Pantherwife: Assorted Throat-Clearings

I'm compelled by reason of my loquacity and self-importance to preface what follows with some words--not of explanation, but somewhere in that general vicinity.

Some of you may recall that in an earlier iteration of this blog I wrote a thing called The Marigold Woman, which was part freewriting and part experimental storytelling and a whole lot of intentionally obscure prose. I won't try to summarize it, but it was essentially an unabashedly allegorical snippet of autobiography (make of this what you will).

Then a metaphorical piano fell on me. I didn't realize at first what had happened, but events clarified themselves after a delay of roughly eighteen months, and the upshot was that try as I might I couldn't write more Marigold Woman. I made attempts. I tried to write Book II, and Book III. I tried writing entirely different stories about small animals and undergardeners and all sorts of things. Nothing stuck.

Well, here we are in 2017, and I'm stubborn. I miss the free-flowing nonsense of the Marigold Woman. Things have changed and I feel myself beginning to come back to myself, with all that implies for my creativity.

Also, I've decided to work my way through Ursula K. Le Guin's Steering the Craft, and I need a framework to help me not get stuck on the exercises.

All that to say that I'm calling my nonsense The Pantherwife now, and the cast of characters is not much changed and the conceits of the prose will probably alter but little--and I have no idea what will come of it all.

So there's that.

More to come shortly.

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