Captain Chuck creeps over to my laptop, glancing over his shoulder with each third step.
“No one is watching you, by the way.”
“I feel like I should sneak though, being a spy and all.”
“Well quit it. You look silly.”
“Okay, fine.” He stands up straight and dusts off his uniform.
“Is that hair on your uniform?”
“Yes, and it’s not mine.” He winks.
“I appreciated your message the other day. I’m assuming this hair is related?”
“Yes.” He winks again.
“Is this going to require me getting out of my chair and traversing the paper wads?”
“I’d recommend it.”
“What are you, a freakin magic 8 ball?”
“Not sure. Ask again later.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “I take it you have a question?”
“I do. Since this story has changed so much from the one I was cut from so long ago, I’d like to get to know the characters I’ll be interacting with when you write me back in. What are their names and how did you choose them?”
“Write you back in? Oh yes, I did mention that didn’t I. Hmm. Well, I suppose you should know them then. Ms. MC is Anastassia. Her last name is still subject to change so we’ll leave that out for now. I picked her name because I’ve always had a curiosity with the Russian princess of the same name. Not that this Anastassia is a princess in any way, but the name caught my attention.
“Mr. MC is Vayen. His name came from a variation of Vayne, a character in C.J. Cherryh’s Gate of Iverl. I loved the name and his devotion to the FMC. That, in part, shaped Vayen as he came into his own when I switched the entire story to his POV years ago.
“Well then, now I know who they are. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me anything more about them?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see, Chuck.”
He wrings his hands. “Umm, exactly how long will I have to wait?”
Darn it, now I have find somewhere to put him in. I was hoping he’d forget. “Until I get to the point where I plan on putting you in. I’m not there yet.”
“Thanks then. I’ll be waiting over there.” He goes to the stack of CDs and sits down.
Well that's annoying. I guess I should get to writing so I can get rid of him.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 24
The boys who don’t get blown up approach me warily. One says, “We’ve been charged with asking the question of the day.”
“It’s not about music,” says the other one.
“Well that’s a relief. What is it today?”
“Religion,” says the first one.
The other one nods. “Is it featured in your novel?”
“Yes, in fact it is.”
A loud pop sounds in the distance.
“What was that?”
The boys look at each other. “Nothing,” they say in unison.
“Uhh, yeah.” I peer into the paper-wadded landscape but don’t see anything unusual. “Anyway, Geva is the female god featured in my novel. Mr. MC’s people are pretty technologically minded but he still likes to think there’s someone out there to blame for his problems…err…I mean to pray to for help when he’s in a bad situation. He’s not one for actual worship and there aren’t any churches. I’d consider it part of his society’s perpetuated culture more so than a religion as we think of it.
“Ms. MC does follow the religion of the planet nearest where she was during a tumultuous time in her life. Using her telepathic gifts she became a middle-level priestess before giving up after being told she could go no higher because she was an outsider. So rather than bring peace to individuals through linking minds and performing healings, she became a soldier and sought peace that way.”
The pop sounds again followed by a rumbling bray that reminds me of a Wookie.
“What the hell is that?”
“Was that the signal?” says one of the boys.
The other elbows him in the ribs. “We’ll go check it out and get back to you.”
“You do that.”
They run to the edge of the desk and disappear.
“It’s not about music,” says the other one.
“Well that’s a relief. What is it today?”
“Religion,” says the first one.
The other one nods. “Is it featured in your novel?”
“Yes, in fact it is.”
A loud pop sounds in the distance.
“What was that?”
The boys look at each other. “Nothing,” they say in unison.
“Uhh, yeah.” I peer into the paper-wadded landscape but don’t see anything unusual. “Anyway, Geva is the female god featured in my novel. Mr. MC’s people are pretty technologically minded but he still likes to think there’s someone out there to blame for his problems…err…I mean to pray to for help when he’s in a bad situation. He’s not one for actual worship and there aren’t any churches. I’d consider it part of his society’s perpetuated culture more so than a religion as we think of it.
“Ms. MC does follow the religion of the planet nearest where she was during a tumultuous time in her life. Using her telepathic gifts she became a middle-level priestess before giving up after being told she could go no higher because she was an outsider. So rather than bring peace to individuals through linking minds and performing healings, she became a soldier and sought peace that way.”
The pop sounds again followed by a rumbling bray that reminds me of a Wookie.
“What the hell is that?”
“Was that the signal?” says one of the boys.
The other elbows him in the ribs. “We’ll go check it out and get back to you.”
“You do that.”
They run to the edge of the desk and disappear.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 23
Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him saunters across my desktop and leans against my laptop screen. “So, how’s the writing going?”
“Pretty good, though not a word yet today. Been rather busy around here with work and getting ready for Thanksgiving tomorrow.”
“Ah yes, that’s a day we don’t usually see you around here, isn’t it? Too busy dealing with cooking, traveling to visit family and all that sort of thing. No time for writing.”
“I’m having people here this year, so no traveling. I should have time to write. Probably not later in the day though.”
Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him marks something on his hand.
“What are you doing there? Are you writing on your hand?”
“Me? No, not at all. That would be silly. Who does that?”
“You do, apparently. What were you writing?”
“Nothing. Say, I believe I’m supposed to ask you a question today. Let’s see.” He pulls out his creased flyer. “I…uhhh…” He looks around and reads the flyer again, his brow creasing more and more with each second.
“Is there a problem?”
“Umm, no. It’s just…”
“Just what?”
He licks his lips and slaps on a half-assed smile. “Do animals play any part in your story?”
I purse my lips and ponder this question for a several very long and silent minutes, taking secret joy in watching beads of sweat form in his brow. “Say, weren’t you feeling ill last time you were up here? Better now?”
“Oh yes, much better.” His gaze darts to his shoulders and then back to me.
“Good to hear. Wouldn’t want you to start sneezing up huge globs of phylum.”
“Yeah.” He laughs nervously. “So animals?”
“No, not in my novel this year. I’ve written in some dogs and horses in the past, but hmm, no just not a big animal writer, I guess.” A nagging thought persuades me to check my calendar. It is the twenty-third. “Have you seen Chuck?”
“The Barthromian captain?”
“Yeah.”
“He told me I should take his place today. Said he wasn’t feeling well.”
“Don’t tell me he’s got what you had the other day.”
“I don’t know. Hey, I’ve got to get going anyway. I’ll check on him and let him know you asked about him.”
“You do that.” Though I was pretty sure my spy was doing a fine job. Chuck had some promise after all.
“Pretty good, though not a word yet today. Been rather busy around here with work and getting ready for Thanksgiving tomorrow.”
“Ah yes, that’s a day we don’t usually see you around here, isn’t it? Too busy dealing with cooking, traveling to visit family and all that sort of thing. No time for writing.”
“I’m having people here this year, so no traveling. I should have time to write. Probably not later in the day though.”
Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him marks something on his hand.
“What are you doing there? Are you writing on your hand?”
“Me? No, not at all. That would be silly. Who does that?”
“You do, apparently. What were you writing?”
“Nothing. Say, I believe I’m supposed to ask you a question today. Let’s see.” He pulls out his creased flyer. “I…uhhh…” He looks around and reads the flyer again, his brow creasing more and more with each second.
“Is there a problem?”
“Umm, no. It’s just…”
“Just what?”
He licks his lips and slaps on a half-assed smile. “Do animals play any part in your story?”
I purse my lips and ponder this question for a several very long and silent minutes, taking secret joy in watching beads of sweat form in his brow. “Say, weren’t you feeling ill last time you were up here? Better now?”
“Oh yes, much better.” His gaze darts to his shoulders and then back to me.
“Good to hear. Wouldn’t want you to start sneezing up huge globs of phylum.”
“Yeah.” He laughs nervously. “So animals?”
“No, not in my novel this year. I’ve written in some dogs and horses in the past, but hmm, no just not a big animal writer, I guess.” A nagging thought persuades me to check my calendar. It is the twenty-third. “Have you seen Chuck?”
“The Barthromian captain?”
“Yeah.”
“He told me I should take his place today. Said he wasn’t feeling well.”
“Don’t tell me he’s got what you had the other day.”
“I don’t know. Hey, I’ve got to get going anyway. I’ll check on him and let him know you asked about him.”
“You do that.” Though I was pretty sure my spy was doing a fine job. Chuck had some promise after all.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 22
“Charming girl, isn’t she?” Not gifted with subtlety though.
“She is. She’s got lots of charms.”
“Oh, I’m sure she does.” I hold up my hands. “No details necessary. Don’t want to know.”
“Right. Sorry. Anyway, we were wondering what happened to your other NaNo novels. You seem to write them every year but no one gets discarded. Either than means you write a whole lot better than you used to or that you’ve never bothered to revise them.”
“First off, what’s this we thing? You and who else?”
“The guys. Well, except for the boys who don’t get blown up. They were too busy helping the Barthromians work with the dust bunnies, but now Captain Chuck has shut that all down.”
“Ah. And why do we care what’s going on with other novels?”
“Everyone’s holding onto hope for a way out of this character purgatory.”
“Is this one of those ‘or else’ situations where you try to pressure me into writing you all back in or some mysterious threat will appear?”
His gaze darts around my desk and he chews his lip. “Umm no. Not at all. Why would you say that?”
“Oh, just a hunch.” Delilah isn’t the only one lacking subtlety.
“Yes, I’m writing more carefully these days which means less character casualties—in the discarded sense anyway. Also a sort of yes as to the revisions. I have worked on revising Sahmara’s Sunset and Swan Queen and sold one of the short stories I wrote during last year’s NaNo rebel effort, but for the most part, my attention has been on cleaning up Trust for its return to queryland. I do certainly have plans to get to all the NaNo novels haunting my hard drive at some point.”
“Good to know. I’ll pass that on. Thanks!” He strides to the edge of the desk and descends into the paper-filled landscape.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 21
I rip the masking tape from the Barthomian Captain’s mouth. “Chuck, I have a deal for you.”
“Why would I want to make a deal with you?”
“Because I could keep you up here decorating my tissue box forever. Would you like that? You realize, that being a fictional character, I can just leave out the commonplace things like feeding you, making sure you get bathroom breaks, sleep, you know, all the day to day stuff we writers sometimes skip over and the reader assumes happened? What if it just never happened, Chuck?”
“That would suck.”
“Indeed.”
“You’ve been up here since, what, day nine?”
“Yeah.”
“No shower, no change of clothes, no food, water or a bathroom. Enjoying this?”
“Not really.”
“Those soldiers of yours are morons. Sadly you have the only twinkle of evil among the entire lot of you. I need you back among them. Shut down that stupid dust bunny shelter, find out what Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him is up to. Report back by day twenty-three.
“I’ll gladly go back to my men, but spy on my fellow discarded characters? I don’t know about that.”
“You’re evil! Come on. Embrace it!” I pull the rest of the tape off him, letting him enjoy a few moments of freedom.
“Maybe.”
“There just might be a spot in this novel for you.”
His eyes light up. “Really?”
“Sure.”
“Wait a minute. What was the question for today?”
I hand him the flyer on which he and Delilah had written their confession.
“That’s what I thought. What are your goals for this novel and do you actually plan to complete it? I don’t want to be stuck in some half-finished, archived file for a decade or two.”
“Never fear, Chuck. I plan on finishing this one. Someday soon, it might even go on to my crit group were people will read about you.”
“Read about me? Really? I’ve waited for that for so long!”
“So what do you say?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” He sprints to the edge of the desk and leaps off with a victorious whoop.
“Why would I want to make a deal with you?”
“Because I could keep you up here decorating my tissue box forever. Would you like that? You realize, that being a fictional character, I can just leave out the commonplace things like feeding you, making sure you get bathroom breaks, sleep, you know, all the day to day stuff we writers sometimes skip over and the reader assumes happened? What if it just never happened, Chuck?”
“That would suck.”
“Indeed.”
“You’ve been up here since, what, day nine?”
“Yeah.”
“No shower, no change of clothes, no food, water or a bathroom. Enjoying this?”
“Not really.”
“Those soldiers of yours are morons. Sadly you have the only twinkle of evil among the entire lot of you. I need you back among them. Shut down that stupid dust bunny shelter, find out what Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him is up to. Report back by day twenty-three.
“I’ll gladly go back to my men, but spy on my fellow discarded characters? I don’t know about that.”
“You’re evil! Come on. Embrace it!” I pull the rest of the tape off him, letting him enjoy a few moments of freedom.
“Maybe.”
“There just might be a spot in this novel for you.”
His eyes light up. “Really?”
“Sure.”
“Wait a minute. What was the question for today?”
I hand him the flyer on which he and Delilah had written their confession.
“That’s what I thought. What are your goals for this novel and do you actually plan to complete it? I don’t want to be stuck in some half-finished, archived file for a decade or two.”
“Never fear, Chuck. I plan on finishing this one. Someday soon, it might even go on to my crit group were people will read about you.”
“Read about me? Really? I’ve waited for that for so long!”
“So what do you say?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” He sprints to the edge of the desk and leaps off with a victorious whoop.
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