The No News is No News Purgatory Thread, Volume 9

Another writing board I visit has a discussion going about how easy it is to see "twists" (which don't deserve the name) on TV shows. The moment you go, "Hey, that guy!" when you don't recognize the other actors brought in for the episode, the moment the camera lingers on the pen knife or the locked cabinet, the moment the leads dismiss a suspect too quickly, you might as well go read a book, because you know how it's going to end.

In movies it's not quite that bad, but it's still rare for a twist to be terrific without being either telegraphed or deus ex machina.

One man there, among the very few who make a living as screenwriters, says that for TV it's not about the mystery. It's about the main character being in amusing or interesting situations. Make Matlock coach a girls' soccer team while he solves the case! Make Bones masquerade as a Guido! Fill Tutuola with angst which turns to acceptance that his kid's gay!

Maryn, reminded why TV sucks

The worst episode of "Breaking Bad" was better than the best episode of most series, of course. In my opinion, which is absolutely correct.

I have deep cleaned the left side of the kitchen. The rest could be not-so-deep cleaned in an hour or less, so I'm hopeful. Unknown and no doubt unappreciated by Mr. Maryn, I have also cleaned the powder room, where the gentleman of the house is responsible for 90% of what needs cleaning. I remain mystified by the fact that I have to scrub down the wall opposite the toilet. Isn't he supposed to be facing it? How the hell does he get the area behind his heels wet?

Maryn, who may have said too much

Our house is so clean I'm afraid to live here. I suppose it says something bad about me that I'm uncomfortable when it's like this.

Our guest doesn't arrive until early afternoon. Maybe I should go out or something.

Maryn, who won't

Ugh, pants and shorts and jeans shopping, I hate it with the fire of a thousand suns.

I did, however, find one style of one brand of jeans that fits, and the same with dress pants. So I have two pairs of jeans and two pairs of dress pants that I actually look okay in and can sit down in without sawing myself in half at the waistband.

Speaking of summer clothes, do those who wear skirts and dresses know about the miracle that is Jockey Skimmies Slipshorts. Fully comfy, many colors, machine wash & dry, runs one size small, $20 unless you catch a sale. I started out with a black and a skin-tone but now have turquoise and purple, too. It lets me wear a dress or skirt and walk without chafing myself half to death.

Maryn, who should sew today

IIRC, they have them at Kohl's and Penney's. And online, since you know to just get your usual size plus one. I did try on some other brands, which were just fine but cost more. Maidenform, maybe? I forget.

I have walked four miles at a stately pace because my $%^&* knee is still bothering me (twisted it a few weeks ago getting up to answer the phone--and it was a telemarketer), pulled the grass out of half my little flower garden, which has an excellent worm population, had lunch, and cleaned up. I'm tired and it's only mid-afternoon. Oh, and I watched another episode of "The Killing" while I ate, because if I wait until I'm using the treadmill next fall, I won't remember what's going on.

Maryn, busy person

Does that mean it's Lily's? I'm kind of dense.

Happy Birthday!

Oh, no, on the yarn! I once lost my only pair of custom-made sandals ever (sniff!) the same way, a remote corner of the closet gone to mold. I got them looking okay, but they never smelled the same again.

Since fabric is as risk, same as yarn, I've been gradually accumulating plastic tubs to store it all that way. I was lucky when the basement flooded that the only cloth to get wet was a cardboard box of scraps for quilting. So no real loss.

We are down to one final chair, by which I mean Mr. Maryn and I have reglued, rewebbed, and reupholstered 9 of the 10 dining chairs that needed it (kitchen table and dining room table). The first ones we did look kind of sloppy now--isn't that always the way it goes, your skill set approaching pretty good only near the end of the project?--and we agree a pneumatic staple gun should be something a person can rent, though we could not find one.

Next up will probably be wallpaper for the entryway. We agreed when we were house hunting that we didn't like this paper. Eighteen years later, it hasn't grown on us. Go figure!

Lily, I'm sad that you had to bake your own cake, even though I used to do the same. I hate that helpless-me act Mr. Maryn does when I propose a cake out of a freakin' box. I think if ten-year-olds can do it, it's probably not beyond him. Silly Mr. Maryn!

Maryn, who did not work in the garden as promised

As Twitter-promised, here's how I taught myself to pare a 7500-word short story down to 3500 or less.

• Open a new document and the too-long story.
• For each paragraph of the story, long or short, write one sentence in the new document which says what the paragraph does. This is the reason the paragraph exists, not merely the information the paragraph conveys. Examples: Wife learns Jonah cheated with Sue from work. Hm, that took 200 words on the page, some of it dialogue. Build sympathy for overwhelmed mom. Or Jeff hunts alone since his friend's heart attack. Or The ambassador is obscenely rich.
• Close the too-long story's document.
• Starting at the end, write a new paragraph which does what the summary sentence says the paragraph does. Don't get fancy. Don't add anything that's not in the summary sentence.
• When you reach the first paragraph, you have another draft of the story. It should be substantially shorter.
• Edit the story for quality--but you may not add to its present word count. Find every non-essential word, unnecessary detail, redundancy, adverb propping up a verb, etc. and use the words saved to add quality in edits.

This has worked pretty well for me, and I've trained myself to get to the freakin' point much faster, in short works anyway.

In other news, good morning, everybody. The sun is shining, we're headed for the 60s, and my knee is throbbing like a steel drum when I put weight on it.

Maryn, ever so old