‘It started with a flash but will end with …’ What sort of prompt is that?
This is so boring, like swimming towards a lifeboat while fighting for your last breath.
Hardly boring; more like survival. It might be futile but she’ll never give up. She lives on hope and she has a manuscript.
A half baked, self indulgent, weirdly structured memoir she spent five years writing and researching.
But it IS something.
What kind of something?
A finished something.
And now she’s back where she, where we, started.
Except this time she’s investigating the flash.
The prompt, above.
That was just a prompt. It’s of no consequence.
It might be serendipity or a message from the unconscious. She should let it agitate, let it develop. Something could come of it.
Oh, for goodness sake. A flash. Or what the flash means.
Calm down. Let’s go back to the prompt: ‘It started with a flash …’ I’ll look up the word … Ooo, this IS interesting. It says here, ‘Origin: Middle English, a marshy place …’
… Let me look at that. I suppose the dictionary can’t be wrong, but is it relevant?
You’re the one going on about messages from the unconscious. Marshes mean water, flow, creativity, you know, all that stuff. Pisces.
Pisces? A marsh is more Scorpio than Pisces …
… ‘a burst of light,’ but not necessarily from an explosion … Marshes can explode … so can flashlights, and there’s a newsflash, or … here … a ‘flash in time,’ or ‘a flash in the pan.’ It’s an adjective too. ‘Pertaining to thieves and prostitutes. Sporting and betting men. Gaudy and showy. Counterfeit. Sham. Knowing. Cheeky.’ Hee, hee, ‘a flash house is a brothel.’ And it’s a verb as well.
‘The wave flashing … the roaring surf flashing up over … he flashed me, officer.’
Be serious. Our job is to provide inspiration and …
… Don’t you think we’ve done that?
I know, I know, but think of the triumph when she’s finally published.
That’s not what she wants, and you know it.
You’re right. She wants to ‘say something’, she wants to save us, them – her kind. She wants to change things.
As if that will happen.
Has it ever? ‘This is the way the world ends, this is the way the world ends, this is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a …’
You automatically reject anything that’s good. It stresses her.
You’re too soft on her. She enjoys it. Granted, she doesn’t enjoy how slow the process is but she’s finally got the idea of shifting between flow and … what is the opposite of flow?
That will do. Tedium: attending to every word, monitoring every full stop, every apostrophe.
Hmm. Like watching the sunlight on gentle waves compared to sunlight striking the corner of your eye; contemplating beauty while having to peer through and around the shaft?
Well, I wouldn’t put it that way, but alright, it’s all about the light. So why the impatience? Instead of enjoying the process she’s forcing it.
Oh, I agree. Nothing happens if you push too soon, too hard or too late. She’s pushing instead of doing that shallow, puff puff breathing that releases the child. Deep breathing is the light on the waves; the newborn’s scream is sun hitting your eye.
Isn’t she a bit old for the childbirth metaphor and isn’t it time we had a cup of tea?
How about a hot chocolate?
It looks like it’s going to be a long day. Gin and Tonic?
Just the thing.