Did not expect that

I try to update every Wednesday, just so the world doesn’t forget about me. I know it’s Tuesday, but I discovered something tonight. If you need your Wednesday fix, I’ll be up over at Story Empire tomorrow.

One of my things is to cruise through Pinterest every night. My boards are all story related. I have some related to projects, some for characters, some in genre fiction that fits my style

I have one I call “girl art.” These help with characters, descriptions, outfits, etc. I save things there I might want to use for Lisa Burton outfits and more. Let’s face it, as a guy, I need a reference for outfits, hair, and such.

I did not think Pinterest allowed nudity, but I was wrong. Today my feed was full of nude women. You know the kind, lots of Photoshop and airbrush.

I must have pinned something for Lisa, and Pinterest thought “more like this” meant nudes. (Note: Lisa will never appear nude.)

I was so offended I stopped looking after a couple of hours. 🤪

Honestly, what I need are more old weathered faces. I pinned a few, but they don’t come up regularly. Some of them are so interesting, and would make great characters. I added a brief conversation with an old woman to my current project, and I mentioned her thickened eyelids, but I want a bit more. I need more of those old dry mudflat faces. I’ll have to revisit that scene in the editing phase now.

I pondered about a book of short stories a year ago, and they were all introduced by this ancient woman from the rocker on her front porch. I may revisit it one day, but it’s still in the idea phase. Think of this wizened elder serving in a Rod Serling capacity. Maybe add a corncob pipe, etc.

Maybe I’ll have to do a specific search for the kind of faces I’m looking for. Normally, pinning a few will keep them coming, but I may have to dive deeper on these.

My work week, and my weekend are looking like no new fiction will happen. I’m going to shoot for preparing a Lisa Burton Radio interview, and that might be my limit this week.

Tough Day at the Cabin

I slept in today. I think I knew all along that I wouldn’t get much writing done. I’d written a ton of stuff on Wednesday, and it needed some major repairs. I took my time getting to it.

When I walked in, Lisa* was in a baggy sweatshirt and jeans. She was playing with Bunny her rabbit on the lobby floor. She never looked up as I headed for the coffee pot.

No coffee. I put the ingredients together and headed for my swanky new room. Doubt’s** water dish was empty, and so was his food. Back to the kitchen again to tend the raven. Lisa had her back to me now.

I went over my Wednesday writing and Doubt croaked multiple times. I’ve learned to pay attention to him, and tightened up my passages. An hour went by and I had to get my own coffee.

Lisa’s “I’d rather be naked than wear fur” poster looked down at me from the kitchen wall. Bunny covered all the good parts, but it was still impressive.

The shower came on upstairs.

Another four hours passed and I was able to get some new words down. My word count is up to 32,318 if you’re keeping score.

When the beer horns went off, Lisa never showed up. I filled them with beer and set one outside to keep cool.

She came downstairs, her hair in a bun and devoid of all makeup.

“What’s the deal,” I asked. “Wednesday you couldn’t wait to put on your Morticia dress and make me that weasel coffee. Today it’s like you aren’t even here. That isn’t suitable office attire, and I’ve never seen you not made up.”

She put her hand to her mouth and said, “Oh, do I still work here?”

“Of course you do. What makes you ask a silly thing like that?”

“What was yesterday?”

“Friday.”

“Keep thinking.”

“Your boot up day?” I held my hands apart and tried to act cute. I never was good at cute.

She put her hands on her hips and leaned forward. “It was payday, genius. Did you forget?”

“Oh crap, sorry. I’ll take care of it right now.” I ran to my original office and booted up the Mac. The beer horn followed me.

A few quick keystrokes and, “Done!”

She paused at the door and looked off into space.

“What are you doing?”

“Spreading it across twelve bank accounts in bits and pieces, merging and re splitting, then transferring to a new account. I’ll withdraw it all from there and buy gift cards.”

“Why? Do you still keep a runaway bag?”

“You know it. I need money to get to my convention appearances. In my private life, I don’t like to be found. My attorney isn’t exactly free either. And sometimes, Lisa needs a new pair of shoes.” She ran for the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to change. I have some cool dresses that are perfect for the kind of story you’re working on.”

I sipped my beer from my old recliner. Why can’t women just tell us what’s wrong? Maybe I shouldn’t have written her so accurately. I decided to write some more now that Lisa was into it. I have the house to myself tonight and there’s no reason to go back.

* Lisa is from one of my novels. She works as my assistant now, (still) and is a robot.

** Doubt was a gift from my Muse. He is a raven, but I suspect there’s more to him.