Okay, gotta get back to my work in progress. I'm plodding through it like I'm wading through a river of molasses. I'm working on a scene wherein my protagonist, a 17yo girl, is having a drunken fumble in the back of a Kombi van with a 21yo guy. Although set in 1982, it's not autobiographical. Describing the mechanics, ie, a blouse being unbuttoned, and a bra being pushed up over the breasts, doesn't bother me. It's the emotions that are causing me a touch of writer's block. Don't get me wrong, I know perfectly well what she's thinking, but I have to show (hopefully the multitudinous) readership how she's feeling and what she's thinking. I want to somehow capture the quagmire that is nerves, lust, worry, and self-consciousness without sounding like I'm writing the point of view of Ana Steele (who as I've previously mentioned, probably has diluted menstrual blood because she's so damned wimpy and annoying). That would be seriously awful, and I think I'd put the cover on my keyboard forevermore after, should that happen. I think I achieved what I set out to. I'm about to work on the next part, in between getting up to tend my washing machine. It keeps getting unbalanced. It's on the spin cycle and I have a roughly laid concrete laundry floor, and the machine doesn't like it very much. Once my books have hit the top of the bestseller list, I am going to have my laundry floor leveled and tiled.
It's almost Easter. No eggs have yet been purchased by me. Oh dear. I've been too busy worrying about this work in progress, and worrying about my 10yo who's been complaining about school, in his own funny way. I am still waiting for his new dosage of controlled release medication to take hold of him, because his concentration is quite good when he's on it. Tempers fray easily when one is getting him ready for school, and trying to explain the teacher is not Darth Vader's mother, as he asserts. Might have to get out the Phantom Menace, so he can see who Vader's mother is, in the World According To George Lucas. I haven't actually seen the more recent trilogy, because if it doesn't have the hot Luke Skywalker, then I'm not interested. This morning, whilst trying to explain the significance of Holy Week, I explained Thursday evening will mark Jesus's arrest in Gethsamane. My son asked, 'How many coppers? Was there a SWAT team?' Well, that had me in stitches, but I worry how he will cope when he does his Sacraments (not sure when that will be). I'm still trying to get my head around the image of a bunch of cops in Kevlar gear storming Gethsamane, and Our Lord flat on the ground, with a boot against his head as his hands are cuffed behind his back. This seriously is a bizarre thought. It goes against everything I've ever seen, although for quite a few years now, the channels have not screened 'King of Kings' on Good Friday. I used to watch it just about every year. I remember one nun going shithouse at us because a few of us had not attended the Veneration of the Cross Mass on Good Friday. She demanded to know what people had done instead. It's tempting to say, 'Oh, had LIVES!', but one kid just replied, 'Watching television.' Oh, she was offended to the core about this. It didn't occur to her he was probably watching one of the annual screenings of 'King of Kings', and surely this counts as being reverent. Well, I always thought it did.
Something that does interested me, and I haven't bothered discussing it with my kids yet, is apparently the correct judicial procedure was not adhered to when Jesus was arrested. As a former law clerk, this actually intrigues me. This means a good lawyer would have secured an acquittal for Jesus. Oh hell, even a crap lawyer would have got him acquitted o those grounds. The flipside to this is, of course, no Easter holiday.
Better get writing now, I suppose.
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