So, I took a quiet sort of Sunday. I read Spalding Grey's "It's a Slippery Slope" in the bath. (I have a wall of books people have given me to read. I have a vague feeling that the Spalding Grey was a birthday present from someone a few years back. I enjoyed it, although Grey works best in performance.) I had one daughter assistant-director-and-stage-managing a play, another off at the Minnesota Orchestra Children's Concert, and (after sticking diving sparrowhawk stickers, bought last week at the Raptor Centre, on some of the windows that songbirds tend to kill themselves bumping into) I went out and bought a notebook to work on the current movie script. (The one for the Big Hollywood Director.) Trying to get my head around a structure that covers a life in flashback at the same time that we go through a week of the protagonist's life. It's the kind of structure that only gets to be 3-act in retrospect. If you see what I mean. So, as I said, I bought a lined notebook (It says COMPOSITION on the front, and looks terribly serious) and spent much of today telling myself the story.
This evening I read Chapter 11 of Terry Pratchett's The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents to Maddy. It's the big climactic chapter that had her first whimpering, then sniffling, and finally cheering. Really lovely book. Beautifully written, and wise. Buy it for someone nice for Xmas.
There. And before I post this -- I'll block it all and copy it. Which will mean that it will all work just fine. You'll see.