Life of Pride
Saturday, July 09, 2005
The first bit of a story hit me last night while I was sitting in the movie theater waiting for Fantastic Four to start. (It was good, btw! I recommend it.) I am currently at a loss for the rest of the story, however. I scribbled down the bit I had in the little notebook I carry just for that purpose. Here it is:
"Today's your last day," said the cat with the voice of Balaam's ass. It was a cat of disreputable mien, narrow and awkwardly tufted. Jim Turner blinked and scratched his stubbly chin.
"Ain't this a dream?" he asked cautiously.
The cat rolled over and waved its paws in the air.
"So far," he grinned, "but now you gotta wake up."
He turned over and crouched, crooking his tail behind him.
"Remember this," he hissed, "today's your last day." And he sprang, claws extended, straight for Jim Turner's face. Jim threw up his hands, screamed, and...
...woke up. He lay, face pressed into his damp pillow, covers twisted under him. He wore last night's overalls, and when he lifted his head, a thin strand of drool descended from his chin. He groaned. The sunlight pouring into the room was too bright. It was a beautiful day. Days had no right to look that good when he had just been dreaming... What had he been dreaming?
"Cheshire cat. Cheshire cat on drugs," he croaked, testing his tongue. "Today's my last day. What the hoppin' hell-pepper's that supposed to mean?" He propped himself up on his right arm and groaned again. "It means I feel like the garbage truck hauled me away and compacted me into a teeny tiny little piece of - AIII!" He caught sight of his desk clock and squealed like a little girl.
Overalls onto the floor. Jim into the shower. He was late.
And that's all I got so far. I need to give him a terrible day, which he handles very very badly indeed. I'm not giving the ending away, though. :) I apologize for the near-cussing. Jim's the sort of guy who would be belting it out right and left, but I'm not quite comfortable with letting him do that in my writing. So I'm trying to be inventive instead. :D
Since the comments, I edited it a bit. I still like the first two sentences, though. They're the ones that sprang into my mind and made me want to write the story, though chances are I will lose the "Balaam's ass" bit at some point in the editing process. I just can't get rid of it yet. My real problem is that I don't know what to do with Jim's day. Basically, he's going to ignore the dream cat's warning and go about his normal pathetic business, and then... Well, I can't tell you that. The ending is secret. :) But I need some pathetic business for him to go about. Any ideas?
"Today's your last day," said the cat with the voice of Balaam's ass. It was a cat of disreputable mien, narrow and awkwardly tufted. Jim Turner blinked and scratched his stubbly chin.
"Ain't this a dream?" he asked cautiously.
The cat rolled over and waved its paws in the air.
"So far," he grinned, "but now you gotta wake up."
He turned over and crouched, crooking his tail behind him.
"Remember this," he hissed, "today's your last day." And he sprang, claws extended, straight for Jim Turner's face. Jim threw up his hands, screamed, and...
...woke up. He lay, face pressed into his damp pillow, covers twisted under him. He wore last night's overalls, and when he lifted his head, a thin strand of drool descended from his chin. He groaned. The sunlight pouring into the room was too bright. It was a beautiful day. Days had no right to look that good when he had just been dreaming... What had he been dreaming?
"Cheshire cat. Cheshire cat on drugs," he croaked, testing his tongue. "Today's my last day. What the hoppin' hell-pepper's that supposed to mean?" He propped himself up on his right arm and groaned again. "It means I feel like the garbage truck hauled me away and compacted me into a teeny tiny little piece of - AIII!" He caught sight of his desk clock and squealed like a little girl.
Overalls onto the floor. Jim into the shower. He was late.
And that's all I got so far. I need to give him a terrible day, which he handles very very badly indeed. I'm not giving the ending away, though. :) I apologize for the near-cussing. Jim's the sort of guy who would be belting it out right and left, but I'm not quite comfortable with letting him do that in my writing. So I'm trying to be inventive instead. :D
Since the comments, I edited it a bit. I still like the first two sentences, though. They're the ones that sprang into my mind and made me want to write the story, though chances are I will lose the "Balaam's ass" bit at some point in the editing process. I just can't get rid of it yet. My real problem is that I don't know what to do with Jim's day. Basically, he's going to ignore the dream cat's warning and go about his normal pathetic business, and then... Well, I can't tell you that. The ending is secret. :) But I need some pathetic business for him to go about. Any ideas?
Comments:
Disagree with Wes, though I think this is one of the grey areas of Christian writing... not black and white and obvious, and different people reach difficult conclusions. But I think you did a good job in your scene of communicating the idea and developing good characterization without quoting bad language.
I must say... you have definitely distinctive writing. It's the kind of thing I read and think, "Cool, though never in my life would I have written it..." :)
I must say... you have definitely distinctive writing. It's the kind of thing I read and think, "Cool, though never in my life would I have written it..." :)
Just a thought: you may want to look at biblical literature as an example. The Bible has a lot of ugly and "not nice" content. However, there is restraint in the writing; people in the Bible swear, but what they were swearing is not made explicit (example: Peter). Take my advice for whatever it's worth.
Post a Comment
