Ah, damn it!
My last post was in September! How did that happen?
Happy New Year, dear f-list! I've been lurking around here lately once again and if I commented on some long-forgotten post of any of you, that's because I was skipping=thousands and losing track of how far back I went.
So, what have I been up to?
Mainly, I've fallen in love with Philip Glenister at last (but he's had it coming) and been catching up on his work. I fell in love with him over "Cranford" and, dare I say it, Mr. Carter is by no means a less worthy candidate for my eternal* devotion than Mr. Darcy was. Even more worthy. - Jane Austen's never sold me on the Mr. Darcy character, even though Colin Firth did.
As a result, I have watched "Cranford" over and over again**, have rewatched "State of Play"*** and have started watching "Vanity Fair" (the BBC mini series with Philip Glenister). So: Becky Sharp - how great is she? I love that woman. I read somewhere that the script didn't smooth out the character's edges in the BBC production as they did for the Reese Witherspoon film, and I am baffled: what is there to smooth? Seriously, I vaguely realise that I'm supposed to find Becky's conduct somewhat reprehensible and her character questionable, but so far, apart from the fact that she wants to benefit from her acquaintance with rich people and seeks them out purposefully - just like just about everyone else in the story does - there's nothing about her that I find in the least questionable. And, though this might be due to Natasha Little's performance, I don't find her overly flirty, either. More sort of naturally sparkly and witty. - Quite unlike the horribly, painfully dull Amelia. Were they going for shy and quiet? Because what happened is that she's stupid and dull. And even the marvellous Philip Glenister, despite being my love of the hour, can't save Capt. Dobbin from being a painful bore, too.
The heading of this post, BTW, is inspired by the "Vanity Fair" Captains, whose interjections of "Damn it!" make me quite tingly inside.
*as in: two-three months
**the good bits
***the good bits
Anyway. Philip Glenister. What I actually wanted to say was that I was checking out lifein1973, came across a challenge I couldn't resist, and so I actually wrote something.
It's The Life On Mars Cracked out Crossover Challenge, and the prompt that tickled my fancy was:
Eats, Shoots and Leaves: Sam is actually stuck in a comma.
This in itself is fucking brilliant. And I came up with the following:
Never odd or even.
Sam Tyler had woken from an amazing dream.
It was as though
he could breathe freely at last.
He spoke the words aloud
forming sentences that told of his life. So far,
he had not known where he belonged.
All his life,
he was struggling to keep afloat.
And yet,
Sam held tight to consciousness.
Remembering them all:
Hunt and his punches,
Annie and her smiles,
Ray and his sneers,
Phyllis' crispy voice.
With every word he took,
their importance increased.
And Sam knew that
(even if it was just in his head,
spinning names like an endless dream)
as he named each one of them,
he put their characters in words:
the creation of existence.
Words were ideas.
And ideas were real:
words were ideas -
the creation of existence.
He put their characters in words
as he named each one of them,
spinning names like an endless dream
-- even if it was just in his head.
And Sam knew that.
Their importance increased
with every word he took:
Phyllis' crispy voice,
Ray and his sneers,
Annie and her smiles,
Hunt and his punches.
Remembering them all,
Sam held tight to consciousness.
And yet,
he was struggling to keep afloat.
All his life,
he had not known where he belonged.
Forming sentences that told of his life so far,
he spoke the words aloud:
he could breathe freely at last.
It was as though
Sam Tyler had woken from an amazing dream.
That was both more and less difficult than one should think. After I decided to give it a try and started writing, I realised that it went quite well. The tricky bit, obviously, was the middle where I had to make both parts fit - I fiddled with it for ages. At some point I gave up in despair and tried a different approach, this time with plot, which wasn't easier at all. But there is a plot. Two plots even:
Fading from view in deep shadows,
Sam felt his blood run down his fingers.
And the beat of his pulse died away,
while Hunt shot insults and bullets --
driven mad by thirst for revenge.
And the nameless men closed in slowly,
as revealed in the pale moonlight.
Sam was unarmed and helpless;
Gene, watching him get caught in the fire,
cried out his name in horror:
Sam
cried out his name in horror:
"Gene!" -- watching him get caught in the fire.
Sam was unarmed and helpless
(as revealed in the pale moonlight),
and the nameless men closed in slowly,
driven mad by thirst for revenge.
While Hunt shot insults and bullets
and the beat of his pulse died away,
Sam felt his blood run down his fingers,
fading from view in deep shadows.
I wish I could get back into the swing of creative writing. But every time I write something, I feel it's so inadequate that I give up. In despair. Woe!
Happy New Year, dear f-list! I've been lurking around here lately once again and if I commented on some long-forgotten post of any of you, that's because I was skipping=thousands and losing track of how far back I went.
So, what have I been up to?
Mainly, I've fallen in love with Philip Glenister at last (but he's had it coming) and been catching up on his work. I fell in love with him over "Cranford" and, dare I say it, Mr. Carter is by no means a less worthy candidate for my eternal* devotion than Mr. Darcy was. Even more worthy. - Jane Austen's never sold me on the Mr. Darcy character, even though Colin Firth did.
As a result, I have watched "Cranford" over and over again**, have rewatched "State of Play"*** and have started watching "Vanity Fair" (the BBC mini series with Philip Glenister). So: Becky Sharp - how great is she? I love that woman. I read somewhere that the script didn't smooth out the character's edges in the BBC production as they did for the Reese Witherspoon film, and I am baffled: what is there to smooth? Seriously, I vaguely realise that I'm supposed to find Becky's conduct somewhat reprehensible and her character questionable, but so far, apart from the fact that she wants to benefit from her acquaintance with rich people and seeks them out purposefully - just like just about everyone else in the story does - there's nothing about her that I find in the least questionable. And, though this might be due to Natasha Little's performance, I don't find her overly flirty, either. More sort of naturally sparkly and witty. - Quite unlike the horribly, painfully dull Amelia. Were they going for shy and quiet? Because what happened is that she's stupid and dull. And even the marvellous Philip Glenister, despite being my love of the hour, can't save Capt. Dobbin from being a painful bore, too.
The heading of this post, BTW, is inspired by the "Vanity Fair" Captains, whose interjections of "Damn it!" make me quite tingly inside.
*as in: two-three months
**the good bits
***the good bits
Anyway. Philip Glenister. What I actually wanted to say was that I was checking out lifein1973, came across a challenge I couldn't resist, and so I actually wrote something.
It's The Life On Mars Cracked out Crossover Challenge, and the prompt that tickled my fancy was:
Eats, Shoots and Leaves: Sam is actually stuck in a comma.
This in itself is fucking brilliant. And I came up with the following:
Never odd or even.
Sam Tyler had woken from an amazing dream.
It was as though
he could breathe freely at last.
He spoke the words aloud
forming sentences that told of his life. So far,
he had not known where he belonged.
All his life,
he was struggling to keep afloat.
And yet,
Sam held tight to consciousness.
Remembering them all:
Hunt and his punches,
Annie and her smiles,
Ray and his sneers,
Phyllis' crispy voice.
With every word he took,
their importance increased.
And Sam knew that
(even if it was just in his head,
spinning names like an endless dream)
as he named each one of them,
he put their characters in words:
the creation of existence.
Words were ideas.
And ideas were real:
words were ideas -
the creation of existence.
He put their characters in words
as he named each one of them,
spinning names like an endless dream
-- even if it was just in his head.
And Sam knew that.
Their importance increased
with every word he took:
Phyllis' crispy voice,
Ray and his sneers,
Annie and her smiles,
Hunt and his punches.
Remembering them all,
Sam held tight to consciousness.
And yet,
he was struggling to keep afloat.
All his life,
he had not known where he belonged.
Forming sentences that told of his life so far,
he spoke the words aloud:
he could breathe freely at last.
It was as though
Sam Tyler had woken from an amazing dream.
That was both more and less difficult than one should think. After I decided to give it a try and started writing, I realised that it went quite well. The tricky bit, obviously, was the middle where I had to make both parts fit - I fiddled with it for ages. At some point I gave up in despair and tried a different approach, this time with plot, which wasn't easier at all. But there is a plot. Two plots even:
Fading from view in deep shadows,
Sam felt his blood run down his fingers.
And the beat of his pulse died away,
while Hunt shot insults and bullets --
driven mad by thirst for revenge.
And the nameless men closed in slowly,
as revealed in the pale moonlight.
Sam was unarmed and helpless;
Gene, watching him get caught in the fire,
cried out his name in horror:
Sam
cried out his name in horror:
"Gene!" -- watching him get caught in the fire.
Sam was unarmed and helpless
(as revealed in the pale moonlight),
and the nameless men closed in slowly,
driven mad by thirst for revenge.
While Hunt shot insults and bullets
and the beat of his pulse died away,
Sam felt his blood run down his fingers,
fading from view in deep shadows.
I wish I could get back into the swing of creative writing. But every time I write something, I feel it's so inadequate that I give up. In despair. Woe!