Wingfeather Saga will be next.
I redid my green cyrtel, which will have a post of its own coming up. Also, our group is officially a forming group.
I spent the night between exams with Jenny, and this is how my attempts at being grown-up went.
Monday afternoon at Jenny’s: Jenny: “I don’t normally eat supper at five, so if you aren’t hungry yet that’s all right.” I sat down to do school, finished a project, and started helping her make fringes on Lord Manfred’s belt, talking of this and that and weird writerly things. We finished that and I said, “What time is it?” Checked the time. “Seven thirty-two!” So we had to run for supper.
We went out to the van and saw that the side door was wide open and had apparently been that way for the last two hours. Jenny: “Did you not shut the door?” Me: “I thought of course I had. . .” So I looked in to see if anything was missing, hoping nobody stole the school books I had to return the next day, the only things I thought were of value in it. But, providentially, everything was still there.
Monday night when ordering at Culver’s: “Chicken’s meal kid’s — [dissolve into laughter here] — kid’s meal chicken fingers, please.”
When opening said kid’s meal: “There’s no spoon for the applesauce.”
Monday night, as I was going to bed: I forgot to take my allergy medicine.
Tuesday morning when I woke up: I have a sore throat. I bet it’s that horrible cold that’s been going around church. Lovely.
Tuesday morning while dressing: I forgot the hairbrush.
Tuesday morning when leaving for school with fifteen minutes before the exam: Traffic. How perfect.
Tuesday morning partway through the Aesthetics exam: It is that cold. When I told it I could get sick once school was done, I didn’t mean right now.
Otherwise, we spent a lovely evening talking about writing, SCA projects, and
the value of eyes on the black market everything else under the sun, and between us we may have worked out a few of our plot problems. (Richard’s p. o. v. is working out splendidly now.)
Then I came home and got sick and spent the next couple of days reading.
Also, my father finally graduated with his Ph.D.
Last week I went to the first bit of a conference on the Reformation, which was fun in a heady intellectual sort of way. I was glad I got to hear the part on Sola Scriptura, which might help when, you know, talking to all my Catholic friends. . .
It was a bit of a crazy month, and June and July aren’t looking to be much more settled. I wish. I’d like a quiet summer for a change, especially as this might be the last before I’m officially grown up with all the rights, honours, privileges, and responsibilities pertaining thereto. One more for the road. . .