Day 6: 9,318. This shit is amazing.
Ok, I'm really hitting my stride, and by 'hitting my stride' I mean 'writing a lot of words about absolutely nothing but they're pretty funny in an Esmonde sort of way.'
To illustrate, here are a few things I did to get 3,000 words done today:
- I described a lot of food in detail, using adjectives from this list to help me: http://www.monroecc.edu/depts/library/foodadjectives.htm
- I plagiarized the stuff that Katie had plagiarized a few days ago
- Justin Timberlake, Broken Aero, Jackie Bauer, and Barry Manilow all played big parts in today's story
- I considered the fact that I had just written 3,000 words with no plot, and decided that was no problem
- I made the following google searches: "barry manilow albums," "barry manilow hairstyles," "aerosmith cover bands," "aerosmith cover bands drunk," "aerosmith song titles," "extremely positive food writing," and "nicknames for Justin Timberlake" (among others... there was a lot of google searching going on today)
As I was writing, I kept thinking, "this is the excerpt I want to share!" and then "no, this one!" because it was basically all trying to be funny. And only Esmondes and Wannabes will truly appreciate the jokes. So, here are a few brief paragraphs taken from different points in the novel.
Within minutes of their entry into Jackie’s Place, the group was whisked to a booth at the back and were seated on the cracked and sticky red leatherette benches, huddled around the equally sticky table. Ruby soon learned to appreciate that stickiness, as it seemed to hold the splinters glued to the table’s surface and rendered sitting there just a touch safer. The maître d’ had immediately turned to head back towards the entrance, his bedazzled rock vest seeming to disappear into the thick smog that filled the karaoke/stage/dance floor area. Ruby had never heard of the band Broken Aero, but if their music was half as amazing as their rock vests, ze thought ze was in for a treat.
**
“Enjoy the music, but we can’t stay long, kids,” Roux reminded them. “Barry Manilow starts promptly at 8 and he’ll be pissed if you’re late.” The Just Fiddlin’ Around kids nodded soberly as they perused the battered menus, all of which seemed to have been defaced by either drunken three-year-olds or a sober yet pantless Kiefer Sutherland, angry about the cancellation of 9am karaoke. Ruby tried to keep a poker face as ze pulled open the menu, anxious not to betray disgust at the half sandwich that fell out onto hir lap, or confusion at the sky-high prices. Forty-two dollars for a “grilled cheese sandwich made with Wonder Bread and Velveeta,” with a side of what the menu called “old yet not quite ripe tomatoes.” Sixteen dollars for a “third of a can of creamed corn, microwaved til its (sic) lukewarm.” Sixteen-fifty for a “dirty mug half full of coffee with a sheen of greasy oil on top.”
**
Ruby shrugged and reached for the empty pickle jar full of mismatched cutlery, pulling out a fork that appeared to have pieces of Jackies’ prior culinary concoctions stuck to the tines and a knife that was more rust than metal. Under Slade’s imperious stare, ze didn’t feel comfortable wiping them off, and ze was not hopeful that the rest of the cutlery would be any better, so ze brazenly cut off a chunk of beans and toast and bravely began chewing.
And boy, was ze glad ze did!
The aged baked beans, drizzled with a creamy and full-bodied bbq sauce reduction, had been artfully heaped on the indulgent Wonder Bread that had been toasted to a golden-brown perfection. The bread appeared to have been infused with hand-rubbed spices, providing a fruity aftertaste with just a hint of mouth-watering and nutty vanilla essence. The velvety mouthfeel of the beans, combined with the tempting and succulent artisanal crunch of the toast, provided a layered experience to the meal. Ruby couldn’t decide whether to eat as quickly as possible, or to eat slowly to savor the incredible delicacy on hir plate.
Photo from su-lin's flickr photostream
**
The group had just barely settled into their seats, Slade and Ruby sitting together a little off to the side, when Barry Manilow took to the stage. He was clearly older and past his prime, his hair a spiky mess that was barely recognizable as the flowing, feathered mane of yesteryear. But he was Barry. He still had that spark. The audience was eating out of the palm of his hand as he sang his greatest hits, some Broadway showtunes, and heckled them in between songs. He even got a standing ovation when he told the story of how some lowly store employee had once wished him “happy holidays” instead of “merry Christmas.”
“I’m Barry fucking Manilow and I’ll say Merry fucking Christmas if I god damn want to! NO ONE’S GONNA STOP ME FROM SAYING MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS!” he yelled, as the band swung into an up-tempo rendition of “How Do I Stop Living You?” Slade and Ruby stared at the cheering crowds around them, wondering if they were truly safe or if they should run for cover from the Christmas-loving, holiday-hating, masses.
To illustrate, here are a few things I did to get 3,000 words done today:
- I described a lot of food in detail, using adjectives from this list to help me: http://www.monroecc.edu/depts/library/foodadjectives.htm
- I plagiarized the stuff that Katie had plagiarized a few days ago
- Justin Timberlake, Broken Aero, Jackie Bauer, and Barry Manilow all played big parts in today's story
- I considered the fact that I had just written 3,000 words with no plot, and decided that was no problem
- I made the following google searches: "barry manilow albums," "barry manilow hairstyles," "aerosmith cover bands," "aerosmith cover bands drunk," "aerosmith song titles," "extremely positive food writing," and "nicknames for Justin Timberlake" (among others... there was a lot of google searching going on today)
As I was writing, I kept thinking, "this is the excerpt I want to share!" and then "no, this one!" because it was basically all trying to be funny. And only Esmondes and Wannabes will truly appreciate the jokes. So, here are a few brief paragraphs taken from different points in the novel.
Within minutes of their entry into Jackie’s Place, the group was whisked to a booth at the back and were seated on the cracked and sticky red leatherette benches, huddled around the equally sticky table. Ruby soon learned to appreciate that stickiness, as it seemed to hold the splinters glued to the table’s surface and rendered sitting there just a touch safer. The maître d’ had immediately turned to head back towards the entrance, his bedazzled rock vest seeming to disappear into the thick smog that filled the karaoke/stage/dance floor area. Ruby had never heard of the band Broken Aero, but if their music was half as amazing as their rock vests, ze thought ze was in for a treat.
**
“Enjoy the music, but we can’t stay long, kids,” Roux reminded them. “Barry Manilow starts promptly at 8 and he’ll be pissed if you’re late.” The Just Fiddlin’ Around kids nodded soberly as they perused the battered menus, all of which seemed to have been defaced by either drunken three-year-olds or a sober yet pantless Kiefer Sutherland, angry about the cancellation of 9am karaoke. Ruby tried to keep a poker face as ze pulled open the menu, anxious not to betray disgust at the half sandwich that fell out onto hir lap, or confusion at the sky-high prices. Forty-two dollars for a “grilled cheese sandwich made with Wonder Bread and Velveeta,” with a side of what the menu called “old yet not quite ripe tomatoes.” Sixteen dollars for a “third of a can of creamed corn, microwaved til its (sic) lukewarm.” Sixteen-fifty for a “dirty mug half full of coffee with a sheen of greasy oil on top.”
**
Ruby shrugged and reached for the empty pickle jar full of mismatched cutlery, pulling out a fork that appeared to have pieces of Jackies’ prior culinary concoctions stuck to the tines and a knife that was more rust than metal. Under Slade’s imperious stare, ze didn’t feel comfortable wiping them off, and ze was not hopeful that the rest of the cutlery would be any better, so ze brazenly cut off a chunk of beans and toast and bravely began chewing.
And boy, was ze glad ze did!
The aged baked beans, drizzled with a creamy and full-bodied bbq sauce reduction, had been artfully heaped on the indulgent Wonder Bread that had been toasted to a golden-brown perfection. The bread appeared to have been infused with hand-rubbed spices, providing a fruity aftertaste with just a hint of mouth-watering and nutty vanilla essence. The velvety mouthfeel of the beans, combined with the tempting and succulent artisanal crunch of the toast, provided a layered experience to the meal. Ruby couldn’t decide whether to eat as quickly as possible, or to eat slowly to savor the incredible delicacy on hir plate.
**
The group had just barely settled into their seats, Slade and Ruby sitting together a little off to the side, when Barry Manilow took to the stage. He was clearly older and past his prime, his hair a spiky mess that was barely recognizable as the flowing, feathered mane of yesteryear. But he was Barry. He still had that spark. The audience was eating out of the palm of his hand as he sang his greatest hits, some Broadway showtunes, and heckled them in between songs. He even got a standing ovation when he told the story of how some lowly store employee had once wished him “happy holidays” instead of “merry Christmas.”
“I’m Barry fucking Manilow and I’ll say Merry fucking Christmas if I god damn want to! NO ONE’S GONNA STOP ME FROM SAYING MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS!” he yelled, as the band swung into an up-tempo rendition of “How Do I Stop Living You?” Slade and Ruby stared at the cheering crowds around them, wondering if they were truly safe or if they should run for cover from the Christmas-loving, holiday-hating, masses.
The title of that post was no lie. That shit is amazing. Brilliant from start to finish, including the description of today's Barry Manilow, and the best beans on toast ever.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad that you're doing so well at getting caught up. It helps when you add some amazing real-life experiences, such as the gem when Kenny Rogers ranted about the greeting of "Happy Holidays."
ReplyDeleteAnd I'm glad I'm not the only one who misses Barry's feathered mane of yesteryear. That spiky, bleached mess is no replacement!
It seems as though food is the new outfit! What an inspired way to increase your word count, and it seems like you truly are churning out top of the line writing. Good luck reaching your goals, with more of this you will be there in no time!
ReplyDeleteAgree, this shit is amazing. I love that your narrator believes they could recognize the pant-less defacing of Kiefer Sutherland. I also really think you captured Kenny Rogers zeal for Christmas, although I hope that Barry Manilow is not such a zealot himself in real life.
ReplyDelete