(3)(a) the hero is so damn magnetic that every woman, random waitresses, etc., blushes and feels jolts of electricity when they meet him, so it's not just the heroine. The dude is electrically charged. In our version, I propose that someone be literally electrically charged. Just a suggestion.
*steps forward*
Fine. You can loosely base the character on me...
*steps forward*
Fine. You can loosely base the character on me...
Every time I rep robeiae or quote him, I feel an electric tingle run through my fingertips. I was going to bring my computer into the repair shop to see if it has a short somewhere. Now I know what the problem is! You just saved me some cash.
Pffft. Just your fingers?
The jolt penetrates me like a piercing sword, thrusting deeply through my innermost secret parts, sending throbbing waves of ecstasy coursing from my burning loins to my trembling fingertips and curling toes.
And then I gasp.
It's like Icarus, flying too close to the flaming sun.
Totally.
Well, ever since the ebola crisis, I've taken to wearing thick, insulating rubber gloves. Those might blunt the robeiae effect.
Join in and add the scene once we get the thread started, Thuro! Have you seen the Obnoxious Novelist How-to thread in Office Party? The fun is in telling a connected story that includes many random ridiculous elements, POVs, styles, etc. I keep jumping into that one to tie some of the more out-there contributions into the plot, such as it is. But there is a plot. Sort of.
I've read enough fantasy and horror novels to do a fair job at parodying them. But I feel my major contribution to FSOD will be my depressing and painfully acquired familiarity with FSOG.
Pffft. Just your fingers?
The jolt penetrates me like a piercing sword, thrusting deeply through my innermost secret parts, sending throbbing waves of ecstasy coursing from my burning loins to my trembling fingertips and curling toes.
And then I gasp.
It's like Icarus, flying too close to the flaming sun.
Totally.
You might want to hang onto those, not just to blunt the electrical current, but also because, well, it's robo, and you don't really know where he's been.
I'm wearing a hazmat suit. A sexy one. With leather.
I hope this is true -- it makes me happy. Rumor is, they're having to re-shoot scenes of the movie version of FSOG because it's "not sexy." They're blaming it on the actress, but having just read the book, I am betting she's not the real problem.
I hope the movie bombs. I really do.
So. I've fibbed and said I wasn't feeling well tonight in order to skip a party. I'm fine, of course, but I'm feeling mentally exhausted from making forced small talk during my unpleasant Thursday night dinner. Plus I'm feeling like the two fabulous evenings I had last week are enough to last me for a while. All I want to do this weekend is hibernate with my manuscript draft and work on a poem that's giving me issues and goof around with you people and cook nice things and go for pleasant autumn runs on my own.
Am I total freak? Wait, allow me to rephrase. Does anyone else find social small talk draining?
It's hard work to try to pretend you're an extrovert.I can be amusing at parties, and I'm good at talking with strangers if I put out the effort. For that reason, some of my friends expect me to be "on" all the time, but it honestly feels like work, not fun.
If I'm having a wonderful conversation and really clicking with someone, that's another thing -- that's energizing. But alas, those types of conversations are few and far between at your average social gathering.
And even if you're lucky enough to find yourself engrossed in a great conversation, someone inevitably butts into them and wants to talk about what you do for a living and so forth.