Writers Weekend Retrospective: 2012

Originally posted on LiveJournal on January 13, 2012 and www.emerysanborne.com on January 17, 2012.

The annual getaway has rolled around again, and [Deb, Steph,] and I have hied off into the Poconos for our Writers Weekend (read: bit of writing, fair bit of knitting, lots of hanging back and good food).

Headed up after work last night, stopping off at a pretty tasty Japanese restaurant to fuel up before driving out. Into the very, very foggy night. Like horror movie foggy. Pretty cool…and creepy. And Scarlett did it all on 1/4 tank of gas. Take that, Top Gear! We arrived around ten-ish in the rain and dropping temps, unloaded, unwound, then went up to burrow into our respective beds for the night. Since the fireplace was on the fritz, the heat didn’t do its trick until the middle of the night, taking temps from OMG! NOT ENOUGH BLANKETS! to TOO MANY DAMN LAYERS, STRIP, STRIP, STRIP! And I dreamed of Kingdom, the Stephen Fry small village lawyer, mystery series. All in all, my body and brain both thanked me for not doing a repeat of last year’s red wine Jerseypalooza until the wee hours.

Thinking that the grocery store would be relatively empty in the am on a workday, we headed out around 9:30ish and found that this was very much not the case. But we gathered up our good eats and made it out relatively unscathed back into the slightly snowy/sunny/cloudy late morning. January and snow! Who knew?

The highlight was that the fireplace repair gods were smiling and we were able to get the fireplace up and running. Then proceeded to get a bit of a lecture from the guy on the importance of drinking lots of water and the evils of soda. Whatevs. Life is short and we have fire, lecture away.

Aside from that was the traditional pulled pork, provolone sandwiches for lunch and doing our respective things: Scarlett editing, Savvy mind-mapping a brilliant little apocafic that she will write (*hairy eyeball*), and me reading Frankenstein with gusto this time and making snarky comments about what a self-centered dick Victor is (because he totally is).

Why am I reading and note-taking on Frankenstein? To have a bit of background for my Frankenstein-inspired bunny. Having not seriously read this book since tenth or eleventh grade (I made an attempt a few months back) and seen the Danny Boyle stage production, my perceptions might be a bit skewed. It’s a bit difficult to get sweaty Johnny Lee Miller’s Victor out of my head. And the stage production is definitely skewed in favor of the Creature. I’ll definitely do some sort of write-up on the book and thoughts when I’m done, especially since the text I have shows what influences Percy Shelley had on Mary’s story. The really, really flowery narrative bits? Yup, definitely him. Mary does a fair bit too, but Percy’s is of the type that makes me zone out a bit. All in all, I’m finding that the English Major is still alive and well.

And Victor Frankenstein is a colossal dick who really only talks favorably about those who are essentially subservient to his ego. I really need to see if I still have any papers or notes from back when I read it in high school. I remember a lot of focus on the frame device set up of the story more than anything else. Hmmm.

***

It was damned good to get away for a long weekend. Even better when it’s with [Steph and Deb]. No pressure, good food, and excellent conversation. And even a bit of writing. Plus snow! Not a lot but enough to go along with the subzero temps. If it’s going to be cold, there might as well be snow.

Deb was an editing MACHINE, and I think [Steph] might have gotten her writing groove back (SQUEE!). As for me, I read Frankenstein for the first time in fifteen years, give or take, as research for a story idea I had. Of course, after I hammered out details and got a bit of a start on the first idea, I got an entirely different one when I finished the damned book. And yes, I went into pseudo-English major mode with underlining key passages (or passages of interest to me) and making snarky margin notes on what a self-centered dick Victor Frankenstein is. Jesus. In my opinion, the Creature went far too easy on him. I’ll do a post-mortem on that in some detail in another post, more in line with my rambly style than anything English major quality.

There was also finale-palooza with the Leverage and Sherlock finales. Loved the former, and mostly liked what was done with the latter although I’m really leaning towards it being the weakest of the second series (but that might be biased by the writer).

And now it’s back to the grind. Hopefully with more writing.

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