The Ghost of Christmas Past
Dec. 19th, 2008 03:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smokingbootChums might be wondering why my talk is all bubble gum right now.
Why do I want Bond street and expensive perfumes and pointless shallow prettiness?
Well, apart from liking those things, I've been working on a story for which I've been getting help from the stories and histories of London. It's meant to be a horror story, and instead is just drearily horrific. But it's London all right, I know it so well it's as if I remembered it.
As with everything I write re London, the synchronicities that emerge are more interesting than the tale told. I've also been getting a little help from Messrs Blake, Hogarth and Punch, a curious but gifted combination. Even their prodigious talents cannot rescue my story, which is horrid only because of what human beings do rather than any supernatural monstrosity. I would like to put it on here for people's opinions, but at 4000+ words it's too long for lj. So it sits among my documents like the skeleton of Bill Sykes with a Santa hat on, white pompom dangling below his gumless grin. I'm glad I finished it, but I'm desperate for some Christmas cheer. Now is far kinder than yesteryear. Time for the Christmas tree! I demand eggnog!
Why do I want Bond street and expensive perfumes and pointless shallow prettiness?
Well, apart from liking those things, I've been working on a story for which I've been getting help from the stories and histories of London. It's meant to be a horror story, and instead is just drearily horrific. But it's London all right, I know it so well it's as if I remembered it.
As with everything I write re London, the synchronicities that emerge are more interesting than the tale told. I've also been getting a little help from Messrs Blake, Hogarth and Punch, a curious but gifted combination. Even their prodigious talents cannot rescue my story, which is horrid only because of what human beings do rather than any supernatural monstrosity. I would like to put it on here for people's opinions, but at 4000+ words it's too long for lj. So it sits among my documents like the skeleton of Bill Sykes with a Santa hat on, white pompom dangling below his gumless grin. I'm glad I finished it, but I'm desperate for some Christmas cheer. Now is far kinder than yesteryear. Time for the Christmas tree! I demand eggnog!
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