Monday, November 26, 2012

Nearing the End - And River Song Too!

Last week's writing brought me to Chapter 30 - Roberts and crew will soon be setting sail for London where an epic ending awaits them and Draft 1 will draw to a close. While I am seeing the glimmers of the end, I am well aware that it may be fools' gold and the revision process could easily stretch to much longer than I anticipated. However, courage is at my back and I am hopeful that revising will not be that arduous!

Although my River Song has been taking a hiatus as of late, I just stumbled across this wonderful YouTube video.

A friend of mine were discussing how much fun it would be to write a full-length musical of Doctor Who, blithely ignoring the fact that we would be attempting to cram about 50 years of TV shows into a 2-3 hour musical, a feat that I don't think even Handel could pull off. Nevertheless, this spurred my inward song parody skills and I set to work on a song for River Song. The tune "All that Jazz" from Chicago seemed apt for the Doctor's adventurous wife, and here is an excerpt of what I have so far -

Hello, sweetie, grab the TARDIS key
Let's time travel 

I don't recall, have we done Belize
In our time travels?

Come on, dear, let's take the time vortex
To 1755 in West Middlesex

No spoilers now, you'll find out why somehow
In our time travels  

Okay, so Broadway is not exactly pounding down the door to sign me up, but I do enjoy the occasional song parody since much of my creative skills with music and poetry consists mostly of creating ridiculous parodies of other songs. My mother and I between us have written over a dozen songs for our family dogs, and Erasmus has a compilation of "Songs for Basset Hounds" that may one day end up as a record. My magnus opus of poetry came one night when Erasmus spent a very restless time sleeping on my bed and I got maybe two hours of sleep. The next morning in a fit of delirious exhaustion and far too much caffeine, I wrote this poem, (with apologies to Mr. Poe)

Once upon a midnight dreary
As I tossed, bored and weary
Cursing the insomnia that did entreat upon my night's repose
As I lay there, irate and itching
Suddenly there came a twitching
As if some apparition was licking at my restless toes.
“Tis some night spirit,” quoth I “Only this and nothing more.”

But as I ripped the bed asunder
Hoping vainly to catch some slumber
The twitching did manifest again and shook the mattress to the core.
My hand reached out in trembling fear
And fell upon a silky ear
I cried “Alas! A Basset hath entered through my chamber's door!”

Long nails did tear the sheets in twain
As thumping tail did beat in vain
In hopes of gaining from my hand the promise of a belly rub.
Stubby legs did push against my side
As Basset spread himself out wide
Master of the entire mattress he himself did deem to dub.

Not content to lie in slumber
The hairy hound began to lumber
Stalking to and fro across the vast expanse of counterpane.
Lying down and rising up
The restless, roving, slobbering pup
Did pace and stride in endless movement as the night began to wane.

Desiring cuddles, the dog in haste
Lay drooling head upon my waist
As heavy frame across my own did overheat my feverish hide.
Groaning, grunting, the wriggling cur
With feet as rough as any burr
Raked scratchy pads and pointy nails direct against my other side.

“Fie on you hound! Lie down!” I said.
To squirming beast upon my bed.
Reaching out for downy pillow, I feebly hoped at last to sleep.
Alas, the sound of thumping tail
Told me my search was not availed
For curled up on my pillow was a Basset head in furry heap.

The night did pass and morning rose
Wide-awake, I had found no repose
Thanks to the scratching, licking hound that had joined me in my rest.
With red-rimmed eyes I saw the dawn
Come peeking, creeping over my lawn
As I cursed the hellish hound who had joined me at his own bequest.

“No more, you cur, will you share my bed,”
I said to the hound in voice most dread
“A kennel best befits a dog when nighttime comes and sleep is nigh.”
Soulful eyes did peer in mine
As sounded loud a pitiful whine
And Basset refused to leave the place where his stubby limbs and ears did lie.

And still today, in sprawling sleep
The Basset on my bed does keep
Himself in comfort, rest and ease, full loath to leave my chamber door.
Upon the couch in awkward pose
I seek some space to stretch my toes
Shall I reclaim my bed again? Quote the Basset, “Nevermore.”    

So, in summation, I can't write real poetry or song lyrics, but I can create crap like this with amazing skill and swiftness. If only I could turn these talents to financial profit.......

Back to steampunk - I WILL finish Draft 1 by the end of the month if I have to do a couple all night writing sessions. I also have a Christmas steampunk outfit to finish - I found a lovely tartan skirt and a silver velvet top which pair nicely with my black corset. Some holly and black netting on my tiny bowler would be a good touch. Hmm, what other steamy Christmas elements might be nice to add? A clock that points at midnight? Santa with a clockwork powered sled? What else can I do? 

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