Home Game: Lost the Plot
The winter sun glinted off the man's spectacles as he sat in the windowsill, running his fingers over the carved head of his cane. He watched the woman at the computer as she typed, paused, backspaced, and typed some more. She grimaced and pushed her glasses up so she could rub her eyes. "Damn," she muttered.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"This story just hit a brick wall. Are you sure this is how it happened?"
"I just gave you the bare bones of the event: the setting, beginning, and ultimate ending. It's up to you to fill in the details."
"Yeah, but...this dialogue doesn't fit your personality. I think I'm going to have to start over and give you more of an active role. Would that be more accurate?"
"You tell me. You're creating me."
She fixed him with a long, steady gaze. "Am I? You seemed to have a distinct personality when you showed up here."
"I've been in the background for a while." He smiled. "Most of the main characters know me. You must have picked up some hints from their conversations."
"Well maybe I need to talk to them about you to get a more complete view of your personality. And to see how you fit into the greater scheme of things."
"Oh?"
"You seem like a background character, but if that's the case why are you demanding your own story?"
"Blame my husband for that. He's the one who wanted someone to tell our tale. I would have been happier staying in the background while he did all the minor character work."
"Mmm-hmmm." She pursed her lips as she looked at the word processing file on the screen. "Nope. Not an option. Not since I found out you show up after the climax to add one more complication to our heroes' plight."
"Heroine's," he corrected her.
"She's got a whole crowd with her at that point, and after what they've been through they're all heroes. I owe them that much." She sighed, compulsively hitting ctrl-s a few times. "I need to write an outline."
"Of my story or the whole thing?"
"Both." She opened a notepad file. "Y'all talk too much and all the stories are getting confused."
"Just remember all you need is the bare bones." He slid off of the windowsill, catching himself on the edge of the computer desk.
"Careful now," she said abstractedly. "You fall down and I'll tell your husband."
"Please don't," he replied, steadying himself with his cane. She smirked, her fingers picking up speed on the keyboard. He leaned over her shoulder watching the words appear on the screen.
"Don't get carried away. Remember, you're just establishing the bare bones. Don't start adding details at this point. You're not writing Memory, Sorrow and Thorn*."
"True dat," She laughed. "I don't know how he did that. One hundred and twenty-five pages of outline, complete with 'and then a bunch of other stuff happened.' Talk about letting the story get out of control."
"Yes, well, we're trying to behave ourselves. Also, you're not copying Tolkien."
"Trying to defy him, actually," she said. "All love and respect to The Professor, but he's not me and I'm not him. I'd rather follow in Robin McKinley's footsteps. She's much more succinct."
"Just don't go all Deerskin** on us," he warned.
"I won't go that far. I like y'all too much. Now shut up. You're distracting me." She hit ctrl-s and reviewed what she had written. "Dammit, I wish you hadn't started talking about other authors. Now I've got six other books in my head, and this whole thing is going to go off the rails any minute. I'm going to have to take a break for a while and let my thoughts sort themselves out."
He smiled at her. "Sorry. I'll head back home while you're doing that. Just let me know when you need me again."
"Will do," she said. She closed all the open windows on her computer. The man vanished. She grabbed her mp3 player and a pair of earbuds and left her apartment to take a quick walk to clear her head.
_____________________________________________________
*Tad Williams mentions his novella-length outline in the introduction to The Dragonbone Chair (aka "Someone was reading a lot of LOTR while he wrote this"). I believe him because the one-volume edition of the third book in the trilogy, To Green Angel Tower is no lie 1066 pages long. Not counting the vocabulary section at the end.
**Trigger warnings all over this book. It's wonderful, as all McKinley's books are, but Chapter Nine will kill you.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"This story just hit a brick wall. Are you sure this is how it happened?"
"I just gave you the bare bones of the event: the setting, beginning, and ultimate ending. It's up to you to fill in the details."
"Yeah, but...this dialogue doesn't fit your personality. I think I'm going to have to start over and give you more of an active role. Would that be more accurate?"
"You tell me. You're creating me."
She fixed him with a long, steady gaze. "Am I? You seemed to have a distinct personality when you showed up here."
"I've been in the background for a while." He smiled. "Most of the main characters know me. You must have picked up some hints from their conversations."
"Well maybe I need to talk to them about you to get a more complete view of your personality. And to see how you fit into the greater scheme of things."
"Oh?"
"You seem like a background character, but if that's the case why are you demanding your own story?"
"Blame my husband for that. He's the one who wanted someone to tell our tale. I would have been happier staying in the background while he did all the minor character work."
"Mmm-hmmm." She pursed her lips as she looked at the word processing file on the screen. "Nope. Not an option. Not since I found out you show up after the climax to add one more complication to our heroes' plight."
"Heroine's," he corrected her.
"She's got a whole crowd with her at that point, and after what they've been through they're all heroes. I owe them that much." She sighed, compulsively hitting ctrl-s a few times. "I need to write an outline."
"Of my story or the whole thing?"
"Both." She opened a notepad file. "Y'all talk too much and all the stories are getting confused."
"Just remember all you need is the bare bones." He slid off of the windowsill, catching himself on the edge of the computer desk.
"Careful now," she said abstractedly. "You fall down and I'll tell your husband."
"Please don't," he replied, steadying himself with his cane. She smirked, her fingers picking up speed on the keyboard. He leaned over her shoulder watching the words appear on the screen.
"Don't get carried away. Remember, you're just establishing the bare bones. Don't start adding details at this point. You're not writing Memory, Sorrow and Thorn*."
"True dat," She laughed. "I don't know how he did that. One hundred and twenty-five pages of outline, complete with 'and then a bunch of other stuff happened.' Talk about letting the story get out of control."
"Yes, well, we're trying to behave ourselves. Also, you're not copying Tolkien."
"Trying to defy him, actually," she said. "All love and respect to The Professor, but he's not me and I'm not him. I'd rather follow in Robin McKinley's footsteps. She's much more succinct."
"Just don't go all Deerskin** on us," he warned.
"I won't go that far. I like y'all too much. Now shut up. You're distracting me." She hit ctrl-s and reviewed what she had written. "Dammit, I wish you hadn't started talking about other authors. Now I've got six other books in my head, and this whole thing is going to go off the rails any minute. I'm going to have to take a break for a while and let my thoughts sort themselves out."
He smiled at her. "Sorry. I'll head back home while you're doing that. Just let me know when you need me again."
"Will do," she said. She closed all the open windows on her computer. The man vanished. She grabbed her mp3 player and a pair of earbuds and left her apartment to take a quick walk to clear her head.
_____________________________________________________
*Tad Williams mentions his novella-length outline in the introduction to The Dragonbone Chair (aka "Someone was reading a lot of LOTR while he wrote this"). I believe him because the one-volume edition of the third book in the trilogy, To Green Angel Tower is no lie 1066 pages long. Not counting the vocabulary section at the end.
**Trigger warnings all over this book. It's wonderful, as all McKinley's books are, but Chapter Nine will kill you.