Character Assassination
I have a character who is giving me absolute fits. Bastard won't behave according to plan...my plan. Every time I have him where I want him, I get this response: You can lead me there, you can even give me the words to say and actions to perform, but unless I'm my own man, my quality of life will suffer. So will your book.While I'm writing and rewriting, I hear the lick-lick, chomp-chomp, bite-bite coming from the wolf-hound I rescued in 2000. Not long before Christmas that year, a six-year-old neighbor boy whose mother refused to watch him dug beneath my fence and coaxed Chewy to come play. The boy survived unscathed when the van caught up with them, but Chewy was injuried. He was knocked twenty-five feet or so, and I received a phone call at work to come get him. He'd managed to crawl to a nearby curb and haul himself out of the street, but he was in a bad way.Hours later, the dog was pronounced all but dead, totally paralyzed, and I was encouraged to have him put to sleep. Something in his eyes told me this would be unwise--he wanted to live. What the hell, right? It was only money...and a life in the balance.They chopped off his beautiful long tail, shoved titanium rods in his back and left hip, sewed him up, and gave him a bed for as long as I held out hope. The day before Christmas Eve, I brought him home, after he'd been in the vet clinic about three weeks. Somehow, with the help of a friend, I managed to help him walk by lifting him with towels and forcing him to take steps 3-4 times daily. I'd get on my belly and hold out treats a few inches out of his reach until he started crawling towards my hands.I even enlisted the help of his buddy, another rescue dog I named Pita. She'd take a sock dolly to him, and when he'd latch onto it, she'd drag him across the floor, with him growling, complaining, and generally mopping the floor with his body.I feel like my disobedient character is much like Chewy. Chewy survived, and his quality of life is better than good--it's great. He stubbornly insists on doing a few things that annoy the crap out of me, though...like chewing his own skin. If he were human, he'd be a cutter, I swear.Now I'm frustrated. Screw this. I lift my fingers from the keyboard and walk outside, taking the dogs with me. I think of my own quality of life as I light the cigarette that leads me closer to lung disease. I ponder the consequences of all our actions. Watching Chewy romp and play, I can't help but chuckle at the bald spot on his ass that has grown from a tiny wet thumbprint to a three-inch diameter badge worthy of a chemo patient, the dull grey skin a sharp contrast to his otherwise glowing coat. I've tried medication, scolding him, distracting him, but like I, he reaches for what seems a panacea for what itches, that gap that needs to be filled. Nervous tic or disgusting habit? Who knows, and what does it matter?I think of my character and his stubborn, dark side. It's only a book, I tell myself. Just a friggin' book.I look into Chewy's dark amber eyes, and he opens his mouth and pants lightly, almost as if he's smiling at me. It's impossible not to smile back. Oh, chew your stupid butt until it bleeds, I think uncharitably, switching in midstream to silently scold my character who sits waiting for me on the computer. Same for you, buddy. I stare at the cigarette. How about a little moderation this time? I ask myself. One cigarette instead of three or four...then you go back inside and write. I keep watching Chewy's eyes. Maybe I'll allow him one or two licks, not the Underwood Typewriter tch-tch-tch-tch-tch-tch, ding (as he gets to the end of his spine while nibbling then proceeds to start up high and glance his fangs down his back again).Maybe I'll allow my character some leeway as well. None of us are getting out of here alive, but maybe our quality of life won't suffer so much if we all get at least a bit of what we want.
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It's ALMOST Christmas
Retirement Planning
If you had purchased $1000.00 of Nortel stock one year ago, it would now be worth $49.00.
With Enron, you would have had $16.50 left of the original $1,000.00.
With WorldCom, you would have had less than $5.00 left.
With Lucent, you would have $3.50 left of the original $1000.00
But, if you had purchased $1,000.00 worth of beer one year ago, drank all the beer, then turned in the cans for the aluminum recycling REFUND, you would have had $214.00. Based on the above, the best current investment advice is to drink heavily and recycle. It's called the 401-Keg Plan.
now for a holiday recipe
BAKED STUFFED TURKEY
18-20 lb. Turkey
2 cups melted butter
2 bags of stuffing (Pepperidge Farm is Good.)
2 cups uncooked popcorn
(ORVILLE REDENBACHER'S LOW FAT)
Salt/pepper to taste
Heat oven to 350 degrees. Brush turkey well with melted butter salt, and pepper. Fill cavity with stuffing and popcorn. Place in baking pan with the neck end toward the back of the oven. Listen for the popping sounds. When the turkey's ass blows the oven door open and
the turkey flies across the room, it's done.
And, you thought I couldn't cook...
TidbitsThink you’ve had trouble getting technical support before? Read this. AOL to close their last call center.THANK YOU LIVVIE for the info on whipping my wrinkled old behind back into shape (see previous post about my ass if you dare). I have the weights, so am starting this routine this afternoon. *grin*To everyone who is visiting my blog today, here's a little message just for you. Here is the original link, in case you wish to send this to others. Shout-Outs to Janet & Helen for today's cartoons.
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Happy Birthday, CJ!!!!!!!!!!
To misquote Helen: My cup runneth over...sadly, I'm wearing a white lace dress.
Hope the day is a blast, CJ! No puking on the cat, though!
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Help! My ass has fallen and can’t get up!
I had the most depressing bathing experience of my life this morning. Just before I stepped into the shower, I caught my reflection, and I wondered when that woman with the wrinkled old ass had gotten behind me.
WTF? I walk! A lot! I climb stairs. I’ve lost weight. So WTF indeed?
Upon further examination, I came to the realization that my mind and heart had traveled north and my ass had stayed in Oklahoma. Before the ritual was over, I was terrified to look down, fearing my ankles might have migrated to Mexico. When the hell had this happened?
It’s what you get, I told myself, for sniggering about Michael Douglas’s saggy southern hemisphere in Basic Instinct. (Seems someone else agrees with me – lol.) Too bad you don’t have his gazillions so you can buy a new one. *sigh* Okay, enough with the not-so-cromulent comments about Mr. Douglas’s butt.
I should have known when X proclaimed for anyone to hear at a writers’ conference in Reno that she meant it literally when she said “This woman has no ass.” She wasn’t being kind, telling me I was losing weight – she was being dead-on honest. The SOB is just friggin’ gone, and I’m a tad slow in catching on to that fact.
I suppose it could be worse. *rolls eyes* No, thanks. I’ll keep my wrinkled form as it is. I’m just thankful I never got that rose tattooed on the left cheek—it’d be a hibiscus by now.
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Speaking of Movies…
The Kid is bringing home the first season of Rome. I loved Taylor Caldwell’s novels of ancient Greece and Rome, always enjoyed mythology, even took advanced courses of Shakespearean literature in college. I have never, however, thought of the Caesars and Pompeii in quite this light. The characterizations are excellent.
Of the two main Roman soldier characters, you might recognize Lucius from “Trainspotting”.
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Interesting Song Lyrics
BRIGHT EYES LYRICS
"When The President Talks To God"
When the president talks to God
Are the conversations brief or long?
Does he ask to rape our women’s' rights
And send poor farm kids off to die?
Does God suggest an oil hike
When the president talks to God?
When the president talks to God
Are the consonants all hard or soft?
Is he resolute all down the line?Is every issue black or white?
Does what God say ever change his mind
When the president talks to God?
When the president talks to God
Does he fake that drawl or merely nod?
Agree which convicts should be killed?
Where prisons should be built and filled?
Which voter fraud must be concealed
When the president talks to God?
When the president talks to God
I wonder which one plays the better cop
We should find some jobs. the ghetto's broke
No, they're lazy, George, I say we don't
Just give 'em more liquor stores and dirty coke
That's what God recommends.
When the president talks to God
Do they drink near beer and go play golf
While they pick which countries to invade
Which Muslim souls still can be saved?
I guess God just calls a spade a spade
When the president talks to God.
When the president talks to God
Does he ever think that maybe he's not?
That that voice is just inside his head
When he kneels next to the presidential bed
Does he ever smell his own bullshit
When the president talks to God?
I doubt it
I doubt it
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The Smut Shuffle
Okay, so this is a writer’s blog, so here’s the latest scoop on what the writer is doing.
December shall be spent doing edits. Hopefully, I’ll also get to pen a few new words. January seems to be when my rolling stone starts gathering speed. That’s when Cash Cole’s first male/male romance hits, and Bobbie Cole’s second mainstream debuts in ebook form. February heralds the print edition of Just Desserts hitting bookstores, and that’s also when I’ll be teaching a 2-week course on writing confessions.
This month, I’ll have to be content with Playgirl extrapolating on Just Desserts.
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7 Comments:
So I read your post, then left the computer to have a smoke (under the stove vent, not outside - too cold). Power of suggestion.
Can't help with your uncooperative character who is giving you fits but have to say that your post was beautifully written. I'm a sucker for dog stories and that was a beaut.
As for your "existential" musings - yes and yes...
Lyn, bless your heart, I love ya.
Your post reminded me so much of a cat I rescued, also bound for euthenasia. After weeks of care he survived, and turned out to be one of the great loves of my life.
So maybe you could give your character a little leeway. Maybe he'll turn out to be the same for you. ;-)
Beautiful dog rescue story. I had a friend years ago who rescued all types of animals and kept them in her home. She loved each one for it's personality and spunk like they were her own children and any available money went to vet bills. We can't have animals in our house because of hub's allergies so my boys loved to go help out my friend with her "orphans".
Beautiful dog rescue story.
And yep had characters who just won't do what they are supposed to.
Mechele aka Lany of Melany Logen
why don't my posts go through?
Awwwooooooo! I hate the new blogger!
Anyhow, love the doggy story!
LOL about the feisty character.
You're friggin' awesome. I lubz ya, chica. And I know what you mean about the stubborn, rebellious characters. They make you tear your hair out. Talk about bald patches!
That is a wonderful story - perserverance was surely rewarded,both you and the pup.
As far as your character. I keep trying to write a character and I get stuck..what would a guy really say? I keep waiting for the voices, but they're never there.
So, I type along .. sometimes it runs dry and only once the guy took offense to my calling him by his familiar name. I was to call him "Mr" until I earned the right not to.
Geesh!
Do men have PMS?
LOL
HAVE A WONDERFUL NEW YEAR, LYN!
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