Friday January 23rd, 2015

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: conscience.

I ended up splitting my afternoon between photography stuff (researching and then agreeing to purchase a secondhand camera from the guy that's been helping me recently) and writing (actually, factually working on making use of the feedback I received on my 2009 Nanowrimo novel).

The camera won't be in my hands for at least a few weeks, as my friend and his family are going on a road trip to California shortly. Which is fine, I'm in no rush for it. I suppose an upgrade was inevitable but I hadn't planned on getting one already. The price was not going to be beat though.

It feels good to finally get around to looking at that novel again. I've put it off for far too long.


Clearly, that would be the wrong thing to do. Just because nobody is around to see it happen is no good reason to do it. This shouldn't even be a question and I can't believe we've already wasted more than a few seconds thinking about it.

Wait, what are you... why don't you ever listen to me?


Greg said...

Ooh, new camera! Well, imminent new camera anyway. You'll have to take a picture of it with your old one so we can appreciate it too :)
Is that Lessons in the Dust, or the other one? But it must have been nice to dig it out either way and re-read what you managed to put together in just 30 days!
Heh, I can sympathise with your narrator. That's sounds just like me at work....

"She's just like a little conscience, really," said Lady Winters as the chihuahua bared her teeth and growled like a pneumatic drill working overtime.
"I think she wants to eat me," said Agatha faintly, fanning herself with the first things that came to hand. Which unfortunately turned out to be duck jerky, reserved for the dogs.
"I think our consciences want to eat us all, really," said Lady Winter over Agatha's screams, "but we normally leash them too well for that."

morganna said...

She felt oddly guilty about shooting okay, murdering, the entertainer. It wasn't like it was her first time. But he never knew what hit him, never knew that she just wasn't someone you talked about. She tried not to worry about it, but it made her edgy.
Just to be clear, this is in Emily's story, but 'she' is not Emily, or her mother.

Marc said...

Greg - yeah, it's Lessons. About bloody time, huh?

Hmm, I fear I might be in agreement with Lady Winter. Poor Agatha :(

Morganna - huh. Not Emily or her mother, hey?

Ah, how you continue to intrigue me with this tale...