Metamorphosis

I was watching (of all things) grand designs, and I got an idea for a story. The people were stripping back a victorian barn to its skeleton and reforming it; and it was described as a metamorphosis, as something sloughing its skin. It's made me think about

Writing a book from a perspective of a building

Writing about a mythic metamorphosis in terms of sloughing an old skin

Maybe metamorphosing from a building to a person, or even a person to a building.

I should work on this right now.

I ate so much today that I am metamorphosing into nothing more than a blob. I need to get this under control right now.

I did pick out two monologues today. And I think I've improved the Goneril. And I might sing Chicago at my audition (what would they want us to sing though?).

Here is what Goneril wants:

to grasp power in the kingdom. To wrestle it from an unsound mind, who is not even really her father anymore; who always preferred her prettier, better sister. What is wrong with being pragmatic?

Here is what Tillie wants:

To make the house nice. It isn't nice. But one day it maybe will be, because it was... but after all, there's no sense in was or were because there's no going back, so I might as well make the best of it.

Here's what Mama Morton wants:

To be Queen, which she is. Life is a game that she's playing. It's a loveless life; but money can buy you love. And I am Queen.

Oh if only I could metamorphose into a life with gothic cornicings and a sharp angular body to match.