The Great Write Way, Chapter Two: Twice upon a time...
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Hissy Fit
I come into the condo and he’s lying on the rug by the TV. Instead of his usual boneless sprawl along the top of the ottoman waiting for my feet to line themselves up with his back and his tummy to give them a good rub, he’s got his legs tucked under him--square and compact. He won’t look at me and his ears are flattened, pointing away from each other. There’s nothing I can say that he wants to hear, right now. Angry at Tanner, Tucker mopes passive-aggressively in the corner, unwilling to be comforted by a sympathetic hand.
Done.
I'll turf it over around mid-week. Also, may ask for a couple of pointers on how you'd personally deal with, say, the pissy and threatening boyfriend of a girl who'd just filed a paternity suit against, oh, say, a superstar frontman.
But I'm not at that point in the book yet.
I will ponder on the matter, Deb.
In the meanwhile more words on no words:
They say that two samurai can duel without drawing either blood or swords. Their battle-seasoned minds can read the scene, process all its potential, and honour forces the loser to admit defeat without engagement.
The curl of grass underneath a foot, the swirl of dust settling around his opponent, the rhythm of breaths, sweat glistening in the sun - all these things indicate the outcome.
It ends, one victorious, never touching.
Is this what happens when our eyes meet? Do you even know I challenge, or do you just wait until I cloak myself in shame and weakness and step aside?
ita, that's one beautiful silent language, there.
I have about twelve of these, but right now, everything's going into R&RNF. Everything.
As noted elsewhere in my universe, this is creative priapism.
OH! And almost forgot. Remember the 44 Clowns of the Apocalypse?
From Jay Lake today, official confirmation. I'm in. So is Laura Anne Gilman. No word on whether edits are wanted.
Yay on clowns, Deb!
Sail, I love that. Poor kitty. I know just how he feels.
ita, both of yours were from an unexpected POV, and illuminating.
Hurrah for apocalyptic clowns!
Oh, and I think I figured out how to fix Lucy's story and make it something marketable. I had a burst of inspiration in the produce aisle yesterday. Not that my inspiration had anything to do with vegetables, I must hasten to add. Just that something about grocery stores (and showers) helps me think. Ima finish Anna's story first and then go back to it, but the two stories tie together very nicely--wouldn't it be great to have two linked books to sell?
El Drabblo and the Conquistador's Gold
It was the smile that said it first.
Oh, really?
The quirk at the corner, that widened into a toothy grin.
Do you think so?
Then the eyes, as the lids relaxed and his face went blank, like a shade drawing down.
Let's just see about that.
His fists said everything else.
Shorter than needed, but there ain't no more.
