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I refuse to use the word "meme" until every shred of the stupid misunderstanding about genetics and evolution that spawned the word has been dead and buried forever and forever.
Here are the first lines of the things I have around that are unfinished. I don't work on a lot of things at once. Most of these are things that are on hold for now.
Afterwar(which I am finishing real soon now, especially since I figured out that another 5-10K will make the last 5K easier to write)
From the plane you could not see the scars of the war. In this season the land was green and serene and healthy, a great lustrous animal supporting the symbiont cities, and fields, and parkland, and pulsing with clean, new, intelligent roads. But Pablo knew the scars existed, down below, subtle ones and shocking big ones, still telling the story of the racking disease of the war twenty-odd years before.
Bella and Chain (actually, I think the real beginning is different, but this is the earliest line I've written)
Bella spent Tuesday night on her latest star tower project. When her sister called, asking what she was up to, she had to answer "I'm stacking animals. And re-stacking them."
Clory's Contract(this is an amusement I return to now and then)
The first kiss was a surprise. Clory had imagined it before. but he had never expected it.
Mickey(working title)(this is a side effect of Esperanza Highway
All the students in one place and in one type of clothes and all with the same pile of papers in front of them and you could still pick Mickey out of the crowd. He sat at the dining hall table, his paperwork in front of him, his name tag disregarded, focussed on the welcome speech. Only Mickey held himself so rigid and sullen. Only Mickey frowned at every sentence the staff spoke.
Untitled (Damned Nation)(this is on hold due to lack of plot)
Hell is a bordertown factory, and there is no individual redemption.
A White Stone (working title)(this is turning inside out a novel that was rejected with encouragement)
A man walked into the Inmelr town from the western road, on foot like a harvest follower, but dressed well, in kingfisher blue and green, and carrying two instruments: a gittern, which while it had a low reputation was as capable of respectable music as any lute, and a hurdy-gurdy, which could do nothing but make a loud, rude, and thoroughly wonderful noise.
No Working Title
Felipe came up to the valley early in February, his pruning knife and his hook in his pants and a pair of old boots on his feet. There was work for him, though it was not at first easy to find. Joined a plowing gang for Mack, whose rancho was most of the land that had belonged to the Mission five years before and who intended to grow sugar beets though he had gotten a late start. Mack was the determined type of American, who thoughta pistol and a vision of success would suffice to bully the virgin land of California and the Indians hiding in it into producing abundance and profits never seen before by farmers who merely knew the land and worked it themselves.
I wanted to go on and put in the first lines of finished things that were unpublished, but that was a lot. All of them, actually, but a lot of them. So I didn't.
On other fronts, I saw the Mime Troupe yesterday, and it was the last summer show of the year, so it will do you no good for me to rave about it.
On still other frints, I am gradually becoming convinced I do have to do a Blandness Diet for a couple of weeks to see if it will cure my aching tongue and resurging reflux cough. This is not a happy thing. I think I will add the lovely things of life back in after a little while whether it gets better or no. If it gets better I will want to see if there is some compromise that will allow me to eat like a Californian. If it doesn't get better there's no point in eating like a -- I don't know what. like a person who eats bland things.
Here are the first lines of the things I have around that are unfinished. I don't work on a lot of things at once. Most of these are things that are on hold for now.
Afterwar(which I am finishing real soon now, especially since I figured out that another 5-10K will make the last 5K easier to write)
From the plane you could not see the scars of the war. In this season the land was green and serene and healthy, a great lustrous animal supporting the symbiont cities, and fields, and parkland, and pulsing with clean, new, intelligent roads. But Pablo knew the scars existed, down below, subtle ones and shocking big ones, still telling the story of the racking disease of the war twenty-odd years before.
Bella and Chain (actually, I think the real beginning is different, but this is the earliest line I've written)
Bella spent Tuesday night on her latest star tower project. When her sister called, asking what she was up to, she had to answer "I'm stacking animals. And re-stacking them."
Clory's Contract(this is an amusement I return to now and then)
The first kiss was a surprise. Clory had imagined it before. but he had never expected it.
Mickey(working title)(this is a side effect of Esperanza Highway
All the students in one place and in one type of clothes and all with the same pile of papers in front of them and you could still pick Mickey out of the crowd. He sat at the dining hall table, his paperwork in front of him, his name tag disregarded, focussed on the welcome speech. Only Mickey held himself so rigid and sullen. Only Mickey frowned at every sentence the staff spoke.
Untitled (Damned Nation)(this is on hold due to lack of plot)
Hell is a bordertown factory, and there is no individual redemption.
A White Stone (working title)(this is turning inside out a novel that was rejected with encouragement)
A man walked into the Inmelr town from the western road, on foot like a harvest follower, but dressed well, in kingfisher blue and green, and carrying two instruments: a gittern, which while it had a low reputation was as capable of respectable music as any lute, and a hurdy-gurdy, which could do nothing but make a loud, rude, and thoroughly wonderful noise.
No Working Title
Felipe came up to the valley early in February, his pruning knife and his hook in his pants and a pair of old boots on his feet. There was work for him, though it was not at first easy to find. Joined a plowing gang for Mack, whose rancho was most of the land that had belonged to the Mission five years before and who intended to grow sugar beets though he had gotten a late start. Mack was the determined type of American, who thoughta pistol and a vision of success would suffice to bully the virgin land of California and the Indians hiding in it into producing abundance and profits never seen before by farmers who merely knew the land and worked it themselves.
I wanted to go on and put in the first lines of finished things that were unpublished, but that was a lot. All of them, actually, but a lot of them. So I didn't.
On other fronts, I saw the Mime Troupe yesterday, and it was the last summer show of the year, so it will do you no good for me to rave about it.
On still other frints, I am gradually becoming convinced I do have to do a Blandness Diet for a couple of weeks to see if it will cure my aching tongue and resurging reflux cough. This is not a happy thing. I think I will add the lovely things of life back in after a little while whether it gets better or no. If it gets better I will want to see if there is some compromise that will allow me to eat like a Californian. If it doesn't get better there's no point in eating like a -- I don't know what. like a person who eats bland things.