I Clenched My Teeth

  • by KentI clenched my teeth
  • puncture wound on his butt cheek
  • watch out for Ray and Fay
  • Never trust a man carrying produce!
  • what is a “power haircut” exactly?

Tune in next time part 886      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I clenched my teeth, and through them I growled, “Which operation would that be? The one you haven’t let me in on, or the other one you didn’t mention, or maybe it’s the one that I’m not supposed to know about?”

“You are so off your game,” Fleur said. “I bet you totally missed the shape of the puncture wound on his butt cheek, but I wonder if you’d have realized the significance anyway.”

I’d not noticed any puncture wounds of any shape anywhere on Small Dennis, and I could hardly have missed one on his butt cheek in particular during all that time in the horse costume. What was Fleur trying to pull? I decided to play dumb.

“Well, can I have a hint?” I demanded. “Should I watch out for Ray and Fay? Keep an eye on Jeff and Steff?”

“Who are these people?”

“You tell me. You’re the butt-phrenologist. Read mine, it says ‘Never trust a man carrying produce!’”

If Fleur was dismayed by my outburst she didn’t let it show. She calmly shook her head. “No it doesn’t.” She smiled. “Your butt sends a simple yet potent message.”

My wife and I had no better days for me to reminisce about, but I remembered some nice moments together. Some of those recollections did involve her studying my buttocks, and commenting about there being one thing it needed. And, ever since, I’d been meaning to ask her: what is a “power haircut” exactly?

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I Wanted Very Much to Believe Fleur

  • by jenmight easily be mistaken for the horse’s mouth
  • ensure even butter distribution
  • shoe size written plainly for everyone to see
  • my husband is just a little cranky sometimes
  • flapping behind him like a pair of coattails

Tune in next time part 885      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I wanted very much to believe Fleur meant it when she said she’d let me off the zeppelin, and her words might easily be mistaken for the horse’s mouth into which I had been warned many times never to look. Would it be so bad to just believe her? To not look for hidden meanings and duplicitous intent? My training said it would be unforgivable. Fleur might be my wife, but she was also the heir to a powerful foreign warlord, and while she might have a reputation as the sort of woman in whose mouth butter would not melt, I knew that her tongue was sharp enough to ensure even butter distribution no matter the temperature.

Why was I so fixated on mouths all the sudden?

Small Dennis looked aghast. He didn’t like the direction this conversation had taken. If I could remember it, I might agree with him. He stood there, looking utterly ridiculous, wearing nothing below the waist except for a pair of bowling shoes with the number 2 on the backs.

“How can you say you’re not so small, Small Dennis,” I barked, “When you’re standing there with your shoe size written plainly for everyone to see?”

Fleur laid a hand on my elbow. “Ignore him,” she said to Small Dennis. “My husband is just a little cranky sometimes when he’s tired. Be on your way.”

Instead of dressing in the horse costume again, Dennis draped it over his shoulder and stomped pantsless out of the faux bathroom with it flapping behind him like a pair of coattails.

“I can’t believe you almost blew the whole operation!” Fleur snapped once the door closed.

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The Saga of Gigi and Pierre

It’s amazing that, no matter how conscientious you try to be about looking around all the corners during the outlining phase, stuff always finds places to lurk so it can ambush you during prose.

Naturally, we’ve known all along that Gigi and Pierre will become a couple, and that their bond will be tested. We talked about how things look from each of their perspectives, what’s different about Pierre’s attitude toward the relationship, etc. And we identified the moment when the first test will crop up. What we didn’t do was spec in a scene to show the fallout of that event. Then the prose draft had caught up to that point in the narrative, and this felt like an omission.

We had to discuss what to do about it. The default stance here in the Writing Cave is that we don’t like scenes that exist solely for depicting Relationship Drama. Words like “soapy” get tossed around sometimes. Scenes need to earn their keep, and we love it when they accomplish more than one job. So, we tried to talk ourselves into sticking with the blueprint, i.e., not adding a unitasker relationship scene and thus keeping the Gigi/Pierre breakup implicit.

Thing is, our original concern was that not making the couple fight explicit leaves a gap in the story. And that’s because the real rule about scenes earning their keep is that you include the ones that carry the story. Ask, “what’s this story about?” and, “what is this scene about?” When they line up, you have a winner. (NB, stay alert for too much of a good thing; if you showed it already, you probably don’t have to show it again.)

The story can be “about” multiple things. In our case, it’s about ghosts and it’s also about this Gigi/Pierre thing. Their romance and its ups and downs shape the choices they will be making later on. So, while we don’t want to give anybody soap poisoning, we need to give readers a decoder ring for why those two behave the way they do. So, this instance of Relationship Drama merits a scene, even if that’s the only job it does.

A good writing partner is someone you work well with, so that the soap operatics are confined to the page.

I’d Learned to Tune Out Exhaustion

  • by Kentweird cotton candy grapes
  • how many dollars a live yeti could be sold for
  • “Oo, yeah. Robots.”
  • find you a new cloak
  • dark and sexy

Tune in next time part 884      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I’d learned to tune out exhaustion over the years, so it took a moment of deliberate reflection to assess my current state. Yeah, I was borderline delirious with lack of sleep. And, I was ravenously hungry. Functioning without nourishment is another skill one develops in the spy biz, but the key is to focus on the task at hand and deny your body’s basic physical imperatives, so now that I’d considered food I could think of nothing else. Alarmingly, the thing I craved was the weird cotton candy grapes they had in the commissary at Enigma Fortress. But perhaps that wasn’t so strange. My memories of my time in the Paradoxica Mountains were fond ones. That frozen landscape  seemed a place where I could be happy, especially if I didn’t have to be in command of the garrison. I might find out how many dollars a live yeti could be sold for. I might find a place to settle down with Tessa and/or her many robot duplicates.

Small Dennis said, “Oo, yeah. Robots.”

I had no idea how much I’d said out loud. If I couldn’t keep my shit together better than that, leaving the spy game wasn’t going to be optional. I chanced a look at Fleur. She was smiling. That always makes me nervous, but it looked like a kind smile.

“I could tell the captain to change course,” she said. “Drop you off at Enigma Fortress in a day or two, which gives us time to find you a new cloak, something dark and sexy.”

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If I Recalled Correctly

  • by jenan ostrich almost killed Johnny
  • “Ineffable!”
  • used only for hand-to-hand combat
  • circled his thumbs
  • part of me is starting to think maybe I might be kind of ready to think about

Tune in next time part 883      Click Here for Earlier Installments

If I recalled correctly, it was also William Penn XII who started a stampede of the Academy’s livestock that time when an ostrich almost killed Johnny (as John was known in his youth). Was Small Dennis trying to warn me that William was planning an ostrich stampede in the petting zoo? I hadn’t spent much time with my brother-in-law, but it didn’t seem like the sort of thing he would do.

Perhaps I should incorporate the 12 from William’s name into my BareCheeks deciphering? If I did that the message became “Ineffable!”

That’s the sort of word we at the Academy used only for hand-to-hand combat. Surely Small Dennis would not be so bold as to throw a word such as Ineffable around willynilly. I straightened up to my full height and studied Small Dennis’s hands. My eyes circled his thumbs several times before I concluded I had nothing to fear from him. His thumbs were as small as the rest of him.

Was I reading too much into this? Was the BareCheeks cipher a red herring?

Part of me is starting to think maybe I might be kind of ready to think about maybe getting out of the spy business. It does a real number on my head sometimes.

When was the last time I’d slept? Or eaten?

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A Small Leap In Productivity

It was fortuitous to get an extra day last month in which to do some writing, because it at least partially offset the multiple days when stuff came up and we got no writing done at all.

Let us take this moment to pause and wish a Happy Leap Day to all who celebrate.

Leap Day William

We’re making headway on As-Yet Untitled Ghost Novel #2 once again. Not as rapidly as we were hoping (it never is) but tangible, empirical progress all the same. Kent just wrapped up a scene and got a nice start on the next one, and Jen shipped another couple of stubs.

To help us keep up this momentum — hopefully even build on it — we’re instituting a revolutionary positive-reinforcement technology: sticker charts! Henceforth, our access to ice cream will be regulated by how many stickers we earn. That’ll definitely keep us motivated (at least until we find a black market for frozen dairy treats). So we look forward to cranking up our output!

One thing that we need to remind ourselves about is how much work we get done that’s not reflected in metrics like word count. We talk things out, which is real work but has no measurable substance. Recently, Jen detected a possible issue with repetition across several stubs, and now because of some productive conversations we no longer have that issue. The affected stubs haven’t all been completed, but what would have been the point of plowing through them only to end up scrapping and redoing half those scenes later? It’s unclear how the new stickers-and-ice-cream economy of the Writing Cave will take such scenarios into account.

A writing partner is someone who sticks by you 366 days of the year.

As My Classmate

  • by Kentstraw hat bonfires were started
  • I once tried to change a light bulb
  • sexual misadventure
  • stuck an electrified prod up there
  • always wore the craziest shorts

Tune in next time part 882      Click Here for Earlier Installments

As my classmate from The Academy, Small Dennis couldn’t expect me to believe his sorry story. He was probably just counting on me to play along, but I wondered if perhaps there was a message for me embedded in what he was saying to Fleur.

I thought about the numbers he’d mentioned. Six, five, and “almost six”… Wasn’t much to go on, but in light of how he was (un)dressed I thought it might make sense to try the BareCheeks cipher. Which would make the message “straw hat,” which seemed like nonsense until I remembered what happened in my junior year, how the gym got burned down. Fleur wouldn’t know how the straw hat bonfires were started because she wasn’t there. She might have heard the rumor that her half-brother William Penn XII once tried to change a light bulb during a sexual misadventure, maybe even the part when his coital partner stuck an electrified prod up there, but it seemed unlikely she knew all the details.

I was now convinced that Small Dennis wanted me to know something without letting Fleur hear it, probably something about the so-called mission that he was babbling about a few minutes ago. Now I just needed to suss out the rest of the message. Would it have something to do with William Penn XII? I struggled to remember other things about him from back in the day. He always wore the craziest shorts. I wished he was here to lend a pair to Small Dennis.

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It’s Standard Practice on Contrarian Airships

  • by jen“That’s a cute name.”
  • ghostly fingerprint
  • is nearly six foot five and describes himself as a “fairy from outer space”
  • almost six years in prison
  • wish not to be stabbed

Tune in next time part 881      Click Here for Earlier Installments

It’s standard practice on Contrarian airships to have bathroom fixtures made of styrofoam — it saves a lot of weight. What was unusual about these styrofoam potties is that they weren’t attached to the floor, the plumbing, or anything else. What could Fleur be up to with a room full of decoy commodes?

“Put down the toilet, Small Dennis,” I muttered.

“Small Dennis?” Fleur chuckled. “That’s a cute name.”

“I’m not actually all that small,” Small Dennis huffed. He’d been gripping the faux porcelain so hard that when he let go, he left behind ghostly fingerprints in the styrofoam. “Is it my fault my mom married a guy with his own son named Dennis who is nearly six foot five and describes himself as a ‘fairy from outer space’ and who had spent almost six years in prison for assault? He claimed the moniker Big Dennis, and as I wish not to be stabbed, I grudgingly accepted Small Dennis as mine.”

I’d never heard Small Dennis say so much, and I doubted the truth of almost all of what he’d said. If he was trying to prey on Fleur’s tender feminine nature, I wished him luck.

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We’re Up!

Our critique group’s most recent meeting (which we hosted at our house) took us up to the finale of the other member’s manuscript that we’ve been discussing. So, now it’s our turn in the hot seat once again.

Critique sessions are a whole separate animal from having beta readers (which we do, also). There are lots of different ways to run a group, but here’s what works well for us.

  1. choose one manuscript to focus on
  2. the author provides a chunk of pages in advance, and whatever guidance they wish regarding the kind of feedback they’re looking for
  3. at the meeting, each member shares input and suggestions, asks questions, etc. about those pages
  4. avoid spending a lot of time on typos and other picky things

Note that this means no one can read ahead, so the author can gauge how well the clues are working, how readers feel about the protagonist at each stage, etc. It’s up to the author how much to reveal, which questions to answer, and so on. Rune Skelley tends to be very tight-lipped. We enjoy getting the rest of the group trying to guess what we’re up to.

Another thing that’s up to each author is whether to bring stuff in before the whole book is written. We’ve done it both ways, and found reasons not to share works-in-progress for critique anymore. For us, the feedback only muddied things at that stage. But some folks thrive on it, and use the requirement of handing out pages by the next meeting as a motivational tool. Do what works for you.

The best part of any critique group meeting is when members start debating what the pages mean and basically forget that the author is there. As the author, that provides a ton of insight into what’s working and why. It’s also nice when your fellow writers come right out and tell you what they thought was effective, or where they felt something needed more work. Just be sure not to settle for “it was good” — these are your colleagues, so they should be able to articulate their reasons for responding a certain way.

A writing partner is someone who kicks Kent under the table when he’s about to blurt out a major spoiler.

“Are You Referring”

  • by Kent“It’s mostly one-sided.”
  • kisses a human woman
  • he shook it twice
  • caveman eroticism
  • No toilets!

Tune in next time part 880      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Are you referring to the tentacle-mutant shadow warrior project?” Fleur asked in a flat tone. “Please. They pose no danger to Contraria or its allies.”

She had to be lying. Contraria has no allies.

“Who else takes part in this so-called alliance?” I asked.

“It’s mostly one-sided.”

I had to chuckle. That’s the punchline to an old Contrarian joke about a goblin who kisses a human woman — only she’s really just a statue. I knew Fleur had chosen the phrasing knowingly, so I said, “You saying you feel like the goblin’s wife?”

“I should be so lucky. After the goblin kissed that ‘lady’ he shook it twice. That’s more caveman eroticism than I’ve had from you in years.”

Small Dennis interrupted us, exclaiming “No toilets!”

I turned toward his outburst and found him holding one of the toilets in his hands, the other one lying on its side. They were both made of styrofoam.

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