Nicky connects to her past and to some familiar characters. Word count: 3,631
In today's writing I mainly wrote a brief prologue, plus one long letter from Nicky to an old friend of hers, Molly (possibly inspired by Molly Ringwald but who's to say?), back in Lawnville. Nicky was confused about her direction in life so she laid it all out for Molly to get her advice. But, by the time she finished the letter, Nicky had decided not to take that job in the PR firm and to just keep hanging out at Jackie's Place.
Some plot will present itself sometime, I think. There's lots to talk about in the 80's in big cities - drugs, HIV, poverty, sex work, queer revolutions - but unfortunately these are things I don't know much about. We'll see what happens.
The most fun I had in writing today was when Nicky described two of the people she's been hanging out with - one is Gordon Toody, who manages the bar. Sometimes he comes dressed as a vampyre (which Nicky inaccurately spelled as vampire! ignorant!) and sometimes in ballgowns, making everyone call him/her Crystal. The other person she described was Kiefer, the poet who told her she was his muse:
I met someone recently who seems the type who would believe in paths and destiny and muses, for god’s sake. He’s a poet and his name is Kiefer. I met him one night through a friend of a friend – ran into them down by the riverbank and we laid down and stared at the stars and talked for hours. He was in town for a couple of days so I kept running into him and couldn’t tell if it was by accident or design. He’s hard to describe – a little scruffy and skinny, loves to wear tight jeans so the boys can get a good look at his butt (which is worth a look or two, I’ll happily admit). When he’s had too much to drink you want to stay out of his way, and he has the look of someone who might bite through your jugular if you’re standing between him and something he wants. He has a way of rolling into the room sometimes, like he’s some kind of Marine or secret police. I wouldn’t call him nice. But he’s told me I’m his muse and that I’m hotness personified (please – does he really think that’ll get him anywhere?) and will I please come see him in The Other Big City. It’s fun being someone’s muse, I guess, even if it’s the muse of this unsettlingly erratic man, but I don’t want to just inspire insipid poetry – I want to do things myself.
Some plot will present itself sometime, I think. There's lots to talk about in the 80's in big cities - drugs, HIV, poverty, sex work, queer revolutions - but unfortunately these are things I don't know much about. We'll see what happens.
The most fun I had in writing today was when Nicky described two of the people she's been hanging out with - one is Gordon Toody, who manages the bar. Sometimes he comes dressed as a vampyre (which Nicky inaccurately spelled as vampire! ignorant!) and sometimes in ballgowns, making everyone call him/her Crystal. The other person she described was Kiefer, the poet who told her she was his muse:
I met someone recently who seems the type who would believe in paths and destiny and muses, for god’s sake. He’s a poet and his name is Kiefer. I met him one night through a friend of a friend – ran into them down by the riverbank and we laid down and stared at the stars and talked for hours. He was in town for a couple of days so I kept running into him and couldn’t tell if it was by accident or design. He’s hard to describe – a little scruffy and skinny, loves to wear tight jeans so the boys can get a good look at his butt (which is worth a look or two, I’ll happily admit). When he’s had too much to drink you want to stay out of his way, and he has the look of someone who might bite through your jugular if you’re standing between him and something he wants. He has a way of rolling into the room sometimes, like he’s some kind of Marine or secret police. I wouldn’t call him nice. But he’s told me I’m his muse and that I’m hotness personified (please – does he really think that’ll get him anywhere?) and will I please come see him in The Other Big City. It’s fun being someone’s muse, I guess, even if it’s the muse of this unsettlingly erratic man, but I don’t want to just inspire insipid poetry – I want to do things myself.
A-may-zing. Love that Kiefer/Jack made it into your novel. Best line "I don't want to just inspire insipid poetry - I want to do things myself"
ReplyDeleteDoes Kiefer ever get drunk and take off his pants?
ReplyDelete