Climbing Plot Mountain

I can tell I'm getting geared up to work on another story; the need to research has returned.

This story, the one I'm planning to work on for novel_in_90's next round, which begins June 1, is about pirates. And botany. (And, unlike a certain other naval series (of which I have only read two books, quite deliberately, so as not to tread on toes), this particular botanical adventure features the botany as an integral portion of the plot, not just a series of character-building interludes.) And the realities of life in the Caribbean in the early 1700s.

Which realities include malaria and a batch of other lovely tropical diseases, but it's the ever-present malarial fevers that I was researching this past week. In keeping with my habit of inflicting nasty things on my characters, I've got one who recently contracted the disease and is now having to deal with the feverish unsteadiness that comes with it. He'll realize he's been afflicted soon enough - though not what he's afflicted with, as that bit of scientific knowledge hadn't yet arrived on the scene. It'll be my secret, mine and the audience's.

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The CD I recently commented on purchasing for the express purpose of getting my mind ready to write this book - Rogue's Gallery, a collection of Pirate Ballads, Sea Songs, and Chanteys - has been on my playlist a lot lately. There are some very fine renditions on there: Blood Red Roses (Sting), Fire Down Below (Nick Cave), Bully in the Alley (Three Pruned Men, I kid you not). There are also some truly lewd lyrics (Good Ship Venus, by Loudoun Wainwright III, on the second disc) and some very weird things (Dan Dan, by David Thomas) that defy description. I haven't really had a chance to give a thorough listen to the second disc, as a matter of fact, because I've been listening at work and that second disc is by no means work safe. *g*

At any rate, if you or someone you know enjoys honest sea-themed songs, this is a good collection, if uneven to my ear. I think I'd have preferred the lewd stuff safely tucked onto just one of the discs, instead of scattered amongst the other, gentler songs. The effect is sort of like stepping from the front parlor into a whorehouse.