Leap Day has a special significance in the time thriller I'm reworking/editing. The entire novel works in a backward time sequence until the chain of events began, an unraveling of sorts for all the characters involved. Every four years, the six (thus the minty-new title, Six) men and their families would gather and celebrate until dawn for reasons too long-winded to share here. After my love interest's mother died, these celebrations turned dark and debaucherous--ooh, word of the day! And on this dark day, leap day 1980, the chain of events began. Thus is the climax of Six. It would have been synergistic with the universe to hit edits on that part today, but alas, I am nearing only midpoint. I hope to reach Six's leap day by early April.
If you're in the same mood I am today, head back to this post and remember the goodness that is Matthew Goode in Leap Year. I must confess to being on a bit of a streak with him after watching Brideshead Revisited this week, but it seriously screwed up my character dialogue for a hour afterward. Everyone was suddenly British and walking about saying, "Piss off!" I switched to Alan Alda in Same Time, Next Year. At least Alan won't mess with my character's dialogue. Unless, of course, they all start wanting to talk about their feelings. What man does that anyway? An accountant, no less! The closest my accountant gets to his feelings is when he talks deductions. Makes Alan's character a bit unrealistic, I'm afraid. Love you, Alan.
Also on my mind this week is Linda. Now, anyone who grew up in Denver and has, at some point, gone to the art museum there knows Linda. She is an incredibly lifelike sculpture of a beautiful, mostly-nude woman at rest by artist John DeAndrea. Sadly, she is comprised of a polyvinyl that has not aged well and breaks down in light, so she is sequestered most of the time now. I remember seeing her for the first time on a school field trip. Right around the same time, I was also researching self-hypnosis techniques, so I hung onto her when I needed to imagine myself a clear glass form, filling with water and emptying. I still do when I have something toxic that I can't seem to shake. In this revision, I'm happy to say she is part of it. A picture hardly does her justice. Standing close enough to see her eyelashes, you can't imagine that she won't gulp a breath and open her eyes.
Friday: P90x for the Vortex: Principle 2