La Vie Boheme

Warning: this entry will probably ramble a bit.

There's something magical about being able to close a door when you're working. I have a door to my office, but I don't close it often. Usually when I'm writing, I'm home alone. Even when I'm not, it's never disturbing enough to require a closed door (well, unless Rumpus is in a mood--he's gotten shut out on a few occasions).

So it's not a matter of privacy or noise reduction. I think it's something psychological on my part. As if, by shutting that door, I'm enforcing my solitude--not to shut others out (Rumpus excepted), but to shut myself in. Invariably, when I shut the door, I concentrate better, even when I'm the only human in the house. And I've done some of my best writing that way.

You know, it could just be another superstition, but why mess with what works?

I worked on "In the Pines" today--I swear I will finish that story this week if it kills me. On the DVD commentary for The Two Towers, one of the writers (I think it was Phillipa Boyens) commented that when Sam gives his speech at the end about the old tales and what the heroes were holding onto, Frodo had to ask him the obvious question: "What are we holding onto?" And there they got stuck for an extended period of time, not sure what the answer should be.

I'm at a similar point on "In the Pines". Does the main character's wife believe he killed their daughter, or not? I don't know yet, but the point for a decision has come, and it will color the rest of the story. I'm thinking about doing some characterization work this afternoon, see if that helps. I suppose I could just write it out both ways, but I'm lazy.

And yes, I finally dragged "Midsummer" out, reread it, tweaked a line or two, and resubmitted it. As a story, I think it's about as good as it's going to get, multiple points of view and all. I still believe in it, which alone means I should keep pushing it.

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Listening: "My Immortal" -- Evanescence