'WELL, WELL, WE HAVE MADE A BEGINNING.'

Yes, I've used a quote from "The Adventure of the Creeping Man" and an illustration from the opening of A Study in Scarlet, an odd mixture of time and temperament, but the two together seem to fit my thoughts today. Beginnings and combinations are on my mind. I've been working on a Sherlock Holmes pastiche for a week now.  Due to the story being set over a few days in March prior to the ill-fated trip to Switzerland, Watson's participation must be minimal if the mixture of time and temperament is to align closely enough with the beginning of "The Adventure of the Final Problem." 

The final problem for me, then, becomes how to tell the bulk of the story without Watson but still have Watson involved in some way. The Canon has two fine examples of this with "The Adventure of the Musgrave Ritual" and "The Adventure of the 'Gloria Scott'" but I want Watson to have a little bite of the action, something he does not get in these two examples.

I decided to write the story backward. The story opens as Watson comes in at the very end of the case (at Holmes's request) to play a part in the exciting bit, and then we retire to Baker Street for Holmes to explain all that came before.  The exciting bit practically wrote itself. It works. But, the what-came-before explanation is proving to be a challenge. The old maxim of "show, don't tell" becomes very important to make this part work well and I would like to avoid a long stream of double quote marks.

Last night, as I sat at the desk without a clear direction for my story, I was thumbing pages in the Canon (looking for inspiration or, failing that, to be entertained) and I thought about something the wonderful Bob Katz said yesterday at the meeting of the Crew of the Barque Lone Star. He mentioned that when he prepares a story discussion, he always looks closely at the very beginning of the story because so much of what really matters can usually be found there. 

As it happened yesterday, the entire twenty minute discussion period for "The Adventure of the Three Students" focused on the very beginning of the story, and the discussion could probably have gone on for another twenty minutes. I found it fascinating how he separated out the opening elements of what is not generally considered to be a very interesting story and made those short paragraphs worthy of a lively discussion. 

I wondered if I could find unexpected treasure in the beginning of a story that I don't particularly care for. As I dislike "The Mazarin Stone" the most, I started there. In my memory, there was only thing of value in that entire story. Holmes tells Watson:

 "And you will, for you have never failed to play the game."

I love that line and keep it close to my heart. I wondered what else might be there in the immediate beginning that I have not given enough thought to or appreciated?

OK, maybe this: the part about being pleased to dine at "Seven-thirty, the day after tomorrow" is funny and memorable. (Although my memory somehow wants to put it with the "By Jove! my dear fellow, it is nearly nine, and the landlady babbled of green peas at seven-thirty" in 3STU.) 

The Watson-never-failing comes in at about the 1850 word mark. It is a little far out to be considered part of the very beginning of a 6280 word story. The pleased-to-dine charmer is at the beginning, only 240 or so words in. In between (about 520 words) we have the wonderful line from the "young but very wise and tactful page" about Sherlock Holmes: 

 "Mr. Holmes always knows what there is to know."

Even with these three lines, I still don't find much to be interested in. I don't think I could talk about the opening for twenty minutes. Once Holmes joins the conversation three paragraphs on from the page's clever remark, the story's down-hill trajectory picks up speed, aided by the stilted dialogue and ridiculous prank staging. 

Bob Katz could make something interesting of this opening. I don't think I can. Perhaps if the story had been narrated by Watson it might have been more readable. Maybe. On the bright side, I was reading the story within Klinger's "The Sherlock Holmes Reference Library," and the notes are well worth reading again even if the story itself is mostly unpalatable. 

The time was well spent even if it didn't result in any movement forward on the beginning of the end of my own story. Today I will read MUSG and GLOR again to study how Arthur Conan Doyle structured a flashback story, and I will read LAST again to study how he structured a good  story (as opposed to MAZA) without Watson or Holmes as narrator. 

Mostly this brings me back to a quote from Vincent Van Gogh that I always keep by my writing desk where I can see it:

"I keep making what I can't do yet in order to learn to be able to do it."