Little Things
I realized yesterday that I had to take out the explosion and put in a hellbreed. It’s funny when the Muse says, “Hrm, I didn’t quite think that through, did I. How about…this? That might work…okay, run with it.”
Certainly gives one a funny feeling to realize that even the frocking Muse is winging it. Even twenty thousand words in that’s disconcerting. At twice that (which is a good chunk of half a book) it’s marvelously entertaining for anyone who really likes to see me panic. Great fun.
On a side note, I am kind of upset that I haven’t had time to go back to my Latin. I want dead-language drills, dammit! Maybe after the first of the year. Until then I need to be a busy little bee with other things.
I’m working on another post, but these chatty little asides deserved their own place to breathe, I think.
I just realized this morning how effective I’ve gotten at filtering out atmospheric noise. The cats and children can gallop through the house screaming, and I barely notice. Or more precisely, I note it and continue with what I’m doing, intervening only if the galloping is broken by a cry of pain or a silence that means someone is Up To No Good. (Or, as the case may be, a crash and a sudden shocked quiet. Or a change in the galloping that means Someone is Messing With Someone Else.) It’s one of those mummy radar things.
Right now the Little Prince is spreading every toy from the living-room bins over every available surface in search of one particular piece of molded plastic. However, he is being distracted by make-believe with other pieces of molded plastic, especially the Darth Vader figurine. Darth is having quite the day, smashing into cars and flying to save a Ninja Turtle from a fiery crash.
Is it wrong that I see a great deal of similarity between this and the way the Muse treats her victims?
Anyway, the leaves have turned and started to fall. The wind is up today, which means it’s chilly with a bit of rain. It smells like autumn. That scent–dead leaves, cold earth going to sleep, and rain–is associated, for me, with a number of painful memories. I suppose that’s why the Jill books have heated up this time around–putting myself in the sensory wash of a desert tends to efface some of the hideousness. And it is nice to be inside, watching the trees paint the wind with whirling, seeing the rain come down but not being under its stinging-cold lash.
I may even drag the telly out and watch Paris, Texas just for the desert scenes. Just for a little contrast. Have a good day, Readers.
P.S. Darth is having severe problems. He’s been hit seven times by the same semi truck. I hope the Force is strong enough with him to keep him together during this time of trauma…
