special k said this to me today, holding my fingers in his.
“Even really good writers,” he said, “describe things you can’t feel as ‘palpable’. Why don’t they just write Holy shit, it’s tense in here!”
It made me giggle a lot. It is silly how writers take on weird, archaic ways of expressing things that they would never use themselves out loud. Or in their heads. Or in an email.
One more piece of evidence that thinking is good.
six months into my arts degree one of my lecturers, at wits’ end how to get through to us, said: “Stop. Read the question. Now think about the question.”
It was the first – and last – time anyone challenged me to think in the whole three-and-a-half years I was at university.
Reading the Lymond Chronicles is a lot like that moment. Which makes it difficult to write about in my usual slap-dash, unconsidered way.
Thinking is hard work.
Because thinking is hard work, I am reluctant to even begin on the incredible Lymond Chronicles. But because they have somewhat hijacked my whole imaginative world, it’s probably inescapable.
I tackled my plot, trying to create a poor, anaemic shadow of Dorothy Dunnett’s complexity, and whilst it took a good hour just to sort through one problem, applying my brain…worked.
It makes me wonder where else I’m just not thinking in my life.
What an exhausting thought!
So the long and the short of it is: I’m back, and you’ll be hearing a lot about Lymond, considered or otherwise.