I’ve been bombarded by a recurring theme of birds ever since I was struck by that writer-as-duck metaphor yesterday. It’s weird and I keep having to shoo away the little mystic in my head who’s clapping her hands and hopping up and down going “Ooo, signs and portents! Signs and portents!”*
So, I was writing in the library this morning, and I had some quiet classical music, Debussy, playing in the background. Piano music is usually good for me to work to because it’s low-key (pardon the pun) and provides nice ambiance without being overbearing. And I heard geese honking (loudly) as they flew by overhead.
Now there should be no geese in these parts, as last I checked, my subdivision isn’t harboring a pond anywhere in the vicinity. But okay, maybe they were en route somewhere. Geese do that. Although this is the first time I’ve heard geese since we moved to Georgia. But hey, geese are pretty common, right? And it’s not like I spend a lot of time with my ears perked, scanning for outdoor wildlife noises.
Then I realized what was currently playing: Debussy’s “Arabesque No 1,” the same music that occurs during the dinner scene in Alfred Hitchcock’s classic, The Birds.
Surreal coincidence, yo.
So yeah, I switched to Rachmaninov.
* I need to do something about her one of these days. She keeps tripping up my avowed dedication to being a skeptic.
I started penning today’s Writing Stuff section with “I’m getting my ducks in a row” and realized I was, once again, fowl-orienting. And what does that mean in the context of the writers-as-ducks metaphor from yesterday, anyway? Does it mean I’m falling into queue with other nicely lined-up writer ducks? That doesn’t make any sense. And why do you want lined-up ducks anyway?
Obviously, I need to smack my little mystic and tell her to sod off.
– Received the last crits for “Honor is a Game Mortals Play” (thanks canadiansuzanne and palmerwriter!), completed the final draft, stuck a fork into it, and emailed it off to dsnight. Rah!
– Still working on the edit/rewrite of the story from 2004. The prose is feeling much better now, and I even managed to bring out its theme to greater effect. Progress commenceth.
Actually, I’m shocked that you’vwe never heard geese at your house before. We get them over here (about a mile west as the goose flies) with such regularity that we call them the “commuters”. Every morning, low-flying flocks heading south somewhere and every afternoon heading back north.
I’ve actually seen mis-placed duck hunters floating down the river along Barnwell before..bobbing in their little inner tubes and desperatly calling their spouses for a pickup while trying to figure out where-in-the-heck they were.
“Actually, I’m shocked that you’vwe never heard geese at your house before. We get them over here (about a mile west as the goose flies) with such regularity that we call them the “commuters”.“
Really? Huh. Geese were really common back in Illinois. My company had an ornamental pond they were fond of wintering at, and my in-laws live across the street from a park w/pond that they’ve taken over. But I’ve never seen them here. I just assumed they weren’t as common in Georgia, or we weren’t on their standard trade route or something. Apparently, I need to look up more often.
Great. Now I’m thinking of Geoffrey Rush in Shine flying naked in the air over a trampoline.
I blame you.
Ducks, geese? Signs and portents?
Maybe the world is just telling you to write a Donald Duck fanfic 😉
I’m surprised you haven’t heard geese before now. Maybe you’re just far from their usual migratory patterns. They’re probably returning for spring, though they might be a tad early. I usually hear and see a flock every year, but I’ve lived in Georgia my whole life.
I have geese over on this side of town. There is a resident flock of Canada geese that is just returning to the pond in front of a nearby office building. Soon they’ll be waddling all over the grass by the road.
Maybe your mystic is hitting your subconscious over the head with her own version of the AFLAC duck (or is it a goose?) until you get it, whatever “it” is. 😉
I know! Your muse is telling you to bring Ducky back from the dead!:)
well, one can hope it’s that…:(
Ditto on the muse=mystic parade. Sounds like a waterfowl story is simmering on the edge of consciousness.
:grins: Now you’ve done it. I can’t rest until I see a Eugie-story about ducks. 😀