Dead Birds

We are not going to devote this blog entirely to our mental vomit, although there will undoubtedly be an abundance of it. This blog will henceforth have an ongoing theme: our creative progress and our artwork (once again we steal our ideas from Random). It is also devoted to the observations we make, which are generally of our surroundings. Yes, we are just over the Mason-Dixon, and yesterday we watched a compelling documentary about the South, and now we are intrigued by it, instead of just amused and mildly repelled. In other words: while we're not whining about our peers and Southern tradition, we'd like to stick to the theme of our artwork and its development. We started writing this because we have the most awe-inspiring idea for a novel; the most deliciously brilliant idea, and today, for the first time, we actually began writing it, and got off to a start that we did not immediately dismiss as pure crap. Not immediately. The first chapter is called "The Dead Bird", and it is actually about a dead bird. The dead bird is a genius plot device to introduce our main character as a child. It came to us in a moment of madness this morning, as we were listening to our ancient Blues compilation tape. This ancient Blues compilation tape is currently the inspiration for our novel - and we've only listened to side A. We dreamed up this dead bird because we are passionately against introducing the main character first. So passionately that we will linger on the most trivial details or entirely expendable characters in order to delay introducing them. In the case of this story, we are willing to linger on a peripheral character named Mother Hubbard and a bird corpse. Oh, the lengths to which we will go...