The partial acrostic in this week's haiku was unintentional for the record, it just worked out that way when I was trying to get the council's tone right, and in the right number of syllables. I'm also glad you liked the MacArthur tale; it's perhaps a little bit grim given the age of the Chess King, but once I had the initial image the story sort of told itself. I suspect the nice words you've got for my writing this week stems from stress more than anything, which is not good. If I have to be stressed to write well then I either need impossible deadlines or to always have another job to do....
The view from the edge of nowhere The Edge of Nowhere was Sixticton's official fire-watch tower and housed a small granary, a bakery, an abattoir, a fast-food eatery and the Veteran's and Disabled Factory's Workers's retirement home on its lower floors. The view from the top, eighteen stories up, was literally stunning: acres of burnt land stretching off southwards until it reached the horizon where a faint orange glow suggested that the fires might not yet be out. The view from the other side, northwards, was dominated by Sixticton's local mountain (now reclassified as a volcano) and was mostly used for trying to spot where Old Unreliable would pop up next. Jedward Penobskenite leaned on the window sill and inhaled: the mix of freshly slaughtered pork and freshly baked bread made most visitors vomit.
Well, I recall doing some of my best work in university when I was stressed and up against a deadline. Perhaps we just need to find an artificial equivalent, one that doesn't actually stress us out, just tricks us into that primo writing state...
Appreciated the callback to the volcano :) And your delightful descriptions of Sixticton and its environs. And most recently introduced citizen!
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The partial acrostic in this week's haiku was unintentional for the record, it just worked out that way when I was trying to get the council's tone right, and in the right number of syllables.
I'm also glad you liked the MacArthur tale; it's perhaps a little bit grim given the age of the Chess King, but once I had the initial image the story sort of told itself. I suspect the nice words you've got for my writing this week stems from stress more than anything, which is not good. If I have to be stressed to write well then I either need impossible deadlines or to always have another job to do....
The view from the edge of nowhere
The Edge of Nowhere was Sixticton's official fire-watch tower and housed a small granary, a bakery, an abattoir, a fast-food eatery and the Veteran's and Disabled Factory's Workers's retirement home on its lower floors. The view from the top, eighteen stories up, was literally stunning: acres of burnt land stretching off southwards until it reached the horizon where a faint orange glow suggested that the fires might not yet be out. The view from the other side, northwards, was dominated by Sixticton's local mountain (now reclassified as a volcano) and was mostly used for trying to spot where Old Unreliable would pop up next.
Jedward Penobskenite leaned on the window sill and inhaled: the mix of freshly slaughtered pork and freshly baked bread made most visitors vomit.
Greg - ah :)
Well, I recall doing some of my best work in university when I was stressed and up against a deadline. Perhaps we just need to find an artificial equivalent, one that doesn't actually stress us out, just tricks us into that primo writing state...
Appreciated the callback to the volcano :) And your delightful descriptions of Sixticton and its environs. And most recently introduced citizen!
Hey, look at me, all caught up on comments again.
Enjoy it while it lasts, me thinks...
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