The bad news is that it just started snowing. The good news is I don't have to go anyplace until tomorrow morning. I hope the weather guessers are wrong about how much is coming.
I got first drafts of my logline and pitch down on paper, well, on hard drive. Today I want to search the web for examples of them because I have no clue if I'm on the right track or not. I could use some help. Anybody?
March 7 & 8--Edouard Manet, Monet in His Floating Studio. Each year, Vera and Ed couldn't wait until the nighttime temperature stayed above fifty degrees in the spring. As soon as it reliably did that they would be off to live on their little houseboat down on the river. It wasn't much; maybe half the size of the barges that plied the wide, slow-moving river but it was all they needed. The main room did duty as their living room and dining room with the kitchen tucked into a corner. Vera was a creative cook whipping up delicious meals with just a handful of things she tossed into the pot. The bedroom had just enough room for their queen-sized bed with a shared dresser at the foot and hooks on the walls for their clothes. Forward of the cabin Ed had mounted a frame of metal poles that Vera had covered with a canvas roof and she attached full length canvas curtains that could be drawn closed or tied back. It was under this canopy that Ed set up his easel. After breakfast each day while Vera cleared up the dishes and made a salad to marinate for their lunch, Ed would untie the houseboat from their overnight mooring and move them to a new spot. he watched for birds and blooming things to lead them to a place where he would wring at least one painting out of the atmosphere or the view.
I like this. I'll come back to this one. Actually, I'd like to be either Vera or Ed right now, floating lazily down a shady river, rather than watching the falling snowflakes get closer together and fall faster. Snow. Ptooi.
--Barbara
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