Ofttimes In My Job as a Wedding Planner

  • by jenplays cat and mouse with the yakuza
  • simply wasn’t awesome enough
  • in blissful ignorance of the preparations
  • liked each other sincerely enough that there was little awkwardness
  • one helluva romp

Ofttimes in my job as a wedding planner I am at the beck and call of a very demanding and challenging bride, but none in my experience were worse than Catrinka. Popular culture calls these women “Bridezillas” but I see Catrinka as a different sort of Japanese-inspired trope: the geisha who plays cat and mouse with the yakuza and Daddy’s checkbook.

Nothing could please Catrinka. No matter how spectacular or expensive an item or venue, it simply wasn’t awesome enough for Catrinka. Her groom-to-be, Harold, meanwhile meandered along in blissful ignorance of the preparations. He cared naught for the details of the wedding or reception as long as the bachelor party was, in his words, “one helluva romp.” Catrinka didn’t give a fig what he and his friends got up to with the strippers as long as Harold arrived on time to the wedding wearing the proper color bow tie and socks. The betrothed liked each other sincerely enough that there was little awkwardness in this arrangement. And the checks all cleared, so I suppose I ultimately have nothing to complain about.

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Knowing Which Wrench to Use

r-avatarLast week we introduced you to the goose wrench. Now it’s time to mention the other handy wrench you should keep, er, handy: the monkey wrench. Although the term is often negative, it’s an indispensable implement for creative problem-solving.

Here’s the TL;DR: if a writer has too many problems, it’s usually because the characters don’t have enough.

The monkey wrench is versatile. It can be applied delicately, to unravel things just a little bit. Or it can be wielded like a club, or tossed into the gears. But remember to show moderation in all things, especially excess. Unlike the goose wrench, it’s not your own process that the monkey wrench should be swung at. It’s your characters’. You’re not trying to seize up the plot, so pay some attention to which sets of gears you’re aiming for. Story thrives on conflict. When things for your cast are going a little too smoothly, when your protagonist becomes complacent or settles into a rut, that’s the time to break out the monkey wrench.

Keep both wrenches available. Story structure is too loosey-goosey? Grab that goose wrench. When things go flat, reach for the monkey wrench. Just make sure they’re clearly labeled, because using the wrong one will only make a writer’s problems worse.

Oh God, Do You Think This Town Has a Taco Truck?

  • I helped him to do it!k-avatar
  • for a grander fate!
  • we knew we’d have a reasonable turnout
  • you suck!
  • Oh god, do you think this town has a taco truck?

“Oh god, do you think this town has a taco truck?”

I had to answer carefully, and so chose not to say anything at all. I had only just met Darlene so I didn’t know yet whether she was testing me. Was she relying on the secret meaning of “taco truck” or was she just hungry? I took the exit ramp, so our options would be open.

“You suck!” Darlene spat. My knuckles turned white on the wheel, but then she laughed. Only then did I notice she was playing a game on her phone, and it was the game which had elicited her condemnation.

“Maybe, if there is a taco truck,” I said cagily, “we should pick up a few extras to take along.” We were almost to the meeting site. We knew we’d have a reasonable turnout and the catering was bound to be inadequate.

She shrugged. A clever counter-agent hoping I’d tip my hand? Or just the apathetic teenager she appeared to be? Maddening. When had my career degenerated into these pointless road trips? My training had certainly prepped me for a grander fate!

Darlene put away her phone and sighed. “If there is a taco truck,” she said, “you keep the driver occupied so I can sneak up on him with the chloroform. Then we’ll have to ditch this car and roll up to the meeting in the truck.” She stared at the trees and utility poles along the highway for a silent moment. “And if there’s not, well, I guess we’ll find a drive-through and get some lunch. Play things by ear later on.”

I looked at my smiling reflection in the rear-view mirror, watching all my worries recede with the trees and poles. I never should have doubted Darlene’s integrity, should have known Edgar wouldn’t let me down. He set up a perfect system for recruiting these operatives, which I knew only too well because I helped him do it!

bonus points for using them in reverse order!

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The Explosion Occurred at Noon Sharp

  • by jenmouth turned down
  • “See ya later.”
  • his fondness for her
  • nodding in admiration
  • all the gasoline on the island

The explosion occurred at noon sharp, and the fire still raged now at midnight. The sky was a smear of orange and black, like the aftermath of a halloween riot. Mason knew all the gasoline on the island had been stored at the airfield, the one still blazing nearly 12 hours after Cassandra lobbed the first incendiary grenade. Mason couldn’t help nodding in admiration of Cassandra’s efficiency, but his fondness for her professionalism did not bleed over into fondness for anything else about her. The woman was ruthless and now Mason and the very rich man he was paid to protect were stranded on the island with her.

He spoke into his walkie-talkie to his employer, safe in the estate’s panic room. “See ya later.” He hoped to be told to stand down, to take cover and wait Cassandra out, but no such order came.

Mouth turned down in a determined frown, Mason checked his weapon and strode into the jungle.

bonus points for using them in reverse order

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Tightening Up The Geese

r-avatarOur outline is coming into shape. We know the overall structure and we have a reasonable idea of the way everything begins and ends. Of course, the vast majority of the details are still loosey-goosey.

That’s a problem, sometimes. So, as mentioned in the previous post, we occasionally delve into fairly granular levels of detail while working on an outline, even though things can’t be carved in stone yet. We need to manage the looseness of the gooses because there’s a compounding effect to the uncertainty in each scene. “Not sure how this one ends,” becomes, “or how the next one starts.” Leaving everything vague in your outline leaves you with only the mirage of an outline. It won’t have enough structure to serve as a useful guide when you start writing, and you’ll be pantsing it despite all the time you spent supposedly outlining.

So, on a shelf in the same closet where you keep your weasel-stomping boots, you should have a goose-wrench. But whereas those boots are made for stompin’ — no weasels when you’re done — the wrench should be applied selectively, and judiciously. Having some loosey-goosey areas is desirable; you just don’t want the entire outline flopping around. Identify the points through which your story must pass, and crank them down just tight enough so they don’t shift (although the rest of the tale can still pivot around them).

Naturally, this is yet another activity made easier by working with the right partner. Active discussion is an excellent way to figure out which story beats need the wrench, and how tightly to pin them down.

I Think This Paragraph

  • k-avatarthis paragraph is about the plot
  • A feeling of dreamy peacefulness
  • Hot punch is a pleasant thing
  • The ambassador has a good nose
  • ruined it all at Homecoming

“I think this paragraph is about the plot against the ambassador,” Herman said, pointing to a passage of gibberish. “If we could decode it, you’d see. I mean it must be something nefarious, otherwise it wouldn’t be written in such a fiendish code.”

“The ambassador has a good nose for plots, and he doesn’t look worried,” I replied. “In fact, he looks quite relaxed. A feeling of dreamy peacefulness came over me, just from seeing the expression on his face. He was that calm.”

“I blame the punchbowl. Although I should blame all those invited to the soiree, who all failed to show up. The ambassador and his silly sense of duty not to let all that punch go to waste.”

“Hot punch is a pleasant thing, and it was cooling off. Besides, the desertion of the entire guest contingent is your fault.”

“Me!”

“Yes, Herman, you. With your alarmist rhetoric about plots. Just because of one cryptogram. Really, you might have kept your voice down.”

Herman chewed his mustache. “You’re right, Max. I always overreact, and it ruins things. I ruined the ambassador’s fete with my fretting, just like I ruined it all at Homecoming.”

I tutted. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Remember, someone really did release porcupines in the ductwork at Homecoming. You should have been hailed a hero.”

Herman shrugged. “Do you know, the ambassador was there? Well, he was just the jester in the Homecoming court at the time, but he hung around the gym after everyone else stormed off.”

Of course he did, I thought. There was an unattended punchbowl.

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Chauncey Knew

  • by jena great deal of reviewing
  • He got down with raised eyebrows.
  • she did not respond to him in a favorable way
  • for no special reason
  • proximity to money and power

Chauncey knew the way to win Myrtle’s heart was by winning the dance-off at the senior prom. After a great deal of reviewing how-to videos on YouTube and practicing in front of the mirror, he was ready. Chauncey’s rental tuxedo was a stunning combination of white and gold that some people inexplicably saw as blue and black. At the country club he stood in line with all of the other hopefuls. The music started. He got down with raised eyebrows. Despite his sick dance moves and the soulful expressions he threw at Myrtle, she did not respond to him in a favorable way. Neither did the judges. They awarded the trophy to Mike Phillips for no special reason that Chauncey could see, except for the fact that Mike Phillips’s mother was a senator and the judges were all blinded by his proximity to money and power. But not Myrtle. She left the prom the way she arrived, surrounded by a group of indifferent girls dressed all in black.

bonus points for using them in order!

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Undisclosed Locations

r-avatarWe continue to have our nightly discussions about the new novel. This past week, we debugged an action sequence that will probably be the tent-pole moment setting things up for the climax. In the process, we ended up kinda-sorta actually writing some of the details, even though that’s not what we set out to accomplish. Things started to crystallize, so we rolled with it.

The thing we did set out to accomplish also came together. Without giving anything away, we can describe the issue. This sequence takes place at an alternate locale from most of the book, a place that’s only known by one of the main characters. So from the moment we decided to set things there, we were saying, “Snuffy offers to let Clarence use the place for the meet-up,” because you see Clarence needs to do things covertly and Snuffy is the one with the connection to a secluded venue. But when we examined this, it didn’t sit right. Not that Snuffy wouldn’t extend the invitation, but Clarence really wants this whole thing kept quiet, so much so that it makes no sense to tell anybody (even dear, dependable Snuffy). We will instead have Clarence opportunistically arrange the meet-up at Snuffy’s place without telling him. The actions fit the personalities a lot better, plus it lays the groundwork quite elegantly for the major misunderstandings and inhuman acts of violence that follow.

It’s still possible to imagine doing some parts of novel-writing solo. The actual writing, for example, and mostly the editing and revising, too. However, for us it’s become nigh-impossible to conceive of coming up with — and ironing out — the plot by any other method than talking it through with a partner. It’s not just load sharing or divvying things up, it’s an interactive process that depends fundamentally on teamwork.

Our Ship Rocked and Pitched

  • k-avatarour mole-eyed contemporary
  • is best read in complete silence
  • pushed the throttles to full power
  • under the influence of the impending storm
  • we showed you how to be a gynecologist

Our ship rocked and pitched under the influence of the impending storm as our captain pushed the throttles to full power just to hold position and I handed the dinner menu to our mole-eyed contemporary who squinted and mumbled (although a list of entrees is best read in complete silence, as anyone with any manners should know) and you blushed and squirmed as we showed you how to be a gynecologist, if you know what we mean.

bonus points for using them all in one sentence!

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Rodrigo Chuckled Softly

  • by jenI’m very sensitive to smell
  • in a tizzy about the specter of sweaty boobs
  • Summer’s Eve can go douche itself
  • for nearly a week
  • killed in a skiing accident

Rodrigo chuckled softly and tugged on the waistband of Siobhan’s panties. “Summer’s Eve can go douche itself, babe. I’m very sensitive to smell and I’ve never noticed a problem.”

“I’d rather be killed in a skiing accident than have an embarrassing odor,” Siobhan simpered.

For nearly a week she’d been fretting about feminine hygiene. This was almost as bad as the time they went to the beach and she worked herself up in a tizzy about the specter of sweaty boobs. Rodrigo wished she could see herself as the beautiful woman she was, and not pay any attention to the predatory marketing efforts of the world’s “beauty” conglomerates.

Rodrigo winked and tugged Siobhan’s panties lower. “Give me an hour and we’ll get you good and stinky. Deal?”

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