What it is now:
THERE WAS A TIME, OH PILGRIM, WHEN THE STONES WERE NOT SO SMOOTH
THE END
26 03 2022
566pp 165,669 words
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
What is was earlier this year:
THERE WAS A TIME, OH PILGRIM, WHEN THE STONES WERE NOT SO SMOOTH
THE END
07 01 2022
595 pp. 174,838 words
I am about two thirds through editing my ‘five-years-to-write’ novel. It is called “There Was A Time, Oh Pilgrim, When The Stones Were Not So Smooth. I doubt I will get to keep my title.
I follow my characters, so I had no detailed plot. Thus, I can forget some of the details of something written two years ago.
Though editing brings most of it back.
And I might have known it at the time, but I am surprised that this particular chapter is a juncture to three major threads in the novel.
,
First, there are a number of different levels of the supernatural in the novel. They are distinct, and do not blend. In this chapter, three of these levels make an appearance.
Second, a major event from my main character’s childhood is revealed, explaining much of how she got to be the person she is.
And third, a decidedly unpleasant and mean character actually performs a positive deed.
That’s a lot of work for one chapter. I realized I had to make each of these threads stand out on their own. I remembered that I had worked and worked on it at the time, but not as successfully as I desired.
But this time.
My solution is to use number of three line paragraphs. Everything stands out. Nothing is cluttered
No confusion at all.
In my novel, Kafka In The Castle, I follow a couple of years of Kafka’s life through diary entries. He was very interested in wildlife, though not too happy if it intruded into his own.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
30 September 1917
There was a knocking at the window this morning. A polite and concise rap rap rap. It awoke me while the room was barely light.
Who could want me so early? And then again, an insistent rap rap rap. I was confused, wondering where I was. The panic of Prague weighted down the covers, and I was sorry I had opened my eyes. The room, the smells – even the bed – was not familiar, so I was both bothered and assured by the strangeness.
When I realized I was not in Prague – for who could knock on my third floor window – I remembered I was in Zurau, where things were different. Here my window looked onto a yard, and anyone could be at it. Was there something wrong? Was Ottla after my help? I even wondered, as I searched for my slippers, if her young man had somehow arranged leave from the army, and after much travail had managed to reach the wrong room. I could understand that very well.
I walked hesitantly over to the window, and cautiously pulled back the curtain. Such a commotion ensued that I stepped back in some fright. A bird flew immediately past the glass, its wings frantic as it screeched in agitation. It had been perched on my window ledge, pecking away at the frame. Ottla says it may have been after insects or grubs settled in for the winter.
“Insects in the walls of the house?” I asked. “Yes.” She was quite matter-of-fact. “It is a warm place for them during the cold months.” I was not inclined to argue with the logic, but neither had I thought I would be existing in such close proximity with the tenants of nature.
Houses for warmth and bugs for food. It is a blend of the base and the subtle which I can appreciate. Much – I like to think – as does the annoyed bird.
(Image) https://sweetbellavita.files.wordpress.com/2013/05/img_6492.jpg
My novel. Kafka In The Castle, fills in Kafka’s missing diary entries. This is how I imagine Kafka’s best friend, Max Brod, reacts to one of the many times Kafka burned his own manuscripts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
19 April 1917
Max was horrified when I told him about last night.
“You burned your stories? Are you crazy?”
“I wrote them, so I must be.”
He smiled at that. Max’s anger can be easily deflected, for it is never deep. Max is a very good man, and cares for me more than I do myself.
“And the novel? The Amerika novel?”
I told him that many chapters of that must have been burned. Probably right from the start – they were no doubt the first things I grabbed from the chair. “Anything else?”
“There were a couple of plays. I remember pages of dialogue.”
Max’s voice became hollow. He might no longer be angry, but neither was he happy. “I didn’t know you had written any plays. You have secrets even from me.”
“I keep secrets from myself. Don’t be offended.”
“What else?”
I could picture him writing down an inventory.
“Some diary entries – those were deliberate.”
“And was that the end of your pyromaniac obsession?”
“Of my own work – yes.”
He looked at me questioningly – he didn’t need another secret.
“There were a couple of bundles of letters from Felice. Neatly tied with string. They burned slowly. I have not had such warmth from her for a long time.”
[image] https://quelibroleer.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/libo-quemandose1.jpg
I have a *new* message
From a “ghostwriter”
Who
Whom(?)
Will make my BOOK
look
BRILLIANT
Will this give me
A ghost of a chance?
{Image} https:/cdn.writermag.com/2017/10/shutterstock_715257643.jpg
1: Write regularly. Daily might be extreme, but try to be extreme.
2: When in doubt / take it out.
3: At the end of your writing day, do not complete the action/description/dialogue – but know what it is. Start with this known at your next writing time. 90% of the time you will slide right back into the work.
4: Eschew, Ignore and Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here, the notion that there are no rules. There are rules to everything. Artistic Creation demands rules.
5: Follow your characters.
6: Follow your characters.
7: Follow your characters.
(image) https:/c1.staticflickr.com/5/4252/34743456922_7b4deab196_b.jpg
(Max Brod + Franz Kafka w/ hat)
I kinda do wonder if Franz is whispering into Brod’s ear (wherever they may have ended up) “I told you to burn them.”
To which Brod would accurately reply, “You knew I wouldn’t. If you wanted it done, you would have done it yourself.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Israel’s national library has unveiled a missing batch of Franz Kafka’s papers, ending more than a decade of legal wrangling between Israel and Germany over the author’s legacy.
Star Trek returns to life to stream its images past present and future on platforms far and wide. As far as Space allows.
You can see a teaser/trailer here: https://www.imdb.com/videoplayer/vi3755588633?ref_=ttvi_vi_imdb_2
May I use the word eons when talking of Star Trek? Considering the time travel that often enveloped them, why yes – yes, I may.
So, eons ago, I wrote a script for Star Trek, The Next Generation. Memory says (and I’ve been told my memory is not up to light speed), this was the only television series that asked for, and actively used, scripts from writers outside their own stable. They used one script per season from these submissions. So I submitted.
I had a response from Lolita Fatjo, and it gave me some quiet thrill to see her name among the STTNG credits at the end of each show. I believe she was classed under “Pre production”. I also thought she had a real nifty name. I note she currently still has dealings with Star Trek, helping to facilitate Star Trek Fan conferences and arranging appearances by some of the Star Trek stars.
I did not have an abundance of communication with Ms. Fatjo (I liked to think of her as Lolita). I think I got a package of information about the type of thing they wanted for a script.
Memory says there was a desire to have a main plot line concentrating on just two or three of the main characters. There was to be one additional sub plot. There were arcs to accommodate the commercials.
I believe they hoped for some humour.
And timing, of course, all was timed to the exact minute. I followed directions and wrote a script and put it into the format and sent it off. I had two further dealings with Lolita. One told me they had received the script. The other – so deliciously close to the end of the season – was to tell me they would not be using it.
The script was called The Minstrel. An alien had a musical instrument (I think a horn, but it might have been strings) that would play tunes attuned to whomever he was talking to. It had other properties, but I think I’ll keep them tucked away. You never know – this is a new show.
Anyway, the Minstrel would interact (per act) with the Star Trek characters. Revelations were forthcoming. Not too many special effects (which was something else Lolita requested).
I received no big cheques or writing credits from this foray into television land. But not all was lost.
I was writing my script in tandem with a friend who was writing her own script. News of our endeavours made the local writing circuit, and we were interviewed on regional radio. From that we were asked to speak to a couple of writing classes. and even invited to an alternate world fan club to give a reading. We boldly went..
So, I am more than willing to accelerate plot, characters and writing style to fit into Star Trek: Picard. There are even many of the original cast, and I’m positive I could create a tune for Seven of Nine.
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