Reggie Was Growing Disenchanted

  • by jen“Blowing hard on his face,”
  • from a roadside zoo in Florida
  • order his midnight niblets
  • or ugly or evil
  • his particular phobia is length
  • forced to labor in the vineyards
  • Attacking me, mind you!

Reggie was growing disenchanted with the casting process for the Hieronymus Warhol movie.

“Does he have references?” she asked of an actor hoping to play the hero.

“Yes,” signed Jen. “But they’re from a roadside zoo in Florida.”

Reggie snorted and tossed the headshot aside. “He is not outrageous or ugly or evil-smelling enough, plus his particular phobia is length, if you know what I mean. He’ll never work as Hero.”

“He should be forced to labor in the vineyards until he no longer desires an acting career,” agreed Jen.

Jen picked up the next headshot from the pile beside the margaritas. She whistled and handed it to Reggie.

“Blowing hard on his face,” Reggie said, “is how I would like to start my morning.”

“Why don’t you order his midnight niblets and see where it leads?” said Jen.

Reggie smirked. “I would if I didn’t need to worry about Naveen’s jealousy attacking. Attacking me, mind you! If Naveen’s jealousy would settle for only attacking this handsome actor, it might be worth a try.”

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Field Trips

r-avatarIt’s good to get out of the house now and then. Kent and Jen will be taking a trip this weekend to go to a concert, which should be exciting and give them a bit of a break from their routine.

The last time we went to a concert in another city, we used the travel time to brainstorm the ideas which led, ultimately, to our current novel. Jen had a few tantalizing images rattling around in her head; a character’s name, a predicament for her to face, and a quirky trait for a different character. Kent had a pseudoscientific premise. During the bus ride, we found the connecting thread. Not long after that, we had our outline.

Since then, we’ve also traveled to visit the real-world site that our book’s setting is based on. We had looked at photos and read the historical info online, but being there in person is an exponentially richer experience. (Sorry, not telling you where it is. You’ll have to read the book!)

What will this journey offer by way of inspiration or synthesis? We can’t wait to find out!

My Stomach Attacked Me

  • k-avatarmy stomach attacked me
  • on an inaudible chemical level
  • unimaginative weapons
  • Pardon my patronizing tone
  • she feigned innocence
  • The trees helped a lot
  • Improved by human effort

My stomach attacked me with the unimaginative weapons available to such an organ, assailing me with ferocious pangs and horrendous cramps on an inaudible chemical level.

The trees helped a lot, abounding with apples, pears, and squirrels. Soon my appetite was sated.

“Pardon my patronizing tone,” announced an unctuous female voice, “but what are you doing up in my tree?”

“Your tree?” I responded hotly. “And in your case, it’s actually a matronizing tone.”

She feigned innocence, but I heard her mutter, “Idiot!”

The natural process of evolution had been improved by human effort, giving rise to trees that could defend themselves by constriction, a fact I learned just too late for it to do me any good.

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“And That’s How I Came To Write The Flying Nun”

  • by jenmuttering they strolled
  • well, he looked obscene
  • came to write The Flying Nun
  • only a naked young girl lying spread-eagled
  • raging in his aged skull
  • I know you’re part Indian!
  • editor of this lunatic volume

“And that’s how I came to write The Flying Nun for half a season,” Devlin du Mauvais said, then added, “They fired me for obscenity.”

“Obscenity?” asked Delight. “Do tell!” She loved everything obscene, especially Devlin because, well, he looked obscene even fully dressed.

“It was only a naked young girl lying spread-eagled on the altar, but they took offense.”

Delight giggled at Devlin and the wickedness raging in his aged skull.

“I found the most remarkable book today,” she said, and showed him The Saga of Hieronymus Warhol. “You’re a character in it!”

Devlin snatched the tome and riffled through its pages. “I must find the editor of this lunatic volume, as well as the authors, and eviscerate them!”

While he continued muttering they strolled into the bedroom where Delight was to perform an erotic skit for her demon lover.

After donning her chaps and spurs, she began. “I know you’re part Indian!”

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Taking Ownership

r-avatarAs we’ve mentioned before, Jen has felt a bit disconnected from the process of writing our current novel, due largely to the higher hard scifi content. Not that it’s actually hard scifi, it’s just harder than our usual soft serve.

Now that we’re into edits, though, Jen is feeling much more connected. We’ve determined that some of our characters need to be fleshed out, and this is where Jen excels. She’s wild-eyed with glee over creating backstory, and Kent is staying out of her way.

We have found that a good way to produce a consistent narrative voice when working with a partner is to have each member edit the other’s work. Each collaborator’s stronger personality quirks gets smoothed out and the whole thing blends together seamlessly. Jen’s current backstorypalooza is the same thing on a somewhat larger scale. If left unattended, Kent would make the whole story a wiring diagram in narrative form. Jen is adding the human element for balance. If you left Jen unattended, the story would become a family tree in narrative form, told backwards, with no end, so it’s a good thing she has Kent to reign her in.

This novel has been an excellent lesson in the upside of working with a writing partner. Neither of us could tell this story on our own. We each have strengths that come into play, even if it’s not in the composition of the first draft. We know each other’s proclivities and strong suits, and how we compliment each other. If one of us seems to be dominating a certain stage of the process, we know that it will all even out in the end.

As one of our characters sagely said, it’s not a competition, it’s a collaboration.

I’ll Never Forget My Day in Court

  • k-avatarmy leg mashed into the sheep dog
  • pat her everywhere, including under her stomach
  • “You’ll be playing an elderly butler.”
  • get yourself another lawyer
  • remarkable reproduction of a Ubangi blowgun
  • equally terrible but for an entirely different reason
  • using Marian’s breast as a springboard

I’ll never forget my day in court, one of the most unpleasant in my life. It all started when my leg mashed into the sheep dog after using Marian’s breast as a springboard, and the EMT told me to pat her everywhere, including under her stomach, and I thought he meant Marian, whom I’d just met and didn’t really get along with, and when I explained all this from the witness stand my attorney said, “Get yourself another lawyer.”

Equally terrible but for an entirely different reason was my first theatre audition, at age nine. The director said, “You’ll be playing an elderly butler,” and handed another actor a remarkable reproduction of a Ubangi blowgun. Then he said something vague about the butler not doing it this time, and next thing I knew there was a sharp sting in my buttock and the room went all spinny.

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Dear Diary

  • by jena more than brotherly kiss
  • chewed my lips nervously
  • the real moneymaker
  • Let’s say “funny”
  • if it really is shiny
  • gives me that slimy smile of his
  • I had tripped over a face

Dear Diary,

I love it when Devlin gets an idea and gives me that slimy smile of his. He’s the real moneymaker in the family and his ideas invariably lead to more riches. Mine are less reliable, as we both know. Remember the time I had that grave-robbing scheme that nearly got both my darling brother and myself buried alive, because I had tripped over a face in the crypt and knocked over the support column? I’m not sure how to refer to that. Let’s say “funny” instead of stupid.

This morning Devlin gave me a more than brotherly kiss, then lingered and chewed my lips nervously. He’s worried about his aura again, and what he’ll do if it really is shiny yellow like the Old Gypsy Woman says.

But I’m not worried. Devlin’s aura is still a black hole.

Love, Minerva

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Retcon Done Right

r-avatarFor those of you unfamiliar with the term, “Retcon” means Retroactive Continuity. It is the alteration of previously established facts, usually in a long-running comic book series or TV show, but it can happen in book series also. Or worst of all, within a single novel.

Retcon can take the form of additions to the backstory, subtraction from it, or alteration of specific facts.

The most egregious example of alteration retcon that we can think of right now: Greedo shooting first. By changing the sequence of events in the Mos Eisley cantina, George Lucas hoped (presumably) to make Han Solo a more sympathetic or heroic character. Instead, he gutted Han’s entire character arc. Never forget: Han shot first!

Retconning early in the editing process is a necessary evil. If you do your job right, no one will ever be the wiser. Kent and Jen are at the point in their editing process where they’re reading through the first draft and making notes about things to change and improve. A first draft is, by its very nature, rough. There will be things that the author changed on purpose partway through, and there will be other inconsistencies that were inadvertent, especially when you have two authors working together. Whether or not you changed Bob’s eyes from blue to brown on purpose, now is the time to go through and make everything line up.

In our current case, it’s a little more involved than eye color. We have an elaborate setting that is based, in part, on a real location. In our brilliance, we visited this real-world location when we were thisclose to finished with the first draft, instead of at the beginning. Couple our more intimate knowledge of the location with the fact that we now know what areas our characters will visit, and what actions they will perform there, and we are faced with quite the editing task.

Jen fired up PhotoShop and updated the map and the floorplan to reflect the changes to the layout. We discussed at length which doors are always kept locked, and developed a backstory to account for why any particular door is or isn’t. We simplified certain things and complexified others, all with the goal of having a world that makes sense for the story we have chosen to tell. We went through the whole manuscript and marked all the passages that feature description of this location, and we are now faced with the unenviable task of retconning all of it into one big ball of consistency.

Hold us.

 

When Samantha Saw the Season Finale of American Idol

  • k-avatarBe my guest.
  • “God bless you, Sam.”
  • She was at last able to weep
  • taken refuge in the bathtub
  • impulsively kissed Rhoda Johnson’s cheek

When Samantha saw the season finale of American Idol, she was at last able to weep.

Ever since his ouster, Sanjaya had taken refuge in the bathtub. He knocked on her door in the dead of night and asked if he could stay.

“Be my guest.”

“God bless you, Sam.”

What could she say? He knew things about her, things Simon must never find out.

It wasn’t a secret that she’d impulsively kissed Rhoda Johnson’s cheek. No, the secret things were far more sinister, and sensual.

Would she ever be able to take a bath again? Or would Sanjaya stay in the tub forever?

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Jim Gave Denny a Nudge

  • by jenShould I begin a shaft?
  • became the color of llama milk
  • Melodrama! Lout!
  • jerry-rigged conveniences
  • Jim gave Denny a nudge
  • he emptied the garbage at night
  • he shook it twice

Jim gave Denny a nudge and pointed to the horizon.

Denny’s face became the color of llama milk when he saw the storm clouds gathering above the mountains.

Usually he emptied the garbage at night, but tonight it would be too dangerous.

“Should I begin a shaft?” Jim ribbed. “You could bury the garbage…”

“Melodrama! Lout!” yelled Denny. “This is nothing to joke about! How would we get by without jerry-rigged conveniences such as the garbage can?”

Jim put his head in his hands and he shook it twice. Denny couldn’t tell if Jim was truly sorry or just laughing.

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