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Cal, "A lambent drop moved over the surface..." begins one of the most lyrical passages I've read in a long time. You masterfully suspend the passing of time. Solely through the minutiae of a falling droplet of blood, I feel the interior transformation of this character (and you manage that without writing a single word about that character during this transformation). What a lovely passage. Thanks for posting this!
--dyslexius.
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I've read managment memos that cause such anguish.
...and emails. In fact, I wrote one earlier today that I suspect blew up on me due to wretched writing. By the way, Bolero, I still think you write very expressively!
--dyslexius
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By the way, Bolero, I still think you write very expressively!
--dyslexius
I quite agree, which is why I'm so glad to be seeing you again on the forum! And I also appreciated what you said about management being leadership versus power.
actually, come to think of it, i don't think i've read a single post here that wasn't expressive, good to read. (I'm sure someone could slip through archives and find some troll-like doozies, but still.)
aside: dyslexius -- you may have joined late enough in the summer to have missed the fact that a few of us have been running personal ads out and about. One of the women I've met through doing so is the founder of a major electronica music fest -- i thought you guys might enjoy one another. shall i give her your contact info?
Under all speech that is good for any-thing there lies a silence that is better. Silence is as deep as Eternity; speech is as shallow as Time.--Thomas Carlysle
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Siobhan, of course you may share my contact information with that alluring electroniac. Your timing is just right, as I am once again on the prowl. In fact, here's my current Singles ad:
Sinister-looking man with a face that only a mother would love: think of an ageing Portillo with a beard and you have my better-looking twin. Sweetie at heart, though. Nice conversation, great for dimly-lit romantic meals. Better in those Appalachian mountainside bergs where the electricity supply can't be guaranteed. Charitable women to 50 appreciated. Box no. 0364.
--dyslexius
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I think 'unless you applied force of course' tells you a lot about the character in the excerpt - possibly more than you would like to know.
Could be, but I may never need to know. You do want to leave room for a reader's own interpretation, especially when the style is allegory, right? I mean, when I read your novel, it will become mine. :--)
--dyslexius (...but I'll leave the royalties for you!)
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BTW, I wanted to mention that this
I also wanted to use this scene to illustrate a more general theme in the book, in which all the protagonists are in a sense the same ‘person’ seen under different conditions...
resonated with me because it reminds me of a powerful 'eureka!' moment I had with an artwork I was once obsessed with, Wagner's Ring of the Nibelungen. I came to The Ring because the music knocked my socks off, and for the longest time I ignored the text (with mature Wagner it is easy to hear the vocalizations as simply wordless instrumental lines). The 'eureka!' came when the fact it's an allegory sank in and I began thinking about Wagner's characters not as representations of complete beings, but as different aspects of ourselves (which of course we possess in varying degrees!). So, that entire gigantic cast of characters, when rolled up into one life-force, is us! Eureka! From that moment on, my enjoyment of this musical monstrosity skyrocketed. Your technique is a kind of inverse of the way I view Wagner's method, but is similarly provocative and is, I think, a gloriously potent narrative method.
--dyslexius
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hmm. I can't currently recall who's the person who's up for two weeks and then down for two weeks, but I came here for comfort and succour in the middle of work frustrations and, lo! it's soooo quiet!
while there's a lull in the proceedings, let me report that you people for whom English is not your first language have been very inspiring to me. I've pulled out my rusty french and for the past month have been deeply immersed in the most exciting new publishing phenomenon these days, Les Bienveillants by Robert Littell. (i know some of you neatniks think this post should be in the books you are reading thread, and you may be right, but i'm sure i'll write about it at greater length there)
It's amazing; I highly recommend BUT the most exciting things is that it's the first book i've ever read in french in my life. and, at 900 pages long, by the time i'm done i'll be a totally fluent reader/writer too!
So, thanks for the fine example set by Burlesque, Nowaysis, Kronocide (if he ever still reads the forum), jolicrasseux, et al.
Under all speech that is good for any-thing there lies a silence that is better. Silence is as deep as Eternity; speech is as shallow as Time.--Thomas Carlysle
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Okay, my first post ever here! Why not start with some of those word things; I hear it's what all the cool kids are doing now. These are lyrics for a song I wrote, but I'm hoping they might have some value sans music. If nothing else, it's a good excuse to introduce myself.
Fallen Angel
--------------
An angel of the lord appeared before me and said, "What's wrong?"
I said, "I can't find the words to this new song."
"That's 'cause you have a hole in your heart where your spirit leaks out
you can try to plug it up but there's only one thing that helps
Just let me kiss...
Your pain away"
I said, "Are you sure you're an angel? Because that strikes me as unorthodox."
She said, "What does it matter? It's not as if you died on the cross."
I asked her for her name,
But she just looked down in shame
and said, "I have none
hey you wanna have some fun with me? Just let me kiss...
Your pain away"
I don't see any wings on her back
No I don't see any wings on her back
An angel's not much good without that
I asked, "So what brings you down here?"
With that she shed a tear
and quivered like a child
hiding under her bed in fear
She said, "It's 'cause I have a hole in my heart, where my spirit leaks out.
It didn't matter how much I screamed and shouted
they still kicked me out.
So please kiss...
My pain away."
I felt for this angel, who's beauty was beyond compare
But when I leaned in to kiss her, I found nothing but thin air.
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I like it. I like it very much. I see a Victorian era London (or some such major city), men in dark capes and tophats, and women in, well, they're frilly and mustn't show their ankles (it's Victorian, how detailed do I have to be?). At first I assumed the protagonist was some form of werewolf, but learning he "simply" sleepwalks didn't deter my enjoyment in the least. I don't know quite why, but the whole idea appeals to me. A person not in control of his or her own actions at certain times, an internal conflict manifested in an external behaviour perhaps?
While the idea may not be completely original, your writing more than makes up for that. I must say I admire your ability to dwelve on details and the protagonist's thoughts without seeming indulgent, giving too much away, or just sounding simplistic and boring (these are some of my own greatest fears when writing prose). Make sure to send me a signed copy when it's out.
Also, the opening, as it should, raises a number of intruiging questions: What exactly is it he does that makes so much noise? What are these reports, and where are they filed and for whose benefit? Who are the people now outside his door? Who's David, and why do they "have" him?
In a word, what the hell is going on here, i want to know more.
Wow, I critiqued without nitpicking. Well whaddaya know?
Last edited by Nowaysis (14-12-06 19:58:14)
Let us scatter our clothes to the wind
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