sgrildrig

<randomrant>

"It's a trade off."
"Sorry?"
"Being more than 1000ft tall.  It's a trade off."
"There are tons of people eager to switch places with you."
"That's not going to happen."
"So what's your point?"
"I'd like a chocolate bar."
"So this is about missing normal conveniences?"
"Maybe.  A bit."
"Like a new juicy steak?"
"Are you trying to annoy me?"
"Hell no, it comes naturally."
"I'll eat you alive."
"I don't taste anything like steak."
"I'll cope."
"What else are you missing?"
"Having a drink, and I don't mean water."
"Am I that obvious?"
"Yes."
"I guess you mean alcohol."
"Even a soda would be fine."
"It's hard to carbonate a lake."
"I'll give them incentive to try."
"How about ice cream?"
"Eh, not so much."
"So chocolate and a drink?"
"Yeah."
"You'd trade that for leveling a city?"
"Fuck no."
"What's the trade off?"
"I'd let them suggest another city."
"Spare them for some treats?"
"Uh-huh."
"And come back for them later?"
"Yup."
"They'll catch on to you."
"It won't help them."
"Good point.  How about a warm bath?"
"Don't get me started on baths."
"Okey-dokey.  A soft duvet?"
"Maaaaybe.  Sleeping on cities is nice."
"You're exposed to the elements."
"That's their worry, not mine."
"How about going to a restaurant?"
"Uh..."
"Think about it.  Good food, sweet desserts."
"That would be nice."
"I can have you in one in a heartbeat."
"Touch that shrink ray and you're dead."
"That'll put a dent in dinner."
"What do you mean?"
"They don't usually serve corpses."
"They do if you're a carnivore."
"Ah ha.  I see what you did there."
"Give me the shrink ray."
"But..."
"Now."
"You don't trust me?"
"Only as far as I can throw you.  Want to see?"
"No.  I'm still healing from last time."
"That'll teach you to get too close."
"Still worth it."
"True.  I liked the video."
"Thank goodness for steadicam."
"You do shake a lot."
"It wasn't me.  It was the city."
"Even better."
"You still want chocolate?"
"More than ever."
"I have directions to the nearest Cadbury factory."
"Perfect."

</randomrant>

<randomrant>

Today is the first full day of Autumn (or Fall) and it's really nice out.  Temp is in the low 70's (low 20's for those stuck with newfangled units of measure).  The sky is blue, humidity is low, there isn't a lot of wind.

This explains why the ice cream parlor wasn't only open, it was mobbed.  It also explains why I was flagged down with a lot of noisy yelling and jumping about as I neared a lemonade stand.

It did not increase my confidence to hear the words, "We finally got one!"

But I'm game for anything.  I got out and checked out the business.  I resisted the impulse to identify myself as a representative of the IRS, or ask to see their restaurateur's licence.  Instead I said, "One lemonade, please," and I forked over a dollar.

"What color cup?"

Now that's a novelty.  I don't usually get that choice.  "Green," I said, because there were some already out.  I figured that they would pour the lemonade from the large plastic container, but no, no, not at all.  The big container contained chilled water.  That was duly poured into a green cup.  They then took a packet of powered lemonade and sprinkled it into the water grain by grain like it was gold dust.

The same occurred with the sugar.  I swear they counted them...

The mixture was vigorously stirred, and I do mean stirred with a passion.  This didn't take very long as the few grains of lemonade probably evaporated in the air.  I was then proudly presented the result.  You've never seen so many grins, and honestly, that made it all worthwhile.  I thanked them profusely and took off with my green plastic cup filled with a questionable substance.

The water tasted like it had been chained at the bottom of a cooler since 1993.  There was no hint of lemonade or sugar in it.  I predict great things for those purveyors of chilled swamp water.  I'm looking forward to their hot cocoa stand in a few weeks.  I've never seen anybody use a marshmallow on a cheese grater...

</randomrant>

<randomrant>

Writers should never critique their own work.  At least not in public.  It's perfectly fine to self-criticize, because that's part of the process of refining style and skills.  But breaking down one's own story is like a painter getting out the turpentine to reveal how they made a portrait.  It's messy and doesn't necessarily reveal all that much, except that deconstructing works of art is best left to others.  And why is that?  Because art is the ultimate game of telephone.  It's the best way to reveal aspects of individuality.  It helps to point out that while we all perceive the same things in generalities, when it comes to specifics there can be no agreement.

We both say it's the color red, but what you see and what I see can be very different...

So, with this sage advice in mind I'm going to tear into Cocoon.  

[spoilers coming, so if you haven't read the story, go do that first]

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It's a functional little story.  Not particularly memorable.  If I was to do it over I'd spend more time developing the two main characters, and give Mariposa's developing mindset more of a platform, so when she takes the initiative for the first time, it feels more like she's earned it.  I'd also ramp up Valerie's mounting panic as she realizes she's not going to get Mariposa out in time.  I'm also not terribly smitten with the ending.  I had to get the story done, and that seemed like a reasonable way to do it.  But I can't help thinking there was probably something better I could have done.

That said, it contains elements that I enjoy.  It starts out quick.  There's practically no exposition.  The central dilemma is established and occupies the story with increasing urgency.  Intelligent choices are made and completely thwarted, sometimes by really stupid details that couldn't be anticipated.

I'm content with the interaction between Valerie and Mariposa.  It feels like they're working together.  I would have liked some more dialog, but what's there meets the need, and shows Valerie's agitation.

If I'd had more words to work with, I probably would have amped up the destruction at the end.  So maybe it's a good thing the story limit prevented that... 

Anywho, I'm glad I wrote it.  I've never focused all that much on the growth aspect of the fantasy, so it helps when I'm forced to do it.  Now I have to decide what the freaking hell I'm doing for WritersOct18...

</randomrant>

<randomrant>

"What does the site show?"
"She's close, she'll be here any second!"
"Okay, power stuff down."
"Done!"
"Is the water main turned off?"
'Yup!"
"Gas?"
"Yup!"
"Is the car ready to go?"
"Yup! Yup!"
"Okay, hold on!  Here she comes!!"
--thud--
"..."
"..."
"Was that it?"
"I think she knocked over a tree."
"Was that bloody fucking it?!"
"I was expecting more."
"So was I!  I'm going to give her a piece of my mind!"
"Hey, steady on!"
"Yo!  Chuckles!  Call that a ra--MMMPH!"
"Shut up.  Get back inside.  I don't want to die..."

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So there was supposed to be this massive thunderstorm.  Temps going from near 90F down to 60F, winds, tornadoes, lashing rains, hail, cats and dogs living together.  You get the idea.

I saw this huuuuge line of red stuff on the radar.  That's where all the fun is.  I heard continuous thunder in the distance.  I saw a neverending barrage of flashes coming closer and closer.  So I battened down the hatches.  Got offline.  Powered down.  Secured a drink and a snack, and prepared to watch the storm in all of its glorious fury.

Well, it rained a bit.  There was one peal of thunder.  After 10 minutes it was blue sky.

What the hell?  It got me all worked up, and that was the whole show?  I want my money back!  I demand another storm.  I won't put up with this kind of slipshod running of nature.

Okay, my snack is done.  Time for bed...  (grrrrr)

</randomrant>