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UPDATE ON THAT REVENGE/HORROR STORY I WAS WORKING ON ... or ... THE DAY MY MUSE HIJACKED MY STORY (and made it better, dammit!)

11/24/2015

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(Spoiler alert: If you've never seen the 20-some-year-old movie “Thelma & Louise” but plan to someday, don't read this post. You wouldn't want to learn the movie's ending. Shhh!)




Well, well, well.


When we last looked in on the cigarette-smoking guy (No, not THAT cigarette-smoking guy. He and Mulder and Scully have better things to do than hang around in my story), it seemed he had somehow re-formed his own personality, not giving a rosy rat's ass if I liked it or not.


It turns out, he had help.


The original plot was: obnoxious, misogynistic smoker torments woman writer/next-door-neighbor he knows has a severe sensitivity to cigarette smoke. She decides to get even. And thus the story began speeding down the Main Plot Highway.



But (some might say, luckily for me) my muse just flat-out hijacked it -- yes, changing some of the nasty neighbor's personality traits (Oh my god, he may be a jerk, but he's an animal-lover!) -- and speeding down an off-ramp, where she discovered the sleepy little town of What Happens When The Victim Becomes The Bully?


Not satisfied with that new plot point alone, she and her muse-y vehicle vroom-vrooomed their way down the road and stopped at the When You Release Power You Can't Control, Don't Be Surprised If It Does Things That Shock The Sh*t Out Of You rest stop.


From there, it Thelma and Louise-d itself through a guardrail and down into the You Won't BELIEVE What's Happened To The Characters Now! chasm.



At which point, my muse climbed out of the wreckage and shouted, “YES! This short story is now freakin' perfect!”


I love my muse. What would I do without her? More than once during one of those dreaded “writer's block” thingies, I pictured her sitting on my shoulder (she's quite elfin, with long, pointy ears, big, golden eyes, and curly-toed shoes) and that alone was enough to get the creative juices flowing.



But sometimes I have my creativity going just nicely, thank you, and she comes along with her own ideas and snatches it right out from under me.


If only she'd at least thank me for loaning her my fingers and my computer keys (especially the backspace key, for those oops! moments), which enabled her to get the whole thing into a text file.



I feel so used.


On the other hand, I fell in love with this story, done her way. And when it's completely finished & ready to post, I shall lay claim to it and stick my name on it. After all, she did use my brain cells (Yes, there are a few up there that she can rub together to start a fire) and fingers and such, and so I've decided it's mine, mine mine! (The image of Daffy Duck just popped into my head, in one of his greedier moments).


Anyway.


The first draft was hers, and I'm sure she had a blast doing it. But, as all writers know, the subsequent drafts are, well, just plain hard work. And there's nothing like the word “work” to make my muse instantly flit back up to my brain and hide out there. I suspect she is, at this very moment, lazing in a hammock, sipping a margarita.


Thus, I tackled the rewrites myself. And now the final draft is THISCLOSE. It just needs a few little tweaks here and there.


When it's posted [for your free(!!!) perusal], I'll let you know. Or my muse will. Whatever. Let's face it -- she runs things around here. ;-}





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DEAR TWITTERITE: WHY I DIDN'T FOLLOW YOU BACK

11/17/2015

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Dear fellow Twitter user:


I want to follow you back. I really do.




But the last thing I need in my Twitter stream is another collection of what is essentially ads, so I've become picky. I never did follow back absolutely everyone, but I used to be less particular (Persnickety. Fussy. Punctilious! Damn that Thesaurus). Back then, Twitter was full of back-and-forth conversations, and late night could feel like hanging out with friends (or at least friendly acquaintances) in a cool coffeehouse.


Now, it's buy my book! Buy my friend's book! Buy some etsy jewelry! Look — cute kitties! Most of it is RTs, and I do like that people are generous and helpful toward others. But for some, that's all there is.


To them, I say here, don't you ever feel like talking? With (or to) someone? A real, living (if in digital form) person? Even if you're shy, or a newbie who's not sure how to get started conversation-wise, there are places you could hop in. Cute kitty photo? Then why not at least say, Love the cute kitty!, and add a smiley face? Or if someone tweets, “I finally finished my book and typed THE END! Wheeeee!,” even if you don't know them, couldn't you just tweet, Congrats!? If someone tweets that they just came back from the ER with a cast on their arm, couldn't you say, So sorry to hear that. I hope you heal quickly?


It is, after all, called SOCIAL media.


It's not always easy. I know. I get it. Sometimes I feel invisible, too (especially recently, after being offline for a long while with DSL problems). Or I'm in a mood too dark to foist on others. Or my brain just can't seem to force any coherent thoughts through my fingers and into the keyboard. Or worse, sometimes I'm just freakin' boring. I do that sometimes. Tweet too much. I know. I ramble on (and on) at times. Especially early in the morning or late at night. So, yes indeedy, I have my own Twitter flaws (lots of them).


But even if I had a book to sell rather than just my freebie short stories on my website, I'd still want to do more than just try to grab buyers/readers.


I see Twitter as a place to hang out with people I enjoy. I love the (often, snarky) humor. I feel compassion for tweeps who are having a rough time. I'm excited when someone I know (even if only vaguely) has a book about to be published, or just signed with an agent, or went to ComicCon, or just baked an utterly cool and awesome birthday cake for their kid.


More often than not, I'm in awe that these cool people let me hang out with them.


So.


You have your flaws, I have my flaws, we're all full of frakkin' flaws. Nobody's perfect.


Therefore, when you follow me, I not only check out your Twitter page, but if necessary, I scroll wayyyyyy down. Because, even if it's entirely full of RTs or famous-people-quotes or tons of #FF and #WW (very cool of you!) or a zillion photos of the Northern Lights, I don't judge anyone by their mood or actions on one day.


But if day after day that's all there is, and you never talk with anyone, or even talk “out loud” to yourself (and God knows I do that a lot), then it's not likely that I'll follow you back.



Oh, I do make exceptions sometimes. If you're very into something I'm very into, I'll say what the hell, and follow. Such as, if you're a Walking Dead fanatic (I am), a sci-fi or horror writer (I am), a science nerd (well, I'm probably not smart enough to truly be one, but I'm fascinated by science, technology, space exploration), an animal lover, a fan of Scooby Doo (well, who the hell isn't?), etc.



But mainly I hope you like to talk, at least a little bit. Now and then. If I don't follow right away, I may check back a few days later. Maybe you got chatty. ;-}


And yes, if you unfollow me and then follow me again, as if you reeeeally want me to follow you, I'll give you a second look, because, well, it's nice to be liked. LOL


So, for me to follow you, all you need to do is be a little social. Here on social media. Once in a while.

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    Author

    _East-coaster, writer of horror, sci-fi, and other genres. I knew that creepy childhood would come in handy someday. These days, life is covered in cat fur. Contact me at: GargoylePhanNB@gmail.com

    Re: Header...

    Zombie photo in header is by Randy Salgado. Check out his flickr page: https://www.flickr.com/photos/randychico/

    Also, here is the Flickr license page.

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