I’ve been busy doing my actual job the past few days—the one I get paid to do. I suppose if I’m going to ask these people for a reference if I get the other job I’m after, I’d better do some work so they make it a good one.
But I have found time to do a little bit of writing. Not on “Moviestar”, I need a short break from that to get some energy back—I’ll come to that in a sec—but instead I’ve been scribbling on a story inspired by this very blog. Actually, it was this entry and in particular, Virgo/Ram’s response in which she suggested a story based on point number 4. So that’s what I’ve written, a story based on true events—although obviously embellished a little bit. I’ve used the same characters as for my “Would Twins do this?” story, and I plan to pen a companion story to it and see if Ruthie’s will run them as a group. Watch this space. There’s a very short extract below.
Okay, back to “Moviestar”. Last night, as I was lying in bed and between bouts of coughing so violent and painful I thought my lungs were trying to escape through my mouth (I’ll kill whoever’s given me this cold if the cold doesn’t kill me first) I realised I may have written myself into a corner with this story. Okay, not a corner exactly, but I do have a problem. A POV problem. Let me explain.
So far, I’ve written the whole story in 3rd person limited, from the male lead’s point of view. But (and trying not to give the plot away too much here), I’ve realised that perhaps the most important event in the resolution of the story, he won’t be present for. Do I really want the second (okay, maybe third) big turning point in my female lead’s story/character to happen ‘off stage’?
Ideally, I’d write the scene from her POV, but that would mean a sudden shift in the final stages of the story—not good.
I don’t want to write the story again entirely from her POV, because I’ll lose the mystery that surrounds her and her motives. I’ll need to have a good old think about this.
Kenny went back into the club but couldn’t face going back into the packed dance hall where everyone would be staring at him. He went instead back into the gents toilet. As nightclub toilets went, it wasn’t that bad, but the floor was still wet and muddy, and it still reeked of stale urine. He went into the nearest unoccupied cubicle. The smell hit him like a hammer. He looked in the bowl—someone had forgotten to flush. He did the job for them and abandoned the cubicle for one at the other end of the row. At least whoever used this one last had the decency to clean up after themselves.
He locked the cubicle door, put the toilet seat down and sat with his head in his hands, trying to gather his thoughts. He was more than a little drunk, and it was hard to concentrate.
“Hey lady, what are you doing in here? This is the gents.” The agitated voice was coming from the direction of the urinals on the far wall. Whoever the man was talking to must have ignored him. “Didn’t you hear me? You shouldn’t be in here.”
“Oh, shut up. It’s not like I’ve never seen a cock before. Even if yours is a little on the small side.” It was Jessica. She knocked on the nearest locked door. “Kenny?”
“Who?” answered the occupant.
She knocked on the next door but before she could say anything the occupant said, “No. I’m not.”
Kenny’s door was next. She knocked. He didn’t answer. She knocked again. “Kenny? Baby?”
“Go away, Jess.”
“Let me in, Kenny. Please. I’m getting stared at.”
“You’re in the gent’s bog, what the fuck do you expect?”
“I don’t think they like me here.”
“Funny that. Probably best if you leave then, don’t you think?”
“I’m not goin anywhere until you hear me out. So you can either let me and we can do it quietly, or I can stand here and everyone can listen it.”
Kenny thought for a moment, then said, “Hang on.” He stood and opened the door. Jessica slid into the cubicle with him.
She smiled sheepishly at him. It was her ‘naughty school-girl’ smile. “Thanks.”