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Talassio

moretas

July 23, 2016 by L.S. Johnson

Pietro_Longhi_010

Il rinoceronte, Pietro Longhi (detail)

Rewriting Venice today, at what should be (roughly) the halfway point of the novel, the scene where I indulge in my uneasy fascination with the moreta. It’s the black mask above, which hides the woman’s face completely, and keeps her from speaking—it’s held in place by a bit or a button clasped between the teeth, so speaking means revealing your identity. There’s been hints in the research about the kinds of situations such a thing creates, especially during a period like Carnivale when much of propriety and social niceties go out the window. See too its earlier cousin, the visard.

How many times can you fall in and out of love with a manuscript? With Talassio and its sequels the process seems never-ending. But we are getting there, now. Part 1, England, is done save for a few hints of foreshadowing and a dash of fact-checking. Venice is shaping up the same way. Then there’s three last scenes to rewrite . . . and then I can start letting go of the whole thing. I need this book done, otherwise I’ll never get to the second, which means I’ll never sleep properly again ever because of all the half-formed scenes for books 2 and 3 crammed into my head.

Filed Under: Process Tagged With: Pietro Longhi, Talassio

happy thanksgiving

November 27, 2015 by L.S. Johnson

photo 3

albeit belatedly. this is what my nights have been like as of late. the story up there, for the record, is “we are sirens.” also on the floor has been “in your end is my beginning,” “echo,” the first act set piece for talassio, and the outline of a novelette tentatively called “dummy.” the last has that shiny new feel to it, but it’s also pretty messed up emotion-wise; pre-holidays might not be the best time to tackle it. but we shall see.

in other news, i woke up to the lovely result that “vendémiaire” has been nominated for a pushcart. as always, i am grateful to rhonda parrish for her unwavering support of my work.

and i’ve been reading this interview with mary rickert, and i’m intrigued enough that i’ve added her to the epic to-read list. check it out, especially if you’re interested in process.

Filed Under: News, Process Tagged With: Dummy, Echo, In Your End is My Beginning, Mary Rickert, Pushcart, Talassio, Vendémiaire, We are Sirens

life without words

October 22, 2015 by L.S. Johnson

photo 2

This is the muse. Who has not been quite himself lately. We have been avoiding the issue of his seizures for five years now, but time is conspiring against us. He’s in no serious danger yet, and we are weighing treatment options. But this week has felt like one held-in breath, trying to stretch out these quiet, precious days for as long as possible.

. . .

If I am truly honest with myself, I don’t want to start him on medication because it will mean admitting that he’s ill, that his little twitches are not some nervous tic but something very, very wrong.

I have not written since I got back from England. I had two rush freelance projects back-to-back; I have also felt just tired, tired in my head, tired sitting in front of this screen. Burnt out, perhaps. But this week has driven me back into the arms of the novel, because where else do I go to soothe my heart? All roads lead back to it in the end. It may never be properly published, it may never be any good really . . . but here we are yet again, yet again, the muse sitting beside me and Jaroussky singing and it feels right. As it always does.

Now if I can only keep holding my breath.

Filed Under: Process Tagged With: Talassio, the muse

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