What's all this then?

Well I still love Branagh's Henry V the best.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cRj01LShXN8&feature=related

Admittedly his protrayal was the first to which I was exposed, so I'm accordingly biased, but somehow his performance finally got accross to me the sheer realism of Shakespeare. By that, I guess I mean that he made me feel that the words were more than that. That they were history.

I suppose I should include a link to that "other" performance of the St. Crispin's Day speech for compaison (at least to provide evidence that I'm aware of it). So here you go.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3jXFnQUU7yg&feature=related

And then, as far as that topic goes, I should probably just leave it. I'm no scholar, I'm not particularly literary, I'm not a writer, I'm no-one really. But far too often I'll find myself reading some blog or other (usually for the first time) and finding myself boldly replying with strong passionate albeit naive opinions which I really have no solid basis for having, let alone putting out there for all to see as if I was some sort of authority on the matter.

So Branagh is a God and Olivier Sucks. Is that what I'm saying? Heaven's no. I'm saying I like one thing and not the other. What I wish I understood better was why?

So, to the title of this first post. What exactly is this? Well its supposed to be a blog about the written word. Mostly fiction. Most likely and often to be introspective crap about my attempts to produce said written word. I may, and hopefully will, wander around and grab material (links, what have you) from people I admire: Isaac Asimov, Orsen Scott Card, Stephen King, Terry Goodkind, William Shakespeare, to name a few. And perhaps I'll stumble across those things which keep me from actually becoming a writer and fix them.

The name Galled Rock? Well it would be cool if I could say that the metaphor of the galled rock from the once-more-into-the-breach speech (also from Henry V) had always stirred something in me, or some such nonsense. But the truth is, I simply had a terrible time coming up with an available blog name. I've been really annoyed at myself for quite some time regarding my failure to simply start writing loudly and often. Writer's write after all, do they not?

But somehow today, on my way home from work I made the bold decision to go ahead and create my own blog, not unlike every other person on the planet at this point, or so it seems. I knew I was going to start right out with some sort of Shakespeare thing since I seem to like to go back to his material the way OSC likes to return to the Book of Mormon. But the sad truth is, I really don't know Shakespeare much at all and I would hate to give the impression that I've actually studied his works. I have not.

So, pulling up a few of the passages that I do have some familiarity with, I noticed the metaphor for the first time (yes just today, even though I've read the speech to myself countless times -- this shows how unobservant I can be). And promptly discovered that the name galledrock was indeed available. Yay! Only then did I realize that it really does fit this blog. I'm still at that once-more-into-the-breach stage of my writing. I'm fearful yet determined. To misuse Shakespeare's metaphor entirely, I am that galled rock.