PEGASUS watch
I GOT THROUGH ALMOST TWO PAGES OF THE FIRST DRAFT OF PEGASUS TODAY. Which still leaves seven. Sigh. But I think I’m still just in with a chance to finish the second draft on Sunday: the last scene is, I think, the last scene–it flaming well better be, not least for the pleasure I plan to derive from the last line, and the prospective shrieks of anguish and outrage I hope by it to produce*–and it’ll need rewriting because first draft usually** does, but I don’t think it’s going to engender six more chapters and a possible story-line for volume three. ***
The day did not begin auspiciously however. It began last night, as my days usually do, and getting to bed at . . . well, late enough that when the FedEx man started banging on the door at 8:45 am, I was not awake. I found a dressing-gown to put on and rolled downstairs. The FedEx man† couldn’t just shut up and hand me the little plastic toy you squiggle your signature on, but started telling me what a beautiful day it was, blue sky, chirping birds, more adorable road works, etc, and I only didn’t belt him because I move slowly when I’m just out of bed, and I was having trouble figuring out the three-dimensional geometry of connecting my hand to his face.
And so, what trifling titbit emerged from the plastic FedEx bag? Sigh. Well, don’t get your hopes up††, because it’s not going to happen, but . . . a film option contract. And since it’s not going to happen††† I’m not going to tell you which book(s) or who it’s with, although I will say it’s a real production company, one you’ve heard of‡, not Joe’s Garage, strange rattling noises added free of charge while you wait. Given what they’re paying me‡‡ reading the bloody thing is more trouble than it’s worth.‡‡‡
However I had the considerable pleasure of taking Battle Gem to Oisin this afternoon and listening to his screams of disbelief as he tried to play it.§ This is the one where I take Battle Hymn of the Republic, Columbia Gem of the Ocean, America the Beautiful, and the Star Spangled Banner and squish them all together with lots of mutinous chords in weird key signatures cannoning off the walls, and with apologies to Charles Ives. I’d put it aside mid twiddle to attempt to write Just a Little Thing for Organ, which is now resting, like rising bread dough, in a warm, draught-free place on a back burner of my mind, and got Battle Gem out again. After a few weeks of trying to get my head around the organ and what Finale does to organ playback, Battle Gem looks positively straightforward.
And then I came back to the mews humming insouciantly and wrote three pages of PEGASUS of which only ONE of them is NEW.§§
* * *
* And yes, what has happened has really happened. Mr Spock is not going to develop a new talent and get them out of the pickle they’re in after the commercial.
** But not always. Occasionally something bursts out of your skull and dances complete on the page^, like the birth of Athene. Not very often. Which is actually just as well. In the first place, despite everything I’ve–truthfully–said about having to wait for the Story Council to send me something, and feeling least sure about anything I’ve had to make up myself, from my own brain, in cold blood, I still want to feel involved somehow. The stuff that’s like automatic writing makes me feel a little superfluous. Why don’t they just hire some voice-recognition software and do it themselves? Whoever they are. In the second place the bursting-complete-from-your-skull system is painful. It even gave Zeus a headache.
^ waving its small perfectly formed limbs and shrilling ‘neener neener’
*** No! Nooooooo! Two is enough!^ I want to write ALBION!
^ One would have been enough, thanks.
† henceforth to be known as ‘the mutant offspring of Chaugnar Faugn and a large slime mould’. Her parents never forgave her, and she was forced into a low, shameful life of ruining people’s lawns.
†† Or, depending on your point of view, don’t bother being plunged into despair
††† If you are unaware of the basic facts of books and the movie industry, please read ‘Why are there no movies made of your books?’ in my FAQ . . . um. Which seems to have disappeared. Excuse me while I email Blog/Sitemom. . . . Anyway. For every 1,000,000,000,000,000,000 options taken out, one movie actually gets made. Sometimes.
‡Unless you live in a vegetable bin with no broadband access
‡‡ It will probably cover the cost of one new toilet seat at Third House. Which still leaves the other new toilet seat, since the old toilet had to be replaced.
‡‡‡ Especially when it revels in such language as the following: ‘(i) an amount equal to [blah]% of the Merchandising Net Receipts, such participation to be deferred and payable out of the Defined Gross of the Picture in excess of the Contractual Start Point calculated on a moving basis with a [blah]% distribution fee on the Defined Gross from all sources. Said participation shall be payable only until such time as the participation under subparagraph (ii) below becomes payable.’ I’ll spare you subparagraph (ii) below, shall I?
§ His tears are delicious to me. I was writing to the American friend who may meet him next month^ that I might have let him get away with starting me composing at all, but suggesting I try composing for the organ? No, he deserves anything I can do to him.
^ I realise I’ve misplayed my hand. I should have sprung Battle Gem on him on the day.
§§ There were only five of us at ringing practise tonight, including Cordelia, who is only beginning to learn the-pattern-before-the-pattern-from-which-all-bell-patterns-spring, plain hunt. The other four of us did ring some upside-down-and-backwards Dreaded Minimus: there’s something uniquely confusing about any method on four bells. I suppose it’s the speed at which you have to ring it because there ARE only four bells. Dorothy and Vicky were trying to tell Leo and me that upside down and backwards is just like the basic minimus, it’s just . . . upside down and backwards. Leo and I glanced sidelong at each other. Well, yes but . . .
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