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.