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

[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.