How do you freak Rachel out? You make her think she has a finished marked-up manuscript – then you let her think SHE LOST IT. Hilarity ensues… as long as you’re not Rachel, anyway.
I turned the house upside down looking for this special pile of papers before I vaguely recalled (conjured?) my mom plopping them in her carry-on before returning West a few weeks ago. A phone call cleared that up, and my heartbeat returned to a speed that wouldn’t cause me lasting anatomical harm. It wasn’t actually finished, so she took it home with her.
On a similar note: while my mom was in town, we had the following disturbing conversation.
The Mom: “Now, okay, imagine a wave, and every event in your story is building up to the crest of the wave, and then you have the climax, which is the crest of the wave.
Me: “… you mean rising and falling action?”
The Mom: “Er, yes, exactly…”
And then she promptly changed the subject. So I was left wondering if a) that comment had serious bearing and D2 lacks the plot building that would make it an exciting adventure, or b) the mom hadn’t discussed stories and writing for over 1 1/2 years and wasn’t sure how to begin.
Thankfully — at least as far as David’s concerned, anyhow — it seems Editor #1’s attentions are simply split three ways from Sunday. Her third child is in his teens and she’s working a full-time job for the first time since we were all but wee chilluns. Her foray back into an office setting has revealed that those same vindictive manipulators and jerks we all grew up with? The ones that we assumed would eventually mature into something more resembling a human being? They never evolved. They’re still around, still nasty, and someone gave them power. So she’s dancing a political tango while editing her daughter’s grammatical nightmare. Poor woman.
Currently, however, I am sitting next to pages 1 through 62, ready to dive in. I’m very excited about it.
But first, in the realm of random productivity…
I am now a member of city’s spiffy Pittsburgh Society of Illustrators, which I’m all sorts of tickled about. I expected them to stifle giggles, passing my portfolio around and poking fun at its amateur skill and the silly, cute/creepy vibe. If they did, they graciously let me in anyway. It seems populated with interesting, talented people, and I understand the have a killer Christmas party.