WIP meme - a goat following the flock

[elingregory]

This is all over the place today, posted mostly by proper writers with followings. But I'm posting this as a cautionary tale to anyone who thinks "oh hey, I have a shiny idea, I'll write a book about it!"

Shiny ideas can be evil. Shiny ideas can take over you life and your hard drive. Shiny ideas are truculent and aggressive ratbags who interfere with each other. And the worst thing about them - they travel in herds!

Solitary shiny ideas that can be properly attended to are lovely things but when does that ever happen.

Meme:

Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.



Alike As Two Bees
Anatolios
Applejack
Blighs Ferry
Eleventh Hour
Emrys
A Fierce Reaping
A Gleam of Splendour
Henry Vance
The Imperial Ideal
Keladra
The Language of Flowers
Moonlight Shadow
Norton Wood
Old Stories
On a Lee Shore
Regency Rubbish
Short in the Saddle
Spices to Belhaven
Tears of Heaven
Town Mouse
The Wanderer

Name one of them and I'll give you a snippet from it and/or tell you something about it.

In other news, I find I am required to write a guide book for work, during my normal working hours in addition to my normal tasks, and it needs to be print run ready by the end of January. OMG so much fact checking!!!!

Comments

[mcgonagalls-cat.livejournal.com]

* cough * The Signs That Command * cough *


Language of Flowers * evil grin *

[elin-gregory.livejournal.com]

*blush* The Signs That Command - I re-read some it of a month or so back and chatted to Judy about doing a bit more of it. It's her turn, you see. But she's been ambushed by real life. Maybe when Gabe goes to school?

You know about the Language of Flowers. Earnest young farmer gets led astray by angsty Cold War warrior in the early 1970s. Um - snippet, and because it's been such a very long time, it's a long one:

As he opened the front door, Merrick paused and nodded, “Gwyn will do his very best for you,” he said. “You’ll find him eager to please in fact,” he hesitated a moment then said, “perhaps a little too eager? I hope he doesn’t give offence – I – er – take a purely avuncular interest in him, you see.” He hesitated a moment more then smiled. “Thank you for your hospitality, David.”
“My pleasure, Major Merrick,” David said, smiling politely. “Please come again.”
They took their leave of each other with the utmost affability and David watched Merrick scrunch away down the drive, waved as he turned the corner out of sight then shut the door carefully and swore.
“You old bugger,” he growled and went straight to the study and picked up the phone. He listened to the purr of the dialling tone for any tell tale interruptions, and began to dial.
There was always someone on duty on that particular number and he didn’t have to wait long before someone picked up. “Hello, George,” he said. “David Thorn here. I wonder if you could do me a little favour … No, only medium urgent today.” He laughed as George grumbled then said, “Can you check if we have a file on one Major Rodney Merrick? May have retired approximately twenty years ago. Royal Signals, according to his lapel pin and a member of the Army and Navy Club unless he’s enough of a cad to wear their tie anyway. About five feet eight, fourteen stone, stockily built. Grey hair, moustache, pale blue eyes.” He paused while he opened his desk diary and rattled off Merrick’s address. “Until about eight years ago he shared the place with someone called Hugo – yes, like that. Can I have the usual? Yes, past postings, known associates, the lot.” He smiled. “If you could … Thanks, George. Speak to you later.”
He put the phone down and sat back in his seat with a scowl then went and poured himself a Scotch. Merrick’s interest in Gwyn’s welfare didn’t bother him – it was no more than a good officer’s duty – but there had been something in his manner that said very clearly that he not only knew all that was necessary to know about David’s private life but possibly even about his job as well. Before signing the contract to purchase Old Court David had checked for potential security breaches and had been assured that there was nobody in the area to cause him any disquiet. Apparently Major Rodney Merrick had slipped through the net.
He roamed the house uneasily, knowing that George would get back to him as soon as he could so staying within earshot of the phone though he badly wanted to get out into the air, to soothe himself by walking around the garden.
He was just contemplating another Scotch when the phone rang and he snatched up the receiver. “George?” he said, then, “Yes I have a pen.” He listened, writing busily, then said ‘Hah! Yes, so that’s how – sorry George, please carry on,” and scribbled for another few minutes. At the end George asked a question and David laughed. “No,” he said. “I don’t believe he’s a threat. He’s old school. Defence of the Realm and all that. Oh good grief no, leave the old chap be. I’ll have a word with him myself. Thanks George. Yes, you too. Goodbye.”

Continued in next comment here (http://elin-gregory.livejournal.com/11677.html?thread=64925#t64925)

[elin-gregory.livejournal.com]

Continued:

He put down the phone with a sigh of relief.
Hugo – Merrick’s constant companion. Hugo Braithwaite, solicitor, with two loving siblings, one of whom had a bright daughter called Betty, who was very close to Uncle Rodney, who had probably influenced her decision to join the diplomatic service.
“Betty Braithwaite,” David murmured. She had been one of the jollier clerks in the embassy in Tokyo and David hadn’t meant to blight her hopes in the slightest. It had just ended up that way when she had finally realised that they wouldn’t go beyond friendship. At some point she must have poured out her heart to Uncle Rodney, adding a name and enough of a description for Merrick to have recognised him. Possibly that jab about ‘intelligence’ had just been a comment from one military man to another.
Either way it didn’t seem to be something to worry about, so David put it from his mind as he removed his papers from the safe and began to go over them again. He concentrated hard and by eleven o’ clock, had the beginnings of a theory that he hoped to test over the next few weeks.
He had just cleaned his teeth and was putting on his pyjamas when it occurred to him to wonder just what exactly Merrick had meant by Gwyn being too eager to please. There were a number of possibilities, any one of which would be acceptable and David amused himself during the ten minutes before he fell asleep by reviewing them in detail.
He slept very well, soundly and deeply, with no dreams of jeeps, and awoke to the gentle sound of rain and the distant whistle and clang of Gwyn doing something in the yard. He sat up and got out of bed, and was bathed and dressed and downstairs in twenty minutes to switch the kettle on and make toast.
He had a sudden vision of asking Gwyn in for breakfast but dismissed it. If they ever breakfasted together, which was unlikely, he’d prefer it to be under other circumstances. However, tea wasn’t out of the question so he went to the back door to call.
There on the mat by the boot scraper lay some sprigs of greenery and he stopped and looked at them, then slowly sank to his haunches and picked them up one by one.
Blackthorn. Elm. Sycamore. And a curling frond of fern.
Difficulty. Dignity. Curiosity. Fascination.
David stared at the leaves in his hand then looked up across the yard. Gwyn was standing in the shadows by the old wash house, his face, open as ever, totally terrified.
David met his eyes and very slowly nodded and Gwyn must have let out the breath he was holding because he sagged, face looking pale under his tan. Then he walked across the yard and David went to meet him.