Saturday Film Series

New Beginning 705

Showdown: I clip along the street, head up, full of thoughts. There’s still at least an hour before I meet Clytie and Lady Gwen, show them a bit of Manhattan before they return to the aquarium. Then, I hear that voice, the one I still try to exorcise…. ”Twinkieeeee….” I stride on, pretending I don’t hear.

Too late. “Twinkieeee…” as she grabs my forearm, clutching with those pretty silk-painted nails, so now I must slow my gait.

“Hello, Louisa,” I say, barely turning my head. She looks stressed but still stylish, always so stylish, in her smart Prada ensemble of a very short skirt and snug fitted jacket of very just-so beige. She teeters on such needle-thin high heels I wonder how she’s able to walk at all. I keep up my pace, albeit slower.

“You got my messages?” she squeaks, now in sync with my stride, “And my card?”

“Yes,” I reply, still not looking at her. She’s clamped on like the Ugly Duchess now, carrying something in her other arm. It looks like a muff.

“Well, why didn’t you answer?”

* * *

Evil Editor put down the pages and raised his eyebrows. Chick lit. Not too bad. What about the query?

...tells the story of a giant animated Hostess Twinkie with the soul of a dead princess who dumps her acquaintance Louisa (who wears her muff on her forearm), in order to take her friends Clytie and Lady Gwen, the performing seals from the aquarium, on a tour of Manhattan to find the perfect...

"What the f--?" He scanned on. "Ah!"

...should appeal to fans of Bridget Jones' Diary and Alice's Adventures in Wonderland...

Opening: Panda Rosa.....Continuation: Anon.

Cartoon 519

Caption: Faceless Minion

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Face-Lift 699

Guess the Plot

Along the Beach

1. The waves roll in bringing Gobby. The waves roll out saying, "No Returns". Gobby will become the Pied Piper of W(h)ales and lead crabs, beachcombers, and romantically inclined pets to take revenge on the Sky Reflected below. But first, a seaweed/squid-ink cooking festival.

2. The California coast is both rugged and beautiful. And when random body parts start washing ashore on beaches ranging from Ventura to Corona Del Mar, homicide detective Zack Martinez knows two things: there's more than two victims, and he'll finally get a chance to see the tide pools.

3. Dave made his 843rd walk along the beach, collecting driftwood for his fire. Since being stranded he'd given up clothes, wearing only a layer of mud against the sun and insects. But today would be different. Yes, this was one wilderness camp the Girl Scouts would not soon forget.

4. Lee's mom told him he would one day meet his soul mate . . . along the beach. It was a prophecy he would never forget, that he would, in fact, become obsessed with. But after decades of searching, he begins to wonder if maybe he should have asked her which beach.

5. Karen gets up early every morning just so she can watch that hunky guy jog past her beach cottage. He hasn't even noticed her, and now her vacation's half over. Will she take up jogging and join him tomorrow morning? Or just assume he's a jerk and admire the view?

6. Four children have drowned since Chip Barker got hired as lifeguard at the community pool, all because Chip was too busy flirting with bikini babes to pay attention to the swimmers. He's promised to turn over a new leaf, but as he watches the kiddie pool on the hottest day of the year, Chelsea walks by in her gold bikini. Tragedy ensues.


Original Version

[I've gone through three iterations on my query, and wonder if the solution as this point is grabbing portions from each and merging into a fourth version that takes the prize. Or not.]

QUERY EXAMPLE #1

Dear Mr./Ms. (Agent),

Soulmates. Faith. Destiny. “Fanciful words,” many would say. But not Lee Merrick.

Those words are with him day and night. Intriguing him. Haunting him. And quite possibly driving him mad. [I'm not sure what "fanciful" means in this context. Why can't fanciful words be with a person day and night, intriguing and haunting him?] His only hope is to find the truth behind the enchanting visions of a woman he has fallen in love with but has never met. [His only hope of what?]

Along the Beach is a 107,000-word novel journeying from the outermost reaches of the globe [What are the outermost reaches of the globe?] to the inner depths of the soul.

Far away from his Los Angeles home photographing exotic shorelines, Lee is entranced by mystical visions of the “Lady in White.” Could she be the woman first revealed in a prophecy foretold in his youth—that he will someday meet his soulmate along the beach? [Maybe. Did the prophecy mention that his soul mate would be in white? Did it mention anything besides the beach? I ask only because when you go to the beach, you tend to see dozens of people who might be your soul mate. Once I was sitting on the beach and a group of nine women walked by, seven of them being my soul mates.] Yet a secret from long-ago [which I will not reveal to you, although you can find out by requesting my manuscript,] compels his own mother to stop at nothing to prevent his success. [If you just say "his mother," we'll figure out that you mean "his own mother."] On a path of self-discovery spanning a decade, Lee faces the unknown in faraway places, and will ultimately be confronted with his greatest challenge: to overcome the logic of his inner doubts holding back his certainty that beyond the vision of her spirit, breathes this mysterious woman somewhere in the world. [That one sentence is a deal killer.] [Now that he's narrowed down her location to "somewhere in the world," it's just a matter of time before he finds her.] For he knows that he will never be whole until he touches her hand, to unite with the one who already completes his most sacred thoughts [My most sacred thoughts involve Jessica Alba, and I don't need a soul mate to complete them.] and echoes his own heartbeat–his other half.

My metaphysically-themed piece ATLANTIS, ARISE appeared in the national magazine {magazine title listed here} Vol. 84, No. 2. For almost two decades, I have affiliated and sojourned with mystical societies to several continents showcased in the story. These personal experiences and background provide authenticity throughout the work. [On the other hand, the fact that you've spent decades sojourning with mystical societies brands you as a borderline lunatic.]

Thank you for considering Along the Beach.

Sincerely,

[That one's not gonna cut it, let's see what we have in the second version.]


QUERY EXAMPLE #2

Dear {Mr./Ms. Agent’s Last Name}

A horde of killer bees in Borneo. An armed robbery in Los Angeles. A deadly riptide off the Pacific. Malaria in East Africa. [These are a few of my favorite things...] A vision of a lady in white guiding him to safety each time. [Those didn't sound like situations that would require a guide.] For travel photographer Lee Merrick, the extraordinary is the ordinary. [The items in that list were all dangerous, but they didn't seem extraordinary.]

As her ethereal hands guide his at the piano to play a Chopin prelude he never knew, Lee wonders about the prophecy from his youth that foretells he will someday meet “Her” along the beach. [The woman in white guides him out of all these dangerous situations and makes him a piano virtuoso, but he's still wondering if she's the woman in the prophecy?] But the dark secret of his mother’s own deadly prophecy compels her to sabotage his pursuit at all costs—even if it means having Lee institutionalized against his will. [How often does Mom announce her prophecies, and how often have they come true?]

Time is running out for Lee. Mounting clues beckon him toward finding this woman who pleads for him to believe that she and her love for him are real, but he may not uncover the truth before his obsession robs him of his family, friends, and freedom.

ALONG THE BEACH is a 107,000-word New Age novel.

My metaphysically-themed piece Atlantis, Arise appeared in the national magazine [magazine title listed here] vol. 84. The pyramids, temples, and mysterious places highlighted in Along The Beach are written with authenticity based on nearly two decades of sojourns exploring those locations across the world with metaphysical societies.

Thank you for considering Along The Beach.

Sincerely,


{Full contact info listed here}

[Third time's the charm, they say.]


QUERY EXAMPLE #3

Dear Mr./Ms. {Agent’s Last Name}

Do you believe in soul mates? Do you believe that they are destined to meet, if they follow their truest life’s path? Lee Merrick cannot let go of these questions. He cannot let go of a woman whom he has loved but never met. [I loved a woman I never met. She was at an 866 number. I didn't love her so much when I got my VISA bill.]

Along the Beach is a 107,000-word visionary New Age novel which takes the reader around the world.

Traveling as a nature photographer to exotic shorelines far from home, Lee is entranced by mystical visions of the "Lady in White." On a journey of discovery spanning a decade, he faces the unknown in faraway places, while confronting his doubts that he will ever realize a prophesy given in his youth—that he will someday meet his soul mate along the beach.

My metaphysically-themed piece ATLANTIS, ARISE appeared in the national magazine {title} Vol. 84, No. 2. For almost two decades, I have affiliated and sojourned with mystical societies to several continents showcased in the story. These personal experiences lend an air of authenticity to the work.

Thank you for considering Along the Beach.

Sincerely,

{Author name/full contact info}

[nb: Example 3's opening swas hot down due to some agents loathing rhetorical questions] [While it goes without saying that rejecting a query for no reason other than rhetorical questions is the height of anal, nitpicking buffoonery (I, personally, would have read past the questions and rejected you for calling your novel "visionary"), your rhetorical questions are irrelevant and meaningless.

[Strike 3.]


Notes

He's in love with the woman in white? Have the conversations he's had with her in her ethereal form amounted to more than her telling him she's real? While she's pleading with him to believe her love for him is real, why doesn't she mention which beach she's hanging out on?

I recommend just summarizing the main plot:

In his youth, Lee's mother, a Gypsy fortune teller with proven psychic abilities, prophesied that he would meet his soul mate on a beach. Ever since, Lee has had visions of a mysterious woman in white who saves him whenever rhinoceroses attack. But now, as Lee pursues his destiny on the beaches of the world, he finds his quest thwarted . . . by his mother, who will stop at nothing to prevent her prophecy from manifesting.

That seems to be the important stuff; expand on it with a few specifics, and leave out the new age mumbo jumbo.

If mom is trying to prevent the prophecy from being correct, I assume it's not guaranteed to be correct. Also, if she didn't want him to find his soul mate, why didn't she foretell that he would find her in Kansas?

Cartoon 518

Caption: Evil Editor

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Feedback Request

The author of the opening in New Beginning 663 has posted a revised version. It's in the comments there, awaiting your reaction.

Writing Exercise

Submit an amusing scene from your WIP or any unpublished work you've written. Especially one you'd like feedback on. 300 words max, deadline Sunday, 10 AM eastern.

Don't change it for the exercise. If we need to know what's going on to appreciate it, you may provide a one or two sentence set-up. If your scene is longer than 300 words, cut from the beginning or the end, but not from the middle.

If there's nothing even mildly amusing in your writings, you'll just have to start from scratch and write something funny for us.

Book Chat Schedule

Okay, we're going for Sunday, December 6, 10 AM eastern. Author will be there.

New Beginning 704

Phone call to the courthouse in Claverton…”Is this Judge August Pendragon?”

“Speaking.”

“This is Father Walter Valesquez, priest of the church of St. Thelonious, Grody’s Point, near Cape Canaveral in Florida. I have worked with the Little Angels of Our Lady Adoption Agency. I am afraid I have some serious news for you.”

“What happened? Who are you?” now alert, upright in the chair, “Did something happen to Min? Or Daniel?”

“No, Your Honor, this is in regard to your daughter Sophia, and her parents.”

“Is this a joke? I’m her father, if you’ve done anything to Sophia, so help me-”

“Sir, please!” the voice urged, “This is no joke! I’m sorry, this is no easier for me than it can be for you. I am fully aware of Sophia’s status as your legal daughter. I am calling in regard to her natural parents.”

The Judge went rigid. “No….no…dear God, no…not Sophia….”

“I never thought I would have to make this call, Your Honor. But I am forced to tell you these new facts regarding your daughter.”

"Very well. But first, refresh my memory by telling me all the background details very clearly and slowly, as though I knew nothing of them."

"Yes, Your Honor. Well -"

"And while you're doing that, you can use my real name, which is Bob."

"Very well. As you know, Bob..."


Opening: Panda Rosa.....Continuation: Steve Wright

Cartoon 517

Caption: Evil Editor

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Face-Lift 698

Guess the Plot

Shift

1. Lifelong Republican Darlene Rickenbocker gives up after her house gets foreclosed and stops by to volunteer for the other party on her way to the homeless shelter.

2. Albert “Shift” Druckenmiller, driving instructor since 1968, has never lost a student. Now, five months before retirement, he meets April, who thinks 'brake' means 'stop at the next Starbucks'. Three broken ribs and a psychiatric evaluation later, Druckenmiller considers the unthinkable; buying an automatic. Oh, the shame!

3. Shortly after befriending Henry, Annie develops a disturbing craving for raw steak. Turns out she's become a werewolf, which creates tension in her home life as her family members wonder which will be the first to have their throat ripped out.

4. Archaeologist Ivar Ingar is bewildered to discover a typewriter buried in the 2000-year-old ruins of a Roman villa. Until he types his own name and BAM! The villa regains its original splendor, complete with its original inhabitants engaged in their original churlish behavior. Is Ivar doomed to re-live some hideous existence in this den of vixens every 2000 years?

5. Edgar starts working the night shift in his local supermarket, and learns the true meaning of friendship when he and his coworker Chad are sucked through a portal in the frozen food section. On the ice planet Mirion V, they learn the true meaning of friendship . . . and frostbite.

6. Claudia's hours are numbered. The kidnappers will soon discover Ted's firm is bankrupt; no fat ransom. Held in a desert shack fifty miles from anywhere, she finds luck. Her lone guard goes to the outhouse, forgetting his keys. She sprints to the Jeep. If only she'd learned to drive a stick shift...


Original Version

Dear Awesome Agent:

Given your enthusiasm for YA fiction and urban fantasy, I hope that my novel, SHIFT, will be of interest.

For sixteen-year-old Annie, being the new girl got old a long time ago. After traveling the country with her free-spirited aunt, Annie knows all about packing up and moving on, but fitting in? Not so much. When she lands in yet another school, Annie surprises herself by quickly befriending Henry, a classmate and fellow outsider. But when Henry helps Annie survive a dangerous encounter, her miraculous recovery from a gunshot wound comes with a catch. Suddenly, Annie has some disturbing new habits, not the least of which is a craving for raw steaks. She seeks answers from her supposed rescuer and discovers that she (along with him and his family) is a werewolf or “shifter.” [She discovers this when Henry tells her? And she buys it?

Annie: Hey Henry, strangest thing, I got a craving for steak tartare.

Henry: Oh, that. I forgot to mention, you're a werewolf.

Annie: Ah, I see.]

While most shifters grow up in close-knit packs, keeping normal humans at arm’s length, Annie’s upbringing places her at an odd middle ground between the ordinary world and the secretive shifters. Meanwhile, her seemingly erratic behavior ["Seemingly"? Howling at the moon, butchering cows and ripping out your aunt's throat is solidly erratic.] generates tension in her once-relaxed home life, thwarting the normality she hoped to preserve. [It was my understanding her home life consisted of traveling the country with her aunt, packing and moving on a regular basis. When did she ever have this relaxed normality she wants to preserve?] When Annie has difficulty controlling her transformations, the complications of being a shifter threaten to overshadow the obligations of her human life. She must choose which half of herself to embrace, or else risk alienating herself completely.

SHIFT is complete at around 55,000 words. Thank you very much for your time, and I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,


Notes

The final lengthy plot paragraph is awfully general, and thus boring. Instead of telling us her erratic behavior affects her human life, why not give specific examples of Annie's erratic behavior, of what happens when she can't control her transformations, of the complications of being a shifter affecting her human life? Painting a picture is worth a thousand words.

Cartoon 516

Caption: Roger Eschbacher

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New Beginning 703

Nicholas Tremain watched as the computer screen darkened, casting a shadow across the sky. “She means us to marry.”

“What gave you that idea?” Aaryanna asked, snatching her hand from his. “Our first kiss, or your clumsy proposal?”

“I haven’t proposed yet,” Nicholas reminded her, studying the countryside. Birds paused in midair, the stream ceased to flow, and the clouds no longer moved in the sky. The world held still in anticipation of its author’s return, but Nicholas was finally free to act on his own. He wasn’t looking forward to a night spent alone on the countryside arguing with Aaryanna.

“You’re about to,” Aaryanna said, smoothing skirts that didn’t require it. Despite the fact that Nicholas had just rescued her from Baron Farent’s men, her appearance remained immaculate. Even her hair was perfectly straight.

Nicholas’ shirt was torn, his hair was sticking out from sweat, and a knife scratch marred his cheek. He gave her an irritated look. “Not if I can help it.”

Aaryanna shook her head. “And how are you going to stop it? Will you Block her?”

"No. She would expect that. We must be more-- Shh!" The sky lit up and birdsong resumed. "I sense she is near..."

"What shall we do? How will you and me escape--" The ground shook. The grass, once soft beneath Aaryanna's feet rucked and rutted, a wavering green line.

"She's watching. Quick, Aaryanna--" Under Nicholas's shoes, the earth puckered and turned bright red, accusing. He felt weak. "We're finished. What's happening to you? Arianna!"

"Nicholas! Save me! Save--"

Microsoft Word has detected an unexpected error and needs to close.


Opening: Padawan.....Continuation: anon.

Cartoon 515

Caption: Voter

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Milestone

Evil Editor's Gallimaufry (EvilEditor.net) passed the 100,000 visitor mark today.

Writing Exercise Results . . .

are in the posts below. The task was to write a scene set at a board meeting wherein EE's staff is discussing topics for future writing exercises.

Bored Meeting 8

"Picture it," said a long-time female member of the Minion Board (and very hot). "It's spring 2007, and minions new and old have sent so many dialogue scenes in for you to look it, it takes you all damn weekend to look them over. And it messes up your basketball watching because you get so damn many in, but still, it's fun and it's good. We all read. We all comment. It's a fucking dialogue love-in, baby."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said Sparky.

"Hey, you can yeah-yeah-yeah me all you want, but in the words of the immortal song...'those were the days, my friend.' The thing is, Sparky, lots of us who've been around a while are writing our asses off, and having some good come of it, so take a bow as I for one say thanks to you for your help with the honing..."

"Is there a point coming, or do you plan on simply standing on your soapbox for a while?" Sparky couldn't help it. Being a main male member of the literati, he was naturally imperious.

"Here's an aside for ya, sport. You know how I knew you really were a guy and not just doing a cartoon fake-job long before you let me see you on the Minion Board? Do you, Sparky? Do you? Because you interrupt me, mid-sentence, to give me a big lesson. That's how."

"So what's the point?"

"The point is - we need to do the 'send your scene' in stuff again. People are working on their, uh, work. It's nice to get a little feedback, ya know. It's really nice. Dialogue, love scenes, first meeting scenes, fight scenes, death scenes, combo plans, we've done 'em. Let's do that again, please. Once a month for a while, maybe. You pick which kind goes first. Starting next weekend."

Sparky chewed the inside of his cheek, considering...It's always the same with these damn women. Give 'em an inch, and they want... a lotta inches...

--Robin S.

Bored Meeting 7

‘Maybe we should scan our bottoms,’ said Whirl. ‘Biggest bags the Hall of Fame.’

‘Great idea!’ Evil pulled down his pants and leapt onto the photocopier. A groan. A crash. A tremor. Another idea scratched.

The corpulent editor returned to the table, eyed his gathered minions. ‘We gotta think of something,’ he said. ‘Something really stunning. Set the whole blog alight...’

The minions glanced at each other, as if playing keepy-uppy with some unseen buck.

Then Mrs Varmighan said, ‘why don’t you offer a prize? We haven’t sold a mug in years and the moths have nibbled all the T shirts.’

Evil’s face beamed. ‘The moths! What a fine suggestion! We could bag them up for a Christmas special!’

‘Hey, you could sign each one,’ said Robin.

Steve added, ‘both wings. Twice. Thrice.’

‘Train them,’ said Rachel.

‘Yeah. A dance,’ effused Dave.

‘And music! Costumes! Magic!’

A peal of applause followed Writtenwyrdd’s hearty eureka moment, and for the rest of the afternoon, Evil’s office buzzed like a hive of activity: a hive full of moths. And minions.

But Fairyhedgehog hit on a problem. ‘How do we stop them suffocating in the post?’

The door burst open — Scott from Oregon! Clutching a boxful of miniature lepidopteran aqualung affairs! ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said. ‘Anyone know what these are? I won them in a raffle.’

‘That settles it,’ said Evil. ‘With a prize like this, it won’t matter a hang what the weekly writing exercise is. They’ll be fighting each other off to submit entries.’

The minions chorused a groan of dismay. ‘They? Don’t you mean us?’

‘It was your idea,’ Evil growled.

‘Mine, actually,’ said Mrs Varmighan, before trying to deny it.

A long silence followed.

Then Whirl said, ‘so are we scanning our bottoms or not?’

--Whirlochre

Bored Meeting 6

“I say we have writing retreats. Conferences, maybe. How does every week sound to you?” Buffy buffed her nails to a shine and contemplated leaving early so she could spend another few hours in her limo.

Robin raised her hand. “I’d come.”

“Anyone else?”

“The unfortunate withering of the economy puts British, West Coast, and other faraway minions at a disadvantage,” Dave pointed out.

“Exactly,” Steve said.”

As Paca worked up some phlegm to forcefully agree, EE stepped in. “Let’s get some more ideas, please.”

Xiexie fiddled with some papers. “There’s always the NaNoWriMo dares forum for writing prompts.”

“The person with the most points would have a pretty bad piece, but it’d be funny,” Rachel said. “Funny is key.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. What about something quality, like Moby Dick fanfiction?”

Rachel perked up. “I had a teacher once who—”

“You’ve mentioned it before,” Dave said. “At least once. Mad scientists?”

“They do say to write what you know, Dave.”

“Ha.”

Buffy yawned and scampered away to her limo and acorn cocktail. Steve pulled out his laptop and boosted his wordcount by another couple thousand, while Paca started dreaming about grass and Robin wiggled her eyebrows at EE, who was glaring at the ceiling and muttering about bureaucracy.

“Hey,” said 150.

“What?”

“We could ask the lurkers.”

EE looked around. “What lurkers?”

150 pointed out the window, where rows upon rows of eyes peered in.

“What do you think, lurkers?” EE called, and a golden-haired face rose above the windowsill. “Weredingo fiction,” it barked.

Another face, paler and bloodied, with brains seeping out, rose up beside it. “Mooooo.”

--_*Rachel*_

Bored Meeting 5

Brickstein appeared deep in thought until a light bulb appeared above his head. "The last will and testament of famous fictional characters," he said.

"Forget it," EE said. It doesn't involve me. My minions prefer exercises in which I make an appearance, or at least those with taste do. I assume."

Dinkwaddle said, "EE turns on the water to draw a bubble bath and then leaves the room to get a manuscript to read in the tub. When he returns he finds Penelope Cruz in his bath."

"Get real," EE said. "We need something at least moderately credible. My readers know I would never risk spoiling a relaxing bubble bath by bringing along some hack writer's vomitous scribblings."

"Evil Loan Shark." It was Phlegmbottom. "You lend . . . no, that's small potatoes. Evil Serial Killer! You're like Hannibal Lecter, but evil! Wait! Evil Mafia Don! You're like Marlon Brando, but fatter. Your family members come to you with requests, and you turn them all down. Or Evil Marriage Counselor! You sit in for your marriage counselor friend who's got swine flu. Wait, I've got it! Thanks to a massive number of write-in votes from blog readers, you're elected president of the United States!"

"Hmm. Could happen, I suppose. But it's all setup. Where's the laughs?"

"Instead of vetoing legislation," Phlegmbottom replied, "you send congress form rejection slips. And your vice president is Penelope Cruz. And she's annoyed that you have a bigger bathtub than hers, so she's always sneaking into your--"

"I've heard enough," EE said. "Finally we're getting somewhere. The rest of you need to take a lesson from Phlegmbottom, here. Say Phlegmy, how'd you like to take over the blog when I retire?"

--Evil Editor

Bored Meeting 4

Evil Editor has called an emergency meeting of his board of directors. "No one's doing the writing exercises anymore," he says. "We need a new feature for Sundays."

"Maybe we just need better topics," his second-in-command suggests.

EE glares at her, but finally says, "Okay, we'll go around the table, and I want a clever and potentially hilarious idea from each one of you."

“A pictorial essay section documenting the lives of living cartoonists?” suggests the Picture Editor. EE snorts in derision, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “Photo essays? Over my dead body. Next!”

“How about a cute kitten picture contest?” ventures the Foreign Affairs correspondent. The meeting draws a collective breath of horror. EE shrieks in fury and launches his empty coffee cup across the room at the Foreign Affairs correspondent, who ducks promptly, the cup shattering against the wall behind.

“Useless!”, screams EE, levering his massive bulk from the directors chair and towering over the table. “Not an original thought amongst you! What exactly do I pay you cretins for?”.

The phone rings and the Features Editor springs to retrieve the handset. She listens, her eyes widening in horror, and replaces the handset, slumping back in her chair.

“Well?” exclaims EE. “Speak up, woman.”

“It was the subscription department.” she sobs. “The competition won't help now – the Reader has cancelled his subscription.”

“Readers, who needs 'em?” shouts EE, dribble running down his chins. “We're better off without 'em.”

--Oofy Prosser

Bored Meeting 3

"Four days to Christmas 2012 and the boss wants another brainstorming session," he said as they sat at their favorite lunch table in Gaston's Brasserie, a glass building in the middle of a park-like clover field.

"After yesterday's squirm-fest? Like descriptions of his butt injections weren't embarrassing enough? It's like a Sunday newspaper feature." she said.

"The day of rest, for football. A day for golf. The call from Mother. The dreaded family meals," he said. The sky was clear and blue. The scent of hickory charcoal and steak whispered through the leaves of the many Chlorophytum comosum.

"Definitely not a day of rest. Football slavery, golf widows, loony in-laws, creepy relatives with kissy lips spreading swine flu," she countered. A white-shirted waiter came over with Georgia Peach's in fancy highball glasses. The discreet fragrance of Southern Comfort and peach schnapps filled the air.

"The usual? French dip and fried tofu salad?" he asked and both nodded.

"Perhaps he could get a minion to review a book or website."

"Or perhaps a critique of a long segment?"

"A writing contest each Sunday?"

"Animal videos? Like Emmerich's
pets escaping sure death? Pets always tug heartstrings."

"Some cat cantata? Dog ball licking? Squirrel stare downs? I don't think so. Only so many cute videos a mind can absorb before the brain cells wither and die. Think Ben Franklin on hope."

"Just what we need at lunch. How about something editorial? A couple hundred meaningful words by the boss man. Maybe a couple hundred thoughtful words by a minion? Or a guest?"

"A deconstruction of a scene?" Movement caught his eye; customers, waiters and cooks running into the woods without music. A comet, black smoke trailing behind a fireball, came at them.

"Holy Shit! It's the Mayan end of the world as we know it!"

--Dave F.

Bored Meeting 2

EE looked around the table. Whirlochre’s giant eye stared back at him. Robin made a kissy mouth at him. Dave sat silent, deep in thought. Steve Wright was laughing his ass off, probably at something funny he was about to write. Rachel’s pencil scratched at her notepad, a new self-portrait emerging on the page. Daley hammered away at his laptop.

“Daley, pay attention. What have you got?” EE demanded.

“Revisions. My agent wants…”

“I don’t care about your agent. We’re here to promote my blog. You used to be a loyal minion, but you’re slipping. Don’t make me blacklist you, or you'll get rejected even if you try to self-publish,” EE threatened.

“You can’t make me reject myself,” Daley stammered.

“I can and will.”

“Ok. Here’s a clever and potentially hilarious idea: write a scene that you can read normally, but it also has to make sense if you only read every other word.”

EE rubbed his chin. “That’s clever, but I’m not seeing the hilarity.”

“You said potentially hilarious. The potential is all in the submissions.”

“We need more than that. Give me a premise to go with it.”

“Aliens.”

“We need more than that.”

“A lot of aliens.”

“It’s been done before, spice it up.”

“A lot of illegal aliens.”

“Doing what?”

“Breaking the law.”

“How?”

“I’d rather focus on why.”

“Whatever. Why?”

“That’ll be the exercise.”

--Rick Daley

Bored Meeting 1

“Palindromes!” said Meyers.

“Good, ok,” EE nodded encouragingly and released the poison darts. Unfortunately, O'Reilly was sitting in Meyers' seat. Oh, well. Those two looked too damn much alike anyway.

“Meyers, read O'Reilly's notes.”

“Scene in brogue; limerick form; EE cons leprechauns out of gold-” A troop of angry, six-foot leprechauns poofed out of nowhere and spirited Meyers away.

After a stunned silence, EE looked to Fortinbras.

Fortinbras squirmed with delight. “EE travels abroad. Local minions pitch in unintelligible English!” He beamed like an X-files flashlight.

EE leaned forward and looked into his eyes. “And the results of the exercise would be... unintelligible?”

Fortinbras nodded and smiled, and then stopped as comprehension dawned. The floor opened under him.

“Eeeep!” squeaked Fortinbras as he plummeted.

EE turned to Pencilhammer, who stared where Fortinbras had been.

EE slapped the table.

Pencilhammer jumped. After a fraction of a hesitation, Pencilhammer burst. “EE gets a pet. No! A parrot, and as minions pitch to the parrot it repeats everything they say... An ode to EE's coffee mug! A pitch with no Es at all. A pitch done in interpretive dance!”

EE itched for his throwing stars, but a part of him admired Pencilhammer's ability to babble under pressure.

“Six words, like Hemingway. Shakespearian. EE and his hairdresser! The garbage collectors drop EE's bag and it bursts- what's in it? Mrs. Varmighan receives a dozen roses from Grish-”

EE pressed a button on his intercom. “Mrs. Varmighan, have Pencilhammer bronzed please.”

That left Jenkins.

“Well?” grunted EE.

Jenkins helped himself to EE's chocolates. “I suggest a scene in which EE is being blackmailed. What dirt do you suppose the minions could dig up? Sorry I was late this morning, by the way. Had to drop a package at my lawyer's.”

--Mother (Re)produces

Announcing . . .

The Evil Editor Cartoon DVD!

Many minions have requested that I put out a book of cartoons. I looked into it and decided that to do one in color would cost too much, and to do one in black and white would be dull. So I scrapped the idea. Then I put together a film for myself, consisting of my favorite cartoons set to music. Then I redid the whole thing with an organizational strategy, grouping together cartoons with themes like art, religion, horror, Grisham, etc. At this point it was so entertaining I realized others might want it, especially if I made it into a DVD, allowing you to watch it on your giant wide-sceeen HD television.

But now there was the problem that a lot of older cartoons had EE looking like this:



So I went through them and made him look better:



Then I made improvements in other parts of the artwork, and then I tweaked a lot of the captions and even changed a few entirely.

After hundreds of hours of tedious work, I have a product I feel would be enjoyed by anyone with a sense of humor (even non-writers, as long as it's someone who knows what "slush" and "query" mean). It's $10.00 plus shipping (Note that EE's store doesn't charge extra for shipping more than one item). If you want it but can't afford it, perhaps you should hint that you want it as a Christmas gift.

It's not actually available yet. I need to get an idea whether anyone wants it so I'll know how many to produce.

I've put a sample film on YouTube, which contains randomly chosen cartoons that are NOT on the DVD, and have NOT had the picture quality improved. (I hate trailers that give away the best parts of the movie.) The actual quality of the pictures on the DVD is much better, and since the YouTube cartoons didn't make the cut (in some cases because non-authors wouldn't get them), it goes without saying that the cartoons on the DVD are funnier. This is just to give an idea of the format. You also get some Evil Ads. Note that you may play the sample video full-screen.

~~~~~~

That was two minutes. The actual DVD is more than 38 minutes, with about 50 musical pieces and about 300 cartoons, ads, etc.The first step is to find out if anyone besides me wants it. You can comment or email me.