So … for the umpteenth consecutive week, I have managed to show up late to Folk Thursday. But to redeem myself, I offer you a very special video:
The lead-in takes about a minute, but stay with it, because this is quite possibly the highlight of Fred Eaglesmith’s distinguished songwriting career. I really hope he plays at the Woody Guthrie Festival one of these days.
Walter has been helping me wrap Christmas presents this morning. If these gifts stay wrapped long enough to be delivered to their respective recipients, I will be flat-out shocked, because Walter is utterly fascinated by curling ribbon and Scotch tape.
I’m going indie on as many gifts as possible this year. Thus far, we’ve bought stuff at Kiddlestix, the Lincoln Museum gift shop (not exactly mom-and-pop, but a good cause), Lee’s Feed, Steve’s Sundries, and Paper Chase. After a 4:30 a.m. Best Buy run that ended in futility, Ron has learned his lesson about corporate America and its Black Friday bait-and-switch game, so I am heading to an indie computer dealer for one more item this afternoon.
I feel a creative outburst coming on, but I’m not sure exactly how it will manifest itself. There’s some fiction trying to claw its way out of my head this morning, but I’m not really in the mood to deal with it. Last night, for no apparent reason, a couple of my as-yet-unwritten characters decided that “Here, There and Everywhere” is their song, and they are bugging hell out of me to figure out why.
Fiction is a strange thing. You want your characters to be realistic and well-rendered, but develop them too far, and they start thinking for themselves, which makes them impossible to control.
My female characters are all rather like Athena, springing from my head more or less fully formed, but the guys always go through this elaborate — and extremely time-consuming — building process. Just when I think I’ve got them nailed down, I meet another interesting person, and all of a sudden I’ve got a character whispering, “Wouldn’t I be more realistic if I had X’s annoying habit of brushing imaginary dust specks off his desk when he’s thinking?” or “You see how Y holds his mouth to hide that gap in his teeth around people he doesn’t know well? I do that, too.” Flighty brats. We’ll see if I’m in the mood to deal with them after lunch….