Music for a nouveau season

Spring is upon us. There’s a few things that tell me this, other than the many posts on social media of flowers and spring and such. For one, I wore shorts for the first time in a long time. It’s warm enough to, the seasons are changing.

I drove to training last night with the windows in my car (not a Pontiac, but it felt like it). It should have been dark, but day light savings mean it wasn’t. It was hot. The sun was shining off the cars still. Lani Hall was blazing from my stereo, and I did give a slight thought to what people would think of hearing bossa nova of all things coming from a car stopped in traffic. To hell with it all though, there were sniffs of summer in there. These are all the things that I imagined for my current writing project.

I just hoped that I’d be a little more through before the weather I was writing about would hit.

I’m at a point where I need to revise draft one of what has been tabled as A Last Call for Drinks. A writing colleague has given me feedback that I was generally fearing myself. Nothing unexpected and it feels good that I’m not the only one thinking it. In short; more, more, more. Which is the way with serial stuff. It has to pop. That’s what I needed for this first one.

Will novella one pop enough to justify risking another four? I hope so. But as much as this is an exploration of if the idea will work, its an investment in writing in different ways for me. I’ve never planned a piece of writing so closely before. And revising, I’m following different ways of doing things as well.

I hope to spend more time with Leo and Marshall. The two have grown on me, and I want to see what other adventures they get into. I just have to make sure others want to share that journey too.

Moreover, I find myself listening to bossa nova music casually, rather than for research. Slowly, the seasons are changing down here, and I find myself closer and closer to the imagined nouveau-Auckland in my mind, where bossa nova is king, and action and excitement are primed on every corner.

Back to writing.

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