Bouncing ‘Round the Rubber Room

Advil PM is a fantastic medication for getting rid of a headache, but man, does it leave you with a hangover the next morning.  Nothing completely debilitating as the head spinning I had last week, but this is something I could do without this early in the morning.

I still surprise myself with how I react to my writing, and how I respond to my characters–and, in turn I’m still take back by the passion I have for both.  I can see why, as I continue to develop my talent–and, yes: it is a talent as much as it is a skill–that it’s easy to get lost in that passion.

A couple of days ago I was contacted, out of nowhere, by the person whom I often refer to as the Whingy Latex Wearer.  She started out by first asking me how my writing was going.  Normally I wouldn’t take that badly, but with her you have to dance around, because with her something always seems to tie back to her fetish.

I told her that I was working on the outline for the novel I will write for NaNoWriMo, that I had all my notes in place (really, I’ve got about 90%, but that’s quibbling), and I was ready to rock come 1 November.  She was like, “Oh, great!” and wanted to hear a little more, and I told her that I’d been working on the design of my main character’s costume that day.  She listened (as much as one can on electronic personal posts) then said, “Well, I just stick to latex because it’s easy to order”.  But of course, my dear.  The easiest solution is always to swath yourself in layers of rubber.

If I were a nice person I’d have just let it go . . . but I’m not always a nice person, and of late I’ve felt as if I’ve got my own menstrual cycle going and I’m in the middle of that time.  So I told her, “That’s nice, but I want my character to have an outfit she can wear outside that’s not going to give her fucking heat stroke after 20 minutes”.  Yeah, that’s me:  nice, but I’m still gonna eat your liver if you give me a chance.

Needless to say she didn’t reply.  So let that be a lesson, kiddies:  let the people who have watched all 9 seasons of Project Runway design the outfits, and you can sit there quietly in your latex panties and mind your tongue.

Now, on to my character meltdown.

I do game; I game online.  If you follow the daily scree you’ve run across a few posts where I discuss this.  Well . . . something happened in the timeline of the game where I sort of bailed on a thread that the Lovely Annie, apple of my character’s eye, wanted to do, but instead I went off doing something else with the thread, and I did it unilaterally.

And it was wrong.

There was a very important lesson that I forgot: our game is a collaborative effort.  Just like a couple of authors working together on a novel, the game we have is a collaboration between me and Annie’s player.  But a combination of several factors–feeling bored, wanting to do something, thinking I had the story in my head–led me to cut her out of what should have been moments between us.

Even though I didn’t get a ream out over what happened–Annie’s player is far too kind to me to do that–I felt very bad; there was a lot of hair pulling on my part–well, not a lot, I don’t have it left to pull–and crying.  Oh, yeah: there was crying.  Some of what I felt was her frustration at not knowing how to deal with where her character should be, but part of it was, on my behalf, the knowledge that I didn’t allow a fellow writer, who has her own unique view, to express herself.

And as much as I bitch about people who want to do that to me, I should have known better.

Does this mean that Annie and Kerry (our characters) are on the outs?  Ha!!  You people don’t know us very well, do you?  Every relationship has it’s ups and downs, and this was a down for us.  But the ups more than balance out the little bit of trouble that occurred.

And look at it this way: just think of the make up kisses our characters can share later.