Two scraps from the Cynthia story
Feb. 15th, 2010 12:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alicia_hThese are two scraps I wrote earlier this week from the Cynthia Lennon story I talked about in my previous post. I haven't read them through or edited them much beyond what I usually do when I'm toying with a burst of story inspiration.
The first scrap will become the first scene and the second will probably fall about towards the end narrative-wise (if not linear timeline-wise). At the moment I'm thinking about the whole thing being three chapters ending with a scene that revealing without a doubt who Cyn has fallen in love with but keeping it as ambiguous as I can up to that point.
Cynthia was sorting out her post from America. The scribbled songs she kept in her bag so that she could read and learn them in any spare minute. The ones/notes that read like love letters, she hid in very secret places and opened only when she was alone. And the ones from her husband she kept by her bedside to pour over when she woke to a half empty bed.
-----
When he asked her about Joan, she answered a little over enthusiastically, as even she realised eventually. At one point she had to force herself veer off the course of praising Joan's heavenly singing, expert guitar skills and magnificent tresses shining dark hair… and that lead to the revelation that Dylan had been there.
"But what was I saying? The song, yeah. One of the most beautiful things I've heard. It was one of Bob's. He wrote a load of them, even while I was there it was like he got about 50 done in just that time. And of course Joanie was right on top of it, learning them right away. Stealing them pretty much."
Cyn paused to laugh. She hadn't wanted to mention Bob's presence at Joan's house for a number of reasons but it was probably better this way than carrying on listing all the things she admired about Joan. Though it might have been interesting to see where she'd have gone after the hair. The picture came immediately to her mind and Cyn concluded that it would not have gone over well at all. The image lingered a few moments longer while she appreciated it in the privacy of her own mind.
John had meanwhile been mulling over his wife's monologue. "On first name terms, eh?" He said with a tone both sarcastic and curious. "What's he like?"
"Interesting," Cyn said simply, her focus still distracted.
"Sounds about right."
One thing I've just remembered is that I wrote another thing with Cyn/Joan set at the end of 1967 at a Christmas dance that I essentially finished the first draft of but haven't done anything else with. I shall have to have another look at that one some time this week. :-)
The first scrap will become the first scene and the second will probably fall about towards the end narrative-wise (if not linear timeline-wise). At the moment I'm thinking about the whole thing being three chapters ending with a scene that revealing without a doubt who Cyn has fallen in love with but keeping it as ambiguous as I can up to that point.
Cynthia was sorting out her post from America. The scribbled songs she kept in her bag so that she could read and learn them in any spare minute. The ones/notes that read like love letters, she hid in very secret places and opened only when she was alone. And the ones from her husband she kept by her bedside to pour over when she woke to a half empty bed.
-----
When he asked her about Joan, she answered a little over enthusiastically, as even she realised eventually. At one point she had to force herself veer off the course of praising Joan's heavenly singing, expert guitar skills and magnificent tresses shining dark hair… and that lead to the revelation that Dylan had been there.
"But what was I saying? The song, yeah. One of the most beautiful things I've heard. It was one of Bob's. He wrote a load of them, even while I was there it was like he got about 50 done in just that time. And of course Joanie was right on top of it, learning them right away. Stealing them pretty much."
Cyn paused to laugh. She hadn't wanted to mention Bob's presence at Joan's house for a number of reasons but it was probably better this way than carrying on listing all the things she admired about Joan. Though it might have been interesting to see where she'd have gone after the hair. The picture came immediately to her mind and Cyn concluded that it would not have gone over well at all. The image lingered a few moments longer while she appreciated it in the privacy of her own mind.
John had meanwhile been mulling over his wife's monologue. "On first name terms, eh?" He said with a tone both sarcastic and curious. "What's he like?"
"Interesting," Cyn said simply, her focus still distracted.
"Sounds about right."
One thing I've just remembered is that I wrote another thing with Cyn/Joan set at the end of 1967 at a Christmas dance that I essentially finished the first draft of but haven't done anything else with. I shall have to have another look at that one some time this week. :-)
