(Lance, who is nobody's fool, and whose blog can beat up my blog, allowed his infinitely patient better half, the lovely Bobina, to select this week's 100 Word Song, Snow Patrol's "Chasing Cars". Since I am an Oldy McOlderton From Oldville, I assumed that this would be another of the selections that I had never heard of, but I was pleasantly surprised to learn that I had in fact heard it. It was one of those, "Oh yeah, THAT song" situations. This story is called "Gone". )
It was one of those moments cat owners know. The house was quiet, and Bella jumped up onto the bed, eyeing me suspiciously. I was dressed, but just laying there, passively resisting my to do list.
"Do you want to come have a rest, baby?," I said, speaking softly. She was very skittish. She looked into my eyes.
"Do you want to lay here with me?," I said.
My phone rang. It was sitting on the bed, and as soon as it vibrated, she was up and off, down onto the floor and jetting into the kitchen.
"Damn," I thought.
Tuesday, October 09, 2012
Velvet Verbosity's 100 Word Challenge: "Folsom Prison"
The inimitable Velvet Verbosity survived her first round play in game, and is fully prepared to win the Division Series of Blogging. This week's challenge comes from another of my favorite Vs, Kurt Vonnegut, and his advice that every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water. This story is called "Folsom Prison".
Johnny Cash looked out into a sea of hard, expectant faces. His people said he was crazy. But he felt music was a calling. It was a way to bring a bit of someone else's experience to you, and to make you feel it, to make you own it. It wasn't preaching, but it was close. He wanted to bring it to all of God's children.
The hot air had dried his throat. He looked at a guard, standing offstage with a billy club.
"Could I get a glass of water?," he said into the mike, and the inmates cheered.
Johnny Cash looked out into a sea of hard, expectant faces. His people said he was crazy. But he felt music was a calling. It was a way to bring a bit of someone else's experience to you, and to make you feel it, to make you own it. It wasn't preaching, but it was close. He wanted to bring it to all of God's children.
The hot air had dried his throat. He looked at a guard, standing offstage with a billy club.
"Could I get a glass of water?," he said into the mike, and the inmates cheered.
10 Questions From Gill Hoffs
My other brother from another mother, Matt Potter, editor in chief and majordomo at the literary magazine where all the cool kids hang out, Pure Slush, asked me to participate in one of those tag you're it blog things. Longtime readers will note that this is not typically the cut of this blog's jib these days, but since the request came from the esteemed Mr. Potter, this blog hopped to it. What follows are Ten Questions, originally promulgated by another of this blog's favorite carbon based life forms, Gill Hoffs. The questions pertain to what this blog hopes will be this blog's next novel, which this blog intends to attempt as this blog's NaNoWriMo 2012 project.
What is the working title of your book?
I don't know. Titles are funny. Sometimes they are so obvious that you can't help it, and other times you can't think of anything that isn't stupid or repetitive. I stole a song title for my first book, so I may just do that. Let's call it "A Long December" for right now.
Where did the idea come from for the book?
A pen pal gave me the idea, based on events from her own life.
What genre does your book fall under?
Probably the same thing all my books fall under- "So Called Literary Fiction". "Fiction With Pretensions," perhaps?
Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
That's unclear at this time. Certainly young people, or young looking people. I'm thinking a Zooey Deschanel type, only slightly more serious looking.
What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
"Former lovers narrate their lives through an exchange of letters over the course of years."
Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
Hahahahahahahahahaha. Seriously. No. Self published, of course. I'm nowhere near good enough to expose my work to outsiders.
How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
Ideally, November 1-November 30, 2012.
What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?
Well, "Herzog", obviously.
I kid, I kid. I don't know. The only author I compare myself to is Nick Hornby, but that's a grievous insult to him.
Who or What inspired you to write this book?
When my pen pal described her relationship, the whole structure hit me like a ton of bricks. It seems like an obvious book to me, and I'm kind of surprised I've never read one like it. Of course, there may be 200 like it, but I've just never read them. If you have heard of one, please put it in the comments, so I can slit my wrists with confidence.
What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?
I'm not sure. I never think anything I do is any good, so I'm not comfortable asserting something that may or may not interest you.
What is the working title of your book?
I don't know. Titles are funny. Sometimes they are so obvious that you can't help it, and other times you can't think of anything that isn't stupid or repetitive. I stole a song title for my first book, so I may just do that. Let's call it "A Long December" for right now.
Where did the idea come from for the book?
A pen pal gave me the idea, based on events from her own life.
What genre does your book fall under?
Probably the same thing all my books fall under- "So Called Literary Fiction". "Fiction With Pretensions," perhaps?
Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
That's unclear at this time. Certainly young people, or young looking people. I'm thinking a Zooey Deschanel type, only slightly more serious looking.
What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
"Former lovers narrate their lives through an exchange of letters over the course of years."
Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
Hahahahahahahahahaha. Seriously. No. Self published, of course. I'm nowhere near good enough to expose my work to outsiders.
How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
Ideally, November 1-November 30, 2012.
What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?
Well, "Herzog", obviously.
I kid, I kid. I don't know. The only author I compare myself to is Nick Hornby, but that's a grievous insult to him.
Who or What inspired you to write this book?
When my pen pal described her relationship, the whole structure hit me like a ton of bricks. It seems like an obvious book to me, and I'm kind of surprised I've never read one like it. Of course, there may be 200 like it, but I've just never read them. If you have heard of one, please put it in the comments, so I can slit my wrists with confidence.
What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?
I'm not sure. I never think anything I do is any good, so I'm not comfortable asserting something that may or may not interest you.
SPE: October 17,2003
[For the Scriptic prompt exchange this week, Barb Black gave me this prompt: "The first cold, crisp day of autumn always reminds me of," and I gave Jester Queen this prompt: " 'Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.' -Semisonic, "Closing Time" "]
{ In the very first moments of October 17,2003, New York Yankee Aaron Boone hit an 11th inning home run off of Boston Red Sox pitcher Tim Wakefield to win the seventh and deciding game of the American League Championship Series, 6-5. This ended Boston's 85th consectutive season without a World Series championship, and the Yankees moved on to the World Series.}
[This is poetry, I guess. It's incredibly hard, and I give full credit to any and all poets in the audience, especially my home girl Marian. It's called "October 17, 2003" ]
October 17, 2003
ITunes is new.
Iraq War too.
I'm 32.
If it's high,
let it fly.
If it's low,
let it go.
Swing and a drive
Kept Yanks alive
Wakefield walks slow
Heralds the snow
{ In the very first moments of October 17,2003, New York Yankee Aaron Boone hit an 11th inning home run off of Boston Red Sox pitcher Tim Wakefield to win the seventh and deciding game of the American League Championship Series, 6-5. This ended Boston's 85th consectutive season without a World Series championship, and the Yankees moved on to the World Series.}
[This is poetry, I guess. It's incredibly hard, and I give full credit to any and all poets in the audience, especially my home girl Marian. It's called "October 17, 2003" ]
October 17, 2003
ITunes is new.
Iraq War too.
I'm 32.
If it's high,
let it fly.
If it's low,
let it go.
Swing and a drive
Kept Yanks alive
Wakefield walks slow
Heralds the snow
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