Finally I convinced the characters in THAT DAMN CALLAHAN GIRL to behave and act the way I thought they should. It was a long and arduous struggle, but they finally all complied. It should be ready to submit after a few days cooling off period and some tweaking to improve a couple of rough spots. It is a first person ramble that has a couple of long speeches from people who are narrating action when the protagonist is not present and I need to smooth out some bumps there, but the most encouraging news is that my roommate read it and hates it so I think it has a hell of a chance.
This is a project that I did for me. Eighteen pages, about 8200 words done to entertain an audience of one, and anyone else who might decide they like it. I think I unconsciously started this concept a few years ago when Kevin Smith and Gerald So got me re hooked on short stories, which during my youth, were my primary reading entertainment. But in my youth we had all kind of resources for short stories. Actually my mother wouldn't let me bring most of them into the house, but they were available and they all had a beginning a middle and an end. Some kind of resolution was always presented and when you finished the story, you always felt that there was value gained. Then a few years back I noticed a trend toward a looser format, one that left some of the questions unanswered. I know that the purpose of those tales is to make the reader think and that's not a bad thing, it's just that I don't do it too well. So, I decided to write the kind of story that I loved as a kid, minus the monsters and kitties. I also left out the spaceships and decoder ring. I had to think a long time about the decoder ring.
sOOO, for those of you that read this far, here is the opening of THAT DAMN CALLAHAN GIRL.
1927 Corpus Christi, Texas
The clouds parted long enough for the moon to reflect off collected patches of water on the black asphalt surface. A street light around the corner gave off just enough light to see where the masonry ended and the rest of the city started.
Bits and pieces of her mirrored image jumped from pool to pool as the tap of her high heels grew fainter. She was silhouetted against the end of the alley where it opened onto an empty street. A bag was flung over one shoulder and swayed in opposition to the outline of her hair as she walked away. The .38 was still in her right hand, barrel down, trailing smoke through the alley. With a flip of her hair, she disappeared around the brickwork of the end building.
God she was gorgeous.
And a good shot.
I really needed a doctor.
And I need to hit the sack. I gotta' have Raymond the roommate at the Doc's at 6:00am.
So until next time the muse attacks, see ya.