Wednesday, December 14, 2005


Well, Serious McElvoy keeps visiting me at night until I have to get up and jot some words down. I keep planning to work on my chick-lit romance (it's funny, trust me -- we're talking deep Southern fried and the opportunity to use the line "You keep your hands offa my daddy's bras!"), but Serious keeps popping up. First it was just his name. And then, that he was dead. Squashed. Now, he wants to go and have conversations with God.

That sounds all Christian fiction-y, but it isn't. Which is my one worry. I'm really not a religous person, but I'm also not one to make fun of someone's beliefs. Would Serious come across as sketchy? Hopefully not. He's going to be an angel, fifth class. Or maybe something more like tenth class. Not sure yet how many classes there are.

Anyway, it's stuff like this:
“Interesting choice,” said God.

“What choice?” asked Serious, not even considering that God might consider this to be his One Question (but don't worry, he didn’t. After all, he is God. He knows better).

God pointed to himself. “Everyone sees God differently. To some people, I appear as just a bright white light. To others, I am an old man in white robes with a flowing beard. Still others see me as a young woman, dressed all in green. But, no matter what, to most people I appear as quite an impressive sight.”

Serious took a closer look. It seemed that his vision of God looked a lot like his Grandfather Jackson.

And I'm not going to be making any kind of philosophical pronouncements or anything like that. It'll probably be more like Serious "earning his wings" (too cliched, but something along those lines). Maybe discovering that bullies have their own problems. Or that being a super-genius doesn't mean much when you're dead. I dunno. Something funny.

By the way, that up above is VERY draft. But don't steal it. I'll hunt you down and force you to eat your own eyeballs. Well, ok, maybe I'll just poke you in the eye. But still. I mean it. Not that I think you could do much with a little snippet like that. But it's the thought. The danger of the Internet. I'm always advising people to not post their unpublished work anywhere, but here I go, posting something in my own blog. But it isn't the whole thing, just a couple of sentences. Urk, whatever. I'm sharing.


So, if the tone is like that, do you think I'll have issues? Or do I care? I'm a writer, dammit! Who cares what the public thinks! (heh. What was it Mark Twain said? Or shoot, Heinlein.)

Alright, I've got Serious out of my head for now (I hope), so I'm going back to bed.

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