As some may be aware, but many not, Chester, my faithful writing assistant, mice catcher, and general pain in the neck, passed away some months ago.
Recently I was running a series based on his adventures, under the title of Past Conversations with my cat.
For those who have not had the chance to read about all of his exploits I will run the series again from Episode 1
These are the memories of our time together…
This is Chester, he’s lurking in the shadows.
This is near the front door, so I wonder if he’s waiting for someone, or keeping guard, or he’s spotted something outside.
The grandchildren will be here soon, and I haven’t told him they are paying a surprise visit. He has a habit of disappearing the days they usually come.
We both hear a noise outside.
He goes into stealth mode.
Then I recognize the sound, of letters being shoved into the mailbox.
He shakes his head. I think he was expecting a mouse.
I hear the back door rattle and the loud sounds of the grandchildren arriving.
He lifts his head, stands, and bolts.
That’s the fastest I’ve seen him move for a long time.
As some may be aware, but many not, Chester, my faithful writing assistant, mice catcher, and general pain in the neck, passed away some months ago.
Recently I was running a series based on his adventures, under the title of Past Conversations with my cat.
For those who have not had the chance to read about all of his exploits I will run the series again from Episode 1
These are the memories of our time together…
…
Am I seriously reading my work to a cat, as an aid to correcting errors and grammar
This is Chester, he helps with the proofreading.
It’s not his favorite job, and truth be told he’d rather be outside being chased by a dog. But that’s why he’s not allowed outside.
He mistakenly wanders into my writing room ready to take up a spot on the seat near the window.
I watch him, and he’s pretending not to care if I’m watching him. A wide yawn, and a dour look in my direction. Yes, I can hear him now, “do your worst.”
For a moment while I read, trying to add the right amount of inflection and accent into the voices of the various characters, I realize that some of the conversational pieces seem a little awkward.
I think, judging from the expression on Chester’s face he agrees
Stilted, forced, or ‘mate, you’ve got a bloody awful accent, that sounded nothing like an Italian using English as a second language’.
OK, so I can’t write accents very well. Note to self, find an Italian and spend some time talking to them.
So, the conversation needs a little rework, let’s move on.
The next part is a little descriptive, just to set the scene.
‘Flowery’ is the word Chester uses. Flowery? It isn’t describing a garden. Oh, overly descriptive with too many comparisons.
What’s wrong with the sky is as blue as the ocean?
Have you seen the ocean?
Yes.
I doubt it. The ocean is green.
How do you know, you’ve never seen an ocean? This cat is starting to annoy me.
A gentle shrug, he gets up off the floor and heads towards the door. A condescending look over his shoulder and he’s gone.
What’s the definition of madness? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.
As some may be aware, but many not, Chester, my faithful writing assistant, mice catcher, and general pain in the neck, passed away some months ago.
Recently I was running a series based on his adventures, under the title of Past Conversations with my cat.
For those who have not had the chance to read about all of his exploits I will run the series again from Episode 1
These are the memories of our time together…
This is Chester, he’s lurking in the shadows.
This is near the front door, so I wonder if he’s waiting for someone, or keeping guard, or he’s spotted something outside.
The grandchildren will be here soon, and I haven’t told him they are paying a surprise visit. He has a habit of disappearing the days they usually come.
We both hear a noise outside.
He goes into stealth mode.
Then I recognize the sound, of letters being shoved into the mailbox.
He shakes his head. I think he was expecting a mouse.
I hear the back door rattle and the loud sounds of the grandchildren arriving.
He lifts his head, stands, and bolts.
That’s the fastest I’ve seen him move for a long time.
As some may be aware, but many not, Chester, my faithful writing assistant, mice catcher, and general pain in the neck, passed away about 2 years ago, and I still miss him.
This is my way of remembering him.
For those who have not had the chance to read about all of his exploits, I will run the series again from Episode 1
…
Character development
This is Chester, he thinks he is an expert on people
He has meandered in checking out what I’m doing, or maybe he’s here because the room is cooler.
He gives me the ‘What are you doing’ look.
It doesn’t matter how many times I’m a writer, it’s like talking to a brick wall.
I say I’m working on developing a new character.
Name?
I’m thinking of John.
A shake of the head and the eyes roll. Can you be a little more inventive, like, well, Chester?
Predictable. How about Xavier?
Would you call your kid Xavier? He’s going to have a very rough time of it at school. Unless this character has a tortured soul.
Good point. How about William?
Bill, that’s what you get in the mail. Another shake of the head. You’re not very good at this, are you?
Apparently not. Haven’t you got some mice to catch?
He yawns, then curls up on the seat. Wake me when you’ve got some better ideas.
Maybe not. I’ve come up with a name, Daniel, and I don’t care what he thinks.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 