Will ye gang, will ye gang...With me?
I bought stuff to pack today. We shall see how my luggage feels about it some other day. For now, I'm a bit more secure. A bit.
I've started "Women Who Run with Wolves" as my literature-ralated non-fiction. It's quite extraordinary.
With my latest project (Aolon of the 5 volumes--at p.103 for Vol 4 w00t!) I deliberately thought about how my heroines were going to be alike and dissimilar. The main thread they have is this "Wild Woman" image. They are intuitive, but unabashed. Hirloa is a rather wide-eyed, random girl--her sister is quiet and domestic, but she has a wit and responsibility that is not precisely submissively childish. They are the two mothers of the heroines and heroes to follow.
The heroes aren't exactly the opposing repressed machisimo blunderbusses either. They are all in places of spiritual leadership (except Notable Exceptions who are just not there yet), they are all either artistic, or edging on it.
It will be intriguing to see what there is in this book to help me refine upon the characterization for this.
I don't know if it's a mistake to so engineer that they are all musicians or artists or sophistocates of some sort. I do know it's because I enjoy the company of such people that when I turn to secondary functions I tend to do too much artsy flourishes.
Today's Book Report:
The Game of Kings: And my woeful inadequacy, despite a very good tour of the unrelieved suspense landscape, is revealed. I really did try, with Shaim, this afternoon. But just as he didn't lose a toe in an odd river accident when he wasn't even paying attention, I just didn't see any point for those people to keep him locked up in a dungeon. My writing--episodic? I think so.
This is a tour-de-force of the essential backstory being withheld to great prolongued anguish and interest effect.
Lymond is one of the Trickster figures we all love so much--one of the more desperate I've encountered yet, or at least in the consciousness of the book--and he's rather obnoxious. He has a quote for everything, and all of them mean nothing to me. If I were either illiterate or able to spot more than half of them I wouldn't be so put out. Let it suffice that once I've done with an anthology of references to Surprised By Joy (C. S. Lewis' autobiography) I know what comes next.
But I enjoyed it quite a bit. Despite everything.
I'm, I believe, learning to not quibble with the flaws of other writers, to great support of my peace of mind. If only I'd catch them in what I do before turning it over to other people...
I've started "Women Who Run with Wolves" as my literature-ralated non-fiction. It's quite extraordinary.
With my latest project (Aolon of the 5 volumes--at p.103 for Vol 4 w00t!) I deliberately thought about how my heroines were going to be alike and dissimilar. The main thread they have is this "Wild Woman" image. They are intuitive, but unabashed. Hirloa is a rather wide-eyed, random girl--her sister is quiet and domestic, but she has a wit and responsibility that is not precisely submissively childish. They are the two mothers of the heroines and heroes to follow.
The heroes aren't exactly the opposing repressed machisimo blunderbusses either. They are all in places of spiritual leadership (except Notable Exceptions who are just not there yet), they are all either artistic, or edging on it.
It will be intriguing to see what there is in this book to help me refine upon the characterization for this.
I don't know if it's a mistake to so engineer that they are all musicians or artists or sophistocates of some sort. I do know it's because I enjoy the company of such people that when I turn to secondary functions I tend to do too much artsy flourishes.
Today's Book Report:
The Game of Kings: And my woeful inadequacy, despite a very good tour of the unrelieved suspense landscape, is revealed. I really did try, with Shaim, this afternoon. But just as he didn't lose a toe in an odd river accident when he wasn't even paying attention, I just didn't see any point for those people to keep him locked up in a dungeon. My writing--episodic? I think so.
This is a tour-de-force of the essential backstory being withheld to great prolongued anguish and interest effect.
Lymond is one of the Trickster figures we all love so much--one of the more desperate I've encountered yet, or at least in the consciousness of the book--and he's rather obnoxious. He has a quote for everything, and all of them mean nothing to me. If I were either illiterate or able to spot more than half of them I wouldn't be so put out. Let it suffice that once I've done with an anthology of references to Surprised By Joy (C. S. Lewis' autobiography) I know what comes next.
But I enjoyed it quite a bit. Despite everything.
I'm, I believe, learning to not quibble with the flaws of other writers, to great support of my peace of mind. If only I'd catch them in what I do before turning it over to other people...