Threat of the Mayor
My son, the self-proclaimed Mayor of Grumpyville, is trying to kill my wife and I.
He's a little over one years old, but don't laugh, he's a very cunning, wiley adversary. He doesn't do anything abrupt or too sudden. No, instead he's whittling away at us little by little, carving off tiny morsels from us until there'll be nothing left.
His main method of terrorism? Sleep deprivation.
Geoff Cooper said the reason babies are so cute is so you don't drown them in the toilet, and I'm inclined to agree with him.
If this blog suddenly comes to a screeching halt and I stop answering emails, then you know something dreadful has happened, and shouldn't hesitate to call the authorities. Just warn them to bring tranquilizer guns and Oreo cookies to use when they come to get him.
On other, less threatening fronts, got an email from Rick at www.newcamphorror.com with an acceptance of my story, "Bloodlines," and a suggestion from him to enter their Dark Idol 500 word contest. We'll see about that one.
Got sidetracked by a character in my head, Free Ride Angie. She was a main character in my screenplay, The Pink Room, and her voice has floated back to the surface of my cerebral cortex and has been screaming for attention in the past week. I sat down last wednesday and let her talk to me a bit, just telling me more about her background and how she got to be a streetwalker. Some stuff I knew, other stuff I didn't, but I could tell she was beating around the bush from what she really wanted to tell me.
Last night (ridiculously early this morning), I sat and listened to her talk again. And the magic started happening. I don't know why it affects me the same way every time, but it does. When a character stops just being words on a page and comes to life, literally, it's a mixture of sheer ecstasy and pure terror, because as a writer, you're no longer in control. You're not playing God anymore, pulling their strings and puppeting them around to do your bidding.
Free Ride Angie came to life on the table last night, and the things she started to tell me, what the last year of her life has been like and the huge debt we owe her...we all owe her.
Well...you'll just have to wait and read for yourself later.
He's a little over one years old, but don't laugh, he's a very cunning, wiley adversary. He doesn't do anything abrupt or too sudden. No, instead he's whittling away at us little by little, carving off tiny morsels from us until there'll be nothing left.
His main method of terrorism? Sleep deprivation.
Geoff Cooper said the reason babies are so cute is so you don't drown them in the toilet, and I'm inclined to agree with him.
If this blog suddenly comes to a screeching halt and I stop answering emails, then you know something dreadful has happened, and shouldn't hesitate to call the authorities. Just warn them to bring tranquilizer guns and Oreo cookies to use when they come to get him.
On other, less threatening fronts, got an email from Rick at www.newcamphorror.com with an acceptance of my story, "Bloodlines," and a suggestion from him to enter their Dark Idol 500 word contest. We'll see about that one.
Got sidetracked by a character in my head, Free Ride Angie. She was a main character in my screenplay, The Pink Room, and her voice has floated back to the surface of my cerebral cortex and has been screaming for attention in the past week. I sat down last wednesday and let her talk to me a bit, just telling me more about her background and how she got to be a streetwalker. Some stuff I knew, other stuff I didn't, but I could tell she was beating around the bush from what she really wanted to tell me.
Last night (ridiculously early this morning), I sat and listened to her talk again. And the magic started happening. I don't know why it affects me the same way every time, but it does. When a character stops just being words on a page and comes to life, literally, it's a mixture of sheer ecstasy and pure terror, because as a writer, you're no longer in control. You're not playing God anymore, pulling their strings and puppeting them around to do your bidding.
Free Ride Angie came to life on the table last night, and the things she started to tell me, what the last year of her life has been like and the huge debt we owe her...we all owe her.
Well...you'll just have to wait and read for yourself later.
posted by Bob at 9/21/2004
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