Hypercompendia

I’m done.  No, I’m not.  I’m done.  No, I’m not.  I’ve never been so unsure. 

Going through the architecture of this piece, brick by brick, I find a question, a gap in the mortar so to speak:  Who is Andrew?  Why’d Anne marry him–if, in fact, she did? Why back to Boston?  Why not hang out with the seagulls and collect shells on the beach for a while?  Why not make peach wine?

So a thread and a loop.  And another piece of the story fits together.  Even as I study the map view of the narrative, I try to relate to the title boxes.  Here’s where I might have been more astute in matching the ideas of the stories through the title of each Writing Space.  Planning for the reader instead of suiting my own thoughts as a writer (I’ll kneel before Barthes tonight to make restitution).

The titles I’d placed were to jog my mind as to where they played in whose story.  They were my own little made-up ‘spark’ words to be easily recognizable…by me.  In the frameshop, I do this regularly.  Forget what Matisse or Dali named his piece, they’re something else entirely to me.  And God help me if ever the proud grandmother reads upside-down on my workbook "ugly child with monkey or younger brother."

But it’s really too late (no it isn’t, I’m just lazy) to change titles now because while the main links are automatically corrected, I don’t think the text links and the guard fields are and that’d be a holy mess to unravel.  In Map View anyway; it’d likely be an easier task in Outline or Chart.  Gotta decide if the whole piece is worth it or if it’s time to move on soon.