Now is the winter of our discontent

Well, technically we're past the equinox and in Spring. But it is cold out there, blustery and/or wet. The kind of weather that brings on Seasonal Adjustment Disorder as people are stuck inside and away from friends.

Except oops, we have other reasons for that as well. I've been too cold and lethargic to walk to work (which would help me shake the cold and lethargy...) Still managed to drive down to the shop and put in some practice on the violin.

Walking outside feels like playing one of those stealth games, when you are keeping track of everyone walking near you and moving or pausing or ducking into alleys to keep that safe distance.

I am almost done with the first chapter of the novel. The last scene was when I really ran headlong into some of the challenges of this particular story.

I really miss walking down to work and then being there cutting wood and having lots of time to think on a creative project. It is, paradoxically, harder when you are sitting there at the computer.

Well, anyhow, I hit a place where I needed to make some decisions on dialect.

No, this isn't entirely exaggeration. It does get that deep in casual conversation.

And once again I'm glad I didn't outline. Because I had to juggle names and regional backgrounds and character attributes in order to be rounded characters and yet recognizable to their cultural affiliations and able to do the dialog I needed in order to advance the scene.

And that turned out to be a problem. I've a pair that are the comedy duo of the story; they are constantly bantering with each other. Except one is a Geordie and the other a Scouser and although they can chose to slide Estuary in order that others can appreciate their wit, when they are talking privately to each other it becomes impenetrable. Not to mention time consuming to write.

Here's their first two lines, extremely backed down from what they should be even though they aren't intended to be overheard by others:

“Ee, take a butcher at Widow Twankey,” one of the students murmured to the other.
“We’ve nowt left but the panto horse,” his friend rejoined.

Here's a line that's the pure distilled stuff:

“Boss webs, la,” one of the Wonder Twins sneered at me.

I had to re-arrange parts so that almost never happens. Basically, the first examples are really the furthest I can afford to go with anything but...well, Mick of the Mustaches demonstrating RAF slang at the Imperial. But that's...oh. That's next chapter.

Sigh.

So I re-arranged and re-assigned and chased lots of Steve Limit problems, and also condensed my cast; Stewart/Stu lost his name and all his lines and I don't think "Widow Twankey" has said anything since she gave her real name. It was just too many to keep track of.

I may rethink this all again. The lads are fun, I like having a comic duo, but they would work just as well if they both spoke flawless RP. The confrontation I want Penny to have as she learns exactly what Churchill meant by "...separated by a common language" can happen later and in other contexts.

But I'll wait until I've a couple more chapters completed.