Of Ghoulies and China

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From Ghoulies and Ghosties, Long-Leggitie Beasties . . . 

                                                                              

(Part 29)

  He could not deny that. 


(Continued tomorrow.)


And my commentary . . .

This sentence softens the one that came before, making it less didactic, more ambiguous.  The essence of Fiction (as opposed to Story) is ambiguity.  There are things it doesn't quite tell you, suggestions that what it really means is not the same as what it's saying.  Story is declarative.  It's that the straightforward romantic interest who's exactly what he or she purports to be.  Fiction is the romantic interest who's really going to jerk you around.

You can read all of the story to date here.

And I am writing today . . .

My mind is deep inside a China that never was and never will be.  Darger is passing himself off as a sage.  Surplus is about to take a major city with a military force of twenty horsemen.  Everything is fluid at this point.  Yesterday I changed all the names of the countries at war, some of them twice.  I'm thinking of going back and revamping a couple of characters, changing their motives and characters.  Everything unwritten is in flux and subject to sudden alteration.


Writing, when it goes well, is a difficult and mysterious thing, akin to a waking trance.  When it goes badly, of course, it's nothing of the sort.

Above:  North Gate in Xi'an.  Much as Surplus sees it.

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