"Without bones you'd be just a puddle of skin and guts on the floor."
If we were to look at an outline as the bones of a story, our own natural logic is more than enough to pick up the lesson. However, it has been tickling my mind lately how I could have multiple tasks for my outline (or in this case, outlines) that would be much more useful to me than just a place to hang up the "skin and guts." Which forced me to do a little research to back up the theory, since the Professor is still locked up in his laboratory and refuses to be bothered with impertinent questions.
"The only reason we even know he’s still alive, is that the food disappears from the trays we leave outside his door."
"And such noises!"
A bit more information than we need in this blog, ladies. I hope we don’t have guests. Now, back to this theory on outlines. On closer investigation it turns out that a skeleton is not just some rack upon which we hang ourselves, it is a veritable community of living parts. So well organized that, at first glance, one only notices that familiar hobgoblin of a person who either makes us laugh or scares the daylights out of us. It isn’t unless one scrutinizes that we find out it is a myriad of little things working together better than a well-oiled machine, yet each is doing their own peculiar job. That being the case, it might behoove me to look at my outline with an eye toward whether or not it has the right components included in it to bring a story to life. Hmmmm…
I can see right now it’s going to take more than a morning to figure out just what those components are. So, I suppose I’ll just think of them tomorrow.
"What -- did she leave again? Now, what are we supposed to do?"
"The only thing we can do, Lilly. We sit in Casablanca and wait. And wait. And wait."
What’s happening on the farm today: Pops is on the roof this morning, hammering and pounding away as he builds a covered porch outside the Livingstone guest room. The curiosity room is quite finished except for hanging up all the curiosities, and the kitchen window-seat (with its country French windows that open IN to let the outdoors inside) turned out absolutely charming. If it gets any better around here, nothing less than a boat could entice me away this summer.