It would appear from the number of posts which have not been appearing here that I am wallowing in a slough of idleness.  Which does sound remarkably pleasant.  I do think sloths may have the right idea. 

However, this is not so. 

I have been working. 

And finding as I write…that’s three main characters (one quite literally in the North Sea, one in the northeast of Scotland and in possession of firearms, and one in Bohemia–modern day Czechoslovakia–on his way to Prague) all busily pursuing their own agenda…that I haven’t done nearly enough research.

Because there have been so many new works of exemplary erudition come out in the last six months, explorations of life on the ground–life on the streets of Paris during the weeks and months before Napoleon’s denouement–or what it was to be a boy in the Royal Navy circa 1812, and all sorts about Russia’s opposition to Napoleon’s plans for world domination.  (Is is possible that at last someone–namely the Russians–is taking on this great PR lie that Napoleon was a good thing?) 

And I need to read them all.  At least by yesterday.

Yet, when I’m not writing and getting the three protagnists’ words of wit and wisdom down onto the page, they sulk.  (More specifically, they drink to excess, fantasise incessantly about getting laid, or kick tin cans against the inside of my brain, respectively.) 

This is the grown-up version of a child’s secret friend phenomenon.  And let me assure you, it’s twice as inexplicable and thrice as much fun.  And like the child’s phenomenon too, it’s incurable. 

Though it does, I’m assured, produce great reads.  Let’s hope so.

This entry was posted in Writing.

5 comments on “Idleness…

  1. Don’t tell me about the reading!
    I’m half way through Mark Urban’s Rifles AND Schaumann, read the intro to Roy Adkins’ Trafalgar, as well as dipping in and out of an American’s thesis on the Peninsular cavalry. Haven’t opened Zamoyski’s 1812 yet.
    And if you add in trying to remember which Pole led which wave of Chevaux-Legiers against which gun battery up the Somosierra pass – the chapter I’m trying desperately to get a grip of – grrrr.
    It’s doing my head in!

    • M M Bennetts says:

      I feel your pain. Ha ha. (Though not about Urban’s Rifles–I thought that quite brilliant. And illuminating. Especially the officers’ views on which nationality made the best fighting soldier.)

      But perhaps this will help–I’ve just finished wading through forty-two pages of Metternich’s diplomatic double-crossing and manipulation over the Frankfurt Proposals and his refusal to countenance an invasion of the right bank of the Rhine and the Low Countries by Gneisenau following the Battle of Leipzig. My current plan to relieve my stress over this arrogant waste of an opportunity is to have the rotter dug up so that I can do a Cromwell on him. That’d show him.

      • P’raps he knew Gneisenau would wriggle out of taking any responsibility if things went awry.

        But rather you than me, mate – especially the dismemberment. Mind you, he should have lost his smell by now.

  2. Just realised that ‘Up Somosierra’ sounds like a bad Frankie Howard series.

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