That scene I mentioned in yesterday’s entry, the one I was really looking forward to writing? I haven’t gotten there yet. I’ve encountered an obstacle.
Obstacle, thy name is poetry.
In order to get to the site where that scene needs to happen, there’s some travelling to be done by some of the characters. Nothing terribly eventful happens along the way, but rather than simply saying, “and then they went to
That’s where the trouble begins: lyrics. Lyrics are poetry, and for some reason my brain just refuses to spit out anything resembling non-limerick, non-parody-of-somebody-else’s-work poetry. Seriously. I try to write a poem that explores the human condition and lays bare my deepest emotions for the world to see, and within three lines I’m looking for a word that rhymes with “Nantucket”.
There’s no reason this poem/song needs to be there. It’s in no way critical to the plot or story, but now that the idea’s in my head I really want it to work out. Those little glimpses into a larger world are what separate my favorite works of fantasy from the more generic.
I have a feeling it’s going to be a long couple of days as I spend what writing time I have staring at a blinking cursor trying to find a reasonable middle ground between “There was a young lady from Exeter” and some inadvertant ripoff of Tolkien’s “The Road Goes Ever On”.
(The “Exeter” reference, for those who raised an eyebrow in befuddlement on reading it, is from a limerick:
There was a young lady from Exeter,
So pretty the men craned their necks at her.
One was even so brave
As to take out and wave
The distinguishng mark of his sex at her. )