Getting Some Culture

A few days ago we gave ourselves the night off from the Writing Cave and decamped to the Auxilliary Cavern to watch Hamilton. Yes, it’s as good as everyone says. You should watch it.

You might want to watch it twice, to catch all the fantastic wordplay. There are a lot of words, and it’s all sung through. It’s an impressive feat to have so many great lines, and to sustain it throughout the show.

What’s also very impressive is its macro-level storytelling. Alexander Hamilton covered a lot of ground, and he did it at a very lively point in history. That such an epic plot is constructed entirely in song — there is no spoken dialog to cheat the plot forward — is a little mind-blowing.

Naturally, what we geek out about is the writing. But we wouldn’t want to give the impression that it was “like watching a good book.” Yes, the wordsmithing is stellar, but so was everything else. The costumes, the choreography, the music, the singing, the acting, the entire show is marvelous. You should watch it.

A writing partner is someone you can enjoy a great show with on your night off.

I Expected The Fountain to be Bracingly Cold

  • by Kentrule the world with his weather control device
  • His knees don’t bend
  • and, of course, a “heavily sedated but alert grizzly bear.”
  • recount all sorts of salacious tales
  • Glass etching requires etching paste

Tune in next time part 510      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I expected the fountain to be bracingly cold, an unpleasant but sensible measure to aid in reviving me. But it was warm like tropical waves, and I didn’t in the least bit mind sitting in it. The nurse prodded and shoved at my shoulders and back, seeming dissatisfied with my posture.

“Listen,” Brady said. “The League of Tap Dancers is led by Kabbadan Scrim, a madman who wants to rule the world with his weather control device. The fact that he doesn’t have one, and that he spends his days overseeing nefarious tap dancers, makes him grouchy. Bitter, really. See, dancing is something he can never do. His knees don’t bend, like, at all.”

I spread my arms in a dramatic shrug, splashing the pretty nurse. She poked me between the ribs with her knuckle. “Youch! But, really. What does all this have to do with me?”

Brady made one of those smug faces he was reviled for. “He’s expecting to haggle with me over a weather control device. You’re playing the part of my head engineer. When he asks how it works, start to answer and I’ll interrupt after a few seconds.”

The nurse stepped back quickly, and I looked over my shoulder into the fountain. It was filled with salmon, which accounted for the splashing. And then I noticed that I was not the only one seated in there. An enormous animal lounged against the opposite rim, watching me blearily.

Brady chortled. “My head engineer, you see, has an eccentric taste in pets. So,” he summed up, “at the meeting it will be you, and me…” He trailed off, but I knew he meant it would be the two of us and, of course, a “heavily sedated but alert grizzly bear.” At least I hoped it was sedated.

“Kabbadan’s a boor,” Brady declared, “and will recount all sorts of salacious tales about tap. Your true job is to detect any coded messages he works into his soliloquy. He might try to test me, and I’ll need you to feed me the proper responses.”

I shrugged again, this time splashing the bear. “How am I supposed to do that? I’m taking a bath with a bear over here.”

“You know that old expression,” Brady said with a wink. “Glass etching requires etching paste.”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

Brady Snapped his Fingers

  • by jenled from the room by a pretty nurse
  • “Still?”
  • another great splash
  • it tickles
  • time is not on our side

Tune in next time part 509      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Brady snapped his fingers and I was led from the room by a pretty nurse who entered through the stone door. On the other side of that gaping entry was a lush garden with a fountain full of splashing fish in the center. I recognized it and my legs wobbled. “Slow down, Brady,” I said. “I’m woozy.”

“Still?” he sneered.

Something in the fountain gave another great splash. Maybe it wasn’t a fish at all…

“I took a lot of darts,” I said, playing up my disorientation. “And I spent a long time in the thin air of the Paradoxica Mountains. Down here there’s so much oxygen it tickles my lungs and brain.”

“Well get your shit together,” Brady said as he directed the nurse to seat me in the fountain. “The mimes have signed a treaty with the League of Tap Dancers, and time is not on our side.”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

The Patient is Resting Comfortably

Over the holiday weekend we finished up this round of edits on Son of Music Novel. Son is now over 18,000 words shorter. For those of you who prefer page counts, that’s approximately 50. We removed about 4 chapters worth of words. (!)

As threatened, Jen swung back around to give the beginning a second look. But even with all the cutting blades nicely sharpened, and her critical eye honed, she found fewer than 20 words to cut from each of the first two chapters. That’s about a tenfold drop from what was getting cut during the first pass. So, we’re calling it done (for now). That pace would lead to a not insignificant total over the course of the book. And we will take another trip through, just not right now.

We will leave this project in the recovery room for a while and turn our attention to its littermate, Sibling of Music Novel. That one’s earlier along in its lifecycle. Even though it’s the second in the series, we wrote it last, and there are half-a-dozen brief items we know we want to punch up before we consider it truly complete. Back in January we said 2020 was going to be the year where not much writing got done in the Writing Cave. We’re about to tackle the one little bit on the schedule. It will feel good to stretch different muscles.

The Tattoo Was Quite Unmistakable

  • by Kentwearing a diamond wedding band
  • seeing it swing upon its huge hinges
  • casually raised his wrist to his mouth
  • recognized from my childhood
  • “I’ll show you, you silly ass!”

Tune in next time part 508      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The tattoo was quite unmistakable, but still I squinted twice at his face to be sure it was really the same man. The last time we met, he’d been wearing a diamond wedding band, but today his fingers were ringless.

A gigantic stone door at the other end of the chamber opened. It made no sound, but seeing it swing upon its huge hinges and smelling the warm spring breeze it admitted caused me to realize that I didn’t know where I was. This room had no plush yetis, no crib, and no Jason.

“Where have you taken me, Brady?”

Brady casually raised his wrist to his mouth to fog the crystal of his expensive watch before polishing it on his jeans. He said nothing, but wore a smug expression that made me mad enough to accelerate my recovery from the drugged darts. I wobbled to my feet, staring at his chest tattoo, at the three-by-three grid of faces I recognized from my childhood. When Brady flexed his pecs and rippled his abs, the family members winked and nodded lewdly. The effect was off-putting and I could see why his marriage hadn’t worked.

And then I noticed that the face in the center of the pattern was one that didn’t go with the show. It was a stranger’s face. Had Brady’s tattoo always been like that? Or was this some kind of recent revision? And what did it mean?

“Well?” I demanded. “Are you going to tell me where I am?”

“I’ll show you, you silly ass!”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

I Tried to ask Jason

  • by jenprobably through some false pretense
  • chocolate pudding
  • truly excessive amount of farting
  • depicted the Brady Bunch
  • two years, ten months, and fifteen days ago

Tune in next time part 507      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I tried to ask Jason how he’d managed to get the dart-spitting toys installed in the nursery, but my mouth wouldn’t work. It was probably through some false pretense, and he would likely not tell me the details anyway.

When I came to, my muscles felt like chocolate pudding and I was farting a lot. A lot a lot. It was a truly excessive amount of farting. Those symptoms helped me identify the tranquilizer in the darts, which did me little good.

A shirtless man stood before me, his hairless chest covered with an elaborate tattoo that depicted the Brady Bunch on their Hawaiian vacation. The last time I saw this guy was two years, ten months, and fifteen days ago. He was not my biggest fan. I groaned. And farted.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

The Nunchuks Made Me Nervous

  • by Kenthas a kick on it like a mule
  • until the forklift was encased in ice
  • Boris has just given me a summary
  • you could lose a finger otherwise
  • for all of our reenactments

Tune in next time part 506      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The nunchuks made me nervous for a second, until I recognized them as the foam-rubber replicas we used for all of our reenactments of kung fu movie fights back when we were kids, before the Sacher Torte fiasco. It was crucial to use fake weapons, particularly swords; you could lose a finger otherwise.

Furry Boots announced, “Boris has just given me a summary of the auction’s expected outcome, and we’re falling behind schedule.”

“Call him back,” Jason said. “Tell him I have a plan.” She left.

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be languishing in Oksana’s damp jail cell?” I demanded of my twin.

He sneered. “Everything was under control. You’re as confused as the Academy hockey coach. Remember when he substituted a forklift for a zamboni, and he refused to admit his mistake and forced the crew to use it until the forklift was encased in ice and the rink’s surface was too rutted and rough for skates and the visiting teams started bringing hobnail boots to wear instead?” He twirled the nunchuks faster, shaking his head. “Anyway, yeah. You’re like him.”

“Stay away from my kids,” I said, taking a step toward him.

I heard a faint ‘thwip’ noise and felt the sting of a dart in my neck. Then another. The plush yetis were spitting them. I staggered.

“Just lie down” Jason advised. “The trank in those things has a kick on it like a mule.”

bonus points for using them in reverse order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

When Jason and I Were Young

  • by jenbask in the sugary afterglow
  • with bleach and everything
  • every fake-tanned, acrylic-nailed, selfie-taking woman
  • going to do “the fetish stuff”
  • near the twins, swinging

Tune in next time part 505      Click Here for Earlier Installments

When Jason and I were young, we once raided the White House pantry and ate an entire Sacher Torte that had been intended as the desert at an important State dinner. We had no time to bask in the sugary afterglow, though, because our mother discovered us and was enraged. She made us clean the entire kitchen, with bleach and everything, and then made us bake a replacement. Our skills were nothing compared to the staff bakers, but our cake was good enough to charm every fake-tanned, acrylic-nailed, selfie-taking woman at the party, so Mother was satisfied.

Furry Boots somehow knew this story. She whispered its details in my ear, thus proving she had a connection of some sort to my family. Perhaps she really was Jason’s lover. That didn’t mean I could trust her.

“Come with me,” she said, gripping me by the lapels of my climbing uniform. She explained that she was going to do “the fetish stuff” with me someplace private, which really didn’t narrow down her intentions much.

At the pace the auction was going, it wouldn’t be over anytime soon. I could afford to step away for a bit. And in private I might be able to figure out who Furry Boots was and what she was after.

We traveled through several rocky passages before entering a cavern decorated with plush yetis. A single crib held my newborn children, and near the twins, swinging a pair of nunchucks lazily, was Jason.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

Ouroboros

As the weather gets muggy and our neighbors ignore social-distancing recommendations to throw innumerable pool parties, we’ve been hiding in the writing cave, editing away. The cave is air conditioned, and we’re the only ones in it, so it’s quite pleasant.

We’re closing in on the end of Son of Music Novel. Jen only has two chapters left to edit, and Kent is (by design) about five chapters behind her. The plan is for Jen to loop back around to the beginning of the novel and take another crack at the first couple of chapters. It took a little while for us to get our various editing blades properly sharpened at the start of this project, so now that we have everything dialed in and calibrated it makes sense to take another pass. Or maybe we’ll discover that the opening of the novel is just more cleanly written than everything that follows. It could happen. If that’s the case, then Jen’s revisit should be quite perfunctory.

Whichever way it goes, Jen will be done by Independence Day (the deadline she set herself). Kent might not quite make that since he has a day job, but he shouldn’t need much extra time.

We don’t plan to run through the whole novel again right away, like a snake eating its own tail. It needs to rest, and so do we.

Wear your masks and stay healthy.