The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes

All right, just to start, I’d like to say I appreciated the recommendation. It was everything I was told it would be–a kind of love story between a highwayman and an innkeeper’s daughter, with beautiful language evocative of a horse’s gallop. Fantastic as an example of well-crafted verse.

But, oh my goodness is Alfred Noyes’ “The Highwayman” the worst kind of pointless, shoot-the-shaggy-dog, what-the-hell-did-I-just-read glorp.


I don’t really mind a story in which everyone dies, not necessarily. But when everyone dies to no effect, pointlessly, and for no reason? Seriously?

I want my five minutes back. Blech.


About 1300 typed words yesterday. I realized after the fact there’s another layer to what I’m trying to imply, but it shouldn’t be hard to add after-the-fact, if I can just remember. (A character is going to be really stretched for money, but doing everything in her power not to give the first sign. My POV won’t realize this, but I need to add a hairline crack in the facade or two.)

I’ve got an interview on Thursday for a new position. Wish me luck!

Have a sketch.



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