A Return to the Drenfennelen River

Day 458

Kraite and Duoroo. And the Drenfennelen River.

I have not written of these two in over a year. Before that last entry another year. But I like these two. I should do them a little more justice than I have.

Kraite, as I recall, is some furry bounty hunter on a mission to do something to capture or kill or generally waylay Duoroo. He is thoughtful but no intellectual. His vocation implies he’s more of a rogue than his personality.

Duoroo is a blind monk with aikido-like skills. Her mind free of knowing what anything looks like she’s developed an encyclopedic memory and a great sense politics though she does not dabble in the latter.

I need a few things: a reason for Kraite to be there, a reason for him to change his mind, a way for Duoroo to accomplish that change, a situation for them to pair up against, some twist that involves Mallen, a little conflict between the two unlikley partners, and a world to put this all in. Reading back it appears that some government in “Theeble” had been paying the monks for healing water that did not heal.

Let’s put Duoroo out of place. She’s a cast-off daughter of an off world dynasty recently swept by tragedy. She is now the sole heir or something like that. Her identity is an open secret among the older monks but not one they ever expected to become a problem. Kraite’s been hired to extract her from the monastery with as little harm or notice as possible.

Environmental Chotchkies

Day 457

Using WriteRoom on the phone to get some 1000 Days work done while the computer reboots. I don’t find the WP app compelling enough to use I guess or I just wanted to figure out how to share docs in the app all over again. I really do need a day to consolidate my tools.

I ought to get in a better habit of signing out of all my work apps on the laptop before ending the day. I hate waking up to being hung. Maybe invest in a good VNC app on the phone too.

I’ve previously written about how well the art director for Blade Runner populated that world. I’m finding Paolo Bacigalupi’s The Windup Girl to be written with a similar enthusiasm for environmental chotchkies. I can’t decide if I like it or not.

I like the attention to detail and the robustness of his world I just haven’t decided if he’s crossing over to the territory my imagination once roamed while reading. As soon as my mind wanders to fill in some scenery I find Paolo there with a Southeast Asian trinket, custom, word, or shrub saying, “Here. Take one if mine.” No shrubs really to be fair.

As much as I don’t know if I like it or not I’ve been trying to write with such effluence all week. I’m no good at it. My attempt to sprinkle environmentals all over an alley fair almost immediately devolved into characterizations and then yesterday dialog. I just can’t put monkies, spices, hovercars, and ten other things all in one place at one time–or spell monkeys. I wouldn’t mind so much except this is where I feel my writing lacks. I feel like I shortchange the reader on descriptions of things in favor of descriptions of actions. This is where I wish I could travel if I needed to when I wanted to. I need to practice.

Drangee Purple with Milk

Day 456

Musi stood at the gate of her patio greeting the day like a regular.

“Fine morning, I feel,” she said then sipped her milk-tamed Purple tea. Madrigar looked up from his sweeping and smiled. After a considerable pause during which she finished her private thoughts and suspected he was doing the same she heard him agree with a considered hum.

She laughed to herself at his response. They’d been exchanging similar quiet conversation each morning all Spring since she’d been installed here at the west entrance to Run Dark Alley. “You always agree with me Old Man.”

“I would not agree if you were not correct miss.”

“But you always agree. Am I always correct?”

“Always.”

Musi lifted her tea to Madrigar as a question. He nodded so she raised the large porceline cup again as a second question. He shook his head and pointed to the stack of smaller clear glasses on her counter.

“This Drangee Purple may be dark but it is also mild. You could drink two this size and still take your afternoon nap.”

“I like to watch the colors swirl while I drink,” then after scratching his forehead, “I’m doing my tallies; not napping.”

She winked away his lie. “I could pour it into one of the pinters I use for the ices?”

“Still,” he gestured again at the same stack.