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Friday, June 18, 2010

Learning What 100 Words 'Feels' Like

While at Balticon (no, I never did a post about Balticon...there was too much, overwhelming, to try to condense...maybe next year) I met Norm Sherman.  I was looking for my buddy Nobilis and so walked into a panel discussion of his toward the end. Norm Sherman was either on the panel too, or possibly moderating.  As I said, I walked in late.  Not to be too superficial but Norm is one of those teddy-bear, uber-huggable kind of cute guys.  They were discussing publishing but I wasn't really paying attention.  I was busy with my knitting and just waiting for the panel to be done so I could talk to Nobilis.  But Norm struck me as smart, warm, kind, and funny.  Basically, a nice guy.

Later that day, I went into the Garden Room where Phil Rossi and his band were going to be performing.  I got there early, figuring I'd get a good seat.  I was surprised to see Norm and another guy performing.  Then I heard the words to the song..."everybody's got nipples" .  What? I laughed and kept listening, moving down near the front so I could take a couple of pictures.  Let me just say that Norm is everything I already said about him and then some!  Add crazy, twisted, dark, silly, irreverent, sexy, nuts, and over-the-top to the description and you'll be a little closer to the truth.





































Since I was about to send a picture of him to Twitter I figured the least I could do is @ reference him in the tweet.  So, after they were done singing and were breaking stuff down I went over to Norm to get his Twitter name.  That was the first I had heard of @theDrabbleCast.  Go figure, another freakin' podcast.  Like I don't have enough to listen to already? 

After I got home, curiosity got the better of me (when doesn't it?) and I went looking on line for The Drabble Cast.  Well, it turns out that a Drabble is a piece of flash fiction of exactly 100 words.  Wow!  Just 100 words?  How does anyone do  that?  I couldn't imagine. 

Yesterday, I was telling a friend that I wanted to try my hand at flash fiction but couldn't come up with any ideas.  I wanted it to be a bit twisted so that maybe it has a better chance of getting on Norm's show.  Oh, and I neglected to mention that Mr. Sherman has one of the sexiest voices I have ever heard when he does his podcast.  His 'normal' voice is nice but doesn't even begin to hint at the quality of his 'podcasting' voice.  I really want to hear him read my words...that would be amazingly cool.  Even if it's only 100 of them.

As soon as I told my friend I was having no luck getting an idea one hit me.  So yesterday afternoon I sat down and wrote.  Here's the original idea which clocked in at 337 words.  The title is "Roll With It" which is what my friend said to me when I said I had just got an idea.  He didn't know it was about a
truck driver so I took his words to be a sign and used them as the title.

Traffic was a snarled mess. Most drivers looked sullen, accepting the situation resignedly. Jimmy sat in the cab of his beat up Pete grinning from ear to ear. Traffic wasn't going to bother him today. No sir. The reefer unit on his trailer started up again, chortling to life with a little cough and then purring like a cat. Manifest said the temp setting should be -15. And so it was. Jimmy wasn't about to do anything to compromise this load arriving in a less than acceptable condition.

All Jimmy knew was what the manifest detailed, which wasn't much. A load of frozen meat going from The Bronx down I-95 to some piss ant town in South Carolina. The load was sealed with a chain and padlock and Jimmy didn't have the key. That was fine with him. He was making more on this one load than he had been able to make in the past month, what with the economy and all. When he delivered this and got paid they would finally have enough money to pay off the remaining few bills and Jimmy was going to retire. Finally spend time with his new grandson.

Jimmy grinned all the way down I-95, meandered through the back roads to his destination. As he parked the truck he was met by a short swarthy man of middle age and two younger taller men. The short man gestured for Jimmy to get out of the truck. With his paperwork in hand, Jimmy followed the men toward the back of the truck. The short man took the paperwork, looked it over, and motioned toward the back of the truck. As Jimmy turned toward the truck, the short man put the muzzle of a gun up to the back of Jimmy's head and pulled the trigger.

The other two men unlocked and opened the back of the trailer. They picked Jimmy's body up by the hands and feet and swung it up into the trailer on top of the other bodies. 
So, I was happy to have an idea. Down. But 337 words? Holy shit, that's a far cry from 100. So, I started editing. Trying to figure out what was redundant, unnecessary, extra. Here it is after the first revision down to 253 words.

All Jimmy knew was that it was a load of frozen meat going from The Bronx down I-95 to some piss ant town in South Carolina. It was sealed with a chain and padlock and Jimmy didn't have the key, and that was fine with him. He was making more on this one load than he had been able to make in the past month. Once paid, he would finally have enough money to retire; spend time with his new grandson.

Jimmy grinned all the way down I-95, meandered through the back roads to his destination. As he parked the truck he was met by three men. One man gestured for Jimmy to get out of the truck. With paperwork in hand, Jimmy followed the men toward the back of the truck. The first man took the paperwork, looked it over, and motioned toward the truck. Jimmy turned toward the truck, the man put the muzzle of a gun to the base of Jimmy's skull, and pulled the trigger.

The other two men unlocked and opened the trailer. They picked the body up and swung it up into the trailer on top of the other bodies. 


Better but still a long way off. Usually writers are focused on their word counts not so much in terms of trying to get down to a particular number but to get up to a number. Bigger is usually better (all other things like readability, pacing, and such being equal) in publishing because a novel is a more substantial (and higher paying) commodity that a short story. However, learning to tighten up your prose is an invaluable lesson, especially for a rambler like moi. So, I went at it again...trying to get closer to the elusive 100. The next one comes in at 145...

All Jimmy knew was that he was pulling a load of frozen meat from The Bronx to some pissant town in South Carolina. It was sealed with a padlock and Jimmy didn't have the key. He would make more on this one load than he'd made in month and would finally have enough to retire.

Jimmy grinned all the way to his destination. He parked the truck and was met by three men. They gestured for Jimmy to get out of the truck. Jimmy followed them to the back of the truck. One motioned toward the truck. As Jimmy turned, the man put the muzzle of a gun to the base of Jimmy's skull, and pulled the trigger.

The other two men unlocked and opened the trailer. They picked the body up and swung it up into the trailer on top of the other bodies. 


Okay, I was finally almost there. This was a lot harder that I thought it was going to be. I've been working on getting more description into my writing. Trying to get the smooth, effortless style I admire in others' writing. So, to be cutting all of those 'unnecessary' words now was almost painful. In cutting words and simplifying, I am also starting to get choppy...need to work on that too...

All Jimmy knew was that he had a load of frozen meat heading to some small town in South Carolina. It was sealed, Jimmy didn't have the key, and he'd finally have enough money to retire.

Jimmy grinned all the way there. He parked the truck and climbed down. Three men were waiting and Jimmy followed them. As Jimmy turned, one man put the muzzle of a gun to the base of Jimmy's skull and pulled the trigger. The other two men unlocked and opened the trailer. They swung the body up into the trailer on top of the others. 

Finally, 100 words. No more. No less. But still needs a lot of work. Trick now is to keep all future edits word neutral and stay at 100. Sigh. So close and yet so far.

All Jimmy knew was that he had a load of frozen meat heading to some small town in South Carolina. It was sealed and he didn't have the key. Jimmy grinned all the way there--he'd finally have enough money to retire. He parked the truck and climbed down. Three men were waiting and he followed them. As Jimmy turned around one man put the muzzle of a gun to the base of his skull and pulled the trigger. The other two men unlocked and opened the trailer. They swung the body up and in on top of the others. 

Better. I showed this version to a friend who is also a brilliant author. With a few nudges from him, this was the final version...


Roll With It

All Jimmy knew was that he had a load of frozen meat heading to some small town in South Carolina. Jimmy grinned as he drove down the quiet dirt road. He'd finally have enough money to retire. He parked the truck and climbed down. Three men were waiting. As Jimmy turned around one man put the muzzle of a gun to the base of his skull and fired. The other two men unlocked and opened the trailer. They swung the body up and in on top of the others. The gunman took out his phone. They needed a new driver.


I can't believe I did it. I still like the original version because while it isn't as tight as it should be some of the descriptive phrases feel right and I've been working on that part of my writing. But I like the feel of this last one. A lot.

This is not an exercise I plan on repeating anytime soon. But the lesson is in my head, in me, and that's the most important thing. Hopefully, the next time I do set out to do flash fiction I will be able to start closer to the word goal because I now know what 100 feels like, what 250 feels like...

Now if I can just get Norm to read it out loud in THAT voice...

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Ha! That Will Teach Them!

It seems that the company you keep can influence the things you chose to do more than I had ever realized until recently.  I'll spare you all another Twitter love fest but the truth is with a few notable exceptions my friends are a direct result of getting to know people there.  And, they happen to be (for the most part) either a knitter or an author/podcaster.  We all know I already knit.  Nothing too surprising there.  

Writing, not so much.  Yes, I have had this blog for four years.  I started it in the hopes that I would be able to force myself to write more.  Force being the operative word.  I really didn't have much luck with that initially.  If you notice, in 2008 I only had 2 posts.  For the whole year!!  Not much of an improvement.  Then I started hanging out at the corner twitter bar where the writers were drinking their scotch, smoking their pipes, and working on the next great american novel (or the podcast version thereof).  And I started writing.  First haiku and senryu.  Then erotic short stories.

A couple of months ago I got an idea for a short story.  I told a close friend who writes beautiful erotica about it and asked him to write it for me.  Sort of an assignment.  It didn't feel like it was something I was ready to write myself.  Then I told a second friend who also writes erotica but with science fiction thrown in too.  Finally I started to tell a friend who writes horror and in thinking about his chosen genre I started playing what-if games with my original premise.  You know, things like what if the main character is a sociopath?  What if this character were a woman instead of a man?  And before long, I had taken the little writing assignment that I didn't think I was ready to write, multiplied it by a factor of at least five in scope and size and suddenly knew I had to write this myself.

So I went back to those same friends asking if they thought I could do this.   I was hoping they would tell me that it is too big a leap.  Hell, it's only been about three months since I wrote those first senryus.  I figured they would pat me on the head, tell me what a silly girl I was being, tell me to give it some time-maybe write a novella before attempting a full-blown novel, or ask how my knitting was coming.  Damn them!  Every last one of them! Every last one of the bastards cheered me on.  I know what it is.  Misery loves company.  They just want me as stressed out about word counts, pacing, and point-of-view as they always are. Well, I see through them.  I'm going to agonize over location, character development, and finding the right writing software instead.  So there!

That will teach them!

Monday, June 07, 2010

Love Struggling

When someone you love ~ is struggling in the darkness ~ you give them your light.

Take my outstretched hand ~ let me pull you down to me ~ you are safe here now.


am needy too ~ I don't like that about me ~ we are imperfect. 



    You are perfection ~ when you are here in my arms ~ wrapping you in me.

    Let go of your stress ~ I only want to love you ~ give you happiness.


    You belong with me ~ nestled deep in my center ~ fill the void, fill me.


      I will protect you ~ your fragile heart in my hands ~ beating stronger now.

      Take life as it comes ~ you deserve joy in your life ~ floating on the clouds.

      Obligation calls ~ a soul sucking task master ~ it's killing you now.



        Is passion a right ~ or a priviledge to be earned ~ you know the answer. 

        This life is too short ~ to turn down passion's promise ~ take the love offered. 


          I open myself ~ arms, legs, mind, soul, all are yours ~trusting completely.


          There is a darkness ~ trapping your soul in pain ~ my love will free you

          Sink deep into me ~ let my body shelter yours ~ come to rescue you.


          Good night my Darling ~ sweet and sexy dreams for you ~ simply wonderful.

          Saturday, June 05, 2010

          Flutter By

          Nine months ago I got laid off.  Despite what I said to the contrary, despite the cheerful optimism I espoused, a part of me died that day.  I quietly and without fanfare pulled that piece deep inside myself.  I had no real plan.  Oh, sure I started my company.  I made a page on Facebook.  I joined Twitter.  But I still had no plan.  Just some vague ideas.  And every time I felt confused, every time I felt scared, every time I didn't know the answer to the basic question surrounding my employment; a few more little pieces of me died.  I stashed those pieces away next to that first one.  I guess I thought if I hide them no one will know that piece by little piece I'm dieing.  Right in front of everyone's eyes and no one is noticing.  

          Eventually, just about all of me was in that pile.  The facade was in tact.  But, just barely.  Everything else that had been me lay in a heap.  Useless.  While I was daily adding to that pile, kicking each piece out of my way, other little things were going on.  Things I wasn't even paying attention to.  I guess I should have been.  Maybe this wouldn't all be such a surprise if I had.

          I started making new friends.  Just one or two at a time.  Nothing crazy.  These people who suddenly called me, "Friend" actually cared about me.  Me!  They asked questions.  They challenged.  They had ideas.  They told me I was wonderful.  I know it sounded sincere but I didn't believe them.  They lifted me up and sang my praises.  Eventually, they wore me down.  I started to believe them.

          These people inspired me to lift up my voice and sing with them.  When I did, they cheered.  I was flabergasted.  Me?  My voice was weak and tiny at first.  But every time I opened my mouth to sing, they were right there beside me, cheering me on.  We all knew I didn't have the best or strongest voice.  But with each passing day I have grown stronger.  My technique is improving.  But most importantly, now I WANT to sing.  On my own.  

          That voice inside of me grows stronger every day.  It tells me to create.  Dream.  Write.  Live. I am learning to listen to that voice.  My friends are still there boosting my confidence, supporting me.  But I am beginning to find that while I still need each and every one of them, I don't need as much support every day.  In learning to find that little voice deep inside myself, I am also finding the strength to stand on my own.

          As I made these realizations, I turned around and looked for that ash-heap pile of what once was me.  It was gone.  In it's place, a new and shiny me sat peacefully waiting to be found.  She is more fragile and yet stronger.  She is light and airy, peaceful and yet so full of energy.  She radiates a quiet confidence.  She is so foreign to me yet I know without a doubt that she is a better me.  

          I reach out a hand to her and gently pull her up to me.  No longer relegated to some hidden secret place, I take her out to show the world.  I am breaking out of this cocoon.  Watch me fly.