I have been asked or prodded to put up something to give an idea of who's who in the story, as it drags on and on, so I have composed a little list of main people. I have attempted to add it as a comment to the 'outline', but as a technophobe have probably done it incorrectly, so here is the list in an accessible place.
I have been treated to the tender care of Southern Rail. A lunch time meeting with a girlfriend and home for seven has turned into getting into my place at ten at night. So, unless I write like a demon tonight....sorry.
I have been reading the latest 'year's best SF' and quite enjoying it. I then look up stories here, see 'SF' or fantasy in the header, and switch off. One story, "The Island", intrigues me,and I will continue reading it, but those stories with miraculous devices/transformatons do not speak to me. Clearly, this is a personal thing, and I mean no criticism of others, but while I love SF I can only connect with TG stories that are close to real life. Perhaps this is personal identification, maybe I am inflexible, but I offer now my apologies to those who write that sort of story.
Well, today I was told to stay off work. Snow had closed it down, and looking out the window at nine eleven PM my time, the snow is still coming down, and the road past my placeis nearly shut. The drifts on my walk around today were nearly at my knees. Not big stuff compared to other countries, but it's bad enough fora cyclist. Ice under powder snow, now being covered with fat flakes. So...I should call myself 'Walker' now!
Please help. When I wrote Something to Declare,I was listening to folk music. When I wrote the two strands of Points of View, it was Sibelius, mostly. Here I am writing a Cold Feet altercation in a Welsh pub, and it's Budgie's heavy metal riffing.
There is a phrase in today's episode, dudes, that I just love. Unfortunately, much as I would like to steal it and use it, I cannot think of anywhere I could squeeze in "undead rampage of killosity"
Just finished a German exam over a mobile telephone. Hard to hear the examiner, and for some reason I was nervous as all hell. I speak German, for gods' sakes.
That's it, though, my last exam for the foreseeable future. Do I care about the result? Course I do!
I tried posting this up when it happened, but something went wrong in the process. I am surprised I have not seen it here already. I was rather angry with the initial press coverage, which seemed to put the death of a fellow human behind such things as "MAN IN A DRESS!!!!!" and "Delays for Passengers"
I was musing as I worked today, while also preparing for a language exam and nursing sore LH fingertips from a session last night. I started submittng stuff here two and a half months ago, or so, and I have ended up doing a bit of self analysis.How do I write? Oh shut up at the back, yes, I tap buttons on a keyboard, but...
Apart from a deliberate change for a horror story, all my central characters are TS.
Everything is first person.
I like to drop hand grenades into the plot.
There are set-piece events,like PBP and the rugby in StD.
A totally crap day at work today, involving a paedophile, just to set the scene. It could have been a totally shitty day, but while at the other side of a partiton I overheard a discussion between some colleagues.
SRS/SCS/ whatever set of initials you use,the process is given special treatment for purposes of sick leave where I work, as is IVF treatment. This was being dscussed by some colleagues, and after the ususal, predictable jokes about getting a sex change and then demanding fertility treatment, one of the two men suggested that being trans was a learned syndrome.
Both Bailey and myself, among others, have posted stories concerning the abuse of children. Bev has told her own story. This is the sort of thing that sends me incandescent with rage and grief. Not just the rapes, but the cover-up. He is not the only one who belongs in a cell.
I rode out yesterday to do my weekly shop at the supermarket, and being a sad tart I did my usual trawl through the cheapo DVDs. I came across one called "Freebird", which is a British biker flick. People go to the Black Mountains ('Cold Feet' visits the Black Mountain, a different place)where Welsh is spoken by two boys, one of whom is clearly a Gog (North Walian) and the other clearly either speaks Welsh as a second language or has worked hard at learning his lines, but sounds like a Sais.
The next episode (18) is the last, as the events have run ther course. I do not know whether it is right to continue the stories of my characters. They have a long way to go, but it would be a very different type of tale.
I have had unexpected time off, and therefore I have been able to write more than I expected to do.I am sat here now, a glass of wine to hand, mandolin in hand, playing a CD and joining in when the music snatches me. Apart from the prospect of a nice chap smiling at me,I cannot think of a better situation: music, wine, instrument, prose....
It appears I have done something, or something has happened, to prevent comments. I am sorry about this; if anyone knows how this has happened, and how to sort it,please let me know.
I am furious. I have just come off the phone with a friend. i read Bev's story 'Rescue' earlier, and synchronicity....a 14 year old boy, their son, s attacked in a classroom in front of the whole class
An odd evening. The weather has been atrocious, and I have been sheltering indoors and writing. I gave uP tonight, and went out for music, catching up to three other club members cycling in. I am afraid that being out on the bike at last meantn that I just surged past them and was waiting with half a beer by the time they arrived.
I didn't play, but the guests were good, if a little too slick, and I had a good conversation on the train back with another member about the joy of making music, and how great it was to see so many young and not so young new chums there.
I came back from my trip to forn paartz and tonight was the evening of my folk club. I played....and you have to understand the difference between the music and "the dots", which is the written notation.
A member of the club I really respect as a musician came up to me after my bit and complimented me on how I had made the piece my own.
It is difficult to get across to a non-player exactly how nice a compliment that is.
I am away from tomorrow for a few days, to a rocky place in the sun. I have just about finished the story, and will post the other episodes on my return. May I suggest for anyone reading my tale that they read my other one as well. Thank you for your patience.
I had a request for this just as I was about to start writng it! Spooky..... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Falklands_War
is a quick reference to the main events in the real world and the setting of my story. Here are a few key words
LCU a type of landing craft
Finally, the dance is coming to an end. The caller has asked for a Circassian circle, and promised some polkas to round off the evening. I have one more chapter to write and Steph will have come to her destination. Episode 53 should be the final part of my story. Thank you all for your patience and kindness.
So....up, and go to fix the tyre on the road bike. t turns out to be the tyre itself, the sidewall has gone. So, back to the tourer, load all five bags on and do the supermarket run while I still have money in the bank for food.
And the landlord has put up the rent.
Dither over whether to buy mushrooms....and don't, for some odd reason. Pay, load up, ride back and put everything away. As put my bike away, I realise my little bed of Agaricus campestris has fruited. I have, instead of supermarket A bisporus mushrooms, eight new, fresh wild ones. Result!
A violent one (not work), and some demons reappeared, and I am tired and emotional and just fed up. Just needed to say something. Nothing to see,just pass on by.
And I am back. Just in the door, kettle on and tent laid out to dry. I spent four and a half hours playing in a session last night, preceded by two hours at lunchtime, and similar times for Saturday and Sunday. Not only was the fiddler I largely based a character on there, but I heard that his old collaborator of years past has now come out as transgender, so all threads seemed to be drawn together. I played bodhran for a while with a woman who loved to syncopate, and we ended up having a duet of sorts which was huge fun; I then got asked by one of the audience for a lesson (blush)
We have had rugby and there are some bits involving climbing coming up, as well as rather a lot of local Welsh stuff. I have added weblinks to photos and reference sites that will give some explanation, but I do not want to tangle the narrative of a story that is important to me with a lot of technical exposition. If anyone wants or needs to work out whet the hell I am writing about, feel free to ask and I will answer.I was reminded of the problem when a comment (a nice one) was made about "places on the Moon"
For anyone who is following my story at the moment, my apologies. I have my plot nicely sorted, and am some way ahead of the episodes posted here so far, but I go onto night shift next week and am then away at the folk festival where Steph was born. This means that she will be unavailable for a while at the end of August Be assured,for good or bad she has a life to lead, and a book to finish.
Checks can be made out & sent to:
Joyce Melton
1001 Third St.
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Note: $6000 is the operating, maintenance and upgrade budget. Amounts received in excess of the $6000 will be applied to long term debt accrued over the last 19 years.
