and the beginning of something that is threatening to eat my mind if I'm not careful
The Final Investigation of Carl Kolchak
Sunnydale Bus Depot, Spring 2002, 4:20 PM.
The bus in from L.A. was three-quarters full, a typical load. The ones young enough to still be limber after the multi-hour trip were first off, then there were a half-dozen quiet sorts who were bundled up in coats, hats, and scarves in defiance of the mild Southern California weather. The staff at the bus depot knew not to comment on odd travelers, the ones whose coats bulged in odd places or whose briefly glimpsed faces were particularly weirdly colored under the glaring lights of the parking lot.
The last few were the usual assortment of elderly folk, wanderers by choice or necessity and a few retirees who found the cheap accommodations of Sunnydale appealing enough to override the whispered stories.
The last man off was spry enough not to need a great deal of help down the steps, one hand on the railing, the other keeping his duffle bag close. He wore a very battered fedora and a newish seersucker sport coat with lightweight slacks.
When he reached the ground, he paused, ostensibly straightening slowly to let his back unkink. Closer observation showed he was watching all the people around him, especially the ones muffled in coats and scarves, who were nearly all skulking away into the shadows instead of entering the depot itself.
He headed into the depot himself, more interested at the moment in a real men's room than in pursuing his mysterious fellow travellers. His priorities had shifted a bit with the passing decades. He'd once had a bladder a reporter could be proud of, never forcing him off the trail or away from a stakeout.
Once he had business taken care of, he found himself a seat in a corner of the bus depot's lobby where he could put his back to the wall and his duffle bag close to his feet. Leaning back comfortably, he pulled his tape recorder out of the duffle bag.
and I tell myself, "This or V!Giles, and more people are waiting for V!Giles. Priorities, woman."
(rubbing hands together) Night Stalker!
These two sentences:
His priorities had shifted a bit with the passing decades. He'd once had a bladder a reporter could be proud of, never forcing him off the trail or away from a stakeout.
would read clearer in reversed order, perhaps, thus:
He headed into the depot himself, more interested at the moment in a real men's room than in pursuing his mysterious fellow travellers. He'd once had a bladder a reporter could be proud of, never forcing him off the trail or away from a stakeout. (But) His priorities had shifted a bit with the passing decades.
Once he had business taken care of, he found himself a seat in a corner of the bus depot's lobby...
And more V!Giles! yay!
also, this:
Four more went in the toaster, then syrup and butter were applied.
Needs a little rephrasing, I think. Or things could get messy.
Minor nitpicky things, all. Most importantly, Kolchak! And more V!Giles!
Nicely done, Plei. I think you broke me again.
Connie, these two lines read weirdly to me:
instead of entering the depot itself.
He headed into the depot himself,
I think if you deleted the word "itself" it would scan better.
I don't remember enough nightstalker to appreciate that as much as I ought, but I'm enjoying the V!Giles.
Connie, you should know I've been using your work as a standard for Vamping Beloved Characters. It's still hard cause when human Munch sucks the life out of somebody, he does it one little step at a time, like the rest of us.(Which reminds me of when the asked a Famous Woman Comic why she got divorced, and she said because she got tired of starting the day by saying "Stop it, you're killing me!" over and over again.) I had a point here, somewhere, I think I lost it.
I've got the whole printout of the Body Swap story put together in one place now as I start the rewrite. It's 298 pages, and takes up all of a huge 2.5 inch binder....
I think it weighs more than one of our cats.
Dang, and I thought 40 pages was a lot.
It took me June->November, it wasn't like I did it in a month or something.
Well, sure...I was gonna say I hadn't written anything that long, but it's a lie...my "Tales of the City" ripoff was about 200 pages when I abandoned it.
