Hm. Interesting. I don't really see the connection, but being compared to Wallace Stevens isn't ungood.
Oh! There was that time the blackbirds got baked into a pie, and you can drink wine with pie. Or something.
'Our Mrs. Reynolds'
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Hm. Interesting. I don't really see the connection, but being compared to Wallace Stevens isn't ungood.
Oh! There was that time the blackbirds got baked into a pie, and you can drink wine with pie. Or something.
Wondering if the connection isn't the linear nature of the thing point (or vignette) A, on to B, etc.
I really liked those, Poltercow, much better than, you know, looking at cherry blossoms and like that.
I'm not sure what the connection is. I should have said, perhaps, that it engendered a similar feeling in me.
Bopping in to share this thought:
Outlines are wonderful things, but once you stray from them, you are doomed.
I had written myself away from the outline on the novel, Nihilist Chic. That was OK, I thought, because I liked where it was going. So I followed the thread for awhile, and thought that, eventually, I would be able to bring it back pretty much to where I originally started.
I was terribly, terribly wrong.
The story has now come back to the place I originally plotted it to be, but is now about to go somewhere completely different. Again.
Damn thing has a mind of its own.
Damn thing has a mind of its own.
Yeah, they never behave themselves, do they? I've always had to fight the urge to rein the story in rather than let it take its course, because almost always, the best stuff turns out to be the stuff I hadn't planned out, the stuff that appeared out of nowhere.
the sucky part is, they refuse to write themselves.
What they do is write themselves when you're not looking, and when you look, they go hide in the closet.
Um, I drabbled. I'm not a writer, but I like to read this thread, and this just popped into my head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So.”
“So.”
They continued eating, mostly silent. An occasional shared look, a little smile now and then. The food was good, at the restaurant they had always wanted to be regulars at, but the staff changed too often. She wanted to have a regular table, be greeted by name, have the waitress say, “The usual?” but it never happened. They kept going there anyway.
So they sat, ate.
“Oh, did I tell you --?”
”Shh.” She whispered. “Wait. I think they’re about to break up.”
They liked each others’ company, but the conversation at the next table was irresistible.
Jesse, that's great! Love the twist at the end.
And I disagree when you say you're not a writer -- I remember something you wrote about your experience on 9/11/01, and how evocative and crisp it was.
ION, Drabblers: I'll be posting a new drabble challenge tomorrow, so if you want to drabble the 2-people-at-a-table challenge, hop to it....