The Great Omnipotent

Ya know, a couple of comments here and there would be cool. I'm just sayin'. {g}

Medieval Word of the Day: boinard--A fool, simpleton; rogue, scoundrel. There are only two listings for this word in the OED, one in 1300 and one in 1399. Too bad. We can always use more insults.

I had almost 2 solid hours to work on TMT yesterday. (I was home in the afternoon with Child, just to make sure she was okay after getting her 4-year vaccinations. She was great, and took a loooong nap. {s}) I plowed through Chapters 4 and 5, tweaking. I let Katherine argue with a minor antagonist instead of being passive and weepy. She was quite happy about it, I think.

Revisions at this stage are an odd beastie, because they can actually make you feel god-like. After all, events are already set down in a certain way. In the book's existing world (which is "complete" at its level), This happened, then This happened. Characters interacted with each other, made their comments, et voila.

But noooo. In I come, the deity. "I don't like that," I say. "You're too weak here. Change your response." The character looks at me blankly for a minute, then looks around at the other characters. They all shrug at her. "Hmmm," she says. "What if I say this instead?" And I get to decide. Does that work? Is it strong enough now? What ramifications will it have on the rest of the characters and the plot? Then if I give the nod, she says it the new way, and all clicks into life again. Everyone else has to respond differently too, and the world shifts.

It's even more fun changing locations on them. Thomas and Katherine are at an inn, drinking ale before a fire, all the complexities of their situation swirling around them. "Hang on," I say. "You couldn't be at that inn. I found a new map; that's too far away. Sorry, you'll have to spend the night in the forest instead." So suddenly they find themselves sitting on a damp log, in a cold, misty night, with a fire new-started that's only giving out smoke. Now they're annoyed with me for tearing away their warm inn and their ale, so they snap at each other. Until I tell them they have to be nice again...conflict is all well and good, but I need a kiss here...no, not like that, like you mean it...

Of course they all get back at me by doing things I didn't want them to do, later. By running off in the wrong direction (NO! Run away from the fire!), kissing the wrong person, saying some smart-alecky comment I can't make them take back...but the god-like illusion is fun while it lasts.