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Dec. 11th, 2010 11:49 pmI decided this morning that today was a day when I would post something of ineffable wit, but I had a few emails to answer first. A review intervened and was duly written and my wit faded a little.
After I'd email my review, I started thinking I ought to say something wildly intelligent here, but then my mother rang. Before I could get my thoughts sorted, I found myself reading The Historian (I've been meaning to check Kostova's work for a while, because it's obviously relevant to my own work) and then more emails snuck in.
Suddenly it was 3 pm and I was being picked up for Sanctuary. Now I am fully up to date on the current season and it's nearly midnight. I think ineffable wit shall remain something I read on other peoples' blogs.
The other post I didn't write, but could, if someone out there betrays an interest (quick, hide your faces! look disinterested!) is how a potential enemy, preferably semi-anonymous, is far more effective at raising the tension levels in a novel than someone understandable. This is the issue I'm facing this weekend with my own writing.
The kick is the follow-on: when writers take the semi-anonymous watching stranger and unknowable evil path, the tension levels may be great, but they have to be awfully careful about what stereotypes they're reinforcing. The minute we understand something properly, it's less scary. The minute we don't understand something, it fuels our fears. Two sides of a coin.
After I'd email my review, I started thinking I ought to say something wildly intelligent here, but then my mother rang. Before I could get my thoughts sorted, I found myself reading The Historian (I've been meaning to check Kostova's work for a while, because it's obviously relevant to my own work) and then more emails snuck in.
Suddenly it was 3 pm and I was being picked up for Sanctuary. Now I am fully up to date on the current season and it's nearly midnight. I think ineffable wit shall remain something I read on other peoples' blogs.
The other post I didn't write, but could, if someone out there betrays an interest (quick, hide your faces! look disinterested!) is how a potential enemy, preferably semi-anonymous, is far more effective at raising the tension levels in a novel than someone understandable. This is the issue I'm facing this weekend with my own writing.
The kick is the follow-on: when writers take the semi-anonymous watching stranger and unknowable evil path, the tension levels may be great, but they have to be awfully careful about what stereotypes they're reinforcing. The minute we understand something properly, it's less scary. The minute we don't understand something, it fuels our fears. Two sides of a coin.