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Date Posted: 22:49:16 03/22/10 Mon
Author: 
Page
Subject: Public spectacles >>>>>
In reply to:
Debi
's message, "Prepare for takeoff..." on 20:50:15 03/20/10 Sat
I don't know how much action there is with this dialogue, but it takes place in public. Do I get half-credit? *G*
This scene is set at Pat O'Brien's, a French Quarter bar. For those of you who aren't familiar with it, the patio area has a fountain that's set on fire every evening. Quite a sight to see. The bar's signature drink is The Hurricane, a fruity concoction that's mostly all rum. Following The Hurricane in popularity is The Skylab. It's the prettiest shade of blue when it comes to the table, but it's the strongest drink they have. One is enough to put most people under the table.
Oh, and the character of Mike? Yeah. Ever heard the saying, "Don't make me mad or I'll write you into my next book and kill you off?" Mike's not his real name, but he made me mad. *G*
~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt from working title Royal Orleans
©2010 by Juli Page Morgan
Posted for purposes of critique only and does not constitute publication
Using every bit of willpower she possessed, Sherry refrained from throwing her Hurricane after Mike as he strutted past the flaming fountain. It was too much to hope he’d fall in and be consumed by fiery water, but the thought was nice. She looked back at Geoff in exasperation. “Why the hell do you keep him around?”
Geoff shrugged. “He’s a good photographer.”
“Oh, come on, Geoff. The man can’t light a candle.” Sherry sipped her drink and was glad she hadn’t wasted it on Mike. The icy concoction quenched her anger somewhat, and she took a bigger gulp, hoping the four ounces of rum would obliterate it completely.
Geoff’s lips quirked with amusement. “Alright, then, he’s a decent photographer.”
“Meaning he does whatever you want the way you want it?”
“Exactly,” Geoff laughed.
“Okay. Just so we have that straight.” Sherry plucked the orange slice out of the tall glass and sucked the juice from it. “Is he?”
“Is who what?” Geoff frowned in confusion.
“Mike. Is he straight?”
“I suppose. Why?”
“He acts like your jealous girlfriend, that’s why.”
Geoff snorted and swallowed the last of the murky blue liquid in his glass. “That’s his problem, not mine.” He waved the empty glass in the direction of a waitress.
Sherry narrowed her eyes. “Are you having another one of those?”
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
“There’s enough vodka in those things to knock an elephant on its ass, is all.”
“Good thing I’m not an elephant.”
Sherry dropped the orange slice back into the remains of her Hurricane and fished out the cherry. “Maybe not, but if you get drunk I’m outta here.” She popped the cherry into her mouth, holding the stem between her thumb and forefinger. With a complete lack of calculation, she raised her eyes to Geoff’s as she sucked on the cherry.
He drew his breath in with a hiss, and smiled. “Well, we don’t want that, do we?” A fresh Skylab was placed before him on the table, and he lifted his gaze to the waitress who was looking at him with adoration. “Thanks, love. We’re also going to need a pot of black coffee. Think you could fetch that for us?”
“Sure thing. Anything you want.” The waitress balanced her tray on one shoulder and smiled down at Geoff. “Anything at all.” With a bat of eyelashes and a toss of over-processed bleached hair, she turned and sashayed off, hips swinging like a screen door in a high wind.
Geoff watched the display with evident admiration before turning back to Sherry. “There now. I won’t get sloppy drunk. All better?”
Sherry shrugged. “Not completely. You also have to promise to lose the Neal Preston wannabe.”
Geoff threw his head back and laughed, causing every female on the patio to sigh with delight. “You really don’t like Mike, do you?”
“He’s a trouser stain,” Sherry replied. “If you’re really wanting to make things up to me, he’s gotta go.”
As if to contradict this assertion, Mike chose that moment to return, sliding into his chair with a sigh. “I’d forgotten what a bloody tourist attraction this place is. I came here last year with Steven Tyler and Joe Perry, and I think it’s only gotten worse.”
“Clean up in aisle three,” Sherry muttered under her breath.
Mike favored her with a patronizing stare. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve been dropping so many names tonight I’m afraid someone’s going to trip over them and hurt themselves, that’s what.” As she watched Mike’s face twist into a scowl, she had the passing thought that his slanted eyebrows, sharp cheekbones and slightly manic eyes made him look like a demented leprechaun. She couldn’t resist the resultant smile. “Ooh, touched a nerve, did I, Mikey?”
Without deigning to reply, Mike turned to Geoff. “Between all the fat, sweaty tourists and the bitchy American girl, this place has lost all interest. What about finding another place to drink?”
“Be my guest.” Geoff shrugged. “You’re the one who invited yourself along. I don’t mind if you split.”
“Are you having me on?” The increased volume of Mike’s voice caused several people on the patio to turn their attention to Geoff’s table.
“I am not.” Geoff glared at Mike. “What’s your problem, mate? I’m here with the lady, not you.”
The thought that Mike looked like a demented leprechaun had made Sherry smile, but the fact that Geoff looked like a tiger about to pounce made her shake as adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream. His eyes had become almost golden, and the dangerous, flat glare he directed at Mike looked like something out of an old Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom episode.
“Um, guys?” Hoping to diffuse the tension, she leaned forward and waved a hand between the two men. “We were getting enough attention before, but this is getting ridiculous, know what I mean?”
Geoff glanced at her and then seemed to relax, leaning back in his chair. “Right.” He threw back the rest of his drink, and leaned his head toward Mike. “Isn’t it time you were leaving this tourist trap? You know what they say about three being a crowd.”
Mike opened his mouth to reply, but obviously thought better of it as Geoff turned that predatory gaze his way again. Without a word, Mike rose from his chair and left, his grand, stamping exit attracting the attention of the rest of Pat O’Brien’s customers. The dust hadn’t settled when the waitress returned with the coffee Geoff had asked for.
Sherry glared at the woman’s back as she leaned over the table to place the tray in front of Geoff, all but pressing her breasts in his face. Forgetting her new position as public spectacle, Sherry snapped her fingers in the direction of the waitress.
“Hey! Bambi, or whatever your name is.” She narrowed her eyes as the woman turned toward her. “We ordered coffee, not a peep show. Get lost.”
As the waitress flounced off in a huff, Sherry caught the interested looks being thrown their way. With a groan, she lowered her head. “Damn it. Don’t they have anything else to do besides stare at us?”
“Don’t let it bother you.” Geoff grinned. “Who cares what they think?”
“I do.” Sherry looked up at him, frowning. “I have to.”
Geoff looked puzzled. “Why the hell does it matter?”
With a sigh, Sherry picked up the coffee decanter and began filling two cups. “Look, it’s fine if you’re out making a scene every night. It just adds to your rock and roll mystique, right?” She kept her eyes on the stream of coffee filling the cups. “But people know who I am, too. My face is on billboards, plastered on the sides of busses, on placards in the trolley cars; all I need is for one of these people to tell an advertiser I was involved in an altercation in a French Quarter bar, and I’m in a lot of trouble.”
“Didn’t stop you the other night, did it?”
The amusement she heard in Geoff’s voice made her temper rise, but she fought it down with determination. “That was a private party, okay? Our listeners expect us to be out partying. But they don’t pay to listen to the radio, do they? No, our money comes from advertisers, and if they don’t think we’re professional enough to handle ourselves or represent their businesses on air, then they don’t buy from us. And if they don’t buy from us, we don’t make money. And if a deejay causes a station to lose ad revenue, then he or she is out the door.”
Geoff’s silence made her glance up to find him regarding his cup of coffee with a thoughtful frown. After a moment, he sighed. “I never thought of it that way.”
“Why should you?” Sherry took a sip of coffee. “After all, it’s not your job on the line.”
He looked up and smiled. “And neither is yours. We’ll just sit here being circumspect and drinking coffee, and talk about things like heavy literature.”
Sherry laughed, relieved he seemed to understand. “I didn’t say we had to be boring. But no scenes in the French Quarter, okay? I need my job.”
“Done.” Geoff clinked his cup against hers.
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[> [>
Drinking is serious business. -- Larn, 00:13:10 03/23/10 Tue
>This scene is set at Pat O'Brien's, a French Quarter
>bar. For those of you who aren't familiar with it,
>the patio area has a fountain that's set on fire every
>evening. Quite a sight to see.
It really is.
>One is enough to put most people under the
>table.
I had one and a half and hated myself for two days.
>Oh, and the character of Mike? Yeah. Ever heard the
>saying, "Don't make me mad or I'll write you into my
>next book and kill you off?" Mike's not his real
>name, but he made me mad. *G*
Boy howdy, do I know those people.
>
>Excerpt from working title Royal Orleans
>©2010 by Juli Page Morgan
>Posted for purposes of critique only and does not
>constitute publication
>
>Using every bit of willpower she possessed, Sherry
>refrained from throwing her Hurricane after Mike as he
>strutted past the flaming fountain. It was too much
>to hope he’d fall in and be consumed by fiery water,
>but the thought was nice. She looked back at Geoff in
>exasperation. “Why the hell do you keep him around?”
>
>Geoff shrugged. “He’s a good photographer.”
>
>“Oh, come on, Geoff. The man can’t light a candle.”
>Sherry sipped her drink and was glad she hadn’t wasted
>it on Mike. The icy concoction quenched her anger
>somewhat, and she took a bigger gulp, hoping the four
>ounces of rum would obliterate it completely.
>
>Geoff’s lips quirked with amusement. “Alright, then,
>he’s a decent photographer.”
>
>“Meaning he does whatever you want the way you want
>it?”
>
>“Exactly,” Geoff laughed.
>
>“Okay. Just so we have that straight.” Sherry
>plucked the orange slice out of the tall glass and
>sucked the juice from it. “Is he?”
>
>“Is who what?” Geoff frowned in confusion.
>
>“Mike. Is he straight?”
>
>“I suppose. Why?”
>
>“He acts like your jealous girlfriend, that’s why.”
>
>Geoff snorted and swallowed the last of the murky blue
>liquid in his glass. “That’s his problem, not mine.”
>He waved the empty glass in the direction of a
>waitress.
>
>Sherry narrowed her eyes. “Are you having another one
>of those?”
>
>“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
>
>“There’s enough vodka in those things to knock an
>elephant on its ass, is all.”
>
>“Good thing I’m not an elephant.”
>
>Sherry dropped the orange slice back into the remains
>of her Hurricane and fished out the cherry. “Maybe
>not, but if you get drunk I’m outta here.” She popped
>the cherry into her mouth, holding the stem between
>her thumb and forefinger. With a complete lack of
>calculation, she raised her eyes to Geoff’s as she
>sucked on the cherry.
That's dangerous territory, there.
>He drew his breath in with a hiss, and smiled. “Well,
>we don’t want that, do we?” A fresh Skylab was placed
>before him on the table, and he lifted his gaze to the
>waitress who was looking at him with adoration.
>“Thanks, love. We’re also going to need a pot of
>black coffee. Think you could fetch that for us?”
>
>“Sure thing. Anything you want.” The waitress
>balanced her tray on one shoulder and smiled down at
>Geoff. “Anything at all.” With a bat of eyelashes
>and a toss of over-processed bleached hair, she turned
>and sashayed off, hips swinging like a screen door in
>a high wind.
>
>Geoff watched the display with evident admiration
>before turning back to Sherry. “There now. I won’t
>get sloppy drunk. All better?”
>
>Sherry shrugged. “Not completely. You also have to
>promise to lose the Neal Preston wannabe.”
>
>Geoff threw his head back and laughed, causing every
>female on the patio to sigh with delight. “You really
>don’t like Mike, do you?”
>
>“He’s a trouser stain,” Sherry replied. “If you’re
>really wanting to make things up to me, he’s gotta go.”
That may be my new favorite derogatory term. Ever.
>As if to contradict this assertion, Mike chose that
>moment to return, sliding into his chair with a sigh.
>“I’d forgotten what a bloody tourist attraction this
>place is. I came here last year with Steven Tyler and
>Joe Perry, and I think it’s only gotten worse.”
>
>“Clean up in aisle three,” Sherry muttered under her
>breath.
>
>Mike favored her with a patronizing stare. “And
>what’s that supposed to mean?”
>
>“You’ve been dropping so many names tonight I’m afraid
>someone’s going to trip over them and hurt themselves,
>that’s what.”
And besides, all his REAL friends call him Stevie.
>As she watched Mike’s face twist into a
>scowl, she had the passing thought that his slanted
>eyebrows, sharp cheekbones and slightly manic eyes
>made him look like a demented leprechaun. She
>couldn’t resist the resultant smile. “Ooh, touched a
>nerve, did I, Mikey?”
>
>Without deigning to reply, Mike turned to Geoff.
>“Between all the fat, sweaty tourists and the bitchy
>American girl, this place has lost all interest. What
>about finding another place to drink?”
>
>“Be my guest.” Geoff shrugged. “You’re the one who
>invited yourself along. I don’t mind if you split.”
>
>“Are you having me on?” The increased volume of
>Mike’s voice caused several people on the patio to
>turn their attention to Geoff’s table.
>
>“I am not.” Geoff glared at Mike. “What’s your
>problem, mate? I’m here with the lady, not you.”
>
>The thought that Mike looked like a demented
>leprechaun had made Sherry smile, but the fact that
>Geoff looked like a tiger about to pounce made her
>shake as adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream.
>His eyes had become almost golden, and the dangerous,
>flat glare he directed at Mike looked like something
>out of an old Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom
>episode.
I don't get that reference, but I see where you're going.
>“Um, guys?” Hoping to diffuse the tension, she leaned
>forward and waved a hand between the two men. “We
>were getting enough attention before, but this is
>getting ridiculous, know what I mean?”
>
And the rest is great.
So why does he put up with Mike if he's such an asshat?
Lovely as always, hon. I do wonder why your boys are always on the brink of either collapsing into a quivering, sex-fueled humpfest or poised to rip out their friend's throats. BUT I CAN'T STOP READING ABOUT THEM! You have a definite, recognizable style, and me likey that. Whoo!
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[> [> [>
Especially in the French Quarter! -- Page, 21:08:08 03/23/10 Tue
>
>>This scene is set at Pat O'Brien's, a French Quarter
>>bar. For those of you who aren't familiar with it,
>>the patio area has a fountain that's set on fire every
>>evening. Quite a sight to see.
>
>It really is.
I've taken a photo of it every time I go there, and every one of them turns out blurry. I think there's some kind of Cajun/Irish spell on it. *G*
>
>>One is enough to put most people under the
>>table.
>
>I had one and a half and hated myself for two
>days.
You have a better head than I, my friend. Just smelling one had me a bit intoxicated!
>
>>Oh, and the character of Mike? Yeah. Ever heard the
>>saying, "Don't make me mad or I'll write you into my
>>next book and kill you off?" Mike's not his real
>>name, but he made me mad. *G*
>
>Boy howdy, do I know those people.
Heh. I love being an author. Heh.
>
>>
>>Excerpt from working title Royal Orleans
>>©2010 by Juli Page Morgan
>>Posted for purposes of critique only and does not
>>constitute publication
>>
>>Sherry dropped the orange slice back into the remains
>>of her Hurricane and fished out the cherry. “Maybe
>>not, but if you get drunk I’m outta here.” She popped
>>the cherry into her mouth, holding the stem between
>>her thumb and forefinger. With a complete lack of
>>calculation, she raised her eyes to Geoff’s as she
>>sucked on the cherry.
>
>That's dangerous territory, there.
Yeah, when I wrote this, I could see her fishing the cherry out of the glass, but I got no sense of "Ooh, I'm going to suck on this cherry and get Geoff's motor revving" kind of thought. I think I'm going to have to rework it.
>
>>He drew his breath in with a hiss, and smiled. “Well,
>>we don’t want that, do we?” A fresh Skylab was placed
>>before him on the table, and he lifted his gaze to the
>>waitress who was looking at him with adoration.
>>“Thanks, love. We’re also going to need a pot of
>>black coffee. Think you could fetch that for us?”
>>
>>“Sure thing. Anything you want.” The waitress
>>balanced her tray on one shoulder and smiled down at
>>Geoff. “Anything at all.” With a bat of eyelashes
>>and a toss of over-processed bleached hair, she turned
>>and sashayed off, hips swinging like a screen door in
>>a high wind.
>>
>>Geoff watched the display with evident admiration
>>before turning back to Sherry. “There now. I won’t
>>get sloppy drunk. All better?”
>>
>>Sherry shrugged. “Not completely. You also have to
>>promise to lose the Neal Preston wannabe.”
>>
>>Geoff threw his head back and laughed, causing every
>>female on the patio to sigh with delight. “You really
>>don’t like Mike, do you?”
>>
>>“He’s a trouser stain,” Sherry replied. “If you’re
>>really wanting to make things up to me, he’s gotta
>go.”
>
>That may be my new favorite derogatory term.
>Ever.
Why, thank you! Thank you very much. *blushes*
>
>>As if to contradict this assertion, Mike chose that
>>moment to return, sliding into his chair with a sigh.
>>“I’d forgotten what a bloody tourist attraction this
>>place is. I came here last year with Steven Tyler and
>>Joe Perry, and I think it’s only gotten worse.”
>>
>>“Clean up in aisle three,” Sherry muttered under her
>>breath.
>>
>>Mike favored her with a patronizing stare. “And
>>what’s that supposed to mean?”
>>
>>“You’ve been dropping so many names tonight I’m afraid
>>someone’s going to trip over them and hurt themselves,
>>that’s what.”
>
>And besides, all his REAL friends call him
>Stevie.
Bwahahaha!
>
>>As she watched Mike’s face twist into a
>>scowl, she had the passing thought that his slanted
>>eyebrows, sharp cheekbones and slightly manic eyes
>>made him look like a demented leprechaun. She
>>couldn’t resist the resultant smile. “Ooh, touched a
>>nerve, did I, Mikey?”
>>
>>Without deigning to reply, Mike turned to Geoff.
>>“Between all the fat, sweaty tourists and the bitchy
>>American girl, this place has lost all interest. What
>>about finding another place to drink?”
>>
>>“Be my guest.” Geoff shrugged. “You’re the one who
>>invited yourself along. I don’t mind if you split.”
>>
>>“Are you having me on?” The increased volume of
>>Mike’s voice caused several people on the patio to
>>turn their attention to Geoff’s table.
>>
>>“I am not.” Geoff glared at Mike. “What’s your
>>problem, mate? I’m here with the lady, not you.”
>>
>>The thought that Mike looked like a demented
>>leprechaun had made Sherry smile, but the fact that
>>Geoff looked like a tiger about to pounce made her
>>shake as adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream.
>>His eyes had become almost golden, and the dangerous,
>>flat glare he directed at Mike looked like something
>>out of an old Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom
>>episode.
>
>I don't get that reference, but I see where you're
>going.
Thinking about Geoff's eyes lightening in anger and turning gold made me hear Marlin Perkins' voice: "The lion is crouched low, watching the unsuspecting antelope herd," along with a close up shot of the lion's unblinking stare. Dear God, am I that old??
>
>>“Um, guys?” Hoping to diffuse the tension, she leaned
>>forward and waved a hand between the two men. “We
>>were getting enough attention before, but this is
>>getting ridiculous, know what I mean?”
>>
>
>
>And the rest is great.
>
>So why does he put up with Mike if he's such an
>asshat?
Ego stroking. Mike thinks the sun shines out of Geoff's ass, and taking Geoff's pictures gives Mike that aura of being bigger, better and more successful than he really is. They feed off each other.
>
>Lovely as always, hon. I do wonder why your boys are
>always on the brink of either collapsing into a
>quivering, sex-fueled humpfest or poised to rip out
>their friend's throats. BUT I CAN'T STOP READING
>ABOUT THEM! You have a definite, recognizable style,
>and me likey that. Whoo!
Thankee, ma'am. Geoff's not as lusty as Jay (darn it all), but he likes people to think he is! *G*
[ Post a Reply to This Message ]
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[> [>
This is awesome! -- Debi, 06:42:00 03/23/10 Tue
>I don't know how much action there is with this
>dialogue, but it takes place in public. Do I get
>half-credit? *G*
I think you did a fine job showing what they were doing within the dialogue.
>
>Oh, and the character of Mike? Yeah. Ever heard the
>saying, "Don't make me mad or I'll write you into my
>next book and kill you off?" Mike's not his real
>name, but he made me mad. *G*
I better stay on your good side then, eh? ;-)
>~~~~~~~~~
>
>Excerpt from working title Royal Orleans
>©2010 by Juli Page Morgan
>Posted for purposes of critique only and does not
>constitute publication
>
>“Mike. Is he straight?”
>
>“I suppose. Why?”
>
>“He acts like your jealous girlfriend, that’s why.”
*snerk* I've met people like this. Or ones that think they're your mother, and not in a nurturing, supportive kind of way.
>Sherry dropped the orange slice back into the remains
>of her Hurricane and fished out the cherry. “Maybe
>not, but if you get drunk I’m outta here.” She popped
>the cherry into her mouth, holding the stem between
>her thumb and forefinger. With a complete lack of
>calculation, she raised her eyes to Geoff’s as she
>sucked on the cherry.
Oh girl, you are a bold one, aren't you? *VBEG*
>
With a bat of eyelashes
>and a toss of over-processed bleached hair, she turned
>and sashayed off, hips swinging like a screen door in
>a high wind. Brilliant.
>
>Geoff watched the display with evident admiration
>before turning back to Sherry. “There now. I won’t
>get sloppy drunk. All better?”
And I love that he's watching the show. Hey a man's gotta take the opportunity if it's right there. But if he does one more tiny thing about it, I think he's in deep $^*!
>Sherry shrugged. “Not completely. You also have to
>promise to lose the Neal Preston wannabe.”
>Not sure who Neal Preston is, but I get her drift.
>“Clean up in aisle three,” Sherry muttered under her
>breath.
>
>Mike favored her with a patronizing stare. “And
>what’s that supposed to mean?”
>
>“You’ve been dropping so many names tonight I’m afraid
>someone’s going to trip over them and hurt themselves,
>that’s what.” As she watched Mike’s face twist into a
>scowl, she had the passing thought that his slanted
>eyebrows, sharp cheekbones and slightly manic eyes
>made him look like a demented leprechaun. She
>couldn’t resist the resultant smile. “Ooh, touched a
>nerve, did I, Mikey?”
Have I told you how much I love Sherry? I really do.
>Without deigning to reply, Mike turned to Geoff.
>“Between all the fat, sweaty tourists and the bitchy
>American girl, this place has lost all interest. What
>about finding another place to drink?”
>
>“Be my guest.” Geoff shrugged. “You’re the one who
>invited yourself along. I don’t mind if you split.”
And Geoff is so smooth. Good man, that> ,
but the fact that
>Geoff looked like a tiger about to pounce made her
>shake as adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream.
>His eyes had become almost golden, and the dangerous,
>flat glare he directed at Mike looked like something
>out of an old Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom
>episode.
Any episode where a large feline predator is stalking his prey. From his description I'd say a lion.
>
The dust hadn’t settled when the waitress returned with
>the coffee Geoff had asked for.
>
>Sherry glared at the woman’s back as she leaned over
>the table to place the tray in front of Geoff, all but
>pressing her breasts in his face. Forgetting her new
>position as public spectacle, Sherry snapped her
>fingers in the direction of the waitress.
>
>“Hey! Bambi, or whatever your name is.” She narrowed
>her eyes as the woman turned toward her. “We ordered
>coffee, not a peep show. Get lost.”
Have I mentioned how much I love this woman? LOL..."Bambi or whatever..."
“Damn it. Don’t they have anything else to do besides stare at us?”
>
>“Don’t let it bother you.” Geoff grinned. “Who cares
>what they think?”
>
>“I do.” Sherry looked up at him, frowning. “I have
>to.”
I never thought about it, but Sherry is so right. Good girl for tell Goeff to cool it.
>“Why should you?” Sherry took a sip of coffee.
>“After all, it’s not your job on the line.”
>
>He looked up and smiled. “And neither is yours.
>We’ll just sit here being circumspect and drinking
>coffee, and talk about things like heavy literature.”
>
>Sherry laughed, relieved he seemed to understand. “I
>didn’t say we had to be boring. But no scenes in the
>French Quarter, okay? I need my job.”
>
>“Done.” Geoff clinked his cup against hers.
I can't wait for more of this. Have I made myself clear? ;-) Each voice is so distinct, you know who is talking and the action was meshed right in seamlessly. Love it!
Hugs, Debi
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[> [> [>
So are you! >>> -- Page, 21:29:58 03/23/10 Tue
>>I don't know how much action there is with this
>>dialogue, but it takes place in public. Do I get
>>half-credit? *G*
>I think you did a fine job showing what they were
>doing within the dialogue.
Yea! A full credit! Now my parents won't dock my allowance. *G*
>>
>>Oh, and the character of Mike? Yeah. Ever heard the
>>saying, "Don't make me mad or I'll write you into my
>>next book and kill you off?" Mike's not his real
>>name, but he made me mad. *G*
>I better stay on your good side then, eh? ;-)
I've discovered this is one of the perks of being a writer. Even if he never knows about it. Heh heh.
>>~~~~~~~~~
>>
>>Excerpt from working title Royal Orleans
>>©2010 by Juli Page Morgan
>>Posted for purposes of critique only and does not
>>constitute publication
>>
>>“Mike. Is he straight?”
>>
>>“I suppose. Why?”
>>
>>“He acts like your jealous girlfriend, that’s why.”
>*snerk* I've met people like this. Or ones that
>think they're your mother, and not in a nurturing,
>supportive kind of way.
Yes, the man Mike is based on tends to do both - act like a jealous girlfriend AND like an over-protective mother. One of these days I'm going to have to smack him. *G*
>
>>Sherry dropped the orange slice back into the remains
>>of her Hurricane and fished out the cherry. “Maybe
>>not, but if you get drunk I’m outta here.” She popped
>>the cherry into her mouth, holding the stem between
>>her thumb and forefinger. With a complete lack of
>>calculation, she raised her eyes to Geoff’s as she
>>sucked on the cherry.
>Oh girl, you are a bold one, aren't you? *VBEG*
Yes, but she didn't mean to be. She was just enjoying the cherry. (Get your mind right out of that gutter, Debi.)
>>
> With a bat of eyelashes
>>and a toss of over-processed bleached hair, she turned
>>and sashayed off, hips swinging like a screen door in
>>a high wind. Brilliant.
TY!
>>
>>Geoff watched the display with evident admiration
>>before turning back to Sherry. “There now. I won’t
>>get sloppy drunk. All better?”
> And I love that he's watching the show. Hey a
>man's gotta take the opportunity if it's right there.
>But if he does one more tiny thing about it, I think
>he's in deep $^*!
Yeah, his watching it isn't a big deal. After all, the waitress went to a lot of trouble to wiggle her booty that way, and it would be a shame for it to go unregarded. And you're right; if he reached out to give it a pat, then he would have had to get that cherry surgically removed.
>>Sherry shrugged. “Not completely. You also have to
>>promise to lose the Neal Preston wannabe.”
>>Not sure who Neal Preston is, but I get her
>drift.
I'm having trouble with this bit. I could use a photographer with a recognized name, but none of them took photos like Mike's, or Neal Preston's, or Robert Knight's. They're all rock photographers, but apparently only I've heard of them. *G*
>
>>“Clean up in aisle three,” Sherry muttered under her
>>breath.
>>
>>Mike favored her with a patronizing stare. “And
>>what’s that supposed to mean?”
>>
>>“You’ve been dropping so many names tonight I’m afraid
>>someone’s going to trip over them and hurt themselves,
>>that’s what.” As she watched Mike’s face twist into a
>>scowl, she had the passing thought that his slanted
>>eyebrows, sharp cheekbones and slightly manic eyes
>>made him look like a demented leprechaun. She
>>couldn’t resist the resultant smile. “Ooh, touched a
>>nerve, did I, Mikey?”
>Have I told you how much I love Sherry? I really
>do.
Thank you! I'm glad!
>
>>Without deigning to reply, Mike turned to Geoff.
>>“Between all the fat, sweaty tourists and the bitchy
>>American girl, this place has lost all interest. What
>>about finding another place to drink?”
>>
>>“Be my guest.” Geoff shrugged. “You’re the one who
>>invited yourself along. I don’t mind if you split.”
>And Geoff is so smooth. Good man, that ,
He's starting to become intrigued by this woman sitting across from him. He was interested before, but he's realizing there's more to her than meets the eye, and he doesn't mind a bit if Mike makes himself scarce.
>
>but the fact that
>>Geoff looked like a tiger about to pounce made her
>>shake as adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream.
>>His eyes had become almost golden, and the dangerous,
>>flat glare he directed at Mike looked like something
>>out of an old Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom
>>episode.
> Any episode where a large feline predator is
>stalking his prey. From his description I'd say a
>lion.
I agree, lion is better than tiger. Whew! I thought I was the only one who remembered good old Marlin Perkins and poor, always-in-danger Jim.
>>
>
>The dust hadn’t settled when the waitress returned with
>>the coffee Geoff had asked for.
>>
>>Sherry glared at the woman’s back as she leaned over
>>the table to place the tray in front of Geoff, all but
>>pressing her breasts in his face. Forgetting her new
>>position as public spectacle, Sherry snapped her
>>fingers in the direction of the waitress.
>>
>>“Hey! Bambi, or whatever your name is.” She narrowed
>>her eyes as the woman turned toward her. “We ordered
>>coffee, not a peep show. Get lost.”
>Have I mentioned how much I love this woman?
>LOL..."Bambi or whatever..."
My apologies to anyone named Bambi, but to me it's always been the International Hoochie-Mama Name.
>
>“Damn it. Don’t they have anything else to do besides
>stare at us?”
>>
>>“Don’t let it bother you.” Geoff grinned. “Who cares
>>what they think?”
>>
>>“I do.” Sherry looked up at him, frowning. “I have
>>to.”
> I never thought about it, but Sherry is so right.
>Good girl for tell Goeff to cool it.
Believe me, it's in every employee handbook of every radio/television station in America. Do what you want, just don't let anyone see you and don't get caught!
>>“Why should you?” Sherry took a sip of coffee.
>>“After all, it’s not your job on the line.”
>>
>>He looked up and smiled. “And neither is yours.
>>We’ll just sit here being circumspect and drinking
>>coffee, and talk about things like heavy literature.”
>>
>>Sherry laughed, relieved he seemed to understand. “I
>>didn’t say we had to be boring. But no scenes in the
>>French Quarter, okay? I need my job.”
>>
>>“Done.” Geoff clinked his cup against hers.
>I can't wait for more of this. Have I made myself
>clear? ;-) Each voice is so distinct, you know who is
>talking and the action was meshed right in seamlessly.
>Love it!
>Hugs, Debi
Thank you! I think with a little tweaking, this one's going to be a keeper!
Hugs back,
Page
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[> [>
Re: Public spectacles >>>>> -- Alex, 10:16:42 03/23/10 Tue
>I don't know how much action there is with this
>dialogue, but it takes place in public. Do I get
>half-credit? *G*
>
>This scene is set at Pat O'Brien's, a French Quarter
>bar. For those of you who aren't familiar with it,
>the patio area has a fountain that's set on fire every
>evening. Quite a sight to see. The bar's signature
>drink is The Hurricane, a fruity concoction that's
>mostly all rum. Following The Hurricane in popularity
>is The Skylab. It's the prettiest shade of blue when
>it comes to the table, but it's the strongest drink
>they have. One is enough to put most people under the
>table.
>
>Oh, and the character of Mike? Yeah. Ever heard the
>saying, "Don't make me mad or I'll write you into my
>next book and kill you off?" Mike's not his real
>name, but he made me mad. *G*
>~~~~~~~~~
>
>Excerpt from working title Royal Orleans
>©2010 by Juli Page Morgan
>Posted for purposes of critique only and does not
>constitute publication
>
>Using every bit of willpower she possessed, Sherry
>refrained from throwing her Hurricane after Mike as he
>strutted past the flaming fountain. It was too much
>to hope he’d fall in and be consumed by fiery water,
>but the thought was nice. She looked back at Geoff in
>exasperation. “Why the hell do you keep him around?”
>
>Geoff shrugged. “He’s a good photographer.”
>
>“Oh, come on, Geoff. The man can’t light a candle.”
>Sherry sipped her drink and was glad she hadn’t wasted
>it on Mike. The icy concoction quenched her anger
>somewhat, and she took a bigger gulp, hoping the four
>ounces of rum would obliterate it completely.
I'm missing the reference here. Light a candle?
>
>Geoff’s lips quirked with amusement. “Alright, then,
>he’s a decent photographer.”
>
>“Meaning he does whatever you want the way you want
>it?”
>
>“Exactly,” Geoff laughed.
>
>“Okay. Just so we have that straight.” Sherry
>plucked the orange slice out of the tall glass and
>sucked the juice from it. “Is he?”
Her question seems like a prompt for the dialog following. Just hanging out there. Maybe add more? Or a gesture to illustrate? Wiggles her brows? Flops a wrist over?
>
>“Is who what?” Geoff frowned in confusion.
>
>“Mike. Is he straight?”
>
>“I suppose. Why?”
>
>“He acts like your jealous girlfriend, that’s why.”
>
>Geoff snorted and swallowed the last of the murky blue
>liquid in his glass. “That’s his problem, not mine.”
>He waved the empty glass in the direction of a
>waitress.
>
>Sherry narrowed her eyes. “Are you having another one
>of those?”
>
>“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
>
>“There’s enough vodka in those things to knock an
>elephant on its ass, is all.”
>
>“Good thing I’m not an elephant.”
>
>Sherry dropped the orange slice back into the remains
>of her Hurricane and fished out the cherry. “Maybe
>not, but if you get drunk I’m outta here.” She popped
>the cherry into her mouth, holding the stem between
>her thumb and forefinger. [With a complete lack of
>calculation], she raised her eyes to Geoff’s as she
>sucked on the cherry.
I'm banging the drum today. *boom boom boom* Telling! Right here. *s* Better to have her suck on the cherry and let the look in Geoff's eye and his reaction illustrate what she's doing, and trust the reader understands she's not being calculating. ;0)
>
>He drew his breath in with a hiss, and smiled. “Well,
>we don’t want that, do we?” A fresh Skylab was placed
>before him on the table, and he lifted his gaze to the
>waitress who was looking at him with adoration.
>“Thanks, love. We’re also going to need a pot of
>black coffee. Think you could fetch that for us?”
>
>“Sure thing. Anything you want.” The waitress
>balanced her tray on one shoulder and smiled down at
>Geoff. “Anything at all.” With a bat of eyelashes
>and a toss of over-processed bleached hair, she turned
>and sashayed off, hips swinging like a screen door in
>a high wind.
>
>Geoff watched the display with evident admiration
>before turning back to Sherry. “There now. I won’t
>get sloppy drunk. All better?”
>
>Sherry shrugged. “Not completely. You also have to
>promise to lose the Neal Preston wannabe.”
??? Does Neal Preston = Mike?
>
>Geoff threw his head back and laughed, causing every
>female on the patio to sigh with delight. “You really
>don’t like Mike, do you?”
>
>“He’s a trouser stain,” Sherry replied. “If you’re
>really wanting to make things up to me, he’s gotta go.”
I second Larn. Great derogatory description.
>
>As if to contradict this assertion, Mike chose that
>moment to return, sliding into his chair with a sigh.
>“I’d forgotten what a bloody tourist attraction this
>place is. I came here last year with Steven Tyler and
>Joe Perry, and I think it’s only gotten worse.”
>
>“Clean up in aisle three,” Sherry muttered under her
>breath.
>
>Mike favored her with a patronizing stare. “And
>what’s that supposed to mean?”
>
>“You’ve been dropping so many names tonight I’m afraid
>someone’s going to trip over them and hurt themselves,
>that’s what.” As she watched Mike’s face twist into a
>scowl, she had the passing thought that his slanted
>eyebrows, sharp cheekbones and slightly manic eyes
>made him look like a demented leprechaun. She
>couldn’t resist the resultant smile. “Ooh, touched a
>nerve, did I, Mikey?”
>
>Without deigning to reply, Mike turned to Geoff.
>“Between all the fat, sweaty tourists and the bitchy
>American girl, this place has lost all interest. What
>about finding another place to drink?”
>
>“Be my guest.” Geoff shrugged. “You’re the one who
>invited yourself along. I don’t mind if you split.”
>
>“Are you having me on?” The increased volume of
>Mike’s voice caused several people on the patio to
>turn their attention to Geoff’s table.
>
>“I am not.” Geoff glared at Mike. “What’s your
>problem, mate? I’m here with the lady, not you.”
>
>The thought that Mike looked like a demented
>leprechaun had made Sherry smile, but the fact that
>Geoff looked like a tiger about to pounce made her
>shake as adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream.
>His eyes had become almost golden, and the dangerous,
>flat glare he directed at Mike looked like something
>out of an old Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom
>episode.
Why the repeat of the leprechaun description? Seems unnecessary and slows down the flow. Maybe add the swift change to Geoff's gaze to the preceding para and start this one with her adrenaline rush?
>
>“Um, guys?” Hoping to diffuse the tension, she leaned
>forward and waved a hand between the two men. “We
>were getting enough attention before, but this is
>getting ridiculous, know what I mean?”
>
>Geoff glanced at her and then seemed to relax, leaning
>back in his chair. “Right.” He threw back the rest
>of his drink, and leaned his head toward Mike. “Isn’t
>it time you were leaving this tourist trap? You know
>what they say about three being a crowd.”
>
>Mike opened his mouth to reply, but obviously thought
>better of it as Geoff turned that predatory gaze his
>way again. Without a word, Mike rose from his chair
>and left, his grand, stamping exit attracting the
>attention of the rest of Pat O’Brien’s customers. The
>dust hadn’t settled when the waitress returned with
>the coffee Geoff had asked for.
>
>Sherry glared at the woman’s back as she leaned over
>the table to place the tray in front of Geoff, all but
>pressing her breasts in his face. Forgetting her new
>position as public spectacle, Sherry snapped her
>fingers in the direction of the waitress.
>
>“Hey! Bambi, or whatever your name is.” She narrowed
>her eyes as the woman turned toward her. “We ordered
>coffee, not a peep show. Get lost.”
>
>As the waitress flounced off in a huff, Sherry caught
>the interested looks being thrown their way. With a
>groan, she lowered her head. “Damn it. Don’t they
>have anything else to do besides stare at us?”
>
>“Don’t let it bother you.” Geoff grinned. “Who cares
>what they think?”
>
>“I do.” Sherry looked up at him, frowning. “I have
>to.”
>
>Geoff looked puzzled. “Why the hell does it matter?”
>
>With a sigh, Sherry picked up the coffee decanter and
>began filling two cups. “Look, it’s fine if you’re
>out making a scene every night. It just adds to your
>rock and roll mystique, right?” She kept her eyes on
>the stream of coffee filling the cups. “But people
>know who I am, too. My face is on billboards,
>plastered on the sides of busses, on placards in the
>trolley cars; all I need is for one of these people to
>tell an advertiser I was involved in an altercation in
>a French Quarter bar, and I’m in a lot of trouble.”
>
>“Didn’t stop you the other night, did it?”
>
>The amusement she heard in Geoff’s voice made her
>temper rise, but she fought it down with
>determination. “That was a private party, okay? Our
>listeners expect us to be out partying. But they
>don’t pay to listen to the radio, do they? No, our
>money comes from advertisers, and if they don’t think
>we’re professional enough to handle ourselves or
>represent their businesses on air, then they don’t buy
>from us. And if they don’t buy from us, we don’t make
>money. And if a deejay causes a station to lose ad
>revenue, then he or she is out the door.”
>
>Geoff’s silence made her glance up to find him
>regarding his cup of coffee with a thoughtful frown.
>After a moment, he sighed. “I never thought of it
>that way.”
>
>“Why should you?” Sherry took a sip of coffee.
>“After all, it’s not your job on the line.”
>
>He looked up and smiled. “And neither is yours.
>We’ll just sit here being circumspect and drinking
>coffee, and talk about things like heavy literature.”
>
>Sherry laughed, [relieved he seemed to understand]. “I
>didn’t say we had to be boring. But no scenes in the
>French Quarter, okay? I need my job.”
Brackets are unnecessary telling. His dialog and change in demeanor is beautifully done, illustrating how much he does care and understands.
>
>“Done.” Geoff clinked his cup against hers.
Too short! Too short! I'd love to read the scene before this, getting a good dose of how annoying Mike is. *s* Always a pleasure to visit with your characters and I hope the suggestions are helpful.
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[> [> [>
Totally helpful, Alex! >>> -- Page, 21:52:33 03/23/10 Tue
>>
>>“Oh, come on, Geoff. The man can’t light a candle.”
>>Sherry sipped her drink and was glad she hadn’t wasted
>>it on Mike. The icy concoction quenched her anger
>>somewhat, and she took a bigger gulp, hoping the four
>>ounces of rum would obliterate it completely.
>
>I'm missing the reference here. Light a candle?
The Mike character is a rock photographer. He takes live pictures of concerts, but also does a lot of portraits and shots for magazine covers where he does his own lighting. Sherry isn't impressed with the way he lights his subjects. I've not written a lot of what proceeds this bit, just a rough draft, but I'll explain that bit when Sherry first meets Mike. Thanks for pointing it out!
>
>>
>>“Okay. Just so we have that straight.” Sherry
>>plucked the orange slice out of the tall glass and
>>sucked the juice from it. “Is he?”
>
>Her question seems like a prompt for the dialog
>following. Just hanging out there. Maybe add more? Or
>a gesture to illustrate? Wiggles her brows? Flops a
>wrist over?
I agree, her question is a little abrupt. I'll work on this.
>
>>
>>Sherry dropped the orange slice back into the remains
>>of her Hurricane and fished out the cherry. “Maybe
>>not, but if you get drunk I’m outta here.” She popped
>>the cherry into her mouth, holding the stem between
>>her thumb and forefinger. [With a complete lack of
>>calculation], she raised her eyes to Geoff’s as she
>>sucked on the cherry.
>
>I'm banging the drum today. *boom boom boom*
>Telling! Right here. *s* Better to have her suck on
>the cherry and let the look in Geoff's eye and his
>reaction illustrate what she's doing, and trust
>the reader understands she's not being calculating.
>;0)
Yeah, I'm going to have to change this around. When I wrote it I could see her fishing the cherry out of her glass like she did the orange slice. I didn't get any sense from her that she was doing it to, er, entice Geoff. So I added the "without calculation" bit. Gonna work on that now.
>
>>
>>Sherry shrugged. “Not completely. You also have to
>>promise to lose the Neal Preston wannabe.”
>
>??? Does Neal Preston = Mike?
Another part I'm going to have to change. Neal Preston was the major rock photographer of the 1970s, along with a man called Robert Knight. This books is set in the early 1980s, but anyone like Mike who makes a living in rock photography would want to attain the success Neal Preston had. Unfortunately, Neal isn't a household name. I thought of using someone like Ansel Adams, but his pictures couldn't be more different from the ones Mike takes.
>>“He’s a trouser stain,” Sherry replied. “If you’re
>>really wanting to make things up to me, he’s gotta
>go.”
>
>I second Larn. Great derogatory
>description.
Thank you!
>
>>The thought that Mike looked like a demented
>>leprechaun had made Sherry smile, but the fact that
>>Geoff looked like a tiger about to pounce made her
>>shake as adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream.
>>His eyes had become almost golden, and the dangerous,
>>flat glare he directed at Mike looked like something
>>out of an old Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom
>>episode.
>
>Why the repeat of the leprechaun description? Seems
>unnecessary and slows down the flow. Maybe add the
>swift change to Geoff's gaze to the preceding para and
>start this one with her adrenaline rush?
You're right, it does slow it down. I need to work on this.
>>Sherry laughed, [relieved he seemed to understand].
>“I
>>didn’t say we had to be boring. But no scenes in the
>>French Quarter, okay? I need my job.”
>
>Brackets are unnecessary telling. His dialog and
>change in demeanor is beautifully done, illustrating
>how much he does care and understands.
Thank you! The part in brackets is outta here.
>
>>
>>“Done.” Geoff clinked his cup against hers.
>
>Too short! Too short! I'd love to read the scene
>before this, getting a good dose of how annoying Mike
>is. *s* Always a pleasure to visit with your
>characters and I hope the suggestions are helpful.
The suggestions are very helpful! I've only got a rough draft of the scene before, where Sherry meets Mike for the first time, but I can assure you they do not get on. *G* Thanks again! I truly appreciate the help!
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Re: Totally helpful, Alex! >>> -- Alex, 09:42:54 03/24/10 Wed
>Another part I'm going to have to change. Neal
>Preston was the major rock photographer of the
>1970s, along with a man called Robert Knight. This
>books is set in the early 1980s, but anyone like Mike
>who makes a living in rock photography would want to
>attain the success Neal Preston had. Unfortunately,
>Neal isn't a household name. I thought of using
>someone like Ansel Adams, but his pictures couldn't be
>more different from the ones Mike takes.
Annie Leibovitz?
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Re: Public spectacles >>>>> -- susiej, 12:31:54 03/23/10 Tue
I think that will get rid of the bold. I had a hard time following what others had said but I agree with Alex about Neil Preston- sorry, don't know him, but I think you must mean someone along the lines of Mick Jagger?
I didn't really get the candle line either- but I used context.
I also agree on dropping the "without calculation" line because it seems sort of calculated, but I guess were suppose to think she's just that suggestive naturally?
And one more- "passing thought" of leprechaun. Just say he looked like a leprechaun- don't have to tell us its a thought- if were in her POV, we know that it's her thought. Right?
Otherwise, I really enjoyed it. And second Larn on how well you write hot guys- pant, pant.
Was just in Pat OBrien's in Oct. My husband drank so many Hurricanes he woke up in the night and drank a half filled water glass which, unfortunately held my contacts as I'd forgotten my case. Good thing I always pack a spare pair!
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A couple of explanations >>> -- Page, 21:59:37 03/23/10 Tue
>
>
>I think that will get rid of the bold. I had a hard
>time following what others had said but I agree with
>Alex about Neil Preston- sorry, don't know him, but I
>think you must mean someone along the lines of Mick
>Jagger?
>
>I didn't really get the candle line either- but I used
>context.
It's meant to convey that Sherry isn't impressed with the way Mike lights his subjects when he takes photos. After Alex pointed it out, I realized I can bring that out when Sherry and Mike first meet, and she realizes who he is. Then, hopefully, by the time we get to this point it'll make sense.
>
>I also agree on dropping the "without calculation"
>line because it seems sort of calculated, but I guess
>were suppose to think she's just that suggestive
>naturally?
Actually, she just wasn't thinking about it being suggestive. She'd already done it with her orange slice, and I just saw her doing the same with the cherry. That's why I added the "without calculation," but y'all are right. It tends to make it, well, calculated, like you said. I'm going to work on this bit.
>
>And one more- "passing thought" of leprechaun. Just
>say he looked like a leprechaun- don't have to tell us
>its a thought- if were in her POV, we know that it's
>her thought. Right?
You're right. Another case of overwriting on my part. Ah, I just love words! *G*
>
>Otherwise, I really enjoyed it. And second Larn on how
>well you write hot guys- pant, pant.
Thank you! I do love my hot guys. *G*
>
>Was just in Pat OBrien's in Oct. My husband drank so
>many Hurricanes he woke up in the night and drank a
>half filled water glass which, unfortunately held my
>contacts as I'd forgotten my case. Good thing I always
>pack a spare pair!
Bwahahaha! OMG, that's too funny. I'll bet it didn't help his queasiness a bit to find out he'd swallowed a couple of Acu-Vue! Bless his heart!
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yea, he blamed my contacts for the reason he threw up in the morning, but I say that wasn't the real reason. -- susiej, 22:08:16 03/23/10 Tue
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You just have to love a woman who speaks her mind! >>> -- Esther, 12:23:09 03/29/10 Mon
Sherry certainly is her own character isn't she? *G* Heck, I'd keep reading this one just to hear some more of her expressions. Trouser stain. LMAO And the way she's so straightforward. Speaking of straight, is he? Loved it. And the way she snapped her fingers called the waitress Bambi, or whatever her name was, and told her to get lost cause they hadn't ordered a peep show...well...I just about choked on my coffee. Oh! And just for the record, I have to say that there is no evidence that drinking coffee will prevent you from getting drunk. I'll just make a drunk wide awake. *G*
I really like this character, and that Geoff with his predatory gaze, well...I wouldn't mind seeing a bit more of him either. So post more soon!
Hugs
Esther
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