what I do when I'm not writing

Of all my passions -- and I have many -- opera tops them all. Movies, books, writing, film scores, Combat!, etc. They all pale next to my love for opera. Specifically, Italian opera, and of my favorite Italian composers, Puccini takes the prize. I love Verdi almost as much -- it's nearly a tie half the time-- but Puccini still comes out on top.

So, it's probably rather surprising that I know next to nothing about him other than which operas he wrote in what order, and when he lived. This surprises me even more, because my sister and I spend hours and hours dissecting his operas, and as a writer, I'm particularly fascinated by his "narrative kinks." The things that push his buttons and he brings in over and over. Because, of course, a lot of them are my own. Well, duh. They would be. His operas have always been the biggest inspiration in my life. The men I like come, the stories I like, the plot twist/reveals -- they all originate with Puccini.

I remedied my lack of knowledge this weekend and read a biography that my sister had. Interesting, but bland, and entirely lacking in what I wanted to know. So, I'm eyeing some other biographies. Need to find the local library, see what they have. But it did cover all the basics, why La Fanciulla del West is so different from Madama Butterfly, why it took him so long to write each opera, his relationship with his librettists (which is one of the things I want more of), the role Ricordi played in support and encouragement, and the basics of his personal life.

Hmmm

You're Siddhartha!

by Hermann Hesse

You simply don't know what to believe, but you're willing to try
anything once. Western values, Eastern values, hedonism and minimalism, you've spent
some time in every camp. But you still don't have any idea what camp you belong in.
This makes you an individualist of the highest order, but also really lonely. It's
time to chill out under a tree. And realize that at least you believe in
ferries.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

fanfic!

The first half of my Combat! fanfic "Murder's Melody" is up at Fruit Salad! It's so much fun writing these stories. This one I had to get out of my head so I could focus on DTD without mental straying. Unfortunately, it was no sooner edited and out, then I started work on another fanfic story, that I shouldn't be be working on, but it Won't. Go. Away. Made me realize something about what inspires me to write one thing and not another. Why one will latch on and not let go, and others just sit around. It's simple, really. It's emotion. Character emotion. It's got to dovetail/propel/illuminate the plot, and when the combo is just right, I whip through the story fast. DTD was like this, and one of the reasons I was able to write the novel so quickly. This new fanfic story I'm writing is the same. I need to write stories that make me ache (good and bad) and feel strongly with the characters while I write. Now, all my stories have that, it's more a matter of degree. Some have more strong emotion than others.

Which is why it rather fascinated me that Wyrdsmiths posted a link to this, that quite fits with my way of writing/revising, I was just never so logical about stating it this way. It goes with escalations.

Other than that... note to self on additional things that leave me incapable of thought: besides shirtless Aldo, he's not allowed to wear black shirts and a day's worth of scruff either. And that's in B&W. Devastating. Absolutely positively forbidden. I'm still ruined a day later.

Invitation to a Gunfighter

Watched this film tonight. Yul Brynner looks mighty fine. Of course, he always looks mighty fine. Such an intriguing person, Yul Brynner. This movie was okay. Nothing special, nothing bad, just middle of the road (and Bert Freed! Again! Man, he' s popping up in everything lately. Not that I'm complaining, it's just funny). It's a bit uneven, but there's some really nice understated stuff going on here that I appreciated. Leans towards being more of a "thinking" western, than an "action" western. Best scene was Yul teaching the town how to say his character's name. Priceless. And the scene where Yul plays the guitar oh so beautifully. Dig it.

But it got me thinking about Westworld, and the inevitable comparison to The Terminator. I love the first Terminator movie, I really do. But, ya know, Yul did it first, and he's still cooler and scarier at it than Arnold (or subsequent terminators) was. I love just about everything about Westworld, even if it does have that whole 70's thing coloring the film. The whole concept is awesome. I mean I want to go there, badly. And Yul... the best, damned icy-gazed, scary, will-not-stop, gunfighter robot evar. We're not worried about saving mankind here, we're simply worried about staying alive. Simplicity... always the best in fiction.

The Desperate Hours

1955, with Humphrey Bogart and Fredric March. Odd. This is a fine movie with a fine cast -- and I didn't like it. There's absolutely nothing wrong with this movie. It moves well, it's tense, the cast is great (Robert Middleton steals the show). I think I just don't enjoy watching panicky hysterical people very much. Makes me roll my eyes and say "get on with it already," regardless of the fact that that's how people do behave.

I think I also wanted it to be a very different movie. See, they sort of set up this vengeance thing with Bogart and a detective... and it never goes anywhere. And that disappointed me greatly. Of course, half of that is because the detective was played by Arthur Kennedy (a good guy for a change!) and his partner was my favorite Bert Freed. Naturally, I wanted a lot more screen time for the two of them. Naturally, I didn't get it.

Oh well. Good movie, just not my cup of tea.

Forward ho

I still can't figure out the bits of the POW novel that are hanging me up. So, time to wait for it to settle out on its own. I was working on fanfic, but as I'm stuck on one lousy all-important scene there too, I switched over to editing the final draft of DTD. Self-imposed deadline for completion is Feb 14th, the day I finished the first draft. A month should be plenty of time, as long as I work diligently every night. Finished chapter 1 tonight. 1554 words eliminated. Moved up the murder and changed the circumstances slightly. Added in some conversation I need for later. I'm pleased with how it's reading, and naturally, I'm already chafing to get to Chapter 4, and Reisher.... Me and my men.

Still frustrated

with the POW novel. There's something I haven't figured out yet and until I do, it's not working. Spent a bit of time today mulling and considering and rearranging and swearing at the damned construct. I understand what the problem is, I just can't find an answer. Has to do with how Mitchell's life intersects with the bigger picture, with the things that are going on around him. I need to work those out better, but I'm not there yet.

But I did have one spark -- I realized Mitchell is the wild card, and that opened up exciting and unexpected vistas for the end. I still can't quite see, but I'm getting closer.

Pea soup

So, I started reading Norman Mailer's "The Naked and the Dead" about a month ago. And I'm not even halfway done. I was starting to think maybe I'm getting old, eyes not working the same, patience thresholds changing, but then I buzzed through Webmage and Cybermancy by Kelly McCullough in two days. And I just flew through Elizabeth Bear's Hammered. I just can't read "Naked and the Dead" fast. If I make it through a whole chapter, that's an accomplishment. The funny thing is, I'm really enjoying it. I like this book a lot. I simply cannot read it fast. I'm not quite sure why that is, either. The words don't feel any denser, but it takes me longer to read a sentence, to process it and move on. And, sure, the plot's slow, but that's because it's exploring the men themselves. I love that. But ten or twelve pages and I need out. So, I try to read a few pages every day, and I content myself with that, intersplicing it with the quicker reads to keep my sanity.

The Man From Laramie (1955)

Okay, I've always liked Arthur Kennedy. I think the first thing I saw him in was Bend of the River way back in my youth, and I always looked for him after that. And he's at the top of his form in The Man from Laramie.

This was an okay Western. Not particularly great, but not bad either. I like Bend of the River better. Jimmy Stewart is always good, but his character was rather two-dimensional here. The only thing that elevated his role was Jimmy Stewart himself. Not so with Arthur Kennedy. He got the oh-so-lovely complex grey character, the one who wants to do right and tries, but he's got a temper, and he wants things now that he can't ever seem to get the honest way. So he strays a bit to the wrong side and tries to justify it to himself. He tries all the way to the end to make things come out right, and yet he never quite can. I loves loves loves him in this movie! I'd watch it again just for him. (He's also riding the prettiest buckskin.)

It made me realize yet again how important motivations are for me in liking a character (book or film), and how important it is that they stay true to themselves. Add in the layers of complexity and I'm sold.

Now I want to see Bend of the River again.

"It's Christmas, Theo, it's the time for miracles."

Today, I started in on POW rewrites, not necessarily by choice -- wasn't going to work on this one until the new year -- but because the beginning came to me. And I can write words that sing! Boy howdy, after nothing but what feels like forever of bland and mundane, I found the main character's voice today. And rediscovered how much joy writing can be when you're on.

Merry Christmas!!

Alternate Projects

Okay, so found I'm not quite ready to do novel. Still too many unanswered questions, mostly involving that dang setting. So, edited my fanfic story instead until I got stuck at the same dang part I've been stuck on for months. Switched over to a two-year old writing project that I really really want to finish because the end result will be rockingly fun. Unfortunately, there's a reason it's been around for two years. It's hard! I rediscovered just how hard tonight as I threw myself into it again. I may burn my brain out on this one, but it'll be worth it in the end.

Halfway through December. I did not keep up the momentum of nano, but that was because I couldn't get my mind around what happens next in the novel. I'd look at my outline, but nothing would come out when I sat down to write. So, I read a lot. Finished two novels, and am partway through a third.

Really, my brain is rather obsessed with the 50k it already has and editing that. I feel like I need to get it in shape, stop carrying the true story only in my head and have the paper reflect what I learned on the nano run. Been spending a fair amount of time rolling it around without much conscious thought. Letting the images and feelings run, letting the subconscious control the pathing. It has been solidifying nicely. Had one nice realization about one minor but important character. I feel a little surer of the voice I want now. I still can't figure out whether to go with my sort of alt-1940's world with the automobiles and suits and modern conveniences, or switch it into something more classically magic-oriented. I lean towards the former, because that's how the story was conceived. But that doesn't mean it serves the story. It just means I like it. And the world-building of that alt-1940's is a bear and brings some potential reader baggage I want to avoid. But... ? When the right setting gives me a zing, I know it'll be time to write.

The rest, as always, is a matter of sitting down and doing.