Recently I was having a conversation with a friend of mine, Mary Lynn, on the topic of writers and how many outrageous labels we’ve had hung on us at times. We’ve been perceived as being everything from drunks and loners, to someone with a schizophrenic personality. (It’s all those characters we have to become, you know.) At the kindest we’re referred to as being just a little bit odd.
Mary Lynn seemed to latch onto the schizophrenic personality (gives you pause doesn’t it), and came up with the idea of gifting me with a blow-up doll. This was offered to help me when I was writing as a male. Now, that struck a chord with me, and I began to think about those blow-up dolls. (We’ll stop counting the times we’re given pause here, this could get a little lengthy at the rate I’m going.) How many times do we, as writers, have to act out something? We pace the floor, trying to figure out how our character makes it from point A to point B, without taking a nose-dive, as the thing from hell gains ground on them.
And then, there’s the dilemma of the female writer, the point of view my friend was trying to help me with. You have to crawl inside your male character’s mind and do some massive role playing. It’s sort of like that new M&M commercial where the M&M has to swallow the pretzel. You’re in there, and it’s a whole different point of view.
So, let’s think about it this way, wouldn’t a blow up guy help a little with perspective? No more chasing down your hubby to see if he’s up to another round of malicious role playing. (It’s usually the men who’re the villains, but we won’t go there, I don’t know how deep the water might get, and I’m not adding hip boots to the list of props.) And just imagine how relieved the neighbors will be. They no longer have to make a judgment call as to whether or not to dial 911. There’s no more wild-eyed man chasing you around the deck with fangs in his mouth.
Speaking for myself, I think I’ve hit on something. Heck, if one doll works, how about three? After all, I’ve drifted past Anne Rice’s house when she lived in the French Quarter, and she used to have two, paper mache’ characters perched in her porch swing. I think I understand why now.
I wonder how many of those blow-up stand-in’s I could squeeze onto my deck swing. I think I’ll give Mary Lynn a call. I’ve decided she can feel free to gift me as many times as she’d like.
Read Loretta’s intriguing story, Dark Pleasures in A Death in Texas anthology and coming this winter, Siren’s Call, written under her pseudonym of L Reveaux in the anthology, Erotic Dreamspell. She also has a free read, The Pan Man, on The Long and the Short of It which won an honorable mention in LASR’s annual YA contest.