the unsilent grave ~

called the producer at adv this morning and told him i couldn't take the job. i know it was the right decision on all sorts of levels, but i still feel like ass. it's my prerogative to say no, but all my life i've never been a person who says no easily (for good or for ill).

i worked nonstop today at the library. tomorrow i have to remember to take a break. man, i'm wiped.

update: Goodie Proctor's got my Poppet

Day 13: i'm still waiting for Mr. Hanty's letterbooks, but otherwise i am ready to begin writing. had an idea for an opening line on my way to work this morning (which, of course had nothing to do with the way i set up the scenes some days ago). wanted, instead, to describe Poppet rooting his nose in a discarded tobacco tin. i like the idea of describing the dog (yes, Poppet is officially a dog now). it's an opportunity to hamfist a metaphor from the get-go, which is why i will likely fall back on my original idea in the end, but i want to write the scene anyway.

there's some logistical details i haven't worked out yet that i need to give some consideration to. like where does Mr. Poppet (our protagonist, not the dog) go to eat his lunch? and where, when Mrs. Hen's man invites him to dine/drink, do they wind up? i went ahead and checked out Mr. Poppet's book from the library again to give it a gander and see if there's stuff like this that i can use.

meanwhile the outline is looking rather peaked. guess i better work on that.

gotta pay bills and get stuff together to mail and other such matter this eve ~ so i guess i better git to it.



"Skull showing keyhole gunshot trauma, about 1861-1865"
from a very cool online exhibit
of forensics from the national institute of health.