Have I ever told you that you're the the wind beneath my wings?
20. What are your favorite character interactions to write?
Mentally, I'm always playing scenes with Corr & Frankie or Corr & Christie, but I actually haven't written much of either interaction. Both relationships are definitely on my to-write list, and I spent all the morning at work brainstorming. Maybe I'll try some conversations this weekend.
Here are the brief Corr & Frankie and Corr & Christie scenes I've written before.
I wrote this one day while sick. It's part of a larger episode called "Hot Soup and Paper Towels" that features Corr dealing with his attraction to Leota through a series of bizarre fever dreams. But there is a dash of Frankie in there.
Ever since I've known him, Frankie has been my go-to guy, and not just for work. If I'm locked out of my car, I call Frankie. If I don't know how to get a stain out of my clothes, I call Frankie. If I don't feel like cooking dinner for myself and don't have the cash for take-out, I call Frankie. Or abruptly show up at his house. And if I'm sick, I call Frankie.
The phone rang five times before he got to it.
"Yeah?" He sounded exasperated.
"Frankie, I'm sick," I whined, my voice nasal with sinus congestion.
"And what do you want me to do about that, Corr?"
"You come over and take care of me, like, like you always do."
"Well, I can't today."
"Wha? You have to, you're like my second mom."
He sighed. "Any other day, you know I'd be bringing you tea and tissues, but I'm busy. My mom's out of town for a teachers' workshop, and someone has to keep an eye on my dad."
I grumbled. Stupid senile father.
"Corr, we have a doctor now."
"Wha?" Cold meds always dulled my senses.
"Call Leota. That's why you added her to the crew, so we'd have more than me and my Home Medical Treatment for Mothers Handbook."
"Okay..."
"I've got to go now, Corr," he said, and his voice softened. "You feel better."
"Buh-bye."
He hung up, and I clicked through my cell phone directory to get to Leota's cell number. It did make sense to call the doctor. She'd been part of the team for less than a year, and I was still accustomed to going to Frankie for my every problem.
"Dr. Leota Avery," she answered promptly.
"Lee, it's Corr."
"You sound strange. Do you have a cold?"
Sharp woman. "Bingo."
"Have you done anything about it?"
"I took some Nyquil 'fore I went to bed last night. Then I slept for... ten hours?"
"Well, that's a good start."
"Are you at work? Are you busy?"
"I'm doing some paperwork, and I told Peaches I'd help her out in the clinic later."
"Can you come over?"
I'm a tough man. I've taken some bullets in my time. But I like having someone to nurse me back to health after those bullets.
"I... okay. But I can't stay long."
"You're amazing, Leota."
"I know. I'll see you in twenty."
I meant it. She is amazing. Not everyone would push their life and career to the side to help a strange man solve crimes. And she did it after only meeting me once.
This is a possible scene for the Pilot. Context is that Corr is in the hospital for some sort of case-related injury (slash on the arm from a knife-wielding perp, I'm thinking), which is where he first meets Leota. This is the first real thing I wrote using my phone's Word Mobile processor. I think I wrote it lying in bed one night at last year's Young Writer's Workshop.
"How do you feel?"
"Tired. Weak. She gave me some good painkillers."
"Dr. Avery?"
"Mmhmm."
"She seems nice, spent some time talking to us. Said you can go home in the morning."
"Good. I need to get back to work."
Frankie lowered his eyebrows.
"You're supposed to be taking it easy."
"Fine, you guys can do the field work, and I'll just stay at the office."
"Corr..."
"Frankie, it's just a cut."
"A deep cut, one that almost hit an artery. And you lost a lot of blood. Had me worried sick, I've been here as long as you have."
Corr squeezed Frankie's hand.
"I've been doing this my whole life, Frankie," Corr reassured him. "I know what I'm doing."
Frankie smiled in acceptance, showing hints of wrinkles in his young face.
"You should go home. I'll still be here in the morning."
"I'll be here at nine."
"Eleven. Sleep in. Dr. Avery will take care of me."
"She seemed pretty interested in you. Asked a lot of questions."
"I didn't get a spy feeling from her," Corr said thoughtfully.
"Me either," Frankie agreed. "I think she's just honestly curious. She's a cool person herself. She's actually the head of pathology here."
"Really?"
"Yeah, she does autopsies for the hospital's mysterious deaths and DOAs."
A plotting grin spread across Corr's face. "Did she mention anything about wanting to get into violent crimes?"
These showcase my favorite aspect of Frankie and Corr's relationship, which is that Frankie is very caring and Corr is accepting of that and a bit dependent - the two almost have a parent and child relationship.
This is part of my "Tableau" series, which is pretty much Corr telling crazy stories to people. It may have Frankie in it, but this story is really all about Corr.
It was two in the afternoon, and Corr was eating a bowl of Captain Crunch with his feet up on his desk. I had known him for three weeks. "Tell me something about yourself," I said.
He fished a purple berry out with his spoon, the color-changing came-in-the-cereal-box kind, and said, "I once knew a man that was the victim of a drive-by shooting."
"That's terrible," I told him. "Was it a gang from this area?"
"I'm not finished," he replied, and this was applicable to both his story and his cereal. "It was an arrow shooting. And a cattle drive."
"What, did you travel back in time with Emmett Brown?"
Corr shook his head with a mouth full of Captain. "Marty McFly I am not. I cannot skateboard." He said this matter-of-factly.
"Do people still do cattle drives anymore?"
"Cattle has go from one place to another somehow."
"We have trucks for that."
"Evidently the shooters didn't. They just had horses to ride while guiding the cattle. And archery equipment, of course. It was 1995, and I was in Texahoma hunting down chupacabras with Jorge Roja. We're standing on this mesa, looking out over this plain, and there's all these cattle being moved, dozens of them. And we're just up there, watching the herd, because how often do you see a cattle drive, and we see that the herders have bows and arrows, and we're like "Huh". Next thing I know, Jorge's got a triple-fletch to the right lung, and I'm rolling down a rocky hill to keep from getting shot myself."
He shoveled another bite into his mouth.
"Was he okay?"
"Yeah, helicopter came out and took him to the hospital and everything. I had a cactus spine in my leg, though, not to mention the bruises, and his sister almost killed me. I'm thankful, though. I could breathe through it. Jorge was on a ventilator for week."
"And what about the chupacabra?"
"That? Just a feral dog. It was too far north for chupacabras anyway," Corr explained as he finished his cereal, eating every last piece of crunch.
This is one of my favorite things I've written, just a brief exchange between Corr and Christie. The opening line is something I overheard in my Journalism class.
"I like to think that I'm ten steps ahead of the New World Order," Corr told me outside the library. We were both on the wide stone steps; he was sitting with his legs apart, elbows on his knees and hands dangling between them, and I was lying on my back looking up at the sky as gray and flat as the steps themselves.
"If there's ever a national disaster, I'm coming to you first, Corr," I told him.
"It'd be a foolish man that didn't."
"Or teenage girl," I reminded him after a moment.
"If it were up to me, the next big national disaster wouldn't happen until you were well into your twenties."
"It's nice to know you're looking out for me."
"As long as you do the same."
I reached over and patted his leg. "All eyes open, Corr."
I wanted to write a scene where Christie is leaving for college and comes to say goodbye to the office. This was all I wrote, and I'm okay with that.
"The door's always open for you."
"Metaphorically. You always lock your doors."
"My mom always said, 'Double-lock the doors, it'll at least slow them down'."
Corr and Christie's relationship is more equal. If Frankie is Corr's dad, Christie is his sister. They're kindred souls and one is always learning from the other.
Mentally, I'm always playing scenes with Corr & Frankie or Corr & Christie, but I actually haven't written much of either interaction. Both relationships are definitely on my to-write list, and I spent all the morning at work brainstorming. Maybe I'll try some conversations this weekend.
Here are the brief Corr & Frankie and Corr & Christie scenes I've written before.
I wrote this one day while sick. It's part of a larger episode called "Hot Soup and Paper Towels" that features Corr dealing with his attraction to Leota through a series of bizarre fever dreams. But there is a dash of Frankie in there.
Ever since I've known him, Frankie has been my go-to guy, and not just for work. If I'm locked out of my car, I call Frankie. If I don't know how to get a stain out of my clothes, I call Frankie. If I don't feel like cooking dinner for myself and don't have the cash for take-out, I call Frankie. Or abruptly show up at his house. And if I'm sick, I call Frankie.
The phone rang five times before he got to it.
"Yeah?" He sounded exasperated.
"Frankie, I'm sick," I whined, my voice nasal with sinus congestion.
"And what do you want me to do about that, Corr?"
"You come over and take care of me, like, like you always do."
"Well, I can't today."
"Wha? You have to, you're like my second mom."
He sighed. "Any other day, you know I'd be bringing you tea and tissues, but I'm busy. My mom's out of town for a teachers' workshop, and someone has to keep an eye on my dad."
I grumbled. Stupid senile father.
"Corr, we have a doctor now."
"Wha?" Cold meds always dulled my senses.
"Call Leota. That's why you added her to the crew, so we'd have more than me and my Home Medical Treatment for Mothers Handbook."
"Okay..."
"I've got to go now, Corr," he said, and his voice softened. "You feel better."
"Buh-bye."
He hung up, and I clicked through my cell phone directory to get to Leota's cell number. It did make sense to call the doctor. She'd been part of the team for less than a year, and I was still accustomed to going to Frankie for my every problem.
"Dr. Leota Avery," she answered promptly.
"Lee, it's Corr."
"You sound strange. Do you have a cold?"
Sharp woman. "Bingo."
"Have you done anything about it?"
"I took some Nyquil 'fore I went to bed last night. Then I slept for... ten hours?"
"Well, that's a good start."
"Are you at work? Are you busy?"
"I'm doing some paperwork, and I told Peaches I'd help her out in the clinic later."
"Can you come over?"
I'm a tough man. I've taken some bullets in my time. But I like having someone to nurse me back to health after those bullets.
"I... okay. But I can't stay long."
"You're amazing, Leota."
"I know. I'll see you in twenty."
I meant it. She is amazing. Not everyone would push their life and career to the side to help a strange man solve crimes. And she did it after only meeting me once.
This is a possible scene for the Pilot. Context is that Corr is in the hospital for some sort of case-related injury (slash on the arm from a knife-wielding perp, I'm thinking), which is where he first meets Leota. This is the first real thing I wrote using my phone's Word Mobile processor. I think I wrote it lying in bed one night at last year's Young Writer's Workshop.
"How do you feel?"
"Tired. Weak. She gave me some good painkillers."
"Dr. Avery?"
"Mmhmm."
"She seems nice, spent some time talking to us. Said you can go home in the morning."
"Good. I need to get back to work."
Frankie lowered his eyebrows.
"You're supposed to be taking it easy."
"Fine, you guys can do the field work, and I'll just stay at the office."
"Corr..."
"Frankie, it's just a cut."
"A deep cut, one that almost hit an artery. And you lost a lot of blood. Had me worried sick, I've been here as long as you have."
Corr squeezed Frankie's hand.
"I've been doing this my whole life, Frankie," Corr reassured him. "I know what I'm doing."
Frankie smiled in acceptance, showing hints of wrinkles in his young face.
"You should go home. I'll still be here in the morning."
"I'll be here at nine."
"Eleven. Sleep in. Dr. Avery will take care of me."
"She seemed pretty interested in you. Asked a lot of questions."
"I didn't get a spy feeling from her," Corr said thoughtfully.
"Me either," Frankie agreed. "I think she's just honestly curious. She's a cool person herself. She's actually the head of pathology here."
"Really?"
"Yeah, she does autopsies for the hospital's mysterious deaths and DOAs."
A plotting grin spread across Corr's face. "Did she mention anything about wanting to get into violent crimes?"
These showcase my favorite aspect of Frankie and Corr's relationship, which is that Frankie is very caring and Corr is accepting of that and a bit dependent - the two almost have a parent and child relationship.
This is part of my "Tableau" series, which is pretty much Corr telling crazy stories to people. It may have Frankie in it, but this story is really all about Corr.
It was two in the afternoon, and Corr was eating a bowl of Captain Crunch with his feet up on his desk. I had known him for three weeks. "Tell me something about yourself," I said.
He fished a purple berry out with his spoon, the color-changing came-in-the-cereal-box kind, and said, "I once knew a man that was the victim of a drive-by shooting."
"That's terrible," I told him. "Was it a gang from this area?"
"I'm not finished," he replied, and this was applicable to both his story and his cereal. "It was an arrow shooting. And a cattle drive."
"What, did you travel back in time with Emmett Brown?"
Corr shook his head with a mouth full of Captain. "Marty McFly I am not. I cannot skateboard." He said this matter-of-factly.
"Do people still do cattle drives anymore?"
"Cattle has go from one place to another somehow."
"We have trucks for that."
"Evidently the shooters didn't. They just had horses to ride while guiding the cattle. And archery equipment, of course. It was 1995, and I was in Texahoma hunting down chupacabras with Jorge Roja. We're standing on this mesa, looking out over this plain, and there's all these cattle being moved, dozens of them. And we're just up there, watching the herd, because how often do you see a cattle drive, and we see that the herders have bows and arrows, and we're like "Huh". Next thing I know, Jorge's got a triple-fletch to the right lung, and I'm rolling down a rocky hill to keep from getting shot myself."
He shoveled another bite into his mouth.
"Was he okay?"
"Yeah, helicopter came out and took him to the hospital and everything. I had a cactus spine in my leg, though, not to mention the bruises, and his sister almost killed me. I'm thankful, though. I could breathe through it. Jorge was on a ventilator for week."
"And what about the chupacabra?"
"That? Just a feral dog. It was too far north for chupacabras anyway," Corr explained as he finished his cereal, eating every last piece of crunch.
This is one of my favorite things I've written, just a brief exchange between Corr and Christie. The opening line is something I overheard in my Journalism class.
"I like to think that I'm ten steps ahead of the New World Order," Corr told me outside the library. We were both on the wide stone steps; he was sitting with his legs apart, elbows on his knees and hands dangling between them, and I was lying on my back looking up at the sky as gray and flat as the steps themselves.
"If there's ever a national disaster, I'm coming to you first, Corr," I told him.
"It'd be a foolish man that didn't."
"Or teenage girl," I reminded him after a moment.
"If it were up to me, the next big national disaster wouldn't happen until you were well into your twenties."
"It's nice to know you're looking out for me."
"As long as you do the same."
I reached over and patted his leg. "All eyes open, Corr."
I wanted to write a scene where Christie is leaving for college and comes to say goodbye to the office. This was all I wrote, and I'm okay with that.
"The door's always open for you."
"Metaphorically. You always lock your doors."
"My mom always said, 'Double-lock the doors, it'll at least slow them down'."
Corr and Christie's relationship is more equal. If Frankie is Corr's dad, Christie is his sister. They're kindred souls and one is always learning from the other.