My Stomach Growled Like the Bear I was Chasing

  • by jensmear it on the underside
  • as enjoyable as possible for both of us
  • I learned ‘Very Social’ = Unabashedly Enthusiastic Swingers into BDSM.
  • I was completely naïve
  • Will your mom be cool with that?

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My stomach growled like the bear I was chasing. While the chef was distracted by a tray of tater tots, I snatched up a slice of bread. A few feet along the buffet table I found butter, and a knife with which to smear it on the underside of the bread — a trick I’d learned at the Academy.

Munching my snack, I trotted through the garden in search of Marnie Glockenspiel and her ursine companion. As I neared another turning in the hedge maze, I heard voices coming through the vegetation. I paused to listen. To my shock I recognized both voices. One was Marnie, the other Heinrich Hunter. And then a third voice. Svetlana, the contortionist who traveled the world hidden inside Heinrich’s shirt.

Svetlana, mother of my quadruplet sons, said, “There’s plenty of room in here, Marnie, and I promise to make it as enjoyable as possible for both of us. You’ll love it. We’re very social.”

I dropped to the ground and peered underneath the bushes. Heinrich was sitting on the ground, having shed the top half of his bear suit to expose Svetlana. Svetlana was working hard to convince Marnie to join her inside Heinrich’s clothes. While they talked I learned ‘Very Social’ = Unabashedly Enthusiastic Swingers into BDSM. Before overhearing this sordid negotiation I would not have thought I was completely naïve, but all I could think was “Will your mom be cool with that?”

I mean, my mom probably would be, but most moms wouldn’t.

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The Big, Giant Science-Trilogy Reread

Book one of our Science trilogy is in a fairly polished state. It’s been through our critique group and some beta readers and has had a couple of editing passes.

Books two and three, on the other hand, are still basically first drafts. Our next project will be to edit them into shape. So, first things first: we need to cram that entire three-book saga into our heads. This epic read-through is a little more than halfway done, and Kent’s voice is still holding up pretty well.

What’s neat is that we’ve been away from this story world long enough that there are lots of little rediscoveries for us in the text. They’re mostly fun little reminders of how good it is, but there are also some opportunities for improvement. It really is proving to us the value of letting something rest before you try to edit it. The awesome and the not-quite-awesome both just leap out in a way that they can’t when it’s too fresh.

A writing partner is someone who will read 1500 pages out loud to you.

Brady, Of Course, Hadn’t Known

  • by Kentthe blackest ink
  • and tater tots on Tuesdays
  • “Yeah, that sucks, buddy.”
  • that the ginger chef insisted on
  • I am a man with a refined palate

Tune in next time part 516      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Brady, of course, hadn’t known I was aware of his affiliation with Jorgensen. He was as surprised as Scrim, his eyes bugging over cheeks smeared with mascara dark as the blackest ink available for calligraphic pen refills. While he was still in shock, I took advantage of Brady’s foot injury and the fact that Scrim’s knees didn’t bend to dash off into the garden without being pursued.

I hoped to find nurse Marnie, but the garden was like a maze. Around the third turning between towering, flowering hedges, I encountered a sort of clearing that was being used as an outdoor kitchen. Several large tables were configured for prep zones, and people in white jackets and toques scurried about stirring the contents of kettles suspended over bonfires.

“Did a nurse just ride a bear through here?” I asked.

“Don’t think so,” a red-haired cook said. “But it’s possible we wouldn’t notice, because we’re so busy. We have to prepare casseroles and desserts and salads every day, and tater tots on Tuesdays.”

I sighed. “Yeah, that sucks, buddy.”

“Now please clear out. You’re distracting my staff!” Hollandaise sauce flew off the wooden spoon that the ginger chef insisted on waving around as he spoke. “Or, at least keep quiet. I am a man with a refined palate and a short temper.”

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Ignoring the Struggling Bear

  • by jenfamously hard to train
  • But this technique you’re practicing
  • impaled his foot
  • mascara stains
  • an expired clown license

Tune in next time part 515      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Ignoring the struggling bear, and Nurse Marnie as well, Brady said to Scrim, “As you know, storm clouds are famously hard to train, but Dr Thunderboom has devised a technique. Isn’t that right, Dr Thunderboom?”

I nodded solemnly, watching Marnie and her ursine companion from the corner of my eye.

Scrim approached the fountain. “I’ve done a lot of research into weather control, and I’ve always been disappointed. But this technique you’re practicing, Thunderboom, this training regimen — you say it really works?”

“Absolutely.”

Scrim stared, wide-eyed with wonder. Behind him, Brady gestured for me to elaborate. I didn’t see the point. Scrim had already bought my story, his eagerness to control the weather eclipsing his skepticism.

I pointed to the clear blue sky. “It was supposed to rain today, but you can see my results for yourself.”

Brady rushed forward to deliver his planned interruption, but in his haste impaled his foot on a salmon bone from the bear’s earlier meal. He shrieked in pain, which certainly derailed any further talk of weather control devices. Blood spurted from his injury, and mascara stains streaked his cheeks as he began to cry.

Marnie took advantage of the distraction to hoist the bear out of the fountain. She hopped onto his back like a bareback rider at the circus, and he carried her away into the garden at a fast waddle.

The yowls still coming from Brady were ear-splitting. I leapt out of the fountain and went to see about shutting him up. I grasped the fishbone and tugged it out, then wrapped my soggy mountaineering shirt around the wound as a bandage. Brady whimpered.

“You impress me, Thunderboom,” Scrim said. “What are you doing working for a clown like Brady? You should join me and the Tap Dancers if you want a taste of real power.”

“A clown like Brady?” I scoffed. “I guess you hadn’t heard, but the only clown license Brady has is an expired clown license. He traded his greasepaint for that tattoo on his chest when he joined up with Jorgensen’s pirate crew.”

Kabbadan Scrim gasped.

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Beta Testing

It really didn’t take us long at all to put the finishing touches on the first draft of Sibling of Music Novel. We were done by last Saturday. Perhaps we should call it a first-ish draft. It hasn’t had a full edit, or even major rewrites, but it did get a little bit of extra attention in a couple of places. We knew a few items were lacking, so we dealt with those, and now the manuscript is in the hands of some trusted beta readers.

In a move that was somewhat controversial in the Writing Cave, we opted to not reread the book before handing it off. It’s technically resting before we edit it, and Kent was concerned that if we read the whole thing, instead of just poking at it here and there, that we’d refamiliarize ourselves with it too much. The whole point of letting the work rest is to forget how it’s supposed to go, forget what you were trying to accomplish with each scene and sentence. It’s the closest an author can come to experiencing their own work the way a reader will, and is a great way to spot parts that aren’t working. Jen saw the wisdom of Kent’s argument: she just really wanted to read the book because it’s good.

Every place we poked our noses in to make the small adjustments and additions drew us in and made us want to keep reading. That’s a good sign. It’s a good book, and it will still be good a couple of months from now when we come back to it with fresh eyes.

Scrim Gazed Up At Nurse Marnie

  • by Kenthis chin began to quiver
  • My best friends and I engaged in it too
  • that seemed strange
  • lover with the most gumption
  • addition of plastic footwear didn’t help

Tune in next time part 514      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Scrim gazed up at Nurse Marnie, and his chin began to quiver. “I understand. I see how it is. The thrill of bathing with bears is undeniable. My best friends and I engaged in it, too, but I no longer have a bear. But Doctor Thunderboom does.”

I glanced to Brady for some cue about beginning our ruse, but he was distracted trying to assist Kabbadan Scrim back to his feet. Marnie left my side and went over to the bear. That seemed strange. Stranger yet, she engaged in what appeared to be a whispered conversation with it.

“To business!” Brady announced, rubbing his hands together.

“Yes, to business,” Scrim agreed blandly. “I got my hopes up, upon seeing that lovely, familiar face, but it’s only right for her to choose the lover with the most gumption.”

Brady clapped him on the back. “Well, nothing like paying a large sum for a weather control device to mend a broken heart, right?”

A loud sloshing noise interrupted, as the bear stood up and a veritable waterfall poured from its pelt. It was visibly struggling to step out over the side of the fountain, almost slipping and falling several times. The addition of plastic footwear didn’t help it get traction on the smooth, wet surfaces.

Nurse Marnie was shooting me an unreadable look.

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“Ahem,” Brady Said Again

  • by jenhere’s the deal, Marnie
  • throwing himself passionately on his knees before her
  • in a way that isn’t platonic
  • with each passing day
  • music upon the air

Tune in next time part 513      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Ahem,” Brady said again. “Nurse Marnie. Ahem.” When she continued to ignore him and pretend to kiss me, he said, “Here’s the deal, Marnie. I need you to stop kissing Dr Thunderboom. We have a meeting.”

“Marnie!” cried Kabbadan Scrim. “Marnie Glockenspiel! I haven’t seen you since you left the Paradiddle Tap Academy!”

Marnie whispered, “Help me. He’s obsessed,” before turning to face Scrim.

The head of the League of Tap Dancers got a rapturous look on his face, and did something that resembled throwing himself passionately on his knees before her, but since his knees didn’t bend he wound up on the floor in a way that isn’t platonic, supporting himself on his hands like a trained seal. Even from behind I could see Marnie cringe.

“I worried more and more with each passing day that you didn’t return to Paradiddle,” Scrim whined. “You and I had something together, something special, something that was like music upon the air, and I knew that you would never simply shuffle-ball-change away from it. Away from us. And now I’ve found you! At long last!” He bellycrawled forward to the edge of the fountain. “What on Earth is that dastardly weathermonger doing to you!”

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Keeping Busy, Keeping Sane

A little too busy, sometimes. Not too sane, though. What would be the fun in that?

Now that we’re done with edits on Son of Music Novel, we’re taking a quick swing through Sibling of Music Novel to take care of a few odds and ends. And in fact, there’s only one odd (or end?) remaining, which is to punch up the sensorium of the piece by adding smells. And that’s nearly done!

Still using our nightly dog walks to develop the ideas for the Ghost story. World-building conversations in the dark in our quiet neighborhood, as Kent tries to keep his voice from carrying overmuch when he uses phrases containing words like “aphrodisiac.” So, yeah. That’s coming along nicely!

Because it’s been forever since our writing group met, we’ve recently begun trying to round everybody up for a Zoom call. The cats are proving as difficult to herd as ever… Maybe the gang’s all burned out from too many online meetings already.

We hope you’re keeping safe. (And not too busy, nor too sane.)

“So,” I Asked Casually

  • by Kentpresent your cocoon
  • the syllable is the paragraph of the word
  • would have been described as stocky
  • and BOOM! You got yourself a fire.
  • chewed my lips nervously

Tune in next time part 512      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“So,” I asked casually, “what’s in all this for me?” I meant besides not being eaten by a grizzly bear, and I assumed Brady understood that. The nurse was done with my complicated vest and had started unbuttoning the shirt underneath.

“You owe me,” Brady growled. “After how rude you were two years, ten months, and fifteen days ago. You completely blew me off. You didn’t even bother to present your cocoon.”

I waited, but he didn’t finish the code phrase. I tried the countersign anyway. “You forget that the syllable is the paragraph of the word.” Brady looked confused, but also still smug. It renewed my desire to be away from here.

My chance to skedaddle before the meeting evaporated, as Kabbadan Scrim marched out into the courtyard. Like Brady — and soon myself if the pretty nurse had anything to say about it — he was shirtless. But unlike Brady, Scrim was hairy and uninked, and would have been described as stocky by someone who was trying not to offend him. Another nurse had escorted him this far, and was clearly glad to be done with such duty, but Scrim wasn’t done talking. “So you aim a lightning bolt at the hospital and BOOM! You got yourself a fire.”

As Brady welcomed his unpleasant visitor, the nurse undoing my buttons leaned close and whispered in my ear. “Play along.” And then she kissed me full on the mouth. She obviously didn’t have much experience with the activity, but was going all-in. Brady cleared his throat behind her as the nurse chewed my lips nervously.

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Brady’s Use of the Glassblower’s Code

  • by jencroak out a honking little cry
  • his subtle middle finger
  • “Get him!”
  • Were they plotting against me?
  • “Go! GO!”

Tune in next time part 511      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Brady’s use of the Glassblower’s Code startled me so thoroughly that all I could do was croak out a honking little cry of surprise. I tried to pass it off as a reaction to the nurse’s not-so-tender ministrations. Brady signaled me further with his subtle middle finger (not in the way you’re imagining). The message he conveyed was that there were enemies all around and their orders were merely “Get him!” — meaning me. I looked at the nurse, who was busy undoing the many buttons of my mountaineering uniform’s vest, and the bear. Were they plotting against me? Was the bear not really a bear?

“I only have a moderate understanding of weather control devices, from tinkering with my brother’s,” I said, warily watching the nurse and the bear. “I’ll be fine for casual bluffing, but if Scrim asks any detailed questions, I’ll be out of my depth.”

Brady merely shrugged. Perhaps he wasn’t passing signals after all. Perhaps he was just weird.

“No weather control devices that I’m aware of use etching paste,” I added.

Brady twitched his right ring finger, which if he was using the Shadow Puppeteer’s Cypher would mean, “Go! GO!” But nothing about his demeanor suggested urgency.

Should I let the nurse continue to undress me, or make a break for it?

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