Nasty outbreak of DayJob, today: my boss’s dotted-line boss was in for the annual audit. I did my best to stay invisible. In that time, I was able to see far beyond what I’ve written here. But, it was a 10-hour day, so: rest.
I have to tell this from Arpad’s POV because I didn’t understand just how – even with Ai’s family – how alone Lily is as she approaches thirty years old. I’m not cutting her parts out, but limiting them for poignancy.
Back on track. I re-re-read what I’d re-read yesterday. I’m just a middle-aged hack, but FFS, that was awful! Was I really drunk enough to write that?
I didn’t even bother editing it: deleted. Let’s try again. Sure: dashing Arpad is something of a player; nothing at all wrong with that. Has he a history? Well, lookie here…!
[Personal aside: thought about this all morning. Left phone upstairs in pharmacy while I went to eat lunch in ground floor cafeteria. Rather than troll news sites, I spent the next forty-ish minutes thinking about this story. Bits. Pieces. Glimpses. Pic…
What? Oh: “picnic.” My imagination opened like a carpet. Arpad owes Lily a lunch at her hospital, but after that… they’re going to go on a little date… how, why, where… don’t bother me: I’m writing!]
Not writing anything on Sunday freaked me out so I thought about things Monday – so much my brain shorted out and I had to leave DayJob at 1500 – and came home to write a little. I’d thought I’d try following on Empire’s Agent, about Arpad and Lily. I dropped about 400 words and went to bed. Going back to look at them, just now, I must have been worse off than I thought: just awful!
The problem, of course, is me. After starring in my first two novels, Lily Barrett is something of an iconic figure of my future history. One doesn’t just randomly use icons in short story writing exercises. I’m going to spend the rest of this evening thinking and making a few notes. I am really interested where this might lead but I don’t want to bugger it up.
Content tomorrow. Something. Promise.
Yes! Right where I wanted this one to go! Sometimes they show me what I’m hoping to see and this was one of those times!
A summary of my Lenten writing exercise tomorrow and likely a short stream of consciousness rant on wither next.
For those putting up with this and all the other shorts from my future history of Machine Civilization, thank you! Let’s do it more!
There was no way to end this today. Maybe, just maybe, tomorrow. Is this turning into another book?
Easter draws near and thus the end of these Lenten writing exercises. I’ll continue them in some form, but even this evening – on a Friday, for eff’s sake! – my wife launches into a Spring honeydew list of this, that, and ten other tanjed things! If the yard needs that much work then I’ll just sow it with salt!
Anyway. Who wouldn’t mind a walk in the twilight with an engaging, attractive stranger? Yes: the both of them.
Saw this part and most of tomorrow’s at lunch today. As tomorrow is Good Friday, I’ll fast through lunch and try to get out of DayJob 30 minutes early.
I’m giving very serious thought to, next week, telling this story through Lily’s eyes. I wonder, my few regular readers, if you see what I see with Lily today?
I wrote the first two lines. I walked away and sulked for over an hour. My wife had to tend to her mother’s illness so I chatted with Daughter #2 about being stuck and feeling sick for it.
“Tell me the characters.” I described Arpad and Rauch; on the way to find Lily. A character based on Daughter #2.
“Where are they?” I guess Arpad is at a hotel. Rauch leaves as this is not a novel.
“When is it?” I thought she meant in the future. She meant during the day. “So the guy goes to dinner or something.”
Brilliant! This is brought to you by her.
I caught myself thinking about Arpad’s history today. This is a writing exercise, not a novel, dammit!
Last night was family movie night: the Charlton Heston version of “Ben Hur.” I was pleased that my teen girls sat still and seemed to take all three hours of it in. Gen Zyklon indeed! However, as a opportune result of that I was unable to scare up time to write. Priorities: God, family, friends.
Late this afternoon at DayJob, I mentioned to Friend Tracy that I not only didn’t know what to write, I had not idea what I wasn’t going to write.
“You’ll be fine.” She tossed back. There’s a reason I love (storge) her.
Looking at dinner, leftover Hungarian chicken paprikash, I thought about that. Hungarians. The Viszegrad Group… the survival of central and eastern Europe. What would that look like in my world…?
Let’s find out.
machciv 