(no subject)
Right then, since I'm no good at providing bite size updates on my life, and I was threatened with physical pain if I made this a blog about programming it's going to be an interesting place to be. Sidenote: programming is essentially *the* thing I do. I of course enjoy being outside, hanging out with friends and the occasional pint or two, but that's all peripheral to my apparent purpose in life ;).
I've been on a literary obsession spree for the past few weeks (well, really my whole life) and I've always really wanted to write a novel. I've gotten a few pages and once even a chapter in, but it always feels like crap. Perhaps I need a plan or something? Who knows. In any case, I'm convinced myself that it's a worthy goal to get at least 25 pages of story written, mostly to see what happens once I get out there. Will it be good/bad/ugly? How will the plot flow? Will the characters almost start acting for themselves? Should be interesting to find out.
Here is the beginning of a story that has a bit of an old fashioned writing style, a bit of humour as well. I modelled the writing style after Johnathan Strange & Mr. Norrel, an excellent book.
In a small town by the name of Hawksbury there lived two rather interesting people. Hawksbury was not a place where you would expect to find interesting people, indeed it could almost be called un-interesting. There were about five hundred people on a good day and a few shops facing the main street. Fields and forest made up the majority of the area that was claimed by the town, with forest being the dominant character. The residents themselves were generally good natured and kind folk, except for a few such as Mr. Hedford, who was notorious for his crankiness into the neighboring counties.
On a bright and cheerful Autumn afternoon, with the leaves just beginning to fall from the trees a man was having a conversation. To a normal observer this conversation would appear decidedly odd. The man, whose name was Mr. Went, appeared to be talking to his stove. The stove had an ordinary appearance, being made out of cast iron, with a small opening on the front for coal. It certainly did not give the impression it would be able to hold a meaningful conversation. Nonetheless, Mr. Went was chatting animatedly about a recent encounter he had with Miss. Everett on the street just some minutes ago.
“She really is a most remarkable woman, and I sense there is more to her than meets the eyes. It was over on Main that we happened to meet each other. She had just come out of the grocers while I was taking my constitutional and our eyes happened to meet. Of course fate chose that instant for my foot to catch upon an errant cobblestone, which resulted in a most ungainly fall. Or was that you playing one of your tricks again?”
The stove simply sat there, looking quite innocent.
“No matter, if it was you I’ll pay you back in kind! When the coal man happens by I shall inform him that I’ll not be needing any coal for this week. Anyhow, after I had gathered myself up, I noticed she was heading for her estate. I thought nothing further of it until a few minutes later, when an idea, so astounding that I almost dismissed it out of hand, came to me. She has been the source of all of our problems!”
I've been on a literary obsession spree for the past few weeks (well, really my whole life) and I've always really wanted to write a novel. I've gotten a few pages and once even a chapter in, but it always feels like crap. Perhaps I need a plan or something? Who knows. In any case, I'm convinced myself that it's a worthy goal to get at least 25 pages of story written, mostly to see what happens once I get out there. Will it be good/bad/ugly? How will the plot flow? Will the characters almost start acting for themselves? Should be interesting to find out.
Here is the beginning of a story that has a bit of an old fashioned writing style, a bit of humour as well. I modelled the writing style after Johnathan Strange & Mr. Norrel, an excellent book.
In a small town by the name of Hawksbury there lived two rather interesting people. Hawksbury was not a place where you would expect to find interesting people, indeed it could almost be called un-interesting. There were about five hundred people on a good day and a few shops facing the main street. Fields and forest made up the majority of the area that was claimed by the town, with forest being the dominant character. The residents themselves were generally good natured and kind folk, except for a few such as Mr. Hedford, who was notorious for his crankiness into the neighboring counties.
On a bright and cheerful Autumn afternoon, with the leaves just beginning to fall from the trees a man was having a conversation. To a normal observer this conversation would appear decidedly odd. The man, whose name was Mr. Went, appeared to be talking to his stove. The stove had an ordinary appearance, being made out of cast iron, with a small opening on the front for coal. It certainly did not give the impression it would be able to hold a meaningful conversation. Nonetheless, Mr. Went was chatting animatedly about a recent encounter he had with Miss. Everett on the street just some minutes ago.
“She really is a most remarkable woman, and I sense there is more to her than meets the eyes. It was over on Main that we happened to meet each other. She had just come out of the grocers while I was taking my constitutional and our eyes happened to meet. Of course fate chose that instant for my foot to catch upon an errant cobblestone, which resulted in a most ungainly fall. Or was that you playing one of your tricks again?”
The stove simply sat there, looking quite innocent.
“No matter, if it was you I’ll pay you back in kind! When the coal man happens by I shall inform him that I’ll not be needing any coal for this week. Anyhow, after I had gathered myself up, I noticed she was heading for her estate. I thought nothing further of it until a few minutes later, when an idea, so astounding that I almost dismissed it out of hand, came to me. She has been the source of all of our problems!”