“As They Head Into the Final Turn…”

Recently, Jen completed the stubs that will take us all the way out to the end of the book. Being done stubbing meant she was able to rejoin Kent in the prose trenches. And, having both of us working in parallel increases our output, of course.

This time, the speed boost has felt particularly dramatic. Kent’s nightly word count is up compared to normal, and we’re both knocking out scenes at a great clip. Jen observed that, “Having the finish line in view seems to have lit a fire under us.”

Indeed. While we were somewhere in the middle, it felt like we weren’t gaining on it. For a really long time it seemed as if we were halfway done, and it was a bit demoralizing to add pages to it and still be halfway done, over and over. It was just an illusion, like when you go to New York and decide to walk to the Empire State Building. “It’s right over there,” you think. So you hike for blocks and blocks and still it’s right over there. And you start to wish you had taken a cab. But you do get there eventually! You were gaining on it the whole time, even though it didn’t look that way.

The completion of the stubs gave us perspective. It felt like we suddenly jumped from 50% complete to 85% complete. And that’s been quite energizing.

William Penn XII Rolled Off The Bed

  • by Kent“Thanks for a very interesting evening,”
  • The merchant, the lover, the wife, the widow, the mother, the schoolboy
  • stubborn at first, she eventually
  • I super-duper love it.
  • it was a beautiful thing

Tune in next time part 448      Click Here for Earlier Installments

William Penn XII rolled off the bed as soon as he noticed his wife watching us from the doorway. “Thanks for a very interesting evening,” he said as he hunted for his boxers, apparently having forgotten he hadn’t been wearing any. He did locate his hat.

YoYo sat up and began laying tarot cards out on the blankets.

“Where were you hiding those?” I asked, but she ignored me. She recited as the spread filled in, “The merchant, the lover, the wife, the widow, the mother, the schoolboy, the usurper…”

“Ahem,” I said. “Maybe that can wait?” But YoYo kept adding cards and announcing their embarrassing implications while Yesterday sternly watched her husband putting on his cape. “Really, just pause your reading. Please!”

Being stubborn at first, she eventually did stop after saying “the man-whore” in a suggestive tone of voice. William and Yesterday left at last.

“What do you think of this layout?” YoYo asked.

“It’s great,” I said. “I super duper love it.” And in truth it was a beautiful thing. Contrarian tarot are always very ornate.

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The Following Hours Were a Blur

  • by jenthe way you remember a bird pooping into your open mouth
  • ended in the anticlimactic dishonor of
  • not as if she were working at Olive Garden
  • normally wash your shoes
  • I’m your dentist

Tune in next time part 447      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The following hours were a blur. I remember William saying, “I’m your dentist. Now open up.” And later YoYo said “You’d normally wash your shoes after something like that, but you’re not wearing any.” I contemplated tipping YoYo, but decided not to since it was not as if she were working at Olive Garden as a waitress.

The whole thing ended in the anticlimactic dishonor of being walked in on by Yesterday shortly after the mushrooms wore off and the three of us collapsed exhausted. I will remember that tryst the way you remember a bird pooping into your open mouth: a messy, slightly berry-flavored surprise.

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In This Corner…

There are many differences between the novels that Kent and Jen write together and the chain story that has all but taken over the blog.

There are the obvious things, like our novels having actual coherent plots and rational characters, while the chain story is made of ridiculousness and populated by maniacs. And, long as they are, our novels have endings. Despite Kent’s fervent desires, the chain story doesn’t have one of those yet.

Less obvious, perhaps, from the readers’ side of the page is our underlying approach to these different projects. When writing the chain story we often try to fuck each other over. With our novels we try to surprise each other.

That surprise can often be a difficult thing to accomplish, since we’ve worked together for months hammering out and outline and breathing life into our characters. It comes in the little details that we choose on the sentence-by-sentence level. A snappy bit of dialog here, a quirky scenic detail there. It’s what makes writing with a partner delightful. No matter how well you know the story you’re telling, your coauthor sees it from a slightly different angle.

There are probably writing teams that don’t operate this way. They might enjoy creating impossible problems and handing them over to their partner to solve. And that probably works just fine for certain authors and certain kinds of projects. But for us, it’s better to collaborate on the full-length works and save the gleeful dickishness for our little bits of prompted writing.

YoYo Licked My Ear As She Whispered

  • by Kentrespecting the number one rule of threesomes
  • obviously not equipped with bidets
  • wearing a fedora and a cape
  • the pizza released spores
  • pointed out the inappropriateness of licking a co-worker

Tune in next time part 446      Click Here for Earlier Installments

YoYo licked my ear as she whispered a few hints about the playtime ideas she and Yesterday had come up with. Having so recently heard William’s far less enthusiastic but quite similar proposition, I wondered if any of these people would be respecting the number one rule of threesomes, or if I could just sic them on each other and slip away into the mountains. YoYo batted her lashes, then her breath was on my ear again as she mentioned what she wanted me to watch her do to Yesterday.

I mean, running off and hiding in the mountains would be desertion of duty. Not to mention those mountains were cold and windy and obviously not equipped with bidets. I told YoYo that I was heading to my quarters, unsure whether she was going to follow me or show up later or think I wanted to be alone, and unsure which result I hoped for.

She must have known a shortcut through the fortress because she was waiting for me under my blankets when I got to my room. I shut the door behind me, trying to decide what I should say. There was a knock before I could speak, and when I opened the door again I saw William Penn XII wearing a fedora and a cape and holding a pizza box. Wearing only a fedora and a cape.

“I believe you ordered the special,” he said with a leer. “Extra sausage and purple ranger mushrooms.” He swirled past me into the room and fell to one knee, raising the lid of the box and presenting it to YoYo. “Darling, would you care for a slice?”

“Um, okay,” YoYo said.

William stood up, looking all around. “Where is Yesterday?”

“Wait, did you say purple ranger mushrooms?” Indeed he had. Even as I spoke, the pizza released spores from the aphrodisiac fungus. “Are those safe during pregnancy?” We all looked at each other and shrugged. I was the only one wearing clothes in any meaningful sense, so I shed them as quickly as I could before William and YoYo could get too much of a head start. Soon we were all in the bed in a tangle, and YoYo’s green lipstick was simply everywhere, and I hoped that this wouldn’t be the moment someone pointed out the inappropriateness of licking a co-worker.

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I Had to Conduct the Remainder of the Scampering Ceremony

  • by jenwhile wearing a lizard mask
  • running with scissors wasn’t smart
  • the enduring glow of a tender and true love
  • his skill as a porcelain painter
  • physically could not remove her engagement ring

Tune in next time part 445      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I had to conduct the remainder of the Scampering ceremony while wearing a lizard mask to personify the Great Sun-Iguana, a Contrarian folkloric figure somewhat akin to the Tooth Fairy or Easter Bunny, whose job it was to teach Contrarian children that running with scissors wasn’t smart. After I delivered my anti-scissor-running moral, Mr and Mrs Hedgehog reconciled and were left to bask in the enduring glow of a tender and true love that can only come when a poor writer agrees to forgo further attempts at novelry and concentrate instead on his skill as a porcelain painter.

The ceremony concluded with all the local children scampering in the snow, only there were no children at Enigma Fortress. In their place, the garrison under my command marched about in formation while whooping.

As I removed my lizard mask, YoYo whispered into my ear. “You should be proud. Yesterday is quite sure she’s pregnant. When she showered this morning she physically could not remove her engagement ring or her wedding ring because her finger was so swollen.” She planted a green kiss on my lips. “And I’m quite certain that I’m pregnant, too.”

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Happy Thanksgiving

There is much to be thankful for in the Writing Cave, most of all each other. Happiness is a writing partner who’s a fantastic cook! Happiness is a writing partner who washes the dishes!

This time of year brings many disruptions to the routine — houseguests, baking, shopping, travel — but those are also things to be thankful for. We hope everyone enjoyed their annual family feast as much as we did.

I Followed William Penn XII Through the Winding Passages

  • by Kentnickname “Humbug Billy”
  • the sacred ashes of her husband
  • two filthy little monsters
  • , just ask a librarian.
  • forbade our illiterate children

Tune in next time part 444      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I followed William Penn XII through the winding passages of Enigma Fortress to a raised veranda overlooking the snow-clogged courtyard. As we stepped into view of the assembled spectators below, I learned that William’s stunt had earned him the nickname “Humbug Billy” and that he did not find it amusing.

But when I strode to the railing and held my arms aloft, the crowd cheered. Having no clue what my duties in the ceremony actually were, I sought my green-lipped advisor. She turned out to be YoYo, which shouldn’t have surprised me. She took her place behind my right shoulder and coached me what to declaim and which puppets I was supposed to use for emphasis on certain points.

I learned the folkloric origins of the Spring Scampering as I conducted the ceremony. A hedgehog seeking a place to store the sacred ashes of her husband‘s failed novel takes them to the library. This part of the story would feel normal to anyone raised in Contraria, where libraries customarily have a whole wing full of such urns and hedgehogs are generally held to be poor writers. The hedgehogs’ children were two filthy little monsters, which all Contrarian hedgehog children of myth seem to be, just ask a librarian. Rodney the fox represented Mr Hedgehog, who appears at the gates of the library to plead for his ashes back, being too ashamed of his work to let it be housed there. My job was to speak his lines, while he pantomimed the action down in the snow.

YoYo fed me the words and I spoke them in a booming voice. “Oh, noble keeper of the book-fortress, who forbade our illiterate children to scurry on the shelving, let me bury these pathetic cinders under a log as they deserve.”

But the librarian had other ideas.

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“You Know What They Say”

  • by jenalcohol on his breath
  • in a complicated twist
  • If you want to do threesomes
  • Yes, it’s that kind of place
  • scientific proof that mustaches

Tune in next time part 443      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“You know what they say,” William said.

I didn’t, but the alcohol on his breath was probably answer enough to my query. His knickers were in a complicated twist due to handing his wife over to me to impregnate, so he’d gotten tipsy on the finest Paradoxical rotgut. Never ascribe to nefariousness that which is adequately explained by drunkenness.

“Has the Scampering commenced?” I asked. “Or are they waiting for me?”

“They’re waiting.” William led me into the corridor, then said over his shoulder, “Yesterday enjoyed herself with you. If you want to do threesomes with us, she’s interested. And I’m okay with it.”

I know you’re thinking, ‘Isn’t Enigma Fortress a military facility? Is it really the kind of place where such sexual shenanigans occur?’ and I am here to assure you: Yes, it’s that kind of place. As are most Contrarian places.

“I’ll consider it,” I said, with no intention of following through.

As we reached the door to the snowy courtyard, William said, “While she awaits a positive pregnancy test, Yesterday is in the laboratory, continuing her quest for scientific proof that mustaches make excellent disguises.” He dropped a theatrical wink. “Enjoy the Scampering.”

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Our Days are Numbered

Counting today there are 40 days left in this year.

Thanks to Jen’s diligent work on stubs, we now know we have to write 30 scenes to complete Sibling of Music Novel.

With two of us writing, that’s 15 each.

December 31 makes an enticing deadline, but for our purposes it’s totally arbitrary. Choosing that date just because it’s at the end of the calendar is like deciding on your vacation destination because it’s precisely 100 miles from your house. In a perfect world we’d knuckle down and finish this bad boy before the end of 2019, but we’ve already accepted that this is an imperfect world and that’s not likely to happen. While it’s a bit disappointing to know we’re going to miss such a nice big obvious date, there’s a lot of satisfaction in knowing how much work is left.

In between painting the bedroom and wrangling the contractors we hired to do the projects involving finish carpentry and explosive gases, we kept plugging away at the novel. Kent concentrated on prose composition, and completed several scenes. Jen devoted herself to crafting stubs, and carried that project through to the end of the outline. The other night at quitting time, Kent had just finished his scene and was ready to decompress with a little TV. Jen only had one more stub to go. Since she had momentum, Kent just got out of her way and she finished in record time.

15 scenes each. It’s tempting to try to hit that arbitrary deadline.

A writing partner is someone who helps you find the right balance between writing and real life. And who will clean all the bathrooms before the guests arrive for Thanksgiving.