Two pages of the last chapter typed up, seventeen more to go. Phew! I offer a snippet - in the current situation, writing about imaginary emergencies is almost therapeutic.
Excerpt:
Lemli waved off his concern… with one of his anternnae. “I don’t think so. After all, we are still alive, aren’t we? And they’ve brought in Lieutenant Moreau and Yeoman Townsend unharmed, too.” “Well,” Kelly suggested with dark Irish pessimism,” perhaps they’re waiting till they’ve got us all, and then kill us all together. It would be quite the time-saver for them, don’t you think?” Lemli laughed in that quiet, breathless way Andorians do. “You almost sound like the Chief.” “Almost,” Kelly emphasized. “None of us can quite match the depth of Russian pessimism.”
The Chief is Pavel Chekov, of course, who is currently working as the chief of security of Kirk's Enterprise.
I like the recognition of the depth of Russian pessimism :) As has been pointed out a number of times, the Russians say: "Hope is the last thing to die", where in contrast, the American/English expression is optimistic: "Hope springs eternal."
My head is all over the place - I have joined with our minister to write the service for next Sunday's church service (Mothering Sunday, hence my involvement in planning as the Young Persons' Elder), and at present we expect the service to go ahead...
I am still involved with the planning for my daughter's wedding in 2 weeks' time but...
So I have mainly been procrastiknitting. I have almost finished the second front of a cardigan!
Not a very big wedding - about 70 guests, pretty informal, ceremony in a registrar's office, albeit in a castle, followed by a reception in the village hall with a ceilidh band and buffet food. They have already cancelled the honeymoon trip to Tahiti.
It is weird about the wedding - we have been steadily planning since August, and everything was on track - and then, suddenly, it is all up in the air and we don't know whether it will happen or not, whether we will be ill or not, and so on. I feel so sad for my daughter and her fiancé.
I'm back, for the rest of the month I hope! The difficult patient cat is fine, his stitches came out on Friday. The cone came off a few days before that because it was making him more anxious than anything else. Peter was ill for a few days, but stomach related and he feels fine now so... Unfortunately though, we're close to both NYC and Westchester county, NY state's coronavirus hotspots. There's 13 confirmed cases in our area and one death already, so we're lying low for now--neither one of us has to go to work so it's easy. There's not much else that can be done until the US is able to ramp up testing to the point where we can tell who has the virus and who doesn't. I'll refrain from commenting on the criminal malfeasance of our "president".
In any case, I'm back to working on my Easter Egg story, still like the idea of it being mostly dialogue. I have some individual lines I really want to use--I do know how this ends (more or less). I spent 30 minutes or so on it early this morning, and plan to sit with it again later today--should be doable since there are NO sports on TV!!
I'm doing my happy dance. I finished the first draft of The Grace and Favor Affair.
Just then, Illya saw two older women running towards him or at least running as fast as their high heels and skirts permitted. He recognized them as Mrs. Slocomb and Miss Brahms, more staff at the Manor.
“Mr. Multurd, Mr. Multurd!" Mrs. Slocomb shook her hands in the air as she approached. "There are intruders at the Manor.”
“Yeah, we was in the kitchen when it started.." Miss Brahms added. "They got Mavis and Mr. Humphries.”
“And Captain Peacock and that ever so handsome Mr. Solo.” Mrs. Slocomb brought a hand to her heart.
“Figures,” Illya muttered. “Mr. Multurd, is there someplace where you can afford sanctuary for these fine ladies?”
“Yea… what?” Mr. Multurd looked suddenly confuse. "You mean these two?"
“And Mrs. Waverly. Can you hide them and keep them safe?”
“There’s my cottage. It’s got a good bolt on the door.”
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Not a very writing mood today - and I was mostly out stocking up on fresh air and exercise. ~180 words on General Wade.
He died in 1748, leaving a fortune of £100,000, and although he had never been married, this was mostly left to his two sons and two daughters. He was buried in Westminster Abbey, where there is a memorial to him – possibly because he also left the abbey £5000 in his will!
I did what spikesgirl58 suggested and just free-wrote (though it turned out to be one of the haunted flower stories, currently a sprig of rosemary found in an old book). What I ended up with was over 400 words, very rough and ready and rubbishy but they are there and I think I can work on them.
I spent far too long trying to pick a flower that has a good meaning and works for pressing. 'Research', we call it. Fussiness it probably is.
Other than that, more description practice, and umm.... 'research' on my favourite name sites after dinner :)
No, indeed! Research is the basis of good writing - if you manage to wrestle yourself away from it in time and actually do some writing. Something I still have slight (???) difficulties with. *g*
no subject
on 2020-03-15 05:58 pm (UTC)I offer a snippet - in the current situation, writing about imaginary emergencies is almost therapeutic.
Excerpt:
Lemli waved off his concern… with one of his anternnae. “I don’t think so. After all, we are still alive, aren’t we? And they’ve brought in Lieutenant Moreau and Yeoman Townsend unharmed, too.”
“Well,” Kelly suggested with dark Irish pessimism,” perhaps they’re waiting till they’ve got us all, and then kill us all together. It would be quite the time-saver for them, don’t you think?”
Lemli laughed in that quiet, breathless way Andorians do. “You almost sound like the Chief.”
“Almost,” Kelly emphasized. “None of us can quite match the depth of Russian pessimism.”
The Chief is Pavel Chekov, of course, who is currently working as the chief of security of Kirk's Enterprise.
no subject
on 2020-03-15 07:57 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 09:10 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 08:33 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 09:11 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-16 12:03 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 07:28 pm (UTC)I am still involved with the planning for my daughter's wedding in 2 weeks' time but...
So I have mainly been procrastiknitting. I have almost finished the second front of a cardigan!
no subject
on 2020-03-15 07:59 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 08:04 pm (UTC)So - we wait and see...
no subject
on 2020-03-15 08:21 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 08:34 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 09:12 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 09:36 pm (UTC)It is weird about the wedding - we have been steadily planning since August, and everything was on track - and then, suddenly, it is all up in the air and we don't know whether it will happen or not, whether we will be ill or not, and so on. I feel so sad for my daughter and her fiancé.
no subject
on 2020-03-15 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 11:29 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 07:51 pm (UTC)In any case, I'm back to working on my Easter Egg story, still like the idea of it being mostly dialogue. I have some individual lines I really want to use--I do know how this ends (more or less). I spent 30 minutes or so on it early this morning, and plan to sit with it again later today--should be doable since there are NO sports on TV!!
no subject
on 2020-03-15 08:35 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 08:42 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 09:13 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 09:46 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 08:33 pm (UTC)Just then, Illya saw two older women running towards him or at least running as fast as their high heels and skirts permitted. He recognized them as Mrs. Slocomb and Miss Brahms, more staff at the Manor.
“Mr. Multurd, Mr. Multurd!" Mrs. Slocomb shook her hands in the air as she approached. "There are intruders at the Manor.”
“Yeah, we was in the kitchen when it started.." Miss Brahms added. "They got Mavis and Mr. Humphries.”
“And Captain Peacock and that ever so handsome Mr. Solo.” Mrs. Slocomb brought a hand to her heart.
“Figures,” Illya muttered. “Mr. Multurd, is there someplace where you can afford sanctuary for these fine ladies?”
“Yea… what?” Mr. Multurd looked suddenly confuse. "You mean these two?"
“And Mrs. Waverly. Can you hide them and keep them safe?”
“There’s my cottage. It’s got a good bolt on the door.”
“Excellent! Now there’s just one more thing…”
no subject
on 2020-03-15 08:43 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-16 11:56 am (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 09:14 pm (UTC)Very funny snippet, BTW. Are those canonical names or have you come up with them yourself?
no subject
on 2020-03-16 11:59 am (UTC)They are from a British TV show Are You Being Served? Mavis and Morris are from the sequel - Are You Being Served Again/Grace and Favor.
no subject
on 2020-03-15 09:47 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-16 11:59 am (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 09:34 pm (UTC)Learn more about LiveJournal Ratings in FAQ (https://www.dreamwidth.org/support/faqbrowse?faqid=303).
no subject
on 2020-03-15 09:47 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-16 11:59 am (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 11:09 pm (UTC)He died in 1748, leaving a fortune of £100,000, and although he had never been married, this was mostly left to his two sons and two daughters. He was buried in Westminster Abbey, where there is a memorial to him – possibly because he also left the abbey £5000 in his will!
no subject
on 2020-03-16 11:59 am (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-15 11:45 pm (UTC)I spent far too long trying to pick a flower that has a good meaning and works for pressing. 'Research', we call it. Fussiness it probably is.
Other than that, more description practice, and umm.... 'research' on my favourite name sites after dinner :)
no subject
on 2020-03-16 12:00 pm (UTC)And there is never anything wrong with time spent for research. :D
no subject
on 2020-03-16 07:02 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-16 08:33 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-18 09:37 am (UTC)no subject
on 2020-03-18 11:28 am (UTC)