The Wileys birthed a zombie last week and tried to hide it. I'd known about the baby, of course. I could smell its nature during Elizabeth's rather skittish pregnancy-- when the Wileys had obviously suspected but hadn't had the amniocentesis done. A history of undead in the family was my guess, and either shame or hope kept them playing ostrich. I probably should have told them before the birth; but I kept my mouth shut, having a few things to hide myself.
It was Arthur Tanner who told me about the intervention yesterday. I'd been at work and hadn't heard about the social workers and cops descending on the neighborhood. Arthur is my neighbor, second house down across the road, and he likes to stop and chat in the mornings when he's out walking his dog and I'm outside, drinking coffee and trying to feel human. A bit of an ambulance chaser, our Arthur. Likes tragedy. Me, I try to keep off such topics and for good reason. But there's no stopping Arthur when there's juicy gossip-- juicy being the key word.
"You should have seen it, Meggie," he says to me as I sip my coffee. His pomeranian, Fitzi, busies himself licking his crotch. "Lizzie's screaming and crying, all the while that thing is snapping at the EMTs like a rabid dog. Took three guys to get it in the cage. Can you imagine what would have happened if the cops hadn't twigged before it sprouted fangs?"
"Mmmm," I say. "Would've been messy."
"They called for backup, you know. Just in case."
"Just in case?"
"In case the twigging didn't take."
"Well, they've got twigging down to a science. Birthing zombies ain't what it used to be. It's mostly clean now."
"You call this clean?" Arthur scoops something from his pocket and puts it under my nose.
"What the . . . ?"
"Zombie nature. Scooped me up a bunch so Fitzi would stop licking his crotch. Rubbed it all over his doggie dick. Hell, can't find nothing that'll work."
Arthur looks over at Fitzi licking away. "You need weredingo nature," he says. "You know anything about twigging weredingo birthlings?"
Opening: Writtenwyrdd.....Continuation: Church Lady
Why you don't get published.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Evil Editor's 2nd Annual Oscar Awards Guess-the-Plot Quiz
There Will Be Blood
1. Hilarity ensues when a scheduling error forces the Human Pyramid Society to share convention center space with the American Association of Chainsaw Jugglers.
2. Vampire Joanie thinks she's being stalked by vampire hunters. Little does she know that the weird messages, flowers and phone calls are all from one man--Mark--who appreciates the immortality she gave him with her bite. Hilarity ensues.
3. Race car driver Will Belmonte can never say no to a challenge. So when he is mistaken for ace surgeon Dennis Carraway, Will's natural instinct is to call twin sister Jenny to cover for him on the circuit and go with the flow. Lectures are a breeze, lunch with eager medical students a blast and the nurses know what medicine the patients are supposed to take. But then comes the day that Jenny crashes the car Will should have been racing. Jenny is near death on the operating table and across the hospital the call goes out for the only surgeon who can help: Dennis Carraway. Is this one challenge to many for Will? Only one thing is certain: There will be blood.
4. With her days as a Playboy Playmate coming to an end, Brianna has enrolled at the community college. She's closer to her secret heart-throb, Skip Dillon, but she thought phlebotomy was the study of bumps on the head. She's squeamish, but if she drops the course, she'll lose Skip. Why didn't they tell her that . . . There Will Be Blood?
5. A prospector accidentally strikes oil and becomes rich, rich, rich. But rich isn't good enough. He ruthlessly seeks more and more oil and doesn't care whom he steps on to get it. But when he drills on Eli Sunday's property and tries to cheat Sunday out of his share of the profits, it's only a matter of time before . . . There Will Be Blood.
6. An animal rights activist moves to Chicago and begins looking for work. The only places hiring are the slaughterhouses. When she sees what she's expected to do to innocent animals, she goes berserk, butchering half of management before the police manage to subdue her.
7. A touching coming of age story as single parent John Singletary contends with raising his daughter, and has awkward moments finding the right words with which to explain the changes that will come over her body.
No Country for Old Men
1. The FDA bans Viagra and every man over the age of fifty heads for Canada. Hooters immediately moves its operations to the border. Hilarity ensues.
2. After an old hunter stumbles upon some dead bodies, a stash of heroin and more than $2 million in cash near the Rio Grande, he decides to see how many seedy motels he can stay at before running out of money. Unfortunately, someone else seems to think he has a better use for the money, and the hunter realizes this is . . . No Country for Old Men. Also, frat boys.
3. In 2098, overpopulation and pollution have forced drastic measures upon the world. People must voluntarily report for extermination by age 30. But Frank Miller has other ideas . . . and he's not afraid to try them.
4. When Sunshine Retirement Home decides on a 'lesbian-only' policy, the resident men need to find alternative accommodations. Follow the trials and tribulations of five of these men, as they travel the country in search of the home with the perfect applesauce. Also, odd uses for dentures.
5. After the pandemic, the sorority sisters knew that they held the key to restoring the human race. Holed up in a cabin in Northern Wisconsin, they have made a pact to sacrifice their youthful bodies to the ravages of procreation, for the good of all mankind. Any man wishing to participate must meet certain criteria. This cabin in the woods is . . . No Country For Old Men.
6. The descent into dementia is never pretty. Even less so when it's the President. The Secret Service attempt to keep the President's dignity intact in front of an unwitting populace, but scheming vice-president Victor Brook can't wait for nature to take its course. In the President's wife, Alice, he finds an ally, willing to do anything to preserve her position in the White House. Drugs, sex, murder - Alice is ready, willing and able to do all three - preferably at once.
7. In this 21st century update of the cult classic Logan's Run, a futuristic America has lowered the "legal age" to 21. Upon a citizen's 21st birthday, s/he is taken "drinking" and never seen again. When will these teens get a clue?
Juno
1. Juno decides to have sex with a member of her high school's track team. When she gets pregnant, she and her best friend Leah (Olivia Thirlby) decide to take control of the situation by browsing for prospective adoptive parents in the local Pennysaver newspaper. Hilarity ensues.
2. The life of Juno Jenkins, beat poet, actress, junkie, and voice of her generation, is explored in this innovative biopic. Portrayed at various stages of her life by Dakota Fanning, Cate Blanchette, Diane Keaton, Bill Murray and Flipper, the complexity reflects on her work.
3. Mossad agent Ariel Shalom fears that his cover has been blown. Hilarity ensues when he learns that the Puerto Rican guy at the coffee shop has not been saying "Jew, no?" but "You know?" Also, a nymphomaniac who calls herself Juno.
4. Juno is a young, quirky ISP with razor-sharp wit and a penchant for giving her services away for free. But when one of her limited-time offers results in an unexpected server farm crash, she has to decide if she wants to spend the rest of her life replacing hardware, or sell her soul to AOL.
5. A womens' commune in Juno, Alaska is infiltrated by men, desperate to find out why their wives left them. Fitting in is not easy, but with the help of a little judicious make-up and several boxes of tissues, the men achieve their aim. The film unites Dustin Hoffman, John Travolta and Eddie Murphy in a hilarious comedy that's anything but a drag.
6. In this modernization of The Aeneid, Juno is the vengeful mistress from hell, foiling the plans of New York City's new mayor to create a young and vibrant city on its crumbling foundation of corruption, pollution and crime.
7. When Juno the moon goddess is spurned by her husband Jupiter, in favor of a mere mortal, she vows to take revenge on all mortal women by inventing high heels, pantyhose and corsets.
Michael Clayton
1. He was a quiet man. That's what the neighbors said after the cops dug up seventy-four bodies in his cellar. Now Michael Clayton is on the run, and no one in New England is safe. Also, a discount carpet store.
2. The Westhaven Warriors are the worst team in the state. Michael, a gentle, savant retarded man, is recruited to coach. Will his words of wisdom inspire the team to succeed in the cutthroat world of beach volleyball?
3. Jeez, could the director not think of a more imaginative title for this one? Hey, if he's not going to put in the effort, neither am I. No plot for you, Mr. Director. The world's first plotless movie. Oh, hang on, no, not the first. It's sure to make millions.
4. Michael Clayton is a middle-aged man who has a lot less trouble solving problems for his law firm and its clients than he does solving his own personal problems. Which was okay when his personal problems were trivial crap like his divorce and his debts. Now that he's become the target of an assassination attempt can he put his job skills to work in his miserable home life?
5. Michael Payton used his Play-dough to make anatomically correct models of Miss Blodgett and Mr. Geary. He went too far when he made a Claymation cartoon and previewed it at the talent show. They call him Michael Clayton now, and he's the hero of the sophomore class. But will Miss Blodgett's sexual harassment lawsuit spell the end of Michael's college plans?
6. A speculative biopic based on the life of the legendary make-believe legal “fixer,” who may, at some point in the future, brutally slay George Clooney in order to wipe that friggin smirk off his face.
7. Mickey's back, and after three years "away," he's anxious to find out who missed him. But when Michael Clayton knocks at the door of what he thinks is still his family home, and Delia answers, Mickey finds out just how much things can change when you're camping out in the "big house."
Atonement
1. Symphony conductor Max Power survives a life-threatening accident but wakes to find that he has a specific injury to his hearing---he only hears in a single tone. How can he move on?
2. A thirteen-year-old girl becomes jealous of her older sister's relationship with their housekeeper's son. Why should she have all the fun? So she accuses him of a crime he didn't commit. The authorities buy her story! With three lives changed, is there any chance for . . . Atonement?
3. For years, documentary filmmaker Mitchell Mass has traded on his tactics of stalking, editing and manipulation to anger & embarrass his enemies. But he went too far, and now faces trial for murder. Will he ever grasp the horror of what he did?
4. Someone will have to convert, or Hirschel and Heidi's marriage will fall apart. It's Yom Kippur versus Lent, but how can Hirschel prove that one day of Jewish atonement beats out forty days of Catholic guilt?
5. Using a photo of another man and a snappy moniker his mother made up, mild-mannered accountant Cecil Biggins runs a website critiquing the work of struggling writers. Nobody knows that his witty and incisive comments come not from the leather-lined office of a New York publishing company, but the fuzzy-paneled cubicle of an insurance company in Columbus, Ohio. Now, however, one of his writers is about to be published and she wants to meet him to thank him. Hilarity ensues.
6. A tattoo removal shop, Atonement, Inc., falls into a legal entrapment when they remove tattoos from an underage girl, who was a plant arranged by the Trenton, NJ tattoo mafia. However, the owner of Atonement is a tattoo reformer and former member of the Newark Harley Hellraisers. When the young girl turns up pregnant, fingers are pointing in all directions, and her Marine Corp sergeant father decides to bust heads.
7. Derek Bray, small-time con artist and bad boy around town has stretched the doctrine "repent and you shall be forgiven" to its limit. Father Moray, tired of handing out the same old Hail Marys, sets Derek a series of tasks that not only atone for his sins, but change his outlook on life.
Fake plots contributed by blogless_troll, McKoala, Mignon, Khazar-khum, Bill H., Church Lady, Precie, Sarah, Anonymous and EE.
Correct plots below:
Blood: 5
Old Men: 2
Juno: 1
Michael: 4
Atonement: 2
1. Hilarity ensues when a scheduling error forces the Human Pyramid Society to share convention center space with the American Association of Chainsaw Jugglers.
2. Vampire Joanie thinks she's being stalked by vampire hunters. Little does she know that the weird messages, flowers and phone calls are all from one man--Mark--who appreciates the immortality she gave him with her bite. Hilarity ensues.
3. Race car driver Will Belmonte can never say no to a challenge. So when he is mistaken for ace surgeon Dennis Carraway, Will's natural instinct is to call twin sister Jenny to cover for him on the circuit and go with the flow. Lectures are a breeze, lunch with eager medical students a blast and the nurses know what medicine the patients are supposed to take. But then comes the day that Jenny crashes the car Will should have been racing. Jenny is near death on the operating table and across the hospital the call goes out for the only surgeon who can help: Dennis Carraway. Is this one challenge to many for Will? Only one thing is certain: There will be blood.
4. With her days as a Playboy Playmate coming to an end, Brianna has enrolled at the community college. She's closer to her secret heart-throb, Skip Dillon, but she thought phlebotomy was the study of bumps on the head. She's squeamish, but if she drops the course, she'll lose Skip. Why didn't they tell her that . . . There Will Be Blood?
5. A prospector accidentally strikes oil and becomes rich, rich, rich. But rich isn't good enough. He ruthlessly seeks more and more oil and doesn't care whom he steps on to get it. But when he drills on Eli Sunday's property and tries to cheat Sunday out of his share of the profits, it's only a matter of time before . . . There Will Be Blood.
6. An animal rights activist moves to Chicago and begins looking for work. The only places hiring are the slaughterhouses. When she sees what she's expected to do to innocent animals, she goes berserk, butchering half of management before the police manage to subdue her.
7. A touching coming of age story as single parent John Singletary contends with raising his daughter, and has awkward moments finding the right words with which to explain the changes that will come over her body.
No Country for Old Men
1. The FDA bans Viagra and every man over the age of fifty heads for Canada. Hooters immediately moves its operations to the border. Hilarity ensues.
2. After an old hunter stumbles upon some dead bodies, a stash of heroin and more than $2 million in cash near the Rio Grande, he decides to see how many seedy motels he can stay at before running out of money. Unfortunately, someone else seems to think he has a better use for the money, and the hunter realizes this is . . . No Country for Old Men. Also, frat boys.
3. In 2098, overpopulation and pollution have forced drastic measures upon the world. People must voluntarily report for extermination by age 30. But Frank Miller has other ideas . . . and he's not afraid to try them.
4. When Sunshine Retirement Home decides on a 'lesbian-only' policy, the resident men need to find alternative accommodations. Follow the trials and tribulations of five of these men, as they travel the country in search of the home with the perfect applesauce. Also, odd uses for dentures.
5. After the pandemic, the sorority sisters knew that they held the key to restoring the human race. Holed up in a cabin in Northern Wisconsin, they have made a pact to sacrifice their youthful bodies to the ravages of procreation, for the good of all mankind. Any man wishing to participate must meet certain criteria. This cabin in the woods is . . . No Country For Old Men.
6. The descent into dementia is never pretty. Even less so when it's the President. The Secret Service attempt to keep the President's dignity intact in front of an unwitting populace, but scheming vice-president Victor Brook can't wait for nature to take its course. In the President's wife, Alice, he finds an ally, willing to do anything to preserve her position in the White House. Drugs, sex, murder - Alice is ready, willing and able to do all three - preferably at once.
7. In this 21st century update of the cult classic Logan's Run, a futuristic America has lowered the "legal age" to 21. Upon a citizen's 21st birthday, s/he is taken "drinking" and never seen again. When will these teens get a clue?
Juno
1. Juno decides to have sex with a member of her high school's track team. When she gets pregnant, she and her best friend Leah (Olivia Thirlby) decide to take control of the situation by browsing for prospective adoptive parents in the local Pennysaver newspaper. Hilarity ensues.
2. The life of Juno Jenkins, beat poet, actress, junkie, and voice of her generation, is explored in this innovative biopic. Portrayed at various stages of her life by Dakota Fanning, Cate Blanchette, Diane Keaton, Bill Murray and Flipper, the complexity reflects on her work.
3. Mossad agent Ariel Shalom fears that his cover has been blown. Hilarity ensues when he learns that the Puerto Rican guy at the coffee shop has not been saying "Jew, no?" but "You know?" Also, a nymphomaniac who calls herself Juno.
4. Juno is a young, quirky ISP with razor-sharp wit and a penchant for giving her services away for free. But when one of her limited-time offers results in an unexpected server farm crash, she has to decide if she wants to spend the rest of her life replacing hardware, or sell her soul to AOL.
5. A womens' commune in Juno, Alaska is infiltrated by men, desperate to find out why their wives left them. Fitting in is not easy, but with the help of a little judicious make-up and several boxes of tissues, the men achieve their aim. The film unites Dustin Hoffman, John Travolta and Eddie Murphy in a hilarious comedy that's anything but a drag.
6. In this modernization of The Aeneid, Juno is the vengeful mistress from hell, foiling the plans of New York City's new mayor to create a young and vibrant city on its crumbling foundation of corruption, pollution and crime.
7. When Juno the moon goddess is spurned by her husband Jupiter, in favor of a mere mortal, she vows to take revenge on all mortal women by inventing high heels, pantyhose and corsets.
Michael Clayton
1. He was a quiet man. That's what the neighbors said after the cops dug up seventy-four bodies in his cellar. Now Michael Clayton is on the run, and no one in New England is safe. Also, a discount carpet store.
2. The Westhaven Warriors are the worst team in the state. Michael, a gentle, savant retarded man, is recruited to coach. Will his words of wisdom inspire the team to succeed in the cutthroat world of beach volleyball?
3. Jeez, could the director not think of a more imaginative title for this one? Hey, if he's not going to put in the effort, neither am I. No plot for you, Mr. Director. The world's first plotless movie. Oh, hang on, no, not the first. It's sure to make millions.
4. Michael Clayton is a middle-aged man who has a lot less trouble solving problems for his law firm and its clients than he does solving his own personal problems. Which was okay when his personal problems were trivial crap like his divorce and his debts. Now that he's become the target of an assassination attempt can he put his job skills to work in his miserable home life?
5. Michael Payton used his Play-dough to make anatomically correct models of Miss Blodgett and Mr. Geary. He went too far when he made a Claymation cartoon and previewed it at the talent show. They call him Michael Clayton now, and he's the hero of the sophomore class. But will Miss Blodgett's sexual harassment lawsuit spell the end of Michael's college plans?
6. A speculative biopic based on the life of the legendary make-believe legal “fixer,” who may, at some point in the future, brutally slay George Clooney in order to wipe that friggin smirk off his face.
7. Mickey's back, and after three years "away," he's anxious to find out who missed him. But when Michael Clayton knocks at the door of what he thinks is still his family home, and Delia answers, Mickey finds out just how much things can change when you're camping out in the "big house."
Atonement
1. Symphony conductor Max Power survives a life-threatening accident but wakes to find that he has a specific injury to his hearing---he only hears in a single tone. How can he move on?
2. A thirteen-year-old girl becomes jealous of her older sister's relationship with their housekeeper's son. Why should she have all the fun? So she accuses him of a crime he didn't commit. The authorities buy her story! With three lives changed, is there any chance for . . . Atonement?
3. For years, documentary filmmaker Mitchell Mass has traded on his tactics of stalking, editing and manipulation to anger & embarrass his enemies. But he went too far, and now faces trial for murder. Will he ever grasp the horror of what he did?
4. Someone will have to convert, or Hirschel and Heidi's marriage will fall apart. It's Yom Kippur versus Lent, but how can Hirschel prove that one day of Jewish atonement beats out forty days of Catholic guilt?
5. Using a photo of another man and a snappy moniker his mother made up, mild-mannered accountant Cecil Biggins runs a website critiquing the work of struggling writers. Nobody knows that his witty and incisive comments come not from the leather-lined office of a New York publishing company, but the fuzzy-paneled cubicle of an insurance company in Columbus, Ohio. Now, however, one of his writers is about to be published and she wants to meet him to thank him. Hilarity ensues.
6. A tattoo removal shop, Atonement, Inc., falls into a legal entrapment when they remove tattoos from an underage girl, who was a plant arranged by the Trenton, NJ tattoo mafia. However, the owner of Atonement is a tattoo reformer and former member of the Newark Harley Hellraisers. When the young girl turns up pregnant, fingers are pointing in all directions, and her Marine Corp sergeant father decides to bust heads.
7. Derek Bray, small-time con artist and bad boy around town has stretched the doctrine "repent and you shall be forgiven" to its limit. Father Moray, tired of handing out the same old Hail Marys, sets Derek a series of tasks that not only atone for his sins, but change his outlook on life.
Fake plots contributed by blogless_troll, McKoala, Mignon, Khazar-khum, Bill H., Church Lady, Precie, Sarah, Anonymous and EE.
Correct plots below:
Blood: 5
Old Men: 2
Juno: 1
Michael: 4
Atonement: 2
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Face-Lift 477
Guess the Plot
Bless the Dying
1. Bless the dying, it is said, for they make way for our children. "Fuck that," Oscar Munker says, and so begins his hilarious quest to find a way to cling to this mortal coil forever.
2. Dear old Father Gabriel spends his nights at the hospital, ministering to the terminally ill. But only Ian, the vampire who works in the lab, knows that 'Father Gabriel' is really a devil known as Gabron. Can Ian destroy Gabron before he harvests any more souls?
3. Afer a routine medical test, a cop checks into the hospital. He's been poisoned! His ex-lover suspects he's dying, so she says a little prayer for him. He dies anyway. She decides to solve the case.
4. When evil scientist Ray Winegast accidentally infects himself with homemade zombie microbes and starts an epidemic, it's up to Thor Jones and Bongo Mugwump to save voluptuous Screaming Mimi from the roof of Virus Central before the US Air Force flattens Pittsburgh.
5. Sally Bless has only one month in which to make her handicraft store show a profit, or the bank will seize all her assets. Then she meets Oliver Quilby, an aging hippie who shows her the forgotten art of tie dying. Suddenly a craze for tie-dying hits the USA and Sally finds herself richer than she ever dreamed. But will her new millions alienate the hippie she has grown to love?
6. Candace always wanted to see Africa. When a brutal coup occurs, though, hunky CIA agent Tom Thomas whisks her off to a secret resistance base in the jungle. Can she win his heart by going under cover as a nun into the new regime's hospitals and extract useful secrets from its soldiers while administering last rites?
Original Version
Dear XX: [Nothing assures a rejection like spelling the editor's name wrong. That's EE.]
When a policeman falls ill after taking a routine medical test, his former lover, head of public relations for the hospital where he’s been admitted, suspects the worst. [I have no idea what "the worst" is because the test and the illness aren't specific enough:
Routine Test....Illness........Diagnosis
Prostate Exam........Bug eyes..............Normal
Cholesterol test......Numbness........Tourniquet too tight
Steroids Test....... Gigantic Head.....Cantaloupe-sized tumor
AIDS test.................AIDS......Needle used to draw blood for test was infected
Eye exam...............blank stare..........Dead]
Was his poisoning an accident, or did someone prescribe the test knowing full well the outcome?
[Doctor: Where's Crampton?
Nurse: I sent him to the lab to have some blood drawn.
Doctor: Excellent. Mwaahhh ha ha! Soon he will be dying from a slow-acting poison administered by lab assistant Igor, and we can move on to the next phase of our diabolical plan.
Nurse: May God bless him.]
That’s the premise of a character-driven mystery I’ve written titled BLESS THE DYING.
When not writing fiction, I’m a feature writer for the Houston Chronicle. I spent ten years in health care public relations before becoming a journalist, and still have many contacts at the Los Angeles Times, Orange County Register and other media outlets, which will prove helpful when publicizing the book.
My short stories have appeared in BorderSenses Literary Journal, Farfelu magazine, and Texas Magazine. A portion of BLESS THE DYING, which comes in at 65,000 words, was honored by the Florida First Coast Writer’s Festival in its annual competition.
Written in the vein of Irene Allen’s Elizabeth Elliott series, BLESS THE DYING is the first in a planned series of mysteries. The second novel follows the protagonist as she’s called upon to defend a physician accused of molestation. [BLESS THE MOLESTED will be followed by BLESS THE SNEEZING, in which the protagonist must deal with the aftereffects of pollen being released into the hospital allergy clinic. Accident, or Mother Nature's henchmen?]
Please feel free to phone or e-mail if you’d like to read BLESS THE DYING. Thank you for your time.
Notes
That's all we get? The premise and a bunch of stuff about you? If you tell us what he was being tested for and what his symptoms were, we'll have some grounding, but this being a mystery, I assume someone gets murdered. Is it the cop? He dies from the poison? Who wanted him dead? Who had opportunity? Get us interested in the mystery.
How do they know the routine test had anything to do with this? Obviously if you have your hearing tested and later get a stomach ache you aren't going to connect the two. Usually if you have an illness you assume it's caused by the usual suspects, not a medical test you had recently.
The cop's former lover is going to be your protagonist in a series of mysteries, and we don't even get her name? The only character named in the query is Elizabeth Elliott, and she's not even your character.
Come up with eight or ten sentences summarizing your plot. Your premise can be two of them.
If editors had to decide which manuscripts to request based on two-sentence premises, they'd have to request everything or nothing. I, for one, would go with the latter.
New Beginning 436
The desire to disappear left the instant Reed Darby heard Sammy’s fake crow call. He hadn’t heard her secret distress call in over four years, not since they were eleven years old. He folded his arms behind his head and laughed miserably to himself as he stared up at the crusty ceiling of the old tree house.
He hadn’t heard Sammy’s call just now--he couldn’t have. What an imagination he had.
And then he heard her call again. Clear, crisp, and carrying across the fields and straight through the window of his hideaway, “Aww, aww, aww!”
Reed sat up straight, banging his head against a loose plank. His heart thumped as he rubbed his head and pulled himself to his feet. He squinted out the window.
Bright sunshine. Wispy cirrus clouds. High today, June 6th, of 78 degrees. A splendid summer afternoon in the Midwest. Completely boring to an aspiring meteorologist like himself. His eyes wandered far below a hill, past a barbed wire fence stringing a bank of ragged apple trees where a cluster of barns and outbuildings stood. Samantha Sleestick’s farm.
Sammy was in trouble, and she needed him. Just like old times. He dropped from the tree house and sprinted toward the Sleestick place.
“Aww, Aww!” It was coming from the barn. Maybe it was something to do with that Matt Maddler. He’d been hanging around Sammy’s group lately, looking for trouble.
The barn door was locked, but Reed easily found the loose clapboard they’d used as an entrance years ago. He followed the sound inside and up to the loft. He could never have predicted the horrible sight that confronted him and made him gasp.
The bare, pimply arse stopped pumping as Maddler turned around. “Jesus, Darby, what the fuck?”
Sammy rolled her eyes as she looked at him over Maddler’s shoulder.
It wasn’t her secret distress call after all.
Reed may not have known which way the wind was blowing, but he could sure as hell forecast a shit-storm coming real soon.
Opening: Anonymous.....Continuation: ril
He hadn’t heard Sammy’s call just now--he couldn’t have. What an imagination he had.
And then he heard her call again. Clear, crisp, and carrying across the fields and straight through the window of his hideaway, “Aww, aww, aww!”
Reed sat up straight, banging his head against a loose plank. His heart thumped as he rubbed his head and pulled himself to his feet. He squinted out the window.
Bright sunshine. Wispy cirrus clouds. High today, June 6th, of 78 degrees. A splendid summer afternoon in the Midwest. Completely boring to an aspiring meteorologist like himself. His eyes wandered far below a hill, past a barbed wire fence stringing a bank of ragged apple trees where a cluster of barns and outbuildings stood. Samantha Sleestick’s farm.
Sammy was in trouble, and she needed him. Just like old times. He dropped from the tree house and sprinted toward the Sleestick place.
“Aww, Aww!” It was coming from the barn. Maybe it was something to do with that Matt Maddler. He’d been hanging around Sammy’s group lately, looking for trouble.
The barn door was locked, but Reed easily found the loose clapboard they’d used as an entrance years ago. He followed the sound inside and up to the loft. He could never have predicted the horrible sight that confronted him and made him gasp.
The bare, pimply arse stopped pumping as Maddler turned around. “Jesus, Darby, what the fuck?”
Sammy rolled her eyes as she looked at him over Maddler’s shoulder.
It wasn’t her secret distress call after all.
Reed may not have known which way the wind was blowing, but he could sure as hell forecast a shit-storm coming real soon.
Opening: Anonymous.....Continuation: ril
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Face-Lift 476
Guess the Plot
True Fiction
1. Everyone said Gloria Bigler's novel about the village mayor and his shameless hussies was a riot -- until it turned out to be true! Now the lawyers are working overtime, Gloria's on the lam in China, and ace homicide detective Zack Martinez is waiting for divers to finish searching Lake Pleasant for the rest of Mayor Bob.
2. Although she was initially praised for her story about the government's cover-up of the weredingo invasion of Melbourne, journalist Tamilla Saopopo's facts are questioned, and boom! She's fired. Homeless and friendless, she goes on a road trip, runs out of gas in the bush, and falls in love with a guy who lives under a eucalyptus. He is actually, yes, the manliest weredingo in West Australia.
3. Struggling author Trudy Carr is at her wit's end after her 33rd novel is rejected. In desperation she decides to take on a false identity and re-invents herself as Tru Fiction, avenger of wronged authors everywhere. Soon the publishing world is in a frenzy as Tru exposes the corruption behind the glamour. But when she sets her sights on the Frankfurt Book Fair, all bets are off...
4. When Milton wins the Middletown Sentinel's "Coin A Tongue-Twister contest" with the entry "True Fiction," Eunice cries foul play. When she demands to know why her entry ("Save Sherry's Shaver") didn't win, she uncovers a web of corruption and deception leading all the way to the White House.
5. After nurse Stella Hart finds two dead bodies and survives a murder attempt (and the detective investigating the murders is killed), she decides to quit her job and hunt down the killer. Why not? Nursing is dullsville, and it's not like her love life was going anywhere. Too silly for even fiction? Maybe, but this is . . . True Fiction.
6. Author Ed Charles finds that the stories he writes become real. Immediately he creates stories of himself winning the lottery and having dozens of buxom, open-minded girlfriends. But when his ex-wife Traci clamors for more alimony, Ed begins working on a story involving Traci, a broken down safari Jeep, and a dozen hungry lions.
Original Version
Dear Mr. Famous Agent ( name spelled correctly),
The high point of Stella Hart's Sunday morning was her quiet run in the park. You can imagine how annoyed she must have been when this weekly ritual was ruined by an encounter with a dead body--or precisely two dead bodies, [or, even more precisely, three dead bodies, two wolfmen and a three-legged horse.] both with bullet holes in their foreheads. [It's a special person whose emotional reaction to two corpses is annoyance.]
As a part-time nurse in a busy trauma unit, Stella's life consists of meeting people on the worst day of their lives. After twenty years, she is tired of bad knees and fourteen-hour days. Besides, her love life was in the toilet; the only men she ever met were either drug addicts or in a coma, and her nights were beyond boring. [Why have we switched to past tense?]
When there is an ill-fated attempt on her life, Stella begins to wonder if there may be a tie between the violent murders in the park and her injuries. [I doubt Stella would characterize the attempt on her life as "ill-fated," as she seems to have lived through it.] But when the lead detective suddenly dies, [He just suddenly dies?] the investigation of the three crimes appears to come to a halt
[Police commissioner: How's that case with the two executed guys in the park coming?
Police captain: Not so great; the detective working the case has been killed.
Police commissioner: Hmm. We'd better halt the investigation of both crimes. Maybe we can cut our losses.]
and there are many questions left unanswered. Haunted by the unsolved murders and her near death experience, Stella leaves her job in search for the killer. [To search for or in search of. What is she planning to do when she finds the killer who put bullets in the foreheads of two people?]
As she begins to look into the pasts of the two murder victims, she is surprised to find a pattern--an ever-growing list of familial deaths that appear unique. [All deaths are unique in one way or another. The identity of the dead person, for starters.] Lawrence McCarty, a rich, powerful, retired Senator is not only the father of one of the victims, he also appears to be at the heart of the entire investigation. [The heart of the halted investigation, or Stella's investigation?] A man that considers vengeance a personal attribute, [Not sure what that means.] he has deep hidden family secrets and no intention of sharing them. [With Stella?
Stella: I'd like an appointment t see Senator McCarty.
Secretary: What's this regarding?
Stella: I'm investigating some murders, including that of his son.
Secretary: Ah, you're the police?
Stella: No, I'm an unemployed nurse. Look, I just need the senator to tell me his deep hidden family secrets, and then I'll be out of his hair.
(click.)]
Following leads to Pittsburgh and St. Louis, Stella is unaware a determined assassin continues to stalk her. As she begins to peel back layers of the senator's life, she not only uncovers the heartbreaking link between the two murder victims, but a family whose roots are tied to evil. For the first time in her life Stella Hart is filled with a riveting fear and she yearns for a return to her boring life as a nurse in Austin, Texas.
TRUE FICTION, a completed 70,000-word mystery, is the first of a three-part series. The second novel, TRUE DETECTIVE, is nearing finalization. [It will be followed by the third novel, OKAY, OKAY, IT WAS ALL LIES.] Interwoven with scenes in a fast-paced trauma unit, [Is Stella in these scenes? She left her job. Does she have a new job in a trauma unit?] this story begins with one woman's attempt to change her life and ends with a brutal confrontation on a Texas seashore. [Or gulf coast.]
I'm the published author of a large number of medical articles, (Critical Care Nurse, Heartbeat, International Society of Pharmacology) and my short story, THE SHOUTER, was included in the 2005 anthology, Writing Austin Lives: A Community Portrait. [No need to shout the title of a short story, even if it's "The Shouter."]
Enclosed in this email are the first three pages of this novel. I look forward to your request for my completed manuscript.
Notes
If the detective's death was a crime, I find it hard to believe that investigation has come to a halt.
Not every nurse has the skills needed to investigate murders. How is it that this one does?
It's a pretty inept "determined assassin" who can't kill someone who doesn't know there's a determined assassin after her. Is this the same assassin who screwed up killing her the first time? He's gonna get a reputation as a bungler if this keeps up.
It's too long, but fortunately you don't need much of what's in the first two paragraphs. If you start something like: When part-time nurse Stella Hart stumbles over two dead bodies while jogging, she calls the police and tries to forget about it. But when an attempt is made on her life, and the detective investigating the murders is killed in a suspicious backhoe incident, Stella realizes she may still be in danger. Now you'll have no trouble getting it all onto one page.
Monday, January 21, 2008
New Beginning 435
Late at night, when darkness creeps into an office and gives everything a quietude that sound alone cannot explain, an editor patiently reads through the dross to find the gems his career is edited to.
"Good evening, Evil. I can call you Evil, can't I?"
"What th' ... who the devil are you and how did you get in here?"
"Nevermind the who or how, when the what is so fascinating, Evil. I sent you an idea for a book, a truly unique plot, and you saw fit to reject it and then took on a book with a suspiciously similar plot..."
"Plots are a dime a dozen, there's really only a few of them, it's how you dress it up that's important."
"You stole my plot, now you must pay."
With that he took out a razor and grabbed the Editor's hair.
"Bit of a quick shave, Gov'nor?"
"That's Sweeney Todd you ..."
But Evil Editor didn't finish his sentence. There was no defence against the expert stroke, the gush of blood, or the plop of some tattered papers on his desk.
The anonymous killer stood admiring his work, and, looking for a little curtain closing flair, licked his enemy's blood off the razor. "Ow! Sssithh! Thab thuckin hurb."
At once, Evil Editor's body convulsed. Thick wiry hair sprouted from his face, neck, and arms; a pair of needle sharp fangs appeared from behind his upper lip; and the small office was suddenly filled with a horrible stench. EE opened his eyes and stood, his arms stretched out in front of him.
Anonymous screamed.
"What?" said Evil Editor shrugging.
"Y-y-y-you're a-a-a-a-a-"
"A werezompire." Anonymous backed against the office door as EE lurched forward. "What, you think a mere mortal could put up with all the crap I get from bozos like you?"
"I-I-I-I-I-"
"Sure, now you get the dialogue right." Anonymous reached for the door knob behind him, but it came off in his hand. "See? That's why you never commit gratuitous violence based on the plot of a musical. It's the wrong genre. Now, c'mere. Let me see your neck."
Opening: D Jason Cooper.....Continuation: blogless_troll
"Good evening, Evil. I can call you Evil, can't I?"
"What th' ... who the devil are you and how did you get in here?"
"Nevermind the who or how, when the what is so fascinating, Evil. I sent you an idea for a book, a truly unique plot, and you saw fit to reject it and then took on a book with a suspiciously similar plot..."
"Plots are a dime a dozen, there's really only a few of them, it's how you dress it up that's important."
"You stole my plot, now you must pay."
With that he took out a razor and grabbed the Editor's hair.
"Bit of a quick shave, Gov'nor?"
"That's Sweeney Todd you ..."
But Evil Editor didn't finish his sentence. There was no defence against the expert stroke, the gush of blood, or the plop of some tattered papers on his desk.
The anonymous killer stood admiring his work, and, looking for a little curtain closing flair, licked his enemy's blood off the razor. "Ow! Sssithh! Thab thuckin hurb."
At once, Evil Editor's body convulsed. Thick wiry hair sprouted from his face, neck, and arms; a pair of needle sharp fangs appeared from behind his upper lip; and the small office was suddenly filled with a horrible stench. EE opened his eyes and stood, his arms stretched out in front of him.
Anonymous screamed.
"What?" said Evil Editor shrugging.
"Y-y-y-you're a-a-a-a-a-"
"A werezompire." Anonymous backed against the office door as EE lurched forward. "What, you think a mere mortal could put up with all the crap I get from bozos like you?"
"I-I-I-I-I-"
"Sure, now you get the dialogue right." Anonymous reached for the door knob behind him, but it came off in his hand. "See? That's why you never commit gratuitous violence based on the plot of a musical. It's the wrong genre. Now, c'mere. Let me see your neck."
Opening: D Jason Cooper.....Continuation: blogless_troll
New Beginning 434
I had conflicting feelings as my son James rushed up the steps of the hospital. He was three hours late. I had seen only pictures of him for the past ten years. He had taken a train and subway to Brooklyn Heights. His teenage body waved like a stalk of corn in a storm as he moved across the hospital lobby toward me.
"Bart?" he asked.
Not Dad, I thought as I nodded, "Yes, James."
Our eyes met. He extended his right hand. I gasped it and put my left arm on his shoulder. We had lost so much time.
"Sorry I'm late, but Fred procrastinated when it was time to drive me to the station."
"I'm not surprised, your step-father used all his legal skills to interfere with our visitation.
The loudspeaker blared. "Dr Bartolino Ferranti, Dr Ferranti."
I picked up the in-house phone "Yes, Bart Ferranti here."
"Doctor, we've got a bad allergic reaction in the microbiology lab."
"Sorry, son," I said, as I put down the receiver. "Got to run. They need me in the lab."
I could almost feel his eyes watching me as I hustled away.
Nurse Ementhal peered at me over the top of her mask as I carded into the isolation room. She was holding a flask of some reagent and her blonde eyebrows were raised in question above her piercing blue eyes.
"Good work," I reassured her. "Same thing if he shows up again. Maybe not an allergic reaction next time -- he might get wise. If that little shit wants to get to know his father, the first thing he's gonna learn is no one keeps me waiting three hours."
Opening: Larry Chiaramonte, M.D......Continuation: Anon.
"Bart?" he asked.
Not Dad, I thought as I nodded, "Yes, James."
Our eyes met. He extended his right hand. I gasped it and put my left arm on his shoulder. We had lost so much time.
"Sorry I'm late, but Fred procrastinated when it was time to drive me to the station."
"I'm not surprised, your step-father used all his legal skills to interfere with our visitation.
The loudspeaker blared. "Dr Bartolino Ferranti, Dr Ferranti."
I picked up the in-house phone "Yes, Bart Ferranti here."
"Doctor, we've got a bad allergic reaction in the microbiology lab."
"Sorry, son," I said, as I put down the receiver. "Got to run. They need me in the lab."
I could almost feel his eyes watching me as I hustled away.
Nurse Ementhal peered at me over the top of her mask as I carded into the isolation room. She was holding a flask of some reagent and her blonde eyebrows were raised in question above her piercing blue eyes.
"Good work," I reassured her. "Same thing if he shows up again. Maybe not an allergic reaction next time -- he might get wise. If that little shit wants to get to know his father, the first thing he's gonna learn is no one keeps me waiting three hours."
Opening: Larry Chiaramonte, M.D......Continuation: Anon.
Book Launch Party
Church Lady hosted the book launch party for Novel Deviations 3, the now-available latest collection of the best New Beginnings. Recently she asked people to submit what they think EE looks like. Below are some of the responses she got.
Needless to say, only three of them bear the slightest resemblance.
Needless to say, only three of them bear the slightest resemblance.
Q & A 126 If my book is now better than it was when an agent didn't want it, can I query her again?
Hypothetically speaking, suppose I queried an agent who expressed interest in seeing the first fifty pages of my work, but on seeing those first fifty pages decided that the characters weren't engaging enough and she would have to pass on the rest of the novel. Now say that further hypothetically, this comment caused me to do some intensive work on the novel with a critique group and it is now dramatically better.
You have every right to scoff at me for not doing the revision before I started querying agents. But my question is, when is it proper etiquette to re-query the same work to the same agent? I have been querying other agents, too, but this one specifically sells the sort of novels I write. Would it be appropriate if I waited a year? Should I mention that she expressed interest last time?
Hypothetically, what do you mean, she expressed interest last time? You sent a query, she agreed to look at fifty pages, she looked at them (or at some of them) and said she didn't want to see the rest. Is that the extent of her interest?
Some agents reject books by saying, Sorry, but your novel doesn't sound like something I would represent. Other agents feel that's too impersonal, so they have come up with a few standard explanations for breaking your heart, explanations that sound good but mean nothing. The top ten:
10. It's not commercial enough. Translation: I didn't like it.
9. It doesn't meet our present needs. Translation: I didn't like it.
8. I wasn't enthusiastic enough. Translation: I didn't like it.
7. My workload is such that I'm being very selective about taking on new clients. Translation: I didn't like it.
6. I already have an author working on this type of project. Translation: I didn't like it.
5. It doesn't stand out in this crowded field. Translation: I didn't like it.
4. I didn't fall in love with it. Translation: I didn't like it.
3. I didn't find it compelling. Translation: I didn't like it.
2. It's not right for my list. Translation: I didn't like it.
And the number 1 explanation for rejecting your book:
1. The characters didn't engage me. Translation: I didn't like it.
Hypothetically, if there were ten things she didn't like about your manuscript, she would have mentioned only one, so as not to be responsible for your falling into a state of abject depression. Lucky for you, Evil Editor isn't such a wuss.
If you are determined to go through with this anyway, send a query without pages, tell her you've dramatically improved the book based on her suggestions, and are hoping she might have time to take a look. Don't mention the involvement of a critique group, as that tends to make books worse as often as it makes them better. Waiting a year isn't a bad idea, and right before sending the query, read the book again and make sure it doesn't need another overhaul. And keep trying the many other agents who also sell the type of novels you write. Best of luck.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Guess the Title 7 (Relationships Edition)
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Friday, January 18, 2008
Face-Lift 475
Guess the Plot
Life Code From Brooklyn
1. Cloning has eliminated genetic diseases, and scientists have engineered highly intelligent people. But in 2112, the world that was supposed to be perfect is falling apart. Skip Wellington has gone to a graveyard in Brooklyn, desperate to uncover some viable DNA. Can he clone a plumber before every last toilet in New York City is clogged?
2. After Tony got neutralized by the KTG, he spent all his time lamenting his lost virginity, combing his toupée, and raising levels of urban insecurity by broadcasting ads for "Loretta's Bed-o-rama," an imaginary brothel, on his CB radio. But when he finds a body in the dumpster he knows the culprit: Mr. Whiskers, a dubious across-the-alley neighbor. How can he prove it?
3. When a strange, half-fish half-rat creature crawls from the East River and, gasping its first primitive breaths, tells a tourist, "Fuck You," scientists think they've found the key to unlocking the secrets of evolution. Little Fanny Sue adopts the foul creature as a pet, however, leading to years of lawsuits and two lucrative book deals.
4. Just when Trudy Hench thought it was safe to stage another play, along comes Homeland Security with 584 new safety rules: shoes must be x-rayed, handbags must be checked, lights must stay on bright the whole time, no simulated explosions or costumes that cover the face are allowed, etc., etc. Who can play by those rules? She'd rather take it to court!
5. Bartolino Ferranti, MD teams up with an attractive female geneticist and a longshoreman to collect life forms from deep-sea ocean vents. But their attempt to develop useful microbes forces them to weave through webs of politics and organized crime. Possibly they should have performed their experiments somewhere other than Brooklyn, where the mob has their hands in every bowl of primordial soup.
6. When 9 year old Lala McGee grabs her steel Starbucks cup and conks an unruly customer at the lemonade stand, she doesn't plan how to explain what happened to crooked homicide detective Gus "Chicken-face" Lombardi. Too bad everything she says only makes it worse. Then there's diabolical prosecutor Lloyd "Fatboy" Nelson: he'll soon be running for mayor and wants to toast Lala with the death penalty.
Original Version
Dear Agent:
Scientists no longer think life started on the surface of our planet based on carbon, oxygen and water. The first surface of our planet was like its current molten interior, a mixture of chemicals that can support life forms [Archaea] that exist free from carbon, oxygen and water. Early Archaea may have evolved into today's creatures. DNA or deoxyribonucleic acid serves as the life code for the reproduction of all creatures. Archaea exist today at deep-sea oil seeps, volcanic ocean vents and perhaps outer space. [What is this, the transcript of a National Geographic documentary?]
Life Code from Brooklyn is based on the science of genetic engineering. While Bartolino Ferranti MD [Change his name to Bart Ferrari. You want him to sound like a stud, not a pizza chef.] is trying to reconcile a relationship with his estranged son, he teams up with an attractive female genetic engineer and a longshoreman leader. With his son they collect Archaea from deep-sea ocean vents. [Shouldn't they team up with some divers instead of a longshoreman?] They attempt to develop useful microbes genetically engineered from these Archaea. Their pursuits force them to weave through entangling webs of politics, big business, and organized crime. Life Code from Brooklyn is an 88,000 word action/adventure novel. [Action/adventure? Your plot is three people try to make useful microbes out of Archaea.]
As a Yale educated physician, I have had an eventful teaching career as Director of Allergy at Long Island College Hospital in Brooklyn. [You're just the guy I need to talk to. This fucking Allegra does nothing to stop me from sneezing. It's fucking January, there shouldn't be any pollen anyway. I never should have gone with the generic version; I can't even pronounce it. Sorry I'm venting on you, but what good would it do to complain to the drug companies? Those bastards want me to be sick. It's the only way they make money.] I in part wrote and edited a textbook titled Food Allergy for allergists that was judged the best by Lancet. As a result I consulted for an agricultural genetic engineering firm, General Foods, and the makers of MSG. [I don't trust any ingredient that's so hard to pronounce they abbreviate it. Plus, MSG has been shown to cause glaucoma in rats (which is why I never take my rat to Chinese restaurants). And you say you're in the pocket of the MSG manufacturers? What am I supposed to do about this burning and the numbness and the bronchospasms? Just stop eating Mongolian shrimp? That'll be the day.] I also co-authored a book for the general public entitled " What your doctor may not have told you about your Child's asthma and allergy" [He's been sneaking MSG-laden snacks from the school vending machines. That's why he can't breathe, lady.]
Recently I began to write fiction. [Actually, you started writing fiction when you wrote that report on the numerous health benefits of massive amounts of MSG in the diet.] I have won first place in the 2005 Connecticut Authors & Publishers Association Annual Writing Contest. in the Poetry division for my entry "Inner City Asthma Rap".
[You say you can't breathe but you ain't been capped,
Well dig me while I drop on you the asthma rap.
You chillax in the ghetto where there's shit in the air,
Better pack your inhaler when you stuck down there.]
I had a short story "Children are Precious'' published in January, 2006 issue of www. thirstforfire.com. A second short story ``The Impatient Patient at a New York City Hospital'' [I gotta hand it to you: your titles don't leave me wondering what the story's about.] was published in issue 13 of www.LauraHird.com .
Michael Crichton's best selling book Next and Vincent Patrick's Family Business demonstrates a significant commercial interest in a work of fiction that has the science of genetic engineering as a theme. [I have a different theory: Michael Crichton's ability to get a novel involving genetic engineering published demonstrates a significant commercial interest in works of fiction by Michael Crichton.]
Sincerely,
Notes
There's too much here about scientists and you, and not enough about your story. Dump that first paragraph and get to the attractive female genetic engineer as soon as possible. Why are they messing with microbes? What use are they hoping to find for them? Who's trying to stop them, and why? Are they in danger? I see nothing to indicate this is an action/adventure. As the old saying goes, you can't sell a pie by describing a saltine.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Novel Deviations 3 . . .
. . . should be available any minute. You may order now.
Besides the usual slew of the best New Beginnings, this volume has a Bad Analogy theme, with Minions' bad analogies filling the empty spaces, and a dedication, introduction, acknowledgements and afterword with bad analogies. Also a couple New Beginnings that played with that theme.
The cover price is $10.95, but like all EE's books, it's $9.00 if you order from http://www.evileditor.net/. Shipping costs are the same no matter how many of this or other books you order, assuming they go to the same address.
If you want a signed copy, there's a place in the ordering process for special instructions. It will be signed "Evil Editor," unless you specify something else you want it to say, like: To LuAnne/My heart beats for you./Evil Editor.
New Beginning 433
We hid quietly. Like attic mice we peeked, terrified, down through our slatted bathroom ceiling, as we had most afternoons that summer. The small area where the plaster had fallen out provided the peephole.
“Why’s Daddy do that, Rudy?” Claire trembled.
“I dunno. Shhh.” I put my hand over her mouth, and glanced over at Lizzanne.
We stared, mortified, as the scene unfolded. It was always the same: Daddy gave Buddy, the oldest of us children, a list of chores this morning before he went to work. The chores were to be finished when Daddy got home. On a beautiful summer day, what thirteen-year-old boy could be expected to scrub kitchen floors, clean the garage and rake leaves? There were butterflies and dragonflies to chase, and lizards to catch. We had bicycles to ride and great live oak trees with dipping limbs, which summoned us to climb.
When Daddy left, Buddy glanced up at us peeping down at him, and I saw that glint in his eye that said, "Sorry, Rudy, but I can't be expected to live up to Daddy's high expectations." As soon as the car rumbled off the long, gravel driveway and onto highway forty-two, Buddy ran out the back door on his way down to Hunters Pond. The empty, lonely slam of the screen door was like the clang of prison bars.
I rolled onto my back next to Lizzanne and looked up at the alternating stripes of pink insulation and brown roof joists. "Today?" Claire poked me.
I shook my head. "No," I said to the stale, attic air. "It looks like Buddy won't get the chores done again. Daddy's gonna keep us locked up here another week."
Lizzanne sobbed quietly next to me as I watched a daddy longlegs creep across the pink insulation.
Opening: Luke.....Continuation: Anonymous
“Why’s Daddy do that, Rudy?” Claire trembled.
“I dunno. Shhh.” I put my hand over her mouth, and glanced over at Lizzanne.
We stared, mortified, as the scene unfolded. It was always the same: Daddy gave Buddy, the oldest of us children, a list of chores this morning before he went to work. The chores were to be finished when Daddy got home. On a beautiful summer day, what thirteen-year-old boy could be expected to scrub kitchen floors, clean the garage and rake leaves? There were butterflies and dragonflies to chase, and lizards to catch. We had bicycles to ride and great live oak trees with dipping limbs, which summoned us to climb.
When Daddy left, Buddy glanced up at us peeping down at him, and I saw that glint in his eye that said, "Sorry, Rudy, but I can't be expected to live up to Daddy's high expectations." As soon as the car rumbled off the long, gravel driveway and onto highway forty-two, Buddy ran out the back door on his way down to Hunters Pond. The empty, lonely slam of the screen door was like the clang of prison bars.
I rolled onto my back next to Lizzanne and looked up at the alternating stripes of pink insulation and brown roof joists. "Today?" Claire poked me.
I shook my head. "No," I said to the stale, attic air. "It looks like Buddy won't get the chores done again. Daddy's gonna keep us locked up here another week."
Lizzanne sobbed quietly next to me as I watched a daddy longlegs creep across the pink insulation.
Opening: Luke.....Continuation: Anonymous
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Face-Lift 474
Guess the Plot
The Tea Master
1. After tea master Warren Pax saves the Xapa tribe from pirates, Mira Manchu makes a film of his exploits, starring jailbait pop tart Hamadryad Botticelli. Warren, who had once been married to Mira, but lost her to his nemesis Victor Fishfire, then marries Hamadryad. Hilarity ensues. Also, unicorns and a sea monster.
2. Foo, a young martial artist, is apprenticed to the old Master, whose Lapsang Souchong style is legendary. But when the Earl Grey Ninja attacks, terrorizing the school and the countryside, the old man is killed. Does Foo have what it takes to become the new . . . Tea Master?
3. Another Starbucks? Li Po Chuang can stand it no longer. He gathers all the other Tea Masters in the dead of night, and they dress as business executives, board a container ship, and dump all the coffee beans into the harbor. Also, a haiku-reciting vampire.
4. This urbo-pop comic thriller culminates in a battle scene as spectacular as the clash of gods when the Tea Master fights the Coffee Demon and the Vodka King for the heart of Tiffany Johnson, freshman at Kansas University.
5. Early in her career, Jane Cartwright was nothing but a scandalous latte-&-muffin stripper. Now she's the Tea Master of London and she doesn't have to put up with any guff from Guido, the brainless pizza junky from Chicago. He'll satisfy her hunger or the mash-and-banger crew will waste him.
6. The fate of Samoa hangs by a thread as a faceless fiend known as The Tea Master finishes brewing his most diabolical Cup of Doom. But all is not lost--a team of superspies are headed for the beach, disguised as ten burly surfer dudes and their amazing swimsuit photographer chick, Mae Wong.
Original Version
Dear [squidnugget of loving-kindness],
I have written a novel titled 'The Tea Master', which I would like you to read and consider representing. It is slightly over 100,000 words and set in a magic-realist version of modern day. The lead is the dopey but charming Warren Pax - but the first person we meet is his nemesis: Victor Fishfire. Warren's mother broke his wrist.
Moreover, Victor's prize-winning lilies were eaten by starstruck unicorns, his latest wife has left him... he was snubbed by the Academy, his Best Screenplay misattributed to popular children's book writer Stella de Bouillon... Victor was stoic, knowing the cause: Perpetua Pax saw his too, too brilliant film, went into labour, and died in his (now broken) arms. Her newborn son Warren barely knew Victor but grew up with filmmakers anyhow: skin-obsessed John Brown and Hong Kong-Bollywood star Mira Manchu. The youngest was jailbait pop tart Hamadryad Botticelli, rescued from a sea monster by Mira.
Warren married Mira, discovered he was a tea genius, and lost her to Victor. He hunted down the reclusive Stella, author of 'The Tea Master', to ask her to endorse his tea blends. She agreed, after he saved her and the whole Xapa tribe from a bloody pirate attack. Mira made a movie of Warren's exploits, starring Hamadryad, who Warren subsequently married.
Years later, Xapa chief Guignol died. Princes Irmuh and Andrei asked Warren to preside over the telepathic ritual for picking the new ruler. However, when Irmuh kidnapped Victor and his daughter Victoria as a bribe for Warren, the visions were overwhelmed by Warren's old Fishfire-resentment. Then when the kidnappers came for Mira, it was she who overwhelmed them.
Now Warren's old revenge motives, and Mira's new ones, collide in hallucinogenic satires of Hollywood and literature, trapping Victor, Stella and Hamadryad in the mix. It's up to them to break Mira and Warren out of the nightmare - at the price of their own dreams.
[It's been a while since I felt the need to do this, but I think we need a chart to keep our characters straight:
Warren Pax: Dopey but charming hero, tea genius.
Victor Fishfire: Warren's nemesis; not clear why.
Perpetua Pax: Warren's mother, died in Victor's arms, which she broke. Or possibly she broke only his wrist.
Mrs. Fishfire: Victor's wife, who has left him. She also leaves the query, having done nothing.
Stella de Bouillon: Got credit for Victor's screenplay. Author of The Tea Master. Not clear whether The Tea Master is the screenplay in question.
John Brown: Filmmaker. Skin-obsessed, whatever that means.
Mira Manchu: Hong Kong-Bollywood star, married Warren, dumped him for Victor. Seeks revenge on someone. Trapped in nightmare with Warren.
Hamadryad Botticelli: Trapped in "the mix" with Stella and Victor. Youngest filmmaker. Rescued from sea monster by Mira. Marries Warren after Mira dumps him.
Guignol: Xapa chief. Dead.
Victoria: Daughter of Victor. Kidnapped.
Prince Irmuh: Xapa tribesman who kidnapped Victoria. Also kidnapped Victor. Apparently as a bribe to get Warren to name him new Xapa chief.
Prince Andrei: Xapa tribesman who also wants Warren to name him chief.]
My writing credits include editorial and writing for Shiny Media, being editor of Mascaret magazine, professional blogging dating back to 1999, having scooped the Hank the Angry Drunken Dwarf/People magazine scandal in the mid-90s, and being inspired by my literary heritage as a Dumas. [Are you sure you spelled that correctly?] [Sorry, cheap joke. Couldn't resist. Hey, it's Evil Editor, remember?]
I have taken the liberty of pasting the first chapter of 'The Tea Master' below. May I send you a complete manuscript?
Regards,
Notes
Unfortunately, rereading it with my chart didn't clear it up. The plot is so incomprehensible, I guarantee half the people reading this assumed it was a hoax. Start over and ask yourself, what does my main character want, and why isn't he getting it? What's he gonna do about it? Focus on that. Do not lose your focus for even one sentence.
This is a list of people and events in your book. It includes a lot of stuff that's not vital to the main plot. That happens a lot, but usually I can piece together the main plot after weeding out the rest. In this case, I have no idea what the main plot is or why I should care what happens to Warren. As you start over, I recommend you not even look at this version. Put it aside and focus.
Have you considered writing the How I Broke the Hank the Angry Drunken Dwarf/People Magazine Scandal story? It sounds like a great book.
New Beginning 432
Here is how it started. I was in the convention center which was like its own world, like you could be there and forget the real world even existed because it didn't exist, not really, not while you were in there with the artificial lighting beaming at you like alien mind-control rays and the people acting more like aliens than people until you started thinking they really were aliens trying to numb your brain and turn you into a pod person.
There was this guy at one of the booths, a country boy in maybe his thirties, with his black dress shoes and his dark blue Levis, ironed nice and stiff, and his white dress shirt. I watched him war for a while with his collar, notching it out with a forefinger, pulling it away from his nice red neck. Yeah. He was a T-shirt guy, and he looked out of place in there.
I laughed when I saw what he was selling.
"That's quite a package," I said unambiguously.
"Most ladies seem to like it," he replied, in an entirely non-sexual way. "Are you interested?"
In all innocence I replied, "I'm not sure I'd know what to do with one that big."
"I bet if you got your hands on it, you'd be so excited you wouldn't even notice the size."
And maybe that would have been true once, in the past, but not now, not at my age; now, I wasn't prone to such unfettered excitement and I knew that like any new toy the novelty would be gone and the memory of it would gather dust on a shelf somewhere. I mean: at my age; I mean: who sells dildos at an organ convention? So I just fucked him instead, because it didn't matter what happened in there, because when you walked outside, it would all go away, because Mrs. Smetson, best damson plum jam three years running, really needed something new to talk about.
Opening: Robin S......Continuation: Anonymous
There was this guy at one of the booths, a country boy in maybe his thirties, with his black dress shoes and his dark blue Levis, ironed nice and stiff, and his white dress shirt. I watched him war for a while with his collar, notching it out with a forefinger, pulling it away from his nice red neck. Yeah. He was a T-shirt guy, and he looked out of place in there.
I laughed when I saw what he was selling.
"That's quite a package," I said unambiguously.
"Most ladies seem to like it," he replied, in an entirely non-sexual way. "Are you interested?"
In all innocence I replied, "I'm not sure I'd know what to do with one that big."
"I bet if you got your hands on it, you'd be so excited you wouldn't even notice the size."
And maybe that would have been true once, in the past, but not now, not at my age; now, I wasn't prone to such unfettered excitement and I knew that like any new toy the novelty would be gone and the memory of it would gather dust on a shelf somewhere. I mean: at my age; I mean: who sells dildos at an organ convention? So I just fucked him instead, because it didn't matter what happened in there, because when you walked outside, it would all go away, because Mrs. Smetson, best damson plum jam three years running, really needed something new to talk about.
Opening: Robin S......Continuation: Anonymous
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Q & A 125 Can I quit now?
Oh kind editor...do you ever have any words of wisdom for us "older folks"...those women past the age of 50 who are so down on their luck? 2 short stories accepted this week for publication,but a major...as in MAJOR., MAJOR..rejection of a novel....one I thought would succeed..so brutally rejected...when does one know when to face reality and quit?
First of all, fifty isn't old for a writer. For the first thirty years of your life you're a complete idiot, and it takes another ten years to realize that you're still a complete idiot. So in writer years, you're a teenager.
On the other hand, keep in mind that five sixths of your life is over.
I know a writer who wrote more than 15 novels before finally selling one, and who has now sold nine, all to major publishers. Of course, she's not fifty yet. If she'd been approaching fifty and still unpublished, she'd have thrown herself off a bridge. Hey, I'm joking.
I looked into this at Wikipedia. Here are a few late bloomers who should give you hope:
1. Colonel Sanders began his chicken franchise in his sixties.
2. Grandma Moses started painting in her seventies.
3. The great proponent of Gaudiya Vaishnavism, A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada founded the International Society for Krishna Consciousness at the age of 70.
Okay, you're interested in writers: here are a few from the list:
Laura Ingalls Wilder did not publish her first novel until her sixties. Children's author Mary Alice Fontenot wrote her first book at 51 and wrote almost thirty additional books, publishing multiple volumes in her eighties and nineties. Richard Adams's first novel, the bestseller Watership Down, was published when he was in his fifties. The Marquis de Sade didn't publish his first novel, Justine, until he was 51. Raymond Chandler published his first novel, The Big Sleep at 51. The full article is here: Really Old People Who Managed to Do Something Besides Drool. Ignore the fact that the article has no references and could have been written by your plumber.
Of course, plenty of writers never get a novel published, but I look at it this way: nothing gives Evil Editor more pleasure than reading the writings of Evil Editor. So if you're the same way, I encourage you to immediately purchase all of Evil Editor's books.
New Beginning 431
Having lived my entire life as the youngest of eight siblings, it was startling, to say the least, when I became an only child at the age of fourteen. The funny thing is, nobody died.
Two months later, it was still enough to send me into a dull trance if I thought too hard about it.
"You watering those plants, or drowning them?"
I turned around, but kept the spray from the hose pointed loosely in the direction of the garden. Brad was coated in a thin layer of dust that clung to his sweaty arms and face like an extra layer of skin, and I wondered if he had left any dirt in the paddock. I smiled. "It looks like you could use a watering."
"What do you think I'm here for?" Brad pulled his shirt off, and I handed him the hose. He bent over at the waist, pressed the nozzle against the back of his neck, and let out a sigh of relief as the water ran along his face and dripped onto the ground in front of us. Brad stood back upright and gave his head a shake. "I swear, your father is out to kill me, a little at a time."
"Don't worry, you don't actually die," I said. 'You just take root."
I went back to putting water on my brothers and sisters. Sally was about to bloom and she always got mad at me if her buds dropped too soon.
Dad's horticulture experiments had gone horribly wrong, but the irrigation system would be installed by the end of the week and I wouldn't have to spend all my time watering.
Brad would be a magnificent ash tree by then. I'm thinking I might cut him down and use his lumber for baseball bats.
Opening: Liz Royer.....Continuation: Mignon
Two months later, it was still enough to send me into a dull trance if I thought too hard about it.
"You watering those plants, or drowning them?"
I turned around, but kept the spray from the hose pointed loosely in the direction of the garden. Brad was coated in a thin layer of dust that clung to his sweaty arms and face like an extra layer of skin, and I wondered if he had left any dirt in the paddock. I smiled. "It looks like you could use a watering."
"What do you think I'm here for?" Brad pulled his shirt off, and I handed him the hose. He bent over at the waist, pressed the nozzle against the back of his neck, and let out a sigh of relief as the water ran along his face and dripped onto the ground in front of us. Brad stood back upright and gave his head a shake. "I swear, your father is out to kill me, a little at a time."
"Don't worry, you don't actually die," I said. 'You just take root."
I went back to putting water on my brothers and sisters. Sally was about to bloom and she always got mad at me if her buds dropped too soon.
Dad's horticulture experiments had gone horribly wrong, but the irrigation system would be installed by the end of the week and I wouldn't have to spend all my time watering.
Brad would be a magnificent ash tree by then. I'm thinking I might cut him down and use his lumber for baseball bats.
Opening: Liz Royer.....Continuation: Mignon
Synopsis 10
Guess the Plot
A Window of Opportunity
1. Josh figured he might be a fry cook all his life. Then one day Debbie was sick and the manager handed Josh the headset for the drive-thru window.
2. Joe Smith has plans to ask Lucille to marry him. Their drive-in movie date goes so well, he decides to wait until the credits roll. Meanwhile, ten million giant glowing worm-things-from-space splat on the pavement and creep all over the car, leaving slime trails on the windshield that obscure the view. Has Joe missed his chance?
3. 32 episodes based on real life in which various dilemmas present themselves and, for potty mouth protagonist Bob Jones, masturbation is the answer to them all. But where? When? How? Plus his friend Dwight, whose entire vocabulary consists of permutations of 'fuck', and a cowgirl who thinks they're both idiots.
4. When the plane he's flying on crash-lands 65,000,000 years in the past, Bob and his fellow passengers realize they're stranded. They also realize that the meteor that killed all the dinosaurs will show up eventually, so they'd better figure out how to deflect it before it arrives.
5. When Rachael loses her job as secretary to the CEO of Jerol's Jewelry, she throws herself from his office window in despair. On the other side, instead of a 36-story drop, she finds the magical world of Gelda. The natives are enslaved, forced to mine precious metals and gems by a cruel and greedy dictator: her former boss. Can she save both a mystical race and her 401k?
6. Zola Smith should have told Jack how she felt in 1987, but now he's not only married, he has three kids and a dog. Zola spends her day smoking, drinking, and reading about Britney Spears, painfully aware her own life is just as ruined.
[All Hail the Evil Editor!
Below is the synopsis of my science fiction novel A Window of Opportunity. I beg you and your minions to gnaw it to pieces so it can be rebuilt better and stronger. ]
Original Version
Yesterday was the worse day in Bob's life. ["Worst." Making a glaring mistake in your first sentence is like walking into a job interview and realizing you forgot to wear pants.] Maybe. [I'd go with "So far."] Today wasn't over yet. [We seem to be in Bob's POV, and since today isn't over yet for Bob, we should say, Today isn't over yet. The rest can be in present tense as well, except when describing something that happened earlier.] However, Bob knew today wouldn't include the sheer terror of clutching his knees while his plane to Seattle crash-landed into a lake. Not that today was without its problems. Bob's cell phone couldn't pick up a signal, even from satellites, and that had never happened before. [Interestingly, Bob's cell phone was working fine when he turned it on at 50,000 feet, moments before the jet plummeted into the lake.]
[A chart to help determine whether yesterday or today was worse for Bob.
Yesterday . . . . Today (so far)
Plane crash . . . . No bars on cell phone]
Not surprising since he hadn't seen anything familiar on the ground during the approach to the lake. No Pacific coast, no cities, just unbroken jungle.
Nearly two hundred people needed food, water and shelter, but nothing could come from the plane until it finished settling into the lake.
[Bob: We need to get the water off the plane.
Pilot: It's too dangerous. The plane hasn't settled to the bottom of the lake.
Bob: But what will we drin-- Did you say "lake"?]
[Bob: Okay, the plane has finished settling into the lake. Now can we go get some food and water?
Pilot: The lake is too deep, we'd need SCUBA gear.
Bob: Where are we gonna get SCUBA gear?
Pilot: There's some on the plane.]
The flight crew gave out as little information as possible. Bob assumed they had no idea where the plane had crashed and didn't want to panic everyone. Instead, they focused on calm, orderly action to meet immediate needs. The only thing the crew couldn't hide was that the radios in the survival kits couldn't contact anyone.
Foraging parties found odd things nearly every trip: a circular footprint large enough to lie down in, [Made by the world's biggest pegleg.] birds with teeth and fish that didn't look right. [They had tiny human heads.] Neither the amateur astronomer nor world travelers recognized the constellations. ["I can't see the constellation that looks like a goat anywhere. And where did that one that looks like a sheep come from?"] After taking a series of photos, the amateur astronomer began running a search in a star charting program to match the photographed sky to an approximate location. [They couldn't bring any food off the plane after the crash, but one man had the foresight to bring a camera and star charting equipment.] [How many stars would show up on a photograph of the night sky?] It took less than a day to determine the sky overhead didn't match anything in the database. [A day? Does he have a computer or an abacus?] However, the Moon was the same, if slightly larger. The next step had the program calculating star positions moving backwards in time.
It took over two weeks to produce an answer: [Two weeks running a program? On a laptop? My battery dies if I run my laptop two hours.] they were 65 million years in the past. [Bob immediately decided this was the last time he booked a flight with Northwest.] Slowly, acceptance of their plight seeped through the survivors. There would be no rescue. [They would never find out who won Survivor, Micronesia.] They needed to leave the plane. Move to somewhere with better resources, somewhere safer. [If I've lasted two weeks in a world crawling with dinosaurs, without being trampled or eaten, I'm not exploring for somewhere safer.] They needed to build and grow. The meteor that killed the dinosaurs was coming.
(The title indicates a side-effect of the central premise -- the meteor is coming. If it arrives too soon, there isn't time to do anything about it. If it arrives too late, their descendants will have forgotten there's something to worry about. In between is a window of opportunity to ride out the disaster in bunkers or deflect the meteor.) [Deflect the meteor? If I were suddenly living in the time of the dinosaurs, the meteor couldn't get there quick enough to satisfy me. No way would I be trying to deflect it.]
Notes
This is like the TV show Lost, except it takes place 65 million years earlier.
It took man till the 20th century before he could even think about trying to deflect a meteor. And these people are going to pull it off in 64,998,000 B.C.?
How do these people get from the plane in the lake to the shore? I would assume they swim, using their seat cushions for flotation, but who would expect a cell phone or laptop to work after taking it for a swim?
You somehow survive a plane crash. It's a miracle. The phones don't work--not surprising as you're in a jungle in the middle of nowhere-- so someone suggests you split up and walk in different directions and hope someone reaches civilization. But one man convinces everyone to wait while he determines where you are. After two weeks, with food supplies dwindling, he finally announces his findings: "We're 65 million years in the past." And everyone buys this? More likely they would kill him on the spot, and start walking.
I can't tell if this is the story of the 200 survivors, or of Bob. Bob disappears from the synopsis. If he's not the most important character, I wouldn't open with the cutesy "worst day of Bob's life." If he is the most important character, keep him in the synopsis so we don't lose interest in him.
A synopsis should take us through the whole story, not leave us wondering what happens. This is all set-up. You explain how they got there and how they figured out where they were. The story is what comes next, and we get none of it.
Monday, January 14, 2008
P & E Poll
The Preditors and Editors Poll is coming to a close, and incredibly, Evil Editor isn't winning. Not in the category of book editor or writers' resource. Investigating, I checked out the top couple editors in the book editor standings. They appear to be services. Send me your book and your money, and I'll edit for you. Send us your money, and we'll edit and publish your book. Who's voting for these people?
Let's face it. There aren't any famous book editors. Except EE, of course. No way should any editor (except EE, of course) be able to get more than three or four votes without getting all of their friends to vote for them, or paying homeless people to vote for them. That's where EE is at a disadvantage: I have no friends, and homeless people know better than to come near me. I must rely on my minions, most of whom have not purchased my books, and thus have no idea how good an editor I am.
Ill tell youhow goog I'm. That's the kind of sentence that most editors would let slip by. Not EE. Yet how many of these other editors have to deal with over a hundred authors per book? How many do not only the editing, but the proofreading, the cover design, the interior design, etc. for all the books they edit? How many foot the bill for their ISBN numbers, for the printing and binding and shipping? How many have the moral fiber to publish books just because they deserve to be published, even if they're certain to lose money? Only EE is that stupid.
Can anyone who's read Why You Don't Get Published honestly say it's not the funniest book ever produced? Dave called it better than sex. Two readers (whom I'll mercifully not name) admitted to having peed their pants while reading it.
Have not hundreds of aspiring authors gotten their first, and possibly only, book publication thanks to EE's Novel Deviations series? Just my way of giving back to my beloved minions.
Moving on to the writers' resource category, how do you define "resource"? Something useful? Or something entertaining? Let me rephrase that. How many of you have sold a book thanks to any so-called writers' resources? That's what I thought. So how useful are they? And since none of the so-called resources has shown itself to be useful, you may as well vote for one that's entertaining.
I have no doubt that the leading votegetters have placed the address of the ballot (http://www.critters.org/predpoll) on their websites, along with pleas for votes. I'm not stooping to such depths, because I'm starting to think it's better to come in last: in the author category, Stephen King is tied for last place. Man, who's in first, Tolstoy?
Next year will be different. Next year I'm told there'll be a category called funniest blog by an editor with muttonchops. I feel certain I'll make the top ten.
Let's face it. There aren't any famous book editors. Except EE, of course. No way should any editor (except EE, of course) be able to get more than three or four votes without getting all of their friends to vote for them, or paying homeless people to vote for them. That's where EE is at a disadvantage: I have no friends, and homeless people know better than to come near me. I must rely on my minions, most of whom have not purchased my books, and thus have no idea how good an editor I am.
Ill tell youhow goog I'm. That's the kind of sentence that most editors would let slip by. Not EE. Yet how many of these other editors have to deal with over a hundred authors per book? How many do not only the editing, but the proofreading, the cover design, the interior design, etc. for all the books they edit? How many foot the bill for their ISBN numbers, for the printing and binding and shipping? How many have the moral fiber to publish books just because they deserve to be published, even if they're certain to lose money? Only EE is that stupid.
Can anyone who's read Why You Don't Get Published honestly say it's not the funniest book ever produced? Dave called it better than sex. Two readers (whom I'll mercifully not name) admitted to having peed their pants while reading it.
Have not hundreds of aspiring authors gotten their first, and possibly only, book publication thanks to EE's Novel Deviations series? Just my way of giving back to my beloved minions.
Moving on to the writers' resource category, how do you define "resource"? Something useful? Or something entertaining? Let me rephrase that. How many of you have sold a book thanks to any so-called writers' resources? That's what I thought. So how useful are they? And since none of the so-called resources has shown itself to be useful, you may as well vote for one that's entertaining.
I have no doubt that the leading votegetters have placed the address of the ballot (http://www.critters.org/predpoll) on their websites, along with pleas for votes. I'm not stooping to such depths, because I'm starting to think it's better to come in last: in the author category, Stephen King is tied for last place. Man, who's in first, Tolstoy?
Next year will be different. Next year I'm told there'll be a category called funniest blog by an editor with muttonchops. I feel certain I'll make the top ten.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
New Beginning 430
We were in repose. Pierre sat on the edge of the couch as I reclined. He looked at me in his most surreptitiously worshipful manner and whispered, "How was your day, my darling?" He was a brawny diplomat from Paris with a PhD in astrophysics and 27 vital secrets: Dr. Rabnud.
I stretched my arms, catlike, whispering, "Terrible. I was tortured, tortured." I being the shapely, alluring, and sometimes brilliant undercover international superspy, Mae Wong.
Pierre thought I was an ordinary lingerie model. He cooed, "Ohh, doll, it's hell out there, isn't it? Let's just unwind, why don't we?" and reached to pull my cowgirl boots off. He struggled with them a minute or two, finally accomplished the task and dropped them behind the couch, pulled my dirty socks off and threw them after the boots, started massaging my feet while I closed my eyes and relaxed. Hot cool jazz was smoldering on the stereo.
We both tensed at a noise outside the door. Had they tracked us down already? There seemed to be no sanctuary for a pair such as us.
The door handle rattled. The feeble lock would not hold them out for long; we both knew how determined Mater Hari could be. "I fear our respite may be drawing to a close, my darling," Pierre whispered, his words a faint summer breeze.
The door opened. "So you are in here." It was a voice I knew well. "Pete, it's time you were going home. Mavis, come on, we need to put some more foot powder on your fungal infection."
I did not care for the way Pierre wiped his hands on his jeans. Way to blow a fantasy, mom.
Opening: Alice Melville.....Continuation: Anonymous
I stretched my arms, catlike, whispering, "Terrible. I was tortured, tortured." I being the shapely, alluring, and sometimes brilliant undercover international superspy, Mae Wong.
Pierre thought I was an ordinary lingerie model. He cooed, "Ohh, doll, it's hell out there, isn't it? Let's just unwind, why don't we?" and reached to pull my cowgirl boots off. He struggled with them a minute or two, finally accomplished the task and dropped them behind the couch, pulled my dirty socks off and threw them after the boots, started massaging my feet while I closed my eyes and relaxed. Hot cool jazz was smoldering on the stereo.
We both tensed at a noise outside the door. Had they tracked us down already? There seemed to be no sanctuary for a pair such as us.
The door handle rattled. The feeble lock would not hold them out for long; we both knew how determined Mater Hari could be. "I fear our respite may be drawing to a close, my darling," Pierre whispered, his words a faint summer breeze.
The door opened. "So you are in here." It was a voice I knew well. "Pete, it's time you were going home. Mavis, come on, we need to put some more foot powder on your fungal infection."
I did not care for the way Pierre wiped his hands on his jeans. Way to blow a fantasy, mom.
Opening: Alice Melville.....Continuation: Anonymous
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