I give up. 471 new words; one new page. Mostly descriptive, and will very certainly be rewritten when the project reaches that stage, because it reads like a bad synopsis of something that should be (a) much longer, and (b) much more moving.
Bah. I will blame the humidity. (Also, perhaps I should have consumed more than an avocado dressed with balsamic vinegar for lunch, and a glass of white wine mid-afternoon. Lots of water, too, of course, that should go without saying.)
One of the problems with writing historical fiction is that when you’re not in the mood to write it, you’re really not in the mood to write it.
I just discovered via Curtana that Madeleine L’Engle passed away.
Madeleine L’Engle, Children’s Writer, Is Dead
By DOUGLAS MARTIN
Published: September 8, 2007Madeleine L’Engle, who in writing more than 60 books, including childhood fables, religious meditations and science fiction, weaved emotional tapestries transcending genre and generation, died Thursday in Connecticut. She was 88.
Her death, of natural causes, was announced today by her publisher, Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
Curtana posted the wonderful evocation “I name you…” from A Wind in the Door on her LJ in tribute. Carrying the idea forward, here is a quote from A Circle of Quiet about the need to respond to the creations of others:
“A great painting, or symphony, or play, doesn’t diminish us, but enlarges us, and we, too, want to make our own cry of affirmation to the power of creation behind the universe. This surge of creativity has nothing to do with competition, or degree of talent….This response on the part of any artist is the need to make incarnate the new awareness we have been granted through the genius of someone else.”
Thank you, Madeleine. Thank you.
Naturally, every show on CBC Radio 2 played Pavarotti recordings yesterday. Every time a new one started the boy jumped, turned around to peer up at the stereo, and said, “Hello! What are you doing?”
“That’s Pavarotti,” I said. “He is singing.”
“Oh! Otay.” Then he turned back to the stereo and chirped loudly, “Thank you!”
I’ve never been a Pavarotti fan myself — too much of the superstar thing happening, and besides, I’ve always been ‘meh’ about tenors and tenor arias — but the boy had it right. Thank you for singing. Thank you for making millions of people happy throughout your life. And thank you for sharing your love of music with the world.