?

Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

There was a time I hardly thought about the weather. That was decades ago. But, until fairly recently, it was something I did not obsessively report on in this journal. There's talk of a March snowstorm, from the Carolinas to Maine. Currently, it's 46˚F, though it only feels like 41˚F. In Birmingham, it's 65˚F and feels like 67˚F. My brain knows one meaning of springtime; my body exists within another. I have my little pot of shamrocks for green.

I wish I could write a Civil War novel, most likely a ghost story of some stripe. But I know I could never pull off historical fiction at length. I could never get it right. Of course, few readers give a shit about authenticity. But I do.

Yesterday, I wrote 1,543 words on Chapter Six of Cherry Bomb.

Last night, we endured an astoundingly dull film, something called Open Grave (2013). It was a rattling cacophonous mess, almost too noisy to watch, all pipes banging pipes, all lifeless dialog delivered lifelessly. The payoff is the solution to a mystery that I can't imagine wasn't obvious. Do not create a story that depends, for its success, on a Twist Ending unless you actually have the ability to surprise your audience. There was no characterization to speak of, which is one reason the thing was so dull. JAZF = Just another zombie film. Some day, people will quit making these things. But the latest episode of Archer was good, at least.

Okay. Work.

Ahead of Me Ran Jackson,
Aunt Beast

Comments

( 1 comment — Have your say! )
shanejayell
Mar. 22nd, 2014 04:19 pm (UTC)
Good luck!
( 1 comment — Have your say! )