between the rock and the cold, cold sea

It is clearly a bad sign when, instead of studying for that pesky little test I have tomorrow, I spend my time staring at Amazon.com and wondering how I could raise, oh, six or seven hundred dollars solely for the purpose of purchasing books. How many working hours would that be again?

I am an addict. I know. It is bad.

In other news, I'm having trouble writing. It is The Middle. It is slippery and complicated and when can I kill off these characters, please?

Alas, not yet. They have things to do before they die...

Except, of course, that they are most obstinately opposed to co-operating by actually doing said things.

Okay, I admit it.

This book... this book. ::sigh:: It's gone and become complicated on me. I've -sort of - figured out the dragon* and what part he has to play, but now I have to figure out how to maneouvre my main character through a tangle of political intrigue whilst figuring out who her enemies are, and what her relationship with her one friend might become.

I don't really understand these characters. Of course, that's half the fun, because they might do a couple of really wild things without informing my conscious mind beforehand, but... I wish I knew who was on who's side, y'know?

Also, conflict? I need it, but it's coming out all soggy, like a damp blanket.

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Tristan and Isolde isn't a bad film. It's not a good one, either: the dialogue at times descends into the ludicrous, and wow, the Expositing! But tragic love story, betrayal, bad historical detail and recognisably non-period buildings (the 'Roman bridge' looks a hell of a lot more like a nineteenth century one, and trust me, I do know the difference), in addition to guys running around with swords? Not a bad waste of two hours.

Also, at least the accents of the Irish in the film weren't cod-Irish. For which it gets definite Points.


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*Ssh. Keep it secret. You know dragons. Worse than cats.

What it means to me to be awake and writing at not-quite 0300 on a Sunday morning.

Right. Writing. I've reached a point in the story - maybe 30,000 words, maybe 40K, I don't know, I'm writing out by hand - anyway, I've reached a point at which my brain is trying to convince me is Nearly! Finished!

Except it's not. I mean, I've got the two main characters to the city I've been pointing them towards for I-don't-know-how-many words. They don't know who their allies are, the last guy who tried to help them contracted a bad case of the Dead, and certain unknown persons also want them dead, or (one of them, at least) married off to a slimeball, not controlling her own inheritance. Also, there is a dragon in here somewhere. It's been a bad dragon until lately: it's only just started to give me hints as to What The Hell it's doing in my novel. No, dragons weren't part of the Plan. Then again, the Plan wasn't really a Plan, as such. Just... guidelines.

Here, pretty dragon. Come to writer. Writer will feed you nice, juicy characters; sure, fine, coming right up. All you have to do is give me a little more to go on...

Dragons. Worse than cats.

Okay, I know I'm not Nearly! Finished! At best I'm 1/3! Finished! (which doesn't feel nearly so good), and I'm starting to wonder whether I need a third main-ish POV character (or fourth, 'cause I killed off the only bloke who had a real speaking part) to help me keep all these wandering plots straight.

For now, I plough on. Page 79! Is half written! Tomorrow sees page 80 meet its fate, and they go ashore in The City, to meet...

...um...

::looks around for spare characters::

:;dusts characters left at page 20 off::

... to meet Old Friends and New Enemies!

Right. Enough of this waffle. Sleep time for me.