A few days ago I dreamed that Theodoric's skull had been found. It was lying on a mossy stone in a wood, and when I got there it was surrounded by a group of kids. Maybe they meant no harm, but they were putting their hands on it and I tried to keep them away. At last I simply took it (luckily the dream glossed over this part - ew) and hid it in a wardrobe.

Hey, I may have nightmares, but you've got to hand it to me that they are creative!

I'm on holiday, and when I'm not sleeping I've been re-reading the novel for the first time after quite a lot. I've realized another reason why lately I've been reluctant to approach it. It's not just feeling detached from Aelfwine's naive mentality. I haven't lost interest either... quite the contrary! I just can't read such a stilted prose. Why on earth did I write it so badly? Too much hurry, or simply the scenes were too clear in my mind and I had to jot them down the way I thought I saw them. Re-reading, with the scenes dimmed a bit in my memory, I've noticed that the words are not enough to create the atmosphere.

So, I've been adding scenes, but also using scissors with abandon. The story is taking shape, the research is almost passable, but now the novel needs a semantic approach. Cut, cut, cut, and leave only the meaningful words. Stephen King in his autobiography/treatise "On Writing" suggests to delete all adverbs. It seems drastic, but sometimes it is necessary. Some examples of cutting:

"Brida's voice was even, tired, almost exasperated." How the hell can a voice be even and almost exasperated? I can hear it shaking a little. Cut even.

"Aelfwine went white as a sheet." White is enough.

"Joanni crossed his arms stubbornly." Cut stubbornly. The action is stubborn enough.

"Aelfwine grimaced and rolled his eyes." What's happening to Aelfwine's face?

"Enough, woman! - Theodoric said curtly." Cut curtly. The phrase already sounds curt.

Then, I was surprised by the way the characters come across. Valeria is undoubtedly the best, the most human and believable. She rocks! She's not Super 5th Century Woman. She constantly shows the painful consequences of her own and other people's actions. Things don't happen in a vacuum for Valeria. She does some pretty stunning things, but they are explained and gradually prepared, they don't come as a surprise.

Aelfwine - meh. Probably I've developed too much the other incarnations of the character, or even his future self at the court. This Original Aelfwine(TM) is nice, sweet, understanding... did I mention nice? Maybe it's because I'm still halfway with reading and so he hasn't gone berserk yet. The jury is still out, but he'd benefit from a rewrite.

Brida has potential, but she has got to lose the Phoebe Buffay dreaminess. She has just one moment of druidic inspiration: when she predicts that Theodoric won't have male children. If she goes into a trance at the drop of a spangenhelm, the power of that first instance goes lost. So I've been making her more practical, but I must take care not to invade Valeria's territory.

Theodoric is a CAD!!! I swear I was convinced I had written him as more chivalrous. He's not - and thank goodness for that, or he'd be an icon. I don't know why but he comes across as the rational one, instead of Aelfwine, who spends his time being nice. The Theodoric Mystique(TM) is just too thick. So I can only welcome his momentary lapses of reason. I'm curious to see how the dynamic between the two evolves in the rest of the novel.

Er... I keep reminding myself that I'm the author... but it's nice to be surprised by one's own work!

That first day, Saturday. we headed straight for the Saints Bankers Kings exhibition. We wanted to fit all that could fit in 3 days, but exhibitions were first in our mind, since they are only there for a short time. I loved the exhibition: I took a lot of inspiration for clothes and accessories. There were even actual shreds of clothes, unbeliveably fine and cleverly woven. Lots of mosaics, the piece of aqueduct tube with Theodoric's stamp which I had found so interesting the other time and a very nice statuary collection. I saw the famous Boethius Diptych (link when I find it), another really fine half diptych of Amalaswintha which happens to stand proudly on our own Amalasuntha's page, and a rare portrait of Athalaric - unfortunately useless for icons and such, because it's very badly mangled.

(It's diptych, Aelfwine, DIPTYCH! Rats!)

I also saw the Senigallia Medallion - or a copy; I'm still in doubt. It's so famous and I was in awe: it's only slightly bigger than my thumb (3 cm), shiny gold, and you can see the details of Theodoric's face even though they are tiny. However, there was a strange dent in the upper right "corner" that I could not decide whether it was a shadow of the support or an actual dent; also, I could vaguely see the back, and couldn't find the clasp made when it was turned it into a brooch. And the catalogue says it's a copy. Oh well: it was an awesome experience all the same.

Finally I saw up close the Justinian mosaic from Sant'Apollinare Nuovo, which I've read repeatedly described as a "made-over" portrait of Theodoric. I still have my doubts but I'll keep them for a future post.

After seeing the exhibition, we paid a visit to Dante's tomb and then ate in a small bar not far from the Orthodox Baptistery.

I had a field day at the Baptistery. We were allowed to take pictures with flash, maybe because the mosaics are so high up? Anyway I documented it as well as I could for "our" King Theodoric who is making the 3D model, but later I would discover that the roll of film had undergone some malfunction... but I was still blissfully unaware of it.

Then we saw the Duomo (alas, nothing of the old Cathedral remains), I made a detour to take a pic of a certain round tower, and sped back to the hotel, that is towards San Vitale and the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia. Note to all tourists: these monuments are best seen in the morning (like I did the other time). The light is perfect in both buildings, it comes through the windows with a magical effect. This is not to say that in the afternoon it was ugly! I paid my respects to Justinian and Theodora and the wonderful starry sky of Galla Placidia.

I don't remember where, but in one of these places I went into bookshop and I got a smallish Ravenna guide. I bought it because it looked very detailed, and later I discovered it was really full of info and useful images. Except for the walls... I will have to make a field trip just to learn about the walls, because this time they were really plagued by bad luck. Also, I want to research Ravenna's round towers. They are not Byzantine, but they are such a typical feature of the town that they would be worth an article.

In the evening we went to the first restaurant that was included in our holiday pack. I suggest it to everybody: Gli Scampi di San Vitale, there are signs pointing to it whenever you get in the vicinity of the church. We ate a million courses of fish, almost all delicious (I personally hate fish with bones, even small, I thought I were choking) and then we rolled back home. I went to sleep for my first night in Ravenna ever, vision of mosaics floating through my head...

I went back to Ravenna last weekend, after so many delays due to a string of bad luck. This time I managed to take my aunt along, who is a fellow conspirator and humours me when I roleplay the whole court in my mind, from the king to the lowliest handmaiden. Last time, alone, it was a blast, pure adrenaline, but it's fun to have an audience when you're inside the Mausoleum of Theodoric trying to juggle a notebook, a measuring tape and a pen which keeps falling and bouncing towards the railing, and your audience deadpans "I just know you're going to drop something inside the sarcophagus", because your hands are shaking inside such a beautiful intimidating place and at the same time you're laughing hysterically at the thought of what he'd think if he saw you like this... well, Sire, it's an expression of esteem, weird though it is!

So I collected data, part of which I lost (bad luck hovers above me), found the hottest weather of Romagna in decades, went back to a soul-killing situation at work, but hell, the capital is FUN. And BEAUTY.

We started about 2:30 pm on Friday, daring the heat to find less traffic on the highway. I drove the Preciousss, with my aunt alternating at the wheel, and at about 6 pm, after a really leisurely trip with two stops, we reached the outskirts of Ravenna. If one is in a hurry, and is lucky with traffic, from the old capital (Milan) to the new it's just 3 hours by car. A little rain made it even more bearable. The landscape around Ravenna has its own peculiar beauty: it's FLAAAT, but full of green and nice little towns and old churches, and the light from the sea permeates everything with its silver sheen, even though the sea is, uh... many miles away.

We had decided to stop for the first night in Cotignola, about 20 minutes by car to Ravenna and to the west, because we were worried we'd be too tired to get to the town itself. But after seeing how easy it is, I think next time we can go straight to Classe (to the south-east), spend the night there and see Sant'Apollinare in Classe first thing in the morning, and maybe the old harbour and the ruins of San Severo, if they can be seen. In Classe on the way back we met an archaeologist who was working on the church and told us it's not open to the public yet, but meeting him was thrilling. What a fascinating job!

Anyway, Cotignola is a delicious little town, like many small centers around there. Lots of trees, a few cars, mostly bycicles and cats. We ate in an incredible small restaurant whose name I forgot (it was inside a commercial center) and the food was great - and they told us there were even better places to eat! Hey, it's Emilia-Romagna. TORTELLINI.

The B&B we stayed in was a lovely familiar thing, with a nice triple room facing the garden (my aunt surmised that I was leaving the blind up a bit to let the smallest cat in - alas, there was a mosquito net) with a kitchen stacked full of homemade cakes and other goodies. So next morning we started fully energized and excited at the thought of finally getting to the capital.

Our Hotel Diana was right beside San Vitale. A very civilised place, which accepts dogs, has a free bar (Aelfie's paradise) and free internet connection (Aelfie's addiction). We had bought a really cheap tourist package including 2 nights at the hotel, 2 dinners in typical restaurants and entrance to the exhibitions and the main Unesco monuments. We expected a hovel, and instead it was almost a palace. The dinners were luxurious and freed us from wasting time looking for a place to eat in the evening. Only the hotel parking lot was a bit expensive, but far safer than leaving the car outside. Though there was really little traffic. I keet wondering how they manage it. Most of the streets around San Vitale are not traffic-free. And yet you see a car every half-hour! AND YET, the monuments and bars and restaurants are packed. Probably it's because the city center is so small that it's just meaningless to go there by car. We had a bit of trouble getting to the hotel because of one-way streets: by mistake I directed my aunt to the Mausoleum of Theodoric (hello, Doctor Freud) but this already tells all, because it's supposed to be the farthest location to visit, apart from Classe, and we got there in 2 minutes. We finally made our way to the hotel, unpacked and we were out in the town! To infinity and beyond!

(to be continued)

I sent a phone text message to a friend and reader, telling her I was writing a short story (not Dragon-related). She wrote back: "About what? Who with? Do they have sex?"

HONESTLY! Do I look like that kind of writer? I, who have managed to write just one sex scene for Dragon, two if we really stretch things with the meadow scene? (both of them with Brida, incidentally)

My answer was: "Yes to all three questions."

DID male Goths wear earrings? Armbands, sure: sagas and poems such as Beowulf often mention kings giving out armbands to their faithful followers. But earrings? Theodoric's earrings in my novel add to his alien quality, without making him effeminate. Also he lived in Byzantium, blah blah. Did the Greeks wear earrings by then? It seems that the baubles you see in the Justinian mosaic and on coins are actually part of the crown. Having the guys wear earrings feels all right to me, also you can't prove a negative, but it bothers me that I have no sources yet. (Horror!) It might be one of the reasons why Valeria is so upset. "Get that weird earring-wearing Goth away from me!"

And what about the necklace? It's slightly more probable that male Goths wore necklaces, but I've yet to find a source of a necklace that can be broken up so that Valeria can sell the silver pieces separately. Of course, Theodoric's Grand Gesture (TM) of tearing it from his neck to pay for her beer looks cool. ("And if you need something else from me, just ask and I'll be delighted to give it to you." Just joking.) I love that he is so decked with jewellery that the ever-lovin' Valeria likens him to "a Mediolanum whore", but still...

Bottom line: be ready to cut it down to armbands if there really are no sources. "Cool" is no reason to be historically incorrect.

When I watched Rome and saw Pullo for the first time, I thought "Oh no, he's Michaél!" And I set out to understand how to differentiate my novel's Michaél from Pullo, so that - guess what - people won't say I copied our one and only Titus.

They are not that similar, after all. Michaél has let himself go a bit and wears long braided hair, but this is incidental (at least in this case, see later). They are both soldiers, though Michaél somehow managed to rise to the rank of centurion - or whatever they had in the 5th century, my research is still lagging. Michaél has some Pullish overtones, but he's not as picturesque, or he'd be the hero of the novel! He doesn't have a special devotion to his unit: actually, he's leaving it forever, I'm not sure exactly why but he's fed up with fighting alongside stupid Goths (he himself is a Gaul, but he feels very Roman next to them). He has no love lost for Odoacer, though he develops a Caesar-like respect for Theodoric, but not enough to follow him. He chooses to stay in the village with his girl, and this too is no Pullo-Eirene romance, but a very quiet thing.

The problem is that Michaél WAS meant to be a much more over-the-top character, in a way that would have clearly differentiated him from Pullo while making him interesting. In the beginning he was modelled after Marshal Michel Ney, who fought for Napoleon and was shot by the Bourbons. Hence the name, that *can* be a 5th century Latin name taken from the Bible but is hell to spell in a way that is not English-sounding (it's pronounced MEE-ka-el - I guess - I'll have to make a Names update soon because I've discovered a basic inconsistency, wheeee, another one!) I had written Ney in a way I really loved in an otherwise ghastly Napoleonic saga. HOWEVER, my Michaél notably does not get shot by the Bourbons, and this entirely changed the character. My centurion has no tragic overtones, he's not even a redhead (one at a time is enough).

I did try to imagine him very devoted to Odoacer, but Odoacer is no Napoleon. Though I admit that Theodoric gives me some Wellington vibes - the snotty, blunt, brilliant aristocrat. What if Wellington had been born a Catholic and led an army of Irishmen to the conquest of the world, instead of remaining a general for the King = the Eastern Emperor? (I just know that someone is going to read this and write an alternate history.) But the main objection to giving Michaél a devotion to Odoacer is that, regarding his sympathy for Theodoric, there would be a quite massive other shoe about to fall when that slight banquet hall misunderstanding takes place at Ravenna 3 years later. Nope.

So Michaél is a bit of a nobody - no Ney, no more a Pullo in a minor key, and not enough of himself. I even tried to give him some Vorenus overtones - nah, he's too large. Characters like Aelfwine and Theodoric resemble nobody; they remotely fit into some of my character types - the innocent intellectual, the damned hero - but they have done a good job of being very much their own men, so much so that in my mind they don't really resemble their "players" in my imaginary movie (as long as Theodoric does not play any more sequel scenes in which he shaves and cuts his hair, because he immediately turns into Major Winters and he gets really impossible to write as a Goth.)

I'll just try to let Michaél go his way and see if he surprises me by turning out interesting after all...

Let's see what TWO pints of beer (see previous entry) can do. I was re-reading the novelization of "The Wrath of Khan" these days. I'm not up to anything more complex, it's so relaxing before going to bed... if I picked up Wolfram's "History of the Goths" I would not understand a word of it anyway. Such memories: I hadn't read that book in years, maybe decades.

How does this relate to my "Dragon"? OK, there's this scene in the book (can't remember if it's in the movie too) where Khan backhands his second-in-command Joaquin. When I read it I jumped a meter into the air. It's identical, word for word, to the scene in "Dragon" where Theodoric backhands WB (the young Goth whose name's spelling I'm not sure anymore of).

Now, my Theodoric is not a murderous madman - usually - and WB is certainly not a subservient minion, but I was really shocked when I realized I had unwittingly taken inspiration from that book. What else is in "Dragon" that I believe entirely my creation and instead was involuntarily copied from, I don't know, some "All my Children" dialogue?

Let's face it, I'll never publish the book, and if I did critics would never talk about it, but if they did, and they discovered I took the scene from "Wrath of Khan", what a let down! I take pains to write like Shakespeare and that's what I get!

(Incidentally I think Vonda McIntyre is one of Star Trek's best novel writers, together with Diane Duane, so I have absolutely no problem with writing like her, but I'd rather do it consciously!)

Anyway, the scene stays. It's an incredibly poignant scene between two friends who are trying to say how much they care about each other and only manage to piss each other off in the worst way. Maybe I'll try to change the wording, just for that random critic who could happen to make the connection. But the writing world is a jungle, a jungle, I say!

One pint of beer got me thinking. In my novel I as an author surely have more sympathy for those who love - even misguided, immature, excessive, possessive love - than for those who are animated by a reasonable, justified, understandable hatred. In real life, I don't know if it is the same.

I thought about my previous work of any length (and still safely locked inside the drawer), "Terra Incognita", a Moby Dick prequel (don't ask). I had recognized that one important theme of it was the presence of love vs. the absence of love. There were perfectly decent characters who in the end got the short end of the stick, and looking closely at it one could see that they were the ones who weren't able to give themselves up to love. Those who did ended up much better. In "Dragon" the duality is much more sharp: it's love vs. hatred.

I don't know if it's a sort of moralism in myself. All my writings are practically subconscious. And all of the above is not so clear-cut after all. In "Terra Incognita", it is strongly hinted that the inability to hate on the protagonist's part will eventually be his downfall. Something I fear for me too, though I hate aplenty - but I don't seem to be able to focus aggressiveness constructively. And in "Dragon" there is not this sort of reward system. The character who feels the strongest, purest love is the one whose fate is the saddest.

Does this mean anything? Do I ever know?

Cheers! Actually there's not much to celebrate... it should be finished by now. A year ago I had finished the draft, and I thought all I needed was historical research. *All*, hah, as though it were easy - but at least it's straightforward: get book, read book, take notes, correct or add in the draft... A work of years, possibly, but at least a tangible work. No, there's much more, that makes me doubt I'll ever get this thing finished.

The plot is ok - I'm pretty satisfied with it, really. Writing it was a blast: I kept surprising myself. I guess it was a massive self-therapy, things coming up that I didn't expect.
The characters, too, make sense. I can only add to make them even more believable, or correct some blunder, but I've seen repeatedly that even when I have doubts the pieces ultimately fall into place as they should.
The air of the times - yes, I think I've got that too. Whenever I read about the conditions, the identity problems, the forces pulling things together or pulling things apart, I feel like I've been there. I could be totally wrong, of course, but that's not for me to say. The best thing would be to submit the novel to a couple of historians when it's almost ready. (That will be tricky... I don't want the kind of historian that could tell me "No contemporary source mentions cats, so there were no cats in the 5th century.")

So where's the problem? Something else has stopped me from doing significant work on my Dragon. The issue of my personal beliefs has grown to scary proportions. I've got to the point that "Dragon" is in danger of becoming the repository of all my rage and frustration, and this is not right. I'm so furious about the modern world right now. I know the whole point of the novel is to provide a commentary on the modern world (on humanity in whatever time, actually) through a 5th century lens, but it must not become a rant.

I keep seeing in the news and in my everyday life the staggering stupidity and cruelty of humanity, and I forget how beautiful it can also be (the theme of my novel). But this inability to see the beauty is in me, it's my depression speaking. I did right giving it to the character of Joanni; but I must not twist and enhance Joanni to the point that he's unbelievable, just because this is my big problem now. Aelfwine IS confused at the end, but I must not make him a nihilist. Aelfwine needs love, agape, but this does not mean that he has to ramble about love in every line of his. I can't keep walking on eggs forever and weighing every Theodoric line because I don't want to become a Theodoric apologist. Good guy, bad guy? Is there a line somewhere?

[snip]

You see? I just deleted some hundred lines of rant about Theodoric and power, because I did not want to get embroiled into that. (I might talk about that when I'm in a better mood...)

I don't have the serenity of mind to tackle these problems. On Saturday, anti-globalists with bombs and covered faces devastated downtown Milan. They attacked a McDonald's with children in it. Lots of wounded. Last night, my parents quarrelled about politics, like they always do. They are not speaking to each other. I'm so tired of fanaticism and petty violence. And when I try to pour this into my novel, it just doesn't work. I don't even know why.

I did write a good Joanni line yesterday, that clarified to me why a certain event had pissed me off. But it feels like an impossible task. Every time this virulent intolerance hurts me, I feel like adding things... they seem so many to add, and will they make sense in the end? I live with my organizer and my palmtop always open, to jot down these thoughts. But it's so random, so slow, so uphill. And I fear my guys and girls are losing their focus.

Or maybe they are gaining more focus... but it's so difficult, so difficult. Not even Aelfwine at the bottom of his desperation, I think, hates the world with the intensity I do.