Cadmus and Harmonia, Evelyn de Morgan
Writing day! Just a quick entry ’cause I’m at It’s A Grind with Michelle. Objective is to continue writing the Aloli-Noraeka scene; may even finish it by the end of today’s session. Beautiful outside–hot and sunny. The music is something bluesy, and there’s a handful of customers at work with laptops, and conversations buzzing around.
Time to step into the great white sea.
Crown Anemone, Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale
8,003. Good work this morning on the recently untitled romantic fantasy aka Aloli/Emeryk, for the main characters, until I come up with a new title. Writing day with Michelle tomorrow, and I hope to write more of the great scene between Aloli and Noraeka Geddes. The story’s heating up a bit, and I’m getting butterflies. There’s so much to write, so much to get down on paper, and see how it is. I’m trying not to rush it ’cause that won’t do me or the story any good. This morning’s scene is still going on in my head so I’m going to have to pause a moment in the day work and scribble it out for later.
Weatherwise, this has been a week of sun bunny days. Texas seems to be getting our share of rain, which should have come between January and April, but saved itself for the southwest and skipped California completely. I’m not complaining, of course; the long cold winter season leaves me hungry for the sun, but no rain in the mid-state farm valleys means expensive produce, and for the forested regions and hills a brisk fire season–already begun at beautiful Lake Tahoe, unfortunately.
This week’s dvd viewing was more of the late ’60s golden oldie, Mission: Impossible: Season 2, start of the Jim Phelps (played with suitable gravitas by Peter Graves) era. I remember when after the show had won my undying attention during Season 1, and then Season 2 came along and there was this silver-haired, blue-eyed stranger in the place of dark and very serious mission leader Dan, I grumped and frowned at the screen and muttered stuff, but Mr. Phelps grew on me, and I fell in love with the show all over again. Viewing it now, these many years later, it has held up well. It didn’t depend on gadgetry–although Greg Morris’s Barney was a genius with electronic magick (and I spell it in the old way with a “k” because that is how it worked in the plots). The show’s appeal for me was its well-done suspense, and how the team used deception as its principal tool to get the bad guys (Cold War villians, Nazis, the Mafia, counterfeiters, and bio-terrorists, in the early seasons). They were expert at altering the bad guy(s)’ reality and it was a pleasure to watch how they did it. I’m enjoying it all over again.
One particular oddity ‘though–in the first season, Cinnamon’s (played by Barbara Bain) clothes always seemed to match the room she was in–not in every scene, but almost. I guess that was noticed at some point and during the second season she stopped appearing to be a mannequin in a set piece. A fashion model in her non-spy life, Bain’s character was always dressed to the nines in wonderful late 1960’s fashions. Part of my fun in watching now is seeing what she’s wears in each show.
Another fun trivia bit–in Season 1 and for a few of Season 2’s shows, the mission tape did not self-destruct. Dan (and for a while Jim) had to dispose of it. Then, at some point in Season 2, the tape would “self-distruct in five seconds.” And another fun thing, watching the team leader find the tape. I think the writers were having fun hiding that tape in all sorts of odd places. There’s one show where Phelps, having come to the roof of a building, seemed a bit unsure where it might be. He found it quickly enough but I was amused since he had to pause and consider where the hell did they put it this time?
I hated the first MISSION IMPOSSIBLE movie. Peter Graves had been offered the part but refused it–and with good reason! The movie ruined the Jim Phelps character. Mr. Phelps would never have betrayed and murdered his team. Never. In Peter Graves’s purported words, the script did indeed “rape the character.” I missed him, but he was so right. Very nice to watch him in action again. Can you tell I love this show?
Those crown anemones are so beautiful, they get an encore. Happy Friday! d:))
Rice Portrait of Jane Austen, Ozias Humphry
Via story on NPR’s site, by way of Smart Bitches…
Clive James is probably right that this portrait is not one of Jane Austen, but his reasoning proves him book-smart and still dumb. Did he hear himself?
“The author of Jane Austen’s novels couldn’t possibly look like this, or they would be very different novels,” author, poet and critic Clive James tells Renee Montagne. (Is he serious? Sadly, he is.)
And he goes on to say,
“Jane Austen was not outstandingly beautiful or she’d be remembered as that,” …”It’s definitely not in the character of the books to be about a beautiful woman. They are about a woman who is not beautiful yet who has other virtues.”
How the hell does he know? And, if she had been as pretty as the portrait, and a superb novelist, why wouldn’t she be remembered for both her brains and her beauty? Furthermore, the lady in the portrait is pretty, but I don’t see her as “outstandingly beautiful.”
Although I do agree with this comment…except for the “That was her role.” part,
“Jane Austen was the person you didn’t notice at the ball, but she noticed everything. That was her role.”
I think Mr. James is making a crapload of assumptions here, and y’know what that means.
A Peal of Bells, Emma Florence Harrison
Worked on The Key to Chaos this morning. That title no longer fits so I’m going to stop using it and call the book “Aloli/Emeryk” until a new title comes to me. Read the cards, using the Gilded Tarot deck (wanted to use my Vampire Tarot, but couldn’t find it), for Noraeka Geddes, and like what I got. I know her better now. She’s going to have to make a difficult decision, and the consequences will be terrible for her. One of her prior decisions already has had a tragic, unintended consequence.
Dropped off my vote in the 37th U.S. Congressional District Special Primary Election before hitting the freeway, and crept along for two hours, of which the last 30 minutes was spent trying to reach the Howard Hughes Parkway exit 1 and 1/4 miles from where I sat on the 405, approaching it through the constipated traffic that occurs at La Tijera. Thirty minutes to go 1 and 1/4 miles!
Ah well…it’s a beautifully sunny day in Southern California.
Woman Holding Balance, Johannes Vermeer
Yesterday’s plan was:
1. Lunch meeting with Janet
2. Work on “Shadow Walk”
3. Storyboard more of “The Key to Chaos”
What I did:
Met with Janet and had our usual fun lunch discussing our writing and chatting about stuff. Yesterday was lovely–all sunshine.
After lunch we visited the Office Depot and I bought a floppy disk drive so I could access my diskettes with the Mac and rediscovered “Runaway Heart”, a romance novel I started several years ago. Spent the afternoon reading through the 101 pages and found it to be in pretty good shape. Think I’ll add it to the list and see if I can finish it. Also think it works better as a novella.
I’m enjoying the long days, the lingering light, and summer has only just arrived. Wednesday evening, at 8:25 pm, light hung in the sky like mist among the clouds and the vast hollows of heaven. Friday evening the sky was opaline. There hung a cloud, nearly vertical, the only cloud in the western sky, like a long wool scarf, twisted, ravel-edged. I wished I had a camera that could have captured that wonderful cloud.
Met a friend this afternoon and went to see the movie WAITRESS. Good movie. Afterward we stopped at the Macaroni Grill in Seal Beach for a late lunch. I had this delicious drink called Venetian Lemonade, served in a tall V-shaped glass–rum, mint, limoncella, sliced lemon–yum.
There remains light in the sky. Still time to work on “Shadow Walk.”
Summer Flowers, John William Godward
My favorite season has moved into her sun-filled mansion and taken up residence. Ah, summer.
Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! Bird thou never wert, that from Heaven or near it, pourest thou full heart in profuse strains of unpremeditated Art.
Crown Anemone, Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale
I’ve become obsessed with the death of Silk River, can’t stop thinking about it. It was so sudden. In April everything was great, going so well I set a word goal for May and brought the story to over 56K. In the flow of the daily mundanities, I continued working with the manuscript, seeking dramatic opportunities. Then, in the midst of it all, the story fell to the floor of my brain, gasping for air. Wtf?
It stopped breathing. La Muse floated over it dropping itty bitty white lilies. I thought she liked the story! Hell it was her idea! The treacherous b–okay, won’t go there. She might cry poisonous rain on my seedlings.
Fine, fine…but the next time…
The Door of Dreams, Georges De Feure
Made a great leap forward in the plot of The Key to Chaos. Now have the antagonist and her motivation. Need a new title.
Preparing a step outline of secret project B. Have Act I nearly roughed out.
Have not thought about the two short stories I want to do. No time. And Saturday I’m meeting with Janet, so another weekend’ll slip by and I won’t even have a chance to think about them.
Letting Silk River lie. Strange how that story literally blinked out. Laid down and died. Have not thought about it at all.
It’s a beautiful June day! Sunny! Warm! Lazy air! And I’m stuck in here, the office cave, with the fluorescent lighting, the air conditioning, and tedious leases.
Commutations Wheel Idiots
Drivers who straddle lanes. Idiots! (Not the slow lane changer, but those idiots who change lanes and sit there–half in one, half in the other until they get a clue– s-l-o-w-l-y.) Them and the blinking idiots–people who never turn off their blinkers, no matter which move they’re about to make. Makes me wish Red had a mini version of the Enterprise’s photon laser.
On Sepulveda, passed this old classic car, nicely maintained exterior, can’t remember the make/model, but it sounded like it had two “DD” batteries and a fan under the hood keeping it going.
In the Peristyle, John William Waterhouse
Ever find yourself with so much to say, you can’t say anything at all? Not that I’m a daily fountain of words. Sometimes the brain is bone-dry, caught in a word drought, and other times the brain contracts severe hypergraphia and keeps me awake at night. Lots of blog stuff has flowed through the gray wrinkles lately, and none of it has made it to here. Every time I turn on the light of composition, thoughts and words scatter like the bothersome bugs they are. The brain becomes an empty room with nothing but white light at the windows.
So, must sneak up on it…
Sunday my lovely and intelligent niece Whitney graduated from UC, Irvine (BA, Literary Journalism) with honors. Need I say I am a proud aunty? After the happy ceremony, and lots of photographs, and congratulatory hugs and kisses, we had a celebratory meal at Whitney’s favorite place, Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles. The School of Humanities graduation ceremony was at 9 a.m. Sunday morning, and it was Father’s Day. Roscoe’s was packed out with families. After what I think was an hour’s wait, our party of eight was seated, faint with hunger and too grateful to complain. In a short time we were happily stuffing our faces with fried chicken, fluffy biscuits, buttered grits, smothered potatoes, and waffles! We howled when informed they were out of sweet potato pie.
My three-year old niece, Naliyah, was her wonderful self. Spotting a lady walking her dog, she exclaimed with uncontained delight, “Ohhh, a doggie and him Mom!” These are the moments!
Sunday afternoon I worked on secret project B–it’s starting to gobble up time from the other writing. ‘Fraid I’ll have to ride the horse while its running. Silk River is down for the count, for now; The Key to Chaos is sprouting wings–and I discovered that title absolutely won’t do anymore; and there’s a couple short story seedlings trying to take root.
One more thing that’ s been on my mind…I think I’ll write about the commute. I see much that amuses me during the daily zombie run. Just a paragraph, I think, about whatever catches my eye, like a great bumper sticker I saw last week and I wish I could remember it now, but I couldn’t take my hands off the wheel of course to hunt for a pen and paper, and memory’s ever-shifting these days. Commutations, I think I’ll call the entries.
So much for that…there’s more bubbling and bobbing in the gray wrinkles, but I really must get to the work on my desk. Happy writing, d 
Ship of Fools, Hieronymous Bosch
Interesting what the mind absorbs, what will stick deep in the wrinkles, without my being aware of the impact, until sleep. In the midst of last night’s dream muddle, I looked up from whatever I was doing and the sky was burning, “blackening like paper in a fire.” That line appears on page 37 of Mary Gentle’s “Rats and Gargoyles.” The image pierced the mundane layers of the conscious, planted itself, grew roots, in my subconscious, and became real in dream.
Today was complete immersion in the writing. Outside was brilliantly sunny, hot. I spent this morning working on the first of today’s projects: the secret project. Took a break, parked at the beach and munched on a catfish lunch from the local Popeye’s. Sea waves sparkling and rippling in the sunshine, fish leaping, lithe flashes, all sunlight and silver, risking the swoop of seagulls on the wing. Cold wind off the sea carried a dank muddy scent.
After lunch, The Key to Chaos, a bit of work on the Aloli-Lazaretia scene, and on the Emeryk-Jeru scene, and then a bit of brainstorming, working up more story. The manuscript has reached 7,629 words, and I’ve become better acquainted with Lazaretia Tataneia, who did not start her life with that name and whose parents sold her to the Temple of the Triple Goddess. As the youngest and last born of fifteen children, and the only one who was not born a twin or a triplet, her parents decided she’d be better off and better cared for in the care of the Daughters of An-Kara.
It’s after eight now. The day has faded to dusk; the air has grown cooler, and I can leave the desk satisfied at having had a good and productive day.
