Awful session at the gym tonight; not sure what that was about. Perhaps I’m not quite over my cold yet, or maybe I just went a bit too hard at the start. Either way, I think the most apt and quantitative description of my efforts this evening is crappy crappy crap crap.
On the subject of lyrical and masterful use of the English language, I had an idea for a short story this morning, which I may write up for the Bridport Prize. Hell, I’m going to write it anyway, and I should probably think closely about what sort of market I should be pitching it too. I’ve been submitting willy and, indeed, nilly all over the place and it has done me no good whatsoever aside from filling up my email inbox with rejection notices (which, surprisingly, aren’t quite as damaging as I expected them to be – I fully imagined the sensation would be akin to being crushed in a press with every fresh rejection but thankfully it’s just kind of “meh”).
So, I’m not going to go too deeply into what the story is, except to give you the high concept movie pitch version of it (as suggested by my friend Mark – credit where credit is due).
Already I’m conjuring up images of an old Felicity Kendal entering a taurobolium, being showered with the blood of a sacrificial beast, and emerging…renewed. I think that’s a fantastic reason to harness the dark blood magicks – increasing the world’s Hot Felicity Kendal Quotient is a prime motivator for any (and all!) budding darke wyzardes.
I’ve also got another story in mind, a much shorter one, about a Kelpie. As the Wiki notes, the Each Uisge is probably the more apt for a tale set in the Scottish Highlands, but I remember reading about Kelpies, dammit, and Kelpie it’s going to be!
Anyway, roll on the weekend. I’ve got lots of writing to do (and cleaning!)