Said about Sylvia Plath. I always thought of Plath as "that woman who wrote suicide peoms," but what a misstatement. I checked out a book of hers, for what reason I'm not sure, and it's no surprise she won a pulitzer. She was crazy full of talent. And also depression, apparently. But she wrote really a lot of beautiful, strong things.
It's, what, eight days after I announced I was nearly at the midpoint of my book, and three days since I announced I had the hero at the mouth of the villain's lair, and I still haven't gotten through the middle yet. This whole conflict thing is more complicated than it looks. I know what happens at the end, so I have to somehow create a sequence of events where they don't die, but they still lose, and plant enough clues for them to figure out both his weakness and his evil plan. No wonder most villains are all taunting and talkative. It makes the author's job so much easier. Well, my villain isn't very talkative, and my hero only has a very limited sort of ESP, so it's difficult. I think in the end they're going to have to risk their necks on a ridiculous - sounding hypothesis simply because it's all I can think of and the world is about to end.
Well, my consolation is this: I've started typing it up (I want to have plenty of back up copies in different places before I lay it aside for the school year), and I might have more pages than I thought.
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