Scenes from a Writer’s Marriage

[I tried to put this in proper script format, but Blogger wouldn’t let me. Blogger and I have some Issues We Need to Work Out. We’ll be seeing a counselor soon.]

* * *

INT. WRITER’S HOME OFFICE.

The room shows a mess born of obsession — papers, books, notebooks, pens and six computers; and neglect — clean laundary still unfolded in baskets, toddler toys abandoned in parade formations on the floor. Every available wall is lined with books: writing books (Characters and Viewpoint), historical books, (A History of the Plantagenets) and fiction (The Simirillian). It’s possible there’s a baby crawling on the floor somewhere, but hard to tell because of the mess.

WRITER’S HUSBAND:  We can’t pay the bills this month.

WRITER:  Um. [Beat] Do you have a plan?

WRITER’S HUSBAND: My plan was for you to sell a book.

WRITER: Oh. [Beat] You do realize that even if I sold a book this exact second, it wouldn’t make money for like, another two years.

WRITER’S HUSBAND: Yeah. I know. My plan was for you to sell a book two years ago.

[Beat.]

WRITER: I’m working on it.

WRITER’S HUSBAND: Yeah, but you’re working on it in your way.

WRITER: What’s “my” way?

WRTIER’S HUSBAND: You keep re-writing it.

WRITER: Only because it still sucks.

WRITER’S HUSBAND: You’ve been re-writing it for twenty years.

WRITER: Not twenty! Only… [Writer visibly struggles to count on fingers] like, ten.

WRITER’S HUSBAND: Even if you sold your book for a million dollars, divide that by ten years, and you’re still making less than you could at a real job.

WRITER: What if I sold a book for 4.8 million? Audrey Niffenegger just spent six years writing a book she sold for 4.8 million dollars. Of course, before that, she wrote a bestseller, The Time Traveller’s Wife.

WRITER’S HUSBAND: I’d be happy if you just sold a book for one million.

WRITER: I’d be happy if I just sold a book for one thousand! [laughs]

WRITER’S HUSBAND: I’d be happy if you just sold a book for one million.

Internet Idea Ideation – 02

“I may be a thief and a liar,” he says in beguiling Italian-accented French. “But I am going to tell you a true story.”

Gotta say, that would make a great first line for a book based on the true story of the world’s biggest diamond heist.

MARCH 18, 2009 UPDATE:

I fixed the link.

This is still great story fodder, but before you try to execute a plot heist, be aware it’s already been optioned to be made into a movie.

Must Use Words For My Next SF Thriller

There are words I need, which I didn’t even know needed until I found out what they were. Then I slapped my forehead and said, “Yowza! So that’s the word I was looking for!”

hydromodo a “superhydrophobic coating—what the scientists are casually calling ‘the cooperative effect of hierarchical micro/nanostructures and a low-surface-energy wax coating’—[which] creates a cushion of air around the boat (or the bug’s leg), putting an invisible bubble between it and the water. “

lamina “a layer of data over the real world that can be accessed by people with the right interfaces (googles, contacts, direct neural interface)”

Quick thoughts on hydromodo: 

Floating City. ‘Nuf said.

Quick thoughts on lamina.

Random Thought # 1: A word is still missing. Lamina is the noun. What is the verb? To … laminate? Hm…

Random Thought # 2: As if High School wasn’t hell already, now you will walk down the halls knowing people are laminating the words,  epic fail or colorguard or whatever 4chan equivilant will be the  insult of choice for esteem-challenged, cybermob-mentality adolescents of the future.

Random Thought # 3: It’s funny to me that they show using lamina to check out book reviews in a bookstore or to read newspapers. The first thought I had was, “Will the ebook readers be obsolete before they even take off?” Why do you need a reader if you can laminate any surface with a book?

* * *

Incidently, I sent this to my hubby and he responded, “You know, it has been one of my dreams (along with being an Olympic speed skater) to talk at TED.”

Plot Napster

I admit it.

I’m a plot thief.

There are no new plots anyway, right? So no matter how original you try to be, you will have inadvertantly stepped on the toes of some previous story’s plot. That being the case, why not steal from the best?

I steal plots from the classics — fairytales, medieval epics, religioius canons, classic literature. And even from history, although I’m not sure if history can be said to be properly plotted.  (Historical events tend to be too farfetched to be suitable for fiction, which, unlike reality, has to be belivable.)

I’ve started work on Dindi Book 2, titled– for now — The Singing Bow. I’m twelve days behind schedule, and having some trouble diving into it. My mind keeps nibbling away at Book 1; I’m finding it hard to focus on the new work. But thanks to the beuaty of plot napster, at least I have a plot!

I start with a stock fairytale (when in doubt, Cinderella always works); add a rip of Les Liaisons Dangereuses, overlay a Dark Dangerous Man (more an archetype than a plot, I suppose) and sample a cool form of human sacrifice once practiced in the jungles of India. Download into new novel.

Yeah, you heard right. Dangerous Liaisons with human sacrifice. No talking bears this time, though. Just giant scorpions.

Voila! I now have a plot worthy of YouTube. 

Why Does My Blog Insist on Translating My Excerpt Into Chinese?

I tried to post an except, and it came out like this.

潲正‬敮牡祬琠慥楲杮栠獩漠湷愠浲⁳牦浯琠敨物猠捯敫獴椠楨൳桴慲桳湩⹧吠敨瀠楡污潬敷⁤楨潮攠捳灡⹥漼瀺㰾漯瀺㰾瀯ാ㰍ⴡ䔭摮牆条敭瑮ⴭാ⼼潢祤ാ㰍栯浴㹬

Why, Blogger, why?!