Actual (or not) amusing (or not) excerpts from (or not from) minions'
WIPs. If you have constructive criticism or unadulterated praise, feel
free to comment.
Set up: Evil Editor has agreed to look at a manuscript for a few bucks while he’s in Bangkok doing some research on his late uncle. He meets his client at a sidewalk eatery.
“Great stuff eh? You got to where he just et (Evil notes hillbilly simple past), then busts in on her with his room mate? Drunk, naked, she’s on the table, legs apart, he’s-”
“Not yet.” Evil Heads him off at the repulsive. Close call.
“I just knew I was a writer. My finest work. Like giving birth. Took me three weeks.” His self-satisfaction beams out at the morning.
Evil studies his client’s face for humor.
The guy hawked up a mudslide of words, sex encounters, tree limbs, rocks, more sex, muck and dog doody, more sex then duct taped them together in a cacophony born of late night brawls with English clearly out of his mind with drink and other stuff. Self-satisfaction is not becoming after the puke fest. The author skipped any effort to make sense, his mudslide on the page is annoying and he managed all that in three weeks while digesting sausage. Evil blinks.
“Yup, now I now why I came to planet. I came to write.” He rips his food apart with determination and a spoon. Evil coughs on his coffee, a drop spilled down the wrong lane. He wades in.
“You need to sketch out your characters more. Add a little depth. People generally do more than indulge in sex all day.”
“They do? Who?”
“And don’t change the character’s name mid story.”
“Oh you caught that did you? I was wondering if you’d get that.”
Evil orders another stick of sausage for the client contemplating murder by skewer.
--Wilkins MacQueen
3 comments:
That's funny. It made me laugh out loud.
"Murder by skewer." Love it.
Basking. My afterglow is better than the last orgasm the novel's writer/character wrote about.
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