Miranda July excels at getting inside the minds of children, and she embodies that in this absurd short video called "How to Make Buttons."
Watch the video, then come up with a short humorous poem, flash fiction piece, or humorous essay on how to make something, some sort of object we see every day.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Sea World vs. Hollywood
I work and live in Hollywood. The other day Eddie Izzard jogged past me down Hollywood Boulevard. Glamorous types hike with their even more glamorous dogs at a site near my house where Errol Flynn used to live. Silent movie stars built my apartment building. I work on a major studio lot where George Clooney and Brad Pitt can be seen regularly. Famous writers, former studio heads, and pushy producers come into my offices every day for meetings. It's so omnipresent that it's old hat. I forget that some folks might think these things are interesting until I mention it casually to someone not in the industry and see their eyes light up.
So what charmed me this weekend? Hanging with my friend's twin boys at Sea World.
Yes folks, it's the anti-glamour of captive marine mammals, hot sun, and five year old boys who each must have their own ice cream bar shaped like Shamu.
I have mixed feelings about places like Sea World. The seal/sea lion exhibit was awfully small for the eight animals they had cooped up in there. I was relieved to hear during the dolphin show that the dolphins had been born there, but the enormous pilot whales could barely turn around in the pool they kept them in, pre-show. I silently prayed that when they are not performing, they have a much larger world to swim in.
But those twin boys were shivering with delight as they watched the whales splash the audience with their enormous tails. At one point, one of the boys, exhausted from all the excitement, came over and draped himself over me, the way my elderly cat does when he wants to cuddle, and nearly fell asleep.
I'm sure I don't really need to expand on the sweet charm of such a moment. It blows seeing Eddie Izzard in a bright blue jogging suit out of the water. No offense, Eddie.
So what charmed me this weekend? Hanging with my friend's twin boys at Sea World.
Yes folks, it's the anti-glamour of captive marine mammals, hot sun, and five year old boys who each must have their own ice cream bar shaped like Shamu.
I have mixed feelings about places like Sea World. The seal/sea lion exhibit was awfully small for the eight animals they had cooped up in there. I was relieved to hear during the dolphin show that the dolphins had been born there, but the enormous pilot whales could barely turn around in the pool they kept them in, pre-show. I silently prayed that when they are not performing, they have a much larger world to swim in.
But those twin boys were shivering with delight as they watched the whales splash the audience with their enormous tails. At one point, one of the boys, exhausted from all the excitement, came over and draped himself over me, the way my elderly cat does when he wants to cuddle, and nearly fell asleep.
I'm sure I don't really need to expand on the sweet charm of such a moment. It blows seeing Eddie Izzard in a bright blue jogging suit out of the water. No offense, Eddie.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Single Chicks Rule
As a happy woman who happens to be single at the moment, I really appreciated an email sent to me recently by a friend entitled "The Fairy Tale." Single or attached, check it out. It's so true.
THE WORLD 'S SHORTEST FAIRY TALE
Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?" The girl said: "NO!" And the girl lived happily ever-after and went shopping, dancing, camping, drank martinis, always had a clean house, never had to cook, did whatever the hell she wanted, never argued, didn't get fat, traveled more, had many lovers, didn't save money, and had all the hot water to herself. She went to the theater, never watched sports, never wore friggin' lacy lingerie that went up her ass, had high self esteem, never cried or yelled, felt and looked fabulous in sweat pants and was pleasant all the time.
The End
THE WORLD 'S SHORTEST FAIRY TALE
Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?" The girl said: "NO!" And the girl lived happily ever-after and went shopping, dancing, camping, drank martinis, always had a clean house, never had to cook, did whatever the hell she wanted, never argued, didn't get fat, traveled more, had many lovers, didn't save money, and had all the hot water to herself. She went to the theater, never watched sports, never wore friggin' lacy lingerie that went up her ass, had high self esteem, never cried or yelled, felt and looked fabulous in sweat pants and was pleasant all the time.
The End
Match it for Pratchett
Author Terry Pratchett has been diagnosed with a rare form of Alzheimer's Disease and has donated half a million English pounds to Alzheimer's research.
If you've read Pratchett's hilarious fantasy novels, which satirize everything from the Iraq war to the the post office, you know what a loss it will be when the disease finally takes control of his brilliant brain. Where else can you find a mysterious, occasionally vicious sentient suitcase, a troll policeman, and an orangutan librarian? Check out Wyrd Sisters to meet some of the coolest witches on earth, and Death's apprentice in Mort.
Want to help? Head on over to Match it For Pratchett, where you can click and donate to match Pratchett's own donation to Alzheimer's research, which is apparently fastly underfunded. Who knew?
If you've read Pratchett's hilarious fantasy novels, which satirize everything from the Iraq war to the the post office, you know what a loss it will be when the disease finally takes control of his brilliant brain. Where else can you find a mysterious, occasionally vicious sentient suitcase, a troll policeman, and an orangutan librarian? Check out Wyrd Sisters to meet some of the coolest witches on earth, and Death's apprentice in Mort.
Want to help? Head on over to Match it For Pratchett, where you can click and donate to match Pratchett's own donation to Alzheimer's research, which is apparently fastly underfunded. Who knew?
Friday, March 14, 2008
Shoes in the Rain - Exercise #6
This week's writing exercise comes from this intriguing photo, found as usual on ffffound.
What happened here?
Write a sentence, a poem, a short story, or whatever you want, giving the reader some idea of what's going on in this photo.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Farewell to "The Wire"
The best TV show ever made is over. I'm depressed that there will be no more new episodes of The Wire.
Don't worry, I won't spoil the ending here. I have a group of friends who still haven't seen the last two episodes, and I must remain mum for fear of inciting their wrath. This weekend they will all come over to my house (I'm the only one with HBO), as they have all season, to watch those episodes, eat pizza, and raise a glass of Jameson's to their favorite show.
Yes, it's almost like a cult. Want to join?
Seriously, if you haven't watched this show, YOU MUST. Anyone who does watch it acquires an almost evangelical fervor about it. Check out this post on McSweeneys if you don't believe me.
Start with Season One, because this novel-like series builds a complex, fascinating web of characters and stories from the very beginning. Events in Season Five harken back to moments in Season Three, or even all the way back to Season One. It's the portrait of the American city. It features some of the best unknown actors on the planet. It's brilliant, angry, violent, insightful, and often hilarious.
It's damned entertaining and enlightening. For a taste, check out this famous scene from Season One, when detectives McNulty and Bunk go to the scene of a long gone murder... and solve it while saying only the word "fuck."
Then go watch it all. A few episodes in, and you'll be joining our cult. I guaran-damn-tee you, dog.
Thanks to creators David Simon and Ed Burns for this show. They are fricking geniuses, our modern day Aeschylus and Sophocles. As Omar Little (played by Michael Williams, pictured above) would say. True 'dat.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Don't Die, Dammit
So here's a real life story that suggests some interesting fictional possibilities.
Reuters reports that "The mayor of a village in southwest France has threatened residents with severe punishment if they die, because there is no room left in the overcrowded cemetery to bury them."
In an ordinance posted in the council offices, Mayor Gerard Lalanne told the 260 residents of the village of Sarpourenx that "all persons not having a plot in the cemetery and wishing to be buried in Sarpourenx are forbidden from dying in the parish."
It added: "Offenders will be severely punished."
The mayor said he was forced to take drastic action after an administrative court in the nearby town of Pau ruled in January that the acquisition of adjoining private land to extend the cemetery would not be justified.
Lalanne, who celebrated his 70th birthday on Wednesday and is standing for election to a seventh term in this month's local elections, said he was sorry that there had not been a positive outcome to the dilemma.
"It may be a laughing matter for some, but not for me," he said.
(Reporting by Claude Canellas, Writing by Andrew Dobbie; editing by Sami Aboudi)
What if the folks in this small village DID stop dying? What if they all remained alive as long as there was no room in the cemetery, and this went on for years? And then what if, all of a sudden, someone offered them land for burials?
Possibilities for story everywhere in this big crazy world!
I feel a short story coming on.
Reuters reports that "The mayor of a village in southwest France has threatened residents with severe punishment if they die, because there is no room left in the overcrowded cemetery to bury them."
In an ordinance posted in the council offices, Mayor Gerard Lalanne told the 260 residents of the village of Sarpourenx that "all persons not having a plot in the cemetery and wishing to be buried in Sarpourenx are forbidden from dying in the parish."
It added: "Offenders will be severely punished."
The mayor said he was forced to take drastic action after an administrative court in the nearby town of Pau ruled in January that the acquisition of adjoining private land to extend the cemetery would not be justified.
Lalanne, who celebrated his 70th birthday on Wednesday and is standing for election to a seventh term in this month's local elections, said he was sorry that there had not been a positive outcome to the dilemma.
"It may be a laughing matter for some, but not for me," he said.
(Reporting by Claude Canellas, Writing by Andrew Dobbie; editing by Sami Aboudi)
What if the folks in this small village DID stop dying? What if they all remained alive as long as there was no room in the cemetery, and this went on for years? And then what if, all of a sudden, someone offered them land for burials?
Possibilities for story everywhere in this big crazy world!
I feel a short story coming on.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Are You a Cat or a Dog?
All right, one more personality test - are you more Cat or Dog?
Here's my result. Rather predictable for those who know how much of an animal lover I am.
Here's my result. Rather predictable for those who know how much of an animal lover I am.
You Are: 50% Dog, 50% Cat |
 You are a nice blend of cat and dog. You're playful but not too needy. And you're friendly but careful. And while you have your moody moments, you're too happy to stay upset for long. |
What spice are you?
There are days when I love to do these stupid personality tests that tell you which type of dog you are, or which Star Wars character you are. Today's test - what spice are you?
Go here to take the test.
My result? Well, I found it hard to pick which type of food is my favorite, so I picked Italian because my four months in Bologna were the tastiest of my life. So here's what I got.
Go here to take the test.
My result? Well, I found it hard to pick which type of food is my favorite, so I picked Italian because my four months in Bologna were the tastiest of my life. So here's what I got.
You Are Basil |
 You are quite popular and loved by most people. You have a mild temperament, but your style is definitely distinctive. You are sweet, attractive, and you often smell good. |
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
The Homicide Report
Found a sobering, fascinating blog on the LA Times site today called The Homicide Report. written mostly by blogger/reporter Ruben Vives, with contributions from Jill Leovy. It catalogs every single homicide in LA County, along with victim's age, occupation, race, family, and the particulars known about the death. Click on a sidebar and they'll tell you why they report the race of the victims - because race is a huge factor in whether you will die via homicide. Black men make up 4% of the population in Los Angeles, but they are far and away the most numerous victims of homicide. Other statistics are available if you look around and click, including a homicide map of LA, which shows that the area south of the 10 Freeway is much more dangerous than the area north of it.
The story at the top of the page today when I clicked showed a photo of a young black football player, shot to death by two Latino youths when he failed to tell them any gang affiliation. Click on the comments, and you'll see everything from political commentary to condolences.
Each death suggests a longer life cut off too soon. Each suggests a story, a character, or a dreadful moment. It's the real life stuff that trumps fiction every time, and leads a writer to wonder how the earnest lies we write can ever illuminate the truth out there.
The story at the top of the page today when I clicked showed a photo of a young black football player, shot to death by two Latino youths when he failed to tell them any gang affiliation. Click on the comments, and you'll see everything from political commentary to condolences.
Each death suggests a longer life cut off too soon. Each suggests a story, a character, or a dreadful moment. It's the real life stuff that trumps fiction every time, and leads a writer to wonder how the earnest lies we write can ever illuminate the truth out there.
Misogyny in Hollywood? No!
Today's must read: Radar Magazine has a funny, spot-on piece available online called "No Country for Fat Chicks," which highlights the most misogynistic films of the past decade.
They begin with Superbad, tweak Ocean's Thirteen, and rightfully slam my pick for most misogynistic movie of the decade, Sin City. Take that 13 going on 30, Bridget Jones' Diary, and Hustle and Flow!
They begin with Superbad, tweak Ocean's Thirteen, and rightfully slam my pick for most misogynistic movie of the decade, Sin City. Take that 13 going on 30, Bridget Jones' Diary, and Hustle and Flow!
Friday, February 29, 2008
February
by Margaret Atwood from Morning in the Burned House
Winter. Time to eat fat
and watch hockey. In the pewter mornings, the cat,
a black fur sausage with yellow
Houdini eyes, jumps up on the bed and tries
to get onto my head. It's his
way of telling whether or not I'm dead.
If I'm not, he wants to be scratched; if I am
He'll think of something. He settles
on my chest, breathing his breath
of burped-up meat and musty sofas,
purring like a washboard. Some other tomcat,
not yet a capon, has been spraying our front door,
declaring war. It's all about sex and territory,
which are what will finish us off
in the long run. Some cat owners around here
should snip a few testicles. If we wise
hominids were sensible, we'd do that too,
or eat our young, like sharks.
But it's love that does us in. Over and over
Again, He shoots, he scores! and famine
crouches in the bedsheets, ambushing the pulsing
eiderdown, and the windchill factor hits
thirty below, and the pollution pours
out of our chimneys to keep us warm.
February, month of despair,
with a skewered heart in the centre.
I think dire thoughts, and lust for French fries
with a splash of vinegar.
Cat, enough of your greedy whining
and your small pink bumhole.
Off my face! You're the life principle,
more or less, so get going
on a little optimism around here.
Get rid of death. Celebrate increase. Make it be spring.
Winter. Time to eat fat
and watch hockey. In the pewter mornings, the cat,
a black fur sausage with yellow
Houdini eyes, jumps up on the bed and tries
to get onto my head. It's his
way of telling whether or not I'm dead.
If I'm not, he wants to be scratched; if I am
He'll think of something. He settles
on my chest, breathing his breath
of burped-up meat and musty sofas,
purring like a washboard. Some other tomcat,
not yet a capon, has been spraying our front door,
declaring war. It's all about sex and territory,
which are what will finish us off
in the long run. Some cat owners around here
should snip a few testicles. If we wise
hominids were sensible, we'd do that too,
or eat our young, like sharks.
But it's love that does us in. Over and over
Again, He shoots, he scores! and famine
crouches in the bedsheets, ambushing the pulsing
eiderdown, and the windchill factor hits
thirty below, and the pollution pours
out of our chimneys to keep us warm.
February, month of despair,
with a skewered heart in the centre.
I think dire thoughts, and lust for French fries
with a splash of vinegar.
Cat, enough of your greedy whining
and your small pink bumhole.
Off my face! You're the life principle,
more or less, so get going
on a little optimism around here.
Get rid of death. Celebrate increase. Make it be spring.
Exercise # 5 - Who Lives Here?
(Photo from www.ffffound.com)Writing exercise for the week - who lives here?
UPDATE:
My own haiku thoughts on this important question below.
Stay puft marshmallow
Man exploded on my house.
Dog made it out safe.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Screenwriting vs. Graphic Novels
I enjoyed reading the X-Men comic books in college, which was lo, many years ago, back when Jean Grey became Dark Phoenix and nearly destroyed the universe. My roommate, Alex, would buy the latest issue, and it'd make the rounds of all five of us roomies.
And now one of my favorite TV and film writers, Joss Whedon, is writing X-Men graphic novels with his trademark wit, darkness, and insight. And YA writers like Cecil Castellucci have found success with graphic novels like The Plain Janes, which has been optioned to be a movie. I'm caught up in an online comic that puts out fresh panels every Friday, for free, called The FreakAngels. And I've got a couple of far out movie ideas that would never make it onto the screen. So now, of course, I'm thinking about them as possible graphic novels.
Turns out comics/graphic novels need a writer and an artist. No way could I illustrate one of these puppies. But I'm thinking that my training as a screenwriter would come in handy, since graphic novels demand that the story be told visually just as much, if not more, than it be told in dialogue and prose. Then I'd either have to network and get a great artist, or sell the script to a publisher and let them find one.
So for me the first step is research. I bought a book on writing graphic novels. I started reading more graphic novels. I perused popular titles in the bookstore. I talked to my geek friends (and I have plenty of those!) about it and will be borrowing from their collections. I'm not ready to go forward with my own graphic novel script... yet. My current novel would make a great graphic novel, I think.
But first things first - the actual novel. Then, once that's published to much acclaim (cough cough) I can sell off the movie rights and write the graphic novel version to add money to my overflowing coffers.
Oh wait. I have to actually finish writing the dang thing first, don't I? And wait wait - that takes time, discipline, and talent, doesn't it? Well I guess I better get right on that then. (Hustles off to write some more...)
And now one of my favorite TV and film writers, Joss Whedon, is writing X-Men graphic novels with his trademark wit, darkness, and insight. And YA writers like Cecil Castellucci have found success with graphic novels like The Plain Janes, which has been optioned to be a movie. I'm caught up in an online comic that puts out fresh panels every Friday, for free, called The FreakAngels. And I've got a couple of far out movie ideas that would never make it onto the screen. So now, of course, I'm thinking about them as possible graphic novels.
Turns out comics/graphic novels need a writer and an artist. No way could I illustrate one of these puppies. But I'm thinking that my training as a screenwriter would come in handy, since graphic novels demand that the story be told visually just as much, if not more, than it be told in dialogue and prose. Then I'd either have to network and get a great artist, or sell the script to a publisher and let them find one.
So for me the first step is research. I bought a book on writing graphic novels. I started reading more graphic novels. I perused popular titles in the bookstore. I talked to my geek friends (and I have plenty of those!) about it and will be borrowing from their collections. I'm not ready to go forward with my own graphic novel script... yet. My current novel would make a great graphic novel, I think.
But first things first - the actual novel. Then, once that's published to much acclaim (cough cough) I can sell off the movie rights and write the graphic novel version to add money to my overflowing coffers.
Oh wait. I have to actually finish writing the dang thing first, don't I? And wait wait - that takes time, discipline, and talent, doesn't it? Well I guess I better get right on that then. (Hustles off to write some more...)
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Get Yer Work On
The writers strike is over at last, and the TV business has gone INSANE.
Did I just put that in all CAPS? Is it justified? (Thinking...) Yes, by gum, it's justified.
It's as if all the pent up energy that would've been spent setting meetings, making deals, schmoozing, and pushing ideas from the months of the strike has emerged all at once and it all must happen now now now.
Selfishly, I'm glad they came to an agreement so that my job is both unthreatened and much more interesting. Is it a good deal? I wish I knew. But the writers I know are happy to get back to work, and everyone's breathing a huge sigh of relief... until the possible Actors strike when their contract expires June 30.
Sigh. Show biz. It's extremely difficult to break in. It batters the shit out of you if you do manage to get your toe in the water. And it's ready to spit you out at a moment's notice.
Did I just put that in all CAPS? Is it justified? (Thinking...) Yes, by gum, it's justified.
It's as if all the pent up energy that would've been spent setting meetings, making deals, schmoozing, and pushing ideas from the months of the strike has emerged all at once and it all must happen now now now.
Selfishly, I'm glad they came to an agreement so that my job is both unthreatened and much more interesting. Is it a good deal? I wish I knew. But the writers I know are happy to get back to work, and everyone's breathing a huge sigh of relief... until the possible Actors strike when their contract expires June 30.
Sigh. Show biz. It's extremely difficult to break in. It batters the shit out of you if you do manage to get your toe in the water. And it's ready to spit you out at a moment's notice.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Flu Block
There's this thing called writer's block that hits me every now and then. Although it's really not a block at all, just my inner critic getting in the way of my creative inner whatcha-majiggy.
But the flu? Now that blocks my writing. I've been suffering from this dang bug for a week now, and I'm sick of it. So to speak.
I'm back at work, but I'm dragging. I haze off into the ether at odd moments, then am brought back to earth by a coughing fit. I'm cancelling all my night time activities and heading straight home to turn my mind off and get some sleep. I even had to beg off from tonight's critique group meeting, which bums me out. I really want to hear their take on the next chapter, but no way I can haul myself all the way over there and back after a full day's work. As for writing? I just can't focus. It's hard enough to read scripts and arrange meetings while I'm at work, let alone come up with hilarious and insightful crap for my novel.
This flu is blocking my writing far worse than my inner critic, and that's saying something. Makes me appreciate how wonderful it is just to feel normal and healthy. Hopefully I'll perk up in the next couple of days so I can kickstart myself back into gear. Once you take some time off from a manuscript, it take a lot of energy to reconnect with it and get back in the swing.
Stay healthy. Wash your hands. Get the flu shot. Shun your sick friends if you want to be well enough to write.
But the flu? Now that blocks my writing. I've been suffering from this dang bug for a week now, and I'm sick of it. So to speak.
I'm back at work, but I'm dragging. I haze off into the ether at odd moments, then am brought back to earth by a coughing fit. I'm cancelling all my night time activities and heading straight home to turn my mind off and get some sleep. I even had to beg off from tonight's critique group meeting, which bums me out. I really want to hear their take on the next chapter, but no way I can haul myself all the way over there and back after a full day's work. As for writing? I just can't focus. It's hard enough to read scripts and arrange meetings while I'm at work, let alone come up with hilarious and insightful crap for my novel.
This flu is blocking my writing far worse than my inner critic, and that's saying something. Makes me appreciate how wonderful it is just to feel normal and healthy. Hopefully I'll perk up in the next couple of days so I can kickstart myself back into gear. Once you take some time off from a manuscript, it take a lot of energy to reconnect with it and get back in the swing.
Stay healthy. Wash your hands. Get the flu shot. Shun your sick friends if you want to be well enough to write.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Yes We Can
If you are in a primary state, vote today. I did.
I cast my vote for Obama. But it wasn't an easy choice, and I do feel that whoever wins, we'll be okay. If you're in the mood for a little inspiration and don't mind celebrities, check out this pro-Obama video.
And here he is at his most inspirational in a speech from last year...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BznUPlwbQ7Q
Vote! And hope!
I cast my vote for Obama. But it wasn't an easy choice, and I do feel that whoever wins, we'll be okay. If you're in the mood for a little inspiration and don't mind celebrities, check out this pro-Obama video.
And here he is at his most inspirational in a speech from last year...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BznUPlwbQ7Q
Vote! And hope!
Ultimate SoCal Day
I inherited a couple of free tickets to Disneyland and used them to take a good friend out for an important birthday. This was Superbowl Sunday, now, and it was raining.
Really, just the perfect time to go to Disneyland. The crowds are usually forbidding in that Happiest Place on Earth. Go on a weekend in the summer at your peril. But a rainy Sunday in late January? What the hell!
We got there early and went straight onto my favorite ride, Space Mountain. Without crowds, we managed to cover most of what we wanted at the park and next door California Adventure (check out the Soarin' ride there if you haven't already) by 2:30 or so.
Then we hopped in the car and headed for Malibu to watch the Superbowl with some celebrities and their families.
Didn't I tell you it was the Ultimate SoCal day? As we drove along the 5 freeway, the traffic slowed down unexpectedly. What was this? The Superbowl was just starting! What was everyone doing on the road?
Turns out they were slowing down to lookyloo at a car that had flipped off a bridge onto its roof on the (dry) bed of the so-called LA river. A tow truck slowly hoisted it up. Oy. Not a happy sight. But once again, typical Southern California.
The drive after that was smooth, and we took the 101 to Las Virgenes and Malibu Canyon, a gorgeous drive as the rain broke and the sun shone spectacularly on the wet green hills and shimmering ocean.
One halftime touch football game, lots of buffalo wings, amazing banana cream pie, and a Giants win later, we headed home. Exhausted but satisfied. SoCal can be a glorious, crazy place to live, let me tell you. There's always some new adventure to be had.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Writing Exercise #4 - Hit and Run
Over a year ago I in my green Honda accord was rear-ended by a young woman in her early twenties driving a battered black American-make muscle car of some type. We were on a busy street, and I was stopped at the light and she just rammed into me.
As I sat there, stunned, she got out of her car, and looked at me through my window. "You OK?" she asked. I sort of nodded. "Why don't we get out of traffic? Pull across the street over there and I'll follow you."
"Okay," I said. When the light was green, I pulled across to a side street and waited for her. She gunned her engine and... turned left, racing away. Hit and run. I cursed, did a U-turn, and raced after her, only to be pinned in place by a construction truck.
I called the cops, made a report, and got the car towed to a body shop.
But what was going through that young woman's mind as she cold-bloodedly plotted to get me and my car out of her way so she could make a safe getaway? Taking her point of view, write something (anything from a haiku to a short story) that gives some kind of insight into why she did what she did. Every villain has their own story, their own reasons for what they do. Get inside this one's head.
Believe me, I'd like to know what the hell she was thinking.
As I sat there, stunned, she got out of her car, and looked at me through my window. "You OK?" she asked. I sort of nodded. "Why don't we get out of traffic? Pull across the street over there and I'll follow you."
"Okay," I said. When the light was green, I pulled across to a side street and waited for her. She gunned her engine and... turned left, racing away. Hit and run. I cursed, did a U-turn, and raced after her, only to be pinned in place by a construction truck.
I called the cops, made a report, and got the car towed to a body shop.
But what was going through that young woman's mind as she cold-bloodedly plotted to get me and my car out of her way so she could make a safe getaway? Taking her point of view, write something (anything from a haiku to a short story) that gives some kind of insight into why she did what she did. Every villain has their own story, their own reasons for what they do. Get inside this one's head.
Believe me, I'd like to know what the hell she was thinking.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Patry Francis - Author of "The Liar's Diary"
(photo "Invisible City" by magic fly paula.)
Writer Patry Francis has a book coming out in paperback today. It's called The Liar's Diary. But she won't be able to promote it because she's busy being treated for an aggressive type of cancer.
Which is where her fellow writers come in. Patry is a member at Red Room, an online community for writers. When they heard about Patry's problem, one of them, Laura Benedict, came up with an idea to help her. Laura began recruiting other writers who blog to talk about Patty and her new book on their blogs today - the day her book comes out. Writers like Neil Gaiman and Khaled Hosseini have joined with institutions like Publisher's Weekly and Writers Digest to blog about Patry and her book today in hopes of publicizing it and showing their support to her as she struggles against cancer.
You can read Patry's own unsentimental account of what she's going through on her blog, Simply Wait. And you can check out her book here.
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