The writing begins

Two shots of the fountain in the new Italian garden under construction at U of G Arboretum


Tendril has resumed in earnest. Last night I spent two hours crafting two paragraphs, only to reject them. This evening I replaced them with two shorter ones. Previous work gets Word-hidden for reference. Slow progress is fine. The luxury of time is delicious.

I've decided I like William Gibson. His style is obtuse, but deep enough to sink my teeth into. I'm reading Pattern Recognition.

While writing, I won't discuss Tendril in detail. The awkward, adolescent process demands privacy. The final product will barely resemble the first draft written two years ago. I make an exception for Marian. She inspired this story, the same way Alice Liddell inspired Wonderland. She'll be my sounding board.

Dionne Brand mentioned that What We All Long For is narrated by the city of Toronto. I wouldn't have realized it, but it makes sense. I told this to Marian on the phone tonight. The point of view is broad, compassionate but impassive, sometimes stepping back for a long view of a character's life, the way Alfred Hitchcock's camera sometimes withdraws from a scene.

"Guess what point of view I've decided to narrate this story from," I said.

Without a moment's hesitation, she knew the answer.