I had a super-awesome blast with this. Coming up with new weird characters was fun! The fairy bodyguard and the tech support wizard were probably two of my favourites. I got a little behind and had to scramble to catch up, but this was good, an exercise in understanding stereotypes and also breaking them without going overboard, creating Mary Sues, or otherwise falling into writerly traps. Maybe one day I'll take up with some of them again, and it was good times. Half of this was mixing stereotypes, taking one person and stereotyping him or her as something else, like Ranolph the werewolf actor: take away his being a werewolf, and he was a stereotypical drama boy. Same with the soccer witch, the hot surfer boy. I think the fairy bodyguard and the vampire family were probably the most original, and I had oodles of fun with them.
NOTE: no challenge this next week. It's Thanksgiving! Spend it with friends and family.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
No Self-Respecting Wizard
“Tech support,” Wyllt said in a crisp, professional tone. He settled both hands on his keyboard and began typing rapidly. Beside his mousepad, his cup of tea continued steaming. A muttered syllable and a flash of gold in Wyllt’s eyes and his teaspoon resumed stirring for him. “Have you closed all the other windows, madam?” Then he paused, sighed, and said, “No, madam, not the windows in the house - the windows on your computer screen. Yes, the frame-thingies.”
In the corner, Ambrose was curled up on his favorite over-stuffed chair, a human skull balanced on one knee, his grimoire balanced on the other. A chalk circle was inscribed on the hardwood floor around him while he attempted to animate the skull Lost Unicorn style.
“All right, is your computer successfully rebooted?” Wyllt asked. He cast a glance at his teacup, and the teaspoon vanished in a puff of smoke. Moments later, it clattered into the sink in the kitchen down the hall. He pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved another aggrieved sigh. “Madam, unplugging and then replugging your computer is not the definition of ‘reboot’. Look - do you have an internet connection? Once your computer is on again, you’ll need to open up the internet - yes, the blue and yellow e-shaped button in the bottom right corner of the screen - and I can take over remotely. Yes, from where I’m sitting. Yes, I’ll hold, Madam.”
“You know,” Ambrose said, “any self-respecting wizard would have made that computer explode by now, what with all the magic you’ve been using. And he wouldn’t know the definition of ‘reboot’ either.”
Wyllt sipped some of his tea. “Who said I was self-respecting? I do tech support.” He set his tea down hastily. “Yes, Madam, I’m still here.”
(300 words)
In the corner, Ambrose was curled up on his favorite over-stuffed chair, a human skull balanced on one knee, his grimoire balanced on the other. A chalk circle was inscribed on the hardwood floor around him while he attempted to animate the skull Lost Unicorn style.
“All right, is your computer successfully rebooted?” Wyllt asked. He cast a glance at his teacup, and the teaspoon vanished in a puff of smoke. Moments later, it clattered into the sink in the kitchen down the hall. He pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved another aggrieved sigh. “Madam, unplugging and then replugging your computer is not the definition of ‘reboot’. Look - do you have an internet connection? Once your computer is on again, you’ll need to open up the internet - yes, the blue and yellow e-shaped button in the bottom right corner of the screen - and I can take over remotely. Yes, from where I’m sitting. Yes, I’ll hold, Madam.”
“You know,” Ambrose said, “any self-respecting wizard would have made that computer explode by now, what with all the magic you’ve been using. And he wouldn’t know the definition of ‘reboot’ either.”
Wyllt sipped some of his tea. “Who said I was self-respecting? I do tech support.” He set his tea down hastily. “Yes, Madam, I’m still here.”
(300 words)
Friday, November 19, 2010
Family Dinner
“Ma, ‘m hungry.” The little boy reached up and tugged on the woman’s sleeve.
She sighed and pushed her glasses higher up her nose. “I know, darling, Mama just needs a few more minutes.”
The boy pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m old enough to get food on my own now.”
“No you’re not,” the woman said absently, flicking beads on her abacus with inhuman speed. “You’re still grounded from feeding off the neighbours’ niece last month.”
“She was O positive. I like O positive,” the boy said. He pouted some more.
“You can’t always get the type you want.” The woman wrote some neat figures in her ledger and turned the page. “Back when I was a little girl, we had to hunt people in the middle of the night, and we were glad for what we could get.”
The boy rolled his eyes. “I know - you had to sleep in sewers and abandoned graves and sometimes steal from blood banks.”
The woman glanced at her watch. “Your father will be home from work soon. He promised to help you work on your bat transformation tonight, didn’t he?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Go play some Castlevania until Daddy gets home, okay?”
“Yes, Mama.” The boy sighed and slunk away. He reached up and prodded one of his fangs - distended from hunger - and resigned himself to his DS until his father came home.
(234 words)
She sighed and pushed her glasses higher up her nose. “I know, darling, Mama just needs a few more minutes.”
The boy pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m old enough to get food on my own now.”
“No you’re not,” the woman said absently, flicking beads on her abacus with inhuman speed. “You’re still grounded from feeding off the neighbours’ niece last month.”
“She was O positive. I like O positive,” the boy said. He pouted some more.
“You can’t always get the type you want.” The woman wrote some neat figures in her ledger and turned the page. “Back when I was a little girl, we had to hunt people in the middle of the night, and we were glad for what we could get.”
The boy rolled his eyes. “I know - you had to sleep in sewers and abandoned graves and sometimes steal from blood banks.”
The woman glanced at her watch. “Your father will be home from work soon. He promised to help you work on your bat transformation tonight, didn’t he?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Go play some Castlevania until Daddy gets home, okay?”
“Yes, Mama.” The boy sighed and slunk away. He reached up and prodded one of his fangs - distended from hunger - and resigned himself to his DS until his father came home.
(234 words)
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Vlad Dracula, Prince of the Waves
“This is the best plan you’ve ever had,” Rose said. She stretched out on her beach towel and reached for her bag; she’d brought along a novel and planned to actually finish it.
Lana hummed noncommittally and continued prodding her iPad. Rose rolled her eyes and searched through her bag. Her fingers closed over the worn spine of a used book, and she let out a little hiss of victory.
And then sand exploded at her feet.
Rose yelped and jerked back. Lana dropped her iPad onto the towel and rose up in a crouch, ready to attack.
A stunningly handsome - shirtless - man came trotting toward them. He wore a sheepish expression.
“I’m so sorry - didn’t mean to miss the frisbee like that. Usually my reflexes are better.”
Rose glanced down and saw a neon pink frisbee buried in the sand next to where her feet had been. Then she looked up at the man. He had wavy dark hair and a smooth golden tan and looked like he put in a lot of time at the gym. His time had clearly paid off. He knelt down and scooped up the frisbee.
Then he peered at Rose, who was dazed. They didn’t make men like that in real life, did they?
“Hey, lass, you all right?”
Rose started to nod, but then the man grinned at her, and she saw that he had fangs. Actual vampire fangs.
And then someone hollered from behind him,
“Vlad! Grab your board - the waves are turning into real screamers. Let’s show Hawaii how the brotherhood can carve!”
The man - his name was Vlad? - smiled apologetically again and stood up, scampered away. Rose was sure she’d just imagined the fangs, dazed as she was by his good looks, but on the waves, he was inhuman.
(300 words)
Lana hummed noncommittally and continued prodding her iPad. Rose rolled her eyes and searched through her bag. Her fingers closed over the worn spine of a used book, and she let out a little hiss of victory.
And then sand exploded at her feet.
Rose yelped and jerked back. Lana dropped her iPad onto the towel and rose up in a crouch, ready to attack.
A stunningly handsome - shirtless - man came trotting toward them. He wore a sheepish expression.
“I’m so sorry - didn’t mean to miss the frisbee like that. Usually my reflexes are better.”
Rose glanced down and saw a neon pink frisbee buried in the sand next to where her feet had been. Then she looked up at the man. He had wavy dark hair and a smooth golden tan and looked like he put in a lot of time at the gym. His time had clearly paid off. He knelt down and scooped up the frisbee.
Then he peered at Rose, who was dazed. They didn’t make men like that in real life, did they?
“Hey, lass, you all right?”
Rose started to nod, but then the man grinned at her, and she saw that he had fangs. Actual vampire fangs.
And then someone hollered from behind him,
“Vlad! Grab your board - the waves are turning into real screamers. Let’s show Hawaii how the brotherhood can carve!”
The man - his name was Vlad? - smiled apologetically again and stood up, scampered away. Rose was sure she’d just imagined the fangs, dazed as she was by his good looks, but on the waves, he was inhuman.
(300 words)
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
T-888, Fairy Edition
“A bodyguard?” Prince Arthur echoed. “Surely that’s not strictly necessary. I am a knight in my own right and I can defend myself.”
“Despite your blood relation to Morgan Le Fay, some of the Fair Folk are hostile to your presence,” the Vice Minister - a tiny, green-skinned thing with dragonfly wings who fluttered at shoulder height - said. He adjusted his tiny spectacles primly. “We’ve assigned the best and brightest of the Seeleigh Court forces for you.”
Prince Arthur glanced at Lancelot, who shrugged helplessly. Who would be guarding him? Little creatures with butterfly wings who were no bigger than his shoe?
The Vice Minister cleared his throat, and then a figure slid out of the shadows. Prince Arthur jumped. Lancelot and Gawaine reached for their swords, but then the figure bowed.
Prince Arthur could only stare. The creature was tall and slender, with snow-pale skin and coal-black hair and ocean-blue eyes and a pair of lovely blue-and-gold butterfly wings. It was a fae of some sort, with elegantly-carved cheekbones and a perfect rosette mouth, and Prince Arthur was disturbed to realize that he had no clue whether the creature was male or female.
“This is Peaseblossom,” the Vice Minister said. “He’s very good at what he does.”
Oh. Fairies could be male, then.
Peaseblossom wore a distressingly blank expression, unlike the other fairies who always seemed to be giggling and smiling at obscure things. He looked like a stiff breeze would knock him over, but when the first band of redcaps attacked, he handled a sword like a pro, and he sounded strangely competent when he said,
“Come with me if you want to live,” and extended a hand that was dripping with someone else’s blood.
(293 words)
“Despite your blood relation to Morgan Le Fay, some of the Fair Folk are hostile to your presence,” the Vice Minister - a tiny, green-skinned thing with dragonfly wings who fluttered at shoulder height - said. He adjusted his tiny spectacles primly. “We’ve assigned the best and brightest of the Seeleigh Court forces for you.”
Prince Arthur glanced at Lancelot, who shrugged helplessly. Who would be guarding him? Little creatures with butterfly wings who were no bigger than his shoe?
The Vice Minister cleared his throat, and then a figure slid out of the shadows. Prince Arthur jumped. Lancelot and Gawaine reached for their swords, but then the figure bowed.
Prince Arthur could only stare. The creature was tall and slender, with snow-pale skin and coal-black hair and ocean-blue eyes and a pair of lovely blue-and-gold butterfly wings. It was a fae of some sort, with elegantly-carved cheekbones and a perfect rosette mouth, and Prince Arthur was disturbed to realize that he had no clue whether the creature was male or female.
“This is Peaseblossom,” the Vice Minister said. “He’s very good at what he does.”
Oh. Fairies could be male, then.
Peaseblossom wore a distressingly blank expression, unlike the other fairies who always seemed to be giggling and smiling at obscure things. He looked like a stiff breeze would knock him over, but when the first band of redcaps attacked, he handled a sword like a pro, and he sounded strangely competent when he said,
“Come with me if you want to live,” and extended a hand that was dripping with someone else’s blood.
(293 words)
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Wolf Drama
“What are you going out for this year?” Ulf asked.
Ranolph shrugged and pushed his glasses higher up his nose. “Drama club, I think. I hear they’re doing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, which was fantastic.”
Ulf paused in shrugging on his jacket. “...What?”
“Did something I say not make sense?” Ranolph asked.
Ulf blinked slowly. “No, but...I’m going out for football. Hemming and Lovell are doing track, and Marrok is doing wrestling.”
“And I’m doing drama. So what?” Ranolph peered at his reflection and attempting to smooth down an errant cowlick of hair.
“You don’t want to do, I don’t know, sports or something?” Ulf wore a distinctly dubious expression.
Ranolph wore an equally dubious expression as he gestured to himself, indicating his slender frame. “If I went out for sports, I’d get crushed. Even at something like cross country or track and field. Seriously. I’m clumsy, and also delicate.”
Ulf sighed. “You’re a werewolf. You can’t be delicate.”
Ranolph sniffed. “Tell that to my pediatrician. I’ve broken at least thirty bones and I’m only sixteen. If I want to do drama, I shall do drama. You and the others can chest beat all you want and get picked up by the cops for overdoing it with the loup-blood and the testosterone. Ten years from now when you’re rotting in jail and I’m accepting my third Oscar, you’ll see who was the sensible one.”
“Right.” Ulf shook his head. “Just...remember you’re pack.” He clapped Ranolph on the shoulder. “If anyone gives you crap for being a, you know, thespian, let us know. We’ll take care of them.”
Ranolph smiled. “Thanks, cousin.”
(275 words)
Ranolph shrugged and pushed his glasses higher up his nose. “Drama club, I think. I hear they’re doing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, which was fantastic.”
Ulf paused in shrugging on his jacket. “...What?”
“Did something I say not make sense?” Ranolph asked.
Ulf blinked slowly. “No, but...I’m going out for football. Hemming and Lovell are doing track, and Marrok is doing wrestling.”
“And I’m doing drama. So what?” Ranolph peered at his reflection and attempting to smooth down an errant cowlick of hair.
“You don’t want to do, I don’t know, sports or something?” Ulf wore a distinctly dubious expression.
Ranolph wore an equally dubious expression as he gestured to himself, indicating his slender frame. “If I went out for sports, I’d get crushed. Even at something like cross country or track and field. Seriously. I’m clumsy, and also delicate.”
Ulf sighed. “You’re a werewolf. You can’t be delicate.”
Ranolph sniffed. “Tell that to my pediatrician. I’ve broken at least thirty bones and I’m only sixteen. If I want to do drama, I shall do drama. You and the others can chest beat all you want and get picked up by the cops for overdoing it with the loup-blood and the testosterone. Ten years from now when you’re rotting in jail and I’m accepting my third Oscar, you’ll see who was the sensible one.”
“Right.” Ulf shook his head. “Just...remember you’re pack.” He clapped Ranolph on the shoulder. “If anyone gives you crap for being a, you know, thespian, let us know. We’ll take care of them.”
Ranolph smiled. “Thanks, cousin.”
(275 words)
Monday, November 15, 2010
Soccer Witch
“Are you coming to Circle Midnight tonight?” Thea asked.
Bonnie bobbed her head. “Yeah. Should be there. Might be a little late - I heard coach was on one, so practice might run late.” She twisted her hair up into a ponytail with an expert turn of her wrists, then set about strapping on her shin guards.
Vivian and Selene exchanged arch looks, then turned back to Bonnie, who was squirming into her soccer jersey and casting worried looks at her watch.
“You know, if you wore a drop of citrine at your neck, it would help boost your energy,” Vivian said. “Also, it would look really good on you - it’s good for your coloring. Maybe one of the boys on the men’s soccer team would notice you and ask you to homecoming, don’t you think?”
Bonnie shook her head. “Nope - jewelry on the field is impractical. Besides, my sports are pure - I won’t let anything taint it.”
Selene wrinkled her nose. “Magic isn’t a taint. It’s a gift you were born with - you should make more use of it than perfunctorily showing up to casting circles and memorizing pitiful little charms.”
“Soccer is a gift, too, one that I intend to develop as fully as my magic,” Bonnie said. She stood up and hoisted her gym bag over her shoulder. “See you sisters at Circle Midnight.”
“You know,” Vivian said, watching Bonnie run off, “we witches put an awful lot of effort into being feminine and powerful. She’s ruining it.”
“Just because she’s an athlete doesn’t mean she’s undermining her own femininity,” Thea said patiently. “And she’s a solid caster, so it’s not like she’s not pulling her weight at circle. Now come on - we have some mundane boys to enchant.”
(291 words)
Bonnie bobbed her head. “Yeah. Should be there. Might be a little late - I heard coach was on one, so practice might run late.” She twisted her hair up into a ponytail with an expert turn of her wrists, then set about strapping on her shin guards.
Vivian and Selene exchanged arch looks, then turned back to Bonnie, who was squirming into her soccer jersey and casting worried looks at her watch.
“You know, if you wore a drop of citrine at your neck, it would help boost your energy,” Vivian said. “Also, it would look really good on you - it’s good for your coloring. Maybe one of the boys on the men’s soccer team would notice you and ask you to homecoming, don’t you think?”
Bonnie shook her head. “Nope - jewelry on the field is impractical. Besides, my sports are pure - I won’t let anything taint it.”
Selene wrinkled her nose. “Magic isn’t a taint. It’s a gift you were born with - you should make more use of it than perfunctorily showing up to casting circles and memorizing pitiful little charms.”
“Soccer is a gift, too, one that I intend to develop as fully as my magic,” Bonnie said. She stood up and hoisted her gym bag over her shoulder. “See you sisters at Circle Midnight.”
“You know,” Vivian said, watching Bonnie run off, “we witches put an awful lot of effort into being feminine and powerful. She’s ruining it.”
“Just because she’s an athlete doesn’t mean she’s undermining her own femininity,” Thea said patiently. “And she’s a solid caster, so it’s not like she’s not pulling her weight at circle. Now come on - we have some mundane boys to enchant.”
(291 words)
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Project #75: Supernatural Creature Iconoclast
All right, let's get it out of our systems. It'd be easy to write about vampires, fairies, werewolves, and the like, because those are popular right now and people love to read about them. But let's not take the easy road - take a new one! (But do not, for the love of all things holy and unholy, make your vampires sparkle.) What about the vampire who loves to lounge on the beach? Or the werewolf who prefers his steaks well done? Or the studious fairy who spends too much time in the library while her fellow winged friends are out partying it up? 100-300 words. Break some molds, try some new characters, and have some fun!
Overview #74: Critical Scenes
This was tough, to try to capture all the momentum of an entire plot line in a single scene barely 500 words long. It was hard to resist the urge to throw down background details, and I'm pretty sure sometimes I failed, but it was fun to dive in and see which scenes would matter most. It was hard to make the characters real without the plot-building that makes things awesome, but I made a good run of it, and I think I learned something about characters. Also names. It was hard to come up with names on the fly that didn't all sound the same, because when I'm writing I work with a set of given characters until their time in my mental menagerie is done, and all their names through their various incarnations are just riffs off of each other, and I couldn't do that here lest I risked basically reiterating the same plots and characters. It was interesting to see how the last scene started off with a UK name and turned the setting UK without me thinking about it.
Still, a fun exercise in feeding plot bunnies. Here's to not falling so behind next week.
Still, a fun exercise in feeding plot bunnies. Here's to not falling so behind next week.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Pictures on the Wall
“Don’t worry about taking off your shoes,” Callum said when Sady began to toe off her sneaker.
“Oh. Right.” She wiggled her foot back into her shoe and smiled faintly. Sure, her friendship with Callum was tenuous, but she liked him, and it was high time they did normal things like study together at each other’s houses and things.
“My mum and dad are probably still at work.” Callum started toward the door at the far end of the hallway.
Sady followed, curious. He said little about his family; all she knew was that both his parents worked and his brother had died last year before he transferred in. The walls were lined with artistic photos - woodlands, hills, even a castle. Was someone in the family a photographer? Sady asked.
“My brother,” he said, and he smiled, small, sad.
“Right.” Sady had to stop opening her mouth and inserting her foot. “So...which subject is giving you the most trouble?” They had chemistry, biology, and maths in common for their GCSEs, and Callum had expressed worry about one of his classes.
“Bio, mostly,” Callum said. “The whole citric acid cycle is doing my head in. The whole phosphorylation procedure is...”
Sady glanced up at a photo of a palm tree on a beach. Beside it was a photo of actual people for once. It must have been Callum’s family. Only besides Callum and the man and woman who must have been his parents, there was another boy: blond, classically handsome, blue-eyed, aloof. Sady knew his face - it was Vaughn.
Vaughn had died a year ago, sacrificed himself for his little brother, the one who was more brilliant and loving and was going to save the world. He’d shielded his brother from the world, from Sady’s wrath when she found out; he’d given everything for the brother Sady never knew.
Callum’s brother had died a year ago, right after Callum was released from a long stay in the hospital. How could she not have known? They had blue eyes - the same blue eyes - and the same quirky smile, and -
“...Sady?” Callum stood in the doorway to the kitchen, looking at her oddly.
“Is this Vaughn?” Sady asked.
“Yes. It’s the only one Mum keeps.” Callum’s brow furrowed. “How do you know his name?”
“I met him,” Sady said.
Surprise flared in Callum’s eyes. “What?”
Sady nodded. “At the hospital. About - about a year ago. When my gran was in. He was there whenever I was, and he’d play cards with me and Gran, and...”
“And?”
“And then Gran died, and I left, and I never came back. He told me to stay away, because I got angry with him when he told me -”
“What did he tell you?”
“That he was going to save his baby brother.”
Callum closed his eyes. “So this whole time, you knew?”
“Not at all. He never said your name, never let me see you.” Sady tried to smile. “I was in love with him.”
(500 words)
“Oh. Right.” She wiggled her foot back into her shoe and smiled faintly. Sure, her friendship with Callum was tenuous, but she liked him, and it was high time they did normal things like study together at each other’s houses and things.
“My mum and dad are probably still at work.” Callum started toward the door at the far end of the hallway.
Sady followed, curious. He said little about his family; all she knew was that both his parents worked and his brother had died last year before he transferred in. The walls were lined with artistic photos - woodlands, hills, even a castle. Was someone in the family a photographer? Sady asked.
“My brother,” he said, and he smiled, small, sad.
“Right.” Sady had to stop opening her mouth and inserting her foot. “So...which subject is giving you the most trouble?” They had chemistry, biology, and maths in common for their GCSEs, and Callum had expressed worry about one of his classes.
“Bio, mostly,” Callum said. “The whole citric acid cycle is doing my head in. The whole phosphorylation procedure is...”
Sady glanced up at a photo of a palm tree on a beach. Beside it was a photo of actual people for once. It must have been Callum’s family. Only besides Callum and the man and woman who must have been his parents, there was another boy: blond, classically handsome, blue-eyed, aloof. Sady knew his face - it was Vaughn.
Vaughn had died a year ago, sacrificed himself for his little brother, the one who was more brilliant and loving and was going to save the world. He’d shielded his brother from the world, from Sady’s wrath when she found out; he’d given everything for the brother Sady never knew.
Callum’s brother had died a year ago, right after Callum was released from a long stay in the hospital. How could she not have known? They had blue eyes - the same blue eyes - and the same quirky smile, and -
“...Sady?” Callum stood in the doorway to the kitchen, looking at her oddly.
“Is this Vaughn?” Sady asked.
“Yes. It’s the only one Mum keeps.” Callum’s brow furrowed. “How do you know his name?”
“I met him,” Sady said.
Surprise flared in Callum’s eyes. “What?”
Sady nodded. “At the hospital. About - about a year ago. When my gran was in. He was there whenever I was, and he’d play cards with me and Gran, and...”
“And?”
“And then Gran died, and I left, and I never came back. He told me to stay away, because I got angry with him when he told me -”
“What did he tell you?”
“That he was going to save his baby brother.”
Callum closed his eyes. “So this whole time, you knew?”
“Not at all. He never said your name, never let me see you.” Sady tried to smile. “I was in love with him.”
(500 words)
Friday, November 12, 2010
This Whole Time
“Guys, where’s Damon?” Sam asked.
The director looked up from his script and scanned the crowd of actors and extras who were milling in the courtyard; Damon’s familiar blond head was nowhere to be seen.
Sam, who was still surrounded by make-up ladies, craned his neck. “Has anyone seen him?”
“He got a phone call and rushed off somewhere to take it in private,” Lily said. “I expect that’s where he still is.”
The alcove just below the main stairwell up to the great hall was by unspoken agreement the place to take private phone calls. The director nodded his head at one of the ADs, who peeled away from the cluster near the camera to summon the missing actor.
Several moments later, three more ADs scurried after her. Sam extricated himself from the make-up ladies and moved to follow, see what was the matter. Then the director came tearing past, and Sam knew something was genuinely wrong. Luckily, he managed to get into the building before the ADs began corralling it off.
“What’s going?” he asked.
And then he saw. Damon was curled into the alcove, sobbing wretchedly into his hands. His mobile lay on the floor at his feet, the screen flashing, a tinny voice shouting,
“Son, son, are you all right? What’s the matter?”
Sam knelt down and peered at the screen. The name and the photo were familiar - it was Damon’s dad. Sam scooped up the phone carefully.
“Hi, Mr. Hamilton. It’s me, Sam - one of Damon’s costars. Is everything all right?”
“I don’t know.” Mr. Hamilton sounded shaken. “Is something the matter with Damon? He answered the phone, and then he went insane - accused me of being an impostor or playing some prank on him. He asked me all sorts of strange questions and said he didn’t believe I was his father because his father died when he was sixteen. This isn’t some drama exercise, is it? Because it’s not in very good taste.”
Sam said, “I don’t know what’s going on. I’ll speak to Damon. I’ll have him call you when things are settled down.” Then he disconnected.
Damon had scrunched himself into a corner and was batting away anyone who tried to come near. Sam saw the stark emotion on his best mate’s face and knew it was unfeigned. Damon was an amazing actor, but what Sam saw was raw and uncontrolled. That first day, Damon had explained why he was an engineer - because his father had died when was sixteen and he needed a practical job to help support his family.
Sam felt his heart plummet into his shoes. Everyone had been sure Damon’s semi-amnesia was some extended prank, but this whole time, Damon hadn’t been lying - he’d meant every bit. And now he’d just heard his dead father’s voice.
(471 words)
The director looked up from his script and scanned the crowd of actors and extras who were milling in the courtyard; Damon’s familiar blond head was nowhere to be seen.
Sam, who was still surrounded by make-up ladies, craned his neck. “Has anyone seen him?”
“He got a phone call and rushed off somewhere to take it in private,” Lily said. “I expect that’s where he still is.”
The alcove just below the main stairwell up to the great hall was by unspoken agreement the place to take private phone calls. The director nodded his head at one of the ADs, who peeled away from the cluster near the camera to summon the missing actor.
Several moments later, three more ADs scurried after her. Sam extricated himself from the make-up ladies and moved to follow, see what was the matter. Then the director came tearing past, and Sam knew something was genuinely wrong. Luckily, he managed to get into the building before the ADs began corralling it off.
“What’s going?” he asked.
And then he saw. Damon was curled into the alcove, sobbing wretchedly into his hands. His mobile lay on the floor at his feet, the screen flashing, a tinny voice shouting,
“Son, son, are you all right? What’s the matter?”
Sam knelt down and peered at the screen. The name and the photo were familiar - it was Damon’s dad. Sam scooped up the phone carefully.
“Hi, Mr. Hamilton. It’s me, Sam - one of Damon’s costars. Is everything all right?”
“I don’t know.” Mr. Hamilton sounded shaken. “Is something the matter with Damon? He answered the phone, and then he went insane - accused me of being an impostor or playing some prank on him. He asked me all sorts of strange questions and said he didn’t believe I was his father because his father died when he was sixteen. This isn’t some drama exercise, is it? Because it’s not in very good taste.”
Sam said, “I don’t know what’s going on. I’ll speak to Damon. I’ll have him call you when things are settled down.” Then he disconnected.
Damon had scrunched himself into a corner and was batting away anyone who tried to come near. Sam saw the stark emotion on his best mate’s face and knew it was unfeigned. Damon was an amazing actor, but what Sam saw was raw and uncontrolled. That first day, Damon had explained why he was an engineer - because his father had died when was sixteen and he needed a practical job to help support his family.
Sam felt his heart plummet into his shoes. Everyone had been sure Damon’s semi-amnesia was some extended prank, but this whole time, Damon hadn’t been lying - he’d meant every bit. And now he’d just heard his dead father’s voice.
(471 words)
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Doctors' Orders
Alicia was standing on Joey’s doorstep, juggling groceries and keys, when his door swung open.
“Joey, hey!” She smiled brightly at him. Maybe one day he would see the brightness in her smile meant I love you.
“Hey, Alicia.” He blinked at her, surprised. “What brings you here?”
“You mentioned the other day that your cupboards were bare and I know all your favorites, so I swung by the grocery store on my way home,” Alicia said. “I thought maybe we could hang out and cook together.”
Joey continued eyeing her as if she were slightly mad. Alicia’s throat tightened, but she kept wearing the bright smile just in case. When they were dating, they’d cooked together often.
“That’s really sweet of you,” Joey said, “but I’m going out for dinner.”
“Oh.” The bags in Alicia’s arms suddenly seemed so much heavier. “I should put these away before you go...”
“She has a key,” a familiar voice said from somewhere deeper in the apartment. “She can lock up after herself. Right, Alicia?” A woman appeared behind Joey, and she smirked from over his shoulder.
Alicia’s heart plummeted into her shoes. Jennifer, the girl Joey had dated before he’d met Alicia.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Joey missed the hostility in her tone. “You two know each other? I ran into Jennifer in the park when I was running this morning, and we got to talking. We thought we’d go to dinner and catch up.”
“I’d heard about the accident,” Jennifer said, “but I didn’t really understand it until I talked to him and he didn’t remember me.”
“Jennifer and I have loads in common,” Joey said. “We must have been great friends back in the day - shame we drifted apart.” Then he noticed Alicia’s crestfallen expression. “Would you like to come with us?”
Jennifer placed a proprietary hand on Joey’s shoulder. “I’m sure Alicia has other plans for her evening.”
“My plans mostly involved you,” Alicia said in a low voice to Joey.
His brow furrowed. “So you would like to come with us?”
Alicia swallowed hard. “Yes. Just - let me get everything put away.” She didn’t know if she could handle watching Jennifer flirt with Joey the entire night; judging by Jennifer’s smirk, she planned to do exactly that.
Joey smiled. “I don’t know that I’d be much help. You know your way around my kitchen better than I do.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Jennifer, do you spend much time with me? I’ll bet you know the kitchen better than I do.”
“Alicia’s always been very domestic,” Jennifer said, her tone strychnine-sweet.
“Really?” Joey asked. He glanced at Alicia. “You never seemed the type.”
Alicia gave a small shrug. “One of us had to be.”
“From when we roomed together?” Joey asked. “Jennifer told me all about it.”
Roommed together? Alicia glanced at Jennifer. Is that how you spun it? But she remembered the doctors’ orders, and she said,
“Yeah. Have fun. See you around.”
(500 words)
“Joey, hey!” She smiled brightly at him. Maybe one day he would see the brightness in her smile meant I love you.
“Hey, Alicia.” He blinked at her, surprised. “What brings you here?”
“You mentioned the other day that your cupboards were bare and I know all your favorites, so I swung by the grocery store on my way home,” Alicia said. “I thought maybe we could hang out and cook together.”
Joey continued eyeing her as if she were slightly mad. Alicia’s throat tightened, but she kept wearing the bright smile just in case. When they were dating, they’d cooked together often.
“That’s really sweet of you,” Joey said, “but I’m going out for dinner.”
“Oh.” The bags in Alicia’s arms suddenly seemed so much heavier. “I should put these away before you go...”
“She has a key,” a familiar voice said from somewhere deeper in the apartment. “She can lock up after herself. Right, Alicia?” A woman appeared behind Joey, and she smirked from over his shoulder.
Alicia’s heart plummeted into her shoes. Jennifer, the girl Joey had dated before he’d met Alicia.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Joey missed the hostility in her tone. “You two know each other? I ran into Jennifer in the park when I was running this morning, and we got to talking. We thought we’d go to dinner and catch up.”
“I’d heard about the accident,” Jennifer said, “but I didn’t really understand it until I talked to him and he didn’t remember me.”
“Jennifer and I have loads in common,” Joey said. “We must have been great friends back in the day - shame we drifted apart.” Then he noticed Alicia’s crestfallen expression. “Would you like to come with us?”
Jennifer placed a proprietary hand on Joey’s shoulder. “I’m sure Alicia has other plans for her evening.”
“My plans mostly involved you,” Alicia said in a low voice to Joey.
His brow furrowed. “So you would like to come with us?”
Alicia swallowed hard. “Yes. Just - let me get everything put away.” She didn’t know if she could handle watching Jennifer flirt with Joey the entire night; judging by Jennifer’s smirk, she planned to do exactly that.
Joey smiled. “I don’t know that I’d be much help. You know your way around my kitchen better than I do.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Jennifer, do you spend much time with me? I’ll bet you know the kitchen better than I do.”
“Alicia’s always been very domestic,” Jennifer said, her tone strychnine-sweet.
“Really?” Joey asked. He glanced at Alicia. “You never seemed the type.”
Alicia gave a small shrug. “One of us had to be.”
“From when we roomed together?” Joey asked. “Jennifer told me all about it.”
Roommed together? Alicia glanced at Jennifer. Is that how you spun it? But she remembered the doctors’ orders, and she said,
“Yeah. Have fun. See you around.”
(500 words)
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Knowing and Not
The silence that settled over the room could have been sliced with a knife. Connor sucked in a deep, shuddering breath.
“What was that?” Lena’s words were sharp, icy shards. Connor could feel them in his lungs when he tried to breathe again.
“I –”
Lena had one hand up to guard; her other hand was hovering near her hip right above the grip of her ever-present gun. Her entire body was tense, but her eyes were wide, startled. Almost angry.
There were a quarter of a million words in the English language, and Connor knew every single one of them, but none of them could adequately convey what he needed to say right then.
“Connor, are you in shock?”
He had an answer for that. “No.”
“Then tell me - what was that just then?”
Words skittered through Connor’s brain, battled for some semblance of syntactical logic, but none of it was working. “I -”
Lena nodded for him to continue.
Connor closed his eyes and uttered, for perhaps the first time in his life, “I don’t know.”
There was definite anger in Lena’s eyes now. “You just kissed me, and now you’re saying you don’t know why you did?”
“I don’t!” Connor cried. He dragged a hand through his hair, turned away from her. She caught him by the wrist and yanked him back around to face her.
“Connor, you can’t just go around kissing me. I’m your bodyguard. It’s my job to keep you safe, to teach you to keep yourself safe.”
“I know that,” Connor said.
“Then you know that it means leaving me behind to save yourself, even if it means I must die.”
Connor swallowed hard. “I know that too.” He did know it - intellectually, the same way he knew the sun was warm and the grass was green and a pretty woman could look like roses damasked red and white and love was an ever-fixed mark.
“Then why the hell did you kiss me?”
“Because I’m in love with you!”
The anger drained from Lena’s eyes in an instant, turning her eyes dark and hollow.
“Oh,” she said in a small, timid voice.
Connor hadn’t known she could ever be timid. “Lena -”
“No.” She shook her head, reached for her cellphone.
“What are you doing?” Connor asked.
“Calling my supervisor to let him know you’re safe and I need to be transferred. Immediately.”
Connor’s throat closed. “Lena, don’t -”
“You know I have to.”
Connor shut his eyes, bowed his head. “Yes, yes I do.”
(420 words)
“What was that?” Lena’s words were sharp, icy shards. Connor could feel them in his lungs when he tried to breathe again.
“I –”
Lena had one hand up to guard; her other hand was hovering near her hip right above the grip of her ever-present gun. Her entire body was tense, but her eyes were wide, startled. Almost angry.
There were a quarter of a million words in the English language, and Connor knew every single one of them, but none of them could adequately convey what he needed to say right then.
“Connor, are you in shock?”
He had an answer for that. “No.”
“Then tell me - what was that just then?”
Words skittered through Connor’s brain, battled for some semblance of syntactical logic, but none of it was working. “I -”
Lena nodded for him to continue.
Connor closed his eyes and uttered, for perhaps the first time in his life, “I don’t know.”
There was definite anger in Lena’s eyes now. “You just kissed me, and now you’re saying you don’t know why you did?”
“I don’t!” Connor cried. He dragged a hand through his hair, turned away from her. She caught him by the wrist and yanked him back around to face her.
“Connor, you can’t just go around kissing me. I’m your bodyguard. It’s my job to keep you safe, to teach you to keep yourself safe.”
“I know that,” Connor said.
“Then you know that it means leaving me behind to save yourself, even if it means I must die.”
Connor swallowed hard. “I know that too.” He did know it - intellectually, the same way he knew the sun was warm and the grass was green and a pretty woman could look like roses damasked red and white and love was an ever-fixed mark.
“Then why the hell did you kiss me?”
“Because I’m in love with you!”
The anger drained from Lena’s eyes in an instant, turning her eyes dark and hollow.
“Oh,” she said in a small, timid voice.
Connor hadn’t known she could ever be timid. “Lena -”
“No.” She shook her head, reached for her cellphone.
“What are you doing?” Connor asked.
“Calling my supervisor to let him know you’re safe and I need to be transferred. Immediately.”
Connor’s throat closed. “Lena, don’t -”
“You know I have to.”
Connor shut his eyes, bowed his head. “Yes, yes I do.”
(420 words)
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Aftermath of Confession
Laura dialed her own number with shaking hands. She had to erase the last four digits and retype them three times before she got it right. She counted the rings on the other end and felt her throat close when it sounded like she would get voicemail. But then she heard her own voice curled with Crawford’s sleep-slurred accent.
“You’ve got Laura,” he said.
“Crawford, it’s me.”
As always, at the sound of his own voice, he became more alert. “Laura, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? What’s happening?”
“I did something bad,” she said, and self-loathing swept through her when her voice caught in a sob. She didn’t know if the emotion was her own or backlash from Crawford’s male hormones or what, and she was tired of second-guessing herself and who she was because she was trapped in his body. Dammit, she still had her own soul. Didn’t she?
“What do you mean?” Crawford asked. “Is it the press? What did they catch you doing?”
Laura shook her head, swiped one of Crawford’s big, rough hands over her - his - stinging eyes. She was the one crying; right now they were her eyes. “No. They don’t know anything. And I don’t think they will. I’m so sorry.”
Crawford sighed. “Look, I’m not going to get angry. Just tell me what happened.”
Laura took a deep breath. Crawford’s voice shook, and she hated that too. “I told Riley.”
“Told Riley what?” Crawford asked patiently.
“How I feel.”
“How do you feel about Riley?”
“I’m in love with him.”
“What?”
Laura hadn’t even known her voice could hit that note. She cringed. “You said you wouldn’t be angry.”
“I didn't think you’d just gone and made my best mate afraid that I’m in love with him!” Crawford hissed.
“I didn’t mean to,” Laura said. “It just came out, and now - now he hates us.” When she closed her eyes, she could see the expression on Riley’s face - revulsion and fear and fury.
“You mean me. He hates me,” Crawford huffed. “What did he say?”
“He didn’t say anything. He just got up and left.”
“Did you tell him out in public?” Again with that unnaturally high note.
“We were in a café. Don’t worry - no one else heard.” Laura sniffled. “I’m sorry. I just - couldn’t do it any longer.”
“Do what?”
“See him every day and not tell him.”
“Yeah, but as far as he knows, you aren’t you - you’re me.” Crawford groaned. “Riley’s the best friend I’ve had in forever. Are you insane?”
“I think so,” Laura said quietly.
On the other end, Crawford was silent. “This can’t go on. I’m borrowing money from Deanna and I’m flying over there as soon as possible, and we have to tell everyone.”
“Okay,” Laura said, and again, “I’m sorry.”
“You should be. I worked hard to keep your life intact.”
Laura sniffled again. “Crawford --”
“Don’t bloody well apologize again. Just - pick me up at the airport.”
(497 words)
“You’ve got Laura,” he said.
“Crawford, it’s me.”
As always, at the sound of his own voice, he became more alert. “Laura, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? What’s happening?”
“I did something bad,” she said, and self-loathing swept through her when her voice caught in a sob. She didn’t know if the emotion was her own or backlash from Crawford’s male hormones or what, and she was tired of second-guessing herself and who she was because she was trapped in his body. Dammit, she still had her own soul. Didn’t she?
“What do you mean?” Crawford asked. “Is it the press? What did they catch you doing?”
Laura shook her head, swiped one of Crawford’s big, rough hands over her - his - stinging eyes. She was the one crying; right now they were her eyes. “No. They don’t know anything. And I don’t think they will. I’m so sorry.”
Crawford sighed. “Look, I’m not going to get angry. Just tell me what happened.”
Laura took a deep breath. Crawford’s voice shook, and she hated that too. “I told Riley.”
“Told Riley what?” Crawford asked patiently.
“How I feel.”
“How do you feel about Riley?”
“I’m in love with him.”
“What?”
Laura hadn’t even known her voice could hit that note. She cringed. “You said you wouldn’t be angry.”
“I didn't think you’d just gone and made my best mate afraid that I’m in love with him!” Crawford hissed.
“I didn’t mean to,” Laura said. “It just came out, and now - now he hates us.” When she closed her eyes, she could see the expression on Riley’s face - revulsion and fear and fury.
“You mean me. He hates me,” Crawford huffed. “What did he say?”
“He didn’t say anything. He just got up and left.”
“Did you tell him out in public?” Again with that unnaturally high note.
“We were in a café. Don’t worry - no one else heard.” Laura sniffled. “I’m sorry. I just - couldn’t do it any longer.”
“Do what?”
“See him every day and not tell him.”
“Yeah, but as far as he knows, you aren’t you - you’re me.” Crawford groaned. “Riley’s the best friend I’ve had in forever. Are you insane?”
“I think so,” Laura said quietly.
On the other end, Crawford was silent. “This can’t go on. I’m borrowing money from Deanna and I’m flying over there as soon as possible, and we have to tell everyone.”
“Okay,” Laura said, and again, “I’m sorry.”
“You should be. I worked hard to keep your life intact.”
Laura sniffled again. “Crawford --”
“Don’t bloody well apologize again. Just - pick me up at the airport.”
(497 words)
Monday, November 8, 2010
One More Chance
“I thought you looked familiar,” Kylie said quietly. She had both hands, white-knuckled, curled around her purse.
“We did spend a lot of time together.” Henry had his hands tucked into his pockets. The posture was familiar, but now that he was clothed in a five-thousand dollar Armani suit instead of ill-fitting clothes from the open door mission he was a different man.
Kylie nodded. “You didn’t lie about that much, did you? Your name, the subjects you liked in school. The little things.” She tilted her head to one side. Her dark eyes were curiously blank. “The things people who are in love with each other should know about each other.”
Henry swallowed hard. “You didn’t care how rich I was then. Why should it matter now?”
“It doesn’t, in the grand scheme of things.” Kylie worked one hand loose from her purse and reached for the door. “Of course, in the grand scheme of things, it’s not about how rich you are - it’s about who you really are. And who you really are is a man who can never be with me.” She turned away and pushed the door open.
Henry caught her shoulder. “Kylie, wait.”
She glanced back at him. “Yes, Your Highness?”
He flinched. “It’s not like that in my country. I’m allowed to marry the woman I love.”
“I’m happy for you, Highness,” Kylie said.
“Then why are you leaving?”
“I was in love with a man, but I don’t think he really exists.”
Henry closed his eyes and sighed. “Kylie, I promise, everything I told you about me was true - where I was born, how I grew up. I just had to be sure that you wouldn’t care about stupid things like - like titles.”
“Your title can’t be that stupid, that you felt the need to hide it.”
Henry opened his eyes, and Kylie could see the raw hurt in his expression, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal, that the entire time she’d been fighting to get over Ben and reconcile herself to her feelings for Henry the entire world had been in on the joke.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” Henry said.
“You could have told me. Before you left,” Kylie said. “I spent months imagining the worst - that you’d died from exposure or been killed or-”
“I’m still alive,” Henry said quietly. “And I still love you.”
Kylie shook his hand off. “I’m in love with Henry, but I don’t know who Prince Henry is.”
“Prince Henry is the man who was grateful for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, hot chocolate, and a warm blanket in the middle of winter,” he said.
“Did you think you could reveal your identity and I’d fall into your arms?”
“No. But I hoped you’d at least give me a chance.”
Chances were what had gotten her into this mess. Kylie took a deep breath and decided that she could do like Ben always said and take one more.
“We did spend a lot of time together.” Henry had his hands tucked into his pockets. The posture was familiar, but now that he was clothed in a five-thousand dollar Armani suit instead of ill-fitting clothes from the open door mission he was a different man.
Kylie nodded. “You didn’t lie about that much, did you? Your name, the subjects you liked in school. The little things.” She tilted her head to one side. Her dark eyes were curiously blank. “The things people who are in love with each other should know about each other.”
Henry swallowed hard. “You didn’t care how rich I was then. Why should it matter now?”
“It doesn’t, in the grand scheme of things.” Kylie worked one hand loose from her purse and reached for the door. “Of course, in the grand scheme of things, it’s not about how rich you are - it’s about who you really are. And who you really are is a man who can never be with me.” She turned away and pushed the door open.
Henry caught her shoulder. “Kylie, wait.”
She glanced back at him. “Yes, Your Highness?”
He flinched. “It’s not like that in my country. I’m allowed to marry the woman I love.”
“I’m happy for you, Highness,” Kylie said.
“Then why are you leaving?”
“I was in love with a man, but I don’t think he really exists.”
Henry closed his eyes and sighed. “Kylie, I promise, everything I told you about me was true - where I was born, how I grew up. I just had to be sure that you wouldn’t care about stupid things like - like titles.”
“Your title can’t be that stupid, that you felt the need to hide it.”
Henry opened his eyes, and Kylie could see the raw hurt in his expression, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal, that the entire time she’d been fighting to get over Ben and reconcile herself to her feelings for Henry the entire world had been in on the joke.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” Henry said.
“You could have told me. Before you left,” Kylie said. “I spent months imagining the worst - that you’d died from exposure or been killed or-”
“I’m still alive,” Henry said quietly. “And I still love you.”
Kylie shook his hand off. “I’m in love with Henry, but I don’t know who Prince Henry is.”
“Prince Henry is the man who was grateful for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, hot chocolate, and a warm blanket in the middle of winter,” he said.
“Did you think you could reveal your identity and I’d fall into your arms?”
“No. But I hoped you’d at least give me a chance.”
Chances were what had gotten her into this mess. Kylie took a deep breath and decided that she could do like Ben always said and take one more.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Project #74: Critical Scene
Pick the scene from a story you've always wanted to write, the scene that will make your readers hold their breath, start to cry, scream in fear, throw the book across the room, chew their nails down to the quick. (Picking one from last week's plot bunnies would be super welcome, actually.) Don't bother setting up too much background - jump right into the middle of the plot and set people's pulses pounding, and make the moment work. Without bringing in clichés, without overdoing the drama. Write the scene that, were your novel turned into a movie, would get those actors nominated for Oscars. Ready, set...write! 100-500 words.
Overview #73: Plot Bunnies
So this week I winged it solo. That's fine. It was a little soul-baring, to throw out some of my stupidest but most well-loved plot kinks and unwritten plot bunnies, but it was also fun remembering them and thinking about how much I want to write them or even read someone else's take on them. They're the stories that I write in my head to fall asleep at night, and even though I don't know the details, I know how reading them would make me feel, and I want to make someone else feel the same thing. I had fun, though, being a giddy teenage girl again and throwing all my crazy novel fantasies out in the open. I'm hoping, one day, I'll have the time to come back and give some of these stories the lives they deserve.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Bulletproof Kink #3
Theme: heartbreak hotel. Minus the hotel.
It goes like this: leading lady is a teenage girl whose grandmother is dying, so she hangs around the hospital after school every day for three months, keeping her grandmother company. While there she meets a boy and, while they’re both abrasive and abrupt at first, they become friends. They talk and play cards, bring each other food and jokes and make up ways to entertain her grandmother. He, too, is there every day, but the girl doesn’t know why, and she doesn’t talk about it, until she finds out, near the end, that the boy has a twin brother who is dying, and the boy, who suffers from a terminal illness of his own, is going to give up one of his lungs to save his brother, and then likely die shortly thereafter as a result. During this three months, of course, girl and boy fall in love, and the boy insists that the girl stay away after the operation, because he doesn’t want her to see him dying. The day before the operation, the girl’s grandmother dies, so she never does see the boy, and she never finds out who his brother is (because they are fraternal, not identical twins - I like to think they will be chiaroscuro twins, one blond and one dark), and she misses the boy fiercely because she knows she will never see him again. Then one day at school, across the cafeteria, she sees a new boy who has a familiar smile, and they get to talking and become friends, and one day, when she goes over to her new friend’s house for a study date, she sees a picture in the foyer, and she knows that the boy she loved is dead and the boy standing before her is breathing with his brother’s lungs. Living boy falls in love with girl, but she knows she will always love his brother and cannot give him what he wants, and there is a walking away at the end. I would want this to feel the way the novel Plum Wine made me feel at the end.
(358 words)
It goes like this: leading lady is a teenage girl whose grandmother is dying, so she hangs around the hospital after school every day for three months, keeping her grandmother company. While there she meets a boy and, while they’re both abrasive and abrupt at first, they become friends. They talk and play cards, bring each other food and jokes and make up ways to entertain her grandmother. He, too, is there every day, but the girl doesn’t know why, and she doesn’t talk about it, until she finds out, near the end, that the boy has a twin brother who is dying, and the boy, who suffers from a terminal illness of his own, is going to give up one of his lungs to save his brother, and then likely die shortly thereafter as a result. During this three months, of course, girl and boy fall in love, and the boy insists that the girl stay away after the operation, because he doesn’t want her to see him dying. The day before the operation, the girl’s grandmother dies, so she never does see the boy, and she never finds out who his brother is (because they are fraternal, not identical twins - I like to think they will be chiaroscuro twins, one blond and one dark), and she misses the boy fiercely because she knows she will never see him again. Then one day at school, across the cafeteria, she sees a new boy who has a familiar smile, and they get to talking and become friends, and one day, when she goes over to her new friend’s house for a study date, she sees a picture in the foyer, and she knows that the boy she loved is dead and the boy standing before her is breathing with his brother’s lungs. Living boy falls in love with girl, but she knows she will always love his brother and cannot give him what he wants, and there is a walking away at the end. I would want this to feel the way the novel Plum Wine made me feel at the end.
(358 words)
Friday, November 5, 2010
Bulletproof Kink #2
Theme: bulletproof plot kink - alternate universe!
Leading Lady: is a hard-working grad student in biochemistry who spends all her time in the lab, teaching, or doing martial arts for stress relief.
Leading Man: is a civil engineer at an architectural firm who loves his job and his wife and wants to have kids and a dog.
Conflict: Leading Man goes to sleep in a hotel in Chicago at an engineering conference and wakes up in an alternate universe where he is an immensely popular film star and not married to his universe’s version of Leading Lady. Complications ensue, wherein Leading Man tries to get home to his wife, Leading Lady is dragged into the shenanigans, and we all know Leading Man is in the wrong universe because in his universe his father died and that’s why he took the practical route of becoming an engineer instead of an actor, but in this universe his father is alive and there is something of an emotional breakdown the first time leading man calls him.
Resolution: this tale calls for a broken heart. After a year of being in the new universe, Leading Man surrenders himself to the fact that he is never going home and asks Leading Lady to marry him and she, against her better judgment, says yes. Every morning when he wakes up she asks him, “Which one are you?” and he always says, “Yours” until the morning when he doesn’t.
(242 words)
Leading Lady: is a hard-working grad student in biochemistry who spends all her time in the lab, teaching, or doing martial arts for stress relief.
Leading Man: is a civil engineer at an architectural firm who loves his job and his wife and wants to have kids and a dog.
Conflict: Leading Man goes to sleep in a hotel in Chicago at an engineering conference and wakes up in an alternate universe where he is an immensely popular film star and not married to his universe’s version of Leading Lady. Complications ensue, wherein Leading Man tries to get home to his wife, Leading Lady is dragged into the shenanigans, and we all know Leading Man is in the wrong universe because in his universe his father died and that’s why he took the practical route of becoming an engineer instead of an actor, but in this universe his father is alive and there is something of an emotional breakdown the first time leading man calls him.
Resolution: this tale calls for a broken heart. After a year of being in the new universe, Leading Man surrenders himself to the fact that he is never going home and asks Leading Lady to marry him and she, against her better judgment, says yes. Every morning when he wakes up she asks him, “Which one are you?” and he always says, “Yours” until the morning when he doesn’t.
(242 words)
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Bulletproof Kink #1
Theme: bulletproof plot kink - amnesia!
Leading Lady: is a young working professional who enjoys life, is decently pleasant, has easy hobbies (movie night with the girls) and is newly-married.
Leading Man: is Leading Lady’s husband, also a young working professional, who likes to play sports and spend time with the guys but is an amazing cook and loves his wife.
Conflict: amnesia! Leading Man suffers head injury during a sports game and wakes up in hospital with no memory of who he is or what he used to do. Doctors recommend that he be allowed to remember slowly and without outside interference, i.e. the emotional overload of a worried but now relieved wife, so Leading Lady must pretend she does not live in her own home and that she and Leading Man are simply close friends (she is his closest friend; she moves in with one of her movie night girls). Chaos ensues when an old flame of Leading Man discovers his memory loss and attempts to win him back.
Resolution: Leading Man comes home from work (because he has retained his skills, just no memory of his projects or his coworkers) and finds Leading Lady asleep on couch with open wedding photo album on her lap, realizes the truth, and there is happily ever after, and also possibly some catty comeuppance for evil old flame.
(227 words)
Leading Lady: is a young working professional who enjoys life, is decently pleasant, has easy hobbies (movie night with the girls) and is newly-married.
Leading Man: is Leading Lady’s husband, also a young working professional, who likes to play sports and spend time with the guys but is an amazing cook and loves his wife.
Conflict: amnesia! Leading Man suffers head injury during a sports game and wakes up in hospital with no memory of who he is or what he used to do. Doctors recommend that he be allowed to remember slowly and without outside interference, i.e. the emotional overload of a worried but now relieved wife, so Leading Lady must pretend she does not live in her own home and that she and Leading Man are simply close friends (she is his closest friend; she moves in with one of her movie night girls). Chaos ensues when an old flame of Leading Man discovers his memory loss and attempts to win him back.
Resolution: Leading Man comes home from work (because he has retained his skills, just no memory of his projects or his coworkers) and finds Leading Lady asleep on couch with open wedding photo album on her lap, realizes the truth, and there is happily ever after, and also possibly some catty comeuppance for evil old flame.
(227 words)
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