Sunday, January 13, 2008
Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- Tech Support
So while ShapeShifter's busy takin' some time to themselves, not that they should or anything, it seems their techs went and got all antsy on us. Just like a lot of us ShapeShifter fans do when there's nothing new to report.
Instead of sitting around and moaning about how they can't wait until the band is active again, Bobby, Cookie, Creek, and Chuck decided to make some noise of their own.
That's right. These four brave souls who put up with my ShapeShifter boys night in and night out have decided to form their own band. They called themselves Tech Support, which is a clever enough name if you don't know what they do and the ways in which techs really do support the men they work for. The women, too.
So this new Tech Support band's busy playin' all the spots around Riverview. Never more than a day's drive away, just in case their bosses need 'em for something. You know: fix a string, tune something, tighten a drum head. Doesn't sound hard. But yours truly guesses that once you get used to the prima donna treatment, there's no going back.
Not that Chelle's calling those ShapeShifter boys prima donnas.
Well, okay, she is.
She'd love to do it in person, too. Face-to-face and all that. After all, how's a rock writer supposed to write about rock if she don't get a chance to listen to it?
That means that any of you who're thinkin' of takin' your pretty little selves out to Riverview to check out Tech Support live and in person, check with me before you jump in your rental car. Chelle here don't drive. She needs a lift to the gigs. And you can be there to watch what happens when she calls the ShapeShifter boys prima donnas to their faces.
I bet those Tech Support boys will laugh the whole time they're agreein' with me.
What? You STILL haven't joined the Monday Poetry Train? No rules, people, no rules! (or is that the problem?? Hmmm? Also, scroll down a post for a new thing I'd love to see the world join me in: Sunday Best. You decide what's best and talk about it on Sundays. How easy is that?
Instead of sitting around and moaning about how they can't wait until the band is active again, Bobby, Cookie, Creek, and Chuck decided to make some noise of their own.
That's right. These four brave souls who put up with my ShapeShifter boys night in and night out have decided to form their own band. They called themselves Tech Support, which is a clever enough name if you don't know what they do and the ways in which techs really do support the men they work for. The women, too.
So this new Tech Support band's busy playin' all the spots around Riverview. Never more than a day's drive away, just in case their bosses need 'em for something. You know: fix a string, tune something, tighten a drum head. Doesn't sound hard. But yours truly guesses that once you get used to the prima donna treatment, there's no going back.
Not that Chelle's calling those ShapeShifter boys prima donnas.
Well, okay, she is.
She'd love to do it in person, too. Face-to-face and all that. After all, how's a rock writer supposed to write about rock if she don't get a chance to listen to it?
That means that any of you who're thinkin' of takin' your pretty little selves out to Riverview to check out Tech Support live and in person, check with me before you jump in your rental car. Chelle here don't drive. She needs a lift to the gigs. And you can be there to watch what happens when she calls the ShapeShifter boys prima donnas to their faces.
I bet those Tech Support boys will laugh the whole time they're agreein' with me.
What? You STILL haven't joined the Monday Poetry Train? No rules, people, no rules! (or is that the problem?? Hmmm? Also, scroll down a post for a new thing I'd love to see the world join me in: Sunday Best. You decide what's best and talk about it on Sundays. How easy is that?
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, musicians, Poetry Train, Riverview USA
Saturday, December 08, 2007
Fiction Outtake: Dents (The Springer Saga)
If you missed the start of the saga, go here. For more details about the Musical Hanukkah Celebration, go here or here. And if you want to know what comes next, stick around...
Springer froze. That had just not happened. That cop had not hit him.
And of course, since it was a cop and cops were never wrong, it'd all be Springer's fault, even though he'd been doing nothing wrong, just sitting at a red light, behind another car. At least he hadn't hit that other car.
The cop was out of his car, looking at the damage. Springer didn't know what to do, since this was a cop involved. Cops hated it when you got out of your car. They tasered you and shit.
Then the cop was back in his car, on the radio. And his lights were on, too.
Springer groaned. He'd finally earned that last thirty bucks for the show. He'd even gotten lucky and won the lottery and was going to jam with the band. He needed to be home practicing, getting as good as he could get in a few days so that when he hit the stage with ShapeShifter, Eric would notice how good he was and offer to help him out. Give him pointers and shit.
And now… he'd have all these stupid repairs. As if working overnights for time and a half hadn't been hard enough, now he'd have to do more of it. Months of it. Time and a half sounded good until you realized it was only three bucks more an hour, and most of that went to Uncle Sam.
The cop came over to him. "Pull over in that parking lot," he said, and left just as fast.
Springer wondered if he smelled bad or something. He pulled the car to the parking lot the cop had pointed at and waited.
He closed his eyes and tried to think of what it would be like to be on that stage on Monday. It was the only way he could get through this without going ballistic. He couldn't afford to get tasered. Not with the show so close.
As I said, stay tuned for more 'cause the concert itself is coming up on Monday night. (Just a reminder, this is all fiction!!) However, if you'd like to spread some Hanukkah love, check this:
Simonne at All Tips And Tricks is having a group writing project asking…’What is Your Best Blogging Achievement?’ You can see the entries here. I vote for Shelly to win. You should, too.
Springer froze. That had just not happened. That cop had not hit him.
And of course, since it was a cop and cops were never wrong, it'd all be Springer's fault, even though he'd been doing nothing wrong, just sitting at a red light, behind another car. At least he hadn't hit that other car.
The cop was out of his car, looking at the damage. Springer didn't know what to do, since this was a cop involved. Cops hated it when you got out of your car. They tasered you and shit.
Then the cop was back in his car, on the radio. And his lights were on, too.
Springer groaned. He'd finally earned that last thirty bucks for the show. He'd even gotten lucky and won the lottery and was going to jam with the band. He needed to be home practicing, getting as good as he could get in a few days so that when he hit the stage with ShapeShifter, Eric would notice how good he was and offer to help him out. Give him pointers and shit.
And now… he'd have all these stupid repairs. As if working overnights for time and a half hadn't been hard enough, now he'd have to do more of it. Months of it. Time and a half sounded good until you realized it was only three bucks more an hour, and most of that went to Uncle Sam.
The cop came over to him. "Pull over in that parking lot," he said, and left just as fast.
Springer wondered if he smelled bad or something. He pulled the car to the parking lot the cop had pointed at and waited.
He closed his eyes and tried to think of what it would be like to be on that stage on Monday. It was the only way he could get through this without going ballistic. He couldn't afford to get tasered. Not with the show so close.
As I said, stay tuned for more 'cause the concert itself is coming up on Monday night. (Just a reminder, this is all fiction!!) However, if you'd like to spread some Hanukkah love, check this:
Simonne at All Tips And Tricks is having a group writing project asking…’What is Your Best Blogging Achievement?’ You can see the entries here. I vote for Shelly to win. You should, too.
Labels: creative writing, fiction, Musical Hanukkah Celebration, outtake, Riverview USA, Springer
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Thursday Thirteen #57 -- Musical Hanukkah Celebration 2007
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1. Our favorite boys in ShapeShifter conceived this idea last year to honor "the religion that was around before Christianity… and [to] celebrate our music scene at the same time," as ShapeShifter guitarist Eric Wallace said in an interview with Chelle LaFleur. (you can read the whole thing here.) 2. Here are the basics: it's held on the Monday during Hanukkah, because Monday is traditionally the slowest night in the entertainment business (yes, that explains why restaurants close on Mondays!). Everything from the food to the stage hands to the club itself is donated to the cause. 3. Tickets last year were $10. You could also chip in another $50 and jam onstage with ShapeShifter. Only fifty people were allowed to do that, but 300 tickets were sold. 4. Because it's a fund-raiser and because of the success, the boys jacked the prices this year. Now, it's $15 to get in and $75 to jam with the band. Still a bargain considering what a ticket to a ShapeShifter concert costs. 5. If you were here on Monday for the Poetry Train, you are still waiting to find out if our new friend, Springer, raises the money he needs to attend this year. Stay tuned; we're not done with his story yet. Read the first part of it here. 6. Notice how he's forgotten to factor in the price of a limited-edition, commemorative t-shirt? 7. I'm still trying to figure out the logistics of having 50 people jam onstage with a rock band. One thing that helps is that this turns into a full two-hour-long ShapeShifter show. I think that means five people on stage for ten songs, and then the band finishes up on their own. Or with surprise friends. 8. Last year, the concert was as fictional as ShapeShifter but the charity that the donations went to wasn't. Music Lives seems to have ... not lived. Thus, the ShapeShifter boys will keep their raised funds closer to home and make sure that the kids of Riverview and the surrounding area have great exposure to music in their schools. 9. Wouldn't it be great to have real-life t-shirts from this? I think so, too. As soon as that awesome graphic chick comes up with a logo for ShapeShifter, I'll see what I can do. 10. It ought to go without saying that any net profits from this dream shirt that may or may not happen will go to a charity that supports music in the schools. 11. Last year, Eric had said he and his father were going to work to get more people involved with the event, particularly people within the religious community. This year, a (still fictional!) Chinese auction will be happening at the show, too. At least one of the prizes is tickets to a VIP box at a Riverview Otters game. (that's the city's baseball team) 12. Last year, the band managed to talk the club's chef into making potato pancakes for 300 people. This year, the latkes are being catered. 13. Once again this year, ShapeShifter will match all monies raised from the tickets and the opportunity to jam onstage with the band. They want to see the take before committing to matching the t-shirt sales and the money raised from the Chinese Auction, but they probably will. After all, it's all for a good cause. Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll try to add you here!) |
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Big thanks to Headmeister for this week's cool header!
Labels: charity, Musical Hanukkah Celebration, Riverview USA, ShapeShifter, Thursday Thirteen
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Tagged: A Weekend in Riverview
When Rhian tagged me for this meme, she wanted it to be about Pittsburgh, since she'll be here in April for the Romantic Times convention. That surprised me because she is, hands down, Trevor Wolff's biggest fan. I'd figured she'd want to let Trevor have some fun.
She did.
In her honor, let Trevor do the same meme, based around the town he lives in, the fictional Riverview.
Best Place to Eat
Oh, man. Like I know the hoity-toity places? Ask Rusty about those. If it were up to me, Harry's Hoagies would deliver. Three times a day. Meatball subs and a root beer.
When I'm stuck making Mitchell happy, we head over to Big Buck's Best Barbecue a lot. His family's entrenched at this Italian place called Paulo's. It's not the greatest, but they feed me and him for free sometimes. They made this special salad thing with a funny name just for the big idiot. You should see the way he grins when they put it down in front of him. Pathetic. It's a fucking salad, loser.
Then there's Roach's Diner. The whole fucking world hangs out there, especially after shows. Honey keeps a spot in the back for us on nights we play, and then she chases off the glory hounds if we're not in the mood. And sometimes if we are.
Best Shopping Mall
Yeah, that'd be Lyric's shop. Or it would be if she'd carry clothes for us guys. Clothes, I said. She's got plenty of G-strings and hardcore shit, but if I could get my leathers from her instead of that weirdo who likes to measure my dick to get the bulge in the pants just right, I'd be a lot happier. That guy scares me, but damn if the pants aren't the best.
Lyric's already dressing the girls up real good. She says she's got the city's most exclusive line of club wear. That's great. Gimme something more than a dress for a drag queen, okay? It works for them, not Trevor Fucking Wolff.
Famous Landmark
All Access, baby. That club's infamous. I don't give a shit if you've sold ten million albums. If you haven't found a way to play All Access, you're nobody.
Best Tourism Attraction
ShapeShifter.
Like you expected any different?
Best Place for the Kids
Anywhere far away from me. Maybe the next town over.
Popular Outdoor Activity
Sleeping out for ShapeShifter tickets. You're an idiot if you don't know that at the end of every tour, we play -- well, shit, usually All Access, but every now and then they book up too fast -- a show under a fake name. The same fake name so it's not hard to figure out who Wolf Whistle is.
Mitchell and I once drove past the line waiting for Wolf Whistle tickets. We counted three fights and five couples going at it. Not bad.
Breathtaking Views
Me, onstage. What else?
Well, okay, my friend Diane when she dances. It's the only time she's not whining about something, for one. And for another, she's a damn good dancer. Good at other things, too, and yeah, she takes my breath away when she does some of 'em.
Only Found in Riverview
ShapeShifter. Me. All Access. Big Buck's. Lyric.
Mitchell's reading this over my shoulder and he says I can't include me 'cause we leave town, and that means I can be found in other towns. I say he's an idiot who ought to mind his own fucking business before I throw his ugly ass out of my band.
Yeah, asshole. My band. I don't care if you're the singer and the one the girls swoon over. It's my band. You'd be sitting in your room, too afraid to dream, if it weren't for me.
While Mitchell comes up with an appropriate response, check out my original response, a weekend in Pittsburgh.
She did.
In her honor, let Trevor do the same meme, based around the town he lives in, the fictional Riverview.
Best Place to Eat
Oh, man. Like I know the hoity-toity places? Ask Rusty about those. If it were up to me, Harry's Hoagies would deliver. Three times a day. Meatball subs and a root beer.
When I'm stuck making Mitchell happy, we head over to Big Buck's Best Barbecue a lot. His family's entrenched at this Italian place called Paulo's. It's not the greatest, but they feed me and him for free sometimes. They made this special salad thing with a funny name just for the big idiot. You should see the way he grins when they put it down in front of him. Pathetic. It's a fucking salad, loser.
Then there's Roach's Diner. The whole fucking world hangs out there, especially after shows. Honey keeps a spot in the back for us on nights we play, and then she chases off the glory hounds if we're not in the mood. And sometimes if we are.
Best Shopping Mall
Yeah, that'd be Lyric's shop. Or it would be if she'd carry clothes for us guys. Clothes, I said. She's got plenty of G-strings and hardcore shit, but if I could get my leathers from her instead of that weirdo who likes to measure my dick to get the bulge in the pants just right, I'd be a lot happier. That guy scares me, but damn if the pants aren't the best.
Lyric's already dressing the girls up real good. She says she's got the city's most exclusive line of club wear. That's great. Gimme something more than a dress for a drag queen, okay? It works for them, not Trevor Fucking Wolff.
Famous Landmark
All Access, baby. That club's infamous. I don't give a shit if you've sold ten million albums. If you haven't found a way to play All Access, you're nobody.
Best Tourism Attraction
ShapeShifter.
Like you expected any different?
Best Place for the Kids
Anywhere far away from me. Maybe the next town over.
Popular Outdoor Activity
Sleeping out for ShapeShifter tickets. You're an idiot if you don't know that at the end of every tour, we play -- well, shit, usually All Access, but every now and then they book up too fast -- a show under a fake name. The same fake name so it's not hard to figure out who Wolf Whistle is.
Mitchell and I once drove past the line waiting for Wolf Whistle tickets. We counted three fights and five couples going at it. Not bad.
Breathtaking Views
Me, onstage. What else?
Well, okay, my friend Diane when she dances. It's the only time she's not whining about something, for one. And for another, she's a damn good dancer. Good at other things, too, and yeah, she takes my breath away when she does some of 'em.
Only Found in Riverview
ShapeShifter. Me. All Access. Big Buck's. Lyric.
Mitchell's reading this over my shoulder and he says I can't include me 'cause we leave town, and that means I can be found in other towns. I say he's an idiot who ought to mind his own fucking business before I throw his ugly ass out of my band.
Yeah, asshole. My band. I don't care if you're the singer and the one the girls swoon over. It's my band. You'd be sitting in your room, too afraid to dream, if it weren't for me.
While Mitchell comes up with an appropriate response, check out my original response, a weekend in Pittsburgh.
Labels: meme, Rhian/Crowwoman, Riverview USA, Trevor
Monday, April 30, 2007
Fiction Outtake: Pam Gets Attention
Pantera sang of Cowboys From Hell. They ain't got nothing on Pam Derbish, Groupie From Hell.
So Molly and I are there in the front row of the ShapeShifter show last night. It's getting pretty full at ShapeShifter shows now and it's not so easy to get up to that front row anymore. Word's out. They're playing stuff from the new album, which'll be their first big record. And we're not the only girls there anymore, us and that hippie chick who's always hanging around. Not by a longshot. I don't know a lot of the girls who're showing up these days. The funny thing is how they all act like they've got a right to the band. Like they've been there since the start. Like they really think so!
The mosh pit is churning behind us and every now and then I have to put an elbow into some overheated, overexcited jerk who thinks that shows are only about moshing and not about the music or the band or any of the really important stuff. I'm not even so sure that some of them are into moshing. Sometimes, you get these newbies who think it's all about crashing into people senselessly. But a good pit, I've been learning by being so near them, has rules.
So Molly and I are right in front. I can reach out and touch the top of the monitor right in front of Mitchell's feet, so I put my hands there. To show everyone I belong. I igore the dirty looks from the other girls, the new ones who think Mitchell is their turf. We'll see about that.
If I were just a bit taller, say if I could get a foothold on the edge of the stage, I could reach over the thing and touch Mitchell's foot. That's how close I am. That's my spot and God help the bitch who tries to take it from me.
I about died when it happened. I mean, Molly says I should have expected it. We've been to how many shows? And hung out near the backstage door after each and every one? We've done everything but throw ourselves at them. It was overdue, I suppose. She says it was so overdue, the library stopped charging. I don't think I get that, but I don't care. Because it finally happened.
Right after they do Phases of the Moon, Mitchell bends down and picks up the Gatorade on the floor near his foot. "Hey, girls. Good to see you tonight," he says as he takes the cap off the bottle. I watched his throat as he drank. I wanted to lick the sweat off it.
Molly says he blushed when he talked to us. I say his face was already red from singing and playing and exerting. But Molly insists we made him blush.
Whatever. I don't really care. All that's important is that he noticed me! Mitchell Voss noticed me!
He talked to me! He knew I'm alive! Omigod, I think I might die of it. Mitchell Voss. He's so amazingly hot. I wish I could do more than lick the sweat off his neck.
I didn't sleep last night. I've got classes today, but I'm as awake and energized as if I slept for two days. Mitchell Voss knows I'm alive!
And because the voting's not closed yet...
And if you've missed it somehow, Just a reminder... go vote for me!
Yes, I'm totally going to torture you with this until the voting closes on May 22. So go vote, will ya? If you've already voted, why not register under another e-mail address? You'll get to vote again that way!
So Molly and I are there in the front row of the ShapeShifter show last night. It's getting pretty full at ShapeShifter shows now and it's not so easy to get up to that front row anymore. Word's out. They're playing stuff from the new album, which'll be their first big record. And we're not the only girls there anymore, us and that hippie chick who's always hanging around. Not by a longshot. I don't know a lot of the girls who're showing up these days. The funny thing is how they all act like they've got a right to the band. Like they've been there since the start. Like they really think so!
The mosh pit is churning behind us and every now and then I have to put an elbow into some overheated, overexcited jerk who thinks that shows are only about moshing and not about the music or the band or any of the really important stuff. I'm not even so sure that some of them are into moshing. Sometimes, you get these newbies who think it's all about crashing into people senselessly. But a good pit, I've been learning by being so near them, has rules.
So Molly and I are right in front. I can reach out and touch the top of the monitor right in front of Mitchell's feet, so I put my hands there. To show everyone I belong. I igore the dirty looks from the other girls, the new ones who think Mitchell is their turf. We'll see about that.
If I were just a bit taller, say if I could get a foothold on the edge of the stage, I could reach over the thing and touch Mitchell's foot. That's how close I am. That's my spot and God help the bitch who tries to take it from me.
I about died when it happened. I mean, Molly says I should have expected it. We've been to how many shows? And hung out near the backstage door after each and every one? We've done everything but throw ourselves at them. It was overdue, I suppose. She says it was so overdue, the library stopped charging. I don't think I get that, but I don't care. Because it finally happened.
Right after they do Phases of the Moon, Mitchell bends down and picks up the Gatorade on the floor near his foot. "Hey, girls. Good to see you tonight," he says as he takes the cap off the bottle. I watched his throat as he drank. I wanted to lick the sweat off it.
Molly says he blushed when he talked to us. I say his face was already red from singing and playing and exerting. But Molly insists we made him blush.
Whatever. I don't really care. All that's important is that he noticed me! Mitchell Voss noticed me!
He talked to me! He knew I'm alive! Omigod, I think I might die of it. Mitchell Voss. He's so amazingly hot. I wish I could do more than lick the sweat off his neck.
I didn't sleep last night. I've got classes today, but I'm as awake and energized as if I slept for two days. Mitchell Voss knows I'm alive!
And because the voting's not closed yet...
And if you've missed it somehow, Just a reminder... go vote for me!
Yes, I'm totally going to torture you with this until the voting closes on May 22. So go vote, will ya? If you've already voted, why not register under another e-mail address? You'll get to vote again that way!
Labels: Blogger's Choice Award, creative writing, fiction, groupies, Mitchell, Pam, Riverview USA, ShapeShifter
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Thursday Thirteen #12 -- More about Mitchell
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(header by The Tour Manager; picture from Guitar World) We had such a good time last week talking about Mitchell, and he is one of my favorite characters, so I thought I'd bring you a bit more about him. After all, my meme contest is still ongoing for a few more days and while I've started to draw up some of the awards, there's still room for your entry. Get in on the fun and win yourself some books! Thirteen More Things about Mitchell: 1. Boxers or briefs? Thanks to Kerri, boxer briefs. Before that, K-Mart specials to swap with the girls. 2. Favorite childhood birthday gift: One of those wooden mazes with the unstable surface that you had to navigate the marble through 3. Favorite adult birthday gift: Amy gave him one of those horrible Troll dolls as a gag. It now lives in his wardrobe case and rules the roost in there. 4. Toy he couldn't be separated from: a stuffed dog that he named Williams 5. Top of his game batting average: .295 6. First sentence: Amy hurt me! 7. Favorite bachelor food aside from beer: orange juice 8. Favorite unit of study in school: Astronomy 9. First thing he learned how to cook: hamburgers. On the grill, of course 10. What he was shopping for when he met Kerri: tomatoes 11. How he knew his parents approved of his final career choice: Sonya gave him a silver dragon ring that he never takes the stage without. 12. First thing he bought with ShapeShifter money: a custom Les Paul. 13. Worst job he ever had: helping haul sets around Riverview's flailing community access TV station. Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!) |
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Labels: character sketch, Mitchell, Riverview USA, Thursday Thirteen
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Thursday Thirteen #10 -- Sightseeing Around Riverview, USA
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A lot of you are new to me and my fiction project, so it seems that to make you feel more at home, I ought to take a step back and show you around. This week, let's sightsee around the fictional city of Riverview, USA. 1. Lyrical Pleasures, Lyric's shop 2. Roach's Diner 3. Victory's, the sports bar where Mitchell and Kerri have their first "date," the spontaneous one. 4. The Washburn Theater, one of the ritzy theaters in town, usually used for plays, musicals and the symphony but also the scene of the Regional Music Awards show that Mitchell takes Kerri to on their official first date. 5. Pigeon Square, a hip yuppie area of old brownstone walk-ups and small yards, set around a small park. A police station backs up against this park. Needless to say, parents love it and junkies hate it. 6. Decade, one of the smaller clubs in the city 7. All Access, the rockin' joint in Riverview. If the cops aren't called, it's not a good night. 8. KRVR, the local, independently-owned rock radio station where Boomer works. 9. Big Buck's Best Barbecue, featuring Bodacious Sauce. For a city known for its diversity, this is some good barbecue. Here's an earlier mention of Big Buck's, and here is something I've since found: actual Bodacious Sauce. Tell them I sent you if you order any. 10. Moon Shadows, Trevor's favorite strip club. Catering to the upscale market, they have the best girls in town. 11. Centrino's, a boutique clothing store that carries designer clothes in limited quantities so you don't have to worry about looking like everyone else. 12. Harry's Hoagies, the people who make Trevor's favorite meatball sub. 13. The Strand Hotel, a cheap, by-the-hour motel. Here's an outtake about it. Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll try to add you here! Mr. Linky coming soon, I promise!) |
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Labels: Bodacious Sauce, meme, Riverview USA, Thursday Thirteen
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
You asked for it!
Only because it's my birthday and the best gift my husband could give me was to take the kids and give me the day to write, I now present...
The Strand (a fiction Outtake)
"Trev, what do we do? We can't take 'em back to the house; Ma's got that party tonight, remember? And neither of them have a place… what do we do?"
"Chill," Trevor told Mitchell, hating the way the guy was getting all twitchy like some Tourette's patient, except without the interesting vocabulary.
"The Bronco's out after last time…"
"I know, I know," Trevor said, trying to think fast. The girls would be back from the john in a minute or two, and they'd want a plan if they were going to head home satisfied. As if Mitchell knew how to satisfy a girl, but he was learning.
Dragging them to All Access just to use the back room wasn't a particularly good idea, either. Spending time there before heading back was fine, but showing up just for a quick fuck apparently wasn't.
They were at Decade, in fact, which was in one of the seedier parts of town, which meant that… "There's always The Strand," he offered.
Mitchell shuddered.
"Oh, like you've been there," Trev sniffed. "Fuck, even I haven't. Yet. Let's take the girls, make it a joke and see if we can get them to cough up something better."
Mitchell's eyes got so big, Trevor was afraid they'd fall out of the idiot's head. "We can't go there! We'll catch something for sure!"
Trevor lit a cigarette and blew smoke in Mitchell's face. "How can you stand being such a dork?"
Mitchell stuttered and stammered something clear up until the girls came back.
"Look, we don't have anywhere better to go, ourselves, so how about we do a double over at The Strand? Have some fun, destroy a room and run like hell?"
Trev's girl, a brunette who, he swore, had been a prostitute only a week before, shrugged. Mitchell's girl, who had boring brown hair but tits to make up for it, nodded eagerly. "I've always wanted to know what it's really like in there," she half-squealed. "Even if we don't get naked, it'll be worth the money, just to see the place."
"And then we can get naked another time!" Trevor told her with false enthusiasm. He and Mitchell hadn't done a particularly good job picking girls; they weren't worth much more than The Strand, he decided.
Figured it was all working out; it always did now that he was away from Hank. That guy poisoned everything around him, even before he'd touched Trevor.
Yeah, Trev thought as he slung his arm around his girl and steered her out of Decade and down the street to The Strand, life was much better away from Hank.
They paused on the street outside the front door. "We're doing this for real, right?" he asked everyone.
Mitchell looked about as white as his hair, but he nodded and tightened his grip on his chick. Taking it as foreplay, she snuggled against him and licked his neck.
The idiot blushed.
The lobby wasn't much more than an office. Not even that; just a space to stand while you signed in and paid, which Trevor took charge of. M was scared enough that he'd probably forgotten how to write, let alone tell believable lies on the register, and it was just classless to let the girls take charge. Let the feminists burn their fucking bras in his face for all he cared; with Trevor Wolff, chivalry was not dead.
Through the probably-bullet-proof plexiglass, the guy slid him a room key and buzzed them through a dirty white security door. He and Mitchell exchanged looks as they passed; maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. But a room for seventy-five cents? How could they argue?
They should have, they decided as they got into the hallway. It reeked -- of bodies, of sex, of piss, of puke. It smelled worse than All Access, and that was not an easy smell to top. It was bright enough, though, which sorta surprised Trevor. "Aren't these places supposed to be dark?" he asked Mitchell, who bobbed his head like he was too stupid to do anything but agree.
Mitchell found Room 32 first. Around the second corner; the place made a cube. What was in the middle, Trevor didn't know. Probably a holding place for prostitutes or else a triple-x-rated peep show that was miraculously free for any vice cop who happened inside.
The room was about the same as the hall, only it smelled like bleach. Trev's girl covered her nose with her hand. "Okay, I've seen enough," she said with a shudder. "They only do this when someone dies in here."
"Maybe they just bled a lot," Mitchell laughed, peeking into the bathroom. Trevor stared at him; the guy seemed comfortable and at home. Had an alien been waiting inside the room and taken M over when he'd walked in?
"What do we do now?" his girl asked, touching the bedspread with her long, lacquered nail. Trevor noticed it was orange, and it would have matched the orange bedspread maybe back when the spread had been new -- which had probably been thirty years ago, back when orange was in and avocado was a great color for a kitchen appliance.
"We should leave," Trevor's girl said.
"Wait, I want to look around," Trevor said, following Mitchell -- who still hadn't come out of the bathroom. Either the killer was still there, or the guy was taking a whiz.
Neither; he was inspecting the bathtub. "Can you imagine?"
Trevor didn't want to tell him it had fewer cracks than the one in Hank's house. It was cleaner, too.
But, of course, Hank had liked sticking them in the bathtub before he'd reached his ugliest point. Less to clean up, he'd laughed. Trevor also thought the guy had gotten a hard-on, watching them try new ways to escape.
He shuddered; that shit was best left where it belonged. "C'mon," he said. "I've had enough of this joint."
Mitchell looked at him funny. "You okay?"
"Sure. Nothing that won't get cured by leaving this shit-hole. We came, we saw, we left. Wasn't that what we wanted?"
The kid squirmed. "I thought we wanted the girls to cough up a place. You know…"
"Yeah," Trevor sighed, "I know."
The Strand (a fiction Outtake)
"Trev, what do we do? We can't take 'em back to the house; Ma's got that party tonight, remember? And neither of them have a place… what do we do?"
"Chill," Trevor told Mitchell, hating the way the guy was getting all twitchy like some Tourette's patient, except without the interesting vocabulary.
"The Bronco's out after last time…"
"I know, I know," Trevor said, trying to think fast. The girls would be back from the john in a minute or two, and they'd want a plan if they were going to head home satisfied. As if Mitchell knew how to satisfy a girl, but he was learning.
Dragging them to All Access just to use the back room wasn't a particularly good idea, either. Spending time there before heading back was fine, but showing up just for a quick fuck apparently wasn't.
They were at Decade, in fact, which was in one of the seedier parts of town, which meant that… "There's always The Strand," he offered.
Mitchell shuddered.
"Oh, like you've been there," Trev sniffed. "Fuck, even I haven't. Yet. Let's take the girls, make it a joke and see if we can get them to cough up something better."
Mitchell's eyes got so big, Trevor was afraid they'd fall out of the idiot's head. "We can't go there! We'll catch something for sure!"
Trevor lit a cigarette and blew smoke in Mitchell's face. "How can you stand being such a dork?"
Mitchell stuttered and stammered something clear up until the girls came back.
"Look, we don't have anywhere better to go, ourselves, so how about we do a double over at The Strand? Have some fun, destroy a room and run like hell?"
Trev's girl, a brunette who, he swore, had been a prostitute only a week before, shrugged. Mitchell's girl, who had boring brown hair but tits to make up for it, nodded eagerly. "I've always wanted to know what it's really like in there," she half-squealed. "Even if we don't get naked, it'll be worth the money, just to see the place."
"And then we can get naked another time!" Trevor told her with false enthusiasm. He and Mitchell hadn't done a particularly good job picking girls; they weren't worth much more than The Strand, he decided.
Figured it was all working out; it always did now that he was away from Hank. That guy poisoned everything around him, even before he'd touched Trevor.
Yeah, Trev thought as he slung his arm around his girl and steered her out of Decade and down the street to The Strand, life was much better away from Hank.
They paused on the street outside the front door. "We're doing this for real, right?" he asked everyone.
Mitchell looked about as white as his hair, but he nodded and tightened his grip on his chick. Taking it as foreplay, she snuggled against him and licked his neck.
The idiot blushed.
The lobby wasn't much more than an office. Not even that; just a space to stand while you signed in and paid, which Trevor took charge of. M was scared enough that he'd probably forgotten how to write, let alone tell believable lies on the register, and it was just classless to let the girls take charge. Let the feminists burn their fucking bras in his face for all he cared; with Trevor Wolff, chivalry was not dead.
Through the probably-bullet-proof plexiglass, the guy slid him a room key and buzzed them through a dirty white security door. He and Mitchell exchanged looks as they passed; maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. But a room for seventy-five cents? How could they argue?
They should have, they decided as they got into the hallway. It reeked -- of bodies, of sex, of piss, of puke. It smelled worse than All Access, and that was not an easy smell to top. It was bright enough, though, which sorta surprised Trevor. "Aren't these places supposed to be dark?" he asked Mitchell, who bobbed his head like he was too stupid to do anything but agree.
Mitchell found Room 32 first. Around the second corner; the place made a cube. What was in the middle, Trevor didn't know. Probably a holding place for prostitutes or else a triple-x-rated peep show that was miraculously free for any vice cop who happened inside.
The room was about the same as the hall, only it smelled like bleach. Trev's girl covered her nose with her hand. "Okay, I've seen enough," she said with a shudder. "They only do this when someone dies in here."
"Maybe they just bled a lot," Mitchell laughed, peeking into the bathroom. Trevor stared at him; the guy seemed comfortable and at home. Had an alien been waiting inside the room and taken M over when he'd walked in?
"What do we do now?" his girl asked, touching the bedspread with her long, lacquered nail. Trevor noticed it was orange, and it would have matched the orange bedspread maybe back when the spread had been new -- which had probably been thirty years ago, back when orange was in and avocado was a great color for a kitchen appliance.
"We should leave," Trevor's girl said.
"Wait, I want to look around," Trevor said, following Mitchell -- who still hadn't come out of the bathroom. Either the killer was still there, or the guy was taking a whiz.
Neither; he was inspecting the bathtub. "Can you imagine?"
Trevor didn't want to tell him it had fewer cracks than the one in Hank's house. It was cleaner, too.
But, of course, Hank had liked sticking them in the bathtub before he'd reached his ugliest point. Less to clean up, he'd laughed. Trevor also thought the guy had gotten a hard-on, watching them try new ways to escape.
He shuddered; that shit was best left where it belonged. "C'mon," he said. "I've had enough of this joint."
Mitchell looked at him funny. "You okay?"
"Sure. Nothing that won't get cured by leaving this shit-hole. We came, we saw, we left. Wasn't that what we wanted?"
The kid squirmed. "I thought we wanted the girls to cough up a place. You know…"
"Yeah," Trevor sighed, "I know."
Labels: creative writing, fiction, Mitchell, outtake, Riverview USA, Trevor
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Thinking about Behold Me
When I first created the characters who now populate Trevors Song, I first created Mitchell and Kerri Voss. Their story, at the time called Shape of Family, was the story of Kerri's revealing a deep, dark secret to Mitchell: that when she'd married him, her mother had written her off as dead.
I've struggled with this story for six years now; I have the characters down cold, as you'll be able to see as you continue to read this blog. But the story... whenever I try to get Kerri into a confrontation with her mother, it doesn't work. It always feels forced; as unnatural as Trevor is natural.
So I'm playing with what to do about this. After all, I can't tell Amanda's story without this one being told (I think). And I'm now envisioning that Amanda's story will be the third in the Riverview series.
But still... I am stuck at the second book. At Kerri and Mitchell and Kerri's mother.
I was thinking at dinner that maybe Kerri and her mother shouldn't have that confrontation scene. That maybe they just look right through each other, like strangers. Or that Kerri tries but is rebuffed.
Still, it doesn't seem like enough to support a book.
My brain churns on...
I've struggled with this story for six years now; I have the characters down cold, as you'll be able to see as you continue to read this blog. But the story... whenever I try to get Kerri into a confrontation with her mother, it doesn't work. It always feels forced; as unnatural as Trevor is natural.
So I'm playing with what to do about this. After all, I can't tell Amanda's story without this one being told (I think). And I'm now envisioning that Amanda's story will be the third in the Riverview series.
But still... I am stuck at the second book. At Kerri and Mitchell and Kerri's mother.
I was thinking at dinner that maybe Kerri and her mother shouldn't have that confrontation scene. That maybe they just look right through each other, like strangers. Or that Kerri tries but is rebuffed.
Still, it doesn't seem like enough to support a book.
My brain churns on...
Labels: blogging, Kerri, Mitchell, Riverview USA, Trevor, writing process
A Place for Musings
The Tour Manager and I were talking at dinner the other night about whether or not Mitchell had a sweet tooth. We agreed that no, he doesn't, but our reasons differed.My reason -- and the right reason, since I'm the one who created Mitchell Voss in the first place -- was that Mitchell likes fresh food and fresh-tasting food. Sweets can be cloying. So while he likes some, he doesn't have a sweet tooth. You'll never fight him at the dessert table at a wedding. Not that he goes to many weddings, but that's another story altogether.
The Tour Manager's reason was that since Mitchell likes to grill, he's a carnivore. Umm... good thinking, honey, but no. I mean, this is the man who met his wife as he deliberated about a tomato!
(Yes, I promise to get the Tomato outtake up.)
This led me to realize that I really have nowhere to share these fun moments and musings about Mitchell, Kerri, Trevor, and the rest of ShapeShifter and the crew of Riverview, USA. So... here we are. A place for musings.
Stay tuned; there will be more. And if you haven't been to west of Mars yet, what are you waiting for?
Labels: blogging, Kerri, Mitchell, Riverview USA, Trevor, writing process
