William Penn XII Sized Me Up

  • by Kentcalled the “picker-upper thing”
  • with considerably less pep
  • “What do they look like, these eyeglasses?”
  • my increasing cravings
  • referred to as “mystery candy”

Tune in next time part 442      Click Here for Earlier Installments

William Penn XII sized me up in my new, white uniform and nodded wearily. “That’s right. I should have known this would happen if I showed up in last year’s accoutrements.”

A suspicion flared in my mind. “Did you try to usurp my part in the Spring Scampering?” He nodded again. “And the crowd turned on you?” He shook his head this time. I waited for him to explain his appearance.

“Rodney did this.” William went on to explain that only the fox seemed to care who was emceeing the event or how that person was dressed, and even though he used the special implement called the “picker-upper thing” when attempting to handle Rodney, matters quickly got out of hand. And so, a defeated William had limped out of the courtyard with considerably less pep than he’d entered it. Furthermore, when he suffered the laceration to his brow he also lost his glasses.

“What do they look like, these eyeglasses?” As far as I knew, William did not need glasses.

“They are very stylish,” he replied. “Frames covered with rhinestones, and mirrored lenses. They were necessary to satisfy my increasing cravings for fashion street cred.”

William Penn XII then droned for twenty minutes about his aim to found a designer clothing label specializing in accessories, which he referred to as “mystery candy” and described in tedious detail.

“Are you going to explain why you interfered with the ceremony?” I interrupted.

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My New Uniform

  • by jenred liquid everywhere
  • delicate jets of water
  • in a way that cannot be ignored
  • indulging in the luxury
  • between his eyes was a crescent shaped cut

Tune in next time part 441      Click Here for Earlier Installments

My new uniform was truly a thing to behold. It was white, except for vivid crimson streaks in the crotch area. I looked closer and saw that the pants were embroidered with a sort of sunburst design that to my eye looked like red liquid everywhere, like a glass of wine had been spilled on the pristine cloth.

The epaulets had, in place of the brass squirrels of my old uniform, golden squirrels looking skyward, with sprays of diamonds above their mouths like delicate jets of water in tiny fountains. The diamonds chimed together at the slightest movement in a way that cannot be ignored, announcing my presence and demanding attention.

In place of sensible shoes, I had been provided knee-high fur boots with a slightly raised heel.

As there were no other clothes in my chambers, I donned the uniform and discovered that the entire thing was lined in fur. I spent a few hours indulging in the luxury of all that warm softness, until there was a knock on my door.

I opened it to find my brother-in-law William Penn XII. He looked like he’d been in a fight.  His clothes were rumpled, and between his eyes was a crescent shaped cut. And his lips were coated with a blindingly bright shade of neon green lipstick.

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Gizmos And The Writers Who Design Them

Something we’ve known would be part of our story ever since the pre-outlining stage with our color-coded paper squares is a high-tech device (we like those) built by one of our main characters. Suddenly, now that the word count is over 120k, we discover that we never discussed what this gadget looks like.

So, the other night we did just that.

Such conversations are among the greatest joys of writing together. We can spend hours brainstorming, and frequently do, especially on long drives. But most of the time it’s about the broader shape of the plot. This was a lot of fun particularly because we were more or less engineering this trans-dimensional machine on the fly. Focusing on the details rather than the high-altitude view.

Kent can now proceed with the scenes featuring this apparatus, because we know what it looks like (more or less). There’s still somewhat of a range of options, but we have a shared image of what those possibilities encompass, now that we’ve agreed on how the thing goes about bending reality.

Sometimes “writing partner” is just a synonym for “fellow mad scientist.”

Watching the Glitter Swirl

  • by Kentpair of neon lips
  • It was a baby boy
  • to help a frantic man
  • Even your fingernails
  • logical career path

Tune in next time part 440      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Watching the glitter swirl down the shower drain in my luxurious private accommodations, I tried to imagine where I would be had I followed a logical career path after the Academy, or if I had never gone there at all. There are those who believe that your destiny is written into every part of your body, “Even your fingernails,” they would say, and to those people my musings would be misguided. To them, there never was any other possible course for my life.

The spiraling trail of glitter (how much of this stuff did they smear on me?) became a hypnotic galaxy as my mind frantically tried to fit all the pieces of my life together. But no mandala has ever been able to help a frantic man come to grips with his circumstances.

In the end, I came to understand the reason why I allowed myself to end up in so many bizarre predicaments. It was a baby boy, and his twin sister, and the several other infants who called me father. Well, they would when they started talking. Yes, fatherhood had become my reason for everything, trying to create good things for my children. Did it really make sense, then, for me to accept this assignment to a remote outpost? What was Fleur up to?

When I emerged from the spa-like washroom in my quarters, I found that a whole new uniform had been laid out for me, with a note tacked to it.

“General: this is your attire for tonight. As you have probably never presided over a Spring Scampering before, there will be someone ready to prompt you at the appropriate times. However, you should be on the lookout for counter-agents who might try to lead you astray. Take your cues only from the person wearing a pair of neon lips.”

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It was Snowing Harder

  • by jenthree or four of the thickest
  • wiped them, and put them on again
  • hardly even go to the toilet alone
  • sluggish and contented
  • works hard and plays thoughtfully

Tune in next time part 439      Click Here for Earlier Installments

It was snowing harder outside than three or four of the thickest snowfalls I had ever seen, combined. And I was born at the North Pole!

“How can the Spring Scampering take place during such a blizzard?” I asked the groundskeeper.

He reappeared from under my bed with Rodney in his arms. The fox licked the man’s face, glasses and all. “This storm is the first sign of spring in the Paradoxica Mountains, General,” he said, tucking Rodney under his arm. Noting the fox slobber on his spectacles, he removed them, wiped them, and put them on again. “In deepest winter we can hardly even go to the toilet alone for fear of getting lost in the snow. We form a human chain several times a day to reach the privies.” He saluted in the complicated Contrarian fashion. “Of course, being a General, you have your own private loo, and you don’t even have to go outside to reach it.” Turning, he marched out of my chambers with Rodney held high.

I laid back on my bed, sluggish and contented at the thought of my fancy private bathroom. I’m the sort of guy who works hard and plays thoughtfully. And as soon as I could rouse myself to shower, I would be the kind of guy who is no longer covered in ceremonial sex glitter.

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Sometimes It’s Better Not To Do Too Much Research

There was a recent interview with Thom Yorke in the New York Times, in which he talked a lot about fame and how he’s adapted to it. Much of what he said would really resonate with the main character of our Music Novel. It felt neat to read something that validated so many aspects of our depiction of rock stardom. And, considering that we wrote that book well before Yorke’s interview even happened, it was especially nice not to have something come along and tip over our whole applecart.

Sometimes, it’s better that you didn’t do a huge amount of research. It forces you to use your imagination. And even if you get it “wrong” it’s still yours. If you say that’s how it works in your world, then so be it.

Had this interview been something we read back when our Music Novel story was still coalescing, it might have been hard not to end up cribbing from it. Here is an articulate and intelligent person describing all the same things we need to describe. It might even have influenced the whole makeup of our main character, skewing him to be more similar to Thom Yorke. It might have made him a bit less original.

We did some research, of course. Our experience leads us to encourage that you do sufficient research as well. But maintain that power to dream. Rely on your imagination, and avoid becoming hung up on someone else’s reality.

I’d Be Lying If I Claimed

  • by Kentbuy myself flowers
  • “Rodney! You can’t be here!”
  • the use of obscene languages
  • mermaid-themed birthday parties
  • “Hm,” said the voice.

Tune in next time part 438      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I’d be lying if I claimed to derive no pleasure from enacting the ceremony with Yesterday, but it was a relief nevertheless to send all five people away from my bedchamber and have a few moments of solitude. The import of what had just transpired slowly soaked in, and when I realized how auspicious it could be I decided to buy myself flowers. Then I decided that could wait, and I stretched out on my bed to doze a bit.

A shrill voice woke me, yelling, “Rodney! You can’t be here!”

This was how I learned that the fox had a name. The person shrilly yelling at Rodney wore the uniform of the fortress’s groundskeeping force, the Enigmatic Gardeners. He was squirming under my bed, apparently attempting to wrangle the fox through the use of obscene languages and awkward bodily movements.

I cleared my throat. The groundskeeper sprang to his feet and saluted. “Terribly sorry, General. I didn’t expect you to be in your chambers at such an hour.”

Although there was a voice in my head urging me to wreak dire punishment on this man for his insubordination, I decided to keep things simple. “Leave the fox alone, and get out of here,” I said with a sigh.

“At least you’ll still have the fox this way,” said the voice in my head.

“Sorry again, General. Rodney is needed in the courtyard, for the Spring Scampering.” He registered my baffled expression and explained. “It’s much like a maypole dance, but the ribbons are affixed to helper animals like our Rodney. It’s an important festival, and is one of the two reasons that Enigma Fortress has such a grand courtyard. The other being, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, hosting mermaid-themed birthday parties. Make a right mint off those, yes sir!”

“Hm,” said the voice.

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The Contrarian Way of Annulling a Blood Feud

  • by jensubtle erotic exercise
  • magnificent sunburn
  • the cute one
  • then her hands and feet
  • had to be drunk and in the dark

Tune in next time part 437      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The Contrarian way of annulling a blood feud starts off as a subtle erotic exercise, but if you do it right, you end up with nipples the color of a magnificent sunburn. There’s a lot of massaging to be done in very precise patterns, and each and every nip, nibble, and tweak must be performed in time to the chanting, and carefully counted. The notary keeps an exact tally of it all. Once the three witnesses all agree that the proper shade of red has been achieved, the cute one will decorate the female participant’s buttocks with the special ceremonial glitter that is kept in all Contrarian fortresses for use in such rituals, and then her hands and feet are likewise beglittered. The male participant (in this case, me)  is decorated with glitter of a contrasting color. It’s a very messy ceremony, as I’m sure you can imagine, but that’s what makes it exciting. Can you imagine how dull royal life would be if for every ceremony and ritual you had to be drunk and in the dark?

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Writing Prompt Generator: The Enhugening

Once again we have added several thousand new phrases to the Stichomancy Writing Prompt Generator, making it the largest such writing prompt generator known to man!

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And just in time for NaNoWriMo! Which we don’t participate in, but maybe you do. And maybe you’re looking for the perfect inspiration for your masterpiece. If that’s the case, just click here to visit our generator, choose 3, 5, or 7 prompt phrases, and get crackin’!

Or if you prefer a different sort of prompt generator, one that doesn’t put words in your mouth, but merely demands the inclusion of four intriguing story elements, you’ll want to check out our Four Elements Generator. You’ll be glad you did.

The Arrival of Four Uniformed Observers

  • by Kentreduced to a misdemeanor
  • used to live in her apartment building
  • a tsunami of bitchery
  • we used to be friends a long time ago
  • floors scrubbed, walls painted

Tune in next time part 436      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The arrival of four uniformed observers in my bedchamber inhibited my ability to perform with Yesterday. My libido, which had been in major felony territory, was reduced to a misdemeanor.

Yesterday tried to keep things going, but soon she had to stop pretending that I hadn’t wilted. She told me about a man who used to live in her apartment building whose love life was the main subject of gossip among the other tenants. She described in vivid detail the voluptuous visitors who circulated through his rooms. “One day he had a scheduling mishap and three of them arrived at the same moment, triggering a tsunami of bitchery like I had never witnessed. And, one of the women was familiar to me. We used to be friends a long time ago, and then there she was on my neighbor’s doorstep.”

Her sultry storytelling helped take my mind off the excess personages in the room, but I was going to need more help before I could get her pregnant. She could tell, so she elaborated.

“I was a visitor for my neighbor, once. I had to see what it was like in there. I’m not sure what I had expected, but I was surprised to find the floors scrubbed, walls painted a shrill green like a poison frog. I want you to understand, I didn’t throw myself at him. No, I insisted that he charm me, even made him dance for me.” Her grip on me tightened. “I like a man who can dance.”

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