Mary Catelli's Erraticly Updated and Exceedingly Ill-Organized Journal

The heroine has to do something while sitting around.

Yes, she's not much help for the wordsmiths working their word magic, but she at the very least  needs to think.  Perhaps that the wordsmiths are more competent at her task that she is.  On the other hand, she has to consider whether they are as dedicated to it as she is.  Which is not, perhaps, as high a bar as it might be.  They are obsessed with it as something to learn, but not something to do something about.

Perhaps she will be tempted by dreams of things she could be doing if only she left it in their hands. . .  

No people.

The heroine is telling a fairy tale, and I know she can't have the main character look for apples to cure the king. Or water to cure the king. Or a firebird which may or may not be needed to cure the king.

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Our hero is returning in triumph from his quest and going from success to success --

No.

He's going success to nerve-wracking attempt to success. It's too long a sequence to carry about without peripeteia. Even haiku and sonnets often have reversals going because it's so powerful a tool.

Denouement is all success but then it's a single scene.

So there was the heroine, at a festivity because she couldn't go to the library.  (it was closed -- there was a festivity!)  And watching a fairy tale play.

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Immediately inspired by some talk about a TV show.  where, of course, there's always the actor problem.  But even in prose. . .

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Was in a discussion of Cursed Child and its flaws. . . . one observation was that in one respect Albus was Slytherin ambitious.

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and just now it's blowing over the heroine, from the sea.  For days.

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Collisions of genres are fun.

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Trying to marry time sequences while plotting out a book retelling fairy tales.

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That primordial plot. . . .
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