Dis-Adjectivisation

On the grounds that I still hamper my own ability through a reliance upon adjectives (and the occasional adverb), I'm revisiting that first chapter of Second Fist.

It's interesting to pull them all out and see the difference it makes to the flow of the writing:

Adjectised

We ran the next red, slid across the sweaty tarmac and tore away into the night. The road was ours and though the town’s breath was heavy on our necks we didn’t look back. Behind us the central precinct sprawled like a ruptured wound; picked clean of community and hospitality. And at its concrete heart where the darkness swelled and a poison had taken root, the land had begun to die.

Okay, so there are four adjectives there, though admittedly the second is allowed since we'd otherwise not know what kind of precinct. So, what does it read like without the other three?

Sans Adjectives

We ran the next red, slid across the tarmac and tore away into the night. The road was ours and though the town’s breath was heavy on our necks we didn’t look back. Behind us the central precinct sprawled like a wound; picked clean of community and hospitality. And at its heart where the darkness swelled and a poison had taken root, the land had begun to die.

I can then address further ideas with the new text, namely that third sentence, which now hangs limply at the middle, around the word wound:

Behind us the central precinct sprawled. A wound; picked clean of community and hospitality.

That serves to break up the structure a bit more, puts wound into the mouth of the narrator - more like a direct thought than just a description, and helps increase the pace.

It's a far shine from my original opening, which was desperately clunky:

We ran the next red, slid across the sweaty tarmac and tore away into the night. The road was ours and though the town’s breath was heavy on our necks we didn’t look back. We left behind the labyrinth of roundabouts and diversion signs that surrounded the central precinct and disorientated visitors, who more often than not found themselves lost or returning from where they’d come. Inside that perimeter the town’s hub sprawled like a ruptured wound; picked clean of community and hospitality. And at its concrete heart where the darkness swelled and a poison had taken root, the land had begun to die.

Like a deck of cards...

The admin lady came in this morning with something to give me. Sometime ago I boxed up all my Uni materials for my Degree in IT, my assignments, snatches of worksheets and user guides, and gave it all to the admin lady's daughter. I had no use for them anymore, and she was just starting her degree - it's a great way to shift crap without the hassle of having to dump it yourself.

Anyhoo, the admin lady says, 'I've got something of yours,' and she reminds me that I leant this box of rubbish and how her daughter hadn't taken it to Uni afterall and it's spent the last two years still boxed up... 'Untouched.' She wants to be clear on that point, before presenting me with something she'd pulled from the box last night and wanted to return.

I guess her an her husband were looking to get rid of rubbish and my donation was an easy thing to think about dumping.

She hands over this deck of cards, used, pink cardboard case, has a naked lady on the front and is titled... wait for it... Transexuals.

Which is nice.

How do you convince someone that the cards aren't yours? You can't. There's nothing you can do to avoid the embarrassment, nowhere to look, no place to throw the cards away. You're in work, and you're going red (or at least trying not to, as much as deep breathing will help that), and you're being asked your sexual persuasion.

Even joking about it doesn't help the embarrassment of, 'Well, shucks, I don't know where that's from. It looks used, have you washed your hands?'

Thank God for shredders is all I can say. Why he can't make them accept greater throughput without jamming is beyond me though. We just managed to get them all in before the health and safety lady stopped by.

Transexuals for crying out loud! Transexuals! What do you say to something like that?

'Thanks, my lady-boy-friend was looking for those!'

Staring down the barrel of a 1 day weekend

Up and down. Just been to the dentist - lost my gold award for perfect teeth. I'm brushing too hard and whittling back my gums creating a lovely horse-like grin and a sensitive blush thanks to hot and cold food. Wow! Thanks, me.

You try to do everything right and what do you get? You're just scrubbing your gums to spite your teeth. 'They'll never grow back,' says the dentist... so, cheers for that.

On another note, I just worked this saturday (or rather spent the day reading), and now that my colleague is off this saturday I might have to work then too... and then... and then... I might be starting the NAW course (if none of the other students have read this blog and hate my guts) and will have to work every saturday until the hereafter.

I will have to cancel my every arranged weekend away. Shucks, this sucks. Humpf.

AND, I'm going to have to see the hygenist (though it can't be that important because I have to wait until May).

At least I'm not going to the chiropractor until Thursday. SIGH. But then I'm feeling so very tight... toight, like a toiger!

Ups and downs.