Where Ladybugs Roar

Confessions and Passions of a Compulsive Writer

Thursday, September 24, 2009

OH Butterflies and Kittens!

No... it's not a new-fangled profanity... it's what I plan on thinking about after finishing Scott Smith's book. Someone needs to mail that man a copy of the rules... seriously. There were people that died... that were not supposed to die. Some people die... some people don't. Those are the rules.


Butterflies and kittens. Butterflies and kittens.

I just finished going through my manuscript for adverbs, but I'll do a reread tonight and tomorrow for passive voice... probably. I picked up a book at the book store that Heidi has been telling me to read for like two years, "Carpe Demon" by Julie Kenner. I also bought an anthology of Paranormal Romance short stories. So, I might get side-tracked by those... just as I was side-tracked from cleaning by editing. I just hate cleaning so much. Why must we clean?

For those that think "Wait... but she has OCD... she should be very clean." No... there are a plethora of kinds of OCD. Mine is severe... but in no way useful. Off of meds, OCD eats me alive, and I can't function because of the hours devoted to obsessions.

I hate cleaning. It was one of the things that inspired me to write. If I have something better to be doing... that I can earn a living at... I can hire someone to clean. Woo! I'm sure the American Dream is different for some, but I'm a simple soul.

I'm tired. B's late night last night means I'm dragging today. I should have started the day with a dose of caffeine. It seems rather unfair on my week break from insomnia... B has a problem sleeping. It's not even my fault. The husband let her watch a Daffy Duck cartoon that was a parody on "Ghostbusters" and it scared her. (Before you assume that she scares easily... she doesn't. She is scared about very specifically odd things. She is scared of zombies... not because they are what they are... but because they eat weird things. She freaks out at the thought of weird things being eaten. Her oral sensory problems are pervasive. ) Anyway, my insomnia cycles based on hormones and in less than a week, it'll be hard core again. If only there were a cure for being female... though I suspect the husband would complain and none of my clothes would fit right.

Scott Smith, here are the rules for those you're allowed to kill... peruse:

1. Any person who doesn't speak the same language as the rest dies.
2. Any person having sex before the age of consent or outside of a monogamous relationship (this excludes James Bond) are fair game.
3. Anyone who loses a family member, spouse, or child.. or goes through a bitter divorce is fair game.
4. In a family film, the dog dies.
5. All mentally disabled people live.
6. All physically disabled people... fair game.
7. Lawyers and politicians... fair game. Doctors... typically not.
8. Evil minions... fair game. Evil mastermind... can escape or die but must "nearly" be killed.
9. Old nosy female neighbors will die.
10. People without names... fair game. (aka Star Trek Ensign rule)
11. The female or male love interest, not a lead, of the main character is fair game.
12. Anyone who swears profusely or gets drunk... fair game.
13. Anyone with a heart condition is fair game.
14. Unfaithful spouses or lovers absolutely should die.
15. Those that exploit the environment die.
16. Kindergarten teachers and nuns always live.
17. Children main characters can only die in a lingering way if at all.
18. The old king/ elderly mentor... always dies. (Later ghostly visits acceptable.)
19. Crooked cops and drug dealers die.
20. Evil Scientists or doctors... die. Evil scientists must be killed via their experiment rebounding on them.
21. Someone who causes the conflict is fair game.

These are the rules, Scott. Without the rules, chaos ensues. You can't just kill people willy nilly. Anarchy. Plus, people put down your book saying, "What the crap was that? I feel disatisfied. The world seems dimmer and duller. It was that book! Arr...." Then, they jot off some hate mail and go burn their book in a garbage can in their driveway.

I'll let it go this once, Scott... because we're tight.

It may seem to some of you that there should be twenty rules, but it's an even number, and I don't like even numbers. Also, twenty-one is the product of two prime odd numbers. So, that's your daily dose of OCD. Feel free to let your brain explode.

I should really go get something accomplished. Butterflies and kittens. Butterflies and kittens.

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