It's been very helpful! Yes, it's meant to be a "this could be happening in the building down the street" sort of thing. The specific situation involves the heroine standing on the balcony of her apartment, looking at the view she has towards the harbor and mentioning how she's still getting used to the different view. It's one of those melancholy moments that could turn into a hurt/comfort kind of seductions--and she's trying to decide if she should let that happen so that she has a hook into the hero. Then she remembers that she learned that kind of trick from the villain, and it's all sorts of lovely angst for her.

My biggest fear on gaucheness is triggering a "you weren't there, how dare you use this as part of a work of entertainment!" reaction. Somehow disrespectful. It's different with the Spiderman movies airbrushing the towers out and not bringing it to the forefront. Still, the Manhattanites--hell, the New Yorkers I've heard talking about it say it's never far from their minds, especially when they see the gap. I look at the pictures I took when I was in Manhattan in '98 and feel the loss.

I guess it comes down to the obvious: I'm writing the story of a woman who lived through it. It's not a factor in her current trouble, but it's part of her world. It's actually a useful hook for a conversation that invites two people into further mental intimacy. I guess I'll have to write it up and run it by some folks and see how it works.

What would you think about starting again with "The Archive should have been wet" and moving theverything preceding that to right before the paragraph starting with "The Archive felt like a beast to her after all these years"?

What P-C said, for the most part. It shouldn't be too hard to tweak "The Archive should hav been wet" to make it clear that we're seeing this through a specific person's POV. It would also make it clear that this new thing is one more in a series of mysteries that she has yet to figure out.

The new location for the opening paragraph seems like it would work. You might have to reword things a little, but that shouldn't be too tricky.

I just realized--I've been using names from Tolkien for my villain and his minions, due to the villain's obsession with LoTR. The Tolkien estate would never approve that, right? When I started this, I had no idea there was a movie in the offing and all, I thought it would just be an interesting intellectual twist, because how many folks in the fiction mainstream have read LoTR? Crap. The villain goes by the name Angmar, after the Witch King of Angmar. It's a good ominous name. Would using those names, after the movie, seem too fangirlish? None of the heroes' names are used, but one particularly weasly bad guy goes by Gollum. Should I just find new names for these folks or actually send a letter to the Tolkien estate and see what they say?

I can't believe it's taken me this long to think of this problem.

deb, insent.

Kristin, sorry I missed this round. Maybe I could try and help you out next time?

connie, I have no idea about the legal stuff, but I think that Gollum is now too famous a name from LotR to not be recognised, unlike, say, Angmar.

Monday morning means new drabble topic! (At least, when I'm on the ball, it does.)

Challenge #31 (the quote about being an adult "in disguise") is now closed. I promise to not use quotes in the future, as this one didn't generate a lot of interest.

Challenge #32 is breath. Deep breaths, catching your breath, out of breath -- whatever sparks the writing lobe of your brain. Go to it!

I was mulling the name thing over my morning popcorn and figure I'll go mining the Norse and Germanic legends for good villain names. It's where Papa Tolkien got his.

Nilly, never too late. Insent.

Tep, FWIW, I loved that drabble topic and just ran out of time this past week. It was a crazy hectic week. I think I'll be writing one or two more regardless.

Kristin, both attachment don't open, silly technology. Could you please re-send?

See, I would never have recognised most of the LotR names, so I would suck as a beta reader for that.

Kristin, insent.

Earth Alive

It's quiet here. The air is full of birdsong, strange tropical birds with names I don't recognise.

We came to work, at least you did, but the work's done, and here we are, staring at volcanoes and a black sand beach and blue water that pushes into the horizon. You don't like heat much - thin Anglo blood - but on the third day, you find a thin shirt and stand beside me, looking across at Kilauea, at lava streams running down to the sea.

"How odd," you say, with surprise in your voice. "The earth here - it's breathing."