We shall see on the scooping. I remain skeptical.

marta: Okay, now, I’m going to just sort of play along here and not state the obvious — which, if I did state it, would raise a question as to whether “you” could be “someone.” But I’m not saying that, you understand?

cynth: My only regret about it was that it was over too soon. I know it was “just” a student film, but there are often stories about 2- and 3-minute student films being expanded to 15 or even 30 minutes. Dang, why not this one?

reCaptcha says: BRETTBART awards. You know — the ones they give out for best comic Westerns?

That’s the book! I’ve posted about it. Actually after I posted about it, the author left me a comment and we exchanged a few emails. That was incredible.

And I’d love to have someone illustrate my book. Yes, I can make a few pictures, but illustrating is whole different thing. I could never pull that off.

And I’mcrazy about this:

“In this universe if we’re lucky,

we will live in our children’s stories,
their tales that will turn us to legend,
some absurd truth that has nothing to do

with our plans, our meticulous records.”

OH YES, I’m an illustration-wonk elf! That seems to be all I post about anymore at 7-Imp. But it’s too fun. I’m SURE one day, John, you’ll scoop me on some great illustrator. You know too much. Your curious mind will introduce me to a lot, I think, in this life.

If I were fabulously wealthy, once I saw to it that all the books of writerly friends were well-published :), I’d try to convince Rima Staines to illustrate this book (full text also in a bunch of places online; it’s out of copyright now): Phantastes, by George MacDonald. Early in the book, the protagonist’s bedroom starts to turn into a forest…

My dressing-table was an old-fashioned piece of furniture of black oak, with drawers all down the front. These were elaborately carved in foliage, of which ivy formed the chief part. The nearer end of this table remained just as it had been, but on the further end a singular change had commenced. I happened to fix my eye on a little cluster of ivy-leaves. The first of these was evidently the work of the carver; the next looked curious; the third was unmistakable ivy; and just beyondit a tendril of clematis had twined itself about the gilt handle of one of the drawers. Hearing next a slight motion above me, I looked up, and saw that the branches and leaves designed upon the curtains of my bed were slightly in motion. Not knowing what change might follow next, I thought it high time to get up; and, springing from the bed, my bare feet alighted upon a cool green sward; and although I dressed in all haste, I found myself completing my toilet under the boughs of a great tree, whose top waved in the golden stream of the sunrise with many interchanging lights, and with shadows of leaf and branch gliding over leaf and branch, as the cool morning wind swung it to and fro, like a sinking sea-wave.

I never forgot that image.

Heh… my own reCaptcha this morning is Crotty noodling. A quick Google search turned up a Wikipedia entry on “Crotty” — apparently one form of an ancient Irish surname. Now, those were some people who could tell stories about forests…

When I was a teenager, I read this book called The Truth about Unicorns and the woods in that story are almost a character. For better or worse, that novel had a huge impact on my writing.

Love the woods.

recaptcha today: coholism read

Maybe that should be–readcoholism.