21st September
Today we went for a walk. Three miles of walk. And then ate out at a restaurant. It was nice. <3
As for writing.
Well. Technically I've not written any fiction today; or at least I've not written any fiction on my own novel. However, I have spent a good two or three hours of my evening rewriting a prologue for my English Literature homework. We had to rewrite the prologue to She Stoops To Conquer, by Oliver Goldsmith, in a different style, and for a different audience.
I got really really stuck with it, because forced creativity that I'll have to perform in class is not my strong point. But, I kept working on it, and ended up with something that I think is at least decent.
It probably doesn't make sense without reading the original prologue (which you can find on the internet) but I'm going to post it here anyway, because I'm actually quite proud of it, and I don't have a line for the day. :]
Enter MR. WOODWARD, dressed in black carrying a long thin staff, and holding in one hand a book of Fairytales, the other a Handkerchief.
Gather round boys and girls, and I will tell you a story.
Our tale begins a long time ago.
A time when Comedy lived merrily alongside the humans and ‘Price To Pay’ was three dollars-a-pop,
Back row in the theatre with a bag of carrot lollies and a cup of iced tea.
But now our dearest Comedy Rabbit is dying because a Sentimental man named Tragedy has been putting poison in the soup,
And without our sweetest Comedy, a man has no right to the lollies, nor the tea.
Whatever is a creature to do?
Comedy Rabbit is a fact of life, a critter used to the hardships of life but amused and ticklish in every respect all the same. Without our Mr. Rabbit, how does the world spin?
Who does Mr. McGregor throw from his garden for carrot-snatching if not Comedy Rabbit?
I have carrot sweeties to give, a box at the most,
And those always draw the crowds.
It used to be carrots, but now Comedy rabbit is running with the Fever Fairies
And carrot cake isn’t available to the general public.
So kiddies like yourselves got to starve, and listen to a Tragedy In Three Acts
And cry all the way to the end.
I tried to make a sad tale; I tried to conjure a Wicked Queen with warts and
An underbite, and a Wicked Mirror that only tells the truth,
But the real truth is I just like to laugh, and make faces out of carrot sticks.
My tale would go something like “A run in the park is a run in the dark if the Wicked Queen were near; A run in the park ain’t a run at all if you think about the trippy-traps and sticky-ups and lions and tigers and bears. A run in the dark ain’t a run in the park ‘cos a blind rabbit gonna trip up on bricks”
But tales of darkness is something I leave for the Vampires and Homophobes.
I’m not either, or, so I guess I’ll stick to kiddy tales and offerings of the kind of candy that doesn’t rot a soul from the inside out.
In our fairytale wood, a cat or a bunny could cry out for fear
Of foxes or wolves, or hunters or traps,
But Tragedy is hard-hitting like the bumper of a car driving at full speed down the motorway
And often unavoidable--
But! Oh there is a saviour! Here comes a Hero in Green, a Robin Hood of our metaphorical forest.
A healer with the highest power and plenty of the moo-lar to keep us in the business. Look kiddies, he’s got healthy candy and boxes and boxes of carrot-sticks from old McGregor’s garden.
Ain’t that sweet?
Those brightly coloured candies might look tasty,
lickin’-your-lips-tasty with a zing-of-space tasty,
But they’re poisoned like soup.
Comedy Rabbit doesn’t believe in Tragedy Candies; those candies to make you cry
Make you sigh
Make you die
With boredom.
Hero in Green, glittering Gold-smith has the plan. The carrot candies taste good,
Better than soulless candies from that Wicked Sentimental man
With the top hat
And sinister cloak.
Eat those carrots kiddies, and Comedy Rabbit might leap to life
The poison fever slipping into the night
With the dark-dark and run-in-the-park.
But take a silver-plated-bullet candy, then our sweetest Comedy Rabbit might fall
To the third bowl of comedy,
Which was not just right.
As for writing.
Well. Technically I've not written any fiction today; or at least I've not written any fiction on my own novel. However, I have spent a good two or three hours of my evening rewriting a prologue for my English Literature homework. We had to rewrite the prologue to She Stoops To Conquer, by Oliver Goldsmith, in a different style, and for a different audience.
I got really really stuck with it, because forced creativity that I'll have to perform in class is not my strong point. But, I kept working on it, and ended up with something that I think is at least decent.
It probably doesn't make sense without reading the original prologue (which you can find on the internet) but I'm going to post it here anyway, because I'm actually quite proud of it, and I don't have a line for the day. :]
She Stoops To Conquer
Prologue Rewrite
Prologue Rewrite
Enter MR. WOODWARD, dressed in black carrying a long thin staff, and holding in one hand a book of Fairytales, the other a Handkerchief.
Gather round boys and girls, and I will tell you a story.
Our tale begins a long time ago.
A time when Comedy lived merrily alongside the humans and ‘Price To Pay’ was three dollars-a-pop,
Back row in the theatre with a bag of carrot lollies and a cup of iced tea.
But now our dearest Comedy Rabbit is dying because a Sentimental man named Tragedy has been putting poison in the soup,
And without our sweetest Comedy, a man has no right to the lollies, nor the tea.
Whatever is a creature to do?
Comedy Rabbit is a fact of life, a critter used to the hardships of life but amused and ticklish in every respect all the same. Without our Mr. Rabbit, how does the world spin?
Who does Mr. McGregor throw from his garden for carrot-snatching if not Comedy Rabbit?
I have carrot sweeties to give, a box at the most,
And those always draw the crowds.
It used to be carrots, but now Comedy rabbit is running with the Fever Fairies
And carrot cake isn’t available to the general public.
So kiddies like yourselves got to starve, and listen to a Tragedy In Three Acts
And cry all the way to the end.
I tried to make a sad tale; I tried to conjure a Wicked Queen with warts and
An underbite, and a Wicked Mirror that only tells the truth,
But the real truth is I just like to laugh, and make faces out of carrot sticks.
My tale would go something like “A run in the park is a run in the dark if the Wicked Queen were near; A run in the park ain’t a run at all if you think about the trippy-traps and sticky-ups and lions and tigers and bears. A run in the dark ain’t a run in the park ‘cos a blind rabbit gonna trip up on bricks”
But tales of darkness is something I leave for the Vampires and Homophobes.
I’m not either, or, so I guess I’ll stick to kiddy tales and offerings of the kind of candy that doesn’t rot a soul from the inside out.
In our fairytale wood, a cat or a bunny could cry out for fear
Of foxes or wolves, or hunters or traps,
But Tragedy is hard-hitting like the bumper of a car driving at full speed down the motorway
And often unavoidable--
But! Oh there is a saviour! Here comes a Hero in Green, a Robin Hood of our metaphorical forest.
A healer with the highest power and plenty of the moo-lar to keep us in the business. Look kiddies, he’s got healthy candy and boxes and boxes of carrot-sticks from old McGregor’s garden.
Ain’t that sweet?
Those brightly coloured candies might look tasty,
lickin’-your-lips-tasty with a zing-of-space tasty,
But they’re poisoned like soup.
Comedy Rabbit doesn’t believe in Tragedy Candies; those candies to make you cry
Make you sigh
Make you die
With boredom.
Hero in Green, glittering Gold-smith has the plan. The carrot candies taste good,
Better than soulless candies from that Wicked Sentimental man
With the top hat
And sinister cloak.
Eat those carrots kiddies, and Comedy Rabbit might leap to life
The poison fever slipping into the night
With the dark-dark and run-in-the-park.
But take a silver-plated-bullet candy, then our sweetest Comedy Rabbit might fall
To the third bowl of comedy,
Which was not just right.
posted by Kitty Taylor at 1:20 am
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