Tsarry Night

Good progress yesterday. I got the opening “crystal mist” scene done, and a second scene that has paved the way to the ballroom scene I plan to write this morning. Discovering a ballroom scene was an unexpected delight. I love to write about parties; they’re loaded with pocket dramas and now that I’m getting familiar with the characters, there’s potential for all sorts of fun and games.

A few blanks have been filled in, as well. Without offering any spoilers, Andrei’s younger brother is named Yuri. I can’t yet tell if he’s a good guy or a bad guy, but he’s a snappy dresser so maybe that’s a hint. There’s something dark about him, though it could be nothing more than sibling rivalry. If not for an accident of birth, he might have been the Tsar.

That’s another thing. The story’s working title is “The King’s Man”, but it turns out that the piece is set in a period styled after Imperial Russia. Dress swords and military braid, empire waists and lots of fur. I don’t know much about Russian history (so where is this coming from???) except that the head cheese was known as the Tsar rather than the King. I could change the title to “The Tsar’s Man”, but it doesn’t sound quite right. “Tsarry Night” sounds worse. The title stays as is for now, as telling the story is more important.

Of equal import, however, are the writerly accoutrements. My sense is that Imperial Russia calls for black tea, but I don’t drink black tea while I’m actually writing. Black tea is reserved for my afternoon break. Drat. Good thing I’ve topped up my stash of gyokuro imperial green—hey, it’s got the word “imperial” in its name, so maybe it applies after all!

I’m writing to the “Ritual” CD by cellist/composer Adam Hurst. The first track blew me right into the middle of a Russian winter, which has set the tone nicely. If I can wait out the city works truck that’s growling and banging outside my window, I’m hoping for as successful a session today as I had yesterday.

Since I’m also on vacation, I’m taking this afternoon off to stroll into the village for pistachios, “Passages” and a paleta—the pistachios are part of an energy bar that Ter asked me to get for her, “Passages” is a movie that Boy Sister asked me to view so we can discuss at our next Philosophy Quest, and paletas are simply artisan Popsicles (“paleta” is Spanish for “on a stick”) that are made in town and so freaking good that I dream about them. I can grab one at the local market and enjoy it on the walk home.

I almost always feel incredibly fortunate. Today I feel it a thousandfold. My quantum physics test is working in my favour—but that’s another post. Right now, I’d better blend up my smoothie and get to work.

From pseudo-Russia with love,