It’s All Over But the Map-Drawing

Son of Science Novel is fully edited! Huzzah! When we started in on it, we did some serious thinking about how to reorganize the beginning. That work made the novel much better, but no shorter. Once things were in their proper order, we reread the first half to make sure we were pleased (we were). Next up: line-editing. As we nipped and tucked our way through the novel, we found a handful of small points we wanted to clarify and expand. Nothing big. We also didn’t find anything big to remove. All told, Son of Science Novel ended up about 5500 words shorter than when we started. That’s about one chapter, the way we do things.

Looking at the big project board on the wall, the only things left undone are the finalizing of a couple of floor plans and maps. Everyone loves maps in a novel. They’re like catnip for readers. Science Novel Sr has three, one of which can be reused here (and in Grandson when we get there). That leaves us with two or three locations it would be fun to represent cartographically. And if maps are catnip for readers, they’re crack for Kent. His inner-dungeon master gets all twitterpated at the very prospect.

A writing partner is someone who helps you create settings worthy of being mapped.

“Don’t Forget What a Beautiful Dance”

  • by Kentwhat a beautiful dance
  • “And you treat me like this?”
  • pretty like his mommy
  • a completely sweet guy
  • hate him more than I can even explain

Tune in next time part 550     Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Don’t forget what a beautiful dance the real estate agents choreographed to celebrate your crowning,” I said.

A spark shot out of the Tessabot’s left ear, followed by a whisp of smoke. She didn’t seem to have noticed it, but her mood changed very suddenly.

“We’re on our way to be married,” she growled. “And you treat me like this?”

“Darling,” I crooned, “maybe you should sit down for a moment.”

She threw her arms wide in a contemptuous gesture. “Oh, he’s great, they all tried to tell me. He’s pretty like his mommy and a completely sweet guy to boot. Pffft!” Her eyes locked onto mine. She took a menacing step in my direction. “I hate him more than I can even explain.”

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“Tell Him Everything About the Club”

  • by jenthere were X-rays
  • official uniform for all real estate agents everywhere
  • “I see it clearly! It is a volcano.”
  • serial killer baseball cards
  • worn by Cleopatra

Tune in next time part 549     Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Tell him everything about the club,” I goaded, to keep Tessa talking.

“The theme of the club was ‘hospitals’,” she said. “And there were X-rays over all the lights, which gave everything a blueish glow. The staff all wore white lab coats, but every other patron in the place, besides the Viscount and myself, were dressed in gold jackets, which everyone knows is the official uniform for all real estate agents everywhere.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why the agents decided to have their convention at a bar called Hospital, but we were surrounded, weren’t we darling?”

It was my turn to pick up the tale again. “Oh yes, simply surrounded. And one of them pointed to Tessa’s lava lamp dress and said, ‘I see it clearly! It is a volcano.’ Which made the rest of them give us the once-over suspiciously, like they’d seen our faces in a pack of serial killer baseball cards or something. Most unsettling. But I charmed them by telling them it was the very same volcano dress worn by Cleopatra at her coronation.”

Tessa giggled. “They were amazed! So amazed they declared me Queen of All Real Estate Agents! They held my coronation immediately. I still have the ceremonial gold jacket at home.”

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Happy Pandemic Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving was yesterday, but who’s counting?

Our celebration was much smaller this year. Our kids and their partners stayed safe in their apartments out of state. It wasn’t anyone’s first choice, but it was the smart thing to do. Technology let us all enjoy a visit, and everyone got enough pie.

We hope you and yours are safe and healthy.

A writing partner should be someone you are thankful for, even in a year like 2020.

“Can I Ask You To Clarify Something?”

  • by Kentthe only feasible arrangement that could be made
  • your podunk store
  • entirely lined with aquariums
  • bouncer knew him by name
  • sinister British accents

Tune in next time part 548     Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Can I ask you to clarify something?” the officiant asked. “Was this lava-lamp dress just blobs of melty goo, like, dripping off of her body?”

So, he was listening.

“Of course not,” the Tessabot protested. She turned to me. “Right?”

“Right,” I said, still under her hypnotic power. “It was a multi-layered, semitransparent construction, with the middle layer being liquid. This was the only feasible arrangement that could be made to fit my previous description, don’t you think?”

“Oh!” Tessa squeaked. “I actually have memory records of… I mean, I remember that drress. I even remember telling the shopkeeper, ‘This is the only worthwhile item in your podunk store,’ which evidently used to be a pet store because the back room was entirely lined with aquariums. He just rolled his eyes, and I think he overcharged me.”

I used the time while she reminisced to step up my attempts at overcoming her control. If she made me carry on telling the story, it would distract me from Goldfishing. Fortunately, now that she had taken up the tale, the Tessabot was happy to continue.

“This handsome devil popped out of a bus, and took me directly to a club where the bouncer knew him by name and all the bartenders spoke in sinister Bristish accents.” She paused to beam a smile at me. “I was swept away.”

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However the Tessabot Really Met Viscount Arlo

  • by jenhypnotically bland
  • whose frantic masturbation he had heard through the privy door
  • Oh god, do you think this town has a taco truck?
  • “Look, I don’t want you to think I’m an asshole,”
  • a shock he could not have been able to imagine

Tune in next time part 547    Click Here for Earlier Installments

However the Tessabot really met Viscount Arlo, it was sure to be hypnotically bland. I tried to make my version of events that way as well. Without much success, I must admit, due to the still-partial hypnotic grip Tessa had on my brain.

I spun a sordid tale of a college educated Viscount (me) riding the bus with the roommate whose frantic masturbation he had heard through the privy door that very morning, and how it led that college educated Viscount (still me) to look for an excuse to disembark the bus, no matter how much he enjoyed riding buses in general.

“Oh, god, do you think this town has a taco truck?” I asked, giving myself a comical Svenborgian accent. I pretended to see one out the window and said to my masturbation enthusiast of a roommate, “Look, I don’t want you to think I’m an asshole,” even though I really didn’t care what he thought of me, “but I’m going to go get a taco.” And I slipped trough the bus doors just before they closed.

“You don’t have to act it out, silly!” said Tessa. “Hurry up and get to the part with me!”

Reverting to the third person to speak of myself seemed to allow me a bit more leeway from her hypnotic control. “The college educated viscount turned from the receding bus and experienced a shock he could not have been able to imagine happening to him. There before him, in a dress made of the same stuff they make lava lamps of, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.”

Was the officiant even listening to my story?

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The Officiant Spun On His Heel

  • by Kentdrunk before dawn
  • a very polite way of putting it
  • almost smell the romance
  • I’m a college educated person
  • likes to ride the bus

Tune in next time part 546     Click Here for Earlier Installments

The officiant spun on his heel, waving for us to follow him. “Let’s get you crazy kids to the chapel and do this thing, because I know you both want to be drunk before dawn.” He laughed like a B-movie mad scientist, then said, “I know that’s a very polite way of putting it, but then I am a man of the cloth.”

The Tessabot nudged me with her elbow. “I bet you can almost smell the romance,” she muttered. But she gave me another nudge to start walking. We trailed behind the self-proclaimed man of the occultist cloth, following a winding path through a forest of fragrant fir trees. I all but forgot my Goldfishing mission, so contented was I to be strolling arm-in-arm with Tessa among these lovely woods. But I had to regain my autonomy.

The so-called priest glanced back and asked, “So, how did you two meet?”

Before the Tessabot could respond with the prepared lie, I made my move. I was quite sure I’d recovered the ability to speak.

“I’m a college educated person,” I said, “who likes to ride the bus.”

My speech center wasn’t yet totally unscrambled. Tessa smiled deviously and said, “Oh, I love how you tell this story! Please, go on darling.”

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“Take That Wig from Arlo”

  • by jenPlus, we have tiaras
  • Your princess of a husband
  • I stamp hers and she stamps mine
  • black hair cut rather short
  • “I am *deeply* involved in the occult,”

Tune in next time part 545     Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Take that wig from Arlo and put it on yourself,” Tessa said.

I really didn’t want to do that. The red hair looked quite sweaty. But I was still under the Tessabot’s hypnotic control, so I complied.

“Excellent,” she said. “Now you can stand in the Viscount’s place during the wedding ceremony, so that his family and guests will not become suspicious. The wig should go a long way to disguising you. Plus, we have tiaras that we’re both supposed to wear…”

“No!” cried Arlo. “Your princess of a husband-to-be is me, not him! He’s already married to Fleur! He can’t marry you as well! I won’t stand for it!”

“Jason,” Tessa said, “take the Viscount into the bungalow and shut him up. The guests will be arriving shortly.”

Then she told me the details of the Svenborgian royal wedding rite, and made me memorize them. The most important part is when we exchange passports in place of rings. I stamp hers and she stamps mine, and then it’s official. Though how official a marriage between an already married man and a robot could be was a question I couldn’t answer.

A man with black hair cut rather short approached. “I am deeply involved in the occult,” he said, gesturing to some arcane symbols carved into his short hair. “And I will be conducting the ceremony today. You’re looking quite resplendent, Viscount. I’d been told you were an unattractive man, but I seem to have been misinformed.”

I still couldn’t speak, so I nodded as regally as I could without dislodging the sweaty red wig, and continued my furious Goldfishing. I needed to shake Tessa’s post-hypnotic control.

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You Get 100gp and 125xp!

If you get that, you’re old-school.

A few days ago, Kent took one of our dog-walk story development sessions in a slightly different direction. Instead of our usual writerly shop talk, he ran it like a D&D game. We’ve played a variety of RPGs together in the past, so the basic format came pretty naturally even when being sprung without warning.

“You reach the top of the trail and see some mysterious ruins ahead,” Kent said.

Jen synced right up with the bit, exploring the locale of our Ghost Story as if it were all new to her, and interacting with the creatures she met. We didn’t use any maps, character sheets, miniatures, or dice, but it was fun all the same. And it was a neat way to come at the material from a different angle.

A similar trick we’ve used before is to each assume the role of a cast member and go out “on a date” in character. That’s also a form of role-playing. In that mode, we tend to act out an actual scene (in a restaurant!). This latest adventure was looser, and ended up helping us with world-building more than characterization.

A writing partner is someone with whom to make a public spectacle of yourself, unless you make your saving throw.