It's an interesting exercise to choose items for a castaway island. It winds up being a pretty good look into your preferences and makeup. Today it's my turn, and I invite you all to check it out. Thanks to Sian Glirdan (Jan Hawk) for including me.
Tag Archives: Lisa Burton
I landed out at the writing cabin at quarter to seven. I moved the little gyrocopter to the elevator and went in through the basement. It's still too dark to risk walking to the back door out here, and I didn't need the mammoth migration to decide my gyro looked like a good butt scratcher.
Lisa* had the office all ready for me, and handed me some coffee as I passed through the kitchen.
Yak guy wound up rescuing the children, now he has to figure out what to do with them. It's a long way to safety, and there is no home to return to. It was a good section, and I got about 2500 words in. We killed the bad guys yesterday, and today was a toning down that brought new problems. Now there's the possibility of more bad guys out there, being discovered by them, facing the wilderness, and keeping a bunch of kids safe and sound.
I weaved my hands behind my head and reflected on it – for about three seconds.
“Hey, you kids, put that down. Get out of the paranormal office. Yes, that's sharp.”
“Lisa, what's going on out there?”
“You wrote all these kids into existence, and I can't watch them all.”
“Can you get Yak Guy to help?”
“He's trying, but they're everywhere at once.”
“Run them all outside, and position them like a baseball team.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yup. It's nice out, and I'm going to write another Enhanced League story. They can fill in while we work on dialog.”
I moved my iPad to the deck, and looked at the position players. Our grass was dead, long, and muddy, but I used my imagination and hacked my way through. Lisa fetched some equipment from the basement, and she and Yak Guy each fielded a team. The yak himself served as the umpire, and the kids actually listened to him.
It wound up qualifying as a short story, and not a micro, so I felt pretty good about that too. If you add them together the word count is the best I've done for a while. If you include this post, it will break 5000 words.
I put my hat back on, and put my iPad away.
“Hold it, buster. Where are you're going?”
“Home. All this ball playing reminds me that I need to play some too, with Otto.”
“What am I supposed to do with all these kids?”
“I don't know. Make them clean your radio studio?”
“My studio, and the cabin are spotless.”
“Make them play baseball until they're all tired.”
“I don't even have enough food for all of them, and where are they going to sleep?”
“They aren't picky. I wrote them a bunch of tents, put them in there.”
“Right, with all the creepy stuff that wanders around this cabin, I'll have to guard them all night.”
“It isn't like you sleep anyway.”
“I still need to recharge, and I like to take a bubble bath at night. What then?”
“Look, you're going to have to improvise. You have the yak, and Yak Guy Ted can help too.”
“Fine, but after these books are drafted, I'm putting in for some leave.”
“You should. We'll be in edit and beta mode and you can get away then.”
“I will too. Don't think I won't.”
“Okay, bye. Good day today.”
*Lisa Burton is my personal assistant, and the spokesmodel for my writing career. She's also a robot, and makes regular appearances on the blog and in cyberspace.
The limousine pulled into a row of other limos. Lisa Burton* sat across from me in the back. A four-hundred pound man sat next to me in a tux. “Why is he here again?”
“Don’t worry about him,” Lisa said. “He’s from Harry Winston, and he comes with the diamonds. I have to give them all back after the program.”
“That’s too bad. They look really nice.” We pulled forward a few car lengths, and I asked him to let me out.
“What are you doing? You’ll miss the red carpet.”
“That’s the idea. I’m slipping in the back, grabbing a beer, and meeting you at our table. You’re the spokesmodel. It’s your job to take this bullet for me.”
“You’re such a baby. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
I wound my way to our table and sat where my name card indicated. The room filled up as Lisa wound her way over. She paused to pose for selfies, and sign some autographs.
The show started and we applauded when Jan Sikes won for most creative tweets. Lisa grabbed my arm, “Her character appeared on Lisa Burton Radio, and she included you in her presentation on promotion. So excited for her.”
“I agree, she’s a talented lady.
Rea Nolan Martin’s, The Ansesthesia Game won for best cover, and Beem Week’s, Jazz Baby won for best book trailer. We applauded their victories. I started chewing my nails.
The award for best blog site was called. “In third place, Entertaining Stories, by C. S. Boyack.” The crowd applauded and I waived. The cameras were mostly focused on Lisa though. “In second place, Fiction Favorites, by John Howell.” We applauded again.
Lisa grabbed my forearm. “John’s so nice. I’ve been to his house, and his characters appeared on my radio show a couple of times too.”
“And the Blog of the Year goes to, Nonnie Jules for Watch Nonnie Write.” The crowd went crazy. Nonnie is one of the hardest working people I know, and deserves all the awards she can take home.
Nonnie also won the award for Most Giving Hands. The Most Supportive Member of 2016 is Wendy Scott. Jan Hawk won for Member of the Year, and Lisa reminded me that Jan’s characters have appeared on her show too.
Karen Ingalls is the Top Reviewer of 2016. Stephanie Collins is the Top Recruiter of 2016. I took my napkin and dabbed it across my forehead.
“For Book of the Year, in third place, The Playground by C. S. Boyack.” I waved once more, and Lisa attracted camera flashes. “In second place, She Dies at the End, by A. M. Manay. And the Book of the Year, for 2016, goes to Type and Cross by Staci Troilo.” The crowd went wild. The Book of the Year competition was tough, and all the entries were good. Lisa grabbed me once more and reminded me that Max the dog appeared on her show.
I shook hands with those around me, and slipped quietly to the lobby. The bar was only a few steps further, so I went inside. John Howell was already there. I offered my hand. “Congratulations, John.”
He waived down the waitress and she slid me a dark frothy beer. “Congratulations yourself. Where’s Lisa? Is she joining us?”
“Hardly. She went to the Governors Ball. I think she wants to recruit characters for her radio show.”
“How does she rate? She isn’t even a nominee.”
“That doesn’t matter. Velvet ropes just move aside for her.”
“I can see that. I heard they have an upgraded bar at the ball. Wanna check it out?”
“Why didn’t you say so sooner, John.” I dropped a twenty on the bar and we headed across the street.
*Lisa Burton is my personal assistant, and the spokesmodel for Entertaining Stories. She’s also a robot, and makes regular appearances here.
You might guess that we have a lot of fun in the Rave Reviews Book Club. It’s all about supporting each other, and climbing that ladder together. The Rave Awards are only one fun event, and there are a couple of blog parties and some writing contests that are worth checking out. In December they held an online convention that was very popular.
If you think this club might have something to offer you, please check us out at this link.
I headed for the writing cabin about 6:30 this morning. It was clear and cold, and apparently determined to stay that way. (Our high temperature today was a blistering nine degrees.)
Lisa* knew I was coming. (She monitors my phone and gyrocopter.) When I walked into the writing cabin, the fireplaces were pushing heat, and the coffee was hot. “What's the plan today, boss?”
“The Yak Guy. We're getting close to the end, and I want to keep making progress. Is the yak still in the basement stable?”
I turned toward the staircase, and Lisa stopped me. “Wait. Give him his carrot. I picked up a bunch, and give him one every day.”
“Won't Bunny get jealous?”
“Oh no. He gets some too.”
I grabbed the carrot by the leaves, scooped up some hot coffee, and headed downstairs.
The yak stood in his stall, but the gate was open. “Hey, brought you a carrot.”
“Thanks, but I don't care for them that much,” the yak said.
I glanced back over my shoulder. “You're going to have to eat it. Lisa thinks she's doing something wonderful for you.”
“Fine, but I've had to eat a lot of carrots in the last six months. I don't want to let out my saddle.” He accepted the carrot and started munching.
“I'm heading for the Wheel of Fortune part of the story. Is the Yak Guy ready for it?”
“He isn't too bright, but he seems to be ready when the next event comes along. All you can do is try. I don't know how he's going to react to a decision he has to make with imperfect information. He always wants to know all the answers ahead of time.”
“Don't we all. It seems more prevalent with Yak Guy's generation though. I have a hunch, he'll deal with it if I don't give him any choice.”
“You can always have me gore him in the butt again.”
“Heh, that was fun, but I don't know if we can do it again without it seeming forced.”
“I understand, but there are days I'd like to.”
“Alright, buddy, get your saddle on and I'll have Yak Guy meet you in the meadow.”
I tromped upstairs to my office and kicked Yak Guy off the couch. “Time to get to work.” He begrudgingly left, and headed outside.
Words flowed well, and the Wheel Of Fortune lesson is over. All I have to do is rescue some kids, then find some refugees, and reunite him with the love of his life. I think it's going to hit 80,000 words, and if not I'll have to enhance a couple of places. I have a hard time calling it a novel if I don't get the word count.
The yak led his human into the basement and got him all settled. Lisa asked if that was it for the day.
“I think I can manage a bit more, to be honest. I'm going to try a baseball story.”
“Oh, crap, I never called any of them.”
“No problem, this story is about a barbecue on a day when the players are off. I'm going to explore their feelings about being placed on waivers, and who their competitors are for post-season slots. We'll write it, and interview them all later to make it feel right.”
“Too bad, I would have enjoyed a barbecue and a dinner party. I have this cute little black–“
“Nevermind, let's just write it. Maybe you can put an old game on TV for some atmosphere.”
“Oh sure, no problem.”
That seemed to get Lisa focused, and I cranked out a 1000 word micro-story. I'm enjoying these tales, but I don't know how the world will receive them at large. There are a bunch of stories, and a few recurring characters. It tells the story of a mythical season, but delves behind the scenes and covers a lot of activities off the field too. In a way, it has some similarities to The Playground in the way I'm relaying it. Because there is an overarching story, I can't do the twist endings my short stories are known for. There are some, but not with the frequency an Experimental Notebook would have.
I leaned back in my chair and took a sip of my coffee. “Let's make a couple of storyboards.”
“Are you serious? I didn't thaw out the left side of your brain. I might be able to, but don't want to scorch it again.”
“Don't worry about him. We'll just pin some cards up, and we can make them perfect later on.”
Lisa headed for the basement, and returned with two storyboards, a pile of index cards, some sticky notes, and all the colored pens you could want. What can I say, the girl likes making storyboards.
We made one for a science fiction tale I'm calling Estivation. This is like hybernation, but occurs when things get too hot. It involves a cute young couple who have to spend three months in a survival bunker while a parasite sun passes by their planet. I invented the term parasite sun for a gas giant planet that manages to ignite somehow. When things line up, their own sun plus the parasite sun, makes the surface deadly.
Their bunker is already occupied by a thief, and they all get locked in together. Happiness and merriment ensue. (Not really) They don't have enough food to last three months now. Throwing the bad guy out will expose them all to deadly radiation.
Lisa put that board aside, and we made one for a project called The Hat. This involves a hard working girl, who missed out on the family decision about what to do with grandma's personal possessions. She had to pull an extra shift and missed the meeting by a couple of hours. When she gets to granny's junk shop, her evil uncle decided to sell everything. All the heronine wanted was one of grandma's house plants, but even this was denied her.
When evil uncle's back is turned, she grabs a box and takes it home. Inside the box is an old fedora hat. It wasn't even grandma's, it belonged to the grandfather she never knew. Turns out the hat talks and forms a kind of symbiotic relationship with the wearer. This one is going to become a kind of paranormal superhero type story.
When wearing the hat, my heroine can see through his eyes too. They can communicate without vocalizing their words. She can see behind her, or wherever he is looking. She can also shoot guns while using his vision, while her own vision aims a different direction. On top of that, The Hat, plays an upright bass. She needs to wear him, and he uses her fingers and hands. This part is going to be great for character purposes.
I think my main plot problem is going to involve baby snatchers, and I've decided to include an unhelpful witch in the supporting staff.
The Hat is going to be more of a buddy tale, with my heroine and the hat making up the buddies. They're going to bicker and (hopefully) grow during the tale.
Lisa said, “So The Hat can be any kind of hat she wants, as long as it's a hat? Is that what's going on?”
“Yeah, basically. She can be seen in one thing, round the corner, and it's something else completely. Maybe headphones or something. Might make a reasonable way to avoid the cops.”
“This is so exciting, I'm going to order a small mountain of hats.”
“You party on, Lisa.”
And that's where I called it a day.
*Lisa Burton is my robotic personal assistant, and the spokesmodel for Entertaining Stories.
If any of you are that interested, you can check out pin boards for The Hat, and Estivation on my Pinterest site.