write left write

So now that Bob's feeling so well, I don't need to remember how to leave the UCSF car park.  Right left right isn't necessary information, but for how long it stays in my brain, who knows!  Occasionally I still think of Species 8472; maybe watching Deep Space 9 on DVD for the last few nights keeps the Star Trek inferences afloat.  No better writing on American TV than DS9; tight, meaningful, nothing superfluous.  If sci-fi isn't your bag, ignore the alien prosthetics and let the drama sweep you away.  Masterful how Marc Alaimo as Gul Dukat oozes sincerity toward his daughter Ziyal while plotting to betray their Federation allies.  Melanie Smith's poignancy haunts, torn between her manipulative father and his enemy, Garak, who is one of my favorite DS9 recurring characters.  Andrew Robinson layers a bone-chilling spy with sarcasm and humanity; he doens't understand why Ziyal cares for him, but enjoys any way to dig at Gul Dukat.

Okay, loads of Trek fodder this morning, blame my head cold.  Blame the early hour or Tylenol and antihistamine. Blame the writer in me; I haven't done anything author-like in two days and I'm getting twitchy.  Watching great drama makes me long to return to a project, either in the writing (For God And Country) or editing (September Story, The Thorn And The Rose).  I have been plotting, oh good grief!  Yes, I have another novel spinning, but I've also dealt with real yarns; I made a scarf yesterday, not much else for me to do.  Jay might bring a few friends over for Christmas, and I wanted to have something under the tree for them.  All I did yesterday was crochet, blow my nose, wash my hands, drink tea, repeat.  And watch DS9, savoring crisp dialogue, entwined storylines, great sacrifice, horrendous betrayal.  Under the headpieces and makeup, Deep Space 9 is Shakespeare, set on a space station.

Where are your writing worlds centered?  Most of mine are right here in California, a few in Britain, in modern times.  I've dabbled in sci-fi, For God And Country and In The Blue, but both bubble with ordinary angst, my stock in trade.  DS9 is the same, feuds and camaraderie, love and treachery.  The triumph of good over evil; few characters are as twisted but fascinating as Gul Dukat.  Deep Space 9 mined their secondary cast for all their worth; Alaimo and Robinson, the superb Jeffrey Combs as a smarmy Vorta or a ruthless Ferngi, once playing both roles in the same episode!  J.G. Hertzler stuns as the one-eyed Klingon General Martok; how often do you keep reading due to the recurring personas?  Main characters need a great supporting cast, which DS9 has in abundance.  One of the joys in writing a series was introducing those who fleshed out the story.  Alvin's Farm is about Alvin and Jenny, Sam and Tommie, but without Tommie's wife Rae, Sam's brother Jacob and all the rest, pages would lie empty, the tale falling flat.  I needed more than Alvin, Jenny, Sam and Tommie to fill six books, and yes, juggling a large ensemble wasn't easy, but the reward is great, layers and lives adding to the soup.

I was never a Star Trek TOS fan.  Call it a Shatner-aversion, but Bob brought Star Trek TNG into our lives when the kids were little.  Star Trek and Star Wars cross lines often in our household; I can't stand the last three Star Wars flicks (or are they really the first three?) about as much as I detest the ancient Star Trek episodes.  But give me Deep Space 9 any day of the week, head cold or no.  So much goes into good television (on the other side of the shore, check out Doctor Who, which deserves its own separate post, maybe the next time I get a head cold); tightly woven plots, surprises and honest characterizations.  In sci-fi, faces can distract but nothing disguises bad writing.  When I take in great drama, it ups my game, makes me antsy to feel better, to return to work, yet work is a misnomer.  Anyone who writes knows the truth; passion, desire, need.  I need to get back into the groove, not just wax about it here.  But for now, that's about all I can give, illness and upcoming holidays standing between me and my adored occupation.

Christmas is one of my favorite seasons, this year especially, all my kids (and maybe some extras) home.  Equally I've been blessed with the burning call to create, a bit muted at the moment, but a few episodes have reignited that fire, stoking that flame.  The last couple of nights Bob has dangled decade-old science fiction so close; no telling what tickles the muse, but I'm hoping we'll get a few more episodes tonight.  Thea and Brian will be over for dinner, Bob and Bud commandeering the barbecue, Jay assisting if she doesn't have work.  It's been a strange December, no rain, sunny days the rule.  My evening plan is to sit with family, a burger in hand, more great DS9 on tap.  Not exactly A Miracle On 34th Street, but certainly some of the best TV made in America.  Which will hold us all until Christmas Day, when the other side of the pond's fabulous science fiction hero graces the screen.  But I'll blog about Doctor Who another day...