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…
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…
…
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.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 