In Drafts, Hautvoir, Local projects, Poetry on February 13, 2014 at 7:42 am

Annoyance with this character? High. He shows up in the draft’s second scene. Crops up over and over again without anything to show for his presence except lies, one bit of physical intimidation and some petty thievery. The character he robs can’t make sense out of him either. He refuses to drop hints or clues to the writer. An archetypal pain you want to rip out of the story. Off you go, get lost; mucking up my story, wasting my time, harrummph glower grumble.

Deep breath on a count of four. Hold on four. Breathe out on six. One-two. Breathe in on five. Hold for five. Out on seven. One-two.

Either the character will show cause later, and provide an ah-ha moment; or he won’t, at which point he’ll get downsized or chucked out. I wasn’t born patient? Yet, at age five, I once sat in  perfect stillness the whole while a fuzzy black and orange caterpillar tackled the foothills of my right calf; surveyed the scenery; moved down into the narrow valley; climbed over my left leg; then disappeared down the side of the piece of granite left behind when the Ice Age ended.

During my brief time in that environment, the piece of granite was known as Lucy’s Rock. It stood right next to Lucy’s Pond which consisted of an excavation for a house not yet built. It filled with melted snow and rainwater. How the frogs found the place, I don’t know. The pond teemed with tadpoles; received regular visits from dragonflies, and those bugs we called demoiselles that glided like ice skaters on the water’s surface.


This morning: a write-up. Presentation of a puppet show featuring a six-year old character, half-ogre, half-human, off on the hero’s journey. Will he help me better understand the annoying character in my draft? Maybe.


Brief visits to the bios of two French poets as unrelated as imaginable: Arthur Rimbaud and Patrice de la Tour du Pin. Something like sitting Bukowsky at a table with … hm… I can’t think of an appropriate poet for the unlikely encounter. Someone private, elegant, reticent and given to careful, measured words and eating/drinking habits.

Obstacles. Boulder-sized. Tinier than pinholes*. Obstacles.

*ah. Pinholes. Why the word proves useful, I don’t know. Ah. As in: pinholes applied to a pattern to allow for chalking out a design.


Whatever works.


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