Today I cut down a tree.
This may seem rather hypocritical given my recent distress over similar shenanigans by the city council (I can feel Treebeard and Dogmatix looking at me reproachfully), but hear me out.
Mr Cornelius Recites
“I have lived in Valley Fields all my life, and would not live anywhere else if you offered me a million pounds.”
“I won’t.”
“I was born in Valley Fields, Mr Shotter, and I love the place, and I am not ashamed to say so.”
“‘Breathes there a man with soul so dead,'” inquired Mr Cornelius. “‘Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose heart hath ne’er within him burn’d as home his footsteps he hath turn’d from wandering on a foreign strand?'”
“Ah!” said Sam. “That’s what we’d all like to know, wouldn’t we?”
A Question of Prologues
I am deep in the entrails of The Wound of Words Draft Three, and I have come to a crossroads. Care to help me decide which way to go?
Now, some people love prologues, some people hate them, and some, for reasons I am unclear on, just skip them. Some part of my mind insists that a short double prologue is just what is needed, so I wrote one. But what do you think?
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