There we were, cruising around in the author’s mind like we always do. I mean, it is where we live when she fails to corral us on the page of a book. And believe you me, it is a strange place in here. Overloaded. Way overloaded. Some areas are quite organized. Some are oh so not. Some are twisted. Some are dirty (we avoid those areas at all costs). And crowded. Jesus, it’s crowded in here! We just never know who we’ll run into, but still, most of them are docile. At least they are after they figure out who we are. The Dykes Who Dare rule the gray-mattered roost, you see. Hell, there’s even a serial killer in here who cowers when the lot of us are strutting about. Okay, and maybe the fact that Laura kind of plays hall monitor helps a bit, too.
Anyway, as I was saying…
There we were, meandering in the skinny corridor between her conscious and subconscious. We were about to whisper some more sweet LAC 13s into her subconscious and and give her conscious a swift kick when this woman walks up to us. Being the rulers, we politely, albeit demonstratively introduce ourselves. I’m thinking this person is, what? A pizza delivery chick in our next book? Maybe a new barista at Road Swill? Oh, turns out that is so not the case. Oh, frickin’ no. She says she is the main character in a short story.
“You mean from those short stories she used to write in her younger days?” Ginny shrewdly inquires.
“No,” the woman answers. “She’s only a few paragraphs into it so far. I look pretty good in the character sketch, though. Nice and fleshed out; although my face is still a bit blurry.”
Jaws hanging, we kind of stare at her for a moment.
Then, quite wisely, Susan growls, “Get her!”
Like the Ladies of the Flies you all know and love, we were all over her like … well, you know.
We’ve got her secluded. It seems like it should be easy enough to lose someone in here, but you just never know. And no, we have not turned into sadists or anyone Laura would feel compelled to arrest, but we had to do something. Didn’t we? I mean, if we rule the roost, where the hell does the author get off writing short stories that don’t include us? Certainly, if you’re reading this page on our blog, you must agree.
Does anyone know how to start an online petition?
Does anyone have any sway with the author?
Does anyone need a spare character for a short story?
She seems nice enough.
Free to a good literary home.
Just not ours.
Jesus, just not ours.