Friday, June 28, 2013

FFF 5.0

Haha, yes I have corrected the typo in the previous post. Typing on my phone, with the small screen, is really difficult, so please point out, or excuse any further ones in my flash fiction piece for today.

I'm starting to type at 6:00pm, so let's see how long this takes ;)

When the alarm clock shrieks each morning, my first conscious thought is always the same question. How bad is the pain?

The second thought is a command. Don't move.

I don't.

Wriggling my fingers, I check my body, limbs, abdomen, torso, neck, head. I can't forget, so I create a mental map of where it hurts and how much. Is it general, or localized? Sharp, or an ache? Are there other strange sensations? Cold, heat, numbness, stiffness? What's the location, a muscle, joint, bone, or near a specific organ? I have to be as accurate as possible, but as each day goes by, my ability to judge changes a little, warps and distends. On a scale of one to ten, is a seven the same as it was last week? How about a year ago? Five years ago?

Now I can move. Now I can answer that first question. How bad is the pain?

Funny how the cat always knows before I do. On good days, he'll lay on my chest and rub my chin with his nose. He doesn't mind the stubble. On bad days, he'll sit at my shoulder, purring and kneading the blankets. Sometimes he drools.

Lately, no matter how much I sleep, I never feel rested. The doctor said it's a pain feedback loop. When you're awake, your brain is able to hide from the pain, but when you're asleep, your defenses are down so you never actually hit REM mode. Sleep deprecation is one of the worst ways to wear down, torture, and destroy a human mind.

Three minutes since the alarm went off. Time to see if I can stand. I add mental notes to my pain-map when I sit up, then again when I'm on my feet. How clear-headed am I? Am I going to blackout? Are my muscles reliable? Should I grab the window-sill for support?

I have to remember everything, at least until I get to my computer.

Walking, my left knee twinges, bad. The one I wrecked playing soccer. The injury that killed my career. When it happened, that would have been a ten on my pain-scale, now it would be a three, maybe four. It would be a good day.

One spreadsheet page a month. Date, how I slept, every abnormal sensation in my body through every moment of every day. At three-hundred-sixty-five days a year, I've got over a thousand days worth of information. I have no urge to flip through old pages, to check specific dates like my ex-girlfriend's birthday, or Christmas, to see how I was feeling. As long as I only focus on today, I won't think of how much of my life has been stolen, wasted, endured.

It's no wonder the last few years are a grey fog which no amount of spreadsheet data will ever bring back.

Yes, as long as I only focus on today, on this moment, I know I can get through it.

Well, it's 6:34 now... It took me longer to type/post this than it did to write it!
But then again, I didn't really edit or anything... It was almost 800 words originally, then I just cut it down to 500.

How about anyone else? Come back anytime over the weekend and post!

Flash Fiction Friday 5.0

Hi, boys and girls!

I've escaped to the cabin again, so here's the flash fiction prompt of the day, brought to you by my iPhone:

When the alarm clock shrieks each morning, my first conscious thought is always the same question.

Friday, June 21, 2013

FFF 4.2

300 monkey words, just for you!

Who else is going to be brave and play with monkeys? I swear, they only bite a little... Come back, post your flash fiction, or links to your site in the comment section :)

It was just after lunch when the monkeys attacked.
With 26 seconds left to go, Jane hit the ‘open’ button on the microwave, and removed the tupperware square of reheated pad-thai. The container was bendier than it should have been, holding too much heat, and she wondered if she had grabbed a non-microwave-safe container by mistake. She stirred the noodles briefly, and lifted a forkful to her mouth. Her hand paused, an inch shy, as she caught a whiff of chemicals and burned plastic. 
During that moment of hesitation, she heard the screaming. Not the playful yells of excited children, or loud verbal sparring of the capuchins. Those sounds were normal, as the employee break-room was tucked behind the monkey habitat, sharing a wall, actually.
No, this was fear, this was human, and due to the range of sound, there were adults panicking, not just children. 
And the monkeys, they were shrieking, the noises so angry and dangerous it seemed baffling to think they could come from such sweet, adorable creatures.
Jane dropped her pad-thai on the counter, too high, too fast, and not carefully enough. It tumbled to the floor and splattered with a gooshy thunk and miniature hailstorm of peanut fragments.
Half-in, half-out of her uniform, Jane zipped up the side, grabbed the purple-felt covered, fiberglass hippo head, rammed it over her bandana and limp ponytail, and clomped out the door as fast as her thick, heavy-foam-covered feet could go.
Anxious, uncertain, and afraid, she had no idea that the monkeys had escaped and were rampaging through the zoo, throwing feces, biting, slapping, and clawing. The only concrete thought in her head was, she’d get fired if she was seen out of character, or without Hortensia Hippo’s head.

EDIT: by the way, this is the second time Hortensia Hippo has shown up on my blog ;)

Flash Fiction Friday 4.0

Who doesn't like monkeys?

No one! Which is why today's flash fiction first line prompt is this:

It was just after lunch when the monkeys attacked.

Enjoy! can't resist monkeys, can you?

Monday, June 17, 2013

...I drew a heck of a lot...

So, I was in Victoria last week Monday -> Wednesday... purpose #1, catch the last 4 koi in the pond, purpose #2, go through the last of my stuff (mostly sports equipment), and purpose #3, visit two friends who are both *expecting* within two weeks of each other, but they don't know each other.

I was successful on all counts, although the trip was emotionally draining. It was really hard being back at the house (the witch's hut) where I spend 2 years re-landscaping, to find all the gardens choked with waist-high weeds, and the lawns covered in that awful 4' tall grass.

I was especially happy to catch the fish, since one of them was the goshiki koi, the one I bought as a living memorial for my grandmother who died a year and a half ago. After releasing them in my parent's pond, it gave me a sort of closure, which can only be a good thing.

At my parent's house, I went through my old animation stuff, which my mom had diligently boxed up and saved. It was a lot of fun going through everything, and I took a few pictures with my phone:

 I completed three programs for animation. The first program was combined 2d (classical/hand drawn) and 3d (digital/computer modelled) animation. It was a prerequisite for either the classical animation masters program, OR the digital animation masters program. I finished the first class, then went on to finish the classical masters, and then the digital masters.

For each program, you had to make a short animation (aprox. 2 minutes) for your final grade. When I first started planning for my classical masters program short, I was going to make a crocodile-hunter-styled mockumentary of a guy *hunting* suburban women, so, like, soccer moms, cougars, etc. I ended up halting planning and switching to something else, but that first picture is the preliminary sketches of the 'host'.

 With drawing, and with writing, I don't think anything is ever wasted. While I never developed the mockumentary beyond storyboarding (more on this later), I modified parts of the design I liked for a character design class where we had to design a villain & a hero or heroine. This character became a shut-in-type computer nerd who wanted to take over the world, starting with his high-school computer lab...

 This was his nemesis, a skater chick who unwittingly foils him every time... I later re-made her for a very short animation of her snowboarding, which is one of my favourite pieces that I produced. It's one of the few pieces I actually still have a digital composite of. These sketches bug me 'cause she's off-model...

 Hands are really hard to draw... so I drew them a lot, just to prove I could do it. I was experimenting with line thickness to give a little more dimension, but I was using the wrong kind of pen, so it ended up looking sloppy :p ...and yes, that's a Palm Pilot -> the fore-runner of the smart phone.

 I have... pages upon pages of sketches... just odd little characters I doodled in class. Looking at these, especially, is what prompted me to write the FFF 3.2 piece, because even though I tend to gravitate towards dark writing, my natural drawing style (yes, I CAN mimic many styles...) is full of round shapes and soft, organic lines. The short piece I wrote for FFF 3.2 was something I wanted to draw... 'cause aren't naked-chicken-dragons both hilarious and cute at the same time?

 More sketches. The girl's pose is kindof wonky, eh? She looks way too stiff.

 We had to do a lot of short animations (like, 5-10 seconds) as practice. This koi was for a 'take' shot, which is when a character sees something, and has a big reaction to it. I took it further by having a small fish escape by swimming out of the koi's mouth, simply because it made me laugh.

Another character from a practice piece, a head turn. Specifically, when someone turns their head, they normally blink while they are moving, so again, this is one small, natural movement that we practiced recognizing, and animating because every small thing is intentional. For all these exercises, you designed/used all your own characters. I just like drawing critters/beasties better than humans :p

This is an example of storyboarding. We were given a list of characters with basic descriptions/backgrounds, and a script. We had to design characters, then storyboard the script. The plot was a post-apocalyptic setting, and the two characters shown here are Odd (male) and Even (female), a set of twins who were the only child characters. The rest of the cast consisted of adults and robots. For our final demo reels (including the required short animations), we had to do all this kind of prep work, following the exact rules of the industry, because you use different coloured lines to note camera moves, FX, background/foreground layers, etc.

 For my classical animation masters program short, instead of the mockumentary, I expanded upon a class project, which was to animate 20 seconds, timed to a piece of music. I enjoyed it so much (I used the diva's song from 'The Fifth Element'), that I ended up animating a 1.5 minute short of a siamese kitten playing with a catnip mouse.

Now, to give you a brief breakdown of the work involved in a 1.5 minute animation... there are 30 frames per second. At an absolute minimum, you would draw a new pose every 3 frames, but for fast movements, you would draw every frame. So, the absolute minimum starts at 1,800 drawings. Then, you have to consider that one pose may be drawn on multiple layers, like, if the body of the kitten is still, but the paw and tail are moving, those are three different layers, so you can easily double that absolute minimum number of drawings to 3,600 drawings.

Plus, there are background/foreground layers, FX layers, and I had a second character (the catnip mouse)... so you can see why it takes a couple months for one person to make a 1.5 minute animation... AND, we haven't even gotten into timing, or lip syncing (more on this later), or all the design/prep/planning/storyboarding/etc.

 Here's one of my timing sheets... see all those numbers? Those are breakdowns of individual scenes that happen at specific frame numbers. Every time a scene is re-cut, all the timing has to be recalculated.

Another timing sheet that I was doodling cat designs on. At this point, the design wasn't finalized.

 One more, with other doodles. I had about a dozen of these, just for the single animation.

 At the end of my demo reel, I made a short animation I titled, "Lobotomy Liz Goes Boom" (long story). More exercises we had to do were FX animations, like, smoke, fire, explosions, water, wind (like a flag flapping or something), etc. Instead of making boring shorts (like a flag -ugh- flapping), I made this short animation of me getting angry and Lobotomy Liz exploding, and leaving the chair on fire & smoking. The first panel of this sketch are me & Liz, the rest are doodles of me & classmates. It was a big hit...

Here's a classic example of my *thrifty-Scottish/Irish-roots*. On one half of the paper, I roughed up one scene, and used the other half of the paper to draw the cleaned up/final version of another scene. When I scanned in the sheets, I could easily just digitally delete the roughed-up drawings and leave the clean ones. That way, I used up 1/2 as much paper, since it's special paper, hard to find, and quite expensive.

Here's the stack of papers I threw away. Hard to tell in a photo, but it's about 20-22" tall. Every folder is a separate animation, or a separate scene. I think in my cat animation (the one I used for my classical short) had 14 or 15 scenes.

Yes, I threw them all away. The thing is, animation paper is such a weird size that you need a specialized oversized scanner to scan them into a computer, so I know I will never spend the money to track one down just for the purpose of re-scanning in ameteur work I did while in school. If I ever do get back into animating (for fun), I would buy a Wacom tablet or something.

The paper (and light table) are still great fun to draw/design with though :)

 Each folder in that stack looks like this. When a stage is complete, I scribbled in the appropriate box. The first box is the same as what the first storyboard image looks like, so it's easy to glance at the folder and know which scene is which.

Okay, the BANE of classical animation is lip syncing. For my first, prerequisite course, we had to do a short lip sync piece. I chose a scene from the Parker Posey movie, "Party Girl", which is sort of a cult classic. There's this great scene where she's chewing out her ex-boyfriend in front of a club (he's the bouncer), for pissing in her shower when he was drunk. I animated a turtle and goldfish in a fishbowl to the dialogue, which I thought (at the time) was pretty funny. Anyways, you have to take the sound recording, and you scroll through it over and over again so you can actually time to see how many frames each sound takes... it's freaking tedious!

Because I hated lip syncing so much, that's why I decided against the mockumentary piece for my final demo reel short... since the siamese kitten still required meticulous timing, but I didn't have to draw individual mouth movements as well, which would have added another entire layer, approximately doubling the number of drawings. Since time was an issue, I was smart about it, since doing the mockumentary meant I would have to write  script, record it, and do all the folly (sound effects)/etc, which was unnecessary for the assignment.

Friday, June 14, 2013

FFF 3.2

Well, I had a not-so-happy day*, so I wrote 400 words of something lighthearted.

Stay tuned for another post (soon? okay, probably not until Monday) about the interesting & fun things I did this week :D Be warned, it comes with photos... and is the reason I wrote what I did.

I hope some people come back and post links to their flash fiction pieces, as it would certainly cheer me up to read them (cue sad-puppy-dog eyes...)

Here it is: rough, quickly written, and unedited.

The smell was worse than surströmming.
Sophia wrinkled her nose. “I think the newts have gone bad.”
Charlie gave one of the small, black dried lizards a tentative sniff. “How can you tell?”
With one hand, Sophia plugged her nose, and flapped the other hand at the cauldron, hoping to encourage the lilac plumed smoke to billow elsewhere. “Besides the fact it smells like rotted fish?”
With a shrug, Charlie tossed the newt into the cauldron, sneezed, then wiped his drippy nose on his sleeve. “Can’t smell a darn thing. Allergies.”
“What happens if they’ve gone bad?”
“Dunno, but we don’t have time to start over. Guess we’ll lose marks if it doesn’t work right.”
Charlie grabbed a threaded funnel from the floor and screwed it tightly into the top of the large, brass mould set deep in a pit of dry ice. “So, we going to do this?”
Between the two of them, they tipped the cauldron carefully and poured the bubbling purple liquid into the funnel. As it splashed against the sides of the mould, it hissed, the dry ice fizzed, sputtered, cracked, and shattered in a hundred tiny explosions.
As the dry ice evaporated, the plumes of lilac smoke turned a sickly green and petered out.
Charlie looked at Sophia. “What do you think?”
She nodded. “Unbolt it.” It was the only way to be sure if the potion worked or not.
They slid on heavy leather gloves and attacked the mould from both sides, struggling to twist the  bolts free, and unlock the hinges. The mould fell open, the four-foot-tall sections clattering unevenly against the sides of the pit. Sophia and Charlie peered in, anxious.
With a belch of lilac smoke, the creature inside shook itself.
Charlie groaned. “It looks like a chicken, a naked purple chicken! We’re going to fail for sure!”
“I don’t know, I mean, it looks funny, but it still worked. It’s alive.” Sophia winced. “Maybe the scales grow in later, like... like feathers?”
“Yeah, that’ll fix everything. A dragon covered in purple scales is so much better than a dragon that looks like a purple naked chicken. We’re going to get laughed at. Failed, and laughed at.”
The creature looked up, a pathetic expression on its googley-eyed, sharp-beaked face. “Brawck,” it croaked.
“Oh, geeze!” Sophia grabbed her nose. “It’s breath is even worse! Darn those newts!”

* I was in Victoria a few days ago packing up the last of my possessions from the house, today, the blood tests took over 3 hours of sitting/waiting, when I got home, the dog had thrown up all over the white carpet, and today is/was? my 10th year anniversary... yeah, so sad things all around.

My post is so late 'cause I ate dinner and watched 'Lilo & Stitch' to cheer myself up before sitting down at the keyboard.

Flash Fiction Friday 3.0

Okay writerly minions, time to serve me up some awesome flash fiction!

(can you tell I'm overtired?)

Mine will be up later than normal today, probably in the evening sometime, as I'm scooting out to get a ream* of blood tests done, which will take a few hours. Nothing serious, just a yearly checkup thing-a-ma-boo**.

Soooo... you want your line? I've got your line, I've got it right here:***

The smell was worse than surströmming.****

Remember, take as long as you want, hopefully you can bang something out over the weekend, but if you need longer, feel free to come back whenever and post a link, OR post it in its entirety in the comments.

Happy writing! Please, oh please give me something fun to read!!

* Okay, not 500, but still, like... 9? Nope, 10. I double checked. Though for the 10th one, they draw blood 3x over 2 hours, so that's kinda like 12 :p
** I swear that's the technical term ;)
*** Oh, yeah, obscenely overtired. I'm actually typing this out at 12:58am and scheduling it to go up in the morning since I have to be at the lab before 7am.
**** The short explanation is: rotting fish. The longer explanation is here.

Monday, June 10, 2013

Project #6 progress

Well, I'm less than 200 words away from hitting 10,000 on Project #6, mostly due to writing Donny dialogue/interactions, which are mostly just random snippets of scenes which may, or may not, ever end up in the story.

Donny stirs things up. Intentionally. It makes for some interesting dialogue, sharper and wittier than anything I've posted/written in the past. Some of his lines are also sure to annoy/infuriate some readers, which is why I'm not going to post any of them on my blog. His *voice* is pretty, uhm, abrasive, I guess.

I've also figured out his obsession, which makes things easier, especially the dialogue, because now there's a consistent, driving force behind every line.

Donny is the link between Jay (selfish, egoistical, self-absorbed) and Kell (closed off/introverted/uninterested in other people/things). He's the reason Jay stops looking only at Kell's surface and starts looking (and painting) deeper.

He's a necessary evil that's deliciously entertaining to write.

It is fun to stretch and experiment with new kinds of characters :)

Still haven't nailed down character backgrounds, etc, and the only one I have a really clear physical picture of is Kell, but almost nothing about her inner character :) Probably because she really hasn't had a lot of page-time yet ;) I'm sure she'll reveal herself bit by bit ;)

I also wrote a new blurb draft (not a finalized version by any means) that's up on my 'What I'm Writing' page, but there's no new title yet to replace the sarcastic/lame temp-title :P

What about everyone else? How are your projects going? Planning/writing/revising/querying?

If you haven't already, scroll back to the Flash Fiction posts and go visit the other brave souls who played along, or come back and add your own.

Friday, June 7, 2013


Since my flash fiction piece was less than what I had hoped for, I whipped up a 500 word tidbit about my swim today. Rather than a character's voice, you get me :)

So, enjoy! (or ignore)

...and yes, my second swim of the day will be much shorter.

I love swimming 'til near exhaustion in Kawkawa Lake. It's not just the natural setting, the lack of chemicals and crowded bodies, or the laid-back solitude.

There's something undeniably satisfying about struggling against the elements, yet in a safe and secure location. I've been in this water since before I could walk. I'm comfortable swimming the length and breadth of it alone. I know where it's shallow enough that weeds will tangle around your feet, the rocky crevices where pinching crayfish and spiny bullheads hide, the deep drops where it's safe to cliff-dive, or flip head-first off the rope swing.

Unlike a pool with fixed conditions, the wind breezes lightly and barely rustles the water surface, or it rages down and whips up congested chop and whitecaps.

The current changes with the wind. When it's calm, you could be swimming through glass, like the water is actively holding its breath as you glide through it without resistance. When storm clouds crowd out the peaks and stand low and territorial over the opposing shore, the current is a lurking whirlpool, attacking from all angles and holding you static, no matter how hard your muscles pull and fight against the water.

The temperature fluctuates. Where the bottom rolls down silty shelves into a murky, jade abyss, it's as if the hot water in a shower sudden turned cold.

There are boats, skiers, wake, docks, and sharp rocks. Less than a third of the lake has docks, floats, or approachable beach front you can safely rest at, if needed. Much of it is sliding scree, blackberry brambles, and jagged nests of submerged logs.

Most of the week, conditions have been ideal.

Since there are no marked lanes, like in a lap pool, it's common sense to swim with your head above the water, otherwise you could smash into a dock, or end up stranded in the middle of the lake. Also, if there are boats, you can easily see them, and stick one arm out of the water so they are sure to see you too.

The breast stroke is my preferred method if swimming, but I know, and don't care, it's not text-book perfect. I have honed my own repetition of movement which allows me to cut through the water without ever losing forward motion, and keeps me horizontal to prevent unnecessary drag. 99% of my body stays underwater, so I can swim with perfect silence, and barely disrupt the water's surface.

With wind, chop, and a tricky current, that smooth, efficient stroke is impossible.

I swim the length of the lake every morning in 50-60 minutes, approximately 2 miles. I neither dawdle, nor attempt to set any kind of speed record. My best time was 48 minutes. Today it took 83 minutes. When I was done, my muscles were cold, cramping, and exhausted. I could barely pull myself out and onto the dock.

Today was a good swim. Today I fought a worthy opponent, and I won.

FFF 2.1

Well, here's what I ended up with. I had no idea where I was going at first, then it veered off in a sad direction, so I stopped writing. So here you have it, true first-draft material. Normally I edit lightly before posting to catch any major errors, but since I'm at the cabin, with no wi-fi, I typed this out on my phone, and I wanted to spend as little time blinding myself as possible...

Hope yours is a little more upbeat than mine :p I already have a GREAT line planned out for next week, well, actually I've got about six lines, since I wrote lines instead of continuing this FF piece.

Ah, I managed a 2,000+ word day yesterday between 3 miles of swimming, and starting/finishing 'Alone', by Leah Bobet. I think Donny is fast becoming the easiest-to-write character I've ever written ;)

Even though the waiting room was empty, she sat right next to me.

She wasn’t wearing a white lab coat, or a name-tag, but she gave off the aura of a doctor, or perhaps a counsellor. Someone used to giving bad news, or hearing it.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said.

I glanced around, sure she’d mistaken me for someone else. “Excuse me?”

She was beautiful; fit, strong body, flawless skin, long hair pulled back. Her hand touched my arm, the kind usually contrived to convey sympathy, but hers felt genuine. Or I thought so, right up to the moment she spoke that name.

“Marion told me you were here.”

Every ounce of tension that she helped release suddenly wound into knots. I was out of my chair fast, too fast, her eyes spinning in front of mine like a carnival hypnotist’s cheap trick.

My throat was dry with shame.

I swallowed again, tongue catching, not on words, but on the lie. No, not shame. Fear.

That is why I’m here.

I’m probably the last person you’d expect to get abused, but what most people don’t realize is, it doesn’t happen all at once. You’re not a frog thrown into a pot of boiling water, you’re dropped in at room temperature, then the burner gets twisted from ‘off’ to ‘simmer’.

You only realize the water’s been cooking you alive after you’ve been taken out. This is when you know you need help. When you’ve already been rescued.

The heat rises so slowly that you forget what tepid feels like, what normal is or was before things changed for the worst. For some people it’s physical. A slap, a kick, a punch. Bruises and broken bones to count, hide, and mend.

But how do you tally up the wounds from words? How do you explain that you’re afraid to speak, afraid to hold your breath, or let it out. You’re not crippled, you’re in stasis, hanging onto the moment before things go wrong, and the moment after, when you can pretend it never happen. You sink in to what slowly becomes your normal, and soon you’re breathing bottled air instead of the real thing, and you don’t realize, or remember, that there’s a difference.

I took another breath.

She touched my hand again, gently, like her voice.

“Phillip, it’s going to be okay.”

Flash Fiction Friday 2.0

Last Friday I started up a new thing, and I was very happy when a few people humoured me and played along :)

Hopefully you'll play again...? And maybe someone else will be brave too?

Here's the quick run-down:

I give you a line, you use it as is, or edit it, or make up your own, and sometime during this weekend, set aside a few minutes to write a flash fiction piece and post it in the comments, or post a link to your blog.

This is just supposed to be a fun thing to exercise the old creative muscles. You don't have to finish it, it can be little more than a character sketch, but just play around with something you normally wouldn't, either a POV, a genre, etc.

The only hard rule is, 500 words maximum.

I'll post my own later today, so come back, laugh (seriously, I have a horrible weakness for writing obscene run-on sentences in first-draft material), critique, comment, and/or post your own. I'd love to read some flash fiction :)

Now, ready for the line?

Here we go!

Even though the waiting room was empty, she sat right next to me.

Thursday, June 6, 2013

'Getting' Donovan

Fair warning, this will be a short post as I'm typing it on my phone (no wi-fi at the cabin), and it'll probably be full of auto-correct blunders, so have patience :)

I don't know how it is for writers who plan out everything in advance, but as a pantser, things come like a bolt from the blue (where DOES that odd saying come from?)

I literally was mid-sentence, when I 'got' Donovan. I was fixing a line of his dialogue, thinking about Jay's reaction, and at the same time, pondering why Jay is pissed, but Kell doesn't care, even though she's the one being insulted.

...and suddenly I don't think the guy is so bad anymore.

I only have one older sister, no brothers, but I grew up next to a family with seven kids (yes, that is not a mistake: 7). Boys play differently, they think differently, they insult differently, they make up after a fight differently.

Donovan may be childish, stupid, and annoying, but there isn't malice in what he says.

Like, a friend of mine taught me how to make fun of myself in Cantonese by saying, 'the white devil is hungry', which, if you must know, was excellent for getting good service in many Chinese restaurants, as everyone always appreciates a sense of humor, and they tend to remember you if/when you go back, which usually means fast service, good table, and often dessert (or dry crab!) on the house ;)

Going back to the notion of fair play, racism, bigotry, etc. even if you say something as a joke, someone else will take offense. I can make fun of myself by telling blonde and Irish jokes, but I've been snarled at by other females who don't like it, even when I'm the butt of my own joke. For some, it's more important to follow the outer example of being 'politically correct', but they do it at the expense of castrating anyone's ability to take the lighter path.

Heck, I made a lot of friends being able to call myself a 'white devil', and that friendship was more true, and had more depth, than if I had been too concerned about 'political correctness' to say anything in the first place.

So... I guess Donovan isn't going to be as difficult to write as I originally suspected... But perhaps that's because my immediate reaction to him WAS to take offence, rather than look for the joke underneath.

Okay, going blind typing on my phone, but I would love to hear your thoughts...

EDIT: okay, now that I've got him, Donny is ridiculously easy to write. I just spilled over a thousand words in less than half an hour.

Monday, June 3, 2013

Fleeing the city...

...for a couple days. I'm headed up to the cabin for some more sun & ice cold swimming!

See you back on Friday for another Flash Fiction adventure?