Showing posts with label Shadow Hunt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shadow Hunt. Show all posts

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Fighting off plot bunnies

Hi, DIK :) I’m Luisa Prieto, author of such books as Wow That’s Long (Dark Designs), Now I’m Hungry (Cooking with Ergot), and That Wasn’t Funny (also known as Written in Blood, as nicknamed by people who read it after Ergot).

I’m pretty buzzed to be here. In honor of my DIK blogging debut, I’d like to offer a lucky commenter a copy of any of my books (may I recommend That Demon Is Hot, I Wish He’d Come After Me, aka Shadow Hunt?).

Over in my corner of the universe, summer is upon us. It’s hot, the days are bright, and the air is filled with the shrieks of kids on summer vacation. Me, I’m tucked away in my office, working on Is It Done Yet? (the After Dark revision) and enjoying the air conditioning.

In order to streamline the revision, I’ve recently cleaned up the office (embarrassing truth: clutter distracts me. I’ll start focusing on it and then I’ll start coming up with a story about a writer who makes a robot to clean after him. Before I know it, there’s a new plot bunny in my life, trying to distract me from the revision. Ugh).

The books in the bookshelf have been organized, the books were moved off the corner of my desk so the cat can finally take up the space and nap (she generously lets the computer stay, though, as long as I pet her), the Christmas wrapping paper was finally put away, and the small fridge that had been half hidden behind the wrapping paper is finally visible.

The roommate (Jen) and I got the fridge a couple years ago. It’s for shrimp for the cat and soda water and Lunchables for me, so that during the night I don’t have to leave the computer to make the thirty foot trek to the kitchen to grab something (second embarrassing truth: when I’m deep in a project, I’ll forget to eat or drink. I’ll keep working happily until I’ll start getting light headed).

While it was nice finally being able to see the fridge, we decided to go one step beyond just seeing it and decided to move it. The decision was practical: it could get hidden again, and if anyone were injured, they wouldn’t have to bend down to reach it (third embarrassing truth: light headed people are not dexterous people. A couple weeks ago I fell and landed on my knee, hard).

(While I was at the hospital, getting the knee looked at, I thought of a story where a guy hurts his knee while getting stalked by a killer. At last; a reason why the killer can catch up with his prey!)

Anyway, revision...

The revision thing has been going smoother since the moving of the fridge. Now that the thing is actually in sight, I’ve taken to sticking pictures onto the brilliantly white surface (not so embarrassing secret: the decor in the office is dark blue. That small white fridge really sticks out).

Currently there are only two pictures on it. What beautiful pictures, though. Every time I turn to grab something, they whisper stories to me.

Picture one: a clinch scene, drawn by someone who’s re imagining a couple Decepticons as human.



Jen found it. When she first told me about it, I laughed. Now, it graces the fridge, tempting me to come up with a story for it. A temptation that, given my imagination, doesn’t need much prompting. A dark and sultry night. A passionate moment in an office, against a desk. Socks.

Okay, the socks have to go, but the rest?

*fights off plot bunny*

Picture two: the four really interesting looking guys of the apocalypse, steam punk style.



Jen also found this picture (I imagine she spends her lunch breaks at work surfing Deviant Art. She, meanwhile, imagines I spend my days fighting off plot bunnies). The moment that picture went up on the fridge, something in my mind clicked.

The guy in the far left. The guy beside him. They could be the guys in the other picture. They’re part of a group that fights evil. Or they are the bad guys, only the good guys are really incompetent and they end up being the ones who actually save the world. Yeah.

And they have sex. Lots of sex.

Jen came in then, carrying a case of soda water.

“What’re you staring at?” she asked.

“The pictures. They’re telling me a story.”

“Okay.” She proceeds to put the soda in the fridge. After living with me, she’s pretty used to me talking like that. “How’s Is It Done Yet?”

“Ummm... good.”

I break away from the pictures’ spell and return to the computer. Revision. Yes. I’m working on a revision.

Until the next time I turn and see the pics.
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