Called Out

But, why?
I don’t know! That’s the problem.
So, you have absolutely no idea, whatsoever. No inkling, no spark, nothing.
Nothing, exactly. It’s blank in there. 

This was saved in a previous draft from before summer school started, and then…real school (not like summer school isn’t any less “real,” but I’m sure you understand what I’m trying to get at here). But, yes. Essentially, I fell off the updating wagon because I was busy trying to ensure my future maintained somewhat intact by going to school, nannying, applying for jobs, the works. Anyway, I have two stories, well, I definitely have at least one, I might end up editing the other again because I’m not completely happy with it (but am I ever with anything I write?). So, shall I kick off the end of the year with something a bit complicated? Why not.


Lessons on writing yourself into a hole…

The manga section of Barnes and Noble is particularly busy today. The smell? Pungent and sour, with the slightest hint of salty. A pair of socks dragged themselves through the carpet after a ten mile run through the sewers and fell asleep in the corner, where a permanent stain now resides. There are four characters that have wandered over in the past four hours. Differentiation between smell is tough, but luckily my eyes have adjusted to the hazy fog that fell over me when I sat down. At 2:08pm, a man with a blue pullover stopped short when he saw me shoved into a corner, hunched over my laptop with a look of contempt, and immediately took off his shoes. He picked them up carefully and placed them in between two bookcases only to skirt off down the comic book section. Now that his shoes are off, he is truly free to peruse the shelves. I don’t see him again until 2:30pm, where he drops down a few feet in front of me to grab volume four of Blood Lad. He turns the book over in his hands a few times and then leaves, nearly forgetting his shoes as he disappears towards the check-out desk. Around 2:45pm a girl in elephant pants approaches with a boy on her arm. They talk in low hushed voices. The girl picks up a Death Note book and says something under her breath. The boy lets go of her and tells her promptly that she looks great and doesn’t need to lose weight. He begins to mumble something else, clearly irritated. I give them a silent fist pump as they make their exit. I wish them the best. At 3pm the third character arrives, a rarity in this section. She’s embarrassed and red faced as she runs over to pick up a manga with a bunch of girls in practically no clothing on the cover. She flips through a few pages and nods to herself before pulling out her wallet and taking off towards the cashier. Why must we play these games blue-dress girl? Why? I respect her either way. Around 4pm, a man quite possibly the grandfather of time itself shuffles into the section. He looks as if he has fallen out of a Tolkien novel and has no idea how he ended up here. I’m writing furiously, practically smashing keys as I power through a fight scene, rigorously adding in dialogue tags and finding other words for “leaning.” He surveys me for a moment and then takes a step closer. I trust he knows that I’m not in fact a strange entity cursed to write in this corner forever (though I actually might be). He wanders over, searching the shelves and running his finger along the wood. Stopping short of the case, he reaches down and pulls out a tiny compact book. He sits down next to the shelf and for the next twenty minutes, cuddles up with book, the sweetest smile across his face. I don’t know who this guy is, but I want to be as happy as him someday. He is my new hero and I watch him out of the corner of my eye while pretending to write. When he leaves, he takes the sun with him and I’m left in the frozen wasteland that is this corner of Barnes and Noble.

What is this about though? What is the meaning of this? Simple. When I write myself into a hole, I set thirty minutes aside to do character studies of random people I see until I figure out how to properly transition in my story. I’ve figured it out now. So, signing off until I post the next section.


Remember when everyone carried IceBreakers around?

Hi, hello, no, stop – stop. There’s no need for all of that (Please!). I started a separate blog a few years ago, but I think it was becoming less of a portfolio and more of a diary of sorts full of a lot of anger, anxiety and whatever else is currently brewing in the pits of my stomach. Either way, here we are. You, me, and this brightly lit screen between us. The romance is something out of a Katherine Heigl movie, preferably with more comedy, less crying, and that girl from The Ring crawling out the television and ruining the carpet. My kind of Saturday night. So, as of right now, I’m going to be posting like crazy some of the pieces I’ve written over the past few years just to update and convince you people that I definitely have work! I promise! It’s just all on my laptop and buried in about ten folders which I keep meaning to sort through (Does anyone else have a problem with naming things by smashing your hands on the keyboard, or is that just me?). Oh, and the title of the place – believe me, it’s not some kind of twisted joke on my own mortality, but a thing (honestly, there’s no better word for this, I went on Thesaurus) I’ve been working on for the past couple of weeks. I’m trying my hand at magical realism that’s drenched with sarcasm, much like myself. Here’s an excerpt:

“So, what is this?”

That’s right. What really is this? That’s the kind of hard hitting questions this book (yikes, I’ve committed now) is going to be asking. I’m two steps away from a protagonist in an existential crisis and three from a love triangle involving a theater geek who’s had enough (Enough of what?) and possibly another girl who keeps to the shadows and only wears neon orange pants. I’m thinking they’ll meet by making eye contact in that slit that all public bathroom stalls seem to have while one of them is washing their hands. In reality though, it’s actually about reapers and it may take place in New York. I’ll post an excerpt soon.

If you stick around, thanks I appreciate it. If not, I hope you get really obsessed with anime and all your friends make fun of you…not that I would know anything about that though.

– M