Tonight I'm reorganizing my work and my thoughts. Tomorrow I'll be reorganizing my workspace, which really means I'll be throwing away a lot of junk and removing a nasty pile of crap from my desk.
Here's a link to share LINKAGE! It's a great article from http://www.austinkleon.com/
(I stole the Calendar idea - He told me to!)
Currently reading: The Elements of Style. Recommended reading for all writers.
I also recommend adding www.ericnylund.net to your bookmarks, while I'm thinking about it.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Building Characters: Archetypes
(I can't remember where I copied this from, but it's helpful for character building)
An archetype is a prototype or model from which something is based. The character archetypes listed here derive from Joseph Campbell's The Hero with a Thousand Faces and are deeply rooted in the myths and legends of many cultures. A significant character's role can often be associated with one of these archetypes, because storytelling is as old as these myths and legends and is how they were handed down to us. Archetypes connect your story to the rich heritage of all storytelling.
The essence of the hero is not bravery or nobility, but self-sacrifice. The mythic hero is one who will endure separation and hardship for the sake of his clan. The hero must pay a price to obtain his goal.
The hero's journey during a story is a path from the ego, the self, to a new identity which has grown to include the experiences of the story. This path often consists of a separation from family or group to a new, unfamiliar and challenging world (even if it's his own back yard), and finally a return to the ordinary, but now expanded, world.
The hero must learn in order to grow. Often the heart of a story is not the obstacles he faces, but the new wisdom he acquires, from a mentor, a lover, or even from the villain.
Other characters besides the protagonist can have heroic qualities. This can be especially true of the antagonist.
Heroes can be willing and adventurous, or reluctant. They may be group and family oriented, or loners. They may change and grow themselves, or act as catalysts for others to grow and act heroic. The hero can be an innocent, a wanderer, a martyr, a warrior, a vengeful destroyer, a ruler, or a fool. But the essence of the hero is the sacrifice he makes to achieve his goal.
The mentor's role may be to teach the hero. These characters are often found in the roles of drill instructor, squad leader or sergeant, the older officer policeman, the aged warrior training the squire, a trail boss, parent or grandparent, etc. An effective teacher may be an otherwise inept or foolish character who possesses just the skill or wisdom the hero needs for his challenge.
The other major role of the mentor is to equip the hero by giving him a gift or gifts which are important in his quest. These gifts may be weapons, medicine or food, magic, or some important clue or piece of information. Frequently, the mentor requires the hero to have passed some sort of test before receiving the gift. The gift may be a seemingly insignificant object, the importance of which doesn't emerge until later.
The mentor may occasionally be the hero's conscience, returning him to the right path after he strays or strengthening him when he weakens. The hero doesn't always appreciate this assistance, of course.
The threshold guardian is usually not the story's antagonist. Only after this initial test has been surpassed will the hero face the true contest and the arch-villain. Frequently the threshold guardian is a henchman or employee of the antagonist.
But the threshold guardian can also be an otherwise neutral character, or even a potential ally such as the police lieutenant who warns the hero private detective off the case, or the Cowardly Lion who first frightens and then joins Dorothy on her journey to Oz.
The role of the threshold guardian is to test the hero's mettle and worthiness to begin the story's journey, and to show that the journey will not be easy. The hero will encounter the guardian early in the story, usually right after he starts his quest.
The role of the herald is to announce the challenge which begins the hero on his story journey. The herald is the person or piece of information which upsets the sleepy equilibrium in which the hero has lived and starts the adventure.
The herald need not be a person. It can be an event or force: the start of a war, a drought or famine, or even an ad in a newspaper.
The shapeshifter changes role or personality, often in significant ways, and is hard to understand. That very changeability is the essence of this archetype. The shapeshifter's alliances and loyalty are uncertain, and the
sincerity of his claims is often questionable. This keeps the hero off guard.
The shapeshifter is often a person of the opposite sex, often the hero's romantic interest. In other stories the shapeshifter may be a friend or ally of the same sex, often a buddy figure, or in fantasies, a magical figure such as a shaman or wizard.
The shapeshifter is sometimes a catalyst whose changing nature forces changes in the hero, but the normal role is to bring suspense into a story by forcing the reader, along with the hero, to question beliefs and assumptions.
As with the other archetypes, any character, including the protagonist and antagonist, can take on attributes of the shapeshifter at different times in the story. The hero often assumes the role of shapeshifter to get past an obstacle. Mentors often appear as shapeshifters.
The Shadow archetype is a negative figure, representing things we don't like and would like to eliminate.
The shadow often takes the form of the antagonist in a story. But not all antagonists are villains; sometimes the antagonist is a good guy whose goals disagree with the protagonist's. If the antagonist is a villain, though, he's a shadow.
The shadow is the worthy opponent with whom the hero must struggle. In a conflict between hero and villain, the fight is to the end; one or the other must be destroyed or rendered impotent.
While the shadow is a negative force in the story, it's important to remember that no man is a villain in his own eyes. In fact, the shadow frequently sees himself as a hero, and the story's hero as his villain.
The Trickster is a clown, a mischief maker. He provides the comedy relief that a story often needs to offset heavy dramatic tension. The trickster keeps things in proportion.
The trickster can be an ally or companion of the hero, or may work for the villain. In some instances the trickster may even be the hero or villain. In any role, the trickster usually represents the force of cunning, and is pitted against opponents who are stronger or more powerful.
Archetypes, Myths, and Characters
An archetype is a prototype or model from which something is based. The character archetypes listed here derive from Joseph Campbell's The Hero with a Thousand Faces and are deeply rooted in the myths and legends of many cultures. A significant character's role can often be associated with one of these archetypes, because storytelling is as old as these myths and legends and is how they were handed down to us. Archetypes connect your story to the rich heritage of all storytelling.
Hero
The essence of the hero is not bravery or nobility, but self-sacrifice. The mythic hero is one who will endure separation and hardship for the sake of his clan. The hero must pay a price to obtain his goal.
The hero's journey during a story is a path from the ego, the self, to a new identity which has grown to include the experiences of the story. This path often consists of a separation from family or group to a new, unfamiliar and challenging world (even if it's his own back yard), and finally a return to the ordinary, but now expanded, world.
The hero must learn in order to grow. Often the heart of a story is not the obstacles he faces, but the new wisdom he acquires, from a mentor, a lover, or even from the villain.
Other characters besides the protagonist can have heroic qualities. This can be especially true of the antagonist.
Heroes can be willing and adventurous, or reluctant. They may be group and family oriented, or loners. They may change and grow themselves, or act as catalysts for others to grow and act heroic. The hero can be an innocent, a wanderer, a martyr, a warrior, a vengeful destroyer, a ruler, or a fool. But the essence of the hero is the sacrifice he makes to achieve his goal.
Mentor
The mentor is a character who aids or trains the hero. The essence of the mentor is the wise old man or woman. The mentor represents the wiser and more godlike qualities within us.The mentor's role may be to teach the hero. These characters are often found in the roles of drill instructor, squad leader or sergeant, the older officer policeman, the aged warrior training the squire, a trail boss, parent or grandparent, etc. An effective teacher may be an otherwise inept or foolish character who possesses just the skill or wisdom the hero needs for his challenge.
The other major role of the mentor is to equip the hero by giving him a gift or gifts which are important in his quest. These gifts may be weapons, medicine or food, magic, or some important clue or piece of information. Frequently, the mentor requires the hero to have passed some sort of test before receiving the gift. The gift may be a seemingly insignificant object, the importance of which doesn't emerge until later.
The mentor may occasionally be the hero's conscience, returning him to the right path after he strays or strengthening him when he weakens. The hero doesn't always appreciate this assistance, of course.
Threshold Guardian
The threshold guardian is the first obstacle to the hero in his journey. The threshold is the gateway to the new world the hero must enter to change and grow.The threshold guardian is usually not the story's antagonist. Only after this initial test has been surpassed will the hero face the true contest and the arch-villain. Frequently the threshold guardian is a henchman or employee of the antagonist.
But the threshold guardian can also be an otherwise neutral character, or even a potential ally such as the police lieutenant who warns the hero private detective off the case, or the Cowardly Lion who first frightens and then joins Dorothy on her journey to Oz.
The role of the threshold guardian is to test the hero's mettle and worthiness to begin the story's journey, and to show that the journey will not be easy. The hero will encounter the guardian early in the story, usually right after he starts his quest.
Herald
The role of the herald is to announce the challenge which begins the hero on his story journey. The herald is the person or piece of information which upsets the sleepy equilibrium in which the hero has lived and starts the adventure.
The herald need not be a person. It can be an event or force: the start of a war, a drought or famine, or even an ad in a newspaper.
Shapeshifter
The shapeshifter changes role or personality, often in significant ways, and is hard to understand. That very changeability is the essence of this archetype. The shapeshifter's alliances and loyalty are uncertain, and the
sincerity of his claims is often questionable. This keeps the hero off guard.
The shapeshifter is often a person of the opposite sex, often the hero's romantic interest. In other stories the shapeshifter may be a friend or ally of the same sex, often a buddy figure, or in fantasies, a magical figure such as a shaman or wizard.
The shapeshifter is sometimes a catalyst whose changing nature forces changes in the hero, but the normal role is to bring suspense into a story by forcing the reader, along with the hero, to question beliefs and assumptions.
As with the other archetypes, any character, including the protagonist and antagonist, can take on attributes of the shapeshifter at different times in the story. The hero often assumes the role of shapeshifter to get past an obstacle. Mentors often appear as shapeshifters.
Shadow
The Shadow archetype is a negative figure, representing things we don't like and would like to eliminate.
The shadow often takes the form of the antagonist in a story. But not all antagonists are villains; sometimes the antagonist is a good guy whose goals disagree with the protagonist's. If the antagonist is a villain, though, he's a shadow.
The shadow is the worthy opponent with whom the hero must struggle. In a conflict between hero and villain, the fight is to the end; one or the other must be destroyed or rendered impotent.
While the shadow is a negative force in the story, it's important to remember that no man is a villain in his own eyes. In fact, the shadow frequently sees himself as a hero, and the story's hero as his villain.
Trickster
The Trickster is a clown, a mischief maker. He provides the comedy relief that a story often needs to offset heavy dramatic tension. The trickster keeps things in proportion.
The trickster can be an ally or companion of the hero, or may work for the villain. In some instances the trickster may even be the hero or villain. In any role, the trickster usually represents the force of cunning, and is pitted against opponents who are stronger or more powerful.
Monday, May 4, 2009
It's Christmas in May!
Two posts in one month? In one DAY?
I'm doing more than just writing, I'm relearning my drawing skills too. It's a long process. I haven't been serious about my art in more than a decade. I'm re-learning things my hands had forgotten.
http://tinyurl.com/cj4z5t for a peek.
I'll upload more sketches there on flickr, completed works on my deviant art page.
Deviant art page URL is to your right ------------------------>
I'm doing more than just writing, I'm relearning my drawing skills too. It's a long process. I haven't been serious about my art in more than a decade. I'm re-learning things my hands had forgotten.
http://tinyurl.com/cj4z5t for a peek.
I'll upload more sketches there on flickr, completed works on my deviant art page.
Deviant art page URL is to your right ------------------------>
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Stories in parts of 140 characters or less.
I'm here, really I am.
I'm also on twitter - twice.
I'm currently telling a short story on twitter. Each part of the story has to be 140 characters or less. It's an interesting exercise and I've found that it's easier to get my brain working if I can make a few posts there and then move on to my other stories. It's become my warm-up exercise!
Take a look and try it out for yourself...let me know if you can make it work for you!
http://twitter.com/Twit_Trek
I'm also on twitter - twice.
I'm currently telling a short story on twitter. Each part of the story has to be 140 characters or less. It's an interesting exercise and I've found that it's easier to get my brain working if I can make a few posts there and then move on to my other stories. It's become my warm-up exercise!
Take a look and try it out for yourself...let me know if you can make it work for you!
http://twitter.com/Twit_Trek
Friday, June 27, 2008
Making awesome new posts.
I'm making this post from a blog client called semagic. For those of you who want to publish your stories to your blog and still want them to keep the original format that you used on whatever word processor you use, this is a good product for you.
I'm composing my stories in Word '07, then I'll copy and paste them into the edit window of the Semagic client. Semagic will give you two options - paste text only or paste with HTML. Make sure your story is ready to go before you copy and paste. You don't want to have to edit it later. Choose to paste with HTML and semagic will adjust html tags to automatically get your document looking like it did on your word processor.
http://semagic.sourceforge.net/
I used to use this same program for my livejournal, and I was thrilled to learn that it works for Blogger AND wordpress too.
Links to documents are also found at the above URL.
Enjoy
I'm composing my stories in Word '07, then I'll copy and paste them into the edit window of the Semagic client. Semagic will give you two options - paste text only or paste with HTML. Make sure your story is ready to go before you copy and paste. You don't want to have to edit it later. Choose to paste with HTML and semagic will adjust html tags to automatically get your document looking like it did on your word processor.
http://semagic.sourceforge.net/
I used to use this same program for my livejournal, and I was thrilled to learn that it works for Blogger AND wordpress too.
Links to documents are also found at the above URL.
Enjoy
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Short Story - An Incident of Colossal Proportions
A Big Misunderstanding/An Incident of Colossal Proportions/Insert witty title here
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t Happening!
Obviously the shrink ray didn’t work as it was supposed to. It was certainly cool enough. Got it real cheap offa Ebay. There were only a few problems with the damn thing when it was finally delivered. One: the Directions were in Japanese. Two: The end that looked like the butt of the ray gun, wasn’t . Three: No trigger, so I pushed the red button. I took the full beam right in the face.
Now I’m outside. It was really the only place I could go once I realized that my body was doing the opposite of shrinking. I wasn’t about to grow right through the roof of my garage; my mom would kill me. Only the concussion I received from the beating keeps me from recalling my punishment from the time I broke one of her precious little frog figurines. Admittedly, standing out in the middle of the street while my body soared to new heights wasn’t a smart choice. In retrospect however, running into the city in a blind panic to find help wasn’t such a great idea either. I really didn’t think that one through at all, but that’s where the hospital is, and that’s where the doctors are. I got the reaction one would expect to get – if one is a three story tall giant in distress (which I am) and thinking clearly (which I am not). People are running in every direction to get out of my way. Cars screech to a halt, drive onto the sidewalk, or crash into each other as I try to step over them in my haste to get to my destination. I’m causing a real panic, but they’d understand what real panic is if they were in my shoes right now
Crunch!
Shit.
I look down at my feet. I just stepped on some dude’s Volvo. I barely felt it, just heard the sound of the thing collapsing under my weight. It kinda sounded like I was stepping on a bag of potato chips, with a hint of metal-on-metal grinding and a horn honk that died quickly, muffled under what was once a size ten shoe. I sure hope that nobody was in there. I try to say a simple “Sorry!” or “My bad dude!”, but the only sounds I’m able to produce are a series of loud grunts and wheezes. I think the damn thing scrambled my brain a bit when it shot off.
Pap Pap Pap!
A cop in blue is shooting at me. I’m pretty sure he’s hitting me too, I just can’t feel it. I dunno if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I ignore him for the moment. The hospital is less than a block away. Thank God. Before I can take another step though, I see the one thing I had hoped to avoid,a Superhero.
It’s Kid Indigo. Obviously I’m not perceived as a really serious threat yet. The League of Good Guys have sent out the lamest hero they’ve got on their payroll. Kid Indigo’s a freakin Cowboy. I swear to God it’s the truth. He’s a cowboy in a bluish-purple getup. With a robot horse he calls jet. I didn’t even rate a visit from the Golden Archer. I’m almost offended. This guy doesn’t even have any super powers; Just a Winchester and some kinda magical lasso. Honestly, I think he’s got one foot out of the closet, but that doesn’t mean he can’t do some serious damage to me. I realize that I’m going to have to actually fight this guy just to get to the damn hospital. I’d rather not. He is a Good Guy after all.
He’s directly ahead of me, street level, and sitting on that ugly robot horse of his. The Winchester is aimed right at me and I hear the shot an instant before I feel the sting of the impact on my chest.
Ouch dude! C’mon, I just wanna get to the hospital! “Ug Ug!” Wheeze. Growl. “Ug!” I don’t wanna fight you! Bwaaaaaaaag!
So much for communication. He takes another shot, this time it stings my cheek. No choice left for me. I swing my fist down like a hammer right down on his head, but a flash of flame shoots from the horse’s ass and he rockets out of harm’s way. I kid you not – a flaming horse’s ass. My fist hits the pavement and leaves a pretty impressive crater. I’ve also managed to set off nearly every car alarm within three blocks with the sheer force of the impact. The sound of a hundred shrill alarms sounding at once is pretty painful. I can just feel the sound reverberating through my skull. At least Indigo’s out of my path now, the hospital is in sight. I take other step towards salvation.
“Stop right there beast!”
Oh what now?
A sudden and blinding shock of pain thunders through my skull and my head is suddenly spun around, followed by my body as I’m sent reeling into the closest building. I rebound off of the corner and land on my backside in the middle of the adjacent street. I’m stunned for a moment, and try to shake the sudden cobwebs from my already sluggish brain. When my eyes finally focus, I find myself staring up at my greatest sexual fantasy. Standing on my chest and glaring down at me, with her feet set far apart and her hands on her hips, is Mistress Buxom. Wearing an outfit which is essentially a leather corset and a thong, and possessing a perfect hourglass body and the largest pair of gozongas this side of an honest profession, Mistress Buxom has been my dream woman since the seventh grade when she first appeared in the March photo of the League of Good Guys yearly calendar. Right now I have the option of getting so turned on and popping one hefty boner, but then I grasp the reality of the situation. She thinks I’m the bad guy, and she’s going to use her incredible strength to kick my ass.
In a moment of desperation I fumble blindly for something large fight back with, and my oversized swollen fingers wrap themselves around a Volkswagon. Beggars can’t be choosers I guess, and I swing the car, smacking the bottom of the chassis into her body as hard as I can, sending her smashing through the brick wall of another building. I roll to my left and start to push myself to my feet just as the sharp report of Kid Indigo’s Winchester sounds off, and my left ass cheek is suddenly stinging. I hear him let out a self congratulatory whoop somewhere behind me. Congratulations asshole, you can hit the side of a barn with a bullet. I cut his celebration short by blindly tossing a mailbox in his direction.
Mistress Buxom is pulling herself out of the hole in the wall as I get to my feet. Now, for most people in my predicament this would be a ‘fight or flee’ moment, with the latter being the more sensible of choices, but I’ve already proven that my brain just ain’t right today. I find myself staring down at her ample cleavage, my attention fixed on every jiggle and bounce of those large globes of flesh as she staggers out of the rubble. My God, how do they keep from popping right out of that outfit? By the time I regain my senses, she’s glaring up at me and wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. “So, you like it rough huh?” She smiles and somehow it makes me real nervous. “Good then. I might enjoy this more than I had thought!”
That’s so damn hot.
She bends her knees and crouches, every muscle in her body tenses as she gathers her energy for one of her famous standing leaps. Then she’s in the air, flying towards me like a human missile, her arm cocked back and ready let me have another trademarked jackhammer punch. I react in a way that surprises us both as I lash out instinctively and snatch her from the air in one quick swipe of my meaty fist. She’s only got one arm free, and she immediately starts pounding against my thumb with all of her strength. I squeeze firmly and she stops hitting me, but continues to squirm and struggle in my grasp. Figuring that she’s in the one place where she can’t hurt me I keep my hold on her and turn back onto the street for the hospital.
A tug on my other hand reminds me that there’s still one other ‘Hero’ left to deal with. Kid Indigo has brought out his trusty Magic Lasso now, and has managed to loop it around the index finger of my left hand. I’ve really had enough of this. All I wanted to do was get to the hospital, and this prick is really starting to tick me off with his persistence. He pulls on the rope again, and I tug back, yanking him off of his horse and into the air – only to smack into the palm of my hand and bounce off in a kinda twisted imitation of a paddleball toy. The lasso loosens and slips from my finger the moment his hands let go of his end of the rope – just before he lands face down on the broken pavement. He’s down for the count, and I don’t even care.
In the meantime Mistress Buxom has freed her other arm from my grasp and is making a real effort to free herself. I resort to the only plan I have left. I shake her hard, over and over, until her eyes roll back into her head and her body goes limp in my hand. I mumble a barely coherent apology as I set her down gently on the ground and pray that I haven’t done any serious damage to her. I'm still amazed by the fact that her breasts are still within the confines of her skimpy outfit. I honestly believe that's one of her secret superpowers. I resist the urge to peek. My body shudders and an aching sensation travels alone my spine and outward along my limbs, reminding me that I still need help.
The Hospital is only a few long strides away for me, yet it feels like it takes and eternity to reach the front doors, which I stagger through in my normal, smallish human body and right into the arms of a nurse. I have no logical reason for why I’ve suddenly reverted back to my original form, but I thank my lucky stars for the timing and I offer no arguments when the doctors treat my bruised and weakened body and attribute the injuries to my close proximity to the recent fight that involved two Superheroes and a supposed Man Eating Giant. They make me lie down and they give me something to dull my pain. It makes me drowsy and I fight sleep, but as my eyes close I consider the fact that they’re going to call my mom to come and get me. I’m miles from home with no explanation of how or why I’m here and I’m in the hospital. She’s gonna be pissed. I think I would have preferred to die by Mistress Buxom’s hands. With that thought firmly planted in my brain, I discreetly adjust my crotch and turn over on my side to enjoy few minutes of stress free rest. At least I’ll have something worthwhile to think about at night.
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t Happening!
Obviously the shrink ray didn’t work as it was supposed to. It was certainly cool enough. Got it real cheap offa Ebay. There were only a few problems with the damn thing when it was finally delivered. One: the Directions were in Japanese. Two: The end that looked like the butt of the ray gun, wasn’t . Three: No trigger, so I pushed the red button. I took the full beam right in the face.
Now I’m outside. It was really the only place I could go once I realized that my body was doing the opposite of shrinking. I wasn’t about to grow right through the roof of my garage; my mom would kill me. Only the concussion I received from the beating keeps me from recalling my punishment from the time I broke one of her precious little frog figurines. Admittedly, standing out in the middle of the street while my body soared to new heights wasn’t a smart choice. In retrospect however, running into the city in a blind panic to find help wasn’t such a great idea either. I really didn’t think that one through at all, but that’s where the hospital is, and that’s where the doctors are. I got the reaction one would expect to get – if one is a three story tall giant in distress (which I am) and thinking clearly (which I am not). People are running in every direction to get out of my way. Cars screech to a halt, drive onto the sidewalk, or crash into each other as I try to step over them in my haste to get to my destination. I’m causing a real panic, but they’d understand what real panic is if they were in my shoes right now
Crunch!
Shit.
I look down at my feet. I just stepped on some dude’s Volvo. I barely felt it, just heard the sound of the thing collapsing under my weight. It kinda sounded like I was stepping on a bag of potato chips, with a hint of metal-on-metal grinding and a horn honk that died quickly, muffled under what was once a size ten shoe. I sure hope that nobody was in there. I try to say a simple “Sorry!” or “My bad dude!”, but the only sounds I’m able to produce are a series of loud grunts and wheezes. I think the damn thing scrambled my brain a bit when it shot off.
Pap Pap Pap!
A cop in blue is shooting at me. I’m pretty sure he’s hitting me too, I just can’t feel it. I dunno if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I ignore him for the moment. The hospital is less than a block away. Thank God. Before I can take another step though, I see the one thing I had hoped to avoid,a Superhero.
It’s Kid Indigo. Obviously I’m not perceived as a really serious threat yet. The League of Good Guys have sent out the lamest hero they’ve got on their payroll. Kid Indigo’s a freakin Cowboy. I swear to God it’s the truth. He’s a cowboy in a bluish-purple getup. With a robot horse he calls jet. I didn’t even rate a visit from the Golden Archer. I’m almost offended. This guy doesn’t even have any super powers; Just a Winchester and some kinda magical lasso. Honestly, I think he’s got one foot out of the closet, but that doesn’t mean he can’t do some serious damage to me. I realize that I’m going to have to actually fight this guy just to get to the damn hospital. I’d rather not. He is a Good Guy after all.
He’s directly ahead of me, street level, and sitting on that ugly robot horse of his. The Winchester is aimed right at me and I hear the shot an instant before I feel the sting of the impact on my chest.
Ouch dude! C’mon, I just wanna get to the hospital! “Ug Ug!” Wheeze. Growl. “Ug!” I don’t wanna fight you! Bwaaaaaaaag!
So much for communication. He takes another shot, this time it stings my cheek. No choice left for me. I swing my fist down like a hammer right down on his head, but a flash of flame shoots from the horse’s ass and he rockets out of harm’s way. I kid you not – a flaming horse’s ass. My fist hits the pavement and leaves a pretty impressive crater. I’ve also managed to set off nearly every car alarm within three blocks with the sheer force of the impact. The sound of a hundred shrill alarms sounding at once is pretty painful. I can just feel the sound reverberating through my skull. At least Indigo’s out of my path now, the hospital is in sight. I take other step towards salvation.
“Stop right there beast!”
Oh what now?
A sudden and blinding shock of pain thunders through my skull and my head is suddenly spun around, followed by my body as I’m sent reeling into the closest building. I rebound off of the corner and land on my backside in the middle of the adjacent street. I’m stunned for a moment, and try to shake the sudden cobwebs from my already sluggish brain. When my eyes finally focus, I find myself staring up at my greatest sexual fantasy. Standing on my chest and glaring down at me, with her feet set far apart and her hands on her hips, is Mistress Buxom. Wearing an outfit which is essentially a leather corset and a thong, and possessing a perfect hourglass body and the largest pair of gozongas this side of an honest profession, Mistress Buxom has been my dream woman since the seventh grade when she first appeared in the March photo of the League of Good Guys yearly calendar. Right now I have the option of getting so turned on and popping one hefty boner, but then I grasp the reality of the situation. She thinks I’m the bad guy, and she’s going to use her incredible strength to kick my ass.
In a moment of desperation I fumble blindly for something large fight back with, and my oversized swollen fingers wrap themselves around a Volkswagon. Beggars can’t be choosers I guess, and I swing the car, smacking the bottom of the chassis into her body as hard as I can, sending her smashing through the brick wall of another building. I roll to my left and start to push myself to my feet just as the sharp report of Kid Indigo’s Winchester sounds off, and my left ass cheek is suddenly stinging. I hear him let out a self congratulatory whoop somewhere behind me. Congratulations asshole, you can hit the side of a barn with a bullet. I cut his celebration short by blindly tossing a mailbox in his direction.
Mistress Buxom is pulling herself out of the hole in the wall as I get to my feet. Now, for most people in my predicament this would be a ‘fight or flee’ moment, with the latter being the more sensible of choices, but I’ve already proven that my brain just ain’t right today. I find myself staring down at her ample cleavage, my attention fixed on every jiggle and bounce of those large globes of flesh as she staggers out of the rubble. My God, how do they keep from popping right out of that outfit? By the time I regain my senses, she’s glaring up at me and wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. “So, you like it rough huh?” She smiles and somehow it makes me real nervous. “Good then. I might enjoy this more than I had thought!”
That’s so damn hot.
She bends her knees and crouches, every muscle in her body tenses as she gathers her energy for one of her famous standing leaps. Then she’s in the air, flying towards me like a human missile, her arm cocked back and ready let me have another trademarked jackhammer punch. I react in a way that surprises us both as I lash out instinctively and snatch her from the air in one quick swipe of my meaty fist. She’s only got one arm free, and she immediately starts pounding against my thumb with all of her strength. I squeeze firmly and she stops hitting me, but continues to squirm and struggle in my grasp. Figuring that she’s in the one place where she can’t hurt me I keep my hold on her and turn back onto the street for the hospital.
A tug on my other hand reminds me that there’s still one other ‘Hero’ left to deal with. Kid Indigo has brought out his trusty Magic Lasso now, and has managed to loop it around the index finger of my left hand. I’ve really had enough of this. All I wanted to do was get to the hospital, and this prick is really starting to tick me off with his persistence. He pulls on the rope again, and I tug back, yanking him off of his horse and into the air – only to smack into the palm of my hand and bounce off in a kinda twisted imitation of a paddleball toy. The lasso loosens and slips from my finger the moment his hands let go of his end of the rope – just before he lands face down on the broken pavement. He’s down for the count, and I don’t even care.
In the meantime Mistress Buxom has freed her other arm from my grasp and is making a real effort to free herself. I resort to the only plan I have left. I shake her hard, over and over, until her eyes roll back into her head and her body goes limp in my hand. I mumble a barely coherent apology as I set her down gently on the ground and pray that I haven’t done any serious damage to her. I'm still amazed by the fact that her breasts are still within the confines of her skimpy outfit. I honestly believe that's one of her secret superpowers. I resist the urge to peek. My body shudders and an aching sensation travels alone my spine and outward along my limbs, reminding me that I still need help.
The Hospital is only a few long strides away for me, yet it feels like it takes and eternity to reach the front doors, which I stagger through in my normal, smallish human body and right into the arms of a nurse. I have no logical reason for why I’ve suddenly reverted back to my original form, but I thank my lucky stars for the timing and I offer no arguments when the doctors treat my bruised and weakened body and attribute the injuries to my close proximity to the recent fight that involved two Superheroes and a supposed Man Eating Giant. They make me lie down and they give me something to dull my pain. It makes me drowsy and I fight sleep, but as my eyes close I consider the fact that they’re going to call my mom to come and get me. I’m miles from home with no explanation of how or why I’m here and I’m in the hospital. She’s gonna be pissed. I think I would have preferred to die by Mistress Buxom’s hands. With that thought firmly planted in my brain, I discreetly adjust my crotch and turn over on my side to enjoy few minutes of stress free rest. At least I’ll have something worthwhile to think about at night.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Studying Short Stories (quickie)
I've been trying my hand at writing short stories this past year. I've been rather frustrated by my habit of making my stories too complicated or too long - or both. Now I've taken someone's advice and I'm reading the works of other established authors to see how they manage their short stories. Despite my love of science fiction and fantasy, I keep picking up a favorite author of mine - Louis L'Amour. Not only have I been reading his Sackett novels for years, but I've got a pretty massive collection of his short stories as well. He really was a master of telling a good and entertaining story in only a few pages. I really have to suggest the Collected Short Stories of Louis L'Amour (See the link on the right bar). Even if you're not a fan of the western, you really can't deny how engaging these stories are. If you really pay attention I think you can learn a lot on writing Short stories just by emulating this style, or at least by learning what elements make these tales great.
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