I need to eke out a writing rant, which I can do over here in the corners. Because one kind of writing is doing well, while the other is not really doing at all. And I have so many stories squriming all over my head and pages like the big black grubs in the compost bin.

It all comes back to the Tower, that Tower, tall and blinking and leering madly at me, fearing its finish but demanding it at the same time and oh...

the conundrum between finishing it, and letting it go.

I am not going to destroy it, that is certain. That always happens. Whenever you have a great big tower stretching to heaven and aye, the traditionally acceptable and satisfactory thing to do is smash it to the ground, punish the pride, and dance in the wreckage. But that's not my narrative. For reasons of my own, I want the Tower to be unbroken and... well, perhaps not unblooded, but unbroken. The Tower will endure, like so many things, because people all the time be wanting to destroy these bloh black edifices, but they can't. They linger in the landscapes like broken teeth, and nothing to come in and clear them away. Well I'm tired of out-pulling, ostritching, and turning a blind eye. I want to crown mine.

After all, that's what Kingship is for, and kingship kingship... it is a lingering disease. As they say, once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen of Narnia.

Or whatever.

<<agé chose>>

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