Clearly this whole “time management” thing and I need to sit down and have a long talk about priorities. I promise you that if I go off on how much I have to accomplish this month (or this week) one more time, you’re all going to throw your hands up and walk away. Or thwack me with something. Trust me, I’m as frustrated as you are. (Thankfully the GRE, at least, has been sweetened with a few carrots to keep me studying.)
This is going to be a short one. I’m all out of juice at the moment, but that’s only because I’m saving it for edits tomorrow.
I don’t know what, precisely, the Koi of Constant Distraction are, but you know as well as I do that they’re real.
Last week was the world’s most awkward dinner party. It’s hard to enjoy yourself when you can’t figure out why one guest is your best friend’s evil twin and whether the other is trying to overthrow the government. How will Imogen and Posthumus come through that? (Bonus: If you liked the previous chapter’s title, this is the source. That whole scene is pretty golden, but then, I have a terrible soft spot for Cloten, wretch that he is.)
“Pine Moon” by Feist [lyrics]
Not only is this the song that got me through the last 900 words on repeat, but to a certain extent it also captures the shivery feel of the wrongness of Imogen’s nightmare. And now that I’ve read the lyrics, they seem appropriate too.
It’s easy to get caught up in atmosphere and details when the history behind them is so engrossing. My newest time-suck is MapsOf.net, which, very handily, has a simple map of Roman Britain around 410 CE. That’s much later than the historical Cunobelinus lived, but, like Shakespeare, I embrace rampant anachronism with open arms.
We can’t, of course, forget the whole steampunk side of things. At precisely the right moment, as I was stuck over figuring out what, exactly, the Hall of Public Records looked like in my Londinium, Tumblr came through and supplied one doozy of a visual reference.
Posthumus contemplates the remains of his breakfast. “You can’t bribe me with picnics, and you can’t bribe me with pie. I can definitely be bought for libraries, though.”
I will catch you on the flip side, my friends. If this all makes you wonder what these have to do with the story, check back on Tuesday for the next chapter. As always, no knowledge of steampunk or Cymbeline is necessary to enjoy Innogen and the Hungry Half, but if you’d like to read the play, MIT has the full text available for free online.